The Wild Huntress: Love in the Wilderness

“Ah! that truly did she – else why should she have consented to marry me? What was I? A poor cibolero– at times a hunter and trapper of beavers, just as I am now? I was possessed of nothing but my horse and traps; whiles he —Carrambo! señor, proud ricos pretended to her hand!”

It is possible that my countenance may have expressed incredulity. It was difficult to conceive how the diminutive Mexican – as he appeared just then in my eyes – could have won the love of such a grand belle as he was describing Gabriella to be. Still was he not altogether unhandsome; and in earlier life – before his great misfortune had befallen him – he might have been gifted with some personal graces. High qualities, I had heard of his possessing – among others courage beyond question or suspicion; and in those frontier regions – accursed by the continual encroachment of Indian warfare, and where human life is every day in danger – that is a quality of the first class – esteemed by all, but by none more than those who stand most in need of protection – the women. Often there as elsewhere – more often than elsewhere – does courage take precedence of mere personal appearance, and boldness wins the smile of beauty. It was possible that the possession of this quality on the part of Pedro Archilete had influenced the heart of the fair Gabriella. This might explain her preference.

The Mexican must have partially divined my thoughts, as was proved by the speech that followed. “Yes, amigo! more than one rich haciendado would have been only too happy to have married Gabriella; and yet she consented to become my wife, though I was just as I am now. May be a little better looking than at this time; though I can’t say that I ever passed for an Apollo. No – no —señor. It was not my good looks that won the heart of the girl.”

“Your good qualities?”

“Not much to boast of, cavallero. True, in my youth, I had the name of being the best horseman in our village – the best rastreador– the most skilful trapper. I could ‘tail the bull,’ ‘run the cock,’ and pick up a girl’s ribbon at full gallop – perhaps a little more adroitly than my competitors; but I think it was something else that first gained me the young girl’s esteem. I had the good fortune once to save her life – when, by her own imprudence, she had gone out too far from the village, and was attacked by a grizzly bear. Ay de mi! It mattered not. Poor niña! She might as well have perished then, by the monster’s claws. She met her death from worse monsters – a death far more horrible; but you shall hear.”

“Go on! From what you have disclosed, I am painfully interested in your tale.”

Chapter Ninety Three

A Bloody Bridal

“Puez señor! what I am about to tell you happened full ten years ago, though it’s as fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday. You may have heard of the village of Valverde? It is about fifty leagues south of Santa Fé, on the Rio del Norte – that portion of the valley we call the Rio Abajo. It was at one time a settlement of some importance – rich and prospering as any in New Mexico – but, in consequence of the incursions of the Apachés, it fell into decay. Is now a complete ruin without a single inhabitant.”

“Well, amigo; it was there I was born: and there lived I, till I was twenty-five years of age – up to the time when that calamity befell me, and mine – the same I am about to speak of. I may say two years after that time; for I did not leave the neighbourhood till I had taken revenge upon those who were the cause of my misfortunes. I have spoken of Gabriella Gonzales. I have told you that I loved her; but I could not find words to tell you how much I loved her. You, who have come all this way in pursuit of a sweetheart, – you, cavallero, can understand all that. Like you with yours, I too could have followed Gabriella to the end of the world! Puez amigo! Like you, I had the good fortune to be loved in return.”

I could not divine the object of the Mexican in proclaiming this similitude. Perhaps it was done with the view of cheering me – for the quick-witted fellow had not failed to notice my despondency. It could only be a conjecture on his part: for how could he know ought of Lilian, beyond the fact of my preference for her, and that she was the object of our expedition? Of course he was aware, like all the others, of the purpose of our pursuit. From Sure-shot, or Wingrove, he might have learnt a little more; but neither he nor they could possibly have been acquainted with a sentiment of which, alas! I was myself in doubt – the very doubt which was producing my despondency. His incidental allusion could have been only conjecture. I would have joyed to believe it just; but whether just or not it had the effect of soothing me; and, silently accepting it, I permitted him to continue his narration.

