In the Hands of the Cave-Dwellers Read online

  IN THE HANDS OF THE CAVE-DWELLERS

  by

  G. A. HENTY

  Author of "With Roberts to Pretoria" "Won by the Sword" "To Heratand Cabul" &c.

  Illustrated by Wat. Miller

  Blackie and Son LimitedLondon Glasgow and Dublin

  "FOUR INDIANS STEPPED FROM AMONG THE TREES"]

  CONTENTS

  CHAP. PAGE

  I. A MIDNIGHT ATTACK 7

  II. A HEARTY WELCOME 23

  III. AN AMBUSH 42

  IV. A GREAT RANCH 61

  V. AN INDIAN RAID 81

  VI. HOPEFUL NEWS 101

  VII. THE PURSUIT 120

  VIII. THE CAVE-DWELLERS 140

  IX. RESCUED 157

  IN THE HANDS OF THE CAVE-DWELLERS

  CHAPTER I

  A MIDNIGHT ATTACK

  It was late in the evening at San Diego, in the autumn of the year 1832;there was no moon, but the stars shone so brightly in the clear, dryatmosphere that it was easy to distinguish objects at some littledistance. A young fellow, in the dress of a sailor, was making his waythrough the narrow streets that bordered the port, when he heard asudden shout, followed by fierce exclamations and Mexican oaths. Withoutpausing to consider whether it was prudent to interfere, he graspedtightly a cudgel he had that day cut, and ran to the spot where it wasevident that a conflict was going on. It was but some forty yards away,and as he approached he made out four figures who were dodging round adoorway and were evidently attacking someone standing there. Theinequality of the combat was sufficient to appeal to the sailor'ssympathies. The sand that lay thick in the street had deadened hisfootsteps, and his presence was unmarked till his stick descended with asharp crack on the up-lifted wrist of one of the assailants, eliciting ayell of pain, while the knife the man held flew across the street.

  One of the man's companions turned upon the new-comer, but the sailor'sarm was already raised, and the cudgel lighted with such force on theman's head that he fell stunned to the ground. This unexpected assaultcaused the other two fellows to pause and look around, and in an instantthe defender of the doorway bounded forward and buried his knife in oneof their bodies, while the other at once fled, followed by the manwhose wrist had been broken by the sailor's first blow.

  "Carambo, senor!" the Mexican said. "You have rendered me a serviceindeed, and I tender you a thousand thanks. I could not have held outmuch longer, for I had been more than once wounded before you arrived."

  "You are heartily welcome, senor. It was but a slight business--twoblows with my stick and the matter was done."

  "You are not a countryman of mine, senor," the other said, for thesailor spoke with a strong accent; "you are a stranger, and, as I cansee now, a sailor."

  "That is so. I am an American."

  "Is that so?" the other said, speaking this time in English. "As yousee, I know about as much of your tongue as you do of mine. I thoughtyou must be a stranger even before I observed your dress, for streetfrays are not uncommon in this town, whereas in other ports there arescores of men ready for any villany, and few of my people would care tointerfere in a fray in which they have no interest. But do not let usstay here. It is best to get out of this quarter."

  "Shall we do anything with these fellows? The one I hit can only bestunned, and I should think we ought to give him in charge to thewatch."

  The other laughed. "You might wait some time before we found them, and,besides, it would give us a deal of trouble. No; leave them where theylie. The one I struck at least will never get up again. Now, senor, mayI ask the name of my preserver? Mine is Juan Sarasta."

  "Mine is William Harland," the sailor replied.

  "We are friends for life, Senor Harland," the Mexican said, as he heldout his hand and gripped that of the sailor warmly. "Where are youstaying?"

  "I am staying nowhere at present," the sailor laughed. "I deserted frommy ship three days ago, bought a supply of food, and have been somemiles up the country. I knew that the vessel was to sail to-day, and Icame back again and watched her go out just before sunset, and have beensitting on a barrel down at the wharf, wondering what I was going to do,and whether, after all, it would not have been wiser of me to have putup with that brute of a captain until we got down to Valparaiso."

  "We will talk all that matter over later," the Mexican said. "I amstaying with some friends, who will, I am sure, make you welcome when Itell them that you saved my life."

  "I thank you very much," the sailor said, "but no doubt I shall be ableto find some little inn where I can obtain a night's lodging."

  "Such a thing is not to be thought of, Senor Harland, and I shall feelvery much hurt if you do not accept my offer."

