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The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains, a fiction by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 31. In The Watches Of The Night

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_ CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT

The hours went by, but no sound or sign came from the plain; the stars started out bright and clear, and in the east there was a faint, lambent light that told of the coming of the moon ere long, but still all seemed silent in the desert.

The Englishmen of the party seemed to grow weary, and began talking so loudly that the Doctor sent sternly-worded messages to them to be silent; and once more all was still, save when some one fidgeted about to change his position.

"Why can't they keep still?" growled Joses, softly, as he lay perfectly motionless, listening to every sound. "They don't understand how a man's life--ah, all our lives--may depend on their being still. Look at them Injuns. They never move."

Joses was quite right. Each Indian had taken his place where appointed, and had not moved since, saving to settle down into a part of the rock. The swarthy, muscular fellows might have been part of the stone for any sign they gave of life.

At last the moon rose slowly above the edge of the vast plain, sending a flood of light to bring into prominence every bush and tree, striking on the face of the mountain, and casting its shadow right away over the plain. From where Bart crouched he could not see the moon, for he and his companions were behind rocks, but there was the heavy shadow of the mountain stretching to an enormous distance; and as he watched it, and saw how boldly it was cut, and how striking was the difference between the illumined portions of the plain and those where the shadow fell, he could not help thinking how easily the Indians might creep right up to them and make a bold assault, and this idea he whispered to Joses.

"'Taint much in their way, my lad," he whispered. "Injun don't care about night-fighting, it's too risky for them. They don't mind a sneak up--just a few of them to scare the horses and cattle and make 'em stampede, and they don't mind doing a bit o' spy of the enemy's camp in the dark; but it isn't often they'll fight at night."

"But you expect them to come, don't you?"

"I don't," said Joses; "but the Beaver does, and I give in. He knows best about it, having been so much more among the Injun than I have, and being Injun himself. I daresay they will come, but they won't stampede our horses, I'm thinking, and they won't get the cattle. They may get to know where the ways are into the corral and the horse 'closure, and perhaps find out the path up to the castle, as the master calls it."

"But they couldn't unless they came close up, Joses."

"Well, what's to hinder 'em from coming close up? They'll crawl through the grass, and from stone to stone in the dark there, and who's to see 'em? My eyes are sharp enough, but I don't know as I should see them coming. Let's ask the Beaver what he says."

"The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth has heard all you said," whispered the interpreter, "and he says that the Apaches will come before long to find the way into the camp, and then they will go away again if they do not die."

A curious silence seemed to fall after this, and Bart felt, as he crouched there watching the plains, that something very terrible was going to happen ere long. At another time he would have been drowsy, but now sleep was the last thing of which he thought, all his nerves being overwrought; and as his eyes swept the wide flat plain, he kept on fancying that sooner or later he would see the Apaches coming up to them with the slow, silent approach of so many shadows.

And now it suddenly struck Bart that the shadow of the mountain was shorter than when the moon first rose, and that its edges were more boldly defined, and by this he knew, of course, that the moon was getting higher. At the same time though, soft fleecy clouds began to hide the stars, and at times the shadow of the mountain was blotted out, for the moon was from time to time obscured, and the peculiar indistinctness of the earth seemed to Bart as exactly suited for an enemy's approach.

A slight movement at his side told him that this was the Indians' idea as well, and that to a man they were eagerly scanning the plain and the rugged patches of rock beneath.

Every here and there the fallen masses were piled-up into buttresses, and it was amongst these that, after failing to keep his attention upon the misty plain, Bart let his gaze wander till at last he became convinced that he could see some dark patch in slow motion, and it was long enough before he could satisfy himself that it was only a stone.

He was deceived in this way so often--the various little prominences below him seeming to waver and move, and assume form in accordance with his ideas--that he grew tired of watching, feeling sure at last that there would be nothing to trouble them that night, when suddenly a soft firm hand glided gently and silently as a snake to his wrist, took firm hold of it and pressed it, before rising and pointing down below them into the plain.

Bart followed the direction of the pointing hand, but he could see nothing, and he was about to say so, when gradually sweeping past, a few light clouds must have left the moon partially clear, and with the sudden access of light, Bart could make out two somethings close beside the piled-up rocks, and for some moments he could not be sure that they were men prostrated on their chests crawling towards the entrance to the cattle corral, for they seemed to assimilate with the colour of the earth; and though he strained his eyes, not a trace of motion could he detect.