“I need not enter into the particulars of my wooing. Gabriella lived upon a hato some distance below Valverde, and nearer to the desert of the Dead Man’s Journey (Jornada del muerto) – of which no doubt you have heard mention. Her father was a hatero, and owned large flocks of sheep. He pastured them upon the great plains on the eastern side of the Sierra Blanca – where I was in the habit of going in my capacity of cibolero to hunt the buffaloes. The hatero and I became acquainted – became friends. He invited me to visit his house, and I went. I saw Gabriella for the first time; and ever afterwards was her beautiful face before my eyes. I went often, as you may believe, cavallero; but for a long time I was uncertain whether I was welcome – I mean to Gabriella: for her father still continued my friend. It was only after the incident I have mentioned – my saving her from the bear – that I felt certain my love was returned.

“She had ventured too far into the mountains, where I had chanced to be at the time. I heard her voice calling for help. I ran through the rocks, and came up, just as a huge bear was springing upon her. I was a good shot, and my bullet brought down the monster – stretching him lifeless at her feet. Gabriella thanked me with sweet words – with smiles that were far sweeter, and told me still more. From that hour I knew that she was mine. Shortly after she consented to marry me.”

“You were married, then?”

“Married – but only for an hour.”

“Only for an hour!”

“Ah! señor; just so. One hour of wedded life, and then we were parted for ever. Death parted us. Death to her – to me worse than death; despair that has never left me – no – never will.”

The voice of the speaker trembled in sorrowful tone. It was manifestly a sorrow that defied any efforts I might have made at consolation. I made none; but in silence and with eager attention awaited to hear the dénouement of a drama, whose prologue promised such a tragical ending.

“Puez, señor,” proceeded the narrator, after a short silence, “Gabriella, as I have said, consented to marry me, and we were married. It was the day of our wedding. We had parted from the church; and with our friends had gone out into the country for a dia de campo. There were about twenty of us in all, young men and girls – about, an equal number of each – all in their holiday dresses, just as they had been to the church. Most of the girls were Gabriella’s bridesmaids, and still wore the flowers and jewels they had used at the ceremony. The place chosen for our dia de campo was a pretty spot, about a mile distant from the town. It was a glade in the midst of the chapparal, surrounded by beautiful trees, and sweet-smelling flowers. We went afoot: for the distance did not make it worth while for us to ride. Besides, we preferred enjoying the ramble, without being encumbered with horses. Well, señor; we had arrived on the ground, spread out the repast we had brought with us, uncorked the wine-bottles, and were in the full tide of enjoyment – talking and laughing gaily – when all of a sudden – we heard the trampling of horses. Not of one or two; but the hoof-strokes of a whole troop. At first we thought it might be the cavallada of some rich proprietor, galloping past the place. We knew that horses were pastured in that neighbourhood; and it was like enough to be one of the half-wild droves straying through the chapparal. Still we were not without apprehension: for it might also be a troop of Apachés – who in those times made frequent forays upon the defenceless settlements. Alas, cavallero! our apprehensions proved but too just. We had been seated on the grass, around our festive preparations. We had scarce time to spring to our feet, ere the yell of the savages sounded in our ears; and almost on the instant the glade was filled with dusky warriors. They were all upon horseback, brandishing their long lances, and winding their lazos around their heads. Fearfully painted, and whooping their wild cries, they resembled the very demonios! We could neither retreat nor defend ourselves. Against such odds it would have been idle to have attempted the latter: besides, we were all without weapons. On an occasion like that which had called us forth, one does not think of preparing for such an event. I own it was imprudent of us to go out unarmed – more especially when the country was filled with Indian novedades– but who could have dreamt that such was to be the fatal termination to our joyous dia de campo? Ay de mi! I may well call it fatal. Very few of our men survived that dreadful day. Two or three of the young fellows managed to retreat into the bushes; and afterwards got off. The others were killed upon the spot – most of them impaled upon the spears of the Apachés! The women were left untouched: for the Indians rarely kill our women. Them they reserve for a different destiny. Ah! cavallero! a destiny worse than death! Not one of them escaped. The poor niñas were all made captives; and each, borne off in the arms of a swarthy savage, was mounted upon his horse. Gabriella, the queen of all, – because by far the most beautiful – was chosen by the chief. I saw her struggling in his grasp, I saw him dragging her over the ground, and raising her to the withers of his steed. I saw him leap up behind her, and prepare to ride off – Gabriella, my beloved – my bride!”

