lla.thelonelymen-第9节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　all。　We　were　men　without　women；　and　if　all　the　nights　we'd　spent　under　a　roof　were　put　together　they　would　scarcely　cover　four　or　five　weeks。
　Men　have　a　way　of　drifting　together　without　much　rhyme　or　reason；　just　the　circumstances　of　their　living　brings　them　together；　just　as　we　had　been　brought　together　in　Yuma。　Now　the　three　of　them　were　chancing　their　lives　to　lend　me　a　hand；　but　that　was　the　way　with　western　men；　and　chances　were　I'd　have　done　the　same　for　them。
　We　started　on　again　when　the　first　streaks　of　dawn　were　coloring　the　eastern　sky。　The　cactus　began　to　be　separate　from　the　other　shadows；　and　the　rocks　stood　out；　dark　and　somber。　We　rode　single　file；　nobody　talking　until　the　gray　sky　was　yellowing　overhead；　and　then　in　a　quiet　corner　we　stopped；　found　a　place　to　hide　a　fire；　and　made　a　small　breakfast
　We　were　careful　to　build　our　fire　in　a　hollow　and　under　a　mesquite　bush；　where　the　rising　smoke　would　be　dissipated　by　the　branches　overhead　。。。　though　using　dry　wood　there　was　little　smoke。　Our　time　for　hot　meals　was　about　over。　Barring　some　sort　of　accident；　we　should　soon　e　up　to　the　Bavispe。　Once　we　crossed　that　we　would　be　in　the　heart　of　Apache　country；　with　them　on　every　side　of　us。
　The　Apache；　in　a　sparse；　harsh　land　where　raising　any　crops　was　mighty　nigh　impossible；　turned　to　raiding　and　robbing。
　Generally；　the　men　I'd　heard　talk　of　the　Indian　thought　it　was　taking　his　land　that　ruined　him。　As　a　matter　of　fact；　it　had　much　to　do　with　it；　for　an　Indian　couldn't　live　on　a　fixed　ten　acres　or　a　hundred　acres　and　live　as　he　liked。　He　needed　lots　of　hunting　ground；　and　country　that　would　support　fifty　Indians　would　support　ten　thousand　planting　white　men。
　But　the　Indian　was　whipped　the　first　time　one　of　them　had　a　rifle　for　his　own。　It　was　the　trader　who　whipped　the　Indian　by　giving　or　selling　him　things　he　couldn't　make　himself。　From　that　time　on；　the　Indian　was　dependent　on　the　white　man　for　ammunition；　for　more　guns；　for　more　of　the　things　he　was　getting　a　taste　for。　It　was　good　sitting　there　in　the　cool　of　early　morning；　with　the　faint　smell　of　woodsmoke　in　the　air；　the　smell　of　frying　bacon；　the　smell　of　good　coffee。　We　were　taking　a　chance；　but　we　had　scouted　the　country　with　care。
　〃How　old's　the　boy？〃　Spanish　asked　suddenly。
　〃Five　。。。　I　think。　About　that。〃
　〃You　think　he's　still　alive；　Tamp？〃　Battles　asked。
　Rocca　shrugged。　〃Depends　on　whether　he's　a　nervy　kid；　maybe。　We'll　pick　up　some　tracks　soon。〃
　〃Seen　any　more　of　that　strange　rider？〃　Battles　asked。　〃I　been　watching　for　tracks　all　morning。〃
　〃No；〃　I　said；　〃I　haven't　seen　any。〃
　〃What's　it　like　up　yonder？〃　Spanish　asked。
　〃Oaks　。。。　then　pines。　Running　streams；　rocks。　All　anybody　could　want　but　grub。　They　have　to　bring　it　in。　They　get　it　from　the　Mexicans；　or　they　kill　them。〃　He　gestured。　〃The　Apaches　have　almost　cleared　this　part　of　Sonora　of　the　Mexicans。　At　least　the　rich　ones。　And　the　poor　ones　can　only　stay　if　they'll　provide　food　for　the　Apaches。〃
