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

CHAPTER V

THE COMANCHE VILLAGE

The Norther did not blow itself out until noon of thenext day. Then it ceased almost as abruptly as ithad begun. The wind stopped its shrieking andhowling so suddenly that the silence, after so long aperiod of noise, was for awhile impressive. The cloudsfell apart as if cut down the middle by a saber, and thesun poured through the rift.

It was like a fairy transformation scene. The riftwidened so fast that soon all the clouds were gone beyondthe horizon. The sky was a solid blue, shot through withthe gold of the warm sun. The hail melted, and theground dried. It was spring again, and the world wasbeautiful. Phil saw, felt, and admired. Bill Breakstoneburst into song:

"From the looks of things now," he continued, "youwouldn't think it had been whistling and groaningaround us for about twenty-four hours, trying to shoot usto death with showers of hail, but I'd have you to know,Sir Philip of the Untimely Cold and the Hateful Storm, that I have recorded it upon the tablets of my memory.I wouldn't like to meet such a Norther when I was aloneon the plains, on foot, and clad in sandals, a linen suit, and a straw hat."

"Nor I," said Phil with emphasis.

Now they lighted fires of buffalo chips which wereabundant everywhere, and ate the first warm food thatthey had had since the day before at noon. Then theyadvanced four or five miles and encamped on the banksof a creek, a small stream of water flowing in a broad, sandy bed. Phil and some of the others scouted in awide circle for Comanches, but saw no signs, and, as hehad slept so late that day, the boy remained awake mostof the night. There was a good moonlight, and he sawdusky slinking forms on the plain.

"Coyotes," said Bill Breakstone. "At least, most ofthem are, though I think from their size that two or threeof those figures out there must be timber wolves. If I'mright about 'em, it means that we're not far from a beltof forest country."

"I hope you're right," said Phil. "I'm gettingtired of plains now, and I'd like to see trees and hillsagain, and also water that runs faster and that's lessmuddy than these sluggish and sandy creeks."

Bill Breakstone threw back his head and laughed withunction.

"That's the way with fellows who were born in thehills," he said. "Wherever you go, sooner or later you'llpine for 'em again. I'm one of that lot, too."

"Yes, it's so," admitted Phil. "I like the greatplains, the vastness, the mystery, and the wonderful airwhich must be the purest in the world, that's alwaysblowing over them, but for a real snug, homey feelinggive me a little valley in the hills, with a brook ofgreen-white water about six inches deep running down it, andplenty of fine trees-oak, beech, hickory, elm, walnut, and chestnut-growing on the slopes and tops of the hills."

"A pretty picture, Sir Philip of the Brook, the Hill, the Valley, and the Tree," said Bill Breakstone, "andmaybe we will see it soon. As I told you, timber wolvesindicate trees not far off."

But the chief event that day was buffaloes and nottimber. They ran into a vast herd, traveling north withthe spring, and killed with ease all they wanted. Thebodies were cut up, and the wagons were filled with freshmeat. There was a momentary quandary about thehides, which they wished to save, a process that requiredimmediate curing, but they were unwilling to stop forthat purpose on the plain. Two of the scouts came in atsundown with news that the timber was only three or fourmiles ahead, and the whole train pushed forward, reachingit shortly after nightfall.

The wagons stopped just within the edge of the timber, but Phil, Breakstone, Arenberg, and Middleton rodeon, the night being so clear and bright that they couldsee almost as well as by day. The first range of hills waslow, but beyond lay others, rising perhaps two hundredfeet above the level of the plain. The timber on all thehills and the valleys between was dense and heavy, embracing many varieties of hard wood, elm, hackberry, overcup, ash, pecan, and wild china. There were alsothe bushes and vines of the blackberry, gooseberry, raspberry, currant, and of a small fox grape, plentifulthroughout the mountains of Texas. The fox grape grew on alittle bush like that of the currant, and growing inabundance was another bush, from two to six feet in height, that would produce wild plums in the autumn.

"It's a good country, a fine country," said BillBreakstone. "A man could live all the year around on thefood that he would find in this region, buffalo andantelope on the plains, deer and maybe beaver in here, and allsorts of wild fruits."

Phil nodded. He was reveling in the hills and timber.The moonlight fell in a vast sheet of silver, but thefoliage remained a solid mass of dark green beneath it.A tremulous little wind blew, and the soft sound of freshyoung leaves rubbing together came pleasantly. A faintnoise like a sigh told of a tiny stream somewhere tricklingover the pebbles. Phil opened his eyes as wide as hecould and drew in great gulps of the scented air. Bigbronze birds, roused by the tread of the horsemen, rosefrom a bough, and flew away among the trees. Theywere wild turkeys, but the lad and his comrades were notseeking game just then. Bill Breakstone, who was inadvance, stopped suddenly.

