Joseph Altsheler - The Quest of the Four - A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

"The antelope mean that no Comanches are near,"said Arenberg. "The warriors will now wait patientlyand a long time for a good opportunity. Sometimesmuch harm iss done where much iss intended."

"That is so," chanted Bill Breakstone.

"As I have often remarked before, Phil, my poetrymay be defective in meter and some other small technicalities, but it comes to the point. That, I believe, wasthe characteristic of Shakespeare, also. I agree, too, with Arenberg, that the Comanches will not trouble usagain for some time. So, I pray thee, be of good cheer,Sir Philip of the Merry Countenance, Knight of theBattle beside the Unknown River, Slayer of Comanches inthe Dark, Guardian of the Public Weal, et cetera, etcetera."

"I am cheerful," said Phil, to whom Breakstone wasalways a tonic, "and I believe that we can beat off theComanches any time and every time."

"Jump on your horse," said Breakstone, a little later;"we're all ready."

Phil leaped into the saddle with one bound. Thetrain moved forward, and he and Breakstone joinedMiddleton and Arenberg at its head. Middleton had powerfulglasses, and he swept the plain far ahead, and to rightand left. His gaze finally settled on a point to thesouth-west. The others followed his look with great interest, but the naked eye could see nothing but the rollinggray-green plains and the dim blue horizon beyond. Middletonlooked so long that at last Bill Breakstone asked:

"What do you see?"

"I do not see anything that I can really call living,"replied Middleton, "but I do see a knoll or slightelevation on the plain-what would be called farther north abutte-and on that knoll is a black blur, shapeless andunnamable at this distance."

"Does the black blur move?" asked Bill Breakstone.

"I cannot tell. It is too far even for that, but fromit comes a beam of brilliant light that shifts here andthere over the plain. Take a look, Bill."

Breakstone eagerly put the glasses to his eyes, andturned them upon the knoll.

"Ah, I see it!" he exclaimed. "It's like a ball oflight! There it goes to the right! There it goes to theleft! Now it falls in our direction! What in the nameof Shakespeare's thirty-five or forty plays is it, Cap?"

"Let me have the glasses, I want another look,"replied Middleton.

His second look was a long one taken in silence. Atlast he replied:

"It's a signal, lads. I've seen the Comanches talk toone another in this way before. A Comanche chief issitting on his horse on top of that knoll. He holds arounded piece of looking-glass in the hollow of his hand, and he turns it in such a way that he catches the veryconcentrated essence of the sun's rays, throwing a beama tremendous distance. The beam, like molten gold, nowstrikes the grass on top of a swell off toward the north.It's a secret just how they do it, for not yet has anywhite man learned the system of signals which they makewith such a glass. Ah!"

The "Ah!" came forth, so deep, so long drawn, andso full of meaning that Phil, Arenberg, and BillBreakstone exclaimed together:

"What is it?"

"I would not have known that the black blur on topof the knoll was a chief on horseback if I had not beenon the Texas plains before," replied Middleton, "butnow I can make out the figures of horse and man, as heis riding around and around in a circle and riding veryrapidly."

"What does that mean?" asked Phil.

"It means danger, not to us, but to the Comanches.The warrior is probably signaling to a band of his tribewho are meditating attack upon us that we are toostrong."

"Then it must be some fresh band," said Bill Breakstone,"because the one that had the little encounter withus yesterday knew that already."

"I take it that you're right," said Middleton, smiling and closing the glasses. "The second band won'tmolest us-not to-day."

"That seems to be a very effective way of signaling,"remarked Phil.

"On the plains, yes," said Middleton. "It is astonishinghow far such a vivid beam of light will carry, asthe crest of the knoll was too high for it to be interceptedby the swells."

Middleton told Woodfall what they had seen. Theleader's chin stiffened a little more, and the wagons wenton at the same pace, trailing their brown length acrossthe prairie.

About ten o'clock the march became difficult, as theyentered a town, but such a town! Its inhabitants wereprairie dogs, queer little animals, which darted down intotheir burrows at the approach of the horsemen andwagons, often sharing the home with a rattlesnake. Butthe horsemen were now compelled to proceed with exceedingcare, as the horses' feet often sank deep down in thedens. Stumbles were frequent and there were severalfalls. Wagon wheels, also, sank, and the advancebecame so difficult that Woodfall halted the train and sentPhil and some others to find a way around the town.

They rode five or six miles to the south, and still thesingular town stretched away, apparently endless. Thenthey came back and rode five or six miles to the northwith the same result. Acting upon the advice ofMiddleton, Woodfall, after hearing these reports, decided togo straight on through the town. It was known that suchtowns had been found twenty-five miles long, and thismight be as large. So they went directly ahead. Theriders dismounted and led their horses. Three timesPhil killed coiling rattlesnakes with the butt of his rifle, but he did not seek to molest any of the prairie dogs.

They moved very slowly, and it was three hours beforethey crossed the prairie dog town, leaving behind themsome destruction, but not more than they could help.

"Well, Sir Philip of the Prairie Dogs, what name areyou going to give to the populous community throughwhich we have just passed?" asked Breakstone.

"I suppose Canine Center will do as well as anyother," replied Phil.

"A wise selection, my gay youth," replied Bill Breakstone."But these animals, properly speaking, are notdogs, they are more like rats. I'm glad we've passed'em. It isn't pleasant to have your horse put his foot inone of their dens and shoot you over his head. The goodhard plain for me."

He cantered forward, and Phil cantered with him, raising his head and breathing the pure air that blew oversuch vast reaches of clean earth. He felt the bloodleaping in his veins again from mere physical happiness.He began to whistle gayly, and then to sing "Open thylattice, love," a song just coming into favor, written bythe man who became yet more famous with "OldKentucky Home" and "Suwanee River." Phil had a fine, fresh, youthful voice, and Breakstone listened to him ashe sang through two verses. Then he held up his hand, and Phil stopped.

"What's the trouble?" asked the boy.

"I don't object to your song, Phil, and I don't objectto your singing, but it won't be a good time for love toopen the lattice; it will be better to close it tight. Don'tyou feel a change in the air, Phil? Just turn your faceto the northwest, and you'll notice it."

Phil obeyed, and it seemed to him now that the airstriking upon his cheek was colder, but he imagined thatit was due to the increasing strength of the wind.

"I do not care if the wind is a little cold," he said."I like it."

chanted Bill Breakstone, and then he added:

"See that gray mist forming in a circle about the sun, and look at that vapor off there in the northwest. ByGeorge, how fast it spreads! The whole sky is becomingovercast! Unroll your blanket, Phil, and have it readyto wrap around you I The whole train must stop andprepare!"

Bill Breakstone turned to give his warning, but others, too, had noticed the signals of danger. The commandstop was given. The wagons were drawn rapidly intocircle, and just as when the danger was Indians, insteadof that which now threatened, all the horses and muleswere put inside the circle. But now all the men, also, took their station inside, none remaining outside as guard.The wind meanwhile rose fast, and the temperaturefell with startling rapidity. The edge of the blast seemedto be ice itself. Phil, who was helping with the corral ofwagons, felt as if it cut him to the bone. He fullyappreciated Bill Breakstone's advice about the blanket.The day also was swiftly turning dark. The sun wasquite gone out. Heavy clouds and masses of vaporformed an impenetrable veil over all the sky. Now, besides the cold, Phil felt his face struck by fine particlesthat stung. It was the sand picked up by the wind, perhaps hundreds of miles away, and hurled upon them inan enveloping storm.