The Trail of The Badger: A Story of the Colorado Border Thirty Years Ago

I felt a great inclination to tell him. He had been so friendly and communicative that I began to feel rather uncomfortable at the thought that we were drawing all this information from him under what might be regarded as false pretences.

I was pretty sure that Dick would be feeling much the same – for among boys, as I have many a time noticed, there is nothing more catching than open-heartedness – and I was right; for, glancing at him to see what he thought, I caught his eye, when he immediately raised his eyebrows a trifle, as much as to say, "Shall I tell him?"

"Yes," said I, aloud. "I think so. Though we must remember, Dick, that it isn't altogether our secret."

Dick nodded, and turning to the young Mexican, who was gazing at us open-eyed, wondering what we were talking about, he said:

"Senor Antonio, my friend and I agree that it isn't quite fair to you to let you go on telling us these things without our telling you something in return. As Frank says, it is not altogether our own secret, but at the same time we don't think it is quite a square deal to get all these particulars from you and to keep you in the dark about ourselves. I can tell you this much, anyhow: that our object in coming down here was to find out where those same lumps of copper did come from."

"Why, how did you know anything about them?" cried Antonio, opening his eyes wider still.

"I passed through Hermanos about eighteen months ago," replied Dick, "in company with a German naturalist, Herr Bergen, when we noticed the great number of copper bowls and things, and the sight of them reminded the professor of a story he had heard of an old copper mine, abandoned more than a hundred years ago, supposed to be somewhere down in this country. The story the professor told us is the story which we think we have no business to repeat, but I can tell you this much, at least, that it seemed to indicate the Dos Hermanos as the site of the old mine; and so we got leave to come down here to see if we couldn't trail it up."

"Is that so? What fun you will have. I wish I could go with you. But that, I know, is out of the question: the padron would not consent, and I could not go against his will. But if I can help you I shall be very glad. Does the story you refer to indicate which of the two peaks is the right one?"

"No, it doesn't," replied Dick. "We suppose that the copper used to be brought down to the Casa on pack-burros, and we thought there might be the remains of a trail down here in the valley. That is what we were doing when you rode up: – looking for the trail; and we thought perhaps we had found it when we discovered this indentation in the soil that we have been following."

"And I believe you have!" cried Antonio. "That's just what you have! It goes on straight southward from here, very plain, to within half a mile of the Casa and then seems to die out for some reason. But, that it is the old trail I feel certain. Your copper mine is up there on the north peak as sure as – "

He stopped short, his enthusiasm suddenly died out, and pulling a long face, he gazed at us rather blankly.

"Well?" asked Dick.

"I was forgetting. There's something else up there on the north peak."

"What's that?"

"The Badger!"

"That's so!" cried Dick. "I'd forgotten him, too. Do you suppose he would interfere with us?"

"That's more than I can say. From what the padron has told me, I imagine it is only to him that El Tejon objects, and perhaps also to me as one of the family; but I'm not sure about that. Look here! I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll just ride home and ask him what he thinks. You stay here. I'll be back in half an hour."

"You are very kind," said my partner. "But why should we trouble you to come back here? We'll ride down with you."

To our surprise the young fellow flushed and looked embarrassed, but recovering in a moment, he said:

"Come on, then. But before we go, let me tell you something. The reason I hesitated was that I feared you might not receive a very hearty welcome from the padron. The truth of the matter is – to put it plainly, once for all – he hates strangers, and above all he hates the Americans. I am sorry it should be so, but so it is. The feeling is not uncommon among the older Mexicans: those who went through the war of '46; and if you stop to think of it, it isn't altogether unreasonable. According to the padron's view of the matter, his native country was invaded without cause or justice; he, himself, fought against the invader; his own brother and many of his friends were killed; and finally, he saw the land where he was born torn away from its old moorings and attached to the country of the enemy."

