"That takes care of the larder," he told himself, but he did not pause long enough to hang the birds or pluck them.
By evening the great ^ws were there, each letter as distinct as Scull could make it, ^ws hard and clear, to remind him that brave men had battled before:
OI DE MEGA FRONEONTES EPI PTOLEMOIO GEFURAS EIATO PANNUANDIOI, PURA DE SFISI KAIETO POLLA.
WS Do OT EN OURANWI ASTRA FAEINWHN AMFI SELWHNWHN FAINET ARIPREPEA, OTE That EPLETO NWHNEMOS AITHWHR EK That EFANEN PASAI SKOPIAI KAI PRWONES AKROI KAI NAPAI OURANOTHEN Do AR UPERRAGWH ASPETOS AITHWHR, PANTA DE EIDETAI ASTRA, GEGWHTHE DE TE FRENA POIMWHN TOSSA MESWHGU NEWN WHDE XANTHOIO ROAWN TRWWN KAIONTWN PURA FAINETO ILIOTHI PRO.
ANDILI AR EN PEDIWI PURA KAIETO, PAR DE EKASTWI EIATO PENTWHKONTA SELAI PUROS AITHOMENOIO.
IPPOI DE KRI LEUKON EREPTOMENOI KAI OLURAS, ESTAOTES PAR OANDESFIN, EUTHRONON WHW MIMNON.
It was Homer enough for one day, Scull felt.
He had put the ^ws of a Greek on the face of a cliff in Mexico. It was a victory, of sorts, over the high air and the old dark man.
The ^ws had calmed him--the fowl of the air had come back to perch on his cage. Another night or two, maybe he would file through the rawhide bindings and climb the rope. This night, though, he curled up against the chill and slept, while, far below, the Mexican campfires glittered, bright as the campfires of old Troy.
Eastward, as the rangers hurried home along the valley of the Brazos, they came upon scene after scene of devastation. Six times they stopped to bury families, some of them so decomposed as to be hardly worth burying. They saw not a single Comanche, though several times a day they crossed the tracks of the retreating war parties. Most of the raiders were driving horses before them--sometimes sizable herds of horses.
"They must have stolen half the horses in south Texas," Augustus said.
"Kilt half the people, too," Long Bill said, in a low tone. Convinced by all the corpses that his wife could not possibly have survived, Long Bill had sunk into a state of dull resignation. He scarcely ate and seldom spoke.
Call grew more and more vexed as the Indian sign multiplied.
"Our main job is to fight Indians and here we rode off and missed the biggest Indian fight in history." "We didn't ride off. We was sent off, Woodrow--sent by the Governor," Augustus reminded him.
"He might have tried to recall us, but if he did, the Commanches probably got the messengers," Call said, grimly.
As they rode into Austin they passed near the cemetery--they could see from the number of crosses that there were many fresh graves. Tears began to stream down Long Bill's face, at the thought of having his conviction about Pearl confirmed. In all there were nearly thirty fresh graves--Long Bill stumbled from cross to cross, but none had "Pearl Coleman" written on them.
"It may mean they took her," Long Bill said, still anxious.
Augustus found two crosses with the name "Forsythe" on them--the sight made him tremble; tears came and he sank to his knees.
"Oh God, I knowed it," he said. "I went away and she's dead." It was Call, looking more closely, who saw that it was her parents, not Clara, who lay buried in the cemetery.
"No, Gus, she ain't dead--it's her father and mother," Call said.
"Well, I swear ... I wonder if she knows," Augustus said, bending closer so he could see the two names more clearly. Though he knew it was a terrible blow to Clara--both her parents dead and her a new bride--he felt a relief so powerful that for a time it made him weak. He stayed on his knees in the cemetery, fingering a clod or two of the fresh dirt, while the others tried to make out who was buried in all the fresh graves.
"They got the blacksmith," Call said.
"Here's the preacher and his wife--got them both." He walked on, stopping over every grave.
"Oh Lord, boys," Call said. "Here's Neely and Finch and Teddy--I guess Ikey must be alive." "My God, Neely," Gus said, coming over to look.
As they rode on into town, past a grove of live oak or two, they saw house after house that showed evidence of burning; and yet most of the houses still stood. Only the church and one saloon seemed to have burned to the ground.
"They didn't kill Governor Pease--there he stands," Augustus said, as they turned into the main street. "I expect he'll be glad to see us back." "We didn't do what we was sent to do--he may fire us," Call said.
"I doubt that," Gus said. "He won't have nobody who can fight at all, if he fires us." The Governor stood in shirtsleeves and black suspenders on the steps of what had been the Forsythe store. He was loading a shotgun when they rode up, and he looked grim.
"Hello, Governor," Call said. "Are the Indians still around?" "No, but the coons are," the Governor said.
"The coyotes got most of my hens, after the raid. The coons don't bother the hens but they're ruining me in the egg department." He sighed, and cast a quick glance at the little troop.
"Lose any men?" he asked.
"No sir, but we didn't find the Captain," Call said. "When we heard about the raid we thought we better just get home." The Governor's buggy stood in the street, but Bingham, who usually drove him, wasn't in it.
"I just came down to get some shotgun shells," the Governor said. "I need to do something about those coons." Governor Pease was usually clean shaven, but now had a white stubble on his cheeks; he looked tired.
"Where's Bingham, Governor?" Augustus asked.
"Dead ... they killed most of our niggers," Governor Pease said. "They stole that yellow girl who worked for Inez Scull--she was down by the springhouse and they took her." Just then Long Bill gave a yell. They all turned and saw why. Pearl, the wife he had given up for dead, was in plain view far up the street, hanging out washing.
"It's my Pearl, she ain't dead!" Long Bill said. The cares of the last weeks fell away from him in an instant--he wheeled his horse and was off in a run.
"That's one happy ending, I guess," Augustus said.
The Governor did not smile. "She's alive but she was outraged," he said, before going to his buggy. He drove off holding his shotgun, his eggs on his mind.