The Treasure of Pearls: A Romance of Adventures in California
At last, nearly four years in this almost solitary existence having
passed, and his little hoard of earnings by the supply of green meat to
the whalers swelling out so that he feared he would be robbed, he took
advantage of the offer of an officer of a British man-of-war, surveying
the Gulf, to transport him to Guaymas.
People and things had changed there; the prospect of the railways
connecting the port with the United States and Mexico City had
galvanised it into a life he had never known before. Most of his
associates had disappeared; but he found Don Stefano Garcia humbly
"clerking it" in a merchant's, and very reticent about a fortnight
in the chain gang, which punishment he had undergone for some little
playfulness in his banking business.
Wary, tenacious, exacting, the returned salteador fastened himself
upon the clerk and blackmailed him almost daily, spending the extorted
money in the sailors' drinking dens. At last, seeing that his Old Man
of the Sea was doomed to be his destruction, Garcia made an effort,
gave the robber a large sum of money once for all, and started him for
the northern interior. The former rover of the Sierras had expressed a
desire to resume the old life of freedom, tempered with depredation and
debauchery.
Soon, indeed, to the nucleus of a few chosen scoundrels with whom
he had beguiled the intervals between revels and card play in the
Guaymas groggeries, with stories of the merry life on the prairies, the
captain added the floating scum of Upper Sonora. But this time he did
not hesitate to venture into New Mexico and run off cattle from the
American settlers. Thus he acquired a wider fame than before, and on
both sides of the border the One-legged Rustler had a price set on his
head.
About a year before, he had an accession to his band in the person
of no less than the ex-banker, don Stefano Garcia. That estimable
gentleman, from forgery to forgery, had contrived to bring the
credulous foreign firm that employed him to bankruptcy, and, well
supplied with funds, thus shamefully acquired, was encountered by his
old associate gambling it away in the Green Ranch. They were scandalous
rogues, born to travel in harness, and Garcia at once stepped into the
lieutenancy of the formidable band. Too corpulent to be agile, except
in the dance, in which he excelled like most Mexicans, he preferred to
win by astuteness, and was no more daring when his neck was concerned
than El Manco himself.
It was he who earnestly approved his superior's idea of stopping the
desultory fighting and becoming friends with the Apaches. For one knew
as well as the other that they were wolves whose hide would cost dear,
and then be worthless.
The Apaches, as we have elsewhere remarked, are about the most
ferocious and barbarous nation in the great Southwest. Neither Sioux
nor Pawnees attain their perfection in cruelty, and they are matchless
as the Comanches in horse stealing.
They are tyrants of the wilderness, in short, who see no life worth
living without murder, pillage, torture, and conflagrations. They make
no nice distinctions in attacking any beings, white, red, or mixed
blood, merely out of an implacable hatred for those born beyond their
pale. It is said that when other supply of foemen fall short, they will
quarrel among themselves and cross knives in the council lodge itself
for the sheer relish of bloodshedding.
Such were the demons to whom the Mexican Ishmael wanted to propose a
temporary alliance to attack and carry by storm the hacienda of don
Benito de Bustamente.
All at once, therefore, Captain Pedrillo bid one of his men sound a
bugle in imitation of the notes of the cry used by the Apaches for
"cease firing!" and, immediately, one of his lieutenants, risking
his life, sprang from behind a tree towards the red man, waving a
blanket in a peculiar manner which kept it flat but undulating in the
air, whilst he shouted "_Paz_--peace!" As a rule, such overtures are
disregarded by Indians in combat, but the incertitude about their
beloved chief made them accept it. Their missiles were no longer heard
whistling, and, in a few minutes spent in consultation, one of the
subchiefs leaped into the clear ground, and waved a white buffalo robe.
With bravado, in order to indicate that fear had nothing to do with
this offering and assent to the truce, both parties showed themselves.
On the one side, more than a hundred red men appeared, bristling with
spears and arrows held on the bow, or displaying guns and hatchets.
On the other, upon an earthwork hastily thrown up with knives, the
ruffians presented themselves, to the number of sixty at least
enveloped in their zarapés, coiled up to protect vital parts of the
body, their heads shaded with _sombreros_, or capped with skins of
animals, still showing their teeth and claws; their guns and their
machetes gleamed brightly. Both seemed tough morsels, and though
the Indians uttered no comments on the parade, their glances among
themselves expressed the same sentiment of admiration which the
Mexicans muttered.
The _alférez_ and the Apache chief slowly advanced, step for step, so
as to meet midway between the lines; as they came on nearer and nearer,
they threw down weapon after weapon so as, at last, when they stood
within arm's length, to be totally disarmed, in all appearance. No
doubt both had a concealed knife, for treachery is always suspected in
prairie warfare.
When they actually met, and the Mexican spokesman had repeated his
mission to propose peace, on the grounds that there was no quarrel
between the noble Apaches and the bandits, who were in no way connected
with those infernal North American heretics who had intruded within the
Rancho Verde, the Indian made a sign to his friends. Instantly, in a
majestic manner, several chiefs came forward towards him, a movement
imitated by Pedrillo and his subleaders, and soon the two groups were
facing one another.
