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Published Every @eadze d" fldaTnSv gallbhjghersy Ten Centsa. Copy.  1 10
Week. 98 WILLIAM STREET. N. Y., December I. 1880.; $5.00 a Year. '

 

 

THE SILENT RIFLEMANT‘

A TALE OF THE TEXAN PLAINS. - ‘

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BY HENRY W. HERBERT.

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The Silent Rifleman.
A Tale of the Texan Plains.
BY HENRWV.‘ HERBERT.

CHAPTER I.
Tim noass AND THE amen.

I'r wanted an hour or two of sunset on a lovely
eveninv in the latter part of September, when a
single horseman might have been seen, making
his way to the westward, across the high dry
prairie land, which lies between the upper por—
tion of the riVer Nueces and the rave del
Norte.

He was a small, spare man, of no great per-
sonal power, but of a figure which gave promise
of great agility and capability of enduring1
fatigue, the most remarkable feature of whic
was the extraordinary length of his arms.

His countenance, without being in the least
degree handsome, was pleasing and expressive,

. with a broad and massive forehead, a quick,

clear, black eye, a firm, well-cut mouth, and a
character of great acuteness, combined with

/ indomitable resolution.

His dress consisted of an Indian hunting-shirt
and leggins of buckskin, exquisitely dressed,
and adorned with much fringe and embroidery
of porcu ine quills, wrought in black upon a
claret-co ored ground. His head was covered
by a high-crowned broad-leafed hat of dark

’ gray felt, with some heavy silver ornaments in

the bail, and his feet were protected by stout
Indian moccasins. .

In the wilderness, and on that frontier es-

cialiy, all men go armed, the traveler depend-
ing on his weapons not only for the defense but
the subsistence of his life; ut the person I have
described was loaded with offensive armsto a
d ree unusual even in that land of perilous
an cruel warfare.

A short, heavy English rifle, carrying a ball
of twelve ‘ the pound, was slung by a black
leather be across his shoulders, the braided
strap which supported his large buffalo—horn
powder flask and bullet ouch of otter skin
crossing it on his breast. om a leather lgirdle,
which was buckled about his waist, he ha hun
along, straight, two-edged sword in a stee
scabbard with a silver basket hilt on the left
side, which was counterbalanced by a long,
broad-bladed bunting knife with a uck—hom
hilt, resting u on his right bifl. There Were
bolsters at the w of his large exican saddle,
containing a pair of fine dueling pistols with ten-
inch barrels; and in addition to these there was
suspended from the pummel a formidable
hatchet with a bright steel head and a spike at
the back, like an . .
respects a more ponderous and superior instru-
ment.

On the croupe of his horse, and attached to
the cantle of the saddle, be carried a small
valise of untanned leather, with a superb Mexi-
can blanket of blue and scarlet strapped upon
it, and a larger leathcrn bottle with a horn
drinking-cup swinging from it on one side;
while to the other was fastened a portion of the
loin of a fat buck, which had fallen in the course
of the morning by the rifle of the traveler.

The horse which carried this well-appointed
rider was a dark-brown thoroughbred of great
mwer and action, at least sixteen ban 5 in

ight, and apgarentiy, though somewhat low in
flesh, in the nest possible condition. He was

‘ perhaps what might be termed an English cross-

red, .but his quarters and arni were superb
and his deep, roomy chest showed ample igene
for that breathing apparatus, so essent to
speed-and endurance. He had one white foot
behind, and a broad white blaze on his face,
across which there was a large seam, evidently
the sear of a long and severe broad-sword cut;

in his fore-shoulder there was another mark as

of a stab with a lance or bayonet, and on his
left quarter the traces of three bullets or grape
s ot.

None of these Wounds had, however, impaired
either his strength or his s eed; nor had the
long day’s journey, which '8 had performed,
diminished the pride of his high slashing action
or quenched in the least degree the wild an
fier light of his untamed aye.

otbing, in fact, could be more rfect than
the whole air and appearance of bo h horse and
rider. Though care and grooming were mani-
fest m the condition and coat of the noble ani-
mal, the arms and accouterments of the man
were as bright and clean as if they had just
issued from the armory; his dress was accurate-
ly neat and in perfect order, and was worn
with a sort of jaunty smartness that bespoke
the wearer something of a frontier dandy.
His hair, which he_ wore long was nicely ar.
ranged and hung ll] dark our over his gay-
colored neckerchief: and his close curled beard
Iiiaddbeen trimmed recently, and by a practiced
xuu . ,

His seat in the saddle was the perfection of
grace. ease and neatness: yet it was evident
that in spite of the almost careless freedom of
his limbs. he rode with as much power as grace,

ndian tomahawk, but in all.

 

', \ , ‘ / ,
The Silent Rifleman.
and that there wasa world of stren tb in the
swelling muscles of the thi h and e which
rested so lightly on the em osscd an orna—
mented sadd e. ‘

The finger which played continuallygwith the
long—choc red, heavy curb on his char er, was
as li ht and delicate as a feather: and t 19 man-
ner in which the animal champed on the solid
part, tossing his head, and making the bits ring
and jingle merrily, showed that he had a fine
light mouth, and that he felt no inconvenience
from the owerful bridle. '

As the aywore on toward its close, the rider
began to strain his eyes somewhat anxxously,
directin ' them forward as if in search of some
object w llch he reatly desired to see; but still
as he crossed swe 1 after swell of the high and
prairie land, nothing met his gaze but one low
ridge succeeding another rising up bare and
bleak, covered on] with long course grass
withered beneath e fierce rays of an Ameri-
can sun, and interspersed here and there with
tufts and thickets of prickly pear and other
stunted thorny bushes.

There were no symptoms of verdure or rich
vegetation on this arid and barren tract; no
traces of any water whether in the she of
streamlet, 001 or fountain' all was dry, urn-
ed and ye] ow, almost as the scorched sands of
the Arabian desert.

Neither were there any signs of animal life
in this ungenial and treeless waste; no birds
sprung up from the thick grass before the feet
of the gallant horse; no deer or antelope was
seen bounding away across the sky-line of the
near horizon; no hum of insect life reached the
ear of the rider, as he passed steadily and rapid-
ly onward.

At length, when the sun was no longer above
three times the width of his own disk from the
level line of the lowest plain, he set his s urs to
his horse, and gut him from the hi h ashing
trot which be ad hitherto main ned, into a
long slingin gallop, which carried him over the
ground at t 6 rate of some sixteen miles the

our.

After he had ridden at this rate for thirty or
fort minutes, he reached the brow of one of
the ow rolli waves of earth, which constitute
the surface 0 the rairie, and thence saw the
land falling awayin a long gentle slo for
some six miles toward the west, at whic dis-
tance it was bounded by a long continuous line
of hills whose range seemed interminable. At
the base of this range appeared a dense line
looking somber enough at that distance, bu
which the experienced eye of the horseman
well knew ind cated a'heav growth of timber
—perhaps a deep forest, an within its shadowy
de ths, a wide and never-failin stream.

n exclamation of pleasure roke from the
lips of the rider, spoken in American but with
a stron foreign accent. The hard-ridden horse
tossed is head and snufled the air with his
broad distended nostrils as if he inhaled the
pleasant freshness of the stream and the sweet
grasses there. They did not however, relax
their speed in consequence of the pleasure aris—
ixlilg from that long desired view; but, if any
t uglhastened more'swiftly forward to the spot
whic tpromised to both horse and rider repose
and re resbment after the toils of the long and

w da .

As orthalf-hour brought them to the forest
just as the sun was setting; and nothin can be
conceived in nature more lovely t an the
scenery of that green wilderness. For about a
mile in width on either side of the rand, mar
gestic river the earth was covere with the

reshest and richest greensward, as tender in its
hues, and as soft and elastic to the foot as the
finest English lawn. The whole of this vast
meadow was thickl set with gigantic trees-
live~oaks with their eep evergreen foliage, an
oaks of every species, rown o a size 0 trunk
and spread of limb w on we can barely con-
ceive, accustomed as we are to the less luxuriant
vegetation of the Northern forests. For the
most part, this belt of neble timber was com-
pletely free from nnderwood, the trees standing
so far apart as to admit the maneuvering of a
re “merit of horse between their huge and messy
boos: but in some place there were dense
thickets of be , wild peach and holly, all mat-
ted and inte wined with enormous vines and
creepers of every description, so as to defy the
entrance of any intruder larger than a rabbit
or a rat into their green recesses. And over all
was tip the eternal canopy of fresh, dark
foliage, rpetually renewed, and sheltering the
moist so 1 beneath it with an unchanged van“?
of living nery.

Throug this Wild paradise the mi bty river
rolled its dpcllucld waves, rapid, an deep and
strong, an as transparent as the purest crystal.

Beautiful as was the picture in itself, its
loveliness was yet enhanced a thousand-fold
by the contrast it presented to the arid and
burnin plains, almost destitute of vegetation,
over w rob the way of the traveler had lain,
and the almost intolerable ' lare with which'the
unclouded sun had scourge the head of both
horse and rider during the live-long day. .

Galloping his horse joyoust over the .rich
green turf, the traveler soon reached the river,
at a spot where it was bordered by a little

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beach or margin of pure white sand, asflrm, and
almost as hard as marble; and springing into the
cool clear water till it laved the heaving flanks
of his charger he suffered it to drink long and
deep of the pure beverage, which had not
touched its thirsty lips since the early mornin .

This duty done he returned to the shore, an ,
selecting an oak tree about two feet in irth
around which the grass grew unusually ta and
luxuriant, tied his companion to its stem by the
lasso, or cord of plaited hide which was coiled
at his saddle-bow, allowing him a range of some
twenty ards in circumference, removed the
heavy b t and ponderous saddle, and, not till
then, applied himself to satisfy the urgency of
his own thirst with water from the river.
slightly mingled with the contents of the good
leathern bottle.

Having drank freely, he again returned to
the care of his horse, which he rubbed down
carefully, washing its eyes and nostrils, pulling
its ears, chafing its clean bony legs till they were
perfectly free from moisture, whether of sweat
or of the river water which had bathed them
so recently. .

Then, after polishin his accouterments, as
if for parade, he hung is rifle and his broad-
sword from the fork of a stunted oak tree, col-
lecting some dry leaves and branches and,
striking a 1i ht from the ready flint an steel,
soon had a 0 car bright fire glancing and flash-
ing in a sheltered nook surrounded on all sides
but one, that where his horse was tethered, b a
dense and impenetrable thicket of bays, pric 1y
pear and holly. _

Within a few minutes half a dozen twigs,
fixed in the ground about the blazing fire, sup-
ported as many steaks of fat venison each
with a biscuit under it imbibing the de icious
grav , and a second with salt and (pegper, all
whic unusual dainties were supplie pm the
small valise of the provident and epicureau
frontiersman.

. While his supper was cookin thus and send-
ing forth rich and unwonted o ors through the
forest, our traveler had prepared his simple
couch, spreading his handsome poncho on the
deep herbage, with his saddle arranged for his
illow, immediately under the tree from which
e bad suspended his gun and saber—his pistols,
the locks and copper caps of which be carefully
inspected, his tomahawk being laid ready to 1111?
hand beside it—his good knife never oft his
girdle—so that if aroused from his slumbers by
any sound of peril he might gpring to his feet
armed at once, and prepared or an fortune.

11 the precautions which be too were but
the ordinar accidents, as a painter would term
them, of t e life of a frontiersman; but the
nicety of his arrangements, the neatness of- his
dress, the extreme ains which he took with his
horse and arms, an above all the unusual fare,
the biscuits and condiments, the leathern bottle,
filled not with rum or whisky, but with fine
Xeres wine, betokened tastes and habitudes
more cultivated, perhaps manners more refined,
than would be ordinarily expected from the
rover of the Texan wilderness.

To render it, however, more apparent than
this that our traveler’s condition in lie and his
acquirements were superior to the opinion men
would naturally form from his dress, and from
the place in which we find him, as be cast him-
self down on the soft greensward near the fire,
and ran his fingers through the long rich curls
from which he had removed his hat, he began
to hum an air from a favorite opera, while he
inspected with a curious eye the approaching
en of his culinary1 preparat ons.

If however, he ad hoped _to enjoy his coming
meal and his night’s repose withontinterruption,
he had reckoned without his host; for, at the
same instant in which his charger ceased from
feedin , snuffed the aireagerly, and uttered a
low w ining, the traveler started to his feet
and listened anxwusly for a moment, although
there were no sounds which could have
distinguished by any human ear unsharpened
 the necessities and habits of a woodth
1 e.

Satisfied apparently that something was at
handw' which might mean mischief, be quiet]
took up his istols and thrust them into 1:
girdle, reach down'his mile from the branch
on which it hung, loosened his wood-knife in its
scabbard, and passed the handle of his hatchet
through a loop in his sword-belt, so that the
feat?) restedén :1 sort of gold or ket in the
68$ 91', 371 611 Y Prelim for its rece tion.
and the heft lay close on his left thi h. p

The broadsword be entirely neglgeeted as a
weapon of no utility in the stru gle which he
expecmd, 0118. Perhaps, which he gore only as a
horseman’s arm, and which might be held to
imply that he acted at times in company “7311
others, and those disciplined horsemen.

These preparations made, silently. romptly,
yet deliberately, he stooped and laid is ear to
the ground: nor did he raise himself to his full
hight for several minutes.

“ Two, four, six, ei ht," he muttered to him-
self at intervals. “ 98, there are 9181“? Of
them! By Heaven! it is too great odds; yet I

had; fain halt here, for Emperor has had'e ham

tin of it ”—he' used a moment, as if in don
theyn quickly refine“ his bits in the chug}:

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‘ vldette, or scout,

 

mouth, and the saddle on his back, and hung his i

broadsword and blanket on the pommel: but he 1
did not unfasten the lasso, nor did his com-
pressed lip, flashing eye and curled nostril show
any dispoition to abandon his position and his 

supper. _

Again he laid his ear to-the ground and i
listened.

“Yes, there are eight of them sure enough,"
he again muttered; and then, aftera pause he
added: “but two of them are mules, I think; .
and they are coming right down hitlierward.”

i’l'hen he looked to his rifle lock and cocked his
ece.

“ Unless they turn aside when they reach the ,
timber, they will be on me in live minutes; and
if they know the forest, they will not turn,
that’s certain; for here’s the only place where
you can find hard bottom to ride in and out of
the old Bravo, for ten miles up and down."

He used from his soliloquy, listened again,
and t on a smile crept across his intelligent
face. “Bah!” he said, "I have disquieted my- :
self for nothing~they are drzigoon horses;
can tell their managed pace; thou rh, what the
devrl brings dragoons hither, the evil himself
best knows.”

Then he hung up his arms as before, again re-
moved saddle and bridle from his horse, threw
down his pistols and his hatchet on the grass,
and, instead of concealing himself in ambush,
marmstl, except his w -knife, stepped .quite
at his case forth from the covert of his thicket,
and strode boldly forward to meet the new-
comers.

CHAPTER II.
ran NIGHT BIVOUAC.

GREAT as was the surprise of the frontiers-
man at discovering by the keenness of his ear——
and that peculiar sagacity, halt reasoning, half
instinctive, by which men, living in what may
be called a half-savage state of life jump at once
to what others would necessarily deem most un-
foreseen couciusions—that the approaching par-
ty consisted of dragoons, far greater was his
wonder when he saw precisely of whom that
party was composed.

He had not advanced above a hundred ards
from the spot where his horse was tetherea and
his fire burning, before he discovered the little
band of travelers just entering the belt of tim-
ber, not above a hundred yards’ distance from
the point where he himself had ridden into it
from the open prairie.

They consisted, as he had instantly discovered
by the niceness of his ear, of eight animals, six
of which were mounted, the other two being
beasts of burden. This, in itself, was a singular
arrangement for men traveling through a peril-
ous and hostile wilderness, where celerity of
progress is the object to be attained, far more
than comfort or convenience, and where, for
the most part, men rely for their subsistence on
their rifles and ammunition, and for their per-
sonal comforts on the smallest possible knapsack
or valise.

That, however, which instantly cau ht the
eye of the rover was the form of a fema e—and
a female, evidently, of the superior 'classes,
forming one of the party, which, beside her-
self, consisted, as he saw at half a glance, of an
officer and four rivates of dragoons, or mount-
ed ritlemen. A15) this the woodman had discov-
ered long before he was himself descried by the
soldiers, who rode on, one private thrown for-
ward in advance of the lady and the ofllcer,
who rode abreast, with his rifle or carbine slimg
and ready for service, two others followuig,
each loadng a heavily-laden ack-mule, and the
last bringing up the rear, Wit 1 his weapon like-
wise in his hand—all seemingly unconscious
that the were in the neighborhood of any hu-
man 9 ng.

This, in itself, was little calculated to impress
the woodman with any great respect for the sol-
dierly qualities, much less for the woodcraft, of
the new-comers; and perhaps, it was from a de-
sire to examine into these a little more closel ,
that he drew himself somewhat aSide from _t a
direction of their advance, and concealed him-
self behind the stem of a huge live oak.

" Precious lads, truly, these ’j he muttered
through his teeth, “ to be traveling migraines,
and not see my trail at a. short huudr yards.
By the Lord! I believe they will cross it With-
out notice.”

And, indeed. as he spoke, the line, in which
the party was advancin , would ev1dently in-
tersect the track which hfis own horse had made
through the deep herbage and soft soil of the
grassy meadow, from the surface of which the
great timber-trees shot up so massive and luxu-

ant.

Now they were within ten yards ofit, yet the
in advance. had evidele
taken no note of it. But at this moment when
our traveler was beginning to laugh in silent
scorn at the prooeedingfl 9? the 901 hrs, Whom
he evidently regarded as httdeor nothing worth,
the party came to a sudden halt; not in conse-
quence of any alarm communicated by the
troo r in advance. but at a word passed on.

to the heating the little:i 001:“!!! from him
who brought up roar, on w o nowca torod’
Ward, and saluted as he addressed his cause,

‘ /

 

\

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pointing to the broken grass and trampled soil,
indicating the passage of some heavy animal at
less than thirty yards distance on their left flank,
from which, when he noticed it, ho was the fur
thest distant of the whole party.

The officer in command immediately rode on,
and after inspectin the trail rather narrowly,
and having, it w0 d seem, satisfied himself of
its nature, drew his part a little more closely
together, and caused all '3 men to unsling and
prepare their rifles. Then altering his course,
which would have intersected the track near by
the frontiersman, he followed it directly down-
ward, toward where his horse was standin

“Hal he has seen the shodden hoof,’!binut- .

feted the woodsman to himself, “ and so feels sc-
cure that it is not a Comanche who has preceded
him. A poor criterion, too, when the whooping
devils have stolen so manv of our trOOp horses
in the last three months. Besides, what tells him
it is not a Mexican ranchero who has passed, and
may be leading him into an ambush? He might
see that, it is true, by the size and roundness of
the track; it is not every mustang or Spanish
horse sets down such a foot as Emperor. Now,
if 1 had in rifle and my bull-dogs with me,
how I conl ick off that ieutenant and two out
of his four to lows, before the should know what
hurt them. By heaven! if t ey show no more
wit than this after the get ,into the Spanish
country fairly, they wil scarce reach Old Zach-
ary with whole skins. 1’ faith, I’m glad, for the
girl’s sake, I fell in with them, though what in
the devil’s name they should be bringing a girl
out here into the wilderness for is more than I
can guess. Well, well, that’s no affair of mine
—but I’ll give them a fright anyhow—~50 here
gOes,” and with the words, he claglped his hand
to his mouth, and uttered a long» awn Indian
yell, which made the arches of the forest echo
and re-echo its cadences, till it died quavering in
the for distance.

The rifles of the little party were cocked in an
instant, and two or three were instinctively
cast up, and leveled in the direction whence 'the
sound roceeded.

But he woodman did not wait for any fur-
ther demonstrations of hostth . but stepped
calmly forth from his covert. c ling out, as he
did so in aloud, clear voice:

“ V hither, and whence, friends, so carelessly
this bright evenin i"

But ere his wor were half out of his lips, he
was interrupted by the sharp crack of a rifle
dischar ed at him within twenty paces, the hall
of whic sung past his head, perhaps at a foot’s
distance. But, entirely unmoved by the assault
or by the peril he had run, he finished his sen-
tence quietly, and then added:

“A miserable had shot, that, my led, and a
most unsoldierly act to fire a shot at all, without
waitin orders. Do not you say so, lieutenant?”

But efore he had spoke, the ofllcer had open-
ed his mouth to reprimand the unlucky dragocn,
who was in fact no other than the vedette, who
had so stupidly overlooked the track on entering
the timber, and he continued to do so she ly,

sending the man to the rear, and ordering ’m‘

to relieve one of the soldiers who led the pack
mules, before he gave any attention to the
stranger.

That done, however, without replying to his
question, he said quickly:

“You are verv much to blame ourself, fel-
low; first, for yelling in that wild ashion, as if
for the very purpose of creating an alarm, and

then for approaching a command so rashly.

Who are you, fellow.

“Fellow! fellow l” replied the other, half
soliloquizing, " and acommand, heyl command,
truly; a. couple of commands, or one of Jack
Heys’s men would make an end of such a com-
mand, before it had seen where to throw away
one bullet. So you desire to know who I am,
lieutenant. Now, it is usual in the prairie, or
the timber, for the stronger party to answer
such questions first; but, in the first lace, asI
know very well who you are, and in e second,
as I am not at all clear that you are the stronger,
I have not so much objection to divul e.”

He spoke so well and correctly, an his man-
ner was so .gfintlemanlike, though he uttered
his words wi something of 'a banterng ex-
pression, and a half contemptuous smile, that
the young dragoon officer perceived at once that
he had mistaken his man in a degree; and his
tone was altered, as he again addressed him.

“ Well, sir, and who are you. then, I pray?"

“Pierre Delacroix, at your service.” \

“th he who is commonly known as

Pierre-

“The I’ortisan. lieutenant,” internsz tho
other, uietly. “Yes, I am the man, and my
horse. mperor, of whom. you have heard, since
you have heard. arms, is down in the brake
yonder; and, what is a better thing just now,
there is a' good fire burning, and some venison
steaks ready by this time, if they be not over
done, and a flask of good sherry wine and some
cool water: and if you and your fair lady will
share the sup of the Partisan, I shall be hall:-
p to think at I am ‘doncd for fining ‘5

I Saw you; an after supper, we will
hear what has brought you hither, and what I

candotoserve ou. Isitaba sin?” \
r "Surdyitmyand vwmniiuww.»

 

 The”, Silent Riiicmanfr ‘ ‘

 

 

m:

for your hospitality, and yet more for your ad—
vice. This is the famous soldier, J uh'a,” he
continued, turning to the lady who accom anied
him, “ of whom you have heard so muc , and
whom we had hoped to meet at San Antonio.
It is most fortunate that we should have so un-
expectedly fallen in with you, at a moment
when we were indeed in no small pcrplexity as
to our next movement. ”

“We will speak of this further at the camp,"
re lied the Partisan—for such was the name in
w ich be especially rejoiced—bowing deeply to
the lady wit the manners of one used the
society of courts, no less than of camps; “for it,
is growing late, and it will be quite dark in a
few minutes. Allow me to show you the near- .
est way. You will find but poor accommoda-
tion, lady; yet, poor as it is, it is better than l
mere frontier fare.”

No more words were spoken until they reach-
ed the spot which Delacroix had selected for his
bivouac: but, as they did so, an exclamation of
Elensure burst from J uliu’s lips at the romantic

entity of the scene.

The watch-fire of the Partisan, which had by
this time burnt upl bright and clear, was castin
a wide ruddy lig t over the rich greenswa
and dark foliage overhead, lancing upon the
arms and accouterments w ich hung or lay
around it dwelling wanly on the rich hues of
the Spanish blanket which was spread on the
ground—a fit cover for a soldier. At a little
distance, the twilight shadows dwelt so dee y
in the long arcades of the forest, that noth ng
could be seen eXCept in the direction of the a,
broad and majestic river, on the bosom of which
all the light of the skies appeared to be concen-
trated.

“ How beautiful 1” she cried, in those soft, low
silvery tones which are so exquisite a thing in
woman. “ How beautiful! and, what is more,
at such a moment, how bright and cheerful-
lookin ! Why, Mr. Delacroix, instead of tho
wild, esperato chiefiain I expected to find in
vou," she continued, turning] gayly toward the

artisan “ you must have t 0 eye of a painter,
and the imagination of a post.”

“ Spare me, I pray you, madame-J” answered
Pierre, with a low merry laugh. “Should Jack .
Hays or McCulloch hear what you say, I should ‘ ‘
lose caste and character directl . and forevern.
And yet,” he added, with a h f sigh,,“I be
lieve it is this touch of romance—which finds its
way, more or less into every heart, except that
which beats within the sordid breast of tho
trader-that makes the joysrnay, the verv
perils of a forest life dearer to thousands so
as I, than all the charms of civilized scciet ,
which some of us—though you would hard y
fancy it—have tested. But, come, let me help ,
you from your horse, of which, by the distance 1
Lou have traveled, Ishould suppose )you must

more than a little Weary. Loo to your :
men lieutenant, and Iwill do the honorstoyour ’. "
fair lady.” , ‘

And, with the words, be extended his onus, ,
as if he would have lifted her from the saddle; I _.u
but she replied by a merry ringing laugh—one ‘ '

of those iresh, artless, genuine lau be, which .7 i:
can roceed on] from the lips o a young, . 
mix-t ul, unsophisticated woman—and pattin _,f

the arched neck of the beautiful thoroughbre
more which carried her:
“Oh, no l” she cried; “if you will not allow

 

[ me to dispara e your character, by attributing

a little dash 0 poetry to you, I must not let you
fanc me so very unfit for a soldier’s wife as to
be t red with a little ride of thirtv miles. 30- * 7
sides ” she added, again caressing hernvorite‘, ‘~:.~.‘
“Ne goes more like a bird through the air 
than a more earthly Wingless Pegasus. Oh, no, 3‘,
I can dismount unaided.” , . . '
And, extricating her knee gracefull from the. 
channel of her side-saddle,,she got e‘red ‘tho‘. 
. on draperies of. her dark cloth riding-habit. ~ ' 
an sprung lightly to the ground: but she had ‘ 5'
either mlscalculated her strength, or she‘tlipped‘ :‘ t
as she touched the earth, for she would satay ~ L. v
have fallen headlong, had not the ready, 3 . ; .
wart arm of the Partisan caught her, insiinct— . 
ively, round the slender waist, and given her «"1
the rapport which she required, though sho-
requ it. \ ., .
“ A thousand thanks!” she said. as she extri— .
cated herself blushing slight] , from his half ' .,
embrace. “I was both Willis and awkward; ‘ {i
and I believe I must confess to a little wearincss 
also; but I am afraid I am a bit or a spoiled ,._
child as you may learn, to our cost, if we our- '
ne far in company, Me. or Delacroix— or I
be ieve the. is your correct desi nation.” . ~’ , ' ‘
hThe Pair-tins: boméidhhut ma 6 no anszvder‘, :2 r
t am .we - senses engag a '
absorbegd Kl egg on the face and form of un-
rivaled love uses which now, for theflrst time, \ 1 -,
met his 20:; since the darkness of the iiich ,3
in; W 31115, thelndy’s veil, and her seat on , »
horse _ , had prevented him from distinguish- - i ,__
in clear y either her person or features. . ' '
at now, as she stood erect before hing-Emu
the clear light of the'blazing wood-fire
full on her ace, and roveolin all the charm
is figure, tall as the tallesto her sex. voluptu‘ 2
our and fully rounded, yet all h be], and t v ':
delicate and moderuthe fairest a! 9.1., ‘

 

 

 

  
 

t wit
me
goat’s  befisz that ho bad "If;

 

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- w .i. «4&‘1a-‘Mx MW. x.

o.

The Silent Rifleman.

 

 

I

‘looked upon anything so perfectly and femi-
ninely lovely. r

Her face—of the exact oval, and strictly classic
outline—possessed that innocence and almost
infantile expression which painters have as-
cribed only to Madonna, and which is, perhaps,
too purely beautiful and unearthly in its charac-
ter to be very lovable, unless it be relieved, as
it was in this sweet being, by an air of arch
mirthfulness, and by something which seemed
to indicate that there lay a. world of passion
sleeping beneath that placid and childlike
exterior.

Her slightly arched eyebrows, and long-
fringed eyelashes, were many shades darker
than the redundant tresses of her rich silky hair,
which was of the brightest and most golden
auburn. Her eyes were of that languid sleepy
blue, which is, perhaps, the rarest and loveliest
of all colors; her com lexion was the fairest
and most delicate, an her mouth, which was
certainly the most beautiful feature of her face,
would have been almost sensual, but for that

, innocent and. dove-like expression of the other
foatures,’ and for the artless gayety which
smiled from its dimples.

It is, perhaps, the hardest thing on earth to
describe beauty; for in beauty there is something
more than mere outline,than mere coloring;there
is a spirit, a soul, an intangible and indescribable
presence, which we feel rather than see; which
dazzles the e eand dizzies the brain, while it
enthralls the cart; and which not the painter’s
pencil can altogether transfer to his glowing
canvas, much less the en call up to the eye of
fancy. This, neverthe ass, is the portraiture of
a true and most lovel woman; and if it seem
not so to the reader, et him be sure that the

fault is in the artist, not the model; for Pierre ,

Delacroix, though in his younger days he had

' seen many love y women, now felt at once that
he had never seen aught which could match this
paragon—in truth, be had never loved till now,
and now he loved madly, hopelessly, yet for-
ever.

For some moments he stood gazing at her,
mute and ositively breathless with admiration;
then, sud enly recollectin himself, and mae-
tering his surprise and elight, thou b not

, without something of an effort, he calle to the

nearest of the dragoons, bidding him lead the
lady’s horse down to the river and water him;
an then conducted her respectfully to the place
"where he had 3 read his poncho on the grass,
and with the ai of that and his large saddle,
unanged for her an extemporaneous arm-chair
, ear the fire, which the fresh coolness of the

~ f'wood rendered not wholly needless, even at that

season; while the thin smoke that rose from-the
wood embers, kept the mosquitoes at a dis-

tance.

Meanwhile, some of the dragoons applied
themselves to clean the horses and accouter-
ments, while others unloaded the pack mules,
and unbuckling the bags and cases which they
carried, produced camp-kettles and canteens,
and a small India-rubber tent and camp-bed,
which was speedily set up‘ and prepared in the
methodical manner of the ol soldier, and

romised better accommodation for the lady
thantshe could well have looked for in the

ores .

By this time the char ers were cleaned and
tethered, two or three res were li hted, and
the cam kettles were filled—one wit the beef

and por which compose the soldiers’ ration:i

W and ano er with coffee, while hastily knead

cakes were baking in the embers.

The men having got through their labors, lay
stretched around the fires, smoking or chatting
over the adventures of the day; and the lien-
tenant who commanded them, havingi cted
everything and satisfied himself that a was
safe for the night, strolled up to the quarters (if
they may be so termed) of the Partisan, who
was engaged when he came up, in servin his
forest meal on plates and dishes—to him a ong
unknown luxuryT—bmrowed from the dragoon
a canteen, and mixmg his sherry and water—to
her as great a luxury—for his fair, unknown

itor.
“I could not join you sooner,” said the young
I oficer, as he came up, “for I could not leave
the men. ‘ They are good fellows enough in bar-
: ks, or in the fie d with an enem before
them; but they are new bands at this b vouack‘
ing and catering for themselves and _tb_eir
horses. and would make but 001' work of it if I
were not forever at their bee s.” .

“ I do not doubt i " replied DelacrOix, “ or, I
should'rather say. I ow it. A hundred of .us
woodman would live on the fat of the land, With
nothing but our rides to de nd on, where a
score of your dragoons wou d starve, for all
their pack mules and rations. You are poorly
escorted, lady, for the wilderness.”

"‘ 0b! we have done vastly well thus far,”
she. replied, gayly, “ and I begin to look upon it
all as a mere frolic; I heard so much of danger
where I have not as/yet met with privation,
that I fancy all the dreaded stories I. have board
were more exaggerations.”

“I trust tmy all prove so in the end,”

said the 1° rather, gravely. “At .11
events. it‘shall not be my fault if they do not

\ ' Bntmyoookinglsready,lady,suohasitis,

 

and I fancy ylou have the Spartan sauce, which
makes even t e black broth palatable.” _

J ulia started a little at the classical allusion,
and cast a quick glance toward her young hus-
band, whose attention had been fixed on
another portion of the roving soldier’s speech,
and said, quickly, re eatin the Partisan’s word:

“ Lady! Indeed have een stran ly remiss
and discourteous, Major Delacroix. n the first
hurry of our introduction I for ot to name our-
selves to you, though Yankee li e; yet, I assure
you, I am not a Yankee; I b no means forgot
to extort from you all that. wished to know.
Not a very unpardonable thing that a soldier
should be a litt e auche, but very funny that a

retty lady shou d. I should have imagined,
gale that you would have found tongue enough
by this time to make yourself known to MaJor
Delacroix, but, since it seems you have not done
so, better late than never. Allow me, Major
Delacroix, to present you to Mrs. Arthur Gor-
don, six weeks ago Miss Julia Forester, of New
Orleans; and that done, to call your attention
to m veii‘yuhumble and unworthy self, Arthur
Gor on, ' st Lieutenant of the Second Dra-
goons.”

He 8 oke gany and merrily, but thePartisan
seeme to car no more a ter the first few
words of the introduction were spoken; he had
arisen to his feet, for he had been seated by the
fire busied about his cookery, and bowed very

acefully at the first name; but when Arthur

ordon pronounced the words, Julia Forester,
he started forward, and exclaimed:

“ What—whatl it cannot be—the daughter of
my best and oldest friend, Colonel J obn Fores-
ter? 1, recollect his wife’s name, whom I never
saw, was Julia.” .

Julia Gordon blushed crimson, as he spoke,
and then in an instant turned as pale as a. es.

“My mother!” she gasped out, with a great
exertion of the will compe ling herself to speak
at all. “My poor mother, i never saw her
either, at least not within to recollection. Yes,
Major Delacroix, I am Co . John Forester’s
wild and willful daughter God bless him,” she
continued, a big tear swelling to her eye, “as
he deserves a better child.”

“Not so, not so, young lady. I am certain
that it is not so, A brighter or more beautiful,

‘ he could not havei and it will be, hard to con-

vince me he coul have a. better. Lieutenant
Gordon, allow me to shake your hand, and con-
gratulate on; your father-in-law, and your
sweet lady s father, was, 1 may say, to me more
than a. father; for, when Nature robbed me of
both m_ parents, he supplied both their places;
he tang t me all I know, and had I 1profited by
his teachings, instead of being a wi d, wander-
ing Partisan, I mi ht have Ibsen a scholar and
a gentleman. St‘l there is something decent
about Pierre Delacroix after all, and that
something is all good john Forester’s. God
Blessiohn Forester, and all who love and honor
im. ,

So thoroughly was the Partisan engrossed by
his own warm and generous feelings, that he
did not perceive at all. what would at any
other time have been sufficiently apparent to a
man of his keen and intuitive sagacity, that
there was something of evident discomposure
in the manner of the young officer as he spoke to
him of his father-in-law. »

But he must have been not only morally but
physically blind had he not otserved,as he turned
again to the daughter of his old friend, that her
beautiful face was buried in her hands, and that
the big tears were trickling fast through her
slender fingers.

By far too much a man of the world to make
the least allusion to circumstances indicating
mental afliction or strong feelin of any kind,
which no words can alleviate, an at the same
time, by far too shrewd a judge of human na-
ture to attribute such a revulsmn of manner to
any casual accident, Pierre Delacroix turned
aside, and walking down to the bivouac of the
men, asked a few trivial questions about their
route the length of their marches and the like,
and then directing one of them to bring up a
can of coffee to the other fire, as soon as it
should be read , he returned, marveling great-
ly, and much d sturbed in his mind, not less by
t e Violent and overwhelmin passion which he
had so suddenly conceived or a married wo-
man, than by the very strong suspicion be en-
tertained, that there was something in the mat-
ter very seriously amiss.

Had the lady been been out of the question,
he would have been under no difiicult what-
ever; for, himself as free as the air, an as true
as his own rifle, he would have asked as frankly
of another any information he mi ht desire to
gain, as he would have imparted it ' self if re-
it? “312.? “a. in ' i. i

11 i 0‘13 , ounger rha 3 a9? 91‘
days, he had mixedyinuch inpfema e seeiety,
and had been liberall and gently educated,
years had now passed s nce he became the rpver
of the wilderness, the wild and daring Partisan,
whose name was known everywhere. from the
eternal snow of Mount Elias and the tempest-
uous waters of the wild, umbia, to- the lux-
uriant forests and burned of Texas and
Mexic
yearl,‘ nringwhich itmigbtbesaidthat he had

I a

c ‘, .'.. "x
, _‘_/‘

and even to the distant Oordilleras—

I

' x

 

scarce looked upon a lad of his own class and
station—years, durm w ich his horse, his rifle,
and his broadsword, ad been his only friends;
his comrades, but not his com anions, any
chance wanderers that he mi ht mi in field or
forest, with whom to consort or the moment.

And, with the lapse of time, it -was not so
much that his tastes had changed, or his man-
ners deteriorated, as that he lost the habitude of
such society, and the confidence in his own ow-
ers, which is essential to success of any kind).

So that the man, who would have ridden
alone without hesitation into a camp of hostile
Black-feet, the man of inexhaustible resource
and indomitable courage, the man who loved
danger for. itself, trembled and almost blushed
through his weather-beaten and sun-hardened
cheeks, in the presence of one trembling girl.

Here he felt that he (the veteran) was a tyro;
here he knew his own deficiency in experience;
here be admitted to himself that he might easily
mistake the landmarks of the human mind, and
blunder wofully and fatally, where some mere
city coxcomb of eighteen would shine, and per
he s subdue.

e determined, therefore, as a wise and pru-
dent man, to see all things, saying nothing, suf-
fering events to take their own natural course,
and reserving to himself the power of acting,
whenever occasion should call for action, in be-
half of the children of his oldest and most es-
teemed friend.

It must by no means be inferred, because it
has been stated that he was stricken by a sudden
and violent passion for the lovely woman he had
so strangely met in so unusual a place, that the
glallant Partisan had acknowledged to himself
t e fact, or even sus ected for a moment that he
loved the lady. e felt, indeed, something
wholly different to any previous sensation of his
life; but, had an one intimated to him that he
was enamored of er, he would have at once set
him down for a madman.

Yet he was in love, and that desperately;
though with that simplicity which is so com-
mon among those u be live hardin in the lap of
nature, drawing their excitements from the
harder and sterner passions of humanity, he had
neither endeavored to analyze his own feelings,
nor could have done so had he desired it.

When he returned to the camp-fire with the
coffee, after the absence of but a few minutes,
the lady had recovered her com osure, although
there was a cloud on her young usband’s brow,
and an angry light in his dark eeye.

Sentiments, however, and fe ings, nay even
strong passions must give way for the ordinar
wants of every-day life. Men eat and drin
amid the most dreadful paroxysm of their least
selfish griefs, in the intervals of the most rap-
turous pleasure; and, when the head of the
house is scarce yet cold, and not so much ascen-
signed to the sad coffin, the mourning family
must gather round the cheerless board, and
carve the joint, and pass the bottle, allhough
their hearts may be well nigh breaking with m-
ward agony.

And so it was with these chance comrades of,
the prairie, on the eventful night which first
made them acquainted. The green carpet of
the meadow was spread with t eir simple fare,
and the Partisan did the honors of his cam with
a singular blending of the frontiersman’s lunt-
ness, and the easy manners of the gentleman
and soldier.

There was, however, an inexplicable gloom
han ing over the little party, and scarcely was
the rugal meal ended belore, on the pretext of
weariness, the lady retired to her tent, and, the
husband went away for a few minutes, as he said,
to ins ect his sentries, while Pierre Delacroix
filled is Indian pipe With kinnekinnink, and,
stretching himse f at full length on his blanket,
in the warmth of the fire, rested his head on his
elbow, and mused more deeply than he had
done for many a year, rolling out all the time

reat volumes of the odorifeious smoke of that
ndian mixture, which he had learned to prefer
to the Havana.

CHAPTER III.
run LIEUTENANT'S sroar.

TEE Partisan had not set .long alone, ere the
youn officer returned and Joined him; yet, in
that rief s ace, almost all the actions and ad-
ventures o a_ not uneventful life had passed
throu h his mind: so strongly had his ima ina-
tion en excited by the occurrences of the
evening. , .

_Nor. was it only to a retrospective view "mt
his spirit was moved, for something seemed to
tell him that With the persons and circumstances

of this night, coming events were to be con-‘

nected: and that the great crisis of his life,
whether for good or evil, was not now far dis-
tant. Feelings and forebodin s of this nature
are by no means unusual wit men of ardent
temperaments, and livel imagination; and
such a. man, emphatical y, was Pierre Dela-
cmix, although familiarity with strange perils,
and great rienoe, and {at greater confi-
dence in his own resources, ad tempered the
heat of his blood, and overcome the inborn sh.
ness of his temper, and, although he would, ve

probably been suflciently astonished, had he,

 

 

 

 

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l
l

 

 

\ 4

\

The Silent Rifleman»

g

 

been accused of possessing a. romantic fancy,
such surel was the case.

When t ese presentiments, as is the case nine
times in ten, are followed by no results, they
are forgotten as though they had never been;
when, on the contrary, after events confirm
them, they are regarded as almost miraculous,
and narrated. from generation to generation, as
distinct proofs of a supernatural agency, busy
with the affairs of men.

Whatever may be the truth in this question,
it is not within the scope of our unassisted in-
tellect to determine it; nor do we propose fur-
ther to touch upon it, than briefly to remark
that such an impression was now strong on the
mind of the Partisan, and that, although in no
wise superstitious or liable to be diverted from
his equanimity, much less from his course of
right, by any similar influence, he was still
moved somewhat, and was inclined to antici-
pate some coming ev1l, the expectation of which
neither his reason nor his acquired instincts
seemed to justify. ‘

When the young soldier joined him, however,
he shook oil? the strange sensations which were
creeping over him, and sat upright to receive
his guest.

“Come, Mr. Gordon,” he said. “I fancy that
by this time on have got your men settled for
the night. ad you not better take your pipe,
and sit down uith me. that we may talk matr
ters over? By something you let fall a,while
ago, it seems that you have been expecting to
meet me at San Antonio, although I knew it
not, nor have been there these two months.
Now, you must have had some end in seeking
me; and, until I know what end that is, I am at
a 10m to see how 1 can aid you.”

" To make you understand that, Major Dela-
croix—”

“Pardon me, sir,” replied the Partisan has-
tily “I have no great respect for titles of any
kin ,least of all for military titles, when not
backed by military rank and command. Now,
it is very true that I do hold a commission as a
major of Texan Horse, dating as far back as
the first blow that was struck foriadependence'
butI have not held, a command, nor have i
struck a blow, or fired a shot, these ten years,
save for my own pleasure; and I am no more a
major now, God be praised, than 1 am a major-
geuera.l,which seems to me about the worst berth
aman can hold nowadays. under our govern-
ment. No, sir, Iain Pierre Delacroix, or Pierre,
the Partisan, or plain Pierre, just as men choose
to call me; but neither mister, nor major, nor
any other gew-gaw title! Such things may do
well enough in cities, though I, for one, do not
care much about them, or think them ver fit-
ting even there; but, in the wilderness ere,
they are worse than naught. I’ll none of them.
So, it, you please, you will call me Pierre, or
Delacroix, or Partisan —wbich most of my
friends do call me—as it best suits you. But
none of your majors! No, no! none of your
majors! Browne was a major, for he had seen
service; and Ringold was a major, for he did
service; and the service lives after the man, in
the arm Which he created, and which won every
battle on the soil of Mexico, from Palo Alto
down to Buena Vista. But I—no! no! God be

raised! I am no major—I command no man
ut myself, and no man commands me, now or
ever. i

“To make you understand that, then,” re-
plied the young dragoon, a little embarrassed

the manner of the Partisan, and not exactly
li ing to address a person who, whatever might
be his present poeition, had evidently, at some
time or other, filled the place as he still pre-
Served the air of a gentleman, by terms so
familiar as be was directed to use—“I fearI
must trouble you with rather a long narrative.”

“ The more need to begin it then at once,” re-
plied the Partisan, dryl , “ or it will be morn-
ing before we have thus ed it. Here is a. pipe,”
he continued, reaching from his valise acurious-
ly carved Indian bowl, which be fitted toastem
and filled with the aromatic mixture of tobacco,
willow-bark, and some sweet-scented herb;
“ have you learned yet to smoke kinnekinninki”

“Oh! es, I was for some time stationed at
Praiiie u Ch‘ien, and since that at the Council
Bluffs; quite long enough, I assure you, to learn
how to enjoy all the good things of this western
country.” _ ,

And rec-emu the pipe from his hand, he
lighted in by ai of an ember from the wood-
fl. e, aiid‘occupiedhimself so long in drawing it
and setting it_ going, Without saying one word
about the subject to he considered, that Pierre
began to grow impatient. .

“Well,” he said, blewmg a great cloud of
smoke out of his mouth, “ you were going to
tell me—” and lie paused inquiringly.

b “Yes. Butconfound me if I know where to

P 'nl" '

“At the beginning, I should su pose,” said
the Partisan, who was less and ess satisfied
with his manner.

“ Unless I begin with my own birth.” return-
ed the other—“hang me if 1 know where the
beginning is.” _

‘ I hope at least that I have nothin to do
with that,” said Pierre, with a grim smi e.

- , “With what? Iooaotqadorstamlyau." '

V \
a I

[l‘\

 

‘ ‘ With your birth, to be sure. But for heaven's
sake come to the pomt; you keeg dodging about
the bush as badl as a Mexican uerrilla, and it
is about as‘har to find out where you would

“The truth is, that I hardly know myself,”
said the young man. “Except that I wish to
the Lord I were not here.”

“Look you here, young gentleman,” re lied
the Partisan, coolly, “ you either have or ave
not something to say to me. If you have, I
shall be glad to hear it and that as soon as
possible. First, because I am something sleepy
and secondly because if you wish in service, I
must know how to serve you, whic I will do
gladly for your wife’s sake. If you have
nothing to say, I shall be glad to hear that; for
then I can go to sleep now, and in the morning
we can eat our breakfasts together, and sit upon
our beasts, and shake hands, and so ride away,
never, most likely, to meet any more.”

“No, no; that will never do!” cried young
Gordon. "For it is on you that we have count-
eddall along for taking us safely to our journey’s
en .

“Well, we have gained something at least.
Now where may that very definite place, which
you call your journey’s end, be? And, as the
next question, what made you count upon me?"

“ Our journey's endis—Taylor’s camp, of course
—-where else should it he?”

“ Any where else, I should think, considering
the means you have of getting thither. and the
company you have With you? You do not
really mean to say that you contemplate carry-
ing that beautiful and delicate young woman
with you to head-quartersl—the thing is utter
madness l”

“And yet to destination is head-quarters;
and she has no ome save my tent l"

“ Julia Forester—John Forester’s daughter, no
home!” cried the Partisan. in far louder tones
than be was wont to use, and starting to his
feet, half indignant and half astonished. “Did
I understand you aright, young sir? Did you
say J ulia Forester has no home save in the tent
of a second lieutenant of dragoons?”

“ I did say preciseiy that, Pierre Delacroix,”
answered the soldier, nettled a little by the man-
ner of his questioner, and shaking off his mo-
mentary embarrassment the instant he was put
upon his mettle. '

"When I knew Colonel John Forester, be
was reputed to be worth a million of dollars!”
said Pierre.

“ When I knew him,” replied Arthur Gordon,
g be wgs reputed to be worth two, at the lowest

gure!

“And has he become a bankrupt since then,
or a beg or?” asked the other, sba 1y. _

“Neit or, that I ever heard. u contraire,
he is, all but one or two, the richest man they
say in Louisiana." ‘

‘ And why the devil, then, did he give you
his daughter for a wife, and not give ‘you the
means to sustain her?" ‘ '

“I never said that he did give her to me!”
said the other, steadily. '

“You said she was vour wife.”

“ I did so. so, and do.”

“ You sto 0 her from him, then,” and he spoke
with extreme severity, and even laid his and
on the hilt pf the only weapon he now bore—his
hunting—knife. “ You stole, from my old friend,
my second father, from honest, brave John For-
ester, his daughter—his only child? Speak,
young man, I must know all, now 1”

“ Stole is an awkward word sir !" replied Gorv
don, whose face had flushed fiery red, while he
was speaking. “A ver awkward word for
one soldier to hear app ied to himself by an-
other.” ,

“ A very awkward word, indeed sir,” an-
swered the Partisan, even more coldly than be-
fore, “to bear; but a. much more awkward
thin to do! I hope yet to hear that you have
not one it.”

“You take a very strange way of learning.
Insulting. a. man, is a new mode of insinuating
yourself into his confidence."

“Hark you. sir!” said Pierre Delacroix.
“ Words are the names of things no more.
things have their right names; and here in the
wilderneSS, far away from the bollowness and
the falsehood of cities, men call things b their
right names. I do at least, alwavs. when Imow
them. Now you tell me that Julia Forester is
your wife, and that John Forester did not give
her to' you, therefore the only two modes by
which I can conceive your having acquired her,
are buying or stealing! Men do not generally
sell their daughter‘s, except in Circassia—their
wives, some English noblemen, I believe, and
some of our Indians, I’m told, do sell—therefore
I’m pretty sure you'did not buy her; and thence,
naturally I deduce it. that you stole her! Now
I think stealmgnythmg a‘verv bad act—even
an Indian hor thief’s horse. ‘ at to steal an
old man’s only daughter, is an atrocious act;
and if you have done that net, you must look to
hear that act called by it s right and very name.”

“In the first place, Julia is not John For-
ester’s only daughter; in the second ,place, I
must ask a definition of what youare pleasedto
call stealing a man‘s daughter. ’ , l v

‘I “Hot John Forester/a only daughter! 

i_’ l ,L" 

,
l f t
‘\ .r vs“ . - -- ‘

 

I
\ I
. no» _

do you mean,sir? Do not trifle with me! It

wag-ennui; safe to do so: least of all on this sub-
ec .

“Before I reply, I await an answer to my

uestion. How do you define ‘stealing a man I
an hteri’"

“ arrying her ofi clandestinely, of course;
and marrying her without or against his con-
sent. Tbat is what I call stealing! Nouflne
b0 s from the cities call it ‘runuing away,’I
be ievo, or ‘ olo ing,’ and think it a very know-
ing trick. I cal it ‘stealing,’ and think it a. very
dirt trick. Now, do you understand!”

“ erfectly. And, though I have something
further to say by and by on the subject, I beg
to inform you that 1 did not steal Julia Forester,
even by our definition. Since, though I oer-
thinly di carry her off, it was not clandestine-
ly, but with distinct notice iven that I should

0 so: and, though I certain y did marr her in

the very teeth of her father’s consent, did so '

with as open a face, and as honest a heart as
you hear at this instant Pierre Delacroix! Now,
sir ” he added, raising his voice a little, “how
did you dare to charge me with stealing, before
you knew the fact that I had stolen, even ao-
cordiu to your own showing?"

“Ps aw! pshawl young sir, you do not know
yfiur lgum! Pierre Delacroix dares do any-
n

“ hen I have been misinformed,” returned
the dragoon, .with a great deal of dignity: “ for
I have alwa s hear
not dare an hing which misbccomes a man.”

