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VOL  Nun er. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cenu- NO’ 

 

 

WILD WOLF, THE WAGO: or, Big-Foot Wallace to the From.

BY “BUCKSKIN SAM "—Major Sam S. Hall,

AUTHOR or “OLD ROCKY’S BOYEES,” “ GIANT GEORGE,” rrc., n-rc.

 

      
    
 
 
  

 
   
      
  

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2 3
Wild Wolf, the Waco;

Big-Foot Wallace to the Front.

A TRUE TALE OF TEXAS.

 

BY “ BU CKSKIN SAM,”

(MAJOR SAM S. HALL.)
AUTHOR or "ran FIGHTING TRIO,” “ FRIO
FRED," “GIANT GEORGE.” "OLD
Rooxr‘s norm .5, ’ ETC.

CHAPTER I.
GRACE AND BEAUTY.

THE ruddy glow of the sun, now near its set-
ting, illumines the scene which we propose, in
our feeble wa , to describe to the reader.

The vast, ar-stretching plain between the
town of Castroville and the head-waters of Cot-
tonwood creek, a tributary of the Rio Medina,
in Texas, is as level as a floor, and covered with
rich, verdant grass, mingled with which are
flowers of every hue.

To the west, south, and north from the middle
of this broad prairie, there is nothing to break
the view, the leVel expanse stretching to the
horizon-line; but to the east afar ofl.’ is a dark-
green serpentine line of timber, which marks
the Course of Cottonwood creek.

The declining sun casts a fiery glow over this
ma nifiCent plain; over grass and flowers.

he intense heat which has ruled during the
do. has somewhat abated, the power of Old 801
being curtailed by the hazy atmosphere of com-
in eve.

n the middle of the plain, the only moving ob-
ject on the broad expanse, the only break in the
level ocean of grass and flowers is a medium-
sized black horse and its rider. he animal is
held by a stiff rein, but is moving nervously
and impatiently from side to side, tramping and
crushing the grass and flowers.

The horse is headed toward the west, and
forced to face that way for the purpose, as is
plainly evident, of allowing the rider to view
the beautiful sunset. The animal is a,superb
specimen of the equine family, sleek and IOssy,
and with long wavy mane and tail; as is also
its forelock, which flies wildly below its eyes. as
up and down the beast bows its head, evident-
ly eager to gallop with free rein over the prai-
no.

The sun glistens intermittently on the glossy
sides of the black steed: its great eyes, which
indicate gentleness and intelligence, also reflect-
ingthe farewell rays of the god of day.

ast, but whose description we have impoiite-
iy delayed, for the reastin that we doubted
much our ability to even approach a delineation
of her loveliness, is the fair rider—a young girl
of rhaps sixteen summers.

eautil’ul, indeed, is this fair creature, this
lone rider on the vast and spreading prairie of
the Lone Star State; although a deep sun-tan
has banished the pearl-like natural complexion,
and almost hidden the rose‘tints upon her
cheeks—at least, blending in with the roses are
the deeply—imprinted kisses of the southern sun.

Gray, lustrous e es—“ twin-stars of beauty ”
~—shining out, at times shooting iercing glances
sweeping the western plain, anfthen becoming
fixed in admiration upon the sun.

Delicately-penciled eyebrows, and lids fring-
ed with dark lashes; a lovely dimple in each
glowing check, from out which the smothered
reses struggled—thus she looked. And, as the
lower disk of the sun seemed to touch upon the
distan‘ horizon line, an increased look of won-
der filiL 'l her large gray eyes, blended with ad-
miration. Her lips parted, and displayed a row
of glistening and Dearly teeth.

Her abundant hair hung, wavy and free, to
her waist. and even below it, to the cantle of
' her saddle; soft and rich, in its dark luxuri-
time.

Add to the attractions already enumerated, a
slim waist. a graceful figure, a. bewitchingly
sw'eet expres~ion of countenance, and you have
our heroine’s description, as near as we can fur~
nish it; if we except a close-fitting costume of
grayish homespun, and a flower wreathed gypsy
hat of white straw.

Sitting thus, upon her saddle, Gracie Greene,
Of Greene’s Ranch, on Cottonwood creek, was a
bewitching beauty; her position, interest, and
admiration Of the gorgeous sunset betraying an

rtistic and poetic nature.

The flash of her eye, and the swan-like mo-
tion of her form, as her prancing black half’
lbreed showed its impatience to be off, indicated

 

 

  

Wild Wolf, the Waco.

a suppleness, which was still more strongly
manifested as she turned her horse to the south-
ward, and gave the animal free rein.

At the same time, the maiden gazed east-
ward, in the direction of the far-ofl‘ line of tim-

r.

Horse and rider seemed well matched; each
sh0wing a grace of movement and a beauty
that was remarkable to behold.

On, galloping like the wind. speeds the steed;
at times darting from side to side, shaking its
head, and tossing its flowing mane, as it greatly
rejoiced at being no longer held in check within
a limited space.

Then it was, that Gracic Greene proved that
she was an accomplished horsewoman, and one
who had been long used to the saddle.

At the horn of her saddle was looped a lasso,
the noose of which was formed by a small but
firm silver ring: and about. her waist was a
stamped belt, with richly engraved clasp, also
of silver, and which sustained a small revolver,
and a Spanish dagger.

It has been mentioned that there was no
break in the broad and level expanse; and, cer-
tainly, there did not appear to be.

Not a tree, or bush, or stone—not even a
Swell in the surface—but, as Gracie alloped
southward she came suddenly upon the rink of
a deep barranca, which could not have bern
detected thirty paces from its edge' the grass
upon one side blending with that o the other.

That the young girl was aware of the exist-
ence and location of this barranca, was plainly
evident; for she guided her horse a. short dis-
tance u ) the same, to the west, soon reaching a
point w mm a steep path led down to its bed.

A difficult and dangeraus descent it was; but
the maiden with the greatest indifference and
unconcern that was possible to manifest, al-
lowed her horse free rein, the sure-footed ani-
mal following the winding path in a confident
manner, which showed that it was not the first
time the beast had, by the same way, gained
the‘ bed of the barranca.

Upon reaching the bottom of the deep chasm,
the steed trotted eagerly forward some fifty
yards, to the Opposite side of the same. There,
at the base Of the towering earth wall, was a
small pool of water, around which was a carpet
of the greenest of grass—an oasis in the barren
barmnca bed.

Gracie Greene sprung lightly to the earth,
with a tin cup in her hand; and, grasping the
bridle rein near the bit, exclaimed, laughingly:

“Hold, Beautyl Stand right where you are,
until I satisfy my own thirst. You are very
impolite I am sure, to Seek to plunge into the
pool, and muddy the water before your mis-
tress bashed a chance to fill ier cup.

“I thought I had taught you better, but it
seems on are forgetful. However, I forgive
you! t’s all my fault anyway, for I have
forced you to travel for in the heat,:without
drink, and we must start toward home soon,
for it is getting late.”

The horse made not the slightest effort to
enter the pool, after being checked; and Gracie,
quickly dipping up a cupl'ul of Water. stooping
over for that purpose, then permitted Beauty to
drink to his heart’s content. .

The sun had now sunk below the horizon,
but it cast a lurid glow upward; the same blend-
ing} with the blue at the zenith.

at it was nearly dark at the bottom of the
chasm, and the young girl quickly remounted,
with remarkable agility, turned her horse about,
and urged the animal to, and up the path; soon
regaining the plain.

Not the sli htest Zephyr now stirred the air,
or caused the lades of grass to move.

All was deathly still. The view Over the wide
plain was solemn and depressing, and the rustle
of the grass, beneath the hoofs of Beauty, was
a relief to the stillness that ruled the evening on
that lone prairie.

Gracie cast a long and lingering locketthe
golden sky in the west, and then at the moon,
just lifting her demolished disk above th line
of timber to the eastward, that marked the
course of Cottonwood creek; on the bank of
which was her home, Greene‘s Ranch.

Ahead, eastward, it was, when compared to
the west, dark; but the maiden seemed in no
hurry, allowing Beauty to center easily along.

Taming in her saddle, she again gazed toward
the west, suddenly jerking her horse to a halt,
surprise and wonder imprinted upon her fair
face; for, exactly in the line of the brightest
portion Of the west, at the Very point at which
the sun had sunk below the horizon, was a.
horseman: clearly outlined, both animal and
rider, against the fiery background.

This equestrian was far away, as a matter of

 

 

_1:

course, and his character or color could not be
guessed; and, as desperate and dangerous men
frequented the border at the time ct which we
write—more than a score of years ago—Gracie
touched her steed lightly with her whip. and
the animal went skimming OVer the plain, like a
grounds-weeping swallow, toward the ranch.

Darker and darker grew the surroundings.
but the girl seemed unconscious of this. or else
she seemed to have forgotten all that was pres
ent.

She appeared to be engaged in deep musings,
her eyes bent upon the neck of hcr horse. and
she in listless attitude, as far as'was possible,
and at the same time maintain her seat in the
saddle. '

Thus on. mile after mile, the mantle of night
falling more dense upon the earth,- the golden
glory of the sun having disappeared. and the
moon showing its curtailed surface but dimly.

Fully five miles intervened between the
young girl and the line of timber, which was
her otjcctive point, when suddenly she lifted
up her bowed head, and gazed toward the
creek.

No sooner did Gracie Greene shoot her glance
1’ award than one might have seen. even in the
dim moonlight. her face turn ghastly. her e es
start, filed with a terrible dread, and her ea-
iurcs contort with horror. At the same instant
Si’ZO jerked her horse to a halt so suddenly that
the animal’s forefeet pawed the empty air, as
he reared upward with a snort of pain and fright.

Then from the lips of Gracie came a cry of
apprehension and terror:

“My God! the ranch is on fire! Oh, Hea-
vens! the lovig feared danger has arrived! The
Apaches are on Cottonwood creek. Father,
mother, sisters, brothers—all are doomed! Oh,
my God! This i: more than I can hear!

“ On, Beauty! The red demons of the plains
are burning our home!”

The last words were shrieked out on the night
air, in a voice so filled with anguish that it was
torturing to hear.

Her whip hissed, a sharp crack followed
about the hams Of her horse, and Beauty shot
like an arrow toward Cottonwood creek, the
timber of which, directly ahead of them, was
now brightly lit up by lurid, forked flames, prev
senting a Weird spectacle, although the confla-
gration was on the opposite or east side of the
stream, and many trees irterVened.

Again and again was (iracie’s whip applied,
and Beauty flew, with terrific speed and pant-
ing heavily, through long grass and flowers.

Never had the horse felt before the sharp and
torturin': cuts of the whip of his young mis-A
tress, and it made him frantic. But the lash
still hissed through the air; all else forgotten
and repudiated by the agonized girl, except the
horrible probabilities that Were ahead.

Straight on, her eyes fixed upon the flashing
flames, and her features drawn with unspeaka-
ble anguish, she dashed madly toward her home.

Then, when hoping and praying that the fire
had been accidental, and not kindled by the
piratt-s of the plain, her heart sprung to her
throat, as, in murderous exultation, rung the
terrible war-whoop of the merciless Apaches,
from many throats.

Yet on. more like a corpse than a living
being, dashed the horror-stricken maiden;
clu ching at the mane of her horse for support,
and reeling in her saddle—a. most pitiable sight
to behold!

On, with no fear for herself; only wishing
to relieve her bursting brain from this horror,
even by death at the hands of the red savages.

On,. only thinking of the loved ones, and
wishing to die with them. But it was ordered
otherwise.

Gracie Greene was not fated to fall into the
power of the. despoilers of her home, and the
slay—org of her loved ones: for again the war-
wliOop sounded, just as Beauty was on (he very
verge of the undergrowth, and beneath the
moss—draped limbs of the timber on the west
side of the stream.

The terrific scnnd Caused the horse to wheel
so suddenly, that the pom- girl was merci.
fully hurled into the dark shades; and lav
there, silent and senseless, as if stricken with
death.

Thus startled, the horse, with a snort of fran-
tic terror, dashed at headlong speed on the back
til'ail westward, over the broad, far-stretching
p am.

 

CHAPTER II.
MURDER MOST FOUL.
THE plain on the east side of Cottonwood
creek, although apparently as wide and level
as on the west, presented a somewhat difler-

    
 

 

   

 

-‘ v w... .‘ 5 ~ ‘

EWild Wolf; the Waco.

 

 

'ent appearance: being dotted with cattle,
mules and horses—the latter two grazing in
email herds.

The bottom-timber, on the creek. did not at
any point in the vicinity of Green’s Ranch,
exceed fifty yards in breadth. including each
side of the stream. Just within a hem of the
creek, on its eastern side, stood along log struc-
ture, common in Texas, With an o ning in its
center, which allowed free circuiftion of air.
This opening was of the same dimensions as
the large rooms of the dwelling on its either
side; the same roof covering all, and the same
flooring of hewn logs, stretching across the
Opening, where the dining-table was usually
spread.

There, too, on hot nights, the male portion
of the family slept; hammocks being frequent-
ly hung for the females,in the same cool space.

This dwelling was forty-five feet long and fl!-
teen in width; the rooms at each end being thir-
teen feet square, as the log walls were two feet
in thickness. The roof was covered with long,
rough-split shingles, and the windows were pro-
vided with oaken shutters.

At either end of this building, and some fifty

ards distant, were two large corrals, a huge
ke-oven; and some small log structures were
in the rear of the house, the latter having a
wide veranda in front, which commanded a
view of the east plain. This veranda was cov-
ered with flowering vines, which climbed up to
the roof.
The creek was about twenty yards from the

.rear of the dwelling, and picturesque clumps of

undergrowth had been left unmolested, when
the main portion of the same had been cut
from between stream and dwellings.

Such was Greene’s Ranch, on Cottonwood
creek, but a short half-day’s ride from the Rio
Medina.

George Greene, 8. man of some fifty years of
age, the owner of this ranch, and the father of
Gracie, kept but two Mexican herders, whose
main duty was to prevent the stock from stray-
ing over the stream, on the west plains; over
which, at times, war-parties of Indians passed,
going around the head of the creek, on their
way to raid the rich ranches of the Rio Frio,
lowar down-country.

“Cap Greene,” as he was familiarly known
among the rancheros, was a veteran of the
Mexican war, who, upon the close of the same,
settled in Texas, on the lower portion of the Rio
Medina; afterward removing to where we find
him, on Cottonwood creek.

The mother of Gracie was an Arkansas lady,
of uncommon intelligence and good education-
and, but for this fact, the oung girl would
have been sadly ignorant. or there were no
Schools, at the time of which we write, except
in the larger towns.

Captain Greene, although without a very
liberal education himself, furnished hiswifo and
daughter with books, regardless of cost.

There were four children, besides Gracie; two
b0 5 and two girls. Our heroine was the
el est, the next in years bein a boy, James, or
Jimmie, who was fourteen. hen came Fanny,
aged twelve, and John and Nelly, aged respect-
ively ten and six.

All were bright, intelligent children, and no
more happy family could be found in West
Texas; but, as will be seen, their hnppiness was
destined to be transformed to despair and death,
and that amid horrors which would scorch and
madden the brain of an observer.

About the same time that Gracie urged her
horse d0wn into the barranca, Captain Greene,
with his two herders, spurred from the cattle-
dotted plain to the south corral, removed the
saddles and bridles from their horses, and al-
lowvd them to go free, dragging the neck—ropes,
on the verge of the timber.

The Mexicans, Antonio and Pedro, repaired
at once to a small cabin in the rear of the house
that has been described, and proceeded to cook
their eveniii meal.

Captain reene, strode at once, over the
lawn, stepped across the veranda upon the log
flooring o_ the open space before referred to,
and sunk, in a wearied manner into a chair.

A moment after, he held his youngest two
children on his knees, they clinging affection-
ately about his neck, and prattling with merry
voices, each striving to gain his attention.

Fanny, who sat reading, arose and embraced
her father, and then returned to her chair.

Mrs. Greene welcomed her husband, and, as-
sisted by a negress, spread the table for tea;

while the eldest boy was bus in front of the
house, pluiting a raw-hide lar at, as he called
out to his father, in a cheerful voice,when he saw

ride up.

 

 

The latter, after a moment's talk with his
pets, suddenly cast a sweeping glance around,
and then addreSsing his wife, asked in a some
what anxious Voice:

“ Where’s Gracie, mother?”

“ She called Beauty, just after you rode away,
and galloped up the creek. I feel worried, be-
cause she is seldom absent so late, and ought
never to be. Gracie is very careless.’

“ Did she cross the creek?” inquired her
father.

“ l presume so; for she often rides as far as
the barrauca.”

“I must caution her, for there is danger in
that direction. I hear that there has beena
war-party of Apaches up at the head of the
Medina; and the red fiends might come in this
direction. I will step across the creek and as-
certain if our daughter is in vieW.

“ However, she must be. if she is on the plain.

“Pets, sit here in my chair until I return.
Gracie ought to be home at tea-time. She is too
venturesome, by far.”

“Tea is almost ready, papa,” said Fanny,
who had laid aside her book to assist her
mother.

“ You had better take the horn and blow it,
if you see Gracie on the plain.”

“ I reckon I will, Fanny,” agreed the captain,
taking a large born from a nail on the log wall,
and passing the but of the Mexican herders,
went on toward the timber.

He soon reached the creek, and crossing the
same upon alog bridge, entered the dense un-
dergrowth, which grew on the western side of
the stream.

So thick were the bushes that he was forced
to press the branches and twigs with both
hands away in front of him, they flying back
with a whisking sound. The difficulties of his
passage thus occupied Captain Greene‘s entire
attention.

But a short distance had he proceeded thus,
when a half-dozen fierce war-painled Apaches
sprung from the thick bushes upon him, clutch~
ing his arms, and binding them fast behind him
in an instant; uttering low guttural “Ughs,”
in exultation.

Perhaps there never was a man more dazed,
dumfounded, and horrified than the old ran-
chero.

He was petrified with amazement; this feel-
ing chan ing to the most torturing concern
and anguish, when he thought of his dear ones.

Upon recovering partially from his utter as-
tonishment,which was so overwhelming,Captain
Greene strove to ive a yell of warning: but a
burly brave struc him a powerful blow upon
the mouth, causing his ii 5 to be driven over the
parted teethz the blood owing profuse! .

Then realizing that, even did he yell, it would
do no good, as his loved ones would naturally
suppose him to be si aling Gracie, who was
near enough to hear fiiis voice, without using
the horn—realizing this, the ranchero did not
attempt to repeat it.

The hideous braves paid but little attention
to their captive after securing him, all gazing
toward the ranch, and listening intently.

This caused the mentally tortured man to
decide at once that more of the red demons
were in the vicinity, and not long had he to
be assured of the fact. For distinctly upon the
still evening air broke the twang of how strings,
followed by the most fearful yells of agony,
which the captive knew proceeded from the
Mexican herdei‘s. .

Captain Greene groaned in anguish, and trem-
bled from head to foot.

His brain seemed like molten lead. His skull
appeared about to burst with the most poignant
anguish and dread concern in regard to his dear
ones, who be well knew were doomed to death,
either instantaneous, or by terrible torture.

The groans, the anguishfllled, staring eyes,
the agony sweat upon the forehead standing in
great heads, the quivering muscles. tl‘e twitch-
ing facial nerves—all told plainly of a torture of
mind that was beyond comprehension, and one
glance at the poor ranchero would have melted
a heart of marble. But these evidences of his
sufferings gave intense gratification to his
merciless captors, who, as the yells of the ill-
starred Mexicans rung through the timber, hur-
ried Captain Greene toward and over the
creek.

As the reached the log bridge a sounding
and terri le war-whoop rung out, in which the
braves joined, dragging their capti\e faster
along.

Then followed piercing slirieks oi mortal ter-
ror and dread horror from the wife and chil-
dren, and the sharp crack of a rifle brought a
death-yell and other fierce and” vengeful howls.

 

 

A moment after Captain Greene was secured
to a tree near his home in a standing position.

Before him, and not twenty paces distant,
hanging heads downward, their ankles bound to
the limb of a tree, scalped and mutilated in a
horrible manner, were Antonio and Pedro
their agony-contorted faces, glassy eyes, and
gashed forms presenting a sight that was fear-
ful to look upon.

Scarcely had he been bound when the horri-
fied~ranchero beheld his wife and children bein
dragged from the dWelling by-the painted, exu -
taut fiends in human form—all shrieking with
terror.

Then upon a horse, galloping at headlong
speed, came his brave boy, James, his face
pallid, a desperate look frozen thereon, as he
dashed in among the Apaches, who were drag-
ging his mother, sisters and brother from the
ranch toward the tree to which he was bound.

The daring youth held in hand his Colt‘s rev
volver, and dawn went a brave at every shot.

Straight up to the tree dashed James Greene,
and leaning over, slashed free his father, passing
a revolver into the old man’s hand.

At the same instant the boy sprung from his
horse, and, at his father’s side, rushed to defend
his mother and the little ones.

So unexpected had been the charge of the
youth, and so true to his aim—every brave,
whose hand had clutched his loved ones, falling
with horrible death-yells—that for a moment
the remaining warriors were thunderstruck.

But it was only for a moment.

Then full a score rushed, knives in hand, upon
father and son, and also clutching the mother
and children, who, upon their first captors fall-
ing dead or dying, ad run shrieking toward
their natural protector.

It was a terrible sight—most terrible!

The New rush of father and son to meet
the mother and children was grand and most
heroic, for death, they knew, was in every step
they took.

With horrible whoops the infuriated savages
bounded forward, father and son, in frantic
desperation, firing a fUSilade of revolvervshots
as they stood between their dear ones and the
foe.

Down went three more braves; but right
upon the whites sprung the survivors, and the
next moment the brave bov fell dead at his
mother’s feet, a score of terrible knife~stabs in
his body.

“ God help you, mother! Good-byl”

These were the last words of poor Jimmie, his
soulless eyes fixed and frozen upon his mother’s
face; that mother standing silent over his man-
gled corpse, a horror and anguish in her lance,
and upon her face, which—thank God 1— ew are
called upon to witness.

Clinging to their mother’s skirts were the ter-
rified younger children, as the father was once
more grasped by red, blood—smeared hands—
he, as well as his wife, bereft of speech or action
by the fearful death of his noble son.

Terrific, vengeftl yells filled the air, and
rung and echoed in the timber; a score more of
paint—daubed Apaches appearing upon the
scene, and galloping at headlong speed upon
their half-wild mustanr's, amid the lash and
hiss of quirts and the snorts of their bounding
steeds.

