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An instant later the Picacho was lighted up with a lurid, unearthly glare; the huge column of sparks went whirling and hissing up on high, and, far and near, the great beacon was warning all seers that the fierce Apache was out in force and raiding the Yuma road.
Here comes the troop, sir." "Come on, then. I want to ask you about that trail to Crittenden as we ride. We make first for the Picacho Pass from here." "Why, that's south of west, sir," answered Bland. "I had thought perhaps the lieutenant would want to go northward towards the Gila to head off any parties of the Apaches that might be striving to get away eastward with their booty.
They had succeeded in evading Apaches until the third day out, and after leaving the East Fork they saw smokes that made them wary, and once down in the Wild Rye Valley, and in sight of the old Picacho, they came upon recent Indian signs in the sand moccasin tracks going down stream bed toward the post.
Ramon shot dead, Pasqual crippled, and the two "Gringos," the daring and enterprising leaders of the attack, painfully wounded, one probably mortally so. And now with the flames lighting up the whole valley between the Picacho and the Christobal, with cavalry known to be out in several squads within easy march, some of the men were already weakening.
And the next instant the slow motion of the wagon ceased, the door was wrenched open, and there in the glowing sunshine stood the tall sergeant whom he last had seen when scouting through Picacho Pass. "Bravo, lieutenant! You're all right, though you must be in some pain. Can you stand a little more? We're close to the caves now, cool water and cool shade not five hundred yards ahead."
The false and fatal blaze at the Picacho had utterly disappeared, and all was darkness at the west. The red glow of the smouldering embers behind was no longer sufficient to light their path. Straight away southward led the wheel-tracks, first separate and distinct, but soon blending, as though one wagon had fallen behind and followed the trail of the bolder leader in the first.
The culminant points, called El Picacho and Horqueta, are near the western border of the group; they are entirely separated from the peak of San Lorenzo, also covered with eternal snow, but only four leagues distant from the port of Santa Marta, towards the south-east. I saw this latter peak from the heights that surrounded the village of Turbaco, south of Carthagena.
The stage from the west would probably come along about sunset, but nothing could be hoped for sooner. No troops were nearer than the Colorado in that direction except the little signal-post at the Picacho. Corporal Fox and two men had been sent thither to inquire what the signal meant, and it would soon be time for them to come riding in with their report. How he wished Wing were here!
Nielsen accompanied me on two trips into the wilderness of Arizona, on one of which he saved my life, and on the other he rescued all our party from a most uncomfortable and possibly hazardous situation but these are tales I may tell elsewhere. In January 1919 Nielsen and I traveled around the desert of southern California from Palm Springs to Picacho, and in March we went to Death Valley.
Then came the report: "He says there was a fight the first day out; another when they struck Tonto Creek, and two soldiers were killed." "And as to the first runner?" "He says 'Patchie Mohave brought it all way safe. This buck met him going back. He said he gave it to 'scout capitan' out by Picacho."
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