CHAPTER VII
THE GREAT SLEEP
When Phil drew the warm leaves about him he felt a mighty sensation ofrelief, accompanied by a complete mental and physical relaxation. Thesupreme tension of the spirit that had borne him up so long was gonenow, when it was needed no longer, and he uttered a deep sigh ofcontent. Bill Breakstone put a hand upon his shoulder.
"Phil," he said simply, "I owe you so much that I can't ever repay it."
"Your chance will come," replied the boy. "You'll probably do more forme than I've ever done for you."
"We'll see," said Bill Breakstone. "I'm thinking, Phil, that this isabout the best hiding place we could have found, so we'll just liequiet, as we'll see the edge of the day inside of half an hour."
The two remained perfectly still. Yet they could hear for awhile theirown strained breathing, and Phil felt his heart constrict painfullyafter his long flight. But the breathing of both grew easier. In ashort while it was normal again. Then they saw a touch of gray in theeast, the rain ceased like a dissolving mist, a silver light fell overthe forest, turning presently to gold, and it was day in the east.
Some of the sunbeams entered the thick jungle of forest where they lay,touching the leaves and grass here and there with gold, but in mostplaces the shadows still hovered. Phil and Breakstone looked at theirsurroundings. They had left no trail in coming there, and the bushesabout them were so dense that even Indian eyes ten feet away could nothave seen them.
The sunlight was deepening. Birds in the trees began to sing. All thebeings of the wilderness, little and big, awoke to life. Trees andgrass dried swiftly under the strong fresh wind. Bill Breakstoneglanced at his youthful comrade.
"Phil," he said, "I'll take the rifle, and you go to sleep. You've hada harder time than I have, and, when you wake up, I'll tell you how Iwas captured."
"I think I'll do it, Bill," said the boy, putting his. arm under hishead and closing his eyes. The strain was gone from his nerves now, andsleep came readily. In three minutes he was oblivious of Comanches andall else that the world contained. Bill Breakstone could have slept ifhe had tried, but he did not try. Under a manner nearly always lightand apparently superficial he concealed a strong nature and much depthof feeling. It seemed to him that at the last moment a hand had beenstretched out to save him from the worst of fates. It seemed to him,also, that it must have been a sort of inspiration, the direction of asupreme will, for Phil to have come to him at such a time. It was abrave deed, a wonderful deed, and it had been brilliantly successful.
The light was strong, and Bill Breakstone looked down at the boy who wasa younger brother to him now. He saw that the strain upon Phil had beengreat. Even while he slept his face was very white, except wherefatigue and suspense had painted it black beneath the eyes. PhilBedford had done more than his share, and it was now for him, BillBreakstone, to do the rest. He slipped the muzzle of the rifle forwardin order that it might command the mouth of the hollow, and waited. Hewould have pulled more leaves and brush before the entrance, but he knewthat any disturbance of nature would attract the eye of a passingComanche, and he allowed everything to remain exactly as it had been.
He lay comfortably among the leaves, and for a long time he did notstir. Phil breathed regularly and easily, and Bill saw that he would befully restored when he awoke. Bill himself thought neither of hungernor thirst, the tension was too great for that, but he never ceased towatch the sweep of trees and brush. It was half way toward noon when hesaw some bushes about ten yards in front of him trembling slightly. Hebecame at once alert and suspicious. He drew himself up in the attitudeof one who is ready for instant action, slipping the muzzle of the riflea little farther forward.
The bushes moved again, and something came into view. Bill Breakstonesank back, and his apprehension departed. It was a timber wolf, grayand long. A dangerous enough beast, if a man alone and unarmed met agroup of them, but Bill, with the rifle, had no fear. The wolf sniffedthe odor of flesh, sniffed again, knew that it was the odor of humanflesh, and his blood became afraid within him. Bill Breakstone laughedquietly, but the boy slept placidly on. The incident amused Bill, and,therefore, it was welcome. It broke the monotony of the long quiet,and, just when he was laughing noiselessly for the fourth time over thewolf's discomfiture, the bushes moved again. Bill, as before, slippedthe muzzle of his rifle farther forward and waited. A slight pungentodor came to his nostrils. The bushes moved more than before, althoughwithout noise, and a great yellow body came into view. The eyes weregreen, the claws sharp and long, and the body lithe and powerful. It wasa splendid specimen of the southwestern puma, a great cat that couldpull down a deer. But Bill Breakstone was still unafraid. He raisedthe rifle and aimed it at the puma, although he did not press thetrigger.