Blood-curdling whoops and yells and bowls
burst forth afresh, as Captain Greene was
again bound to the tree, and his wife and little
ones were dragged before him, and their cloth-
ing torn from their trembling forms by the
warriors, who were frantically furious and mur-
der mad at the death of so many of their com-
rades.

Mrs. Greene was jerked in front of her help~
less and ierrified husband, and the scalp slashed
from her head, she being held by each arm bya
burly brave.

And thus she was forced to stand, Crying out
in her agony, while the blood ran in streams
down her face and neck.

Fanny, John, and little Nelly were then
forced between the father and mother, shriek-
ing with dread and horror, and their scalps torn
from their heads, amid yells of fiendish glee
from the hellish horde.

Surely never was man called upon to witness
as torturing horrors as the old ranchero!

Could there be more torture within the gltes
of Gehenna'!

With piercing cries of agony and hopeless
horror, scalpless and covered with blood, his
wife and darlings Were forced to stand before
him, his brain seething with such inian an.
overpowering anguish of soul that he appeared
more like a corpse than a living being. ‘1“
was but the beginning, however

    
      
   
   
  
   
    
   
    
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
 
  
    
  
  
  
    
 
  
   
   
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
     
   
    
    
   
   
  
    
     
   
 
 
  
   
    
   
  
  
     
 
 
         
      
        
    
       
        
      
      
     
   
      
    
       
        

  

I

Wild” Wolf; the Waco.

 

 

Soon shot up lurid flames, to reveal the dread
sight more distinctly to the eye of the cruelly-
tortured husband and father.

Greene’s Ranch was one sheet of flame!

His home was on fire. His dear ones were
doomed; were now suffering the tortures of the
last.

There was no hope for any! Death would be
a mercy to all!

Thus thought Captain Greene.

Then, as a warrior slashed his knife across
the body of Mrs. Greene, and she fell to the
earth, and the brains of little Nelly were dashed
out against the very tree to which he was se-
cured, the captain gave a shriek that terrified
even the red demons, and sunk forward sense-
less upheld only by his bonds!

No more could they torture him with the
agony of his loved ones; and with yells of fury,
and vengeful triumph, they released the scalped
children, stepped backward, and then a half-
dozen deadly shafts were shot from their bows
and lunged to the feather in the vitals of John
and fiann . The butchery was complete!

All of aptain Greene’s family except Gracie
lay dead and mutilated upon the sward before
him; yet he saw them not, for God had in
mercy taken his senses from him.

The flames flashed, flared, and roared with
hissing and creaking sounds, and around the
burning dwalling danced a hideous ring of hell-
ish beings, with painted faces, breasts, and
arms!

Danced in spasmodic hop, filling the air with
whoop and yell of demoniac glee and equ-
tationl

The once happy home of George Greene was
now a mass of flames, his family with the ex-
ception of his eldest daughter, lay stretched,
dead and horribly mutilate before the senseless
fgther; but—thank Heavenl—he saw nothing
0 it. .

And far better would it have been for him
(find his senseless condition merged into its sister,

eath!

 

CHAPTER III.
was sounnr noasnm.

Tan hellish dance of the hideous Apaches
around the burning ranch, and their uncan-
scious captive and the mutilated corpses of
their innocent victims, was of short duration;
for they feared the flames might attract the
notice of some night rider on the lains, who
would at once guess at the cause 0 the confla-
fiction, and alarm the rancheros on the Rio

edinIL

A dosen braves had been ordered, at the com-
mencement of the attack, to gallop out over the
east plain, and collect as many horses and
mules as was possible; and the sound of hun-
dreds of hoofs on the prairie was now a signal
for immediate departure.

The dead and wounded braves were bound
upon their mustangs, and the plunder of the
ranch upon extra an mals, that were led for the
purpose on the war-trail.

Cs tain Greene, still senseless was also so-
cured’ upon the back of a half-wild steed; but he
recovered consciousness before the start—recov»
ered to behold, as in a horrid dream, the awful
scene of the dread trageddyl

He could hear the thun er of boots, as his af-
frighted horses and mules were driven down
the creek, on a frantic stampede, kept on their
course by yellin braves, the snorts of the ter-
rified animals fill ng the air.

Loud and exultant whoops sounded from the
main portion of the war-party, as the immense
herd of animals swept past; then they all sprung
into their saddles, their quirts hissed, and on
like fiends of the night they galloped—the laden
animals led by the hindermost of the warriors.

Words are too devoid of meaning to express
the feelings of the hapless ranchero, as bound in
a torturing manner to the back of the mustan ,
he was hurried from the spot, so recently h s
happy home; hurried from the muti ated
no es of his wife and children, who, denied
burial, and left for wolves and buzzards, lay in
the glare of their burning home!

Soterrible was the mental torture endured
by the poor man, that his brain became be-
nunbed, and he sunk into a state of hopeless
despair. 80 horrible and appalling had been
the dread occurrences of the evening, that even
Gracie was for the time forgotten.

Then, after the night air had somewhat cooled
his fevered head, as he recalled the fact that
Gracie was not at home to meet her death with
her mother and the other children, be thanked

' v God that one of his darlings had escaped.

 

But further thought caused him to fear that
Gracie’s non-arrival at the ranch was due to
these very Apaches. And what then?

Perhaps the inhuman fiends had butchered
her on the plain; and, when he reasoned upon
this subject, during an interval of semi—calm-
ness that was strange and unnatural, he was
prompted to hope that she, too, had been killed.

Should she have escaped, and should she
reach the ranch, finding the same burning, and
those whom she so loved, dead, gushed, and
scalped, her sufferings would be ten times
worse than any prolonged torture by the
Apaches.

Captain Greene relapsed from one strange
state of mind to another; from insane fury to
a mad thirst for vengeance, from the most in-
tense horror and dread terror to calm thought
and cool reasonings, from u dazed state in
which he was incapable of thought to the most
abject and hopeless despair, deathly in in-
tenslfy.

Only an hour previous, he had been at his
happy home, with his dear ones about him; the
future appearing bright and prOSperous, no
cares to worry him, and only flattering pros-
pects for his declining years.

Now, his home was destroyed, his dear ones
had been brutally murdered, and he, a bound
captive to the murderers, was being hurried to
a terrible death at the torture stake!

Most certainly this was enough to benumb
the brain of any man, and to plunge him into
the gloomiest depths of despair.

And on, over the plain, like the rush of a
“norther,” swept the Apache horde, and the
herd of stolen animals; the hoofs flyin through
the tall grass, the snort of steeds. an the lash
of quirts, being the only sounds that broke
above the continuous “ swish ” of boots through
the snap ing grass—the Apaches maintaining
perfect si ence.

On thus, they rode, for a mile and more,
and then the herd was turned into the timber,
and driven through it, followmi by the war-
party all dashing out, and over the west plain,
nort erly toward the Rio Medina.

 

Had Gracie Greene known who the horse-
man was, that she discovered afar over the
plain, outlined in the fier glow of the sun-
set she Would have whirled beauty about,
and galloped westward to join him; knowin
that he was speedin toward Cottonwoo
creek, with the hope 0 meeting her on the fol-
lowing day.

This equestrian was none other than the
lover of the fair girl; a Texan scout and ran-
ger, whose father was a ranchero, on the upper
waters of the Rio Medina.

His name was Gerald Granger' and a nobler,
braver, more dariniyoung man lived not with-
in the limits of the one Star State.

Besides this, he was noted as a most skillful
trailer; he being frequently employed as uide
and scout, by the Government officers 0 the
military posts of West Texas.

He was handsome, manly, and symmetrically
formed; agile, graceful, and ful of fire and
vim.

Upon a spirited half-breed, a most beautiful
animal, black as the wing of a raven, and
marked for speed and endurance, he gallo
over the plain, aiming to pass around the head
of the barranca.

He was attired, like all youn Texans who
resided in that section at this pe od, in a semi-
Mexican costume. This consisted of buckskin
breaches, ornamented with buttons, thickly set
down each outer seam, and also deeply fringed;
the same being sustained b a red silk sash, one
10:3 fringed end of whic depended at each
s1 e.

A blue woolen shirt of fancy make, with wide
fi0wing collar, a black sombrero, with broad
brim, and high-topped cavalrgr boots, into which
the legs of his breaches were ucked—these con-
stituted his costume; Mexican spurs being buck-
led upon his heels.

A brace of Colt’s army revolvers and a bowie
were carried as side-arms, thrust in scabbards,
and 100 d upon a stamped and embossed belt,
with a arge silver clasp in front.

Long dark brown hair, hazel eyes, sharp and

iercing, a sun-bronzed c: mplexion a chin and
ip that spoke of strength of will and great
firmness, a mustache and imperial, which added
to his gaunty air—such was the lone horseman,
Geral Granger.

He was one who would at once be recognised
as a prairie roamer, even by a “fresh " from
the States, who had gained but slight knowledge
of the frontiers by reading; his appearance and

r outfit proving this plainly.

 

A roll of blankets, and a pair of malnttos. or
saddle—bags were secured neatly to tho- entitle;
as was also a tin quart-cup, and canteen, as
well as a carefully coiled lasso, which hung in
companionship with the neck—rope, at the sad-
dle-horn.

At the time that Gerald was discovered by
Gracie Greene—she not knowing, at that dis»
tauce, who he was—his eyes were fixed upon
the very point on Cottonwood creek, where
Greene’s Ranch was located; that being his
objective point, as his course proved.

Gerald could not see Gracie, as the dusk of
eve Ereventcd at that distance; and she could
not ave distinguished the horseman, had it not
been for the ruddy sky, against which both he
and the animal Were outlined.

Gracie and Gerald h'-d been friends for years,
and confessed lovers for some six months; the
fair maiden often galloping long distances under
his guardianship. She was, although of a
naturally refined taste, poetic, and a great ad-
mirer of all that is artistic and beautiful: a
real typical border maiden, taking pride in
what are considered accomplishments on the
frontier.

Not only was she a daring rider, but Gerald
had taug t her to throw the lasso, follow a
trail, and shoot a rifle, or revolver; she becom-
ing quite expert at each, and practicing almost.
daily at one or another.

Both were reat admirers of nature; in fact
they reveled in the wilds of the bottom-timber,
fishing, hunting, and even chasing wild mus-
tangs together. Not on earth was there a hap-
pier pair than they, when tbey were enjoying,
each other’s company: and there was but one
cloud in their sky, to cast, at times, a gloom
over their young hearts. This was the usual.
one.

It was a dislike. or antipathy, entertained
and expressed by Captain Greene against Ger-
ald; ori inating from the fact that the latter
was wid, and roamed the plains, when he
ought—as the old ranchero thought—to remain
at ome, and assist his father in “running the
ranch.”

The young man well knew h0wever. that this-
was not the real reason of the captain’s dislike.
The true difiiculty was, that the Grangers did
not own stock enough to be considered equal in
station and wealth to the Greenes.

Not only this, but the old ranchero had his.
own plans and hopes for his daughter.

He wished to have her marry some man of
hi h standing and wealth.

n consequence of this, the lovers were obliged:
to meet at times clandestine! , the spring in the
barranca being their tryst ng- lace on many
occasions. This was probably be reason that
Gracie visited the same as we have seen; for
neither she nor Beauty would have suffered
from thirst had they continued on.

Gerald, upon this particular eVening, had an
object in goin to Co tonwood creek.

tie intende camping below the south Corral
and calling the next day, after the old rancherd
had gone out upon the plain to inspect his
stock; Mrs. Greene being favorably disposed to--
ward the lovers, and slwaysenjoymg the young'
man’s company greatly.

Gerald purposed starting, in a ds or two
for the Nueces river, on a mustang nut; and
he wished to see Gracie, and inform her of this
fact, in order that she mi ht not worry about
him, or endanger her life y galloping too far-
west, with the view of meeting him.

As has been mentioned, the young scout, kept
his eyes fixed 11 n the point on the creek far to
the eastward, wggre Greene‘s Ranch was located ‘
and consequently, he discovered the flames of
 burning building some time before Gracie

1 .

At first, he was filled with wonder and appre-
hension, which changed to the utmost concern
and anguish; for he decided that the fire was
at the ranch, and that it had been kindled by
savages. No sooner had he come to this con-
clusion, than he drOVe deep his spurs, and sped
around the head of the barranca, and thence
southeast, toward the creek: forcing his horse
at full speed, in his agony of suspense.

Full seven miles from the fire was Gerald
Granger, when he first perceived it; but his
fleet horse lessened the distance in a rapid man-
ner.
from the ranch. he discovered Gracie, in much
the same way she had, at the first detected him.

This was brought about by the light of the-

tween him an .

When Gerald thus rceived her, he drove
spurs still deeper, les ng the horse with the
end of his hunt, and toward in his.-

fire;the young tgirlblbeing in a direct line be-
e ate

As he gained a position directly west.

   
 

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Wild Wolf, the Waco.

no!

 

saddle, with the utmost amazement and the
most torturing apprehension.

That his darling had been to the barranca,
eXpressly to gain some intelligence of him-
self—as he had often left notes there for her
when he missed meeting her—Gerald fully
believed; and now she was Speeding headlong
to her home, which was wrapped in flames.

If the ranch had been fired by Indians, the
red fiends must still be there, performing their
murderous work; and Gracie, agonized beyond
reason, u ould gallop directly into their midst,
and be captured—perhaps slain outright!

This caused Gerald to spur on yet faster: he
vowing that she should be terribly avenged if
injured in the least, and rescued if captured, at
the risk of his life.

The world would be dark, and most miserable
his lot, were Gracie Greene slain.

This he well knew; indeed he felt that he
would prefer death to life without her.

More than four miles had the young man gal-
loped,when he lost sight of the fast flying maid-
en and her horse; but he knew that she had
deviated slightly from a direct course between
him and the flames, and consequently could not
be seen against the dark'tiinber line.

Not only this; but he felt that she was in
the immediate vicinity of the timber, and that
a few bounds of her horse would bring her to
the ranch.

The anguish of the 'young man was terrible,
when he realized that it was impossible for'him
'to overtake his darling; that, did his fears prove
true, she was doomed to death, or a worse fare,
at the hands of the red fiends of the Rio Pecos!
But he must reach her.

On like the wind he bounded until less than
a mile separated him from the timber; when, to
his utmost amazement, he discowred, clearly
outlined against the lurid flames, a horse gallop-
ing t0ward him at terrific speed.

As it approached, Gerald reeled in his saddle.

He recognized the horse as belonging to
Gracie.

It was the very animal his darling had
been but recently riding. He could distinguish
the flyin stirrup and bridle-reins. Proof be-
yond don t.

But where was Gracie? ‘

There remained no doubt as to the horse, for
the animal in its frantic fright, galloped along-
side that of the young scout, panting and foam-
flecked, revealing the gay saddle and bridle of
ib‘rracie Greene, as well as the identity of the
beast itself.

A heavy groan burst from Gerald, as he re-
cognized the horse and equipments. At the
:same time, he jerked his owu steed toa halt,
.and grasped the bridle of Beauty.

At this instant, the wild whoops of the sav-
ages, as the latter stampeded the herd along the
eastern edge of the timber, reached the young
man’s ears; piercing his brain like red-hot
shafts of steel. Then, with another deep
:a-roan. torturing to hear, he drove spurs and
flew, like an arrow, toward the line of timber.

That Gracie had dashed into the horde of
Indians. been torn from her Saddle, and her
horse escaped in fright, he had no doubt.

Greene’s Ranch was destroyed, and the entire
family either murdered, or captured!

As this dread truth became stamped upon his
brain, Gerald Granger‘s eyes flXed themSEIVes
on the fi fry glow ahead, and his handsome fea-
tures presented the look of a murderous thirst
and determination for revenge.

Around to the front on his belt, he slipped his
pistols and bowie, ready for instant use; drop-
ping the bridle-reins of Beauty, and allowing
Then he clutched his car-
bine, and quickly picked off the caps, thrusting
fresh ones on the nipples, and revolving the
cylinder, to assure himself that the weapon was
in good working order.

His first impulse had been to dash up, at ones,
to the burning ranch; but, upon nearing the
timber, he havmg had time to reason, he jerked
his steed to a walk, and advanced with caution,
knowmg that perhaps the lives of some might
depend u n_him alone.

f the . amily had been taken captives, and he
should ride up recklessly, and he himself slain
or taken, by the Apaches, then all would be
doomed: there being not one who could gallop
for assistance.

Hence the. caution of the young scout.

To his surprise, however, there was not the
slightest sound, to indicate the presence of the
red foe.

Nothing, except the sound of the flames, met
his ear, as be halted on the west bank of the

’ creek.
1 Slowly he walked his horse through the ford,

 

and on, around the clumps of undergrowth,
fully believing that the Indians had carried the
whole family off.

Suddenly his horse stepped clear of the
bushes; but, instantly, with a terrified snort,
reared upward, and then sprung, in fright, to
the left.

Gerald Granger uttered a groan of soul—drawn
anguish, and trembled in his saddle, as if
stricken with an aguefit. His staring eyes
were fixed, in a gaze of bewildered horror,
upon the mutilated corpses of the mother, sis-
ters, and brothers of his darling!

The slaughtered ones lay, gashed and ghast-
ly, before his agonized gaze; rendered more
awful, more horrible, by the red light of the
flaring flames!

CHAPTER IV.
WILD WOLF.

GERALD GRANGER sprung from his saddle as
soon as he. reCoVered from the sickening weak-
ness that had ()Vercome him, upon discovering
the gory remains of those for whom he had
long held a great and brotherly affection.

Mrs. Greene had been as kind and loving as a
mother to him; and now she lay before him,
gashed and hacked in a horrible manner, cover-
ed with gore, and scalped; the firelight from
her burning home playing upon her glassy eyes,
and causing the young scout to shudder as he
gazed upon them.

The pretty and innocent children, the brave
and joyous elder brother of Gracie—all of whom
had listened many a time, as be related his ad-
ventures on lain and in Chaparral—there they
lay, beside t eir mother, mangled and dead!

All gone back to God, together!

Only one keen sweeping glance around the
burning ranch, out on the plain, and into the
dark shades of the timber, gave Gerald; he
then sunk upon his knees, the tears coursing
down his cheeks, while from his lips sprung the
words, as if doubting all on earth, and in
Heaven:

“ Oh, my God! Where is thy justice?”

He now decided, upon looking around him,
that Gracie, as he had at first concluded, had
been torn from her saddle, on dashing through
the timber.

There was not the slightest doubt in the mind
of the young scout, after his rapid inspection of
the surroundings of the bui‘l‘ling ranch, in re—
gard to the fate of his darling. Gracie Greene
was a captive to the merciless Apaches, as was
also her father; for Gerald felt sure that the
old ranchero had at that time of the evening,
been at his home. Was it better so? Who
could say?

An instant’s reasoning caused the young man
to decide as well, that the trail of the savages
could be easily followed; for the sward around
the ranch was torn up, and trampled by the
mustangs of the Indians, thus provmg that
there was a large war—party. _ ,

Not only this; but a glance over the plain—
the moon having become brighter as the haze
of evening disappeared—showed herds of cattle
running wildly afar off, the scout jud ing by
this, that the Apaches had been on t e east
prairie, galloping around the horses and mules
to secure them, thus frightening the cattle.

If they had stolen a. large number, the trail
would be all the more easil ' followed.

The awful grief, at the discovery of the muti-
lated dead so dear to him, and the belief that
his heart’s idol was in the power of the irate-
of the Pecos—all this well-nigh bereft erald
Granger of all power of action, even of reason.
it was only by a great effort of a naturally
strong will, that he kept his senses, to the ex-
tenlt dof forming the conclusions we have de-
tai e .

Had be known that the one he loved more
than life lay pallirl and senseless, on the border
of the west line. of the timber, but fifty yards
from him—had be known that he had galloped
within twenty feet of her, his heart would have
been filled with the most thankful joy.

But poor Gerald did not know this.

Never was a man placed in a more torturing
position, born of grief and an uish for the fate
of those not his own flesh and lood.

He felt it his duty to depart at once on the
trail, but first he must bury the dead. Yet, if
he lingered to inter the corpses of the slain,
the line of the captiVes might be eopardized.

A few minutes, time might be li e or death to
Captain Greene and his daughter. His service:
were needed by the living, and the dead must
be neglected; although it gave the young scout
great pain, to leave them thus, to the wolves and

uzzards.

 

Then he felt relieved at the thought, that the
blazing ranch, which would doubtless be a. smol-
dering mass through the night, at times shoot-
ing up forked flames, would prevent the foul
beasts and birds from approachin .

Not only so; but there was goo reason to be-
lieve that some campers, or night riders, be-
tween the Medina and the Frio, would discover
the fire, or the glare in the sky from the same,
and hasten to investigate the cause of it.

Should any rairie travelers thus find the
dead, they won (1 of course bury them.

These very natural and reasonable conclusions
were arrived at instantly, before Gerald fell
upon his knees, and his brain became somewhat
relieved from the awful anguish and grief that
benumbed it.

For a moment only the young scout knelt.
Then he sprung to his feet, dashing the tears
from his eyes. Laying his carbine upon the
sward, he raiSed his clinched hands on high,
gazing Skyward, as if calling upon the powers
above to grant attention to his pleading.

Thus for a moment, his lips quivering, his
form swaying, then he became as firm as a rock
—-a desperate determination in his eyes, and
vengeful fury blended with the same—as he
cried out, in a firm, deep voice, so strange and
unnatural to himself that he gave a visible
start.

“God in heaven, hear me! I swear by my
hopes of happiness in this world, and in that to
come, here over the mutilated remains of these
helpless ones, so baSely murdered at their happy
home—here I swear that I will trail the red
demons, who have slain them, and have a ter-
rible revenge!

“ I swear that the husband and father of these
slaughtered ones, that the sister and daughter
whom I love as I do my soul’s peace hereafter,
shall be rescued by my hand from the Apache
tortures!

“Sleep and food shall be strangers to Gerald
Granger, until he beholds the paint-daubed faces
of his foes. Hear, oh, Heaven! And record
this, my oath of Vengeance i”

As the last word left the lips of the almost
insane scout, be lowered his arms and head,
gave one glance at the mangled forms, and then
seemed to throw off all the depressing and ap-
palling influences of the horrible scene.

Springing upon his horse, he urged the ani-
mal our, opposite the burning ranch upon the
clear s ace, the commencement of the far-
stretching plain.

Straight toward the east, he rode at a fast
walk, bending low to the shoulder of his animal,
and gazing at the sward. As he reached the
track of the stam e, Gerald turned his horse
northward along t 9 line of timber.

Soon he was on the Apache trail-on the trail
for his sworn revenge, on the trail to rescue the
fair maiden and her unfortunate father!