For an instant the dark eye of the Partisan
flashed living fire, but, ere another had elapsed,
be had re-collected himself, and controlled his
hasty temper: and he replied with perfect
quietude and self-respect:

“I believe that ou are right, Lieutenant
Gordon, and that I ave spoken with improper
bluntness; but, as I have said, we men of the

South-west do not stand on your city nicety of ’

phrases, and are apt to name things as it strikes
us that they are, whether good or evil. Besides
this, you must remember that John Forester is.
the oldest friend I have on earth; that I love,
esteem and venerate him above every human
being- and that a wrong done to him, or his,

woun 3 me in the tends-rest lace. Butl was '

wrong I admit it, to assume t at an injury had
been done, however adverse appearances might
be. until I knew the fact. That was unwise and

unworthy of aman of experience. If this will .

satisfy you accept it. When I have heard more
of your tale, as I ought to have done be;oro
speaking-,1 ma perhan be enabled to offer you
more. ntil t en, tb s must suffice.” ‘

“And it does suffice,” answered Gordon, sit-
ting down, “ for I can respect your motives, even
when I cannot tolerate your manner. But it is
possible that a young man may be justifiedin

carrym 03 an old man's dau hter: and if on ,
will be 8leased to hear me out,gI think you {viii ,

admit t at I was.” ,

“It will be hard tomake me believe that John.
Forester was sordid, selfish, or unreasonable;
and unless he were one of these I cannot con- .
ceive any justification.” \

“What if he were under the dominion, and
acted at the dictation of another?"

“John Forester? Impossible!”

“ We are but playing at cross- urposes. You
were best to hear me out, an so substitutes
short stor for a long debate."

“ Pray et us do so.” i a

“It is six ears since I first visited New Or-
leans: and be gtho bearer of letters to Colonel
Forester was received hospitany and entertained
in his house where he then lived nominally
alone, with the exception of his only daughter,
Julia, at that time a beautiful girl of fourteen.
Being ve young myself we were thrown
much toge her. a. sort of childish aflection, half
liking and half love grew up between us—pot
altogether childish either; for it contantly in-
creased durin the three years which I spent in
the cit , un it became a powerful passion.
So evi out was our mutual par iality from the
very first that it was a matter 0 jest amon the
friends of the famil , and Colone
self used to call Jul a, ‘Mrs.’ Gordon.’ When I en-

tered the army, on the first raisin of the second , , ‘ i
dragoon regiment and beforeleav ngthe cit for l

the North-west, I had an explanat on wit the,
colonel; and it was understood and agreed, that
at some future period,which was left undecided
Julia. should be :11 Wife. We were permitted
to co nd, and mounted myhorse and rode
away with m regiment, as lighthearted and
as happy it so dier t 8 ever set jack boot in steel
stirrup. Amid the wild excitement of a frontier“
life, among hardships, and toils, and Somethin
of actual perlls the reflection of the past an -
the hope 0 thef ‘

to time-at long intervals, it' is true, but still
suflcientl often to keep interest and hope
alive .un warm within-me, 1 received letters
from my'betrothed of which I shall on] say
that they were all t at the most sanguine over
could desire. -

“ After a while, howeverfia diflcrence in their '

tone became :1 nt. . ot, indeed, in tho’
manifestationo aflection, but of boy». There

 

In.

   

was I
Faction

  

that Pierre Delacroix did. ‘

Forester im— ‘

uture never left me.‘ From time r

 

 

 

 
 

 

I coupled with strong injunctions, notto com-

' faction.

, nearly a

ment upon it in my replies, which was more
than enough toharass my mind and drive me al-
most mad. Ere long the despondency expressed
in her letters increased, until it became some-
thing akin to despair. She spoke o .nly of ad-
verse interests at work against us, 0 underhand
and illegitimate influences, with dark allusions
to persecution and domestic tyranny, from
quarters the most infamous and degrading; but
all still coupled with the injunction to be silent,
to hope for the best, and to trust all toher of-
At length, her letters ceased altoge—
ther; and I was months without receivin any
tidings from her. When the present war roke
out I was eastward to recruit and had no op-
rtunity of visiting New Orleans, although my
rain and my heart were both on fire to do so.
Three months since I received, the first time for
car, a short hurried agonizing note
from Julia, entreating me to come near her,
without an instant’s delay, as her misery was
too great to be endured and one way or other
the must release herself from it. For once, for-
tune favored me; for the same post which
brought her letter, brought orders to the cap-
tain of my company to send me forward instant-
ly with the men we had raised. to the very city
in which I most desired to be. A fortnight
afterward I was on the a 0t and learned all the
infamous and horrid trut .

“ Your friend the high and honorable soldier
whom I had known of old—the very pattern and
impersonation of uprigbtness, and chivalry, and
true nobility of soul—had so far lapsed in the
decline of his intellectual powers from his once
glorious standard, as to have made a colored
woman—his own emancipated slave aud‘form-
orly his mistress—his lawful wife and the part-

‘ nor of his fortunes; placing,r her openly at the

5,:

fort! he did the deed of shamel

I .she procured

head of his table, and bring-inc his illegitimate
daughters, the offspring of his Foul concubinage,
into uality of station and societ with his own
beauti iii, and pure, and noble c ild—with my
Julia!"

“ Great God i" exclaimed the Partisan, bound.
ing to his feet almost in fury; “great God! can
this be so.’ Can age and the natural decline of the
mental faculties so change the highest and most
virtuous characters—so transform the purest
and most generous into the base, the groveling,
the sensua ——-so degrade the almost godlike man
below the animall Great Godl can this be so?
Would—would to heaven that he had died he-
Would that I
had been near to him; for, by the Lord that
liveth if neither argument nor entreaty should
have bad power to prevail over such low and
beastlike passion, my hand—my own hand,
which has caressed his cheeks and played with his
gray hairs so often—my own band should have
spared him the infamy, and slain him in his un—
Ialnted honor. Go on! go on! Lieutenant Gor-

, don—I have wronged myself by my suspicion!

But who could have dreamed of this? Goon!
go on! I will make you amends, if it cost me
my life l” _
‘But this was not all, not half of all, that
poor Julia suffered: for the incarnate devil,
whom I must call Mrs. Forester, not content
with forcln the deluded old man into the re-
scinding of is will, and be ueathing all buta
mere pittance to herself and 9-born children
never ceased rsecuting him day or night, till
5 promise to send J ulia secretly
away to Europe, there to be immured in a con-
vent; fearing unquestionably that if she should
be marri to an American gentleman and
soldier, her husband would find some means to
frustrate the enormities she had planned so
artfull , and secure a share at least of the par-
tial ol man’s fortunes. I had an interview
with him, though not without much difficulty:
I offered to forego all—to sign away all claim on
her behalf and my own, provided ewould 've
me her hand, rtionless and alone. For a w ile
I thought I prevailed; but the fiend entered
the room, and I saw the old man quail before
the e of her fierce, snake-like eye, and all
wasgltzst. Then I, too, lost my tern er; and I
swore by the God who made me, and y the hell
to which that woman’s deeds were leading her,
that her plans should be frustrated, and that
Julia should be my wife in spite of man or
devil. I got brief leave of absence, on the
anemia to join at head-quarters before the last
yof the present month—embarked my re-
cruits with my second lieutenant; and on the
third do after, Forester’s garden wall was

' scaled, h s daughter’s window broken, and be-

fore the day dawned she was my bride.

“ Still fli ht was needful, and we fled; for by
his wrath, and the unscrupulous wickedness of
her who prompted him, we might still have
been separated or a while, if not forever. We
fled, I say,to Natchez, and thence to Nachito.
ches,’ where by good fortune I found the little
squad of dragoons who escort me, making their
way down t e I'lVf‘I‘ to’ join my party, which
they had been detailed to enter as a veteran nu-
cleus. With them, and this letter to yourself
from an old friean of mine, who has, I behave.
lived with you, Frank 'Arromfth of ours, I
have made in way thus far safely; though
sorclv di<appomied at not meeting you. as I
‘iioped to do, in San Antonio dc Biz-xar. This is

.V,V

 

The Silent, Riflsnu:

the whole that I have donewyou have heard all.
The rest remains with you.”

“Well, sir, you have done well. As well as
any man could do; and not only as well, but the
on y thin tliuta man and a gentleman could
do, even i it were for a woman he did not love.
Had he done otherwise, he would deserve shoot-
ing; The rest, you‘say, remains With me; but
w tthat rest is, imless it be to offer you my
hand, and to ask your pardon very frankly for
my rudeness, I know not.” '

‘Ohl that is anted, I assure you, Without
asking it,” said ordon, evidently well pleased
at having got through his unpleasant disclosure,
and wring {if the bard hand of the Partisan as
heartily as t was freely offered. “I meant,
however, sometliin very different, as you Will
see. when you sh have opened Frank Arrow-
smith’s dispatch.”

“ Which there would be mighty little use in do-
ing to—nigbt, seeing that our campfires have all
burned low, and will soon be out—which is a
good thing, by the way, since'all the service
the could render us would be to bring down a
hal -dozen roving Comanches, or some of that
scoundrel Carrera’s ragamufiin horde, upon our
bivouac. I could not see to read it, if I were to
open it; and, as it regards yourself. I fancy on
can tell me the contents as well or better t an
any one.”

" Why, he expected that -we should find you
at San Antonio—why, I am sure, I do not
know—” .

“Nor I, by Heaven! since I never sleep in a
town orin a bed three times a year, if I can
help it,” said the Partisan.

“And in that expectation gave me a letter to
on, commending us to your care. He told me
hat if you woul undertake it, you could ruide

us in safety into Taylor’s camp through a the
guerrillas in Mexico.”

“ He did me too little and too much justice.
Too little, in an posing that there was any if
about it. The ic an of ierre Delacroix refusing
to guide or assist a lady in the midst of danger!
Asto my being able to carry you safely into
Taylor‘s camp, that‘s uite another thin . Ac-
cording to him, the ol Partisan is wort more
than a whole New York regiment—for the last
news was that yis cut off, and his laid
down his arms, with all the eleventh, to a horde
of these guerrilla vagabonds. I don’t believe
one-half of it, to be sure; but what is true is
this, that not ,a single train has got through
safel in the last four months—no, not the half
of a ain, though they are conveyed, each by
five or six hundred foot, and a company or two
of draroons. Ohl there is the devil to pg, I
can tel you. These fellows are getting eir
pluck up, and are beginnin to ht like the
deuce under their own I ers. here’s that
fellow, the Padre J arauta, as they call him, will
give Uncle Sam more trouble than Santa Anna
and the whole lot of his generals. Here to-day,
and a hundred miles off to-morrow. Nothing
but horse are worth a cent against them: and
we have no horse to speak of, and what we
have, for the most part scarce worth the forage
of their horses. You dragoou fellows and t e
mounted rifles can do your work; but I would
not give J sick Hays and one company of his old
rangers for all the volunteer horse together.
Not one man in ten can sit his horse if it
swerves, as they all do when it comes under
fire. More saddles are em tied, in every charge,
by the fellows tumbling p out of them, than
by the bullets of the enemy. It is enoughto
make a horse swear to think of the blundenng
of the government at home. They seem to think
that "cavalry are made in five minutes, and that
the moment they have stuck five or six hun~
hundred country lawyers and village storekeep-
ers upon the backs of unbroken and unbitted
wagonhorses, they are at once horse. Why.
Heaven save the markl with the ex 'cptionpf
artillery alone, there is no arm in the service
that needs so much training as horse. Give me
five thousand good horse, and a battery or two
of curricle guns and mountain howitzer-s, and
I’ll engage to keep all our communications open
for and near; and, till they do so, we shall al-
wa s be blocked up, as we are now, and hem-
m in with’these scoundrels almost in sight of
our outposts.”

“ You think, then, that there is great risk?”

“I must not deceive on. I do think so.
I am Just on my return mm 9. ion scout on
my own book, as they sa , through afi this bor-
der country, and a 2 way inland, too, for I
had a notion to find out what was going for—
ward where our fellows have not been. 80 I
struck northward from Monterey and held to
the westward of San Fernando, and Gigedo and
Monclova; and then, to the northward of the
last, turned easterly so far as Espada, whence I
was about to .make my way back to Monterey
as fast as Emperor could carry me; for,
tween ourselves, I have picked up some infor-
mation that old Zachar would give one of his
ears to have now, andI I have captured some
dispatches, also. But they must wait, it seems
for I am no one’s- man now, as I told on, and
they can neither cashier me for diso dience,
nor shoot me for deserfinguthat is one’ comfort;
nnd. since such is the case. why I must try to
so- you and my old friend’s—damn it! I scarce.

 

 

 

ly know if I ought to call him friend—don liter
out of the scrape. Thou v'h how I am to i o it,
ban the if I know. Can s 6 mm: well?”

“ ettcr than any man in the regiment! Ilcr
hand is like a feather, her seat as firm as a rock.
and her nerve most miraculous.”

“And her endurance? That is the quality
there is most likeli‘liocxl of testing.”

“ We have never made less than thirty miles
any day; and she has never shown fatigue.”

“ We may have to make Sixty; and, fifty to
one, shall have to leave those mules behind us."

“ Is there so much danger?”

“The country is alive with horse. Ever;
village is in arms, every rancho has turned out
its riders;- aud keen ridcrs they are, I assure
you. Why, betwccn us and the fences, and all
the way toward Encinos, there are not less than
a thousand men scattered about in liitle bands
from six to fifty and upward. Here we are
above the Presidio road7 and what the devil
brought you above it I don’t know, and I am
sure you don’t. I fancy you must have lost
you way. You should have gone down as low
as Mier or Cumnrgo; or, better yet, to Matu-
moras; and so taken the chance of a train and
convoy. But it is no use talking about it now;
for that game’s up.”

“ Why up!”

“ Can-om and five hundred horse are between
us and Pieviila now, partly on the look-out for
your humble servant: I had half a mind to go
down and take a look at them, till I met on.
If I could get within three hundred yards 0 the
dog I’d pay him a debt that Brown Bess"—ho
smiled grimly, and tapped the breech of his
rifle—“owes im.”

“And is there no chance of running the
gantlet of their parties, and getting through
clear!” '

“None, under lieavenl They know that I
have got these dispatches, and fancy that I
shall try to fall down upon Micr. But I am no
fool. ur only chance is’thc straight inland
road keeping clear of the villages and travel-
ing, hereafter, as much as we can  night. I
shall be easier when we have got old ruvo here
between us and the bounds."

“ Are they so formidable?"

“I can hardly fancy irregular horse more
formidable. They are (-npifnlly, though slightly
mounted—well armed with n lance fourteen
feet long, with a sharp steel head of eighteen
inches: tWO cscopctns, or light ounce ball, cara-
bines; a long straight swor , a knife and lasso.
with which they can catch you or your horse
anywhere they please, both at full gallo i.
They ride admirably, and fight devilish we
Do on call that formidable?”

“ thcr so, I must confess.”

“Rather so! I believe youl Wh , it was
only yesterday morning, eight of t em stole
upon me while I was eatin my breakfast un-
der the lee of a muskeet t icket. Ishot one
with my rifle before I backed Em eror, and
two with my pistols afterward; an‘ charged
through them sword in hand, knocking one
head over heels, and cutting another half
through the shoulder. But the other three still
stuck to me, firing their cursed escopetas—one
of them did send a bullet through my hunting.
shirt and barked my bridle arm—and, as the
ground was deep and boggy, I could not ride
away from them; they chased me all of five
miles and curse me! if I dared tosee how far
off they were from me, for fear of seeing a!
lance point within a band’s breadth of my 'id-
neys. Faith! I believe they were so close as
that to me once. I could not get time to load
a weapop; I had put up _m_v sword, to hold
the horse together better in the deep ground,
and to tell you the truth, I did think that
my time was come, and expected nothin but
a dig with a spear in the small of my bac , or
a check with a lasso round my neck, at every
stride of the horse. At last, to my at joy,
I saw a stream before me, the first had seen
in two days; a deep, mndd , black-looking
brook, creeping along with dar eddies between
very boggy banks. It must havo been twenty
feet of water, if it was an inch. “Here goes,’
I cried aloud; ‘if I get over it, curse me if
the?7 can!’
an took Emperor hard by the head, and sent
my spurs in rowel deep; and we were over in
a minute! By 3006 Inc ',_ though, I knew what
was coming, as if by instinct: so I whip ed my
knife out in a second, and held it stra gbt be-
fore my face, With the back touching my new
and chin; so when the bloody lasso came as I
knew it would, whistling over my be and
about mycnrs, it took the edge of the blade
before it took my windpipe, and was in two
pieces before you could say ‘cut.’ Then 1 look.
ed round, I promise cu, I wish you’d seen
the Don’s face, with  black eyes goggfing,
and his mouth wide Open when he saw his
lasso come home em ty. ‘ E8 91 delo mismo I’
said be. So I gave him a in and a yell, and
began to load my rifle, as 35* as I 001116- 50,

seeing that their escopetas were all three cmptl'v \

and that their leesoes could not reach me, and’
that their 113 could pot take the Water, why
they began 1,. ' discretion the better part
of valor and took themselves. of! as (17:31“

as they could; not so quickly" ‘l‘g‘l‘v—I‘OI"

So I sat well down in the saddle, '

l
l
l
i

 

  

 

‘ deep

'7

 

ff; . v . - ... .....,,.n._.._-._.,_...__..._...

horses were pretty well blown and the hog

and treacherous—but that fgot Bess loa -
ed, and knocked one of them out of his saddle,
for a finish. He must have been nigh four
hundred yards oil’, so that 1 did not kill him,
but he sat mighty clumsily in his saddle when
he climbed up again. That’s the last brush I
had with them, and now my pipe’s out. and it’s
late. Do you go and bid vour men to put no

more wood :1 the fires, an lie down one and
all, and get all the slee they can. They will
need it, before we reach onterey.”

“ What! will you have no sentinel?”

“I would rather have my brown horse, Eni-
peror, for a sentinel, than all'tlie drag-cons in
the United States, or out of it. Though heis
lyin down and asleep now, he has ot one ear

ric red. and one 8 6 open, I’ll be ound for

im. Do what I hi you. and then get to your
bed your-Hf. I will wake you before the mom-
in star is up, to-morrow."

‘ rdon arose, well satisfied that the Partisan
knew his business for better than he, and went
away to do his bidding, much to the delight of
the unfortunate dragoon, who was pacing up
and down with his carabine in the hollow of
his arm, envying his more lucky comrades their
sound and healthy slumbers.

This duty done, the young oflloer hurried
back to his tent and his fair bride; and. in doing
so assed close to the bivouac of the Partisan.

e had wrapt himself close in the handsome
blanket, with his knife drawn 'in one hand, and
his pistol in the other, ready for instant de-
fense on the least alarm; and, With his head
resting in the hollow of his large 8 nish sad-
dle, was already buried in deep an dreamless

cc .

liften minutes more there was not an eyelid
open, of man or animal, in the encampment:
and the broad lustrous Northern moon, sailing
in a flood of silver glory throu h the azure
lirmament, alone watched over t em, like the
unsleeping eye of an all-seeing Providence.

CHAPTER IV.
THE PASSAGE or THE BRAVO. _

THE stars were beginning to grow paleun
heaven and a faint yish tint was creeping
gradually upward mm the Eastern horizon,
and usurping the dark azure of the cloud-
less sky, when the light sleep of the Partisan was
interrupted by the long tremulous low whining
of his favorite horse.

He started to his feet in an instant, and listen-
ing eagerly, and again laying his ear to the
ground, as on the previous evening, speedily be-
came aware that a large body of horse was
passing along the hard rairic. not far from the
skirts of the timber. nstantly awakenin the
young lieutenant and his dragoons, be 8
them strike tent, load the mules, and saddle the
chargers with all'possible speed and silence,
keepinitheir arms ready, for that danger was
at ban '

This done, he took up his trusty rifle, and stole
away with a noiseless step to recounoiter the

t , which had now come so near that the

 

' clan of the steel scahbards against the stirrup

irons was distinctly audible above the hollow
sound of the horses’ tram ps.

The noise, however, gradually died away, the
troopers having evidently ridden down the outer
edge of the forest to the southward without
noticing the track left by the horses 0 our com-

a '.
panithin ten minutes, Pierre returned with a
very serious countenance.

“There are above a hundred of them.” he
said; “regular lancers of Carrei'a’s band. They
have gone southward for the present; but we
may ex ct them back within an hour, for the
are evi ently on the lookout for our trail, whic
the must have followed from the last bottom,
and’7 lost at night on the dry prairie; had the
morning been one hour more advanced, the
must have seen it, and we should have been a 1
killed, before this time: for they make no pris-
oners." '

“ There is no time to lose, then,” said Gordon,
hastily, looking with an anxious eye to the face
of his wife, who was already eqinpped and
ready to mount. “ Let us get to horse at once
and at the river between them and us.” v

“ hat is soon done, so far as we men are con-
cerned,” replied the Partisan; “ but how do you
get her across rivers such as this? It is a broad
stream, and the current runs like a mill-race.
It is enough to dazzle the eyes and turn the
headnof a strong‘man ,to swim it, let alone a

“y We have an .India-rubber )ontocn here,” he
answered, intuit; to a. sort 0 oval bag of that
materia], ependmg from two airc linders of
the same stuff, Wthhy When lnflate , and dis-
tended by two or .three short staves, form a
rude boat, and which, What! not in use, can be
folded into a, small compass, and packed on a.
mule’ saddle.- “It is all ready, and can
drawn to the further bank, eaSIIy, by the cord
coiled in the bow.” . .

“Let her get in, then, in God’s namel’? m.
plied the Partisan, “ for all this takes time, and

we have little enough of that to spare.”

And, with the words,’ he led his own horse
now fully accounted. down to the, share, at uni

\ ,
r,

be i pression of the

, The Silent Rifleman.

Ln": "._"":.'.": .‘S'. ' “‘ “'

 

spot where he had watered the animal on the
previous evening, followed by the dragoons
three of whom led the beasts, while one carrie
the light pontoon.

Gordon brought up the rear, with his fair del-
icate wife ban ing upon his arm, and smiling
with serene and beautiful confidence in the pro-
tection of her gallant husband. Arrived on the
bank all the dragoons mounted and entered the
broad and rapid river, which could not at this
spot have been less than five hundred yards in
width. Three of them leading the pack mules
and the lady’s jenuet, and the fourth carrying
in his hand the reel on which was wound the
tou h cord of twisted bide, by which the frail
bar c was to be drawn across the whirling cur-
rent.

So strong was the stream that, although the
horses swam well and stoutly, and although the
dragoons were as well trained to the mana e-
ment of their horscs in the water as on ry
land, they were carried a great distance down
the river before they were enabled to make the
opposite bank; apd the cord attached to the
pontoon, long as it was, would have proved in-
sufllciont. had not the Partisan run down the
hither shore with the light boat in his arms
thus easing the strain, until he reached a point
0 posits to the spot, where, with afearl’ul stru -
go, the half-exhausted animal succeeded n
anding.

Then with a bright eye and a cheerful smile
on her lovely face, the soft and delicate young
woman entered the frail vessel, which sunk so
i deeply in the water, even under her slight bur—
] then, that the extreme edges only of the cylin-
n‘ ders which supported it were vis1ble above the

surface of the swift glancing waters.
[ " Shut your eyes, you were best, sweet lady,”
; cried the rough veteran of the woods, moved
almost to tears by the dauntless heroism of one so
young, so gentle, and so tender—for she showed
, not a sign of terror in committin herself to a
, bark which many of the hardiest s that ever
- braved the perils of a storm-tossed ocean would
lhave refused to enter. “The rapid whirl of

those waters will dazzle Egur eyes, and if your
i head fail you, there will peri indeed.”
i “It will not fail me,” she said, with a calm
> smile. “My heart will keep it steady. I am

sure there is little danger; and if there be
i danger, I would rather at least meet it with in
eyes 0 en, and look upon him to the last,” an ,
with t a word. she laid her hand playfully on
Gordon’s shoulder.

He caught her in his arms, and strained her
to his heart, which beat far more wildly than
her own at the thought of the peril she ran,
while a tear sparkled for a moment in his clear
gray eye. ,

A strange pang, which, in the simplicit of his
bold, honest heart was unaccountable him-
self, shot through the bosom of the Partisan, as
he looked on that warm and close embrace' as
he saw that exquisite form clasped, palpita if,
in the permitted arms of her husband. a
started at the new sensation, but be had not the
time, if be bad the inclination, to analyze it.

For, tearing herself away suddenly from his
; arms, she seated herself in her nautilus skid,
i and cried, in a mer voice:

“ Now, push me o , and be sure you keep the
1 boot steady.” -
, The bus and’s heart failed him, as he obe ed
’ her bidding, and paid out the line, from not er
, reel similar to that held b the dragoon on the
j further shore, which hin cred the little boat
' from falling bodily down the stream.
The danger was however, greater in appear
Lance than in reality, for the pontoon was so
i buoyant, and the weight it bore so trifling, that.
it breasted the current gallant] ; and the light
laugh of the lad came pleasant y to the ears of
i the husband an hi comrade, as, pleased by the
l eas motion, she waved her ’kerchief gayly
: rea 1y amused and rejoiced at what might we
, have terrified hearts which should have been
: stouter, and nerves of heavier mold.
The soldiers on the other shore reeled the
i strong line in actively, and in the same propor-
tion Prank Gordon d it out; till, after a safe
r and gentle navigation of perhaps ten minutes,
. he had the satisfaction 0 Seeing the ontcon
, made fast to. the bank, and his fair bri e lifted
l out with asmduous though rugged courtesy bf};
l the stout soldiers, who had learned to love the
I lieutenant’s lady, for the gentle, yet spirited
. endurance With which she supported every
; hardship and the gay mirth with which she
1 made light of eve dan er. .
l Scarce was she ande , ere she was seated on
3 the hack of. her beautiful and docile palfrey
. which, recruited by its night’s rest and plentiful
: asture, pawed the earth, eager to be once more
m motion, and neighed clear and shrill in invi-
i tation to his comrades, Gordon had lure-nay
s ridden a. yard or two into the river, when he
‘ was attracted ll)? the sin lar aspect and ex-
artisan. th horse and man
i stood like statues. flawed by a master hand to
1 e ress the utmost anxiety and expectation.
' he charger’s fine limbs 'tively trembled
with excitement; his small 1; in ears were rick.
ed acutel . forward: his large eyes dilat ;a.!ld
 isbnmhil filmist fothe Wand as mil
. t; ‘ ' ' ' - 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pierre sat erect in his saddle, azing with hir-
keen dark eye into the recesses o the forest, his
left hand iaised to his ear, for he had let fall his
reins on the disciplined charger’s neck, and his
cocked rifle ready in the right.

The next instant, a single Mexican came into
view, ubeeling his small but fler horse round
the thicket, which had sheltered heir encamp-
ment, at full gallop.

His scarlet ponc o streaming far behind him
in the current created by the swiftness of his
own motion through the ntmos here: his hi h-
crowned hat glittering with 5' var ornlmon ;
his ally fringed and embroidered logging, and
his ong straight sword cluttering against his
huge wooden stirrup, or jingling against his
great uncouth spurs, rendered him a sin rly
picturesque and strikin object, amid t 9 wild
and luxuriant scencr o the forest, limmoring
gs it was in the still ewy twilight 0% the early

own.

He was viewed, however, by eyes whichcared
little for his picturesque attire, and thought
little of effects or accidents—ass. painter would
have styled them—which, at another time.
would have filled one of them at least with

ecstatic admiration. He did not at first 0 servo '

the Partisan, so motionless did he stand, backed
by a thick clump of thorny bushes which vs
no relief to his dark charger and sad co cred
garments but galloped fiercely forward ur~
ring his orse violently, and evidently fol ow-
ing the track of the part which he was pur-
suing, aud which be proba ly believed to be far
more remote than it indeed was.

The rifle of the Partisan rose slowly and,
with a steady motion, to his shoulder, an there
remained as still and firm as though it and the
extended arm which, supported t, had been
wrou ht in bronze or iron.

Its ad bore full on the exposed breast of the
Mexican, with an eye keen and sure as the soar-
ing eagle's, glaring along the barrel. andaflnger
to which no extremity of peril could communi-
tcla'ite the slightest tremor, pressing along the

ger.

ad that trigger been drawn, no mortal aid
could have avai ed to savgethe forfeit life; but
the Partisan paused to 5 whether the rider
was alone or had followers. Had a second
horseman come into sight, the flash would hays
fcallllovtved the sight, an sure death the rugged

6

But no follower appeared, and now the
ranchero—for such he seemed to lie—was with-
in forty yards of Pierre when he saw the be
the man, the leveled ' e—when he recog
the being he most feared on earth—the far—
famed Partisan. Wheeling his horse in an fir
stunt, by dint of his crue massive bit, which
threw him on his haunches as if by magic, the.
terrified wretch turned to ii in the direction of
the troopers, who had gone own to the south-
ward, and were not probably even now“ more
than a mile distant.

Satisfied b the man’s flight that he was un—
supported, erre rapidly uncooked his rifle, and

threw it to the ground, turning as he did so to) i "

forbid Gordon—who had unslung his combine.
and now half acting treachery in his guide,
was raising it to his eye—from firing.

“Not for your life! he cried—“ not for your
life! Cross the river, and ride westward. i
will deal with this dag.” -

And with the we . therin up the rains in
his left hand, he gave mperor c s ur so sud-

den] that be bounded six feet intot coir with
y i

all his feet together, and dashed at once into his
tearing gallop.

Meanwhile the rider had uncoiled the loss.
which hung from the pommel of his saddle, and
whirling it around his head in the true 8

fashion, thundered along in pursuit of the faki- '>

tivzli‘ah at 1% tremenldoaisipace.
- e eXican a , tis true some fl will
the start of his 'pursuer, and ’imowin “has: he
was ridipg for his life, or at least for libert ',
plied his long-roweled spurs with lo
energy.

The animal he rode was swift and sctiv
though small and low of size. being descend

probably from the old Andalusian blood, and’

the best in Europe from its tor admixture
with the Moorish strain, wh' was imported to
this continent by its first con erors.

~But fleet an high—spirit as it was, it had
not the least chance of contending; against the

vastly superior power and longer stride of the s ‘

Anglo-American thoroughbred. On drove the

Emperor, covering sixteen feet at every stroke,

and aim'n every second a on the tremblin
fugitive. ow he was wit in twentyh ard‘ii
in am <

distance when the ranchero, turning
dle, deliberately leveled his escopeia at the Par-
tisan. It would seem, however, that he had not

calculated upon his enemy’s beinfii‘armed with

the formidab e lasso, or upon his a ii in using
it; for the instant he saw it circlin ' the air
around his head, and on the point 0 be!!! out
against him, his whole countenlince alt , and
lietrembled so violently that it scarce seemed

’ possible he could retain his seat in the saddle. In

another moment his combine would have m
discharged, and the alarm commurimtc

d
. other troopers: but em he could pull the 

the  wheeled minor] 7 a Haulage“.

L?! i ‘ ‘ ’ l)

x:
f:
\,, .' .33

A

a}. '.

at ,



 

.. -..,. fugue»... «was.

i
l
,1,
.l
l
l
q.

.fl‘.-~.<.~_.n‘.b.x.(.n-- .. “1...”.-. ...-.,.,, L: .. , a. 3.

., .h, - .._.._._,.n............‘..

'for the love of God, and the most holy

'of the Mexican, half cryin

8

V The Silent ‘Itifleman.

"" ‘ i.

l

 

 

ment of his hand and thigh, and hurled the tre-
mendous missile as sure and almost at swift as
his own unerring bullet.

The noble horse, well knowing his art in
what was about to ensue, stopped dead 8 ort in
his full career, the Partisan throwing himself
back in the stirrups, and sitting as perfectly
unmoved by the shock, as if he had been a por-
tion of the charger he bestrode.

But that was not the only feat which the in-
stiuct and experience of the gallant beast had
taught him; for, bracin every muscle of his
wiry and elastic frame, e leaned so far over
on the side 0 posite to that whence the lasso
had been spe , that he would have fallen, but
for the violent resistance which ensued instant-

y.

Aimed by an eagle eye, and launched bye.
master hand, the terrible noose encircled both
the forelegs of the Mexican horse as he sprung
forward, was drawn taut on the instant b the
very speed of the trammeled captive, and url~

ed horse and rider headlonnr to the earth, with a -
, violence Which left both for an instant sense—

less.
The tremendous force of such a check can bet-
ter be conceived than described: but it was so
out that in spite of the superior weight and
no of the Emperor, it would probably have
cast him also to the ground, but for the position
in which he received the shock; and, as it was,
he was dragged Several yards, his hoofs literally
Elowmg up the forest soil in deep furrows before
e could recover perfect contro of his limbs.
The next moment Pierre had leaped from his
saddle and sprung upon his captive almost be-
fore he opened his eyes on recovering from his

’ terrible fall.

Ere he had regained his senses he was disarm-
ed, and his arms pinioned so far behind him,
that, although he could use his hands and fares
arms from the elbow, he could not raise them to
his head, ,or make any attempt to either strike
or arry. I

is horse was next released from the lasso,
and allowed to recover his feet, which it did,
trembling with terror, and sweating at every
re, but not nearly so much shaken or bruised
so violent a fal as might have been expect
allowing probably to the softness of the ground.
he noose 'of the lasso was now transferred to
the neck of the unhappy Mexican, whose swar-
thy features had changed to a sort of greenish-
yellow hue, standing as he did in imminent ter-
ror of instant death by strangulation, of which,
indeed he appeared to be in no small risk. .

“ Life!” he cried, piteously, in Spanishvf‘life}
irgin
For ,pharityl give me my life, Senor Ameri-

can!

“ Mount your horse, fool!” replied the Parti-
san, stern] ; “ who the devil do you think
would trou le himself to take such a miserable
life as yours. Mount your horse, I say and
cease your howling, or I will send my knife
through your coward heart 1” He also used the
Spanish tongue, which he spoke not only idiom-
atically, but with all the ease and flush of a
native; and to enforce his threats, he laid his
hand with a grim smile on the hilt of his formid-
able wood-knife.

Admonished thus, the man climbed awk-
wardly to his saddle, and when once there was

secured in his seat by Pierre, who, cutting the

lasso from the Mexican saddle, fastened his feet
with it under his horse’s belly, though not so
tightly as to deprive him of the necessary com-
mand of the animal.

This done, he released his arms and bidding
him in a stern, quiet voice, fol ow him close
and silently, if he did not deem: to be strangled,
he leaped lightly into his own saddle, and can-
tered back toward the river, followed by his
captiye, who took admirable care to keep so
nigh to his conqueror that the strain of the
harsh cord about his neck should not be drawn
only ti hter. ' .

n t e mean time, Lieutenant Gordon, who
had at first watched the chase with some appre-
hension, and very reat anxiety lest the fugi-
tive should escape, ad no sooner seen the lasso
hurled, and the downfall of man and horse
than. perfectly content to trust all to the skill
and judgment of a man who had exhibited such
readiness of thought and action, he addressed
himself to obey his directions; and, putting his

‘horse steadily down the bank into the nver,

swam it gallantly, holding his pistols above his
head in his ri ht hand, in order keep the powder
dr in case 0 future emergency.

‘1 fore he was half way across, the Partisan

came up at a brisk hard center, with his tremly
h‘ng prisoner in tow, whose sword, istols, and
esca eta he threw into the river, and) then tak-
ing is own pistols from the holsters, and hold-
ing them aloft, like Gordon, plunged in himself

, and swam stoutly over. dragging the _unfortu1

nate ranchero in mortal terror after him.
“Whom, in the name of everything thatis
wonderful I” cried  half lau hing at the
woe-begone expression and blanc ed features
from the excite-

ment he had undergone. ‘Whom have you

, 531: there, Partisan, and what are you going to

'th hi i”
“we: Alex-incan spy, lady,” replied the frontiers

man, as coolly as if he had not ridden faster
thana foot’s pace for the last hour. “And I
am going to cut his cars off, if he tells me the
least bit of a lie: and to hang him up by the
heels for the vultures and carrion crows to eat,
if he makes the least offer to escape.” I

Which pleasant intentions he forthWith made
clearly'com prehensible to the Prisoner, who had
previously iven some signs 0 appreciating his
meaning, w ich he gathered from the gestures
of the speaker, by translating his last words into
ver choice Spanish for his espcc1al benefit.

Thereu on followed Misericordms! and San-
tissz'ma irginsl and nombre de _D1.os! beyond
all were of mortal computation; the poor
dev working himself into a perfect paroxysm
of terror, until at length, compassxonatmg his
miserable apprehensions and his tears—for he
actually wept as he implored his life from the
Bitiless man, as be supposed, into whose hands

e had fallen-Julia relieved him by assuring
him, in pure Castilian, which fell deliciously
soft and musical from her gentle lips, that his
life was in no danger, since Americans never
slew their risoners, especially in the resence
of their la ies; and that even his ears 5 ould be
spared,provided he told them the truth,and made
no effort to esca before they should reach their
friends. In whic event, she added, he should not
only be restored to liberty, but rewarded. His
thanks were profuse, and his romises unbound-
ed; thanks and promises, bot of which Pierre
cut short by a grim glance and a twitch of the
halter, which still encircled his neck; after
which summ process, for the enforcement
of silence he said, with a courteous gesture to
the lady, “ Now then, if you please, we will be
moving. We are well across the river, and can
put this belt of wood between ourselves and the
enemy; they may not seek here and so may
miss us altogether.”

CHAPTER V.
THE DOUBLE 'mAITOR. .

THERE was no discussion or debate, so ev1dent-
ly correct was the plan of the Partisan; nor,
had his views been much more questionable than
they were is it at all probable that any 0 po-
sition would have been made, so completely ad
he gained the confidence of the whole party, by
his promptitude, his gallantry, and his extra-
ordinary ooolness in danger. The heads of all
the horses, therefore, were turned westward,
and away they rode at as rapid a. rate as the
nature of the ground—which was in places very
deep and swampy, and at others very much in-
cnmbered with brakes of thorny underwood-
permitted. In the present order of the march,
the most danger being anticipated from the rear,
the oldest and most intelli ent of the dragoons
was detached to a hundre yards in front, fol-
lowed by the three others; two leading the pack
mules, and the third having charge of the
prisoner, about whose neck one end of the lasso
was still secured, while the other was made fast
to the pommel of the soldier’s saddle. This man
rode with his carabine unslung, the butt rest-
ing on his right thi h, cocked. and in. readiness
for instant service, is orders being peremptory,
to shoot the prisoner through the head on his

giving the slightest indication of any desire to
esca e or to raise an alarm.
ter these, Gordon and his fair bride rode
together, conversing at times in a low voice, but
9 oftener keeping silence, so much were the
carts of both 0 pressed by the singular dim-
culty, if not peri . of their situation. Indeed,
it is probable that, had not each desired to de-
ceive the other as to their state of mental dis-
q’iliietude, neither would have spoken at all; but
t e husband, anxious to support the spirits. and
if possible toalleviate the apprehensions of the
fair being whom he almost reproached himself
for haying bmuE-lit thus into the bowling wil-
derness, exerted 'mself to the utmost to a pear
confident and even cheerful, while the] y. no
less solicitous to conceal what natural tremors
her sex could not cast entirely aside digplfiyed
the most wonderful self-possession, adde to the
liveliest flow of spirits, and the highest courage
that ever graced a fair and gentle woman.

In the rear of all rode the Partisan, alone, at
nearly a hundred yards’ distance from the little
group which preceded him; and he alone of the
whole party seemed perfectly cool and uncon-
corned, althou h, in truth, there was not one
among them w 0 so fully envisaged the circum-
stances of their position, and saw so clearly the
whole extent of their danger. ,

Had he been alone, he would have undertaken
the whole risk, without be either of fame 01‘
guerdon, for the more fun 0 outwitting and cir-

 

cumventin . the Mexican troopers; but incum-
bered in is movements by the disciplmed

regulars—for whom, like all frontiersmen, be
entertained a rofonnd contemp ’ (impeded
by the presence of a delicate and tender female.

'he almost dfipairod of making good hisWflX

demess to head .
As they galloped Onward, hgwevu, through

the belt of timber which bordered the Western,

as well as the Eastern 0f the Bravo del

Norte, time slipped away bronghtno sounds

of pursuit from the rear. An hour bad

since they creased the river, and the crest,

 

 away i to scattered clam-lewd Single

.
,1‘ 1 ’r
1 , 'c. '

 

trees, suflercd the eye to roam, at intervals,
beyond its tufted thic ets and green alleys, over
the broad expanse of the boundless prairie,
which lay outstretched. for countless miles be-
fore them; now laughing gayly in the fresh
morning sunshine.

Just as they were approaching so nearly to
the margin of the open ground that the dra~
goon, who acted as vcdette, was looking round

or orders, Pierre uttered a. shrill, 1011 -drawn
whistle, which was the preconcerted signal for
a halt; and after the rest of the party had pulled
up their horses, gallopcd forward himself ti.l he
reached the extreme verge of the covert, where,
Without splfakin g a single word, he dismounted
fastemng is charger to a. tree, and advance
stealthily into the open prairie.

After being absent about twenty minutes
during which the remainder of his party he
lost Sight of him altogether, he returned with a
thoughtful expression on his strongly~marked
features, and walked through the little grou
of dragoons and pack mules, until he reaches
Gordon and his air bride, who sat on their
panting horses eagerly awaiting his approach.

“ Have you card anything.” 10 asked, quiet-
ly, “from the forest in our rear?”

“Not a sound,” replied the young officer;
“ not so much even as the chirrup of a bird, or
the rustle of a deer among the leaves.”

“Ah! on have not a woodsman’s ear,” an~
swered he Partisan, who had been listening
eagerly even while he_ was speaking. “There
are deer, if not elk, Within four hundred yards
of us now, and they are in confusion, too; but,
as we are to windward of them, and there is a
brisk breeze from the northward, it ma be
they have caught our taint upon the air. I not,
those accursed lancers have doubled on their
track, and crossed the river on us.” With these
words, he knelt as he had done on the previous
night, and again laying his ear to the ground,
llstened, hol mg his breath the while, to the
faint sounds which had reached his ears alone.

In a minute he arose with a countenance less

rturbed than before, and said, nodding his
end in approbation:

“ Ay, so far, all is well; they have gone south—
ward. It is we who alarmed them, and that
course is clear for the present. New listen to
me, lieutenant, and give me your advice for if
I know better than you how to keep our line of

route, and avoid the enemy, you know the best

how much this dear lady can endure.”

“Speak out, Partisan ” answered the youn
husband. “I will deal ankly with you, and
pray you to do so with us.” ‘

. “ shall,” answered Pierre, hastily. “Mark
me. .There is not a human being in sight on the
prairie,rand I have swept it, I am sure, twelve
times in every direction. These fellows who
started us this morning, are, I think, so far in
our rear, that unless by a miracle they turn and
fall 11 n our trail, they will hardly trouble us.”

“ en why not ride straight forward on our
cogi‘se, and so put a yet larger space between
us .

“ Isaid there was no human being in sight,
but there are three smokes, one hereaway, some
six miles to the southward; but I do not care
much for that, seeing that it is out of our line
altogether and that it seems to me it is from an
old night fire that has burned low. Then there
is one more right ahead of us, directly in our
course. It was burning strong, too, with new
wood, by the thickness of the wreaths. It is
some four miles off, but I could see neither men
nor horses, for the fire is kindled behind a roll
of the prairie. But there they are cooking
their tortilla, sure enough. A him, there is a
great smoke, as of many fires I: together, away
here more than ten miles off, I think, to tho
northward. So we are in a net, as it were,
among their out] mg parties. The great smoke
to the north, is, fancy, the camp or head- uar-
tors, or what you Will, of Carrera’s horse. hose
lancers that came so near us in our bivouac, are
one of their reconnoitering arties; and these
two smokes are two more. ey are all on the
look-out for me. The scoundrels, from the fire
that has burned low, must have breakfasted al-
ready, and ridden northward to ein the squad
on the other side the river, b e fords aLove
Laredo—we had seen them e . Now, as none
of these .have‘seen us, or fallen on our trail, it is
like] they Will make a sweep southward toward
the ueces, and so we may reckon on seeing no
"‘2’?‘ “$5 a h

on c. c a c ances close] ” said Gordon
who had listened with equal mirpy’i'ise and admi:
{$328.17}? tfh'e mtfifitetdeductions drawn byi the
a 1 _ pm In on '0 which a are to
himlso iiigi‘yial.1 n8 ppe
mu ca culate close] to save you from
lance and  Can-era I{dikes no prisoners!”
answered Pierre, coolly. “ N ow there are three
plans, of which we must, choose one, and then
act on it for life or death. We must work twen-
ty miles due north, up this forest land. and so
get above all their posts—which Were the
safest plan of all, if it would not cam us so far
out of our route, and bring“ 1” too soon into
the settled country, quite out of the line of our
communications-701' we must strike 'due south-‘
ward for that e , and so strive to

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I The Silent "Riflenian.

Camargo, WhiCll Would do “‘le enough did not ‘ covert of the forest, they rode out into the
the whole of that country swarm with gucri'il- ‘ open prairie, which stretched awa into ridgy
leros-or, again), We must drive rir'ht onward, } waves, like an unbroken sea, for eagnes and

and take the chance of falling on he party at ‘ leagues on every side of them. Not a tree or z

, mount, replaced his slender baggage on the back

‘ he has named, and two ounces at night if we

the little fire unawures, and finding the.“ so few
that we can master them. if we succeed in do—
ing so, we have the best chance of reaching ‘
Monterey in safety. For, once through those
frontier parties, we shall, it is likely, find the
country clear until we reach our outposts."

“ The risk of the three, then, is nearly equal,”
said Gordon, musing (lucply.

“The immediate risk of the last is greatest;
the ultimate risk the least; but, in truth, it is
chance, anyhow."

“ Which would you choose were you alone?"

“ I would lie bv till night, and then pass the
center picket. ut wn cannot do so. W0 are
too stron in numbers to lie pvrdu."

"' Whic do you rerommondf"

“If our sweet lady have nerve to look on
bloods ed, and, if need be, to ride forhor life
afterward—the third."

“Then the third be it." replied Julia. cheer-
fully. “ I take the choice upon myself. I am a
soldier's daughter, and the wife of a, soldier, and
nerve I must have, and will!”

“Brave heart!” muttered the Partisan, gaz- ,
ing on her admii'ingly. “Brave heart! you;
shall be saved.”

Then he advanced again upon the prairie,

3 southward the fire which he ,
had burned quite out, and no trace of it was to

‘ bush diversified the interminable range, or af-

forded a. spot on which the eye could rest, or
by which it could measure distance. Every~

where, the long deep-green grass—for the land '
on that side of the Bravo is moister and less ‘

sterile—waved and twinkled, as it rose and fell
before the fresh breath of the northern breeze,
goinined with ten thousand flowers of every
various hue.

Far to the northward lay the smokes, not now

a single column, but a ion r line of separate jets 1

streaming away before t 16 wind, toward our
company, which indicated the position of the
main force of Carrera.

These, as he now surveyed them from his
horse’s back, Pierre pronounced to be more dis-

tant than he deemed at first; asserting that full 1
fifteen miles were interposed between them<

selves and the enemy in that narter. To the

he discovered; this fact confirming the report
of the prisoner, and his own preconceived opin—
ion.

. Before them, however, nearer and more dis-
tinct at every stride of their horses, rose that

‘ round which, if the Mexican spoke truly, the

ad discovered ‘

9 .

H. »  '. 13123.“..1‘. IL: I.. .. ,L' .. .,.'..  . ._LZ.‘LI‘_.L'..

cry of anguishmit was indeed a death-slim}

until the heavy trampling of tho drugoon
horses thunder on the ears of the astonished
Mexicans, aroused from their secure slumbers
to desperate and fruitless combat.

Swiftly, however, as the drugoons passed up
the hill, morn swiftly yet did the well~trained
charger of the Partisan dash, instantly as he be-
lield the rifle’s flash, into his fieetest allop.
One second brought him to his masters side,
another second set that master in the saddle,
and ere a third ela sed, he had crossed the brm .
of, the rid e in a vanco of the dragoons, an.
With his on straight brondswcru flashing
above his bea , was sweeping unsupported, a.
it seemed, down 11 on the enemy.

There were, as t e prisoner ad stated, six
men_only; two of whom were awake, the one a
sentinel stalkin to and fro with his escopeta in
his hand, the ot er, a non~commissioned oflicer,
who sat smokin his ci urine by the fire, ovu-
which a camp- ettle ed with some savory
mess was simmering.

The death-shot, which sped its bullet crashin '
through the brain of the hapless sentinel:
aroused them all, and brought them to their
feet, amazed and terrified, and unprepared for
. action. All stood astounded and breathless-
. all save the sergeant, who, being apparently a
l quick-witted veteran soldier, as he was evident
‘ 1y a powerful and vigorous man, rushed to the

gazed forth a second time, and, finding that ev~ l party to be met with and disposed of slept un- { homes as soon as he heard the sound of the

cry thing he saw went to confirm his first im- ,‘
pression, returned to the dragoons and ordered !
them quietly to dismount and breakfast on ,
whatever cooked provisions they had With them,

conscious.

Mile after mile vanished beneath the feet of
their horses, as they pr onward steadily
and swiftly; Pierre once again in the van, lead—

I coming char 8, untethered his own ‘cb er,
‘ sprung to its tack and forced it through a so
I and miry1 ford of the rivnlet, even before hi;

I men got old of their weapons, still less thought

neither lighting any fire nor unsaddling their , ing them on rifle unslung and ready, at Ham 1 of their horses.

chargers. This done. he rejoined Gordon and 1
his bride, and sitting down with them upon the l
mossy greenswai'd, 1n the middle of the horses,
produced his slender store, and exhorted them l
to eat, and ate himself, as tranqnill y conversing ,
all' the while about indifferent matters, as if

there had been no danger within fifty miles of , Pierre halted, and'cansed the pack mules to be , took
- , 560111281); telllzhered to stakes driven into the moist |
cart 0 t e

them. i

Courage and coolness, like cowardice, are in-
fectious; and Gordon, who, as a. brave man and
a soldier, feared nothing for himself whatever
he might do for the fair partner 0 his perils,
soon caught the contagion of the Partisan’s
manner; and Julia by nature gay and mirth-
ful, soon forgot all but the present moment. In "
short, that morning meal, snatched in the midst
of warlike preparation, almost in length of
merciless, unsparing enemies, was enjoyed with
a Zest such as is given only by novelty and ex-
citement. ’

Many minutes had not passed, however, be-
fore Pierre arose from his seat, bidding his
young companions eat heartily, for it was hard
to say, when they might have the time to eat
again—announced that he was going to cross-
examine the prisoner and walked coolly away
toward the oup of dragoons.

Not one 0 these men understood a. word of
Spanish, and Gordon and his wife were too far
to distinguish any thing that was said. it was 1
clear, however, by the gesticulation of the Par- 1
lis-an, by the frecfiient layin of his right hand .
on the hilt of his nife, and y the motion of his 1
1- it toward the different fires which he had ‘
enumerated, that he was uestioning him, not 1_
without threats of instant eath, as to the num- l

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hers and position of the enemy.
it was no: long before he came back to Gor-
him to help the lady to

.
den, and desirin

of the good horse Emperor, and then, without

setting a foot in the stirrup, laid has hand

Lightly on the ponnnel, and vaulted into the

saddle.

Still he lpaused before giving the word to ad-

vance, an looked hesitatingy toward Julia,

who sat mouthing her thoroughbred pall'rey ,

, lightly with the curb, perfectly self-possessed i

and. easy in her manner and e ression.