Here the speaker paused – as if overcome by the very remembrance of the incidents he was relating; and it was some time before he became sufficiently composed to resume his narrative.

Chapter Ninety Four

A rough Drag

Recovering himself, at length, the narrator proceeded: —

“You may ask, señor, how I came to be witness of all these outrages. Was I not speared like my companions? Was I not, like them, killed upon the spot! I answer, no. I was still alive; and I might almost say uninjured. True I had been beaten and bruised in the struggle – for I had made an impotent effort at defending myself – but they had not killed me. I was for a time stunned, and senseless; but my senses returned before the fray was over; and I was a witness to the closing scene. It was then I saw the young girls in the act of being hurried off by their captors. It was then my heart was wrung, by the spectacle of Gabriella struggling in the arms of the chief. I was helpless to interfere. I was prostrate upon the earth, and held fast in the gripe of two brawny savages – one kneeling on each side of me. I expected them at every instant to put an end to my life. I awaited the final blow – either the stroke of a tomahawk or the thrust of a spear. I only wondered they were delaying my death. My wonders ceased, when I at length got my eyes on the face of the Apache chief – which up to that moment I had not seen. Then I recognised an old enemy, whom I had encountered on the plains; and I saw that the recognition was mutual. This explained why they had not finished me on the spot. I was spared only to suffer some more horrible mode of death.

“It was not long till I was made acquainted with their intention. I saw the chief telegraph some order to the Indians who guarded me; which one of the latter hastened to execute. A lazo was looped around my ankle, and carried out. The other end of it was made fast to the tail of a horse; after which the Indian leaped upon the back of the animal. The other also mounted his own horse; and the whole troop appeared ready to gallop off. I could see that the savages were hastening their departure. There was but a small band of them; and, as the place was near a large town, they had reason to fear pursuit. Those of our party who had escaped would return at once to the town – where troops were stationed at the time. This explained to me the hurried movements the Indians were making. Carrambo, señor! I had not much opportunity to reflect on the chances of our being rescued by our friends. I saw what the savages intended for me; and that was sufficient to occupy all my thoughts. I was to be dragged at the tail of a horse!

“Yes, cavallero! and the infernal design was instantly carried into execution; for in a moment after, the chief gave the signal to ride forward, and the whole troop went off at a gallop. He to whose croup I was attached was last in the line; and, consequently, I was trailed along without coming in contact with the others – the long lazo separating me from his horse by a distance of more than a dozen yards. Fortunately the ground over which they dragged me, was free from rocks or other inequalities – else I should have been torn to pieces. It chanced to be a smooth, grassy sward; and protected by my leathern jaqueta and calzoneros, I was less injured than one might expect. It was my ankle that suffered most – for the loop soon slipped down below the joint, and nearly drew the bone out of its socket. That, señor, is how I came to be ‘un cojo’ as you see.”