This defence of his fellow-countryman, which the young Mexican delivered with much earnestness and feeling, was a revelation to me. Hitherto I had only considered the war with Mexico from our side, glorying in our success and admiring – very rightly – the bravery of our soldiers. That the Mexicans, themselves, might have a point of view of their own had never occurred to me, until this young fellow thus held up their side of the picture for me to see.

"That's a matter I never thought of before," said I; "but when you do stop to think of it, it is not surprising that the older generation of Mexicans should have no liking for us."

"No," Dick chimed in; "and I don't think you can blame them, either."

"I'm glad you see it that way," said Antonio. "It makes things all comfortable for me. So, now, let us get along. And if the padron doesn't seem best pleased to see you, you will know why."

Following along the line of the supposed trail, which continued in general to be pretty plain, we presently passed alongside of a high bank of earth to which our guide called our attention.

"Just ride up here a minute," said he. "Now, do you see how this earth-bank forms a perfect square, measuring about two hundred yards each way? What do you make of that?"

"It was evidently built up," said I; "it can't be a natural formation. But what the earth was piled up for, I can't see."

"I think I can," remarked Dick. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the site of an old pueblo."

"Just what I think," responded Antonio. "An old pueblo which probably stood here before ever the Spaniards came to the country, and has been melted down to this shapeless bank by the rains of centuries. This valley must have supported a good-sized population once – very much larger than at present."

"It looks like it," Dick assented. "I wonder where they got their water from – for I suppose they lived mostly by agriculture, as the Pueblos do still. Hasn't the padron ever tried to find the old source of supply?"

The young Mexican shook his head. "No," said he. "The source of supply, wherever it was, was up in the mountains somewhere, and in spite of the fact that if he could find it, it would increase the value of the grant a thousand times, he daren't go to look for it."

"My! What a chance there is here" – Dick began, when he suddenly checked himself. "Here's some one coming," said he. "Is this the padron?"

"Yes; he must be coming to see who you are. I hope he won't make himself unpleasant."

As Antonio spoke, there came riding toward us a square-set, gray-haired Mexican, at whom, as he approached, we gazed with much interest. He was a man of fifty, or thereabouts, harsh-featured and forbidding, who scowled at us in a manner which made me, at least, rather wish I had not come. To put it shortly and plainly, the Señor Galvez had, in fact, the most truculent countenance I had ever seen; and his first remark to his nephew, as the latter advanced to meet him, was on a par with his appearance.

"What are you bringing these American pigs here for, Antonio?" he growled, in Spanish. "You know I will have nothing to do with them."

Poor Antonio flushed painfully under his brown skin. He half raised his hand with a deprecatory gesture, as though to beg the speaker to be more moderate, while he glanced uneasily at us out of the corner of his eye to see if we had understood.

It was then that Dick and I congratulated ourselves on having accidentally deceived our friend into the belief that we did not speak Spanish. Suppressing our natural desire to bandy a few compliments with the churlish padron, we put on an expression of countenance as stolid and vacant as if we had been indeed the American pigs aforesaid – immensely to the comfort of the younger man, as it was easy to see.

"Do not be harsh, señor," said he. "They are only boys, and they are doing no harm here. Moreover," he went on, "they have brought you a piece of information which you will be glad to have: – El Tejon is still alive."

The elder man started; his weather-beaten face paled a little.

"How do they know that?" he asked, suspiciously.

Antonio briefly told him our story.

"Hm!" grunted the padron, glowering at us from under his bushy eyebrows. "But what are these boys skulking around here for? They don't pretend, I suppose, that they have come all the way down from Mosby just to tell me they have seen El Tejon."

"Not at all," replied Antonio, with considerable spirit. "They are gentlemen, and they don't pretend anything. That bigger one of the two, the freckled one with the hook-nose and red hair" – it was Dick he meant, and intense was my desire to wink at him and laugh – "that one passed through here before; he noticed how every house contained its copper bowl and dipper – just as I did – and he has come down here with his friend – just as I wanted to do – to try to find out where the copper came from. We have had a long talk about it, and we have concluded that it probably came from somewhere up on the north peak. What I brought them down here for was to ask you whether you thought The Badger would let them alone if they went up there – that's all."

