''Bring Me His Ears'' by Clarence E. Mulford (howl and other poems TXT) 📕

and signified nothing. Still, the caravan breathed easier as mile after mile took it away from that encampment; but their escape was not regarded so seriously as to make them pass Middle Spring, where good water always could be found, and here they corralled.

Tom and his friends had grown more alert since leaving the Arkansas, and without showing it had kept a close watch over Pedro and his companions. The actions of these and of a few Americans, Franklin among the latter, seemed to merit scrutiny. A subtle change was taking place in them. Franklin spent more of his time near Tom and Hank, and Pedro and some of the Mexicans were showing a veiled elation tinged with anxiety. Wherever Tom went he was watched, and if he joined the advance guard, or the rear guard, or the flanking parties, Franklin was certain to show up. He seemed to have taken a belated but strong fancy to the young plainsman. When Hank and Tom took the packs from the backs of their mules at night not a move they made was missed; and they soon learned that quite a few of the Mexicans were sleeping in the wagons of friends during the morning traveling.

It was here at Middle Spring where Tom and Jim Ogden staged a serious disagreement, which spread to one between Hank Marshall and Zeb Houghton, and resulted in the two sets of partners becoming estranged. When questioned about it in indirect ways by Franklin, Ogden sullenly said that he could handle his troubles without the aid of others, and would handle them "danged quick" if a certain plainsman didn't look out. Zeb was not so cautious and his remarks, vague as they were, were plain enough to bring fleeting smiles to the faces of Pedro and his friends.

The grass was better here than at any place since the Arkansas had been left and as some of the animals were beginning to show unmistakable signs of the long journey, it was decided to remain here another night and give them a chance to recuperate a little. The news was hailed joyfully and numerous hunting parties were arranged at the fires the first night. Woodson called for volunteers to form a strong day guard for the animals, which he wanted driven from the camp to graze over the best grass, and he asked for another strong guard to watch the corral, since Comanches, Pawnee Picts, Kiowas, and even more northern tribes out on horse-stealing expeditions could be looked for without unduly straining the imagination. Arapahoes, Utes, and even Cheyennes were not strangers to the valley of the Cimarron, and once in a while Apache raiders paid it flying visits.

Woodson made the round of the fires, trying to discourage the formation of so many small hunting parties while the caravan was corralled in such broken and dangerous country, and succeeded in reducing the numbers of the hunters about half and in consolidating them into two large parties, capable of offering some sort of resistance to an Indian attack. One of these he put under the command of Hank, to that person's great disgust, for Hank had planned to go on a hunt with his partner, and to join Ogden and Houghton when well away from the camp. Tom was to remain with the wagons; Ogden was to have charge of the other hunting party, and Houghton and Franklin were to stay near the grazing herd.

The fires dimmed here and there as their builders forsook them for blankets; others glowed brilliantly, among them the fire of Tom and Hank. The former had said good night to Joe Cooper and Patience and was walking toward his fire when Pedro silently joined him and went along with him. Hank was off entertaining a party of tenderfeet with tales of miraculous adventures in the mountains, and after lying to the best of his ability for two hours, and hardly being questioned, he described a wonderful country lying east of Henry's Fork of the Snake River; south of the Snow Mountains; north of Jackson's Lake and west of the Shoshones Mountains. It lay along the Yellowstone River and the headwaters of the Stinking Water, and it contained all manner of natural wonders, which he described earnestly and graphically, to bursts of laughter. The more earnest he became the more his auditors roared and finally he got to his feet, glared around the circle, declared he was not going to "eddicate airy passel o' danged fools," and stalked away in high dudgeon, muttering fiercely. Reaching his own fire he threw himself down by it and glared at the glowing embers as if he held them responsible.

Tom nudged Pedro. "Somebody ask ye fer a left-hand wipin' stick, Hank?" he asked.

"Thar a passel o' fools!" snorted Hank. "If hoss sense war ten paces wide an' ten miles long in every man, ye couldn't collect enough o' it in th' whole danged party fer ter make an ear tab fer a buffaler gnat!"

"Tellin' 'em about that thar river ye saw that couldn't find no way outer th' valley, an' finally had ter flow up over a mounting?"

"Ye mean them up-side-down water falls?" queried Hank, grinning. "Yes, an' some o' 'em come clost ter swallerin' it. Why, I sot thar an' filled 'em plumb ter th' ears with lies an' they didn't hardly wink an eye. Then I told 'em o' that valley on th' Yallerstun, whar th' Injuns won't go because they figger it's th' home o' th' Devil. An' th' more I told 'em about it, th' more th' danged fools laughed! I'd like ter hold 'em over one o' them thar water-squirts, or push 'em down into th' bilin' mud pots! Swallered th' lies, dang 'em, an' spit out th' truth!"

Tom roared and after a moment looked curiously at his partner. "I thought ye said you'd never tell nobody about that country ag'in?"