“ If I could only trust that 0g.” he said, at l
length. “But, as they sa. , qmen sabe 5' He
tells me that, as I suspect, arrerii is up yonder l
With thirteen hundred horse. That there are
two hundred in the squad we saw this morning.
That fifty bivouacked down yonder to the
south, and are gone off to join the rest; and that ,
the party right ahead is buta ni ht scent, of six
men, un er orders to lie by all ( ay, and patrol
the gound, between the posts, by night. If
this. so and we can get upon them unperceiv-
ed. it Will be easywcrk: but not a man or a
horse must_escape. So bid your dragoons, when
fill.‘y fire, aim at the cattle altogether, and when
they charge, ride down the horses, or hamstring ;
them with their swords,” l

“ Do you behave him?” inquired Gordon, l
anxiously. “ He 1935’ be leading us into an '
ambuscade.” . . i

“ Hardl , I think,” replied the Partisan. “ In l
the first p ace, he knows me, and Ihave promised *
him sure death if there be one man more than

get clear through them. The fellow is inmor, ,
mi terror, for I never pass by him but he starts, ‘
as though he felt my knife in 1113 gizmrcl. But; .
mug; “henna time to lose; let u. b,mv.

ts, they  the Wait;

I

l

peror’s fast s ashing trot.

Now they were within a mile or less of the
ridge‘s brow, steeper and more abrupt than any
which they had yet passed, from the other
side of which the smoke rose in gra volumes,
having been fed with recent fuel. ere, then,

rairie bottom, together with the
horse of the exican.

The risoner—after bein once more inter-
rogate , and persisting in is tale that there
were but six men; that there was a large stream

at the base of the descent; and that the fire ,

was on this side of the stream—was dismount-
ed, 1gagged, hound hand and foot, and laid on his
bac ' upon the ass.

This done rdon arranged his handnt of

men, himself leading on the right, while Pierre |

rode forward someSixhorse-lengthsin advance,
and Julia, who had refused positivel to re-
main behind with the ac]: mules, fo owed a.

length or two behind. 11 that she could be

Meantime, the dragoons crossed the ridge
and poured down all abreast, receivin as they
came, a straggling volley from t e esco-

,' of the lancers. who, seeing that flight was
, opeless, stood to their arms like men, and

made a des rate defense. Not a single ball
eflect owever: for so fierce an ta id
was the charge of the dragoon down he

abrpgi hillside that the dismounted Mexicans
ove , at them, and were in their turn all
, sabered or shot down before they had time
i to draw a sword, much less to reload their
,- firelocks.

‘ While this was passing, however, the Parti-
; sap—who saw at a glance what must be the
3 fate of those opposed to the charge of Gordon’s
troopers, and that the only thin to be appre-
! hen ed was the escape of t e se nt—
drove Emperor at full speed down the ill, to
I the right hand of the fire, and rode him straight

at the awning chasm of the rivulet.

l Not For a second did the bold beast pause or '

l hesitate, but with his long thin mane and full ‘

prevailed n n to cede was that she should halt :‘ tail floating out in the strong breeze. with wide-

on this si e the brow o the hill, when the ,’ opened eye and blood-red nostril, swept over .

charge was to be made which was to decide ,’ it with one grand stroke, landed firm as a rock

their fate. No man could be 3 red from their .
little force to guard her; there ore, reluctantly :

they werecom lled to yield to her- will.

Thus the vanced, now at a foot’s pace,
picking the 1' ground where the soil was softest
and the prairie grass lou eat, that so the sound of
their horses’ feet might deadened—with their
reins well in hand. their broadswords loosened
in their scabbards, and their forefingers on the
triggers of their curabines.

Now they were within twent paces of the
extreme brow of the ridge, wh ch alone sepa-
rated them from their enemy—three paces

' more would have brought their heads into re-

lief against the sky above the summit .of the
hill, and discovered them to the sentinel, if
there was one, on duty. At- this moment
Pierre pulled his horse short up, dismounted
silently, and with a gesture to the well-trained
and gallant animal, which, it was evident, he
understood—for he stood still on the instant,

with ear erect, expanded nostril, straining eye,

uivering in every limb with 11 eagerness—
gast himself down, rifle in ban among the
I shorter herbage which clothed e steep»

cent.
Up this he wormed his way. like a. snake, pain-
fully and slewly, keeping his head so low and
his body compressed so closely to the ground,
that at a bun red yards’ distance he was entire-
ly concealed from the keenest eyesight. _

Words cannot describe the agony or excite-
ment which made the'bearts of the brave, hardy
men—much more or the. lovely woman, who
looked on, mute and inactive spectators of that
first attack-throb in their bosom: and swell
upward to their very throats, with a fast, sicken-
in motion. I

e gained the verge, and stretched his neck

forth an instant to look over it. But in the
same point of time he couched yet more closely
to the earth; and they mightsee' his right hand
cautiously draw the trailed rifle forWard.

Again his head was thrust forward—lie rose
half to his knee, and raised the heav y er, as
if it had been a. feather to his shoul er. \ twas
not a second that the see remained motionless
Ibefore its 00qu Wm sent ckf‘orth with a

right glaring 5 am, a qui
from tb‘mnle; but it W to all

‘ u it minutes but

' «as; as» any further «s- ,W‘umwa

ram-imam men,

crack
is.

on the further margin and drove on without
filtering his pace, or swerving from his direct
us. ' '

Then came a desperate race for life or death.
acros the , dry prairie, which echoed
under the thundering horse-tramps, firm, solid
and elastic.

The Mexican had. perhaps gained a start of
some fifty yards before his foe was across the
brook, and his small but high-bred horse, being
the fresher of the two, held his own for a little
way, and even widened the p at first
himself and his pars-nor. e 101: , however,
the tremendous stride and power 0 the Anglo-
Americau thoroughbred horse began to tell;
and at every stroke, the Partisan closed on him.

5 tliar wag thet :otge!‘ 311$; ito rceivelthi disadvan-
' . es u s 00 ed uiotl
behind him, andpseeing that Sins of this may-

goons had (passed the brook, but bad .dis-
mounted an were now grouped about the fire.
deliberate! pulled his horse u , and, malaria;
his escape , took a dellbera aim at Pam
Delacroix.

He fired. The ball whizzed through the air.
so close to the head of the Partisan, that it

severed one of his ion , dark looks; but itpaased
onward harmless. en, seein the failure of
‘ his missile, the Mexican conch his long lance

and rode at the frontiersman with a savage

yell.

Silently Pierre c right upon him; but,
when he was within a horse’s length of
the spam": point, hewheeled suddenly totbe left,
and as the Mexican was borne past him, de-
livered a stral ht hinge. en mm, which
emptied hissed e in an Instant, and lefthim
but a minute’s life to wrestle out on the green-

sward. _ . ,
But the Partisan haan time to gve to mercy,
or to bestow on the dying man. t was necesv
sary to secure his charger, lest it should bear
the tidings of defeat to his countrymen: and,
when that was done. and he rapeseed the spot
i where the man had fallen, the last strife was
over, and the features—all im and ghastly
and set fastin death—told t at all mortalm
was bootless. ' .
Loud Went the shout, up to the skies. from tile

 

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The Silent Rifleman.

 

rode out alone to meet him in whom all their
no es were centered.

'Bhat short but bloody conflict ended, there
was naught to detain them any longer there.
The lady was led for ward in the direction which
kept her clear of the fallen corpses, and the
bloody ground on which they lay; while the
«iragoons brought up the prisoner and the mules
from the rear.

Meanwhile, the Partisan directed the horses
of the slaughtered Mexicans to be securely
tethered, since they were useless to their ca -
tors, and supplied with abundant forage, cam

athercd from the rich bottom. This execn ,

e caused the bodies of the slain to be composed,
as if they were asleep around the watc -fire
with their arms stacked beside them. He heaped
fresh fuel on the blaze, enough to last for several
hours; and then, looking over the ground care-
fully before he mounted, he was satisfied that,
even if the Mexican horse should pass within a
short distance, they would suspect nothing
wrong, unless accident should lead them to a
close insEection of the post. .

Then e rode away to join Gordon and the
lady, but, ere he did so, he met the risoner in
charge of the two soldiers who had rought u
the mules, and the fellow, looking at him ha
askance, asked him in Spanish, with asullen and
almost savage intonation, whether he had not
told him truly.

Pierre replied only by two words—“Very
truly.” But he noted the accent and half-sneer-
ing smile; and the first words he spoke as he
jomed the lieutenant, were—“D—n that
scoundrel! I have half a mind to reward him
with one ounce of lead instead of two of 01 .”

“ That were scarce worthy of on, Partisan,”
said Gordon, “ and scarce worth he time. What
harm can one poor devil like that do to six
stout. well armed fellows, such as we?”

“I do not know,” answered Pierre, “ I do not
know; but right sure I am, that he is a double
traitor.”

 

CHAPTER VI.
THE NIGHT ALARM.

ALL day they rode across the o n plains
presenting still the same invariab e as set of
rich green prairie land, for the most near-
ly level, but now very rich and fert' e, and be-
coming more and more so with-every mile our
part traversed. Many bright rivulets and
spar ing brooks the crossed, each winding
through its deep ver ant swale, fringed wit
luxuriant underwood, and overhung with fine
timber trees, all overrun with woodbines and
creepers still covered with the densest foliage,
and many of them in full bloom, nothwithstand—
ing the advanced season of the year. One or
two large bodies of running waterall tributa-
ries of the Bravo, crossed their th; but all
save one, which again put the lig t pontoon in
requisition, were passed at fords, through which
the lady rode without inconvenience, and to
which he Partisan conducted them with the
unerring instinct of the North American fron-
tiersman.

The park-like meadows over which they rode
began toward noon—by which hour they had
traveled nearly thirty miles from their lisltin
place of the previous night—to be intersperseigi
with open groves of fine trees, with islands, as
they are called, of musquite bushes, mingled
wit bays wild peaches, and wild myrtles, and
here and here with dense thorny thickets of the
formidable chaparral, or prickly pear.

Whenever the ground was open however, it,

was covered with flowers of ten thousand gor-
geous hues, many of them surpassing, both for
perfume and beauty, the most lovely of our
garden favorites.
The thickets and groves were alive with par-
r nets and other bright- winged birds.
rge flocks of quail, composed of many
broods or homes associated, sprung up before
the feet of the horses, and skimmed away on

r rapid wings toward the nearest coverts; and

several times small herds of deer, or yet more
gaceful antelope, were seen bounding across

e ridge of some low eminence, and pausin
for a moment to gaze at the intruders on the
solitude.

The air was pure and clear, as that of a. brisk
October morning, but as‘warm withal and as
balmy as a summer’s day. The sky, overspread
With a sh ht filmy gauze—like haze, showed like
a vault of lapis lazuli half seen throu h a lace
curtaln. while the great sun, shorn 0 his else
intolerable heat and luster, suffered ll... glo-
ries to becontemplated with an undazzled eye.

No alarm had interrupted their progress—not
a sign of man or beast had been observed, since

‘ their surprise of the Mexican outpost. Pierre

had announced that he considered all danger of
pursuit, from any of the arties which the had
seen in the morning, to e at an end; an had
added further, that they were already so far in
the rear of Carrera’s force, and his line of o ‘
resent be regarded tfie

selves in almost abso ute safety.
Undisturbed, therefore. by augment ap-
prehension, exhilarated by thatm exciting of
all movements, the swift gallop of a thorou h.

bred ovar a velvet lawn, amused by the q t -

x V I

‘ »
mirth replied Frank Gordon,

 

speech and singular character of Pierre, and
emboldened by the companionship of her youn
husband, Julia had forgot all the hardships and
perils she had gone through, all that she must
encounter before she could even hope to reach a
place of safety, and gave hersolf up altogether
to the enjoyment o the lovely scenery, the
delicious climate, and the exciting speed at
which they rode; and declared that she had
321716230611 on a party of pleasure one half so de-
' t . .

At noon, they halted for three hours under
the shelter of a clump of magnificent oaks over-
canopying a little pool, the well-head of as clear
a streamlet as ever was the haunt of Grecian
wood nymph. The silvan meal was spread with
all the sim 16 luxury of a. frontiersinan’s fare;
and when t e viands were consumed, the leathv
ern bottle of the Partisan, not quite exhausted
by the assaults of the previous evening, was
again called into pie, and the Indian pipes
were lighted, and an our was whiled away—-
none ever more agreeably—With manya legend
of the chase, the foray, and the fight; many a
tale of Wild adventure or rude chivalr , as stir-
rinng the soul as the high feats recor ed in the
old rench of Froissart, or Comines.

And with the legends of the wilderness, and
the true tales of border chivalry, were mingled
poetry and song; for Julia, frank and unaffect-
ed as woman, true woman ever should be,
raised her sweet voice at Frank Gordon’s first
request, in a rich simple melod of ancient
days, had called an echo from t e astonished

enii of the oaks who listened for the first time,
t en, to the thrilling sounds of pure English
poetr , chanted in a rich full soprano voice, b
onew o sung not with her lips alone but wit
her heart, and lived, as it were, in the spirit of
her strain. I

Pierre listened while she sun , with his eyes
fixed upon the greensward at is feet, and the
lids drooping over them so far that nothing of
their expression could be discerned; but the
muscles about his mouth worked and quivered
convulsiver and as the last soft cadence died
away, and t e song was ended, he looked up
into the lovely lady s face, and wistfully wigiing
atear from either eye, with the back 0 his
hard brown band—

“ You have made me do a thing, lady, I have
not done for many a year nor ever thought to
do again. You have made me weep—I don’t
know what it means—for there was nothing. in
{put words pitiful or meeting, nor were the

has of your voice melancholy. Nor indeed,
do I feel sad, but on the contrary very happy-
happier than I have felt for many a da . et
1 weep. I don’t know what it means. should
think there were magic'in it did I not know
that all such ideas are mere folly. I never felt
so in my life before; and, though it is a sweet
as well as a strange feeling, 1:0? never to feel
soany more. It cannotbe g for a man to
feel so—it enervates, it unmans him.”

_ He paused, still azing in her beautiful in-
nocent face, and t on seeing a bright sunny
smile yet like an A ril sunbeam half tearful in
its brightness, over her face, he said, al-
mfifilfly: 1a h t lad l h t
you ug ame, - on auga
me; and you do so rightly. Whyehlsrn old wood-
land bear such as , be to talk about he
knows not what, he 011;; t to he laughed at.
No. l nay! don’t answer me; but lay you down,
rat er, on that dry moss‘y grass, and try to
sleep awhile; you have he fatigue enough this
morning to weary a veteran soldier, and ex-
citement enough to exhaust a Turenne or a
Condo. Try to sleep for an hour or so, Whlle I
so and take a round on the prairie. I see a
ock of humrds yonder, whose motives I don’t
exact] understand, and I would have a nearer
look 3. them. We will not get to horse again
for two hours, but then we shall have to nde
late. Gordon, if you take my advice, you will
try a siesta too: and you, my lads, sleep if you
can, Without a sentry. There is no danger here-
about. Only make that fellow secure, that he
may not ‘ve us the slig.”

And W h the word, e took u his rifle, tried
it with the Named to see that t 0 ball had not
fallen out, from the speed at which he had rid-
den as the gun hung muzzle downward at his
back: renewed the copper caps, loosened his
wood-knife in its sheath, and walked oi! unac-
companied toward the sppt in the plain above
which a ht of the blue vultures, commonly
known as urke bumrds, were hoverin and
sweeping, at a distance so great that they 00k-
ed no, lar er than flies, and that no ordinary
eye could ve distinguished what they were.

As he moved away slowly Julia’s eyes fol-
low his degrting figure. an her face were}.
very hou h ul expression, as she turned round
m‘l‘l'i‘lh hm '1' ram” ” sh said

are goes an extrao ' man. 0 ..
with an expression of deep feeling. “ A very
singular. and very noble character. Inever
have’geen and very seldom read of anythinglike

“ Bv Heaven! I believe he is in love with you,
half la hing,

I have thought so the
morning.”

“1mm.” rephedthpyfingwom “I

 

trust not, indeed; that would be too great a
misfortune.” .

There was no tremor in her manner, nor the
slightest blush on her delicate and lovely face.
But Gordon observed that she did not contra<
dict his words, nor express an opinion of her
own.

“How a misfortune, Julia?” he asked, after a
moment’s pause; and thoughhis tone was light
and bantering as he spoke, his young wife ob—
served, or fancied slie observed, something pe-
culiar in his manner. “ but do you mean!
I thought you pretty ladies ever esteemed it a
great honor to have men in love with you, even
when you do not care for them, and did your
utmost to make them so."

“ You speak strangely, Frank,” she answered
with a slight and smile. “ Whatever heartless
women may do, sure am I, that on never saw
anything that could indicate such t on hts in me.
I said it would be a great misfortune, use it
requires no very acute eye to see that such a
man as that, if he once loved, must needs love
forever; and as I have no love to return, it would
be very. sad and lamentable. For I can dream
of nothing in the whole range of agony and
anguish so terrible as unreturned and hopeless
love; and when a man with such a character,
such ener we and such a soul as that loves
knowing t at he loves ho lessly, it must be
as an earthquake in his son forever.” ~

“ Julia, I never heard you speak so Warmly
or so strongly in all my life before; what does
this mean’l what influence, what fascination has
this man exercised over our mind, which is in
general so uiet and self- alancedl”

“ The in uence and fascination of en erior
genius; I never met any one the least like im.”

“ Genius! genius in that rude woodsman—
that. man-hunter and rover of the Wilderness!
Genius! are you mad, Julia?”

“No, Fran dear ” she replied, with a. merry
little arch sin" e—“ but you are a little jealous,
which is very sill .”

“ Jealous! jea ous of that leather-shirted
rough rider! I should as soon think of being
jealous of Sergeant Maitland yonder, who is the
better looking fellow of the two by odds. ”

“ Better looking!” cried Julia disdainfully.
“It seems to me that men are ever thinking
about looks—as if women cared a pin how a
man looks, provided he looks like a gentleman,
without looking like a fool! and as for Pierre De-
lacroix, take my word for it, if he ever loves a
woman whose heart is disengaged, he will rove
as dangerous a rival as any man, how han some
or how wise so ever, need desire.”

“ You speak enthusiastically, madam.”

“ Madam i” exclaimed the fair girl, mourn- '

fully; “madam! and is this to me, Frank? to
your own Julia? to me, who has followed you
through peril, and into laces no woman ever
ventured to essa for tie love of man before?
0h! Frank, Fran Gordon, is this not ungen-
erousl”
_ “I do not know,”he replied, still under the
mfiuence of some lurking discom ure. “ I do
not know. .But I know this, t at I Wish you
would not giVe way to such romantic nonsense.”

“I am sor that I have offended you,
Frank ” she rep led the big tears gushingto her
soft blue eyes, as she spoke. “ But more sorry
fit; that on so little understand me. But I am

d Wit inlyride, and will I: toslee . Do so,
dear Frank, ikewise; you are istur ,I think
and our blood is heated by all this turmoil and
excl ent.”

“Slee , Julia, if you can. I am too ill at.
ease to cop,” answered her husband moodil .

“Ill at ease—are you, indeed, ill at ease, ear
Frankr’and as she spoke she drew herself closer
to his side, and threw one of her arms across
his shoulder, “ and have I vexed you? Oh! for-
give me, Frank. I did not mean to tease ou.”

“No! no! ’fl‘is I who am a fool, J in,” he
replied all his good-humor returning, and he
kissed her fair forehead as he spoke. “I am a
fool, and you are all that is good and sweet
But I cannot hear, dearest, to hear you speak
so warmly of an other man.”

“Silly, silly rank!” she answered, slapping
his hand playfully With her small white fin are.
“Do not on know that the say jealous us-
bands m_ e false Wives? an that you should
not imagine that I could like any man but

on?”

f‘ I did .11“ think 50, Jlflia dearest! I did not
think so; it was mere waywardnessfi

"Then he not wayward any more, I pray
you; for If you be so often, it will make me
miserable.” .

“I Will not, Julia—I will not, by my soul!
Bl,“ 13.? You down, love, and take some rest. I
Will watch over you; for, believe me, I am not
won . See I .will fill a fresh pipe and keep
% ,1 for 31 our poor soldiers are overcome

3 Gel) read .

h H? did i y d lighted it

“V1118 re lenishedhis i an anew
returned 1to his place Ii’nl‘tahe shade, and his fair
Wife. pillowing her head on his knee, and cover-
ed with his watch cloak, gazed fondly 11 Ward
into his face in silence, till the lids waxed envy
and closed over the bright azure orbs, and she

peacefully and sweet] -es a ha py infant, '
definite an hour elapsed before the re,

...
l

. _ , .x'.

.1 \

mmediately as he saidhe would, and.

anus-sn- ll

._ A...

The silentsifieman.

11

 

 

._.

turncl, bearin on his shoulders the saddle of a
fat buck, whic he had shot during his recon-
noissance, wrapped in its own hide, and in his
right hand, together with his rifle, a long Co-
manche arrow reddened with dry gore.

He found the whole party sleepin so soundly
that he walked into the very mi t of them
without disturbing one of the number. for Gor-
don, despite of his assertion that he was in no
wise weary, had sunk into a deep slumber lean—
ing against the trunk of the huge oak which
overshadowed him, and nothing short of the
call to “ boot and saddle,” would have aroused
the dragoons from their death-like sleep.

“Poor thin I” said the Partisan, compassion-
ately, as he ooked down u on them—“Poor

oun things! little know t ey the toils and

ards ips of a frontier life, when they set forth
on such a. route as this. But love,” he continued,
still looking at the slee rs wistfully, “ love
swaetens and d' 'ses al their toils and rils,
and I doubt me i they were happier in the ap of
luxury at home than here in t e midst of peril
and terror. Ah me I” he added, with a doe
sigh, uttered he scarce knew wherefore, “A
me! it must be a sweet thing to be so loved, and
by such a woman. But it is one of the sweet
things I shall never know—that much is certain.
No woman ever loved me, save my mother—-
and none ever will again in this world. But
why should I think of this, since I have chosen
my own lot, and by that which I have chosen
must abide. But come—come. This will never
do. I will saddle their horses, that they may
slee to the latest moment. "

l- e said, or rather thought no more, for
though he had murmured articulate words oo—
cnsionally, he had not uttered a regular solilo-
quy—but applied himself instantly to his self-
appointed duty, collecting the lug age, and sad-
dling his own char 1' and the orses of his
friends. Nor until t at was done did he arouse
the dragoons, and set them to preparing for the
march.

The bustle of their movements soon aroused
first J ulia and then Gordon, and in a few min-
utes the whole party were again in the saddle,
and in motion toward the ot where the already
wosterin sun seemed to e tending across the
rollin p ains, which seemed at ever step of
their orses to grow richer and more uxuriant,
and to be intersected at briefer intervals by
rivulets and forky din les.

Fora short 5 co t eparty rode in silence;
but at length rdon broke it by inquiring
whether Pierre had discovered the meaning of
tho vultures’ movements. He had scarcely
spoken, before he saw, by the expression of the
Pai‘tisan’s face, that he had committed an error;
but it was too late to remedy it, and the Parti-
san, seeing that Julia’s e es were turned toward
him, answered coolly, t ough with a meaning
glance addressed to the inquirer:

“ They were about the carcase of a dying elk,
which they dared not attack until the life was

uite extinct. He had been shot yesterday or
t 0 day before by a Comanche whose arrow 1
found sticking in his ribs.”

“How can you tell that it was so long since
the poor animal was wounded?" inquired J ulia,
turning rather pale, as she heard the mention
made of these ferocious savages. “ How do you
know that we are not close amon the Indians?"

“By many marks, lady," rep ‘ed the Parti-
san, “which you would not comprehend, even
were I to describe them to you. .But by these
nbove all—that the blood was nite dry on the
arrow and about the wound; t at the animal
had run many miles after he was shot, as any
one could seefrom the different colored mud
with which his hide was splashed; and that he
had lain where I had found him man hours.”

“How could you discover that? our in-
stinctive knowledge seems to me to be almost
supernatural." .

" Nothing more eaSily, lady. The poor brute
was unable to rise, and had crop d all the
posture in a circle as far as he c_o d reach in
every direction. To one who notices the works
of the great Master closely, no one of them but
has a meaning and a veice. Let us, however.
Enllop forward; for I desire to reach a spot I

now well, ere nightfall.”

Nothing of consequence occurred during their
onward route. No signs of men or horses dis-
turbed their hopes of a peaceful progress, and
before the earliest stars had gained their full
intensity of luster in the darkening armament,
they reached the halting place.

It was a little dell or basin, not overhung
with large trees, but surrounded on all sides b
low abrupt banks, covered with impenetrab e
thickets of the “(3le gear, and having but one
entrance by w 'ch eit er man or horse could
gain admittance into the small grassy amphi-
theater wl ich they inclosed. That entrance was
the gor e lonned by the streamlet which welled
up sud only from alarge clear Spring-bead in
the center of the basin; and so narrow was the

orge, and so thickl were the slopes on either

and set with the thorny brakes, hat even no
( thor means of entering resented Itself but by
ridingu the mid channe ofthmell stream,
almost belly deep in water. w_ thin this
fortress, the travelers a to be in a state
of pertect :cciu‘ity, and capable almost of stand-

 

 

ing a siege, solon as provender and ammunition
should hold out; at no thoughts of this nature
occurred to their minds—nor did they anticipate
the slightest disturbance during the night.

Fires were lighted, supper cooked and dis-
cussed, aud then, as before, all 1a them calmly
down to their night’s repose, the ady under the
shelter of her small pavilion, the rest on the
greensward around her, the horses being picket-
ed securely, and the Mexican prisoner bound to
the left arm of the sergeant, who was the
strongest man of the party, by his own ri ht
arm, while his left was made fast to his side y
a stout surcingle.

For many hours, not a sound was heard in the
neighborhood of the little encampment. The
moon rose and soared above it in her silver
beauty, and bathed everything for miles and
miles around in soft luster—the stars rose and
set—and the first gray ray of morning was just
beginning to pale the eastern horizon, when a
deep, continuous, hollow sound, like the roar of
the tdistant surf, aroused every one in an in-
stan
“ ndiansl it is Indians!” exclaimed Gordon.
“ Stand to the horses, lads. Strike the tent like
lightnin . If one of the beasts neighs or stirs, we
are lost!

Three of the dragoons, who had risen to their
feet on the first alarm obeyed his orders in an
instant, as regarded the horses' Gordon himself
struck the tent, and in deep silence, speechless
and almost breathless they awaited the result.

Nearer and nearer w the din. Gordon was
right; it was the fast falling train of unshodden
horse-boots. Five minutes, or ess, after the
first alarm, the mounted horde swept by the
mouth of the gorge, so near that the travelers
could see their shaven and plumed scalps, their
easy martial seats on their wild horses, and
their long lances in relief inst the sky. But
the darkness which broode over the little basin
protected them, and almost as soon as it was
there the danger had ed over.

But as it ended, an men had time to look
around them, it was rceived at once that one
of their number— lerre, the Partisan—was
missing and that the sergeant although that
din might have amused the de , still lay asleep
on the greensward.

Asleep, indeed! in that sleep which knows no
waking. Three deep knife—wounds in his bosom
his throat cut from ear to ear, the cords seve
which had bound him to the prisoner—these
sufiiced to tell the tale.

But the Mexican and the sergeant’s char er
had vanished, and the Partisan and brown m-
peror were absent.

Horror, and a sense near akin to de lr, fell
on the party thus abandoned. For a lit 19 while
they gazed in each other’s faces, mute and white
wit surprise, if not with terror. Gordon was
the first to recover from his consternation, and
he ke cheeringly:

“ he prisoner has «cam, and the Partisan
has gone in pursuit of h , that is clear,” he
said. “ We have nothing to do but to wait here
until he returns. We have food in abundance;
and water and forage for the horses, and we can
keep this pass against all the Indians in the uni-
verse, so long as our ammunition lasts—and we
can fire five hundred rounds, if the Comanches
find us out, which I think they will not. Keep

ood heart, therefore men, and trust me, Pierre
elacroix will be back here before sunset."

“ But the Comanches! have not they cut him
on?" whispered Julia, who had not spoken one
word since the first alarm, but had behaved
with the cool, passive fortitude of a brave, noble
woman, await n the end in silent resignation.

“ Surely not, replied Gordon confidently.
“Had they fallen in with him, his brave horse
would surely have outstripped them, and in his
flight he would surely have led them in a con-
trai- direction from this our stronghold."

“ urel he would! You are rightl ou are
right 1" as d the qiuck-witted girl—-‘ G ’3 name
be praised; Iyou are right, Frank: he is safe I”

‘ And wi ' be here amon us before the sun
shall set, which is now on t e point of rising,”
was his cheerful answer.

CHAPTER VII.
rm: BELEAGUERED cm.

Tim day dawned calm and clear, the skies
were pure and _cloudless, the atmosphere soft,
balmy, and delicious, and the li ht air laden
with a thousand odors thered mm the dew-
besprent flowers of the ch rairie land around
them. No sound disturbed e stillness of those
vast solitudes except the rippling music of the
little rill, trickling over the yellow pebbles with
its swift glancmg current.

The ni ht had been one of anxiety and sleep-
lessness all—to Julia of unmixed apprehen-
sion, if not terror. From the moment in which
the wild horde of the North American desert
had swept like 33 tornado past the gorge of the
small basin which sheltered them, not a breath
of the delicious night breeze but seemed to bear
to her ears the clatter of _ returning horse-boots,
and the yell of the exultmg savages. Nor was
their position indeed other than that of extreme
perplexity and peril. Tracked, as the had
every reason to believe themselves, by the ood-
thirstw Janeen of Cari-era, when their lately

 

 

escaped captive wonld surely conduct to their
hiding-place; deprived of the trust ide and
gallant soldier, in whom their on y ope was
centered, and now surrounded by roaming bands
of the bravest fiercest and most warlike tribe
of Indians in the world, there was indeed am-
ple cause why bold men should almost tremble,
Wig woman should almost dos ir.

0 further alarm, however, ad followed the
passage of the wild Comanches, and. save the
melancholy or of a distant owl from one of
the many w land isles which dotted the ox-

of the open prairie no sound had reached
the ears of the anxious watchers. The moon
had set soon after the alarm was given, and
thereafter the little part had remained inutter
darkness, for the camp- res had been instantly
extinguished, except the faint glimmering of
the stars which were momentarily paling in the
heavens Gradually, as the feeble light of the
increasing dawn began to creep up from the
eastern horizon and to spread its pale, grayish
hues over the boundless plains, the anxiety of
the little party grew almost into agony.

That feeble twilight, which was so slowly
waxin into day, was to be the harbinger to
theme escage, of safety, or of despairing strife,
ca tivity an outrage.

ger and penetrating e es were strained to
ierce the decepltive mist aza, half light, half
arkness, whic broode over the level cham-
paign, long before it was possible to distinguish
objects at a distance of more than two hundred

paces.

An hour passed away, and the skies grew
brighter space and brighter and then the sun
heaved the run of his great b ood-red disk above
the waving line which formed the low horizon;
and the lurid rust-colored rays streamed long
and level over the undulating plains, ttiiptping the
ridge of every billowy swel with ru y gold
an leavin the lon hollows filled with soft
purplish adows. nd still the eye could

iscorn nothing accurate or certain whereb
to judge of the presence or absence of their
wily and insidious foes. Several times one or
other of the party pointed out here and there,
streaming up from the wide landscape, columns
of pure white va or, which were ronouuced
confidentl to be he smokes of In ian camp-
fires, unti , one after another the melted away
under the increasing warmth o the morning
sun, and proved to be no more than exhalations
from some stagnant pool or solitary well-head
in the boundless waste. At len th the sun had
attained such an altitude that al the clay and
surface of the land for many a league around,
with the exception of the basms of some two or
three deeper valleys, could be surveyed with
ease from the summit of the low knolls which
surrounded the small amphitheater; and as
soon as this was the case, Arthur Gordon
mounted the crest of the hi best elevation, care-
fully keeping bis figure bac ed by the low trees
and thornv underwood which clothed the bill,
and swept the whole panorama with a ower—
ful telescope. The open country, which e sur-
veyed the first and with the most care, he soon
discovered to be free and unguarded. There
was no sign of man or his works, and, what
was a at surer roof that he was not in the
im te neigh rhood, at many different
points of the landscape the young soldier dis-
covered herds of the various wild animals which
inhabit those great plains, posturing or disport-
ing themselves in uiet security. About a
thousand head of wt] cattle were in sight, feed—
ing here and there in detached groups, or lyin
on the dewy grass chewing the cud, undisturbe
and fearless. One great herd of wild horses,
not numbering less than two hundred, were
leisure] traversing a distant headland, and two
other ttle parties, one consisting only of four
animals, among which was conspicuous the far-
famed white horse of the prairies, were feeding
nearer to the fore and of the picture. Be-
sides these, sever gan s of elk, the noblest
and most Erlendid of a the denizens of the
Western w derness, and countless groups of
deer and antelopes dotted the grassy plains, all
evident] unconscious of the vicinity of man.
Satisfi thus far, Gordon turned his glass
toward the numerous belts and clumps of tim-
ber which studded the whole face of the coun-
try but with far less success, and tone satis-
fac on. The shadow of the past night still
hung, as if it were reluctant to depart, in these
umbrageous haunts, into which. even at mid-
day, the sunbeam .'penetrate only with an un-
certain and inten'urgted luster.

His utmost exe on of eye, aided by the
powerful glass which had so often done him

service in the flel , here availed him no-
t ng; and he was many imes in doubt whether,
among the dense Chaparral and between the
thickest stems of the trees, he did not catch
fleeting glimpses of the untamed steeds and
tawny figures of the dreaded savage. Imagi-
nation so was at work; and often when in
truth it was but a stra sunbeam, which had
lost its way among the {hick en leaves, and
was tglinted back by some van lakelet, he
saw e flashin fire of a Comanche camp and
almost plotting to himself the forms of the

swart barbarians about the ruddy embers. By

degrees, however. he discovered that

 

vw‘u.w«.wm.... ;.... _....

   
 
   
 
 
 
    

/.;onsecrated. will at least shield him from the

 

 

things Were but the creation of fast-coining
fancy; and he became tolerably well assured
that nothing of human shape or mien had as
yet met his eye. Still he could not be satisfied
that the dreaded enemy might not be lurking
within half a mile of his encampment—nay,
that they might not be perfectly aware of his
own whereabouts and numbers, and awaiting
for the moment of his moving to set upon him
"it advantage. His heart was. notw1thstanding,
somewhat lighter, and his features had a. less
cure-wom expression as he closed the glass and
descended the eminence to fem his fair young
wife, who waited his arrive with indescribable
anxiety, although she had sufficient self-control
and courage to keep a cheerful face and firm
demeanor.

“ Well, Julia,” he exclaimed, as he came near
to join her, “we may rest tranquil for the
present, God be thanked! There are no Indians
in sight on the prairie, and I have surveyed it
for leagues on leagues around: nor is there any
signs of our Mexican pursuers.”

“ But what of the Partisan l” cried the fair girl,
eagerly. “Can you see nothing that gives note
of him or of his coming!”

“Nothing. Indeed, there are many signs to
show that there is no human being within
miles, except ourselves, unless he be concealed
as cunnineg as we are. The plains are alive
with elk, and deer, and wild cattle; and there
are several herds of wild horses in full view,
roaming about secure and fearless.”

“That is bad news, indeed,” she answered,
gravely, and her countenance fell as she spoke.

‘ Alas! I fear he has been taken by those fear-
ful savages—”

“I trust no ,” replied Arthur, “and what is
more, I think not. For, had they made a pris-
oner of one so famous and so formidable to
them, as the Partisan, they would have halted

  

 

Thesileel'mflesm .

 

in any service but ours, in which it seems that
to be gallant and a voter n soldier isabar to
promotion, he would have long since fought his
way to a commission. He won the triple chev-
rons on the disasirous field of Okuchobee, and
has been the foremost in every charge from that
day until now. Him shall the bugle never stir
again to deeds of daring: but his name Will live
long in the memory of his comrades—0f his su-
periors, and the soldier’s best epitaph, Will be his
—‘ He died in his duty.’ ” . '

“Ah,” replied Julia, with a sigh, “is it the
fate of nations in all ages to be thankless and
ungrateful?”

“The fate of free nations!” answered Arthur
Gordon. “The most free, the least grateful.
T rants may be capricious. Peopleare selfish.
T ose reward gorgeously and punish cruelly;
these neglect virtues, yet do not pardon Vices.
But men who serve their country best, serve
not for guerdon, nor yet for glory, but for love,
conscience, duty."

“ A hero’s speech!” cried Julia, laughin
aloud, and ins irited by the eager and excl
tone in which e spoke. “ May the high speech
he parent to the high achievement, and that to
the high renown.” ,

“ Beautiful prophetess!” he answered, gazing
at her fondly. “This, at the least, is certain,
there would be more heroes if there were more
Julias. But come,” he continued, “a truce to
sentiment and glory, and let us see if we can-
not fare daintily, even though our camp be
beleaguered.”

CHAPTER VIII.
TEE SOLDIER’S FUNERAL
IN spite of every effort of the young dragoon,
the morning meal sod silently and sadly;
‘ he could not for his life sufficiently abstract his
l mind from the consideration of the perils which

 

 

on the spot to hold their barbarous orgies. He 9 environed not only himself, but her whom he
is too wary and too wise to be entrapped so eas- , so dearly loved, to maintain the conversation,
n n ‘

“But if he be not, wherefore should he tarry, ‘
when he must know how desperate is our posi- l
tion. how terrible must be our anxiety?” 1

“ A hundred thin may have occurred to 1
hinder his return. he savages may be inter-
posed between him and the camp; the Mexican :
runagate, of whom he is in pursuit, may have l
led him so far astray that he could not return. I»
In a word, Julia, now that the day has fairly l

l the gloomy thoughts in which she was plungied,

, which he set on foot several times, only as

it would seem to flag as soon as it was com—
menced.

And she whom he would have diverted,
could he have commanded his own soul from

sat motionless and pale as statuary mar 18;
and though a faint glow would enkindle her
white cheek for a moment, and a transient
smile flit across her quivering lip, as the voice

broken I do not look for him before night is , she loved to hear addressed her with Words of

n gain dark over the prairie; with eilemies about
' vi every gide, he is not like to stir abroad by
..i lil’bt.
l ‘YYyou do not know him, Arthur.” she replied,
quickly, a bright, enthusiastic gleam kindling
within her soft blue eye. “That man woul
risk a thousand foes fearless, are he would leave ,
a wom n in distress and danger. You do not ‘
know him. Arthur.” .

“I do know him, Julia, and jud e of him
even as you do, though perhaps,” e addel,
with a smile, “ a. little more soberly and coolly.
The Partisan is certain, as certain as if he saw
us now, that we have not quitted this hiding- .
place, and that we shall not quit it until we ma
do so with ood hope of moving unmoleste ; l
and, should e ride hitherward in open day, and
be detected doing so, his coming would bring us
ruin and not satay.”

“ And what w' you do now, Arthur?”

“ Stay where we aretill midnight; then, if he
have not joined us, make our way by the com-
pass toward Monterey, and trust to God and
our good swords for our safety. Cheer up, he.
love one. I have been in a worse plight than
this ere now, though never with so sweets. com-
rade. For we have food in plenty, and good
horses, and stout hearts, and strong arms to de-
fend us.” .

“ Nay, I am not afraid,” she answered, with a
faint smile, “ not much afraid, I mean, though
I behave the danger is very great; but I am
with you, Arthur, and that is something al—
ways: and live or die, at least we shall live or
die together. Great God!” she added, turning
her beautiful eyes upward, “how. reat woul
be my agony, were at home in uxury and
safety, and ew that you were thus, Arthur.”

“ I would that you were—I would to God that
you Were at home and in safet _, Julia; and .I,
if need, were even in a worse p 1 ht than this.
My heart would be fighter, thoug perhaps my
arm would be weaker than it is now, With your
an est, calm courage kindling me to exertion.
But come. dearest; let us go dawn into the
camp. I will post a sentinel on you hillock, and

checrfulness and comfort, she relapsed almost
immediately into gloomiasilence, ard seemed
to be unconscious of all t t was passing around
her. The simple viands to which yesterday
the Spartan sauce of healthful him er had lent

. a flavor so agreeable, now lay be ore her un-

tested or distasteful, and it was only by an of
fort that she compelled herself to swallow the
coffee which Gordon pressed upon her as a. ne-
cessary stimulant, even if it was not a refresh-
ment. It was perhaps a relief to both when the
breakfast was ended; and Julia, worn out with
the watching and alarm of the past night,
cou led with the fatigue of so many da 5 passed
in t e saddle, tried to procure rest in t e shelter
of the little tent, which had been pitched in the
most secret nook of their silvan amphitheater.
Then turning to the performance of his active
duties, as much, perhaps, to divert his own mind
from anxious anl painful reflections, as that
those duties were of any great real moment or
utility. the youthful soldier once more ascended
the eminence on which his sentinel was posted,
and carefully surveyed the country round his
halting-place. The sun had now gained so much
elevation that the morning mists were altogeth-
er dispersed, and his broad ravs were poured
down far and near over the whole expanse of
grassy plain and leafy forest.

No signs, however, were to be discovered,
from the furthest horizon to the near fore-
ground, of anything like humanit , and when
Arthur Gordon came d0wn from 1115 watch'POSl‘I
he did so in the full conviction that no immedi-
ate‘danger threatened him, nor would he have
heSitated about setting forth on his march. but
for the absence of the Partisan, whose return he
still confidently looked for.

lie had determined happen what might, '50
wait patiently until the shades of hi ht should
fall, and the day was to be consume by 50.1119
means _or other. One duty there W88, Whlch
might in truth be deemed imperative—the con-
SIgnmg to its last resting-place of their gallant
comrade’s bod , and to this, leaving one of the

 

then we will pass the day as easily as we can.

‘ 'ou had better fat some sleep if you can, after i

. reakfast, and and my fellows will layepoor

lei'geant Davis in the earth, which. if it not

ravenin'r wolf and the loathsome vulture.”

01 will assth I will assist, too, Gordon," she
re lied, her soft azure eyes filling with tears.
" oor Dans! poor, r fellow! He was as
brave as his own _sword, and so kind and
gentle ever in his beunng toward, me. I have
olten ca ht him gazuig at me when he thought
I marked im not, as though he pitled me.”

“ He pitied. but admire more. my Julia. Ho

dragoons on, t e hill-to to guard against sur-
gflsel he applied himse 1’ in the first instance-

he sabers of his dra ons, and an ax or two.
«which had been broug t with them as a part Of
the cam equipments, sufficed to scoop out. 3
‘little ho low in the rich soil of the moist
basin, hard by the streamlet’s bed and. in it.
wrapped in his watch-cloak, ,with his plumed
shake on his head, and his ood sword on
his thigh, all that was earthlz of the gal-
lant veteran was laid to take its orig last sleep,
that sleep. which knows no earth y waking.
There was in that sad ceremony none of the
proud et melancholy pomp which marks the

 

was a manabove his station-«i manolworth
“Mon, nature be amazed the ranks. and

soldiers funeral~nb dead march ling sol-
emnly from the wild bugle and mum (hum.
no sign andth tramp at the grave QtCQQ'Q

 

 

following with dark \iaiuworn {callirr‘s and 10-
versed arms the coflin—no charger 1rd 1:14.143,
with ‘mournin trappings—no sn 0rd and ‘l’mlln
and gauntlet isplayed on the (-(ifin’s lid—nu,
there was none of these. But truerand since "‘1'
was the tribute paid by the faltering voice of
the commanding ofiicer, as he read in the earn-
est, subdued tones of real feeling the touching
ritual of the church of England, and by the
heavy tears that fell from the eyes of the two
hardy soldiers, who havmg dug his grave and
laid him in the bosom of .his mother earth, loan-
ed on their carbines, gazmidown upon his gl im
and ghastl features, well nowing that his late
mi ht be t eir own ere nightfall.

he heart of Arthur Gordon was stirred to its
utmost depths; strange thoughts, half sad and
half sublime, crowded upon his spirit, and all
that. there was of sentiment and romance with-
in him—and there is some within the soul of
“SPY human being, however slow or stand—-
was awakened, and he read those thrilling sen-
tences from Paul’s Epistle to the Corinthians
With a vigor and enunciation, an eloquence of
tone. and an Inspiration of me; her, which start-
led his rough listeners and called forth percep—
tions in their souls of which they had lith
hitherto unconscious. 80 high did his accents

rise, and so strangel did they rin in that wild .

solitude, which sure y had never fore known
its echoes awakened by the sounds of the gospel
truth, that the sentinel on the little hill turned
his eyes from the country, to watch which he
was posted there, and stood gazing down with
moisty eyes and a full heart upon the solemn
grou gathered around the sergeant’s grave.

Ju ' too, awakened from her light and rest
less slumbers by the raised tones of her young-
husband’s voice, had come forth from her tent,
and stood beside the reader, in her srow-wl ire
dress, with her long chestnut ringlets floating
disorderly on the soft morning air, too bright
and beautifulabeing to belong to so rude a.
garty, to be mingled in so strange a scene. “ Be»

old,” cried the young dragoon, his voice risii g
more and more emphatically with the iising
sublimity of his subJect, “Behold,l shew you
a mystery. We shall not all slecp, Lut we
shall all be changed in a moment, in the twink-
ling of ’an e e, at the last trump: for the
trumpet shal sound—” But scarcely had
the words passed his lips, when he started as if
he had received a blow, nor be alone but e“ ry
one of those who stood about the grave, and
Julia even uttered a. faint cry, and guard on the
face of the dead man in horrid uncertainty, as
if she ex cted to see him stait fr: m tie s Lin-
bers of t e grave. For. at tie very name. 1;
when Arthur Gordon uttered the word. the long
shrill note of a buglle, charly and pciur u Iy
wmded, rose upcn t e morning air, as it. h((ul(.‘d
close beside them. It was the fint inn union
of the young officer that the Luglu‘ of his 1 hi ty,
struck by the coincidence of the fine passage
with his own profession, and cariiell a» ay by
his feelings, had ventured upon this singular ac-
companiment, and he was on the point 01 re-
buking him sternly for his unmilitary conduct,
when the astonished air of the man and the ab-
sence of the instrument satisfied him that he
must sock another cause for the interruption.
One glance at the sentinel satisfied him. For,
aroused by the bugle call to a recollection of his
neglected duty, the man had turned around to
reconnoiter the prairie in the rear of the low
hills, and had instantly crouched down naming
the underwood to avoid being discovered, as he
had been ordered-to do in case of the appear-
ance of an enemy. I Motiomng to his men that
they should remain at ease, Arlbur Gordon
bounded at ten airings to the soldier’s sine. and
saw a sight which. lor the Icon ent in ade his
bold heart stand still. A troop of Mexican lan-
cers, s lenmdly (quipped and well mounhd, all-
thoug on unqersnzeu horses, had emerged from
,the nearest paint of forest land. and marching
onward silently, over the deep greensward of the
prairie, were n0w actually wheeling round the
outer base of the low hill on -which they stood,
and which alone concealed his party from their
View.

They were sixty-in number, dressed in green
uniforms _With crimson fuelugs and crimson
trowsers richly laced, and slonc ied hats with
gaudy bands and gorgeous plumes flutterin in
the alr‘ as did the crimson banderols of t eir
glittering lances.

Two_ofilcers, gallantly equipped, and bean“.
ing animals vastly superior to the“chargers of
the men, rode at
their eyes fixed upon the ground, endeavoring,
as Gordon speedily discovered, to trace the hoof-
marks of his own horses in the moist g1een~
award. The young officer’s heart beat fast and
$th“: and be positively tro mbled with the vio-
fi-nce of his excitement, of. his apprehension. Ho

oubted not that all was lost, an that another
moment would seethe cruel and liceniious sons
of the fierce Spaniard the masters of his own,
of_his sweet Julia’s destiny. Wild thoughts and
wicked whirled madly for the moment through
hisdistracted brain and as he thought of lhe
utter hopelessness of strife or resistance, as he in-
celledtofidthedread taleshc had. boarder
term. outrage worse than mm
nought. an mien

v

the head of the troop, with‘

smashed»: use,

 

 

 

k .-_....._.- .--._....«»--—» »»... .7 ._. .__._i .. .

1013, half resolved to save himself and her whom
he loved for above himself, from that extremity
of evil, by kindly murder and self-immolation.
Well was it for them both, however, that “he
paused are be accomplished his dread determin-
ation, for just as he turned on his h_cel to rush
down into the valley where his fair Wife stood in
mute consternation, the officers in advance pull-
ed in their horses abruptly, and the word was

passed to halt so suddenly that the troop was ,

thrown into some confusion, the front ranks
halting instantly, and those in the rear ressing
tumultuously to the front, ore the cou d check
their small but spirited horses. T icy had come,
ltappenred, upon the broad track lett on the
plain b the headlong passage of the wild
(‘omanc es, and as through a singular piece of
good fortune, the point at which the savages
had lea the lit le i'ivulet was the some at
‘which 1: e dragoons had entered it and ridden
upward into the basin where it rose, the tracks
of the two parties were completely mixed up
'uud confounded. It Was ev1dent that the Mex-
ican lancer: were much disturbed and alarmed
by the certainty, which they perceived at a
glance that they were in the close vicinity of
the dreaded Comanches, those Ishmaelites of the
western wilderness. Their ranks were hastily
rc—formed, their escopetas were unslung, the
primings inspected, the swords loosoned in their
scabbards, and evorything made ready for im-
mediate action. “Our march has. been use-
less," said the captain of the troop to his lieuten-
ant, in their own tongue; “the savages have
taken them—that is lain enough.” .

“ Not useless. than be to God,” returned the
other, “for we have learned their fate, at
least: and little matters it to us how the accura-
ed Yankees perish so they do perish. Cari-era
will be well please , captain, to learn that the
are all cut off without loss to our brave fe —
lows; for, thou h they were but live, they would
have fought ' e incarnate devils, and cost as
half a dozen empty saddles at the least.”
“True, true i” replied the captain, hastily; “ but
we are not so safe ourselves. These cursed sav-
ages are in sight and hearing of us, even now,
it is like enough. I should not wonder if they
were lurking in this Chaparral, on the hillsides
here, at this moment.” A bright thought flash-
ed upon the mind of Gordon, at this Juncture;
and well knowi the terror which the Mex-
icans entertained or the wild rovers, he deter-
mined to act upon it on the instant. Amon
some other curiosities and trinkets which ha.

’ been picked up in the course of their march,
there was a powerful lndian how, and a iiiver
full of long well-feathered arrows; and, to ring
these u from the camp, he instantl dispatched
the sol ier who was crouching by is Side. In
the meantime. the conversation between the
Spanish officers continued in rapid and eager
sentences.

, “ How fax-is the main— (1 behind us?" ask-
ed the commander of t 9 party, hastily, of a.
trooper who rode up from the rear.

“ About a league, Senor Captain,” replied the
man saluting as he spoke. .

“ aka a sergeant’s guard, and ride back for
your life!” returned’the doughty commander
‘ and inform the colonel that a. strong force 0

" Comanches is close before us, and that we are

in momenta expectation of attack!”
A small ryup-was detached from the troop,

and awe t 9 went at the to of their speed
now lostyto vieyw as they dashed) down some on

declivity, now lancing on the eye as they to -
ed up some ro 'ng swell of the green prairie—
their active little horses spurnmg the sod high
into the air beh'nd their rapid boots, and their
plumes and ban erols streaming out, in the .cur-
rent of air, created h their own sWift motion.

“ Were it not we , ca tain, to let all the
bugles sound the alarm? t may be they would
hear them, and spur on at once. ’

“ More like the savages would hear and under-
stand them, and so fall upon us ere the succor
should come 11 .” _

“They would scarcely dare, captain, to at«
tack so strong a force as ours,” interposed the
comet. who a ed to possess something more
of spirit than is companions.