"I can kill you, my friend, with a single bullet," he murmured, "but thereport of that rifle would probably bring the Comanches upon us.Therefore, I will look you down."
The puma paused in doubt and indecision, restlessly moving his tail, andstaring with his great green eyes until they met the gray eyes of thehuman creature, looking down the sights of the rifle barrel. Thatsteady, steel-like gaze troubled the puma. He was large and powerful.He could have struck down the man at a single blow, but the heart withinthat mass of bone and muscle became afraid. The green eyes lookedfearfully into the gray ones, and at last turned aside. The great beastturned stealthily, and slid into the thicket, at first slowly, and thenin a run, as the terror that he could not see crowded upon his heels.
Bill Breakstone had laughed several times that morning, but now helaughed with a deep unction.
"I'm proud of myself," he murmured. "It's something to outlook apanther, but I don't know that I'd have looked so straight and hard if Ihadn't had the rifle ready, in case the eyes failed. Now I wonder whoor what will be the next invader of our premises."
His wonder lasted only until noon, when the sun was poised directlyoverhead, and the open spaces were full of its rays. Then, as light asthe beasts themselves had been, two Comanches walked into full view.Bill Breakstone was as still as ever, but his hand lay upon the triggerof the rifle.
The Comanches were not a pleasant sight to eyes that did not wish to seethem. They were powerful men, naked save for the waist cloth, theirbodies painted with many strange symbols and figures. Although most oftheir tribe were yet armed with bows and arrows, each carried a finerifle. Their faces were wary, cunning, and cruel. They were far moreto be dreaded than wolf or panther. Yet Bill Breakstone at that momentfelt but little fear of either. He was upheld by a great stimulus. Theboy who slept so peacefully by his side had saved him in the face ofeverything, and, if the time had come, he would do as much for Phil. Hefelt himself, with the rifle and pistol, a match for both warriors, andhis breathing was steady and regular.
The warriors stopped and stood in the bush, talking and pointing towardthe east. Bill Breakstone surmised that they were talking about him andPhil, and it was likely from their pointing fingers that they believedthe fugitives had gone toward the east. As Bill watched them, hissuspense was mingled with a sort of curiosity. Would some instinct warnthem that Phil and he lay not ten yards away? The woods were vast, andthey and all their comrades could not search every spot. Would this beone of the spots over which they must pass?
It took two minutes to decide the question, and then the warriors walkedon toward the east, their brown bodies disappearing in the foliage.Bill drew a mighty breath that came from every crevice and cranny of hislungs. He did not know until then how great his suspense had been. Hesank back a little and let the rifle rest softly on the leaves besidehim. He glanced at Phil. His face was less drawn now, and much of thecolor had come back. While Bill awaited the crisis, his finger on thetrigger, the sleeping boy had grown stronger. Bill decided that he wouldlet him sleep on.
Bill Breakstone had been through much. He, too, began to feel sleepy.The
dangers of animal and man had come and passed, leaving his comradeand him untouched. His nerves were now subdued and relaxed, and he felta great physical and mental peace. The day, too, was one calculated tosoothe. The air was filled with; the mildness of early spring. Agentle wind blew, and the boughs and bushes rustled together, forming asound that was strangely like a song of peace.
But Bill Breakstone was a man watchful, alert, a sentinel full ofstrength and resolution. He would not sleep, no, not he, not while somuch depended upon him, yet the song among the leaves was growingsweeter and gentler all the time. He had never felt such a soothingquiet in all his life. The complete relaxation after so much danger andtension was at hand, and it was hard for one to watch the forest and betroubled about foes who would no longer come. Yet he would remain awakeand keep faithful guard, and, as he murmured his resolution for thefifth time, his drooping eyelids shut down entirely, and he slept assoundly as the boy who lay by his side, his chest rising and falling ashe breathed long and regularly.
