Six miles from Jemez our road, which, after leaving the cultivated valley of the Pueblos had narrowed to a path, entered the forest and ran along the side of a small brook, which it continued to follow for several miles, and then rose gradually to the side of a range of hills. We were walking our animals along the side of this acclivity, at a considerable distance above the brook on our left, their hoofs making no noise in the soft, black earth, when I was startled by the braying of an ass somewhere in the ravine.

Sergeant Cunningham and Corporal Frank threw themselves quickly from their saddles and held the horses by the bits to prevent them from responding to the greeting, and I quickly sought a place from which I could make an observation.

We were in a clump of evergreen trees which commanded a view of the ravine and obscured us from sight in all directions. Looking across the ravine, I caught a glimpse of a party of Indians a little beyond the brook. Through my glass I made them out to be a party of twenty-seven Navajos, sitting about a camp-fire eating their dinner.

As many ponies were grazing near, and a mule and burro. From certain peculiar markings I had observed the day Cordova joined me in the valleys, I had no difficulty in recognizing the last two animals to be his property. Packs were lying near the fire, showing that the captured animals were being used as beasts of burden.

All this time I had entirely overlooked the presence of my dog Vic. Had I thought of her in season, it would have been easy to have kept her close at my heels; but I had left her free to wander, not thinking of any threatening danger.

Suddenly I heard a chorus of grunts from the Indians, and looking in their direction I saw Vic stand for an instant with her forefeet on a prostrate log, look questioningly at the savages, and then drop down into the furze and disappear.

The sight of a white man's dog, wearing a brilliant metallic collar, produced an electrical effect. Instantly the redmen sprang to their feet, seized their arms, and began saddling and bridling their ponies.

"Vic has betrayed us, sergeant," I said. "We must get out of here as quickly as possible."

As we sprang into our saddles and regained the trail Vic came with a bound before us, and I immediately gave her positive orders to keep close at our heels. We rode as fast as it was possible to do without making a noise, hoping that we might get a considerable distance away before we were discovered. We had not proceeded far, however, when a yell announced that we were seen.

As we galloped on we saw that it was impossible for the Indians to cross to our side of the ravine. Every mile we passed the path rose higher and the sides of the stream grew more precipitous. The Indians were pursuing a path parallel to ours and about half a mile in our rear. What was the nature of the country ahead we did not know. The fact that they were pursuing, and with such eagerness, seemed to indicate they knew of some advantage to be gained farther on.

On and on we rode, I in advance, the sergeant next, and Frank behind. The trail wound through the trees and clumps of underbrush, with occasional openings through which we could catch glimpses of our eager pursuers. The prospect appeared exceedingly gloomy.

As we galloped on I noticed at last, through a rift in the wood a considerable distance in advance, an eminence or butte which lifted its summit nearly three hundred feet skyward, and which presented on the side towards us an almost perpendicular wall. When we approached it we saw a neat log-cabin nestling under its overarching brow. We dismounted, led our panting and utterly exhausted animals into the cabin, closed the doors, and went to the windows with our rifles.

The cabin was about thirty by twenty feet in area, and stood with its northern end close against the perpendicular wall of the butte, with an overhanging cliff a hundred feet above it. If a stone had been dropped from the sheltering cliff it would have fallen several feet away from the cabin's southern wall.

At the end of the cabin farthest from the butte the ground upon which it stood broke off perpendicularly twenty feet downward, to a spring—the source of the brook we had been following since we left Jemez. The only way to cross from one trail to the other, except by going several miles down the brook or to the north end of the butte, was, therefore, through the cabin, and for this purpose a door had been placed in each side. The cabin could be approached only on the east and west sides, and was unassailable at its north and south ends.

Each wall contained a small window, except the one which rested against the butte, and there a wide, stone fireplace had been built. Three men with plenty of rations and ammunition could make a good defence. Water could be had by lowering a bucket or canteen from the southern window to the spring, twenty-four feet below its sill.

The Indians had discovered that we had found shelter from their pursuit and for the present were safe, and all but five, who soon afterwards appeared in the edge of the forest to the east, had joined the main party to the west of us. They showed great respect for our place of refuge and rifles, and kept well out of range. The sergeant's and my Springfield rifle could throw a bullet farther and could be loaded more rapidly than any rifles in their possession, and Frank with his Spencer could fire about twenty balls to our one.

We removed the saddles and bridles from our animals, and, hitching them in the corners each side of the fireplace, began a discussion of our prospects.

"If we could keep a couple of fires going before the doors during the night, sir," said the sergeant, "we might keep them away."

"I am afraid a fire would be of greater advantage to them than to us," I replied; "we should have to expose ourselves every time we replenished it. I wonder if the roof is covered with earth? It is flat."

"I'll tell you in half a minute, sir," said Frank, and entering the fireplace he proceeded to ascend the wide-mouthed chimney by stepping on projecting stones of which it was built. In a moment he called down to me, "Yes, sir; it is covered with about two feet of earth."

"All right then. If we can get pine enough to keep a blaze going then we will have one. A fire on the roof will illuminate everything about us and leave our windows and doorways in darkness. It will aid our aim and confuse the Indians."

We set to work at once and pulled down all the bunks, and with large stones from the fireplace succeeded in breaking into fragments the pine puncheons and posts of which they were made. Then Sergeant Cunningham ascended the chimney and tore away one side of the part which projected above the roof—the side looking in the direction opposite the precipice. This would enable one of us to stand in the top and replenish the fire, and at the same time remain concealed from the enemy. As we could be fired upon from only two directions, the fire tender would be safe.

Fortunately, Padre Gutierrez's housekeeper had put up a lunch sufficient to last us, including Vic, for three days, and water could be drawn easily through the southern window with a canteen and lariat.