With a bitter smile the speaker pointed to his deformed foot, and then continued: – “Well – I suppose it would have killed me in the end: since the smooth turf did not extend far in the direction the savages were taking. But just then an idea came into my head, that gave me some hope of being able to relieve myself from my perilous situation. After the first hundred yards or so had been passed over, I saw that the savages had ceased to pay any attention to me. They were all too eager to hurry onward; besides, they were occupied with the women captives. It occurred to me, that if I could only get my foot free from the noose, I might part company with my captors, without any of them perceiving it. I remembered that I had a knife in my pocket; and, as my hands had been left free, I believed that I could get my fingers upon it, notwithstanding the rapid rate at which I was being jerked over the ground. I tried to get out my knife, and succeeded. As good luck would have it, just then, the path on which my captors were travelling, narrowed between two groves of timber – forming a kind of avenue or lane. Through this the troop had to pass in Indian file – my particular horseman still keeping in the rear. While going through, the gallop of the horses was interrupted – or at least their pace was greatly slackened – the rearmost of the band being thrown almost into a walk. This gave me the opportunity I desired; and, making an effort, I doubled my body over on itself – until I was able to reach the lazo beyond my foot. A single cut of my keen blade severed the thong; and I was detached on the instant. With anxious gaze I looked after the retreating horsemen: fearing they would see what I had done, gallop back, and spear me where I lay; but to my great joy I saw them ride on, till the last of them was out of sight. Yes, cavallero!” continued the narrator, “I saw the last horse, and the very tail to which I had been attached, pass out of sight. No doubt the horse knew what had happened, but not his rider. Not one of the whole troop appeared to have any suspicion that there was aught amiss – until I had crawled into the bushes, and got some distance from the path. Then I could hear them, as they galloped back, and rode whooping through the thicket in search of me. Carrambo, señor! I then felt more anxious than ever. Up to that time I had no thought of anything else than being rubbed out. I had been certain of it, from the first moment of the attack upon our party. Now, however, I had conceived a hope that I might escape, and return to the rescue of Gabriella. To be captured the second time would have been ten times more disagreeable than at first – when there was no opportunity either to hope for safety, or to reflect on the means of securing it. Now that a chance of life had offered itself, I was doubly fearful of losing it. I could make but little headway – so much was I disabled – but half hobbling, half crawling, I worked on through the thicket in the direction of the town. I could hear the savages beating the bushes behind; and every moment I expected to have them upon me. They would in time have traced, and overtaken me; but perhaps they cared not much for the capture. They had secured the booty they most prized; and, probably, reflected that, by wasting time in searching for me, they might risk losing it again. For this, or some other reason, they gave up the search; and I could tell by their voices, heard at a greater distance, that they were riding off. Without staying to assure myself, I limped on to the town – which I reached at length. Two of my friends, who had escaped at the first onslaught, had got there before me. The news of the sad disaster had spread like a prairie fire. The whole population was excited by the outrage; for the young girls made captives had many friends and relations in the place. So also the men who had been murdered. The troops were summoned to arms. It chanced to be a squadron of lancers – one of the best then in the service of the government – and these, along with about a hundred volunteers, all mounted, rode forth in pursuit of the savages. Notwithstanding that my wounded ankle pained me exceedingly, I was able to accompany them on horseback. Americano! I fear my narrative may be wearying you; and therefore I shall not enter into the particulars of the pursuit. Sufficient to say, that we succeeded in overtaking the ravishers. It was near midnight when we came up with them. We found them in their camp, with huge fires blazing all over the ground. We approached within pistol range before any alarm was given. They had been carousing on mezcal, and were keeping no guard. The bright blaze showed us how they had been occupied. The women sat here and there, many of them lying prostrate upon the earth. Their torn garments and dishevelled air betokened that a sad catastrophe had befallen them! We could bear the sight no longer. With hearts full of vengeance, both soldiers and citizens rushed upon the base despoilers; and the work of retribution began. Gabriella had been the first to become aware of our advance; and, springing to her feet, had bounded beyond the reach of her captors, and was running outward to meet us. Ay de mi! it was the last race of her life. An Indian arrow shot after was too quick for her; and, pierced through and through, she fell dying into my arms. Pobrecita! She kissed me with her parting breath, and then expired. Ah! señor, that was a kiss of death!” A long deep-drawn sigh, and the drooping attitude into which the speaker had fallen, told me that he had ended his narrative. Out of respect to the sacredness of his sorrow, I forbore questioning him farther at the time. It was only afterwards that I learnt from him some additional particulars: how most of the savages were slain upon the spot, and the captive girls rescued; but, although escaping with lifer they had all been the victims of barbarian lust, that brought more than one of them to an early grave! A wild tale it may appear; and, although we may term it a romance of New Mexico, its counterpart is not the less an oft-recurring reality in that unhappy land.

