The Golden Canyon by G. A. Henty (good novels to read .txt) 📗

Dave opened it they examined it with much curiosity. It was divided in two; the upper one appeared to be a general map of the country, the lower one a plan of the immediate locality of the spot.

"It looks very confusing," Dick said, as he examined it.

"You see the chap as made it did not do it for other people, but so that he could find his way back by it. This line that runs along the bottom of the other map I take to be the Gila, which is a big river which runs right through the Indian country, and falls into the Rio Grande. I have gone up it from that side two or three hundred miles. We were a strong party, but we had to fight our way back again, and lost pretty near half our number. You see by the map it lies on the north side of the Gila. But as the Gila is eight or nine hundred miles long, that don't help us a great deal, and the map wouldn't be any good to us if it was not for this mark here up near the top. You see all these things are meant for mountains, but as one mountain on a map is just like another, we should be downright done if it was not for this mark. Do you see there are three little jags here close together? Now I take it those three jags are meant for a mountain the Indians call the Three Sisters, which is a mountain with three peaks close together. I never saw it myself, but I have spoken with miners who have seen it from the north. Now, here you see, to the south of the Three Sisters, is a cross, and I take it that's the mine. You see there is a black line waving about among the mountains that stops at that point. I guess that is the line they traveled by."

"But there is nothing to tell us what scale the map is on, Dave," Tom said; "it may mean five hundred miles from end to end, it may mean fifty. If it is five hundred it must be seventy or eighty miles from those peaks to the cross, if it is fifty it is only seven or eight."

"That is so," Dave agreed.

"Have you any idea how far it is from the three peaks to the river?"

"Yes, I have heard it is about fifty miles north of the Gila."

"Well, that would make this spot marked from fifteen to twenty miles from them. The length of the map would be about two hundred miles, and as the peaks are about a quarter of the distance from the right-hand side, this map begins about a hundred and fifty miles to the west of the peaks. I should think it would be at some well-known place that the maker of this map began; some place that he knew he could find again without difficulty."

"That is so; you will see the line begins at a stream running north and south. There is a mark here each side of the path-line. Of course they might mean anything; they might mean trees or rocks. Then look here; there are two more dots out here, and if you were to draw a line straight through them, it would come to the other dots. One must be three or four miles off, and the other twelve or fifteen. The farthest one may be a peak, and the one nearer some conspicuous tree or rock in a line with it."

"Yes, that is what we make it out to be," Boston Joe said. "We have the choice of either going up the Gila valley and mounting this side stream till we come upon something that agrees with these four marks, or of keeping along from the west by a valley about the right distance from the Gila."

"I should not think we can trust much to distances," Dick said; "this man was merely sketching out a plan to help him on his way up again, should he ever make up a party to return to the mine, and, though probably these bendings and turnings of the road are to be depended upon, the map itself cannot be done to any scale. Here the peaks are made twice as far from the left side as they are from the river, but they may be really four times as far, or they may be only the same distance; there is no saying at all; as he has drawn it, the point where the road begins is a good deal more to the south than the peaks are. If the scale is correct, it is not more than thirty miles at most north of the Gila that the path begins. You see about halfway between this point and the river are five or six little marks like a V upside down. I see there are other marks like these at different places on the map. I should say they were meant for Indian villages."

"That is so, no doubt," Dave agreed. "Here is another thing beside them; what do you make that out to be, Dick?"

"It looks to me like a tiny bird; it is very small and very badly done, but I am pretty sure that that is what is meant. What in the world can he have put a bird there for? Let us look at the other villages." He examined them carefully. "Two of them have got figures. This one looks like a cat, and this is a snake—at least, I should think so."

"I have got it," Dave exclaimed. "Those are the names of the chiefs. I know the names of a good many of their chiefs, and there's Rattlesnake and the Mountain Lion among them."

"And there is the Crow, too, Dave," Boston Joe put in.