"Come here, Sir Philip of the Hilly Forest," he cried,"and see what uncle has found for his little boy."

Phil rode up by his side and uttered a little gasp ofadmiration. As he sat on his horse, he looked into aravine about two hundred feet deep. Down the center ofthe ravine dashed a little mountain river of absolutelyclear water. It was not more than twenty feet wide, butvery deep. As Breakstone said, "it ran on its side," butit ran along with much murmur and splash and laughterof waters. Often as the swift current struck the stonysides of the ravine it threw up little cascades of foam likesnow. The banks themselves, although of stone, werecovered most of the way with clustering vines and shortgreen bushes. The crest of the farther bank was woodedso heavily with great trees that they were like a wall.Farther down, the stream descended with increasedswiftness, and a steady murmuring noise that came to themindicated a waterfall. The brilliant moonlight bathedthe river, the hills, and the forest, and the great silencebrooded over them all. Middleton and Arenberg alsocame, and the four side by side on their horses sat forawhile, saying nothing, but rejoicing in a scene so vividand splendid to them, after coming from the monotony ofthe great plains.

"I'd like to drop off my horse after a hot day's ride,"said Bill Breakstone, "and have some of that river runover me. Wouldn't that be a shower-bath for a tired anddusty man!"

"It's likely to be ice-cold," said Middleton.

"Why so?" asked Phil.

"Because it rises somewhere high up. There must bemountains to the northward, and probably it is fed mostof the year by melting snows. I think Bill would haveenough of his bath very quickly."

"If I get a chance, and there is any way to get downto that stream, I may try it to-morrow," said Billthreateningly.

"Meanwhile, we'll ride back and tell what we'veseen," said Middleton.

"Isn't there any danger of Indian ambush in thetimber?" asked Phil.

"I don't think so," replied Middleton. "TheComanches are horse Indians, and keep entirely to theplains. The other tribes are too much afraid of theComanches to remain near them, and in consequencethe edge of a hilly stretch such as this is likely to bedeserted."

They rode back to the wagons and found that thecooking fires were already lighted, and their cheerful blazewas gleaming among the trees. Everybody else, also, was delighted at being in the timber, where clear waterflowed past, and most of the wounded were able to get outof the wagons and sit on the grass with their comrades.Woodfall decided that it was a good place in which tospend a few days for rest, repairs, and the hunting ofgame, as they wanted other fresh meat besides that of thebuffalo.

The next morning they began to cure the buffalo hidesthat they had already obtained. A smooth piece ofground, exposed all day to the rays of the sun, waschosen. Upon this the skin was stretched and peggeddown. Then every particle of the flesh was scraped off.After that, it was left about three days under the rays ofthe sun, and then it was cured. Twenty-five skins weresaved in this manner, and, also, by the same method ofdrying in the sun, they jerked great quantities of thebuffalo meat.

But Middleton, Arenberg, Breakstone, and Philturned hunters for the time. They found that the hillregion was very extensive, timbered heavily, andabundant in game. They hunted wholly on foot, and foundseveral places where the ravine opened out, at which theycould cross the little river by walking, although the waterrose to their waists.

They had great luck with the game, shooting a halfdozen splendid black-tailed deer, a score of wild turkeys, and many partridges, quail, and grouse. Bill Breakstone, according to his promise, bathed in the river, andhe did it more than once. He was also joined by hiscomrades, and, as Middleton had predicted, they foundthe water ice-cold. No one could stand it more than fiveminutes, but the effect was invigorating.

A great deal of work was done at the camp. Theaxles of wagons were greased, canvas ripped by wind orhail was sewed up again, clothing was patched, and thewounded basked in sun or shade. Two of these haddied, but the rest were now nearly well. All except twoor three would be fit to resume their duties when theystarted again.

Woodfall, knowing the benefit of a complete rest, stilllingered, and Phil and his friends had much time forexploration. They combined this duty with that of thescouting, and penetrated deep into the hills, watchingfor any Comanches who might stray in there, or for themountain tribes. Once they came upon severalabandoned lodges, made partly of skins and partly of brush, but they were falling in ruins, and Bill Breakstonereckoned they were at least two years old.

"Wichitas, Wacos, Kechies, and Quapaws live aroundin the hills and mountains," he said, "and this, I takeit, was a little camp of Kechies, from the looks of thelodges. Two or three groups of them may be lingeringyet in this region, but we haven't much to fear fromthem."

Woodfall, intending at first to make the stay onlyfour or five days, decided now to protract it to ten ortwelve. The journey to Santa Fé was one of tremendouslength and hardship. Moreover, a buffalo hunter, straying in, told them that the Comanches were very activeall over the Texas plains. Hence the Santa Fé trainwould need all its strength, and Woodfall was anxiousthat every one of the wounded should be in fightingcondition when they left the timber. Therefore thedelay.