Chapter Ninety Five

Assuming the Disguise

Our fire began to burn low, before the lovers returned into its light. During their moonlit ramble, no doubt, many sweet memories were renewed. No wonder they should wish to prolong it. But all of us required a certain measure of rest; and it was time to make the necessary arrangements for passing the night. Although we had given up all apprehension on the score of the Arapahoes; yet that was no reason why we should not observe a proper prudence, and keep prepared for any emergency that might arise. In that wild neutral road, trodden by many tribes, an enemy may spring up at any moment, or come from any side. It was agreed between us that one should keep watch, while the others slept – each taking his tour of guard throughout the night. Marian was of course excepted from this “detail,” and, after bidding us all good-night, the huntress-maiden retired to her tent – at the entrance of which the ever-faithful and ever-watchful Wolf placed himself. There did the great dog stretch his body – a sentinel couchant– with such grim Cerberus-like resolution, that even Wingrove might not have dared to cross the threshold of that sacred precinct? As yet we had not assumed our Indian disguises. The opening scene of the travestie was reserved for the morning; and, after arranging the hours of our respective watches – the trapper taking the first and longest – the rest of us crept under the covering of the buffalo lodge, and sought that repose necessary to recruit us for coming events.

At earliest dawn, and long before the sun had gilded the snowy summits of the Spanish peaks, we were all afoot. A breakfast – similar in materials to our supper of the preceding night was hastily prepared, and still more hastily eaten. After that we proceeded to equip ourselves for the masquerade. Peg-leg acted as principal costumier; and well understood he the rôle he was called upon to perform. Perfectly acquainted with the Utah costume – both that used for war and the chase – there was no fear about the correctness of his heraldry being called in question. He knew every quartering: of the Utah escutcheon, with a minuteness of detail that would have done credit to a King-at-arms.

For himself he needed no disguise. As a trapper of Taos, he might also be an associate of Utah hunters; and personally unknown to the Mormons, they would have no other thoughts about him – further than that their friend Wa-ka-ra had sent him to guide them across the deserts of the Colorado. At the Mormon camp, therefore, he could present himself in his Mexican costume, without the Saints having the slightest suspicion as to his true character. This left him free to lend his services to the rest of us, and assist in our heraldic emblazonment. His first essay was upon myself. My features being sufficiently pronounced, rendered it all the more easy to make an Indian of me; and a uniform coat of vermilion over my neck, face, and hands, transformed me into a somewhat formidable-looking warrior. A buckskin hunting tunic, leggings and mocassins concealed the remainder of my skin; while some locks of long hair extracted from the mane and tail of my Arab, and craftily united to my own dark tresses, with the plumed bonnet and drooping crest overall, completed a costume that would have done me credit at a Parisian bal masqué.

With equal facility was accomplished the metamorphosis of the young backwoodsman, but not so easily that of Sure-shot. The nez retroussé, thin yellow hair, and green-grey eyes appeared to be insurmountable obstacles to the Indianising of the ex-rifleman. Peg-leg, however, proved an artist of skill. The chevelure of Sure-shot, well saturated with charcoal paste, assumed a different hue. A black circle around each eye neutralised the tint of both iris and pupil. To his face was given a ground-coat of red ochre; while some half-dozen dark stripes, painted longitudinally over it, and running parallel to the nose, extinguished the snub – transforming the Yankee into as good an Indian as any upon the ground!

Marian was her own “dresser;” and while we were engaged outside, was making her toilet within the tent. Her costume would require but little alteration: it was Indian already. Her face alone needed masking – and how was that to be done? To speak the truth, I was apprehensive upon the score of her disguise. I could not help reflecting on the fearful fate that awaited her, should the counterfeit be detected, and the girl identified. All along, I had felt uneasy upon this point; and had been endeavouring to devise some scheme by which to avoid the imprudence of her presenting herself in the Mormon camp. But the thought of Lilian – the perilous situation in which she was placed – perhaps more than all, the selfishness of my own love, had hindered me from thinking of any definite alternative.

When I saw the huntress-maiden issue forth from her tent – her face empurpled with the juice of the allegria berries – her cheeks exhibiting, each a circle of red spots, with a line of similar markings extended across her forehead – I no longer felt apprehension for the result. Though the hideous tattooing could not hide the charms of her speaking countenance, it had so changed its expression, that even Wingrove himself would not have recognised her! More like was it to baffle the scrutiny of father and false husband.

In due time we were all dressed for the drama; and, after making a cache of our cast-off garments, we struck tents, and moved forward to the performance. The faithful Wolf accompanied us. It was against my wish, and contrary to the counsel of our guide; but Marian would not part with a companion that more than once had protected her from cruel enemies. The dog had been disguised, as the rest of us. Shorn of his shaggy coat, with his tail trimmed smooth as that of a greyhound – his skin, moreover, stained Indian fashion – there seemed but slight danger that the animal could be recognised.

