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

"Let the Comanches attack, if they will," they said, shaking their rifles. Even the face of the quietMiddleton kindled.

"It's a good spirit our men show," he said to thethree who were his chosen comrades, "but I knew thatthey would never turn back because of an Indian threat."

The train advanced slowly down into the plain, andthen began its march across the vast, grayish-greenexpanse. The traveling was very easy here, and they madeseven or eight miles over the rolling earth before theystopped at sunset. Phil, looking back, could still seethe dark line of the hilly country and the forest, butbefore him the prairie rolled away, more than ever, as thetwilight came, like an unknown sea.

The camp was beside a shallow stream runningbetween low banks. They built their fires of cottonwoodand stunted oaks that grew on either side, and then Philsaw the darkness suddenly fall like the fall of a greatblanket over the plains. With the night came a low, moaning sound which Bill Breakstone told him wasmerely the wind blowing a thousand miles without abreak.

Phil took his turn at guard duty the latter half of thatnight, walking about at some distance from the camp, now and then meeting his comrades on the same duty, and exchanging a word or two. It was very dark, andthe other sentinels were not in the best of humor, thinking there was little need for such a watch, and Phil byand by confined himself strictly to his own territory.

Although his eyes grew used to the darkness, it wasso heavy that they could not penetrate it far, and heextended his beat a little farther from the camp. Hethought once that he heard a light sound, as of footsteps, perhaps those of a horse, and in order to be certain, remembering an old method, he lay down and put his earto the ground. Then he was quite sure that he heard asound very much like the tread of hoofs, but in amoment or two it ceased. He rose, shaking his headdoubtfully, and advanced a little farther. He neither saw norheard anything more, and he became convinced that thefootsteps had been those of some wild animal. Perhapsa lone buffalo, an outlaw from the herd, had beenwandering about, and had turned away when the human odormet his nostrils.

He returned toward the camp, and something coldpassed his face. There was a slight whistling sounddirectly in his ear, and he sprang to one side, as if hehad narrowly missed the fangs of a rattlesnake. Heheard almost in the same instant a slight, thuddingsound directly in front of him, and he knew instinctivelywhat had made it. He ran forward, and there was anarrow sticking half its length in the ground. Theimpulse of caution succeeded that of curiosity. RememberingBill Breakstone's teachings, he threw himself flatupon the ground, letting his figure blend with thedarkness, and lay there, perfectly still. But no other arrowcame. Nothing stirred. He could not make out amongthe shadows anything that resembled a human figure, although his eyes were good and were now trained to thework of a sentinel. Once when he put his ear to theearth he thought he heard the faint beat of retreatinghoofs, but the sound was so brief and so far away that hewas not sure.

Phil felt shivers, more after he lay down than whenthe arrow passed his cheek. It was the first time that adeadly weapon or missile had passed so close to him, fired perhaps with the intent of slaying him, and no boycould pass through such an experience without quiversand an icy feeling along the spine.

But when he lay still awhile and could not detect thepresence of any enemy, he rose and examined the arrowagain. There was enough light for him to see that thefeathered shaft was exactly like that of the arrow theyhad found in the tree.

He pulled the weapon out of the ground and examinedit with care. It had a triangular head of iron, withextremely sharp edges, and he shuddered again. If ithad struck him, it would have gone through him as BillBreakstone said the Comanche arrows sometimes wententirely through the body of a buffalo.

He took the arrow at once to the camp, and showed itto the men who were on guard there, telling how thisfeathered messenger-and he could not doubt that it wasa messenger-had come. Woodfall and Middleton wereawakened, and both looked serious. It could not be anyplay of fancy on the part of an imaginative boy. Herewas the arrow to speak for itself.

"It must have been the deed of a daring Comanche,"said Middleton with conviction. "Perhaps he did notintend to kill Phil, and I am sure that this arrow, likethe first, was intended as a threat."

"Then it's wasted, just as others will be," saidWoodfall. "My men do not fear Comanches."

"I know that," said Middleton. "It is a strongtrain, but we must realize, Mr. Woodfall, that theComanches are numerous and powerful. We must makeevery preparation, all must stay close by the train, andthere must be a strict night watch."

He spoke in a tone of authority, but it fitted so wellupon him, and seemed so natural that Woodfall did notresent it. On the contrary, he nodded, and then addedhis emphatic acquiescence in words.

"You are surely right," he said. "We must tightenup everything."

This little conference was held beside some coals of acooking fire that had not yet died, and Phil waspermitted to stand by and listen, as it was he who hadbrought in the significant arrow. The coals did not givemuch light, and the men were half in shadow, but theboy was impressed anew by the decision and firmnessshown by Middleton. He seemed to have an absolutelyclear mind, and to know exactly what he wanted. Philwondered once more what a man of that type might beseeking in the vast and vague West.

"I'll double the guard," said Woodfall, "and no manshall go out of sight of the train. Now, Bedford, myboy, you might go to sleep, as you have done your partof a night's work."

Phil lay down, and, despite the arrow so vivid inmemory, he slept until day.

As Phil had foreseen, his latest story of warning founduniversal credence in the camp, as the arrow washere, visible to all, and it was passed from handto hand. He was compelled to tell many times how ithad whizzed by his face, and how he had found itafterward sticking in the earth. All the fighting qualities ofthe train rose. Many hoped that the Comanches wouldmake good the threat, because threat it must be, andattack. The Indians would get all they wanted andplenty more.

chanted Bill Breakstone in a mellow voice, and a dozenmen took up the refrain: "He can attack our train or not,if he does, it's his error."

The drivers cracked their whips, the wagons, in adouble line, moved slowly on over the gray-green plains.A strong band of scouts preceded it, and another, equallyas strong, formed the rear-guard. Horsemen armed withrifle and pistol rode on either flank. The sun shone, anda crisp wind blew. Mellow snatches of song floated awayover the swells. All was courage and confidence. Deeperand deeper they went into the great plains, and the lineof hills and forest behind them became dimmer anddimmer. They saw both buffalo and antelope grazing, a mileor two away, and there was much grumbling becauseWoodfall would not let any of the marksmen go inpursuit. Here was game and fresh meat to be had for thetaking, they said, but Woodfall, at the urgent insistenceof Middleton, was inflexible. Men who wandered fromthe main body even a short distance might never comeback again. It had happened too often on former expeditions.

chanted Bill Breakstone, and he added triumphantly:

"That's surely good poetry, Phil! Five lines allrhyming together, when most poets have trouble to maketwo rhyme. But, as I have said before, these plains thatlook so quiet and lonely have their dangers. We mustpass by the buffalo, the deer, and the antelope, unless wego after them in strong parties. Ah, look there! Whatis that?"