The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

The light was strong, and Bill Breakstone lookeddown at the boy who was a younger brother to him now.He saw that the strain upon Phil had been great. Evenwhile he slept his face was very white, except wherefatigue and suspense had painted it black beneath theeyes. Phil Bedford had done more than his share, andit was now for him, Bill Breakstone, to do the rest. Heslipped the muzzle of the rifle forward in order that itmight command the mouth of the hollow, and waited.He would have pulled more leaves and brush before theentrance, but he knew that any disturbance of naturewould attract the eye of a passing Comanche, and heallowed everything to remain exactly as it had been.

He lay comfortably among the leaves, and for a longtime he did not stir. Phil breathed regularly and easily, and Bill saw that he would be fully restored when heawoke. Bill himself thought neither of hunger nor thirst, the tension was too great for that, but he never ceased towatch the sweep of trees and brush. It was half waytoward noon when he saw some bushes about ten yardsin front of him trembling slightly. He became at oncealert and suspicious. He drew himself up in the attitudeof one who is ready for instant action, slipping the muzzleof the rifle a little farther forward.

The bushes moved again, and something came intoview. Bill Breakstone sank back, and his apprehensiondeparted. It was a timber wolf, gray and long. Adangerous enough beast, if a man alone and unarmed met agroup of them, but Bill, with the rifle, had no fear.The wolf sniffed the odor of flesh, sniffed again, knewthat it was the odor of human flesh, and his blood becameafraid within him. Bill Breakstone laughed quietly, butthe boy slept placidly on. The incident amused Bill, and, therefore, it was welcome. It broke the monotonyof the long quiet, and, just when he was laughingnoiselessly for the fourth time over the wolf's discomfiture, the bushes moved again. Bill, as before, slipped themuzzle of his rifle farther forward and waited. A slightpungent odor came to his nostrils. The bushes movedmore than before, although without noise, and a greatyellow body came into view. The eyes were green, theclaws sharp and long, and the body lithe and powerful.It was a splendid specimen of the southwestern puma, agreat cat that could pull down a deer. But Bill Breakstonewas still unafraid. He raised the rifle and aimedit at the puma, although he did not press the trigger.

"I can kill you, my friend, with a single bullet," hemurmured, "but the report of that rifle would probablybring the Comanches upon us. Therefore, I will lookyou down."

The puma paused in doubt and indecision, restlesslymoving his tail, and staring with his great green eyes untilthey met the gray eyes of the human creature, lookingdown the sights of the rifle barrel. That steady, steel-like gaze troubled the puma. He was large andpowerful. He could have struck down the man at a singleblow, but the heart within that mass of bone and musclebecame afraid. The green eyes looked fearfully into thegray ones, and at last turned aside. The great beastturned stealthily, and slid into the thicket, at first slowly, and then in a run, as the terror that he could not seecrowded upon his heels.

Bill Breakstone had laughed several times that morning, but now he laughed with a deep unction.

"I'm proud of myself," he murmured. "It's somethingto outlook a panther, but I don't know that I'dhave looked so straight and hard if I hadn't had the rifleready, in case the eyes failed. Now I wonder who orwhat will be the next invader of our premises."

His wonder lasted only until noon, when the sun waspoised directly overhead, and the open spaces were full ofits rays. Then, as light as the beasts themselves hadbeen, two Comanches walked into full view. BillBreakstone was as still as ever, but his hand lay upon thetrigger of the rifle.

The Comanches were not a pleasant sight to eyes thatdid not wish to see them. They were powerful men, naked save for the waist cloth, their bodies painted withmany strange symbols and figures. Although most oftheir tribe were yet armed with bows and arrows, eachcarried a fine rifle. Their faces were wary, cunning, and cruel. They were far more to be dreaded than wolfor panther. Yet Bill Breakstone at that moment felt butlittle fear of either. He was upheld by a great stimulus.The boy who slept so peacefully by his side had savedhim in the face of everything, and, if the time had come,he would do as much for Phil. He felt himself, with therifle and pistol, a match for both warriors, and hisbreathing was steady and regular.

The warriors stopped and stood in the bush, talkingand pointing toward the east. Bill Breakstone surmisedthat they were talking about him and Phil, and it waslikely from their pointing fingers that they believed thefugitives had gone toward the east. As Bill watchedthem, his suspense was mingled with a sort of curiosity.Would some instinct warn them that Phil and he lay notten yards away? The woods were vast, and they and alltheir comrades could not search every spot. Would thisbe one of the spots over which they must pass?