Previous to the discovery of Gracie in the
light of the fire of her burning home by Gerald
Granger, the horse of the latter had been fresh;
and, although he had pressed the beast at terri-
fic speed for seven miles, it needed but a very
short rest for the animal to recover its usual
wind and vim.

It was avary brief rest that it had at the
ranch; but, soon after, when the young scout
passed through the timber and over the creek,
to the western border of the bottom, he was
forced again to make halt. This gave the black
steed time to rest, and also to tear considerable
of the rich, nutritious grass from the botlom-
sward. The halt was necessitated by the young
man’s having discovered the Apache war-party
on the plain, and now traveling toward the
northwest. ,

Did he emerge from the trees to follow the
trail, the A aches would perceive him, and his
plans woul be frustrated.

Although the delay was terribly torturing to

Gerald, yet there was no alternative: and he
gazed with wistful eye toward the dark mass of
horses and Indians speeding over the broad
prairie.

To gain a view of the war party was a ver
encouraging surprise to the young scout, :-
though he could not detect the presence of the
captives.

At once he knew that the des .' ation of the
sava es was to the Rio Medina, v' a point west
of his own home; and he reasoned that they
would encam in a secure place within the
shades of the edina timber, some time during
the following day.

To follow on the trail before the Apache: 30!
beyond a point from which they could detect
his presence would be madness; and most fear-
ful was the anxiety of the young man, to be
thus forced to await—the only consolation being

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‘Wild Wolf, the Waco.

 

that his noble black horse would be greatly the
gainer by the delay.

Back and forth rushed the young scout, ten
thousand thoughts darting through his brain;
and he feared he was about to go mad. He
must, somehow, relieve himself.

He removed the bridle from his steed, and
bathed its spurred and swollen flanks with wa-
ter, which he brought from the creek in his can-
teen; pouring large guantities of the same over
his own fevered hea .

As he bent Over a small, still cove in the
stream to rocure water, Gerald caught the re-
flection of is face in the water—a bar of moon-
light shining down upon the oint he had se-
lected—and he drew back wit 1 an exclamation
of amazement, at the ghastly appearance of his
face, unable to believe that the haggard features
mirrored below him could be really his own.

It was at this very moment, when Gerald
was thus startled by the unnatural reflection of
his own face in the stream. that the terrible
howl of a black wolf, seeming to proceed from
a thicket but a few paces from him, caused the
young scout to spring to his feet and jerk his
revolver.

Although the bowl was almost an exact imi-
tation of the most dangerous “loafer” wolf of
the plains, and none except an experienced bor—
derman could have detected that the sound did
not proceed from the animal mentioned—yet,
hardly had the howl died away before Gerald
knew that it had been given asasignal from
human lips.

The n! xt instant the revolver of the young
scout “we; lowered; for, following the how],
sounded in u. gut‘ural tone the ejaculation, in
not a little of impatience and surprise:

“ Waugh l”

“Thank God i” exclaimed Gerald Granger, his
features sho- me; great relief and most extreme
joy as he s rung toward the thicket.

“Wild olf,.come forth! If ever there was
a timely coming of a friend, when a friend was
needed, it is mm

“The Good Spirit has sent my red brother
to Cottonwood creek. Thank Heaven! I have
been so fortunate as to halt in the right place to
meet on.

“ ild Wolf, Greene’s Ranch is burned. Mrs.
Greene and all the children, except Gracie, have
been murdered. Their scalps hang at Apache
belts. Gracie and her father have been carried
awa captives. I am on the trail, and my heart
is re ieved to see you.”

As Gerald thus spoke, a horseman forced his
affrighted steed from around the thicket, and
stood revealed.

He was a noble-looking Indian.

Springing to the earth, the red-man grasped
the hand 0 the young scout and pressed it to
his breast in token of amity. At the same time
his black, keen eyes gazed upon him, expressing
the Strongest pleasure that an Indian is ever
known to show.

The horse was a. fine beast, a dark bay in
color, with long flowing mane and tail; and evi-
dently an animal that could keep a trail as long
as any of its kind, or, if called upon, could fly
over the ground with great speed fora great
length of time.

Any one accustomed to horses would at once
decide the merits of such an animal.

The rider wasa superb specimen of his peo-
le. He stood six feet in hight, straight as a
ance-shaft, supple, wiry and muscular. Three

eagle~feathers flaunted proudly from his beaded
fillet, which partly held in place his long black
air.

Upon his face were the bars and stripes of
war, quite fresh, which, to the scout, prOVed
at once that his news was no news to the In-
dian. and that the latter already knew of the
A ache raid.

aked from the belt that confined his beaded
buckskin leggins, and held partly in place
the upper portion of his breech-cloth; thus stood
Wild Woh‘, the Waco chief, and friend of the
Texans.

Upon the broad breast of the chief was the
representation of a prairie-wolf, (lone in black
gie merit. vermilion and white gypsum—i he last

mg used to represent the fangs and teeth, in
the wide-open jaws, from which hung the long
red tongue.

A revolver and knife at the belt, a short bow,
with quiver of arrows at the back, sustained by
a beaded strap over the shoulder, a carbine
hanging from the horn of his saddln—-—theee
ma 9 u the arms of the Waco chief, and at the
time 0 which we are speaking, indicated be-
yond much doubt, his friendship for the whites.

“ Wild Wolf is not blind,” returned the chief,
proudly. “ He has seen the red fire of the log-

 

T

lodge, and has put on war-paint. Wild Wolf
does not lie in his blanket when the war-cries of
the Apaches sound in the ears of his white
friends.

“Wild Wolf’s heart is sad at the words of
Hawk Eye. We have not heard the death-yells
of our friends, but the death-howls of Apaches
shall sound like the sweet songs of birds in our
ears. We came too late, but the war-path is
0 en.

p“ The scalps of our friends shall not hang long
on Apache belts. Dove Eye, the squaw of my
white brother, shall not die at torture-stake.
Wild Wolf has spoken, and his tonuge is not
forked.”

The Waco had, 11 on first acquaintance, years
previous, named Gracie Greene, 'Dove Eye,
while he had dubbed Gerald, Hawk Eye, and
Captain Greene, the White Chief.

“ Your words give me hope, Wild Wolf; hope
where there has been but little. I see now that
you know all; but you have not seen the terri-
ble sight at the ranch.”

“Wild Wolf no want see. Know what
Apache do on warpath. How does Hawk Eye
kn0w White Chief and DOVe Eye captives? Did
Hawk Eye see Apache dogs, and his rifle not
sound?”

"No, I was not a witness to the massacre, or
I would not be here now. But I have seen the
gushed and sczilped corpses of Mrs. Greene and
the four younger Children. Captain Greene
and Gracie are not there, so they must be cap-
tives to the Apaches.

“ I rode in from the west plain after sunset.
Then I saw Gracie galloping to the ranch when
it was burning. Her horse stanipeded on the
back trail without her. She must have dashed
in among them in her insane horror, and was
captured.

“ There is no doubt in my mind that she and
her father are now being carried to torture, and
she to a worse fate. Again I say, thank God
you have arrived at this time of all times.

“ Let us gallop at once to the rescue !”

‘.‘ Good talk. Hawk Eye jump in saddle.
Come! War-path is open. War-cry on Wild
Wolf’s lips.

“it is good. Comel”

In two minutes more the Waco chief and
Gerald Granger were speeding over the plain on
the Apache trail.

Murder and desolation were in their rear, and
in their front—th could say?

CHAPTER V.
WHERE IGNORANCE WAS BLISS.

IT was but a. few minutes after Gracie Greene
was buried into the undergr0wth, that Gerald
Granger passed the very spot where she lay
senseless, on his way to the burning ranch, fifty
yards beyond.

The you ,; .«cout did'not linger in the vicinity
of the slain, but a very short time; in fact, it
was not half an hour after clutching the bridle-
reins of Beauty on the plain, that both he and
Wild Welf were speeding on the Apache trail.

About the time that Gerald was swearing
vengeance over the mutilated bodies at the
ranch, pi'or Gracie lay in the thicket, moaning
and sighing, just recovering her consciousness:
and, as the young man sped along the line of
timber, after his discovery of the trail of the
stampeding mules and horses, the maiden
sprung to a sitting posture, and gazed around
her in the utmost bewilderment.

In her fall, her head had struck a sapling,
which stunned her for a time: in addition to
which, her brain had received a terrible shock
when the horrible war—whoops of the Apaches
had rung through the timber. But the suffer-
ing she had undergone was as a summer zephyr
to a raging tornado, compared with that which
was to come.

Had it been daylight, and Gerald less agon-
ized, he would, had he examined the “ sign ”
surrounding the ranch and at the ford, have
discovered that Beauty had not been on the
east side of the creek, while the Apaches Were
there, as the horse of Gracie was shod. Had he
made this discovery, and found his loved one
after he had been at the ranch, he would then,
in some manner, have prevented her from view~
ing the fearful spectacle, that would sear her
brain with an anguish beyond comprehension—
the sight of her butchered mother, sisters, and
brothers!

A cruel and merciless fate, however, decreed
this otherwise, and doomed the poor girl to ex-
perience the excruciating agony of mind, which

er father had suffered, and which she was less
able to bear.

For a moment, the maiden sat, incapable of
reason or action; a most strange feeling op-

I

 

 

 

gressing her, both mentally and physically.
ut the shock, which had caused her to be thus,
returned with most startling vividness, causing
her to regain her reasoning capacmes almost
on the instant.

This was caused by the forked flames_ of the
ranch flaring upward, as some logs fell inward
upon the vast bed of living coals of fire; the
red light from the same shooting outward and
upward, and casting a glow between the tops of
the undergrowth, and the lower limbs of the
trees, far out over the plain.

Quickly Gracie turned her head, and then,
like a seethi avalanche of molten metal, upon
the poor gir s brain, all the horrible probabili-
ties of the near past came upon her. She sprung
to her feet, catching at the bushes for support,
her sylph-like form swaying and trembling, her
beautiful features contorted with the most fear-
ful anguish and horror, while her eyes were
fixed in terrible apprehension as if expecting
each instant to have the awful war-hoops of the
A iaches cut through her tortured brain.

But naught, except the but faintly—heard
snapping of burning w0od, broke the awful
silence. The horrified girl stood thus for some
time, unable to move a- limb; her'lips parted
and parched with the fever of anguish, and her
breathing scarcely perceptible. _

Then, behind her, from the plain, came the-
sound of a galloping horse, the animal coming
directly toward her; yet a fascination, which
she could not combat, held her in the same posi—
tion. Thus she gazed at the ruddy glow,
through the timber, that marked the position of
her burning home, lighting up brightly its near
surroundings, which the poor girl longed so
much to examine, yet dreaded even to up
proach.

Had the steed, now so near her, a red brave
upon its back, been galloping up. and a hatchet
about to be buried in her brain, Gracie could
not have turned.

She was frozen in her tracks. The same hor-
rible fascination continued to rule her mind.

Thus she stood, her very hair seeming to
crawl, as the horse crashed up to her. Then, as
the poor maiden’s brain reeled, and she was
about to faint with the dread of this new and
unknown danger, which broke the fascination
that chained her—then, the warm muzzle of
Beauty pressed her cheek, and a whinny of
pleasure and recognition from her pet filled her
ears.

With a cry of joy and relief, Gracie clasped
her arms about the neck of her horse, and burst
into tears, which relieved her almost bursting
brain. But a short time, however, did she thus
caress her favorite steed. She felt that she
must know the dread truths that were screened.
by the timber, or she must go mad.

From the prolonged silence she felt assured
that the savages had departed, and, with one
arm about the neck of her horse, she proceeded
toward the more open portion of the under-
growth, to gain the bridge over the creek. Her
equine companion seemed to understand what
was required of him, notwithstanding his pre—
vious fright. and the fact that he had galloped
about the plain until he was panting laborious-
ly, and flecked with foam.

Beauty snuffed the air, tossed his head, and
snorted at the bank of the creek, as if seeming
danger ahead; and his fair owner was forced
to clutch at his mane instead of clasping her
arm about his neck.

So weak was Gracie that she could not mount
and she tottered over the bridge, allowing her
horse to wade the creek. This he did with hesi-
tancy, snuffing the air, and his eyes protruding
from the sockets in dread terror. ,

As Gracie reached the opposite bank, she re-
alized that she must proceed alone; that her pet
was so terrified that he might at any time, Were
she near him, spring upon her, and do her an
in 'ury.

he same suspicion that had been entertained
by Gerald in regard to.the probability of an
Apache spy, or spies, being in the vicinity, en-
tered her mind, causmg her to keep within the
border of bushes, in the same course that he
had taken.

As the young girl now staggered onward,
nearing her blazing home, but a few paces from
the “open” in which the dwelling had been
erected, she became so much agitated that she
sunk back, sick and faint, to her knees, and
was unable for some moments to proceed fur-
ther.

And no wonder was it that poor Gracie was
thus affected, for the air she breathed was filled
with the scent of blood—human blood—the
blood of those who had been her darlings, th,
nearest and dearest to her on earth!

 

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‘ It would have been a mercy had God then

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Wild Wolf. the Waco.

   
 
 
 

 

 

bereft Gracie Greene of all sense—yes, even
had He stricken her with death, rather than
she should suffer ten thousand deaths, and yet
live on!

For a moment the unhappy girl, horrified by
she knew not what, remained upon her hands
and knees in the same spot, and peering through
the bushes at the burning cabin.

The silence that ruled around was very im-
pressive and awful to that lone maiden, as she
recalled the joyous songs and boyish shouts of
merry laughter that had rung through the
arches of the timber, day after day, for years.

Awe-inspiring was this silence; death-like,
but for the slight noises caused by the blazing

lo .

Gracie trembled, aspen-like, for a moment,

crawled forward a short distance, then caught
at the bushes that bordered the bend, and
which were but to her shoulders. Thus she
gained an upright position, and stared at the
confla ration, which blinded her sight as far as
any ot er object was concerned.
_ Stepping clear of the bushes, yet still retain-
ing a hold upon them with one hand, Gracie
closed her eyes for a moment. Then, shading
them with her disengaged palm from the blaze
and glare, she glanced along the sward between
her position and the now nearly consumed
dwelling.

The scene and sound that followed would
have caused a disinterested observer-did he or
she possess any heart or feeling—the most poign—
ant agony of soul and deepest sympathy; for
there, within five paces of the poor girl, stretch—
ed upon the ground amid pools of gore, were
here darling mother and her loved little sisters
and brothers, all sca'lped and mutilated!

A sight that would have congealed the blood
of an observer, even had he never known
these victims of the fiendish Ap'iche butchers!

For one brief moment Gracie Greene stood as
if transformed to marble; her eyes starting
from their sockets in unspeakable horror. Then
she threw her arms in the air, and from her lips
came acry so full of harrowing anguish and
despair that one would have supposed her life
had gone out with that unearthly sound.

The next instant she fell prone upon the
Ewalrd, as devoid of sense as the slain before

er ‘

And Beauty, quivering in eve limb, ad-
vanced slowly, oft bounding bac ward with
snorts of terror at the scent of blood; only
again to advance his head, at times high in air,
and then close to the Sward, snuffing suspicious-
lIy, and darting glances around on every side.

bus, on came the equine pet of the senseless
maiden; nearing, but slowly, the point where
she lay, his strong affection for his youug mis-
tress counteracting the terror caused by the
blazing dwelling, the scent of blood, and the
fearful sight of the gory slain.

A stranger and more horrible scene could not
well be imagined. The red light played over
all, and arched the wide, far—stretching plain to
the east, and the towering, moss-draped trees to
the west.

And, poor Gracie! There she lay, mercifully
senseless for the time.

Heaven strengthen her and pity her, when
again her eyes open with the light of reason in
their depths; or else, in mercy, take her beyond
and away from these horrors, ere again she
gazes upon her dear ones as they are!

“God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.”

May He enable his fair child to bear up, un-
der her great and soul-torturing bereavement.

But we draw a curtain OVer this horrible
scene; a counterpart of which has oft been be-
held by many bordermen.

CHAPTER VI.
A MINISTERING ANGEL.

Lone lay Gracie Greene, as one dead, Beauty
standing by her side, at times thrusting his
muzzle downward, and rubbing his nose very
carefully over her cheek and hands, snufiing at
her prostrate form, and then jerking his head
upward, and darting keen glances around the
dark shades, and at the fire. The horse often
started With fright, when a forked flame shot
higher than usual, as a log fell down. throwing
out showers of sparks.

so a palling and heart-rending had been the
sight t at- had bereft Gracie of all sense, that
not one thought of her father had entered her
mind. Indeed, there was no time for thou ht;
and, besides, her brain was incapable of action,
so great had been the shock, although she had
been somewhat prepared for it.

Long she lay as described; but, at length,
groaning heaVily, she tossed her arms in the

 

 

air, as if warding of! some terrible danger, and
Beauty began to neigh, with evident delight at
her awaking.

Soon the poor girl arose to a sitting position,
a look of horror frozen upon her pale face, her
staring eyes glassy and unnatural in expres-
sion; but there appeared to be a settled look of
despair, mingled with these plainly-marked ex-
pressions, which added to her almost insane ap-
pearance. Struggling to her feet, the terribly
bereaved girl staggered to the side of her dead
mother, and falling upon her knees, kissed the
cold brow and lips. Then she embraced, in
like manner, the corpses of the children.

it would have been torture for any civilized
being to have witnessed this sad spectacle.

Again she started up, and stood, with her
eyes fixed upon the heavens, and her hair fall—
ing low ovu‘ her form, and shielding her shoul-
ders, and the greater portion of her arms from
VleVV.

She strove to speak; but the prayerful words
died on her lips. Naught but choking gasps
proceeded from them. Again she attempted it,
and this time suc0essi‘ully; but the words were
so low, and sounded so strangely, that Beauty
started, as if frightened afresh.

“Father in heaven! thy hast Thou thus
stricken me? Pity me! Take me home also,
and let me be at peace! This is more than I
can bear!”

in one way, the words were answered in;

pity. The overtaxed brain of the poor girl was
relieved by a flood of tears; this, probably, be-
ing all that prevented her from going hope-
lessly insane.

Stepping to the side of her horse, Gracie again 1

wound her arms about the animal’s neck. To
her it seemed that all she loved 'on earth. were
either slain, or had deserted her, except her
faithful steed.

As the maiden thus stood, Beauty all at once
gave out a snort of alarm, pricking his ears
forward, and listening to sounds which he de-
tected toward the north on the border of the
timber.

These sounds were the rapid, diill, cluttering
tramp of a horse, galloping OVer the grassy
plain, and growing each instant more audible;
but the weeping girl heard them not.

Nearer and nearer came the strange steed,
soon dashing, with bounds of fright, around
tlie blazing dwelling, and directly before the
s am.

The animal had, however, been forced to
this approach, against its will, by a skillfully
jerked jaw-strap, and the not very gentle ap-
plication of a dexterously»used quirt; the hiss
of which drew the attention of Gracie more
than the dull sound of the horse’s hoofs.

The sight, which now met the tear-dimmed
eyes of the poor girl, was one that filled her
with as much of thankfulness as she was, at
that time, ca able of entertaining; but she was
again blinde by the copious flood of tears, and
resumed her attitude by the side of Beauty.

The new-comer, upon this strange and horri-
ble scene, was a most beautiful Indian woman,
who did not appear to be more than a year older
than Gracie.

She was attired in a suit of fawnskin; the
same being highly ornamented with beads,
tiny shells, and silver trinkets, besides being
richly fringed.

A short-skirted dress and leggins made up
her costume; her feet being incased in shapely,
beaded moccasins. Her hair was long, and
dark as a moonless midnight. Her keen and
flashing eyes were the same hue, and roses
struggled upon her cheeks with the tan of the
sun upon her bronzed skin.

Ornaments were also in the meshes of her
hair, which hung to the back of her mustang;
and, in the middle of the beaded fillet over lur
brow, was a large fire-pointed star, the emblem
of Texas.

This attractive squaw rode asti ide, in a most
graceful manner, and carried, at her belt, a sil-
ver-mounted Colt’s navy revolver, and a scalp-
ingknii‘e; while, hanging at her back. was a
short bow, and a quiver of arrows. Lasso,
blankets, gourd, and buckskin saddlebags,
were all secured to her saddle; proving that she
was prepared for prairie travel, and for camp-
ing out as well.

One lightning-like glance at the scene of the
massacre, and then at Gracie and Beauty, the
Indian woman shot from her dark eyes as she
came upon the scene. and halted her mustang.

Then, as the anguished face of the maiden met
her view, as the fair sufferer raised her head
from the neck of her horse, the squaw sprung
to the sward, led her animal to the border of
the timber, and secured the jaw-strap to a

 

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' put on war-paint.
‘ trail.

3 “'ild lVolf will see fire.

 

 

drooping limb; the mustang rearing and snort
ing in a frantic manner, at the scent of blood,
the fire, and the slain.

Heeding not the fright of her steed, the sciaw
strode, with the grace of a prairie fawn, to the
side of our heroine, and clasping Gracie’s hand,
pressed the palm to her breast.

There was a manner and expression, a look
in the eye of the fair savage, that is but seldom
Seen in any of her stoical race.

It was evident that she had been greatly im-
pressed by everything in the sad surroundings.

The sobs of the young girl became more v10-
lent at this expression of sympathy from one,
who, it was evident, was no stranger, althou h
of the race by whom she had been so terrih y
bereaved.

“ The Good Spirit has sent Warnona to Dove
Eye,” said the squaw, in a low, soft voice.
“ Wild Wolf is not here. He rode to hunt the
deer, but he came not back to our lodge on
Medina. VVarnona ride to meet her chief, but
she see him not.

“ She see big fire. She know it ranch 0f DOVe
Eye. Her quirt fly fast. She is here, and her
heart is sad. '

“The Apache war—whoop has sounded on the
creek. The scalps of my white friends are at
their belts. Warnona is not a warrior, but she
She will follow Apache

“Come. Dove Eye will go with Warnona.
The death-yells of Apaches shall sound like
sweet music in her ears. The scalps of my
white friends shall not hang on Apache belts.
He. will follow trail.
Find Dove Eye. Find Warnona.

“ Ali sound war—cry. Then save “'hite Chief.
He is not here. Apaches take him to torture.

“Where Hawk Eye? He great warrior.
Must fight for squaw. Blood of Dove Eye’s
mother, blood of brothers, blood of sisters call
for vengeance.

“Warnona’s words good.
white sister?”

The form of poor Gracie was convulsed with
spasmodic sobs, as the young squaw of Wild
Wolf spoke; and not until the name of White
Chief was mentioned, did she remove her head
from the neck of Beauty. She was now filled
with self-condemnation, at not having thought
of her father, now her only living relative:
Shoggh, for all she knew, he too might now be

ea .