Phil Bedford and Bill Breakstone slept all that afternoon. It was amighty sleep, the great sleep following complete mental and physicalexhaustion, the sleep that comes at such times to strong, healthybeings, in whom the co-ordination of brain, muscle, and nerve iscomplete. By some unconscious method of keeping time they breathed inperfect unison, and the gentle wind, which all the while was blowingthrough the leaves, kept time with them, too. Thus the eveningshortened. Hour by hour dropped into the sandglass of time. The two,rivals of the ancient seven of famous memory, slept on. Both the wolfand the puma, driven by curiosity, came back. They crept a littlenearer than before, but not too near. They felt instinctively that themighty sleepers, mightily as they slept, could yet be awakened, and thesmell of man contained a quality that was terrifying. So they wentaway, and, an hour after they were gone, the same two Comanches, nakedto the waist, painted hideously in many symbols and decorations, andsavage and cruel of countenance, came back in their places. But BillBreakstone and Phil lay safe in the leaves under the bank, sleepingpeacefully without dreams. So far as the Comanches were concerned, theywere a thousand miles away, and presently the two warriors disappearedagain in the depths of the forest, this time not to return.
Time went on. The two slept the great sleep so quietly that all thenormal life of the woods about them was resumed. Woodpeckers drummedupon the sides of the hollow trees, a red bird in a flash of flame shotamong the boughs, quail scuttled in the grass, and a rabbit hopped near.Midafternoon of a cloudless day came. The sun shot down its mostbrilliant beams, the whole forest was luminous with light. TheComanches ceased their search, confident that the fugitives were gonenow beyond their overtaking, and returned to their villages and otherenterprises, but Breakstone and Phil slept their great sleep.
Twilight came, and they were still sleeping. Neither had stirred aninch from his place. The little animals that hopped about in thethickets believed them dead, they were so quiet, and came nearer. Nightcame on, thick and dark. An owl in a tree hooted mournfully, and an owlin another tree a half mile away hooted a mournful answer. Phil and hiscomrade did not hear, because they still lay in their great sleep, andthe doings of the world, great or small, did not concern them.
Phil awoke first. It was then about midnight, and so dark in the alcovethat he could not see. His eyes still heavy with sleep and his sensesconfused, he sat up. He shook his head once or twice, and recollectionbegan to come back. Surely the daylight had come when he went to sleep!And where was Bill Breakstone? He heard a regular breathing, and,reaching out his hands, touched the figure of his comrade. Both hadslept, and no harm had come to them. That was evident because he alsotouched the rifle and pistol, and they would have been the first objectstaken by a creeping enemy. But surely it could not have been a dreamabout his going to sleep in the daylight! He remembered very well thatthe sun was rising and that there were golden beams on the bushes. Nowit was so dark that he could see only a few faint stars in the sky, andthe bashful rim of a moon. He sat up and gave Bill Breakstone avigorous shake.
"Bill," he said, "wake up! It's night, but what night I don't know!"
Bill Breakstone yawned tremendously, stretched himself as much as thenarrow space would allow, and then slowly and with dignity sat up. He,too, was somewhat confused, but he pretended wisdom while he was tryingto collect his senses. The two could barely see each other, and eachfelt rather than saw the wonder in the other's eyes.
"Well," said Bill Breakstone at last, "I'd have you to know, Sir Philipof the Dream and the Snore, though I can't prove that you've done eitherany more than I can prove that I haven't done both, that we're thegenuine and true Babes in the Wood, only we've waked up. Here we'vebeen asleep, maybe a week, maybe a month, and the pitying little birdshave come and covered us up with leaves, and we've been warm and snug,and the wild animals haven't eaten us up, and the bad men, that is tosay the Comanches, haven't found us. How do you feel, Phil?"
"Fine, never better in my life."
"That describes me, also, with beautiful accuracy. We'll never know,maybe, how long we've slept, whether one day, two days, or three days,but a good spirit has been watching over us; of that I'm sure.
