But among the Indians Blakely was a demi-god. Grave, unruffled,
scrupulously exact in word and deed, he made them trust him. Brave,
calm, quick in moments of peril, he made them admire him. How
fearlessly he had stepped into the midst of that half-frenzied
sextette, tiswin drunk, and disarmed Kwonagietah and two of his
fellow-revelers! How instant had been his punishment of that raging,
rampant, mutinous old medicine man, 'Skiminzin, who dared to threaten
him and the agency! (That episode only long years after reached the
ears of the Indian Advancement Association in the imaginative East.)
How gently and skillfully he had ministered to Shield's younger
brother, and to the children of old Chief Toyah! It was this, in fact,
that won the hate and envy of 'Skiminzin. How lavish was Blakely's
bounty to the aged and to the little ones, and Indians love their
children infinitely! The hatred or distrust of Indian man or woman,
once incurred, is venomous and lasting. The trust, above all the
gratitude, of the wild race, once fairly won, is to the full as
stable. Nothing will shake it. There are those who say the love of an
Indian girl, once given, surpasses that of her Circassian sister, and
Bridger now was learning new stories of the Bugologist with every day
of his progress in Apache lore. He had even dared to bid his impulsive
little wife "go slow," should she ever again be tempted to say
spiteful things of Blakely. "If what old Toyah tells me is true," said
he, "and I believe him, Hualpai or Apache Mohave, there isn't a decent
Indian in this part of Arizona that wouldn't give his own scalp to
save Blakely." Mrs. Bridger did not tell this at the time, for she had
said too much the other way; but, on this fifth day of our hero's
absence, there came tidings that unloosed her lips.
Just at sunset an Indian runner rode in on one of Arnold's horses, and
bearing a dispatch for Major Plume. It was from that sturdy
campaigner, Captain Stout, who knew every mile of the old trail
through Sunset Pass long years before even the ----th Cavalry,--the
predecessors of Plume, and Wren, and Sanders,--and what Stout said no
man along the Sandy ever bade him swear to.
"Surprised small band, Tontos, at dawn to-day. They had
saddle blanket marked 'W. A.' [Wales Arnold], and hat and
underclothing marked 'Downs.' Indian boy prisoner says Downs
was caught just after the 'big burning' at Camp Sandy
[Lieutenant Blakely's quarters]. He says that Alchisay,
Blakely's boy courier, was with them two days before, and
told him Apache Mohaves had more of Downs's things, and that
a white chief's daughter was over there in the Red Rocks.
Sanders, with three troops, is east of us and searching that
way now. This boy says Alchisay knew that Natzie and Lola
had been hiding not far from Willow Tank on the Beaver
trail--our route--but had fled from there same time Angela
disappeared. Against her own people Natzie would protect
Blakely, even were they demanding his life in turn for her
Indian lover, Shield's. If these girls can be tracked and
found, I believe you will have found Blakely and will find
Angela."