"That's all, is it? Well, perhaps it is. But I'm suspicious of strangers, Antonio, especially since – "

He paused, seemingly considering whether he should or should not mention the subject he had in mind, but at length – evidently supposing that we could not understand what he was saying – he went on:

"I had not intended to say anything to you about it, but three days ago – the day you rode over to Zapatero to spend the night – something occurred here which makes me rather uneasy. I had been away all day myself that day and on my return I found a young man in the village who had come, he said, from Santa Fé. For a young man to come to this out-of-the-way place, all alone, from Santa Fé, or from anywhere else, for that matter, was a strange thing: it made me suspicious that he was after no good. And I became more than suspicious when I found that he had spent the day going from one house to another inquiring after El Tejon!"

"Inquiring after El Tejon!" repeated Antonio. "That was strange; especially considering that El Tejon has been practically dead for a dozen years. Did he offer any explanation?"

"No. To tell the truth, I did not give him the opportunity. When I found out what he was doing, how he had slipped into the village during my absence and had gone prying about among these ignorant peons, asking questions concerning my enemy, I was so enraged that I threatened to shoot him if he did not depart at once. I made a mistake there, I admit; if I had curbed my anger, I might have found out what his object was. But I did not, so there is no more to be said."

"That was unfortunate," said Antonio; "but, as you say, it can't be helped now. So the stranger went off, did he? Did he return to – "

"No, he didn't," Galvez interrupted, "or, at any rate, not immediately. I'll tell you how I know. I was so distrustful of him that I followed his trail next morning – it was dark when he left, and I couldn't do it then. It was an easy trail to follow, for his horse was shod, and ours, of course, are not. It led eastward for a mile and then turned back, circled round the village and went up into the north mountain. I have not seen him, nor a trace of him since."

"It is a strange thing," said Antonio, thoughtfully. "What was the young man like? How old? Was he a Mexican or an American?"

"I don't know. He looked like an American, though he spoke Spanish perfectly. He might be twenty years old. It is an odd thing, Antonio – and it is that, perhaps, which made me speak so sharply when I first saw these new friends of yours – but the young man was something like the bigger one of these two boys: the same hook-nose and light-gray eyes, though his hair was black instead of red."

"A strange thing altogether," said Antonio, reflectively. "I don't wonder you feel a little uneasy."

"As to these boys here," the padron went on, jerking his head in our direction, "you may tell them that they need not fear The Badger. It is only I who have cause to fear him, and perhaps you, as my nephew. These boys may go where they like without danger. The chances are they won't see El Tejon – they certainly won't if he doesn't want to be seen. And, Antonio, just thank them for bringing me their information, and then send them off."

So saying, old Galvez turned his unmannerly back on us and rode away.

The interview, if it can be called such – for the padron had not addressed a single word to us – being plainly at an end, we shook hands with our friend, Antonio, and having thanked him very heartily for his service, we set off for camp, riding fast, in our hurry to get back before darkness should overtake us.

CHAPTER XI

The Spanish Trail

"Dick," said I, as we sat together that evening beside our camp-fire, "what do you make of it? That was a queer thing, that young fellow coming inquiring for El Tejon. I confess, for my part, I can't make head or tail of it."

"I can't either," replied Dick; "at least, as far as this stranger is concerned. I'm quite in the dark on that point. As to the padron and The Badger, though, that seems to me simple enough. It is some old feud between the two which concerns nobody but themselves."

"That is how it strikes me. You don't think, then, that there is any danger to us?"

"No, I don't. In fact, I feel sure of it. It is just a personal quarrel of long standing between those two – that's all. I have no more fear of El Tejon than I have of any other Mexican. All the same, old chap, if you have any doubt about it, I'm ready to quit and go home again."

"No," I replied, emphatically. "I vote we go on. And I'll tell you why, Dick. For one thing, I always did hate to give up."

My partner nodded appreciation.

