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ENTERED AT THE POST OFFICE AT NEW YORK, N. Y,, AT SECOND CLASS MAIL RATES.

 Publiilfilrzikfivery QBeadZe (f3- fldams, QDabZishers, ‘TéhcentncOpy. NO. 4

 

 

 

 

 

BIG FOOT WALLAGEJHE KING 0F THE lARlAT; “$33”?

 

 

BY “BUCKSKIN SAM ”-Major Sam S. Hall,

AUTHOR OF “DIAMOND DICK,” “ THE LONE STAR GAMBLER,” “THE TERRIBLE TONKAWAY,” “KIT CARSON,” ETC., mo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“HURRAH FOR BIG FOOT WALLACE!” “CHALK ANOTHER mm mm KING 0’ mm: posr OAKS!” “ HOOP-LA! sn'r ’xx UP
FER THEE BOSS SCOUT O’ THER SOU’WEST!"

 

2 ,

Big-,_I‘_‘voot_“'allace.

 

 

Big Foot Wallace,
The King of the Lariat;

Wild Wolf. the Waco.

 

BY “BUCKSKIN SAM”
(MAJOR SAM s. HALL),

AUTHOR or "DIAMOND DICK," “an LONE
31 AB GAMBLFR,’ "THE TERRIBLE
roxxawav.” “1m can
son, JR,” ETC.

 

CHAPTER I.
Doounu.

“ Poboe pablito! Pbboe ceti !”

This outcry came from a Mexican woman,
and was in a loud tone, filled with anguish the
mist intense, and mingled with heart-rending
horror, as the speaker sprung wildly forward,
fell prostrate on the plaza, and clasped in her
arms 9 small boy that had just been trampled
to earth by a galIOping steed ridden by a swar-
thy and villainous looking Grosser, who was
evidently well “primed” witl the favorite
beverage of his country—mezcal.

That this cowardly act was observed by
men who Were ready and anxious to avenge
the little muchacho, will be seen by what im-
mediately transpired within twenty paces of
the scene.

“ Thunder an’ blazes, Wallace! what yer a-
loosenin’ yer rope fer.’ We’re in San Antone,
am” not ’mong ther post-oaks Reckon yer
must be b’ilin’ over with p'ison.”

These words were spcken in a quick, aston-
ished tone, by a strongly-built Texan, as he
observed his companion, by a lightning-like
movement, jerk his lasso from his revolver,
over which it hung loosely, the pistol or course
being in his belt.

“Stan’outen ther way, an’ take a squar’
gaze at me! l’m sober, plum up an’ down, an’
means speedy biz!"

“Why, in Crockett’s name, didn’t yer say
so fast off, without axin’i” And the questioner
sprung aside from his companion, who was a
man of more than average size, and seemingly
of extraordinary strength.

The giant borderer drew back his right

.shoulder, the well—greased coils of the rope

.4

waving snake like above his head; he then
gave a forward swing to his whole body, the
raw hide at the same moment leaving his hand
and hissing through the air. The deadly noose
flew over, and than sunk about the neck of the
Mexican,‘ who, as luck had it, had been
swerved toward his fate by obstructing wagons.
Only an instant was be conscious of his dan~
ger. The next he was twitched from his
prancing, spur-maddened mustang to the
ground by so powernt a hand that his head
struck the hard earth, causing him to lose all
consciousness

In a moment the plaza. was a scene of up-
roar, all rushing to the point of commotion
where the dexteronis lnssois: stood, his foot
upon the man he had jerked so quickly from

' his saddle.

The Main Plaza of San Antonio de Bexnr,
Texas, Vvhere this scene occurred, is a very
large square, and was at this time partly filled
with the wagons of rancheros, the burros of
the Mexicans, and people of all garbs and no.-
tionalities.

" Hurrah for Big Foot Wallace!”

“ Chalk another fer ther King 0’ ther Post
Oaks!”

" Hoop-la! Set ’em up for ther boss scout 0’
ther Sou’west!”

These shouts, and others of like character,
filled the air from all sides, and in a perfect
polyglct; for men of all nations, that is honest
men, loved the giant scout of the Lone Star
State.

As has been mentioned, Big Foot Wallace
was a man of large build, as well as a model
of strength. . ‘

He was clothed in buckskin breaches, tucked
int". huge cow-hide boots, a coarse woolen shirt
and black sombrero with With bflW«M
garments shewing much service—in tsctf- 33
Foot never felt easy and natural when 
anything new about his “make-up,” for, in
purchasing a sombrero, for example, he would
klck it up and down the plaza until it reSOm-
bleu a but somewhat worn, and roll around
camp, “ tor git.”as he would say, “ther stif-
lenin’ outen fresh leggins or shirt.” ‘

 

Appereled as he was, having also a huge!
bowie-knife and a brace of old-style " Colt'si
sixes ” it his belt, one would, upon glancing .
at his stalwart form, his bearded face, and ;
having heard his peculiar mode of expressing
himself, suppose him to be a rough, perhaps
heartless, brawling borderman; but it needed i
only one glance into his mild blue eyes to
prove to any intelligent person that IVallace
was as kindly as a woman, and as innocent as
a child.

His prodigious “understandings ”—not that
they were disproportioned tohis frame, to any .
very noticeable extent, but- seemed larger than .
they really Were, from the fact that he insisted ,
upon his boots being “ roomy "—had given him
his sobriquet.

With a heartfelt “ Gracias a Dios I” as she ‘
ascertained that her boy had not been killed, ‘
the Mexican woman, with assistance from some ‘
kindly hands, had borne the injured lad to |
her home; in her deep anxiety, and maternal
solicitude, neglecting to thank the man who
had punished the c0ward, who had apparently
acted purposely and in malice.

As the yells of the crowd subsided, all be-
came anxious to learn the name and character
of the miscreant who lay senseless in their
midst.

“By ther grim Moses, Wallace,” said his
comrade, known as Post Oak Bill; “yer made
thet rope whiz, like a whip snake, er a streak
o’ chaiuslightnin’, and ther yaller kiote struck 1
dirt like cs if a pound 0‘ lead hed bored him. 1»
Who ther dickens air he! Does anybody hyer
reckernize ther puserlanimus galooti”

“Hit ’pears ter me," put in a locker on,
“that he’s a Rio Grander, by ther cog’ o’j
Mustang Jim.”

“Jim war suspended last week,” said Big .
Foot.

“Reckon you lost a lariat about that time,
didn’t you, Wallace?” asked a bystander, laugh- i
In

g.
“Ya-as, I chipped in ther heftiest part 0’
ther plate, ter purchase Jim a serviceable
neck-tie.”

“ Mebbe so ther Greaser bed a grudge ag’in’
ther boy er ther woman, an’ we kin find out
suthin’ by her ’bout ther yaller cuss,” suggested
Post Oak Bill.

" Thet war a high-fly plug be, rid, what bed
chewed a power 0’ ther lwstest Texas mesquite-
grass in hit’s day, though hit hain’t waltzed
round ther perrarars more’n four year. Who
kerral’d thermrittd'i Beohon I hes a claim on
ther animilea" ‘

‘ Bob Cay}! h!  the horse stabled, sub-
ject to your- orders, Wallace," explained a
citizen. '. V

“ Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the giant scout.
“This air a good one! Ef I should git up a
lynch picnic, maktn’ ther yaller belly ther
bestest draw, Bob ,would hev me foul; for I
owes him more for terrantaler juice than ther
critter are wuthl” -

The crowd laughed heartily, and Big Foot
added: ' '

“He ’pears ter lay still enough now, but hit
hain’t bin long since be war on a yellin’,
prancin’ hooraw.”

" Ther tumble yer gi’n him, would ’a’ made
a “ big-horn ” sick ’nough ter puke, pard," said
Post Oak Bill.

“ Reckon we’ll hev ter’low him time enough
when he comes roun’ ter biz, ter pray a' leetle,
’fore we gi’n him a whiz toward kingdom come.
He won’t never be no nighor theta-ways than
a live oak er a mesquite limb. I’ve knowed
ther condemn‘d skunk all along, boyees. He’s
one o’ Cortina’s boss butchers. an’ come hyar-
a-ways on ther spy. I ’memhers onc’t, when
my leetle pards, Buckskin Sam an’ Reckless
Joe, was with me on a sort 0’ a loose scout
down Nuoces way, thet we struck a camp 0’
(ireasers what had a lot 0’ neg: they bed con-
fiscuted on ther Rio Medina. Hit war. rite
when we tuck ’em nappin’, an‘ we jist laid
ther mostesh 0’ them out cold, for kiote lunch.
I gut a fa’r sight 0’ this gerloot's face by camp
fire light, an’ friz hit down in my brain-box
fer futur’ use, for be lit out speedy ter kiver,
an’ stompeded lively fer ther Rio Grande.

“We tuck ther stock back ter ther Medina,
an’ foun’ tbet thenyaller thieves lied run in on
a kerral,-hed a fight ter git away with ther
nags. an’ bed wiped out three rancheros, One
on ’em, what war bored clean through ther
brain~b0x, war a pard o’mine; an’ I swored
then, of I ever run across this yaller hyena,
I’d hang him up fer seed. When I see’d ther

 

pepper-eater stampede his critter over that

a

leetle kid, I made ready ter take him a flyin’;
but I hed no idea be war ther meat I had bin
gazin’ arter, though when I Sent raw- hide arter
him, I felt right peart an’ good from sculp tar
toes, for I knewed at onc’t I lied gut ter ther
eeud of a keerect trail.

“ Dang ther long-ha’red, short—legged son of
a rawhide scraper! He’s hed consider’ble ter
do with Cortina, fer Sam gut a sight 0’ him in
a scrimmage at ther Carrizo scrape. He hev
mixed right smart with white folkses, an’ could
make some big buzzard-fly‘s in purty pure
’Nited States lingo. But, boyees, he’s begin-
nin’ ter come back ter Texas ag’iu. We‘ll gi’n.
him a few breath as 0’ San Antone air, 811' then
a telegraph send-oi! ter Tophet.”

The Mexican showed signs of returning con-
s‘ciousness, groaning heavily, kicking and toss-
ing his arms wildly about, while his ruflianly
features were contorted with pain.

“Thunder an’ blazes!” exclaimed Post Oak
Bill. “Let’s cut of! his wind, boyees, afore
some ‘ fresh ’ comes along an’ gits a. sight 0‘ his
beautiful pictur’! He air enough ter scare a
woman inter a dead wilt et any time, but I’ll
sw’ar, es he ’pears now, he’d stompede a have-
yard o’nags, by jist smilin’ in his lovin’ way
at ther critters.”

At this moment an American youth came in
haste through the cr0wd, elbowing his way,
and springing to the side of the giant scout,
when he touched his hat brim, saying in a re—
Spectful tone:

“I believe I have the honor of addressing
Mr. Wallace?”

The King of the Post Oaks glanced down into
the face of the youth, in some surprise and
bewiderment.

“ Ya—as,” put in Post Oak Bill; “ that
must be ther man ye‘re a-huntin‘, but yer

: needn’t ter mister my pard fer hit makes him
‘ sick, an’ be kin dress hisself without troub-

lin’ anybody, fer he doesn’t skin off his togs
only onc’t er twic’t a moon, ter take a soak
Yvith ther gar-s au’ cat-fish, jist ter be sociable
ike.”

The youth looked in wonder at the speaker,
and also in some impatience; and when the
communication was brought to an end, he
quickly passed a delicatr note into the hand of
the giant scout, who received it with even
more surprise than he had the introductory
words which preceded it. The young man
now said, in explanation:

“ Big Foot Wallace—if I may be so familiar
as to call yor thus, which, upon second
thought, I acknowledge I ought to have done
at first—a lady, a young and very beautiful
lady gave me that note to deliver to you.
She is in yonder Dearborn, to which two fine
horses are attached. 1 advise you to read the
letter at once. or you will not be favored by
a sight of her, as they are about to start from
the plaza.”

The face of the scout was now a study. Con
fusion, perplexity, and even apprehension,
stamped themselves in turn upon his features,
settling down to the latter feeling, as he held
the epistle between his thumb and fingers, at
arm’s length, as if expecting the thing to
eXplode. V

Post Oak Bill roared with laughter, as a‘sc
did many or the bystanders, for they all knew
that the famous scout and ranger would nut-h
rather take his chances in a charge into 9
Comanche war party. than to be forced to con-
verse, or make an attempt that way, With a
woman, old or young, for ten minutes.

“Hyer, leetle one.”he spoke up at last,
“ thar‘s apeso fer yer, ter pay fer pickin' up yer
heels lively an‘ skutin’ fer them wagon.“ ag’in.
Tell ther drivers thet of they doesn’t tun-p
tharselvcs, an’ git outen San Antone in two
flip—flaps of an alligator’s tail, Big Foot ’tl
scoop ’em in outcn ther wet; fer I sw’or l‘Y
ther blood 0" Crockett I wouldn’t sling tonklle
for five minits with a female woman for fifty
saddle-mags. What in thunderation. does ther
callker-kivered humans mean by 8mm, 01"“
outen civilize!"
vFrightened at the amount of trouble _he
Seemed to have been the agent mbrmgmg
upon the noted frontiersman, the youth rushed
back through the crowd to perform his
errand; but, before he had gone ten paces,
Bill Lambert, s young par}; of the giant
scout, volunteered to relieve blS prairie friend
from his embarrassing position, by reading
the letter. Opening it, therefore, Bill read,
in a tone which could reach the ears of Big
Foot and Post Oak Bill only. It ran as fol-

lows:

 

~‘d »~-...r....-.r..l_.——___.-  ‘
. -1- .1 .,.

 

 

 

 

 

-a-rfi-nmnamt-  A

-*".

 

h-.. , _

“MAIN PLAZA, SAN ANTONIO.
“ To Big Foot li'allm-a (uncut/em: '

“ Rssrscrsn Sta—You will, I trust, pardon me, a
stran er, for addressing you' but your noble con-
duct ust now in punishing t int despicable villain,

rompts me to ex ress to you my heartfelt thanks.
Ywitnessed both i e cowardly deed and its punish-
ment, and I wish to say that, in avengingthat child.
you also unknowingly aven ed an insult thrust upon
me by the same. dastardly exican, but a short time
previous.

“The wretch rode directly up to the wagon
wheels, leered in my face, and said, ‘ Senoritu,l
know you and your trail. I will embrace you
before our wheels cut the mud of the Rio Frio.‘
‘Veha just arrived in San Antonio. No one was
with me at the time, andI dared not inform my
fatheras I feared he would shoot the Mexican before
leaving the town. My father, Colonel Thomas
Bowen, is now on his way to the Rio Frio, perhaps
as far as Rio Nueces, for the pu e of purchas'
land, and establishing a ranch or cattle-raising.
am his step-daughter only, and my mother is dead.
I have a brother, but he left home, under what he
considereda cldud some time ago, and we know
not where he is. My father, myself, and five slaves
make up our party. Father was a colonel in the
Seminole war, and laughs at the idea of danger, but
Iconfess I am far less confident of reaching our
destination in safety. I have just leamed your
name.

