The Treasure of Pearls: A Romance of Adventures in California
They proceeded to descend the steep up and down side with all the
precaution requisite. Difficult was not the word for their task, for
none but a maniac or a lover or such as these staking all on the
chance of being infinite service to their fellows, would have hazarded
themselves.
The descent was a series of slides, checked by dwarf shrubs and rocks
of all imaginable forms, cut, ground, polished, jagged by the water
and sand; now and then, without any warnings, there were cracks and
holes three or four yards wide at the remote bottom of which was
to be heard a melancholy soughing and roaring as of raging demons
or oppressed souls. Out of several, a thick, noisome, warm vapour
sluggishly oozed. Once, when they had hardly succeeded in crossing a
part of which the rim was of crumbling sand, Oliver had made a remark
on the judiciousness of his comrade awaiting him there, but the answer
was so stern and impregnated with such resolution that he never again
remonstrated.
At last the centre of the trough was attained.
But here the chaos of sand, shrubs, and rocks, became next to
inextricable, and to proceed up through the hindrances, varying each
instant in material but not in degree, would have been pronounced
simply preposterous by the most exacting.
Nevertheless, Oliver was a man whom nothing could stop in his purpose,
for he twined in and out, crawled as supple as a serpent, thought
nothing of his hands and knees exposed to the adamantine sands and
the harsh catclaw bushes that would have frightened the half-naked
savages, and if ofttimes he was compelled to retrace his steps when he
had ventured into a non-egress, it was only the better to resume his
unwearied way.
"I'm no hog," growled he once, when he paused to suck a more than
usually deep briar scratch which he believed poisonous, "and I know
when I hev' my fill o' sich 'snaking,' but it's got to be did.
Besides," looking up from the semiobscurity to the top of the gorge
where the sky glowed the more gorgeously by contrast, "night must not
catch us no farther up, and agen," sniffing like an old sailor, "ain't
thar rain in the air?"
"I am stifled with the sulphur reeking out of these cracks," returned
his companion; "on this roof of Old Nick's kitchen, I really am not
aware I have a nose upon me for weather scenting."
Oliver grunted as a kind of quiet laugh, and on he scrambled.
At the same time that one would have deemed all his faculties absorbed
in picking the course and caring for his own safety, the hunter found
time, not merely to caution his comrade, but to intervene at moments
of peril. This constant attention in safekeeping once even almost led
to his losing his life or limbs, for in choosing for himself the wider
part of a crack, the edge gave way altogether, and but for Gladsden
clutching by the side, with a little fold of the skin, too, in the
grasp, the hunter must have fallen within the crust.
"Thank'ee, pard.!" observed the guide, wincing comically; "That time
you grabbed flesh and ha'r. A little more of sich a grip, an' you'd
hev' had to leave me behind, sot here; on my hind legs, a-howling!"
At last, after nearly twice the three hours assigned too rashly for the
whole effort had been spent in scaling the anfractuosities at which
a mountain sheep would have baulked, they had at all events ascended
the barranca and were under the centre of the part of the hill where
the Yaquis had dragged an old forty-pounder, brought over by the
conquerors, and for long rusting at some farm in the neighbourhood.
Their rejoicing at the accomplishment of their work coincided so
closely with that of the two white men that the latter smiled to be so
indirectly cheered.
Stopping to take breath, they looked back with relief and pride at the
horrible gulfy path which they had overcome, darkening into blackness
with the failing light.
Whilst the cannon was placed on some logs so that it could be trained
on the hacienda, to the level of which this hill almost rose,
the Yaquis were silent, so interested were they in the operation
superintended by Lieutenant Garcia, inflated into abnormal pomposity by
becoming the cynosure.
"Up!" said Oliver in this silence.
They had the abrupt side to climb when they would be beside the amateur
artillerists. After what they had overcome this affair was merely one
of time. The brink of the barranca was armed by stony mounds and the
wrecks of half a dozen pines of the giant species, which must have been
an imposing sight for miles around before the lightning or the tempest
shattered them. Ensconced in this natural barricade, not more than
three hundred feet from the nearest of the foe, they could easily take
the repose they deserved, whilst studying the scene and the actors.
On their front, to the right, the hacienda and its corrals, into
which they could gaze across the gully; farther away the forest where
the Mexican detachment lay. Beside them, the hill covered with the
insurgents, and more and still more of them in the vales. Disseminated
thus, they seemed a veritable swarm of locusts, such as covers the
plains of Arizona and Colorado.
They recognised without difficulty Captain Pedrillo on his horse, with
his wooden leg sticking out and twitching free of the stirrup; the
Apache chiefs, knowing nothing about ordnance, left the Mexicans to
manage the loading of the cannon with blasting powder. A pile of the
powder cans, some partly open and some altogether stove in and lidless,
with all the carelessness of the inexperienced, stood near the piece
on its wooden frame; at that distance the Englishman could even see
the brand on the tins of the sun in glory of the Rayo del Sol Mining
Company, from the works of which, by Regulus Pueblo, they had been
taken by its truant ore carriers.
Darkness fell, deeper than usually, which confirmed Oliver in his
forecast as to a tempest approaching, but the peons worked on at the
clumsy pedestal of the cannon by the flare of torches.