"For another thing, I have gathered the notion that this Badger is not a bad fellow; not at all the kind that would murder a man in his sleep or shoot him from behind a rock. The fact that he let old Galvez go that time when he had him helpless, seems to me pretty good evidence that he is a man of some generosity and above-boardness."

"That's a fact," Dick assented; "it was rather a fine action, as it seems to me. And unless I'm vastly mistaken, Frank," he went on, "if the cases had been reversed, and the padron had caught The Badger as The Badger caught the padron, it would have been all up with El Tejon. I never saw a harder-looking specimen in my life than old Galvez. I know, if he were my enemy, I should be mighty sorry to fall into his hands."

"So should I; and the less we have to do with him the better, to my notion. I think we shall do well to steer clear of him."

"Yes; and there won't be any temptation to go near him, anyhow, especially as Antonio won't be there to act as a buffer. So, we decide to go on, do we?" Dick concluded, as he arose to put two big logs on the fire for the night. "All right. Then we'll get out to-morrow morning. We'll take the line of the old trail and follow it up into the mountain as far as it goes – or as far as we can, perhaps I should say."

"Very well," I agreed. "And we may as well abandon this camp, take old Fritz and all our belongings with us, and find another place more suitable higher up the mountain."

"Yes; so now to bed."

We were up betimes next morning, and having packed our traps away we went, Dick in the lead, Fritz following, and I bringing up the rear. Climbing over the big ridge from whose crest we had surveyed the valley the day before, we rode down its other side to the line of the old trail, and there, turning to the right, we followed it as it gradually ascended, until presently at the head of the ravine the trail, greatly to our perplexity, came to an end altogether.

The ravine itself had become so narrow and its sides so precipitous that there appeared to be no way of climbing out of it, and we began to have our doubts as to whether it could really be an old trail that we had been following after all, when Dick, spying about, discovered a much-washed-out crevice on the right-hand side, so grown up with trees and brush as to be hardly distinguishable.

"Frank," said he, "they must have come down here – there's no other way that I can see. Wait a moment till I get up there and see if the trail isn't visible again up on top."

It was a pretty stiff scramble to get up, but as soon as he had reached the top my partner shouted down to me to come up – he had found the trail once more.

If it had been a stiff climb for Dick's horse, it was stiffer still for old Fritz with his bulky pack. But Fritz was a first-rate animal for mountain work, having had lots of practice, and being allowed to choose his own course and take his own time he made the ascent without damaging himself or his burden.

As soon as I had rejoined him, Dick pointed out to me the line of the trail, which, bearing away northward now, was much more distinct than it had been down below. For one thing, the ground here was a great deal harder; and for another, being well sheltered by the pine woods, the trail had not drifted full of sand as it had out on the unprotected valley. There were, it is true, frequent places where the rains of many years had washed the soil down the hillsides and covered it up, but in general it was easily distinguishable as it went winding along the base of the mountain proper, at the point where the steeper slopes merged into the great spurs which projected out into the valley.

The distinctness of the old trail was, indeed, a surprise to me, its line was so much easier to follow than I had expected. If it continued to be as plain as this, we should have no trouble in keeping it; and so I remarked to my companion.

"That's true," Dick assented, adding: "I'll tell you what, Frank: this must surely have been a government enterprise. Just see how much work has been expended on this trail – and needlessly, I should say – no private individual or corporation would have taken the trouble to make a carefully graded road like this – for that is what it really was apparently. It must have been some manager handling government funds and not worrying himself much about the amount he spent."

"I shouldn't wonder," said I.

"Just notice," Dick continued, pointing out the places with his finger. "See what useless expenditure they made. Whenever they came to a dip, big or little, instead of going down one side and up the other, as any ordinary human being would do, they carried their road round the end of the gully – just as though a loaded burro would object to coming up a little hill like this one, for instance, here in front of us."

"It does seem rather ridiculous," I assented. "And they must have laid out their line with care, too, for, if you notice, Dick, it goes on climbing up the mountain with a grade which seems to be perfectly uniform as far as we can see it. It is more like a railroad grade than a trail. It isn't possible, is it, Dick," I asked, as the thought suddenly occurred to me, "it isn't possible that they can have used wheeled vehicles?"