“ Not dare! They dare anything, the ac-
cursed deVllS!” replied the leader. “ And, as
for strength, they cannot be less than forty in
number, by these hoof-tracks ” .

l

“ But they have no fire-arms.” '
“ Tush! a Comanche arrow will further
and kill more surely than the ball 0; an em

ta,” returned the captain ly. “ You
hive seen nothing {153915. fbelieve, of these
lndians, Cornet Valdiz?
. Little he thought, as be 330119, that his own
words were destined to be made good on his

own person: at so in truth. it was. For, era
the sounds et died 11 n his lips. an arrow
whistled from ebow w 'ch Gordon drew to

 

‘ its utmost tension, as he lay hidden in the thorny
-' brake, scarce twenty paces distant; strik-
ing the nnha py exican full in the breast,
Pierced him gh and through, and fairly.
game out at his back, literallyJ reekin With his
lite-bloom A wild and thrll rig yel followed.
x » maximisation of ihe commute War 03'".
301'“! 1mg hfifl il‘ei’ young. sir-4sz nxifi'tei ' "I

a.“ .
l

 

  

 

. I. i ’ ,-
The Silent Rifiem' ii.

.1 died Mexicans, he griisped the butts of his pis— l south-western frontier, that the War cries, and

even the language of many of the Indian tribes
were nearly as familiar to him as his native
tongue. Another and another, and another
shaft succeeded, so rapidl did he notch them
on the tough sinew, and ischarge them. But
he shot no longer with the deliberate aim and
fatal execution of the first arrow, and death no
longer followed the twang of the quick drawn
bow-string. Still two of the three arrows,
though discharged almost at random, found a
mark, as they fell. in the midst of the srrricd
ranks, and a man and a horse were wounded.
No more was needed: without waiting for any
word or signal, the lancors turned their reins,

set spurs to the horses, and gallopcd off as hard .

as they could ride—their officers yielding at first
to the panic, and leaving their commander
writhi in his death pangs on the gory sod.
Still rdon whooped and yelled from his
covert, and shot arrow {1er arrow into their
receding ranks, until his quiver was nearly
empty, and he had seen that the last shaft fell
short of the enemy. This they, too, now pen-
ceived; and, after some little elfort of the
officers, the tree was halted, rallied, and ro«
formed, with its ront facing the low hills which
held, as they supposed, the fierce andmurderous
savages. hen, at a word, they leveled their
escopetas, and the first rank poured in a volley,
not a bullet of which so much as fell among the
underwood by which Gordon was sheltered
from their view. Breaking off from the center,
right and left, the front rank now wheeled at
quick time to the rear, and the second rank in
its turn fired and wheeled off, the third follow-
ing its example. And so they continued work—
ing, continually increasing their distance from
the dangerous covert, until they had actually
discharged twelve rounds each man, not a single
ball of which but had fallen short of the sup.
osed ambush of the enemy. Then, finding that
hey were unpursued, and that no missiles were
directed against them from the underwood, they
stood firm; and eagerly reflecting that if their
firing had failed to provoke an attack from the
savages, their bugles would probably have no
more effect, while they might possibly stir up
their lagging countrymen to increased exertion,
they made the plains and woods re—echo, for
miles around, with the lou flourishes of their
wind instruments. Scarcefir had the brazen
clangor subsided into silence, before it was
taken up and repeated in the remote distance,
by an answering flourish, and the head of a.
heavy column of cavah‘y, apparently some hun<
dreds strong, was seen emerging from the
forest, at three or four miles distance to the
eastward. as he beheld this demonstra-
tion, the heart of Gordon began once more
to beat thick and painfully, and be doubted
the wisdom of the ruse, which he had rac-
ticed in order to drive the intrusive exi-
cans from too close a nei hborhood to his

own uarters. For now t t he saw the
pow ul' bod which was moving steadil for-
ward to re 0 n ltheir advanced part , ju gin

from expo once, and from the consi oration 0
what would be his own conduct at the head of
such a. force, with a mere handful of min-aud-
ing savages before him, he felt assured that,
so soon as the regiment should come up his
position would be attacked in form, and his
successful ruse discovered. Indeed, so strong
was his conviction of the certainty of this
termination, that had it been possible for him
to extricate himself from the amphitheater
which be occupied, without issuing on the plain
direct] in the face of the lancers, he would
uuhes'l tinfilay have evacuated his cam , aban-
doned his gage, and made the has of his
way toward t e forest-land which closed the
view of the horizon to the westward. As it
was, however, no such option was given him,
and he had no alternate but to remain perdu
where he was, in the ho that the cowardice
and iimbecilit of the exican leaders mi ht
deter them rain attacking a. position wli ch
certain! , if manned by riflemen, or even by
the arc cry of. the Comanches, would have
oflered some difliculties to the attack of cav-
alry so dense. and thorn was the brake
which covered the low h‘ is. He descended,
therefore, from his Sost, charging the sentinel,
whom he left behin on the verge of the knoll,
to keep a, good look—out; and a ter telling the
two troopers in the hollow that the danger of
discovery was at an end for the present, and
desiring them to cover the grave of their com-
rade, and to surround it with an abatis of
branches, inorder to_prevent the wolves from
dragging forth the miserable relics of humani.
ty,’ ssed into the little tent to console the
10,769; girl who was waiting his return, breath-
less and pale, but wonderfully self-composed
and patient. Not than minutes was be r-
mittcd to remain in t at sweet companion-
ship: for, before a uarter of an hour had
elapsed, one of the agoons thrust, his head
through the o enin osmVas wall. and ave his
otlicer notice 1that t a sentinel on the. ill Was
making si als that something was in process
on thegilafiI below. “I Will roturu'in an in-
stunt, eamst,”ho exclaimedf‘onatloss .will
Fwd you word what is

\

’ x

. between them and the wooded hillocln

 

13

ger. Thu-so Done, 1 iuucy, will scarcely try an-
other Indian arrow." .

lie clasped ll('1' to his heart, pressed one long;
kiss on her pure lips, and rushed forth, hall"
muddcned between the excitement of the sol
dier and the apprehension of the man and lover.
A moment brought him to the signal post, this
time accompanied by the old soldier whom he
had a pointed sergeant in the room of the de-
ccase ; and, as he cast his eyes upon the land-
sczi )0, a sight met them which made his blood
at rst stagnate in his veins with horror, and
thrtm thrill fiercely with returning hope of
 ‘ety.

CHAPTER 1X.
. ~ THE COMBAT ON TI:th PLAIN.

Ir was now eleven o’clock in the morning, and
not a vestigo of cloud was to bediscovered in
the clear blue firmament, nor a fleece of vapor-
ous mist over an portion of the fair wide
landsca. 0. At t c moment when Gordon
rcochc his post of observation, the troop of
lancers had changed their face, and taken up a
new position, some forty or fifty ards further
off, on a line oblique to that on w ich they had
previously been drawn up. The cause of this
change was evident at a glance, for directly in
front of the advanced troop, and coming down
at the full speed of their Wild horses, filling the
air with their savage whoops and yells, was a
band of savages, in full war array, and evident-
ly bent on an immediate attack. The numbers
of the two parties were nearly equal, although
the Mexicans were, if anything, rather stronger;
and although the advanta e of arms was in
favor of the troopers, the omanches carrying
no firelocks, it was still more than doubtiu
whether the extraordinary skill of the latter,
with the bow and arrow, would not more than
counterbalance the mere supgiiority of num-
bers. The Mexican lancers, deed, stood their
ground firmly, and reserved their flre steadil
enough, until within a. hundred yards of the r
front; but, notwithstanding the good face they
showed, it was very evident to the young dra—
goon that, had it not been for the vicinity of
their reinforcements, the would not have
abided the brunt of the Indian onset.

At this moment, the bugle of the Mexicans
gave the signal to commence firing, and abright
flash of flame ran rapidly along the front of the
lancers, who, under the cover of the smoke
ogened from the center, as boore, and wheeled
o , right and left, to the rear in order to reload.
The eflect of the volley however, was less than
insignificant for not only not a. Single saddle of
the Comanc es was emptied, but not a sign of,
wavering or flinching was visible among the
wild. warriors. 0n the contrary, they urng
their horses to yet flercer speed, brandishing
their long spears. in the air, and notching their
arrows to the string, as they rode at full speed.

Suddenly with a fearful and appalling 111,
they launc ed a. cloud of long barbed c 0th»
yard shafts into the center of the Mexicans. In
the instant, all was confusion and disarray. A
dozen men went down—some transfixed by
thr_ee_ or fdur several arrows, shrieking and
writhing in intolerable anguish; many others
were wounded more or loss severely, and half a
score of horses, pierced by the keen-barbed
pomts, and goadc into madness, bolted, and

plunged, and yerked out their armed heels

against their fallen masters, against their own
companions all frantic and un ovornable. Still,
however, the semblance o discipline was.
maintained; the front rank closed up, shoulder
to shoulder, as they best might, over the dead
and dying, and steadil reserved their flrc,
obedient to the common of their oflcers, who,
to do them justice, did their dut , at this crisis
soldierly and well. Disappoin , as it would
seem, by the unexpected coolness on the part of
their enemies the savages wheeled 03 and dis-
persed likea flock of wild fowl, each warrior
acting as it were independently, whirling
around the troopers at full speed, yelling an
howling hideously, and evidently waitKigoonly
for a. moment of unsteadiness to break ‘ dily
upon the two: and bring it to a. hand-toahand
encounter. t this juncture the main body of
horse, which, had it continued to advance, as
was its evident duty, would ere thi have been
in action, slacken its pace, and ally came .
to a haltijpushing forward a party 0‘ a d02011
of men, as toreconnoiter and throwmg on"d
small detachments on all sides to heattho nc h—
boring coverts, as if they were afraid of t g
drawn into an ambush. _ s strange and incx—
Slicable apiece of cowardloe."yhfle It palpany
cpresse and chilled the spirits of tho lancers,
gave new coura e to the savages, who once
more collected t emselves into a single squad,
and appeared to be on the pomt of charging.

‘ Before it came to this, however, the ca tom of

the lancerscalledout one probably, of is best
men, and sent ofi’, mm his, w,mwm-d
the min body, with the intention, evidently
of calling for immediate succor. No sooner

the savages perceive this maneuver, than half a
doz_en_ 0 them dashed OR at fi‘ill speed, and
whlrhm; round the right flank of then-co ,
‘5: up 3' 11
ii». which they did not give

happening, 6 sad smm't rennin. fire, , "
sleigh: in truth i think were it little gem * the Flighifst grail, lashed, their wild mustangs

  

 

'14

The Silent Rifleman.

r

 

—-

 

furiously along in pursuit of the headlong mea-
senger. So nearly did they pass to Arthur
Gordon’s hiding place, that he could distinguish
the colors of their war paint, the wavings of
the eagle featheis which adorned their scalp-
locks, and the very features of the individual
savages. It was astrangely thrilling sight to
mark the incidents of that tremendous race.
The Mexican, knowing that he was pursued,
and well aware that to be overtaken was to die,
spurred on for life—for life—while, hot for
blood, and a thirst for plunder, the furious
savages yelled frantically, and shot their arrows
after him, as they rode at full speed. For a
while the soldier appeared to  on the In-
dians; and it appeared probab e that he would
succeed in making good his esca to his coun-
trymen, the advanced squad 0 whom were
hurryint7 forward to meet him. But just as he
had looked behind him, measuring his distance
from the enem , with a watchful and anxious
e e, and satis ed of his safety, had set upa

out of exultation, an arrow, drawn to the
head, was shot after him, by a. practiced hand,
from a- tough bow. It whistled through the air
with an ominous and fearful sound, and took
effect on the lancer’s horse in the hollow behind
the ribs, entering the animal’s vitalsto the very
feather.

With that piercing and dreadful shriek which
the horse never utters but in moments of the
most excruciating anguish, the tortured beast
plunged high into the air, and fell headlong to
the earth. he rider extricated himself actively
from the fallen animal, and set ofl as hard as
he could run shouting for aid in tones of death-
ful agony. hut it was all too late; for, ere he
had run twenty paces, and while the lancers
who were now coming on at a charge, were still
two hundred yards distant, a tall unt savage
galloped up to him and drove longs
through his body, the keen int enterin a his
shoulders, and comin on below his reast-
bone. Checking his erce steed instantly, the
savage sprung own to the ground, and utter-
ing a tremendous bowl, the well-known death
h 100, which was taken up and repeated in
dread cadence by his tribesmen, ashed the
head of the fallen man with his long, can knife
regardless of his screams and stnfifles, and
tore the scalp from his ry skull w e he was
still alive and sensible o the cruel agony. The
lancers immediatel discharged the escopetas
the balls of which ell thick around him, one of
them even taking effect on the Indian, pierc
the fleshy part of his bridle arm; but he seeme
scarcely to perceive that he was hit, so lightly
did he spring to the saddle, wheel his unbroken
horse, and dart backward to rejoin his horde,
insulting the Mexican soldiers with strange
cries and obscene gestures.

Again the main body of the lancer: halted,
part , as it would appear, to comfort their
wounded comrade, and partly in terror at the
scene which was enactin at the same moment
on their advanced squa n. For, excited by
the sight of their coun ’3 success, the
Comanches charged down, lance in hand, to
within sixty or eightypaces of the troopers.
who received them with. a swift runnin fire,
which emptied two or three of theirsa dies.
This did not, however, check their onset, and
the second rank, in its turn delivered a close
volley, kill' four more of the Indians, and in-
stantly whee ed odto the rear of their third
rank to reload.

At this moment, the great war-chief of the
Domanches, who was mounted one. in ficent
roan horse, and distinguished by a use cc of
the claws of the grizzly bear, the greatest trophy
of an Indian warrior’s rowess, dashed to the
front of his tribe, and o slon the whole
line of the Mexican lancers, randis ghis long
feathered lance over his head, and uttering lou
yells of defiance.

So rapidly had all this passed that none of
the troopers who had previously dischar ed
their pieces, had as yet reloaded; and now he
third rank em tied their carabines one by one,
firing with deli rate aim at the dauntless chief,
who took no more heed of their bullets, as they
rattled one by one against the tough shield of

' bull‘s hide which covered his whole bod than
he would have done of so many ha“ es.
When the last piece was discharge , and he was
still unwounde he uttered along yell of -
liar import to his wild followers, and pu ing
his horse’s head strai ht at the front of the
troops, rode at them, use inrest, at full gal-

10 . -

lilo sooner did the savages hear that fierce
cry, and perceive the success of their chieftain’s
maneuver, than they followed his example: and
burst like a torrent upon the astonished reglflmy
'bcfore they had time to draw a sword or couch
a lance, much less to spur their chargers to their
speed to meet their onset at a charge.

The shock was fierce and irresistible- and, in
less than a minute. the ranks of the Mexicans
were thoroughly broken, and the conflict was
converted into a series of sin is combats. The
lance, the tomahawk, the la and. the knife,
all did their work of slaughterin It was a

blind and bloody melee, in which. each man,»

civilized or savage fou ht desperate] and to
the last for the dear fife. T e yang of the

, ,  .p.-. 7  ,5,»

 

of the dying

. the regiment still

. 1y, «itching the telesco .

savages, the shouts of the Spanish soldiery, the
screams of the wounded horses, and the groans
were blended into a. dreadful
diapason, above which shrill and limpid rose
the clear blast of the Mexican bugle, and the
shivering clash of steel. _

N 0 quarter was given or asked on .either side,
and there was neither flight nor flmching, for
the two parties were so equally balanced in
glut of numbers, that they were actually fl ht-

g from the first almost man to man, an in
truth it was almost a death grapple. By do.
Erees, however, as the Mexicans went down one

y one before the untamed energies and des-
perate fierceness of the Indians, the numbers
engaged became more and more unequal; and
when the strife had lasted about twenty nnnutes,
the main body of the Mexi can horse making no
real demonstration of assistin their advanced
guard, the few survivons of t e lancers broke
away as they best might from the horrible
scene of havoc, and urred their jaded horses
in mad terror across Re plain, ursued by their
ruthless enemies, who rode them down, and
s or tomahawked them singly, almost
without resistance, until there was not literally
a single soldier left alive, unless he were morta -
ly wounded, and rolling on the gory and
trampled turf in his death agony.

No above a dozen of thefiComanches had fallen
altogether, although many more were wounded,
and some three or four dismounted. Still so
bold were they, and so much inspirited by the
ease of their recent victory, that, after dis-
mountin almost within carabine shot of the
cavalig orce, to scalp and plunder their van-
quish enemies, they actually galloped for-
ward, shouting and elling most discordantly,
as if to char e the w ole regiment, which stood
idl facingt em.

nd, in truth, they did ride up so close as to
discharge a few arrow-shots among the lancers.
This last insult, however, was more than they
could endure, and perhaps it was rather the ex-
tremity of apprehension which incited them at
last to act, as if in desperation of safegly should
they continue inactive than any ing1 of
chivalry or courage. Whatever might ave
been the cause, after standin coolly to observe
the rout and massacre of heir countrymen,
which they might undoubtedly have prevented
by a hold onslaught, they advanced in line at a
shag) trot, whic gradually increased into a
bar gallop and then into a gallant rennin
charge, with bugle-note and battleery and all
the pomp and sp
attack.

‘ The heart of the oung soldier throbbed as if
it would burst his in, at the gallant sights
and sounds that accom anied the hurricane of
charging horse; and e muttered to himself,
with a, oubtful smile, that were the but one
half as disciplined and trusty as ey were
grgeously equipped and brave in outward show

ey would be dangerous opponents to en-
counter in the field. And, as it was,‘ the sav-
ages, who probably had never intended more
than an emp demonstration, broke away into
separate part1 although they rode in one di-
rection, and fl ’hefore he charge of the regular
horse, which indeed they were wholly incapable
of resisting, not standing in the ratio of more
than one to fifteen or twenty Mexicans.

Still though they might, as Gordon perceived
at a glance, have easily ridden clear away from
their pursuers, had they chosen to do so, being
better mounted, and riding much lighter than
the troopers, besides that actin independently
the m ght have dispersed an so defied pur-
sui they did not attempt ,anything of the
kind whatever for they merely cantered their
horses alon , bare] keeping out of ran 0!
their carab nes, an at times eVen halte and
shot an arrow or two at the soldiers, one of
whom was actually slain and several wounded
by their unerrinf missiles. Provoked by their
maneuvers goa ed by the insults of the sav-
ages, and their obscene and irritating gestures,
' ressed forward as fast as
they could withou blowing their horses or
disorderlng their ranks, and in something less
than an hour from the commencement of the
skirmish, hadpassed the side of the hill from
Which the young dra oon was observmg them,
and were nearlya m e distant to the south-
westward of his encampment, still hotly follow-
ing the flying Comanches.

‘Now if hose savages be not drawing the
cavalry into an ambush,” said Gordon, qu-Iefl :
to the old soldier, who stood at his elbow 0
serving all that passed, “than I am no judge of
Indian artifice or Comanche warfare.” .

“That is as sure as death, sir,”,l’°l311ed the
soldier touching his cap; “and If You’d be
please to take a squint through the glass at
that deep gully, to which they W11]. expose
their left flank if they advance two miles fur-
ther, I you’ll see what will make you cer-
tain of t. -Leastways, I’ve Conceited more than
3:3. 315%“ ks)?» aman on bonfhzgc’k rise up

n e 8 above the verge o l .

“Ha! is it so?” asked the young officer quick-
‘h d train; tilile hand qfihe
an a an a i o is eye.
by the Lord that hvesfiiie added, as he gazgd
toward the‘ spot indicated by the trooper,

‘ , flak-«r-

ender of a well-ordered cavalry

\

 

_.4

“ there are a. hundred or more of the red-skins
gatherin there, for a flight of arrow and a
charge. here Will be more sharp work anon.”

As he ceased speakin , and while his eyes
were yet fixed on the istant ravine asharp
10:5 whistle rose_on the air behind him, and
m 9 him turn his head suddenly, when to his
inexpressible delight he saw the well-known
form of the Partisan, mounted on his famous
brown horse, trotting as leisurely across the
scene of the late skirmish toward the outlet of
the little am hitheater, from a belt of forest
land a short 'stance to the northward of that
where the savages had issued, as if there was not
an enemy in sight. And, in truth, although there
were five hundred, at the smallest computation,
in full view within a couple of miles on the
Open champaign, there was no real risk in what
he did; for the Mexicans were so earnestly eno
gaged in the ursuit of the savages, and so
eagerwore the omanches on the success of their
stratagem, that not an eye or thought was di-
rected toward the solitary horseman who wend<
ed his way calm, self- seed and slow over
the corpses of the slaughtered soldiery to join
his comrades in their hiding- lace.

Gordon responded instant y to the signal of
the Partisan by an answering whistle, and,
without pause or hesitation, Pierre set spur to
Emperor centered briskly forward, and enter
ing the bed of the rlvulet rode into the small
amphitheater at the very moment when Arthur
descended the hill to join him.

CHAPTER X.
T E r. E s c A r E . ,

THE din of distant battle came surging down
the li ht wind, and the sharp rattle of a run-
ning , mingled with the yells and whoops of
bar arous warfare, announced as plain y as
words could have done, that the main force of
the Mexicans was now at issue with the
savages.

But not for that—not that they were yet in.
the midst of perilous adventure—not that their
chances of esca e were still slender and uncer.
tain was the we come of the stout Partisan cold
and ungracious. Far from it—for, as he came
boundin down the broken slopes of the hillock,
Gordon ailed in his full, clear, manly tones,
fearful no longer of being overheard by Coman-
che or Mexican. I

“ Julia, huzza! huzzal He is here—come
forth and greet him. The Partisan is here
already.” '

And just as the highly-bred brown horse horo‘
him up the low bank from the rivulot’s bed,
she came out quickly fromthe little tent with a
warm flush on her soft cheeks, and a bright
light in her clear blue eye, and a fleet step, and
an outstretched hand which showed that the
joy which she manifested at his coming was
from the heart sincere and earnest.

“ Oh 1” she cried “ Major Delacroix l” and her
sweet low voice faltered as she spoke, as if she
were on the point of bursting into tears, “ how
glad how ver glad I am to see you. ”

“ Too glad, am afraid, dear lady,” answered
the gallant soldier, bowing almost to the saddle
bow, “too glad, I am afraid; for your leasuro
almost looks as if you thought I had eserted

“ Ohl no, indeed—indeed!” she answered
clapping her hands together in the intensi of
her earnestness; “I knew that you would 0 a.
thousand deaths before you would desert me—
before you would desert, I mean,” she added,
with some 31' ht embarrassment, “any woman
indistress or an r.”

your first 6::-

 

“ You need no have modified
pression, lady,” replied the Partisan, quietiy;
“as fqr dying a thousand deaths, I cannot say
for that, ut certainly sofar as risking the one
life I do possess, I would do that for you, at
least right Willingly. Desert any woman under
any circumstances, I hope I never should—but
it must not he denied that I, old, weatherbeaixu.
and war-worn, like the rest of us, feelfthe effects
of youth and grace and beauty such as yours—
to say nothing ofyour high and gentle courage.
I am afraid if you were old and plain, dccr
lady, though certainly we would not ive you
up withont a. word and a blow too, to t ose sav-
ages we would not serve you with quite so
muc devotion}? ,

“I _do not believe you, ” she re lied, half
laughmgl, for the veteran forester spo e so cheer-
fullly]V an gayli, and seemed so totall forgetful
of t e penis w ich environed them, t at Julia’s
confidence was restored, and she felt relieved of
half _her apprehensions by the return of the
Partisan. ‘I do not believe cu; I am sure to;
the poorest and plainest an oldest bag that
ever wore the weeds and pleaded the weakness
of woman, you would do or die as devotedly as
for the bri htest of the sex. Do not deny it if
you would yo me think of you, as I am more,
than half inclined to do, as a promo chevalier' in' -.
the midst of these deggnerate days”

Women are'quick. a PWV
ing the eflects producad by their charms opium!
the minds of men; and that gun must he exam
and extraordinary monster. . , ,
tion. and real love, even if it no unretornv,

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onerous woman, no woman, in a word, who

is deserving of the love of an honorable man,
will for a moment trifle with a heart the senti-
ments or which she perceives, yet feels herself
unable to return—none such will encourage a
passion which she knows must be hopeless, or
add to the bitter sense of unrequited love the
ct kcener sting of contempt or manifest dislike.
gtill, as I have observed, even the best and kind-
est hearts of the women will derive pleasure
from the sense of their power on the minds of
men; and if the man be in any wise distinguish-
ed for virtue, worth, wit, valor, and so marked
out above his fellows, she who rceives herself
the mistress of his love, even 1 she cannot re~
ciprocate it,feeling herself ennoblcd thereb ,and
proud of the tribute to her beauty, will 0 ton—-
it is tobe ho d, all unconscxously,'but oftener
yet from h f reckless half inconsiderate co-
quctry —endeavor to prolong his captivity and
to hold him a willing slave in her soft bondage.
Julia. Gordon was a high minded, artless, 1n-
nocent woman, if ever such an one breathed the
breath of life; but still she was a. woman! She
loved her young husband the first choice of her
virgin heart, w_1t_h all the intense power of
which her sensitive, enthusiastic, ardent soul
was capable. She would have looked u n the
slightest wandeiing even of a waywardofanc
toward another, as an inex iable act of' infid —
ity and shame. She woul have named it, and
named it rightly, infamy and treason, and
unwomanly wickedness, to lead an honorable
man to form false ho s or toencouragehim to
love in vain; but stil she was a beauty, con-
scious of her charms—a gay, light-hearted, hap~
py child of impulse, accustom .to be flattered
and admired, to be addressed With homage and
devotion, on all sides; and, therefore, though she
perceived at once that she had struck and fasci-
nated the wild Partisan at first sight, and though
she would not for the universe have intentional-
ly caused him a single pang, she did uncon-
sciously encourage him, and lead him on to wild-
er and more wanderin fancies than he had ever
entertained before. or manner was such that
he could not fail to see that she had read his
heart of hearts: and there was something in her
evident appreciation of his high quali es, her
decided confidence in his honor, and her uncon-
trolled admiration of his chivalrous conduct,
which led him to suspect that she was not all in-
different to his feelings. Still there was nothing
sensual or evil in the most liberal imagination
of the Partisan; no thought of illicit or impro.
per love, much less of voluptuous indulgence,
ad crossed the horizon of his mind; had such
a dream suggested itself to him, he would have
spurned it With abhorrcncc, and the bare con-
sciousness of such a thought would have pre-
vented the possibilit of a recurrence.
As it was, he iel ed for a time to the soft
and unwouted il usion, and he did so with more

complete abandonment, that it was, as we have ,
seen, many years since he had felt the influence 1
of feminine attractions, or tasted the fascination '

of woman’s society.

“You flatter mo, fair lady,” he replied, with
a smile, as he dismounted from his good horse;
“and flattery from such lips as yours were
perilous, indeed, to a younger man than I, and
to one alienated from the hopes, the wishes, the
delights of civilized society. But let us go into
your tent,” he continued, .“and you shall be-
stow upon me your hoslpitality today, in re-
quital of the cor meal set before you on the
other side of t e Bravo. To say no truth, I am
both hungry and weary—and th
for me to confess—but I have eaten nothing
sinceI left you, nor quitted my saddle, except
for an hour this morning. That is it, my good
fellow,” he added, addressing a dragoon who
came forward to lead away his charger; “ rub
him down well, and water him, after a while,
and feed him with that forage you have been
cutting; and you would do well to feed your
own horses, too, and hold ourself in readiness
for astart. We will marc as soon as the sun
sets. Where is your other fellow, Gordon? I
left three with you. You have not lost an-
other, surel “i” _

“No: I t nk God. He is on the hill-top,
yonder among the chapari‘al. I posted him
there to keeps. look-out, and, as it is, the Mex-
lcans nearli su rised him. In truth, nothing
saved us, ut t at the savages had ridden
directly over our trail, so that they believe
us to have been taken by them, and doubtless
massacred.”

“ As we should have been, doubtless, had they
struck our trail by da light. As it is, they have
proved our safeguar so far; and if we can
avoid them hereafter, all will be web, 1 think,
as yet, the know nothin of us,”

‘ The fig ting is not on ed between them and
the lancers,” said Gordon. listening intently to
the distantu roar. . '

“Not yet ’ replied the Partisan instantly.
f; gut the omanchu are getting the worst of
l .

Gordon gazed u 1: him, half doubtful whether
he heard him ariglti’t, and then exclaimed: "

“But that I knewdyoufil should think you
were spea, king at ran om.

“Oh, no!” said the other; “I am not.‘7 11%

l

l .

is something -

 

I The Silent Rifleman.

it was? They are a mile further ofl, at least.
The savages are making] a running fight of it.
Hailvyour sentinel, and

" hat, hol McLean,” shouted the young
dragoon. “Jump up my man, and tell us
what you make of the fighting yonder.”

The man rose immer iately from the bush-
wood, on the summit of the hill, and saluted as
he answered readily. _

“ I cannot make much out of it now, 811'. The
Indians char them on a sudden, a while
since, out of t egreat ravine, and I thought for
a moment they would break the lanoers; but the
Dons held out pretty stiffly, and drove the sav—
ages. They all crossed the ridge he 0nd, helter-
ekelter, and hand to hand, and lost sight
of them, for ten minutes or so, while they were
down in the next bottom. But just before on
hailed me, they came into eight again, as t ey
rose over the next swell, and the Comanches
were riding for their lives, and the troops were
blazing at them, as fast as the could load and
fire. lean scarce hear the cam ines any lon er,
and there is not a man in sight, or a horse cit er,
except; those that will never ride or be ridden
more.

“You see,” said Pierre, coolly, “I did not
5 kat random. But call him down and let
t em cook and dine, and then saddle. The soon-
er we at under way, the better. Pardon us
door in y,” be added, turning to Julia, who had
been observing all that had passed with singu—
lar interest, and not without some emotion;
“these are not fitting subjects for your ears;
but your safety makes it needful that we should
span of them. Now, if you will allow us ad-
mittance, we will be our guests, for we must
take counsel, and it is fitting that you should
hear all, and advise with us.’

“Pray, come in,” she replied, unai‘fectedly,
“ without any more words. We are so far in-
debted to you now, that ceremony between us
would be worse than idle. There," she con-
tinned, as they all three entered the narrow
precincts of the tent; “sit down on that bear-
skin, while I wait on you. We have some of
your own wine left, and some cold venison.
Arthur, bid one of the men make some water
hot, and we will have tea in five minutes.”

The Partisan had not lived so many years on
the frontier, or associated so long, as he had
done, with the various tribes of ndians, who
still roam unconquered over the vast wilds
westward of the Mississippi, without having
contracted something of their habits and modes
of thinking. ’ ‘

Among their habits, the most marked, per-
haps, was a sort of grave taciturnity, when he
was not very deeply moved, or carried out his
usual line of conduct or demeanor, by any un-
wonted or unnatural excitement—a reluctance
to communicate hastily anything which had
occurred, if not of immediate moment, or in any
event to dwell upon his own actions or achieve-
ments. And at this moment Pierre Delacroix’s
conduct was singularly demonstrative of this
habit. Any other than he, or one like him
trained to peril, and the prudence which is de-
rived from peril, would have entered open-
mouthed, immediame on rejoining his friends,
upon the recital of his own adventures, his

doings, and his sufferin , interlarded, it is
most probable, with no ght strains of self-
glorification.

Far different from this, however, was his
course. He took the place assigned to him by
Julia, without sayin a. word, and partook of
the simple viands wh on were set before him, in
absolute silence, exce t when the courtesies of
the table required in to replyto the lady.
Once or twice, indeed, the young soldier endeav-
ored to draw him indirectly into a recital of
what had occurred to him durln the night on
the prairie: but he had only ell ted monosylla-
bio answers, from which be derived no satisfac-
tion. When the repeat was ended and coflee
set before them he producedhis lpe, and an.
ing it with his avorifc mixtureo tobacco and
bats mix, a plied himself for a few minutes to
smokin si ently, Gordon followingI his exam-
ple, an Julia awaiting patiently t a relation,
which, with the true woman’s instinct she
foresaw tobe close at hand. At length erre
Delacroix shook out the ashes from the bowl of
his Indian pipe, replaced the instrument in his
pouch and raising his eyes calmly, said in a.
quiet one:

“Now then, lieutenant, since we are about
to start, it were, perhaps, as well that we should
determine whither."

“ Whither,” exclaimed Gordon, starting, and
looking very anxiously in the old soldier’s face.
“ I thought that had been determined long ago.
I thought we were in full route for Taylor’s
com before Montoreyfi’ .

u t is impossible,” replied the Partisan. “I
did ho a at the first to eflect it, but the hope
was de usive—the thing is a shear in. bility.
we m in the midstof out—laying parties of
regulars and, what is worse yet, of errillm
and, "worst of ‘311, of those Cemen-

fi‘iA‘nd to amigo? Gordon.
“'11: " ’synam the“, what can we do! 

. " é’
thorenothingleftfousmanbuttodieswood

h _

4

9 will tell you it is so.” }

 

hand, knowin that, we dead, she must fall into
the hands of t ese savages?”

“ Had there been no other reasource than that,
I should not now be talking of it.”

“ What then? For the love of Heaven,
speak!” cried the oung husband, actually
trembling with the Violence of his anxiety and
apprehension.

“It is impossible for a party, at once too
strong to avoid discovery, and too weak to re-
sist an enemy, to ush on to Montorey, even if
we had not a lady with us. I could, myself, .
run the gant.et thither. and arrive in safety,
though even that is doubtful. You, or she, at
least, must remain in concmlmcnt until I can
bring you such succor as will suilice to her
safeRvé ’

“ main in concealment, here!”

“Not here, exactly, nor yet very for dis-
taut.”

“ Can it be done?”

“I think it can, with safety—else had not
named it.”

“ And whence will you seek succorl”

“ Whence God and the fortunes of war shall
send it. Perhaps not higher than the eneral’s
camfiv—Ip‘erhaps I may stumble on Jan Hays,
or a or, or McCullcch, or Gillespio’s ran-
gers. They are on the scout almost all the time,
either in the van or rear of the army; and now
1 think it likely they will be down hereaway,
with the intent to open our communications.
God send that they may!”

“God send it so, indeed!” replied Arthur
Gordon, earnestly. “But what has led ou
so completely to alter your views and in n-
tions?”

“ That which I have seen with my own 9
or heard with my own cars, last night.” -

“ And what may that have been? ’

“Listen. I was awakened last night, a. little
while before the Comanches passed you, by the
sound of a scuffle and a faint groan. Beforb
I could get on my feet, however, I had the
pleasure of seeing that scoundrel, whose life
we spared in the morning—and a most stupid
thing we did in sparing it—lrad his horse out
of the circle and cap on his back. There was
no use in awakening you, so 1 untethered Em-
peror as uicklv as I could, and set out in ursuit
of him. or all the speed i could make, e hnd
Egt full a half-mile away on the open rail-.e

foreI was in the saddle; but I care little
enough for that, seeing that in a five miles’ race,
I know well enough that I could make up such
a gap as that, and overhaul him, too, without
much trouble. But what did vex me, and set
me to thinking, was, that instead of makingf
the best of his way back over the ground we had
traversed in the morning, he struck off here to
the north-west, riding as straight as if he had
been followinga beaten track, without a sign
1(ii-11h};sitation, or so much as looking behind

“That was strange,” said Gordon; “ what the
duse could it mean' ’
“It meant clearly enough that he knew he

had friends nearer at hand than Carrera’s men _

in the rear, and that he had no idea at all that
he was discovered by any of our party, much
less followed.”

“ Ah! was it indeed so?”

“It is so indeed. I knew that as soon as he
turned his horse’s head north-westward. But
I knew not where his friends were, nor how
many, and I wanted to be sure of that. So I
struck ofl still further west than he, and kept
myself out of sight among the timber, and be-
hind the chaparral.. It was true I had to go
two miles to his one, for I was ridin round
the circle across which he was striking; but
what of that? Brown Emperor can take three
strides to his two, and stride twice as long as
his mustang’s longest. Well, I kept him in
sight, and in self out of sight, and well was it
for me that did so. I soon found out whither
he was bound, and I was thinking of taking a

straight course for the rancho, at which I saw

he was aiming, when all at once I heard a yell
in the forest, Scarcely three hundred urds
ahead of me, and before I had time to uk, if
thinking would have done any good, out gal-
loped forty or fifty red-skins row the foresté
and drove right across the open ground righ
down upon our runaway. He fel that he was.
lost, I think, as soon as he saw them. for he
made but a very sorry race of it, wheeling and
turning to and fro, as if he knew not whither
to fly and the consequence was that’ they ran
him down in less than ten minutes, an that

within less than a hundred yards of the brake V

which hid me. If I had ust then had ten ran- \
rs with me, armed wi good western rifles,
t ey never would have served him as the did
nor would one of themselves have got 0 soot
free. But what could I do? I was but one
against fifty, and I knew not how soon my own
ht come; so I had only to stand by and

turnmig

look on while they—"

bd‘hlla ma “it‘d in}??? film" 5333133!

v or e ' - ‘ o
o

coolly. “ If the ma onyl’y killed him, I stoma
hate fl! ght no bin of it, tor that I meant to
do :1: within an hom. But when they

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“v.1”-.. ..

 

 

tied him to the stake and hen
round him, it did make my lood hall, for
though he was a Mexican, a traitor, and a mur-
derer, still he was a white man, and after his
fashion, I suppose, a Christian. I leveled my
rifle two or three times,I believe, and m ht have
killed their great war-chief, if I ha dared.
But to do so could not have saved him, and
would have lost not only mysclf—thut would
have been a matter of no consquence~hut you,
beyond a doubt. " .

“ Burnt him alive!" exclaimed J uha, whose
hands had dropped from before her eyes into

her lap at the first words of his reply. and who ,

the ingots 

l

I

hal sat gazing him full in the face. speechless 
with terror, and incapable of comprehending ‘

what he said afterward.
and before your eyes!”
“ Before my eyes. lady!

“ Burnt him alive,

Not a prayer, not a

shriek, not a groan of the wretched devil es- .

caped my ears, and the smell of his roasting
flesh sickened and almost choked me l” cried the
Partism, now himself terribly affected, and ap-
parently fascinated by the very horror of the
scene, and unable to pass over the shocking de-
tails. His eye had a wild stare as he spoke,

and the bi sweat-drops rolled like rain from his 1

sunburnt row, and his fingers griped at the

hilt of his knife, as if the ' would have embedded 

themselves into polishe buck-horn.
voice was hoarse and husky.
“ Once or twice, in his agony, he called upon

and his ,

my name} and shrieked to ma, for the love of .

the holy
him, he knew not that I was nigh at hand

irgin, to preserve him, although, God ‘

hel
to hear him. As I hope to live hereafter. it was ,
all 1 could do to hold myself from rushing out ;

upon them."

“And why, whv did you hold back?” ex-
claimed Julia, wildly catching him b the arm,
in the intensity of her passion, "w y did you
not rush out upon them!

“ I could have but died with him.”

“Then should you have died with him 1” she
cried, scarce knowin what she said.
have done so, is not ike the man i have heard
you called—not like the man I took you tori”

“ Hush, Julia, hush 1” crin her husband,
springing to his feet. “Be silent, child, if you
cannot speak reason—”

But Delacroix interrupted him. speakin *very
slowly, and with an inexpreibly mourn in-
tonation of voice.

“ Let her go on," he said,“ let hergo on,Arthur
Gordon. 1 am used to it—used to it for years
-—for a life. used to be misunderstood and
misre resulted. Let her go on! It was for her
sake did it, and most meet it is that she
should pay me for it with ingratitude. Who
ever served or loved a woman and met other

1 sirous of turnin the thing into a jest, “ and are

; turned the Partisan, “nor am I sure that it
l were for my ha piness to learn it any further.

” Not to .

erdon for his services! I was a fool—I am a 1

col, but did not ex ect this at her han " .

He hung his bo d head as he sfike, and one ‘

or two big tears, the first that had shed
in years, rolled down his swarthy cheeks and

fell on his hard hands and he sat starin at .

them as they
were or what oiled him. .

“My Godl exclaimed Gordon, passionately,
“I believe on, are bent on driving me mad
Julia! By
idiot!”

fell as if he lmew not what t ey ‘

“ We are all idiots together, I sayl"exclalmed ‘

the tough old soldier, dashing awe the last

teardro from his clear gray eye wit the back ,

ofhis

nd, and starting to his feet abruptly. i

"All idiots together, to be telling idle tales, .

and listening to them here, when we should be

up and doing. Bid your men strike the tent, *

and pack just what baggge your lady cannot
spare. fuck it on the agoon horse, whose
saddle is left empt by that murderer’s deed,
who has dearly me it. The rest with the tent
and ntoon must be abandoned, and the mules
that re them must be slain.
everything in the cha ml; the sun will have
set within an hour. eanwhile, 1 will go forth
and see that the coast is clear.

usi” inquired Gordon, anxiou 

“If you trust me vou wil follow me, lieu-
tenant, whithersoever lead on. If not, on
will not follow me at all, for f it be my in nt
to deceive you, I can do so b words as well as
by actions. It is for you to ecide. I have no
time to make many words, nor is it my wont to
dose. I swear to save yourself and. our wife
from all the dangers that beset you, 1 I can. If
I cannot, I intend to die with, or forfou, just
which you please to call it, although did dis
appoint your lady by not dying as she would
have had me do very sentimentally, in com-
pany with a vile murderer and traitor to
whom, my life or death could do no earthly

“0h! Major Delacroix!” exclaimed Julia,
who had now recovered from her bewilder-
ment, and was sensible of the error she
committed,“‘you are offended, yonare angry
31th me, [and Justly—I have been most ungrate-

‘iNot angry, lady—not offended. A man can -

not be angry with, such a one as you, do what
{211 will with him. I Lm_ disappointed, per—

psburt, but certainly mother angry nor of~
me‘il”

/

/ I

Let them hide ‘

l

‘ _ i own remorse. Think of this, lady, and fare you
“But whither, whither aresyou about to lead 1

 

 -+:7~>-»~,—» ~—' f-er-r‘wfi-thnrur :Tr“:"'."':‘.—’!A"frr;:'> .. v . -— ~ ‘-- r'

‘ hall omad!
eaves, I believe you are turned 3 g

,Tl??.,5119¥l§33§?9§n- .1 .

“ You must forgive mel” she exclaimed, I
springin passionately forward, and catching .
his ban in both her' own, “you must—you ]
must forgive me! You must remember that-I
am but a weak irl, unused to hear of horrors l
such as you risated—horrors, God help me, '
which may befall me next—horrors which are i
strong enough, it seems to me, to bewilder the ‘
minds of strong, brave men, and which have »
half maddened me. I knew not th_en, I know i
not even now, what it was I said—Will you but 
forgive me?” _ _

“ Surely I would had I any thing to forgive, ,
sweet lady,” he replied, with a grave, sad smile. I
“ But I have nothing, unless it be,” he added, ,
with a low sigh, “ my own folly. But a truce
tothis; we have indeed no time for )arleym .
Will you trust me and follow me! We N e
onward I will tell you whither.”

“ To the world’s endl” answered the beautiful
girl, claspin her hands and blushing crimson
with the vio ence of her own emotions. “To
the world’s end if you will forgive me.”

“And you, lieutenant?” he added, quickly
turning a keen lance to the face of the young
dra oon. “ W' you trust and follow me?”

“ do not know why you should press the
question,” replied Arthur, alittle sharply. “ No ‘.
one, so far as I know, has distrusted you, and l
as for following you, we never thought of doin ,
aught else. You frighten a young, timid 'r
out of her senses with a tale of terror, andt en
take offense at her. bewildered and romantic
folly—you do not know the nature of women,
Partisan,” he continued, becoming aware that
he was carrying it with rather too high a hand i
to suit the temperament of his auditor, and de—

not aware that t ey o’uurrel the most with those
whom they like best.
“ I do not know their nature, as you say,” re-

 

At all events, I lave not the time. nor am very
likely to have the opportunity of domg so. Now
will you be so kind as to issue your orders to
your men, and you, madam, to make your pre-
parations for a ride which may extend through
the night until daybreak to-morrows”

He spoke so decidedly that there was no ex~ ‘
misc for attemptin to rolong the conversation,
and Gordon left t e 1ttle tent immediately in
order to give his directions, while the Partisan
lifted his rifle from the ground, where he had ;
deposited it on entering, and turned to follow I
the young officer without saying another word. ‘

But ere be had reached t e entrance, Julia, 1
who had been standinigvith downcast eyes and |
a strange expression, lf sad, half onate, 1
on her beautiful features, sprung orward to ,
intercept him, and again caught him by the g
ar

 

in.

“What have I done?" she cried, passionately,
“what have I done that you thus spurn me— i
thus des ise me?”

“ I. la y!” and be used at her in blank aston- I
ishment: “ I spurn— despise you i”

“ Yes, yes! miserable me! and I deserve it i
all, ay, more than all. Oh, Godl oh, God! I i
What shall I do to win your for- ,
givenessi” ;

" I have said, madam,” he replied, mastering 5
himself and retaining his self-composure with a ,
mighty eflort, “ that I had nothing to forgive. l
But now it is my turn to ask,” and his voxce l
assumed a dee r tone of feeling, and his whole ,
manner show an intenser meaning, " will you i

spare me P" You know whatl mean. lady—all ‘ y

women kmow their pOWer, and, I suppose, all
abuse it. But as I have endeavored to serve
you truly, as I intend to do to the end—as I am
resolved to die for ou—will you spare me, I
say? Spare me my se f—respect, my consciousness
of right, my manhood! my repose of soul, my
honor. If you will, lady, forgive, I bless you.
If not—if not, tremble, I say tremble, not at
the thought of my vengeance, but of your

well. We speak no more alone together—no
more, forever l”

And he flung her hand, which he had held
tight] clasped in his own while he spoke, away
from In half contemtptuously, half indignantly,
turned on his heel an left her.

She gazed on him fora moment wastfully, and
then sunk down u n the bear-skin on Wb ch he
had been. sitting, uried her face in the fur, and
welpt bitterly, as might be seen from the con-
vu Siva sobs which shook her whole frame as
she lay Prostrate in her desperatesorl'ow-

A_woman’s heart is a strange thing, and woe
to him who pin 3 with or perverts it.

M9831“? t e Partisan went forth and re- ,
connmtered he plain and assured himself that 1
the Comanches and their pursuers were indeed ,
onto: the range or sound or sight, having gone 

ma _ on that would carry them, 9 was 1
well assured, far {mm the fine in which be pro-
posed. .to. travel, ‘ '

Within an hour. he returned to the carfnap
which had been the scene of so much men ‘
suffering and excitement to all parties who had

the last weary long hours within its
gamed precincts. But when he (11d return, he

d mastered his composure, for he now fully :

 

‘ understood his own feelin‘gs'anii pe:cei'.’t;dlhe

.r‘,‘

ithat superfluous baggage which had

 

. .. . .. ... . ._... ._,, .. 4......—

peril of indulging them. And he found all his
comrades collected and self-possessed, at least in
appearance, and prepared to set forth at u
moment’s notice. I ,
The tent was no longer visible. nor any of
€911

brought along to diminish as much as possible
the hardships of the lad during her hard and
dan erous journey. All ad been either hidden
so 0 osely as to avoid any casual observation
or had been destroyed altogether. The horse of
the unhappy sergeant had been equipped,
instead of his own demipique, with the pack—

: saddle of the poor predestined mule, and stood,

seemingly conscious of his degradation, loadtd
With such necessary baggage as could in no way
be dispensed with. Gordon and his men, all
fully armed and accouctred, were at their
chargers’ heads, and Julia, pale as marble, and
with a melancholy and languid expression
which rendered her if pOSSihle more beautiful
than ever, was already seated on her high
blooded jennet.

The appearance of the Partisan, and the first
quick gesture of his hand, gave the signal; and
all the men vaulted at once into their saddles.

“All is safe!” he exclaimed, cheerfully. “To
horse, to horse, and away 1”

And with the word, he laid‘his hand on the
pommel of the brown charger’sdemipique, and,
without setting his foot into the stirrup, sprung
at one bound to his back.

Then, after saying a few words in a low vowe
to Arthur, who communicated them in turn to
one of the drugoons, he bowed toithe lady, say-
ing, “ And now, if you are ready, we will pro-

5 ceed at once,” and rode at an easy gait out of

the gorge, followed by all the party.

Gordon and Julia came immediately behind
him, and were, in their turn, followed by
a trooper leading the loaded pack horse. T150
newly-appointed sergeant remained behind with
the other dragoon and the mules, until the re:
mainder of the party had cleared the defile and
issued on the open plain, over which the declin-
ing sun was pouring a flood of crimson light,
from beneath a mass ol.‘ dark leaden clouds, of
which the lower edge alone was fringed with
gloomy fire, while all above was dark and black
as night.

It was an ominous and lurid gleam which dc~
lugcd the wide plains, and turned the groves-
and forests, robed as they were in hazy mist.
into masses that vied in hue and brilliancy with
ore liquid from the furnace; and the shadow
projected upward, from the heavy layer of
storm cloud which skirted all the horizon to the
south-westward, over the darkened flrmament,
rendered the effect of the seene yet more threat-
ening and dismal. ‘ v

The heart of Julia sunk, as she gazed around:
and she felt that the least addition to the sen-v
of dread and half superstitious awe which now
beset her, would be too much for her powers of

I endurance. Yet, while she thought thus, an-

other item was added—it was the sharp and
sudden crack of two rifles, discharged almost,
simultaneously in the small amphitheater from
which they had just departed. ‘

, Sue started in her saddle as if she had receivi d
a blow, and would have fallen frcm her seal.
had not her husband thrown his powerful aim
around her, and supported her frame on the
back of her alfrey.

" It is not ing,” he whispered, “ dearest love.
It is nothing, upon my honor. I-should havo
told you, had himagined that it would so alarm

on.

“But what was it Arthur? Oh! you are d€~
calving me a ain. I am sure you are deceiving
me. Let me now the worst, implore you, at
once and I will tr to bear it.”

' "Nam/Julia, I ave told you; it is uotbin -
only the poor mules which we were compelle
to shoot, as we could not brin them with us.
and dared not leave them to allow, and, by
following, betra us.”

“More bloodl’ cried Julia, burstin into a
guroxysm of tears; “more blood! my ad! my
! when will this have an end?”

“You should have thouglht of that, Julia,”
re‘plied the young soldier, s arply and bitterly,
“ store you married a. soldier. That done,
such thoughts are too late.”

“Alas! alas! they are, indeed too late!"

“And do you cry alas! for that, false girl?”
exclaimed Gordon, in so loud a tone that his
words reached the ears of the Partisan, who
instantly reined back his horse, and laying his
hand kindly on the young mania am, said, in a
low vaice:

“0h! ace. peace, for shame! Consider
what she as borne, what she has yet to bear»
and all for you.”

Gordon was vexed, and raised his head proud.
1y, With a bitter reply on his tongue; but ere
he could utter it, the Partisan had fallen yn;
further back, and was ordering the two dragoons
who had just galloped up from the rear. After
directing the private to fall in beside him who
led the bagga e-home, ‘and sending the SC)“
geant forwar 'two hundred yards. to lead
the party'on the other side of the lady, be ad.
dressed her as lightly and Cheerh} y as if
nothing had happened to disturb then- feelings,
and no 6.9. 2"". rs were around them. “ And now.

\

 

 

.- Ll

 

‘\

The Silent Rifleman.

1'7

 

1

fair lady.” he began, “if you have any rtion
of whatmencall your sex’s curiosity—alt ougli,
I dare say, if the truth were known, we men
are ‘ust as curious—you must be dyin to know
whigher I am going to conduct you, With all this
mystery.”

“ I wish it were to my grave,” she answered,
raising her mild, soft eyes to meet his. “I
never shall be happy more till I lie in it.”

