Vol. VI. One copy, four months, $1.00. Tnnns IN ADVANCE One copy, on your. . . 3 00. wo copies, one year . N o. 267. 5:00. LIFE’S SORROWS. low and tremulous at first, but finally swelled .__.__ out clear and strong and solemn as the tones or L. c. cansxwoon. of a funeral bell. His whole frame shook When I gaze back to the years that have flown Like fairy ships on a calm summer sea. And see that the pathway once rose—bestrewn Has nothing but thorns and leaves left for me, I feel the springtime of life ne‘er returns, Though the sorrowing heart in anguish yearns. When the clouds of the present thick with gloom Blot the guidingstar that directs our course. And hopc‘s heavenly blossoms have ceased to bloom, And feelings of joy are turned to morcse: Life loses the charm it once held in store. And the world-weary soul. oppressed and sore. But life has its shades, and life has its light. And if its duties are done no regret Need come to us like a withering blight, No moments arise we'd wish to forget; Though the pathway is drear as deserts vast. _ Endurance will scatter fresh roses at last. Then if we. gaze back to years that have flown. We need not pine ‘neath the present in grief; Yet the heart will doubly feel when alone. With none to share or give vomfort’s relief: If on the promise of hope we depend. Life‘s sorrows will turn to joys in the end. R0 B. The Boy jpad-Agem. BY om. coonns, AUTHOR or “DAKOTA DAN,” “BOWIE KNIFE nun,” “ om) HURRICANE,” “nnwnnrn HARRY,” mu, mo, ETC. CHAPTER V. THE onuraoa. THE idea of Asa Sheridan, the miner, being \1\% \ \ k ‘ A - “a ‘rfi\§ \\ \\ with the intensity of his emotions, as, with all the fervency of his great, noble soul, he lifted his voice to heaven in behalf of the soul of the departed man. It was a wild, weird and solemn scene. Asa. Sheridan watched and listened in breath- less silence, his whole soul seemingly absorbed by the solemn words of the speaker. A mist gathered over his eyes, and something came up in his throat and almost choked him. Was it remorse? Did the humble supplication of the old man recall something of the forgotten past? —reach his heart? When Walraymond had concluded his pray- er, Sheridan turned to Wolfe, and said, in a low tone: “ Strange, mysterious, noble old man! From whence came he?—who is hot—«what is he? Wolfe, I’d give all the wealth of New Mexico, if I possessed it, for answers to these ques— aims.” “Soldiers, what do you propose to do now?” It was the old man who spoke, in his full, rich tone. “ We will have to return to the fort ;—-but you i” “ I shall follow those Indians.” “ I, too,” said Sheridan. “ And I,” added Wolfe. A “ Our time is not our own,” said Ben Thom- as. “ It belongs to our country. But for this we would accompany you.” “ Do your duty, soldiers,” said the old man, solemnly. “We may meet again some time, so good-by.” He shook hands with the soldiers, took up his rifle, and turned to leave. The wind stirred the branches above, the leaves rustled mournfully. , Red Rob seemed preposterous; and yet Alviso’s announcement fell like a. lightning’s bolt upon the agent. He glanced at the interpreter, then 1 head and _f£lCC./—Ule some bearded face that at the unsuspecting object of his emotions, seeming totally undecided as to what course he should pursue. His first impulse, however, was to take advantage of the Mexican’s reve~ Lotion and secure the notorious young outlaw. But a second thought dismissed the first. He passed the book back to Alviso and consulted his thoughts. Red Rob, the Boy Roadhgent. had, for two years, been a. terror to New Mexico; and his name was spoken in fear by some, in praise by others. He had been termed a modern Claude Duval with but a single exception, that of his age. Red Rob had never been represented over eighteen years of age; although none of his victims could be found that had ever seen i his face; he always went‘in disguise. It was the rich that feared him, for the poor had nothing that he wanted, and so they rested in comparative ease. Deeds of heroism, daring adventure, acts of kindness to emigrant par» ties, had won for him a kind of a terrible fasr cination. If Sheridan was Red Rob, Miller could see’ no reason why he was called the Boy Road- agent, for he was a man in years. This gave him reason to believe that Alviso was mistaken in the man’s identity; and yet, there were hopes of his being correct, for the Mexican was acquainted with all the different characters in the territory. ‘ Heretofore all attempts to capture the young mountain bandit had proved fruitless. Miller