The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XX

  THE SILVER CUP

  They awoke at the coming dawn, which began swiftly to drive away thecoolness of the night, and, using what was left of the giant cactus,they boiled coffee and heated their food again. This was a brief task,but by the time it was finished the whole world was enveloped once morein a reddish glare. All that day they advanced, alternately riding andwalking through an absolutely desolate land. The single cactus thatthey had burned loomed in Phil's memory like a forest. The water wasdoled out with yet more sparingness, and, a few minutes after they drankit, throat, tongue, and lips began to feel as parched as ever.

  Phil did not see a living thing besides themselves. No rattlesnake, nolizard, no scorpion dwelled in this burning sand. Two or three of thehorses began to show signs of weakness.

  "If we only had a tent to shelter us from this awful glare," saidBreakstone, "we could camp for the day, and then travel at night, but itwill be worse standing still than going on. And get on we must. Thehorses have had no food, and they cannot stand it much longer."

  They slept on the sand that night until a little past twelve o'clock,and then, to save time, resumed the march once more. The air was cooland pleasant at that time, but the desert looked infinitely weird andmenacing under the starlight. The next day they entered upon a regionof harder sand and in one or two places found a patch of scanty herbage,upon which the horses fed eagerly, but there was not a sign of water toward off the new and formidable danger that was threatening them, as thecanteens and water-bags were now almost empty.

  "To-morrow they will be empty," said Bill Breakstone.

  His dismal prophecy came true. At noon of the following day the lastdrop was gone, and John and Phil looked at each other in dismay. ButBill Breakstone was a man of infinite resource.

  "I mean to find water before night," he said. "Not any of yourMississippis or Missouris, nor even a beautiful creek or brook, notanything flowing or pretty to the eye, but water all the same. You justwait and see."

  He spoke with great emphasis and confidence, but the others were toomuch depressed to believe. Nevertheless, Bill Breakstone was watchingthe ground critically. He noticed that the depressions between theswells had deepened, and that the whole surface seemed to have a generaldownward slope. Toward the twilight they came to a deeper depressionthan any that they had seen before. Two or three slender trees, almostleafless grew in it. The trees themselves seemed to cry aloud: "Ithirst! I thirst!" But Bill Breakstone was all cheeriness.

  "Here is our water!" he cried briskly. "Get ready all!"

  He himself took out a stout shovel from the baggage on his horse, andbegan to dig, with great vigor, in the lowest part of the bowl.

  "I see," said Phil, "you're going to dig a well."

  "I am, and you're going to help me do it, too."

  "But will we find anything at the bottom of it?"

  "We will. Many a man has died of thirst in the desert, with plenty ofwater not twenty feet away. Some men are born without brains, Phil.Others have brains, but never use them, but I am egotistical enough tothink that I have some brains, at least, and some will and capacity touse them. Now I've thrown up a pretty good pile of sand there, and I'mgrowing tired. You take that shovel and see what you can do, but makeit a wide hole. You don't want a ton of sand caving in on you."

  Phil took the shovel and worked with energy. John and Arenberg with tincups also leaped down into the hole and helped as much as they could.As the sand was soft they descended fast, and Phil suddenly uttered ashout. He drew up a shovelful of wet sand, and, after that, sand yetwetter.

  "That will do," said Breakstone a minute or two later. "Stand aside nowand watch the water come into our well."

  They had reached an underground seepage or soakage, draining from thehigher ground above, and slowly a pool of water gathered at the bottom.The four uttered a shout of joy, entirely pardonable at such a time.The water was muddy, and it was warm, but it was pure water without anyalkali, and, as such it meant life, life to men and beasts in thedesert.

  "The horses first," said Breakstone, "or they'll be tumbling in here onour heads, and they are entitled to it, anyhow."

  They filled their kettles and pans with water, climbing out again andagain. The horses drank greedily and uttered deep sighs ofsatisfaction. It took a long time to give them enough by this method,but when they were satisfied the men took their tin cups and drank.

