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CHAPTER XXXI.
THE RETURN

HERBERT was quite sure the Texans would not be gone long, unless they, too, became involved in a fight with the dusky raiders and shared in the probable fate of Eph Bozeman. If such proved to be the case, there would be sounds of the conflict, which would be as brief as it was desperate, and it was those for which he listened while sitting in his saddle on the slope.

The stillness remaining unbroken, he turned his pony toward the point he had left, and found, on reaching it, that Strubell and Lattin had arrived a few minutes before and were becoming anxious over his absence.

It was now a question whether the three should stay where they were or go elsewhere with their animals. The Apaches were prowling around the surrounding country so closely that it looked as if they had located the group. Such was the view of Strubell and Herbert, but Lattin, on the other hand, was so positive that their enemies knew nothing of their presence that the others agreed to stay where they were until something more certain became known.

Trouble was likely to follow a change of base, since the trapper on his return would be puzzled to find them, though the Texans would be sure to give him all the help they could, and that was considerable.

There was nothing therefore to do but to wait, the most wearisome occupation of anyone. The nerves of all were strung to such a high point that there was little inclination to sleep. It was a long time since they had eaten or drank, and they were in need of food and drink, but no step was to be taken for the procurement of either until the momentous question was settled.

Lattin believed that the Indian horseman seen by Herbert received no inkling of the truth. His pony had detected something, and his rider, bringing him to a halt, sat looking and listening for the explanation that did not come. Concluding it was some wild animal or reptile moving in the grass, he had dashed off to join his companions.

Inasmuch as both the Texans were in accord by this time in the theory that they were not discovered by the red men, at the time of the scare just before sunset, the youth felt no fear in that regard. It followed therefore that the Apaches were unaware of their presence, and were not likely to learn of it except through some accident.

No one could forecast the result of the pistol shot that had rung out over the prairie, and which showed that the trapper’s stealthy journey to the building had not been without incident.

The little company spoke only at intervals, and then in whispers. Their eyes and ears were so intently engaged that conversation interfered. The stillness was so profound that the champing of the horses was heard as they cropped the grass, while the sound of the hoofs was so distinct when they shifted about, that it seemed to Herbert they must draw the Apaches to the spot.

By and by one of the ponies stopped eating and lay down, then two others did the same, but the fourth kept it up so long that Lattin was about to go out and compel him to retire to his couch, when he did so. This left the quiet so perfect that it would have taken a wonderfully skilful warrior to steal up undetected on foot, and it was impossible for a horseman to do so.

The stars twinkled from a sky that was unclouded except in the western horizon, where a bank of clouds climbed part way to the zenith and shut out a portion of the faint light. In whatever direction the watchers gazed was the same blank darkness. Though they knew that men were near and constantly in motion, no glimpse of them was obtained.

“Baker,” said the elder Texan in his guarded undertone, “I’m going to sleep for half an hour.”

“All right,” replied his companion; “I’ll do the same when you wake up.”

Strubell made not the slightest change in his position. He simply turned his head sideways upon his arm, bent at the elbow, and shut his eyes. Almost at the same moment he became unconscious.

The party had not removed their blankets from the backs of the ponies, through fear that it might delay them whenever a sudden movement should become necessary. They were stretched at full length on the grass. In that salubrious country, with its pure, dry air, there was no thought of ill results therefrom.

Herbert was near Lattin, and he asked:

“Will he wake at the end of the half hour?”

“If he don’t I’ll wake him,” replied the other; “but I never knew Ard to vary more’n a minute or two.”

“What do you make of Bozeman’s long absence? Several hours must have gone by.”

“It seems later than it is, but I expected him back before this.”

“How do you account for his delay?”

“There may be several causes,” replied Lattin; “in the first place, maybe he run into a hornets’ nest and was knifed before he could shoot a second chamber of his revolver. Them Apaches work quick at such business, and they would shove Eph under in the style of greased lightning.”

“But,” suggested Herbert, who was after every grain of comfort, “it might be he found trouble in getting inside the building.”

