The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista. Altsheler Joseph Alexander

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      Ahead of them the Comanches, bent low on theirmustangs, were galloping over the plain. Behind came thewhite men, hot with the fire of battle and urging on theirhorses. Phil, Bill Breakstone, and Arenberg rode kneeto knee, the boy between. He was wet from head to footwith splashed water, but he did not know it. A bullethad touched the tip of one ear, covering it with blood, but he did not know that, either. There was no crueltyin his nature, but just now it thrilled with battle. Hesought a shot at the flying Comanches, but they were toofar away.

      "Hold your fire,"' said Bill Breakstone. "The battleis not over yet by any means. A job that's half finishedisn't finished at all."

      They heard now the shots at the ford above them anda tremendous shouting. Evidently the two forces werefiring at each other across the stream, and the wagons didnot yet dare the passage. A few moments later they sawthe smoke of the rifles and brown figures darting aboutthe thickets.

      "Now, boys!" shouted Middleton. "All together!A great cheer!"

      A mighty shout was poured forth from three scorethroats, and Middleton waved his felt hat about his head.From the eastern bank came an answering cry, and thesignal was complete. Woodfall and the others with thetrain knew that their comrades were across, and now wasthe time for them to force the passage. Phil saw thewhite tops of the wagons shake. Then the wagons themselvesrolled slowly forward into the water, with horsemenin front of them and on the flanks, firing at the Indianson the bank. The Comanches sent a shower of bulletsand arrows upon the advancing line, but in anotherinstant they were compelled to turn and defend themselves.Middleton and his victorious troop were thundering downupon them.

      The attack upon their flank came so swiftly that theComanches were taken by surprise. As their own skirmishersfled, the white force galloped in upon their heels.Yet these bold warriors, kings of the plains, victors inmany a battle over other tribes and Mexicans, fought witha courage and tenacity worthy of their race andtraditions. They were marshaled, too, by a chief who hadreturned to his own, the great Black Panther, and by ableassistants.

      Middleton's daring men met a storm of arrows ambullets, but they charged on, although some saddles wereemptied. They were at the edge of the timber now, the mounted white men poured in a deadly fire. Thesound of the shots became a steady, incessant cracklePuffs of smoke arose, and, uniting, formed a canopy ofvapor. The odor of gunpowder spread and filled thenostrils of the combatants. Shots, the trampling of hoofs, the cries of the wounded and dying rung upon the drumsof their ears.

      It was a terrific medley, seemingly all confusion, butreally fought with order by skilled leaders. BlackPanther had one half of his warriors to face the wagons andhorsemen in the river and the other half faced south tobeat off Middleton's troop, if it could. He himselfpassed from one to another, encouraging them by everyart that he knew, and they were many.

      But it was Middleton's men who gave the deathblow.They struck so hard and so often that it was continuallynecessary for Black Panther to send more of his warriorsto the defense of his flank. The firing upon the wagonsand horsemen in the river slackened, and they rushedforward. The horsemen gained the bank, and, at thesame time, Middleton's men charged with greater firethan ever. Then the horsemen from the ford rushed upthe ascent and joined in the attack. Compressed betweenthe two arms of a vise, the Comanches, despite everyeffort of Black Panther and his chiefs, gave way. Yetthey did not break into any panic. Springing on theirhorses, they retired slowly, sending back flights of arrowsand bullets, and now and then uttering the defiant warwhoop.

      Meanwhile, the last of the wagons emerged from theriver, and was dragged up the ascent. Although theComanches might yet shout in the distance, the crossingwas won, and everybody in the train felt a mighty senseof relief.

      CHAPTER IV

      ON WATCH

      The wagons drew up in a great square on the openplain, but just at the edge of the timber, and themen, breathless, perspiring, but victorious, droppedfrom their horses. The Comanches still galloped to andfro and shouted in the distance, but they kept well out ofrifle shot, and Phil, although it was his first battle, knewthat they would not attack again, at least not for thepresent. They had been driven out of an extremely strongposition, ground of their own choosing, and nothingremained to them but to retire.

      The boy stood by the side of his horse, holding thebridle in one hand and the rifle in the other. He wasstill trembling from the excitement of forcing the fordand the battle among the trees, but the reddish mistbefore his eyes was gradually clearing away. He let thebridle rein drop, and put his hand to his face. It cameaway damp and sticky. He looked at it in an incuriousway to see if he were wounded, but it was only dust andthe smoke of burned gunpowder, kneaded together byperspiration. Then he felt cautiously of his body. Nobullet or arrow had entered.

      "Unhurt, Phil?" boomed out the voice of Bill Breakstonebeside him. "So am I, and so is Middleton.Arenberg got a scratch, but he's forgotten it already.But, I trow, Sir Philip of the River, that was indeed acombat while it lasted!

      "You can't say anything against that poem, Phil; it'sshort and to the point. It's true that the Comanches arenot entirely gone, but they might as well be. Let 'emshout out there in the plain as much as they choose, they're going to keep out of rifle range. And Icongratulate you, Phil, on the way you bore yourself throughyour first 'baptism of fire.'"

      "I thank you, Bill," said Phil, "but the fact is, Idon't know just how I bore myself. It's been more like adream than anything else."

      "That's likely to happen to a man the first time underfire, and the second time, too, but here we are on theright side of the river and ready for a breathing spell."

      Phil threw the reins over his horse's neck, knowingthat the latter would not leave the camp, and set to work, helping to put everything in order, ready for fight or rest, whichever the Comanches chose to make it. The wagonswere already in a hollow square, and the wounded, at leasttwenty in number, laid comfortably in the wagons, werereceiving the rude but effective treatment of the border.Seven or eight had been killed, and three or four bodieshad been lost in the current of the stream. They werenow digging graves for the others. Little was known ofthe slain. They were wandering, restless spirits, andthey may or may not have been buried under their ownnames. They had fallen in an unknown land beside anunknown river, but their comrades gave all due honor asthey put them beneath the earth. Middleton said a fewwords over the body of each, while others stood by withtheir hats off. Then they smoothed out the soil abovethem as completely as possible, in order that their gravesmight be lost. They took this precaution lest theComanches come after they had gone, take up the bodies, and mutilate them.

      When the solemn task was done, the men turned awayto other duties. They were not discouraged; on thecontrary, their spirits were sanguine. The gloom of theburial was quickly dispelled, and these wild spirits, theirfighting blood fully up, were more than half willing forthe Comanches to give them a new battle. It was suchas these, really loving adventure and danger more thanprofit, who steadily pushed forward the southwesternfrontier in the face of obstacles seemingly insuperable.

      Their position at the edge of the wood, with the strongfortification of the wagons, was excellent, and Middletonand Woodfall, after a short consultation, decided toremain there until morning, for the sake of the woundedmen and for rest for all. Phil worked in the timber, gathering up fallen fuel for fires, which were built in thecenter of the hollow square, and he found the work arelief. Such a familiar task steadied his nerves. Graduallythe little pulses ceased to beat so hard, and his headgrew cool. When enough dead wood had been broughtin, he took another look at the western horizon.Comanches could still be seen there, but they no longergalloped about and shouted. A half dozen sat motionless ontheir ponies, apparently looking at the white camp, theirfigures, СКАЧАТЬ