Profoundly distrustful, though no weapons were visible, both parties
fully aware of the rascality of either, the Apaches nevertheless
recognised that the pair of fugitives who had slain their chief
after beating the Rustlers in the barroom, and were speeding away
on re-stolen horses, were no friends of the Mexicans. The proposal,
therefore, that the two forces should unite in their mutual hate for
the strangers, by whose deeds both suffered, was congenial. Always
repulsed when they attacked the fortified houses of the rich farmers,
the Indians hoped for better results if they were aided by men
accustomed to fight on foot and to manage a siege.
Consequently, not ten minutes of explanation had passed before the half
dozen principals were seated in a circle in the centre of the clearing
before the smoking ruins of Tío Camote's luckless hostelry, with the
calumet circulating for a council.
One little detail had been promptly debated and settled; apart from the
bloodshed due to Mr. Gladsden and his hunter guide, five of the Apaches
had been slain by Mexican bullets, while only three of the bandits had
lost their lives in the skirmish. Now, inasmuch as the code "a life
for a life," rules the savage practice, the Rustlers owed two lives to
the Apaches, who could not, with a debt of blood unpaid, enter into
alliance with the debtors.
With a sharklike grin, the worthy Captain Pedrillo removed this
difficulty.
"There are four of my men, Chief Iron Shirt," said he, leaning towards
the successor of Tiger Cat, "rank weeds, unruly, who have secreted
unfair shares of plunder, and who contemplate desertion to go to Ures,
and, perhaps, betray me and their valiant comrades to the police. I
will arrange, on our march, to send them away as a detached scouting
party, and your young men may take and wear their scalps at their
girdles. Four scalps for two lives! Applaud my generosity!"
"It is a bargain," said the Apaches, grimly enjoying the joke.
Iron Shirt was a notorious villain, having twice at least mingled with
the Cheyennes and passed himself off for one of them in order to obtain
from the United States agent arms and ammunition which he meant, even
as he received them with protestations of lip service, to essay upon
the very official who gave them. Hence he was the man particularly to
appreciate double-dealing and applaud it when he was not the dupe. He
derived his singular but veritable appellation--for he is like other
characters in our narrative, a figure in border annals--not from his
ever wearing a shirt of mail, but from his good fortune in escaping
body wounds. He attributed it to his "medicine," but the white hunters
thought him very dexterous in the use of the small shield which Indian
cavalry carry, and which, while not defying a rifle ball, will fend off
an arrow and stop a revolver bullet.
The pipe of council went twice around the ring, till Pedrillo spoke
again from his elevated perch on the horse, the others squatting in the
Indian fashion.
"My Apache brothers are great warriors," he said, "so I am wishful to
prove my esteem for them by having them join me, or taking me and my
band in conjunction with them," changing the form of offer on seeing
the Indian wince in wounded pride, "to make complete the successful
_coup_ which they have already struck at the hacienda of the Treasure
Hill. This time, my red brothers will return to their villages, not
merely with a few horses and one paleface girl, but with a long train
of mules packed with booty and fifty women to sew their clothes, fetch
water and cook their meals. The scalps are of no value to us, and they
will be the Apaches' prize! As for the plunder of the rich farm, we
divide it fairly between us. What does the chief say?"
Each of the Apaches answered in order of rank "it is good! The chief
says we will fall on the hacienda in concert, and the plunder will be
equally shared among the warriors."
The settlement of details was made whilst this favourable decision
upon the preliminaries was carried to the subordinates, interestedly
awaiting. General satisfaction was manifested, but the wary bandits and
red men took care not to mingle or fraternize, save with arms at hand,
even where several recognised acquaintances and hailed them cordially.
There was no doubt, as happens with more important treaty makers in
Europe, each contracting party reserved in secret the right to keep
none of the pledges given and to seize the spoil the moment he felt
strong enough to defy the consequences of such treachery.
Meanwhile, Pedrillo called for a keg of spirits saved from the wreck of
the ranch, and all drank to cement the negotiation.
Tío Camote had emerged from his retreat, and his two bartenders, more
frightened than hurt when the roof collapsed with them, saw the unburnt
stores of his tavern shared between the allies, as a commencement
of their active brotherhood, without too much resentment. Forced to
enlist actively among the banditti lest the rear guard of the Apaches
immolated him on the smouldering ruins, where their greatest chief was
inextricably buried to appease his manes, Uncle Sweet Potato still
wondered that he lived and breathed with his head thatched as nature
provided. As for his assistants, they were highwaymen when out of a
situation, and they entered the ranks again under Pedrillo's colours
without demur.
Just before sunset, the troops, united in sentiment though divided, as
independently pursuing their respective purposes in a parallel course
solely by accident, took up the ride towards Monte Tesoro. As they had
no doubt that the fugitives would be lodged, for Doña Perla's sake, in
her father's house, they had no reason to try to overtake them.
The first interruption to the rapid progress of the two troops, and at