The probability, however, of his being in the
power of the Apaches, as Warnona asserted,
caused the young girl’s feelings and emotions to
change somewhat; and very providential was
this. The advent of the Indian Woman was a
heaven-sent blessing, without doubt; and that,
in more ways than one.

The s new had also spoken of Hawk Eye, or
Gerald ran er, the lover, who had also been,
for the time, orgotten. If he would but come
to her now, in this hour of deepest affliction, it
would, Gracie thought, be a great consolation.

If her father had been captured—which she
could not doubt-he would be put to the torture.

The poor girl shuddered at the thought that.
in all probability, her father had witnessed the
massacre of his wife and children!

This was most horrible. It was more than
she had been called upon to suffer; and most
poignant pity and anxiety for her surviving
parlent, crowded in amid er terrible agony 0
son .

lVild Wolf was out on a hunt, and would
doubtless discover the glow of the flames.

Pl'l‘llaps Gerald would also See the fire, and
hasten to Cottonwood creek.

If so, both would not only follow the trail for
revenge, and to rescue her father; but they
w0uld give the alarm to the neighboring ranch-
eros.

At first the proposal of ll'arnona seemed so:
surd.

VVVhat could they, two women, do toward res~
cuing a captive from an Apache war-part3 5

They would be slain, or perchance captured.

However, the half-demented maiden, as “'ar-
nona ceased s aking, became desperate, and
resolved that s e would attempt to rescue her
father, repudiating all her fear and feminine
weakness.

Surely, if Warnona would goon the trail,
when the latter had no object except to prove
her friendship, she, whose father was in the
power of the demons of the Rio Pecos, should
not hesitate.

She was, thanks to Gerald, a good shot, not
an unskilled lassoist, and could pick out a trail.

These thoughts flashed through the mind of
the bereaved maiden; but she was destined to
have cause to strengthen her resolution, and

What say my

   
       
         
    
           
    

      
    
   

 
 

        
     
    
     
      
     
     

   

/

Wild Wolf; the [Waco

 

eagerness to follow the Apache trail, for War-
nona, noticing that the maiden seemed to hesi-
tate, quickly eft her to think upon what she
had said to her.

The squaw now grasped a bar of cedar, that
leaned against a tree, approaching the cabin of
the vaqucl‘os to obtain it. Not until then, did
she discover the mutilated bodies of Antonio
and Pedro, hanging from the limo.

With a half-suppressed “ Waugh ” of surprise
and vengeful fury, the squaw returned, and
thrust the dry bar of cedar into the red coals.
It soon ignited, giving a clear, bright blaze.

Warnona was resolvad that Gracie should not
be horrified by the sight of the two dead Mexi-
cans; rightly concluding that the poor girl had
as much upon her mind as she could bear, and
live through it with her senses.

Very cunning and intelligent was the squaw.

She knew that Gracie must be led to think
upon some other subject than the fearful mas-
sacre, or at least to have some anxiety for the
safety of the living to preVent her from becom-
inginsane, through grief for the dead.

She had no means of knowing what had be-
come of Captain Greene; but she had asserted
her belief as to his capture, for the purpose of
causing some change in the maiden’s feelings.

Her object in procuring the torch was to
endeavor to ascertain, by the “sign.” some-
thing in regard to the attack and also the force
of the war party. ~

However, Warnona had not gone ten paces,
when she made a. most important discovery, by
which she hoped to influence Gracie more
strongly in favor of following the trail.

She well knew that the iron-shod hoof-prints,
which she discovered, had been made since the
Apaches left the ranch; but she determined to
deceive the young girl, in this respect.

These hoof—prints, Warnona knew had been
made by the horse of Gerald Granger, and that
the young scout was already on the trail. He
was, doubtless, alone; which was the greater
reason why they should follow, and assist him.

Casting aside her torch, the squaw at once
formed her little stratagem.

Taking the bridle-rein of Beauty in one hand
and the palm of Gracie in the other, she led the
maiden and her horse into the nearest thicket,
saying, in a soft voice.

“ Dove Eyes stay here. Warnona Will roll
her white friends in blankets, and then lay in
little 10g lodge. No time to put in ground

now.

“ Shut door. Then wolves no get in. Buz-
zards no get in. Mebbe so rancheros be here
when sun come. Leave talk-paper on door.
Say put in ground, then come on trail. Dove
Eye ’no talk. When Warnona come back, she
talk.’

Without waiting for a reply, the squaw hast-
ened to the cabin of the herders, which had es-
ca ed destruction from its being hidden by a
thicket.

In the loft of this cabin, she found several
blankets, which she carried to the place where
the dead lay. Quickly she rolled each corpse
into a blanket, and in her strong arms, bore
them to the cabin, one after the other.

When this was done, Warnona cut down the
bodies of Pedro and Antonio, and dragged
them into the but also. She then closed the
door, placing a huge log against it.

Washing the blood-stains from her hands at
the creek, the squaw returned to the side of
Gracie; who, seated in the thicket, had relaps-
ed into a despairing mood, weeping convulsive-
ly. She knew that Warnona was hearing all
that remained of her loved ones to the cabin.

“Wipe eyes,” ordered the squaw. “War-
nona tell Dove Eye make talk when come back.
It is good. Warnona eyes sharp. iron on boots
of horse. Warnona know trail. Wild Wolf, he
know trail of Hawk Eye.” o

“On, Heaven! This is too much!” cried the
poor girl, in accents of despair and suffering.
‘Surely God will not allow every one to be
thus taken from me, leaving me thus desolate,
the little time that remains to me on earth!

“ Are you not mistaken, Warnona i"

“Warnona got sharp eye. See Hawk Eve
trail. Mebbe so Apache got him. Tie White
Chief to torture stake. Tie Hawk Eve to tor-
ture stake, if ove Eye no go with Warnona.
Come!

“ We save.
No warriors.

ood!

“Look! Dove] 0 put on buckskin. War-
nona Ipaint Dovo ye face. Look like Waco
brew. ’

'l‘he sqncw, as she spoke, threw down a suit of
Opperel, almost precisely like that which she

We go on trail. War-path o n.
Squaw: go on war-path. f: is

herself wore, together with moccasins, which
she had procured from her saddle-bags.

Without. hesitation, Gracie threw off her
skirts, and soon was attired exactly like her
red friend; the latter proceeding to paint her
face, neck and hands, a reddish color. She
then daubed on the stripes of war, peculiar to
her tribe.

The maiden buckled her belt of weapons
around her waist, her rifle being strapped to
bier saddle still, as when she rode upon the
p am.

All this was done mcchanically.

Warnona unloosed her mustang, sprung upon
the animal, and swinging her qulrt in the air——
after ordering Gracie to follow her example—
lashed her steed, which bounded out from the
smoking ruins of the ranch.

m a minute more the two war-painted female
braves were speeding along the broad moonlit
trail, up toward the north, and parallel with
the timber of Cottonwood creek, leaving the
blazing ranch and the corpses of the slain behind
them. The brain of the bereaved girl had be-
come more natural, from the fact that she be-
lieVed she was now speeding toward her father
and Gerald Granger.

W'hile in the thicket, as Warnona had direct-
ed, Grncie had written with a pencil, upon a
pier»: of paper which she found in her pocket, as
follows:

“ My mother, my sisters and brothers are all mur-
deredl Their bodies are in this cabin. Please bury
them. Warnona, the squaw of Wild Wolf, and my-
self now start on the trail of the Apaches, who have
done this horrible deed.

“They have now my father and Gerald Granger
in their power. For God‘s sake, follow, and save us
and them.

“ GRACE GREENE."

This slip of paper was fastened by Warnona
to the door of the little cabin,which now served
as the receiving tomb of the butchered inmates
of Greene’s Ranch.

CHAPTER VII.
THE PIRATES OF THE PECOS.

THE general course of the Rio Medina, as it
passes through Bexar county, is due east, but
its crooks and turns are many.

From the Bandera Hills to Castroville—a
small ranchero town at the time of which we
write—the Medina flowed almost at right
angles with its course below: that is, nearly
south.

The Apache war-party were aware that they
were in a very dangerous localitv; that they
must pass between Castroville and San Antonio
or else to the south of Castroville, over the vast
plains to the Rio Frio.

The burning of Greene’s Ranch was areck-
less feat, for the blaze could be seen for a long
distance. But this very fact would enable
them to run the gantlet of the ranches on the
Medina.

However, the Apache chief, Black Wolf, re.
joiced at securing such a large herd of horses
and mules, besides several scalps and a calptiw
for torture, became, as he sped over the p ains,
resolved to leave a reminder of his presence on
the river.

Much elated with his success, Black Wolf de-
cided to increase the herd and secure more
scalps. He would then fly with his braves in a
direct course, west to the Medina. Agreeably
to this pre-arranged programme of the Apache
chief, the herd was, with the captive and the
slain braves, reduced in their speed to a slow
trot, as the dark line of timber appeared in
front of them: and under control of adozen
braves, were left to brin up the rear, in-
stead of being in the lead, w ile the main por-
tion of the war-party dashed on toward the Rio
Medina.

It was but a short distanco from this point
that they had passed going south, the previous
night, when they had halted betWeen two
ranches, and spies had been sent out to ascer-
tain the position and surroundings of the one
which would be the most favorable to attack on
their return.

This manner of proceeding was often rac-
ticed bv the cunning Apaches and Comanc es.

But to explain:

It willbeseen at once that, if the trail had
been discovered in the morning or during the
day after the A aches had passed south across
the Medina to ottonwood creek, and then fol-
lowed, the Indians. who secreted themselves
within the timber of the creek during the day,
_ could obscrve the approach of the trailers on the
plain—themselves concealed—and lie in ambush
to receive them.

 

Again, did trailers reach the creek after the

 

departure of the Apaches up the stream to air
tack Greene‘s Ranch, the Indians would, by a
short delay at the ranch, avoid them. This t ey
could do by doubling on their former trail or
proceeding parallel with the same, at a reason-
able distance, and thus escape any strong force
which might be in pursuit.

Another advantage in favor of the Apaches
Would be the fact that, had their trail of the
previous night been discovered on the Medina,
leading south, the people of the ranch they
Eroposed to attack would be taken completely

y surprise, as they would not suppose the
Apaches would dare return on the east side of
Castroville, after passing down-country in that
way. All this had been considered.

No attempts had been made by the Apaches,
when passing down-country, to avoid leaving
“sign ’; just the oppOsite, for a broad trail had
been purposely left for {reasons that have been
explained.

By this proceed'ng many a. war-party has
pounced upon a line of ranches, where none
were at home except the women and children;
the men being thus led from their homes on
the trail of the Same party of marauding sav-
ages.

The Apaches Were now riding on like demons
of darkness, the sounds made by their advance
being audible but a short distance a way.

But as they neared the dense shades, jaw-
straps were jerked, and the hideous horde of
midnight murderers made ready for the attack.
This, by Black Wolf’s orders, to the fiendish
joy of his braves, was to be an open, thunder-
ous, headlong charge, with war-whoops unlim-
ited.

Elated with success, the chief scorned to act
in the sly and secret manner usual with him.

He scorned the hated Texans and despised
them, although hundreds of miles stretched be-
tween them and their villages beyond the Rio
Pecos.

The guard with the herd, the plunder, and
captive were ordered to pass from thetrail of
the war-party, southward, fording the river,
and then to paSs west toward the Bandera
Hills, to strike the Medina again, near the
same.

Thus the main body were in no way impeded.

Soon the pirates of the plains all disappeared
beneath the dark shades of the timber, which
was silent as death, and became lost in the
mazes of the dense undergrowth.

But a very short time elapsed when the
Apache horde emerged from the west side of a.
belt of timber quite near a ranch which was
within a curve of the stream, amid a cluster of
huge corrals. These proved the owner to be a
man of means.

All was silent around the doomed Texan
home, as the Apaches collected in a mass, and
then sat theirmustangs, awaiting the signal of
attack.

For a moment the red fiends sat their impa-
tient mustangs in exultant anticipation, each
with arrow fitted to bow-string, and with other
deadly shafts ready to adgust and send through
the air on errands of deat .

Upon the wide veranda which fronted west
lay many dark objects, the length and size of
men. This was a joyful sight to the Apaches;
for they decided, and correctly, that their trail
in passing down-country had been discovered,
but too late in the day to be followed.

The rancheros of the vicinity had gathered at
this ranch, and intended to start on the trail in
the morning; none dreaming of the return of

the war-party on the east side of Castroville. ,

Had they done so, they would have posted a
guard, and an alarm Would have sounded im-
mediately.

Thus the Apaches reasoned; Black Wolf being
almOst wild with exultant joy, as he sprung
from his mustang, and gave a number of rapi
gestures. '

Instantly half of the warriors dismounted,
then stole, crouching like demons, spreadin out
in a line in front of the dwelling. Black 011
stood erect, his _scalping-knife in hand, and
made a peculiar sign with it. At once the bow
of every brave was bent, the feathered ends of
the deadly shafts kissing the painted cheeks of
the red fiends. Then, from the chief, rung his
wild war-whonp, as a signal to his braves, and
a warnin to his hated foes. ‘

As the rst portion of the prolonged whoop
of war burst from the chief’s lips, ever Texan-
fully a score in number—sprung to a sitting pos-
ture ahd clutched his rifle.

Then the twang of bow-strings sounded on the
air and a volley of steel-pointed shafts iinted
and glittered in the glow of the smofderin'
camp-fires, opposite the dwelling.

 
    
 

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Wild Wolf; the 'Waco.

 

 

 

  A pandemcnium in sights and sounds fol-

iowed. _

The terrible war—whoops of the dismounted
braves, who sent another, and another volley of
arrows to tne veranda, was echoed by the
whoo s of their comrades, who dashed in a
thundzirous charge on their mustangs, toward
the ranch. These sounds half—drowned the
cries of agony and despair from the Texans,
who lay writhing upon the veranda, with the
terrible arrows in their Vitals.

But a few rifle-shots rung out; then a rattling
of revolvers, as some who had so recently been
sleeping in fancied security, rusncd into the
ranch, closing and barring the huge door—-
forced to leave their wounded comrades behind,
to the mercy of those who knew no pity.

Death-ye] s rung out, as the leaden messen-
gers of desolation from the Texan rifles and re-
volvers tore through the bronzed breasts of a
number of the Apaches. Signal-yells sounded
from the chief, and then the dismounted braves
bounded forward, knives in hand, springing up-
on the veranda. It was a scene of carnage.

Shrieks rung, that would have curdled the
blood of civilized beings, as the sczilps were
slashed and torn from the heads of the wounded
and the dead. The sharp crack of rifles from
the loop—holes of the ranch brought yells, in
turn, from the merciless torturers.

The mounted braves quickly surrounded the
dwelling, and fired it in several places.

Then it Was, as the stifling smoke filled the
structure and hung over it like a cloud, that the
prayers and outcries of women and cliildred
added to the horrors of the scene.

The flames caught the cedar shingles, and
burst into one wild, glaring sheet of fire.

Then the door of the ranch was thrown open.

Death battling with the red fee was far pre-
ferable to one in the midst of flame and smoke.

The doomed Texans, but six in number, with
as many children, and two women, emerged
from the door, just escaping the terrible flimes;
but only to behold the triumphant, blood-reek-
ing fiends. in a wide half-circle opposite them.
An outer ring of warriors seated upon their
mustangs showed that there was no hope.

They had escaped death in one dread form
only to rush upon it in another.

At once the rifles of the desperate Texans
belched out fire and lead; but at the same time
a volley of arrows hurtled through the doomed
whites, fOIIOWed by a rush of savages, who
with detnoniac whoops of exultation and thirst
for blood, sprung in a mad rush upon the horri-
fled rancheros, as the latter attempted to fire
their revolvers.

The next moment men, women and children
were being dragged from the veranda, and over

‘ the hard, smooth ground, amid terrific yells

which drowned their shrieks and prayers for
mercy.

Then followed the sickening crunch of toma-
hawk, or war-club, throu n the skulls, the
‘grating of knives through esh and bone, fol-

owed by shrieks of agony, despair and horror,as
seal 5 were torn from the heads of the victims.

Al this fiendish work occupied but a few
moments. Then as the conflagration reached
its hight, the blood-smeared horde of hellish
Apaches, with reeking scalps at their belts, sped
out westward over the plain, the fire enabling
them to detect the position of herds of horses.
many of which they stampeded into the main
herd that had been stolen on Cottonwood creek.

Away went the pirates of the Pecos, with six
more slain warriors bound to their mustangs;
but their belts were heavy with scalps.

Away through the night toward the Bandera
Hills,aiming to strike the Medina east of thiamine.

And Bill Brown’s Ranch blazed high, illumin-
ing the previously dark moss-draped shades in
its rear, and revealing in front of it the horri-
bl mutilated forms of a score of hardy Texans,
and the women and children.

It Was-a sight that would have caused a peace
commissioner to go on the war-path, and swear
that he would show no mercy to red fee, regard-
ieszog a e when.

n t u relight la ed u n the 0013 of
blood—innocent bloocfthit callgd for Veggeance
dire andcomplete—the flames shooting high,
and casting a ruddy glow afar, even beyond
the timber to the eastward, thus serving to
guide Wild Wolf and Gerald Granger in a true
course, and beyond them, Warnona and Gracie
Greene as well.

CHAPTER VIII.
BIG FOOT WALLACE.
I WILD Wow, the Waco, and Gerald Granger
oped over the plain, toward the Rio Medina, as

 

coon as they could do so without danger of

 

 

being observed by any of the Apache braves of
the war-party, who might gaze back on their
trail, for the purpose of ascertaining if they
were being pursued.

The Waco chief cared not for the trail. He
was making calculations in his mind, in regard
to the point at which his fees would cross the
river.

The Apaches could not deceive the ll’aeo.

Full well he knew that the red raiders had
left a broad trail purposely, when on their way
to Cottonwood creek, to draw the rancheros
from the Medina; thus leaving their homes
defenseless.

Had this not been so, the chief reasoned that
Greene’s Ranch Would not have been fired, and
the Apaches would have driven their stolen
horses and mules t0ward the Rio Frio, thence
up that stream to the villages, and there have
secreted themselves in the dense timber.

Neither the young scout nor his red pard
spoke a word, each gazing over the plain ahead
of them, and both plunged deeply in thought.

T: e anguish of Gerald, in regard to the
massacre of the Greenes, and the capture of
Gracie, as be believed, and her father, was
most poignant: yet he was not altogether hope-
less of effecting their release. Be well knew
that there would be more chances for rescuing
the captives, by a few persons, than by many;
bu t, most certainly there ought to be more than
himself and Wild Wolf, to make the attempt.

The young scout dared notdwell u on thoughts
of the agony and terror, with whic Gracie had
been so suddenly overwhelmed: for he feared
that his brain would become demoralized,and
unfit him for the perilous and difficult attempt
to save her from a worse fate than death, and‘
her bereaved father from torture.

But when he thought of the fearful spectacle,
that had met his eye at the ranch, he could not,
without a strong effort of the will, repress a
yell, to give vent to his mad desire to slay the
fiendish murderers of those whom he loved.

Thus, on the two swcpt over the but dimly
moonlit plain; the hearts of both lnrning for
revenge, and each seeming unaware of the pre-
sence of the other.

The noble black steed of the young scout be-
haved grandly, notwithstanding the terrible
gallop over the prairie, to the burning ranch of
the Greene’s: but the hardy horse of the Waco
chief kept in the lead. Soon the dark line that
marked the timber of the Rio Medina, became
visible in the lesser gloom ahead; and no sign
of the Apache war-party met the view of these
sworn rescuers anvl avengers.

This fact caused Wild Wolf to curb the speed
of his horse; proceeding more slowly, while
Gerald coming up, joined him.

“Well, Wild \Volf, what do you make of the
signs ahead?” the young man inquired.

“Apache ride in woods. Mel'be so, see Wild
Wolf. Mebbe so see Hawk Eve. Mebhe so
hide in bush. Then shoot. Wild \Volf been on
man war- aths. He is not a fool."

“ don’t elieve that the red devils will lin-
ger,” said Gerald. “ They must know that the
blaze of the ranch will alarm the rancheros.”

“ Black Wolf. the Apache, is cunning like
fox. Hc make broad trail when go to Greene’s
Ranch. Then he go back fast. Get scalps.
Get horses. Waugh! Look!”

“ “’hat is that? I hear rifle-shots!"

The Waco was silent for the moment.

Then Gerald cried out:

“ By Heavens! They have attacked and fired
Brown’s Ranch! It must be a large war-party
to be so bold.

“Come on, \Vild Wolf! Death and horror
are on the Medina, as well as on Cottonwood
creek.”

But there was no need to urge on the Waco
chief: for, with a half-suppressed cry, he lashul
his horSe, and the two men dashed over the

lain.

Neither feared an ambush, for they well
knew that the Apaches were recklessly confi-
dent, and were bent upon the immediate de-
struction of the ranch: after which they would
depart at speed with the plunder and scalps.

The horrible din that ruled about the burning
ranch soon met the ears of our two friends,
who now dashed into the bottom-timber, passed
through it, and then walked their animals amid
the undergrowth to the border of the same, and
directly in the rear of the flames.

Just in time were they to see the victorious
horde of A aches dash away over the plain
toward the erds of animals belon 'ng to the
ranch which they had destroyed and1 those ad-
jacent.

The flercd cracking and roaring flames pre-
vented any Conversation between them as they

 

urged their horses along the border of the
bushes toward the corrals, where they could get
a view of the front of the dwalling.

Then, as they gazed forth, Gera d exclaimed:

“ Great God! what does this mean? The red
fiends have slain a score of fighting Texans!

“ Look, Wacol Look at the women and chil-
dren! This is worse than Greene’s Ranch. By
Heavens! I swear that not one of that war-
partv shall eVer see the Rio Pecos!”

“ Waugh!” burst from the lips of Wild Wolf,
as he clutched the handle of his scal ing-knife.

“Black Wolf heap cunning like ox. Wild
Wolf say so to white brother. Rancheros see
big Apache trail before sun go. All come to
Brown s Ranch. Say go on trail when sun
come. Think Apache go to Frio. All go to
sleep.

“ Vhen wake up, war—cry sound in cars.
Apache arrows fly fast. Texans heap big fools.
Sound death—yells. Lose scalps. Waugh!

“ It is bad. Come! \Var-path open.”

“ That is probably the explanation of it,”
said Gerald. “This is horrible, but the blaze
will arouse the Texans who w: re not aware of
the advance of Black Wolf. But what are we
to de?

