The Desert Home: The Adventures of a Lost Family in the Wilderness Page 8

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  THE MINER'S STORY.

  It would be very difficult, my young readers, to describe to you thescene which followed this unexpected recognition. The family had allrisen to their feet, and with cries and tears in their eyes clung aroundthe little Luisa as though they were about to lose her for ever. And,indeed, it is likely that an indistinct thought of this kind had flittedacross their minds, when they saw that she was no longer their sister--for they had almost forgotten that she was not so, and they loved her aswell as if she had been. Up to this time none of them had thought ofher but as a sister; and Harry, with whom she was a great favourite,used to call her his "dark sister," while the younger, Mary, was knownas the "fair" one in the midst of the group stood the little brunette,like the rest, overwhelmed with singular emotions, but calmer, andapparently more mistress of her feelings, than any of them.

  The traders and hunters were all upon their feet congratulating McKnighton the happy discovery; while each of them shook hands with our host andhis wife, whom they now remembered having heard of, as well as the storyof the massacre. Old Cudjo leaped over the floor, whipping the panthersand wolf-dogs, and cutting various capers, while the very animalsthemselves howled with a sort of fierce joy. Our host went into aninner apartment of the cabin, and presently returned with a large jar ofbrown earthenware. Cups cut out of the calabash were set upon thetable; and into these a red liquid was poured from the jar, and we wereall invited to drink. What was our surprise on tasting the beverage tofind that it was wine--wine in the middle of the desert! But it wasso--excellent wine--homemade, as our host informed us--pressed from thewild muscadine grapes that grew plentifully in his valley.

  As soon as we had all passed the cups of wine, and had got fairly seatedagain, McKnight, at the request of Rolfe, took up the thread of thestory, in order to detail how he had escaped from the Indians on thatfearful night. His story was a short one and ran as follows:--

  "After I left you," said he, addressing Rolfe, "where you had brokenyour wagon, I rode on, and overtook the caravan. The road, as you mayremember, became smooth and level; and as there appeared to be no goodcamping-ground nearer than the hills, we kept on for them withoutstopping. It was near sundown, when we reached the little stream whereyou saw the wagons. There, of course, we halted, and formed our camp.I did not expect you to come in for an hour or so later, as I calculatedthat it would take you about that length of time to mend the tongue. Wekindled fires, and, having cooked our supper and eaten it, were sittingaround the logs chatting, smoking, and some of the Mexicans, as is theircustom, playing at _monte_. We had put out no guard, as we had noexpectation that there were Indians in that quarter. Some of the mensaid they had travelled the trail before; and had never met an Indianwithin fifty miles of the place. At length it became dark, and I beganto grow uneasy about you, fearing you might not be able to make out ourtrail in the night. Leaving my wife and child by one of the fires Iclimbed a hill that looked in the direction you should have come; but Icould see nothing for the darkness. I stood for some time listening,thinking I might hear the rattle of your wheels, or some one of youtalking. All at once a yell broke upon my ears, that caused me to turntoward the camp with a feeling of consternation. I well knew themeaning of that yell. I knew it was the war-cry of the Arapahoes. Isaw savage figures dashing about in the red glare of the fires. I heardshots and shouts, and screams and groans; and, among the rest, Irecognised the voice of my wife calling me by name!

  "I did not hesitate a moment, but ran down the hill, and flung myselfinto the thick of the fight, which was now raging fiercely. I hadnothing with which to arm myself but a large knife, with which I struckon all sides, prostrating several of the savages. Here I fought for amoment, and there I ran, calling for my wife. I passed through amongthe wagons, and on all sides of the camp crying, `Luisa!' There was noanswer; she was nowhere to be seen. Again I was face to face withpainted savages, and battling with desperation. Most of my comradeswere soon killed, and I was forced among the bushes, and into thedarkness, by one of the Indians, who pressed upon me with his spear. Ifelt the weapon pass through my thigh, and I fell impaled upon theshaft. The Indian fell above me; but, before he could struggle upagain, I had thrust him through with my knife, and he lay senseless.

  "I rose to my feet, and succeeded in drawing out the spear. I saw thatthe struggle had ceased around the fires; and, believing that mycomrades, as well as my wife and child, were all dead, I turned my backupon the fires, and stole off into the thicket, determined to get as faras possible from the camp. I had not gone more than three hundred yardswhen I fell, exhausted with the loss of blood and the pain of my wound.I had fallen near some rocks at the bottom of a precipice, where I sawthere was a small crevice or cave. I had still strength enough left toenable me to reach this cave, and crawl into it; but I fainted as soonas the effort was over.

