Read Norton, Andre - Novel 15 for Free Online Page B

have
something. And we'll be pulled on over mountains on a trail only an eagle could
comfortably follow. With that crowd in command there's no hope of anyone saying
'sign lost' and marching us back sensibly. Tuttle could smell out a kite five
miles off and up, and where he leaves off, Velasco begins. He's more'n half
Apache, and you know what they say about them— 'The Apache has the eye of a
kite, the ear of a cat, the cunning of the desert fox, and the courage and
tirelessness of the gray wolf.' That zoo, rolled up in a blamed good fighting
man, is what we're going to chase in our usual flat-footed fashion." He
scowled and tilted his cup for the last drops.
                   Ritchie had never expected pursuit on a
still-warm marauders' trail to be such a dull and wearying business. They
plodded on through the gray light of the morning, with frequent halts to allow
the scouts time to verify the traces. Once one of the dragoons picked up an arrow with a broken shaft,
its quartz point catching fire from the weak sunlight. But that was the
closest they came to the elusive enemy all that long day.
                   By early afternoon the snow began to drift,
and the process of breaking trail became a real job. Two and two, by turns, the
men dismounted and broke the way for the horses and pack mules, pushing through
snow which was too fine to pack and in which the animals might be bogged as in
quicksand. Ritchie was taking his turn at this when a sudden jerk on his arm
brought him up standing, swaying a little because of interrupted action.
                  It was Tuttle who had stopped him, and the old
scout was looking under the spread palm of one hand at the crest of a rock spur
which cut across their path maybe a half a mile ahead.
                   "What is it?" Lieutenant Gilmore
churned up through the knee-high snow.
                   “Flash on the rocks—" Tuttle pointed with
his chin Indian style.
                   "Flash on the rocks?" The young
officer plainly did not understand.
                   "Mirror," Herndon explained.
"Apache signals?" he asked Tuttle.
                   "Wal, I don't know as how anyone else is
minded to make a bird of hisself 'n climb up thar jus' to go flashin' a
mirror," the Mountain Man drawled. "We must make a right smart
picture for him, all strung out on the snow this way—"
                   "Get back into that fringe of
timber?" Gilmore nodded to some trees not so far to their left.
                   "Unhuh." Tuttle shifted his tobacco from one cheek to the other. "Leastwise I'd
like to have a leetle look-see 'bout before we go marchin' on so bright 'n
sassy-like. What say. Sergeant?"
                   "I'd like to wait for Velasco, sir,"
Herndon said to the officer. "He'll know pretty much the true state of
affairs when he comes back."
                   Tuttle had been looking at the landmarks about
them with more than casual interest. "Seems like this
place ain't so unfamiliar to me, Lootenant. Up thar a ways thar's a good
campin' place—might even be some forage 'cause it's sorta sheltered-like. Say
we mosey up thar 'n give our mirror flashin' friend somethin' to wonder 'bout.
He might even come sneakin' down to see what's changed our minds—"
                  Under the scout's direction the line of march
angled left, and they brushed under snow-laden branches of pines to find
themselves in what did seem to be the best camping site they could have found.
A tiny blind canyon ended in a shallow cave, and the arching walls along most
of its length had given shelter, so that the withered grass was bare of snow.
The picketed horses and mules pulled at this ravenously, while two of the
dragoons greeted with a shout of triumph a spring not capped with ice.
                   Tuttle was poking around in the back of the
cave formation. Ritchie,