Phil was glad of the added stay in the hills. He wasdeveloping great skill as a hunter and a trailer, and heand his comrades wandered farther and farther every dayinto the broken forest region toward the north. Oftenesthe and Bill Breakstone were together. Despite the differencein years, they had become brothers of the wilderness.In their scoutings they found available pathways forhorses over the hills and among the great trees, and, starting, one morning, they rode far to the north, coveringthirty or forty miles. Phil was interested in some highmountains which showed a dim blue ahead, and Breakstonewas carefully examining the rock formations. Butas night came on they found that the hills were droppingdown, and the mountains seemed to be about as blue andas far ahead as ever.

"I should judge from these signs," said Breakstone,"that there is a valley or narrow plain ahead, between usand the mountains. But we'll look into that to-morrow.It isn't good to be riding around in the dark over hillsand through thickets."

They found a little grassy open space, where theytethered their horses, leaving them to graze as long asthey wished, and, lighting no fire, they ate jerked buffalomeat. Then they crept into snug coverts under thebushes, wrapped their blankets about them, and fellasleep. Phil opened his eyes at daylight to findBreakstone already awake. The horses were grazingcontentedly. The trees and bushes were already tipped with fireby the gorgeous Texas sun.

"Sir Philip of the Bushes," said Bill Breakstone,"you just lie here and chew up a buffalo or two, while Igo ahead and take a look. As I said last night, thesehills certainly drop down into a plain, and I want to seethat plain."

"All right," said Phil, "I'll stay where I am. It'sso snug in this blanket on a cool morning that I don'tcare to move anyhow, and I can eat my breakfast lyingdown."

He drew out a freshly jerked strip of buffalo meat, and another very tender portion of a black-tailed deer thathe himself had shot, and fell to it. Bill Breakstone, hisrifle held conveniently at his side, slid away among thebushes. Phil ate contentedly. The sun rose higher.The morning was absolutely still. The horses seemed tohave had enough grass, and lay down placidly on theirsides. It occurred to Phil that he, too, had eaten enough, and he put the remainder of the food back in his hunter'sknapsack. Then he began to get drowsy again. It wasso very still. He thought once of rising and walkingabout, but he remembered Breakstone's advice to lie still, and, against his will, he kept it. Then his drowsinessincreased, and, before he was aware of it he was asleepagain.

When Phil awoke the second time, he threw off hisblanket and sprang to his feet in surprise. The sun washigh up in the blue arch. It must be at least ten o'clockin the morning, and Bill Breakstone had not come back.The horses were on their feet and were grazing again.They were proof that nothing had disturbed the glade.But Bill Breakstone was not there. Nor had he comeback and gone away again. If he had done so, he wouldhave awakened the boy. He had been absent three orfour hours, and Phil was alarmed.

The boy stood up, holding his hand on the hammer ofhis rifle. This beautiful day, with its blue skies aboveand its green forest below, oppressed him. It was sostill, so silent, and Bill Breakstone had vanished soutterly, just as if he had been turned into thin air by thewave of a magician's wand! The boy was alone in thewilderness for the first time. Moreover, he felt thepresence of danger, and the queer little shiver which oftencomes at such moments ran through his blood. But theshiver passed, and his courage rose. He had no thoughtof going back to the camp to report that Bill Breakstonewas missing. No, he would find him himself. That washis duty to his comrade.

The boy waited a little longer, standing there in theshade with his rifle ready, and eyes and ears intent. Hestood thus for a quarter of an hour, scarcely moving. Thebrilliant sunshine poured down upon him, bringing outevery line of the strong young figure, illuminating theface which was thrown a little forward, as the blue eyes, gazing intently through the undergrowth, sought someevidence of a hostile presence. Finally the eyes turned tothe horses which were grazing calmly in the full circle oftheir long lariats. Phil decided that such calm on theirpart signified the absence of any enemy. If either manor beast came near they would raise their heads.

Then Phil moved forward through the bushes, puttinginto use all his new skill and caution. The bushes closedsoftly behind him, and he entered a slope covered withgreat trees without undergrowth. His eyes could rangeforward several hundred yards, but he saw nothing. Headvanced for a few minutes, steadily descending, and hewas tempted to shout his loudest or fire off his rifle as asignal to the derelict Bill Breakstone that it was time forhim to come back. But he resisted both temptations, and soon he was glad that he had done so. The slopewas very gradual, and he traveled a full two miles beforehe came to the edge of the woods and saw before him theplain that Bill Breakstone had predicted. He took onelook, and then, springing back, sank down in the covertof the bushes.