By degrees though it seemed to him that one of the figures was a man, the other some shaggy kind of crouching beast, till his eyes grew more educated, and he decided that one was an Indian naked to the waist, while the other was wearing his buffalo robe as an additional means of protection.

Bart watched them attentively, and still the figures did not move. At last, however, he saw that they had changed their position, creeping closer to the piled-up rocks, and at last, evidently encouraged by the fact that when the firing took place that evening there was no response, the two savages suddenly rose erect, and went to the piled-up stones that blocked the corral entry.

"How did they know the cattle were there?" said Bart, putting his lips close by Joses' ear.

"Nose!" whispered back the frontiersman, laconically.

"But how could they tell that this was the entrance?" whispered Bart again.

"Eyes!" replied Joses; and he then laid his hand upon Bart's lips, as a sign that he must refrain from speaking any more.

Bart rather chafed at this, and he was growing excited as well, for it troubled him that Joses and the Beaver should have let these two spies go right up to such a treasure as the cattle corral unchallenged; and though he would not have thought of firing at the savages, he could not help thinking that something ought to be done--what he could not say-- for the low grating noise he now heard was certainly the Indians moving one of the blocks of stone that had so carefully been placed there that afternoon.

"They're opening the corral, my lad," said Joses just then, in a hoarse whisper; "and if we don't stop 'em we shall be having 'em drive the whole lot of bullocks and cows right away into the plains, and never see a hoof again."

"What's to be done, then?" whispered Bart, whose face was covered with a cold dew, while his cheeks were at fever heat.

"Well, my lad, they seem to have found out the way easy enough by crawling over the cattle trail, and it's a very unpleasant thing to do, but I suppose we shall either have to be robbed, or else we must stop 'em; so as the Doctor won't like all our cattle to go, I'm going to stop 'em."

"It's very horrible," whispered Bart.

"Horrid, my lad; so's having your cattle and horses stole, for if they get one they're bound to have t'other; so is being starved to death; and the worsest of all is being scalped, and that's sure to come if we let them brutes go."

"But it is so horrible to shoot them, Joses," panted Bart.

"'Tis, my lad, so don't you do it. Leave it to us. Hah! that's a big stone down, and the cattle's beginning to fidget. Now, Beaver, what do you say?"

The Beaver answered with his rifle, which gave a sharp report, just as the moon shone out a little more clearly.

"Hit!" said Joses, laconically, as they saw quite plainly the two Indians start back from the rocks right out into the clear moonlight, one of them uttering a fierce, hoarse yell, and staggering as if about to fall, when the other sprang forward and caught him by the chest, holding him up, and, as it was plain to see, forming of the body of his wounded companion a shield to protect himself from the bullets of their unseen assailants.

"They must not go away and tell tales," muttered Joses, as he took aim; but just then the interpreter's rifle rang out, and the half-nude Indian turned partly round, so that they could see in white paint upon his breast, seeming to gleam horribly in the moonlight, the ghastly skull and cross-bones that seemed to have been adopted as the badge of the tribe. Then he fell back into the arms of his friend, who clasped his arms round him, and backed slowly, keeping the wounded man's face to the firing party, while, as if mechanically, the injured savage kept step.

_Crack_ went the Beaver's rifle again, and there was a dull thud telling of a hit, but still the two Indians retreated slowly.

_Crack_! went Joses' rifle, and he uttered a low growl.

"I'll swear I hit him, but I dunno whether it touched the t'other one--a cowardly skunk, to sneak behind his fellow like that."

_Crack_--_crack_--_crack_--_crack_! four rifles uttered their reports, which seemed to reverberate from the face of the mountain; and as the smoke rose slowly, and Bart could gaze at the moonlit plain, and try to read the meaning of the fierce yell of defiance that he had heard arise, he saw that the first Indian lay upon his back with the moon shining upon his ghastly, painted breast, while his companion was rapidly disappearing as he ran swiftly over the plain.

The Beaver's rifle rang out again, and he started up into a kneeling position, gazing after the object at which he had fired, while his fingers mechanically reloaded his piece. Then he uttered a low guttural cry of anger, and sank down into his former position.

