We remained in camp the next day, visiting the officers at the fort, and taking our farewell of them, with many regrets. Nor did we forget a generous reminder to Tom Pope, to whose keen observation, quick wit, daring bravery, and perseverance we owed, in so large a degree, the success of our expedition.

The following morning, we crossed the Rio Grande and found ourselves in the celebrated Mesilla valley, one of the most fertile and productive, in the Territory of New Mexico.

The town itself has a population of about one thousand souls, and was first settled in 1850, by colonists from Chihuahua. All land in this portion of the territory is cultivated by irrigation; and, as this was the first time Hal had ever seen it practiced to any extent, he asked permission to remain behind in town a little while, to witness the operation. Ned also expressed a desire to see it, and, after consulting Jerry, I assented to their request, believing with him, “that they’d find mighty hard work to git inter any scrape in such a God-forsaken town as that was, anyhow.”

We crossed the valley, and then ascended the high lands west of the town, through which our road lay, expecting to make our camp about sixteen miles from the river, and get an early start in the morning, to enable us to reach Cook’s Springs, the following night.

As we rode along, I noticed that the distant range of blue mountains before us, seemed to have risen from the earth, and to be reposing upon the line of flickering heat that marked the horizon, and, in a short time, that groups of trees and huge rocks appeared, standing high in air, like islands in mid ocean.

Calling Jerry’s attention to their singular appearance, he pronounced it a mirage, which I watched with great curiosity; for it was the first time I had ever seen the phenomenon.

In a little while, the long line of trees connected themselves at each end, with the land below, and then we saw, a beautiful lake, with its white-capped waves gently driven before the breeze, rippling and dancing in the bright sunlight, like living things of life and beauty. The picture grew larger and larger as we rode, changing into a mighty ocean, with a grand old rocky shore, which appeared to be indented with scores of little bays and bayous, upon the banks of which, grew great live-oaks, their umbrageous tops casting a shade so refreshing, that it was with the greatest difficulty I could be persuaded that the scene was not a reality.

I could only console myself, however, with the wish that the boys were along to enjoy it with me; but they were in Mesilla, and Jerry was so accustomed to sights of the kind, that he merely gave the beautiful picture a passing glance, regarding it as one of the matter-of-course things, to be met with on a trip like ours.

We went into camp about four o’clock; and, just at twilight, the guard that had been stationed back on the road about a quarter of a mile, came riding furiously in, his swarthy face almost white from fright, shouting at the top of his voice,

“Los Indios! los Indios! Los Apaches!”

In an instant the quiet camp became a scene of the utmost confusion. Jerry’s first thought was for the animals; mine, for the absent boys. I stationed the men at what I deemed the best points for defense; and Jerry, as soon as he had secured the mules, hastened to my side. We then called the Mexican who had given the alarm, and found that the fellow had really not seen anything, but had heard strange noises, that he believed came from Apaches.

Jerry volunteered to ride back and ascertain, if possible, the cause of the disturbance. He had scarcely been gone five minutes, before one of the Mexicans rushed towards me, saying,

“Don Jerry is shouting to El Senor from the rise of ground out back upon the road.”

Springing upon my horse I rode rapidly toward the spot where he stood, when the sight that met my gaze, almost convulsed me with laughter.

Coming up the road were the boys. Ned was mounted upon his pony, and trying to lead Hal’s mule. Like most Spanish mules, the animal had a will of its own, and would not be led; but on the contrary, pulled back so strongly upon the lariat, which Ned had attached to the pommel of his saddle, that the pony could scarcely move a step.

Hal’s coat was off, his face black with dust and sweat, and he, tugging at a lariat drawn tightly over his shoulder, at the end of which was a small black bear, scarcely more than a cub. The animal insisted upon squatting on his haunches, and in that position, Hal was dragging him through the dust, the creature all the while expressing his disapprobation by low, snarling growls of defiance, and a vigorous shaking of himself between each growl.

The strange medley of noises caused by the boys, the snarling bear, and the obstinate mule, had been heard in the still twilight for a long distance, by the guard, and mistaken for the approach of a party of Apaches.

“I wish you’d take this devilish bear,” said Hal.

“And won’t you take this plaguy mule?” exclaimed Ned.

Both looked so harassed and tired, that, although Jerry and I could not help laughing at their ludicrous situation, we nevertheless pitied them.

“Where in the world did you get that bear, Hal?” said I.

“Get him? I bought him of a Mexican at Mesilla, and I’m going to take him to California with me for a pet. He’s tame.”

“Well,” exclaimed Ned, “if you don’t get him along faster than you have to-day, you’ll die of old age before you get there. We’ve been ever since eleven o’clock getting here, and I’m so hungry and tired I can hardly sit on my horse.”