Seeing that the piece would surely be in place, Captain Pedrillo, Iron
Shirt, and the Apache subchiefs went into a large tent on the brow
of the hill. It was open on the face towards the hacienda above, and
consequently they were no longer visible to the two adventurers, who
could see only the guard of Indians at the same point.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE UNWILLING VOLUNTEER.
It had fallen a very black night, we say. Not a star peeped out among
the heavy clouds grazing the treetops and rim of the bowl in the centre
of which Monte Tesoro flaunted its defiant colours. In the northward,
long peals of thunder rolled without any lightning being visible.
Whether from the effect of the atmosphere, or by the presentiment
of the assault by the multitude of besiegers being imminent, a kind
of gloom seemed to reign in the hacienda; the courts were deserted,
the sentries were almost unseen, and their "all's well" but feebly
re-echoed along the barriers. Not one light sparkled at an aperture to
cheer the two watchers on the hill in the heart of the hostile camp.
On the other hand, without, at fires kindled far enough away not to
expose the crowds encircling them to gunshot, the rebels noisily kept
holiday, shouting and cheering and singing.
In the tent, formed of curtains and carpets thrown over supports of
tree stems, erected with all the ingenuity of a people expert by
tradition in hut building, the three chiefs of the allied foes of
Sonora were in conference.
Each had already gained a hold on the masses,--the Apache by having
shown with his handful of warriors that the Mexicans could be bearded
in their houses; the Mexican by his notorious feud with the farmer
gentry; and Juan, the Yaqui, by having accumulated these hordes, after
having excited them to throw off the yoke.
Furthermore, the latter had brought the cannon and suggested its
employment against the farm building; and Iron Shirt had distinguished
himself in all the charges up to the very pickets, harassing the
Mexicans till they were no doubt weary from want of rest.
All the tendency of their conversation was towards taunting the
one-legged robber chieftain for his backwardness in the attack.
Suddenly the Mexican, who had borne the innuendoes with deep
philosophy, as he smoked a cigarette or two, lifted his head, and
listening, said:
"I know that step! It is my spy's! Now, perhaps, I shall show you what
manner of man is el Manco."
There was a slight exchange of questions and answers between the guards
of the tent, and then the three leaders beheld a dark figure's outlines
against the sky.
It was a peon, apparently.
"Speak," said Captain Pedrillo, as the Indian bowed low, "we three are
one to hear you."
"Your Excellency," began the slave in a low, clear voice, eking out his
story with signs, which were clearer to the comprehension of Iron Shirt
than his speech, "I have penetrated the farm even to the gardens."
"Ah!" cried the peon leader and the robber in a breath, whilst the
Apache's eyes gleamed transiently and gleefully.
"I have found a secret gate in the palisade. One or two men, even
mounted ones, would not be remarked, for the watches are worn out by
the day's guard. In truth, a mounted man would be thought, once within
the corral, one of their officers. Thence, one can ride into the garden
where the ladies take the air. I am sure," added he, with ferocity,
"that if we had half a dozen of us in their midst, while our brothers
attacked the hacienda on all sides, that the defenders would be so
distracted by their shrieks and the war whoops that we would master the
place in a twinkling."
"You hear?" said the Mexican, complacently. "We might have hammered our
fists sore on the gate and made no headway. But thanks to my emissary,
Juan--"
"Diego--."
"Diego, then; we can have the cursed proprietors at a disadvantage. He
shall lead a small force into the heart of the fortress during this
night. Then let the sound of our cannon, hurling its huge balls into
the doomed dwelling, be their signal to seize the women enjoying the
shade and shelter, and ours to assail the same from every quarter."
The Apache was not enthusiastic, and the peon was suspicious.
"He was a servant there," explained Captain Pedrillo, hastily, noticing
how little his agent and his project were approved. "Don Benito had him
flogged for some peccadillo, and he has loved him, thirsted to show his
love for the family ever since."
The rebel leader grinned at the sarcasm; it opened an old sore.
"That is different," said he. "Diego, you are welcome now; and yet," he
went on, "Diego is Indian, yes; peon, yes; but Yaqui, no!"
"It is true, I am not a Yaqui," answered the other, with some pride,
"but I am a Mayo. My people hunted over this ground, hither and
thither, from the sea to the Aztec's land, from the Smoking Mountain to
the Pimas' cornfields; but now, their bow is broken, their gold gilds
the spurs of the Spaniard. Diego stands alone; the last of the Mayos is
the pointing dog of the Yaquis, the Apaches, and the Foe-to-all-men."
He locked his hands, and, bowing, remained like a statue before the
trio.
"Good!" said the Apache, "We are born diverse, but hatred makes us
brothers. I will bring a chosen band to the secret gate."
"And I," said the peon leader, "will set my brothers on the alert to
attack the farm at every point."
"And I will manage the great gun," said Pedrillo, pleased at how patly
things were falling. "Here upon the hill--"
"Out of shot?" sneered Juan. "No! Your Mexicans can manage the cannon.
You are the gentleman to handle the ladies with gloves; you, Captain,
will accompany the spy."
"But I cannot move out of the saddle."
"But you heard Diego say a mounted man will be taken for one of their
own officers--"
"Still--"