“1 have never been so affected on a trail.
The thought of Gracie and her father, along
with this, almost unfits me for even reasonable
thought.

“But do lead on! I am frantic to do some-
thing toward rescuing my helpless, suffering
friends from these inhuman monsters."

“ Ride in woods up river. Then ride on plain
where fire no shine. Wild \Volf is lVaco chief.
Black \Volf is Apache dog. Dove Eye shall
ride back with my white brother. White Chief
shall not be tied to torture-stake.”

“I pray that your prediction may prove true.
My only ho e rests With you, VVi d \Volf. But,
lead on! e can be of no use here.

“Great Heavens! This is sickening. Blood
seems to float in the air. Lead on, I say, or I
shall go mad l”

W'ild Wolf dashed quickly around, in the
rear of the burning dwelling, amid the
timber, close followed by Gerald. Then. away
they went, up the stream, crashing through the
undergrowth, but concealed from view.

Thus they rode, for half a mile. Then, as
the flames had died d0wn, and the Apaches
were far ofl.’ on the prairie, both spurred after.
They well knew that, even were they observed,
the Apaches would not turn back, in their head-
long flight, to investigate the character of but
two horsemen.

Had Gerald and the Waco chief cast a glance
in their rear, over the south plain, as they en-
tered the timber of the Rio Medina, when the
ranch first burst into a blaze, they would have
seen two equestrians, speeding toward them;
although at such a distance, that neither party
could have decided the race to which the other
belonged.

These were none other than VVarnona and
Gracie; and both slackened speed, u on discov-
ering the two horsemen in their far rout. _

When the ranch blazed up, Warnona reasoned
that the war-party were the authors of the con~
migration; and not on! this, but she relt sure
that the plunder from reene’s Ranch, as well
as Captain Greene himself, were not with the
main war-party, but had been ordeied to pro.
ceed more to the south.

Knowing well the horrors that would be en~
countered at the burning ranch, after the de-
Earture of the Apaches. and not wishing Dove

ye to be agonized more than she had been al-
ready, VVarnona guided her horse more to the
south, and upon reaching the timber, halted to
rest, and await the departure of the war-party
from the Medina.

Thus it happened, that shortly after Wild
\Volf and Gerald left the timber, and proceeded
on the trail of the Apaches, Gracie and War-
nona were gazing upon them from the border
of the timber, believing them to be Apache side-
scouts, or spies.

There were two brave men, riding on in pur~
suit of a horde of murder-mad ApacheS. for the
purpose of rescuing a maiden, who was even
then behind them; and she, bent upon the sav-
in of her father and lover from torture.

Varnona, also, would have felt the utmostre-
lief and joy, to have known where her lordly
warrior, Wild Wolf. then was; yet she was
gazing upon him, and thinking him to be an
A ache. ‘

hat the feelings of the young scout would
have been, had be known Gracie Greene to be
thus safe, it is not in the pewer of words to de-

scribe.
Wild Wolf, too, would have been greatly ro-

   

 

 

’ '10 i

lieved, had be known that only the White Chief

‘t: to ‘ \\ .r 

Wild Wolf, the we...

 

 

was to be rescued' and equally concerned, if he
had been aware, t t his squaw Warnona, was
on the trail, thus periling her life for nau ht.

Thus were matters, when Gracie and arno—
na, keeping in the shades, discovered half a
dozen horsemen gallo ing from the southwest,
and joining the two riders; all then proceeding
leisurely west—a fact, which caused the squaw
to believe, beyond a doubt, that they were a
portion of the Apache war-party.

This caused her and Gracie to speed toward
the Medina, higher up the stream; as soon as
they could do so, and not be liable to discovery.

Both Wild Wolf and Gerald were reatly re-
'oiced, when they perceived the litt e band of

orsemen galloping toward them from the
south; for they were confident that the party
were Texans. This proVed to be true and
Texans who Were greatly needed in a dire
emergency.

“1n ther name 0’ ther Great Ormi hty,
pards, what’s ther difficulty down ther gMer—
diua? Shake, Wild Wolf and Hawk Eye! An’
spit out yer infermashe speedy. What in thun-
deration sot Brown’s Ranch afire ?”

The speaker, as he shot out these words, in a
rapid voice, with manner and intonation which
proved that he had his suspicions of the dread
truth, was a man of large frame, and great
musi-ular strength, being none other than the
noted scout, Big Foot Wallace.

His honest, open face would at once convince
a physiognomist that he was one of nature’s
noblemen.

Guileless as a child, when mingling with his
pards off the trail, he was a terrible man in a
fight. Invincible, when pitted against the ban-
dits of the Rio Grande, or the red pirates of the
plains, whom he mowed down like blades of
grass.

He, as well as the picked trailers and scouts
with him, was attired in the border style of the
southwest. The were also armed with Sharp’s
carbines, and olt’s revolvers, of army size,
each havin a pair. They had, too, their bowie-
knives, an though they were few in number,
were a formidable party for f0es to meet.

In a few moments, Gerald explained, in detail,
the awful occurrences of the night; and all lis-
tened intently, with teeth set, and a look of sup-
pressed fury upon their faces—all being more
eager for revenge, from the fact, that the slain
were known, and held in high regard by them.
In fact, as the frontier goes, they were neigh-
bors; Big Foot calling the Frio country his
home.

“ Wa-al, in marcy's name, what air ther
good Lord doin‘, ter ’low ther pesky beathuns
ter scarify, scalp, an’ cut of! this hyer yearth,
afore the’r time, a heap o‘ innercent white hu-
mans?

“Doggone my hide! I’m sot back wuss’n
p’ison. But thar ain’t no time ter gab. Ther
caD’n an’ GraCe must be reskied, an’ thet speedy.

“ Boyees, we’ll kee on ther no’th side o’ ther
hellyuns, an’ Wild olf and Hawk Eye had
better lunge right ahead, es they war goin’.
Arter we gits into ther oaks, hit’ll be mighty
easy keepin’ nigh ther or’nary red scum.

“ Ef we-’uns doesn’t gi’n ’em a hefty riffle 0’
fight, I’ll crawl inter a post-oak bog, an’ flip—
flop out o’ sight 0’ human natur’ ontel Gabriel
toots his horn.

“Ef thar doesn’t he a few death-yells fer
every leetle child ther hellyuns hev scalped, I
hopes ter be tortur’d by Piute squaws!

“Come on! Levant’s ther word. Keep yer

elers skinned. Black Wolf ’ll camp on ther

erdina afore sun-up. Whoop-’er-up fer bleed
an’ Injun ha’rl”

And thus it happened, that more avengers
were on the trail; Big-Foot Wallace having
been encamped on the Rio Medina, some dis-
tance from Brown’s Ranch, and discovering
the fire, had ordered the scouts to saddle, and
ride of! to inVestigate.

CHAPTER IX.
A NIGHT OF DEATH.

BUT a short distance had the Apaches to pro-
ceed westward, before they reached a section
of country that was overgrown with post-oaks.

Through this they could ride at a gallop,.as
there was no undergrowth. Thus they were
enabled to proceed at speed.

This post-oak belt extended to, and beyond
the Rio Medina: consequently there was no
danger of Wild Wolf and Gerald being seen by
the Indians, even when galloping within a short
distance of them.

Thus, through the night, rode friend and foe.

Captain Greene, who, bound to the mustang,
his brash almost paralyzed from all that he had

 

 

undergone, at times prayed for death to re—
lieve him, and at times, in frantic manner, up-
braided his Maker, his fellow-men, and himself;
cursing the fates, that had overwhelmed him
with an avalanche of misery, despair, and
death!

The mustang, upon which he was secured
was led by a burly brave, who, at times. lashed
the old man with his quirt, uttering taunting
words at his wzetched captive. But he noticed
them not; still gazing straight upward at the
sky, betwaen the branches 0 the oaks, his eyes
glassy, and insane in their expression.

But three rifle-shots north of the war-party,
rode at speed, Big-Foot Wallace and his trusty,
daring scouts; they reining up at times, to 11s—
ten to the rumble of the hundreds of hoofs upon
the sward, and thus kedpring at a proper dis—
tance. To the south of ild Wolf and Gerald
Granger, and a little in the rear, rode Warnona
and Gracie; CIOsely resembling each other.

Paint-daubed, and with a beaded fillet confin-
ing her long flowing hair, Gracie Greene had
the appearance of a young and beautiful
squaw. '

The consciousness that she was speeding to
the rescue of her only living relative, and her
loVer, at the risk of her life, gave hera Wild
look.

Desperation was noticeable through the bars
of war-paint, and was in consonance with her
assumed character and attire.

The speed with which they were obliged to
travel, and through those long, weary hours of
the night, would, at any other time, have caused
her to become too fatigued to proceed. But
the excited state of the poor girl’s brain, her
great grief, and apprehension for her father,
and her lover, banished all thought of bodily
fatigue.

Her nerves were electrified by an insane
eagerness to look again upon all that was left
to her, even though she should become, the
next moment, herself avictim to Apache cruel-
ty.
Bent forward in their saddles, clutching jaw-
strap in one hand, and fast hissing quirt in the
other, their snake-like eyes shooting swift
glances on every side, thus on gallopcd the
murderous pirates of the Pecos; the panting
herd of stolen animals thundering in their front,
and kept on the course by “ side-riders.” Close
in the rear followed the mustangs, with the
cor ses of their former masters bound upon
their backs; hideous in life, more hideous, a
thousand times, now in death!

It was a spectacle that no pen can describe,
and no pencil portray. So horrible was it,
that none who have not gazed upon such a scene
can approach its appalling hellishness, even in
imagination.

But we draw a curtain upon all—the painted
Apache savages, and the daring rescuers and
avengers; to remove it, when the sunlight
again brightens the earth, though it lessens
not a whit the hideousness of the horde of mur-
derous demons!

 

The sun shot up from the orient, a huge globe
of fire, its disk clearly outlined against the
gray sky beyond. Its face seemed inflamed
with passion, at being forced to dispense its
heat and light upon the eastern hemisphere,
leaving the wide plains, the grand old woods
and the lofty mountains of America, to recover
from the effects of its burning power of the
previous day.

Brightly its rays were reflected upon the
naturally enameled foliage of the oaks; and the
millions of dew—drops, on gram and flowers,
were transformed into glittering jeWels, that
Were dazzling to look upon.

Within a horse—shoe bend of the Rio Medina,
but a little distance east from the Bandera
Hills, and some fifty miles from the scene of
their hellish work on Cottonwood creek, were
encamped the Apache war party.

The bend presented a scene that was most
horrid and unearthly.

At least five acres of clear, grass-grown
award were within the curve. It was circular
in shape; a narrow space toward the north, be-
tween a gateway of towering trees, giving en-
trance and egress. Over that portion of the
clear space nearest this entrance, were the
mustangs that had been ridden by the Indians.

These were now free from their primitive
equipments. but covered with foam; their hair
matted, and clinging to their hides. their bellies
hollow and gaunt. The animals were so fatigued
that they tore the grass from the sod listlessly,
although craving it, and masticated it in a
weary and laborious manner. All the time
they shot glances into the dark shades, as if the

 

startling scenes of the night were recalled, and
a fear existed that they might be re ated.

It was plain that some time must e iven the
mustang to rest and recuperate, be ore pro-
ceeding toward the Rio Pecos.

The stolen horses were in little better con-
dition, and seemed terribly aflrighted.

At the entrance to the bend, lay half a dozen
braves upon blankets, their arms by their sides'
while, high up in the tree—tops, were perched
two warriors, whose gaze was fixed upon the
pinkin to the east, which was nearly free from
o B.

At the inner side of the curve, near the bor-
der of the undergrowth, and beneath the spread
ing limbs of the huge trees, lay the Apache
slain, side by side; with the weapons they had
used in war upon their breasts.

But a short distance from these corpses,
bound to the trunk of a tree, in a standing
position, was Captain Greene; his head bowed,
and his gray locks hanging downward, almost.
concealing his features from View.

A most pitiablc sight was the old ranchero;
his clothing, torn and stained with the blood of
his youngest and darling child!

Opposite to the captive, upon blankets, lay
three wounded braves; their eyes fixed upon the-
branches overhead, and only the, look of agony
on their stolid features betraying the torture
they suffrred. Not a sigh or groan PrCilpt-‘d
them.

Blood-smeared and silent they lay, suffering
stoicall) ; as, to betray their agony, by groan
or complaint, would have been cov ardice, only
befitting a squaw or pappOose.

Nearly a score of dead and wounded lay thus.

Some twenty paces in front of these, was the
main portion of the war-party; flitting around
several fires, casting mule-steaks upon the coals,
only to scorch the meat, and then tearing and.
devouring it like ravenous beasts.

Counting the braves, who were on guard at.
the entrance, there were forty warriors in the
camp, who were able for duty.

Not a ray of sunlight penetrated the bend;
the entrance being to the north, and the camp,
with that exception, surrounded by dense tower-
ing timber, beneath which was the tangled,
thorny undergrowth. TWenty yards beyond.
the border of the same, flowed the river; its
waters gliding beneath a natural archway of in—
terlaced limbs, which were covered with vines
andlmoss. These shielded the dark stream en-
tirely from the sun.

The Apaches were elated at the success of their
raid. Black Wolf was exultant and proud, as
having successfully deceived the Texans.

Not the slightest fear had he now of pursuit,
especially after gaining such a distance from
the scenes of both massacres; and a feast, fol-7
lowed by a war-dance, and the burial of the
slain, was his programme. During this, the mus—
tangs could recover from their fatigue.

The slain had lost their lives in battle. with the
war-whoop on their lips, when the death-yell
sounded,and their scalps were on their heads;
Consequently, they had gone to the “happy hunt-
ing-grounds.” For this reason, they were not to
be regretted, although they must be aVenged in
the time to come.

Thus was the camp of Black Wolf, when sud~
denly, a whoop from the plain brought the
lounging guards to their feet, and all the braves
erect in position, and manner of interest.

The warriors gave a peculiar yell of exulta-
tion,and s rung to each side of the entrance,
dragging their blankets after them. .

The next moment, a half-dozen braves dashed,
at headlong speed, upon their snorting mustangs,
into the benrl, with wild, ringing whoops.

In their midst, bound fast to horses, were two
strong, hardy rancheros.

A terrific yell of fiendish joy burst from the
war-party, at sight of the Texan captives.

The two men were barcheaded with hair fly-
ing; their faces the pallor of death. and stamp
ed with despair. They were dragged roughly
from their horses; both being wounded and '
blood-stained, one with a broken arm, and the
other with the shaft of an arrow still projecting
from his breast.

Most torturing were the wounds. as the ago-
nized faces of the unhappy men showed.

Instantly, at the orders of Black Wolf, a stake
was driwn into the earth, near the fires, and
the Texans were bound to it, back to back.

Then several braves rushed to the corpses of
their comrades, to place them in a circle around
the captives, who were to form central fl ares in
the death~dance; and u n whom the aches
would vent their venge ul fury for the s aying
of such a number of the war-party.

That the ceremony was hastened by the unex~

 

  

‘ 'li“...’:’; ‘ " v v, ~ 3"}:v -'
a, .

Wild 1Wolf; the Waco.

11'

 

 

and welcome arrival of these two cap-

ves, who could not, in their wounded state, be
taken to the far-away village, for torture, was
Very evident. But an astounding surprise
awaited the brains, who had been dispatched
for the slain.

They stooped to raise the corpses. Then all
sprung erect uttering yells of fury and amaze-
ment.

Black Wolf strode forward to the border of
the undergrowth, with anger in his eyes.

One glance, however, at the dead, caused the
Apache chief to utter a whoop of tiger-like fe-
rocity; while he clutched at the handle of his
knife, and shot glances of baffled rage and be-
wilderment into the shades.

All the dead Apaches had been scalped, since
they had been laid upon the swardl

Black Wolf strode nearer, as a brave pointed
significantly to the face of one of the corpses;
then, up and d0wn went his finger to them all.

Across the forehead of each had been drawn
a knife. Also, from temple to temple—thus
forming a cross!

Another furious yell burst from the chief.

“ Waugh 1” he exclaimed. “ W'ild Wolf! Waco
on war-path. Let my young braves bring scalp
of Waco chief. I have spoken.”

The last words came in a tone of fierce com-
mand, as Black Wolf pointed to the shades of
the timber.

Tightening their belts, the half—dozen war-
riors, who had been ordered to bring the dead,
sprung into the thickets to obey their chief.

Black Wolf returned to the fires, a most mur-
derous light in his eyes; then to the captives,
and with one slash of his knife cut tht cords
that bound them to the stake. Both fell for-
ward upou their faces to the earth, their arms
being secured behind them.

" Bring mustangs, so many,” ordered the chief,
holding up four fingers. “ Heap wild mustangs.
It is good.”

Braves started to obey the order, lassoing the
four wildest animals in the herd.

These were forced, with frantic snorts, to the
camp-fires, near the captives.

Black Wolf‘s face was filled with fury. His

yes flashed from the framework of paint daubs,
in a. most murderous manner.

Sprin ing forward, he circled his knife about
the hen s of the Texans, and tore off their reek-
ing scalps; the victims shrieking, in their fear-
ful agony.

The mustangs were then necked together, in
pairs, loosely: then lariats from the neck-r0
were extended along the backs of the anima ,
encircling the croup, and leaving about teh feet
trailing on the earth.

The ends of the slack were then passed throu h
a. knife slit, between the ankle-bone and muse es
of each limb of the doomed ranclleros, whose
shrieks of agony, and cries for the mercy denied
them, filled the air.

Thus. two horses were secured to each, the
animals being pricked w‘th knives until frantic
with pain; several warriors exerting all their
strength to hold them.

Then Black Wolf gave :3 signal-whoop, and
the war-party became extended in two lines,
formin a lane to the entrance to the bend.

Anot er signal from the chief, and the braves
who held the homes sprung aside, thus allowing
the animals freedom.

At that moment terrific yells broke from all,
and the beasts were pricked with arrows.

Away, with terrified snorts, bounded the four
horses; each pair dragging over the earth a
scalped and \ 'ounded Texan, tearing the cloth—
ing from their forms, and mangling their flesh.
And, rot after, sprung the Apaches, yelling
like (lemons, md drowning the cries of the hor-
ribly nrture '1 rancheros.

I/ikf. armws shot from bows, away went the
of’rightrd mustangs, dragging the two doomed

in! "wrers to death!

sluddenly th yells of the Apaches ceased.

All, a -they gained the e: .trance to the bend,
made u suddun halt, in a mingled mass; their
eyes filled with the most intense amazement and
Vengeful fury—each emotion following the
other. '-

.And Fall might they entertain these emo-
tionséfm; gale sixt braveS, who had acted as
guar a 6 en rance now la n in their
blankets on either side. ’ y W

They had taken no notice of the last-dashing
horses dragging the wretched captives; no
notice of the wild. exultant whoops of their
comrade braves. Silent they lay, their eyes
fixed upOn the sky, glassy and soulless.

Their scalps had been torn from their heads,
and each had his right ear severed clean.

_ From these silent sentinels, whose last shout

I

1' Foot.

 

of warning had been given, all gazed instinct-

ively—gazed upward, to the tops of the tow-

ering trees, where the two “ lookouts” had been
ted

pos .

There, dangling, each by one leg, which was
secured to a branch—their ory heads showing
that their scalps had been ta en also—hung the
two warriors who had been stationed to scan
the plain.

At this sight—the scalping of the shin being
connected with it—there arose such a ell of
furious vengeance as would have curd ed the
blood of one who had never heard the like,
cabtising him to shudder with a horror inexpres-
si e!

 

CHAPTER X.
HOW IT was DONE.

WHEN the first gray streaks shot up from the
eastern horizon, heraldii g the comingl morn,
and the Apache war-party turned the erd to-
ward the Rio Medina, Big—Foot Wallace and
his fellow-scouts swept on ahead, before the
open plain beyond the scattering oaks was
reached, and were watChing, from the bottom-
rimber, the approach of the red foe to the
bend.

The scouts well knew that the Indians would
first feast, then rest, and then proceed to bury
their dead. This they would do, without. send-
in out spies or maintaining a strict guard.

éonsequcntly they secreted their horses, and
at once began to reconnoiter.

“ We-’uns hes gut ter pick off ther scat
terin’ Scum a few at a time, boyees.” said Big-
“ Hit won’t do ter shoot, onless ter save
our ha’r.

“ Thar’s a hefty batch on ’em, an’ they needs
thinnin’ out; an’ hit hes gut ter he did, sure es
shootin’. I reckon we-’uns kin sorter weaken
thet pack 0’ perrarcr piruts some consider’ble,
’thout‘lowin any on ’em tcr spit out a death-
squeal. Pity we can’t do hit hullsale.

“ Hit makes me 5 uarm all over ter think 0’
Greene’s Ranch an’ rown’s. Ef ther Waco ’ll
git in some 0’ his work on t’other side ther camp,
with ther help 0’ Hawk Eye, we-’uns ’11 mix 11
an’ flustercate ther hull lay-out, makin’ ’em Wis
they’d stopped t’other side 0’ ther Pecos, chawin’
baked dogs. When—”

Big-Foot was here interrupted by a slight
movement in the bushes.

All brought their weapons to bear, and stood
readv.

“ Hop ther cuss, an’ slash him wi’ yer
stickers! Don’t ’low a ye] ter spile our biz.”

Thus ordered Big-Foot: ut at that moment a

culiar sound was heard, and the next instant

Tild Wolf glided forward, uttering his favorite
and very meaning ejaculation:

“ Waugh 1”

“ Welcome, Waco! Hit’s good fer sore peep-
ers ter gaze et er,” said the giant scout,
efite‘pding his han , which was grasped by the
C re .

“ Whar’s Hawk Eye? Thar’s plenty o’ biz
hygggabouts. What yer foun’? Anythin’ wo’th

a

“ Hawk Eye in bush by river. Heap bad in
head. Dove Eye no captive. No in Apache
camp. Mebbe so kill. scalp, in bush on Cotton-
wood creek. Hawk Eye want go on back trail.
Think find D0ve Eye.”

“Jumpin’ Jerusalem l” exclaimed Big-Foot.
“What’s become 0’ ther leetle gal? I thought
yer war dead sure she war tuck, gobbled up by
ther cussed ’Paches!” c

“Hawk Eye say so. Wild Wolf no at ranch.”

“ Hev yer sec’d ther cap’n?"

“ thite Chief tie to tree in Apache camp.”

“ Air he ther only captive?”

“ He all. No see more.”

“ Waal, thet‘s strange; but I’ll bet my critter
ag’in’ a horned frog she hain’t bin burted.
Lectle Gracie ’d be long 0’ ther hellyuns, ef
they’d friz thar cepers onter her.