“Nay, lady, speak not thus," returned the
veteran, Warmly. “ I must not hear you speak
thus, even lightly. Death. at the best, is a
dread mystery; and if it be true, that as the
tree falls so shall it lie, :1 very fearful and ap-
palling termination. In God’s good time, we
must all come to that; to 1113 good wisdom,
therefore, let us leave it. And, oh, by nolevity
or petulance of ours, let us call down His an-
ger on our heads! But, I assure you, it is to no
gloomy place, no fearful or dark abiding-place,
that I hope to conduct you, but to a sort of
fairy bower, inhabited,” he added, assuming a
tone of gayety which be perhaps scarcely felt,
“ by what I thought, til! I met your blue eyes,
Mistress Gordon, the loveliest woman I e’er
looked upon.”

Despite herself Julia Gordon was interested
and amused, and yielding, \vomanlike, to the

 

immediate impulse, she cried, “What! a fairy i

bower, and a fair woman, in this howling wil-
demessl”

“Ay, lady, even so! and thereby bridge a

tale, which, as you will be thrown. I think, upon 2
her hospitality, and as it maybeguile the tedious-
ness of our night—march, I Will relate to you, if 3

you choose to hear it.” ' .

“ 011! tell it, by all means, Partisan,” cried
Gordon, eager to atone for his late petulaiice,
mid to divert his wife’s apprehension; “I hope
it is a love tale. ”

“ ‘ Cato’s a proper person!” answered Dela-
croix, lau hing. “You see I can quote, lieu-
tenant. ut here goes my story.”

CHAPTER XI.
THE mosrsnniiAN’s TALE.

AT the moment in which the Partisan com-
menced his tale, the sun was in the very act of
setting, and the party was entering the great
belt of forest land, which had been described as
bounding the view to the westward. This for-
est was a vast extent of rolling land, rising
gradually into bills, as it receded from the river,
covered with huge timber trees, beneath which
the underwood grew dense and luxuriant—the
spot at which they entered it, narrowing by de-
grees, as they advanced, into a narrow winding
woodpath, not many yards in width where it was
him est, and in p aces so straight that but one
horse could go abreast. It was already very
dark even upon the open lain, but here the last
faint glimmer of the twi ight skies was inter-
cepted by the thick foliage. The night air was,
however, delicate and be my and thanks to the
friendly darkness of the night, no danger was
ap rehended for the present.

uch were the circumstances under which the
old forester began his recital of events, which,
though’ they had occurred long before he even
knew the existence of his fellow-travelers, were
now like to affect them nearly, and which there-
fore sad a strange interest to their minds.

“ It was a little better than a year ago,” he
began, “ thatl first visited this part of the coun-
try, which I now know—every pass, glen, and
pond, and rivulet of Iii-78.3 if it were my own
garden. All then was Violence, and fierce in-e.
gular strife, and vengeful indiscriminate war-
fare, and confusion. our army, small In num-
bers, but strong in disc-iphne and spirit, well
officered. and confident of its own powers, lay
as yet at Point Isabel, waiting for the arrival
of reinforcements, and the means_ of transporta-
tion, in order to take the initiative in earnest.
All the fighting that had been done as at. had
been done by the rangers and the artisan-
Texan troopers, who, mindful of the strict dis-
cipline and stern subordination required in_ re-
gular warfare, did battle pretty much, as it is
said on their own book; and, to speak the
truth, had scarcely learned as yet to temper the
soldier’s ardor with the Christian’s mercy.

‘f It is true, there was much, if not to excuse
at least to palliate their thirst for van ounce.
Few of them but. had lost some dear rela ion, or
beloved fnend, in the save
the Mexicans. . Many 11 returned from ex.
peditions taken in defense of what the believed

 

to be their rightj their liberties, in d t eir coun- a

try, only tofin their homes a hea. of blood-
quenched ashes—only I:0 learn that t eir wives,
their daughters all that men held best and

dearest, had undergone the'worst extremities of ‘

outta e at the hands of their ruthless enemies,
and ligad rejoiced in death itself as an escape
ha thsuflerillg’t flloi'glrtures
1: rue es 0 .
t “I wgscalone on this good horse which I now
ride, and armed as you now see me. ,For then,
as now, I scarce can tell you Why it suited my
temper best to ride alone in scare of adventure;
and, though at times I would Join this or that
bandhof ran ers, when .on some aarvi
whic rom
action. V for the most part scouted hymns", _
"On this moi-wt, hmrt’i‘t‘l',‘ l hm l; :[If‘uiih

s i
1 l

|

ds dfora sof
“1 an y 1 its roost, every beast would have sought ts den -

 

duty to perform, being charged with dispatches
from the general to the chief of the band, whom
I will not name, nor otherwise designate, except
as bein ever the most daring and successful in
the ons ought, although too often the most mer-
clless in the moment of victory.”

“ I said I would not name him, Gordon. Nor

will I. Perhaps he had wrongs to avenge on 1

these Mexicans, which justified him in his own
eyes, if not in ours—which turned his blood to
flame, and from the very softness of his natural
heart distilled the bitterest venom. At all
events, he was, as you have said, a gallant sol-
dier as ever set foot in stirrup and he died in bi
duty, gallantly, within a lance’s length of my
sword arm, covering the retreat of ot ers, when
all was lost, but honor.
forgiveness to his sins! for which of us is sin-
lessl I knew him when he would have moved
aside rather than tread upon a worm, so soft
and tender was his heart—I knew him again,
when neither youth nor beauty, neither sex nor
gray hairs would bend him from his ruthless
vengeance. Circumstances! circumstances! ay!
it is circumstance, after all, that makes saints or
savages, monsters or martyrs, of us all! We
will speak of him no more, lieutenant, except as
I must tell my tale.”

“Pardon in interruption and proceed,” said
Gordon. “ e are most interested in your nar-
rative already. But what does the fellow want?
He has fallen back u‘ on us.”

And as he spoke, t e sergeant who had been
riding in advance, fell back upon the party, and
reined up his horse.

“The road forks into two, major,” he said,
salutin as he addressed the Partisan, “at a
hundred yards hence. The right hand path I
fancy, is the one, by what you told me of t e
route; but it is very deep and miry, and seems
toepd in awet morass. Which must I take,
sir?

“The ri ht hand path. It is not a. morass
but a shafiow lakelet or lagoon with a good
hard bottom; it will not wet your girths, ser-
geant. But halt, when you reach the brink of
it, and I will do you through, or you may
chance to lose t 9 direction. Well, my friends, '
he continued, “I was, as I said, bearing dis-

atches from the general to this chief, and he
bade me lose no time in overhauling him. He
knew that the band had set out to surprise a.
rancho hereaway; in which it was supposed
that a guerrilla force was organizing, and that
arms were concealed; and ‘he thought, I fanc ,
that the would do their work too summar' y
and too ercel . He did not tell mean in words,
but he orders me to overtake them, and gave
me authorit to supersede the officer, we spoke
of, as ind I outranked him, and to take com-
mand of the party.

“ I did not altogether like the duty; for as you
ma have gathered from my words, although
Iddd not like his deeds—indeed I might so. I
abhorred them—I had some 3 mpathies for. he
man; had passed through trou lesome times and

hard trials by his sidezand, indeed, owed my
life to him once 0r twice, as perha he owed
his to’me. I did not, therefore, w to super-

sede him, or wound his feelings. I was retty
sure that a uarrel would come out of t;and
though 1 di not care a straw for the quarrel
itSelf, I did not fancy uamlinfilwith so old a
comrade. But what 0 that? I admy orders,
and had no choice but to obey them.”

“ Well, it was a lovely summer’s evening. as
ever shone ‘out of Heaven, when I passed through
this belt of forest; not exactly here, or in this
direction, for Icame in further to the south-east-
ward, and ap rOacbed the clearing which sur-
rounds the p antation,‘ whither we now are
bound. The soft air was playing. much as it is
now, through the tree-tops; but. t was then the
very flush of summer and all the woods were
ablaze with beautiful flowers; and odomus with
innumerable perfumes, and alive with man o
colored birds, filling the forest with their
cordant cries or sweet melodies. It had been a
very hot day, but the evening dews were falling
soft and gentle, and the young moon was riding
high above the tree—tops, with all her silver store
about her in the far dee blue sky, though still
the lingering rays of he‘ departed sun were
visible half-way toward the zenith in the west.
And yet, it was neither day not night. An-
other hour and every bird would be on

-—-but now, it was truly a magic time, filled with
all that is sweetest and most tran nil of the
day, all thatis gladdeat and least so of the

hi ht. -

l1’F‘I was moved diaerently from my wont,
and noticed and felt the influences of the season
and the hour, as I think I never noticed them

‘ bef01~e;for I am not much of a dreamer, 1101'

dishonor, less tolerable T

06 .
excitement and the chance of 1

anti ‘ven to romance, hein as on know.
atheryagjmon 0f action; Wheng’suddenly as I
rode along. following the track of the horse
hoof, which 1 could easily distinguish invtbo
mo“ nsward, and judging by mung-roar-
min cations that I could no new be boo
hind them. thou b I nothing to denote
their vicinity: W en suddenly?! say , Ic’a ht
the‘dietcnt sounds of Increment and neve ry:
thought redone“ of. tit-p guitar. +115- merry

Peace to his ashes, and :

 

Miro.» ;.,;.l,-, its; deep zit); wlcwyl “it mm ‘

W. ‘ \
i

. rvr

 

singers, in the harmonious Spanish ton c and
all the glee and anxiety of a fandango.“ ’

“ I felt a momentary sense of pleasure, for I
knew that I was in time, which I had feared
might not be the case; and that the attack, which
it was my mission to prevont or at least to ren-
der bloodless, had not as yet taken place. The
next instant a sudden doubt a rest fear to]!
u on me. How could it be that should be so
cose to the ranclio, and the band, of which I
was in pursuit, ct closer, but unseen, iiiiheair‘
and unsuspectm ? I knew that note uiomei. ,
must be lost. That eveii‘ now the rangers mus-i
be stealing with ready arms 11 on their victims:
that even now the doom 0 the go lainccrt~
must be sealed, unless in presence s ould or-
rest it. I gave my goo horse the s or, and
throwing the rein u n his neck, gal oped at
the top of his spec along the intricate and
mazv wood-track. .

“Never, in all my life, did I spur so hard;
and never did a road seem so long, or so devi-
ous; nor was this the effect of imagination on~
ly: for I have since ascertained by actual in-
spection although the distance, as the bird flies
from the spot where 1 first heard the music, to
the rancho w once it proceeded, is but a short
mile, the road by which alone you can reach it,
measures three at the least, winding to and fro
to avoid pathless brakes and deep barrancas,
and is exceedingly deep and miry.

“The sound 0 my horse’s tramp, splashing
through the deep clay, was already heard by the
lancers, and heard, a as! by their ambushed foes.
whom I fear it spurred to accelerated action:
when suddenly from the wood to my left, the
shrill blast of the bugle rose piercineg upon the
night air, and was answered bya second ata
little distance. There was an mstant’s pause,
breathless and awful, as the lull that precedes
the burst of a thunderstorm: and then 9. Jon
loud shout burst out on all sides, and the quicE
running rattle of a hundred rifle-shots flied in
quick succession. God! what a shriek sucv
ceededl And then the clash of blades, and the
blasphemies and yells of the charging Texans,
and the deep oaths and dying groans of the
slaughtered Spaniards and the bowling of

bounds and mastifi's: and, above all, piercing -

my very brain, the maddening: screams of WO-
men peeled up in horrid dissonance tothe peace-
ful heavens, which, in a moment afterward,
were crimsoned with the glare of the rushing
flames making the twilight scenery of the
calm lorest lurid and ruddy as the fabulous
groves of hell!”

“Halt! halt! you are at the water’s edge!"
cried the voice of the advanced dru u, when I
they could now scarce see. though e was but
a few paces from them. For so deep was the
gloom of the woodland now that, had not the
path by which they traveled be‘en walled in,
as it were, by the impenetrable thickets of the
trackiess chapgrral, it would have been impossi-
ble for them follow its direction.

“ Oh! do not interrupt your tale,” cried Julia. :

“Finish it, will you not, before we cross this
terrible, black-looking water?”

“1 must not do so, lad ”replied the deep
tones of the Partisan. “ his terrible, black-
lookiug water, which, b the way, under a
noonday sky is a. beauti blue. mirror, as ever
reflected beauty’s face when bri htest; this
water, I say, once traversed, and t e little belt
of thicket which borders it, we shall be in the
open woods, and must halt there until the.
moonjball rise to light us on our onward way.
That will not be for an hour or two; and, as We
have made better progress than I hoped or ex-
pected, and as we have passed unharmed one
of our groaiest oints of danger, we will make
a panes of an our to rest ourselves and our
beasts and will .11 ht a brand of fire toeheer
us, ere is no anger, I assure you, if on
millet me lead your jennet by the rein. d r-
don, keep close to your lady on the right; a d

on, m men, follow close upon our hee 5, turn-

g no flier to the bridle nor to the sword-
hand. It is a strange places, the h perfectly
safe to one who knows it. A ri go of pure
white gravel, some ten yards wide. runs right
across the lagoon at this point, not above three
feet under water, while eve where else the
bottom isdeep black mud at 0 or three-fa-

thoms. -I could ride it, however, with my eyes ,

blindfolded.” . .

“ I! b so!” Gordon answered, forcing a
laugh; f for if you cannot, our chance 1 think.
is but a slight one. The darkness of the night.
I fancy, would prove a. most efficient bandage
for the eyes of Any ordinary man.”

“ Not for mine, lieutenant,” answered tlm
Partisan. “I am a sort of owl, I believe; for I
sometimes imagine I can see better by high ‘
than I can by da . At all events, I can discei ii
thelpot cty by which the ‘‘path piemus
the Nuke on the further shore, an I can marl:
the roaring bark of an old dead tree on the
left‘ of it. ’

f‘ on must indeed like the eyes of an owl,”
and the young soldier; “ for I can distinguish
nothing, not even the forest beyond. it
Memo to .me that. the lake recedes into (llll'

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might as I have, you will see clearer. But, come,
let us enter it. Indeed, lady, there is no danger
though you had better gather up the skirt of
your long dress, lest it get splashed by the
water.”

And, without further words, he took the bri-
dle of her jennet in his right hand and led it
down into the water, she sitting perfectly pas-
sive, and encouraged by the confidence of his
manner, so as to fear no danger.

In fact, as he said. the water was shallow,
nowhere exceeding three feet in depth and in
many pla< es Scarce wetting the fetlocks of the
horses. Everywhere the bottom was hard, and
the footing perfectly secure; and they had al-
ready traversed above two thirds of the whole
distance, so that even Julia could now distin-
guish the frin ed bank and the spectral-looking,
weather—bleac ed tree, which marked the land-
ing-place, when suddenly two or three heavy
plunges were heard in the deep water, on either
side of them, and as many long lines of dim
phosphoric light were seen rippling the dark
surface of the pool, and advancing rapidly to-
ward them.

“ Great God! what are thosc?”cried Julia, ter—
rified now beyond all comprehension.

And, at the same instant, the clear voice of
the Partisan rose trumpet like above the still-
ness of the night, which had been broken only
by the dashing of the horses’ hoofs in the shal-
low watcr.. ,

“Ridel ride!” he shouted: “ride for your
lives, I say!” and, as he spoke, he drove the
s urs rowel deep into his own horse’s sides, and
lifting Julia’s palfrey with a light but powerful
hand, he forced them both at once from a walk
into a full gallop.

The foam and spray were driven high in the
air, for three or four bounds of their high met-
tled beasts, and the riders were drenched from
head to foot with the water churned up by the
rapid hoofs. But happily it was but three or
four bounds; and the whole party stood a mo-
ment after the alarm was given, in safety, on
the further bank, just as three monstrous alliga-

tors, for such were their last enemies, shot!

fiercely up to the very shore, in pursuit of their
hardly escaped prey.

The next instant, a wild, melancholy, thrice .f

repeated cry—“ Hool hool hoo l”—rose from the
thicket close before them, making the blood run
cold in Julia’s veins.

“ Merciful Heaven 1” she exclaimed, “we are

. beset on all sides!”

And, almost fainting, she would have fallen

from her horse, had not Pierre caught her in his
arms.
“Dismountl” he cried; “dismount, Gordon;
she has fainted l” and, as he spoke, he placed her
gently in her husband’s arms. “ Bring her this
way! this wag-owe shall be on the high round
in a minute. k to the horses, lads; an strike»
a li ht, one of you. There are flint, steel and
tindgerin the ouch by my holsters. Why it
was nothing ut a. cougar. Who would have
thought she would have been so frightened at
the cry of a cougar?”

“She has gone through enough to-day to kill
twenty women with terror,” remarked Gor-
don, very anxiously. “God only grant that
this has not killed her. She has no pulse, that I
can feel, at all, and her heart is as still as
death 1”

“Nol no!” cried the Partisan. “No! no! do
not fear; we will have some flre‘in the twink-
ling of an e e, and all will be right. Here we
are: wrap er in m blanket and chafe her
hands; she will come in a minute.”

In a. very short time the formidable western
ox was brou ht into lay, and dry wood was
felled and spit in s cient quantities to build
an ample fire. The enial warmth which was
diffused by this, an the sedulous attentions
which were bestowed on her, soon restored Julia
Gordon to her senses; and, with that buoyanc
of spirits peculiar to persons of her excitab e
and impulsive temperament, so soon as she re-
turned to her consciousness, she recovered all
her wonted elasticity of mind and brilliancy of
manner.

After some short and hurried conversation
concerning the danger which they had just es-
ca d from the hideous alligators, and the
ha its as well of that loathsome reptile as of
the sleek and glomy cougar, whose . had
been the immediate cause of alarm, whic . act-
ing on Julia’s overwrought spirits and over-
fatigued frame, had produced her fainting fit,
the thoughts of all the party returned to the
narrative of the Partisan. ,

Both Julia and Gordon felt sure that their
prospects of present safety and future escape
Were, by some means or other, connected With
the persons of that narrative; and with the
feverish and nervous irritation which urges
men in time- of immediate danger and despon—
dency to seek h0w they may penetrate the
secrets of futurity, they now eagerly pressed
Delacroix to resume his recital at the point
where it had been interrupted.

“I think,” he replied, atgflrst to their solicita-
tions, “that it were Wise!“ ln you. by far, to en-
deavor to get some restrif it were but an hour.
The night is as yet but it‘le spent: and. so soon
as the moon rises, we must again be m the sad-

1 The Silent Itifleman.

 

‘ dle. There may be danger again, I would warn
you; and danger of a nature which, should our
fortitude give way as it did but now, coul not

i be avoided; and whether there be danger or no,

, there will be at least extreme fatigue;

; “Oh, no!” said Julia, earnestly. “It is im-

1 possible; I cannot sleep. Oceans of laudanum

loould not make me slee tonight, I am so
fcarfully excited. Shoul I lie down and at-

! tempt to court sleep, my own thoughts would

! lash me into madness. But it is selfishness in me

i to hinder you from rest. Let me not influence

l you, I enti‘eat. I pray you, Partisan Gordon, I

‘ command you, lie down in your cloaks and

‘ sleep. I will sit and watch by the fire; I assure

I you I am not in the least afraid. See, the men

. are alread sound asleep, as if there were no

3 dan ei' wit in miles.”

1 “ hey have no responsibility,” answered the

; Partisan; “so soon as the horses were securely

‘ tethered and the fire kindled, their duties were

‘ ended. I told them I required no sentinel; and

, used to act over under orders, they have almost

l forgotten how to think—perhaps, happier so.

I For us—I can speak for Gordon as for my self-

I the necessity of exerting every faculty on my

art to insure your safety, and deep anxiet on
is art, must, at all events, hol 1 us watc ers

1, unti such time, at least, as we can see you in

i tern rary safety. If, therefore, you are not

5 inclined to sleep, I may as well kill time by my

; poor gtory, as let it lag along at its own weary

‘ pace.

“Go on, I pray you. We are quite comfort-

l able here, and quite safe, I fancy; and I am

dyin to hear what happened next.”

“ will resume the thread, then, where I
broke it off abruptl . When I heard that tre-
mendous uproar, an saw the outburst of that
furious conflagration, I spurred my horse the
faster, and at last, issuing from the forest, came
upon such a scene of horror, blood and devasta—
tion as I trust it may never be my fate to look
upon again,

“The rancho or country dwelling-house which
had been attacked, was of unusually large
dimensions, consisting of many buildings, with
barns, stables, cattle-folds and out-houses of
every kind, which are the necessary append-
ages to the residence of a great proprietor. All
these were built of the usual sun-dried brick,
thatched with straw and to all, as I thought
at the first glance, the torch had been applied
indiscriminately.

“ The main building—a. large, low, one-story
house, adorned with wide, rustic porticoes, and
surrounded by green lawns and luxuriant gar-
dens—was already wrapt in flames, which burst
out in broad sheets from every door and win-

l

ow.

“The ga gardens were all trampled 'down
and waste , the reensward literally flooded
with gore, and pi ed with the bodies of men,
women, nay, even children—some dead already,
some writhing in. the death-pang, all slaughter‘
ed ruthlessly and almost unresisting. in the
midst of harmless relaxation and lighthearted
revelry. Most of thesebad been destroyed by
the first fatal volley poured in upon them by the
ambushed enemy, who had stolen upon 'their
sport unsuspected. The women, all of whom
were young, and many rare] beautiful were
clod in their ala dresses w th bare necks and
bare arms, an high combs and floating rails,
and garlands in their beautiful black hair. The
men, a few of-whom had been spared l-ong
enough to draw their swords in a vain attempt
at resistance, were evidently thinking of any-
thing but war when surprised by the extermin-
ating thunder of the western rifle. Broken
guitars and ladies’ fans, and tables covered with
refreshments and adorned with flowers, lay
scattered here and there, overturned and broken,
among the sadder relics of maimed and massa-
cred umanity. Many large dogs, some the
superb and faithful Sheepdogs of the famous
Mexican breed, lay slain beads their masters,
faithful even to the death. ‘

“ But of the ruthless murderers—for even I can
call them by no other name—not one had fallen.
0n the other side of the great court-yard barns
and stables were blazing; and the appalling
yells and cries which proceeded from them tol

ow the poor domestic animals were perishing
in agony Within those fire-girdled walls. For a
moment I looked around bewildered. There
was not one living, conscious being, of whom I
could ask a question, or learn Whither had swept
the bloody tide of attack and flight; for there
were no sounds of resistance, nor even of terror
and havoc, any longer, if it were not the roaring
of the devastating conflagration and the ap-
palling screams and bellowings of the tortured

orses and oxen. ’

“Suddenly a pistol-shot or two startled me,
2 followed by a shout and the clashing of swords
,‘ from a_ distant quarter of the garden, sheltered
j by'a rich grove of orange trees,in full bloom,

and other shrubs of rare odoriferousness and
1 beauty. .
I “I was still mounted, and with the speed of
I light I galloped toward the spot whence those
‘ sole sounds of human life proceeded. Aurelie
1, the smoothly-shown lawn and luxuriant flower-
. beds I drove , char er recklessly, and the
torn limbs and ttere stems of thabeautiful

I

 

,ed twilight which alone

 

. . ——..»~_x_.._m

and fragrant shrubs told the fierce speed with
which I forced my way through them. I came
up. I was yet in time! It was a small, low
building of two rooms, only, the inmost of which
had windows reaching to the round, secured
with jalousies, and perfectly em owered by the
rich leaves and vagrant tendrils of a hundred
climbing parasites. _

“ And this lone bower, ev1dentl the abode of
some Spanish beauty, was nowt 6 last citadel
of the apless inhabitants, mercilessly attacked
and desperately defended. It was fortunate for
those within it that the Texans had discovered
it from the court-yard, with which it communi—
cated only by one door in a massive wall of
stone—all its windows opening into the secluded
quarter of the garden, which they had not as
yet discovered.

“From the court-yard, separated from the
garden in which I stood by the high and mas-
swe wall I have named, the shouts and rush of
armed men came clearly to my ears: and, by
the Englislitongue, the wild oaths, and the bit.
ter deuunuating, I readily perceived that it
was the band of whom I was in pursuit, and
that they were forcing their way into the build»-
ing, in despite of all opposition. Still it was
evident to me, by the silence which prevailed in
the inner room—opposite to the casements of
which I stood—that this last sanctum was yet
unforced, though the rapid discharge of pistol
and rifle shots, and the clash of rapier and
bowie-knife at the door, announced that its
security was menaced, and could not certainly
be maintained many minutes longer.

“ There was not a second to be lost. Spring-
intg down from my horse, with one pistol in m
is t hand, a second in my belt, my good broa <
sword in my right hand, and my wood-knife be-
tween my teeth, I drove the frail jalousies asun—
der with one blow of my foot, and stood the

next moment in the scene of terror. And God
of mercy! what a scene that was! Should I
live centuries I never can forget it. It was but

a second that I gazed around me: yet in that
fleeting second I took in more minute details
than I could recount to you in an hour; and so
indelibly is every small particular engraved on
the tablets of my memory that did 1 but possess
the painter’s art, I could lay them down, each
and all, on canvas to the very life.

“The chamber was the sleeping-room of some
young female; and the pure, spotless bed, with
its snow-white drapery, the crucifix and holy
water in a. niche above the pillow, the exquisite.
ly wrought mats on the floor, the walls curtain-
cd with needle-work and adorned with the finest
works of Spanish art: the large old-fashioned,
deeply-cushioned chairs' the tables strewn with
feminine implements, flowers, and books and
implements of music; the very dim and mellow-
netrated the close
jalousies and the dense f0 iage overshadowing
them—all these suggested an idea, which words
cannot convey, of pure, contented innocence, of
refined, hallwoluptuous luxury, mingled with
the calm love of peaceful meditation and reli-
gious solitude. Yet this sweet 5 at was already
the abode of death—might even e the scene 6:
outrage worse than death. ~

“ On the low, virgin bed was stretched-
where it had been hastil deposited by the
alarmed bearers—the life ess cor se of an old
man—an old Spanish gentleman; or none could
look on the high, noble features, the broad,

smooth, massive brow, and the snow-white, ,

silky hair, which fell down in long curls beside
his thin, wan cheeks, without feeling the convic-
tion that he looked on all that was left of a
high-minded and chivalrous gentleman. A
small, round, livid hole in the center of his fore-
head surrounded b a discolored spot, and the
blood which had owed from the back of his
head and deluged all the cambric pillow-covors,
showed plainly that he had fallen by the uncrr-

ing missfle of a Texan rifle: while the placid ,

expression of his features, and the smile on his
wan lilps, proved that he had been shot down in
cold b ood, when thinking of any thing rather
than anger or hostility. I learned afterward
that he was killed, in the very act of dining
hospitalit , by the first shot fired that day, on
his own t reshold; and I do not regret that the
perpetrator of the atrocious deed fall, that same
day, by my hand and this good weapon,
“Butte proceed. 0n the floor, close to the
window by which I made my entrance, lay
stretched an a ed woman, the wife, appaientl ',
of him who ‘ ept unconscious—happy that go
was unconscious—of the horrors which sur-
rounded him. She, too, had been struck down.
as 1 Judged, not a moment before I entered, l y
a chance bullet; for she still breathed a littlc,
althou h life was fast ebbing from her veins in

spite o the efforts of the loveliest girl my eyes ,

had then looked upon, who knelt beside her.
seemingly unaware 0f the uproar which “ts

192198“, nearer and nearer every moment. in 1! e

adjommg apartment, the door of which stccrl
Wide open, allowing the horrid din, the hidcm s.
imprecations, and the blue sulphurous smoke of
the death-shots, which runfiincessantly without,
Enforce their way, unhin, red, Into that‘quiet

m er. ,
f‘ I said that one nick glance_showed me all
this, and, in truth, had not leisure for a sec-

\

 

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A. «4.312de

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s

The  Rifleman.

 

19

 

 

:-

our], for I was not well within the chamber
when a tall young Spaniard staggered back to
the threshold Of the door, and, discharging a
istol at the Texans while in the Very act of
grop in , fell headlong on the floor, his left
han', w ich still grasped the yet smoking pis-
tol, striking the ground within a few inches of
the feet of that fair girl. She started at the
dreadful interruption, and, for the first time be-
comin r aware of my presence, uttered a long
Wild 5 rick; and, believing that her hour he
come, arose to her feet with an effort, and
laying her hand on her bosom, said, in a low,
sweet voice, in the Spanish tongue: ‘ Strike, if
{Pu will; but, in the name of the most Holy
irgin, harm not an orphaned virgin!’

“Alarmed by her cry a young gentleman
richly dressed, who was defending the door,
with rapier and dagger, with all the valor of
des air; and whose back had been turned toward
us, ooked around quickly, and as he did so re-
ceived a sharp wound in the breast from a
Texan knife. The murderous weapon was
raised to repeat the blow, when I seized him
violentl by the shoulder, cast him back into
the miidle of the room, crying ,‘Amigo,’ and
thrust myself into his place, confronting alone
the infurinte assailants.

“ The men knew me in an instant. and seemed
to anticipate mgr errand; for at first tbefian
started back an lowered their weapons. ad
he of whom we spoke been present at that
moment the affair was ended; but be was in
some other part of the premises, pursuing the
fugitives, or urging on the destroyers: and it
unfortunately so occurred, that the men before
me were the very worst and most dreadful
ruflians of the troop. ’l‘heir blood was up,
moreover; and several of them to the intoxica<
tion of heated passions and unbridled license
had added the intoxication of wine;quantities
of which had been found on the premises, and
had been drank without stint, to quench the
fiery thirst engendered by the heat of indulged
hatred and ungoverned fur .

“It was in vein that I c led on them to hold,
and demanded their captain. My answer was
that they were all captains there alike an
would take no command from any, coupled to
an insolent warning to take myself out of
harm’s way if I were wise, before worse should
come of it. I am not myself of the gentlest or
most pacific temper in the world; and op -
tion is wont to make me somewhat difiicu t to
deal with. As one of those wretches came press-
iiEg upon me violently, I ordered him to stand
0 for a mutineer, he aimed a b10w at me with
his bowie-knife, and I retorted by shootin him
through the head on the instant. Half a ozen
set upon me, but not before my second pistol
was out, and a second marauder stretched at
my feet. Then at it we went, hand to band;
and what with my better arms—for my long,
straight broadsword and wood-knife kept their
short cutting blades easily at a distance—and
what with the protection afforded me by the
doorway within which I stood, I held them all
at bay for ten minutes or better without iv-
in or taking awound. I could have set led
bit a dozen of them without any trouble in
the world, but I did not wish to imitate them,
and acting on the defensive solely, I gave them
time to take thought, and recover their coolness
of mind.

“By and by, finding they could not force
me, and that exchanging cuts and thrusts with-
out any result was but dry work the rearinost
of my assailants began to fall elf, one by one,
so that I was left with only three or ourin
front of me. and those awaiting only an op r-
tunityto withdraw themselves Without a so-
luter showing the white feather. This oppor-
tunity soon presented itself, for_ hearing the
continued din and uproar from this small out of
the we buildin the leader of the part , whose
hot thirst for 1006 was already set ated—to
do him justice, his fits of re are as transient
as they are murderous—an who already had
begun to repent the horrors he had perpetrated,
came hastily that way.

“ A moment or two before he reached the spot,
he was informed of my coming, and of the re-
sistance I had met from his men: and the first
thing I knew of his approach, was hearing his
voice raised to its big est and fiercest tones.
Whether he would come in, therefore, as a
friend or a foe—whether he would hear reason,
or resent my interference as_an insult. was to
me a matter perfectly doubtful and uncertain.
The doubt. however, did not last long, for
scarce had I distinguished the first accents of his
angry v01ce, before be rushed into the\ room.
There was blood on his face, on his hands, on
the blade of his saber, which be here still un-
sheathed. He was as pale as asbes;even his lips
were white. not with fear nor with fury, but
with the sick exhaustion that follows ever on
the heel of over-fierce excitement. But so soon
as his eye fell upon the group 0% n me, and.
saw that I was fightin on e de ensive, it
seemed positively to lie fire—bis white cheek
gleamed with a. red unnatural hectic—and he
mmau gnashed his teeth With rage. ‘Rascals!
Dogs: utineersl’ he shouted. ‘Do you dare to
n-Sist an ofllceri
down mm the dogs! Spare them no longer!

\

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hundred and fifty.

 

Down with them, Pierre;

Give them the steel,’ and suiting the action to
the word, as the hindmost man of the party
turned aghast at finding himself as it werebe—
tween two fires, he threw himself upon him,
and ran his sword through his body. The rest
flung down their arms, and With some difficulty
I obtained their grace, for he would hear at first
of nothing but drum-head court—martial and
immediate execution.

“And now, my tale is told. That bower is
the sole relic of a once rich and noble residence
—that fair pale girl is, with the sole exception
of her brother, who was the wounded youth I
mentioned, the last scion of a race as noble as
ever came from the shores of old Castile. Time
has repaired the outward ruin, and the rich
vegetation of this land of flowers has converted
the smoke—blackened piles, which were once a
palace, into yramids of greenery and glowing
blossoms. e devastation of a ruined heart
what can repair? Marguerite. dwells in her
father’s halls once so proud, so happy and so
great, a lone y mourner, impoverished if not
absolutely needy, without companions, friends
or servants, except one aged couple and their
son, a shepherd boy, who, absent with his flocks,
escaped the massacre. Respect for her mis-
fortunes, and shame, perhaps, for the barbarity
of their maddened countrymen, renders her
sacred to Americans. Among the Mexicans
she ils,”of course, regarded as a martyr and an
ange. ,

“ Great God! can such things be, and not call
down Heaven’s thunder?” cried J ulia, who had
listened with indescribable anxiety to the wild

tale.

“ Ask, rather, what things cannot be, when
the bounds of war and havoc are let slip-—wben
the fiercest and most savage passions of the most
fierce and untamed men are released from the
restraints of society and law—when hot, animal
courage is alone rewarded, alone regarded as a
virtue, and the first of virtues—when whole
nations, when ave, passionless men, when
ministers of ’s holy gospel, when delicate
and lovely women vie With each other in Joe-
stowiiig honors and praise, to deums—ay, and
love itself on those w 039 sole title to their ap-
pzobatgpn is written in the blood of fellow-

in

“ ou speak eloq‘uently, Partisan,” replied the
young dragoon, ‘ perhaps truly; certainly as
one feeling what he thinks. Ye y
soldier.”

“Perhaps I am aweary of the trade,” be
answered, gloomily, letting1 his head droop upon
his chest; “or rather,” e added, correctin
himself, “I am a soldier no lon r, though
wear a soldier’s weapons. I buc led them on
when my own country—for Texas was my
country—was invaded: and, when its indepen-
dence was secured, I laid them by, though not
to rest, as needless. If you see me in arms now,
it is that the wild irit of adventure, which has
become second lie to me, urges me to the
scene where daring deeds are done, and where
bold men encounter boldly. I might add and 1
believe truly that my resence in the field has
done much since that ay to allay, nothing to
inflame, the atrocities of national animosity
and invading warfare. My sword is rarely
drawn now, except in defense of myself or of
others, who, like ourselves, need my assistance;
are you answer T’

“ Answered suficiently at least, to see that I
have no cause to regret, but much to rejoice at
in the fact that, if you are not a soldier, you are
still at least a Partisan.”

“But, tell me,” exclaimed Julia, who had
listened rather impatiently to the late discussion
--“her brotherl—what became of her brother
who was wounded—whom iou saved?”

“What could become of im? He pulled his
sombrero over his eyes, buckled his father’s
sword to his side, and his good spurs to his heel
took lance and lasso, backed his best horse, on
never since has given quarter to a man who

3 With an English tongue. I would not
beta dollar that he would spare my life, if I
fell into his hands in action.”

“ And have you never seen him since?”

“TWice; once we met in a sharp charge of
horse—the same in which that captain of whom
I told you, fell—and fell by Juan de Alava’s
hand; and then we crossed swords, and laid on
loud, as the old ballads say, until we were
may in the melee. Again, when he was

en in the act of leading a squadron of our
dragoons. disguised as a guide, into an ambus-
cade of Carrera’s lancers. The noose was about
his neck, 1 can tell you; and the other end of
the to was cost over the stout limb of a live
oak. 11. two minutes more, had I not come up
at the nick of time, the last heir male of the
Alavas would have been dancing on a tight

to 9’

go'And how, taken in acrime so flagrant, could
over your. influence save him?"
i “ One 1110 15 n0 gireat boon, in return for a

. t was I warned the detach-

ment, and saved all their throats from being out.
within ten minutes. Do you think the major,
whose life and military reputation I had saved
wasli'ke torches mesucbatrifieas thehfeo
a. poor devil of a. Mexican yi He stared at
me as'tbough I were mad, WEEen I asked it; but

\

on too, are a

 

when he saw that I was in earnest, he bade the
troopers kick him out of the cam and let him go
to the dew]. I begged him off t e kicking, to ;
and I believe he thought more of that than of
my savin his Sister or his life' at least, he
shook my and that time, which lie had never
done before, and bade ‘God speed me.’ ”

“ And where is he now, or how engagedi ’
asked Gordon.

“ Since Romano Fallon’s troop has been brokt r
up, he is Padre Taranta’s right hand man. 1. i
is the most dangerous enemy America now be .
in all Mexico.”

“And it is to his sister’s dwelling that you
are leading me 3’” asked Julia, in astonishment.

“ Even so, lady. it once on cross her thresh-
old, you are safe againstal the force of Mexico,
until such time as we can bring you sucdor, or
a flag under which you may enter the lines."

“nor her, I can well believe you, Partisan;
for she were no true woman, if she would not
shed her heart’s blood, ere you should scratch
your finger; but what if he, what if this dread-
ful brother should be there!”

‘.‘ He 1's there, lady, with half Taranta’s band.
It was to his part that our captive was flying,
when the Comanc es slew him. ’

“ And what shall save me, then—what shall
save us all from the Spaniard’s vengeance?”

“ The Spaniard’s honor, lady.”

“ And will on trust to so frail a chance?"

“So frail, adyl—the honor of an honorable
man is stronger than the Gibraltar’s rock. But
were it frail as the frailest thin on earth, it is
all that is left to which you can trusted, To
his protection I will commit you, reverentially
be it spoken, rather than to an safeguard in the
world, save that of the Most i h.”

“Then so will I,” said J in, cheerfully.
“then so will I commit myself to it without r.
doubt. Will not you, Arthur?”

“It seems that we have no choice,” be or.-
swered, gloomtillfv, as if not altogether satisfied.

" If we had ty, and the Partisan s ke thus.
his choice would be my choice," rep ed Julia,
firmly; and her slender form appeared to wax
more mnje'etical, and her innocent and dove-like
features assumed a higher and more spirited
meaning as she expressed her determination,
filled, for the moment, with the impulse of he-
roic resolution. ’

CHAPTER XIL
run nu: nnn RANCEO.’
Tan moon by this time had risen, and already~
far above the horizon was heginn' to pourhi

llifiht into the shadowy recesses o the fores‘ ,
e

skies were as clear as a vault of the pure:
cr stal, and the broad, round disk of the beaut.
in satellite, now well-nigh full ,rode over then;
in perfect majesty, surrounded by a host of re-
splendent stars.

But through the heavy foliage of the mighty
live oaks, the tops of which, whenever an 0 en-
ing occurred in the thick woodland, might) be
seen, bathed in the pure, luster, every
leaf wet With the diamon dew-drops, twink-
ling and shivering in the soft air; scarce] a
beam found its way to the soil from which (3'
sprung. The nature of the soil itself was differ-
ent fromhthat which they had thus far traversed :
and, in lieu of the deep, moist, black mold cov-
ered with long rich grass, and givin birth to a
thousand gorgeous flowers and 1 nt shrubs,
the boots of the horses now turned up a thick
and ponderous sand from beneath the scanty
herbs 9, which thinly clad its arid surface.

Un er the head of the Mexican noonday.
when the breeze is asleep in its fur chambers r if
the vaulted sky, the march through these ek-
vated woods was toilsonie and even nful to
excess. The overburdened anima sinking
more than fetlock beneath the wei ht of their
riders or their packs, the intolerable ust-wreatl s
smoking up from beneath their tread, the ter-
turing bites of envenomed insects,tbe smothering
heat that broods ever undisturbed b obi-cam
of air, beneath those green aisles, render a mid-
day Journey through that district an enterpri: n
more difficult. if not so dangerous as e pilgrim-
a e across the parched waste of Sahara. '

eneatb the coolness of the dowy n ht a1 :1
npdei' the rays of the cold moon,tbe case eiv
different; and, when the little party a in
mounted their horses, restored by their 55:) r.
bait and re-invi orated by the fore e which hai
been hastily co ected for them, t eir grew
was once more rapid and less laborious mu dL—
rin any portion of their previous r ea.

0 sounds were to be heard but 51321:: fiu‘-
ter of the breezy leaves, for the train of tie
horses was inaudible on the soft y road;
and, bad it not been for the occasional cry of
some startled night-bird, or the hum of son c
chance insects,the voyagers might have imagined
that, with the exception of themselves and their
horses, there was not a. living
Within the precincts of the great upland forest.

Throughout this wild tract, the ground he-

nenth the canopy of therhuge trees was bare '

and guite clear of Underwood, so much sotlm‘.
squa rons of cava might have maneuveer
We  m. 1
mac 'ng ug s evergreen ol exclud-
ed span the ' limmerin moon 1:
where along of}. line offii Hg t' ‘ 1

I

animal awal c»

e narrow road they,

w

gan c stems, although the far- . ,

 

 
 

 

 

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" “‘12:?”

were pursuing,
through at dis ant intervals.

Along this road they had traveled without
any occurrence to disturb or interrupt them,
for about four hours since they halted, and al-
though advancing only at an easy amhling can—
tor, had traversed something better than twen-
ty miles, when the distant barking of a large
dog was distinctly heard by all the party, and

i
W

 

within a few minutes after that sound became .
audible, the advanced dragoon, who was a hun- ‘
dred or two yards ahead of the party, l'eined .
up andiuformed the Partisan thatzi heavy body 1
0 horse were coming down the road rapidly to— .

ward them.

Scarcely, indeed, bad the man spoken before
the truth of his report was evident. For, as be
halted instantly on the receipt of the unwelcome
tidings, the clung of stirrnps and scubbards be-
came at once audible, and the nick ear of tho
Partisan enabled him almost immediately to
form a shrewd conjecture as to their numbers.

The road, a little way above the spot whero
the stood, made an abrupt elbow to avoid the
gul y of abrook, the waters of which could he
heard gurglino faintly over the pebbles, and
wound to and fro so as nearly to form a letter
S, a line drawn through which would not have
exceeded half a mile in length, while the men.-
sure of all its sinuosities would easily have ex-
ceeded thrice that distance.

"There are above a hundred of them,” said
Pierre, after listening for a moment, “ and it is
sure enough they are coming right down upon
us. Fortunate is it for us that the road is not
straight, or they would have been down on us
before we suspected it. As it is we can be safe
enough before they come thus far, and yet we
have little time to lose. Hold up your sabers,
my men, that they do not strike your spurs or
stirrups, and follow me in single file. Let me
have a hand on your bridle—rein, lady. Gor-
don, close up behind us, we must trot.”

And with the word, pricking his horse light-
ly with the spur, he turned the head of Julia‘s

lfrey short to the ri ht hand, and leaving the

aten track, plunge without hesitation into
therdepths of the forest. For a hundred yards,
or better. the ground which the crossed was
entirely level, but at the end of t is distance it
became broken and uneven, and the roar of
rapid water sounded nearer and nearer at every

size .

garker and darker grew the forest, as they
proceeded and descended, and as they neared
the banks of the torrent the ground became in-
terspersed with single shrubs, and then with
scattered patches of brake and bushes, until at
the margin of, the turbulent water a dense
fringe of continuous underwood was visible.

Before they reached this, however, and with-
in a quarter of a mile of the road itself, Pierre
halted, and telling Julia that there was no
danger, and desiring the men not to stir from
the spot, or speak, or call out, whatever they
might hear or see, dismounted from his horse,
cast the rein to a dragoon, and then hurried
back on foot, as fast as he could, directly toward
the track which they had just left.

Treading the sofa earth with a noiseless step,
and availing himself- of the covert of every
bush, every stem, every inequality of the
ground, he soon contrived to worm his way to
the very ed e of the road, along which the
cave they ad heard was in full march.

He ad scarcely thrown himself down on the

as at a spot wherein consequence of some
trifling moisture it ew longer and ranker than
elsewhere, before t 9 increasing clutter and
, clung announced the approach of the horsemen,
‘ and the next moment a. long line of bright

rks of flre became visible, undulating as they
ollowed the sweep of the road, and agitated
gently up and down by the swift motion of the

arses. -

“Just as I thought, guerrillas?” muttered the
‘ Partisan to himself :.
would scarce be smoking thus on a forced night
march, as this must be: for they can scarce ex-
pect any work to do, or any enemy to surprise
within fifty miles of this or better. But patience!

atience! we shall soon know their ga me, for by
heaven! they are talking as if each man had
two tongues. It is Juan de Alava’s squadron,
for a’ thousand I”

Scarcer had be ceased from speaking, or
rather thinking within himself, for although his
ideas almost formed themselves into actual sens
tences, they were by no means formed in ur-
ticulate words, when the body of irregular horse
began to file past him, in loose order. three or
four sometimes ridin abreast, and at other
times each cavalier smgly, and that too with
considerable intervals between. Just when they
passed him there was an openingin the treetops,
and the moonlight streamed down through it in
a. pencil of bright yellow luster which was (on-
trasted splendidly against the surrounding
rhadows, and which. the Partisan judged truly,
would render the darkness of the forest area-ml
rally the more intense 1'0 those who viewed it
from that focus of illumination. .

The spot of the road on which this clear lie ht
"all was but two or three yards across at the
:.‘.;nost, and us man after man rode nits it «w
a theraadow on the cm: band. elem-“‘13 m u

an occasional gleam pierced

‘ even Mexican regulars .

 

Tl}? Silent, Riflemane

revealed, to the minute details of his dress and
accoutermeuts for a moment, and was again
lost in the gloom beyond—the sight was beyond
conception strange, savage and exciting.

The wild, active little horse, the huge hats,
and long, jet-black, elf—looks of the riders, their
many-colored blankets and oncbos, and the
flash of the positive armory w ich each trooper
bore about him, composed a picture worthy the
pencil of Salvator.

The red gleam of their cigars as they drew
them, now and then, intoa keener radiance With
their breath, flashed luridly up over their swar-
thy features. and disclosed some of them so fully
that the Partisan even recognized the faces of
indivuluals whose names and deeds were famil-
iar to his cars.

The squadron was perhaps ten minutes ora.
quarter of an hour passing him, for there were,
as he had conjectured by the sound, while they
were et at a. distance, above a hundred of them
—in act, be reckoned about a score beyond
that number—and they rode, as I have said, in
very open order, and not much faster than a.
foot-pace.

Pierre listened to every word that fell from
their lips, as if his life depended on his catching
the import of what they said,.but for a long
time it was all in vain. For though he la so
close to the speakers as to catch every sylla le,
and understood their tongue perfect y, the
riders either knew not the object of their own
march or cared not to converse about it. Their
disultory talk was to the Partisan, mere jargon,
at times containing sentiments of gross ribaldry
and licentiousness, or anticipations of massacre
and plunder, which made the heart of the lis-
tener bound in his breast with indignant
an er.

t last, when a hundred and twenty men, all
armed with the lance and long, straight two-
edged sword, all having the formidable lasso
coiled Sup at the saddle-bow, and the most of
them having two escopetas, or shortz heavy,
onuce-bolled carabines, slung at their sides, had
filed past him in succession, a longer interval
occurred in the line than he had hitherto ob—
served, and thinking that they were all gone,
and that the danger was at an end, he was on
the point of rising to his feet. It was well for
him, however, that he did not do so, for, when
he had actually raised himself to his knees the
tramp of two horses at a gallop struck his ear
suddenly, and he had bare] the time to conceal
himself again in the grass efore the two horses
were within arm’s length of him. _

The next glance showed him that his life had
not been worth a dollar’s purchase, had be fully
arisen to his feet, for he needed nothing to tell
him that the e es of the two who now passed
him—eyes wan ering suspiciously at every step
of their horses through t e forest about them—
were very different to encounter from those of
Ellie mere troopers who had hitherto passed by

in

These two men were of a widely different
aspect from the rest, and from each other also,
though one of them was clad, except that the
materials were richer, in the same costume with
the men who preceded him.

The other, who rode a little the foremost of
the two and the nearest to the Partisan, was a.
little old ‘shriveled man, not above the middle
hight, and worn down almost to the emacia-
tion of a living skeleton, between the fatigucs
of war and exposure to Weather. Yet within
that frail and meager frame, hardened as it
was and exercised into a mere mass of compact
bone and sinew, it was easy to perceive that
there resided a world of untamed youthful
spirit, and all the stren h of manhood.

He sat a fine black orse, which arched its
neck against the. curb proudly, seemed to be
fighting all the time against the hand which
controlled it with all the elastic strength and
easy viglpr which are natural to twenty years,
put at t ree score and ten seem almost miracu-
ous.

And yet from his thin wrinkled face, his bird-
like hand—for he rode glove]! ss—the aged stoop
of his shoulders, as he bowed over his saddle-
bow, and the snow-white hair which escaped
from beneath his broad-leafed. hat the long
mustache and peaked vandyke bear , all of the
same wintry hue, it was evident that his earth-
ly pilgrimage had been prolonged already be-
yond the term which the Psalmist assigns to
the strongest of the sons cf men.

His dress was a closer fitted sack-she coat
or tunic, barely descending to his sad le, and
buttoned up to his very throat with large jeb
buttons. A broad white band or collar was
folded squarely over it at the neck. and gaVe 8.
singular character, half-clerical, halfvpuritani-
cal. to the figure which was little in keepin
with the keen hard im ressive features, or, Wit
the weapons which 1.0 re. Loose black knee-
breeches, not far different from the trunk-base
of Cromwell’s time, with a. pair of- cavalry
boots equi ped with heavy spurs, and a broad
hrimmed, lab-crowned, black hat completed
his attire. For arms, from his girdle of black
leather there hung: alight English saber with a
steel SCflbl)&l'd and iv handle,»such~ as was

we:  or years spa/rind in his boliiters'a

.: \_., .v .. ‘ - v
 ,>sp,.«,... ; inert. i i. .t. i v ‘ Mr

      

 

I

, . ,~-_...

ric, but he bore neither lance nor lasso, nor
was there any escopeta. at his side.

The young man who accompanied him was a
tall, handsome, powerlul. figure. deep-chested
and thin-flanked, and showmg prodigious owers
both of offense and endurance. His hig gray
hat glittered with massive ornaments or silver;
his velvet jacket was profusely laced with gold,
and the large buckskin pantaloons, open from
the knee downward, were decorated with a
double row of golden filigree buttons, ban in];
like bullets along the seam. His poncho, vi ich
was strapped behind his saddle, was of the ver '
finest texture, and the brightest color: and a l
the weapons which he bore, though in character
and form precisely similar to those of the men,
were of t e finest fabric, and in the best con-
dition.

“Now, padre,” exclaimed the younger “for
the love or God! let us set spurs to our orses
and get the troop forward at a quicker pace.
At this rate, we shall not reach the open ground
before daybreak; and, in that case, they will
have the start of us.”

“Not so, not so, Juan,” replied the old man,
in a clear, hard voice. “ If our information be
correct, and there be a lady with them, as l
doubt not it is, they will have halted for the
night, and the later we come 11 on the ground.
the more chance of finding t em. I know a
little of the habits of these English and American
ladies, for they are pretty much the same, I
fancy. I have seen more than one or two of
them in Spain: and it took as many men to
escort one of them. and wait on her pleasure, as
would have guarded a battery, or a train 01‘
specie. No, no, In lad, we will not blow our
horses;it is the sow thrower who makes the
sure winner.”

