20 Western Novels You Should Read

Chapter 15

"Have I harmed you or your father in the past?"

"No."

"Do as I tell you then," said Shoz-Dijiji, "and you will not be

killed."

Luis rode after the three horses which were now grazing with the

herd that had been but momentarily disturbed by the shots. When he

returned with them the two men, each leading one of the riderless

animals, started the cattle slowly toward the north in the

direction of the next meeting place of Geronimo's party after

Shoz-Dijiji had collected the arms and ammunition that had belonged

to Luis and his three companions and secured them to the saddle of

the horse led by the Apache.

Shoz-Dijiji rode in silence. If he felt any elation because of

the success of his adventure it was not apparent in his demeanor.

Grim, morose, he herded the cattle onward. His eyes patrolled the

world bounded by the horizon, searching for enemies.

Luis Mariel, partly frightened, wholly thrilled, glanced often

at his companion. To ride with the Apache Devil— ah, what an

adventure. From earliest childhood Luis' ears had been filled with

the stories of Apache ferocity, treachery, cruelty, yet against

these were set the knowledge that the Apache Devil had twice

befriended his father and had once before befriended him. Perhaps

the Apache Devil would not harm him, then; but what of the

others?

He had heard hideous stories of the tortures inflicted by the

Apaches upon their prisoners. It might be that the Apache Devil

could not protect him from the ferocity of his fellows. This

thought worried Luis and to such effect that he commenced to

formulate plans for escape. If they did not come to the camp of the

Indians before dark his chances would be better than to risk making

a break for liberty in the face of the menace of the Apache Devil's

marksmanship, which he had reason to know constituted a very real

menace.

The afternoon wore on. Angry clouds, gathering in the sky,

portended early darkness and a black night. The patient herd

plodded slowly on. The hopes of Luis Mariel rose high. Two hours

more and escape would be assured if, in the meantime, they did not

reach the camp of the Apaches.

"B" Troop of the —th had been dispatched into Chihuahua in the

search for the scattered bands of the marauding renegades.

Lieutenant Samuel Adams King, with four troopers, was scouting far

afield, He had been following what appeared to be a fresh, though

faint, Indian track that led toward the north; but now, with night

coming down and a storm threatening, he had lost it. While one of

the troopers held the horses of the others, King and his remaining

men searched on foot for the elusive spoor. Proceeding in different

directions the four walked slowly, scrutinizing every inch of

ground, searching for a turned pebble, a down-pressed spear of

vegetation, King's path took him through a deep arroyo and out upon

the opposite bank. Absorbed in his search he took no note of the

growing menace of the gathering storm nor of the distance,

constantly increasing, between himself and his men. He knew that

when the rain came it would wipe out all trace of the tracks they

sought, and this knowledge constituted the urge that kept him

oblivious to all other considerations.

The dusk of evening had fallen. Heavy clouds rolled angrily and

low above the scene as a herd of cattle slowly topped a gentle rise

to the south. Two men drove them, but only one of these saw the

soldiers a couple of miles ahead — saw, and knew them for what they

were. This one glanced quickly at the landscape ahead and at the

gathering storm above. He knew that it was about to break. He knew,

too, that the arroyo would soon be filled with muddy, raging water

— a barrier impassable by man or beast. All but one of the soldiers

would be upon the opposite side of the arroyo from the herd and

him.

Knowing these things, Shoz-Dijiji urged the cattle onward in the

general direction of the enemy, for even though he passed close to

them they would be unable to see him after the rain came — the rain

and night.

Luis Mariel viewed the prospect of the impending storm

hopefully. Soon it would be dark, but even before that the blinding

rain would obliterate all objects within a few yards of him. They

had not yet come to the camp of the renegades, and Luis had a horse

under him.

The storm was in their rear. The cattle, doubtless, would move

on before it; but Luis would turn back into it, and when it had

passed he would be safely beyond the ken of the Apache Devil.

A great cloud! black and ominous, bellied low above them,

sagging as though to a great weight of water; jagged lightning shot

through it, followed by a deafening crash of thunder; the rent

cloud spewed its contents upon the earth. It was not rain; it did

not fall in drops nor sheets but in a great mass of solid

water.

With the bursting of the cloud King found himself in water a

foot deep on the level, and afterward the rain fell in torrents

that shut everything from view beyond a few yards. Lightning

flashed and thunder roared, and. the pounding of the rain between

drowned all other sounds. The man floundered through the new made

mud back in the direction of his men. All was water — above, below,

around him. Suddenly there appeared before him, almost at his feet,

a depression. Here the water swirled and eddied, running in a

mighty current across his path.

At its very edge he stopped and, realizing what it was,

staggered back a few steps — back from the brink of eternity. So

close had he been to the shelving bank of the arroyo that another

step might have hurled him into the racing, yellow flood that

filled it now from brim to brim.

Disconcerted by the first great mass of water that fell upon

them, the cattle stopped. The leaders turned back upon the herd.

Shoz-Dijiji, in the rear, urged the stragglers forward until,

presently, the herd was milling in a muddy circle; but with the

coming of the steady torrent and beneath the heavy quirt of the

Apache they gradually strung out again in the direction they had

been travelling, the storm at their backs.

Shoz-Dijiji, seeing that he was handling the herd alone, looked

about him for his companion; but the blinding torrent hid

everything but the nearer cattle, and Shoz- Dijiji did not know

that Luis was driving his unwilling pony into the teeth of the

storm in an effort to escape.