“ If a young man named George Adler applies to
you for information in regard to us, please direct
iim on the right trail, but none others. I sincerely
trust you maysee my father at some one of the
campS, and warn him, if he is entering upon dan-
gerous ground. We intend, Ibelieve, to cross the
Medina. at the nearest ford. following the Fort
Ewell trail. I would like very much to meet you,
but as time is up, I am not likely to have that

leasure at resent. My father has been absent

be last ha] hour, but is now returning. Once
again I thank you, and subscribe myself, with your
perml5sion.”

“ Your friend, very gratefully,
“ Baum Rom."

Big Foot Wallace dropped his lariat, and
embraced his heard with his left hand; by this
means pulling down his lower jaw as if forci-
bly opening his mouth in that manner, at the
same time ejecting a squirt of tobacco.

“By ther bleed o’ ther victims 0’ Goliad,
ther Alamo, an’ ther black-bean braves O’
Salado! Ther cantakerous kiyote sha'n’t hev
time ter say ‘Now I lay me’l Snatch ther
lasso, Post Oak, an’ I'll scrougo ther hellyun
along. Come on fer the Mil’tary Plaza. Bill
Lambert, glide speedy for S01 Childch an’
Mart Campbell. We-‘uns wants some 0’ ther
V'gilantes with us, fer this hyer burg air under
the’r jurydick. Now, yer mangy snake, what
nevar shed yer p’ison skin, whoop up! I’m
arter yer, an’ I'm b’iliu vitri’l mad, rite outen
ther rats 0’ my hu’r!" ,

So saying, and hitching up his belt at each
side by a jerk with both hands, he made one
step forward, grasped the Mexican, who now
lay with his eyes distended in terror, jerked
him to his feet, and pushed him along tOWard
the Old Post-office on the southwest corner of
the Main Plaza.

Directly in the way, stood the two wagons
that had been brought into notice by theletter;
and Big Foot, although filled with rage, be-
came suddenly aware of the fact, and his gaze
was for a moment transferred from the Greaser
to the Dearborn. The sight was well worth
looking at.

A beautiful girl was leaning from the
wagon, and for an instant the eyes of the King
of the Post; Oaks met hers. A slight wave of
her handkerchief forced the borderer to lift his
sombrero in return, although a hundred eyes
were bent upon him. Then he again fixed his
merciless gaze upon his captive, and pressed
him forward in longer strides. The two scouts
and their prisoner Were followed by a crowd of
men, their hands on their weapons, while the
Mexican residents, with ashcn features, flitted
to the right and left.

Fewv Probably, Of these last, had any sym-
Pathy With the condemned man; but all knew
that, upon the slightest cause, a rupture might
occur, when the 103ml TexO-Mexicans, who
were many, and a high type of manhood at
that, might come to grief from no fault of
their own.

on, past the post-emce, Wth the crowd,
turning around the corner to the west, Not
more than a pistol-shot in space was traversed,
when the concourse were in the Military Plaza
near a Solitary mesquite tree, upon which
many a ghastly corpse had whirled and swayed
in the moonlight—or daylight either, for that
matter.

Here, at the Very spot where the dashing
horse-thief and despot-ado, Bob Augustine,
was hung by Mitchell’s Vigilantes, Big Foot
Wallace brought his captive to a halt with a
jerk: the Wretch not having uttered a word
during his 8110", but dread jOI'ltUdtt do! puIO
muerto.

U Big FOotNWallaoe.

3

 

The giant scout made a gesture to Post Oak
Bill, who at once cast the end Of the lasso over
a limb; and, at the same moment, Sol Chil-
ders, Martin Campbell, and others of the San
Antonio Vigilantes arrived upon the scene.

The dense crowd formed a crescent on the
plaza, the points of which were close under the
projecting water-spouts of the Old Mexican
adobe b‘iildings; and the mass of people blocked
up the way to the fatal tree, while down the
street beyond the place Of execution, stood a
dozen men, with cocked revolvers to prevent
any interference.

“Hyer‘s meat ready ter hang up tor dry,
Sol,” said Big Foot to Childers, as the latter
approached. The scout spoke in a low, deep
tone. “ lle bev bin brash enough; fact air, be
war more blusterin’ than a fresh-roped four-
year-Old steer, but he’s purty well cowed ’bout
now. He hev senserbly concluded that he’s
gut ter ther eend 0’ his rope. He’s caved in,
wilted, slumped inter bis hates, an’ ain’t peart
enough ter jerk 'up easy.”

 

CHAPTER II.
IN THE LAND OF FLOWERS.

SOME fifteen years previous to the time of
the incident recorded in the foregoing chapter,
there resided in Wakulla county, Florida, a
widow lady whose name was Agnes Duval.
She had two children, a boy and girl—the
former named Edward, the latter, Belle.

The husband of Mr. Duval had died, leaving
her quite wealthy; she having a large planta-
tion, and an unusually large number of slaves.

At the time of which we write, the boy was
seven years of age, and his sister four; and
both were, the greater part of the time, under
the care of an aged negress.

Agnes Duval was but thirty years of age,
and was remarkably handsome: she had,
therefore, a host of admirers, though 'hmong
them, doubtless, were many who cared more
for the wealth than the widow.

However, there was one, a widower with one
little boy, the owner of a neighboring planta-
tion, who devotedly loved Mrs. Duval, and was
a constant visitor. 1113 name was Frank Adler,
usually known as Major Adler, be having
served in the Seminole war in that official
capacity. ’

His son was named George; and, as the lit-
tle fellow needed a companion, the major
adopted a lad Of about the same age, whose
name was Dudley Duncan,‘the father of whom
had been an intimate friend of his in their youn-
ger days. Both the boys’ parents were now,
however, dead, and the little fellow had been
left in abject poverty. It was therefore charity
in Frank Adler to adopt the orphan child of
his friend, though, as the sequel will sb0w,
ho had bitter cause to regret having done so.

Whether Major Adler would have succeeded
in winning the widow, if an unexpected actor
had not come upon the scene, we do not know,
but his hopes were suddenly blighted by the ar-
rival of two competitors, who drew the atten-
tion of every one wherever they went. They
lavished their money on all sides, had their
own horses and servants, and had every ap-
pearance of being wealthy.

The two dashing strangers were Colonel
Bowen and Captain Jack Amos; the latter
being a widower, or professing to be one, and
having alson son about eight years of age.
The habits of both men were by no means
good, but that did not prevent them from
mingling freely in the very highest circles.
Both paid marked attention to Mrs. Duval
from the first; and this caused Major Adler, a
most excellent and worthy gentleman, to ab-
sent himself from public gatherings, not caring
to witness what gave him the greatest pain
and annoyance.

But, to understand the real character of

these two strangers, we will take the liberty of.

playing the spy, by listening to a con‘Versatlon
which passed between them, some tw0 weeks
after their arrival in Wakulla. At this time,
they are both seated in their room at the hotel.

“I say to you most emphatically, Tom
BOWen—(‘aptain Amos seems somewhat ex-
cited—“ that this thing can’t go on in this way
much longer. We have had'a streak of bad
luck lately. At that last trip of mine to
Tallahassee, I lost a cool five thousand on the
races.“ /

“Well,” Colonel Bowen answered, indiffer-
ently, “what are you going to do about it?
We can’t start a bank-note manufactory—
more’s the pity! Terhaps our luck will turn.”

 

“Suppose it does? We have nothing to

I

 

work with if it should. Between us, we
couldn’t muster ten thousand if we sold out
everything. I am a man of the world, and I
have no personal friends that I care a fig for,
except yourself; but I have heart enough left
to wish to leave little Frank something when I
flip my last card."

“That’s right, Jack! I‘ve Often thought of
Frankie myself—’pon my word, I have. But
cheer up, old fellow. He’ll be all right. We’ll
make a big stake yet. ”

“ There is only one way that I can think of,
Tom."

“What have you got in your mind now,
Jack?”

“Just this. The only way that I can see to
retrieve our shattered fortunes, is for one of
us to marry Mrs. Duval."

“ Not a bad idea, Jack!
you propose?”

“ Tom, I’m not quite equal to it. She is
pretty, talented and rich—everything, in short,
that a man could wish for in a wife—but, for
all that, she doesn’t suit me. I don’t know
why, but so it; is. Will you marry her, Tomi"

“ She wouldn’t have me.”

“ But if she would, are you willing to be the
sacrifice !”

“ I think you might count me in, J ack.”

“ Well, I’ll bet you a square thousand I can
bring things around favorable to that end, at
short notice.”

“ I take the bet; and double, if you say 50,
Jack !” ’ ‘

“Done! NOW, Tom, I think I understand
women better than you do—in fact, I am pod-
tive of it. You are too slow. Now, isn’t that
the case? Own up. "

“You have hit it, my friend."

“ Here’s my plan, then: but, mind you, there
must be an entire change in your course toward
the widow. You have been rather reserved
all along. You must now court her society,
and make her believe by your every word and
act' that you adore her. I will just whisper in
her ear that you are rich as Croesus. But you
must give me your note for twenty-five thou-
sand dollars, and take a solemn oath to marry
my Frank to Belle Duval, when she is of suit.
able age to marry.

“Of course you may not be alive at that
time; but to make a sure thing of it, you mm
influence the widow to make her will to that
effect. What think you?"

“I can manage it, I dare ' say; and if I

Well, why don’t

.should outlive her, there will be no trouble

about the children.”

“ Tom, let me whisper just one thing. Sup-
pOsxe it did not work to suit as after you are
married? In that‘ case, " would you—bend
nearer, old fellow—would you give her a dose
to send her over the Styx, if there was no
danger of being detected?”

Colonel Bowen sprung to his feet, and began
pacing the room with nervous strides; and, all
the time, his bolder companion sat, watching
him closely.

It was plain that Amos was the leading
spirit, the man of by far the stronger will of
the two. But this was the most serious ques—
tion he had ever dared to put to his comrade
since they had known each other.

“Take a drink of brandy. Tom. and pass me
one. It is a matter of want and plenty with
you and me now, and we must have our lux—
uries. You have shot your man, in ycur time,
and unfairly at that—don't get mad now; we
know each other—I just want to show you
that we have no use for a conscievne, We
must play this game to win—we must win—
we will win. Say no more about the matter.
It will work itself out. All I want to know is,
will you—if I clear the way—will you marry
the widow Duval?”

“Yes,'Jack: I am ready and willing!”

“And fill the bill to the letter, IS I have
put it?’

“ To the very letter, Jack-I swear it!”

“Good! That is all I want to know. Mean-
time, however, you must promise to follow my
instructions.”

“ All right, old man. Anything you say.”

“And I sWear, Tom, if I should die first, I’ll
haunt yOthtil you carry out your oath, and
see my Frankie married to little Bell Duvel.”

“ You may depend on my doing all that I
can."

Thus was everything arranged between these
two worthies, and poor Agnes Duval was
doomed. ‘

Captain Jack Ames lost no time in beginning
his work; and, to do him justice, he did it

v A.

4

 

 

 

well. His friend BOWen was a wonderful man,
according to his account of him; the owner of
Vast possessions in Virginia, of good family,
the very soul of honor, and the hero of several
famous duels. It was the old story over
again. “ She loved him for the dangers he had
passed.”

Up to this time, the fair widow had evi-
dently been more favorably disposed toward
Captain Ames than his comrade, but as the
former so generously “ gave himself away” in
favor of the latter, Mrs. Duvai unconsciously
began to find herself thinking of the elegant
and distinguished stranger, whose calls were
now made more frequently than before. The
end was close at hand.

It was with deep concern and anguish of
heart that Major Adler realized all that was
going on. When he did, be resolved on mak-
ings. final appeal and remonstrance. His ad-
dresses were firmly rejected, and he was be-
sides reminded by the lady that she was capa-
ble of using her own judgment in affairs
whether of her heart or of finance. No hope
was now left.

Frank Adler disposed of his Florida planta-

tion, and returned to Texas, where he pur- ,

chased cotton lands, on the Rio BFaZ’lS. and
spent his leisure in educating his son George, a
noble youth, with all the integrity and up-
rightness which distinguished his father.

Soon after the departure of the Adlers, Col—
onel Bowen was accepted by Mrs. Duval, and
the happy pair left to [ms the honeymoon in
Cuba. Meanwhile, the festive Captain Jack
.Ames was left in charge of the Duval planta-
tion; and that excellent individual made good
nee of his time, disp0sing of a large amount of
sugar and other products, and pocketing the
proceeds. His little boy he at once placed in n.
boarding—school; and then, after an inspection
of the plateclosets, he made a trip to New
Orleans, where he entered into a contract with
I gang of burglars to make a descent upon the
mansion, he aiding them all in his power.

Upon the return of Colonel Bowen and wife
from Cuba, the former took charge at once of
the plantation, thus being able to cover up the
felonious acts of his friend. One of the family

.servants, however, secretly divulged the trans-
actions of Captain Ames to her mistress, soon
after her return.

A stormy scene ensued. Mrs. Bowen
insisted that Ames should leave forthwith, and
the latter refused to go. This, and the fre-
quent interviews of her husband with Ames,
made the lady not only very indignant, but
suspicious as well. At length, in a fit of anger.
she accused the captain of being connected
with the disappearance of her plate, and
threatened to have him arrested on this charge.
This so infuriated him, that he at once
demanded a private interview with Colonel
Bowm, when he began with the very words
he had used on a former occasion:

“ I say to you now most emphatically, Tom
Bowen, that this thing can’t last much longer.
There is no safety for me here. A woman is

liable to sometimes do as she threatens, and it .
would he a pretty kettle (‘1' fish if I should be :

brought before a court of justice. Many things
would be raked up, and both of us would go
under. Do you see things in that light!"

“I see we are in the crater of a volcano,”
said BOWen, “ and I am at a loss what to do.
Agnes insists that you are nothing but a low
gambler, and forged the letters which induced
her to become my wife.”

Jack Ames turned aside his face to conceal
the fiendish joy that contorted it. Everything
Wl-l working as favorably for his cause as he
could wi-h.

“Tom,” he said, “there is but one road open
to safety. You remember that you solemnly
swore that if you found, after marriage, that
you could not accomplish what you promised
as the reward of my services, you would do a
deed that would place everything in your own
power. I hold your note for twenty-five
thousand dollars, and as things are now work-
ing. you will never be able to pay it. Neither
will you be able, in the far future, to bring
about the marriage you have promised betWeen
the children. There is just one thing, Tom
Bowen—your wife must die I”

“Great God i” exclaimed the wretched man.
“Has it come to this? Jack, you know, I
never dreamed of it!”