“Tell Hawk ,Ve ter brace up. We-’uns must.
lunge in arter C‘ip'n Greene when thar’s a
show. Arter We hes him right side up wi‘ care.
we‘ll skute down-country, an’scout fer Gracie."

Further conversation was now interrupted by
the whoops of the Apaches, as the two Texans
were brought into on mp.

“ Dang‘d ef I doesn’t b’lieve they’ve brung’d
ther leetle gal in this time. by ther yelps.”

“Waugh!” said Wild Wolf, and he whirled
and bounded on the back trail.

“Three on yer skute, boyees, an’ fotch u
t’other side ther openiu’ ter ther bend! Thar’ I
be some reds posted thar, an’ we-’uns must take
’em all outen ther dew, without a yell.”

Three of the scouts at once started to obey
this order. Big-Foot and the remaining two

 

proceeded stealthily through the bushes to the
west side of the entrance, and when theyar-
rived in the vicinity. wormed their way to a
position from which they could not only View
the camp, but the sentinels as well. These,pp¢n
the ap roach of the braves with the Texan cap-
tives, had parted, three draggin their blankets
to each side of the entrance to a low their com-
rades to pass.

Previous to the arrival of Wild Wolf at the
little open space where he had met the scouts,
he had performed a daring feat.

The chiefand Gerald, who had decided from
the course traveled by the war—party that the
Apaches would encamp in the bend, had gained
a favorable position in the trees to view the
“open.”

Great had been the amazement of both on
discovering that Gracie was not a captive: but
this was not a relief to either, as it might indi-
cate that she had been slain.

Gv_rald could believe only the worst. Gracie,
he felt. assured, could not have escaped from the
ranch.

The Waco chief was not one to remain long;
inactive in sight of his hated foes: and as he ‘
perceived the slain Apaches he vowed mentally
that their scalps should hang at his belt.

With a gesture of caution to Gerald, Wild
Wolf slid down from his perch in the tree.

Then, when the Apaches were feasting on the
mule-meat, he crawled in and dextreusly scalp-
ed all the slain warriors, leaving his mark on
the brow of each. It was hazardous in the ex-
treme, but he acconi )lished it.

He then direcch erald to climb higher up
the tree and await his return: or, if he chose, to
take his position ncarer the river, which would
be safer should a search be instituted before the
chief returned.

The young scout took the latter course: more,
however, that he might speak with the chief,
than to practice prudence.

In a few words Wild “'olf explained that he
was going to seek Big-Foot and the other
scouts, to plan their future operations. After
giving this information. the chief proceeded on
his errand with success, as we haVe seen.

When the Waco returned from the scouts, he
not having mentioned his scalping feat, he
quickly joined Gerald, and the two crouched in
the undergrowth, at a distance from the slain
Apaches, both intensely eager to discover the
meaning of the terrific yells of the war—party.
Wild Wolf kept close to the young scout, in
order to control him, should the commotion

rove to be caused by the bringing in of Gracie
reene, as he feared.

But we will leave them, and follow their trail
later, for our attention must now be centered at
the entrance to the camp, to explain the death
of the sentinels.

When [Bi -Foot and his pards saw that the
whoops of t e Apaches were caused by the ar—
rival of several braves, with two captive Texans.
—both of whom were known to them—they
were furious, and could with difficulty control
themselves, all wishing to dash to the rescue of
the captives. But second thoughts caused them
to grate their teeth, and by a powerful effort
of the will. keep their sition; for they remind
that it would be sure eath to all, should they
attempt a rescue.

They were forced to witness the dragging of
the wounded rancheros from their horses, and
the binding of the doomed pair to the stake.

They then knew that a terrible torture scene
was to be enacted before their eyes, after the
death-dance was finished.

Such was the commotion in the camp, all
the Apaches being near to, and gazing at the
captives—as well as were the sentinels—that
Big-Foot saw a grand opportunity to do some
good work.

He instantly sprung up a tree, the largest at
the side of the centre: Co; for he had disCOVered
a sentinel on a gigantic pecan, across the neck
of the bend, and he felt that another was
perched above the position of himself and the-
scouts.

His pards on the opposite side were on the
watch for a signal; and they discoVered Big-
Foot, who, by signs, made known his desire
that the sentinel above them be dispatched at.
Once.

Quickly one of the trio sprung up the tree,
which was hung with vines ard moss; and both
he and Big-Foot climbed silqntly on their mis-
men.

In two minutes more, both the Apaches, who
had been placed on the trees for “lookouts,”
hung from ranches by their legs, being bound
to the same, dead and seal less. This was ac-
complished without having n noticed by the

 

 

 

.
q -' ~l
,'.  .s, ,

Wild Wolf; the Waco.

"i Mfg},     '. \

 

 

 

braves below, their 'attention being drawn to
the proceedings in camp.

As Big-Foot descended, he signaled his pards
over the opposite side of the entrance, to slay
the three sentinels on their side, and then to

near the river.

Then it was that the horrible whoops sound~
ed, as the Apaches discovered that their dead
had been scalped and marked by the terrible
VVacc chief.

No more favorable time could have been
chosen for killing the sentinels than this, for
.‘they were standing gazing down into the camp,
'where all was contusion, Black \Volf being then
v cutting the captive Texans free from the stake,

I and ordering the wild mustangs to be brought
.forward.
fr] Big-Foot made a few gestures with his hand
 to his pards owr the way, and soon after gave
:l- " ‘, out the peculiar cry of a night-bird. The next
i‘ ' instant each one of the sentinels was clutched
by the throat, thus preventing yells, and knives
‘ ware plunged into tn: ir hearts.
fr ' Every warrior was thus dispatched by the
' - ‘terrible bowies, then scalped and laid upon their
,.: blankets.
t  Big-Foot left plain “ sign” to enable the
A aches to See who it was that had thus out-
,‘..- . Witted them by seVering the right ear of each——
 his well-known mark.
 This was done while the Apaches were securo
rs ing the two Texans to tho horses to be dragged
i- H to death, and not a warrior looked toward the
' ' entrance.
\ The shriek: of the doomed men so tortured
3 the scouts, who were pOWcrless to reeuc their
 ‘ friends, that they stole away into 11.0 tit pt hs of
, the timber in a circling course, aiming to reach
' ' ~a point near to Captain Greene, whose pesition
': _ and evident agony had caused them much
c anguish of heart.
‘,. All wished to rescue the old ranchero at any
 and all hazards.
' Another reason for the scouts thus proceeding
, ‘was that they had observed the six braves dash
'6‘ into the timber, at the command of Black ‘Volf,
after the discovery that the dead braves had
been scalped. their object being, evidently, to
 i‘ trace and ca ture the perpetrators of the deed.
f" ‘ I The Venge ul yells as the discovery was made
’, by the Apache horde that the Sentinels 'had
r been slain and scalped in broad daylight, coupled
with the scalping of the dead whom they had
brought from Greene’s and Brown’s ranches,
--caused the warriors to be insanely eager to cap-
ture the detested Waco and the Giant Scout.
But well they knew that it was next to impossi-
l ble to ’capture either; but, nevertheleSs, Black
" , VVolf‘ordered a score of braves to search the
*3»- . timber on both sides of the bend from the camp
i’ " ,l to the river—both parties meeting at the base of
 u the bend.
, ' . At once the search began.
., " The thickets were penetrated and beaten
‘ with clubs by the humanity furious braves.

 

..

 Black Wolf, the remainder of his warriors fol-
 ' lowing him, returned to the band’s inner swell
, near the camp-fires.

. ' .1 Then, and not until then, was another most
, g ‘ startling discoverv made by the Apaches.
 Their captive, Captain Greene, who had been
, securely lashed to a tree, and who had seemed
 more dead than alive, was nowhere to be seen.
. The old ranchero had. in some manner escaped,
3 ‘ ,Wobably assisted by the Giant Scout, or the
aco chief.
Thus reasoned Black Wolf, his snake-like eyes
-flashing with murderous expressions.
His war-party had met with grand success;
;" , but there seemed to be a turn in the tile, for
I everything had gone wrong since he had on-
u camped. The savage chief was almost beside
.. himself with rage, grief and anxiety of mind,
as well as fatigue of body. He had thought to
gain much praise and prestige by this raid; but
his prospects seemed very slim.
._- A score of braves followed their chief, who
. dashed into the timber, from the point where
' the dead had lain, toward the river; ordering
his followers to spread out in a long line, in
"4!", order that they might not lose the chance of
" i 5 ca turing Wild Wolf, the Waco.
- ut, a moment after, the chief was again as-
 , touuded and enraged by a horrible whoop near
at band. v
-.g , This spoke of death by its depth, strangeness,
and intonation.
. Another, and still another wboo sounded;
4 N and it was soon ascertained that the raves who
.,‘ had been sent out to search for the despoilers
 ‘ , and mutilators of their slain, had also met
' death! ‘
They lay scalpless hero. and there, each with

 

hastbn from the vicinity to the base of the bend,.

 

a gaping wound in his breast; their hearts cloven
by bowie-knives, while that dread mark upon
their foreheads told the whole story.

Their slayer was the terrible Waco chief,
Wild Wolf 1

 

CHAPTER XI.
WOMEN ON THE WAR-PATH.
WE will now return to Warnona and Dove

Eye.

Both had galloped on, through the post-oaks,
the Waco squaW seeming to keep her course by
instinct; although, at times, she would jerk her
horse to a halt, dismount, and place her ear to
the ground. Then, seemingly Satisfied, she
would remount and dash on without addressing
Gracie; at whom, however, she would now and
then glance with deep solicitude.

The latter had arrived at a most peculiar state
of mind.

Her terrible bereavement, and the horrors
through which she had pnsSed, together with
the long and Weary gallop, had dazed her over-
taxed. brain, and her eyes were glassy and un-
natural in expression. She had been oVer-
whelmed with such grief and anguish as few
maidens could have borne, and retain their rea-
son; but the consciousness that all of her lOVed
ones, except her father and her lover, were
slain, and that she would be alone in the world,
if they tv 0 should be victims—this caused her to
bear up, and keep but one object before her
mind.

This was, to rescue her only parent and Ger-
ald, or die in the attempt.

As has been stated, Gracie Greene would
never have thourrht of such an attempt, consid-
ering it impossible, had not she been prompted
and led by the indomitable Warnona.

The Waco squaw seemed to he possessed with
the assurance, daring, bravery, and skill of a
warrior; and she instilled into the mind of
Gracie something of these qualities, so needful
to the occasion.

At first, upo l discovering the remains of her
loved-ones, the poor girl had felt no desire to
liVe; but, afterward, when she became con-
vinced that her father and Gerald were cap-
tives, she was filled with an insane desire to do
all in her power to rescue them from such a ter-
rible fate. This seemed possible of necomplish-
ment, after VVarnona’s reasonings, and decided
resolve to attempt the feat.

The Very costume she had donned, the war-
paint, and the companionship of the Waco
woman, impressed Gracie, and imbued her with
resolute daring, and a firm reliance on the
squaw and herself.

Her mind was in such a strange and unnatu-
ral state, that she acted in a manner strange to
herself.

She imagined that she was gifted with
strength and skill for the occasion—that she
was to take astrong part in a magic drama,
which would end in the liberation of the two so
dear to her—this strength and fortitude being
givnn her, as an avenger; and that she would be
guided, scathless, through the dread ordeal.

It was a strange and beautiful sight to see

that pair of female, avengers, nnll determined
rescuers, as they sped on their dangerous mis-
snon.
I Knowing the peril. ahead of them, and that
they Were liable to fall into the hands of the
Apaches, and be doomed to a fate, which
caused a convulsive shudder to think of—know-
ing this, and all that depmded upon caution-—
“Ramona, before it was dawn, forded the river,
and passing the belt of timber, to the, south
plain, proceeded on, up the Medina, Gracie fol—
lowing her wi'hout Comment.

At times, both would halt, and as the Apaches
were on the verge of the timber north of them.
and near to the point where they intended
camping, the sound of the galloping horses could
be detected easily.

From this fact, the squaw was enabled to
locate the camp, when the sun first appeared
in the east.

She Searched, hastily, for a lace in which
they could leave the horses. his was soon
found, and loosening girths, and removing
bridles, the animals were left to graze in a
small “ open.”

Warnona and Gracie then proceeded to the
bank of the river, where the sounds from the
A ache camp betrayed its exact position.

hen it was, that the free and rambling life
of Gracie Greene favored her; for Warnona de-
cided to climb a tree, and cross over the river
upon the interlaced branches, and then on, in
the same manner, to the border of the bottom-
timber. From that locality, they could, with-
out danger of discovery in the vine and moss-

 

draped limbs, view the Apache camp, and de-
cide upon their future operations.

Warnona did not, herself, believe there would
be an opportunity to rescue the captives until
the following night, under cover of the dark-
ness; but she hoped that something favorable
might occur. '

Although quite weary, from the long nights
ride, Gracie appeared to be gifted with skill
and determination. She climbed nearly as well
as the Waco squaw, and in a little time, they
both arrived at a point, from which they could
view the camp of the war-party; themselves
being concealed from view. -

At the very moment that they gained a
favorable position, whence they could behold
the savage scenes in the “open ” of the bend,
W'ild \Volf was scalping the Apache corpses;
while the war- party were engaged in appeasing
their voracious ap etites, and consequently not
watchful, especial y in the direction of a point
which they deemed perfectly secure.

\Varnona, howeVer, could not see her war-
rior husband; and he had not the slightest sus-
picion of her presence.

Thus it was, that the Waco chief, his squaw,
Gerald Granger, and Gracie, were within
twenty yards of each other; the males dream-
iug not of the presence of the females, and no
prob .bility, under the circumstances, of either
party‘s being made aware that the others were
in their neighborhood.

Stealthily Warnona made her way into dif-
ferent p' rtions of the tree, bidding Gracie re-
main still and silent: the squaw being deter-
mined to aseertain the position of the captives.

VVarnona knew that the trail of (build, at
Greene’s Ranch, had been made after the
Apaches had departed, and she believed that
the young scout had been on the trail of the
war-party, and was now in the vicinity; he
thinking that the Indians held Gracie captive,
as well as her father.

Warnona had deceived the young girl, in this
respect, as we have seen, in order to induce her
to set out with herself on the trail.

But a very lirief time elapsed, when the
squaw perceived that Captain Greene was se-
cured ton. tree—and the very one, within the
branches of which she and Gracie were con-
Cealed!

A close inspection of the surroundings decided
VVarnona that there were no other captives.

While deliberating as to the manner she
should inform the captive of her presence. the
signal whoops of the rear party of Apaches,
who came galloping toward the camp with the
two Texans, rung out, follovwd by the exalt-
ant whoops of the entire horde.

Warnona was, at first. greatly excited, fear-
ing that Gerald had been captured; and the
sight of her lover being brutally used by the
red fiends would cause Gracie to shriek out, or
descend to the earth, and rush to her death, in a
vain effort to save him.

Considering the state 'of the bereaved maiden’s
mind, this did not seem in the least improlrable.

Greatly relieved. however, “as the sqlww,
upon finding that Gerald was not one of the
last brought in captives; yet she knew the men,
and was therefore in a furious slate of mind,
when she saw them brutally jerked from their
horses, by their captors.

But a joyous surprise awaited her, and one of
which she had not dreamed.

This was, when Black Wolf ordered the
corpses to be placed around the captives at the
stake.

As the reader kn0ws, the deed Apaches had
been scalped and marked by Wild Wolf.

This surprise was blended vi itb the relief of a.
mest thankful heart, from the fact that when
the braves. orderrd to bring the dead, sprung
from the camp, thev ran directly toward the
tree in which “ ere Warnena and Gracie.

The first thought of the squaw “as that Gracie
had been imprudent, and revealed her position
among the branches, and that the Indians were
about to secure her.

In consequence, Warnona made ready to sell
her life dearly, in protecting herself and her
friend.

But the braves swerved to the left, and im-
mediately after, Warnona not only knew that
she and Gracie were safe for the time being,
but that Wild Wolf was near at hand, and on
the war path.

The heart of the young squaw swelled with
pride. at the thought that her spouse had ac‘
complished such a daring feat as to scalp the
enemy’s dead, under their very noses.

He was then somewhere near, and Women.
believed that Gerald Granger was with him.

Much relieved and elated was she; and it.

   

 

 

  

‘41“ ‘

eh".

 

\

w,
l
1

Wild Wolf; the Waco.

is

 

 

furious and vengeful yells of the Apaches, at
discovering that their slain had been mutilated,
was very gratifying to her.

She had no doubt, now, that the captain
would be rescued' but, after following the trail
such adistance, Warnona resolved to accom-

lish the liberation of the White Chief herself.

he would thus astonish Wild Wolf and Gerald,
who were bent on the same desperate mis-
sion.

There was no time to communicate with
Gracie,who was higher up in the tree. The
squaw saw the Apaches rush with vengeful
yells, to secure the two Texans to the half—wild
horses, and she knew this was the opportunity
she so desired, to communicate with Captain
Greene.

Quickly she descended the tree to the l0wer
branches, which were but a few feet distant
from the head of the old ranchero. Bending
down as far as she could with safety, “’arnona
let fall a piece of bark directly upon the cap-
tain’s head; at the same time giving a low hiss
of caution.

Slowly the captive raised his head from his
posom, the utmost bewilderment upon his fea-
ures.

Then Warnona said, in a low. deep voice:

“ White Chief keep still. lVarnona here in
tree. Warnona save White Chief. It is good.”

Ca tain Greene retained sufiicient command
of himself to avoid looking upward. lVith
wonderful agility, the squaw, with the assist~
ance of a vine, descsnded on the opposite side
of the huge tree from the camp, and at once
slashed loose the bonds of the captive, from the
tree, and also the cords which were about his
ankles. Then she said:

“ White Chief stand still. Warnona let lariat
down from tree uick. Help White Chief
climb 11 . .When arnona twitch rope, then
Jump this aide tree. Vine here. Rope here. It
is 00d.”

be next moment, the brave young squaw
was in her former position in the tree.

She then uncoiled a raw-hide lariat from her
waist, adjusted the noose in such a manner that
it could not slip, and then gave a hiss, lowering
the rope, and causing it to swing against the
tree-trunk; first assuring herself that the atten—
tion of the Apaches was drawn the opposite

wa .

{be keen ears of Warnona had detected
strange sounds in the timber near at hand; but
ahey were sounds, the character of which she

new.

. She had observed the half-dozen mees bound
into the nude rowth, in quest of Wild Wolf ;
bait ribs felt no ears for the safety of her lordly
c ie

As she was cutting loose the captain, and
after the peculiar sounds had been detected
within the dense shades toward the river—and
Warnona well understood them—she knew that
Wild Wolf was on the war-path in good earn-
est.

The Apaches, who had been commanded to
secure him, were now being slain by his knife,
and prevented by his clutch from uttering the
dent -yell.

Warnona’s heart was glad. A ache scal
would hang thick upon the belt 0 Wild Wolf?

At the moment that the squaw gave her slight
signal, Captain Greene, who was almost over-
come by the ,shrieks of those whom he had re-
cognized as his neighbors. staggered around the
tree, as directed, as quickly as his stiffened
limbs would rmit him to do so.

Little car he now to live; but to die as the
two men before him were to die, was most hor-
rible. It spurred him to a herculean effort to
take advantage of this miraculously sent, and
most unexpected manner of escape.

The loop was dropped over his head, be ad-
justed .the same under his arms. and in a very
short time, by using his whole strength, climb-
ing the vine with the assistance of Warnona,
w o pulled on the rope, he succeeded in reach-
in the side of the squaw.

“Sta-“fly 3135138 the old man’s arm and
misting upw he ped him to climb still fur.

U and up the pair went Warnona at len th
bidding the ca .tain remaih in a mossem-bgw-
cred space, w is she mounted hi her. Then,
taking the hand of Gracie, she 1 her down-
ward, bidding her not to make the slightest
none.

The “(103% V39, however, needless: for the
poor irl, having sat so long, clutching the

ranc ea, while s egazed down into the Apache
camp with a horrible fascination ruling her,
had witnessed the terrible scene. Even the
sniping of the Texan captivas, and the start of

 

the knife-tortured horses, with the dragging
lvlictims of Apache cruelty, had not been spared
er.

'l‘he shrieks and outcries of the doomed men
still rung in the poor girl’s ears, and she made
no objections to retiring from the dread specta-
cle; all else, but the horrible sufferings of the
captiVes, and the thoughts of the fearful scene
at her desolated home. being banished from her
mind.

Warnona dare not allow the father and
daughter to meet so near the camp, knowing
the demoralized state of the minds of both; and
she conducu-d Gracie through the tree—tops, to
the very margin of the river-bank. There she
left the maiden, secure from discovery, and re—
turned to escort the father.

But a few moments more, when Warnona
had guided Captain Greene, in a stealthy man«
ner, half the distance to where his daughter
had been left by her, the whole Apache horde,
with fierce and vengeful whoops, rushed pell-
mell, here and there. through the undergrowth,
the discovery having been made, that the
braves, who had been dispatched to secure Wild
Wolf, had been slain.

Then f0110wed a rattling fusilade of revolver-
shots, and Warnona caught a flitting glimpse
of Wild Wolf and Gerald, as both plunged into
the Rio Medina, and sunk from view beneath
the waters, just in time to escape the whooping
Apaches.

At the same moment, a piercing shriek rung
wildly through the bottom-timberl

Wa rnona then knew, that Gracie Greene had
seen Gerald Granger, and that all was lost.

Their resence in the tree had been betrayed
by that insane cry of Dove Eye, upon witness-
ing the peril of her lover.

CHAPTER XII.
FAITHFUL AND TRUE.

WILD WCLF‘ and Gerald did not remain long
in ignorance of the cause of the commotion in
the Apache camp.

From a covert, which they gained, beyond
the corpses which the Waco had scalped, they
discovered the entree of the braves, with the
two captives; and as each recognized the ran-
cheros, their rage became almost ungovernsble
at the brutality that followed.

Then came the scalping, by the Waco chief,
of the braves, which had been brought from the
devastated ranches.

Wild Wolf now resolved that he would rescue
Captain Greene, before rcceedin on the back
trail, in search of Dove ye. Litt e did Gerald
Granger sup , that his darlin was then en-
sconced in t e same tree to which her father
was bound, and viewing the same scene with
himself.

This so chained the attention of the scouts,
that they were, for the time unable to stir' but
when the braves were ordered by Black Wolf
to rush into the thickets, in search of their un-
seen foe, the Waco placed his hand upon the
shoulder of Gerald, and said:

“Waugh! It is good. Come 1”

Without a word, the youngl‘man stole throu h
the undergrowth, toward t 9 river, with t e
chief by his side; each grasping firmly his knife.