"Hm!" replied my companion, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "No, I think not. It would be extremely improbable, to say the least. No, I think it is more likely to be as I said: some lordly government official, spending government funds, and not troubling himself whether the income would warrant the expenditure or not."

"I suppose that was probably it," said I. "There's one thing sure, Dick," I added: "if the income did warrant the expenditure, that old copper mine must have been a staver and no mistake."

"That's a fact. Well, come on; let us go ahead and see where the trail takes us."

This following of the trail was a perfectly simple matter; the animals themselves, in fact, took to it and kept to it as naturally as though even they recognized it as a road. So, on we went, climbing gradually higher at every step, when, on rounding the shoulder of a big spur, we were brought to a sudden and most unexpected halt by coming plump upon the edge of a deep and very narrow cañon. Right up to the very brink of this great chasm the trail led us, and there, of necessity, it abruptly ended.

This gorge, which was perhaps a thousand feet deep, and, as I have said, extremely narrow – not more than thirty feet wide at the point where we had struck it – came down from the north face of the mountain, and, as we could see from where we stood, ran out eastward into the plain. It was undoubtedly the stream upon which we had camped when we had come across the valley two days before.

Looking the other way – to the left, that is: up stream – our view was limited, but from what we could see of it, the country in that direction bade fair to be inaccessible, for horses, at least; while as to the cañon itself, it curved first to the left and then to the right in such a manner that we could not see to the bottom. Moreover a large rock, rising from the edge of the gorge, and in fact overhanging it a little, cut off our view up stream.

On the opposite side of the chasm the ground rose high and rocky, an exceedingly rough piece of country; for though it was in general well clothed with trees, we could see in a score of places great bare-topped ridges and pinnacles of rock projecting high above the somber woods.

"Dick," said I, "this looks rather like the end of things. What are we to do now?"

"The end of things!" cried Dick. "Not a bit of it! Don't you see, on the other side of the cañon, exactly opposite, that little ravine which goes winding up the mountain until it loses itself among the trees? Well, that is the continuation of the trail. Come down here to the edge and I'll show you."

Dismounting from our horses, we advanced as near the rim of the chasm as we dared, when Dick, pointing across to the other side, said:

"Look there, Frank, about a foot below the top. Do you see those two square niches cut in the face of the rock? This place was spanned by a bridge once, and those two niches are where the ends of the big stringers rested."

"It does look like it!" I exclaimed. "If there are other similar niches on this side, that would settle it. Take hold of my feet, will you, while I stick my head over the edge and see?"

With Dick firmly clasping my ankle by way of precaution, I crept to the rim and craned my neck out over the precipice as far as I dared venture. As we had expected, there were the two corresponding niches, while about ten feet below them were two others, the existence of which puzzled me. Squirming carefully back again, I rose to my feet and told Dick what I had seen.

"Two others, eh?" said he. "That's easily explained. Look across again and you will see that there are two in the face of the opposite cliff to match them. Those people not only laid two big stringers across the cañon, but they supported them from below with four stays set in those lower holes."

"That must be it!" I exclaimed. "They did things well, didn't they – it is on a par with the work they expended on the trail. The trail itself, of course, went on up that little ravine and has since been washed out by the rains."

"Yes; and the bridge has rotted and fallen into the stream; unless they destroyed it purposely when they abandoned the mine."

"Well, Dick," said I. "It seems fairly sure that the mine was over there, somewhere in the rough country on the other side of the cañon. The question is, how are we to get over there?"

"Yes, that's the question all right. We can't get down here. That is plain enough. We shall have to find some other way. And that there is another way is pretty certain. See here! This cañon comes down from the north side of the mountain, runs out into the valley to the point where we struck it day before yesterday, doubles back, and joins the streams coming down from Mescalero, as well as those others which flow down from the north side of the peak."