  They were now in a wider street, and, passing a wine-shop from which thelight streamed out, Harland saw that the Mexican was a young fellow buttwo or three years older than himself, and his dress showed him tobelong to the upper class. The Mexican's glance had been as quick as hisown, for he said, "Why, you are younger than I am!"

  "I am just eighteen."

  "And I twenty. Were you an officer on your ship?"

  "No. My father is one of the leading citizens of Boston; he absolutelyrefused to allow me to follow the sea as a profession, although he is alarge ship-owner himself; however, my mind was made up, and as I couldnot go as an officer, I came as a sailor. This is not my first voyage,for two years ago he let me sail in one of his ships as an apprentice,making sure that it would have the effect of disgusting me with the sea.However, the experiment failed, and to his anger I returned even fonderof it than when I started. He wanted me to go into his office, but Ipositively refused, and we had a serious quarrel, at the end of which Iwent down to the river and shipped before the mast. I know now that Ihave behaved like a fool. The captain was a brute of the worst sort, andthe first mate was worse, and between them they made the shipunbearable. I stood it as long as I could, but three days before we gotto this port one of the young apprentices, whom they had pretty nearlykilled, jumped overboard, and then I made up my mind that as soon as welanded I would bolt and take my chance of getting a berth on board someother ship."

  "But you speak Spanish very fairly, senor."

  "Well, the last ship I was in traded along the western coast, putting inat every little port, so I picked up a good deal of the language, for wewere out here nearly six months. The ship I have just left did the same,so I have had nearly a year on this coast, and having learned Latin atschool, of course it helped me very much. And you, senor, how do youcome to speak English?"

  "I have been down for the past six months in Valparaiso, staying with arelation who has a house there, and my greatest friends there were someyoung Englishmen of my own age, sons of a merchant. My father had spokenof my paying a visit to your States some day, and therefore I was gladof the opportunity of learning the language. This, senor, is the houseof my friends."

  As Harland saw that his companion would take no denial, he followed himinto the house. The young Mexican led the way to a pretty room withwindows to the ground, opening on to a garden.

  "You are late, Senor Juan," a gentleman said, rising from his seat; butbefore the young man could reply, a girl of fifteen or sixteen years oldcried out: "Madre Maria, he is wounded!"

  "It is nothing serious, and I had almost forgotten it till just now itbegan to smart. I have two, or, I think, three stabs on my left arm;they are not very deep, as I twisted my cloak round it when I wasattacked. But it would have been a very serious business had it not beenfor this gentleman, whom I wish to introduce to you, Don Guzma
n, as thesaviour of my life. He is an American gentleman, the son of a wealthyship-owner of Boston, but, owing to some slight disagreement with hisfather, he has worked his way out here as a sailor. I ventured topromise that you would extend your hospitality to him."

  "My house is at your service, senor," the Mexican said courteously. "Onewho has rendered so great a service to my friend Don Juan Sarasta, is myfriend also. Christina, ring the bell and tell the servants to bring hotwater and clothes, and then do you go to your room while we attend toDon Juan's injuries."

  The wounds proved to be by no means serious; they were all on theforearm, and, having to pierce through six or seven inches of cloth, hadnot penetrated very far. They had, however, bled freely, and althoughthe young man laughed at them as mere scratches, he looked pale from theloss of blood.

  "A few bottles of good wine, and I shall be all right again."

  "I must apologize for not having asked you before," Senor Guzman said toHarland, when the wounds were bandaged, "but have you supped?"

  "Yes, thank you, senor. I bought some food as I came through the town,and ate it as I was waiting at the port."

  "Have you any luggage that I can send for?"

  "I have a kit-bag, which I will fetch myself in the morning. It is outon the plain. I did not care to bring it from the town until I knew thatthe vessel I came in had sailed."

  "I can lend you some things for the night," Juan said. "You are a littletaller than I am, but they will be near enough."

  Some wine and biscuits were now brought in, and some excellent cigarsproduced.

  "Were they thieves that attacked you, think you, Don Juan?" his hostasked, after the latter had given a detailed account of his adventure.

  "I cannot say, but I own I have an idea it was my life that they wantedrather than my valuables. I had a fancy that a man was following me, andI went to see the man I had spoken to about the mules. Coming back Iheard a whistle behind me, and twenty yards farther three men sprangout, and one ran up from behind, so that I don't think it was a chanceencounter."

  "Do you suspect anyone?"

  The young Mexican hesitated a moment before he answered. "No, senor; Ihave no quarrel with anyone."