They continued peaking as they rode along;
but these were all the words that reached the
ears of the Partisan. Nor more did he require,
however, to inform him of all that he wished
to know. It was their own party of whom the
rancheros were in search, informed probabl bv
an express from Carrern, of the direction w iich
they were supposed to have taken, and ignorant
as yet of the vicinity of the Comanches, who
but rarely advanced so far into the interior.

So soon as the clatter of their passage had
died away into the ordinary silence of the
woods, the Partisan hurried back to join his '
friends, who were awaiting his return in no
small anxiety, at least, not to say trepidation.

“All is well!” he exclaimed as soon as he
came into ear-shot of the little artiy: “all is
well. Better even than I ex  t is Padre
Toronto, and young Juan 9 Alava, with the
best tree I have yet seen of guerrillas. Pretty
men, an well mounted. They are in search of
us, too, having received notice of our bein on
the Erairie, and not knowing anything a out
the omanches.”

“And do you call that good news?” cried
Gordon in surprise.

“ Of course, I do. In the first place, we shall
find the macho ungarrisoned, and little Mar-

uerita at liberty to receive us as she will.

ad in the second—even if they do not meet
the indians, and fall foul of them —they have
got at least a three days’ scout before them.

or this is the last place on the face of the in ide
world, where they would think to look for us;
and, long before the can return, I will have
rifles enough here to eat them into the Bravo,
if they should dare to attack us. But come, let
us move. We are but a mile or two distant
from the macho.” '

No sooner said than done. The hastened
back to the main road, and, relieve now from
the necessity of so much caution, centered for-
ward at a. better pace than the had as yet
ventured on trying. elf an our’s ridm -
brought them to the banks of the rivulet whic
d1v1ded the clear rounds that surrounded the
once splendid esta from the wild forest.

Over the open fields, now all overgrown with
bushes, and overrun .with creeping vines, and
wild flowers, and over the once trim and well-
]:ept gardens now a. rank wilderness of neglect-
ed sweets and unkem t verdure, the cold moon,
now declinin tower the horizon, poured her
slant rays w th a sad melancholy lus9er, a if
she grieved over the desolation of the scene.

Many tall shattered piles. of building, com-
pletely overrun with luxuriant folia e of un-
numbered parqsflsical plants, stood era and
there in the Wide area on read before their
eyes, all silvered at the e ges by the dew '
moonlight; but not a single beam couldfall
upon the one .low 1911er building, which alone
remained habitab em that scene of ruthless de-
vastation so thickly was it overshadowad by
the superb trees which, by their friendly shelter,
had saved it from destruction.

A solitary owl was booting wild and shrill
from one of the ruins, as they rode into what
had once been the great court of the macho,
and paused for a moment to water their horses
at a stone basin in which once a tall fountain
had played brilliantly, but no other sound, he-
tokemng life of man “beast, reached their
cars.

A minute or two afterward, however, as the
beefs of their horses. began to clatter on the
i..'»‘.'l;li'7 L. a term i:.;.i::L. Lit-id: who the still.

 

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ness of the night, and two huge-shoe dogs, of
the far—famed Mexican breed, came unding
out, furious, as. if to attack the intruders.

But the Partisan spoke to them sharply, call-
ing them by their names, and, at the instant,
they ceased haying, and cowered. before his
horse’s feet, fawning and whimpering with de—
li ht, as if rejoiced to welcome an old friend.

hen, as if aroused by the uproar, some one
was heard to stir within the rancho, a light
flashed through one of the easements, which
was immediately afterward thrown open—a
loud voice hailing to inquire who came so late,
and a long glittering musket-barrel being prov
truded in stern menace from the lattice.

“ Friend, friend!" cried the Partisan, in the
Spanish tongue. “It is I, Sanchez; it is Pedro,
the Forester."

“Thanks be to God!" shouted the old man,
who had s oken from within; “ welcome, senor!
Wait till open the door for you.”

The lattice was pulled to, as he ceased speak‘
ing; but they could hear him ballooing from
withinto arouse his mistress and the scanty

household.
Ho! rise, arise! It

 

“ Ho! senorita, senorita!
is he, it is he, who comes with good fortune.
It is he, Senorita Marguerite; he, Pedro, the
Forester, Pedro el Salvador 1"

A moment afterward, the bolts were with-
drawn and the gate thrown open and the
lady with her conductors, entered the ruined
tone 0.

 

CHAPTER XIII.

KARGUERITA.

Timflrst ' ht which met the eyes of Julia
Gordon, as s e crossed the, threshold of the
door, and stood within the hall of that lovely
'dwelling, was the figure of a young, delicate,
tall girl who struck her, at the first glance, as
being_t e very loveliest creature she had ever
lookfd upon. And indeed she was exceeding

ove y.

You might have searched the wide world
over, and scarce found two such beings as those,
thus strangely brou ht together, types of two
different races—m els of two contrasted forms
of beauty—from the extreme east to the furthest

west. ~

Julia Gordon, the perfection of the. glorious,
glowing womanhood of the all-conquering Ans
glo-Norman strain, and Marguerite de Alava,’
of the once mighty Gothic race of Spain.

The two stood, for the moment, struck with
a sort of half-fearful wonder and wild admira-
tion. And, if the Spanish maiden was actually
denied—as if a creature of another sphere had
stood before her, face to face—by the voluptu-
ous outlines of the younr wife’s form. dis

layed as they were by t e the closefltting

dice and light sleeves of her riding—habit; by
the unrival brilliancy of her exquisite oom-
Blexion; by the soft yet pervading radiance of
er beautiful blue eyes; by the rich silky masses
of her disheveled auburn hair, flowing in loose,
long ringlets from beneath the broad brim of
her beaver hat. scarce less did the fair Ameri-
can marvel at the slight symmetry of the Spam-
ish maiden, and the rare beauty of her classic
features.

Like Julia, Marguerite. was far taller than
the majority of her sex. Like J ulia’s her waist
was scarce a span in circumference; her fall-
ing shoulders splendidly arched; her lower
limbs richly developed; but, unlike Julia’s, her
pale, clear, colorless, olive complenon, with-
out a hue of carnation on her cheek yet show-
ing. in its peach-er softness and mellow, golden
tin e the warmth and healthfulness which flll-
ed. er veins; her high, pale forehead, with the
two: arches of her lustrous brows; the lg‘i’ifi,
large, swimming eyes, half-languor and. »
fire, flashing out from beneath the silken fringes
of her deep Jett lashes; the thin, straightclasm
nose; the sma , volu tuously-pouting mouth
shaped like the bow of upid; the softly-rounded
chin—all combined to make up a. picture——
which _nothing earthl could surpass—of the
half-oriental beauty 0 the high race of Spain.

It was clear that she had but an instant start-
ed from her bed, for her small feet, which were
whiten: those of that praised queen whom the
rhapsodist haslmmortalized as the silver-foot-

‘ed,were all unsandaled, and as they reused the
 oft the an“) ted floor, he legion?

as y on as e had been to e o
l the purest alabaster. y
l She WOW 8 long, loose robe cf,white linen,
i with many falling ruffles about the bosom,
, which was out somewhat low, displaying all her
g ivory, swan-like ne"k, and a large rtion of

her maiden bust. N0 corsage or R bodice.

confined the contour of her slender waist, or
controlled the billo play of her supple and
elastic form; but be 0W, a Short pettiooat of
very full black silk was tied tightly about her
. waist, having a deep lace f 3 down
from its up r edge, and race ing but a little

wag below r knees, beneath which the white
as cadres fell in large draperies, deeply
flounced andruflied, quite to her ankles.

Her Exquisite] modeled and fully-rounded
armswere baregnitetothe maiden, but uni.
Mr anthem, nor on her neck or bowm, were

‘ r
\

 

there any ornaments or jewels. unless a rosary
of ebony beads, with every here and there a. sin-
gle brilliant glitter-in among them, supporting
a magnificently scu ptured crucifix 0 gold,
which hung loosely over her shoulders, can be
called an ornament. .

In her left hand she carried a small lamp,
which was the only light in the large apart-
ment; and in her right—strange contrast to her
delicate form and timid, virgin air—there flash-
ed clear in the lamplight the sheathless blade of
a long, keen stiletto. _

She stood for a moment, as I have said,
amazed, and, it would seem, almost awestruck,
by the strange loveliness of her unexpected vis-
itant; but in the next, seein that there was no
danger to be apprehended, s e dropped the (ing-

er uietl upon the table, nigh to which she 1
$2003, set down the lamp beside it, and advanced

with an air of calm, yet courteous dignity to
meet her strange guests.

“I will not ask," she said, in tones breathing
the very soul of harmony, using the pure, Cus-

tilian ton 'ue, “ I will not ask whence you come, ,
beautiful ady, or wherefore, nor of what race 1

you are, for it is night, and there is no dwelling

The Silent Riflenian.

 

near, and you are young and delicate as you are 1

fair, and our wild forests are no place for youth
or beauty. You are welcome, lady, most wel—

come, to the last ruined roof that war has left E

to Marguerite. de Alava.
welome to all the hospitality my poor root can
offer.”

It seemed that she had not distinguished the
words of old Sanchez, when he shouted to arouse

or from her sluinbers; for, as the Partisan ad-
vanced. who had stood hitherto in the back.
ground, and had been concealed by the darkness
which pervaded the whole room, with the ex-
ception of the little space immediately around
the lamp of Marguerite, she started, as if in ter-
ror, at first, and turned as pale as ashes, but the
next moment her cheek, brow, neck and bosom
flushed crimson: nay, her very hands and arms
were incaniadined. even to the very fingler- ends,
as she sprung eagerly forward to greet im

“You! you!” she cried, fervently: “do my
eyes tell me truly! Is it, indeed, you? Lord of
my life! friend of my soul! preserver of my
honor! isit, indeed. you, Pedro el Salvador? Oh,
God be thanked, and Mary, the most holy, that
you are here beneath the roof which, but for
you, would have been new a pile of ashes. Hea-
ven send that you may have come asking some-
thing at my hands. that I may prove the depth,
the everlasting and undying strength, of a poor
Spanish maiden’s gratitude. Oh! am happy—
oh, very, very ha py!”

And, as she spo e, in the intensity of her pas-
sionate feelings, she clasped her snowy arms
about the rough soldier’s neck, and lettin fall
her Madonna-like head on his iron shou ders,
burst into a flood of tears.

“Nay nay l” exclaimed the gallant rover
gently disengaging himself from the innocen
girl’s embrace; “ nay, nay, weep not, sweet Se-
norita; this is no time for tears ”--he s ke in
the Spanish tongue, which he used with uency,
and with a very pure dialect—“ for I have in.
deed come to ask a favor—a favor as great as
the lives of us all!”

“ Ask for my life, rather,” she answered, em-
phatical] , suffering the tears to trickle down

er chee s unneeded, “for it is yours; ask for
my soul! you should have it, were it mine to
bestow: ask for all, except my honor—which I
know to be imposfible.”

“ Imi ossible indeed, Marguerita,” re lied the
Partisan. “ Sup, listen to me, and rst look
upon this beautiful youn woman.”

“She is beautiful,’ re ied Marguerite. with-
out so much as turning er eyes toward Julia
Gordon, and as she spoke, a strange, wild ex-

ression crossed her is features. “She is
utiful; what of her ’ I

“ She is of the race, Marguerite, on earth, the
most hostile to your own—she is an American!
Nay, more; she is the child of a Soldier! the
wife of a soldier! the wife of One of those who
are here to ca the sword into your people’s
ranks—the fire to your people’s dwellin -—to
devastate, perhaggto subjugate. your in l

“ What more on Pedro? You said all that.
when ou 88.1 American, unless, indeed, you
had ded volunteers," she continued, with a
smile half scornful, half sarcastic, “ which she
can scarcely be What more of her, Don
Pedro!”

“ She is a woman, as you see, young, delicate
and beautiful, and bond by her very nature.
She married the choice of her hear .”

“Happy girl!” sighedthe Spanish maiden:
but Pierre proceeded. as if he had not observed
the interruption.

“ And he is a soldier. She left home, friends
wealt rank. luxurious comforts, all that
makes ife most pleasant, to traverse the bowl—
ing forests, and the desolate rdiries, toswim
bridgeless rivers, to sleep beneath the untanted
heavens, to foHOW him she loved, whither his
duty'andhis conntry’sorders called him! She
has been hunted these'three days, in peril such
as woman rarely has encoun ,and home
that ‘ Car-
mshor-e.’ beleagueredbytheterrlbie . a
chess, and, within thehktheur, all but

I y .

\

I . \

Again you are most ‘

umnrelybearitggsedb; :.
su'prned

 

 

   

21

 

 

by the padre’s guerrillas. Had any of these

taken her, you know her fate, Mar erlta.”

“Add one word more, Don P re: say that
she is v our wife!" said the girl, in a sin lai-
tone of elf-resentful vehemence, which ‘erre
did not then comprehend.

“She is the wife of my friend, Lieutenant
Gordon, lady,” he re lied; “no volunteer, las-
sure on, but one of is ’s dragoons.”

“ ut you [are her!” 8 e again exclaimed. ul-
most fiercely scrutinizing her large earm st
eyes, as if she would have read his soul.

“ As my sister, Marguerite." replied the start
soldier, Simply. “But to what tends all lhl: .'
She must die, nor die only, but suffer that whir h
to honorable minds is more dreadful than a
thousand deaths, unless you save her.”

“ I save her—L-I l—he’r whom you love l"

“I should have thought that Would have ban
a cause the more, why you should do so," re-
plied the veteran, who, with the singular sim-
plicity and innocence which formed 21 art of
its character, did not in the least suspec what
was evident enough both to Gordon and to
Julia, the reason of her stran e manner. “ But
1 have erred, it seems, in no ing more than in
my estimate, it would ap ar,” he added, con-
tcmptuously, “of the dept the truth, the ever-
lasting and undying strength of a Spanish mai-
den’s gratitude- come, in friends, I have erred,
it seems, and ed you to. error. Com we
will trust to our swords for safety, or,i we
must needs seek hospitality henceflo we will
seek it in the skin tents of the C( manclies.”

While he spoke thus, the Spanish girl Itood
silent and motionless as a statue, with her fair
neck bent, and her beautiful eyes fixed on
vacancy, with one hand pressed almost consul-
sively upon her heart, and‘ the other hangigg
down listlessly by her side. But when he cees
speaking, she stepped quickly forward, and
caught im by the arm, as he turned to go- and
then it was evident that of all he had said, the
first words on] had struck her ear, or made'an
impression on er mind.

‘ You are right,” she said, in a cold, mourn-
ful voice; “ you are right, Pedro. It is a cause
the more—and I uni—it matters not what! Mea
culpa! men. cal 11 1” she cried, breaking off sud-
dci ly, “pray or me, Holiest Maria; pray for
me!" Then turning to Julie, and taking her
Land, which she raised to her lips, “Pardon
me,” she said “ ardon me, dear lady: but at
times I am half traught, and my mind wan-
(lei's, 1 know not how or whither since—Sines
that day—but he has told you. doubtless. in
one word, you are welcome! You areassafe
as if you were within the temple of your God!
You are alone, you are in danger. he loves you,
and I doubt not you love him; and I, Ma uerita
de Alava, swear it, by all the saints of eaven!
that I will die, before one hair of your head
one nail of your finger be injured! But this,"
she continued, after a moment’s pause, “this is
Eoor hospitality. Without there! Sanchez,

stefania bring lights, and wine, and pile up
the fire: the nights are chilly here among our
forests.” ,

The old shepherd, who had been awaiting her
commands without, marveling evidently atthe
long delay are he was summoned, appeared in-
stantly bearing a pair of tallwcxen candles,
almost torches in size, in two massive candle-
sticks of different patterns, but of great value,
and elaborate antique workmanship. .

A woman, apparently or extreme age, but
still vigorous and active, followed him, carry-
ing a tray, coveredyiih a clean white napkin.
on which was a tell cut‘glass flagon, and several
glasses of various forms and patterns, and a '
plate or two of cakes and sweetmeats.

Meantime the door was closed and secured,
charcoal was supplied bountifully to ilie half-
(xtmguished stove, and in a minute or two the
large room, lately so cavernous and cold, was
filled with a genial warmth, and illuminated to
its remotest angles by the soft light of the large
candles , ' '

It took less time to eflect this change than it
has taken to describe it; and that shorttiine~
was consumed in whispered conversation be-
tween the two young women, and the exchange
of a nick glance or two between the Partisan
and ordon, the latter of whom clearly under-
stood a part—though he was .far from comp».
bending as he fancied he did-of that stran
by-play which had preceded their late welcome.

The Partisan then left the room (or a minute
or two, to 'w: some instruction to the dra-

gons; for, m the present .Cf'iSls Gordon had
elegated the command to him;wbilethe oung~
husband drew near to the stove unwil ng to
(gait Julia and more. than half suspicious of,
t 8 Spanish lady’s motives.
girl’s eye fell upon

so soon, however, as the
her own scanty attire, revealed as items now
by the bright luster of the candles,.sbe, rted,
as if she had but the instant reins bow
slenderlv she was clad; blushed crimson, and

raising th her hands to conceél her ~in:L
covered in turned quickly. and fled with a
swift step hlillgeiisnner chamber. , J "
'.“Stl‘an ' very mm ulia, ex—'
claimedt young dreaoon. u’hiszyaaftar
followi M flight, return to tho

innocent and gentle features“ hislovm lovely

. \
l

x, ‘
v

 

 

.unaix .. mm...

 

 

22

The Silent Rifleman.

 

 

wife. “She is the stran est girl I ever saw.
She is either mad or wicked—if not both.”

“Not one of the three,” answered his young
wife, with a gay, artless smile. “Ithought

on were a better udge of women’s manners,
1E1th of women’s minds. She is in love; that is
a l

“ No that is not all, J ulia,” replied Gordon,
“ and I might retort your hint, but that I know

on are too quick not to have seen that sheis
Jealous, also.” And there was something in the
tone, and in the expression of his eye, as he
spoke, that Seemed to inquire, “and is she so
'without a cause?"

“Jealous of me, Arthur?” she exclaimed,
blushin deeply as she said thesa words; and he
observ the blush but observed not the in-
dignant tone in whiéh she spoke.

‘ Is that a blush of consciousness, or of shame,
Julia?” he said, after a moment’s pause, gazing
at her sternly.

“ 0f indignation 1” she answered, vehemently
her soft blue eyes flashing fire as she answers
him. “ Of indigation, sir, that any man should
dare use such words, entertain such thou ht of
me——my God! my God! of me—who have eft—
but it matters not!” she added, checkin her ex-
postulation, and speaking firmly in t t low
concentrated tone which shows far more the
depth of wounded feelin than the angriest and
loudest veliemence. “ t matters not, sir; for
you’ are no more capable of judging the honor
of an honorable man, than of estimating the
love of a true woman. Yes, Arthur Gordon,
she is both in love and jealous. I saw that at a
glance; and I will tell you something more; she
is not jealous withouta cause. Is your glance
answered? For the man whom she loves, does
not love her, and does love me l”

“ By heaven! this is too much 1” cried Gordon
stamping his foot furiously on the ground, and
grasping the hilt of his saber; “must I bear
this? Are my hands tied?”

“You must! They are!” she replied, curtly
and sternly. “ This, and more, you must bear.
He loves me assionatel , madly—with a love
that I fear Will last out is life! nay! I believe
as you never did, never could love woman! He
loved me from the very moment he first set
eyes on me; it was long ere he knew it—he
scarce knows even now how he loves me!”

"As a sister, doubtless!” answered Arthur
Gordon, with a sneer' yet so far now impressed
by her manner, that he was satisfied there was
neither ile in her words, nor guilt in her
heart, though he could not comprehend to
what she was coming. .

“ No, sir, Not as a sister—as a saint, rather!
As a zealot adores the saint of his devotion—as
a poet adores the creation of his fauc , passion-
ately sir, at which on cannot un erstand—
pureiy! 9 would '9, air, to my love'
yet he would die twenty times, nay, he would
see me dead, rather than see me, much less ren-
der me, a thin unworthy of his level and I
would rather the, Arthur Gordon, than have
him fancy for a moment, as you fancy now,
that I could love him, could entertain one pass-
ing feeling toward any man that were uncon-
sonant with honor as a woman, with duty as a
wife; Now are you answered?” .

The young man ke not, stirred not, an-
swered not, even wi the mute Ian age of the
eye. He stood abashed, cr len, dumb
before her. Conviction was borne in upon his
soul b every word she uttered. Confusion
smote in as the false accuser; shame and re-
morse held him silent.

“Your silence speaks,” she said, after gazin
in hisface nearlya minute; “I am answere .
Now listen to me, Arthur Gordon. I trust, I
know, I thank my God! I am too proud, if not
too pure, ever to do the thin that should make
me know what shame is. ut, mark me; if
there be aught on earth which alienates love,
it is to be she ected of not loving. If there be
aught on cart that engenders evil thoughts in
the heart, it is to be suspected ca ble of evil
thinking. If therebeau ht on cart that makes
a woman doubt herself, t is to be doubted by
him who should sustain her; if once she doubts
herself, others will soon have cause to doubt, to
despise her. If I were not so proud, I should say
to you, therefore, ‘ Make me not that which you
would not have me!’ I urn too proud, too
strong, too confident in the right to say so. But
I do say, ‘ Make me not scorn you. cast you away
from me hate you.’ I could do all those things
Arthur dordon, and, though they kill me, I wi
do them, if ever more I hear from your tongue
or see in your eye a doubt of my honor—of my
love. I have said enough—shou d have said too
much had I not seen in you aforetime the germs
of this folly. which, if not nipped in the bud
will make ylou, will make both of us indeed
wretched. ow I Will go'and join our hostess;
and do you seek the Partisan and decide upon
our future movements.”

He raised his eyes slowly to meet her glance,
and as he met it no longer fiery or indignant,
but full of confidence and love, a faint smile
played blazer his lips. and be stretched out his

arms timidly toward her,w1ththisone
I0 .
u ,9

\

1'" ‘ ,*n : '1,

- self.

 

  ,‘ra-Er‘tru: -» u.- . . «a;

but fell on his bosom and kissedhim tenderly;
and then withdrawing herself gently from 
arms, said, with her own bright, beaming
“3311?— go— ill bo d

ow 0 our way, 5 y y—an
beware how yfiu th that noble man perceive
your fall .”

“ He should not, for my life l” answered the
young dragoon, as with a light heart, a firm
step, and a mind perfectly reassured and easy,
he went forth by one door into the court-yard as
tsihiir passed by the other into Marguerita’s bou-

o .

 

CHAPTER XIV.
ran PARTING SUPPER.

WHEN Arthur Gordon issued out into the
quiet court-yard, he found the Partisan tran-
3pilly superintendin the pre tions of the

agoons, who had a ready li ted a fire near
the fountain and having ru bed down their
charg‘ers, which were busy about better proven-
der t an they had enjoyed for many a day,
Kiwi; now making their arrangements for t e

% I have taken all necessary precautions” he
said, as the young lieutenant approached im.
“ Your lady s baggage and her palfrey must be
left here, and the atter will be tended by my
good friend Francisco here, who has romised
to look after her. The spare dragoon orse has
been shot already by my orders. I have re-
duced your men to t e lightest marching order,
and we must be off within two hours.”

“ What are your plans? Are we all to move
togetherl—cannot one of us, you or I, or one of
the men, at least, remain to protect her!"

“ Im ‘blel nay, it were worse than impos-
sible—at were actual, utter madness! Without
me, on could not find your way ten miles, nor
wo (1 you know which way to turn in the for-
ests through which I shall guide you. Without
you, the dragoons would turn mutinousl Even
now they are half sullen, and disinclined to
obey me. Moreover, one man, or ten, for that
matter, would be powerless to defend her, while
their resence would but breed suspicion and in-
duct} iscovery.” ht ” _d th

suppose you are sai e young
soldier, musing deeply. rigY’et it is dreadful—
d‘ifigdfui to leave her here alone and undefend-
e

“Undefended! I say nay to that. She is
better defended by the truth and loyalty, and

titude of that (young Spanish maiden, than

y a score of broa swords.

“I do not know,” said Gordon, pondering-
“ I am not so sure of that truth and loyalty of
which you speak.”

“ I will pledge my honor! I would stake my
soul upon them !” said the Partisan, eagerl .

“Ayl” answered the young oficer, st' half
abstracted, and busy about his own thoughts—
“ ay! but you are by no means clear-sighted—”

‘ Ii—I not clear-Si hted?” exclaimed the Par-
tisan, actually startl out of his wanted gravity
of manner. “If not I, Ishould like to know
who the devil is clear-sighted! Why, I can see
as far with my naked eye as you can with your
finest glass; and my rifle—”

“ Is as true as your heart, Partisan,” inter-
rupted Gordon, laughing in spite of the gravity
of his own heart and the dark aspect of affairs
around them; “ but that is not what I meant at
all. Imeant lylpur clear-sightedness as to wo-
men. You ow absolutely nothing about
them. You have not seen what all of us saw at
a glance. This pretty Marguerita loves you,
Pierre, and—”

“ Loves—me I”

“ Ay! with the whole depth, and strength and
intensity of a Spanish woman’s heart. Ayl
and as every Spanish woman does, who loves at
all, she loves you almost to distraction, and is
jealous of 3 on, almost to madness.”

“ You are mad, I believe,” replied Pierre
Delacroix, gravely. “ I never heard such non-
sense in all my l is. Why, I am old eno h to
be her father and rough enough to be a r.
How the devil should any woman, let alone one
so young and soft, and beautiful, love such an
one as Q And jealous, tool I should like to
know of whom she can be jealous.”

“ Of Julia.” ,

“0f your wife? Oh! you are mad. Why,
she knows she is your Wife. I .told her so my-
You' will make me mad next. W1! .
never spoke ten words to the girl in my life.

“ I don’t care if you had never spoken one. I
tellI yiou”Julia knows it as well, sees it as plainly
as o.

“ Knows whatl—sees what?”

“Knows and sees that Marguerite. do Alava
loves you, and is jealous of her.”

“I suppose y’gu will tell me next that I am
in love With th of them, and both of them
with me!” cried the old soldier, who was now
becomin half indignant. “ By the Lord! I
believe t at you are makin mecke of me.”

“ On my honorl my friend. it is not so.
Ipray on, I beseech you, hear me. We'liave
the his .985 trust, the most unbounded faith in
your modem, gm bravery, your honor, our
sagaoity, inso .as meagre concerned; at I
doubt your perspicacity'wlth women. on it
amthat-the lam remand is jealous of

I

 

 

my wife—whom, as God is in
trust to your care, unhesitat g, to ide and
guard her all alone, through mi es an miles of
wilderness! Now, rant that this is true—can
she be trusted? W1 1 not her jealousy of Julia
outweigh her titude to you? Will she not be-
tray her to ri herself of a rival?”

‘ I don’t know,” answered the Partisan
gravely, with the air of a man on whose mind
some new li ht was dawnin . “I know nothin
of the mind of woman. 13 she is capable o
loving me herself, and of suspecting me of lov-
in our wife otherwise than as a sister,I should
t she must be capable of anythm .’

in Gordon could scarce re rain from
15118 .118 at the singular simplicity and want of
comprehension on the part of one, in other re-
spects, so shrewd and so sagacious. But he
could only answer—“Your own sincerit and
virtue, Pierre, blind you, it seems, to h f the
Wickedness and folly of this world. For the
rest, women often see further into women’s
hearts than men.”

“And does Julia Gordon, does your wife see
this-whichryou think you see~—in the heart of
Marguerite

“ Pierre Delacroix she does.”

“ Then ask her if she thinks her worthy to be
trusted. I’ll none of it—I think you are all mad
together.”

“That advice, at least, I will follow,” said

judge, I would

Gordon. “They have been alone together now
nlearly’an hour. Letus go in and speak with .
t em.

And as he said the words, the door opened
and the old shepherd made his a pearance and
called on them to enter, for t e supper was

served.

rlI‘he_ instantly obeyed the summons, chiming
as it id with their previous intention, and in a
moment were “gain in the presence of their
fair hostess, and er no is beautiful guest.

Both the young women had altered their
dress, the Spanish girl having arra ed herself
in the uliar and becoming garb 0 her coun-
try, black from head to foot, with the high
comb and flowing veil, silk petticoat and lace
mantilla, and all that beseemed a maiden of
hi h birth and breeding; while Julia had mere-
?er aid aside her riding hat and re-adjusted her

ordered ringlets. Both looked, however, sur-
passingly beautiful, and it might well have been
a matter of doubt, which bore away the bells
gletho'iighso different in character and style 0

an y.

It was a‘sin ular scene. The large marble
paved unfurnis ed hall, with its unadorned
plaster walls, and the great black oaken beams
overhead, without a curtain to the tall tase-
ments, or a carpet on the marble floor, would
have been the ve picture of desolation and
even poverty, had it not been for the yly col-
ored cloaks and blankets, the plumed fists, and
glitterin wea us, the silver-plated saddles
and polis ed br dles which hung here and there
from the lar sta -ant!ers attached to the
heavy cistsw ich up eld the roof. Even more
than t ese. however though they flashed and
flickered merrilyV in the red light of the charcoal
stove, in the ellow blaze of the waxen torches,
and in the p e beams of the new setting moon,
all these strangely contrasted, did the supper

! table and its appendages give an appearance of

comfort, almost of wealth and luxury, to what
had been otherwise most bare and barren.

The board, which was large enough to accom-
modate ten or twelve persons, was spread with
damask of unsullied brightness; the forks, the
candlestick the covers, were all of massive
silver: the was all of the finest quality, and
Spanish wme was displayed on the table, and
several chargers smoked with the favorite of na~
tional dishes, while bread of ivo whiteness
and fruits of many kinds, choice an rarein our
northern climes—thin s in ordina use—were
piled in pyramids on p ates of gilde silver.

In strange contrast to this appearance of so-
lidity and wealth, were the scanty costumes, the
unshodden feet the age, the decrepitude, and
the'tlzlverty oght‘hilaatsvtvohservitorf,tvgho now alone
wai u n e en-ess o e once roud
house of B2 Alava. p

But not more_proudly. nor with a loftier and
more stately dignity of air and as ct, could
\the courtliet senora of that house ave wel-
comed ests to her board in the palmiest days
of M 00. than did the last heiress of their
fallen fortunes, but still famous name, demean
herself toward her su pliant visitors.

To. Julia, indeed, is e was now all blandness.
Her manner to her was more than kind. It was
even sisterly. The Partisan she treated as an
old and valued friend, and Gordon as an honored
stranger. But no person who beheld her on that
evening domg the honors of her house and table,
could have suspected for a moment that she
was aware of the many sad deficiencies which
were but too apparent in the whole menu e;
much less that she felt herself in some sort a-
graded as the scion of a ruined house, as the
child of a half-conquered country, entertaining
the sons and daughters of a weal hier and more
fortunate land, the enemies of her race, the sub-
5 ators of her people.

are was none of the wild fiery vehemenee
mw ushermaaer which hadhee‘n seamen

A ‘ \ ‘

 

 

mm“;

 

 

 .mmm,thatmouusnc hundred

 

,~- :- a...”

The Silent Rifleman.

23.

 

 

on the first entrance of her visitors. If she had
not subdued, she had at least controlled her feel-
ings, and if she were but playing 8- PB-I‘ty She
was playing it at least with consummate energy
and s '

General conversation there could, of course,
be none between persons who had, save two,
never met before, and who had scarce a feeling
or a thought in common. .They. spoke, there-
fore, of the chances and penis whichit had been
Julia’s lot to run within the last few da 5: and
here Marguerite, although she pretende not to
feel aught but detestation for the war itself
contem t for the alleged causes of that war, an
bitter itter animosity toward all those that
waged it, spoke feelingly, and cordially, and
generously to her guest. _

To some vague words which fell from the li s
of Gordon touching the probabilities of an ear y
peace, she replied nicklyz.

“Never, never, enor Lieutenant—you know
it and I know it—your people never turn an
eye or a thought backward, and mine will never
yield an inch! You may butcher us all with
your terrible artillery—you may sweep us all

from the face of God’s earth, but you can never i

conquer us! Who ever yet conquered a Spanish
people? What the great captain of the world—
the greatest of ten centuries, could not accom—
glish with his hundreds of thousands in the Old

pain, you with your tens of thousands will 'fail
to do in the new. You may make our cities into
heaps of ruins, our plains into chamel houses!
may make solitude and call that ‘ Peace’ but
you will never make us slaves. But am
wrong,” she added in a minute, “I am very
wrong to speak of these things. This is one of
those short, hapfiy moments, moments of peace
and pleasure ca ed from the midst of war and
misery; one of those moments of chivalrous and
courteous feelino' even between mortal foes
which makes ustknow and feel that even in all
his vices man has something of good and god-
like—that even in all its horrors, life, even life
in warfare, has something good and noble.”

She gaused, and filling a cut-glass goblet with
fine 01 wine of Xeres, she raised it to her lips,
and barely touchin it with them, passed it to
Pierre, bowing her end and so ing solemnly:
“And now in test of my ood aith to on and

ours, I drink to you. on Pedro, w 0 first

light me the lessons that even mortal enemies
may have courtesy and even Americans show
mercy.”

The blood rose hot to Gordon’s check, as she
uttered those proud words; but she was a wo-
man and his tongue was tied—his hostess and he
was bound to silence. The Partisan, however,
bowed his head and drank the wine in silence,
gmhen he had finished the draught, he said,

“i trust that time, dear lady, will teach us
all much that we know not now. Even by such
encounters men learn to rize each other as foes
worthy of their steel. (1 it may be even of
this cruel war we may be rendered better friends
hereafter.”

“ Cruel war!” she replied, “cruel war, in-
deed! But I think you know not how cruel.
It is not only that you can uerors you foreign-
ers yourselves are cruel us, but that you
make us Mexicans cruel to one another. Know
you that for this thing which I have done this
night, my life, and my brother’s life, and
the lives of all our kin are forfeit—nay, but the
lives of every servant of my house from the
old man of a hundred to the babe that was
born yeterday. Such is the roclamation of
Camera. and to the letter wil it be enforced
883 all those who harbor, or protect, or
feed or succor an American!”

“bi-eat God! and have I brought this upon
thee, Marguerite?”

“ I thank God that you have,” she answered;
“for thus only can I prove to you that I am in-
deed rateful.”

“ o! no! it is impossible,” said Gordon.
“ He may threaten such things, but he dare not
903213“: them’.”h “ th. k

‘1 yet 8 eanswered cold! me in s
I have heard that such is the lawybf war, and
whether it be or no, it is a just law! Death to
“‘9 10° W139 treads, arms in his hands upon .the
9011 0' M92190, and tenfold death to the traitor
who lends him countenance!”

Her beautlful brow was knitted fiercelyas she
uttered those strong words with fiery vehemence;
her eye seemed to flash lightning, and. she hit
her iP t4111 the blood almost sprung beneath
the ressure of her ivory teet .

T e Partisan gazed at her silently for a little
space, and sadly; and when he again addressed
her, it was in a. smothered voxce and with a
quivering lip. .

“And I have brought this doom on thee;
and thou art a. traitress, Marguerita?”

“A traitress to my count , ay! or to my
country's rulers! but to my cart, to my con.
science, to in faith, true as the truest patriot!
Here, not to a traitress, were blacker shame
than to be a traitor, such as our Arnold.”

“ And will they indeed on orce such sanguin-
ary edicts?’ asked Gordon, eagerly.

Elston,” she answered. “It was woe one
hour before your horses trod the pavement of

x

‘ .

{horse went forth, with my own brother at
, their head, Juan de Alava, and the old hero
, Padre. Their errand was, first to make prison-
} ers of you, who now sit as friends around the

table, where they supped at nightfall; and,

second, to wreak the Von cones of this law on
, certain wretches who ave_ supplled your
‘ generals with food, alld golded your men
i through our country.” _

“And had they not done so," said Gordon,
gravely, “our generals would have burned
their houses, and driven off their herds.”

“Even such a thing is war!” said Marguerite;
“ a war at least of invasion !”

But Julia, who had been listening intently to
every word that had passed, now arose calme
to her feet, and said, in a low, determined
tone:

“ Let us go forth! Let us go forth if it be to
certain death! This doom Will not l bring on
any house on any head that protects me! Let
us go fort , Partisan, I say! I will not tarry
here, let what may come of it!”

But Marguerite sprung up yet more earnest-
ly, and cried:

“ Hear me! Hear me! You must tarry
now; for if evil be. that evil is already done!
For you to fly hence, now, is to make capture
certain; an of capture must come discovery,
and of discovery—death~crime! The crime-—
already is committed; already are all our lives
forfeit! Add not your destruction to my
ruin—or, rather, by your destruction, make
not my ruin certain. ]Speak for me, good Don
Pedro; speak for me! y friend, my pieserver,
speak for me! Am I not right? 0 I not
speak truly?”

“She does, indeed,” replied Pierre mournful-
g. “I have done much amiss in this, but of

eaven’s truth I thought not of it. But when
she calls upon me th I must reply, she does,
indeed, speak trul . rdon, your wife must

here, close- idden; to move her hence
were to destroy both! But we must go hence,
instantly! I command here, and I say, instant-
ly, by heaven! Our only hope is to bring force
enough to save them both, and I will do it, or
my name is not Pierre Delacroix.”

‘ Bring force? what force, Don Pedro?” asked
the irl. “ An American force, do you mean?”

“ do mean it, Marguerite.”

“ Then you must swear that they shall neither
draw a sword, nor fire a shot, except in self-de-
fense, or in her defense, from the hour when
the shall follow you to the rescue until the
she I be safe within their lines at Monterey. t
is thence that you will bring them up.”

“nIt is! I will swear it!’ said the Partisan,
coo .

“ You will swear it, upon your honor?”

“As a soldier, and a man, upon my honor!”

“ I am content- I will rd her as my sister;
as my life! No harm s all come to her, save
through my life! You shall find her safe when
you return, or l{Ben shall find us to ether!”

“Ha pen w t may, for this ad will bless
you, arguerita.” _

“And will you sometimes think—sometimes
pro. for me?”

“, will think of you to my dying day—I will
pray for you; love—”

“ Love!” she exclaimed, again blushing fiery
red. “Love me! No, no! that never, never
can be!” _

And, breaking of, without giving him a
chance to reply to her, she hastened across the
room to the place where Gordon and Julia
were conversin earnestly, and she half tearful-
ly together; an laying or hand lightly on the
young wife’s shoulder, said to her tenderly: ,

“And will you trust yourse , when your
friends, and be .you love, are gone, with poor
Mar erital"

“ I would with him," sheanswered, enthu-
siastically, casting one arm over Gordon’s
shoulder- and painting with the other hand to
Pierre, e added: “or with;him, and you know
how he is to be trusted.”

“Thank ou. thank you, dear lady,” she re-
plied, claspmg her in her arms affectionately,
and kissin her brow as she mi ht have done a.
child’s. ‘ Your trust shall not edeceived.” ,

Then she turned round to Gordon and con-
tinned:

“And will you trust her with me! You—
who must love her so tenderly—for whom she
has dared and done such beautiful, brave things?
Will you leave her in in charge, so youn , so
beautiful, so tender? \ on, her young us-
bandl” ‘

“ I will—I will," answered the soldier; but his
voice faltered, and sounded hoarse and husky
as he did so. ‘ I Will sis-indeed I have no choice;
and may God so d with you as you are true
to her or false.” ‘

“ I false! I false!” she replied, hastily—almost
fiercely. “ But let that pass. Dotyou can goo
trust her to me, willingly, freeslg, earlessly ’

“Not fearlessly; not feel-1e . How could
I leave her fearlessly? Freely I o, and willing-
ly, as Heaven hears me! for he has told me of
you;” and he pointed to the Partisan; “has

 

pled his bagel; for  
“ ve ou esa . Pia-r. .
derly. ‘ Have you! t  well done.

Your-“honed: safe, Pedro!" .
'  ‘7 _'/ ' 

 

'dev—huommoawmdwm

“I know it," he said, loomily. “I know it,
Marguerite. Yet, I thin we shall never meet
again ” he added, in a whisper.

“ e shall—we shall meet again!” she ex-
claimed, almost triumphantly. “If not on
earthw-there, there where there are no wars,
and no enemies—w ere we shall part no more
forever!”

“Amen!” re lied Pierre. “God
111% meet both ere and hereafter.”

are are scenes of mortal sorrow, mortal
agony, which no pen save that of inspiration
can describe adequately. That which ensued
was one of those; and, like the Greek painter of
old, we will draw the val] of silence over that
which speech cannot portra .

Two hours later, and the horse-tramps of the
dragoons had died away in the distance, and
Julia had wept herself into forgetfulness of her
sorrOWS on the bosom of Marguerite.

grant we

 

CHAPTER XVI. ‘
JUAN nil: ALAVA.

THE morning which followed the departure of
Pierre Delacroix and his companions from the
ruined rancho, dawned as serene and gentle as
the waking of a new-horn child. The sun was
not yet up above the tree-tops, which surround-
ed, at a short distance, the lowly dwelling~house
of Marguerite; but though a soft blue shadow
still lay over the deep greenwood and rich,
barky thickets of the garden, and though the
arches of the forest were filled with a thick
mist, the cloudless sk above was resplendent
with golden luster. T e air was vocal with the
song of birds, and the soft music of a distant
waterfall came gratefully to the ear, blent with
the fitful murmur of the breeze among the
billowy branches.

Such were the sounds which hailed Julia, as
she awoke from her slumbers: and for a little -
while, as she lay in that half conscious state
which will sometimes intervene between perfect
sleep and rfect wakening, accustomed as she
had been or weeks to the sounds of the forest,
she fancied that she I? in the little tent which
had so long been her welliiailg—perha 3 dream-
ed that her young husband e t besi 6 her.

Suddenly she stretched on her hand, and
feeling that she was alone, starled at once from
her also with a. little cry, and sat up in bed,
thoroug ly aroused. It was a minute or two,
however, before she could sufllciently collect
her thoughts to be satisfied as to where she was,
or how she came thither. It was not merely
the bewilderment which often comes upon us, .
when awakening for the first time in a strange

lace, uncbnscious of the chan e of scene, for

ere, as she looked around the c amber, her eye
failed to assist her memory. ,

So short a time had she remained awake on
the previous night, when she retired to rest
after the departure of her friends, worn out by
fatigue and sorrow, that she had in fact scarcely
surveyed the room at all; and now she recog-
nized none of its features, although there was
something half-familiar in it to her senses, as if
at some time or other she had seen itin a dream.
For in truth it was the very chamber which the
Partisan had described to horas that wherein
he had first beheld Marguerite. de Alava amid
the din and desolation of warfare.

Now all was calm, and cool, and silent,“-
cept for the soft and pleasant sounds which I
have mentioned; yet, in all respects else, the
room and its arrangements were unaltered.
The massive sculptured bed on which she la ,
with the light draperies of gauze festooned l’n
graceful curves around her; the exquisitely-
carved crucifix of ebony and ivory in a. niche at
the bed’s head, and in a. smaller one, below it,
the vase of holy water; the fine old paintin in
rich frames upon the walls; the mint ungua-
ly-formed chairs and settees; 19 tables with

istorted legs relics of a past age all met her
eyes as something which s e must ve seen he- '
fore, though where, she knew not.

There were books, too upon the table, and
instruments of music, on im ements of female
indust , and vases of fresh owers, filling the
air Wit a pleasant erfume, and fifty‘other
thin which indica the habitual resence of
a raged and cultivated woman. t must 1 ct
be supposed that this uncertainty continued
Ion —-not so long even as it has taken us to do. .
acr it—nor was it altogether an absolute
doubt, so much as a vague unconsciousness of
reality, which gradually yielded to the powers
of memory. '

Before She 1116, however fully 0011 ed her-
self, a soft voice was heard singing wit out, ii
a soft melanchol tone, the exquisite Cid
Spanish stmin “ o Verde Rio Verde,” ecu:-
memoraflve of the death of brave Alonzo (‘o
Saa‘vedra in a. Wild‘fora with the Moor vi hich
has been_rendered into gush, scarcely inferior
to the original in melody and pathos:

“Gentle river ntle rlv -
to! Whanksgemstflnegdwnhgmm'“
There was a singular pathos in the accents 'and
expression of the singer, nor is it by any means
tanks...“ as. “m "mum-assume

p .
bravesth

24.-

heen well-nigh choked with native cania e,'

suggested themselves to the singersoforcib y,
as to render accents nuiurally soft and pathetic,
plaintive in the extreme, and full of deep mel-
iiiicholy.

A moment afterward the song ceased, the
door flew open and Mar uerita de Alava enter-
ed with her superb blac hair tightly braided
round her brow her slender girlish form lighth
arrayed in a white linen dress, and her sma
white feet unslippered. She carried in her
hands a little tray with chocolate and sweet-
meats, and little rolls of snow-white bread and
cool water from the spring; and, as she set
them on the table, she turned with a sad smile
toward the bed, saying:

“You must pardon me, lady, if I perform
these little offices myself and intrude my ser-
vices u n you, for the fortunes of war have
impose the task of such light labors on me,
happier than many of my sisters, who are re-
duced to utter penury and ruin."

“ Pardon me rather, dear Marguerita—for so
you must let me call you—that I permit you
thus to wait on one who is so far in every way
beneath you. Except," she added with a win-
ning smile, “that in all times and countries the
character of a suppliant has been invested with
a sort of mournful dignity." '

“ Is it so, lady?-—is it so, indeed?” cried Mar—
guerite, half-eagerly, half-sorrowl'ully. “No!
no! I fear me, such things are but the generous
coinings of the poet’s brain. Who ever heard,
who ever felt, ever revered the dignity of a su
pliant nation? But no! no!” she continued, in
a prouder strain, with her pale cheek kindling
as she spoke: “ fallen she ma be, vanquished,
down-trodden, overrun! but xico is not, nor
never shall be suppliant!"

“Alas!” said Julia, deeply moved by the
constant pre-occupation of Marguerita’s mind
by the thought of her country’s sorrow, which
became but the more perceptible the longer they
were in company. ‘ Alas! that I could con—
sole you! but in such cases consolation is insult!
and yet I would pray you to believe that there
are noble, and just, and wise hearts among my
countrymen, who see, who deplore. in this sad
war the shame not of Mexico, but of America—
who abhor the laurels stained with the blood of
weak though desperate valor! I would tell you .
that even among the soldiery whose swords
have hewed the deepest into your steadfast
ranks, there are more than a few who distrust
the justice of their country’s cause, while they
maintain their country’s honor—who, while
may exult in the trained valor of our armies,
bear honest testimony to the stron defense,
the unflinching valor, the impassive dihood
of yours!”

" You are generous to say so, lady; and why
should I not believe you? There are good men,
and wise, and brave in all nations, as there are
base, and bloodthirsty, and brutal. But, be-
lieve me, it is easier to be generous to a down-
fallen enemy than to a conquering foe. But
some, will you not rise and break your fast?—
und then, if you lease, we will go out and I
will show on w at.was once a very lovely
rarden, an now is a very lovely wilderness, and
initiate 1‘i'ou into the mysteries of our every-day

life in exico.”
“ But may I not ak further with you on this
sub ect?” asked J u , as she arose and proceeded

to t e ordering of her simple toilet. “ It seems
to me. that even if such subjects be painful, we
get rid of prejudices by conversing on them,
and perhaps learn to love each other the better
épliz-t th’at we have once been opposed in hos-
y.
“It may be so, where the foes are evenly
matched, and the fight fairly fought. It may
he'so With the victor s thoughts toward the van-
quished. But believe me, the outraged, tram—
pled, beaten victim never can learn to love the
and, though he may fawn on it which smote

him. You may have learned to think better of

,us, lady, because I have heard tell that you

deemed us a poor, barbarous, base, cowardly
and cruel people; that you believed our conquest
would be bloodleSS, our subjugation easy and
complete. And 10! it has cost you the best
blood of your land; and, thou h beaten atoll
points. we are not, nor ever sh be subj ated.
Extirpate our race. annihilate our blood, aiolish
our faith and our tongue, you may, perhaps;
but in centuries, not years. Subjugate us, you
can never! Who ever saw a people subjugated
that were resolved to be free?

“ But are you free Mar ueri'ta? I have heard
much of the oppression 0 your military rulers,
or the tyranny or your great nobles, of the
in sexy and degradation of your pm”

“ Dreams, ladyl-dreams or faghoodsl Our
prople have all the freedom they desire all they
are fit for. And, it not, where is the sl’ave who
would not rather be a slave under his native
lord than a. freeman b compulsion of a foreign
ruler? No, dearest y, no. Those cries those
pretcxts are the old legend—one and all—the
wolf's complaint against the lamb. The lea of
the oppressor ever
fraud. Andin

 

’our

,Carrera were anfiaged

The Si}??? Riflensn-

  

  

 

very existence of small countries: but lady. God

has judged them for it, and will judge thmn ,

forever!’

“ We believe this."

“So do we, lady. So do we, also, to men;
but not to nations! To nations, there is no here-
after; for nations, there is no world to come. I
have heard wise men of my country say, long
years ago—ay, I have heard that it was said,
years and years are you or I were born, that for
the cruelties of our race, in past time, to the

cor Indians—for the atrocities of Cortez, of

izarro and their SpaniardHicfl would repay
to us vengeance an hundred fold; and loithe
beginning of the payment! Lady, I have lived
to see our fields untilled, our houses heaps of
ruins. our rivers red with blood, our brothers
slaughtered iii the field. our sisters outraged in
their dwellings! 1 look to see our cities level
with the ground, or worse: yet occupied, in-
habited by the invader; our altars desecrated;
priests banished from their shrines; our
faith, our language, nay, our God roscribed;
and our peOple, the last remnant 0 our race,
fugitives on the hills, dwellers with the Wild

out and wolf, even as the Aztecs were of old!

look to see all this. But is our nation guiltless?
I have heard say that your Puritans, your Yan-
kees of'New England, hunted your red-men
with as keen a sword as our believers; that they
burnt whole tribes in the night—exterminated
a whole race from the very face of the green
earth! I have heard say that your government
does so still; that the Indian has no rest, day‘ or
night, but still goes westward, westward like
the sun, like him to set at last in, the western
sea! Lady, I have heard tell of whips, and
chains, and slavery, in your proud land of free
dom! And, for theSe things, the day shall come
when God shall judge you, as he now judges us!
May He he merciful in that day to you and
yours, as He has in this trial to me and mine;
and may He in that do raise u to you and
yours a. defender and a avior— Will not say

from in people.”

“ As has done now—as he has done now!”
cried Julia, burstin into a fit of passionate
tears, “in on who us protect me.”

“ I thou t not of that, dear lady.” _

“Julia! ulial” she cried, imploringly, ‘.‘ Will

you not call me J ulia? I called you Marguerita,
dear, dear 'Marguerita." .

“J ulia—dear Julia, then.” replied the Spanish
girl, soothinzly: “believe me, thought not to
wound you, but my heart bleeds, my heart burns
when I think of in country and her wrongf.
Oh God!” she add ,stamping her foot on It 9
marble floor with a stran e reyulsmn of feehn ,
and clenching her smal delicate hand, “0 ,
God, that I were a. man i”

Julia’s flesh quivered as she heard her speak,
and she felt that singular sensation of the hair
creeping as it were, and bristling on the head,
which any sudden rousin of the nobler senti-
ments at times produces in high and nervous
natures, and her throat seemed to. rise and
swell, and her eyes were filled With tears,
thou h she wept not.

“ nd what could you do, Marguerite," she
said softly, “if you were a man! What could
the bravest man that ever lived do for your
country? How-can you dream that were you
a man you could save her?”