It took two minutes to decide the question, and thenthe warriors walked on toward the east, their brownbodies disappearing in the foliage. Bill drew a mightybreath that came from every crevice and cranny of hislungs. He did not know until then how great hissuspense had been. He sank back a little and let the riflerest softly on the leaves beside him. He glanced atPhil. His face was less drawn now, and much of thecolor had come back. While Bill awaited the crisis, hisfinger on the trigger, the sleeping boy had grown stronger.Bill decided that he would let him sleep on.

Bill Breakstone had been through much. He, too, began to feel sleepy. The dangers of animal and manhad come and passed, leaving his comrade and himuntouched. His nerves were now subdued and relaxed, and he felt a great physical and mental peace. The day, too, was one calculated to soothe. The air was filled with; the mildness of early spring. A gentle wind blew, and theboughs and bushes rustled together, forming a sound thatwas strangely like a song of peace.

But Bill Breakstone was a man watchful, alert, asentinel full of strength and resolution. He would notsleep, no, not he, not while so much depended upon him, yet the song among the leaves was growing sweeter andgentler all the time. He had never felt such a soothingquiet in all his life. The complete relaxation after somuch danger and tension was at hand, and it was hardfor one to watch the forest and be troubled about foeswho would no longer come. Yet he would remain awakeand keep faithful guard, and, as he murmured hisresolution for the fifth time, his drooping eyelids shut downentirely, and he slept as soundly as the boy who lay byhis side, his chest rising and falling as he breathed longand regularly.

Phil Bedford and Bill Breakstone slept all that afternoon.It was a mighty sleep, the great sleep followingcomplete mental and physical exhaustion, the sleep thatcomes at such times to strong, healthy beings, in whomthe co-ordination of brain, muscle, and nerve is complete.By some unconscious method of keeping time theybreathed in perfect unison, and the gentle wind, whichall the while was blowing through the leaves, kept timewith them, too. Thus the evening shortened. Hour byhour dropped into the sandglass of time. The two, rivals of the ancient seven of famous memory, slept on.Both the wolf and the puma, driven by curiosity, cameback. They crept a little nearer than before, but not toonear. They felt instinctively that the mighty sleepers, mightily as they slept, could yet be awakened, and thesmell of man contained a quality that was terrifying. Sothey went away, and, an hour after they were gone, thesame two Comanches, naked to the waist, paintedhideously in many symbols and decorations, and savage andcruel of countenance, came back in their places. ButBill Breakstone and Phil lay safe in the leaves under thebank, sleeping peacefully without dreams. So far as theComanches were concerned, they were a thousand milesaway, and presently the two warriors disappeared againin the depths of the forest, this time not to return.

Time went on. The two slept the great sleep soquietly that all the normal life of the woods about themwas resumed. Woodpeckers drummed upon the sides ofthe hollow trees, a red bird in a flash of flame shot amongthe boughs, quail scuttled in the grass, and a rabbithopped near. Midafternoon of a cloudless day came.The sun shot down its most brilliant beams, the wholeforest was luminous with light. The Comanches ceasedtheir search, confident that the fugitives were gone nowbeyond their overtaking, and returned to their villagesand other enterprises, but Breakstone and Phil slept theirgreat sleep.

Twilight came, and they were still sleeping. Neitherhad stirred an inch from his place. The little animalsthat hopped about in the thickets believed them dead, they were so quiet, and came nearer. Night came on, thick and dark. An owl in a tree hooted mournfully, and an owl in another tree a half mile away hooted amournful answer. Phil and his comrade did not hear, because they still lay in their great sleep, and the doingsof the world, great or small, did not concern them.

Phil awoke first. It was then about midnight, and sodark in the alcove that he could not see. His eyes stillheavy with sleep and his senses confused, he sat up. Heshook his head once or twice, and recollection began tocome back. Surely the daylight had come when he wentto sleep! And where was Bill Breakstone? He heard aregular breathing, and, reaching out his hands, touchedthe figure of his comrade. Both had slept, and no harmhad come to them. That was evident because he alsotouched the rifle and pistol, and they would have beenthe first objects taken by a creeping enemy. But surelyit could not have been a dream about his going to sleep inthe daylight! He remembered very well that the sun wasrising and that there were golden beams on the bushes.Now it was so dark that he could see only a few faintstars in the sky, and the bashful rim of a moon. He satup and gave Bill Breakstone a vigorous shake.