The braves started out eagerly, but Wild
Wolf had been cunning, and left no “ sign," ex-
cept in the immediate vicinit of the dead war-
riors. This, he could not we 1 have avoided.

Baffled, the Apaches scattered, and began
searching among the undergrowth. Thus they
played into the hands of our friends. Skilled
as the latter were in woodcraft, and in the use
of the knife, it was not long before the six
braves lay quivoring in death, while a clutch
upon their throats at the time the scouts sprung
upon them prevented the death—knell which
would have warned the main war-party.

No mercy for an Apache d'velt in the hearts
of either Gerald Granger or Wild Wolf.

With giant strength, grating teeth, and elec-
tric-like movements the deeds were done; the
four being slain, all in different places. and be-
fore they had gained half the distance to the
river.

The Apaches had heard the struggling among
the bushes caused by the last two warriors, and
they uttered low guttural ejaculations of sur-

use
p The cause was soon e lained. As the fates
had ordained it, both of t ese braves had halted
upon the very ed e of the dense thicket, within
which crouched t 0 even ers of blood.

The same instant a cras ing of bushes in their
rear startled the Apache warriors; but, before
the could whirl, the iron grip of the red and
wh te scouts was upon their throats, steel flash-
ed before their eyes for a moment, and was

 

then plunged buckhorn deep into their painto
dauhed breasts.

All four were now writhing upon the ground :,.
the death-stricken Apaches striving with their
last breath to slay their enemies and to release»
themselves, then to give the death-yell and dan-
ger-signal.

For a few moments this struggle betwe' n the
living and the dying was terrific, the legs and
arms of the comb-slants becomin locked, and
thrashing the bushes violently. ut it was of
short duration.

At length the death-filmed eyes of the doomed
Apaches, which were fiXed in vengeful hate and
fury upon their Slayers, grew dimmer, and their
strong, sinewy forms became convulsed with
quivering tremors. This soon changed to the
iigidity of death, and Wild Vl'olf and Hawk-
Eye loosened their grasp on the throats of their
victims and drew forth their deadly knives.
Their work was over.

Then the scalps Were slashed from the heads
of the last of the searchers after the Waco
chief; but hardly were the gory trophies placed.
in their belts by the panting pair, when, with
fearful whoops. Black Wolf and a score of his.
warriors rushed into the bottom—timber, ren-
dered frantic and insane for revenge at the
scalping of their dead, and the slaying of their
sentinels at the entrance to the bend.

Neither Wild Wolf nor Gerald was now in a.
condition to defend himself or hold his ground
again~t overwhelming odds, and both, after
glancing into each other’s eyes and passing some
hasty words of consultation, rushed toward the-
river.

This was their only way of escape, for they
knew by the crashing among the bushes that
their foes were advancing at speed in a long-
line beyond either outer end, and it would be
impossible for them to pass. And, indeed, they
were none too soon in thus acting, for, bad they
delayed another moment, they would have been:
in the clutches of the foe. As it was, the
Apaches caught sight of them as they darted
from the side of their last victims.

A terrific whoop of exultation announced the-
discovery of the detested Waco and the white
scout; but this was followed, the next moment,
by yells of mad fu , caused by the discovery
of the two slain an scal braves, now lying:
in their gore, side by side. No delay was made,
however.

The pursuers, whose yells now filled the air,.
and echoed through the timber arches. curdling.
the blood in the veins of poor Gracie Greene,.
dashed forward. In terrific, desperate bounds,
they rushed onward. in the direction of tne~
river and their two foes; the outer wings of the‘
line they formed, inclining inward, and thus»
making a crescent-like wave of pursuers. The
situatiou was now des rate.

Both Wild Wolf an Gerald realized that es-
cape was impossible—that they could not reach.
the friendly river-bank, before being ever-
taken, unless they made some move to stop the
headlong course of the infuriated war- rty.

They were both greatly fatigued, a ter their-
several desperate hand-tdhand conflicts; and-
the undergrowth greatly impeded their pro--

ress.

Hawever, they soon reached a belt of clear-
space in the timber, where there was no under-
growth of any extent for some little distance.

Upon the further side of this belt, they then.
'erked their deadly revolvers, and halfwhirL-
ing, faced their foes, at the very moment that
the Apaches broke clear of the thickets, across
the open belt.

Then followed a rattling revolver fusilade,
which brought to the earth, with horrible
death-yells and groans of agony, many an.
A ache brave.

i ot a bullet was wasted.

Cool and calm, although printing with exer—
tion, stood the indomitable pair, Side by side,
manipulating hammer and trig r with dex—
terity and celerity, their fire being rapid, and
the bullets finding a home in the hearts of their
red foes.

Every chamber was emptied before the dar-
ing scouts turned. and rushed onward to the
river; their ears filled with the most demoniac-
whoops, yells, and h0wls, as the Apaches dashed
in hot pursuit, now doubly infuriated, and
doubly eager and resolved to capture the dread-
ed and hated pair.

80 rapid was the rush of pursuit, that barely
had our friends gained the high bank of the-
river, before the red foe were at their backs;
and it was when capture seemed inevitable that
Gracie saw and recognised Gerald, from her—

rch in the tree, when she had been left in

arnoua.

 
    

 

 

    

She then believed that her lover would be
captured, and tortured before her eyes, as had
.been the case with the two unfortunate Texans,
' Forgetting her own perilous position, the
young girl uttered a piercing shriek; she, lean-
-‘.in overa limb, and gazing down, as the sound
is t her lips. This was at the instant that Wild
Wolf and Hawk Eye sprung over the bank, into
.the river. ‘

That wild cry caused the two men to glance

'upward as they made the bound, and both

caught a flitting glance at the agonized features
of Gracie Greene. This sight, and the sound
that issued from her lips, which they both
knew would betray her into the power of the
merciless savages, caused Gerald the (lee est
anguish, and but little less of anxiety to ild
Wolf; the latter wishing, when too late, that
he had more thoroughly inspected the timber.

Both our friends were experienced swimmers
and divers and they had formed plans to favor
their escape from their pursuers; but these
plans were thrown to the winds the moment
that the position and danger of Gracie were
discovered.

Her presence was a great mystery to each,
as they had believed her to be a captive to the
Apaches.

When they discovered that the maiden had
not been in the hands of the savages they were

. reatly astonished, for the knew that it was

impossible that she could ave come thus far
by herself.

However, they both now swam under water
up the stream, and near the bank. This was
steep and high,and the water-comparatively still.

As long as was possible the pair glided be-
neath the dark surface, and then thrust their
heads up amid the drooping grass at the bottom

of the bank to recover breath. They both knew

that they were directly beneath the branches of
the very tree in which they had seen poor
Gracie. '

The dress she wore was that of Warnona,
but they recognized the white maiden by her
shriek.

Warnona, they well knew, would not have
betrayed her presence. She would never have
allowed her feelings to overcome her rudence.

A few thoughts, flashing through t e brains
of the swimmers, convinced one of them that
his squaw had been drawn to Greene’s Ranch
by the blaze while she was out in searchof
himself—that she had found Dove Eye, attired
in one of her own costumes, and set out with
her on the trail to rescue the old ranchero; or,
it might be, to leave “sign” for the benefit of
those who might be like-minded. Thus the

chief reasoned.

He was confident that, not only was Dove

Eye in great danger, but that his squaw was so,

as well.

Pride filled the breast of Wild Wolf, as he
realized that Warnona had thus proved herself
worthy to be his squaw—the squaw of a Waco

chief. She was a true warrior s bride.

As for Gerald, his mind had become, until the
discovery of Gracie, more com ed and hope-
ful in regard to her absence. w ich had puzzled
him greatly. Possibly he had reasoned that
the t eory of Wild Wolf was correct—that is,
that she had discovered the Apaches at her
home, and gone for help, although such a
Course did not seem consistent with her char-
acter.

All was now made clear, however. Both
perceived that their dear ones were doomed did
not some unforeseen event occur, to prevent
them from falling into the power of the furi-
ously maddened Apaches.

As may be supposed, both Wild Wolf and
Gerald were in a- ver unenviable state of
mind, as they protrude their heads amid the
grass, that drooped from above the water-line,
into the stream.

But, at that very moment, sounds met their
ears, that gave them hope, and caused them to
hasten up the steep bank; drawing themscIVes
upward by drooping vines, their knives between
their teeth.

These encouraging sounds were the yells of
Big-Foot Wallace and his scouts; the detonation
of whose rifles and revolvers new rung through
the timber, accompanied by the hellish whoops
of the horde of Apache bravos.

It was no easy task, however, to surmount
the steep bank, which was there almost per-
pendicular; even with the assistance of the
vines. Especially was this the case, in the
wearied condition ii which they then were;
occasioned by the recent continuous, and des-

rate hand-to-hand conflicts, and the dash for

ibert —together with their fatiguing swim,
xbenea h the surface of the Rio Medina.

 

Wild war, the Waco]

The consequence was that much time passed
in their attempt. The firing ceased, and all
was again quiet in the undergrowth, before our
two friends reached the vicinity of the margin
of the bank.

Then, a most startling, and totally unexpected
event occurred.

CHAPTER XIII.
THE WORK WELL BEGUN.

VERY providentially, Big-Foot Wallace and
his Scouts, after running to the “open,” where
the had secreted their horses, and regaining
their rifles, reached the vicinity of the river, at
the swell of the bend, when their services were
most needed by the one of our friends, who has
had our deepest sympathy and pity.

For poor Gracie, a moment after she had
uttered that shriek, saw that she had sealed her
doom.

Neither Gerald nor Wild Wolf, she felt, could
come to her assistance. Should they do so, both
would be slain—slain through her own thought-
lessness.

In an instant it flashed upon the maiden that
the trail of her lover’s horse, discovered at the
ranch by Warnona, had been made after the
departure of the Apaches. He had believed her
a captive, and followed the trail of the war-
party, beng joined by the Waco chief. Then
she recall the solitary horseman, whom she
had seen, in the fiery glare of the sunset, as she
had ridden from the barranca.

Although the hideous Apaches were now
gazing up at her, giving vent to their fiendish
joy, in terrific yells and whoops; yet, regard-
less of this, the thoughts of Gracie were only
upon Gerald. .

Thus, for a brief space, were all parties 1-
tioned. Then, at a signal from Black W0 1‘, a
number of braves sprung into the lower branches
of the tree in which the young girl was.

Then it was that the report of six rifles, fired
as one, burst from the thickets west from the
tree; and every brave that had darted to secure
Gracie fell crashing to the earth.

Every bullet from the unerring rifles had torn
through the vitals of the savage aimed at.

So totally unexpected was this thunderous
report, which spoke of more enemies than the
Apaches believed were anywhere near them,
that the savages were appalled and bewildered.

Then the bullets of revolvers hurtled through
their massed ranks, and the Texan yells rung
clear, vengeful and taunting, in their ears.

The scene that followed among the war—party
was indescribable. That Big-Foot Wallace was
in the bottom-timber with some of his Scouts,
they had known since the discovery of the
slain sentinels; but they did not believe that the

iant scout was backed by any considerable
orce.

They soon recovered from their demoraliza-
tion, and having so much at stake, stood firm,
with arrows fitted, ready, at the order of
their chief, to rush upon their concealed foes.
Yet the signal whoop of Black iVolf sounded
not

 

Back in the camp was a vast herd of horses
and mules, which must be driven beyond the
Rio Pecos.

The chief had no captives for the torture, to
appease the squaws of the slain; and his reputa-
tion and rank were at stake, this being his first
war-trail, as head war-chief.

If he returned without captives, the widowed
squaws would hurl dirt at him, and spit upon
him. The war-path would never again be open
to him, especially as he had allowed a captive to
be rescued. ,

These thoughts goaded Black Wolf to frenzy;
that which enraged him most, being the fact
that the Waco chief had mutilated his dead,
ani defied him.

Since encamping, a series of most startling
and damaging surprises had occurred, which
would go against him as a skillful chief; and
there was but one way to redeem himself, and
insure an honorable reception on his return to
his village.

This was to secure the white squaw, whom he
had seen in the tree—for the Apaches erceived
that she was white, notwithstanding er paint
and costume.

Could he accomplish this, all would yet be
well, and be VP ould start at once westward.

Thus thought Black Wolf, as he and his
braVes crouched, undecided as to their future
proceedin s.

Being ‘ horse” Indians, they were at a dis
advantage in a bushwhacking fight. They
realized this: but there seemed no possible we
of recovering their losses, or avenging their
slain, except by rushing upon the Texans in

 

  

the face of the terrible fire which was kept up
by them.

Thus were the Apaches posted; the . scouts
maintaining their ground, ready to receive the
red foe, their weapons being all reloaded.

Had the savages rushed into the thickets, and
attacked the Texans, after the latter had fired
their rapid volleys, the whites Would have been
annihilated to a man; and Black Wolf, by not
makinga cnarge at that time, lost the one rand
opportunity, which might have placed all in his
power, and enable him to return in triumph,
with captives and herds, across the Pecos.

But, as the Apaches started to creep forward,
there was an0ther occurrence which must have
our attention.

The Indians had been forced to retreat to such
a distance from the death~dealing volleys of the
scouts, that Gracie was no longer within their
view; she being hidden by a perfect maze of
branches, moss, and the tops of the thick under-
growth.

The alfrighted maiden maintained her posi-
tion, appalled at the horrible scenes beneath;
but yet a great change had come over her since
she realized that Gerald was safe, in the river.
When the Apaches sprung into the tree to ef-
fect her capture, she became firm as a rock; and
with a desperate and determined manner, jerk-
ed her revolver—an intense loathing, and in-
sane hatred for the murderers of her nearest
and dearest ones ruling her mind. That mind
had now recovered strength.

She determined to shoot every savage who
approached her position; and she would doubt-
less have done so had not the bullets of the
scouts torn throu in their ranks and slain them
to a man—all falfing from the tree into which
they had sprung. .

The great slaughter, caused by the well-di-
rected revolvers of the Scouts, caused Gracie to
have some hopes. She had ' not the remotest
idea who were new-comers, and she cared not.

It was sufficient that they were foes to the
Apache murderers.

But Warnona was absent, and Gracie began
to feel no little anxiety in regard to her. She
now felt that Gerald would soon join the men
who were in the thickets and that she and her
father would be saved. It was possible that the
“'aco squaw, in the excitement, had gone to re-
lease Captain Greene.

The young girl now quickly descended the
tree, keeping upon the branches which leaned
Over the bank, and the stream itself. The
Apaches were just then deliberating as to their
next move against the whites.

W'hen Gracie reached a favorable position on
the lower branches, she beheld a sight that
filled her with horror.

There had been one Apache in the war-party
who, during the slaying of his comrade braves,
and the fearful din, had kept his wits about
him; bearing in mind that the hated Waco
chief and his white pard were in the river, and
Would, without doubt, climb up the bank and
join their friends in the thick undergrowth.

Here wasa chance for him to win an eagle-
feather for his fillet, by taking a captive or a
scalp.

This Indian was apowerful brave, and he now
shot into the undergrowth, dropping upon his
hands and knees.

With the greatest care, the warrior wormed
his way toward the margin of the bank, which
was fringed with bottom-grass.

It was then that Gracie caught sight of Gerald,
as he clutched the vines, and dug his boots into
the steep bank; slowly making his way upward,
and being nearl to the top, when the brave
just mentioned, {aid himself down on the very
verge of the bank, ready to plunge his Weapon
into the young man when he reached the top,

It was plain that the savage would have him
at his mercy.

The Waco chief was but a few paces beyond,
and further up the river.

Both the climbers were at a great disadvan-
tage, and it was apparent to Gracie that, unless
she made an effort immediately to save them,
the were 10st. She must act, and at once.

ost desperate had the bereaved girl become,
through the horrors with which she had been so
suddenly visited. Her eyes glared with a
strange luster, as she gazed upon the out-
stretched form of the repulsive Apache, and
made read for action.

Gerald ranger climbed higher and higher,
his form dripping with water; but the Indian
became impatient, expectin each instant that
the fight would be renewedfiietween the whites .
and his comrades.

Slowly he raised his head, leaning forward
and peeped through the fringe of grass; but

 

 

J

 

dodged quickly back,
directly below him.

The next moment, the head of Gerald was
even with the bank. Then, the Apache arose
upon his knees, bracing his left hand on the
ground, and with his right upraised, to strike
at his white foe.

Gerald saw his danger at once.

Death stared him in the facel

Should he move a muscle, the glittering blade
would be plunged into him.

The paint—smeared face was over his own, the
snake-like eyes gazing into his, with murderous
gloatin . Already, in his imagination, the
seal 0 the white man was in his belt.

Hg leaned still further over the bank, raised
his right hand higher, to give force to the blow,
and brought all his strength to bear upon it.

Just then, when life and death Were trem-
bling in the balance for Gerald Granger, a
form shot through the air. from the limbs above
—a human form, feet downward, with long
hair flying, and-arms outstretched.

Gerald recognized his lost Gracie!

Down, like a meteor, shot the desperate
maiden, her feet striking square, and with great
force, upon the shoulders of the savage.

He fell, like a projectile from a catapult, over
the bank, into the waters, with a sounding
plunge; the beautiful girl also shooting down-
ward. The same moment, Gerald and Wild
Wolf loosened their hold upon the vines, and
fell over into the river, determined that Gracie
should be saved.

Simultaneously, the terrible war-whoop of
the combined forces of Black Wolf rung through
the timber.

Then Gerald and the Waco ap ared above
the surface of the waters; the ormer, with
Gracie’s senseless form in his arms, and striking
out to he opposite side of the river with his
fair charge.

The appearance of Wild Wolf was attended
with a spattering and foaming of the whirling
waters, for he held the astounded Apache in
his vise-like grasp.

Face to face were the red enemies.

The left hand of the chief was about the
throat of the brave, both treading the water.
In the right hand of the Waco he grasped firm-
ly his long scalping-knife, and glared exultantly
into the half-strangled Apache sface. The tables
had turned.

The air resounded with whoops, yells, the
twang of bow-strings, and the sharp crack of
fire-arms.

Rallyin -cries, death-howls and shrieks of
agony, mingled with the taunting, ringing yells
o the Texans.

These sounds brou hi: to the front all the war-
s irit of the Waco c ief. He raised his knife
c ear of the waters, while the struggling wretch
he clutch caused a perfect whirl l in his
frantic e eavors to release himse f, his eyes
bul ing from their sockets with terror.

0 mercy was there, h0wever, in the venge-
ful glitter of Wild Wolf’s eye.

The terrible knife described an arch in its
rapid course, and was lunged with great force
into the breast of the ache brave.

Then quickly it was w thd'rawn to circleabout
the tufted head, the scalp being torn away as
the horror—filled eyes of the Indian were filming
in death, and the waters around them reddening
with his heart’s blood!

Down into the depths W'ild Wolf thrust the
dying Apache, drowning even the asp and
death rattle, and preVenting the signa howl of
the vanquished brave.

In a moment more the Waco chief was climb-
ing with the aid of the vines to the bank above,
like a squirrel, and soon he gained a footing on
form fimna. . . _

Tnen he gave one lightning-like glance in his
rear. over the river.

He now perceived Gerald Granger Swimming
r;.;.idly on his return, alone.

‘Vild Wolf knew that Dove Eye was safe, and
that the young scout was coming to join in the
fight and rescue the old captain and Warnona,
both of whom, the two men believed, were in
the power of the Apaches.

Loud rung the war-whoop of Wild ‘Volf, the
Waco chief; and he dashed through the under.
growth to the rear of the Apache horde. after
giving a gesture to Hawk Eye, indicating his
course.

T
for the young scout was

 

CHAPTER XIV.
THE END CROWNs THE WORK.
iVinN Warnona returned to guide Ca tain
Greene, if possible through the branches 0 the
trees, to the pos1tion of Gracie, she was filled
with anxiety, at hearing the rush of the Apaches

 

  
   

01f, the Waco.

 

Wild

toward the point where she had left the young
' 1

1r .

g The limpse she had caught of Wild Wolf and
Hawk ye satisfied her that they would escape;
but she was in a most perplexing state of mind
in regard to Gracie, feeling that her capture
was certain.

Her mind was, however, somewhat relieved,
at the report of the rifles and revolvers; she
knowing well, that aesistance must have arrived.
There could be no doubt that the whites and
the reds were now engaged in a terrible fight;
and Warnona, knowing that she could be of no
use, except in as<isting the White Chief to avoid
recapture, hastened on, until she reached him.

To her surprise, the squaw found Captain
Greene much better, and quite in possession of
his faculties. He stood erect, upon one limb,
clutching at another above his head, and gaZed
at Warnona, with a strange expression, as she
came up. Then his look somewhat softened, as
he recognized her, and remembered the near ast.

One glance had betrayed the fact to the sec
squaw, that the Apache camp was deSerted of
all except the Wounded; and immediately a
plan was formed, in her mind, to take advan-
tage the situation of affairs.

Quickly she said:

“Come! White Chief go with Warnona.
Texans have come. Hear war-cry of Big-
Foot. It is good. Blood of squaw and pap-
pooses of thite Chief call for vengeance.
Come!”

Warnona had struck the right chord.

The captain, without a word, descended and
followed the \Vaco squaw. UnCoiling a lasso
from her wrist, the latter repeated:

“ Come!”

Just then the old ranchero caught sight of the
wounded Apaches. His eyes blazed with fury.
He sprung forward and caught up some steel-
pointed arrows and stood over them.

The wounded braves gazed in horror.

The knew that their time had come.

Wit furious rage the old ranchero plunged
an arrow into each breast, and then clutching a
knife from the belt of a dyin brave, he slashed
off their scalps. Meanwhi e, Warnona had
lassoed two mustangs and quipped them. She
led them up the captain, who stood holding his
gory trophies.

“ It is good,” said the squaw. “Here is mus-
tang. Come! More Apaches in bottom-timber.
Dove Eye in tree. Come!"

At the mention of his daughter‘s name the old
man bounded into the saddle, lVarnona holding
the jaw-strap of the half-wild mustang, and the
captain s'ill grasping the scalps.

“Come!”

Thus spoke the squaw again, as she lashed her
Own steed toward the vast herd of stolen horses
and mules, among which were the mustangs of
the war-party. .

In five minutes more, alm0st the entire herd
were galloping, in a wild stampede, over the
plain, eastward, on the back trail.

This accomplished, Warnona wheeled about,
and headed for the camp again.

“Waugh! It is good! War-path open.
Come!"

Bo saying, the Waco squaw led the way.