“I could die for her!” answered the other,
still full of vehemence and over-wrou ht feel—
ings, when, at the very instant of her _ery and
91 uent speech she started, shivered in every
lim , turned paler than the drifted snow, and
seemed to be on the int of falhng.

“Madre de Dios ’ she exclaimed, in a low
wh' r, “heard you that?” .

“ card I what?" cried Julia, terrified beyond
expression at the sudden change of her tone,
manner, and countenance; “I hear nothing but
the wind, the birds, the waterfall!”

“There—there again!" said the other, stand—
ing erect and motionless, with her finger up-
raised, her head thrown a little backward. her

.lips apart,‘her nostrils dilated, her eyes fixed

on vacancy. “ There—there it is again—they
are coming !”

“In God’s name, what do you hearl—who
are comin i” almost shrieked Julia, so fear-
full were er nerves excited and unstrung.

“ hat bugle—that Mexican bugle!” answered
Marguerite. . .

At the same moment the long wailing note
of a bugle rose faintly in the distance, so faint-
ly that even now it scarcely reached the ears
of Julia, although her companion, more accus-
Eomed to the sound, had it long be-

ore.
' Faintas it w however, poor Julia knew it
instantly. It’vg’s the same note, she heard so
often on that awful do when the lance“ of

hand to hand with the
scarce y a gunshbt from her hiding—

p ,“ Cari-era. !” she faltsred, almost fainting with
excess of terror, “ is isnot ra

“ It is Curran}: Janeen,” was the short, stern
re 1y of the girl, “ and that said, all is
nil]. Wane they are here!”

an“ '

 

a u

 

{ingling clash of acoouterments told as plain-
v as words that the cavalry were upon
them.

An instant afterward the 'ingliug of spurs
and the clang of a steel scab d on the stone
pavement of the outer room was heard up.
proachin the door quickly.

Then arguerita’s face 1i htened for a mo.
ment as she sprung to meet t e new-comer.

“ It’s Juan!” she cried “it is my brother, and
thanks be to God, alone! ’

“The door flew open, and on the threshold
stood the young guerrilla. It was the form of
the Antinous, without his efleuiinacy-it was
the head of the conquering Bacchus, without
his sensuality. A specimen more perfect of
young manhood never walked the earth. His
rich golden skin, his clustering black locks, his
deep dark eye, his high and massive forehead,
comuposed the very beau-ideal of that type of
ma y beauty. His broad round chest, thin
flank, and shapely limbs, all displayed to the
utmost by his magnificent costume, promised a
world of a ' ity and ower.

His broa -brimme hat with its long droo -
ing plume cast a yet dee r shadow over t e
upper part of his face, rom which his eyes
shone out with a strange radiance, but there
was nothing in it fierce or angry. A dark
crimson blanket hung carelessly from his ri ht
shoulder, half-conceahn g the green velvet jer in
with its rich embroideriss, and the deer-skin
pantaloons open below the knee, all slashed and
fringed with gold; but all the left side of his
person was exposed to the light as he paused
on the,threshold, and the first sunbeams glit-
tered on the hilt of the long straight sword
which hung from his side, on the butts of a pair
of hea pistols and the bright handle of a
formida le stiletto in his irdle.

There was wonder in his face, and something
that almost resembled awe, as he gazed on the
two beautiful young women, but no flercenom
or menace.

He .was the very image, but cast in a. more
stately mold, of Marguerita.

' eyes, his features, his e ression were all
hers, With all her tenderness, er softness—al-
most, I had said, her girlishness.

Yet, unless rumor lied, and in his case it was
never so believed, deeds had been done by that
soft, beardless, tender, girlish youth, that would
have well entitled him to the fame of 8. Nero or
a Catiline. '

“Madre de Dios! who is this?”

“Brother! Juan! brother l” exclaimed Mar-
guerite, seizing him in her arms, and striving to
embrace him.

“What have .you done, mad girl? Who is
this, I say, who is this, Marguerital”

“ A suppliant, a fugitive, a friend, a. sister, a
sister of t e Partisan—of Pedro, my brother,
Pedro el Salvador!”

“An American,” he said slowly, his brow
gadually uniting into a black frown, as he ut-

red the word, and his eye growing lurid with
a sort of concentrated fire t en laying his hand
on the hilt of his stiletto, he muttered through
his set teeth, “She must die!”

“ Never! no! for your life! for my soul! for the
name of God! for the most holy virgin! no,
brother, no! not while I live! He brought her
here! He who preserved your life and my honor!
He asked me to protect her! and I swore it by my
mother's soul! and I now swear it!”

“Fool!” he almost shouted in his rage. as he
thrust her aside violently, “ Carrera will be
here within ten minutes; and all our lives are
forfeit by your treason?

“ Better so than our honor lost !"

But he heeded not her words, but strode for-
ward with a firm determined step toward Julia,
who had fallen almost senseless into a long arm
chair beside the bed. His da ger was bare; he
stood close over her, and she ad neither tongue
to ray, nor hand to resist.

arm was raised to strike—the keen blade
flashed in the sunli ht as it descended—hut ere
it found its living eath, another blade, held in
as firm a hand, although it was a woman’s,
crossed it! Sparks flashed from the sharp col-
lision of the steel, and Juan’s stiletto flew to the
further and of the room, wrenched from his
flags” by the sleight of his sister’s hand.

(1 she, with her 511 ht form dilated, and her
face full of glorious spiration, stood before
him. menacing, overcrowm him.

“ Strike her!” she cried, “ ' her! and by the
mother of our Lord, the instant that our dag-
gflnds her heart, this shall find mm!” and

shook her own weapon in his face. “ This,
which I bear to save myself from dishonor, has
saved my brother from disgrace!”

“She is saved!” said Alava, loomily, “but
wear-e lost! or rather we are lost together!
Think you Can-era will spare her for her beauty,
or me or—my folly? She is a prisoner: we are
traitors! and we shall all die together !”

“Be it so! we will die to other; I never knew
that you feared to die, my ther! I only fear

lmr,  death 71 h 

may a re , mom
gloomily than betting. “(loner-ah men will
m. mun distinction betwm a. m no
m ’ !

vllhmlnandloxlun . - . ,
-‘mtpm.mr,rhsm am:

i . ‘ ' 

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' the back of t

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The scent Rifleman;

 .25

 

wielded so boldly, so successfully.

“ By your own hand, sister?”

“ By yours it were better, Juan 1”

“Bait so: we will die together,” and as he
spoke, he walked deliberately across the room,
and picked up his weapon.

“But “by die at all?" exclaimed Marguerite,
suddenly: “the will not tarry long. We can
conceal her. :1 the niche, you know, in the
niche! Sanchez and Estcfanla and Francisco,
need but a hint to make them as mute as statues.
We can conceal her, brother. and be Saved!"

“ He knows that the came hither. We have
traced their hoof-trac s to the very gate. A
wounded soldier saw them leave their hiding-
placo,and we met Cnrrera on their track. I know
not how we failed to meet them. Besides, San-
chez has owned that they have been here.”

“ Has he owned that she is here?”

“ No. He never named

“ Where is he?”

’ “In arrest.”

“ And Estefanial”

“ In arrest. ”

“ And Francisco?”

“ And he likewise.”

“ Then we are saved.”

“ How saved ’1"

“ Go! Tell them, you, to swear that the dra-
goons forced our hospitality by menace. Whlcb
we could not resist. They were five strong—
young men, well nrmtd. What could we do!”

“ It mav save us—who knows?"

“It will save us! Do it! Away!
moment is a life!"

Then as he left the room in haste, she sprung
up on the bed touched a spring in the wall, an

he shallow niche in which the cru-
ciflx stood flew open, turning outward on a.
hinge, disclosing a. small circular closet, lighted
by a small air—hole. and contained a. low stone
bench, wrought in the wall.
“ U 1 up!” she exclaimed, shaking Julia.
sha y by the arm. “Up! and in there or all
our ‘ves are forfeit; and, as you live, whatever
you may hear or see, stir not, speak not, breathe
not, as you prize life and honor!”

And aroused from her prostration by the
dreadful emergency, and nerved by the firm-
ness of the Spanish maiden, J ulia did rise, pale.
as a ghost, but calm and firm, and kissed and
blessed her hostess, and mounted into the small
hidin ~place, and drew the secret door close
after or. ,

Nearer and nearer came the bugle horn, and
then the clung of hoofs, the orders of the
oflicers, the din of the men dismounting, and
the clash and clatter of their arms.

Hurriedly, in the meantime, had Ma erlta
thrust aside the few articles of Julia’s c othing
which were scattered about the room, but when
she thought that all was safe, and the steps of
the omcers were heard in the outer hall, she sat
down quietly to her embroidery, and took up
again her mournful song:

\ Gentle river, gentle river
Lo! the banks are stained with gore,
and was singing tranquilly and unconcemedly,
when her brother again entered the apartment.

she again showed the weapon which she had

her."

Every

 

CHAPTER XVII.
seamen HONOR.
\‘“MARGUEEITA, come forth. The General

' Cari-era and his staff request your hospitality.”

“ It is even too much honor for us to give it "
he answered,rising as if entirely unembarnsse ;
and, throwing her mantilla around her, for she
had otherwise arranged herself already, the ad-
yanced with a calm step, and dignity of mien
Into the outer hall, which was now filled by the
brilliant group of officers ‘who had followod the
general, as was the court-yard by three or four

undred perfectly equip d lancets.

There wasa mighty (ofllng of plumed hats,
and bowing to the lovely senori as she made
her appearance in that glittering resence, the
03W unadorned and simply attire person who

there. Many and profound were the

' courtly cOmpliments, the professions of ready

servicev and the like in the sonorous old Castil-

m“ “We; and th’e General-in-chief himself

gfing‘l; {loremlpest in what would. in fiany otdhgr
' v ave 9n 0

and mock-adulatioannounced mere p y

“I regret deeply,” he said. after a few

“ moments spent in ordinary com liments, “ that

we were unable to arrive bit ,3: afew hours

sooner, as our presence would have, I bear, re- _

lieved you of unpleasant visitor,
ve been in pursuit some days.”
\ “We had uneaqorctpd visitors indeed, if not
unwelcome,” she replied. “But to say the
truth, they were not uncivil, and though we
. ad not the power to refuse them what the
asked of us, they behaved courteouslm 311
made but a short stay. ” .
in; h. surest? [than ’ answered CarreEA. twm;
is mu 0 e- “t e that was 8
their heels.” ‘ b y gnaw v
r "‘They did not think, I fancy, that your ex-
cellch was so' near them. They 9 some'
thing among themsel es of a sk from the . had
seen between your cars and the 13.1""

s, of whom we

I \ v .
» .--'.‘I . . t .:

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uml

' MWyourpmit «truism we

have drawn you so far away that you would
lose a day or two in time.”

“Ah! a trifle, 12%)}; a mere trifle! an affair
of half an hour! 6 drove them at the first
char (3, and had execution of them for miles.
But rejoice to hear that the Yankees were
courteous, and it is generous in you to say so,
for I know that you have little cause to love
them.”

“No Mexican has cause to love them—no
Mexican can do aught but hate Americans
through life. and to death—and I run it Mexi-
can!” she said, fervently and proudly.

And so striking was her air, and so electric
her tone, that it spread a contagious spirit
through the gentlemen around, which mani-
fested itself at first in a low hum, increasing
gradually till it ended in a loud outburst of en-
thusiastic vivas. I

“ But you in particular have cause to hate
them,” said the general, as the shout subsided.
“ You have suffered much at their hands.”

“ Much indeed l” she replied, with adeep sigh,
looking sadly around her. “But these were
not the same.”

“They were Americans,” said Carrera.

“ Those were Texans! volunteers!”

“ It is the same; Texans, Americansl—Ameri-
cans, Texansl—wolves all of them! accursed
people!”

And a volley of execrations succeeded from
all present. Meantime refreshments were
handed around, and apologies offered for the
impossiblity of providing food at so short a no-
tice for all the men, coupled with a goposal to
kill several sheep and oxen in or r to feed
them at nightfall.

This was, however, courteous] declined by
the general, on the ground that t iey could not
spare so much time from the pursuit.

“They left you early last night, you say, sen-
orita?” asked Currera. “ At what hour was it,
think you?” ,

“An hour or two past midnight, I think,”
she replied, sim 1y. ‘But I am not sure, for
they awoke me rom my sleep, and in truth I
took no note of the time. ”

“ And they had a lady With them‘i”.

“ A very young and very beautiful lady!”

“They cannot then travel very fast ” said
the general: “ we shall overtake them before
night gentlemen.”

‘ They spoke much of the lad ’s courage and
her horsemanship, saying that e rode as well
as the ‘drafioons and was as little weary; and,
ifnltguth, s e looked neither fatigued not fear-

u. .

“Ha! is it so, indeed? Then we will get to
horse at once! Let the trumpets sound ‘boot
and saddle!’ and with many thanks to you
beauteous lady, for your hospitality, we will
leavé you for the present. If it please fortune,
we wi l halt here on our return, and if we take
the dogs, we will shoot them here, at the doors
of the ouse they so brutally destroyed!”

“ What, prisoners of war, general?” faltered
poor Marguerite.

“ pies, senorita. Death to all spies and trai-
torsl’ '

He arose from his chair as he spoke, and
again bowing, was on the point of leaving the
apartment, and the cor girl thought that the
crisis was past and t e danger over.

When in the very midst of the hustle and
hurry of leave-taking, an aid-de-camp rushed
in hastily and announced that the riding-horse
of the mericnn lady had been found in the
stable of the rancho, well groomed, and feeding
at a well-filled man er. ‘

“ Who groomed him?” asked Carerru, sternly.‘

. “ A boy called Francisco.”

“Bring him. in.”

And immediately the she herd boy was led in
between .two. dismounted cars with esco-
petas trailed in then- hands.

“How came the lady’s horse in the stables?”

“ It was tired, lame, who knowsi—they left it
behind.” ,

“ Who bade you groom and feed it?”

“ No one. It was too good to lose—American
peflptls a’re cursed people—American horses, ex~
co e .

“ This may be truth, Valdez,” said Can-era to
the oflicer who had brought in the tidings.
“ The he speaks steadily and to the point.”

But 1, e aid-de-camp replied b a“ scarcely
preceptéble shake of the head, an the general
resume :

H Do you know, sirrah. the penalty denounced
against all who comfort or succor the Ameri-

lk

“It is death, senor!”

“ And do you wish to die?”

“God forbid, your excellency," stamina-ed
the boy. ,

“Now mark me, If you speak one lie, you
shall be shot to death Within flye minutes. If
36‘?“ speak Eriéth.§h?,’repubhc W111 reward you.

here is t a a v Y '

-“ Who knews'lj’ was the evasive answer; but
as he uttered it his eyes wandered to his
master’s face, as if to consult his eyesbetore re-

1' an further. He met their steadfast galls
P 3" g u ' it

c! continued firmly. she went with we

“, How went shel’.’

"‘WW“..‘P"°

r/x I.

 

3.

 

loaded with baggage; they left the ba age, and
she rode the horse.” gs

“There was some tracks, general,” interposed .

one of the young officers, and we know that
there are but five men and one woman.”

“Well said, Don Joseph. It is all right, I
fancy, Valdez.
away.”

“ he lady’s horse is quite fresh, and sound as
abell. M men are making further searches.

noral.

he aid-de—camp.

“ Be it so," he answered, sternly. “And hark
ye, Valdez,’ he continued, “let six file pn'mc
and load, take this dog down into the_conrt-
yard, and if he does not confess within five
minutes, shoot him.”

The poor boy fell upon his knees and cured
out a volley of misericordias, and por e amor
de Dios, and every possible form of Spanish
supplication—ho wept, he wrung his hands, he
tore his hair, he called 11 n his master, his mis-
tress for aid to save im for the love of God!
lint not an offer did he make to reveal or con-
ess. \

A dragoon entered at this moment bearing a
lady’s Side-saddle and bridle, with girthsand
hangings all complete, and cast them down at
the general’s feet, and then said, as he saluted:

“ We have found a dragoon horse dead—shot
within a few hours, general in the corral, with
all his accouterments upon him."

Carrera’s cold, hard eye turned silently and
sternly on the miserable o .

“ Speak,” he said, “or die. Take your choice.
Where is the lady i”

“ Quien sabel” ,

“Away with him.” '

Two stout dragoons seized him and ‘despite
his cries, his struggles and entreaties, dragged
him away as if he had been a mere infant.

There were, five minutes’ dreadful, deathlike
silence. Marguerite. stood cold and impassive
as a. pillar of stone with her teeth set and her
hands clenched. but for the heaving of her
bosom and the, quivering of her eyelid, she gave
no signs of life.

Juan de Alava preserved his soldier’s mien and g

aspect, but his eye wandered wildly.
‘be next moment the sharp rattle of avol-
ley, succeeded b one death groan run through
the hall, and t 9 thin blue oke rifted 1n
throggh the open door and half filled the apart-
men . . .

“ Fiel haste la mum-to,” muttered be between
his hard set teeth. .

“Bring out the, other servants,” roared Car-
rera. furious at being frustrated. ‘

“Give them five minutes, also, to confess; if
they speak not, shoot them.”

After another short pause an orderly entered
and announced that they had fled into the-

woods.
“Hal this lies dee 1' final thought for, .

lady,” he added, turn ng to Marguerita; “we
must have your presence in an inner chamber.
Valdez, call in our major and six captains, a.
courtomartial. Senor do Alava, follow us.”

And without more words, he stalked into
Marguerita’s private chamber, seated himself in
her own arm-chair, and ordering his officers to
"form a half circle round him, proceeded to en‘-
mi her as a cul rit. * ,

‘ on know,” a said, stemlliy, but not un-
courteously, “ you know, seno ta, the doom
which our laws have pronounced against all
traitors 'who comfort, protect, or harbor an
American?”

“Senor, I know it.”

-“ It is?”

:: geath l” to di

on are very yo e.”

“I am_ young, 8911::ng when God calls us
hence it is never early.”

A slight murmur of admiration ran through
the circle at her calm and dauntlem resolution,

itaf‘,:.l'lierc are things worse than death.
“But one.”
“ And that is?"
“ Dishonor.” ,
“And do you not fear thptl"
“I fear not that which I can nevel- lmow."
, “ Others may dishonor you.”
“No! one can always die.”
“ You are bold, lady.”
“ Confident, senor, because pre
“ See that, you answer what

now truly.
“ it at all, truly.” . ,
{Elmore is the lady gone who was here last
'1 f.
The bo whom you murdered told on that-
she went wlth the rest,” ‘ .y ‘
“.39 lied, and lost his life by his lie I” ’
9%“"“f§l"°°“§lf"§::l§“la 2»
~ your or, w l or e a no
She looked in his face and was silent. y 80
“On your honor, do you know where the
1m! Ii: at this moment?" j

red.”
shall ask you.

do kuowJ’ ,
f‘ Wherois she?” '
“I have sworn to be silent.” ‘
. :Tbat oath was mason go your country." '
By your  . _ _

h". \'

Let them sound horse and.

pray you fer a short delay,” 5 id‘

but found no echo from the cold lips of Curran.- ‘
I senor:

 

 

‘ z

y

 

“ You know it? You have read it!”

“ I do—I have.”

“Enough. One question more—will you re-
veal it?”

“ I will not.”

“ And on know the alternative?”

H  ll!

“And you are prepared to diet—so oun so
beautiful, to die a. traitress?” y g’

“God will forgive me.”

“ Mark me, reveal this, and we at once pardon
ourself and your household—nay, but your
rather, also, who doubtless knows our ilt.”

“ What would be her fate should dose ”

“The will of the conqueror—the soldier’s
pleasure.”

“ A woman, a lady, and a prisoner of war?”

“I have spoken, lady.”

“ And I, eneral.”

“ Colonel on Juan dc Alava, on your honor,
as a soldier and a gentleman, do you know
where this American woman now is?’

“ I do know.”

“ Where is she?”

“ Do you think me less firm than a woman?”

“Have you sworn secrecy!”

“ I have not sworn.”

“Speak, I command you.”

He was silent. The general cast his eyes
sternl round the circle, reading the judgment
of eac man by his face, as he asked—

“ Are they guilty of high treason?”

And each man nodded in silencce as the ques-
tion came to him in turn.

“ And your sentence?”

“Death!” re lied Valdez, standing up and
uncovering, an all the others arose in their or-
der, and bowed in assent,

“General,” said Alava, “you said I fought

7 well at Palo Alto, again at Besaca de la Palma

—well when I captured Thornton’s horse, and
well when I saved your life from the Partisan.
For these things grant me one boon.”

“Name it.”

“ A soldier’s death.”

“ A traitor’sl—kneelingl—shot in the back!
are on answered?”

“ neral,” said Marguerite firmly but sadly,
“I am a woman, a lady, the dau hter of your
friend. Two years ago a band of exans sacked
this rancho in cold blood, killed my father, my
mother my two brethren, all our blood save
him an me. Me too they would have dishonor-
ed and then slain. man, an American,
fought his way in and rescual me. That man
came to my house last night and asked me: ‘ for
your life which I gave you, for your honor
which I saved you, give me my sister’s life and
£2201? I gave them. General, before I die, a

n.

“ Name it?”

“ Her life and liberty.”

“ Who was the man?"

“ Name him not, for your soul,” shouted Juan
de Alava. But his. warning came too late. She
had spoken.

“ His name is Pedro the Partisan.”

“Ten thousand furies! His sister! His!” and
as he spoke his olivecolored face turned crim-
son with e. “ Give her up—give her up this
instant, or eath, which you seem to lau h at,
shall be as nothing to what you shall un ergo.
No form of outrage, of indignity, of dishonor,
but the soldiers shall wreak it u on you; and
when you die you shall hail deat that it has
covered you from shame too deeptobe endured.
Will an speak?”

“ I ave spoken.”

“Away with her! Cast herto the troopers!
Let them do with her as they list!”

“General Carrera, you dare not.”

.“And, hark ye, drag him out, also, and let
him look upon her shame, then shoot him.”

“Neverl’ exclaimed two voices in one cry,
and as if by 'one movement brother and sister
drew, and raised on high, a sheathle blade.

“ BrotherT-smter-adieu!” and the blades rose
as if to strike—but ere the blow was dealt a.
calm sweet voice cried “ Hold!” a

“Hold! I am here 1”

And at the words, there in the niche disclosed
b the removal of that holiest emblem, the
C 'an’s dying God—there with her golden
tresses floating disheveled like a halo of glory
round her, with her blue eyes filled with the in-
cflable luster—the luster of a martyred saint.
her innocent, artless features glowing with
strange exultation, her lovely lips apart, madon-
na-like, stood Julia Gordon.

_“ I am here, man of blood! Spare them! But
With me do your pleasure; I am’in the hands of
my God, now as ever.”

“I You are in my hands now, my beaut. !” ex-
claimed the savage exultingly—“ and she i be in
my men’s hands n five minutes. Fortunate fel-
lows! Such a pair of you! Valdez, why don’t
you help the lady to descend? ‘By heaven! you
arg‘hdiscoggteous.” _ ‘

e ai e-camp, apt minister of his bloody
general’s brutality, arose to obey his orders.
when, atthe  step he took, he stopped short
as if thunder-stricken. His face was as pale as
adshes, hislipswideapart, hiskneea shaman-

or him.

Hm- wes it wonderful! for as he took that step,
one sharp short crack came cchoingfrem with-

 

 

The Sflent R1fleman.
out, the well-known death shot of the certain ri-
fie—thenamed a. bu le, high and shrill—the
terrified !—and t en crack! crack! the roll-
ing, rattling, irregular, incessant volley of the
most murderous of weaplons—the deadly rifle of
the West. And then, a in one instant’s space,
it would seem, the thundering noise of charging
horse, the clang of blades, the groans, the
shrieks, the awful sounds of horror and of havoc
which mark the hand to hand encounter!

And high above all other sounds, and high
arose the war-cry of the Texans—“ Remember
the Alamo, the Alamo!” and Gordon’s name was
mingled with the din, shouted by his dra cons;
and the fierce cheer of the Partisan, “ ierrel
Pierre! charge for Pierre and glory 1” completed
ghe dismay of the surprised and baffled mur-

erers.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
run TEXANS.

As the first din of that surprise fell on the star-
tled ears of the Mexican commander, he sprung
to his feet quickly and, to say only What he
merits, performed his duty as a soldier gallant
ly, however he had behaved himself as a man
and a gentleman.

“Vi'e are surprised!” he said coolly enough,
drawing his sword; “this is the doing of these
traitors—but of that hereafter; to your posts,
gentlemen! This can be butan insolent attack of
a handful of marauders, whom we will beat
back in a moment. There is no regular force
within thirty leaiws of us. To your posts I
sa away!” and e rushed instantly into t e
h&, which had been vacated alread by the
subalterns, who remained in it when t eir supe-
riors had convened themselves to form the
court-martial. ‘

All his omcers followed his example- unsheath-
ing their swords, and dashing forward gallantly
to find their men and lead them to the char e
—all save one, aldez, for, as is oftentimes t e
case, the cruel and cold—blooded savage was the
dastard also. .

He drew himself up, it is true, and set on his
plumed hat at the correct angle, and unsheath—
ed his weapon, but he made not one ste toward
tgg'dmr, nor even offered to follow is com»
r es. .
“And why does the gallant Colonel Valdez
loiter in the rear, when his men are in action?”
asked Juan de Alava, sneeringly.

“I might retort the question, sirrah, were it
becoming me to reply to a prisoner and a trai-
tor. I
“And did you so retort, sirrah, answered
Alava 'etly, “I might re ly that aprisoner
has no right to be in action, id it become me to
rep! to a liar and a dastard!” ‘

‘This to me?” exclaimed Valdez. “It shall
be answered when your friends, the Yankees,
are driven off."

“ Ay! this to you!” replied Juan. “This and
more also! and it shall be answered sooner!”
and he too unsheathed his rapier, for he had not
been disarmed, owing to the suddenness with
which he had been implicated in the alleghed
crime of his sister, and to the irregularity of is

arrest.

“Walk into the hall, Colonel Valdez, and
there I will answer you, if I do soil an honor-
able blade with the blood of a coward!”

“You have the advantage of me! You are
armed with knife and pistols, as well as With
your swolrg! Besides you are a prisoner, and not
in us . '

l: e odsbe thanked therefor! Now mark
me! Be ore these ladies whom you have insult-
ed, would have outraged, I strike you thus!
1 s urn you with my foot thus, and thus!” and
as esplo a he suited the action to the word,
givin im a severe blow with the flat of his
swo across the shoulders, and actually kick-
ing him twice with his foot.

. “Now will you leave the presence of these
women, to which, coward-like, you cling for
protection, or shall I shoot you like a do , before
'heir faces?” and with the words, he aid his
hand with an ominous gesture on the butt of one
of his heavy pistols.

“ No! no! not here, for God’s sake! 0h! not
here! not here!” shrieked J ulia Gordon.

“Drag out the dogI by the neck, and shoot
him like a dog, wit out!” cried Marguerite.
sternly: for her Spanish blood was up, and
kindled by the insults she had undergone; and
her heart was unsexed and merciless. _

And Juan de Alava did step forward,” if to
execute her orders, when, driven to extremity,
the dastard turned to bay and delivered a fierce
thrust at him with his rapier, but it was parried,
and returned on the instant. Both men were in
the prime of life, young, active. filnewyy and
skillhil to a Wonder in the use of their weapons.
Well matched in hight and reach. had their
spirit been as equall matched as their strength
and stature, it won d havo been a combat wor-
thy of a. Roman amphitheater. As it was. 1f
Juan was as brave as his own steel, and Valdez
a base coward. the last was still a coward forced
to fight for his life, and such, proverbially, are
dangerous 1

Their weapons were the deadliest on earth-—
the long, straight, tw d sword, fitted alike
to cut and thrust. a/n'd v strong, bayonet-

: ,J

l bladed stiletto. Cut followed cut, thrust thrust
in quick succession; so quick that the dazzleu
eyes of the spectators could not pursue their
course, nor note which took effect, or which
were surely parried.

Julia sunk down on the bed and covered her
face with her hands, unable to look steadily up-
on a sight so terrible, but Marguerite. stood by,
with a flushed cheek and a flashing eye, and her
rubv lips as wart, showing the pearly teeth hard
set below t 16111, and her soft brow panting with
the fierce excitement. And ever and anon,
as Juan pressed Valdez hard, and backed him,
foot by foot, out of the chamber into the stone
lpaved hall, she followed them, and clapped her

ands at every home thrust which he sent al~
most to his heart, crying from time to time:

“Kill him! Kill him! Hermann mio! For
my sake, kill him! By no hand but yours must
the villain die!”

Still they fought on, desperate and determin-
ed. Sparks flashed from the collision of their
blades; the sweat fell from their browslike rain.
Their breath was drawn herd, and loud, and

sinful; yet neither faltered; this fighting for
ife and that for vengeance.

And still, without, the sharp, continuous
crackling of the Texan rifles was blended with
the heavy platooning of the Mexican escopetns.
and all the fearful uproar of a well-balanced
battle thundered and. reeled, now nearer and
now further for victory, for the moment, in‘
clined to this side or that.

It was clear that the Mexicans outnumbered
their assailants by vast odds; but still the
superior energy and strength, and the unerring
aim of the Americans outbalanced this advan‘
tage; and, by the rapid cracks of the rifle, now
overpowering fast the fuller and more ringing
reports of the carabines, it was seen that the
Ran rs must ill the end prevail.

Stil there was much to be dreaded by thg
women, and by Julia it was dreaded: for she
knew that the Mexicans still fought between
herself and her friends, and she felt certain that
should they be driven in, defeated, they would
attempt to make a last stand in the house, and
would again obtain ssession of her person. ,

So strong did this apprehension
her mind, as she heard the tide of fig t surging
gradually nearer and nearer, that she overcame

y a mi hty effort her repugnance to look upon
the d y strife that was we ing close beside
her, and sprung to her feet. c ling Marguerite
to assist her in opening the easement, and so
escapin into the garden, where, as yet, all was
stillan peaceful. _

But the Spanish girl was entranced, heart
and soul—she was wrapped up in that dreadful,
protracted struggle; and still, fearlessldy she
pressed up nearer to the combatants an Julia
could erceive that she held the con two-
edged agger which had so short a time before
saved her life, and almost feared that she would
herself strike Valdez. And still she cried,
“Kill him, brother, for my sake! Kill him!
Kill him i”

Hopeless of directing her from her appalling
object. Julia turned, Sle at heart, toward the
window—the same window which had iven
entrance to the Partisan, when he arrive but
in time to save Marguerita—and at the very
moment she did so it was driven inward with a
loud crash, and she was clasped in the arms of
Arthur Gordon. The sound of his forceful en-
trance the clanking steps of his men, for the
three dragoons were at his heels, and the clatter
of his accouterments, had well-nigh proved
fatal to Alava; for at the sudden uproar in his
rear he turned his head quickly, and was ad-
monished by a sharp wound in is side of his

imprudence.
“Friends! the are friends!” cried Margue-
rite, whose quic eye instantly discovered who

were the intruders. “Now kill him! kill him! or
they will take him to their mercy I”

And, like a wounded lion, uan de Alavn
charged him home so fiercclly that he had not a
second’s breathing time. hree t‘iile feints,
each followed by a home lungs, side: had

arried in succession, When he lunged in return.

is foot slipped a little. on the marble floor;
his blade was struck aside by Alava’s dagger,
at the same instant in which his chest was

owe-driven blade.
Then Marguerita_ drew a long. dee lreath
--it was almost a sxgh~and said, in a lbw, lirp.

ing tone:

“Else had I slain him with a woman’s hand
and a woman’s weapon!”

Scarce was that fearful death-struggle com!
pleted when two of the dragoons advanced
their carabines and called on Juan to yield him
on good quarters. By the fierce eye and re-
solved as ect of the young guerrilla, it was clear
that had is means of resistance been equal to
his will he would have still resisted—resisted
the enemies of his countryas steriin as he had
avenged his own private grievance fiercely; but
he had lost muc blood. and staggered sickly.
and would have fallen but for e sword on
which he leaned. l I

“ Where is our oficcr!” he asked in Spanish.
“Ian: a. on omen, andwill not yield latte

an officer.

 

row up in '

pierced and his heart cleft asunder by his _

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“I am an officer,” cried Gordon. sprin iug
forward, having learned by one word rom
Julia who he was. “I am your friend, too.
Senor Don J nan—your friend forever.”

“ He is hm- liusband,” whispered Marguerite,
“ whom you have saved and avenged."

“Give me your sword, quick! quick!” cried
Arthur Gordon, sn'inging forward with the
aged of light as lie saw the Spanish soldicry

I 'ven back into the room in confusion before
the desperate charge of McCulloch’s rangers.
” Give them one shot, my lads! make sure each
of his man, and then bring off the wounded
officer and the lady.”

“I can walk! I can walk!” exclaimed Mai-
guerita, who was as self-collected as a warrior
in the fray. “Look you, senor, to Julia, and
let them bring off Juan.”

The combines of the regulars, discharged at a
short range and with deliberate aim, told
fatally. Three men went down, wounded or
slain outright; and seeing the well known uni-
forms of the American dragoons, they fancied
the were surrounded, and, panic-stricken,
Eusied back from three men to face a bun-

red

, Turning about, as coolly as if on parade, two
of the men lifted Alava from the ground to
which he had fallen, fainting from loss of blood,
and carried him ofl’ in his own crimson blanket
the sergeant deliberately halting in the rear
alone 'eload his carubinc.

Gordon raised Julia in his arms, while Mar-
guerite. ran nick! by his side, and in an instant
they were a! in t ie beautiful though long neg~
looted arden oi’ the rancho.

“This way! this way!” she cried. “I will
guide you. There is an arbor here, in the
thicket, of oranges, beside the stream, where
they will never find 11.0 if they search fora
twelvemonth.”

“ Their hands are too full to let them think of
us, lady,” said Gordon. “The only danger is
from stragglci‘s. Ali! true, it is a secret spot.
You will be safe here. So, lay him down there,
softly, softly, on the grass. See, Julia, if you
cannot stanch that bleeding. I’ll have a surgeon
here in five minutes. Now, Davis, load your
arms."

“ I am loaded, lieutenant.”

“The devil you are! Then let your fellows
load, and do not move hence for your lives!
Look to the ladies. I will return directly. Fear
nothing, Julia. God be with you.”

And he turned on his heel, and was out of
sightin an instant. He had not taken twenty
steps, however, toward the house, before he met
a dozen Mexicans rushing out from the window
by which his party had escaped; but they
broke as soon as they saw him, scattered and
fled in all directions, trust of them having
already threwn away their weapons. They
were scarce out of sight, when round the left
wing of the building, driving a panic-stricken
mass of fugitives before him, With his horse,
his swor 1, his own person, dyed with carnage,
the Partisan wheeled at full gallop.

“Pierre! Pierre! charge, lads! for Pierre and
glory!” and the response from behind was.
"The Alamo! Texas! remember the Alamo!”

And hard at his heels charged McCulloch and
Gillespie, and all their daring rangers.

But utterly dis irited and broken, the Mexi-
cans rushed in a ody to the same window, by
which their comrades were pouring out: 
the two currents meeting, Jostled and reeled
together like tides conflicting in a narrow
channel. v -

But the terror and numbers of those without
were the greater; and gradually they forced their
way inward, actually using their weapons, one
against the other, in the madnes of their
de. ir. And still on the rear of that confused
an weltering rout raged the fierce broad-
swords of the Texan riders.

“ Ha! Mason,” exclaimed Gordon, as the
rangers swept, past him in their charge, recog—
nizifig a oung ofllcer of his acquaintance.
“This work is over now. For God’s sake send
one of your fello‘Ws for a surgeon. A friend of
mine‘lies badly wounded, yonder, in the orange
thicket, by the stream.”

“Ay! ay!” cried he whom he addressed,
“You Grayson, gallop
to the rear, and bring 11 surgeon Maxwel .”

“Yes, Sir ” nnsweret the man, reluctantly
egiouoh, “ when I’ve had one more crack at the
rascals.”

“No, sirrah-nmu.’” . .

But; his words were nntimpated: for the man
had risen in his sari-ups and discharged his
rifle with fatal execution;_and pay, as he re.
skin it and saluted, he replied, ciVilly:

u ow, sir!“ and, givmg his horse the spur,
dashed away to the rear {it the gallop-

“ Of course, your lady 15 $8139: Gordon?”

K up“; shoum not be here! ButIWish you

would send a dozen men down yonder to that
thicket, to mount guard OYeI‘ 1181‘. She Is 31-
' most alone.” n \

"I’ll go myself,” answered M88011. 01‘ the
devil a soul will I get to stir, so long as they can
shoot or stick a Mexican! Halt! dreSSi—haltl
halt! or, by the Lord, I’ll skewer some of y 7
‘That is it. Now steady! steady! ‘Gordmh 11]

see to that—neverfeaij. ‘But I infill 3’0“ WWI“

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gallop down, and stop this firing. All re- gan to draw near, in grou , and to the fore-
sistanco is at an end, and it is now more butch-

ery !”

“there has, indeed, been enough of i .

And putting his spurs to a charger, which he 

caught as it ran by him masterless, he galloped
forward, shouting to the men to cease firing.
But eager as he was to check the carnage, he
was precoded in the work of charity by the
bold Partisan, whom he could see mounted

among the crowd of dismounted rangers, close me[ help, when! I broke my
to the often-mentioned Window, actually cut- from ten lea es’

ting at his own men with his broadsword to en-
force obedience, and shouting till he was hoarse
in S anisli and English alternately:

“ ease firing and giva quarter!”

Suddenly a 9 wt flushed from a loop above,
and he reeled in his stirrups and fell headlong.

A fierce roar followed from the soldiery; and,
in an instant the forced their way bodily into
the building, an wo to the Mexican whom they
met when the word was given—“Pierre!”

“ My God! they have murdered him!” cried
Gordon; and, forgetful of all else he drove mad-
ly to the spot where he lay, sprung from his
horsed and raised him from the bloody green-
swar .

 

CHAPTER XIX.
A sOLDIEn’s DEATH-BED.

“THEY have done for me, at last!” cried the
gallant soldier, as Gordon raised his head upon
his lap, as he knelt behind him.

“ I trust not, indeed."

“They have. I am a dead man, Gordon!
See! they shot me here, through the right breast,
just above the collarvbone, and the ball has
gone clean through inn—my Vitals are cut all to

ieces!”

“Great God! is it possible?”

“It is certain! But I thank God! Idiedin
my dutv—I died striving to do good! But I
forget, I forget; is your wife safe?’

“She is, my friend —-my more than friend;
my preserverl ’ r

‘ And Margueritaf" ,

“ Safe too, and has proved herself a heroine.”

“Then I die happy. That firing has ceased,
has it not? They have given them quarter?”

“They have! they have! vex not yourself
about such matters. They are bringing down
the )risoners.”

“ on will bear witness for me, when Iam
gene that I strove to check the butcheil‘y.”

“And that they murdered you wh' doing
so. Know you who fired that traitor shot?”

“I do know, Gordon, but I will not tell you;
for I see that in your eye which tells me he
would dearl me it.”

“ He sho d die for it, if he were my brother l”

“ Therefore, I will not tell you; there is blood
enough on my soul already. Too much of this
MeXican blood. But where is your wife, Gor-
don, where is Marguerite! I would fain see
them once more, are I die."

“ or God’s sake! speak not thus, Partisan!
You are strong yet—your voice is unchanged
—your eye clear. We will have you pate ed
up in a twinkling, and in a week you W111 be in
your saddle.”

“Never again! never again!” he answered,
'quietly. “1 have seen too many death-shots:
have fired too many—not to know that this is
fatal. All the surgeons in America cannot
keep me alive an hour. In my extremities I am
deaid’ already.” .

“ Are you in pain, Pierre?”

“ Can one receive such a wound,” he answer-
ed, “and not be in pain? M back-bone is cut
in two,” and a short spasm witched the mus-
cles of his face, as he spoke and showed the ex-
tremit of the anguish whic he endured. “But
I can ai- ain,” he added, and hi voice was
waxing w or, already, “like a—” _

“ Hero!” Gordon interrupted him.

“No!” said. the Partisan, firmly, “I hope,
like a Christian! But come, my time is short:
have me borne to the ladies—useless! useless!”
he added, “ you fear to let them see me".

“You are right! Maxwell is there, tending
the hurt of young Alava."

“Is he hurt? not badly—not fatally, I he !
Our men have shed too much blood here, of he
Alavas!”

“They have shed none today, but saved!
His is a mere flesh Wound.vgiven im by a cow-
ard of his own race, one aldez, who outraged
his sister.”

“Great God! you. do not mean—” cried the
Partisan, half;startni _up, so that the blood
gushed from his woun in torrents, at the exer-
tion—“that—that they harmed a hair of her
head or of Julia’s.”

“ ot one, to God be'the praise! we came
just in time—but Just in time, to save them from
the last extremity women can undergo.”

“ All praise be to God, indeed.”

Hitherto they had conversed alone, with no
witness but the beautiful brown horse of the
Partisan, which, bleeding himself from many
wound, stood clpse beside them, not . havin
moved a yard 611108 the ‘fatal shot was flrflé
gazing Egon his fallen master with. an eye the
seemed i1 o’f humanintelligenm and syn) -
thy. But at thisinoment some of the men

, —~, , v. I

 

 

!
l

i

most of these, Gordon call eagerly:
“ Come hither, some of _ on, my lads, and

I will! I will!” replied the young”dragoon; I  a blanket—we have a riend here, wound

“My own blanket,” answered the Partisan.
“It is ii brown Emperor’s saddle. Where is
brown m ror? He is not hurt, Gordon?”

“ No, no He is close beside you. He has
never stirred since that villain shot you.”

“ He knows that I am dying. He once brou lit

eg in the rairfcs,

distance. Sch! mperor,

700d horse! oh! Emperor!” he added, raising
is head a little to gaze on his favorite.

And the beautiful brown horse wliinnied as

i he heard the long-loved voice, and advanced a

 

 
 

ard or tWo, and rubbed his muzzle gentle and
ondly over the foe - of his dying master. ,

“Good horse! good Emperor!” said the Par-
tisan, putting the face of his favorite horse with
his failing hand. “ I never shall back you again
good Emperor! He is yours, Gordon, when '
am gone. You will be kind to him, I know.”

The young dragoon wrung the hand of the
dying man hard, and the big tears burst in vol-
umes from his eyes, and fell down like rain up-
on the face of the veteran.

“Pshaw! Gordon—pshaw! my friend, this is
unmanly. We must all come to t . Now
raise me up and hear me to the ladieS' I would
fain Speak with them, and I have but brief
time. .

He was raised from the ground forthwith and
laid in his own blanket, and borne as tenderly
as possible by the sympathizing soldiers, whose
stem faces displayed symptoms of most im-
wonted sorrow, toward the little bower where
Julia. and the Spanish maiden were awaiting
anxiously the return of their friends.

Still two or three deep groans testified the ex-
tremity of an 'sh which he endured, proceed~
in§as they di from one so firm and fearless.

at even in that extremity of suffering, he
had his wanted care. and forethought for the
feelings of others.

“Go forward,” he said, faintly; “ go forward,
Gordon, and apprise them. Women are tender
plants, and this, I think, will shock them. ”

“ Shock them!” cried Gordon; “it will bow,
them to the very earth. _ One of them it will al~
most kill, if I know ought of woman’s nature."

“ M erita?”

“ Poor Marguerita I”

“Ay poor, poor Marguerite!” said the dying
man, s owly. “It was most strange—it was
madnessa—tyet it was not my fault, Gordon. ”

“Your ault?” eXclnimed the other, not even
guessing what he could mean.

The dying man understood the expression of
his face, and hastened to explain.

“ It was not my fault, I mean, that she—that I

she fancied—that she loved me! I did not trifle
with her feelings—you do not believe that I
trifled with her?’

“I would as soon believe that a zealot could
trifle with his God.” .

. “ Go on! 0 on !” answered the Partisan. press-
ing his ban kindly, “ for this will soon beaver.
Slow! , slowly men—hear me slow! !”

.An slowl they did hear him, wit the bean-
tiful brown am. following them step by ate
with his head bent almost to the dust, an trail3
ing his long thin mane on the ground, in the
do th of animal sorrow.

hen Gordon reached the bower the surgeon
was fastening up hiscase, having young
Alava’s wound, and was on the point of gOing
to ofler his services, he said, where they might
be more serious! required. ‘

The can so diet can ht hi last words as be
among an arresting im b , the arm, said
earne ly in a low voice, even fore he replied
to the congratulations of the women:

“That is_here, Maxwell; nowhere can the be
more required than they will be here.
send that they may avail.”

Though uttered in a whisper, Julia. heard his
words, and judging from the e ression of hit
face her hands, and cri camestl :

“l‘l'ott e Partisan, Arthur—oh! say it not
the Partisan!” . ,

“ Would that I could!” ’ ,

“ Not severely—not fatally, at least!”

“I fear mortally.” '

“My God! my God!” and she burst into a
paroxysm of almost hysterical weeping.

The conversation had all passed in the English ‘

tongue, et, as it were, instinctively, Marguerita
can ht t eir meanin .

8 . « . .
“ on Pedro!" she cried in a. low, husky voles,

“ Don Pedro muerte?” ,

“No! no!” cried Gordon, eagerly, "not so
bad as that, dear lady—only Wounded.” ~

“ Mortally wounded !”

Almost was be about to answer in the pagan,
but when he saw the anguish depicted her
me, he could not deceive her, and he replied

I :

“WI hope not.”

“ You hope not—that means he is!” ’

:And she stood Ipale and rigid, as if struck
With eatalepsy. or did she take the least not.
of anything that around her, until the
Paflisan was borne in and‘laid down near her
foetonthe gunmen ard. Thu: the riwted he:

\\

 

 

 

 

28

I
w

‘ The. Silent Rifleman.

 

 

eyes on his ashy face and wrung her hands in
mute agony, but spoke not.

“This is a sad sight, dear lad , fora lady’s
bower,” said the Partisan; “ but wished much
to see you, and you will pardon much in a dying
man. will you not?” >

“ Pardon! say on] what I can do for you i”

“ First let me see im." said Maxwell, comliEE
£0rvgard; “it may not be so had as we th’

or.

“No, doctor, I am past your aid.”

The surgeon, who had examined his wound
rapidly, pressed his hand and arose without
speaking.

" It is so—is it not, Maxwell?”

“ It is, Pierre—I will not deceive you.”

“I knew you would not.”

“ How long, Maxwell?"

“ Not long."

“ An hour?”

The surgeon shook his head mournfulliy.

Then Mar uerita sprung forward, an caught
the surgeon y the arm, and cried:

“ Muertcl muerte?” in a low, hoarse voice,
choked with anguish.

The young man was moved so deeply that his
voice was positively choked by his rising tears,
and he could only answer by a movement of
the head.

She uttered one long piercing shriek, and fell
lifeless to all appearance.

The surgeon and Julia hastened to raise her
up, but Pierre said quietly:

*‘ Let her behlet her be if there is no danger.
It is ’better she should be senseless until all is
over.

” There is no danger,” said Maxwell, with an
air of wonder. ‘

“ Gad bless you, then, good Maxwell; betake
you where you may do more good—my days
are numbered. Commend me to McCulloch
and Gillespie. My rifle to the first, my pistols
to the latter, and this, doctor.” he added, as he
handed him his knife. “ Yourself, Gordon
will keep my horse. Bury me in my blanket
with my sword by my side. Fare you well!
Now, lady,” he added, turning his eyes to J ulia
Gordon, “in your earl You will permit me,
Gordon?"

“ Surely—most surely I”

Then J ulia knelt down by his side and clas d
his cold hand in her own, and listened with er
whole soul in her ears, watering his face with
her tears.

“That :- thing," he said, turning his eyes
toward t e motionless form of Marguerite,
“ you will be kind to her-you will care for her
—.vcu will love her I”

"‘ As my own sister,” faltered Julia through
her sobs, “ as my own sister. "

“God bless you—you have read her secret.
I never read it until yesterday, nor dreamed of
it. It is most strange. But it is better thus—it
is better thus! You have read her secret, Julia.
Gordon?”

J ulia assented with a. silent nod, and the dying
soldier paused for a. moment, and appeared to
hesitate. Then he drew her down a little nearer
tohim, and whispered even lower than before:

“ And mine also.” ~ ,

Julia. flushed crimson through her tears and
was silent. ' '

“That I could not love her because—I loved
another?”

Far a. moment she averted her eyes, but the
next she met his gaze calmly knowing that he
was d ' g, and answered:

“I id read it. ”

“But purely, honorably, chastely, as one
might love a picture 'or—a god.”

‘ I knew it ’

“ Then, indeed, it is best thus, and I die ha
y. Gordon,” he added, raising his head a litt e
or the last time, “this agony is well nigh over!

She has promised to be a sister to poor Mar-
guerite; will an do likewise?"

“ She shall . my sister.”

“God’s blessmg on you now, friends! I am
Eging, fare-you-well. Wet= not for me, for I

ve lived ha fly, and l ape not altogether
uselessly, and die happily or I die with my
duty done in the arms of t ose I love the most
dearly and in the faith of a Christian.”

Then he closed his eyes quite exhausted with
his efforts and la for a long time speechless so
that they believ him almost dead.

But he opened them again after a while, and
said. very aintly:

“Brown Emperor; good horse. You will be
good to him. Gordon?”

Then one of these strange things occurred
which at times almost make us think that brutss
have souls and reason. For, before the youn
soldier could reply, the brown horse, which ha
followed the bearers of his master to the en-
trance ef the arbor, and paused there, as if con—
scious that he must not enter, no sooner heard
his own name uttered in those feebled accents

. than he thrust his head through the foliage and

uttered a long low plaintive nei h utterl im-
like any sound he had ever beforegbi'aen hea’itd to

utter. .
“Ah! thou art there, old friend. God bless
thee, too, if it be no sin so to r‘pra . Thou will;
caredfor; will he not, Ger on ' uliai” ,
twtnereould reply torsohbiag. Haw

5.2

0 s4 . . .c. .  _ Jess...”

 

stood the reason, and said once again, “ Bless
you all—may God Almighty bless you.
member that I die 0. Chris —a Chri tianl I am
o—goingl Gordon, Gordon, let her-let her
liaise—kiss me, Julia.’ _
“ Kiss him, quick; kiss him, kiss him, Julia.”
She knelt bes1de him, bent her beautiful form
over his bosom, and pressed her cold lips to his,
and the pure spirit 0 the noble and high-mmd-
ed soldier passed away in that last—that first
embrace of the woman he had loved so chastely,
so devotedly, so nobly. _
Happy who so die, in the arms of love, reh-
gion, honor.

 

More words are almost needless. Julia and
Gordon, under the guidance of the gallant rau-
ers, reached the lines at Monterey in safety.
ug did the mourn over that true and noble
friend, who, 1: ough the friend but of a day, had
stamped himself on their souls forever. But
grief, however deep, must have its term, its
consolation, and theirs was consoled by happy
love and honor, won by high deeds.

Poor Marguerite. never ceased t0weep for the
man she loved so madly and so vainly, till. in
the convent which she entered within a. month
of his death, her sorrows and her sufferings
were ended by the boon, which, as the ancients
said, God grants to whom he loves—an early
death.

“ Peace to her hapless love and virgin grave."

Him the laid where he fell, with all the pomp
of war an all the grief of nature; but he card
not the rattling voile , nor felt the trickling
tears, nor haply woul have prized them had he
done so, whose highest joy in death, as it had
been his best comfort in his wild, yet simple
life, was that he died a. Christian.

One thing alone remains to be recorded. The
brown horse which had followed his master’s
bodyto the grave, and watched his interment
with an almost human eye, was forced almost
by violence from the spot when the last cere-
mony was ended.