"Bill," he said, "wake up! It's night, but whatnight I don't know!"

Bill Breakstone yawned tremendously, stretchedhimself as much as the narrow space would allow, and thenslowly and with dignity sat up. He, too, was somewhatconfused, but he pretended wisdom while he was tryingto collect his senses. The two could barely see eachother, and each felt rather than saw the wonder in theother's eyes.

"Well," said Bill Breakstone at last, "I'd have youto know, Sir Philip of the Dream and the Snore, thoughI can't prove that you've done either any more than I canprove that I haven't done both, that we're the genuineand true Babes in the Wood, only we've waked up. Herewe've been asleep, maybe a week, maybe a month, andthe pitying little birds have come and covered us up withleaves, and we've been warm and snug, and the wildanimals haven't eaten us up, and the bad men, that is tosay the Comanches, haven't found us. How do you feel,Phil?"

"Fine, never better in my life."

"That describes me, also, with beautiful accuracy.We'll never know, maybe, how long we've slept, whetherone day, two days, or three days, but a good spirit hasbeen watching over us; of that I'm sure.

"Phil and Bill,To sleep they went;Phil and BillFrom sleep they came.Phil and Bill,They had no tent;But Phil and Bill,They are true game.Phil and Bill,The leaves, a bed,Phil and Bill,They took no ill.That's Phil and Bill.

"I don't think that's a bad poem, Phil, consideringthe short time I've had for its composition, and you'llobserve that, with a modesty not common among poets,I've put you first."

"It's all right for the time," said Phil, "but don't doit too often. But, Bill, I'd trade a whole slab of poetryfor an equal weight in beef or venison. I'm beginningto feel terribly hungry."

"I'd make the trade, too," said Bill Breakstone, "andthat's not holding poetry so cheap, either. It's pleasantfor the Babes in the Wood to wake up again, but there'sa disadvantage; you've got to eat, and to eat you've gotto find something that can be eaten. I'm like KingRichard, 'A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!' ButI wouldn't ride that horse; I'd eat him."

"What time o' night would you say it is, Bill?"

Bill Breakstone attentively studied the few stars to beseen in the extremely dusky heavens.

"I'd say it was somewhere between six o'clock in theevening and six o'clock in the morning, with theemphasis on the 'somewhere.' I wonder what's happenedaround in these woods since we went to sleep last week,Phil; but I suppose we'll never know."

Bill stood up, and with his fingers combed the leavesout of his hair.

"Phil," he said, "I'll tell you the story of my lifefor the last day or two. It doesn't make a longnarrative, but while it was happening it was tremendouslymoving to me. When I left you I skipped along throughthe edge of the woods and came to the plain. Then Isaw the Indian village and the Indian horses grazing onthe meadows. I looked them over pretty thoroughly, concluded I didn't like 'em, and started back to tell youabout 'em. I thought I was mighty smart, but I wasn'tsmart enough by half."

"What happened?"

"Just as I turned around to start upon my worthymission, three large, unclothed Comanches laid rudehands upon me. I didn't have much chance, one againstthree, and surprise on their side, too. They soon had meby the neck and heels, and carried me off to their village, where they gave me the welcome due to a distinguishedstranger. Black Panther was especially effusive. Hewanted to know all about me and my friends, if any, perchance, were near by. It was the same band that hadattacked our wagon train and that was beaten off. Theirscouts had warned them that we were on the other sideof the big forest, but they were afraid to attack again.I gathered from what Black Panther said-he understandsEnglish, and I understand some Comanche-that theybelieved me to be lost, strayed, or stolen-that is, I hadwandered away in some manner, or had been left behind.The chief tried to get all sorts of information out of me, but I didn't have any to tell. Finding that I was borndumb, he began to talk about punishments."

"What were they going to do to you, Bill?"

"There was a lot of lurid talk. I say 'lurid' becauseI seem to remember something about flames. Anyway,it was to be unpleasant, and I suppose if you hadn'tcome, Phil, at the right time, I shouldn't ever have hadthe great sleep that I've enjoyed so much, at least notthat particular kind of sleep. Phil, it looks to me as ifyou came when I called, and I'm not joking, either."

"We'll put that aside," said Phil, "and hunt somethingto eat."