"Oh, I felt so danged sorry fer thar ignorance that I reckoned I'd eddicate 'em, th' dumb fools! If I had a ox an' it didn't know more'n them all put together, danged if I wouldn't shoot it!" He sliced off a pipeful of tobacco and pulled an ember from the fire. "What you an' Pedro been hatchin' out?"

"Nothin', yit," answered Tom; "but I would like ter hear a little more 'bout that thar roundabout trail inter Santa Fe." He looked at Pedro. "How fur away from hyar does it begin?"

"Not so ver' far, señor," answered the Mexican. "Thees way from thee Upper Spr-ring, where thee soldats are used to meet thee car-ravan. We come to eet soon. We should leeve thees camp tomor-row night."

"What's th' use o' that when ye said th' soldiers ain't goin' ter meet us this year?" demanded Tom.

"Why don't they meet th' trains whar they oughter, 'stead o' waitin' till they git past th' Injun dangers?" demanded Hank with some feeling.

"Does not thee señor know?" chuckled Pedro. "Eet ees not for protec' thee car-ravan that they meet eet. Eet ees that no man may leave thee tr-rail an' smuggle hees goods past thee customs. For what does Manuel Armijo care for protec' thee traders? Eef he deed, would he not meet them at thee Arkansas? Eet ees only for thee customs that he sends thee soldats. To get away fr-rom theese we mus' tak thee other tr-rail befo' eet ees too late."

"That's all right fer other years," growled Tom; "but if they ain't goin' ter meet us this time we kin stick ter th' trail an' leave it a lot closer ter Santer Fe."

Pedro was doing his best to play safe from all angles. If the troops tried to take Tom Boyd from the caravan, or show that he was a prisoner, a great deal of trouble might come out of it, for these Americans were devils for sticking together. If that fear were groundless, then Tom Boyd and his trapper friends, on sight of the troops, might cut and run; and if forced to stand and fight they could be counted on to give a good account of themselves against the poorer arms of their Mexican enemies; and somewhere in the hills he thought there were Texans and he knew them well enough to know that they would only be too glad to take a hand in any fight against Mexicans if they learned of it in time. At first he had been content to get Tom Boyd to the Upper Spring or to Cold Spring, only a few miles farther on, and there turn his responsibility over to the commander of the troops. If he could get them to slip away from their friends and be captured out of sight and hearing of the caravan it would suit him much better; and if he could coax them to take their goods with them, he and his friends could divide the spoils and slip the plunder past the customs officers. The caravan was now within fifty miles of Cold Spring and he must make up his mind and act quickly.

"Eet ees then you weesh to pay thee char-rges?" the Mexican asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No!" growled Hank. "They air a robbery, plain an' simple."

"No!" said Tom, who was giving but little thought to the customs duties, but a great deal to his own personal freedom. He did not want to meet any kind of officers, customs or otherwise. He would have jumped at a secret trail into the settlements had he not known so much about Pedro. "At th' same time I ain't hankerin' fer ter leave th' caravan so soon. We're nigh three hundred miles from Sante Fe, an' thar ain't no way we kin go that'll cut off ten miles. This wagon road runs nigh as straight as th' crow flies. What about grass fer th' mules, an' water?"

"Ah," breathed Pedro. "We weel not go to Santa Fe, señor; we go near Taos, less than two hundred mile away from here. Along thee Ocate Cr-reek I haf fr-riends who know ver' well thee mountains. They weel tak us over them. How can thee señores sell their goods onless by ways that ar-re made? Weeth us we haf men that know that tr-rail. We weel send one befor-re to thee Ocate, an' follow heem fast."

Tom studied the fire for a few moments and then looked up at his guest. "We want ter think this over, Pedro," he said. "You figger what per cent o' th' customs savings you want fer yer share, an' we'll decide tomorrow night. Hank, here, wants ter go ter Bent's an' reckons we kin git a good price thar fer our goods. Let you know then. Good night."

After Pedro had painted the picture of the innocent-looking loads of faggots and sheepskins, hay and produce, towering over the backs of the nearly hidden pack mules as they toiled through the canon and over the rough trail leading from the Valley of Taos into Santa Fe, their loads passing the customs house without drawing even a careless glance and then, by many turnings, safely arriving at various destinations with their smuggled goods; after he had described the care and foresight of his friends and their trustworthiness, and made many knowing bows and grimaces, he smilingly departed and left the partners to themselves.

Knowing that they were being watched they idled before the fire, careless now of their store of wood, of which plenty was at hand, and talked at random; but through the droning of their careless words many times there could be heard the name "Bent's Fort," which Hank mentioned with affectionate inflections. It seemed that he very strongly preferred to go to that great trading post and rendezvous of hunters and trappers, where old friends would be met and new ones made. Tom held out for Santa Fe, but did not show