  "I do not see how, indeed, you could have an enemy," Don Guzman said,"seeing that you have been here only for a fortnight; still, it iscurious. However, I have no doubt there are plenty of fellows in thetown who would put a knife between any man's shoulders if they thoughthe was likely to have a few dollars in his pocket. Your watch-chain mayhave attracted the eye of one of these fellows, and he may have thoughtit, with the watch attached to it, well worth the trouble of getting,and would have considered it an easy matter, with three comrades, tomake short work of you, though I own that when you showed fight sodeterminedly I wonder they did not make off, for, as a rule, thesefellows are rank cowards."

  Will Harland observed that when the don asked if Juan had any suspicionsas to the author of the attempt, Donna Christina, who had returned tothe room when his wounds were dressed, glanced towards him, as ifanxious to hear his answer. Putting that and the young Mexican'smomentary hesitation together, he at once suspected that both he and thegirl had a strong idea as to who was at the bottom of this attempt. Thesubject was not further alluded to, the conversation turning upon theUnited States, concerning which the Mexican asked Harland manyquestions.

  "It is a pity so great a distance divides us from them," he said. "It ismore effectual than any ocean, and yet perhaps if we were nearerneighbours your people would disturb our quiet life here. They arerestless, and forever pushing forward, while we abhor changes, and liveas our fathers did three hundred years ago. You see, the mountains actas a barrier to us, and we have never even tried to extend the territorywe occupy beyond the strip of land between the coast and the mountains,and, indeed, that is ample for us. Our population has decreased ratherthan increased since Mexico declared its independence in 1821, and tookwhat I have always considered the ill-advised step of expelling all theSpanish residents about six years ago.

  "Not that we in this province took any very active part in the civilwars that for ten years raged in Central Mexico; but although theSpanish authorities were bad masters, it must be granted that, whilethey were here, there was more trade and commerce than there has sincebeen, and that the advantages all expected to secure from the revolutionhave by no means been obtained. It is curious that the same has been thecase in the other countries that gained their independence. In CentralAmerica there are constant troubles, in Peru things have gone backwardrather than forward, and Chile alone shows signs of enterprise andadvancement. However, these things do not concern us greatly; we liveby the land and not by trade; we have all we want, or can desire, andsubsist, like the patriarchs of old, on our flocks and herds.

  "Don Juan's father, a man of vigour and courage, has shown moreenterprise than any of us, for before the beginning of the troubles hemoved far up a valley running into the heart of the mountains, andestablished himself there. He had large flocks and herds, but his landwas insufficient to support them, and, in spite of the warnings of allhis friends, he determined to move. So far he has proved himself a wiseman. He began by making a sort of treaty with the Indians of that part,by which he agreed to give them a considerable amount of blankets andother goods if they would bind themselves not to interfere with him inany way. These people have generally proved themselves faithless in suchmatters, but this has been an exception to the rule, and I believe thathe has not lost a single head of cattle since he went out there, and heis now undoubtedly one of the richest men on this coast. The fact thathe should send his son on to Chile to enlarge his mind and prepare himfor a trip to the United States, and even to Europe, shows the energy ofthe man, and how far removed his ideas are from those of the hacienderosin general. I can assure you that Juan's departure caused quite asensation in this part of the province."

  "Does your father often come down here himself, Don Juan?"

  "He generally comes down once a year to arrange for the disposal of theincrease of his cattle--that is to say, of the tallow and hides; as tothe meat, it is practically of no value. Of course the bullocks arekilled on the estate; the daily consumption is large, for he has upwardsof fifty peons and vaqueros, but this is a comparatively small item, forhe generally kills from eighteen thousand to twenty thousand animals;the carcasses are boiled down for the fat, and that and the hides arepacked on great rafts and sent down to the coast. His place is only afew miles from the Colorado River. When he comes down here, he takes upa ship, which he sends round to Loreto, and thence up to the mouth ofthe Colorado."

  "How far is this place from here?"

  "About two hundred miles."

  "I should have thought it would have been better to have them here."

  "No, there is a range of hills about half-way between his place and thecoast, across which it would be difficult to get them. Another thing is,that there is scarce any food by the way; rain seldom falls here, andalthough the land is very rich when irrigated, it affords but a scantygrowth in its wild state. A herd of twenty thousand bullocks couldscarcely exist on the road, and even if they got here, they would havelost so much fat that they would scarce pay for boiling down."

  They sat smoking in the veranda until nearly midnight, and Don Guzmanthen conducted the young sailor to the chamber that had been preparedfor him.