Gadsden (Ariz.) -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction; Western stories
So, in a sheltered ravine, they sought cover until it was dark, and
while Gracia slept, the heavy-headed Bud watched the plain from the
heights above.
When she awoke and found him nodding Gracia insisted upon taking his
place. Now that she had been refreshed her dark eyes were bright and
sparkling, but Bud could hardly see. The long watching by night and by
day had left his eyes bloodshot and swollen, with lids that drooped
in spite of him. If he did not sleep now he might doze in the saddle
later, or ride blindly into some rebel camp; so he made her promise to
call him and lay down to rest until dark.
The stars were all out when he awoke, startled by her hand on his hair,
but she reassured him with a word and led him up the hill to their
lookout. It was then that he understood her silence. In the brief hours
during which he had slept the deserted country seemed suddenly to have
come to life.
By daylight there had been nothing--nothing but dim figures in the
distance and the tracks of horses and mules--to suggest the presence of
men. But now as the velvet night settled down upon the land it brought
out the glimmering specks of a hundred camp-fires to the east and to
the north. But the fires to which Gracia pointed were set fairly in
their trail, and they barred the way to Gadsden.
"Look!" she said. "I did not want to wake you, but the fires have
sprung up everywhere. These last ones are right in the pass."
"When did you see them?" asked Hooker, his head still heavy with sleep.
"Have they been there long?"
"No; only a few minutes," she answered. "At sundown I saw those over to
the east--they are along the base of that big black mountain--but these
flashed up just now; and see, there are more, and more!
"Some outfit coming in from the north," said Bud. "They've crossed over
the pass and camped at the first water this side."
"Who do you think they are?" asked Gracia in an awed voice.
"_Insurrectos?_"
"Like as not," muttered Bud, gazing from encampment to encampment. "But
whoever they are," he added, "they're no friends of ours. We've got to
go around them."
"And if we can't?" suggested Gracia.
"I reckon we'll have to go through, then," answered Hooker grimly. "We
don't want to get caught here in the morning."
"Ride right through their camp?" gasped Gracia.
"Let the sentries get to sleep," he went on, half to himself. "Then,
just before the moon comes up, we'll try to edge around them, and if it
comes to a show-down, we'll ride for it! Are you game?"
He turned to read the answer, and she drew herself up proudly.
"Try me!" she challenged, drawing nearer to him in the darkness. And so
they stood, side by side, while their hands clasped in promise. Then,
as the night grew darker and no new fires appeared, Hooker saddled up
the well-fed horses and they picked their way down to the trail.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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