"Yes, it's our first duty to provision this army oftwo," said Bill Breakstone, "and I think we can do it.The woods are full of game, but we'll have to wait tillmorning for a shot. As for the Indians hearing thereports of our rifles, we must take the chance of that, butI don't think they'll roam very far from the village, andwe'll spend the rest of the night going toward the pointwhere we left the wagon train, which is directly awayfrom the Comanches. Toward morning we'll sit down bythe bank of a stream if we can find one, and wait for thegame to come to drink."

"That seems to me to be our best plan," said Phil.

Both had a good idea of direction, and, despite thedarkness, they advanced in a fairly straight line towardthe point they sought. But they found it rough travelingthrough the thick undergrowth, among briers and acrossravines and gulleys. Meanwhile, old King Hunger, bristling and fearsome, seized them and rent them withhis fangs. There was no resisting. They must evensuffer and stand it as best they could.

"I think it's at least a thousand hours until day,"said Bill Breakstone at last. "Do you know, Phil, I'vegot to the point where I'd enjoy one of those stagebanquets that I've often had. You don't really eatanything. The plates are empty, the glasses are empty, and, empty as they all are, they're generally whisked awaybefore you can get a good long look at them. But there'ssomething soothing and filling about them anyway.Maybe it's an illusion, but if an illusion is of the rightkind, it's just the right kind of thing that you ought tohave."

"An illusion may be all right for you, Bill," returnedPhil, "but what about some of those dinners you can getin New Orleans. Oyster soup, Bill; fish fresh from thegulf, Bill; nice old Virginia ham, Bill; stuffed Louisiana: turkey, Bill; a haunch of venison, Bill; fried chicken,Bill; lamb chops, Bill; and a lot of other things thatmoney can buy in New Orleans, Bill?"

"If you weren't my best friend, Phil, and if youhadn't just saved my life, I might make an attack uponyou with the intent of bodily harm. You surely makeme sour with your talk about the whole provision trainthat can be bought in New Orleans with money. Hearthat old owl hooting! He's just laughing at us. I'dstop and shoot him if we had light enough for a shot."

"Never mind the owl, Bill," said Phil. "Perhapswhen we get that good juicy deer we're looking for we canhoot back at him, if we feel like it."

"That's so," said Bill, although he said it gloomily.

They advanced in silence another hour, and then Phil, who was a little in advance, stopped suddenly. He hadseen the gleam of water, and he pointed it out to hiscomrade.

"A spring," said Bill Breakstone, "and it's beentrampled around the edges by many hoofs and paws."

He stooped and tasted the water. Then he uttered amighty sigh of satisfaction.

"A salt spring, too," he said. "We're in luck, Phil.I see our breakfast coming straight toward us at thisspring, walking briskly on four legs. The wild animalsalways haunt such places, and if we don't have savorysteaks before the sun is an hour high, then I'm willing tostarve to death. We must find an ambush. Here it is!Luck's a funny thing, Phil. It goes right against youfor awhile, and nothing seems able to break it. Then itturns right around and favors you, and no fool thing thatyou do seems to change it. But I guess it evens up inthe long run."

They found a dense clump of bushes about twentyyards from the salt spring, and sat down among them.

"There's no wind at all," whispered Bill Breakstone,"so I don't think that any animal eager for his salt drinkwill notice us. I've got my heart set on deer, Phil, anddeer we must have. Now which of us shall take the rifleand make the shot? The rifle is yours, you know, andyou have first choice."

But Phil insisted upon the older and more experiencedman taking the weapon, and Breakstone consented.Then they lay quiet, eagerly watching every side of thespring. The darkness soon thinned away, and the bushesand trees became luminous in the early morning light.

"Something will come soon," said Breakstone.

They waited a little longer, and then they heard arustling among the bushes on the far side of the spring.The bushes moved, and a black-tailed deer, a splendidbuck, stepped into the opening. He paused to sniff theair, but nothing strange or hostile came to his nostrils.The deadly figure, crouching in the bushes with theloaded rifle at his cheek, might have been a thousandmiles away, for all the deer knew.

Phil and Bill Breakstone might have admired the deerat another time, but now other emotions urged them on.The deer stepped down to the water. Breakstone lookeddown the sights, and Phil trembled lest he should miss.He tried to look along the barrel himself and see whatspot Bill had picked out on the animal's body. Then hewatched the marksman's finger curl around the triggerand at last press hard upon it. The flash of flame leapedforth, the report sounded startlingly loud in the clearmorning, and the deer jumped high in the air.