"Missed him, Beaver," said Joses, quietly.

"No," was the sharp retort. "He was hit, but he will escape to his dogs of people."

This was a tremendous speech for the chief, who, however, seemed to be acquiring the English tongue with remarkable rapidity, the fact being that he had long known a great deal of English, but had been too proud to make use of it till he could speak sufficiently well to make himself understood with ease, and therefore he had brought up the interpreter as a medium between him and his English friends.

They watched through the rest of the night, after communicating to the Doctor the reason for the firing, but there was no fresh alarm. The moon rose higher, and shed a clear effulgence that seemed to make the plain as light as day, while the shadow of the mountain appeared to become black, and the ravines and cracks in its sides to be so many dense marks cut in solid silver.

Daylight at last, with the silvery moon growing pale and the stars fading out. First a heavy grey, then a silvery light, then soft, roseate tints, followed by orange flecks far up in the east, and then one glorious, golden blaze to herald the sun, as the great orb slowly seemed to roll up over the edge of the plain, and bring with it life, and light, and hope.

"Hurrah!" shouted Bart, as he rose from his cramped position in the rifle-pit. "Oh, Joses! my back! my legs! Ah, ah! Oh my! Do rub me! I'm so stiff I can hardly move."

"That'll soon go off, my lad. There, I suppose most of us may go off duty now, for I can't see any Injun out on the plains."

"Yes: hundreds!" said the Beaver, who had been shading his eyes and gazing attentively over the sunlit expanse of rocky landscape dotted with trees.

"Where, Beaver?" said Joses.

For answer the chief pointed right away, and both Joses and Bart tried to make out what he meant, but in vain.

"Your eyes are younger than mine, Bart," said Joses at last, gruffly. "I can't see nothing--can you?"

"No, Joses," replied Bart. "I can see nothing but trees."

The Beaver smiled.

"Ah, it's all very well for you to laugh," said Joses, bluntly, "but you've got eyes that see round corners of hills, and through clumps of wood and bits of mountain. I never saw such eyes in my life."

"My eyes will do," said the Beaver, quietly. "The Apaches are over yonder. They will be on the watch to carry off the cattle or to kill us if they can."

"Yes, that's it," said Joses; "if they can."

Without another word, the Beaver and half-a-dozen of his followers went down the slope, and climbed the stone gateway, to leap into the plain, where, without a word of instruction, they bore off the body of the fallen Indian, and buried it down in the rift where the other two had been laid, after which they returned to partake of the morning meal that had been prepared--fires being lit in various crevices and chasms off the zigzag way; and this meal being partaken of in the bright morning sunshine, seemed to make the dangers of the night appear trifling, and the spirits of the people rose.

In fact, there was no time for despondency. Every man knew when he came out to adventure for silver that he would have to run the risk of encounters with the Indians, and nothing could be more satisfactory than their position. For they had a stronghold where they could set half the Indian nations at defiance, while the savages could not hinder their mining operations, which could be continued on the mountain if they were invested, and at the edge of the canyon or down below, where there was nothing to fear.

The greatest danger was with respect to the cattle, which had to be drawn out to pasture along near the side of the lake, and this was done at once, every available man mounting his horse and forming guard, so as to protect the cattle and pasture his horse at the same time.

This was carried on for some days, and a careful watch was kept out towards the plain; but though bodies of Indians were seen manoeuvring in the distance, none approached the mountain, whose flag waved out defiance; and as night after night passed without alarm, there were some of the party sanguine enough to say that the Indians had had their lesson and would come no more.

"What do you say to that, Beaver?" said Joses, laying his hand upon the chiefs shoulder, and looking him in the face.

"Indian dog of Apache never forgives," he replied quietly. "They may come to-day--to-morrow--next moon. Who can tell when the Apache will come and strike? But he will come."

"There, Master Bart, hear that!" said Joses. "How about going down into the canyon to spear salmon now?"

"The young chief, Bart, can go and spear salmon in the river," said the Beaver, whose face lit up at the prospect of engaging in something more exciting than watching cattle and taking care that they did not stray too far. "The Beaver and his young men will take care the Apaches do not come without warning." _

Read next: Chapter 32. Spearing Salmon Under Difficulties

Read previous: Chapter 30. The Beaver Sniffs Danger

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