“ There, that will do, Tom.” said the other,
assuming a despondent air; “ I see you are not
the meal took you to be. After all that I
have done for you, I must now go to jail, and

Big ' Foot Wallace.

lFrank will be a pauper! But there is one

! consolation; you will also be in the same—”

i “Stop. Jacki For God's sake, stop right
there! You are putting things too strong. I
am almost insane with this continual worry.
I want p-ace. Y 11 shall have your money,

even should Agnes thrust me out into the"

world. I know that she keeps that much in
her priviite safe, and I will do my best to get
it. But I must go now. My brain is on fire.

I must ride this thing off, or I shall be ill. [
Jack, I tell you, those little ones, Eldie and l
I wish I had .

Belle, have greatly changed me.

, been a better man i”
With these words. Colonel Bowcn rushed to
l the stables, mounted his fleetest saddle-horse,

 

ican high from earth, when the word was
given. All was silent as death.

“ Have you anything to say, Miguel, before
2, you go to answvr for your many crimes, es-
‘ pecially in regard to Chiquita Zardila, whom
you induced to leave her home in this city,
and then having deceived her, foully mur-
dered her near Mission San Jose?”

 

i
; At the mention of this crime, the wretcli’s
l

gand was soon dashing at headlong speed up :
1 loped from behind the crowd toward the San

the river road, as if the Evil One were in pur-
: suit of him.
1 It was from seeing him, and their conse-
 quent fear that something drca iful had' hap-
‘ pnned, that influenced some of the older slaves
to depute one of their number, an aged negro
who was greatly privileged around the man-
sion, to ascertain if “ Anythin’ done gone
wrong wid the mist’.”
The old man returned with the assurance
i that all was well; be having seen Mrs. Br-wen
walking with the children on the veranda.
Half an hour after the departure of the colonel,

 

l
4 string him up, boyces; We’ll hang ther galoot

, Mrs. Bowen ordered the children totheir after- ,1

1 noon siesta, and repaired to her own apart-
i ment.
 little ones, and a wide door communicated be-
i tween them. The windows were low, and one
i could easily step from the piazza into the
mom.

No sooner had Agnes Bowen thrown herself
1 upon the bed, in a weary, li~tless manner,
1 than a pretty quadroon girl entered the cham-
1 bet with a goblet of icci claret which she
i placed upon a stand, within easy reach of her
i mistress. who lay with closed eyes, in ap-
i parent dreamy forgetfulness. The servant
passed out through the children’s room, and in
so doing disturbed Eddie, who was but half
awake; and, as he rolled over in his crib, he
peeped between its bars, and through the open
door into his mother’s room.

As the child did So, he saw the form of
Captain Jack Ames steal through a window,
and approach the table by his mother’s bed-
side, where, with a scared look. be poured the
contents of asmall vial into the iced claret.
Pondering over this. which he could not under-
stand, little Eddie Duval soon fell asleep.

When Colonel Bowen returned from his ride,

he felt calmed, and better in every way. He
began to realize how guilty he had been in per-
mitting himself to become the dupe of such a
villain as Ames. He went directly to his wife‘s
apartment, passing, as he did So, through that of
the children. As he glued. first at their innocent
Sleeping faces, and then upon that of his wife,
for the first time since he had known her, the
scene impressed him deeply. The face of Agnes
Bowen seemed angelic. He raised his hand
rcvercntly, and mentally \vowed that he would
love and protect his wife fOI‘OVeI‘, ay, even
with his heart's blood.
Y Advancing to the bed, he called, softly and
I lovingly:
I “ Agnes! Agnes, are you asleep, darli’igr"
No answer came, though it was now far [filile
l the hour for her usual afternoon repose.

He placed his hand upon hers, and his face
suddenly became livid. He removed his hand,
and pressed it over her heart, but its pulsa-
tions were silent—stifled forever. Her breast
was cold and motionless as marble. '

The strong man sprung erect. his eyes glar—
ing wildly with an unspeakable horror, as his
hands opened and closed spasmodically, clutch—
ing at the empty air; then, with a half-stifled,
agonizing cry, drawn in deathly anguish from
his inmost soul, the erring man fell prOstrate
upon the floor beside the bed on which lay his
murdered wife.

CHAPTER III.

A FRESH ARRIVAL.

As Big Foot Wallace spoke, Sol Childers
walked close up to the trembling wretch,
looked in his face an instant, and exclaimed:

“ You’ve done well, Wallace. That’s Miguel

 

Rios. We’ve been wanting him. Send him
up,boysl"
Not another word was spoken. The hands

of Miguel Rios were tied, the deathly noose
was secured about his neck, and the lasso was
held by hands that were ready to pull the Mex-

 

Adjoining this room was that of the 1

face became almost ccnvuls<=d with a horror
that was terrible to look upon.
whisper, he muttered:

“ SantiSsima Maria!"

At this moment a rifle shot broke the still—
ness, and Miguel Rios. with a bullet through his
brain, sunk to the earth. As the report sounded
on the air, a horse, at headlong speed. gal-

In a. gasping

Pedro. Seated upon the steed was a young
and dashing looking. Mexican; but a fusilade of
revolver shots. hastily sent after him, failed to
bring down either man or mustang.

" Dog-gone ther cantankerous CUSs!” said
Big Foot in deep disgust. “He allers war
lucky, an’ he’s beat me on ther last deal. But

anyway, ’fore he gits cold."

This order was immediately obeyed.

“I s‘posed ther Rio Gronder htd pards
hyar,” said Post Oak Bill; “ an’ ye kin jist
gamble that thcr pepper eater what pulled
trigger war nfeerd Miguel ’ud wng a loose
tongue. Let’s ’zimino his pockets, an’ see how
he pans out in the way of int'ermashc.”

“Dang’d cf ynr ain’t gittin’ kinder cute,
old pard,” said Big Foot, admiringly. “I
hates ter touch ther dirty kicte, but I’ll rum-
age his togs fer the good 0’ the public.”

Forth came first, the inevitable pouch of
corn-husk cigarritos, then a few pesos and a
Spanish dirk; and lastly, a crumpled letter.
All of these were passed by Big Foot to Mar-
tin Campbell, he being the only man connect: d
with the hanging, except Post Oak Bill. who
remained on the spot. The crowd had left in
disgust.

The daring Greaser, who had risked his life

was evident; and. for all that any one knew,
might even now be promenading the Main
Plaz-i. Many had started on the instant in
pursuit of him, but there were hundreds of
Mexicans of the same size and appearanCe,
and it was impossible to find the right man,

As has been mentioned, the dwellings on the
south side of the Military Plaza of San An
touio, were the old Mexican adobes. These
buns: s were but one story in hight, with walls
three feet thick, which Were built the same dis-
tance above the flat roof, as is commcn in‘ all
Spanish American countries. Every case, or
house, is in reality a fortress; the windOWS be.
ing without glass. but having heavy iron bars
set into the walls, and also protected with
thick onkcn shut'ers.

The mesquite trco upon which the Greaser
hnd been hung stood near to the line of dwcL
lines, there in ing at that day no storcs on the

 

Military Plaza; in fact they were but a few
feet from the walls, and when the shot was
fired that killed Miguel Rios, a Mestizo, or In-
dian half-breed, crawled along the roof, Hid
peered down upon the party through the thick
foliagef

His repulsive features lit up with a smile as
he saw that the bullet haddone its Work; but
when Post Oak' Bill proposed searching the
pockets of the corpse, this expression changed
to a scowl of the most fiendish rage.’ When
the crumpled letter was produced by Wallace
and handed to Martin Campbell, the Mestizo
ground his teeth in a fury, and drawing back,
began rolling over on the roof in his insane
rage. drawing his cuchillo, or long knife, and
cutting the air.

But a short time, however, was spent lhv
him in this way, for, springing half erect, he
crawled along to a trap-door and disappeafld
through it.

When Big Foot ascertained that- he had se-
cured all that was in Miguel’s Meta. he re-
turned to the Main Plaza, aOOOU’PmiEd by Post
Oak Bill and Martin Campbell; and all ad-
journed to the bar-room of George Homer, on
Commerce street. where "’9! ti(Milled themselves
at one of the card-tables in 8 retired corner of
the room.

Hod any one of the trio opened the back
door quickly, he would have caught the Mes-
tizo, for the latter was peeping through the
dusty window upon them, having gained his

 

position of espionage by passing between the

l

and evaded all pursuit, was still in the city, it.

.—

 

’.

 

Big Foot Wallace.

 

 

 

Bull’s Head and the Market, House, and thence ‘

past the rear of the Herald building to his I
favorable post. ‘

“ Martin,” said Big Foot, “perceed ter read '
ther William-duxcs. cs Joe Booh calls ’em.
Rickon ther cuss wain’t a "Shed States mail
riler. Fact air, I kin sartify if be war, folkses
wouldn’t never git nary news from thar friends,
speshly of they was ’spectin’ money.”

“ You appear to be a little anxious in regard
to the contents of this letter, Wallace,” re-
marked Campbell.

“I is jist on ther anxious seat, pard; ’coz
why, I gut a letter tor-day, fer ther fast time
in a heap 0’ years, an’ hit war from a kaliker~
kivered human. She kinder hinted that this
dog-goued galoot—yer needn’t grin; she didn’t
put hit in jist thet lingo—hed gut some infer-
mashe ’gards whar she was a-goin’, an’ hit air
a bit: myst‘ry ter me how the cuss foun’ out
her biz an’ trail. But perceed, Mart; I’m
dang’d dry, but I kin wait fer my irrigate.”

“Dog-gone hit,” said Post Oak Bill, impa-
tiently, “spit hit out, far my throat feels like
hit war chuck full 0’ gypsum, an’ my stomach
’pears ter hev a right smart scatterin’ 0’ red
ants gittin’ up a big fandang’ on the’r own ac-
count.”

With a laugh at the eagerness of his two
’prairie friends, Martin Campbell carefully
opened the crumpled letter, which proved to
be two diflerent epistles folded compactly to-
gether, the two having evidently been for.
warded from points far distant from each
other. -

The first was from Bonham, Texas. It read
thus:

“ To Mil Diab’os .-

“ Big: la at last. Old man and daughter, with five
n go aughter very beautiful—on their way to
R o Frio, to purchase land and stock. A heap can
'be made, if Cap wants to take the risk of running
the nifgcrs into Arkansas. The beaut , El Capitan
will cam on sight. Remember the y-out—i. a, ,
a Dearborn, two horses (slum-up team) and a Come» 1
toga, four mules. Watch for them. Then send ‘
Juan or natio on the best nag at hand to the chief.
He can fuck his own ground for his game, but I get
a libero. share of the plunder. Adios,

“ Mn. DIIONXOS."

“By ther tearin’ terrantalar o’ ther. trap.
ice!” cried Big Foot Wallace, springing to
his feet. "Post Oak Bill, old pend, gi’n us
yer pawl I’m a-goin’ tor waits up ter
ther her, an’ pour down yer a quart o’ pnissie
.acid, what’ll wash thet gypsum outen yer
throat. We-‘uns wouldn’t ’a’ thunk o’ s’archin’
ther condemned kio ef yer hedn’t ’a’ shot
ther idea at us. Wis-a , dang my panther eat,
of we hesu’t blocked a party durn black game.
George Horner, old boyee, jut h’ist up yer
mammoth corporosity, an' sling out on ther
plank ther best chain-lightnin’ that ever war
kerral’d inside a bottle. lVeJuns is goin’ ter
hevafust class XXX )im-jamboree. ’Coe why?
I’ll sling hit straight at you, an’ hit sha’n’t cost ,
yer a picayune, George. We hes bin doin‘ a ‘
hefty biz Ier-day. Hit’s ther honest fac‘l I’m
a-givin’ hit squar‘; an’ ef yer thinks I’m per. f
varicatin’, ax Martin, or my pard Post Oak
Bill!”

Several Texans had entered the bar while i
the three men had been engaged in reading the :
letter; and, when the giant scout ended his
characteristic “little piece,” the room rung‘
with the wildest laughter, winding up with
three ringing rounds of cheers for the King of
the Post Oaks. Then Martin Campbell in-
formed the crowd that they had found an,
open letter in the pocket of Miguel Rios,
directed to Mil Diablos (Thousand Devils).

Then remembering the second epistle, Camp-
bell invited the two scouts to return with him i
to their corner; ind. excusing themselves, l
they proceeded to discus it, |
“Mr Dumps:—

“\Ille have moved cm? to the ‘thtle Drink.‘ ‘
about twenty mllcs from t w trail that opens ‘ busl- 
ncss,‘ but on the Opposite Bide from ‘Mcsquifo
Qmp.‘ Good water, 800d Slime, Ind an easy posi-
tion to defend against odds. But we can‘t expect to
remain here any length 0‘ tlmev “3 the scouts and
ran pm Wm nm in on our outfit when they git the
win« of us. The letter you sent by Ignatio gives
valuable information. A party have started from
East Texas, and there is a (lead sure thing on 3 mg

le, if we can ‘lay for’ the Outfit, and take them .
iii; for, besides the cash they haw, I am offered a ‘
la 0 sum by one I can depend on. (Orthv capture .
mfg detention of the girl who is “'th the party. ,
Look out foraDearborn and a Clint’h‘mgn W 0n- T
The owner is Colonel Bowen, and his lovely dang ter ~
is the ‘wanted party.’ Send Juan or .Ignatio as
soon as they show u and strike for Medina.

"allows, till the noose tightens, l
“ (‘APITAN CARAMBA."

“We-al, dang my peculiar panther-opt?”
exclaimed Big Foot. “I’d give my ole ken- ‘
tuck shooter ter git a squar’ whack at thet

 

 

Capitan Caramba. He air ther wustest pill in
ther box, Ther question ’fore this congrega-

ltion now is, hev Mil Diablos sent his yaller

spies ter Cap’ Caramba with this hyer infer-
mashef" I

“Hit doesn’t ’pear,” said Post Oak Bill, “es
though Miguel hed spit out much ter his pards.
He seems far bin kinder keepin’ hit shady, so
es ter hev ther bigger chance 0’ puttin’ in fer
shares 0’ ther plunder. Thet’s ther way I’m a
sottin’ him down; though ther cuss what shot
him mought ’a’ knovv’d ther thing clean through
an’ skuted fer camp ’fore this."

The attention of the three men was now
drawn toward the bar, by the entrance of four
young men who were evidently, judging from
garb and manner, fresh from the States, or
Eastern Texas. Their costumes were gotten
up in an attempt to imitate the apparel of the
people of the plains. They appeared weary,
and were dusty, as if they had been all day on
the road; and when they came in, it was with
the air and manner of strangers in a strange
land, that they gazed around the room, and at
its occupants.

Observing the two scouts, their features
manifested great interest and curiosity; and
after conferring together for a moment, one of
the number came up to where they were
seated.