　My　thoughts　went　back　over　the　desert　to　Laura。　She　was　a　pretty　woman；　and　she　was　brave　。。。　holding　herself　up；　like　she　did；　with　her　little　boy　lost；　and　all。　But　somehow　she　left　me　uneasy。　But　I　was　never　very　fortable　around　women　。。。　except　Ange。　And　the　Trelawney　girls　I'd　known　back　home　in　the　hills。
　We　sat　there　quiet　a　little　longer；　listening　to　the　horses　cropping　at　the　shrubs。　Rocca　was　smoking　and　squinting　at　the　hills　around。
　None　of　us　knew　what　might　be　waiting　for　us　up　yonder。　Even　if　we　found　the　boy　alive；　we　still　had　to　get　him　from　the　Apaches　and　get　him　back　across　the　border。　Our　chances　were　none　too　good。　I　looked　over　at　Rocca　and　said；　〃Shall　we　move　out？〃
　He　rubbed　his　cigarette　into　the　sand；　and　got　up。
　Me；　I　just　stood　there　a　moment　or　two　thinking。　All　of　a　sudden　I　wished　I　was　somewhere　else。　We　were　facing　up　to　a　lot　of　hell；　and　I　looked　forward　to　none　of　it。　Besides；　there　was　something　about　this　whole　affair　that　made　me　mighty　uneasy。
　We　crossed　the　Bavispe　and　took　a　thin　trail　that　led　up　through　scattered　oaks；　along　steep　switchbacks　toward　the　pines。　The　only　sound　was　the　chirping　of　birds；　the　grunting　of　one　of　the　horses　over　a　steep　part　of　the　trail；　or　the　clatter　of　a　falling　rock。
　For　an　hour　we　climbed；　pausing　several　tunes　to　let　the　horses　catch　their　breath。　Finally　we　rode　out　on　a　bench　under　the　pines　where　stood　the　ruins　of　stone　houses　built　of　rough　lava　blocks　with　no　mortar。　There　were　at　least　a　dozen　of　them　in　sight；　and　maybe　more　back　under　the　trees。　The　walls　were　of　a　sort　of　gray　felsite；　and　here　and　there　one　appeared　to　be　better　built　than　the　others；　as　though　built　by　different　hands；　by　different　thinking。
　Rocca　indicated　a　slight　depression　in　the　grass　near　one　of　the　walls。　〃We're　still　on　the　trail。〃
　A　crushed　pine　cone　looked　as　if　it　had　been　scarred　by　a　sharp…shod　hoof。　There　were　other　signs　too。
　The　country　here　was　wild　and　rugged；　and　we　saw　no　water。　We　were　now　over　six　thousand　feet　up；　judging　by　the　growth　around　us；　and　still　we　climbed。　The　trail　occasionally　wound　along　a　rim　with　an　almost　sheer　drop　falling　off　on　one　side　or　the　other。　We　rode　with　our　rifles　in　our　hands；　our　boots　light　in　the　stirrups；　ready　to　kick　free　and　hit　the　ground　if　there　was　time。　Riding　that　kind　of　country　with　Apaches　around　will　put　gray　in　your　hair。
　We　came　out　presently　on　a　shoulder　of　the　mountain　with　pines　all　around　us。　There　was　sparse　grass；　and　a　thin　trickle　of　snow　water　ran　down　the　mountain　slope。　Found　the　tracks　of　the　rider　there　。。。　plain。　The　small　horse　had　stood　under　a　tree；　tied　to　a　low　branch　while　she　scouted　ahead。　She？
　The　word　came　to　me　unbidden；　without　thinking。　It　came　like　a　voice　speaking　to　me；　and　I　spoke　aloud　what　I　had　heard　in　my　mind's　ear。　〃It's　a　woman；　Tamp。　That's　a　woman　or　girl　riding　that　horse。〃
　Rocca　rested　his　big　hands　on　the　pommel。　〃I　think　you　are　right；〃　he　said。　〃I　think　so。〃
　〃A　woman？〃　Battles　was　incredulous。　〃It　don't　stand　to　reason。〃
　〃Did　Dan　Creed　have　a　wife？　Or　a　daughter？〃　I　asked。
