"I promised Mr. Frank I would do it until he and Mr. Henry return,"

was her answer.

"Promised Frank? Where has he gone?"

"Gone to find his brother."

"And you knew what you are telling me when we were exchanging oxen this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"Mr. Frank said I must not before we arrived here."

"Have you no idea of the fearful danger in which he has placed himself?"

"I know he has gone to find Henry, and that he said he should find him," and the pretty girl betrayed her lack of confidence in the boy's project by sitting down in the gra.s.s and bursting into tears.

"When did Corporal Frank start?" I asked.

"Last night. He gave Sancho about a dozen pounds of hard bread, filled his canteen with water which Aunt Martha had filtered through sand, and asked me to attend to the odometer, and rode off in the darkness.

Don't you really believe the boys will return, sir?"

"G.o.d grant they may," I answered; "but it is very doubtful."

Here was fresh trouble--trouble the whole command shared, but which rested heaviest upon Captain Bayard and myself. We were answerable to Colonel Burton for the manner in which we executed his trust.

"Ride down the valley," said the captain to me after I had concluded my account of what Brenda had said, "and look for Lieutenant Hubbell's camp. It cannot be far from here. Tell him to send me three days'

grain for forty animals. While you are gone I will select a camp farther down stream, and within easy communication with him, park the train, and establish order. We will remain here until we know what has become of the boys."

I found the New Mexican cavalry camp three miles down the river, and obtained the desired forage. When I returned our new camp was established, fires burning, and cooking well under way.

Captain Bayard informed me that the detachment of Mexican cavalry which had accompanied us thus far would leave at this point and not rejoin us. "I have ordered Baldwin to grain his horses and be ready to start in search of our boys at daybreak," continued the captain. "You will accompany him. We shall be in no danger, with Hubbell so near.

You can take thirty pounds of grain on your saddles, and you will find plenty of water on the Carizo where it breaks from the hills."

"How many days are we to stay out?"

"You are to take five days' rations. If the boys are not found in that time I fear they will never be found."

I went to bed early, and soon fell into a fitful slumber, which lasted until an hour before midnight. I arose, dressed, and sat down by the smouldering camp-fire, a prey to unpleasant reflections.

Suddenly the sound of a cantering horse approaching from the north fell upon my ears. What could it mean? I listened intently. The horse slowed down to a walk. He entered the camp. The voice of Private Tom Clary, who was posted as sentinel No. 1, challenged: "Halt!--who comes there?"

"A friend--Corporal Frank Burton," was the answer.

"Blest be the saints! Corpril Frank, laddie, is it you--and aloive?"

said the sentinel, forgetting in his joy to continue the usual formality of the challenge or to call the corporal of the guard.

Springing from my seat I walked towards the sentinel, and there, by the light of the moon, I saw Frank, mounted upon Sancho, with Vic in his arms. I reached up to take my dog, but the boy quickly exclaimed:

"Be careful, sir, be careful! She's badly hurt. Here's the letter she brought. Henry is alive."

To attempt to relate all that now occurred would be impossible. In some mysterious manner the news of Frank's arrival crept through the camp, and half-dressed figures of officers and soldiers gathered about the camp-fire, curious to listen to an account of the boy's adventure.

One little, blanketed figure ran out of the darkness, caught Vic's face between her two palms, nestled her cheek against it, and with a cheerful "good-night," disappeared as suddenly as she had come.

I took Vic in my lap as I sat on the ground, and by the light of a blazing pine-knot proceeded to examine her condition. I found the mouth and feet of the poor animal full of the spines of the _cholla_ cactus, a growth which is simply a ma.s.s of fine thorns. This cactus grows in patches, and when the dead cl.u.s.ters fall to the ground the spines stick to everything touching them. The dog had stepped into a bed of these bunched needles, and filled her feet, and in trying to remove them with her teeth had thrust them through cheeks, lips, and tongue, literally closing her jaws. Her paws bristled with them like pin-cushions.

As to Frank's adventures: After leaving the Arnolds, as already described by Brenda, he retraced the route to Carizo Creek and to the Rio Puerco without seeing any sign of his brother. Returning to the west he dismounted at the crossing of the Carizo. He felt sure that if Henry had been captured by the Navajos he must have been taken in the dry bed of that creek.