Touching his hat brim politely, he said:

“Gentlemen, will you do us strangers the
honor of joining us in a friendly drink .1”

“Sartinly,” replied Post Oak Bill, thus con-
stituting himself the spokesman; “ sartinly, on
one condish."

“And what may that be?” asked the young
man, smiling.

“Thet yer’ll all pour down p’ison with us
artcrward."

“ We shall be very proud to do so, I assure
you,” was the reply; and the young man re-
joined his comrades.

All walked to the bar, the youth introducing
himself on the way as Frank Ames from the
lower Trinity country.

The Texas designated whisky as their bever-
age, and the tumblers were lifted from the
bar, clicked and raised upward, when a young
man entered the east front door of the estab-
lishment, some fifteen feet distant from the
party who were drinking.

He had the appearance of being about twenty-
two years of age, was some five feet seven
inches in hight, and remarkably well-propor~
tinned. He had a fair, artistic, Grecian face,
handsome and honest, and the glance of an
eagle. His attire was similar to that of the
s! rangers who had previously arrived, but was
coarser, and the weapons he carried were plain
and without ornamentation, as well as having
the marks of service.

As the new-comer entered the bar, he threw
a quick glance at its occupants; then, hastily

* drawi g lis sombrero downward, to screen his
' in. e from the men at the bar, he passed direct-

ly across the open walk between the card-tables,
and then, observing the rear door, opened it
quietly and stepped over the threshold in
haste.

No sooner did the young man close the door
behind him, than a man in Mexican costume,

' with a long knife in his hand, confronted him,

h-‘s black, snake-like eyes glaring murderously.
But without drawing his weapon, the young
man raised his clinched flst, which he shot out
With great velocity, planting a most terrible
blow in the face of his swarthy antagonist, who
fell in a heap to the earth, as though a bullet
had pierced his brain.

 

CHAPTER IV.
swm sun suns.

ansn: shrubbery grew close up to the
veranda, and on the side of the house in which
the sleeping apartment of Mrs. Bowen was
situated, and the colonel had but struck the
floor, when, from the asaquea bushes sprung
Captain Jack Ames into the room, and grasp'
ing the glass which contained but a small por-
tion of claret, be cast it afar into the bushes,
replacing the goblet and vanishing into the
dark shades as rapidly as he had come.

Rosa, the quadrenn, becoming alarmed at the
non—appearance of her mistress, went to ascer-

. tain its cause. The children were now up, and

playing on the veranda. Upon reaching their
room, the girl discovered her master, lying
upon the floor, and shrieked with affright,
causing the Other house-servants to flock
around her; all adding their cries, as they

 

realized that something dreadful had occurred.
Not one of them felt equal to approaching
their master. and the silence and deathlike
stillness of their mistress, as she lay on her
couch in that dim chamber, filled them with
dread and horror. They all fell on their
knees.

At this moment the old slave from the
stables, came rushing in with a scared face.
Grasping a pitcher of water, he dashed the
contents over the head of Colonel Bowen, who
groaned for a moment, and then opened his
eyes in bewilderment. When the truth, at
length, burst upon his mind, he sprung to his
feet and threw himself beside his dead wife,
clasping his arms about her rigid form.

As soon as he had sufficiently recovered him-
self, the old servant gave a prolonged wail,
which was echoed by the other slaves, who
were now aware that death was in their
midst.

To make the sad scene even more impressive,
the children, Eddie and Belle, now rushed into
the room; and seeing their mother silent,
climbed upon the bed,and began trying to
awake her.

But we must draw a vail over this hour of
anguish, and hurry on, by a mere mention of
the facts which transpired soon after; for
more exciting scenes in the lives of those we
write of call for all the space we have at our
command.

There was, as may be imagined, much com-
ment among the neighboring planters and their
families, in regard to the sudden death of Mrs.
Bowen, and poison was hinted at; but as no
one could have had any motive for such a
deed, except her husband, and as his grief had
driven him to the very verge of insanity, his
worst enemy would not have thought of accus-
ing him of such a crime.

The family physician found no traces of
poison, and pronounced the death of In.
Bowen as having been caused by disease of the
heart; he certifying that she had been so af-
fected from her childhood. »

Captain Ames had disappeared on the same
afternoon: but this was not coupled by any
one with the sad afl'air, for he had always been
in the habit of suddenly appearing and disap-
pearing. But the stricken husband knew well,
in his own mind, that his wife had met her
death at the hands of his partner and friend:
and that, sooner or later, Jack Ames would come
and demand payment of the note which he
held against him. There was no saying, in-
deed. what such a villain might not be found
capable of doing.

Colonel Bowen, in the depths of his great
grief and remorse, registered a vow that he
would avenge the cowardly murder of his
wife; that Jack Ames, if he ever crossed his
path, should die by his hand.

He decided, however, upon instant removal
from Florida; and, disposing of the planta-
tion and the greater number of the slaves, he
took the two children, and left for parts un—
known to the old friends of his wife.

He went to Texas, and there purchased a
plantation, within five miles of the estate of
Major Adler, a fact of which be was not
aware, until some time after he had been set-
tled in his new home.

When Frank Adler first learned that the
waman he had so fondly loved had come to her
death so scon after her marriage, he had his
own suspicions of foul play, and resolved at
once to watch over the interests of her chil-
dren, as well as to keep an eye upon the ac-
tions of Colonel Bowen.

The latter led a miserable life, daily expect-
ing the appearance of Ames upon the scene.
He had not long to wait. Scarce three months
had he been in Texas, when, one evening rs he
was riding in the dense bottom timber of the
Trinity river, a horseman confronted him. ard
although it was twilight, he recognized his old
partner—an exuliant and sinister smile
stamped upon his face.

Ames appeared to be, judging from his lip-
parel, in reduced circumstances: or, possibly be
had assumed his rough garments as a disguise.
Colonel Bowen trembled for a moment with
long pent-up rage, but soon mastered himself,
and became firm as a rock.

“Hallo! old pard,” said Ames, “we are
well met. I was just on my way to your
plantation.”

“You are no ‘perd’ of mine, Jack Ames,”
returned the colonel. in an icy tone. “ When
you poisoned the best, the kindest, the most
beautiful woman in Florida, and that woman

 

r

6

Big Foot wallaee.

fl

 

my wife, you left no feeling in me but one of
just and murderous enmity.”

Never before, it is probable, wasa men more
dnmfounded than was Captain Ames. Was
this the man who had been such a pliant tool of
his for years? His old pard, however, must
have forgotten the hold he had over him.

So reflecting, he braced himself, put on an
air and look of indignation, and demanded in a
furious voice:

“ Pay me that twenty-five thousand dollars,
Tom Bowen, within twenty—four hours, and as
much more as I see fit to call for, or 1 will hand
you over to justice as the murderer of your
own wife!”

Never did man make a greater mistake.
Quick as a flash of light, Bowen’s pistol was
levelel, the trigger pulled, a blinding flash, it
loud' report, a'heavy groan and a sudden fall,
followal by a. low, exultant laugh—and all
was over!

Like a maniac, the colonel sprung from his
horse; lOOscning the lariat from the horn of his
saddle, at the same time retaining the end of
the rope, be bounded forward to grasp the
bridle-rein of the animal that had been rid-
den by Ames.

Securing the two aifrighted steeds, and draw-
ing his bowie-knife, he Wentup to the side of
his prostrate foe. _ V

“Keep your oath, or I‘ll haunt you, Tom
Bowen! Frank—Belle—" , The words came
in a. gasping whisper, but they fell distinctly
on the ear of Colonel Bowen. He heeded them.
not, howeVer, as he fairly yelled: I

“Die, Jack Ames! Diel I’d rather you’d

, haunt me in death than in life. Die, poisoner,

of one who never harmed you!
dastard—die I", ,
Again and again was the knife driven,
through flesh and bone, with the strength and
fur ,ofa madman. .. I . ' I
's done, 'Colouel Bowen secured,,from the,
pockets of his old partner, the papers of his

Die, craven,

, which’he had held; and then, dragging the

corpse to thp river bank, hurled it fa'rput into
the rolling waters. A splash, and it sunk in
the dark river forever. . ‘ .
Thus was Thpmas Bowen freed from the
curse of his life. .But the_Spirit of the dead
man seemed to haunt him day and night, call-
i‘ for justice. ‘
howling where Frank Ames was at school,
the colonel sent‘for the boy, and put him in a
similar institution near at hand, but would.
never allow him to come near the children of
his murdered wife.’
. Eddie Duval, or Bowen as he was now called,
never forgot the scene that he had witnessed

4R

, from his crib, though he never spoke of it, and

never saw the face of Captain Ames again.
When, however, at sixteen years of age, he
saw Frank, who much resembled his father, he
sought a quarrel with him, and a duel was
speedily arranged between the two boys..

Frank Ames fell at the first flre. Edward,
with the impression that he had killed him,
took what ready money he had, said farewell
to his sister, and fled. '

About the same time, Dudley Duncan, the
adopted son of ,Major Adler, absconded with
the whole proceeds of the cotton crop, besides
forging his foster-father’s name for a large
amount. This so preyed upon the major’s
mind that he sickened and died.

Previous to his death he confided to his son
his suspicions in regard to the death of Mrs.
Boston, and enjoining upon George to look
after, protect, and, f he could, marry Belle
Duval.

After his father’s death, George Adler was
gorced to dispose of the plantation and slaves,

osatisfy the creditors. He then established
himself, with 'one servant, in a small cabin
upon the Trinity, where he hunted, fished and
studied, by turns; often meeting Belle, and
passing many happy hours away in her com-
pany.

It was not often that Frank Ames saw Belle
BOWen; but, seldom as it was, he too fell in
love with her, and swore in his heart she should
be his. _

As for the colonel himSelf, as the years
rolled on, he became more and more morose
and absent-minded. The last words of his
old enemy were ever sounding in his ears. The
last look from the eyes of the dying Jack Ames
haunted him. The one bright spot in his life
was the presence of Belle. Her songs and
laughter. were his only comfort, and the
thought that she might one day be linked for
life to the son of her mother‘s nnirdorer, was

 

not for a moment to be entertained. Indeed he
wanted her with him always; be felt that he
would die, were she taken from him.

Captain Jack Ames having been a migra-
tory gambler, with no one who really cared
for him, there was no stir made when he
finally disappeared; and, as no one seemed to
have seen him in East Texas, the story of his
death was never even suspected.

Among the papers which Colonel Bowen
took from the dead man’s pocket, was 9. Well—
executed statement, in which the wretch
charged the colonel with the murder of his own
wife by poison; and the latter could con-
gratulate himself on having thus secured
what, had it fallen into other hands, would
have consigned him to prison for the remainder
of his days.

Belle Duval had received the best educa—
tional advantages her step-father could procure
for her, and had grown up to be the very coun-
terpart of her mother, of the nature of whose
fate she had been kept in ignorance. Her
brother's enforced absence was her one great
grief.

Little did Colonel Bowen dream that Ames
had not only explained their old relations to his
son Frank, but had left 'a sealed statement of the
debt of twenty-five thousand dollars, and the
contract in regard to his marriage with Bclle.
This was to be opened and perused by Frank
Ames when he reacle his majority, and that
it,was read with interest we may well believe.

Worthless and good for nothing, as he grew
up to be, he Was not long in going to the
coltnel, and demanding the money, and the
hand of Belle iri marriage.

The, indignation of, the colonel knew no
bounds. le ordered the young 'reprobate
from his house, and after he had gone, resolved
suddenly that he wo'uld again move—this time
to some place where he might be safe from the
persecutions of his enemy’s sea.

The love which George Adler_ bore toward
Belle, and the affection which she had for him,
were also Well known to Colonel Bowen; but
he disliked young Adler for the reason that his
father had dared to love the woman whom he
married, and therefore he vowed that neither
should George Adler marry Belle. ,

Thus matters stood at the opening of our
story, except that the colonel had sold a por-
tion of his—or what he called his—plantation,
and was then proceeding to the frontier, with
the hope of finding some isolated spot, where
neither Frank Ames nor George Adler would
be able to find them. ' I '

His departure with Belle was secret—done
in the night—but we have seen, or shall see,
that Frank Ames and George Adler are never-
theless on his trail, both seeking Belle Bowen.

CHAPTER V.
CROSSES AND CONFIDENCES.

As the young man who seemed to avoid the
notice of the Occupants of the bar-room passed
out, felling, ,as he did so, his would-be assassin,
he walked on, over the prostrate body, which
was none other than the Mestizo who was spy-
ing from the roof at the hanging of Miguel
Rios. Astonished at being thus attacked, the
young man paused to notice that the powerful
blow he had given had badly bruised the half-
breed; but he quietly passed on, after a single
glance, between the Bull’s Head and Market
House, through, an alley, and thence out into
the Main Plaza. scarcely a pistol-shot away. The
party at the barghad not observed him as he
went.

“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Ames, “ we are
extremely delighted to make your acquaintance.
Can any of you kindly inform us if a man by
the name of Bowen passed through the city
recently, en route for the frontier? We are
friends of his, and desirous of joining him.”

Our three friends exchanged glances. They
all remembered that, in the young lady’s letter,
she had desired that George Adler, and no
other, should know of them. For all this, Big
Foot at once decided to put these men on the
trail, for he felt sure they would come to grief
in Sllllle way; besidés he would keep an 9Y0 on
them.

“ Yer , hes struck ther right pilgrims for
infermashe,” he said, winking slyly at Post
Oak Bill, as he did so.

“Curnil Bowen,” said Bill, taking the hint,
“levanted toward ther Medina this arternoon,
an’ ’11 probably camp thar ter-night. He has
a purty darter in his outfit.”

x “You saw them, I presume,” said young
4 mes.

 

 

“ Ya-as, we see’d. ’em. But they’re goin’ ter
a dang’d dangerous section, an’ I’m glad yer
going’ ter jine ’em. Yer See thet country air
chuck full 0’ Rio Granders, an‘ ’sidcs thet,
’Paches an’ Comanches air liable ter stompede
in ’tween ther Medina an’ ther Frio, most. any
time, ’thout sendin’ keerds.”

“ If that is so, we had better overtake tin-m
as soon as possible," said Ames, winking at
his comrades. “Did the colonel know at ll.e~0
dangers?” .

“ Can’t say, fer we—’uns didn’t spoke a u crd
to ’em.”

“Well, gentlemen, the sooner we start the
better. But how are we to get a mule and
some provisions?”

“ Better put up at the Mengcr House,” sug—
gested Campbell; “and I can have them
ready for you in the morning. I'm in the
habit of attending to such matters.”

“Many thanks,” said Ames; “ how much
shall I advance you for the purchase?”

“Not a cent, sir, until they are delivered.”

“ Thanks, again; though I w ould much pre-
for it.”