"Phil and Bill, To sleep they went; Phil and Bill From sleep they came. Phil and Bill, They had no tent; But Phil and Bill, They are true game. Phil and Bill, The leaves, a bed, Phil and Bill, They took no ill. That's Phil and Bill.
"I don't think that's a bad poem, Phil, considering the short time I'vehad for its composition, and you'll observe that, with a modesty notcommon among poets, I've put you first."
"It's all right for the time," said Phil, "but don't do it too often.But, Bill, I'd trade a whole slab of poetry for an equal weight in beefor venison. I'm beginning to feel terribly hungry."
"I'd make the trade, too," said Bill Breakstone, "and that's not holdingpoetry so cheap, either. It's pleasant for the Babes in the Wood towake up again, but there's a disadvantage; you've got to eat, and to eatyou've got to find something that can be eaten. I'm like King Richard,'A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!' But I wouldn't ride thathorse; I'd eat him."
"What time o' night would you say it is, Bill?"
Bill Breakstone attentively studied the few stars to be seen in theextremely dusky heavens.
"I'd say it was somewhere between six o'clock in the evening and sixo'clock in the morning, with the emphasis on the 'somewhere.' I wonderwhat's happened around in these woods since we went to sleep last week,Phil; but I suppose we'll never know."
Bill stood up, and with his fingers combed the leaves out of his hair.
"Phil," he said, "I'll tell you the story of my life for the last day ortwo. It doesn't make a long narrative, but while it was happening itwas tremendously moving to me. When I left you I skipped along throughthe edge of the woods and came to the plain. Then I saw the Indianvillage and the Indian horses grazing on the meadows. I looked themover pretty thoroughly, concluded I didn't like 'em, and started back totell you about 'em. I thought I was mighty smart, but I wasn't smartenough by half."
"What happened?"
"Just as I turned around to start upon my worthy mission, three large,unclothed Comanches laid rude hands upon me. I didn't have much chance,one against three, and surprise on their side, too. They soon had me bythe neck and heels, and carried me off to their village, where they gaveme the welcome due to a distinguished stranger. Black Panther wasespecially effusive. He wanted to know all about me and my friends, ifany, perchance, were near by. It was the same band that had attackedour wagon train and that was beaten off. Their scouts had warned themthat we were on the other side of the big forest, but they were afraidto attack again. I gathered from what Black Panther said--he understandsEnglish, and I understand some Comanche--that they believed me to belost, strayed, or stolen--that is, I had wandered away in some manner,or had been left behind. The chief tried to get all sorts of informationout of me, but I didn
't have any to tell. Finding that I was born dumb,he began to talk about punishments."
"What were they going to do to you, Bill?"
"There was a lot of lurid talk. I say 'lurid' because I seem toremember something about flames. Anyway, it was to be unpleasant, and Isuppose if you hadn't come, Phil, at the right time, I shouldn't everhave had the great sleep that I've enjoyed so much, at least not thatparticular kind of sleep. Phil, it looks to me as if you came when Icalled, and I'm not joking, either."
"We'll put that aside," said Phil, "and hunt something to eat."
"Yes, it's our first duty to provision this army of two," said BillBreakstone, "and I think we can do it. The woods are full of game, butwe'll have to wait till morning for a shot. As for the Indians hearingthe reports of our rifles, we must take the chance of that, but I don'tthink they'll roam very far from the village, and we'll spend the restof the night going toward the point where we left the wagon train, whichis directly away from the Comanches. Toward morning we'll sit down bythe bank of a stream if we can find one, and wait for the game to cometo drink."
"That seems to me to be our best plan," said Phil.
Both had a good idea of direction, and, despite the darkness, theyadvanced in a fairly straight line toward the point they sought. Butthey found it rough traveling through the thick undergrowth, amongbriers and across ravines and gulleys. Meanwhile, old King Hunger,bristling and fearsome, seized them and rent them with his fangs. Therewas no resisting. They must even suffer and stand it as best theycould.