  "I must have lain insensible for many hours. When I came toconsciousness again, I saw that daylight was shining into the cave. Ifelt that I was very weak, and could scarcely move. My ghastly woundstared me in the face,--still undressed, but the blood had ceasedflowing of its own accord. I tore up my shirt, and dressed it as wellas I was able; and then, getting nearer to the mouth of the cave, I layand listened. I could hear the voices of the Indians, though veryindistinctly, in the direction of the camp. This continued for an houror more; and then the rocks rang with a terrible explosion, which I knewto be the bursting of a shell. After that I could hear loud shouts, andsoon after, the hurried trampling of many horses; and then all wassilence. I thought at the time that the Indians had taken theirdeparture; but I knew not what had caused them to go off in such ahurry. I found out afterwards. Your conjecture was right. They hadthrown one of the bombs into the fire, and the fuse catching, had causedit to explode, killing several of their number. As they believed it tobe the hand of the Great Spirit, they had hastily gathered up suchplunder as was most desirable to them, and ridden away from the spot. Idid not know this at the time, and I lay still in my cave. For severalhours all was silence; but, as night drew near, I fancied I again heardnoises about the camp, and I thought the Indians might not yet be gone.

  "When darkness came, I would have crawled toward the camp, but I couldnot; and I lay all night in the cave, chafing with the pain of my wound,and listening to the howling of the wolves. That was a terrible night.

  "Morning dawned again, and I could hear no sounds. I was now sufferingdreadfully, both from hunger and thirst. I saw a well-known treegrowing in front of the cave. I knew it, because the same tree is foundupon the mountains of the Mimbres, near our mine. It was a species ofpine, called by the Mexicans `pinon,' whose cones afford food tothousands of the miserable savages who roam over the great westernDesert from the Rocky Mountains to California. If I could only reachthis tree, I might find some of its nuts upon the ground; and, with thishope, I dragged myself painfully out of the cave. It was not twentypaces from the rocks where the tree grew; yet, with my weakness and thepain of my wound, I was nearly half an hour in reaching it. To my joy,I found the ground under it covered with cones. I was not long instripping off the rinds of many of them, and getting the seeds, which Iate greedily, until I had satisfied my hunger.

  "But another appetite far more terrible was craving me--I was torturedwith thirst. Could I crawl as far as the camp? I knew that there Ishould find water in the stream; and, from the position of the cave, Iknew I could not find it nearer. I must either reach it or die; and,with this thought to spur me on, I commenced the short journey of threehundred yards, although I was not certain I might live to see the end ofit. I had not crawled six paces through the underwood, when a bunch ofsmall white flowers attracted my attention. They were the flowers ofthe sorrel-tree--the beautiful lyonia--the very sight of which sent athrill of gladness through my heart. I was soon under the tree, and,clutching one of its lowermost branches, I stripped it of its smooth,serrated leaves, and eagerly chewed them.
Another and another branchwere successively divested of their foliage, until the little treelooked as if a flock of goats had been breakfasting upon it. I lay fornearly an hour masticating the soft leaves, and swallowing theirdelicious and acid juice. At length my thirst was alleviated, and Ifell asleep under the cool shadow of the lyonia.

  "When I awoke again, I felt much stronger, and with new appetite to eat.The fever which had begun to threaten me was much allayed; and I knewthis was to be attributed to the virtue of the leaves I had eaten--forbesides relieving thirst, the sap of the sorrel-tree is a most potentfebrifuge. Gathering a fresh quantity of the leaves, and tying themtogether, I again set out for the pinon-tree. I took the leaves withme, so that I should not have to make the return trip to the sorrel thatnight again. In a few minutes I had reached the end of my journey, andwas busy among the cones. You laugh at my calling it a journey; but Iassure you it was a most painful one to me, although it was not tenpaces from one tree to the other. The slightest motion agonised me.

  "That night I passed under the pinon, and in the morning, having made mybreakfast of the seeds, I collected my pockets full, and set out againfor the sorrel-tree. Here I spent the day; and with a fresh cargo ofleaves returned at night to the pinon, where I again slept.

  "Thus, for four successive days and nights, I passed between these twobrave trees, living upon the sustenance they afforded. The fever wasluckily warded off by the leaves of the friendly lyonia. My wound beganto heal, and the pain left it. The wolves came at intervals; but,seeing my long knife, and that I still lived, they kept at a warydistance.