An hour later the storm was over. A full moon shone out of a

clear sky. Directly ahead of him Shoz-Dijiji saw something that was

frightening the leaders of the herd, causing them to stop and then

turn aside. A moment later the Apache recognized the cause of the

distraction. It was a man on foot. At first Shoz-Dijiji thought

that it was Luis, but when he had ridden nearer he discovered that

the man was a soldier. Shoz-Dijiji drew a revolver from the holster

at his hip. He would ride close enough to make sure of his aim

before firing. He was not afraid that the other would fire first,

since the soldier, before he fired, would wish to make sure that

Shoz-Dijiji was an enemy. In this Shoz-Dijiji had a great

advantage. Being an Apache he knew that all men were his enemies.

He could.make no mistake on that score.

The soldier hailed him in rather lame Spanish, but there was

something in the voice that sounded familiar to the Apache Devil

who never forgot anything. So he rode yet closer.

And then, in perfectly understandable English, he said: "Put up

your hands, King, or I'll kill you."

Lieutenant King put his hands above his head. As yet he had not

recognized the other as an Indian. The English, the use of his own

name, mystified him.

"Who the hell are you?" he inquired.

"Turn your back," commanded Shoz-Dijiji. King did as he was bid,

and the Apache rode up and disarmed him.

"All right," said Shoz-Dijiji, after King lowered his arms and

turned about.

"Shoz-Dijiji!" exclaimed King.

"Shoz-Dijiji, war chief of the Be-don-ko-he Apaches," replied

the Apache Devil.

"And you're on the war path. That doesn't look so good for me,

does it, Shoz-Dijiji?"

"Shoz-Dijiji not on war trail now. Shoz-Dijiji good Indian now.

Go in cattle business."

In the moonlight King saw the grim half smile that accompanied

the words of the Indian, but he made no reply. Apache humor was

something that he did not pretend to understand. All he knew about

it was that upon occasion it might be hideous.

"Mebbe so you like go in cattle business with Shoz-Dijiji?"

suggested the Apache.

"I guess that whatever you say goes," replied the officer.

"All right. Take this horse." The Indian indicated the led horse

at his side. "Now you help drive our cattle. Sabe?"

King grinned. "Perfectly," he said. Slowly the two men urged the

cattle onward until at dawn they came to a patch of meadow land

well within the mountain range they had entered shortly after

meeting. There was water there and good grazing and little

likelihood that the tired animals would wander far from either.

Taking King with him, Shoz-Dijiji rode to the top of a high hill

that commanded the broad valley to the south and west, across which

they had come. For half an hour the Apache scanned the country

below them, using field glasses that King recognized as having once

belonged to him, glasses that had been taken from him several years

before during an engagement with hostiles.

In the far distance the Indian saw a tiny speck and recognized

it as Luis. Beyond Luis and approaching him from the southeast were

horsemen. This was doubtless the company of soldiers to which King

belonged. Shoz-Dijiji did not call the officer's attention to

either Luis or the soldiers. In his mind he figured quickly just

how long it would take the soldiers to reach this point should Luis

put them upon the trail of the herd, which he knew that they could

easily pick up and follow from the point at which the storm had

overtaken them.

"Come," he said to King, and the two rode down from the hill and

turned into a small canyon where they would be hidden from the view

of anyone who might enter the meadow where the cattle grazed. In

the canyon was a small spring and here they drank. Shoz-Dijiji

proffered King a piece of jerked venison that stunk to high heaven,

but the officer assured the Apache that he was not hungry.

Having eaten, Shoz-Dijiji bound King's wrists and ankles. "Now

sleep," he said. He stretched himself nearby and was soon asleep,

but it was some time before King fell into a fitful doze. When he

awoke, the Indian was removing the bonds from his wrists.

"Now we drive our cattle," said Shoz-Dijiji. The balance of that

day and all the following night they drove the weary beasts through

the mountains. There was no pursuit. After their sleep Shoz-Dijiji

had again taken King to the hill top and scanned the back trail.

The dust of a cavalry troop could be faintly seen in the distance,

but it was moving north parallel to the range they had entered and

was not upon their trail.

Twice they had stopped for brief rests, not for themselves but

for the cattle; and now, at dawn, the trail debouched into an open

canyon where there was water and good feed. At the edge of the

pasture land Shoz-Dijiji drew rein and pointed up the canyon.

"There," he said to King, "is the camp of Geronimo. If you go

there you will be killed. Mebbe so you like sell your half of the

cattle business ?"

King grinned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Shoz-Dijiji buy," replied the Apache. "He give you a horse and

— your life. You sell?"

"You've bought some cattle, Shoz-Dijiji," exclaimed King; "but I

can't understand you. You are not like any other Indian I ever

heard of. Why have you done this?"

"Two men drive cattle easier than one," replied the Apache.

"Yes, I know that; but why are you giving me a chance to escape

when you know that I'll go right back to chasing you and fighting

you again? Is it because of Wichita Billings?"

"Shoz-Dijiji no sabe English," grunted the Indian. "Now you go!"

and he pointed back down the canyon along the trail they had just

come over.

King wheeled his horse around. "Good-bye, Shoz-Dijiji," he said.

"Perhaps some day I can repay you."

"Wait!" said the Indian and handed the white man his pistol.

Then he sat his horse watching until a turn in the canyon took the

other from his sight.

Far away Luis Mariel rode with "B" Troop of the —th. He had not

led the soldiers upon the trail of his friend, the Apache

Devil.