“Never mind.
hand.”

“Gents,” said Big Foot, “ sculps air a dang’d‘
risky crop ter cultervnte down Whar yer in-
clinatin’ fer glide, an’ I ’vises yer ter use
Spaldin’s glue for ha‘r ile from this on. I’m
purpose ter skute toward ther Nueces myself,
’iore many fleetin’ periods, for sea ef ther knli-
ker in thet outfit air hunk, serene an’ right side
up with care.”

This last remark seemed to slightly annoy
Ames and his friends. They said nothing,
however, but ordered cigars, as if to hide their
concern.

“If you are down that way with your
friend, here, we shall sleep in our blankets
without fear,” said Ames, assuming a cheerful
air; “but we must now bid you good—night,
hoping we may have the pleasure of soon meet-
in you again. By the way, can you breakfast
wi h us to-morrow morning?”

Little did Frank Ames dream of the horrors.
he would pass through before that time; and
his friends, if they had known what was in
store for them before another sun arose, would
have blown their brains out on the spot, if by
so doing they could be freed from the horrors-
and tortures that awaited them.

“By ther grim Moses,” said Bill, in reply to
the invitation, “we-’nns is ’bleeged, but we
couldn’t chaw our grub often plates, an’ to not
on cheers would spile our appetites. Menger
wouldn’t keer ter hev us in his slam-up, ’risto-
cratic ranch.” ‘

“Which way from this is the Menger
House!” -

“ Go right down this street, cross the bridge-
and take the first left-hand turn,” directed
Martin Canipbell. “The hotel is on the Alamo
Plaza.”

Thanking him and touching their hate, the-
four strangers stepped out, mounted their
horses and proceeded down Commerce street-
as directed. ‘

“ Wa’al, dog-gone my great gran’mother’s.
old settin’ hen!” exclaimed Post Oak Bill; “ ef’
ther reds hain’t gut a soft thing thar, I’ll hitch
outer a Pinto squaw an’ squat in the middle 0’
ther staked plain for ther brief reminder 0’
my days.”

Just then the young man we have before-
noticed roe-entered, coming in this time through,
the want door, in the rear of the scouts. He-
stepped into the room briskly, with the look of
a man of bravery and will, and advancing to
the front of the two scouts, extended a hand
to each, saying in a cheery, mellow tone of
voice:

“My name, gentlemen, is George Adler. I
wish to form the acquaintance of Big Foot
Wallace and Post Oak Bill. You can rest
assured I am not of the same stamp as the men
who have just left you to go to the Monger
Hotel.”

Without hesitation, the scouts grasped the
hands of the young man. There are instances
where friendships are thus quickly formed and
cemented, but they are rare. The two men
were at first dumfounded at being thus, as it
were, taken by storm by a stranger, but for
their lives they could not resist the magnetism
of his looks and speech. Seeing their very.
natural embarrassment, he called for drinks,
and clicking his glass with those of the border-
men, he said: '

“Gentlemen, allow me to propose a toast.
Here’s to Miss Belle Bowen. May her trail

I have sufficient cash on

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through life be bordered with brilliant flowers
of sweetest perfume.”

The scouts looked at each other in silence.
As things were going, they seemed to be get-
ting mixed in with the affairs and friends of
this Bowen family.

“See hyer, pard,” said Bill, at lengtdi, “ yer
must ’seuse we-’uns fer lingerin’ in this erri—
gate biz, fer yer see them four tenderi‘oots is
all startin’ on ther same sort 0’ trail, an‘ we
war kinder sot back when yer shot out ther
name 0’ Bowen. War yer ’quainted with ther
curnil in East Texas!"

“Yes: ever since I can remember. Those
fellows must have had a spy in the household
of Colonel Bowen, or they could not haw
known of his departure. They have no 300d
object in view, and they shall not know Of my
presence on the trail, if I can, keep it Secret.

'Did they impress you, gents, favorably!”

“ W21 :11,” said Big Foot, “I shouldn’t keer
tor be on ther same trail with them, an’ be
‘bleeged ter count on thar puttin’ in a blow cf
:1 scrimmage come on. They ’pears ter be
more like card-sharps than real Simon-pure
XXX gents, though they puts on a heap 0’
style.”

“Gentlemen.” said George Adler, “I’m a
straightforward man, and I never beat around
the blish. You know that I wouldn‘t be fol—
lowing the Bowens without an object, and I’ll
tell you what it is, for I would trust my life
with either of you. I love Belle Bowen, and
she loves me; but her futher.would rather ace
her dead than my wife.
poor; and, Secondly, because he looked on my
father as an enemy to him. Bolle’s brother is
a wanderer, and has been so for years, he hav-
ing fought aduel with that very Ames who has
just left here, and thinking he had killed him,
he fled. There is some mystery about their
quarrel, and no one, except perhaps Colonel
Bowen, knows why Edward so detested Frank
Ames. The colonel is taking Belle away so—
cretly’ for the reason I have told you. Ames
is a gambler and a dishonest man, but it is pos-
sible that the colonel may be willing to give
him his daughter, and there may be an under-
standing betWeen them in this move. Belle,
however, has a strong will, and we are solemn-
lyplighted to each other. She knows that I
will follow her, and watch over her. I am
aware that it is a dangerous locality through
which they have to pass; and I have sought
you, gentlemen, to gain information, and, if
possible, to enlist you in our service. I am
poor, as I have said, but I will cheerfully give
you five hundred dollars each to serve me one
month. Will that sum be satisfactory? What
say you?”

“Hit’ll be jist ’bout five hundred pesos too
much," said Post Oak Bill. “How air you
inclemated ter shoot of! on ther ques’, pard
Wallace?”

“I doesn’t want nary a picayune,” was the
reply. “ I’m in ther service 0’ that angel, an’
hes bin since she sent that letter ter me. Hit
said she war ’spectin’ yer on ther trail, an’ she
wanted Vii-"'13 W Si,“ Yer a straight send-off.”

George Adler caught the hand of Wallace,
exclaiming:

“What do you mean, pardl You don’t
mean that she, Belle Bowen; has written a let-
ter to you?”

“ Why not! Yer isn’t gittin’ jealous, is yer?”

“No,” said Adler, laughing; “but it mm;
strange, and I am greatly pleased to know it.”
I “”Thank yer, pard; yer pan out jist ’bout as

Big Foot was here interrupted by a loud
noise at the back door, as if some one had
fallen against it. The commotion reminded
Adler of the villainous assassin he had knocked
down, and he sprung forward and opemed the
door. It was new evening, but the bar-mom
was brilliantly illuminated, which fact would,
for a moment, blur the sight of one looking in
from the outside. The Mestiao stood facing
the young man, as he swung open the door, on
the~very threshold. . g

A most repulsive object he was to look upon,
ms forehead was badly bruised and much
swollen, and blood had flowed down over his
face and breast; while, from out the gore,
glitteer his black eyes with a panther-like
rage, he he caught sight of George Adler.
Realizing his peril, be half raised his fist, his
features contorted hideously, his lips curled
like a wild beat at bay, his white teeth tight
set and grating; then, like an arrow from the
b0 N, he darted off in the darkness.

“Hit ‘pcars tcr me thet red nigger recker-

First, because I am-

 

-.ElgFOOi "Wallace-

7

 

nized yer, pard,” said Big Foot; “an’ hes a
heap o’ double-distilled cussedness laid up ag’in’
yer. I s’posed yer hed jist ’roved, an’ hedn’t
bed time ter buck ag’in‘ San Antone Grangers.
Hes yer bed a argynient with him,what called
for somethiu’ with more vim than ’l’ited States
lingo er Rio Grande cuss—words ter close up
with l”

“ No, pards; I never spoke a word with him.

i

I remember having seen him at my elbow near .
the Plaza House when I inquired in regard to ,

Colonel Bowen’s wagons; and when you were

drinking with Amos and his friends I came in 

at yonder door, and as sonar; I saw who were i

at the bar, not wishing to be recognized by the
men from East Texas, I passed through to this
door, opened it,

and sprung directly out. ;

Finding, that ruflian in my path-he had no 1

doubt been playing the spy—I had a slight en-
counter with him. He drew a long knife, and

l

I gave him a stunner between the eyes. It laid ,

him out for some time evidently, as he Seems
to have but just'rccovered from it. He may
be in the employ of Amos, and I may be mis—
taken in thinking that Frank does not know I
am on the trail."

“ Dog-gone my great grad-mother‘s old set-

tiu’ hen!” said Post Oak Bill, as he brought his ‘

list down upon the table with a heavy bang,
and then rushed out of the room, calling for
his friends to join him. .

Big Foot and Adler hastened outside.

“Jist look a-hyar, Big Foot,” said Bill ex-
citedly,- “ I reckon I lmow whar thar‘s a par
0’ dang‘d fools, an’ not far. off neither.~ When
we war e-readin’ ther letters what we took outen

Miguel’s pocket, we out at that table under 1

this windy, an’ hyar’s .a spot rubbed cl‘ar o’
dirt. Yer kin jist bet yer last lingrin' two-bit
piece thet cuss what George laid out war one
o’ ther same outfit as Miguel, an’ thet he air one
0’ Cap’ Uaramba’s spies!” ,

“ I‘m (lang’d ef- I doesn’t b'lieve yer’s right,”
agreed “’allace; “an’ I ’gins ter think, pard,
yer is gittin’ dog—gone smart an’ keen 0’ late.
Hes yer tuck in a new stock 0’ brainsl".

“Nary, pard; but I bet: enough ter know
that ther Bowen outfit never’ll see ther Nueces,
an’ hit stan’sa fa’r chance tor he gobbled up
now.” . -

“ What does all. this mean?” asked Adler, in
surprise.

“ Hit means thetwe hes gut ter hump our-
selves ter-morrer mornin’ bright an’ lively,”
replied Big Foot; “ for Miss Belle air in some
consider'ble danger o’ gittin’ tuck by ther rene-
gades an’ scum o’ ther Bravo.”

“Then, by heavens!” exclaimed Adler, “I
shall start tonight. 1 do not propose to enter
the camp of the Bowens, but just to hover
around, and guard them against a surprise. I
shall also endeavor to have speech with Belle
privately. If you, pards, will follow me to-
morrow, timing your speed tostrike the night’s
camp, and arriving unobserved, I shall be re-
joiced; and if you can start and keep ahead of
those four fellows at the Monger, I shall be
doubly pleased.”

“ We-’uns ’ll fill ther bill ter a dot, pard.
We kin take keer 0’ ther four galoote, I reckon;
an’ we doesn’t cross han’s with everybody
what comes along. Remember thet; an’ what’s
more, thar is but few humans we-’uns pards
with; on atrailer off; but I knows a squar’
man when I sees him, an’ I kinder cottons ter
yer. ’Sidee that, I air goin’ ter see that gal
through, or lose ha’r; so We air pards from
this on. Yer hes solid sense, an’ knows yer
own biz; but look out fer ther cuss what ye
laid out at Homer’s back door. He’ll crawl
on yer ef thar is ther leastest show. Ef yer
strike ther camp 0’ ther Bowens, an’ doesn’t hev
no call ter glide in on ’em fer a visit, jist skate
down ther bottom timber ’bout a mile below
ther ford on ther north side ther drink, an’
ye’ll run inter a hoes-shoe bend.

“When yer gits thar, jist gi’n a. owl-hoot
onc’t, then wait two skips an’ vgi’n two more
follerin’ right speedy arter each other, an’ I’m
pnrty sartin a fust-class Red ’11 show hiseelf.
Hyer’s a leetle antelope-horn what talks biz
wi’ ther Red. Fasten hit ter yer belt an’ he’ll
know ye’re alpard o’ mine. Yer better git
him tergo ’long 0’ yer, fer things is strange
theta-way, an’ he’s ther smartest, whitest Red
I ever see’d, ’oeptin’ Raven, Turtle, an’ Rattle-
snake, ther three Tonkaways what I parded
with, an’ does now; all ’cept Raven, who air
gone on ther long dark trail. This hyer Injun
air a Waco, an’ his cog‘ air Wild Wolf.”

Paming the antelope-horn to Adler, Big
Foot added:

 

“Does yer know. ther squar’ way outen San
Antone? An’ come to think, Whar’s yer crit-
ter?"

“ At Whittle’s stable. I made inquiries be-
fore I met you, and I can find my way out of
town, and to the ford of the Rio Medina. I
am a thousand times obliged to you for think-
ing of that Indian. He may be of great use to
me.”

“All serene, pard. Git yer animile, an‘
ride up hyer, an’ we—‘uns ’ll guide yer on ther
start."

George Adler withdrew, soon returning
mounted and equipped for the trail, and
walked his horse along the street, one of the
scouts on either side of him. In this way he
crossed the Plaza, and in a very short time
reached the mesquite where the body of
Miguel Bios swayed slowly in the moonlight.
Turning the corner of the street, which led
past the old Cock Pit toward the Mission, Big
Foot laid his hand on the bridle rein, and
brought the horse to a halt. Then he said:

“Thar, pard George, yer now hes a party
direct course. Keep ter ther trail, an’ ye’re
all (J. K. Take kccr o’ ycrwlf, an‘ we'll jine

yer ter-morrer night. I reckon. , W_’ll find
yer Without ,ycr leavin’ my sign. §er kin
bet we air bothvsquar', pard."

“I know it, and thank you both. I shall

never forget your klllduesS, and I am proud
of your friendship. A bad start is a good
ending, according to my way of thinking, and
I hope I am right this time. Shake, pards, and
good-night.” , ,.
“Hyar’s my paw, pard George," said Post
Oak Bill, “an’ hit‘s yourn tcr command with-
out a struggle. I hopes yer’ll strike ther

Bowen fit-out O. K. Rec a stiff eyelid, an”

w'ar yer stickerin front, han y ter jerk for that
yaller cuss; fer he‘s es full 0’ concentrated
Cuseedness es a. terrantaler, air 0’ p’ison.. So
long, pard!”

“Adios,” said Adler, cheerily; and then,
driving spurs, he galloped down the street
toward the mesquite—bordered wagon road that
led to the ford of the Rio Medina. ,

“Wa‘al, I’ll sw’ar ter Moses!" burst out
the giant scout. “ I 11er never see’d a. caliker-
kivered human what ’peared ter take a tight
grip from ther start on my hull bizness
’natomy, es thet Angel did what writ that let-
ter ter me tar-day; though I haiu’t slung a word
with her, an’ now I'm jist ther wu’stest setup
ole mustang-straddler thet ever chawed rusty
bacon, ’bout this yere George. He’s straight
up and down, plum squar‘, es I air a bug—
eatin’ Digger. What yer thinks, pard Bill?
Ain’t thet kerrect, an’ ’bout ther solid way ter
sot him down?”

