LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

about his bearded lips. A stronger, firmer type of scout and frontiersman than Al Sieber never sat in saddle in all Arizona in the seventies, and he was a noted character among the officers, soldiers, pioneers, and Apaches. The former respected and trusted him. The last named feared him as they did the Indian devil. He had been in fight after fight with them; had had his share of wounds, but—what the Apaches recoiled from in awe was the fact that he had never met them in the field without laying one at least of their number dead in his tracks. He was a slim-built, broad-shouldered, powerful fellow, with a keen, intelligent face, and eyes that were kindly to all his friends, but kindled at sight of a foe. A broad-brimmed, battered slouch hat was pulled well down over his brows; his flannel shirt and canvas trousers showed hard usage; his pistol belt hung loose and low upon his hips and on each side a revolver swung. His rifle—Arizona fashion—was balanced athwart the pommel of his saddle, and an old Navajo blanket was rolled at the cantle. He wore Tonto leggins and moccasins, and a good-sized pair of Mexican spurs jingled at his heels. He looked—and so did his horse—as though a long, hard ride was behind them, but that they were ready for anything yet.

      "It makes a difference, captain—their attacking me or you. I've been alive among 'em so many years that they have grown superstitious. Sometimes I half believe they think I can't be killed. Then, too, I may have slipped through unnoticed, but you—with all this outfit—why! you're sure to be spotted, followed, and possibly ambushed in Sunset Pass. It's the worst place along the route."

      Captain Gwynne looked anxiously about him a moment. He was a hard-headed, obstinate fellow, and he hated to give up. Two months ago his wife had died, leaving to his care two dear little ones—a boy of nine and a girl of six. He soon determined to take them East to his home in far Pennsylvania. There was no Southern Pacific or any other Arizona railway in those days. Officers and their families who wanted to go East had to turn their faces westward, take a four or five days' "buckboard" ride across the dusty deserts to the Colorado River, camp there perhaps a week before "Captain Jack Mellon" came backing or sideways down the shallow stream with his old "Cocopah." Then they sculled or ground their way over the sand bars down to Fort Yuma, a devious and monotonous trip; then were transferred to "lighten" or else, on the same old Cocopah, were floated out into the head of the Gulf of California and there hoisted aboard the screw steamers of the Ocean line—either the Newbern or the Montana, and soon went plunging down the gulf, often very sea-sick, yet able to get up and look about when their ship poked in at some strange old Mexican town, La Paz or Guaymas, and finally, turning Cape St. Lucas, away they would steam up the coast to San Francisco, which they would reach after a two weeks' sea voyage and then, hey for the Central Pacific, Cape Horn, the Sierras, Ogden, and the tramp to the Union Pacific and, at last, home in the distant east, all after a journey of five or six weeks and an expense of months of the poor officer's pay.

      Now Captain Gwynne was what we called a "close" man. He could not bear the idea of spending something like a thousand dollars in taking himself, little Ned and Nellie, and their devoted old nurse, Irish Kate, by that long and expensive route. He had two fine horses and a capital family wagon, covered. He had a couple of stout mules and a good baggage wagon. Jim, his old driver, would go along to take care of "the Concord," as the family cart was termed. Manuelito, a swarthy Mexican, would drive the mules; the captain would ride his own pet saddle horse, Gregg, and a discharged soldier, whom he hired for the purpose, would ride McIntosh, the other charger. All were well armed. Parties were going unmolested over the Sunset Pass route every month. Why should not he?

      The officers at Prescott shook their heads and endeavored to dissuade him, but the more they argued the more determined was he. There were tearful eyes among the ladies at Prescott barracks, where Mrs. Gwynne had been dearly loved, when they bade good-by to the children. But one fine day away went "the outfit;" stopped that night at Camp Verde, deep down in the valley; started again early in the morning, despite the protestations of the garrison, and that evening were camping among the beautiful pine woods high up on the Mogollon range. Sieber's pronunciation of the name—"Mogeyone"—will give you a fair idea of what it is really like.

      And now, three days out on the Mesa, Ned and Nellie, in silence, but with beating hearts, were listening to this conversation between their father and the famous scout, and hoping, poor little mites, that their father would be advised and turn back until met by cavalry from Verde; yet so loyal to him, so trustful to him, that neither to one another nor to Kate would they say a word.

      "Well, Sieber, I've argued this thing out with all Prescott and Verde," said the captain at last. "I've sworn I wouldn't turn back, and so, by jinks, I'm going ahead. It's all open country around Snow Lake, and I can keep on the alert when we reach the Pass."

      "You know your business best, I suppose, captain, but—" and Sieber stopped abruptly and gazed through the open windows of the Concord at the two little forms huddled together, with such white faces, on the back seat.

      "Well, won't you at least wait and camp here a day or so? I'll go down by way of Wales Arnold's and get him to send up a couple of men. That won't be going back, and you'll be tolerably safe here. The cavalry won't be long getting out this way."

      "And meantime having my beasts eating barley by the bucketful so that I won't have enough to get through? No, Al, I've made calculations just how many days it will take me to get over to Wingate, and delay would swamp me. I don't mean to discredit your story, of course, but everybody, even at Verde, said the renegades were all down by Tonto Creek, and I cannot believe they would be out here to the northeast. I'm going ahead."

      "Well, Captain Gwynne, I give up. If you're bound to go there's no use talking. Stop one moment though!" He spurred his broncho close to the window, and thrusting in his wiry arm drew little Nell close to him, bent and kissed tenderly her bonny face.

HE DREW LITTLE NELL CLOSE TO HIM.

       Table of Contents

      "God guard you, baby," he murmured, as finally he set her down. "Adios, Ned, my lad," and he shook the little man heartily by the hand. "Good luck all! Now I must gallop to make up time." He turned quickly away and went "loping" down the trail, but his gauntlet was drawn across his eyes two or three times before he disappeared from view. Two white little faces gazed wistfully after him and then into each other's eyes. Irish Kate muttered a blessing on the gallant fellow's head. "Come on, Jim," said the captain, with darkening face, and presently the little train was again in motion, winding over the range that, once passed, brings them in view of Snow Lake with the gloomy, jagged rocks bounding the horizon far beyond. There is a deep cleft that one sees in that barrier just as he emerges from the pine woods along the ridge, and that distant cleft is Sunset Pass.

      Though seldom traveled, the mountain road from Fort Verde over to Fort Wingate was almost always in fair condition. Rains were very few and did little damage, and so at a rapid, jingling trot the wagons lunged ahead while the captain and Pike, the retired trooper, rode easily alongside or made occasional scouts to the front.

      Knowing that his children must have heard his talk with Sieber, the captain soon dropped back opposite the open window and thrust in his hand for the little ones to shake.

      "You're not afraid to go ahead, Ned, my boy! I knew I could count on you," said he heartily. "And Nell can hardly be afraid with you and her old dragoon dad to guard her. Isn't it so, pet?"

      And the wan little face smiled back to prove Nellie's confidence in father, while Ned stoutly answered:

      "I'm never afraid to go anywhere you want me to go, father. And then I haven't had a chance to try my rifle yet."

      The boy held up to view a dainty little Ballard target gun—a toy of a thing—but something of which he was evidently very proud.

      "And then we've got good old Pike, papa—and Kate here—I'm sure she could fight," piped up little Nell, but there was no assent to this proposition from the lips of poor Kate. All along she had opposed the journey, and was filled with dread whenever it was spoken

Скачать книгу