“Pooh!” retorted Hal; “this is nothing. You ought to be taken prisoner by the Apaches if you want to know what ’tis to be hungry and tired.”

“How much did you pay for him?” inquired I.

“Only fifteen dollars,” answered Hal.

“What’s that?” ejaculated Jerry. “Fifteen dollars! Wall, I dunno which is the biggest fool, you or the bar. The greaser that swindled yer, ought to be thrashed; and I’ve a notion of goin’ back and doin’ it, for I’ve felt like thrashin’ somebody for a good while. The bar ain’t wuth fifteen cents, and won’t be nothin’ but a bother. Mebbe though he might be good for ‘fresh,’ if we git hard up.”

“He won’t be any bother, and you shan’t use him for meat. He’s just as tame as he can be. See here, now,” said Hal, approaching the bear, and attempting to put his hand upon its head. But Bruin snapped so viciously that the boy jumped back in dismay, exclaiming, “Poor fellow! he’s awful tired, I suppose!”

“Yes,” said Jerry; “he’ll be wus tired, though, afore you git him to Californy. You’ll have to lead him, every step of the way. He shan’t be hitched to no wagon, for the mules has got all the load they want to draw, now. But I reckon we’d better be gettin’ back to camp, or the men’ll think, we’ve been took by the ’Paches.”

Supper was soon dispatched, after we reached camp, the events of the day talked over, we “turned in,” and in a short time were fast asleep.

In the middle of the night we were awakened by the most agonizing yells and screams.

Springing to my feet, I recognized Patsey’s voice, and, as I hurried in the direction of the sounds, I met the boy, half dead with fright, rushing towards my tent.

As soon as he recognized me, he fell upon his knees, and, crossing himself, besought me, in heartrending tones; to “protict him, for the Blissed Vargin’s sake. The divil himself, your honor, has intered the camp, and he got into bed wid me, to ate me up intirely!”

All the time the boy was howling, and holding one hand under his arm, while he danced a hornpipe and protested, that, if I’d save him this time, he’d “niver stale another cint’s worth as long as he lived, sure!”

The whole camp was roused, but no one appeared to understand the cause of Patsey’s outbreak, and Hal finally suggested that he’d been dreaming.

“Dramin’, is it! I wish it had been dramin’ I wuz. Boo! hoo! Didn’t I sae him wid me own eyes, shure?”

After we had partially quieted him he was able to tell us, that, as he was “slapin’ paceably, he all ov a suddint felt somethin’ in bed wid him, that wuz swallowin’ him intirely. A big black thing wuz lyin’ right by the side ov him, and wuz jest a-suckin’ him in whole, for he had his arrm in his throat clane up to his ilbow!”

“It’s that cub of a bear!” exclaimed Ned, interrupting Patsey’s story.

At the sound of the word “bear,” all of Patsey’s fears returned, with renewed power, and he again commenced calling for “protiction,” in frantic tones.

Going to the wagon under which Patsey had spread his blanket for the night, we found that Hal had tied the bear near it. Getting rested from the fatigue of his forced journey, the animal had crawled beneath the wagon, and, attracted by the warmth of the blankets, placed himself by the side of the sleeping boy, and, finding his hand uncovered, commenced licking it.

Patsey, thus awakened, had seen the creature’s glaring eyes and shaggy black coat, and, not knowing in his fright what it was, concluded his Satanic Majesty had come for him, on account of his many sins and transgressions.

Order was at last restored, and we retired once more, to be awakened some hours later by Jerry’s voice calling the men to prepare for the day’s journey. Our breakfast was soon cooked and eaten, and Hal having finally induced Jerry, to permit him to tie his bear to the hind wagon, we were on the road an hour before sunrise, encamping that night at Cook’s Springs, and the next afternoon reaching the Membris River about three o’clock, where, with good water, and plenty of grass and wood, we made a very pleasant camp.

Immediately upon our arrival, Hal and Ned went out hunting; and in less than an hour returned with three fine, fat turkeys, which were soon cooking after the most approved style, in one of the large camp-kettles that adorned our fire.

Supper over, Jerry suggested that, as some repairs were necessary to one of the wagons, we should remain in camp, and make them the following day. This suggestion was received with so much pleasure by the boys, I at once determined to adopt it.

Hal proposed a hunting expedition for the morning, leaving Jerry and myself to attend to the wagon.

This we agreed to; and, about sunrise, the boys started, confident of their ability to furnish us with a fine quantity of game before night.

As they mounted their ponies, Jerry gave them the following advice:

“Be keerful ter keep yer eyes and ears open; foller the course of the river, and don’t git out’er sight of it, whatever yer do. There’s three kind ’er game in this country, yer want ter steer clear of, sartin: them’s Injins, bars, and painters. And be keerful to git back afore sundown, whatever else you do.”