"So there is; I know he is the chief of the tribes whose country lies this side of the Arizona. No doubt that is his village. Now we have it. I know pretty well where his place is, for I have been further among the hills than that. I can find my way there easy enough. When we get to the stream his village is built on we have got to hunt along it till we find these marks, and then follow on the line he took. The Crow's village is about thirty miles north of the Gila. That will put these stops sixty miles from the river. Yes, this straightens out the distances pretty considerable, for I should say that from them to the three peaks it must be nigh three hundred miles. I don't think it is more than a hundred from here to the Crow's village. It should be an easy thing following that marked line, but it won't matter if we miss it. Our course will be pretty nigh due east, not, as he makes it, north, for we know the Sisters are not more than eighty miles from the Gila. When we get near them we can't help seeing them. Then we have only got to follow the direction of this map below. There are the peaks. Well, right in front of them is a lower hill with a tree on its top, and that tree exactly in line with the middle peak gives us the line, and as the tree just touches the bottom of the peak, it will give us the distance to within half a mile. Here are two lines, one on each side of the line from the peak through the trees. I don't know what they mean, but I guess they mark a canyon, and when we go up that we can hardly help striking the mine, wherever it is. I think we have got the thing pretty well down to a point, and if we go wrong it is our own fault."

"Shall we have to come back this way?" Dick asked.

"That must depend upon circumstances," Dave replied. "We might make straight north and come down on a pass that crosses the mountains about a hundred and fifty miles north of the Sisters, but I reckon it would be a terrible journey to undertake with loaded mules. Then again we might strike east, and make either for Albuquerque or Socorro. Like enough we may find that our best way."

Chapter VII.—The Scarcity Of Water.

Five days later they reached the stream. The miners had all recognized points that they had passed on their former journey, and all agreed that it was lower down on this stream that the Crow's village was situated. For the moment this was a matter of inferior importance to them. It was enough that they had reached water, for they had for the last four days been traversing an arid waste of broken country, without as much as a tree under which they could lie during the day. They had filled up all their water skins before entering on this region, and these had sufficed for them and their animals, but for the last two days they had been obliged to husband it. What remained tasted so strongly of the skins that at any other time the boys could not have drank it, but men and horses were both filled with delight at the sight of the bright clear water. The baggage and saddles were removed, and the animals were allowed to drink their fill, and then to lie down in the stream while their riders enjoyed the luxury of a bath.

They had done no cooking for the last four days, as no fuel of any sort was to be obtained, and they lived upon the dried meat and a drink of flour and water. The banks of the stream were well wooded, and the animals, as soon as their thirst was quenched, fell to work upon the grass that grew knee-deep near its banks.

"We must do some cooking to-day," Dave said, "and a good batch of it; there is no saying when it will be safe to cook again. We must wait till night, and then light the fire in the thickest part of these trees, and fasten our blankets up round it to prevent its light being seen. We can collect the firewood in readiness before it gets dark."

The spot was carefully chosen, the horseropes were fastened from tree to tree around it, and all the blankets hung on them.

"We must take it by turns," Dave said, "to keep the fire up, and go on baking. We will make a dozen loaves if we can."

As they sat round the fire later on they discussed their next move, and agreed that as the river was shallow they would cross it at once, and then follow it up stream. Should they find no landmarks answering to those on the map, they would then return and go down the stream.

Next morning they started again, with fifteen loaves done up in a blanket on one of the ponies. The journey was toilsome, for the river ran in places through gorges where the rocks rose sheer from its edge, and they were forced to make considerable detours, and to come down upon it again. They had traveled, they calculated, but eight miles up the stream, when they came upon a valley running east. A small stream ran down it, and fell into the river they were following.

"This looks a likely sort of place," Dave said; "it is the sort of valley a party exploring would be likely to follow. There is wood, water, and grass. Now for the landmarks."

They went on until they reached the spot where the stream fell into the river.

"We can't do better than camp here, Dave," 'Zekel said; "it has been a rough journey for the ponies, and they will be all the better for another good feed."

"All right," Dave agreed, "I don't see any signs of the landmarks, but they may be somewhere about. We will unsaddle the ponies. Boys, you may as well walk up the stream a bit. Keep your eyes open, but don't go very far away. Keep your rifles ready for use; there is no saying but what some prowling Indian may not have caught sight of us as we came along."

The boys unslung their rifles, which were strapped tightly to their backs—they were already loaded—and started up the valley. In a quarter of a mile they passed through the low wood which filled the bottom of the valley. In front of them was an open space, bright with long grass and flowers. In