But when the big buck came down he ran into theforest as if he had not been touched. Phil uttered a gaspof despair, but Bill Breakstone only laughed.

"Don't you fret, Phil," he said. "My heart was inmy mouth, but my bullet didn't miss. He's hit hard, and we've got nothing to do but follow him by the plaintrail he'll leave. We'll come to our breakfast in less thanten minutes."

Phil soon saw that Breakstone was right. The trailon the other side of the salt spring was plain and red, andpresently they found the great stag in a thicket, lyingupon his side, stone dead, Bill Breakstone was an adeptat cleaning and dressing, and soon the ugly work wasover. They always carried matches, and Phil quicklylighted a fire of dry sticks that burned up rapidly andthat soon made a fine heap of glowing coals.

"Now," said Breakstone, "we'll cook and eat, then we'llcook and eat again, then we'll cook and eat once more."

"And I don't care very much whether Comanchesheard the rifle shot or not," said Phil. "It seems to methat when I eat as much as I want I can whip the wholeComanche nation."

"I feel that way, too," said Bill Breakstone, "but theComanches didn't hear. I know it in my bones. Didn'tI tell you about that streak of luck? Luck's coming ourway now, and the streak will last for awhile."

They cut long twigs, sharpened them at the ends, andfried over the coals strips of the deer, which gave outsuch a rich aroma as they sputtered that the two couldscarcely restrain themselves. Yet they did it, theyremained white men and gentlemen, and did not guzzle.

"Phil," said Bill, before he took a single bite, "Iremember about that dinner in New Orleans you weretalking of so long ago. I remember about those beautifuloysters, those splendid fish from the gulf, the gorgeousVirginia ham, the magnificent Louisiana turkey; yes, Iremember all those magnificent fripperies andfrummeries, but it seems to me if they were all set downbefore us, spread on a service of golden plate, theywouldn't be finer than what is now awaiting us."

"Bill," said Phil with deep emphasis and unction,"you never spoke truer words in your life."

"Then lay on, Macduff, and the first who cries 'hold, enough'-well, he won't be much of a trencherman."

They fell to. They did not eat greedily, but they atelong and perseveringly. Strip after strip was fried overthe coals, gave out its savory odor, and disappeared.Phil occasionally replenished the fire, adding to the bedof coals, but keeping down the smoke. Bill, stretchinghis long body on the ground and then propping himselfup on his elbow, concluded that it was a beautiful world.

"Didn't I tell you our luck would hold for awhile?"he repeated. "Since we got into the woods, things havecome easy. A good bed put itself right in our way, thena deer walked up and asked to be eaten.

"The deerIt was here.One shot-In our pot.

"We haven't any pot, but you can use things in ametaphorical sense in order to get your rhyme. That'swhat poetry is for."

"I'm beginning to feel satiated," said Phil.

"'Satiated' is a good word," said Bill Breakstone,"but it isn't used much on the plains. Still, I'mbeginning to feel that way myself, too, and I think we'dbetter begin to consider the future, which is always so muchbigger than the present."

"We must find our horses."

"Of course, and after that we must find the train, which will be our chief problem. It may be where weleft it or it may have gone on, thinking that we had beenkilled by some outlying party of Comanches. But I don'tbelieve Middleton and Arenberg would move without us.They may now be somewhere in these woods lookingfor us."

"Can you figure out the direction of the valley inwhich we left our horses?"

Breakstone studied the sun attentively.

"It's southeast from here," he replied, "and I fancyit's not more than three or four miles. Two likely lads likeyou and me ought to find it pretty soon, and, nine chancesout of ten, the horses will be there. We'll take some ofthe best portions of the deer with us, and start at once."

They chose the choicest pieces of the meat and started, now strong of body and light of heart. Phil's ownjudgment about the direction agreed with Breakstone's, andin less than an hour they saw familiar ground.

"I'm a good prophet to-day," said Breakstone. "I'vegot the gift for a few hours at least. I predicted trulyabout the deer, and now I am going to predict trulyabout the horses. We'll have them by the bridle insideof half an hour."

In fifteen minutes they were in the little valley, inthree minutes they found the horses grazing peacefully, and in two more minutes they caught them.

"We've done the work and with ten minutes tospare," said Bill Breakstone, triumphantly, "and now,Phil, another wonderful change in our fortunes has come.If a camel is the ship of the desert, then a horse is theboat of the plains, the long boat, the jolly boat, the rowboat, and all the rest of them. Now for the wagontrain!"