  "Slowly now," said Breakstone. "Don't you be too eager there, John, youescaped convict! Phil, you accidental buffalo killer, just hold thatcup of yours steady, or you'll be dashing its contents into your mouthbefore the rest of us. Now then, you sun-scorched scamps, drink!"

  The four drank together and at the same pace. Never in his life hadanything more delicious trickled down Philip Bedford's throat. Thatyellow, muddy water must have been the nectar that Jupiter and the restof the gods drank, when they were lounging about Olympus. Four emptycups came back, and four heartfelt sighs of satisfaction were uttered.The cups were filled again, but Bill Breakstone held up a warningfinger.

  "I know you want it bad," he said, "because I want it myself just as badas any of you, but remember that it's never good for the health to drinktoo fast, especially when you're nearly dead of thirst."

  Phil appreciated the wisdom of his words. Yet he was terribly thirsty.On the burning desert the evaporation was so rapid that his system wasalready dry again through and through.

  "Now," said Bill Breakstone, "fill again, gentlemen, and drink. Notquite so fast as before. Just let it linger a little, like an epicureover his wine, while the delicious taste tickles your palate, and thedelicate aroma fills your nostrils."

  The yellow water was all of these things to them, and they did as Billbade while they drank. After that, they took more cups of it from timeto time, and noted with satisfaction that, as they dipped the water outof the pit, more trickled back in again. Toward night they watered thehorses a second time, and Arenberg suggested that they spend both thenight and the day there, since the water seemed to be plentiful. In theday they could at least sit in the shadow of their horses, and, ifpushed hard by the sun, they could sit in their well. As the suggestioncame from Arenberg, who had the most reason for haste, it was adoptedunanimously and quickly.

  In the night, when it was cool and work was easy, they deepened the wellconsiderably, securing a much stronger and purer flow of water. Theyalso gave a greater slope to the sides, and then they went to sleep,very well contented with themselves. The next day, either in reality orimagination, was hotter than any of the others, and they felt devoutlythankful for the well, by which they could stay as long as they chose.When the sun was at its hottest they literally took refuge in it,sheltering themselves against the sandy bank and putting their hands inthe water.

  "My hands must be conductors," said Bill Breakstone, "because, when Ihold them in the water, I can feel the damp coolness running all throughmy system. Now, Sir John, you escaped convict, without the stripedclothes, did you ever see such a fine well as this before?"

  John laughed.

  "I'd rather have this well and freedom," he said, "than my cell in theCastle of Montevideo and all the beautiful mountain springs aboutthere."

  "Spoken like a man," said Bill Breakstone; "but this well is a beauty onits own account, and not merely by comparison. Look at the flowers allaround its brink. Look at the beautiful white stone with which it iswalled up. Look at the clearness of the water, like silver, in which mylily white hand now laves itself.

  "Our thirst rages; Water is found; Out of Hades At one bound.

  "Can you better that descriptive poem, Phil?"

  Phil shook his head.

  "No, Bill," he replied, "I can't. We're all of us poets at heart, butyou're the only one that can give his poetry expression. One poet isenough, another is too many."

  At sundown they watered all the horses ag
ain, filled every canteen andskin bag with water, bade farewell to the well that they had digged andloved, and again marched westward over the sand. But they were nowvigorous and full of hope, the sand was harder, and in the long coolnight hours they traveled fast. Their most pressing need now was tosecure food for the horses, which were relatively weaker than theirmasters, and by the moonlight they watched anxiously for some dim linewhich would indicate the approach of forests or mountains. They saw nosuch line, but the country was undoubtedly growing hillier. The sandwas also packed much harder. At times it seemed to resemble soil, butas yet there was neither grass nor bushes.