“Pard, yer hes chalked him on the right
spot, an’ I air surprised ’bout how he glided
inter a pardship ’long 0’ we-’uns. But I ain’t
any ways fear’d 0’ his turnin’ out anythin’
’cept a solid XXX white man. Howsomever,
let us hump ourselves down creek ter our nags,
an’ roll up in our blankets for repose. That’s
a hefty biz ahead, er I air a buck Pinto.”

“Strike out, pard; I’m With yer. But I
doesn’t think I’ll lay down-long. Somethin’ air
a-botherin’ my brain-box. I air a-bettin’ I’ll
straddle my critter an’ skate toward ther
Medina afore an hour.” ‘

The two scouts glided along the bank of the
San Antonio river, through the fig bushes
toward the pecan-bordered margin below the
Alamo City.

 

CHAPTER VI.
GEORGE scoans on.

Wm George Adler had passed the old
Cock Pit, he found himself still in a muchtrav-
eled road, but bordered bya dense Chaparral,
and he became plunged in a maze of thought
in regard to the appearance of Frank Amen
and his three friends in San Antonio.

Not that their object was any mystery to
him, for he knew that Frank was determined
to win the hand of Belle Bewen by fair means
or foul, and, from the fact that the old col-
onel had departed from the Trinity secretly, it
was plain that the latter was not in favor of
an alliance with the last of the Ames family.
The mystery of the affair was; that he himself
had known of the intended departure and
proposed route, having been informed by
Belle, who did not herself know, at their last
interview, when the start was tobe made.

He had come, by the most direct road, to
San Antonio. and had left Frank Ames on the
Trinity; but, 10 and behold, the latter had

P.

,—

 

8

Big Foot Wallace.

 

 

arrived in the Alamo City on the same day as
himself, and a few hours earlier!

There were but two reasonable conclusions
in explanation. Either Frank Ames had
posted a spy in the magnolia grove when
,Belle and himself had met the last time on the
Trinity, (.r else he had in some manner been
informed of the departure of Colonel Bowen
and his daughter, and had sent an emissary to
follow, and inform him of the course taken by
them. He then, having purchased the best
horses to be had, felt that he could easily ever-
take the loaded wagons.

If this was the case—and it was the most
plausible explanation of the presence of Ames——
the last must also have been informed by the
same spy, that he, Adler, was following the
Bowens. From this he came to the conclusion
that Frank must now be aware of his presence
in San Antonio, and doubtless had made in-
quiries concerning him at the Monger and
other public places. He congratulated himself
now, that he had not made known his name or
object to any one except the two scouts, and
also felt greatly rejoiced that he had secured
those faithful men on his side. So far, it was
promising.

But all this trouble and danger to his
betrothed would have been avoided, had
he not been robbed of his rights. Had not
' Duncan Dudley absconded with his father‘s
money, he wruld have been in a position to
marry Belle without stopping toask the con-
sent of any one; and he would have done so,
as soon as he discovered that she was being
persecuted by the worthless young scapegrace,
if he had anything like a home to offer her.

However, small as was his fortune, in com-
parison wixh what it had formerly been, and to
that of Belle, he determined to make her his
own at the first opportunity. He felt the most
intense contempt for Frank Amos, and for the
young men whom the latter had by some
means induced to accompany him; all of them
being well known to him by sight and reputa-
tion, which was none of the best. He deter-
mined however, to dismiss all thought of them
from his mind, as unworthy of consideration.

Pondering upon the singular conduct of Col—
onel Bowen, George began to reason that Belle
could not he prised by her step-father as the
apple of his eye, and he grew suspicious, for
the first time, that she was being conveyed
into these scenes of danger for the purpose of
getting her murdered by savages or bandits, in
order to get possession of her fortune.

But this, in the face of the strong attach-

ment that the colonel had never striven to
conceal, though masking all other emotions
behind a stern air and manner, was unreason-
able. Nor was it natural to suppose that the
latter and Frank Ames had any friendly com-
pact in regard to the disposal of Bellds hand.
. Take_it all in all, the departure to the' fron-
tier, the following of young Ames, and the
encounter with the Mestizo, all were puzzles
which George strove in vain to unravel; for,
although he had not spoken of it to the scouts,
he could not banish from his mind the thought
that the half-breed had been set upon his track
to assassinate him. There was no reason for the
dastardly wretch to plant himself in his path
in the way he did, for Adler was a stranger
and had never seen him before; besides there
was an unmistakable expression in the eyes of
the lurking spy that spoke of pleasure and tri-
umph. as the latter attacked him. He believed
this fully, and also that Frank Amos was the
man who was hav'ng him shadowed.

The moon now shone brightly in the heavens,
and as his horse had been in a gallop since
leaving town, he had gone some two-thirds of
the distance between it and the Rio Medina,
having left the mesquitee, and was now riding
across the bald open prairie.

Soon the dark ribbon of timber that marked
the course of the river ahead was in plain
view; a broad belt of chaparral being of suffi-
cient hight to shield him and his horse in their
approach to the stream.

Deeming it imprudent to keep the traveled
road, George guided his horse into the mes-
quitea, among the winding trails toward the
Medina, and soon after he rode beneath the
moss-draped trees of the river-bottom. Here
and there an arrow of moonlight shot down
through the foliage, enabling him to note the
lay of the land. Up toward the ford he slowly
guided his horse, until he arrived at the mar-
gm of the timber near the same, but he could
discover no signs of a camp. Across the river
the bank was some thirty feet higher than the

1 north side upon which he stood, consequently

patience to learn something in regard to the

had there been fires or wagons just over the camp of the Bowens.

’ stream from him he could not have seen them.
Surprised that Colonel Bowen had not en-
camped in so favorable a spot, George then
thought of the Indian, and turned his horse
down the stream. Reaching, as near as he
could judge, a point some two miles from the

3 ford, he gave the signal as directed. Searcer 1

, had the last hoot left his lips when there came
r to his ears a single guttural expression, which
i sounded directly behind him:

“ Waugh i”

His horse gave a snort, and whirling in his

tracks, faced the point of alarm.

As the young man gazed forward, he saw
{before him, his arms folded over his broad
' breast, his head proudly poised, and standing
, as straight as a forest pine, a warrior in every
i sense of the word.

, As noble a specimen of physical manhood as
.j George Adler had ever seen, had seemingly
= been conjured up from the ground by the sig-

nal he had given. The head of the brave was
i crowned with a fillet of eagle- feathers, and he
was naked to the waist. Below this he had
fancifully decorated buckskin leggins, and

beaded belt was thrust a long scalping-knife,
and a Colt’s revolver, while from a strap which
hung over his shoulders was suspended a bullet-
pouch and paint~bag. This was Wild Wolf,
the Waco.

The eyes of the two men met in a long, un-
flinching gaze, during which not a word was
spoken; then George sprung from his horse,
and paging the bit of antelope horn, upon
which were engraved some rude characters, to
the Indian, he stood waiting for the latter to
speak.

Only for an instant did the red-man glance
at the horn; then, making a step forward, he
caught the hand of George Adler, and placed
it upon his breast, in token of friendship and
brotherhood, saying:

“ Friend of Big Foot Wallace is friend of
Wild Wolf. My white brother is welcome.
Come. The lodge of the Waco chief is open.
His tongue is not forked.”

“Thanks, Wild Wolf. I am on the trail,
but I will bait and rest a little with you.”

“ Tie mustang here. Want eat grass. Mebbe
so will fast when sun come.”

“Yes, my friend; I presume I may have
occasion to ride fast and long for the next few
days. But how do you come to know of
it?"

“ Big Foot, he alwayson war-path. Friends
on war-path. Wild Wolf on war-path all
time. Bad white men in woods. Apaches,
Comanches, Kioway, all got on war-paint.
Heap much tight. Heap much scalp.”

"Do you go on the war-path alone, my red
friend?"

“ No. Got warriors up river. Hide in
thick trees. Wild Wolf ride down Medina. See
Big Foot come. ”

“ Big Foot will be here to-morrow,” said
George.

“Good. Come in bush. No talk where
moon shines. Rifles shoot in day. Rifles shoot
in night, all same on war-path.”

George Adler secured his horse to a sapling,
and followed the Indian into the timber. They
entered a dense thicket of wild plums, within
which was a clear space, circular in form, and
some thirty feet in diameter. In the middle of
this well-guarded opening was a lodge made
from the reeds of the river; while in front of
the dwelling was a platform made in the same
manner. Upon this was a pair of buffalo-
robes, the skin side strangely ornamented in
vermilion. Over the door of the lodge was
hung another robe, indicating that other than
Wild Wolf were dwellers there, but the latter
threw aside a robe on the platform.

“Let my white brother mt,” he said, as he
did so. “He shall have meat. The ride of
Wild Wolf shoots straight, and the deer run
fast when they see the Waco chief."

He then brought from a smoldering fire
broiled venison and parched corn upon a large
green leaf, and placed the same before his
guest, and the latter partook of the simple
meal with an appetite born of his twelve-mile
ride over the plain. This done, he produced
his tobacco-pouch and passed it to the Indian,
who with a grunt of satisfaction filled his pipe,
and igniting it, began to smoke with great
gusto.

Fcr ten minutes not a word was spoken,
although George was boiling over with im-

 

moccasins with thick buflaloskin soles. In a.

l
i

 

“ Wild Wolf,” he began at last, “ have you
seen two wagons that came from San Antonio
this evening?”

“ One wagon got so many horses," holding
up two fingers of his right hand, and than four
of his left, adding, “and one wagon so many
mules 9”

“Yes,” said the young man; “that is the
party I am after."

"Old man, white hair. Young squaw, face
like daughter of Great Spirit?” the Waco chief
inquired further.

“ Yes. yes; those are they. Where are they
camped?" .

Without a word Wild Wolf pointed directly
across the river.

“Can I reach them without swimming
across?” _

“ Climb in tree. Cross on branch to branch
other side.”

“Good! I must go and see where and how
they are located. 1 shall want to see them
start OH in the morning also; or I may want
to go ahead of them. Where will they be
likely to encamp tomorrow night?”

“ Mebbe so go to San Miguel. Mebbe so go
long ride to Frio.”

“Will my red friend cross the river with
me!”

“Wild Wolf will go where white brother
say. He is friend of great scout of Texas. It
is well. Come 2”

George followed the Waco along winding
paths, and soon the ripple of waters broke on
his ear. The next moment the ink-like surface
of the Medina was at his feet, here and there
relieved by a patch of silver, and by bars of
moonlight that shot through the foliage of the
grand archway of limbs far above.

The Indian sprung nimbly into the branches
of a tree, George following him, until they
reached a dizzy hight where the limbs from
either side twined together.

Over the river in this way they passed; de-
scended, and stood on the south side of the Rio
Medina. All was silent, except the hoot of
owl, or bark of coyote

“ Come," said Wild Wolf, in a whisper.

Once again the young man followed on the
heels of the Waco; this time upstream, and
along the bank, it being about ten feet above
the water. Not more than a hundred yards
had been gone over when the Waco halted, and
pointing ahead of them, said:

“There, camp. Two wagon. White hair
chief. Squaw, face like rose of prairie. My
white brother go see. Wild Wolf stay here.
Want Waco chief, hoot like owl.”

With these words the Indian seated himself
in the dense shade, lit his pipe and pufled
with an air that showed he was confident there
existed no necessity for caution in that section.
George went on as the Waco had directed him,
but had advanced some distance before he
could distinguish the wagons and tires.

It was plain to our y0ung friend, as be pro-
ceeded, that the colonel had not stationed a
guard, and that the camp was open to the in-
spection of any one who might be passing in
the vicinity. He cast longing glances toward
the Dearborn, and wished, from the inmost re-
cesses of his heart, that he could go boldly into
the camp, and speak with his soul’s idol; but he
knew that such a. course would raise a storm
from Colonel Bowen which would be hard to
bear, and not only that, but it would doubtless
be of great injury to his cause in the future.

Dropping upon his hands and knees, be
crawled forward, resolved that he would reach
the Dearborn and get speech with Belle, if
possible; but he had not gone thirty paces
when, right in front of him, he beheld the
form of a man crawling, like himself on hands
and knees.

There was no retreat, for both were in a
cattle trail, narrow, and bordered with bushes,
which, if either entered, would betray his
presence to the other.

Between the two men therewas a moonlit
space, and this was not five feet from where
George had halted in his surprise. Not until
within this patch of moonlight, did the stran-
ger, who was evidently a spy, discover George
Adler. As he did so, the latter saw distinctly
the swollen and repulsive face of the Mestizo,
his eyes glaring with malignant hatred and a
look, at the same time, of intense exultation.

Only for a moment did the two strangely met
human beings gaze at each other. The next
the half-breed sprung forward like a panther,

 

 

 

 

 

i
i

 

 

man...” .

V ‘ .._.,—v

- the river.

Big Feet Wallace.

 

 

directly upon the enemy before him, who was
so startled and amazed at the unaccountable
and mysterious appearance of the Mestim at
such a time and place that he was rendered,
for the time being, almost helpless, and had
not even time to draw his weapon before the
cowardly savage had clutched him.

As the half-breed sprung forward, George
arose to his feet and grasped the knife-hand of
his would-be murderer on the instant; then
both, with arms and legs at times interlocked,
writhed and staggered about among the thick
bushes, each making superhuman efforts to
throw the other to the earth; their muscles
strained to the very utmost tension, while the
swollen face, bloodshot eyes, and clinched teeth
of the Mes'izo brought- close to the young
man’s face. caused him to shudder with all the
aversion and (in-ad that one feels When 1053
escapingr the spring of a rattlesnake.

Not more than a minute did the two men
strugg'e together on the bank of the river;
for rec-wering him on a sudden, George Adler
pressed the half-breed forward with resistlc<s
force, the heel of the latter striking a root,
which caused him to lose his balance, and both
the combatants fell headlong, crashing through
the dense undergrowth that bordered the bank,
into the Rio Medina, striking the waters with
a sounding splash, and then disappearing be-
neath the inky surface.

 

CHAPTER VII.
WILD WOLF.

STILI retaining his grip about the right
wrist of the Mestiz'), George Adler, as they
sunk together beneath the waters of the Me-
dina, releasgi his left hand by a quick jerk
from the grasp of the half-breed, and clutched
him by the throat, causing him to writhe and
contort in, apparently, the spasms of death.

When he ceased his struggles, George releaSed
himself, and quickly swam to the bank, where,
climbing up it, he was confronted by Wild
Wolf, who stood silent in the moonlight, his
stoical face showing naught of the thoughts
that ruled his brain.

That the slight commotion occasioned by the
struggle with the Mestizo. had caused an alarm
in the camp of Colonel Bowen, was evident;
for a hum of voices reached the ears of
George and the Waco, and an increased light
showed that the fires had been replenished.

The Indian was the first to speak.