Chapter Ninety Six

The Mormon Train

A few hours’ ride brought us to the western end of the pass; when, rounding a spur of the mountain, a wide plain was suddenly displayed to our view.

“Mira!” exclaimed the Mexican, “el campamento de los Judios!” (Behold! the encampment of the Jews!)

The guide halted as he spoke. The rest of us followed his example – as we did so, gazing in the direction to which he had pointed.

The plain that stretched before us was the grand vallé of San Luis; but presenting none of those characteristics which we usually associate with the word “valley.” On the contrary, its surface was perfectly level – having all the aspect of a sleeping sea; and with the white filmy haze suspended over it, it might easily have been mistaken for an expanse of ocean. At first sight, it appeared to be bounded only by the horizon; but a keen eye could perceive its western rim – in the dim outlines of the Sierra San Juan, backed by the brighter summits of the “Silver” Mountains (Sierra de la plata). More conspicuous, on the north, were the wooded slopes of the Sierras Mojada and Sawatch; while, right and left, towered the snow-covered peaks of Pike and the Watoyah – like giant sentinels guarding the approach to this fair mountain-girt valley. These details were taken in at a single coup d’oeil; and in the same glance the eye was attracted by the sheen of real water, that, like a glittering cord, was seen sinuously extended through the centre of the plain. Under the dancing sunbeams, it appeared in motion; and, curving repeatedly over the bosom of the level land, it resembled some grand serpent of sparkling coruscation that had just issued from the mysterious mountains of the “Silver Sierra,” and was slowly and gently gliding on towards the distant sea. From the elevation on which we stood, we could trace its tortuous windings, towards the distant Sierra of San Juan; and in the concavity of one of these – almost upon the verge of our vision – we beheld “el campamento de los Judios.”

Unprepared for it, we should never have thought of taking what we saw for an encampment of Mormons, or men of any kind. Under the white filmy veil that floated over the plain, some half-dozen little, spots of a more intensified white were barely visible. These the Mexican pronounced to be “los carros” (the waggons). I had recovered my pocket-glass, and this was now called into requisition. A glance through it enabled me to confirm the trapper’s statement. The white spots were waggon-covers: they could be none other than those of the Mormon train. I could make out only some half-dozen of them; but there were others behind. The vehicles were clumped, or, more likely, corralled upon the plain. This, indeed, was evident from their arrangement. Those seen were set in a regular row, with their sides towards us – forming, no doubt, one quarter of the “corral.”

I looked for living forms. These were also visible under the glass – men and animals. Of the latter, a large drove of different kinds and colours could be seen, mottling the plain to some distance from the waggons. The men were moving about the vehicles. Women I could also distinguish by their dresses; but the distance was too great for me to note the occupations of either sex – even by the aid of the magnifying lens. Lilliputians they looked – both men and women – while the horses and cattle might have been mistaken for a pack of curs. It mattered not to us to know their occupation; nor even what they might be doing when we should arrive upon the ground. We had no intention of stealing upon them. Confident in our complete déguisement, we intended to ride boldly forward – if need be, into the very middle of their camp. It was now the hour of noon; and we halted to bivouac. Although the distance that separated us from the Mormon camp was still considerable, we were in no hurry, about advancing. We had formed the resolution not to join company with the Saints, until near sunset. We knew that there would be curious eyes upon us; and in the hour of twilight we should be less exposed to their scrutiny. True, we might have joined them in the night, and passed off our counterfeit semblance with still greater security. But the morning would bring fresh light, with curiosity unsatisfied, and that would be more disadvantageous. Half an hour of observation, and the novelty of our arrival would wear off. For this the half hour of twilight would be the best time. No doubt, they had met many parties of friendly Indians while crossing the great plains. There had been some among their travelling companions. They would scarce consider us a curiosity. We had a reason for reaching their encampment a little before nightfall: we wanted a few minutes of light to take the bearings of the corral, and get acquainted with the topography of the surrounding plain. Who could tell what chances might turn up in our favour? An opportunity might occur that very night – as likely as afterwards, and perhaps under more favourable circumstances? We had no desire to enter upon our engagement as guide and hunters. We should be too willing to abandon the rôle, even before beginning it.