knew this; and, as he gazed upon the hand- some face and athletic form of young Sheridan, and measured his probable strength, he won- dered what success would attend an attempt to arrest him, and whether or not the old man W'ah‘ayrnond and Nathan Wolfe were his com— panions in outlnwry. The rustle of a bush and the soft, light tread of hoofed feet not far away, arrested the agent’s attention. In an instant every one of the group turned in the direction of the sound to behold a human face peering at them over a. low bush. It was a man’s face—aged and wrinkled, and covered with an immense yellow beard, fully tw0 feet in length. The hair was also long, grizzled and disheveled. Neither hat nor cap was upon his head. There was a va- cant expression in the great bearded face, a wild, unearthly glare in the dark, sunken eyes. The man stood about two rods away. where the extremity of the light, blended with the shadows, created a dim twilight. His body was concealed behind a bush, and, judging by the hight of this, he was of low stature. For several moments . the party regarded the stranger with a look of silent awe. Nathan W'olfe seemed more agitated than any. He seemed to recognize the countenance. Miller, first to break the silence, cried: * "‘ Who comes there?” Thenian made no response, but turning his head glanced from side to side, then resumed lm vacant stare toward the fire. The agent challenged him again, but no re— spouse. ' Then Miller drew his revolver. “ Answer, or I‘ll tire,” and he raised the weapon. Still no response from tho stony—faced in~ trader. ' The agent preseed the trigger and the report of his pistol crushed through the night. is did not aim at the man's head, but above it, hoping to frighten him and elicit a response. Searcely hail the reverberationsof the pistol» shot started the forest echoes, ore the form ol’ an animal sprung from behind the very bush Where the man stood. and stopped within the full glare of the light. An exclamation of involuntary horror burst from every lip. An awful apparition stood before them. Upon the body of the animal was a. human. laid siarcd at them over the bush .’ On the body of the animal was a human head and face~the same bearded face that had stared over the bush! There was no doubting the evidence of their eyes—4t was no delusion—410 mental phantom. but a living, moving animal, with the head and face of a man! ‘ it stood within the full glow of the campfire and glared at them. ' . ‘ Every man recoiled with an involuntary shudder of vagiie horror. The face of the Mexican became ghastly, and his teeth chat- tered as with an ague fit. “Ay, senor!” he gasped, seizing Miller by the arm, while his staring eyes Were fixed up- on the unnatural monster. “It is it, senor— the devil—Centaurmlsalf-human, half-beast I” There was no reply. Every eye was still fixed upon the creatu‘ (-3 whose gaze seemed pos- sessed of a diabolical fascinationwa fascination that they could not repel. However preposterous it seemed to them, there was no denying the living fact. The proof was the creature itselfmthere before them a terrible living horror-the form of a deer with a human face and head. The long, yellow beard hung low upon the breast, and the long, grizzled hair struggled in disordered masses about the neck; while those awful, stony-looking'eyes, glaring out at them from beneath their massive brows in the wavering, garish light, seemed to dart rays of hellish en- chantment into the souls of the astonished men. A raven suddenly crooked near by. It broke the awful spell, and the monster turned its bearded face and bounded aWay into the gloom. Half a minute had seemed an hour. The monster left the party speechless. raymond was the first to speak. “ Age of wcmders—monsters.” a calm, natural tone. “ Yes, it beats memit beats all of us," said the Indian agent. “ Certainly, certainly, ” mused Walraymond, reflectively. “ Surely we are not living in the age of fable~centuries in advance of time. Surely that mass rising yonder into the clouds cannot be old Mount Olympus.” “‘ No, by heavens, lValraymond l” exclaimed young Sheridan, whose clear, metallic voice dispelled the silent terror left hanging over the camp; “ you are living in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and seventy-one.” "Walraymond turned to Miller, and said: “ What do you understand by that appari— tion, commandant?” ‘* it’s a mystery.” “ Your opinion then?" “ I saw the body of an animal, not unlike that of a deer, with a human headwl. saw those as plain as I see you. This is