"I think it's at least a thousand hours until day," said Bill Breakstoneat last. "Do you know, Phil, I've got to the point where I'd enjoy oneof those stage banquets that I've often had. You don't really eatanything. The plates are empty, the glasses are empty, and, empty asthey all are, they're generally whisked away before you can get a goodlong look at them. But there's something soothing and filling aboutthem anyway. Maybe it's an illusion, but if an illusion is of the rightkind, it's just the right kind of thing that you ought to have."
"An illusion may be all right for you, Bill," returned Phil, "but whatabout some of those dinners you can get in New Orleans. Oyster soup,Bill; fish fresh from the gulf, Bill; nice old Virginia ham, Bill;stuffed Louisiana: turkey, Bill; a haunch of venison, Bill; friedchicken, Bill; lamb chops, Bill; and a lot of other things that moneycan buy in New Orleans, Bill?"
"If you weren't my best friend, Phil, and if you hadn't just saved mylife, I might make an attack upon you with the intent of bodily harm.You surely make me sour with your talk about the whole provision trainthat can be bought in New Orleans with money. Hear that old owlhooting! He's just laughing at us. I'd stop and shoot him if we hadlight enough for a shot."
"Never mind the owl, Bill," said Phil. "Perhaps when we get that goodjuicy deer we're looking for we can hoot back at him, if we feel likeit."
"That's so," said Bill, although he said it gloomily.
They advanced in silence another hour, and then Phil, who was a littlein advance, stopped suddenly. He had seen the gleam of water, and hepointed it out to his comrade.
"A spring," said Bill Breakstone, "and it's been trampled around theedges by many hoofs and paws."
He stooped and tasted the water. Then he uttered a mighty sigh ofsatisfaction.
"A salt spring, too," he said. "We're in luck, Phil. I see ourbreakfast coming straight toward us at this spring, walking briskly onfour legs. The wild animals always haunt such places, and if we don'thave savory steaks before the sun is an hour high, then I'm willing tostarve to death. We must find an ambush. Here it is! Luck's a funnything, Phil. It goes right against you for awhile, and nothing seemsable to break it. Then it turns right around and favors you, and nofool thing that you do seems to change it. But I guess it evens up inthe long run."
They found a dense clump of bushes about twenty yards from the saltspring, and sat down among them.
"There's no wind at all," whispered Bill Breakstone, "so I don't thinkthat any animal eager for his salt drink will notice us. I've got myheart set on deer, Phil, and deer we must have. Now which of us shalltake the rifle and make the shot? The rifle is yours, you know, and youhave first choice."
But Phil insisted upon the older and more experienced man taking theweapon, and Breakstone consented. Then they lay quiet, eagerly watchingevery side of the spring. The darkness soon thinned away, and thebushes and trees became luminous in the early morning light.
"Something will come soon," said Breakstone.
They waited a little longer, and then they heard a rustling among thebushes on the far side of the spring. The bushes moved, and ablack-tailed deer, a splendid buck, stepped into the opening. He pausedto sniff the air, but nothing strange or hostile came to his nostrils.The deadly figure, crouching in the bushes with the loaded rifle at hischeek, might have been a thousand miles away, for all the deer knew.
Phil and Bill Breakstone might have admired the deer at another time,but now other emotions urged them on. The deer stepped down to thewater. Breakstone looked down the sights, and Phil trembled lest heshould miss. He tried to look along the barrel himself and see what spotBill had picked out on the animal's body. Then he watched themarksman's finger curl around the trigger and at last press hard uponit. The flash of flame leaped forth, the report sounded startlinglyloud in the clear morning, and the deer jumped high in the air.
But when the big buck came down he ran into the forest as if he had notbeen touched. Phil uttered a gasp of despair, but Bill Breakstone onlylaughed.
"Don't you fret, Phil," he said. "My heart was in my mouth, but mybullet didn't miss. He's hit hard, and we've got nothing to do butfollow him by the plain trail he'll leave. We'll come to our breakfastin less than ten minutes."