“I shan’t steer clear of ‘painters’ or bears, you bet,” said Hal. “If I see one, I shall go for it, and as for Indians, I’ve had quite enough experience to know how to handle them, without any advice from you, Mr. Jerry. I guess we can take care of ourselves;” and away they rode.

“That boy knows less, for a fellow that thinks he knows so much, than anybody I ever see. Why, he don’t know nothin’, compared ter Ned, if he does talk ten times as much. I used ter think, when I was a boy, thet the feller thet hed the longest tongue, knowed the most; but them’s the ones that don’t know nothin’; and he’s one of ’em, sartin,” said Jerry.

I ventured to remark that Hal was a boy yet, and that we ought not to expect too much wisdom in one so young as he.

“But ain’t t’other a boy, ez well?” inquired Jerry; “and hain’t he got ten times as much sense? However, less go and look at that wagon, and see what’s got ter be done to it.”

The repairs kept Jerry and myself busy during the forenoon; and, after they were finished, Jerry proposed that we should take our rifles, and see if we couldn’t get some game on our own account.

This suggestion met my cordial approval; and, after giving directions concerning the camp, Jerry and myself started across the prairie, intending to strike the river some miles above, and follow its course down; hoping, in this way, to fall in with the boys, on their return.

We rode along for several miles without seeing any game, save a few antelope, and they at such a distance, that Jerry though it not best to follow them; and, after a time, decided to make our way to the river and follow it down to camp.

It was a beautiful day: such a one as always brings peace and quiet to the most restless mind. I felt its effects most sensibly, and remarked to Jerry, that I rarely had seen so perfect a day in any country, and it seemed almost too bad, that so lovely a section could be given over to the possession of savages and wild beasts.

“’Tis, sartin,” he replied; “both on ’em thrive here. I’m thinkin’, though, ’twon’t be many years afore white men’ll git in here, and then the Injuns and painters, and sich like’ll, hev to leave it. Why, there’s lots o’ gold jest above here. I’ve known plenty of scouts that hev brung it in. The white folks’ll git hold of it one of these days, and then the country’ll fill up like Californy.

“Yer see thet little mountain right ahead of us, don’t yer? Wall, I r’member thet place. There’s a narrer pass through thet hill, thet we’ve got ter go through. I’ve been in it once afore, and it’s a mighty pokerish place, I tell yer: however, we’ll git along all right, I reckon.”

In a short time we reached the entrance to the canon, which was indeed a narrow pass. Huge rocks, hundreds of feet high, towered above and upon each side of us, their dark, moss-grown surface rendering the narrow passage so gloomy, that, in spite of myself, I felt a cold shiver run over me, that gave me an involuntary sensation of danger, which I could not throw off.

Turning to Jerry, I said, “Isn’t there any danger here?”

“Danger!” repeated Jerry, “of course there’s danger, everywhere in this country. We ain’t out of danger a minute. Ha! ha! ha!” and he laughed so loudly, that the rocks above us caught the sound and hurled it against the opposite side of the canon, where it seemed to be detained for a moment by some overhanging cliff, and then sent back, reverberating and re-echoing, now faint and indistinct, then clear and well-defined, to again die away in the distance, to once more approach nearer and nearer, louder and louder, until finally catching upon the sharp edge of some far-jutting crag, it shivered into a dozen, startlingly distinct peals of laughter, that seemed to my terrified senses like the shouts of demons, exulting at our temerity in venturing within their own well-chosen realms.

So terrifying was the effect upon me, that, for a few moments, I could not persuade myself that it was but an echo I heard. The blood surged to my heart and receeded so suddenly, that I was hardly able to sit erect upon my horse. As soon as I could speak, I said,

“Come, let us go back, Jerry. I want to get out of this, as soon as I can.”

“We’ve got ter git ter camp, an’ this’s the nearest way; but, ef you’re afraid, we’ll turn back. That warn’t nothin’ ter hurt, though, it did sound kind er skeery. Ther shortest way’s always ther best in this country, so let’s go ahead,” said Jerry.

“I don’t know that we are any more likely to meet danger in this canon than we are out of it,” said I; “but it’s one of the most dismal and sunless places I ever was in.”

“Well, ’twon’t be many minutes afore we’re out on the plains agin, so we’ll ride along kind er midlin fast;” and, putting spurs to our horses, we soon emerged from the gloomy defile, out into the bright sunshine again.

Once clear of the shadows, I seemed to overcome the forebodings of danger, that had so oppressed me in the canon; and, in a few moments, the unpleasant sensations produced by the echo, entirely disappeared.

While thus riding along, the sound of a rifle-shot, a long distance away, fell upon our ears.