“My white brother is not a. beaver, that he
should swim in the river. Waters of Medina
show no trail. Make heap noise. Bad on war-

th ’7

“Wild Wolf talks good sense,” mid the
young man in reply; “ but I was forced into
An enemy was in my path. He
came upon me so quick that I had no time to

_ draw my knife, and we fell in the water while

trying to get the advantage of each other.
But I believe I choked his life out.”

“th enemy—white, red, black, yellow?”

“ Well, you have me there, chief; for he is
neither one nor the other. He’s a mixture—a
half-breed.”

“ Mestizo, mebbe so? Heap bad man.”

"Yes; I believe that is what Post Oak Bill
called him.”

“How Post Oak Bill see to Medina? How
he speak to my white brother over heap big
plain?”

“Well. I ought to have explained that.
This same Mestizc tried to knife me in San
Antonio, and I gave him then a blow with my
fist between the eyes that laid him out- senseless
for some little time."

"M~xicun never forget blow with hand.
Indian neVer forget blow with hand. Worse
than out with knife.”

“You may be right—I presume you are—
but that Mexican is past liking or disliking it
now.”

At this moment a loud and piercing yell

shot'up the vast natural archway of towering '

rees.
t George Adler looked into the face of the
Waco, inquiringly.

“ My white brother go on first war-path?"

“Yes, Wild Wolf, this is my first. But what
does that terrible cry mean, from down the
stream!” .

“My white brother forgeti Meatizo no die
easy.”

“You don’t mean to say that the half-breed
gave that yell!"

“ It was the war-cry of the Mestizo. He is

filled with the thirst for blpod. My white

brother must keep eyes open.”

“I am not afraid of him. He has got off
with his life this time. The next, I’ll make a
sure thing of it.”

“ He has seen the camp of my white brother’s
friends.” '

The Waco turned away, and George fol-
l0wed him across the river to the secret open-
ing, where he found a fire blazing, and a young
and very pretty squaw cooking venison at the
same.

As the two entered the open space she arose
quickly to an erect position, and looked toward
them.

“ Warnona is the squaw of Wild “’olf, the
Rose of the Wacos,” said the chief by way of
introduction. “ My white brother is the friend
of the'Great Soout of Texas.”

welcome.”
Seating himself by the fire, George Adler
began to watch with great interest, the move—

 

, ments of these children of nature.
' a fawn, “'arnona glided hero and there, occa-

f sionaily casting a glance of mingled love and l
i The war-path is open.”

' pride at her handsome savage lord.
1 Not long had George been seated in this posi-
tion, whe‘n once again the same unearthly
shriek shot through the timber, from the same
point to ‘all seeming, from which he had left
the river.

The Indian merely glanced upward an in-

unworthy of notice.

asked Warnona.

“Wild Wolf is ashamed of his squaw,” was
the reply. “She knows not the bark of acoyote
from the song of a bird.”

“ The sounds of the night are strange to
Warnona,” she said. “ She has been but three
moons from the lodge of her mother.”

“ Wild Wolf’s words were hard toward the
Rose of the Wacos,” said the chief. “ It is the
cry of a Mestizo, whose knife is in his hand,
and whose eyes look for the trail of our white
i brother. Wild Wolf must put on war-paint.
His blood grows hot.”

“ Let him come,” said the young squaw.
“His death-yell will sound sweeter to War—
nona than the song of birds. The enemy of
the white chief is the enemy of the Wacos.”

“The words of Warnona are good," replied
Wild Wolf.” .

But while George is drying himself by the
fire, and the Waco is putting on his war-paint,
let us look after the Mestiao. While beneath
the surface of the water, the cunning half-
breed had sense enough left to know that there
was but one chance for his life; and that was
to simulate death. This he at once did, though
at the time he was nearer dead than alive.

As soon as he was released, therefore, he
I whirled upon his back, and allowed himself to
ifioat down the stream, with nothing but his
, face ab0"2 "be water.

! When he decided in his mind that he could
climb the bank without being observed by his
lhated enemy he swam silently to the shore,
I and there in , panting and exhausted, hissing
i out curses, not loud but deep and bitter at hav-
5 ing again been foiled by the young Texan.
Then it was that, an idea suddenly occurring
: to him, he gave full Vent to his feelings in the
f yell which first startled George.
‘ Then he crawled along the bank of the river
l in the direction of the camp of Colonel Bowen,
l. giving utterance as he did so to another shrill
i unearthly shriek.

Upon reaching a position where he had a
view of the camp, the Mestiti rolled on the
‘earlh in fiendish glee then sprung erect, and
' darted like an arrow up the ri\ er for a couple
3 of rifie shots. There he entered a dense thicket
1 where stood a. wiry mustang, the bridle of the
same hanging from the horn of the saddle.
Quickly loosening an extra lariat from the can-
tie, be rushed in wild bounds toward the
river, over which he made his way in the same
manner that Wild Wolf and George Adler had
done.

Down a tree on the north bank he slid, and
then ran on through the bottom timber to the
opening at the bend where George had met the
Waco, and where the horse of the former was
still grazing. The animal threw up its head
and snorted in alarm, which caused the half-
breed to bound 'back into the bushes with a
vile oath upon his lips.

He next examined the ground until he came
upon a well-beaten path which led toward the
ford, and by which he knew from the fresh
prints of the boots that George Adler must

 

 

I

“The friend of the Chief of the Post Oaks is ‘

 

 

 

stant, and then looked as though the sound was i

"Has a young panther lost its mother?”!

 

have found his way down to the bend. Choos-
ing a spot where the path led through a mass
of undergrowth, the Mestizo climbed a. tree at
one side, and secured the end of the lariat to a
large limb some ten feet from the ground;
then, spreading the noose in the other end he
adjusted it loosely on the bushes, it being
about the right distance from the earth to al-
low of a horse passing under it. Thus, a man
riding along the path would be caught in the
noose; and, if his horse should be moving
quickly, would stand a chance of having his
neck broken by its tightening suddenly and
jerking him from the back of the animal. The
faster the horse went, the less chance there
would be of the rider’s escaping with his life.
The half-breed now sneaked away in the
dark shades, a fiendish laugh bursting from his

lips.
Wild Wolf, having at length completed his
war-stripes, rose again to his feet, and ex-

Graceful as r claimed:

“Gun loaded. Chief wokeup. Council-fire
gone out. Wild Wolf ready for Big Foot.
Thus spoke the \Vaco chief. Then he in—
quired:

“Why does the white-haired chief take
young squaw with cheeks like prairie rose
where Apache war-cry will make her face

. white as the lily?”

“ I cannot tell you why, my red friend. It
is a mystery to me. He is very foolish, I
think.”

“My white brother has a straight tongue.
\Vhite Hair is a fool. His scalp will hang on
an Apache lance. I have spoken. Lies build
not their nests on my tongue.”

“I would like to ask you one question,”
said George:

“ Let my white brother speak.”

“Why was it that the Mestino screamed,
when he must have known that it was so dan-
gerousi”

“ He yell, then crawl fast in bushes. Watch
for enemy. He went scare White Hair from
camp.”

“Do you think that Colonel Bowen will
move camp!"

“ White Hair gone.
gone.”

“ How do you know this, chief i” demanded
George.

" Wild Wolf has care,” was the brief but
significant reply.

“ And I am not deaf, but I heard no sounds
that would indicate a departure of the wag-
ons.”

“ Hear my white brother and Mestiao fall in
river. Hear Mestizo yell. Mebbe so think
Apaches come. Get scare. Go 0! in dark.
Think wagons make no noise on grass, but
Wild Wolf's ears are open. Hear littlehfrd
sing ’way of! in tree. Ask Warnona.”

“ Warnona. has heard the wagons,” said the
squaw.

George Adler sprung toward the entrance of
the opening.

“Where go?” asked the chief, with some
show of anger. ‘

“To mount my horse,” replied George, “ and
cross the ford, to see if the wagons are in sight
on the plain.”

“ No see wagons. Plenty mesquite bush.
My white brothe-r lone scalp. Mestizo hide in

Squaw gone. Wagons

. dark bushes. Wild Wolf is not a fool. Bad.

white men on Frio. Give gold to Mestizo.
Send wagons in night.”

The young man waited to hear no more. He
felt that the Waco spoke the truth, and that
Belle and the colonel were in great danger.
Rushing in frantic haste to his horse, he mount-
ed and spurred up the stream toward the ford
in the way that he came.

As he urged his horse at speed along the
narrow trail, he approached the thicket in
which the deadly noose awaited him; but a
sneaking coyote darting across the path (sensed
the steed to spring upward, and the lariat in-
tended for the rider encircled the neck of the
beast. Thus choked, the animal fell to the
earth, hurling Adler far into the midst of the
timber, where, his head striking the trunk of a
tree, he lay senseless. This was the Meatiao‘s
opportunity, and be improved it. Spring'lng
astride of his fallen foe, he raised his cuchillo
in the air, the long blade glittering in the
moonlight. The snake-like eyes of the half-
breedshonelikethoeeofabaailiak,aahe
gloated over his helplem victim, trembling all
the while with the intensity of his insane de~
light. At that moment, so critical, the proud

10

Bigfoot Wallace.

 

form of the Waco chief appeared in the trail
by the side of the struggling horse. .
Wild Wolf, without a pauss, raised his rifle
to his shoulder, and the sharp report sounded
on the instant, quickly awakening a thousand

echoes-of the night, and rolling along the na-

tural archway to the ford. It was none too
soon.

The uplifted hand of the murderous Mestizo
was shattered by the bullet of the Waco, the
knife flew through the air, and with a cry of
agony and terror the half breed rushed away
from his prostrate foe and disappeared among
the shadows.

The Indian bounded forward, cut the lasso
clear from the half-dead horse, and then, after
reloading his rifle, began examining his white
friend. Finding that Adler was not injured,
except by having been brought into such sharp
collision with the tree, which had bruised and
stunned him, Wild Wolf deliberately seated
himself upon some deadwood, ignited his pipe,
and placidly puffed away as if nothing had oc-

, cured to interrupt the still, deen current of his

thoughts.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
DREAD SCENES or mom.

BELLE BownN had passed from childhood
to the age of nineteen without having known
any great trouble, except the sudden departure
of her brother from his home. Had she known
where Edward was, she would have written,
urging him to return, as it had turned out
that Frank Adler was but slightly injured in
their encounter. As time went by, however,
she began to reason that Edward was quite
able to take care of himself, and she pictured
him in her mind as a wealthy and honored
member of society, and looked forward to the
pleasure of some day meeting him and being
proud of him.

Not remembering anything of her own
father, and having been loved and cherished so
devotedly by Colonel Bowen, she had as deep
anaflection for him as if he had been in reality
her parent. That some great grief hung over

, him, she well knew; but when she had ques-
tioned him in regard to it, he had always

turned abruptly away. As to the demand of
Frank, Ames for her hand in marriage, she
knew nothing; although she had been perse-
cuted beyond measure by his unwelcome atten-
tions, which were the most persistently urged
when, as was often the case, the young man
was intoxicated.

Had Belle known that the man whom she
called father had seen and heard all that had
passed between her and Frank Ames at their
last interview, snd‘tbat it was this that caused
him to remove at once from the Rio Trinity,
she would have been not only puzzled but in-
dignant that the colonel should allow himself
to be driven from his home for so trivial a
cause, and by so worthless a person. But
there was much that she did not know.

For some time past Belle had noticed that
her father was more morose and absent—minded
than ever, and. she would not have wondered
at it had she known of the demands made upon
him by Frank Ames. No other man in the
world could have spoken to the old colonel in
such a manner, without being called to face
the muzzle of a revolver; but the young man
so much resembled his father, Captain Jack

. Ames. that Colonel Bowen could scarce look

him in the face without a shudder. In fact
the spirit of the man whom he had killed
seemed to haunt him day and night, and to

gaze into his very soul from the eyes of the

4

dead man’s son. He felt that Frank must
know of that murder in the Trinity bottom-
timber, and that he was at any time and place
liable to accuse him of his father’s death. With
this dread before him, the colonel had hastened
his departure for the wilds of Western Texas. '
' Until their arrival in San Antonio, Belle had
greatly enjoyed the journey; at times riding
in the Dearborn and at others galloping like the
wind upon a favorite pony over the prairies,
in the advance of the wagons. When, how-
ever, she had been insulted by the Mexican'on
the plaza, and afterward saW, as they rode
along in. the rear of the crowd. hcr insulter
shot and then hung to the mosquito, the young
girl began to realize something of the dangers
by which she was surroimled. The rough-
garbed men of many nationalities greatly im-
pressed her. She witnessed the shooting of
Miguel Rios, and plainly saw the face of the
man who shot him. But to all her entreaties
to her father to return, he turned a deaf ear,

 

assuring her that they would soon reach a
place that was quiet and peaceful, where man
had not marred the handiwork of nature, and
where she Would enjoy life to the full, among .
unfading flowers and the ceaseless song of .
birds.
the confidence that he felt into her mind. She
had forebodings in spite of it, though she under-
stood them not. But she felt that George
Adler would follow and protect her, and she
began to have a hope thattbe scout Wallace 3
would make it his business to come toward the }
Frio, and perhaps induce the colonel to settle 
nearer to San Antonio. ‘
When the wagons reached the Rio Medina,
and were drawn through the clear rushing
waters at the ford, just as the sun sunk in the
west through the branches of the giant trees
bedecked with flowering vines, and ten thou-
sand hanging festoons of silvery Spanish moss,
then Belle Bowen was in ruptures, and even the 3
old colonel smiled at her enthusiasm, pleased
that his prophecy was already verified. Truly
everything looked brighter already.

“ Papa,” exclaimed Belle, as she ran into the
camp from a visit to the riVer, “it is really
delightful here. Please, let us not go any
further away from San Antonio. There can
be no danger here from ludians, and I am sure
land must be as cheap here as on the Rio Frio.” ‘

“This land is all owned by those who will i
not sell,” said Colonel Bowen. “But wait i
until you see the Frio, my dear, and I doubt
not you will be better pleased.” i

“But there is danger there, papa; and our i
lives are to be considered. We ought to think
more of that.”

“ A fig for danger!” said the colonel, con.
temptuously. “Those Indian stories are only
idle tales gotten up by the stock raisers, who
wish to prevent any one from settling on their
extensive free ranges; besides, we can erect a
block-house that will be as strong as a. fortress.
Don’t worry me, Belle, with your groundless
fears. I feel relieved to get away from the
Trinity, and it is for your sake as much as my
own.”

When darkness settled down upon the earth,
and all were asleep, Belle, who had made her- ,
self a couch in the Dearborn, could not close ‘
her eyes, for the events of the past day had
greatly excited her. The hideous face of the
Mexican, as he hung from the mesquite, was
constantly before her, and she could not banish
the scene from her mind. Besides this, the
thoughts of George Adler, and also of Big Foot
Wallace, that were flitting through her brain, ‘
made her at last fancy that she saw the noted
scout and her lover dancing gleefully with the
Mexican who had been hung, and the one who ,'
had fired the fatal shot.