  They plodded along in silence, but hopeful. All the horses were weakfrom the lack of food, and the four walked by the side of themthroughout the night. But the night itself was beautiful, a dusky bluesky sprinkled with a myriad of silver stars. The weakness of the horsesincreased, and the four human beings were much alarmed for their brutecomrades, who were so important to them. But toward morning all thehorses raised their heads, thrust out their noses, and began to sniff.

  "Now what can the matter be?" exclaimed John Bedford.

  "They smell water," replied Bill Breakstone. "They can smell it a longway off, and, as it's bound to be surface water, that means grass. I'mof the opinion, boys, that we're saved."

  The horses, despite their weakness, advanced so rapidly now that thefour ran in order to keep up.

  "Jump on their backs," exclaimed Bill Breakstone, when they had goneabout a quarter of a mile. "It's water sure, and they won't mind alittle extra weight now."

  They sprang into the saddles, and the horses, seeming to take it as ahint, broke into a run. They ascended a slope and saw a dark outlinebefore them.

  "Trees! Pines! Fine, good pines!" exclaimed Arenberg. "The sight issmuch good!"

  They galloped among the pines, which were without undergrowth, and thendown the other slope. Phil caught a glimpse of something that set allhis pulses beating. It was a surface of dark blue water.

  "Yes, the pines are good," he said, "but this is better! A lake, boys!A lake of pure cold water, a precious jewel of a lake, set here amongthe hills of the desert, and just waiting for us!"

  Phil was right. It was a little lake set down among hills, with a rimof tall forest. It was almost circular, and about a hundred yards indiameter. They rode into it until their horses were up to their bodies.They let them drink copiously, and then rode back to the bank, afterwhich they were out with the tin cups again and took their fill, findingthe water not only pure but cold. Then Philip Bedford sat down on thegrass and looked at the lake. A light wind was making silver laceworkof its surface. Beyond it, and apparently for some distance, fine, talltrees stood. Abundant grass, sheltered by the hills, grew in the openplaces. At the far edge of the lake a dozen wild ducks swam, evidentlynot yet understanding human presence. The silver of the water and thegreen of the grass were like a lotion to the boy's eyes, used so long tothe brazen sun and the hot sand. He looked and looked, and then hecried:

  "I think this must be heaven!"

  Nobody laughed. Every one had the same feeling. They had come from thedesert, and the power of contrast was so great that the little lake withits trees and grass was, in truth, like a foretaste of heaven. Theytook everything from the horses, even the bridles, and turned themloose. There was no danger that they would wander from such a place.Then John Bedford began to take off his clothes.

  "I'm going to have a swim," he said. "I haven't had a real bath in morethan three years, and, after this last march of ours, I think I'mcarrying at least a hundred pounds of unpleasant desert about my body."

  "Me, too," said Phil. "Bet you ten thousand acres of desert that I beatyou into the water."

  "Go ahead, boys," said Breakstone, "and Hans and I will watch anddecide. Remember that you mustn't have on a single garment when youjump, or you'll be disqualified."

  Breakstone had scarcely finished the words when two white bodies flashedthrough the air and struck the water with two splashes that were one insound. Both disappeared beneath the surface and then came up,spluttering and splashing and swimming with bold strokes.

  "A tie," said Bill Breakstone.

  Hans Arenberg nodded.

  The brothers found the water much colder than they had expected, butthey swam so vigorously that they were soon in a fine glow. BillBreakstone looked at Hans Arenberg. Hans Arenberg looked at BillBreakstone.

  "Why not?" said Bill.

  "It iss what we ought to do," said Arenberg.

  In two minutes they also were in the lake, enjoying a greater luxurythan any Roman ever found in his marble and perfumed bath. All the dustand dirt of the desert were quickly swept from them, and the cold waterinfused new life into their veins and muscles. Toward the center theyfound by diving that the lake had a depth of at least twenty feet. Asthey saw no stream flowing into it, they were of the opinion that it wasfed by underground springs, probably the snow water from distantmountains, which accounted for its coldness. At the far side they foundthe outlet, a rivulet that flowed between rocks and then descendedswiftly toward the plain. They marked its course by the rows of treeson either side, and they knew that after its passage from the hillycountry it would enter the desert, there to be lost among the sands. Tothe north of them the country seemed to rise considerably, andBreakstone believed that the faint blue haze just under the horizonindicated mountains.

