The Valiant Runaways [27]
drew close
together; they dared not run about to keep warm; they must husband their
strength, and hunger was biting. There was no wind in the tree-tops, no
murmur of creek, only the low hum of the forest, that in their strained
ear-sense grew to a roar. Finally they fell asleep, and it was dark when
Roldan awoke. He shook Adan.
"Come," he said; and his partner, grumbling but acquiescent, got to his
feet and tramped heavily over the soft ground.
They had fled beyond paths, and Roldan could only trust to his locality
sense, which he knew to be good. But more than once they were brought to
halt before a wall of brush, which no man could have penetrated without
an axe. Then they would feel their way along its irregular bristling
side for a mile or more before it thinned sufficiently for egress.
Frequently they heard the deadly rattle, and more than once the near cry
of a panther, but there was nothing to do but push on. Precautions would
have availed them nothing, and there was no refuge nearer than the
pueblo. Sometimes they walked down aisles unchoked by brush but full of
moving shadows, above which sounded the lonely continuous hooting of the
owl. Now and again bats whirred past, and once a startled wildcat
scurried across the path and darted up a tree, crying with terror.
"If we only don't meet a bear," thought Roldan, who dared not speak lest
his voice should shake courage and terrors apart.
It was midnight when Adan announced with what emphasis was left in
him,--
"We are lost."
Roldan answered through his teeth: "Yes, but I think I hear the creek.
When we find that, all we have to do is to follow it south."
"My heart is in the South," muttered Adan. "We might follow that."
"I am ashamed of you," said Roldan, with a lofty scorn which was good
for five words and no more.
It was a half hour later that they stood upon the high bank of the creek
and looked gratefully up at the broad strip of night light. After the
dense shadows of the forest the cold light of stars seemed more radiant
than noon-day.
"We cannot follow along the bank for more than a little way at a time,
on account of the ferns and brush," said Roldan. "We should walk three
times the distance, and perhaps get lost again. I am going to wade. Will
you?"
"Madre de dios! And get rheumatism? My teeth clack together at the
thought."
"You will not be able to keep still long enough to get rheumatism, my
friend. By the grace of Mary we shall be on horseback all day to-morrow.
The water is not a foot deep, and the chill only lasts a moment. Take
off your boots."
"What is left of them," muttered Adan. But they were better than no
boots, and he took them off, and slung them round his neck. Roldan
scrambled down the bank and plunged into the creek. Adan, after a
moment's hesitation, followed with audible reluctance. He thrust the tip
of one foot into the icy water, withdrew it with a shout, tried the
other; then seeing that Roldan was splashing far ahead, jumped in with
both feet and ran along the slippery rocks, wondering when the change of
temperature would occur. His teeth clattered loudly. He pulled in and
executed a war-dance on the stones, then sat down on a fallen boulder
and rubbed his feet violently. Roldan kept steadily on, mindful of his
dignity as leader; but only as Adan joined him had his teeth ceased from
clattering and the warmth crawled back to his feet.
Cold, hungry, inexpressibly weary, the boys plodded on, sometimes in the
clear light of stars, sometimes under the chill blackness of meeting
trees. Fish and other slimy things darted across their feet; they
stepped to their waists into more than one treacherous pool. The dark
blue of the sky had turned to grey when Roldan raised his arm and
pointed to a squat dark object on the summit of the cliff.
"A hut," he said. "We are at the pueblo."
The boys crawled softly up the almost perpendicular bank and peered over
the edge. To all appearances the pueblo was deserted. If the soldiers
were there--and their horses
together; they dared not run about to keep warm; they must husband their
strength, and hunger was biting. There was no wind in the tree-tops, no
murmur of creek, only the low hum of the forest, that in their strained
ear-sense grew to a roar. Finally they fell asleep, and it was dark when
Roldan awoke. He shook Adan.
"Come," he said; and his partner, grumbling but acquiescent, got to his
feet and tramped heavily over the soft ground.
They had fled beyond paths, and Roldan could only trust to his locality
sense, which he knew to be good. But more than once they were brought to
halt before a wall of brush, which no man could have penetrated without
an axe. Then they would feel their way along its irregular bristling
side for a mile or more before it thinned sufficiently for egress.
Frequently they heard the deadly rattle, and more than once the near cry
of a panther, but there was nothing to do but push on. Precautions would
have availed them nothing, and there was no refuge nearer than the
pueblo. Sometimes they walked down aisles unchoked by brush but full of
moving shadows, above which sounded the lonely continuous hooting of the
owl. Now and again bats whirred past, and once a startled wildcat
scurried across the path and darted up a tree, crying with terror.
"If we only don't meet a bear," thought Roldan, who dared not speak lest
his voice should shake courage and terrors apart.
It was midnight when Adan announced with what emphasis was left in
him,--
"We are lost."
Roldan answered through his teeth: "Yes, but I think I hear the creek.
When we find that, all we have to do is to follow it south."
"My heart is in the South," muttered Adan. "We might follow that."
"I am ashamed of you," said Roldan, with a lofty scorn which was good
for five words and no more.
It was a half hour later that they stood upon the high bank of the creek
and looked gratefully up at the broad strip of night light. After the
dense shadows of the forest the cold light of stars seemed more radiant
than noon-day.
"We cannot follow along the bank for more than a little way at a time,
on account of the ferns and brush," said Roldan. "We should walk three
times the distance, and perhaps get lost again. I am going to wade. Will
you?"
"Madre de dios! And get rheumatism? My teeth clack together at the
thought."
"You will not be able to keep still long enough to get rheumatism, my
friend. By the grace of Mary we shall be on horseback all day to-morrow.
The water is not a foot deep, and the chill only lasts a moment. Take
off your boots."
"What is left of them," muttered Adan. But they were better than no
boots, and he took them off, and slung them round his neck. Roldan
scrambled down the bank and plunged into the creek. Adan, after a
moment's hesitation, followed with audible reluctance. He thrust the tip
of one foot into the icy water, withdrew it with a shout, tried the
other; then seeing that Roldan was splashing far ahead, jumped in with
both feet and ran along the slippery rocks, wondering when the change of
temperature would occur. His teeth clattered loudly. He pulled in and
executed a war-dance on the stones, then sat down on a fallen boulder
and rubbed his feet violently. Roldan kept steadily on, mindful of his
dignity as leader; but only as Adan joined him had his teeth ceased from
clattering and the warmth crawled back to his feet.
Cold, hungry, inexpressibly weary, the boys plodded on, sometimes in the
clear light of stars, sometimes under the chill blackness of meeting
trees. Fish and other slimy things darted across their feet; they
stepped to their waists into more than one treacherous pool. The dark
blue of the sky had turned to grey when Roldan raised his arm and
pointed to a squat dark object on the summit of the cliff.
"A hut," he said. "We are at the pueblo."
The boys crawled softly up the almost perpendicular bank and peered over
the edge. To all appearances the pueblo was deserted. If the soldiers
were there--and their horses