But, to return to the scene of the fight.

With fierce whoops, the Apaches arose from
their crouching postures, and, rushing forward,
Sent a flight of arrows into the thicket. To
their intense sur rise, there was no return—no
sound from the ense undergrowth.

At the last moment, Big-Foot Wallace had
thought of a. movement, which would give

hem a great advantage. by effecting another
surprise upon the red foe. Well knew the
scouts that their lives hung by a hair; that the
overwhelming mass of Apaches would cut them
down in a moment’s time, did they not again
demoralize them by a surprise.

Thus it was. that the giant scout, who was
reckless to a fault, but realized the desperate
Condition of affairs, ordered his pards to draw
back stealthily, to another line of thickets,
west from their position; and. before which
was a narrow open space, extending north and
south. The consequence of this was, that the
flight of arrows fell harmless] in the bushes
where our friends had just lain in ambush.

It was but fora moment that the Apaches
halted in bewilderment. Black Wolf believed
that the Texans had fled for their liws, and
that all were in his power, did be but act
promptly.

With a ringing war-whoop, he rushed for-
ward—his whoop echoed by his warriors—and
all with bows half-bent, darted through the
thickets in a long line, into the narrow “ open.”

Some mysterious influence seemed to warn

 

the red torturers, that their foes were concealed
in front: yet, not the slightest sound was there
to indicate it.

It was a terrible sight, and to one who knew
not their merciless character, perhaps a grand
one—to see every bronzed warrior, standing,
with left foot forward, bows bent, eyes glaring
into the thicket, and their long black hair hang-
ing, bedecked with bright feathers and tiny sil-
ver trinkets.

Thus stood the pirates of the Pecos.

All, for a moment, was still as death—a
stillness that was ominous of death to those red
braves.

Then, again rung the war-whoop of Black
Wolf, who feared that the White foe would es-

ca .

That whoop, which should have been echoed
by the warriors, but which, at that instant,
died on their lips—giving place, in some in-
stances, to death-yells—had no sooner sounded
than six deadly tubes sent spurts of fire and
smoke from the undergrowth, opposite the
Apaches. A thunderous report again rung
through the timber; and, as many braves as
there had been shots, threw up their arms, and
fell backward in death.

Then, before the dumfounded Apaches, whose
fears, in regard to the presence of their foe in
the thickets, had been banished by the prolong-
ed silence, could recover themselves, the wild
war-whoop of Black Wolf again sounded;
the chief rushed forward, knowing that all was
lost, it the warriors delayed.

But, as the arrows hurtled into the bushes
and other deadly shafts were fitted to the
strings, the spiteful and continuous crack of
revolvers was heard; the bullets fl ing like hail
amid the Apaches, as they rushe t0ward the
ambush of their white foes.

Many braves fell before the deadly rifles and
revolvers; but the survivors rushed t0ward the
line of thickets, many falling over the dead.
Th 11 it was, that the war-whoop of the Waco
was sounded in their rear; the bullets from
‘Vild Wolf‘s revolver causing many adeath-

ell.
y The frenzied Apaches rushed into the bushes
and were met by the Texans, in a hand-to-han
fight with knives° then at the very moment
when the lives of Big-Foot Wallace and his
pards trembled in the balance, on, crashing
through the undergrowth, dashed Captain
Greene and Warnona; the latter shooting her
revolver, and sounding the Waco war-cry—the
former, with foaming lips, and insane glare,
urging his frantic mustang directly into the
ranks of the Apaches. Unearthly yells burst
from his throat, as he slashed right and left,
with the long, blood-reeking scalping~knife."

Wild Wolf, filled with pride at the conduct
of his squaw, yet anxious for her safety, darted
to her side, and fought madly; while Gerald,
dripping with the waters of the Medina, joined
the singular trio, and engaged in the deadly
strife, although nearly exhausted by his recent
exertions. But description isvimpossible.

At length, Black Wolf gave .the retreat yell,
and with his surviving ,l.raves, less than a
score, rushed toward his camp; all, with bated
breath, and terror-filled eyes, at the awful
avalanche of death and disaster, that had come
upon them.

"Come on, boyees, fer ther nagsl Gerald
and Wild ‘Volf, skute ’long 0’ us; fer hit won‘t
do ter ’low ther red coyotes ter git a show ter
breathe.”

Thus yelled Big-Foot Wallace, and the survi-
vors dashed alter the giant Scout.

Four of his brave pards were left, stark and
stiff, with the corpses of the Apaches, and not
one of our friends was free from knife-wounds,
except Warnona.

The latter now urged her horse to a point on
the river-bank, where the animal could descend,
and forced him to swim the stream; finding
poor Gracie where Gerald had left her, but
nearly wild with anxiety in regard to the safety
of her father and friends.

In a very few words, Warnona informed
Dove Eye that White Chief was Safe, and was
seeking Vengeance by the side of Hawk Eye,
“'ild \Volf and Big—Foot Wallace. Soon the
two females crosSed the river, and proceeded to-
ward the camp.

Big Foot, and the two scouts who had escaped
death, together with Wild Wolf and Gerald,
mounted their horses. which had been left in
the little open, and dashed with Captain Greene.
t0ward the Apache can‘ig.

There they ound the aco squaw and Gracie.

The latter threw herself into the arm) of h“
poor suffering father, who was unable, in any
way, to give Vent to his feelings.

 

 

 

   
 

16

.yn‘J’  > \ . I V ‘ x.

. 1,.

_' " O‘ .
\ ' I

‘Wild W511: the Waco.

  
  
 

 

“Thank God i” came from the lips of Gerald
Gra r, as he saw father and daughter thus
folds in each other’s arms. Then, at a yell
from Bi -Foot, he joined the remainder of the
party; V arnona remaining with the old ranch-
ero and Gracie.

“Dang my dogs, an’ cuss my cats! Es Old
Rocky ’u’d sling hit,” burst out the giant smut;
“ther hull herd hev stampeded, an’ ther reds
air flat-footed, fur from hum, an’ sufferin’ from
billiousnessl

“Thar’s no use ter foller ’em. They’ve tuck
ter ther bush, an’ air skutin’ towards ther Pecos
et a 0 clone stampede.

“ ouder who run ther critters 011’?”

This last was said, as the whites, with the
Waco chief, returned to the tree.

“Warnona and White Chief stampede. Horses
stampede. Mules stampede. Apache mustangs
stampede. “'aughl It is good.

“ Apache squaws sit in aches two moons.
Many dearh-yellson Rio Medina.”

Wild Wolf gazed with pride upon his squaw,
as he spoke, and added:

“ Waugh! VVanona, Waco squaw, Wild
Wolf’s squaw. Heii‘p brave. Good on war-
path. Heap good. VGUKLI 1”

Gerald sprung to the earth, and Gracie dis-
en aged herself from her father, and threw her-
eel , sobbing, upon his breast.

But, kind reader, as we near the end Of our
pen and paper trail, we would not tax our
patience with a lengthy and detailed exp ana-
tion of the future proceedings of our friends.

Big-Foot Wallace and his two pards buried
the slain of their party. Then, as several ran-
cheros arrived, eager for revenge, the giant
scout led them on the trail; succeeding in slay-
in Black Wolf and nearly all his remaining
fol owers.

Captain Greene, with his daughter and War-
nona, returned to the devastated home on Cot-
tonwood creek, and the bodies of their mur-
dered ones received Christian burial.

Upon the return of Gerald Granger from the
war-trail, he invited the ca tain and Gracie to
his father’s ranch; Wild olf and Warnona
also accom anying the young scout to his home.

The rancheros met and rebuilt Greene’s Ranch
soon after, and, as the stolen herds were re-
covered, the estate remained much as formerly.

But Captain Greene was henceforth a broken-
down man; sitting most of his time b the clus-
ter of graves beneath the moss-dratpe bran has
of the timber. These hid forever rom his low
the wife and children who had been so brutally
butchered before his eyes.

Gerald and Gracie were wedded a year after
the startling events we have recorded—events
which are true in every articular; the writer
having oft listened to t e recital of the same
from the lips of Gerald Granger, the young
scout. And not only from him, but from Grace
Granger, nee Greene; at whose pleasant ranch
one might often meet the faithful red friends of
the Grungers— Warnona, and her warrior bus-

and,
WILD W OLE, THE WACO.

THE END.

BEADLE’S HALF-DiME HENRY.

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160 THE BLACK GIANT. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr... 5c
16] NEW YORK NELL. By Edward L. Wheeler .. 5c
162 WILL WILDEIRE IN THE Woons. By C. Morris. 5c
163 LITTLE TEXAS. By 011 000mm . . .. . .. 5c
164 DANDY ROCK’s PLEDGE. By Geo. W. Browne. 5c
165 BILLY BAGGAGE. THE RAILROAD BOY. Morris. 5c
166 HICKORY HARRY. By Harry St. George. . .  50
167 AsA SCOTT. By Edward “’illett , 5c
168 DEADLY DASH. By Joseph F. Badger, Jr.  5c
169 TORNADO TOM. BE T. C. Harbaugli . . . . . . . ..
170 A TRUMP CARD. y Charles Morris . . . . . . . . . ..
171 EBONY DAN. By Frank Dumont. ..
172 THUNDERBOLT TOM. By Harry St. George. . ..
173 DANDY Roca’s RIVAL. By Geo. W. Browne..
174 BOB ROCKETT. By Charles Morris , ..  
175 CAPTAIN ARIZONA. By Philip S. Warne . . . . . . .
176 THE BOY RUNAWAY. By Lieut. II. D. PERRY..
177 NODBY NICK OF NEVADA. By E. L. Wheeler..
178 OLD SOLITARY. By 011 Coomes. . 

17 9 BOB ROCKETT, THE BANK RUNNER. By Morris.
180 THE SEA TRAILER. Lieut. H. D. Perry U. S. N.
181 WILD FRANK or MONTANA. B E. L. Wheeler.
182 LITTLE HURRICANE. By 011 oomes . . . . . . . . ..
183 THE HIDDEN HAND. By Chas. Morris . . . . . . . .
184 THE BOY TRAILERS. B Jos. E. Badger, Jr. ..
185 EVIL EYE. By Frank )umont . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
186 COOL DEsMOND. By Col. Dele Sara. .. . .. . .  5c
187 FRED HALYARID. B Chas. Morris . . . . . . . .  5c
188 NED TEMPLE. By . C. Harbaugh ..
189 Boa ROCKETT, THE CRACKSMAN. By C. Morris 50
190 DANDYDARKE. Bme. R. E ster..... . 
191 BUFFALO BILLY. B Capt. A. .Taylor,U.S.A.
192 CAPTAIN Krr. By ieut. H. D. Perry U.S.N.
193 THE LADY RoAuAmm. By Philip s. warm.
194 BUFFALO BILL‘s BET. Capt. A. B. aylor.U.S.A
195 DEADwoon DICK’s DREAM. By E. L. Wheeler.
196 SHADOWED. By CharlesMo s  
197 LITTLE GRIT. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. . ..
198 ARKANSAw. By T. C. Harbau  . . . . . . . ..
199 FEATHERWEIGHT. By Edwar Willett . . . . . ..
200 THE BOY BEDOI'INB. By Capt. F. Whittaker..
201 THE BLACK HILLS J EZEBEL. E. L. Wheeler..
202 PROSPECT PETE. By 011 Coomes. . .. .
203 THE BOY PARDs. Jos. E. Badger, Jr . . . . . . . ..
204 GOLD PLUME. By (‘01. Prentiss Incraham . ..
205 DEADwoon DICK‘s DOOM. By E. L. Wheeler.
206 DARK PAUL, THE TIGER KING. B C. Morris.
207 NAVAJO NICK. By T. C. Harbaug . . . . . . . . ..
206 THE BOY HERCULES. By 011 Coomes . . . . . . .. 5c

   

8‘8‘8‘8’8’8'8‘8’8'88’8‘8‘

8'8‘8'8‘8'8‘8‘8‘8‘8‘8'8‘8‘8

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209 FRITZ, THE BOUND-BOY ETECTIVE. Wheeler. 5c
210 FARO FRANK or H CH PIN B W. R. . ster... 5c
211 CROOKED CALE. y Jos. E. adger, r . . . . . .. 5c
212 DASHING DAVE. By Charles Morris . . . . . . . .. 5c

213 FRrrZ To THE Fing. By E. L. Wheeler..... 5c
214 WOLFGANG. By apt. Frederick Whittaker.. 5c
215 CAPTAIN BULLET. y T. C. Harbaugll;  5c
216 BISON BILL. By Col. Prentiss In In. . 5c
217 CAPTAIN CRACK-SHOT. By E. L. 50
218 TIGER TOM. BvOllCoomes ..  .  5c
219 DESPARD, THE DUELIsT. By Philip S. \V arne. 50
220 TOM TANNER. By Charles orris . . . . . . . . . . .. 5c
221 SUGAR-COATED SAM. By Edward L. Wheeler. 50
222 GRIT, THE BRAVO SPORT. B Col. Ingraham. 5c
223 OZARK ALE. By EdwardW llett  .. 50
22.4 DASHING DICK. By 011 Coomes. .. 
225 SAM CHARCOAL, TIIE PREMIUM DARKY.
CharlesMorI-is.. ..   . . . . . 
226 SNOOZER. THE BOY SHARP. By E. L. Wheeler. 50
227 DUSKY DARREL, TRAPPER. By E. Emerson... 50
228 LITTLE WILDIrIRE. By 011 Coomes............
229 CRmsoN KATE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham..
230 THE YANKEE RAJAII. B C. D. 
29.1 PLUEKY PHIL. By T. C. arhaugh.......... ..
212 GOLD-DUST DICK. By E. L. Wheeler.. 
213 JOE BUCK or ANGELS. By Albert W. Aiken.
254 BENITO, THE YOUNG HORsE-BREAKER. By
Buckskin Sum . . . . . . . . . ..
235 SHADOW SAM THE MEssENGER BOY.
Charles Morris. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
2‘36 APOLLO BILL. By Edward L. Wheeler .. .. .
2:37 LONE STAR, THE Cownor CAPTAIN. By Col.
Prentiss Ingraham...  . . . . . . . . . . . ..
238 THE PARSON DETECTIVE. By 011 Coomes .
239 THE GOLD-SEEKER GUIDE. By Mayne Reid...
210 CYCLONE KIT. B Edward L. Wheeler” .. ..
211 BILL BRAVO AND Is BEAR PARDs. By T. C.
Hurbaugh .. , .. . .. .. ,
212 THE Two ‘BLOODB.’ By Charles Morris.- 
246 THE DIsGUIsED GUIDE. By 011 Coomes
244 SIERRA SAM, THE FRONTIER FERRET.
ward L. Wheeler
245 MERLE, TIE MIDDY.
246 GIANT GEORGE. By

heeler '.

8'8' 8' 8'8'8'8'8'8‘

sssss sass

Buc MIOOUHOII...“

 

247 OLD GRIZZLY AND HIS PETs. By Captah I
“Bruin”Adams .   ..  ..
218 SIERRA SAM‘s SECRET. By E. L. Wheeler
219 MILO ROMER. By Captain Fred. Whittaker...
250 MIDSIIIPMAN MUTINEER. By Col. P. Ingraham.
251 LIGHT-HOUSE LIGE. B ' J. F. C. Adams ..... ..
252 DICK DASIIAWAY. By harles Morris 
253 SIERRA SAM‘s PARD. B E. L. Wheeler . . . . ..
251 THE HALF BLOOD. By ‘dward S. Ellis. .. ..
255 CAPTAIN APOLLO. By T. C. Harlaangli . .
256 YOUNG KENTI'CK. By (‘aptain Mark Wilton.
2’37 THE LOST HUNTERS. B ' J. F. (‘. Atlfllt.“ .
2'38 SIERRA SAM’s SEVEN. By E. L. Wheeler. . .
259 THE GOLDEN HARPOON. By Roger Stai-hnck.
260 DARE-DEVIL DAN. By Ollt‘oomes. . .. ., ,
261 FERGUB FEARNAUGHT. By George L. Aiken.
262 THE YOUNG SLEUTHs. By Charles Morris. ..
213 DEADWOOD DICK’s DIVIDE. By E. L. Wheeler.
264 THE FLOATING FEATHER. By Col. Ingraliani.
255 THE TIGER TAMER. By Capt. F. Whittaker..
266 KILLB’AR, THE GUIDE. By Ensign (‘liarles
Dudley Warren (Of the Engineer Corps)... .
267 TIIE BUCKSKIN ETECTIVE. By Harbaugh....
208 DEADWOOD DICK’s DEATH TRAIL. By Ed-
ward L. Wheeler  . . . . . . . . . ..
269 THE GOLD SHIP. By (‘01. Prentiss In aham.
270 BLIzZARD BEN. By Ca tain Mark Wilton. . ..
271 TIIE HUGE HUNTER.  Edward S. Ellis 
272 MINKSKIN MIKE. By 01 Coomes . . . . . . . , ..
273 JUMBO JOE. By Edward L. Wheeler . . . , . . ..
‘71 JOLLY JIM. By Charles Morris
275 ARIZONA JACK. B87 Buckskin Sam . . . . . . . ..
276 MERLE MONTE’s ‘RI'ISE. By C01. Prentiss
Ingraham..  . . . . . . . . . . 
277 DENVER DOLL. By Edward L. Wheeler. .. ..
278 THE THREE TRAPPERS. By Maj. L. W. Carson.
279 OLD WINCH, THE RIFLE KING. By T. C. Har-
baugh  ..  . . . . . . . . . . . .. ..
280 MERLE MONTE’s FATE. By Prentiss In raham
281 DENVER DOLL‘s VICTORY. ‘ E. L. V1 eeler.
282 THE TYPO DETECTIVE. By dwai-d Willett. ..
283 INDIAN JOE. By Major L. W. (‘arson.. . 
284 THE SEA MARAUDER. By Prentiss In aham..
285 DENVER DOLL’s DECOY. By Ed. L. ‘heeler.
$6 JOSH, THE BOY TENDERFOOT. By Capt. Marl:
Wilton . . . . . . . ..
287 BILLY BLUE-EYES.
288 THE SCALP KING.
2S9 JOLLY JIM’s Jon.
290 LITTLE FOKEIRE. By OllCoomes...  ..
2.01 TURK, THE FERRET. By Edward L. Wheeler.
292 SANCHO PEDRO. By Major E. L. St. Vrain., ..
293 RED CLAW. By Captain Comstock . . . . . . 
294 DYNAMITE DAN. B T. C. Harhaugh . . . . . . . ..
295 FEARLEss PHIL. y Edward Willett . . . . . . . .
296 DENVER DOLL’s DRIFT. By E. L. Wheeler.
297 THE TARANTULA or TAos. By Buckskin Sam.
298 THE WATER-BOUND. By Charles Morris. . . .
299 A No. 1. THE DAEHING TOLL-TAKER. By E.
L. Wheeler . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..
800 THE SKY DEMON. By 011 Coomes.... . .. 
301 LEADVILLE NICK. By Major E. L. St. Vrnin..
802 THE MOUNTAIN DETECTIVE. By T. C. Har-
ug . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. .. ..
803 'LIZA JANE. THE GIRL MINER. B Wheeler.
304 THE DEAD SHOT DANDY. B Col. P. ngraham.
805 DAsHAWAY or DAKOTA. y Charles Morris.
806 Nnchnc NED. By Maj. H. B. Stoddard.....
307 THE STRANGE PARD. By Buckskin Sam.... .
308 KENO KIT. By Col. Prentiss In raham . . . . ..
309 DEADwoon DICK’s BIG DEAL. y Wheeler..
310 THE BARRANCA \VOLE. By Jos. E. Badfier, Jr.

assesses as ssssssssssssssssssg

By (‘Ol. P. Ingraham. . . ..
By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
By Charles Morris . . . . . .

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811 THE ROVING SPORT. By Edward Will 
312 REDTOP RUDE. By Ma or E. L. St. Vr n.....
818 CIMARRON JACK. By rederick Dewey . . . . ..
314 THE MYsTERIOUE MARAUDER. B lngrahnm.
315 NED, TIIE CABIN BOY. B Jack arragut....
316 OLD ECLIPSE. By T. C. arbaugh... ..  ..
817 PEACOCK PETE. y Lieut. Alfred Thorne. . ..
818 KER-wnoor, KER-wnooi By Buckskin Sam..
819 THE BLACK RIDER. B Jos. E. Badger, Jr...
820 THE SEA SORCEREss. y Jack Farra t 
821 DEADWOOD DICK’s DOZEN. Bv E. L. eeler.
823 NEMO. THE DETECTIVE. By Edward Willett...
823 ARKANsAw JACK. B Harry Hazard. .. 
324 RALPH READY. B harles Morris  ..
325 KELLEY, HICKEY Co. B E L. Wheeler.. .
326 BILL BLAKE, THE SLAYER. y T. C. Harbaugli.
327 (‘REEPmG CAT, THE CADDO. By Buckskin Sam.
328 THE SKY DETECTIVEs. By Major Mickey Free.
829 RED-SKIN TOM. By Ha ' Hazard. . ..
330 LrITLE Oil-SHOT. B ward L. Wheeler.
331 BLACK ICK. By Ca t. Fred. Whittaker. 
332 FRIo FRED. By Buc kin Sam. , ..
833 BRIMSTONE BOB. By Major E. L. St. Vrain.. ..
334 KANGAROO KIT. By E. L. Wheeler . . . . . . . . . . .
335 OLD DOUBLE FIsT. Bv Jose h E. Badger, Jr..
836 BIG BENRON. B T. .Harl augh . . . . . . . .. ..
837 BEN BIRD. By . J. Hamilton . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..
338 A TOUGH BOY. B Philip S. Warne .... 
339 KANGAROO KIT‘s CKET. By E. L. Wheeler.
340 CLIP. THE CONTORTIONIsT. B Ed. Willett. . ..
311 TONY TH’ RNE. By Charles orris. . . .. . ..
842 THE MOUNTAIN DEVIL. By Har Hazard. ..
848 MANHATTAN MIKE. By Edward . Wheeler..
344 THE FIGHTING TRIO. B Buckskin Sam . . . . ..
845 PITILEss MATT. By T. .. Harhaugh. .
346 RAPIER RAPHAEL. By Major H. B. Stoddard.
9.17 DEADWOOD DICK’s DUCATs. By E. L. Wheeler.
348 FIRE-HEELs: or, Old Skinflint the Death-

Shadow. By Roger Starbuck... . . . . .
3.19 WILD WOLF, THE WACO. B Buckskin Sam..
850 BED RALPH, THE RIVER YER. By Ned

Buntline. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .. 

A new issue every Tuesday.

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