  "If so," he said, "we're not likely to suffer much more from the desert,because the mountains in this part of the Southwest generally mean treesand water. Meanwhile, we'll take the goods the gods provide us, whilethe lovely lake is here beside us; which bears a little resemblance tomore famous lines, and which fits the case just now."

  After a splendid swim they lay on the grass and let the sun dry them,while they soothed their eyes with the view of the lakes and the woodsand the horses grazed in peace near the water's edge. It was idyllic,sylvan, and at this moment they felt at peace with everybody, all exceptArenberg, who rarely let his boy and the Comanches go out of histhoughts.

  "Maybe we're the first white people who have ever seen this lake," saidJohn Bedford.

  "Not likely," replied Breakstone. "Hunters and trappers have rovedthrough this region a lot. People of that kind generally see thingsbefore the discoverers come along and name 'em."

  "At any rate," said Phil, "we've never seen it before, and since it'sthe color of silver, and it's set here in this bowl, I propose that wecall it 'The Silver Cup."

  "Good," said Breakstone, and the others, also, approved. They weresilent for awhile longer, enjoying their rest, and then Hans Arenbergspoke gravely:

  "It iss likely," he said, "that the Comanches know of this lake, andthat warriors in time may come here. We are sure that their bands wentwestward to avoid the American troops. Wherever there iss good waterthey will come sooner or later, and this water iss the best. It may bethat it will pay us to stay here awhile and seek some clue."

  "I think you're right," said Bill Breakstone, speaking for all theothers. "We don't know just where we are going, and we've got to stopand catch hold to something somewhere. And, as you say, in this part ofthe world good water is bound to draw people."

  Now that they were thoroughly refreshed they dressed and made a verycareful inspection of the country. On all sides of "The Silver Cup" butthe north the belt of wood was narrow, but northward it seemed to extendto a considerable distance. Looking from an elevation there, they werepositive that the blue haze under the horizon meant mountains. Therewas timber as far as they could see in that direction, and this viewconfirmed them in their resolution to stay where they were for awhile.

  They also took into account another consideration. It had been manymonths since the battle of Buena Vista. Much had happened since then,and the summer was waning. With winter approaching, it was more thanlikely that the Comanches would either hug the warm plains or returntoward them. It was an additional reason why warriors might come to TheS
ilver Cup. Such coming, of course, brought danger, but the likelihoodof success increased with the danger.

  They found a sheltered place on the north side of the lake, but aboutforty yards distant. It was a kind of rocky alcove, sloping down towardthe water, with great trees growing very thickly on every side. Theyput their supplies in here and made beds of dry leaves. Just above themwas a fine open space richly grassed, into which they turned the horses.

  "Those four-footed friends of ours will be our sentinels to-night," saidBill Breakstone. "I don't think any creeping Comanche could pass themwithout an alarm being raised, and, as we all need rest, we'll leave thewatching to them and take the chances."

  They did not light any fire, but ate their supper cold, and quicklybetook themselves to The Dip, as they called this shelter. There,wrapped in their blankets, they lay down on the soft beds of leaves, anddeemed themselves fortunate. Phil could just see between two greattree-trunks a narrow strip of The Silver Cup, which flashing in themoonlight with a luminous glow, looked like a wonderful gem. The waterrippled and moved softly. Beyond was the fringe of trees, and beyondthat the vast blue sky with a host of friendly stars. Then Phil fellinto the sleep of the just, and so did all his comrades. The only one ofthem who awoke in the night was Hans Arenberg. He looked at hisfriends, saw they were sleeping so soundly that they did not move, andhe arose very gently. Then he stepped out of The Dip and walked down tothe edge of The Silver Cup. There he stood looking at the waters whichstill shifted and moved like molten metal under the wind.