　Rocca　looked　around　at　me。　〃I　don'　know；　Tell。　I　tell　you；　I　don'。〃
　I　dropped　to　the　ground。　〃Sit　tight；〃　I　said。　〃I　want　to　see　what　she　went　to　look　at。〃
　A　step　or　two　and　it　was　dark　and　green　under　the　trees。　A　step　or　two　more　and　I　was　lost　to　them；　waiting　back　there　for　me。　I　could　see　a　pressed…down　leaf　here；　and　the　kicked…over　damp；　dead　leaves；　scuffed　by　a　passing　boot。　The　trail　was　easy；　but　it　took　time；　for　I　scouted　the　trees　around　me　as　I　moved。
　Suddenly　…　a　running　man　could　scarcely　have　stopped　in　time　…　I　was　on　the　brink　of　a　cliff。　Not　sheer；　but　a　steep　falling　away；　something　a　man　could　climb　down　if　he　could　find　foothold　and　used　his　hands；　or　if　he　could　slide。
　It　was　maybe　a　couple　of　thousand　feet　down　to　the　bottom；　and　there　was　a　meadow；　the　greenest　you　ever　saw；　and　a　pool　with　trees　around　it。　It　was　a　small　hanging　valley　that　opened　out　over　an　enormous　canyon。　There　were　three　cooking　fires　in　sight；　and　a　dozen　Apaches。
　First　I　squatted　down；　easing　down　so　my　movement　would　draw　no　attention；　and　then　I　studied　the　camp　through　a　manzanita　growing　on　the　rim。
　Squaws　were　working；　children　playing。　They　felt　secure　here。　Nobody　had　ever　followed　them　into　this　country；　nobody　had　ever　found　them　here　before。　For　years；　for　generations；　they　had　been　ing　here　after　their　raids；　after　stealing　the　cattle；　the　horses；　and　the　women　of　the　Mexicans。　Stealing　their　food；　too；　and　bringing　it　here　and　to　other　places　like　this　。。。　there　must　be　many　of　them。
　Little　Orry　was　in　one　of　them。　How　long　could　we　look　before　they　caught　us？
　How　long；　then；　could　we　expect　to　live？
　But　Orry　was　my　brother's　son；　and　I　was　a　Sackett；　and　in　the　Sackett　veins　the　blood　ran　strong　and　true。　It　was　our　nature　and　our　upbringing。
　A　few　minutes　longer　I　squatted　there；　watching　the　camp。　Not　staring；　for　staring　can　be　felt；　and　will　make　an　animal　or　an　Indian　uneasy。　Then　I　went　back　through　the　trees。
　〃It's　a　rancheria；〃　I　said；　〃but　I　doubt　if　it　is　the　one　we　want。〃
　
　Chapter　6
　
　Whoever　it　was　who　had　e　up　the　mountain　before　us　had　spent　a　good　bit　of　time　studying　that　camp。　There　were　a…plenty　of　tracks；　knee　impressions；　and　the　like；　so　we　could　see　whoever　it　was　had　stayed　there　quite　some　time。　And　then　that　person　had　mounted　up　and　ridden　on。
　We；　too；　moved　on；　and　the　trail　we　now　followed　was　a　deer　trail　。。。　or　maybe　one　made　by　big　horn　sheep；　which　leave　a　somewhat　similar　track。　The　only　other　tracks　on　the　trail　were　those　small　hoof　prints；　or　sometimes；　when　the　rider　got　on　and　walked；　were　boot　tracks。
　We　entered　soon　into　a　wild　and　broken　country；　past　towering　masses　of　conglomerate　and　streams　of　a　dull　opalescent　water；　slightly　bitter　to　the　taste；　but　nonetheless　good　for　drinking。　Many　times　we　were　forced　to　dismount　and　lead　our　mounts；　for　large　limbs　or　out…thrusts　of　rock　projected　over　the　trail。
　Among　some　pines　we　pulled　off　and　got　down　from　our　saddles。　Tampico　Rocca　hunkered　down　and　stared　at　the　ground。　Spanish　Murphy　glanced　over　at　me。　〃Tell　。。。　you　think　we're