“That’s likely, though Ard and me went up in sight of it without runnin’ agin any of the varmints; but it couldn’t have kept him all this time, for if he didn’t get inside long ago he would have given up and come back to us.”

“Do you suppose there has been any trouble with Rickard?”

“I don’t see what trouble there could be; all the work Eph had was to find out the best the scamp would do, and then either agree or disagree with him. The most likely trouble is that Eph found the varmints so plentiful when he started to come back that he hasn’t been able to get through and is waiting for the chance.”

“If that proves the case, what will be done in the morning?”

“It’s hard to tell till the morning comes. Rickard and Slidham may come out to help us fight our way in.”

The incident was not impossible, but what a unique state of affairs it suggested! It recalled the affairs in the Southwest, during the Mexican War, when a party of Comanches and “Greasers” would assail a handful of Americans, working as the most ardent allies until the Americans were disposed of, when the Mexicans and Indians would turn upon each other like cat o’ mountains.

“Hello!” said Lattin a few minutes later, “there’s the moon.”

The upper edge of the gibbous orb was creeping above the horizon, and looked like the point of a fiery spear as it climbed rapidly upward.

“That’s going to give us help,” said Herbert, watching the satellite, whose ascent was strikingly swift.

“I don’t know about that,” replied the Texan; “it will let us see further ‘cross the prairie, but don’t forget that it’ll do the same for the varmints. It won’t be so easy for Eph to get back as it was to go forward, always providin’ that he did go forward.”

Strubell slumbered as quietly as an infant. His breathing could not be heard, even in the perfect stillness which reigned. Herbert glanced at him more than once, with an odd fear that perhaps he was dead, but that was hardly possible.

Knowing the direction of the building, Lattin and Herbert tried to peer through the gloom and see it, but the light was insufficient to show its most shadowy outlines.

“Baker,” whispered the youth, “I think I see something out there toward the building.”

“Whether you do or not,” replied the Texan, “I’m sure I do; someone is comin’ this way.”

“It must be an Apache.”

“Keep quiet; we’ll soon see.”

As the hunter spoke, he made sure his rifle was ready to fire the instant it should become necessary. He was not troubled by the tender conscience of his companion in that respect.

The approaching figure was on foot, and, though advancing without noise, did so swiftly. It rapidly grew more distinct in the gloom, until the broad-brimmed hat, the massive frame, with the long rifle grasped in one hand, left no doubt of its identity.

It was old Eph Bozeman returning at last.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE ENCOUNTER

SUFFICIENT has been told to show that Eph Bozeman’s stealthy approach to the mission building was attended by one stirring incident, if not more.

Leaving his comrades on the crest of the elevation, he strode forward at a rapid pace, until he had passed most of the intervening distance. Then he slackened his gait and crouched low, his body bent, until he resembled a person gathering himself for a powerful leap. This was his favorite posture when engaged upon such dangerous business, and he kept it until prudence told him there was too great a risk attending it.

His object was to defer creeping to the last moment, since his progress must become slower, but he was too much of a veteran to allow the question of convenience to detract from his vigilance.

At the point he had fixed in his mind he sank to the ground, and began using his hands and knees, not the most agreeable form of locomotion, since, as will be remembered, he carried his heavy rifle with him.

As yet he had seen and heard nothing of the Apaches, but believed a brush with them was inevitable before he could enter the building. He reasoned that since they knew of the presence of the white men inside, and were unaware of the others outside, they would devote themselves to circling about the structure, and maintaining a sharp lookout that none of the occupants got away during the night. The prospect of adding two or three more victims to the long list of massacres they had committed in the Southwest was too tempting to be passed by, until all prospect of success was gone.

The trapper’s belief was that the warriors would remain mounted, though he was too experienced to guide his own movements upon that theory alone.

So long as he kept his position close to the earth, he could discover the approach of a horseman before the latter saw him, to say nothing of the slight noise of the pony’s hoofs, which was sure to betray him.