"I'm afraid those chaps 'll get us in the end, sir," observed the sergeant. "Of course we can eat horse-meat for a while after our victuals are gone, but we are three and they are twenty-seven—we are prisoners and they are free."

"Very true, sergeant," I replied, "but something may turn up in our favor. The Jemez party will reach camp day after to-morrow, and when it learns we are not there we shall be looked up."

"If another party of Navajos don't jump them, sir."

"Of course, the chances are against us, sergeant, but let us keep up our spirits and make a good fight."

"I'll do my best, sir, as I always have done, but this is a beastly hole to be caught in."

"But why don't you send Vic for help, Mr. Duncan?" asked Frank.

"Laddie, I believe you have saved us! Thank you for the suggestion. We'll put the little girl's education to a practical test."

"What! Going to send her to Jemez for the men?" asked Sergeant Cunningham.

"No; I hardly think I could make her understand our wishes in that direction, but there is no doubt she can be sent to camp. She has done that many times."

"Yes, sir, she'll go to the valley," said Frank. "You know I sent her with a message to you from San Antonio Valley, six miles. I wonder how far camp is from here?"

"'Bout nine miles," replied the sergeant; "but she'll do it, I think. Look at her!"

Vic had come forward, and sat looking intelligently from one to the other of us while this discussion ran on.

"All right, little girl," I said, patting and smoothing her silky coat, "you shall have a chance to help us after dusk. Go and lie down now."

The dog went to a corner and, lying down on Frank's saddle-blanket, appeared to sleep; and while Corporal Frank took my place at a window I wrote a message to Sergeant Mulligan at the camp, describing our desperate situation and requesting him to send a detachment to our rescue. I also prepared a flat, pine stick, and wrote upon it, in plain letters, "Examine her collar." I intended she should carry the stick in her mouth, as she had hitherto carried articles and messages, fearing she would not understand she was to go on an errand unless all the conditions of her education were observed.

During that day the Navajos simply showed their presence occasionally among the trees, far away on either flank. We once heard the rapid strokes of an axe, as of chopping, and wondered what it could mean. Nothing further happened till dusk. Then I called Vic and attached the note to her collar, wrapped in a piece of my handkerchief.

"I think, sergeant," I said, "we had better send our message before it gets darker and the Navajos close up nearer or the corporal lights his fire."

"Yes, she can't leave any too soon, sir, I think. It's going to be pokerish work for us before morning, and I shall be mighty glad to see a few of old Company F appear round that rock."

After fastening the note securely in the dog's collar, I placed the stick in her mouth and, opening the eastern door, said, "Now, little Vic, take that stick to the sergeant—go!"

She turned from the doorway, crossed the room, and dropped the stick at Sergeant Cunningham's feet. The sergeant stooped, and placing his hand under her chin raised her head upward and laid his bronze cheek affectionately upon it. "Well, Vicky," he said, "there is but one sergeant in the world to you, and he is here, isn't he?"

"That's so, sir," exclaimed Corporal Frank, addressing me. "We never sent her to anybody but you, the sergeant, and the cook."

"True enough. I'll have to send her to the cook—the only one now in camp to whom she has borne messages. As he is the dispenser of fine bones and dainties, and she has had nothing to eat since morning, perhaps it is as well he is to receive this message. Here, Vic," placing the chip once more in her mouth, "take this stick to the cook—go!"

The setter looked at me an instant, then at the sergeant and corporal, walked to the door, looked out, and then glanced questioningly at me.

"Yes, little one; the cook—go!"

She bounded through the doorway and turned the corner of the butte at a run, bearing our summons to our comrades at Los Valles Grandes.

For some time after the departure of Vic the sergeant and I stood at our windows and gloomily watched the darkness deepen in the woods. Frank looked out of the window above the spring and was also silent. I was disposed to put off the lighting of our fire upon the roof as long as it appeared safe to do so, in order to husband our fuel. The animals, disappointed of the forage usually furnished them at this hour, stamped impatiently and nosed disdainfully the stale straw and pine plumes which we had emptied from the bunks and which were now scattered over the floor.

It was during a momentary lull of this continuous noise that I heard a crushing sound as of a heavy wheel rolling over twigs and gravel, but was unable to guess its meaning.

Fearing that further delay to light our fire might bring disaster upon us, I told Corporal Frank to kindle it. He ascended the chimney, lighted a few splinters of pitch-pine and placed them upon the roof, and as soon as they were well lighted added to them half a dozen billets of wood which Sergeant Cunningham passed up to him. Soon a brilliant blaze was leaping upward, and, being reflected strongly by the white sandstone of the overhanging cliff, lighted the whole space about the cabin.

As soon as Frank descended to the floor we gazed long and anxiously out of the windows. Everything about us was now plainly visible to our eyes, and we felt sure our movements could not be seen by the Navajos. To the east all was silent, and for a long while we saw nothing in that direction to suggest a lurking foe. To the west we could see no enemy, but the same mysterious sound of crushing and grinding came to our ears. What could it be, and what did it threaten? Adjusting my field-glass I looked from my window in the direction of the puzzling sound, and on the farther edge of the opening, near the wood, saw a log about three feet in diameter and twenty-five or more in length slowly rolling towards us, propelled by some unseen force.

Passing the glass to the sergeant, I said: "The Indians seem to be rolling a log in our direction. What do you think of it?"

"I think it's easy to understand, sir," replied the sergeant, after a long look. "That log is a movable breastwork, which can be rolled to our door."

"True, sergeant. Probably a dozen or more warriors are lying behind it and rolling it forward. Rather a black prospect for us if we cannot stop it!"

We all three gathered at the western window, and for some moments watched the slow approach of the moving breastwork.