A long and patient search resulted in the discovery of tracks made by several ponies running along the eastern side of the Carizo to the north and the hills. One of the set showed the print of iron shoes.

Frank mounted again and followed this trail up the valley for some hours. He was thinking about returning, when he saw a white object moving on a hill-side, far in advance. It seemed to tumble, rise, and go in a circle, then tumble, rise, and circle again. Frank's curiosity was aroused, and he rode on to examine the object. A few hundred yards more revealed the fact that he had come upon the missing Vic, and that something was seriously the matter with her. At first Frank thought she was mad or in a fit, but as he came nearer she sat up and made demonstrations of joy at his approach. He dismounted, and found her in the condition already described. On the ground was a chip, neatly cut and shaven, which she was in vain attempting to take between her sealed jaws. Frank understood the matter at once. Whenever Victoriana was sent on a message she was given a stick to deliver. It was plain that some one had sent her to either Frank or me. Of course, it could have been no one but Henry. She had come thus far, and had stepped into a bed of _cholla_. In trying to remove the needles from her feet she had absolutely sealed her mouth; in the attempt to recover the chip she had made the movements that had attracted the boy's attention.

Nothing was written on the stick. Around the dog's neck was tied a cravat of dirty buck-skin. Untying and opening it, Frank found the inner surface covered with writing, evidently traced in berry-juice with a quill or a stick. It read as follows:

"Captured by the Navajos. Am herding ponies north of Twin b.u.t.tes, at the head of Carizo. Come to b.u.t.te with cavalry, and wave handkerchief from left peak about noon. If I do not come, look for me in plain north of b.u.t.te. Don't worry; I'm all right.

"HENRY."

I remained at the fire long after every one had returned to their beds or duty, busy in extracting the _cholla_ spines from Vic's mouth and feet. The dog seemed to understand the necessity of the treatment she was receiving, and bore the pain submissively, with only occasional moans and cries, until the operation ended. She then received a drink of water, and went to bed with Frank.

At daybreak the rescue detachment left camp, retraced our route to the Carizo, where Corporal Frank put us upon the trail of the Indians. We climbed to the highest point reached by the path, and saw it descend on the opposite side to a brook, deep in the valley. Here we halted, took the horses a short distance down the slope we had just ascended, picketed them in a gra.s.sy nook, and Frank and I started to ascend the left peak.

"Mr. Baldwin," I said, as I moved away, "when you see us start to return, saddle and bridle as rapidly as possible, so as to be ready for emergencies."

"I'll do so. You can depend upon us to be ready when wanted," was the reply.

We scrambled through a scattering growth of pinon and junipers for several yards, and at last came to a perpendicular shaft of sandstone twenty feet high, with a flat top. The diameter of the shaft was about fifty feet.

"Henry could not have come up here, or he never would have set us to attempt an impossibility," said Frank, as his eyes ran up and down the rock.

"Perhaps it may not be so impossible as it appears," I replied. "Let us walk round the b.u.t.te."

We pa.s.sed to the right, and, having found a practicable place for attempting the ascent, accomplished the feat in a few moments.

On the flat summit we found the remains of former fires that had undoubtedly been lighted as signals. The view was grand and extensive.

Directly to the north lay many verdant valleys--grazing-grounds of the nomadic Navajos. One of these valleys lay at the foot of the mountain upon which we stood, with a bright stream of water crossing its. .h.i.ther border. Well out in the valley were several flocks of sheep and goats, and close to the opposite side of the brook was a herd of ponies.

After Frank had looked long and anxiously towards the flocks and herds, he said: "Those specks near the ponies must be men, I suppose.

I wonder if Henry is among them? Shall I make the signal?"

"Not yet. It is not yet noon. Let us lie down among these rocks, where we shall be less conspicuous, and use the field-gla.s.s."

"Tell me what you see, sir, if you please."

"There are five large flocks of sheep in the charge of a lot of women, some mounted and some on foot. The pony herd, which must number several hundred, is in charge of three naked Indians--boys, I think.

There are no other persons in sight. Take a look for yourself."

Frank accepted the gla.s.s and surveyed the valley. "I can see nothing that looks like Henry," he said. "He certainly cannot be there. Why are those boys so ghostly white?"