The Valiant Runaways [25]
warning. In a moment arrows were flying to right and
left; and the answering volley was far more deadly than the effects of
firing up hill. The Indians stood their ground, fitting their arrows
with swift dexterity, encouraged by Anastacio, who glided from point to
point like a hungry cobra, discharging two arrows to every man's one.
His only hope was to keep the Californians at long range until losses
compelled the latter to retreat: at close quarters arrows would be no
match for firearms.
The battle began at five in the morning. It was at four in the afternoon
that Roldan passed his hand across his burning eyeballs, then gripped
Adan's arm and said through his teeth,--
"Anastacio is hit. I saw him shake from head to foot."
"Madre de dios! Shall we run?"
"Not yet. My brain is on fire. War is awful, and yet I burn to have a
pistol in my hands. I am sorry for Anastacio--but Dios de mi alma!--to
see a brave Spanish officer bite the dust with the arrow of a dog in his
brain! Ay, he moves! He is not dead."
"His hand is as steady--but--do you notice?--all are not firing."
"The arrows are giving out. There is only one end. But I must see it
through. Mary! Mary! They are breaking."
The Indians, finding themselves almost without arrows, had sprung to
their feet, intending to make a rush for cover; but Mesa had anticipated
this move, and almost immediately his men had closed with the savages,
knocking them on the head with the butt-end of their muskets,
discharging their pistols at short range. The Indians. used both tooth
and nail, yelling like wildcats. The cool imperturbability of the
earlier part of the day had fled with their arrows. Anastacio fought
like a tiger. Despite his wounded thigh he stood firmly on his feet,
snatched the musket from a man his hands had throttled, and whirled it
about his head, threatening death to all that approached. His face was
swollen with passion, his eyes were starting from their sockets, his
long hair tossed wildly. The boys watched him with cold extremities and
hot cheeks and eyes. They were oblivious to the rest of the battlefield.
The fate of the indomitable chief, upon whose life the freedom of a race
perhaps depended, would have riveted the attention of older and wiser
brains. His movements were easy to follow; he was head above all and
shoulders above many.
Suddenly the boys gave a gasp. The head of Anastacio was no longer to be
seen above that surging throng. Had he been wounded in a vital part? A
moment later they gave a hoarse gurgling cry and clung together, shaking
like children in icy water. The head of Anastacio rose again--above the
crowd, then higher,--higher,--until it looked down upon the squirming
mass from six feet above. It was on the end of a pole.
XI
The boys turned and fled, scrambling blindly upwards. Instinctively they
ran in the direction of the pueblo, and when they were finally obliged
to sit down and fight for their lost breath they realised the course
they had taken.
The horror was still in their eyes, but neither spoke of what for a long
while to come must be uppermost in his mind.
"I think we may as well go to the pueblo," said Roldan, as soon as he
could speak. "We must have food, and we are very tired. We can rest
there a few days, then take two of the horses--we can do nothing without
horses--and start out again. If any of the Indians escape and come back,
they will not have spirit enough left to touch us."
"Bueno," said Adan. "The Mission blankets are there and they are soft,
and that oven makes good cakes. I hope the Indians go all with the
soldiers. I never want to see another."
The boys resumed their flight, but more leisurely. They had no
difficulty in keeping to the trail, but it wound over many a weary mile.
Night comes early in the mountain forest, and before two hours had
passed they were groping their way along the narrow road cut through the
dense brush, and clinging to each other. They were brave lads; but long
fasting, and excitement, and a terrible
left; and the answering volley was far more deadly than the effects of
firing up hill. The Indians stood their ground, fitting their arrows
with swift dexterity, encouraged by Anastacio, who glided from point to
point like a hungry cobra, discharging two arrows to every man's one.
His only hope was to keep the Californians at long range until losses
compelled the latter to retreat: at close quarters arrows would be no
match for firearms.
The battle began at five in the morning. It was at four in the afternoon
that Roldan passed his hand across his burning eyeballs, then gripped
Adan's arm and said through his teeth,--
"Anastacio is hit. I saw him shake from head to foot."
"Madre de dios! Shall we run?"
"Not yet. My brain is on fire. War is awful, and yet I burn to have a
pistol in my hands. I am sorry for Anastacio--but Dios de mi alma!--to
see a brave Spanish officer bite the dust with the arrow of a dog in his
brain! Ay, he moves! He is not dead."
"His hand is as steady--but--do you notice?--all are not firing."
"The arrows are giving out. There is only one end. But I must see it
through. Mary! Mary! They are breaking."
The Indians, finding themselves almost without arrows, had sprung to
their feet, intending to make a rush for cover; but Mesa had anticipated
this move, and almost immediately his men had closed with the savages,
knocking them on the head with the butt-end of their muskets,
discharging their pistols at short range. The Indians. used both tooth
and nail, yelling like wildcats. The cool imperturbability of the
earlier part of the day had fled with their arrows. Anastacio fought
like a tiger. Despite his wounded thigh he stood firmly on his feet,
snatched the musket from a man his hands had throttled, and whirled it
about his head, threatening death to all that approached. His face was
swollen with passion, his eyes were starting from their sockets, his
long hair tossed wildly. The boys watched him with cold extremities and
hot cheeks and eyes. They were oblivious to the rest of the battlefield.
The fate of the indomitable chief, upon whose life the freedom of a race
perhaps depended, would have riveted the attention of older and wiser
brains. His movements were easy to follow; he was head above all and
shoulders above many.
Suddenly the boys gave a gasp. The head of Anastacio was no longer to be
seen above that surging throng. Had he been wounded in a vital part? A
moment later they gave a hoarse gurgling cry and clung together, shaking
like children in icy water. The head of Anastacio rose again--above the
crowd, then higher,--higher,--until it looked down upon the squirming
mass from six feet above. It was on the end of a pole.
XI
The boys turned and fled, scrambling blindly upwards. Instinctively they
ran in the direction of the pueblo, and when they were finally obliged
to sit down and fight for their lost breath they realised the course
they had taken.
The horror was still in their eyes, but neither spoke of what for a long
while to come must be uppermost in his mind.
"I think we may as well go to the pueblo," said Roldan, as soon as he
could speak. "We must have food, and we are very tired. We can rest
there a few days, then take two of the horses--we can do nothing without
horses--and start out again. If any of the Indians escape and come back,
they will not have spirit enough left to touch us."
"Bueno," said Adan. "The Mission blankets are there and they are soft,
and that oven makes good cakes. I hope the Indians go all with the
soldiers. I never want to see another."
The boys resumed their flight, but more leisurely. They had no
difficulty in keeping to the trail, but it wound over many a weary mile.
Night comes early in the mountain forest, and before two hours had
passed they were groping their way along the narrow road cut through the
dense brush, and clinging to each other. They were brave lads; but long
fasting, and excitement, and a terrible