Twice he caught the latter sound, and ceasing his progress lay flat, listening and peering around in the gloom; but the riders did not come nigh enough for him to discern them; and after a brief wait he resumed his slow and laborious progress.

From what had taken place, he was absolutely certain that the Apaches had no suspicion that any whites were near the building. It followed therefore that no precaution had been taken against his approach, but they were vigilant enough to demand all the subtlety he possessed.

He was creeping forward in his guarded manner when, without the least warning, he saw the outlines of a figure in front, which, although dimly observed, he knew was one of the Apaches.

The trapper sank down again, with his keen eyes fixed on the warrior, who was standing with his back toward him, apparently studying the ground in the direction of the building, which was too far off to be seen, since Eph himself could not catch the most shadowy outlines of it.

Since the Apache had not observed the white man, there was no cause why he should do so, unless accident should lead him to face about. Without waiting a moment Eph began retreating, keeping his gaze on the redskin, who faded almost from view in the gloom.

Then the trapper turned to the right and resumed his advance toward the building. Time was too valuable to wait for the Indian to shift his position, which, as likely as not, would prove unfavorable.

The flank movement was so regulated that he kept his enemy dimly in sight, for he did not mean to be surprised by any sudden action on his part.

All this was well enough, but the Apache overthrew the whole scheme by an unexpected movement.

The trapper was on his right, and a couple of rods distant, when the warrior seemed to conclude that it was time for him to do something. He stepped off at his usual pace, which would have carried him speedily beyond sight had Eph been somewhere else, but unfortunately he moved straight toward the old hunter.

To retreat or advance would have been certain betrayal, and Eph did not attempt it. Instead, he silently drew his pistol and grasped it, ready for firing.

The Apache had no thought of anything of this kind, but he had taken less than three paces, when he discovered the figure on the earth in front of him. He uttered no outcry, but stopped and placed his hand at his waist, as if to draw a weapon therefrom. He, too, carried a gun, most likely a Winchester, and was expert in its use. He had no blanket, his body being bare above the waist, and his long, coarse hair dangled about his shoulders. He was much shorter and smaller in every way than the white man, but every ounce of his body was like that of a tiger.

The Indian might have brought instant help by a signal, but to do that would have been a confession that he was afraid to attack a single individual, and the warrior “wasn’t that sort of a fellow.”

His pause was only momentary. He stooped down like an animal about to leap across a chasm and the trapper caught a movement of his right hand, which convinced him the warrior had drawn a knife and meant to spring upon him.

Eph’s revolver was leveled at the savage, who was still stealing forward when a single chamber was discharged. The shot was unerring, and (what was singular in the case of an American Indian) he sank downward without any outcry.

The trapper needed no one to tell him what next to do. He knew the report of his weapon would bring nearly if not all the other Apaches to the spot, and he could not get away too soon. Springing to his feet, he loped swiftly toward the building, never pausing until he stood in front of the broad door.

He glanced keenly to the right and left while making this run, but though he heard the sounds of hoofs, he saw none of the raiders eager for the chance to cut him down.

Within a half minute after the shot was fired an Apache reached the spot on his pony, and was quickly joined by five others, all mounted. The prostrate figure told the story, but the author of their comrade’s death was gone.

While one of them lifted the inanimate figure upon his steed, the others separated to find the white man who had slain him. They did this with rare skill, but they were misled from the start. Knowing nothing of those outside the building, their supposition must have been that one of them had stolen out of the structure and gained this point before discovery. It was not to be supposed that he was striving to enter instead of leave the place, and they therefore widened the circle, when they should have contracted it.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
IMPORTANT NEGOTIATIONS

THE shot which the trapper fired in self-defence, therefore, was of the utmost help in his approach to the old mission building, for it broke the line of circumvallation, which otherwise would have been impassable to anyone seeking to enter or leave the structure.