all; I can form no idea in regard to itmit’s a mystery.” v “It’s as I tell you, senor. It’s a Centaur. They have dwelt in the valley of the del los Pines, these many, many centuries.” The Mexican was superstitious. He spoke in o. solemn, earnest tonewalmost fiercely. W'al He spoke in ., vfig‘,‘ ‘ ‘ \ \r \! > Miller recalled the many strange stories he had heard of this mysterious bandéstories which had come down through centuries in traditions. He remembered hearing an old Navajo tell something of a strange race of people with bodies like animals, that dwelt in the valley of some of the San Juan tributaries; but he accepted the story as one of the legends of the country, and thought no more about it until that moment. James Miller was an old soldier; a man of education, and one of the last to give credence to stories that find their origin in superstition. But what was he to believe howl—how was he to dispose of the monster? He had seen it move, and knew it was no optical delusion— nothing spiritual, but a. tangible object of the material world. Perhaps he was in a frame of mind that was not calculated to repel the conviction forced so suddenly upon him. The deep solitude of the place, the gloom of night, the weird sounds coming, as it were, from“ out the realms of Nowhere, and the revelation that Alviso had just made concerning Sheri- dan—ell these, perhaps, contributed in oven coming his incredulities of all appertaining to the mysterious. Nothing begets uneasiness and vague, restless fear so quick as the de— pressing influence of gloom and solitude, and the stoutest heart and bravest mind can no more dispel them from the breast than they can the shadows of night from around them. There is an awful resemblance between death and darkness. The horrors of the one are in the shadows of the other. “ And now your opinion, Walraymond?” the agent said, turning to the old man. “It must be as your Mexican friend says. Nothing under the sun is impossible, especially in New Mexico. Yes, sir, seeing a thing should be all the evidence wanted. No one can see for another as well as he can for him— self. But, after all, the creature seemed harm less.” “ It is harmless,” replied Nathan ‘Wolfe, ter‘ ribly agitated, and apparently troubled. “ Senor,” said Alviso, “do not be deceived in the Centaur. These deserted valleys and puebloes bear the hoof-prints of those ancient demonsmare mute witnesses of the bloody work of the Contaurs.” Miller saw that the unnatural fear which leads to superstition was getting the better of himself and men, and so he at once dismissed the subject; and as a preclusion to further ex- citement, wrapt his blanket around him and laid down to rest, pillowing his head in the hollow of his saddle. A soldier and one of the miners were de- tailed to take the first watch. The rest of the party followed the agent’s example, and were soon asleep on the ground. The campfire burned low. The coyotes chattered nearer-“the pinons rustled softly in the night wind. The watchers, stationed un— der the darkness, kept their silent ward. The near crack of rifles, the whiz of bullets and “ whirr ” of arrows suddenly told them of lurking dangers. The sleepers all started from their sleep, but Agent Miller. He slepl on. Every man grasped his rifle, expecting an attack. But they were happily disappointed No foes appeared. Alviso crept away into the shadows to reconnoiter.. Ben Thomas turned to Miller, who still slept on. Thomas spoke to him, but he stirred not. He bent over him and shook him—lightly at first, then vigorously. Still he could not rouse the sleeper. Thomas drew aside the blanket from the agent’s face, upon which the light now shone. He was lying upon his left side. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted and wreathed in a faint smile that seemed the ex— pression of a pleasant dream. A dark line ran diagonally across the'mau’s brow. Tho mas looked closer, and saw it was the track: of blood! Then he started up and cried out: “ My God, Miller is dead!” And he spoke the truth. A bullet of one of the unseen foes had struck the agent on tliw top of the head, passed downward behind the eye, producing instant death. He had not moved a muscle nor uttered a word.