  There was a spell upon Hans Arenberg that night. The soul of the oldTeuton was alive within him, of the Teuton who lived in the greatforests of Germany far back of the Christian era. It was hisinheritance, like that of the Americans who, also, grew up in the shadowof the vast wilderness. The forest and lake were alive to him with thespirits of his primitive ancestors, but they were good spirits. Theywhispered in chorus that he, too, would succeed, and he began to whistlesoftly a quaint melody, some old German folk song that he had whistledto his boy. His mood grew upon him. All things were mystic. The seenwere the unseen, and the things around him had no place. Even the lakevanished as he softly whistled the little melody, and it seemed to himafter awhile that an answer to it came out of the forest, the samemelody whistled more softly yet, and from childish lips. Arenberg knewthat he was dreaming awake, but from that moment he never doubted.

  He came from the spell, slipped back into The Dip, and was the firstnext morning to awake. But he built the fire and did all the cooking,and he was uncommonly cheerful, whistling at times a peculiar butbeautiful melody that none of them had ever heard before.

  "Arenberg must have had a fine dream last night," said John Bedford toPhil.

  "Looks so," replied Phil, "but I'm not going to ask him about it."

  Arenberg and John remained and watched at the lake that day, devotingthemselves at the same time, to the improvement of their camp, by meansof a roof of bark and poles at the upper edge of The Dip, which wouldprotect them from the infrequent rains. Phil and Bill Breakstonemounted the best of the horses and made a great scout northward. Theyfound that the thick woods extended four or five miles. Beyond that thetimber became scattering, and they also saw patches of open country withthe succulent buffalo grass. Farther on lay the great mountains,clearly visible now.

  "That's our water supply," said Bill, pointing to the blue range. "Aswe guessed, The Silver Cup is certainly fed from them, and I think thatwe've seen enough for the present. We've established the fact thatwe've got about the best base to be found in this country, and thesewoods will surely contain game."

  Their luck continued high, for within fifteen minutes they flushed ablack-tailed deer, which Phil, from his horse's back, brought down witha fine running shot. It was a fat doe, and, skinning and cleaning itthere, they put it upon one of the horses and carried it back to camp.They did not arrive until nearly sundown, and their spoils made themdoubly welcome to their comrades.

  "You have done good work," said Hans Arenberg, "and this deer is verywelcome. There are more where it came from, and to-morrow I think,also, that I will shoot some of the foolish ducks that are swimmingaround on the lake."

  Arenberg was as good as his word; the next day they added a half dozenfine ducks to their larder. On the following day Arenberg and John rodenorthward, making the great scout. They had resolved to do this day byday, two to ride for enemies, and two to watch and work at the campuntil something happened. Thus nearly two weeks passed and The SilverCup remained untouched by any human beings save themselves. It was sopeaceful that apparently it would remain forever so. Nor did they findanything in the forest except game, although they threshed up thecountry at least thirty miles to the north. Still they clung to theircamp, knowing that they must have patience.

  The hot days passed fast, and the coolness of autumn came upon them.One night it rained heavily, but the thatched roof did its duty, andthey did not surfer. The waters of the lake grew colder, but theyrarely missed their daily swim. Breakstone thought it likely that itwas already snowing on the distant mountains.

  They continued to beat up the country in circles that widened steadily,still without any sign of Comanches or any other Indian tribe, butArenberg was resolute in his desire to stay, and the others thought itright to defer to him in the matter that concerned him most. The Germanheld to the theory that sooner or later Comanches would pass that way,since water, wood, and game, the three requisites of savage life, werefound there.