Phil soon saw that Breakstone was right. The trail on the other side ofthe salt spring was plain and red, and presently they found the greatstag in a thicket, lying upon his side, stone dead, Bill Breakstone wasan adept at cleaning and dressing, and soon the ugly work was over.They always carried matches, and Phil quickly lighted a fire of drysticks that burned up rapidly and that soon made a fine heap of glowingcoals.
"Now," said Breakstone, "we'll cook and eat, then we'll cook and eatagain, then we'll cook and eat once more."
"And I don't care very much whether Comanches heard the rifle shot ornot," said Phil. "It seems to me that when I eat as much as I want Ican whip the whole Comanche nation."
"I feel that way, too," said Bill Breakstone, "but the Comanches didn'thear. I know it in my bones. Didn't I tell you about that streak ofluck? Luck's coming our way now, and the streak will last for awhile."
They cut long twigs, sharpened them at the ends, and fried over thecoals strips of the deer, which gave out such a rich aroma as theysputtered that the two could scarcely restrain themselves. Yet they didit, they remained white men and gentlemen, and did not guzzle.
"Phil," said Bill, before he took a single bite, "I remember about thatdinner in New Orleans you were talking of so long ago. I remember aboutthose beautiful oysters, those splendid fish from the gulf, the gorgeousVirginia ham, the magnificent Louisiana turkey; yes, I remember allthose magnificent fripperies and frummeries, but it seems to me if theywere all set down before us, spread on a service of golden plate, theywouldn't be finer than what is now awaiting us."
"Bill," said Phil with deep emphasis and unction, "you never spoke truerwords in your life."
"Then lay on, Macduff, and the first who cries 'hold, enough'--well, hewon't be much of a trencherman."
They fell to. They did not eat greedily, but they ate long andperseveringly. Strip after strip was fried over the coals, gave out itssavory odor, and disappeared. Phil occasionally replenished the fire,adding to the bed of coals, but keeping down the smoke. Bill,stretching his long body on the ground and then propping himself up onhis elbow, concluded that it was a beautiful world.
"Didn't I tell you our luck would hold for awhile?" he repeated. "Sin
cewe got into the woods, things have come easy. A good bed put itselfright in our way, then a deer walked up and asked to be eaten.
"The deer It was here. One shot-- In our pot.
"We haven't any pot, but you can use things in a metaphorical sense inorder to get your rhyme. That's what poetry is for."
"I'm beginning to feel satiated," said Phil.
"'Satiated' is a good word," said Bill Breakstone, "but it isn't usedmuch on the plains. Still, I'm beginning to feel that way myself, too,and I think we'd better begin to consider the future, which is always somuch bigger than the present."
"We must find our horses."
"Of course, and after that we must find the train, which will be ourchief problem. It may be where we left it or it may have gone on,thinking that we had been killed by some outlying party of Comanches.But I don't believe Middleton and Arenberg would move without us. Theymay now be somewhere in these woods looking for us."
"Can you figure out the direction of the valley in which we left ourhorses?"
Breakstone studied the sun attentively.
"It's southeast from here," he replied, "and I fancy it's not more thanthree or four miles. Two likely lads like you and me ought to find itpretty soon, and, nine chances out of ten, the horses will be there.We'll take some of the best portions of the deer with us, and start atonce."
They chose the choicest pieces of the meat and started, now strong ofbody and light of heart. Phil's own judgment about the direction agreedwith Breakstone's, and in less than an hour they saw familiar ground.
"I'm a good prophet to-day," said Breakstone. "I've got the gift for afew hours at least. I predicted truly about the deer, and now I amgoing to predict truly about the horses. We'll have them by the bridleinside of half an hour."
In fifteen minutes they were in the little valley, in three minutes theyfound the horses grazing peacefully, and in two more minutes they caughtthem.
"We've done the work and with ten minutes to spare," said BillBreakstone, triumphantly, "and now, Phil, another wonderful change inour fortunes has come. If a camel is the ship of the desert, then ahorse is the boat of the plains, the long boat, the jolly boat, the rowboat, and all the rest of them. Now for the wagon train!"
"Now for the wagon train!" repeated Phil.
The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista Page 7