  "Although the leaves of the sorrel assuaged my thirst, they did notsatisfy it. I longed for a good draught of water; and, on the fourthday, I set out for the stream. I was now able to creep upon my handsand one knee, dragging the wounded limb after me. When I had got abouthalf-way through the underwood, I came upon an object that almostcongealed the blood in my veins. It was a human skeleton. I knew itwas not that of a man--I knew it was--"

  Here the voice of the miner became choked with sobs, and he was unableto finish the sentence. Nearly all in the room--even the rude hunters--wept as they beheld his emotion. After an effort he continued:--

  "I saw that she had been buried; and I wondered at this, for I knew theIndians had not done it. I was never certain until this hour who hadperformed for her that sacred rite. I thought, however, it must havebeen you; for after I had recovered I went back upon the trail; and, notfinding your wagon anywhere, I knew you must have come on to the camp,and gone away again. I looked in every direction to find which way youhad gone; but, as you will remember, there was a heavy fall of rainshortly after, and that had obliterated every track. All this happenedafter I was able to get upon my feet, which was not for a month afterthe night of the massacre. But let me go back in my narrative to whereI had found the remains of my poor wife.

  "The wolves had torn the body from its grave. I looked for some vestigeof my child. With my hands I dug down into the loose mould and leaves,which you had thrown over her body; but no infant was there. I crawledon to the camp. I found that, just as you have described it--exceptthat the bodies were now bleaching skeletons, and the wolves had takentheir departure. I searched around, on all sides, thinking I might findsome traces of my little Luisa; but in vain. `The Indians have eithercarried the child away,' thought I, `or the fierce wolves have devouredit altogether.'

  "In one of the wagons I found an old mess-chest lying hid under somerubbish. It had escaped the hurried plunder of the savages. On openingit, I saw that it contained, among other things, some coffee and severalpounds of jerked meat. This was a fortunate event, for the meat andcoffee nourished me, until I was able to gather a sufficient quantity ofthe pinons.

  "In this way I spent a whole month, sleeping in one of the wagons atnight, and crawling off to collect pinons during the day. I had butlittle fear that the Indians would return; for I knew that that part ofthe country was not inhabited by any tribe; and we must have fallen inwith a party of the Arapahoes, wandering out of their usual range. Assoon as I grew strong enough, I dug a grave, where I interred theremains of my poor wife; and now I began to think of taking my leave ofthat melancholy scene.

  "I knew that I was not much more than a hundred miles distant from theeastern settlements of New Mexico; but a hundred miles of uninhabitedwilderness, and on foot, was a barrier that seemed almost as impassableas the ocean itself. I was determined, however, to make the attempt;and I set about sewing a bag in which I should carry my roasted pinons--the only provision I could get to sustain me through the journey.

  "While engaged in this operation, with my eyes fixed upon the work, Iheard footsteps near me. I raised my head suddenly, and in alarm. Whatwas my joy, when I saw that the object which had startled me was neithermore nor less than a mule, that was slowly coming towards the camp! Irecognised it as one of the mules that had belonged to our caravan.

  "The animal had not yet observed me; and I thought it might shy away, ifI showed myself too suddenly. I resolved, therefore, to capture it bystratagem. I crept into the wagon, where I knew there was a lazo; andhaving got hold of this, I placed myself in ambush, where I saw the mulewould most likely pass. I had scarcely got the noose ready, when, to myextreme satisfaction, the mule came directly to where I lay expectingit. The next moment its neck was firmly grasped in the loop of thelazo, and the animal itself stood tied to the tongue of one of thewagons. It was one of our mules that had escaped from the Indians, andafter wandering over the country for weeks had now found the track, andwould, no doubt, had I not caught it, have found its way back to SaintLouis; for this is by no means an unfrequent occurrence with animalsthat stray off from the caravans. It soon became tame with me, and in afew days more I had manufactured a bridle and saddle; and, mounting withmy bag of roasted pinons, I rode off on the trail for Santa Fe. Inabout a week I reached that place in safety, and continued my journeysouthward to the mine.

  "My history since that time can have but little interest for any of you.It is that of a man sorrowing for the loss of all he loved on earth.But you, Rolfe, you have given me new life in restorer; to me my child,my Luisa; and every chapter of your history, woven as it is with hers,will be to me, at least, of the deepest interest. Go on then,--go on!"

  With this the miner concluded; and our host, after inviting each of usto re-fill our cups with wine, and our pipes with tobacco, resumed hisnarrative where he had left it off, in consequence of the happy, butunexpected episode, to which it had led.