  Hence they made ready for winter. They had two axes in their baggage,and they built a strong shack in The Dip, one quite sufficient toprotect them from the winter storms which were likely to occur here, asthey were at a great elevation above the sea. They made rude fishtraps, with which they caught excellent fish in the lake, and they couldincrease the supply indefinitely. The black-tailed deer were numerous inthe forest. They also found wild turkeys, and they shot two buffaloeson the plains below. The horses grazed in a sheltered little valley,and they judged that grass could be found there all through the winter.

  There would be no trouble about living. Beyond a doubt, they could findample supplies of food, and so long a time passed without the appearanceof an enemy that they began to feel quite safe at their home in The Dipand in the region about it. As they sat there late one afternoon andwatched the twilight come over The Silver Cup, Hans Arenberg spoke thethoughts that had been heavy in his mind that day.

  "See what a misty twilight it iss," he said. "It iss too cold for rain,and so I think it means snow. The Comanches will come with the snow.While the weather was warm, and they could sleep on the open plain, theyrode there, hunting the buffalo. Now the western bands will seekshelter and they will come here."

  He walked from the hut and stood looking down at the lake, the surfaceof which had turned from silver to gray. The three followed him with agaze which was of blended curiosity and sympathy.

  "I more than half believe him," said Breakstone in a whisper to theothers.

  "It seems to me that sometimes he talks like a prophet," said JohnBedford.

  "He is a prophet sometimes," said Bill Breakstone, "or at least he's gotsecond sight. Now he's looking at that lake, but he doesn't see it atall. He sees the Comanches, riding, riding, always riding toward thisplace, and maybe they have with them some one for whom he is looking.Maybe, and maybe not, but we'll see, don't you forget that, Phil, youand John, and somehow I'm thinking that he sees true."

  It rapidly grew colder, and they were glad enough, when they came backfrom hunting and scouting, to seek the shelter of the thatched hut inThe Dip. There, while the coals glowed on the stone hearth that theyhad made, and the smoke passed out through the vent in the wall, theyspeculated much on what was passing far to the southward of them. Thegreat battle at the mouth of the Pass of Angostura was still so vivid inthe minds of Phil, Breakstone, and Arenberg that they did not have toshut their eyes to see it again, and John often dreamed that h
e wasstill in the Castle of Montevideo, sitting by that deep loophole,looking out upon his mountain landscape.

  "I guess they're closing in on the City of Mexico," said BillBreakstone. "It's in a rough and mountainous country, easy to defend,but after the battle of Buena Vista I don't believe anything in Mexicocan defeat our soldiers, no matter what the odds."

  "And Middleton is with them," said Phil. "I'd like to see the Captainagain. He was a fine man."

  "Maybe we will," said Breakstone. "The West is a mighty big place, butthere are not many white men in it, and when you shuffle them aroundsome you are likely to meet them more than once."

  The next morning The Silver Cup had a cover, a beautiful clear cover ofice an eighth of an inch thick. The following morning the cover was alittle thicker, and it thickened perceptibly every succeeding morning,until it would bear the weight of Phil or John. The trees were heavywith frost, and the wind sometimes blew so sharply from the mountainthat they made rude ear-muffs of deerskin and helped out their clothingas skillfully as possible with skins and furs.

  Then the snow came. Looking northward, they saw a whitish mist over theforest. The mist gradually turned to dark blue clouds hanging very low.The snow fell, at first, in slow, solemn flakes, and then swiftly. Theyfilled the air, all the forest was hidden, and nothing marked thepresence of The Silver Cup but the level expanse of the snow. It fellto the depth of six or seven inches, then the skies cleared away, becamecrystal blue, and the cold increased, promising no more snow for thepresent, but a long continuance of that which lay on the ground. Theyvisited the horses the next morning and found them well protected intheir valley. Large spaces there were but thinly covered with the snow,and the horses could easily get at the grass. Assured on this point,John and Breakstone returned to The Dip, while Phil and Arenberg,mounting the strongest two horses, rode northward.