But in the afternoon when the column was
formed to march, and the bugles sounded the
advance, he reared furiously, broke the leading
rein by which a. dragoon was guiding him
and galloped to the spot where they had laid
his master.

They followed him, and found him lying on
the grave, rooting up the fresh laid sods with
his muzzle. But when he saw them drawing
near, he rose to his feet with a weak, stagger-
ing action. stood for a moment gazing at them
proudly, then uttered the same long, shrill,
plaintive neigh, and in the sound expired.

They scoo d a little hollow-it was no sac-
rilege—besi ethe grave of him whom he had
home so trul , whom he would not survive, and
laid him by t ose honored ashes, with this mot-
torudely carved on alow headstone close by
the simple monument, which love erected to the
memory of the gallant Partisan.

FIEL nAs'rA LA MUEME.
MARGUEBITA.

They sleep together. Never was better horse
or nobler rider.

mm.

The Saturday Journal.

" The Model Family Paper
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All are features in every number from such
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What is best in rorULAn READING. that the
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. ..
.v _ ' I, _ a;

 

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BEADLE AND Anms have now on their lists the fol-
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volume contains 1 large a es, printed from clear.
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l to 25 Dialo es and Dramas in each book..
These volumes ave been liprepared with especial
l/

 

 

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Repub c by their lives and deeds. The series em-
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SONG BOOKS.

BEADLn’s DIME Sore Boo Nos. 1 to 88 containing
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UNRIVALED AMONG POPULAR PAPERS

b the good repute of its large corps of Contributors; In the variety, scope and interest of its come-
In the beauty of illustration, typography and order ofjts “make-up.”

 

 

A FIRST-CLASS POPULAR WEEKLY, aiming at what is BEST, FEESHEST AND MOST Amouvn in Fiction, Romance w
Novel—in Sketch, Story, and Narrative—in Adventure on Sea and Lend—in City Life Revelations—in History, Biography and Event»-

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both pure and good. The corps Of regular contributors embraces the following

MOST POPULAR LIVING AMERICAN WRITERS ; '

 

INSERT W. AIKEN, CAPT. MAYNE REID, PHILIP S. WARNE,
MRS. MARY REED CROWELL, EBEN E. REXFORD, BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG (“Junk Hui
oLL COOMES, MARIE DYER BRI’I'I‘B, . away,”)
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MRS. JENNIE DAVIS BURTON, HON. WM. 1". CODY (“Bunnie BBL”) CAPT. CHARLES HOWABD,
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LUCILLE HOLLIS, m WINWOOD, my GRACE HAW

CHARLES MORRIS, MAJOR SAM S. HALL (“ Buckskin Sm") FRANK DAVEs. I
ROGER STABBUCK, CAPT. SATTERLEE PLUMZMER,

umummnnrunnwrrsmmonmrs,

WASHINGTON WEITEHORN, JOE JOT, Jr., and BEAT TIME.

AID nu “ma menu's AND nit-mm
TEE PARSON’S DAUGHTER and EVE LAWLESS,

m of when eater mtustuly for the Sun Jounxun, while in its department of ANSWERS TO comm be.
who no oonversent with such litentnre pronounce it the best and most interesting column 0: the day. Taken ell in u “I
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Beadle & .{dams’PStandard Dime Publications.

 

Speakers.

Bmu: AND Alums have now on their lists the ful-
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prepared express] for schools. families, etc. ‘ ~h
volume contains 1 lal'ge‘filaggs, prized from clear,
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6. Humorous Speaker. 1 18. Ha Colum iaSpeak-
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8. Stump Speaker. 19. Selle-Comic Speaker.
9. Juvenile, Speaker. ‘20. Select Speaker.

(0. S read-Eagle Speaker 21. Funny Speaker.

11 e Debater. 22. Joll S er.

1‘ Exhibition Speaker. 23. Di ect ‘ ker.

ese books are re late with choice pleces for the
School-room, the Ex ibition, for Homes, etc. They
are drawn from men sources, and contain some of
the choicest oratory of the times. 75 to 100 DeclauL-x-
lions and Recitations in each book.

Dialogues.
The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages, em-

twenty-six books, viz.:
No. One. Dialogues No. Fourteen.

   

No. Two. Dialogues No. Fifteen.

No. Three. Dialogues No. Sixteen.

No. Four. Dialogues No. Seventeen
No. Five. Dialogues No. Eighteen
No. Six. Dialogues No. Nineteen.
No. Seven. Dialogues No. Twenty.

No. Eight. Dialogues No. Twenty—one.
No. Nine. Dialogues No. Twenty-two.
No. Ten. Dialogues No. Twenty-three
No. Eleven. Dialogues N o. Twenty-four.
No. Twelve. Dialogues No. Twenty-five.

No. Thirteen. Dialogues No. Twenty-six.
to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book.

These volumes have been regulch with especial
reference to their anauabélgy all school-rooms.
They are adapted to schools with or without the fur-

niture of a stage, and introduce a e of charac-

 

ters suited to scholars of every grade, oth male and .
female. It is fair to assume that no volumes yer. ‘

altered to schools, at any price. contain so lnal
etui dialogues and dramas, ’ v:
and comic.

Dramas and Readings.
164 19xno Pages. 20 Cents.

For Schools, Palm 1:, Entertainments and the Arm
nteur . comprisin Original Minor Dramas,
Comedy, aree. D-ess ’ Humorous Dialogue
and Burlesque, by noted writers: and Recitations
and new and standard, of the genteel:
celebrity an interest. Edited by Pr0£.A.M. ussell.

DIME HAND-BOOKS.

Young People’s Series.
mum's Dun: HAND-BOOKS ma Yours Pmm
cover a wide range of subjects, and are especially
adopted to their end. They constitute at once the
cheapest and most useful works yet put into the

market fo%%lflr circulation.
' Le - liter. Book of Games.
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Boo of Etiquette. Lovers‘ Casket.
0! Values. Ball-room Companion.
Book of Dreams. Book oi! Beauty.

Band-Books of Games.

Marion‘s Dmn Enrolment; or Gums AND Porous
HAND-300KB cover a. variety of subjects, and are es-

pecially mingled to their end.
ndbook of Summer Sports.
Book of Croquet. Yachting and Rowing.
as motor. Riding and Driving.
ketoarsrd Began“. Eek of 
Guide wim g. se-Ball er.
Handbook of inter Sports.y

'Manuals for Housewives.
Sunnn‘s Dms Fans: Smnns aims to supply a

class of text-books and manuals fitted for'eve per-
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the unlearned. They are of con ed value.

1. Cook Book. Family Physician.

‘3. Recipe Book. 5. Dressmakmg and m1.
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Im—MadAnthonyWayne 13,—Kit Carson.
X—Tecumseh.

XV.-Ethan Allen.
V.—Mnrquis de I-dfay- XL—Abraham Lincoln.
XII—Pontiac.

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‘ 128. The Missing Bride.

 

 

DINIE N()V~ELS.

Incomparable in Merit.
,Unupproawlrable In Price.

W Be very careful not to confound these books
with those of other publishers, sold at the same
price. The vast success of the DimeNovels called
into existence “ Ten Cent Novels," whlch the ubllc
is sometimes deceived in buying as Dune ovals.
The only Dime Novels are those published by 15mm
4.0) ADAMS, whose copyright trade-mark and. signet
the word “ Dime " Novel is. Ask always for Emma's
Dime Novels, and you will then get what youw'ish.
The followin comprises a complete list 8.4 ft ' as
published. umbers omitted are out of print.

2. Privateer‘s Cruise. I 866. Dingle, the Outlaw.

8. $11. 1 367. The Green Ranger.

9. Slave Sculptor. 308. lllontbars. Scourge.

. The Backwoods Bride 869. Metamora.

. Prisoner LaVintresso 370. Thompath, Trailer.
14. Emerald Necklace. 371. Foul-weather Jack.
16. Uncle Ezekiel. 872. The Black Rider.

17. Mad e Wilde. 878. The Helpless Hand.
22. The aid of Esopus. 874. The Lake are.
28. Winifred Winthrop. 875. Alone on the 1’ 'ns.
“" .he Peon Prince. 876. Phantom Horseman.
'loublo Hero. 877. Winona.

HD-l
HO

  

 

 

9‘4

 

rsol' Mohawk. 898. Red Slayer.
The Vrecker’s Prize. 394. The Phantom Foe.
The Indian Queen. 895. The Blue Anchor.
On the Dee . 896. Red-Skin’s Pied e.
The Creole isters. 897. The
Hearts Fo . 898. The lack Rover.
104. Guilty or NotGullty. 899. Red-Belt.
. . 400. The Two Trails.
115. The Sons of Liberty. 401. The Ice Fiend.
Po Last Th

. . 2. 8 Red Prince.
118. The Water Wait. 408. The First Trail.
404. Sheet-Anchor Torn.
406. Old Avoirdupols.
189. The Border Foes. 406. White Gladiator.
142. Sagamore of Saoo. 407. Blue Clipper.

232. The Prairie Queen. 408. Red Dan.
239. Old Zip. 409. The Fire—Eater.

adroon py.

82. 1:01:11. 878. Silent Shot, Sla er.
83. Martin Guinea. 200. 879. The Phantom hip.
84. Ruth 11's... elie. 880. The Red Rider.

85. East and est. 1381. The Grizzl -Hunters.
88. The Wrom Man. 882. The Mad uglier.
40. Union’s Dan 'hterfilc 888. The Specter ipper.
42. TheKing’s . 384. The Red Co etc.

44. Agnes Falkland. 835. The Hunch k.

46. Vi reek of the Albion. 386. The Black Wizard.
47. Tim Bumble’sCharge 887. The Mad Horseman.
58. Hates and Loves. 888. The Privateer’sBrlde
54. Myrtle. 880. The Jaguar Queen.
56. Ahmo’s Plot. 890. Shadow Jack.

62. The Unknown. 891. Eagle Plume.

g. The Indian Princess. 802. The Ocean Outllm".
65.

70.

87.

93.

102.

242. Gm bear/L 410. Blackhawk.
244. Kee 411. The Lost- Ship.
256. Antelo Abe. 412. Black Arrow.
284. The Young S y. 413. WhiteSe nt.

. The Lost aptoln.

. The Twin Trailers.

414
415

298. The Tonkawa Spy. 416. Death’s-head or
298. The Hussar Captain. 417. Captain of Cap us.
301. Mustang Sam. 416. Wamor Princess.
808. Glass Eye. 419. The Blue Band.
612. Dick Darling. 420. The S new Chief.
818. TheRedBrotherhood 421. The F Scout.
814 Rival Lieutenants. 422. Sonora Ben.
816. Hurricane Bill. 423. The Sea .
829. Old Grizzl . 421. Mountain G1
828. Dashing cons 425. Death Trailer.
324. Will-o‘-the-\ p. 426. Created Sefipen
825. Dashing Dick. 427. Arkansas 1:.
826. Old Crossfire. 428. The Corsair Prince.
327. Ben Bramble. 420. Ethan Allen’s Rifles.
328. The Brigand Captain 480. Little Thunderbolt.
829. Old Strategy. 481. The Falcon Rover.
830. Gray Hair, the Chief. 462. Honest Band.
381. The Prairie Tigers. 488. The Stone Chief.
382. The Rival Hunters. 484. The Gold Demon.
838. The Texan Scout. 435. Eutnwan. the Slayer
381. Zebra Zack. 486. Masked Guide.
385. Masked Messenger. 487. The Conspirators.
336. Mo on, the Pirate. 438. Swrtt' wingi ,
887. The 0&8 . 439. Caribou p.
338. Table, e railer. 440. The Privateer.
389. The Boy Chief. 441. The Black 
34 . Tim, the Trailer. 442. The Doome unter.

. Red Ax. 443. Borden. the Bang .
342. Stella the S y. 444. The Gray Scalp.
348. The White venger. 445. The Peddler Spy.

844. Th Indian . 446.
m e King

. The Long . .
346. Kirk the Guide. 448. T eTwo Hunters.
847. The Phantom Trail. 449. The Traitor Spy.
348. The fipache Guide. 450. The Gray Hunter.
349. The ad Miner. 451. Little Moccasin.
350. Keen Eye, the Ranger 452. The White Hermit.
36!. Blue Belt, Guide. 453. The Island Bride.
352. On the Trail. 454. The Forest Princess.
353. The Specter S y. 455. The Trail Hunters.
354. Old Bald Head? 456. Backwoods Banditti.
355. Red Knits, Chief. 457 Ruby Roland. .
858. Sib Cone. Trapper. 458. Laughing Eyes.
357. The Bear Hunter. 459. Mohegan Maiden.
358. Bashful Bill S ,v. 466. The Quaker Scout.
359. The White Ch of.. 461, Snmter’s Scouts.
860. Corrine.1 Scourge. 462. The Five Chem ions

361; The Squaw S . 463. The Two G s.
862. Scout 0! ’76 W 464. Qulndaro.
863. anisb Jack. 465. Rob Ruskin.

 

ked Spy. 466. The Rival Rovers.

 

g Kirke, Rt:qu  3mm

480. The Black Princess.

468. Single Hand.
481. The White Brave.

469. Tippy, the Texan.
470. Youn r Mustanger. 482 Riflemen of the Miami
471. The unted Life. 488. The Moose Hunter.
472. The Buflalo Trapper. 484. The Brigantine.

. Old Zip. 485. Put. Pomfret’s Ward
474. Foghorn Phil. 486. Sun le Phil.
475. Mossfoot, the Brave. 487. J o aviess’ Client.
476. Snow-Bird. 488. Ruth Harland.
477. The Dragoon’s Bride 489. The Gulch Miners.
478. Old Honesty. 490. Captain Molly.
479. Bald Eagle. Others 111 Prey

THE ILLUMINATED DIME
POCIIE'I‘ N 0 V1.13 LS.
Comprising the best works only of the most popular

wri e

living rs in the field of American romance
Each issue a com )lete novel, with illuminated cove:

rivaling in effect e popular chromo. .
Hawks e Harry. 87. Phil Hunter.
Dead S ot._ 88. The Indian Scout.
The Boy Miners. 89. The Girl Avenger.
Blue D ck. 90.. The Red Hermitess.
. Nat Wolfe. 91. Star-Face,the Slayer.

The White Tracker. 92. The Antelope Boy.
, The Outlaw’s Wife. 98. The Phantom Hunter

. The Tall Trapper. 94. Tom Pintle the Piles

. Lightning Jo. 95. The Red Wizard.

. The Island Pirate. 96. The Rival Treppers.

. The Boy Ranger. 97. The Sqfiaw Spy.

. Bess. the Trapper. 98. Dusky ick.

. The French Spy. 99. Colonel Crockett.

. i’ilong Shot. 100. Old Beer Paw.

. Gullluuker of Border. 101. Redlaw.

. Red Band. 102. Wild Rube.

. Ben the Tra er. 106. The Indian Hunters

. Wild Raven. anger. 104. Scarred Eng 0.

. The S ecter Chief. { 106. Nick Do let
The sir—Killer. i106. The In Spy.

. Wild Nat. 107. Job Dean.

Indian Jo, the Guide. 108. The Wood .

. Old Kent the Ranger. 109. The Scalped outer.
One—E led Trapper. 110. Nick the Scout.
Godbo d, the Spy. 111. The one ' .
The Black Ship. 1172. The Crossed nives.
Single Eye. ' 118. Tiger Heart. Tracker
Indian Jim. 114. The Masked Avenger
The Scout. 115. The Pearl Pirates.
Eagle Eye. :16. Black Panther.

T e Mystic Canoe. 117. Abdiel, the Avenger
The Golden Harpoon. 118. Cato the Cree .
The Scalp Kim-2 119. Two—Handed rift

 

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Old Lute. 120. Mad Trail Hunter.
Rainbolt, the 11. nger. 121. Black Nick.
The Boy Pioneer. 122. Kilt Bird.
Carson. the Guide. 123. The Sgecter Rider:
The Heart-Eater. 124, Giant ete.
Wetzel, the Scout. 125. The Girl Ca train.
The Huge Hunter. 123. Yankee Ep
Wild Nat. the Trapper 127. Silverspur.
 128. uatter Dick.
T e u to Outlaw. 129. T 8 Child Spy.
The Dog Trailer. 180. Mink Coat.
The_EJk  181. Red Plume.
Adrian, the ' at. 132. Clyde, the Trailer.
The Man-hunter. 188. The Lost Cache.
The Phantom Trucker 184. The Cannibal Clint
Moccasrn Bill. 135. Karalbo.
The Wolf Queen. . .986. Scarlet Moccasin.
Tom Hawkfi‘mller. :37. Kim ped.
The Mad C of. > 13!. Male ogche Mountain
The Black Wolf. 189. The Mom 
Arkansas J och. 140. The Border Renegade
Blackbeard. ‘ 141. The Mute Chiqt.
The River Rifles. 142. Boone, the Hunter.
57. Hunter Ham. 148 Mountain Kate.
56'. Cloudwood. 144. The Red Seal r.

 

59. The Texas Hawks. 145. The Lone f.
60. Merciless Mat. .43. The Silver Bugle.
61. MadAnthony‘sSoouts‘ 147. Ch! athe Che one
62. The Lucklees'l‘ra per 148. The angled .
68. The Florida Scan 149. The Unseen Hand.
64. The Island Trapper. 150. The Lone Indian.
65. We Caps 151. The Branded Brave.
66. Battlin ick. 152. Billy Bowl 3.
67. Shin - ye. 153. The Vulleficout.
68. Iron- and. 154. BedJacket.
69. The Yellow Hunter. 155. The Jungle Scout.
70. The Phantnm Rider. 156. The Cherokee Chi
71. Delaware Tom. 15?. The‘Bandit Hermit. ‘
72. Silver Rifle. 158. The Patriot Scouts.
78. The Skeleton Scout. 159. The Wood Rangers.
74. Little Rifle. 160. The Bed Foe.
75. The Wood Witch. 161. Beautiful Unknown.
76. Old Ruff. the Traps“. 162. Canebrake Mose.
77. The Scarlet Shou or! 1113. Hank. the Guide.
78. The Border Woman. 1 '. The Border Scout.
3’ Tinthv'l‘gitcg' i l 1% i131 Nah

. gcr owner. 1 . ofWo ,
31. Death Dealer. 167. The mmhafifi’éu
82. Kenton, the Ranger. 168. The Lost Hunter. x
83. gram Horseman. 169. Border Law.
84. e Three Trappers. 170. The Lifted Trail.
85. Kaleolflh. ., 171. The Trader Spy. .
86. The Hunter herculer.« 172. The Fer-est am.

 

, SONG BOOKS.

Burrow s Dnm Sore BOOKS Nos. 1 In 66, corral-3F
the only opular collection oil copyright songs to I
found hi1 beggar-ken

8 0 t. ‘ a
sawed Melqu :Mume and Words.

01‘ B k. I. w Cl I
00 e O in)
P ket .I 0 ~ I ‘\  M

 

 

 

 

 

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-:~—-I—BEADLE’S

HALF-DIME

 

 

 

LIBRARY. -'——-—-—-—

l

 

1 DeadWood Diek, THE PRINCE or THE ROAD;
or. THE BLACK RIDER or TIIE BLACK HILLS. By
Edward L. Wheeler.

2 Yollo‘vn‘tone Jack; or, TRAI'PERS or TIIE
ENCHANTED GROUND. By Jos. E. Dodger, Jr.

3 Kansas King; or, TIIE RED RIGHT HAND.
By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody).

4 ' he “'iId-llorse Hunters. By Captain
Mayne Reid and Captain m-ederick Whittaker.

5 t’asrabond Joc,'rm; YOUNG WANDERING JEw;
orL PLOTTINO run A LEGACY. By 011 Coomes.

6 Bill Blddon, ' ‘rapper' .01‘, LIFE IN THE
NORTHWEST. B Edward S. Ellis.

7 The Flying ’ankeo; 01', THE OCEAN OUT-
CAET. By 001. Prentiss Ingrahum.

ll l‘s‘cth J ones; or. TIIE CAPTIVES or THE FRON-
TIER. By Edward S. Ellis.

9 Adventures of Baron I'lnnchaunen.

10 Nat Todd; or TIIE FATE ON THE SIOUX CAP-
nvm. A Sequel l.” Bill Bidrlon. By E. 3. Ellis.

11 The Two Detectiven; or TDD. FORTUNES
or A BOWERY GIRL. By Albert JW. Aiken.

i2 Gulliver’s Travel-.1. A Vovage to Lilliput,
and a Voyage to Brobdingnug. By Death swift.

[3 The Dumb S i '. By 011 Coomes.

lAl Aladdin; or. III: WONDERFUL LAMP.

15 The Sen-(lat; or. ’l‘IIE WITCII or DARIEN.
BV Ca Itain Frederic]: Whittaker. _

16 Rob nson Crusoe. His Life and Sui-pus.
ing Adventures, (27 Illustrations.) By Defoe.

17 Ralph Boy, THE BOY BUOCANEER; or. THE
FUGITIVE YACHT. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahani.

18 Slndbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages.
From the Arabian Nights.

19 The Phantom S 1)"
PRAIRIE. By Bultalo ill.

20 The Double Daggers ' Or, DEADWOOD Dion’s
DEEIANOE. By Edward L. Wheeler.

21 The Frontier A ngel. A ROMANCE OE KEN-
TL‘CKY RANGERS LIFE. By Edward S. Ellis.

22 The Sea Serpent; or, THE BOY ROBINSON
CRUSOE. By Juan Lewis.

23 Nick 09 the Night; or, THE BOY SPY or ‘76.

’l‘. C. Hurbaugh.

2-1 lainond Dic-k' or TI-IE MYSTERY or TDD
YnLLowsTONE. By 101. l’rentiss Ingrahmn.

'25 The Boy Captain; or, TIIE PIRATE‘S
DAUGHTER. By Roger Smrbuck.

‘26 (‘loven Hoof, TIIE BUFFALO DEMON; or, THE
BODDED VOLTUDLS. By Edward L. Wheeler.

27 Antelope Abe, TIIE'BOY GUIDE. 011 Coomes.

23 Bufl'ulo Ben, THE PRINCE OF THE PISTOL;
or, DEADWOOD DICK IN DISGUISE. E. L. Wheeler.

29 The Dumb Page; or TDD DOGE’s DAUGH-
TEE. B CO t. Frederick Whittaker.

30 Roarion lilalph Rock‘vood , THE RECE-
was DANGER. By Barry St. GeOI‘Ue.

31 Keen-Knife, PRINCE or TIIE i’mmms. By
011 Coomes.

32 Bob \Vooli’, TI-IE BORDER RUrrIAN- or. TDD
GIRL DEAD-SHOT. By Edward L. Whee er.

33 'l‘hegocean Bloodhound‘ or, THE RED
PIRATES or THE CADIBDEES. By W. Pierce.

34 Oregon 801' or NICK erLEs' BOY SPY.
13v Ca 1:. J. r. (5. Adams.

35 W1] Ivan, THE BOY CLAUDE DUVAI.;or, TEE
BROTIIEIIIIOOD 01" DEATH. By Ed. L. Wheeler.

36 The Boy Clown _or, TDD QUEEN or TEE
ARENA. By Frank S. arm.

37 The Hidden Lodge; or, TEE LI'I'I‘LE HUN-
TEE or TDD ADIIwNDAOxs. By ’1‘. C. Horbeugh.

38 Ned 1Vyl (10, THE BOY SCOUT. By Texas Jack.

39 Death-Face, THE DETECTIVE; or. LIED AND
LOVE IN NEW YORK. By Edward L. Wheeler.

~10 Kevinw Ben. A STORY or A YOUNG AMERI-
OAN Wno ANTED To SEE THE WORLD. Marshall.

11 Lasso Jack, THE YOUNG MUSTANGER. By
011 Coomes. '

~12 The Phantom Minor; or DEADwooD
DIOII’s BOIIANZA. By Edward L. Wheeler.

43 Dick Darling, THE PONY EXPRESS 
By CE I. Frederick Whittaker.

1-! Butt lng Rube; or. THE NIGHT Ewas or
KENTUCKY. By Harry St. George.

‘5 01d Avalanche THE GREAT ANNquTon;
or, WILD EDNA,TKE InLBDIGAND. E. L.Whe3.ler.

In Glass Eye, THE GREAT SHOT or THE W EST.
By Capt. J. F. 0. Adams.

1 1 Ni htin ale Nut; or, TEE FOREST CAPTAINS.
B  C. Drbaugh.

is lack John, TEE ROAD-AGENT; or. TEE OUT-
LAws’ RETREAT. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

40 Omaha 01] THE MASKED TERDOE: or. DEAD-
woon DIOII IN ANGER. By Edward L. eeler.

50 Burt Bunker, m TRAPPED. A Tale of the
Northwest. By C. E. Laselle.

51 The BOX Rifles; or. TEE UNDEDGDOUND
CAMP- ‘1‘3‘1 rchio C. Irons

$2 The ite Bufl‘alo. A Tale of Stranize

Adventure in the Northwest. By C. E. Lasnl e.

53 Jim Bindsoe, Jr., TDD or anm; or,
THROUGH To DEATH. By Edward L. Wheeler.

3‘ 4 Ned Hazel, THE BOY TRAPPED; or. THE PEAN-

. . 1W I’mmm By Capt. J. F. 0. Adams.

" 0 DOWN)" Eye. THE UNKNOWN SUoU-r: or. THE
BRANDED Bnormnoon. By Emma 3111.

56 Nick Whililea’ Peg or 13 THE VALLEY OH.

5 713A? By $318. vii-11.3. l.mAdiims. P

ell W00 0 R on or TEE ADDS

or FLOOD BAR. Bv Edward  Whether.

58 The Border King; or, THE SEODET FOE.

13y on Coomes.
M) 1:! Hickory; or,1’ANDY ELLm‘s BcALr. By
Harry St. George.
(so The White Indian; or THE Scours or Tm:
YELLOWSTONE. Bv Capt. J. E C. Adams.
. or Buekhorn Bill; or. THE RED Rum Tun.
Bv Edward L. Wheeler.
02 'l;he Shadow ship; or. TDD RIVAL Lua-
WANTS. By Col. Plentiss Ink!”imam

or. 'l‘IIE PILOT or TDD

 

i
l
I,

 

63 The Bed Brotherhood; or, TIIE TWELVE ‘

AvENGEEs. B ' W. .7. Hamilton.

64 Dandy Jul: ; or. THE OUTLAW or TIIE OREGON
TRAIL. By ’1‘. C. Hurbaugh.

65 Hurricane Bill; or, MUSTANG SAM AND 1113
“YARD.” By JOE. E. Badger, Jr.

66 Sin-fie Hand; or, A LINE Don. A LIED. By
W. . Hamilton.

67 Patent-leather Joe; or OLD RATTLESNAIIE,
THE CHARMER. By Philip S. Varne.

68 The Border Robin flood; or, Tm:
PRAIRIE ROVER. By Buffalo BilL

69 Gold Rifle, Tim SEARPEHOOTED; or THE BOY
DETECTIVE or THE BLACK RANCH. By Wheeler.

70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, TDD GDEENDODN IN
THE WOODS. V . F. 0. Adams.

71 Delaware Dick, THE YOUNG RANGER SPY;
or. BEOTnEn AGAINST BROTHER. By 011 Coomes.

72 Mad Tom Western, THE TEXAN RANGER;
or. TIIE QUEEN or THE PRAlRIE.

JANE, THE HEBOINE or Wnoor-UP. By Wheeler.

'74 Hawk-eye Harry, THE YOUNG TRAPPED
RANGER. By 011 Ceomes.

75 The Boy Duelint; or, THE CRUISE or THE
SEA-WOLF. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm.

76 A be (Jolt, THE CROW-Kmum; or, THE GREAT
FIGHTING MAN OF IIIE WEST. By A. W. Aiken.

77 Corduroy (limriie, THE BOY BRAVO; or,
DEADWOOD DIGK’s LAST ACT. By E. L. Wheeler.

78 Blue Dick; or, THE YELLOW CmEr‘s VEN-
OEANOE. By Captain Mayne Reid.

79 Sol Ginger, TEE GIANT TRAPPER' or. THE
FLOWER. on THE BLAOKI-EET. B A. W. Aiken.

80 Rosebud Rob; or NUGGET ED, TEE KNIGHT
or TDD GULCH. By Edward L. Wheeler.

81 Lightningr Jo, THE TERROR or TEE PRAIRIE.
Bv Captain J. F. C. Adams.

82 Kit Hareloot, TIIE WOOD-HAWK: or, OLD

POWDEN-FAOE AND HIS DEMONS. Bv Harbaugh.
83 Rollo, the Boy “anger or, THE HEIRIIss
or THE GOLDEN HORN. By Oll’Coomes.

84 ldyil, the Girl Miner; or.BosEDUD BOD
ON AND. By Edward L. Wheeler. .

85 Buck Buekrum; or. Brass, Tim FEMALE
TRAPPED. By Captain J. F. 0. Adams.

86 Dam! Bock, THE MAN mom TExAs. By
(A. Wei 0 Browne. ‘ "

87 The Land Pirates; or, TDD LEAGUE or
DEVIL'S ISLAND. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

88 Photograph 1’ Iii, THE BOY SLEUTH; or.
ROSEBUD Ron D Ell-APPEARANCE. By E. L.Wheeler.

89 Island Jim' or. Tun PDT on THE FAMILY.
By the author 05 “ Jack Hurkawa. .”

00 The Dread Rider; or, TEE DUELIET.
B George Waldo Browne.

91 ' he Captain oi'the Club; or, THE YOUNG
RIVAL ATHLETES. By Braoebrldge Hemyng,

92 Canada Chet, THE COUNTERFEITER CHIEF;
or OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING BULL’s CAMP. By
Edward L. Wheeler.

93 The Boy Minerflfi1 or, Tim ENCBANTED
IELAND. By Edward S. 1113.

04 Midnight J aek TIIE ROAD-AGENT; or,
Gornrn CID. THE BOY DADDED or TEE CHEYENNE.

By T. C. Harbough,

95 The Rival Rovers
or TEE MISSIssIrI-I. B

96 Watch-Eye. TEE mow; or Ame AND
ANGELS or A GREAT CITY. By E. L. Wheeler.

97 The Outlaw Brothers; or TEE CAPTIVE

or TEE HARPES. By J. J. Marshal.

98 Robin Hood, THE OUTLAer EARL; or, THE
MERRY MEN or GREENWOOD. Prof. Gildersleeve.

99 The Tiger of Tampa; or. WILD KATE, DANDY
Roox‘s ANGEL. By George Waldo Browne.

100 Deadwood Dick 11 Lendville; or. A

STRANGE STROKE FOR LIBERTY. BerhOeler.

101 Jack Harknwny in New ork or,

‘ TRAVELIms' ‘03.

or. TEE F‘EEEDOOTEIas
eut. Col. Hazeltlne.

TEE ADVENTURES or THE

By Bracehrldge Hemyng‘.

102 Dick Baud-Eye, THE BOY SM’UGGLER; or,
TDD CRUISE or TEE VIXEN. By Col. lngmham.

103 The Lion ol the Sea; or. Tar. V
LADY or SAN TBOPEZ. By Col. Della Sara.

104 Deadwood Dick’s Device or. TEE
SIGN or THE, DOUBLE Cross. By E. . Wheeler

105 Old Ru be, THE HUNTER; or, Tan 030w CAP-
'i‘IVE. By Capt. . Holmes.

106 old Frosty, GUIDE; Or, NIOKANA, Tn
WHITE QUEEN or THE BLAOIII'EED. Herbaugh.

107 One-Eyed Sim or, THE ABANDONED Fon-
Es-r HOME. By J. . Bowen.

1 08 During Davy, THE YOUNG BEAR-KILLER; or,
TDETEAII. or TEE BORDER Wow. H. St. Geo e.

109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. y
Edward L. Wheeler.

110 The. Black Steed of the Prairies. A
Thrilling Storv of Texan Adventure. By Bowen.

111 .The Sea-Devil; or, TIIE MIDSBIPMAN'l
LEGACY. By Col. P. Ingrahmn.

112 The Mad Hunter; or, TDD CAVE or
DEATH. By Burton Sexe.

113 Jack Hoyle, TIIE YOUNG SDEOULATOII; or.
THE ROAD To FORTUNE By Ed. L. When er.

1 1 4 The Black Schooner; or, JID JUNK, THE
OLD TAR. By Roger Starbuck.

1 1 5 The Mad Illiner; or, DANDY Roars Doom.

George Waldo Browne.

116 ' .he llussar (la ital“; or, THE Emu
or HELL-GATE. By 1. Prentiss Inmham.

ll 7 Gilt-Edged Dirk. THE SPORT DDT-Em;
or. 'l‘nE ROAD-AGENTS DMIGH’IER. Wheeler.

1 1 8 \Vill flamers, Tun Bow DETIerVE. Morris.

1 19 Muntam: Sam; Or. 'l‘rm KING or TEE

mm. By JOE. E. Badrer. Jr.

120 The Branded “and; or. 'i‘n MAN or
Mysrmny, By Frank Dumont.

121 Cinnamon! Chi ) THE G
THE GOLDEN IDOL or T. Ron.

SDODT; or.
d. LWhoolor.

 

i
l
l
I
I
|

By Hamilton. I
73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, CALAMITY -

 

122 Phil Hardy, Tim Boss BOY: or, TDD Mrs-
TERY or THE STEONL‘DOW. By Charles Morris.
123 Kiowa Charley, TIIE WHITE MUOTANOEII.
By T. C. Hurbuugh.
124 '1 ilép y, TIIE TEXAN; or, THE YOUNG CHANDION.
B Gorge Gleason.
125 onanza Bill MIXED; or. MADAME Mm-
TERY. THE FEMALE liouunk. By Ed. L. Wliovh-r.
126 Picayune Pete; or, hieonnnrs, Inn DOG
DETECTIVE. By Charles Morris.
1 27 “(lid-Fire, Tun Boss or Inn ROAD; or, Tlil‘. _
WOLVES or SATAN’s GAP. By Frank burnout.” "
128 rho Young Privateer' OI,TIIE PIRATEO‘
V STRONGNOLD. Bv ll. Cavendish.
129 Deadwood Dick’s Double or. TDD
GHOST or GONOON‘E UULCH. Ed. L. healer.
130 Detective Dick; or, TDD HERO IN RAOD.
BV Charles Morris.
131 The Golden "and;
THE RESCUE. By George W. Browne.
132 The Hunted Hunter; or, TDD STRANGE
HORSEMAN or TDD PRAIRIE. By Ed. 8. Ellis.
183 Boss Bob, THE KING or THE BOOTBLACKS:
or. THE PAwNDnoKEn's PLOT. Ed. L. Wheeler.
1 34 Sure Shot Seth, THE BOY RIFLEMAN; or Tm:
YOUNG PATRIOTS or THE NORTH. By on Coomes.
l 35 Cu tam Paul, THE KEN-mch MooNaImIEE;
or HE BOY SPY or TEE MOUNTAINS. By Clark
136 Night-Hawk Kit - or, TEE DAUGHTEE or
Tm: RANCH. By Jose h E. Badger, Jr.
137 The Helpless and; or. BAcxwoons
RETDIDUTION. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
1 38 Blonde Bill; or, DEADWOOD DIOK’a HOME
BASE. By Edward L. Wheeler.
139 Jung Lvneh Jr.; or. THE BOY VIOI-
LANTE. B T. C. I arhaugh. ‘
140 Blue B sizes; or TDD BREAK 0’ DAY 801’!
or ROCKY BAIL By lrank Dumont.
141 Solid sum, THE BOY ROAD-AGENT; or. Tm:
BRANDED Brows. By Edward L Wheeler.
142 Handsome Harr , TEE BOOTDLAOK DD-
TEcTIVE. By Charles orris.
143 Sear-Face Saul, TEE SILENT HUNTED; or,
TILE MYSTERY or FORT BANE. By Oli Coomes.
144 Dainty Lance. THE BOY SPORT; Or ’l'lm
BANK-BREAKERS' DECOY Dch. J. E. Badger.
145 Captain Ferrel, THE NEW YORK Dm'w
TIVE; or. Boss BOB'S B055 Jon. By Wheeler.
146 Silver Star, 'rmr. BOY KNIGHT. A Prairie
147 {Refilim‘equynOll (30011195. I
a re, TIIE TEOKOCGEBRED' or.
TEE WINNING HAND. By Charles Morris. '
148 Sharp Nam ; cr. TIIE ADVENTURES or A
FRIENDLEss BOY. B ' J. Alexanderl‘atten.‘
149 A Gflnle of Go cl; or, DEADWOOD Diox‘s
BIO STRIKE. By Edward L. Wheeler.
150 Lance and Laseo' or, TIIE CHILDREN or
Inn CKACO. By Capt. ederick Whittaker.
151 Panther Paul, TEE PRAIRIE PIRATE; or.
DAINTY LANCE TO THE RnchE. J. E. Badger.
152 Black Bean, WILL WILDDmE‘s RAcna; or.
WINNING AGAINST ODDS. By Charles Morris.
153 Eagle Kit, THE BOY DEMON; or TDD 0w—
LAws or TUE GOLD HILLs. By Oil Coomes.
154 The SIvurd Hunters; or. THE LAND or
m ELEPHANT RIDERS. By Fred. Whittaker.
155 Gold Trigger TI-IE Bram; or, TDD Gnu.
AVENGEIL By '1‘. .. Hurbau h.
156 Deadwood Dick of eadworvd
THE PICRED PARTY. BV Edward L. Wh .
157 Mike Merry. TIIE ARBOR POLICE Bower,
158 THE NIam-Hwas or PHILADELPEXA. Mon-ls.
1 59

or DANDY BOOK To

~

or.

Funny Frank 01' Colorado or ‘Tnn
TnArrEn's TRUST. By Buffalo Bill. 3 I
The Lost Captain; or. SWJADB
Cam‘s CnUIsE To THE ODEN POLAR. SEA.
Bv Ca . win Frederick Whittaker. ‘.
The lack Giant: or, DAINTY LANCE IN
J EorAnDY. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
New York Nell THE Bow-Gnu. DUI-norm
or. OLD BIAKEsLY‘s MONEY. By E. L. Wheeler
Will Wildfire in the Woods '
LINE IN THE ALLEGDANIEE. By Chm-l
Little Texan. THE YOUNG MUDTANODII. A
164 gale (g Ternan Pkrahiefi' Oil Coomes. ‘
an y on u e e or
DEATH. By G. Waldo Brw‘rfne! ' Hump 
165 Billy Baggage, THE RAILEOAD Boy; or.
RUN To EARTH. By Charles Morris.
166 Hickory Harry; or, THE TRAIL or m.
m R’HS’”.%"T‘?:§‘°'
sa co , TEAEDOATBOY: o . '
PIRATES OF THE MIssxssIm. By  $51???
168 Dead}; Dash or. FIGHTING I‘m! m.-
FIDE. v Jon. E. dger.
169 Tornado Tom; or. INJUN JAOII 1‘30an ‘
Corr. T. C. Hm-bangh.
170 A Trump Card; or. WILL Wrwmr Wm

160
161
162
163

or. CA".
s Morris.

AND Looms Charles Morris '
1'11 Ebony Dafiy or. THE RIVAL LEAGUIO or
SILVER DIODE. v F. Dumont.

-1 72 Thunderbolt Tom 3 or. TDD WoIEBrnan;

or TEE Romans. Br Ham St. Gear 6.
1"! 3 Dandy Rock’s ‘nival or. Tgn 11mm
MAID or Two. By Geo e Dido Browne.

174 Bob Rocket Tim I Donut-.3; 7 .
TERIES OrNEng’nx. By Charles NOISE: in
1'15 Captain Arizona, THE KING PIN or TON
. AD Aoms; or. Potent Leather Joe's Big

1 76 raglanBy lamp S.WaI-ne.

e o luluwn, ' o ,m
x 77 at: an: Biizvi IL‘leu‘t;  DY £1233 
o y . c o evu a. ‘

Wheeler. Ready December 14011.;y mm“ L

A "W, “am every week.

The nan-Dime mum” is to,

Ill
Newsdeal five can .
Pt“: 023123: “SWIG? morsentgm‘fi an

13 . DBEAP ‘
“I 93 veelflfimeggget. New  “Aus'

 

 

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82 Large Three-Column Pages.

LA Hard Crowd; 0B, GENTLEIIAN
SAII’s SIsTEn. ByPhilip S. Warne.

2. The Dare-Devil; OR, THE WINGED
WITCH or THE SEA. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

8. Kit Carson. Jr., THE CRACK SHOT OF
THE WEST. By Buckskin Sam.

4. The Kidnapper; OR, THE GREAT
SHANGHAI or THE NORTHWEST. By Philip S. Warne.

5. The Fire-Pleads; on, HERCULES, THE

. HUNGEIIACK. By A. P. Morris.

6. Wildcat Bob, THE Boss BRUISER;
on. THE BORDER BmODEOUNDs. By Ed. L. Wheeler.

7. Death-Notch, THE DESTROYER; on,
THE SPIRIT LAKE AVENOERs. By 011 Coomes.

8. The Headless Horseman. A strange
story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.
10. Video , THE FRENCH POLICE Srr.

‘Written by himse

11. Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar-
Iyst.

12. The Death-Shot; on, TRACKED To
DEATH. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

13. Pathawa :08, NICK WHIEELEs, THE
OLD TmpEn OE THE ORTHWEsT. By Robinson.

14. The. endanegea, THE SCOURGE .-
OR, THE WAR.- LE or THE MOEAWKs. Ned Buntline.

15. The Tiger-Slayer; 0R, EAGLE-
B’EAD To THE RESCUE. By Gustave Aimard.

16. The White Wizard: OR, THE GREAT
PROPHET or THE SEIIINOLEs. By Ned Buntline.

17. Nightshade, THE ROBBER PRINCE
or HOUNsww HEATH. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

18. The Sea Bandit; OR, THE QUEEN
or TEE law. By Ned Buntline.

19. Red Cedar, THE PRAIRIE OUTLAW.
By Gustave Aimnrd.

20. The Bandit at Bay; OR, THE PI-
aATEs or THE PRAIRIES. By Gustave Aimard.

21. The Trapper’s Daughter; OR,
THE OUTLAw’s FATE. By Gustave Annard.

22. Whitelaw: 0R, NATTIE or THE LAKE
SHOEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

23. The Red Warrior: OR, STELLA
DELOEIIE's COKANCEE LOVER. By Ned Buntline.

24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai~
msrd, author of “ Tiger-Slayer." etc.

25. The Gold-Guide; 0R, STEEL Ann,
THE REGULATOR. By Francis Johnson.

26. The Death-Track; OR, THE OUT-
LAws on THE MOUNTAIN. By Francis Johnson.

27. The S otter-Detective; on, THE
Gm or NEW OEK. By Albert W. Aiken.

28. Three-Pingered Jack, THE ROAD-

. AGENT OE TEE ROCKIES. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

29. Tiger Dick, THE FARO KING; or,
THE CAsEIEs’s Cam. By Philip S. Warns.

80. 'Gospel Geor e; or. FIERY FEED,
THE OUTLAW. By Josep E. Badger, Jr.

81. The New York ‘8 3’ OE, THE
Fuse or LIGHTNING. By Albert W. en.

82. B’hoys of Yale; on, THE SCEArEs
or A HARD SET or COLLEGIANs. By John D. Vose.

88. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken.
84. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken.
85. Kentuck. the Sport. By Aiken.
as. Injnn Dick. By Albert W. Aiken.

37. Hirl. the Hunchback: on, THE
SWOEDHAKEE or THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

38. Velvet Hand: on, THE IRON Gnu- or
[NJUN DICK. By Albert W. Aiken.

89. The Russian Spy; 03. TEE BROTH-
ms or TEE STAEEY Caoss. By Frederick Whittaker.

40. The no Haired ‘ Pards 3’ on,
THE TAMAEs or TEE 3. By J os. E. Badger. Jr.

41. Gold Dan; OE, THE WHITE SAVAGE
or THE GREAT BAur LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken.

42. The California Detective ; on,
THE Wm or I!“ You. By Albert W. Aiken.

48. Dakota DmTHERECKLEss RANGER;
or. m BEEHmm' Exomox. By 011 Coomes.

 

LIBRARY.

 

 

 

 

44. Old Dan Rackhack. Tm: GREAT
EXTAEEINATOR. By 011 Coomes.

45. Old Bull’s Eye, THE LIGHTNING
SHOT OE TEE PLAINs. By Joseph E. Badger, JR.

46. Bowie-Knife Ben. THE LITTLE
HUNTER or THE Now-WENT. By 01] Coomes.

47. Pacific Pete, THE .PRINCE or THE
REVOLVER. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

48. Idaho Tom, THE YOUNG OUTLAW
OE SILVEELAND. By 011 Coomes.

49. The Wolf Demon; or, THE QUEEN or
THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken.

50. Jack Rabbit, THE PRAIRIE SPORT;
By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

51. Red Rob, THE BOY ROAD-AGENT.
By 011 Coomes.

52. Death Trailer, TIDE CHIEE or
Scams. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody. (Buffalo Bill.)

53. Silver Sam; or, THE MYSTERY OF
Deaiwoon CITY. By Col. Delle Sara.

54. Always on Hand; or, THE SPORTIV'E

SPORT OE THE FOOT HILLS. By Philip S. Warne. .

55. The Scalp Hunter. A ROMANCE OF
THE PLAINs. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

56. The Indian MazeBFea; or, THE
MAD MAN OF THE PLAINS. By rt W. Aiken.

57. The Silent Hunter; or, THE SCOWL
HALL MYSTERY. By Percy B. St. J onh.

58. Silver Knife; or, WICKLIEEE, THE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGER. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

59. The Man Prom Texas; or, THE
OUTLAW or AEKANsAs. By Albert W. Aiken.

60. Wide Awake: or, THE IDIOT or
THE BLACK HILLs. By FrankDumont.

61. Captain Seawait'. TEE PEIVATEEE.
By Ned Buntline.

62. Loyal Heart; or, TEE TEAPrEEs or
AEKANsAs. By Gustave Aimard.

83. The Winged Whale. By Aiken.

84. Double-Si§ht. the Death Shot.
By Joseph E. Badger, r.

65. The Red

or THE INDIEs. By Cap

66. The Specter Barque.
OE THE PACIFIC. By Captain Mayne Reid.

67.: The Boy Jockey; or, HONEST?
VEEsvs CROOKEDNESS. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
68. The 1" mm Tra or or KIT
CAnsoN To THE RIEgSCUE. By   C. 

69. The Irish Ca tain; A TALE OE
FoNTENov. ByCaptainF erick Whittaker.

70. Hydrabad, THE STRANGLER; or,
ALETEE, THE CHILD or THE COED. By Robinson.

71. Captain Cool-Blade, Or, THE MAN
SHARK or TEE MISSISSIPPI. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

72. The Phantom Hand. A STORY OE
NEw YORK HEAETHs AND Hours. By A. W. Aiken.

73. The Knight of the Red Cros;
or, THE MAGICIAN OF GRANADA. Dr. J. H. Robinson.

74. Captain ofthe Rifles. A ROMANCE
on- THE MEXICAN VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid.

.75. Gentleman George, or, PABLOR,
PEIsON, STAGE AND STREET. By'Albert W. Aiken.

76. The Queen’s Musketeer: or,
THIsEE, TEE Pamosss PALIIIsT. By George Albany.

ah; or, THE SCOUEGE
Frederick Whittaker.

A TALE

77. The Fresh of Frisco: 01‘. TI'E’

HEInEss or BUENAVENTUEA. v By Albert W. Aiken.

78. The Mysterious Spy; or. GOLDEN
FEATHER, THE BUCCANEEE’s DAUGHTER. By Grainger.

79.509 Ph ' ' P LICE SPY. B
Albert W. Aiken. em THE 0 y

80. A Man of Nerve; 01', CAI-13AM

TEE DWAEE. By Philip S. Warne.

81. The Human'Tiger,’ or. A HEART
or FIRE. By AIbert W.‘ Aiken /

 

Each Number Complete. Price 10 do.

82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. I
By Col. Thomas H. Monstery.

83. Gold Bullet Sport: or, THE KNIGHTS
or THE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bill.

84. Hunted Down: or, THE WRITE
WITCH. ByAlbeItW. Aiken.

85. The Cretan Rover; or. ZULEIKAH,
THE BEAUTIFUL. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

86. The Big Hunter; or, THE QUEEN
or THE Woons. By the author of “ Silent Hunter."

87. The Scarlet Captain; or, THE
PRISONER OETHETOWEE. By 001. Dells Sara. ,

88. Big Geor_e, THE GIANT OF THE
GUICH;OI‘, HEFIVE UTLAw BROTHERS. ByBadger.

89. The Pirate Prince: or, 'PRETTY
NELLY, THE QUEEN or THE ISLE. By Col. Ingraham.

90. Wild Will, THE MAD RANCBERO;
or, THE TERRIBLE TEXAN. By Buckskin Sam.

91. The Winning Oar; or, THE INN
KEErEE‘s DAUGHTER. By Albert W. Aiken. '

92. Bufi‘alo Bill. THE BUCKSKIN KING;
By Major Dangerfield Burr.

93. Cagtain Dick Talbot. KING on
THE ROAD. y Albert W. Aiken.

94. Freelance, THE BUCCANEEE; or, The
WAIF OE TEE WAVE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

95. Azhort, THE AXMAN; or, THE SECRETS
OF THE DUCAL PALACE. By Anthony P. Morris.

96. Double-Death; Or, THE SPY QUEEN
OE WYOMING. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

97. BrOnze Jack, THE CALIEORNIA
THOROUGHBRED. By A. W. Aiken.

98. The Rock Rider; or, THE SPIRIT
OE THE SIERRA. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

99. The Giant Rifleman; or, WILD
LIFE IN THE LUEEEE REGIONs. By 011 Coomes.

100. The French Sgy: or, THE BRIDE
101E  A Story of the ommune. By A.'P.
o s.

101. The Man from New York; or,
T'EEARkOeIfiNCE or A RICH YOUNG WOMAN. By Albert

102. The Masked Band: or, THE MAN-
WITHOUT A NAME. By George L. Aiken.

103. Merle, the Mutineerz‘ or, THE.
BEAND or THE RED ANCHOE. By 001. P. Ingram

104. Montezuma. the Merciless; 01-,
THE EAGLE AND TEE SERPENT. By 00!. P. Ingrsham.

105. Dan Brown of Denver, THE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN DETECTIVE. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

106. Shamus O’Brien, THE BOULD BOY
or GLINGAL; or, IsIsH HEAETs AND IEIsE Hons.
By Colonel Delle Sara.

107. Richard Talbot of Cinnabar;
or THE BROTHERS OE THE RED HAND. ByAlbeI-t W.
en.

108. The Duke of Diamondsgor, Tm:
FLOWER or CALOU'ITA. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

109. Ca tain Kidd, KING or THE BLACK
FLAG. By 00 one! Prentiss Ingrsham. ‘ NOV. 24th.

.110. The Silent Kinsman. A Tale of
the Texan Plains. By Henry W. Herbert. Dec. 181;. ,

111. The Sum ler Ca t ' .
SKIrrEE’s CEUIsE. Byfi'ge‘d Buntllng. adagéfiférgtni

112. Joe Phenix, PEIvATE DETECTIVE-

or THE LEAGUE or THE SKELETON Albert
WI Aiken. Ready December 15mm“. By

1 13. The Sea Sli TEE AIIA-
TEUE FEEEEOOTEEs. By  gérflmm.
Ready December 23d.

.4 new ism every week]
Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by All
Newsdealers, ten cents per copy. or sent by mail on
receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS.

/

 

Publishers. 98 William Street, New York.

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