The last rays of the setting sun were sparkling on the selenite of the Silver Mountains, as we approached the encampment of the Saints. We had got near enough to make out the dimensions of the caravan. We saw that there were about a score of the large tilted waggons (Troy and Conestoga), with several smaller vehicles (Dearborns and Jerseys). The latter, with springs, were no doubt the more luxurious travelling carriages of such Saints as may have been in easier circumstances at home; while the ox-drawn “Conestogas” belonged to the common crowd. With the larger waggons, a “corral” had been formed – as is the usual custom of the prairie caravan.

In the following fashion is the enclosure constructed: – The two front waggons are drawn side by side, and halted close together. The two that follow next on the trail, are driven up outside of these – until their front wheels respectively touch the hind ones of the pair that precede them – when they also stop. The pair following in their turn double their poles upon these; and so on, till half the train is expended. The enclosure is not yet complete. It forms only a half-circle, or rather a semi-ellipse; and the corresponding half is obtained, by a slight change in the mode of bringing up the remaining vehicles. These are driven forward to the ground, so that the rear of each is turned inward– the reverse of what was observed in bringing the others into place – and the double-curve which before was constantly diverging, now becomes convergent. When all the waggons have got into their places, the ellipse will be completed; but it is customary to leave an open space at the end – a sort of avenue by which the enclosure may be entered. When horses and cattle require to be corralled, this entrance can be closed, by simply stretching a rope across it. If danger be apprehended, the travellers can keep within this enclosure – the bodies of the waggons forming an excellent rampart of defence. The tilts serve as tents; and under their capacious covering the female members of the emigrant’s family are accustomed to sleep in comfort and security. Sentinels outside, and horse-guards picketed still further off, give warning of the approach of an enemy.

As we drew near the camp, we could perceive that in this approved fashion had the Mormons constructed their corral. Most of the lighter vehicles were inside the enclosure; and there we could see the forms of women and children moving about in an excited manner – as if they had retreated thither on discovering our approach. The men still remained outside; and the horses and horned cattle had been left undisturbed. Our party was not large enough to have created an alarm – even had our arrival been unexpected. It could scarcely have been so. No doubt they took us for what we were: the emissaries of the Utah chief!

When within a few hundred yards of the camp, a party, already on horseback, came trotting towards us. Archilete had hoisted a piece of white fawn-skin on his gun-rod – the world-known symbol of peace, and so understood by the red men of America. A towel or table-cloth, or something of the sort, was held up in answer; and after the demonstration the mounted men spurred forward to meet us. When we had approached within a dozen lengths of each other, both parties reined up; and the Mexican and Mormon leader, separating from their respective followers, met midway between the two parties, shook hands, and entered into conversation. What they said was simple enough. I could hear the trapper declaring in broken English the nature of our errand – that he had been sent by Wa-ka-ra to act as their guide; and that we his compañeros, were the Utah hunters, to provide game for the caravan. Of the Mormons who rode up to us there were half-a-dozen in all; and I was fain to hope that they were not a fair specimen of the emigrant party. They were not – as I afterwards ascertained. They were the Danites, or Destroying Angels, that accompanied the train. “Destroying devils” would have been a more appropriate appellation: for six more villainous-looking individuals I had never beheld. There was no sign of the angelic, neither in their eyes nor features – not a trace; but, on the contrary, each might have passed for an impersonation of the opposite character – a very “devil incarnate!” Five of them I had never seen before – at least to remember them. The sixth only on one occasion. Him I remembered well. The man who had once looked in the face of the ex-attorney’s clerk, and ci-devant schoolmaster of Swampville, was not likely soon to cast that countenance from his remembrance. It was Stebbins who was talking to the Mexican. The dialogue was of brief duration. The tale told by the trapper was scarcely news: it had been expected; and was therefore accepted without suspicion. The interview ended by the Mormon leader pointing to a place where we might pitch our tents – outside the waggon enclosure, and near the bank of the river. This was just what we desired; and, proceeding direct to the spot, we commenced unpacking our paraphernalia.

Chapter Ninety Seven

The Corralled Camp