To this also was due the escape of Strubell and Lattin when they hastened to the spot. It may be said that the entire plan of the Apaches was disarranged. In trying to cover so extensive a circle, they left of necessity vast gaps, through which the Texans passed without detection. It must have been one of the Apaches engaged in this curious hunt that approached Herbert Watrous, as he lay on the summit of the elevation awaiting the return of his friends.

The trapper did the best thing possible, for he had taken but a few steps when the outlines of the old mission house assumed form in the gloom, and he did not halt until he was at the door.

Despite the stirring incident through which he had just passed, none of them tried his nerve as did this last phase of his experience. He could not know how long he would be kept waiting; the Apaches were sure to appear shortly. If forced to stay for a brief period where he was, he must be discovered, and the position of a single man at bay in front of a building, without the liberty to enter, and obliged to meet the attack of a dozen enemies, need not be dwelt upon.

Eph gave the heavy door several violent kicks the moment it was within reach, and the sound could not only have been heard throughout the interior, but a long way beyond. The Apaches were sure to make a speedy investigation.

Fortunately for the trapper he was not kept long in suspense. Bell Rickard could not fail to hear the energetic summons, and quickly called from one of the upper windows, taking care not to expose himself:

“Who’s there?”

“Me, Eph Bozeman.”

“Where the mischief did you come from?” asked the criminal, now venturing to thrust his head from the window.

“Never mind whar I come from,” replied the impatient applicant; “come down an’ let me in powerful quick or you won’t git the chance to let me in at all.”

“All right! I’ll be there.”

It seemed a long while before Rickard descended to the door, during every second of which Eph expected the Apaches. He stood ready to let fly with rifle and revolver at the first sight, but, while waiting, he heard Rickard at the door, which was speedily unbarred, and he stepped inside more quickly than he had ever done anything of the kind before.

All was dark, but Rickard did not speak until he had refastened the door, which was composed of a species of carved wood, still seen in the old mission houses of the Southwest, which is hardly less strong and endurable than the adobe walls themselves.

The trapper was so familiar with the interior of the structure that he walked readily along the broad, open hallway, into the court beyond, where there was sufficient light to observe the figure of his companion as he led the way to a small apartment opening into the court, and within which a dim light was burning.

Into this the two passed, on the first floor, where Eph found himself face to face with Bell Rickard and Harman Slidham, whom he had met a short time before, and knew to be among the most lawless characters in the States and Territories.

“I was up in front of the building,” said Rickard, “looking out for the Apaches when I heard you at the door.”

“Yes,” replied the trapper, “I tried to make you hear me.”

The room which the three entered was one of a dozen similar ones, opening upon the court in the centre, the building forming what might be described as a hollow square. Many years before the apartment had probably been used as sleeping quarters by the fathers, who devoted their lives to labor among the Indians, who, it must be confessed, rarely showed any appreciation of their self-sacrifice.

It was twenty feet deep, and perhaps half as broad, without furniture, but with walls several feet in thickness. The only openings were the door and two narrow windows facing the court. These let in sufficient light to give all the illumination required during the daytime.

In the rear of this room Rickard kept his supply of meal and dried meat for such contingencies as the one that now seemed upon him. The door, of the same material as the main one, could be secured so that a forced entrance required great labor and effort, while the windows were too strait to allow the smallest person to squeeze his body through.

From an iron bracket in the wall burned an oil lamp which lit up the interior, showing the sacks of grain and a couple of boxes containing dried meat. The sacks and boxes furnished seats for the men during their conference.

The trapper glanced searchingly around, and was surprised to see nothing of Nick Ribsam, though he made no reference to it; but knowing of the supply of water, he asked for a draught before opening proceedings.

An earthen vessel contained a gallon or so, which Slidham had brought only a short time before from the spring near by. Eph quaffed long and deep before setting it on the rough floor, and drew the back of his hand across his mouth, with a sigh of enjoyment.

“You can’t improve much on that,” he remarked, resuming his seat on one of the bags of grain.

“No; it goes pretty well when you have been without anything for two or three days,” replied Rickard, who suspected the errand that had brought his old acquaintance thither.

