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The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 1. How They Decided To Run The Risk |
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_ CHAPTER ONE. HOW THEY DECIDED TO RUN THE RISK "Well, Joses," said Dr Lascelles, "if you feel afraid, you had better go back to the city." There was a dead silence here, and the little party grouped about between a small umbrella-shaped tent and the dying embers of the fire, at which a meal of savoury antelope steaks had lately been cooked, carefully avoided glancing one at the other. Just inside the entrance of the tent, a pretty, slightly-made girl of about seventeen was seated, busily plying her needle in the repair of some rents in a pair of ornamented loose leather leggings that had evidently been making acquaintance with some of the thorns of the rugged land. She was very simply dressed, and, though wearing the high comb and depending veil of a Spanish woman, her complexion, tanned is it was, and features, suggested that she was English, as did also the speech of the fine athletic middle-aged man who had just been speaking. His appearance, too, was decidedly Spanish, for he wore the short jacket with embroidered sleeves, tight trousers--made very wide about the leg and ankle-sash, and broad sombrero of the Mexican-Spanish inhabitant of the south-western regions of the great American continent. The man addressed was a swarthy-looking half-breed, who lay upon the parched earth, his brow rugged, his eyes half-closed, and lips pouted out in a surly, resentful way, as if he were just about to speak and say something nasty. Three more men of a similar type were lying beside and behind, all smoking cigarettes, which from time to time they softly rolled up and lighted with a brand at the fire, as they seemed to listen to the conversation going on between the bronzed Englishman and him who had been addressed as Joses. They were all half-breeds, and boasted of their English blood, but always omitted to say anything about the Indian fluid that coursed through their veins; while they followed neither the fashion of Englishman nor Indian in costume, but, like the first speaker, were dressed as Spaniards, each also wearing a handkerchief of bright colour tied round his head and beneath his soft hat, just as if a wound had been received, with a long showy blanket depending from the shoulder, and upon which they now half lay. There was another present, however, also an anxious watcher of the scene, and that was a well-built youth of about the same age as the girl. For the last five minutes he had been busily cleaning his rifle and oiling the lock; and this task done, he let the weapon rest with its butt upon the rocky earth, its sling-strap hanging loose, and its muzzle lying in his hand as he leaned against a rock and looked sharply from face to face, waiting to hear the result of the conversation. His appearance was different to that of his companions, for he wore a closely fitting tunic and loose breeches of what at the first glance seemed to be dark tan-coloured velvet, but a second look showed to be very soft, well-prepared deerskin; stout gaiters of a hard leather protected his legs; a belt, looped so as to form a cartridge-holder, and a natty little felt hat, completed his costume. Like the half-breeds, he wore a formidable knife in his belt, while on their part each had near him a rifle. "Well," said the speaker, after a long pause, "you do not speak; I say, are you afraid?" "I dunno, master," said the man addressed. "I don't feel afraid now, but if a lot of Injuns come whooping and swooping down upon us full gallop, I dessay I should feel a bit queer." There was a growl of acquiescence here from the other men, and the first speaker went on. "Well," he said, "let us understand our position at once. I would rather go on alone than with men I could not trust." "Always did trust us, master," said the man surlily. "Allays," said the one nearest to him, a swarthier, more surly, and fiercer-looking fellow than his companion. "I always did, Joses; I always did, Juan; and you too, Harry and Sam," said the first speaker. "I was always proud of the way in which my ranche was protected and my cattle cared for." "We could not help the Injuns stampeding the lot, master, time after time." "And ruining me at last, my lads? No; it was no fault of yours. I suppose it was my own." "No, master, it was setting up so close to the hunting-grounds, and the Injun being so near." "Ah well, we need not consider how all that came to pass, my lads: we know they ruined me." "And you never killed one o' them for it, master," growled Joses. "Nor wished to, my lad. They did not take our lives." "But they would if they could have broken in and burnt us out, master," growled Joses. "Perhaps so; well, let us understand one another. Are you afraid?" "Suppose we all are, master," said the man. "And you want to go back?" "No, not one of us, master." Here there was a growl of satisfaction. "But you object to going forward, my men?" "Well, you see it's like this, master: the boys here all want to work for you, and young Master Bart, and Miss Maude there; but they think you ought to go where it's safe-like, and not where we're 'most sure to be tortured and scalped. There's lots o' places where the whites are in plenty." "And where every gully and mountain has been ransacked for metals, my lad. I want to go where white men have never been before, and search the mountains there." "For gold and silver and that sort of thing, master?" "Yes, my lads." "All right, master; then we suppose you must go." "And you will go back because it is dangerous?" "I never said such a word, master. I only said it warn't safe." "And for answer to that, Joses, I say that, danger or no danger, I must try and make up for my past losses by some good venture in one of these unknown regions. Now then, have you made up your minds? If not, make them up quickly, and let me know what you mean to do." Joses did not turn round to his companions, whose spokesman he was, but said quietly, as he rolled up a fresh cigarette: "Mind's made up, master." "And you will go back?" "Yes, master." "All of you?" "All of us, master," said Joses slowly. "When you do," he added after a pause. "I knew he would say that, sir," cried the youth who had been looking on and listening attentively; "I knew Joses would not leave us, nor any of the others." "Stop a moment," interposed the first speaker. "What about your companions, my lad?" "What, them?" said Joses quietly. "Why, they do as I do." "Are you sure?" "Course I am, master. They told me what to do." "Then thank you, my lad. I felt and knew I could trust you. Believe me, I will take you into no greater danger than I can help; but we must be a little venturesome in penetrating into new lands, and the Indians may not prove our enemies after all." "Ha, ha, ha! Haw, haw, haw, haw!" laughed Joses hoarsely. "You wait and see, master. They stampeded your cattle when you had any. Now look out or they'll stampede you." "Well, we'll risk it," said the other. "Now let's be ready for any danger that comes. Saddle the horses, and tether them close to the waggon. I will have the first watch to-night; you take the second, Joses; and you, Bart, take the third. Get to sleep early, my lads, for I want to be off before sunrise in the morning." The men nodded their willingness to obey orders, and soon after all were hushed in sleep, the ever-wakeful stars only looking down upon one erect figure, and that was the form of Dr Lascelles, as he stood near the faintly glowing fire, leaning upon his rifle, and listening intently for the faintest sound of danger that might be on its way to work them harm. _ |