Part 6 (1/2)
”But if we surrender, might they not be merciful?”
”Merciful! surrender to the Rattlesnake! That would be as putting ourselves in the power of the reptile he takes his name from. You forget Gil Perez and his ma.s.sacre.”
”No, indeed. But was it Coyoteros he ma.s.sacred?”
”Coyoteros; and of this very band. El Cascabel's not like to have forgotten that; and will now make us innocent people pay for it. _Ay de mi_!”
With this final exclamation, uttered in a tone of deep despondence, the Mexican relapses into silence. But only for a few seconds longer, to look through the telescope. He has seen enough to know all which can be known, and too truly conjectures what is likely to ensue.
The party of Indians, led by El Cascabel, is again moving onward, and a sweep of the gla.s.s around to the north-west shows the other party making to turn the mountain on its western side. The _gambusino_ can count them now; sees that they number over two hundred, enough to put all hope of a successful encounter with them out of the question. As for retreat, it is too late for that. Surrounded are the luckless miners, or soon will be; besieged on the summit of a mountain as within the walls of a fortress, and as far removed from any chance of succour as castaways on a desert isle in mid-ocean.
CHAPTER TEN.
AN ENFILADING LINE.
The ”stone artillery” has been got together; a huge pile of it, forming at the same time protecting parapet and battery of guns; the men have desisted from their work, and having nothing more to do, at least for a time, stand listening for the signals. They know that such have been arranged, without having been told their exact bearing.
But they are soon to learn it; almost instantly after hearing a shot, and then quick succeeding it another, as the discharges from a double-barrelled gun.
”The Indians coming on, and near!” says Don Estevan, interpreting to those around. ”We may look to see them soon yonder.”
He nods towards the abandoned camp, a portion of which is visible from the head of the gorge.
This causes a turning of all eyes in its direction, and on the _llano_ beyond. But scarce have they commenced scanning it when two other shots, less loud but with a like interval between, reach their ears, proceeding from the same quarter.
”The pistols--signals three and four!” mechanically p.r.o.nounces the ex-officer of dragoons, his sallow features showing further clouded.
”There's no more to listen for now,” he adds. ”Don Pedro was right.
Apaches they must be, and on a marauding expedition--likely for the towns of the Horcasitas, and, unluckily, we in their way. Ah, _amigos_!
it's an ill look-out for us; could not well be worse.”
But worse it is, as they are yet to learn. And soon do learn from the lips of the _gambusino_, who, returning in breathless haste, cries out ere he is up to them,
”_Los Coyoteros_! The band of El Cascabel!”
Words of terrible portent, needing no explanation, for they recall to the minds of all present that sanguinary incident already alluded to.
The dastardly deed of Captain Perez and his ruffianly soldiery is likely to be retaliated on men, not only themselves guiltless, but every one of whom has condemned it! For how can they expect mercy from the friends and relatives of his murdered victims? How hope for any distinction or exception in their favour? They cannot, and do not, knowing that ever since that inhuman ma.s.sacre the Apaches have treated every paleface as a foe, the Coyoteros killing all prisoners that fall into their hands, after torturing them.
”You think it's the band of Cascabel?”
It is Don Estevan who questions in rejoinder to the _gambusino's_ brief but expressive report.
”Think! I'm sure of it, your wors.h.i.+p. Through this good gla.s.s of yours I recognised that savage himself, knowing him too well. It enabled me to make out his _totem_, the pretty device on his breast, of which this on mine's but a poor copy. _Mira_!”
While speaking, he unb.u.t.tons his s.h.i.+rt-front and draws the plaits apart, as a screen from some precious picture, exposing to the view of all what he had already shown to Henry Tresillian. As most of them remember having heard of the sepulchral symbol borne by the Coyotero chief, with that other more appropriate to his name, they now know the sort of enemy that is approaching, and what they have to expect. No more among them is there hope of either friends.h.i.+p or mercy. On one side, the stronger, it will be attack hostile and vengeful; on the other, and weaker-- theirs, alas!--it must be resistance and defence even unto death.
Though fully convinced of this, the miners remain calm, with that confidence due to danger seeming still distant. They know they are safe for the time, una.s.sailable, the _gambusino_ having given them a.s.surance of it. But they now see it for themselves, and any apprehensions they have are less for the present than the future. Sure are they that a siege is before them, how long they cannot guess, nor in which way it will terminate. And there may be chances of relief or escape they have not thought of. Hope is hard to kill, and the least hopeful of them has not yet yielded to despair. Time enough for that when starvation stares them in the face, for hunger--famine--is the foe they have most to fear.
But they think not of things so far ahead. They must first see the enemy of which their guide has given such awe-inspiring account; and, with glances sent abroad and over that portion of the plain visible to them, they await his appearance on it.