“It isn’t as bad as that, but we haven’t had a swaller sence crossing the Pecos to-day.”

“You say ‘we’; how is that, Eph? When we parted you were travelling the other way, and no one was with you.”

“You’re right on that, but I met Ard Strubell and Baker Lattin, who had a younker with ‘em, and they war after you.”

“After me! What was that for?”

“Come, Bell, none of that; you understand what it means; you’ve got a younker, and they want him.”

“Are they willing to pay for him?” asked the horse thief.

“Wal, if you’re mean ‘nough to ask it, they’re ready to give something, but, Bell, I hardly expected this of you; I knowed you war dealin’ in hoss-flesh, but I didn’t know you war goin’ to start in this line of bus’ness.”

Eph Bozeman was a man who spoke his mind under all circumstances, and he felt not the slightest fear of the couple, who had followed a life of outlawry for many years.

Slidham lit his pipe and listened. Rickard was the leader, and he was content to let him do the talking for the two. The evil fellow did not beat about the bush.

“It doesn’t make any difference to me what you expected or didn’t expect; you wouldn’t have come here at this time unless it was on business, and if you’ve got anything to say to me there’s no use in waiting.”

“I guess mebbe your right, Bell; of course Ard and Baker know what you run off with the younker for; you mean to keep him till you get a reward for givin’ him up.”

“You’ve hit it the first time,” replied Rickard.

“Wal, the boys talked it over, and they didn’t like it much, but the younker with them says he’s willin’ to give somethin’, but nothin’ very big. How much do you want?”

“What are they willing to pay?”

“That isn’t the way to hit it, Bell, name what you want, and if it’s too big why I’ll go back and tell ‘em so, and they won’t give it, that’s all, but wait for a chance to even matters with you.”

“What would they say to five thousand?” asked Rickard in a hesitating way which gave the cue to the trapper. He rose abruptly from where he sat on the sack of meal.

“Let me out the gate.”

“What for?” asked the surprised criminal.

“When you talk that way, thar’s no need of my waitin’.”

“I asked you to name a sum, but you wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t s’pose you war goin’ to ask all the money thar is in New York,” said the trapper, whose ideas of the financial resources of the great metropolis were crude.

“Well, make a proposal and I’ll tell you what I’ll do.”

“Baker thought five hundred was plenty, but Ard said if you stuck out I might go a thousand.”

“It’s the other young man that pays it, isn’t it?”

“Of course.”

“What does he say?”

“Not much of anything,” replied Eph, who saw the advantage he possessed and did not mean to let go of it.

“How is he going to pay the money? Has he got it with him?”

“Of course not; but he explained that he would give you a draft – I b’lieve they call it – that is, a piece of paper with writin’ on it, which you can hand over to Mr. Lord in Santone, and he’ll pay you a thousand dollars – which shows what a fool Mr. Lord is, for how can a piece of paper be worth anything like that?”

“You’re asking me to trust them a good way,” said Rickard, who had hoped that the parties would be able to produce the funds, “for they may get word to the banker and he won’t pay it. Then I’ll be out with no way to help myself.”

“As I figger it,” said the trapper, wrinkling his brow with thought, and anxious to display his knowledge, “thar aint no way of fixin’ it without takin’ a risk like that. You’ve knowed me and Ard Strubell and Baker Lattin for a good many years, and you know that when we give our promise we’ll stick to it. Aint that so?”

“I don’t dispute it.”

“Wal, then, we three, includin’ likewise the younker as is to pay the money, give you our promise that if you’ll send this one with you back to them, with his hoss, gun, an’ everything right, they’ll give you that paper, which will bring you one thousand dollars the minute you hand it to Mr. Lord in Santone.”

“That seems to be straight, though I ought to have more.”

“I forgot to say that the younker said if you should ask a big sum he couldn’t save trouble in your gettin’ it, which means, I s’pose, that he’ll have to work it through New York, or somethin’ like that, but thar won’t be any trouble ‘bout five hundred or a thousand dollars.”