“That’s them boys, for sartin,” said Jerry. “They’re in better luck than we be, for they’ve seen somethin’ to shoot at, an’ so do I,” continued he in a lower tone, pointing towards a little knoll a short distance away from the trail we were following.

I knew in an instant, from the tone of his voice, that he had made an unpleasant discovery, and was satisfied it was Indians. Still I looked, and saw, upon the top of the knoll, in bold relief against the sky, two Indians sitting upon their ponies.

One of them held a hand in the air above his head, which Jerry at once said, was the Apache way of asking for a parley.

“We’ll hev ter give it to ’em, though we must be mighty keerful,” continued he, “’cause it’s next to sartin, thet therain’t no two on ’em out there alone. We’ll find thet out for ourselves, though, afore we’re many hours older. Keep your eyes wide open, and your finger on the trigger o’ yer rifle, and we’ll go and see what they want.”

Upon coming up with them, they each extended, an exceedingly dirty hand, with finger-nails that looked almost like bear’s claws After shaking hands with them, Jerry proceeded to have a talk in Spanish. This gave me an excellent opportunity to examine their personal appearance; one, that I did not neglect.

They were small in stature, with short, ugly faces, very dark complexions, little, snapping black eyes, low foreheads, with coarse, stringy, faded hair, that hung far down their backs, carrying in their faces that nameless, but unmistakable impress of treachery and low cunning, that constitutes so large a part of the Apache character.

Around their bodies was wrapped an old blanket, so filthy, it was almost impossible to detect any trace of its original color, which had undoubtedly been blue. Each carried a bow and arrows, but was destitute of either leggins or moccasins, although mounted upon very respectable-looking ponies.

After a short interview, which terminated with our presenting them all the tobacco we had, with a shake of the hands we parted.

As they rode away, Jerry said: “I wish them boys was well in camp.”

“You don’t anticipate any trouble with these fellows?” inquired I. “What did they say?”

“Say? why, they said they was particular friends of the Americans,” replied Jerry. “Just what they all say; but they’re treacherous cusses, and either one of ’em, would shake with one hand and scalp with t’other one, ef they got a chance. That little black cuss called himself El Chico, that means The small, and said he belonged to the copper-mines band, and hailed us to see if he couldn’t get a little terbacker; but all he wanted, was to see how we was armed, and if we had any larger party. I filled him chock full, you bet; and mebbe we shan’t see ’em again, though it’s likely we shall. I see one of ’em eyin’ that rifle o’your’n pretty sharp, and he didn’t like the look of it much: I could see that.”

We had ridden nearly a mile from the place of the interview, when Jerry exclaimed, “There they be again, sure’n shootin’;” and, pointing to the mouth of a small aroya, that made back from the river, I discovered six Apaches, coming towards us as fast as their horses would bring them.

We were within a quarter of a mile of a small mound, upon the top of which was a peculiar sandstone formation, not unlike, in shape, a huge bottle; and I suggested to Jerry, that we should ride to the top of this mound, and, sheltering our horses behind the rock, await their approach on foot.

The suggestion seemed to be a good one, for it was no sooner made than adopted, and we had barely time to reach the desired location, ere they were upon us.

“Steady,” said Jerry; “let me give ’em one;” and taking deliberate aim’ he fired, killing one of the ponies, thereby forcing its rider to mount behind one of the others; but on they came towards us, as fast as their horses could bring them.

“Now’s your’ time, fire!” said Jerry.

I brought my rifle to my face and blazed away; seemingly, however, without effect.

“That won’t do. If you can’t shoot surer’n that, you’d better load and let me do it,” said Jerry.

The Indians were now so close that several of their arrows fell about us, two or three striking the rock behind and shivering to pieces, and enabling us to recognize among them, the two who had hailed us but a short time before.

“The treacherous cusses,” said Jerry. “I’ll pay them fellows off, afore I git through with ’em, or my name ain’t Jerry Vance, sartin.”

The Indians appeared to be in no hurry to come within range of our rifles, but kept well out of the way, occasionally coming furiously to wards us, and as we raised our rifles to our faces, they would hastily throw themselves over upon the sides of their animals for protection, and ride rapidly away.

“They ain’t goin’ to hurt us much in this way,” said I to Jerry.

“No; but they’re going to tire us out, for it’ll soon be dark, and we’ve got neither water nor food here; besides them fellers’ eyes arc like cats’, they kin see ez well in the dark, ez we kin in the daytime. We kin hold ’em safe enuff now, but we must git a way from here before dark. There goes for El Chico,” said Jerry, suddenly bringing his rifle to his face; and the next instant, an Indian fell heavily from his horse, and was instantly caught up from the ground by one of his companions, thrown across the horse before him and the party once more galloped out of range.