* A gloom darker than the shades of night fell upon the party. The death of the agent was a terrible blow to his friends and country. And to still add to this loss and sad state of affairs, Alviso returned to camp with the startling information that a large party of Utes was in the valley-«that they had stolen every animal but a single one, and that to stay there would be to court certain death. Upon a hasty consultation, it was decided to abandon the camp at once. A messenger was dispatched on the only remaining horse to Fort Defiance, with the news of Miller’s death. Under the somber pinons, where the San Juan Mountains keep their eternal watch, James H. Miller, the soldier and Christian, was laid to rest. A grave had been hollowed out with one of the miner’s spades, the body wrapped in a blanket and lowered into the grave. 'When the last shovelful of dirt was placed over the dead, all turned toward ‘Nalraymond. who had unassumineg taken charge of the burial. The glare of apine torch lit up the scene—Ashe mound of fresh earth, the silent figures around it, their faces looking ghostly in the dim, uncertain glow of the wavering light, and the most conspicuous of all, the ma- jestic form of Basil Vv'alraymond, with bared head, and his long, venerable beard looking hoary in the dusky shadows. A dead calm fell upon the little party. The old man lifted his eyes toward heaven—«his lips moveda-he was praying. His voice was * A real incident. Then the wall of darkness around. them seem— ed to give birth to a hundred spirits of evil. A hundred shadowy figures floated out of the gloom into the light of the camp-fire. They were savages. The war—whoop of the Utes burst upon the silent night——echoed and re—echoed among the mountain caverns, and rolled along in quavering intonation through the valley. Sheridan, Wolfe and the soldiers fled into the forest gloom. Basil Walraymond alone remained to contend with the savage horde. His giant form, rendered Conspicuous by his white beard and gray hair, towered above the seething mass around him—a grand, majestic soul, struggling with the legions of darkness. He discharged his rifle at the foremost In— dian. The red-skin fell dead. Then he club— bed his weapon. l-Vith the first blow the stock was shattered, but it left him with a deadlier missile—the heavy iron barrel, which crushed and tore its way through the ranks of the foe. The old man stood his ground. The savages fell away before him. He was a pivot around which the deadly gun-barrel swept like an iron arm whirled by some irresistible power. From the darkness of the woods, young Sheridan and Nathan Wolfesaw the danger of their old friend, the heroic, mysterious Basil Walraymond. They loved the old manwthey resolved he. should not fall alone. They rushed back, and side by side with him, fought the yelling, frenzied horde. CHAPTER VI. THE iuvs'rnmous BESUUERS. OCTAVlA was scarcely out of hailing-distance of the train, when the restless eyes of her bro- ther, Major St. Kenelm, discovered a. dark cloud rise suddenly upon the northern horizon and sweep along the plain. He knew at once it was not a storm—cloud, but a cloud sur- charged with more deadly elements; and as it approached, it gradually resolved itself into distinct objects—each object a horse and rider. The riders were all readin recognized as In— dians. The emigrant-s could see their plumes swaying in the breeze about their heads, and their polished spear—heads flashing in the sun. “They are Arapahoes, boys,” said young Boswell, who had brought a field—glass to bear upon the moving mass; “ look, major, for yourself. ” St. Kenelm took the glass, and having scan- ned the party for a moment, exclaimed: “ Danger is coming, friends—~perhaps death! Every man to his post—ave will have to fight! Ho, teumsteisl throw your wagons into a square, that we may have a tempmary barri— cade, and secure your animals. Be quick, men, for Heaven’s sake! This way, two of you; help me man the Silent Friend!” Two men followed him to the rear wagon. which, being covered like the others, no one would have guessed was an artillery-wagon. But such was the case. The party had im provisexl a gun-carriage out of a. cmnmon we gon, and mounted a small brass howitzer upon it. The weapon had been kept concealed by the tilt, which was kept securely closed all around. It was spoken of only as the “ Silen: Friend.” The major and his two friends entered tire inclosed gun—carriage. unloosened the canvas so as to be thrown aside in an instant, and then loaded the gun with a solid shot. Major Kenelm had seen service as an a - tillerist, and had no doubt of his ability t» handle the gun with precision. “ N ow let them venture within five hundred yards” he said, calmly. “But, major. look off here!” cried Harry Gilbrest, running up in great excitement; “there cozwa another party of horsemen from the south. "