These pictures, conjured up by the occur—
rences of the day, so impressed her, that she
sprung to a sitting posture, and rubbed her
eyes, determining that she would not again try
to court sleep. As she looked out from the rear
of the Dearborn toward the river, she was
startled by the sight of a man crawling upon
his hands and knees in the moonlight. To her ‘
disordered imagination he bore a striking re- r
semblance to the Mexican she had seen hang- '
ing from the mesquite; and, as he disappeared i
among the bushes, she was seized with an un-
controllable desire to watch him—a terrible
fascination which she could not resist, although ,
she was conscious of the great danger of dis. ‘
covery.

Speechless with a nameless dread, Belle
Bowen glided toward the river, and to her
horror discovered another human form, also
upon hands and knees, approaching the first.
Although she could not see his face, she knew
by his movements that he was not aware of 1
the presence of the first; and, not only this,
but felt sure that he was some one whom she
knew. But before she had time to collect her .
thoughts the two men were engaged in a death- .
struggle, in which they staggered and stumbled ,'
toward the river. Belle strove to cry out, but i
her tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of her i
mOuth; and when, for an instant, an arrow of ‘
moonlight shot across, and revealed the face of i
the man she mcst loved, as the assassin‘s knife
glittered above his breast, and both he and his
antagonist fell with a sounding splash into the
river, the maiden sunk senseless to the award, .’
without the strength to cry aloud.

How long she lay thus Belle knew not; but ‘
when she revived she regretted that she had ‘
not remained so; for to the horror of the past
was added the almost certainty that her lover
could not have escaped with life. Faint and

 

l
He failed, however, to instill any of i little further down the river.
i
|
l

fi

weak with dread and terror, the young girl
stood there alone in the darkness of the thicket,
'gfddy and swaying with a deathlike faintness;
rte at last became aware of a singular mur-
muring sound proceeding from a point but a
The same fasci-
nation which had led her to leave the camp,
and which she could not for her life resist,
caused her to steal toward the point wherce
the peculiar noise came. She had gone but a
short distance amid the bushes, when another
sight of terror met her gaze. Was she becom
ing insane? Could it be that she was only

: dreaming that such strange scenes were pre-

sented to her view, or her mind's eye, she
could not decide which? Belle Bowen had
never seen an Indian; but there stood one, in
full war-paint, his eagle-feathers flaunting in
the moonlight and his rifle grasped in his hand.

“ Merciful Heaven 1”

In a hoarse whisper of prayer and dread,
these words burst from poor Belle’s lips; but,
as the form and face of the Waco were photo-
graphed on her brain, she little thought that
this paint-daubed savage would, in the time to
come, save her from a worse fate than death.
She only knew that he was an Indian; and
with that knowledge was conjured up all the
savage cruelty of his people of which she had
read.

With her eyes fixed upon the Waco for a
moment, Belle at length became conscious that
he was addressing some one, and glancing
downward, she discovered another human
form recumbent upon the earth. That this
was a captive, bound and ready to be taken to
torture, she felt sure: but she was soon unde-
ceived, by seeing the man arisc and walk down
the bank in company with the Inflan. Looking
upward next, she caught sight of a white face
afar up among the branches, where the moon
shone clear—a face that was turned toward
the camp she had left, the one face to her in
the world— that of George Adler!

She clutched the sapling by her side with
both her delicate hands. and strove again to
cry out; but the name, George, died away in
a gurgling whisper, and the next moment a
huge black bear came waddling up the cattle
trail, its red tongue lolling outward, and as it
tossed its head, displaying. its horrible teeth,
while it snuffed the air on either side.

Back to the camp as if the fiends were in
pursuit went Belle Bowen—back to where the
old colonel lay wrapped in his blanket and
sleeping soundly—and there she fell by his
side, insensible.

Startled from his slumbers, Colonel Bowen
sprung up, glanced at the prostrate form of his
daughter, and swept the surrounding wood
with a piercing gaze. There were no trees be-
tween them and the water, nothing except
clumps of bushes, and the ground beyond was
clearly illuminated. As the colonel’s eyes
roved around, he saw amid the branches on
the north side of the river the painted face of
an Indian; for, at this moment, Wild Wolf was
peering downward to ascertain if the form of
the Mestizo was in view, for be doubted very
much if the latter had been killed by George
Adler.

Alarmed at the sight, Colonel Bowen was at
first unable to comprehend whether he was
asleep or awake; but the huge bear now coming
up with his savage growl, quickly decided the
matter. There was no time for preparation.
The colonel’s pistols were under his saddle,
which he had used as a pillow. Luckily his
bowie was in his belt, so placing Belle hastily
out of harm’s way on the sward, be grasped a
heavy woolen blanket and tossing it over the
head of the bear, as the latter arose on ’its
hinder legs, he drove the knife to the hilt in
the brute’s side, just back of the shoulder blade.
Out came the steel, and again and again was it
plunged into the vitals of the bear—the animal.
blinded by the blanket, being unable to injure
his assailant. Soon seeing that the beast was
mortally wounded, the colonel caught up his
daughter in his arms, and hastening to the
Dearborn, laid her upon the blankets inside.
Panting with exertion, he stood for a moment,
watching the death-struggles of the bear,
which had torn the blanket to shreds; then, he
procured some water, and bathed Bella‘s head,
unable to comprehend why it was that she had
left her couch in the first place, and also puz-
zled by the unexpected sight of a war-painted
Indian so near to San Antonio.

Belle Bowen presently opened her eyes,
moaned, and a convulsive shudder shook her
frame; but when she recognized her father.

A--. I 1.. ..

 

i

a

? QWWNr-Wamxm .'

-——05

.‘

Big rat waaaoé.

11

 

 

 

and realized that she was again in the Dear-
born, she drewa sigh of relief, and raising
herself on her elbow, asked in a whisper:

“Father, have you seen a bear?”

“Yes, my child; but the beast is harmless
now. 1 have killed him. Why did you leave
the Dearborn?"

Disregarding the qucstion, Belle asked an-
other, in a hesitating manner, as if she feared
to be ridiculed:

“ Papa, tell me, have you seen an Indian r"

“Yes; but, in the name of wonder, where
did you see him?"

The colonel was filled with amazement and
regret.

“Please don’t ask me, papa; but, for my
sake, do hitch up quietly, and let us leave this
horrible camp. Let us go anywhere—any-
where, so that we leave this dreadful spot.
Every thicket is full of terrible things."

At this instant, piercing shrieks sounded
from down the river—sounds like those made
by a panther in agony.

“It shall be as you say, my dear,” agreed
the colonel. “Don’t be afraid, Belle; there is
nothing that can work you harm.” So saying,
and arousing the negroes, he ordered them to
hitch up without noise; and, in a little time
the Dearbom with its precious freight, followed
by the Conestoga, moved s‘owly and silently
out from the timber of the Rio Medina, and
then along, parallel with the same for some
miles east, when Colonel Bowen ordered a
turn. striking out in a southerly direction, over
the plaintoward the San Miguel.

 

CHAPTER IX.
THE MUSTANG SNARE.

WILD WOLF had not taken half a dozen
whifis at his pipe, when Warnona glided like a
specter along the trail, and stood fora moment
gazing at the senseless form of George Adler.
Then the squaw spoke:

“ Has knife of Mestizo found heart of our
white brother l”

The Waco chief said not a word, but pointed
toward a glittering object in the trail. War-
nona stepped forward and picked up the
cuchillo. and examined it.

“ Mestizo’s blade is not stained with the
blood of our white brother. ltis good. War-
nona is not blind. Wild Wolf's bullet has left
its mark. Mestizo‘s blood is on the handle of
of his own knife."

“ Waugh 1” was the satisfied exclamation of
the Indian. “ Warnona cooks the venison of
a chief. Her eyes are sharp. Wild Wolf is
not ashamed that she sweeps his lodge. The
waters of the Medina will bring our white
brother back from the dark lands.”

Taking a gourd from the saddle of the still
prostrate horse, Warnona darted toward the
river, saying:

“ Let Mestizo beware. A W'aco squaw will
send him on the long dark trail. A Waco
squaw fears not a coward who crawls like a
snake in the bushes, and sounds not his rattle
before he jumps.”

“ Waugh!" repeated the chief in his pride,
as he stood erect, and gazed for a moment
after Warnona. He then stalked up to the
horse, which lay with its eyes rolling in pain.
Nine times out of ten the lasso trap would
have broken a horse’s neck. if the animal was
going at a gallop; and, had the horse escaped
the noose, and the same caught about the neck
of the rider—as it certainly, but for the coy-
ote, would have done in this case—it would
have been instant death.

Wild Wolf caught the bridle, and drew the
animal half over upon its knees. He then assist-
ed it to rise, the poor horse groaning deeply as
it regainedits feet, shook itself, and stretched
its wounded neck.

Just then Warnona reappeared upon the
scene. With a gourd of water in her hand,
she knelt upon the ground and drew the head
of George Adler upon her knees, pouring the
water over it, and between his parched lips.

With a groan, that seemed an echo of that
given by his horse, George opened his eyes and
looked into the face of Warnona, at first in
surprise; but, as the trees and waving moss
above caught bi. eye, and a side glance showed
him his horse and the Waco chit-f, he recollect-ed
what had occurred. and with the assistance of
the squaw staggered to his feet. Then, grasp-
ing the gourd, he leaned forward and poured
the remaining contents ovm- his fevered head.

“Thanks, Warnona,” he said; “I shall not
forget your kindness. You may have saved
my life.”

‘ own knife.

 

“My white brother was in the dark land,”
said the chief, who stood by the horse, with his
arms folded.

“ Your words describe my past condition to
t‘~c lu‘lnv'. chief. I was launched there so sud-
(icnly. (“at fur my life I can’t tell what sent
me. liold, I do remember that a coyote
crossed the trail, and frightened my horse.
He must have stumbled and thrown me.”

" Had coyote been on other side of Medina,
my white brother would have gone to his
fathers.”

“ What do you mean by that, Wild Wolf?”

“Come,” said the chief, making a gesture for
George to approach; and, as the latter reached
his side, he pointed out the mark of the lasso
about the neck of the horse. He then stepped
forward, picked up and handed to George the
severed noose.

“What in the name of wonder does this
mean. chief ?”

“Mcstizo try catch my white brother with
mustang snare.”

“ Well, I am amazed!
coward than I thought. Then he really did
escape death in the river. I could have sworn
[had choked the life out of his foul carcass.
How did the coyote save me i”

“Coyote scare horse. Horse jump up and
get head in lasso. Coyote no come, horse go
straight on trail. Rope catch my white
brother. Break neck.”

“ Look!” broke in Warnona, advancing with
the knife; “when our white brother was in
the dark land the knife of Mestizo was over his
heart, but bullet from Wild Wolf’s rifle send it
in grass. See. Blood of bad man stain his
Our white brother lives. War-

He is more of a

none is glad.”

George took the knife and examined it, recog-
nizing it as the one the half-breed had upon two
occasions endeavored to sheathe in his breast.
The mark of a bullet was now on the handle,
and also fresh stains of blood.

The young man grasped the hand of the
chief.

“Wild Wolf, you have saved my life. I
shall remember this night as long my life
lasts. You shall have the best ride that is to
be had in San Antonio, and Warnona shall
have a pair of handsome red blankets.”

“ Wild Wolf wants no rifle," said ' the chief,
somewhat angrily. “ He fights not for gum
and blankets. My white brother is the friend
of Big Foot Wallace. The great scout of
Texas, is the brother of Wild Wolf. It is
enough. Talk no good on war-path.”

George Adler wisely changed the subject,
by asking if the chief thought his horse had
been badly injured.

“ Horse no good,” said Wild Wolf very de-
cidedly. “Eat grass on Medina one moon,
then good go on trail."

“ Where can I get another, chief? I must
go over the river immediately, and see which
way the trail points.”

“ What is my white brother’s name? What
Wild Wolf say when want call?”

“ My name is George Adler. chief.”

“Name no good. Wild Wolf say while
brother’s name, Water Warrior. Fight Mestizo
in Medina. It is good. What Warnona say .4”

“lVater Warrior good name for our white
brother.”

“ Good,” said the Waco.
white brother?”

“I should say that name would fit me
to adot. It is very appropriate. All right.
lVater Warrior want horse.”

“ Warnona will lead mustang here." said the
chief, with a wave of his hand. “Wild Wolf
want mustang. Water Warrior want mus—
tang. War-path open. Squaw no good on
trail. Warnona stay in lodge on Medina.
Wild Wolf will come back. His belt will be
heavy with scalps.”

The young squaw glided down the river to
obey the orders of the chief, the knife still
clutched in her hand.

“You must think I am a fool, chief. “Gt 1:0
have made a sure thing of that Meetim. after
being hand to hand with him twice; an! then
to allow him to set a trap for me Witi. such
success that he would have killed me, had you
not come up when you did."

“Wild Wolf tell Water Warrior keep eye
open. A \Vaco‘s eye like eagle, but no see
rope at night. Wild Wolf no ride fast in
bushes. Ride slow. Look sharp!”

“Well, I reckon I have learned something
in the last few hours; and the next time I get.
a chance at that half-breed I’ll put a ball

“ What say our

 

._.
-‘A

 

through his head. He seems to bear a charmed
life. Why did you spare him, chief? Why
did you not shoot him dead 3.!”

“ No want kill yet. War—path no good
when no enemy. Want Water Warrior learn
much heap on trail. Mestizo learn my white
brother. Keep eyes open. Keep hand on
knife. Keep rifle ready."

“Thanks, very much. But I don’t care to
have my heart carved by my teacher. You
must excuse me, but I must, kill that Méstizo
the first chance I get.”

“Want save for torture.” explained the
Waco. “No hurt Water Warrior now. No
fire rifle. No hold knife. Wild Wolf shoot
fingers off. No good now on war-path.”

“‘The villain must be furious with those
fingers shot away. Besides it may kill him
this hot weather.”

“ Wild Wolf say Mestizo no die easy. Cut
off big piece tail of snake when sun come.
Snake he crawl over ground, swallow young
prairie dog before sun say good-by.”

“I believe you are right, chief. The half-
breed is more like a snake than a human, and
it wouldn’t surprise me to see him throw a
lasso, or use a knife skillfully with his left
hand.”

As George. ceased speaking, the prolorged
howl of a black wolf sounded from the direc—
tion of the ford, and the Waco whirled about,
his nostrils distorted like those of a blooded
race-horse at the starting line. his black eyes
glittering and glaring into the darkness, his
sinewy form bent forward, and his hand
clutching the hilt of his scalping-knife, as if
the war-whoop of a foe had cut the night
air.

Only for an instant stood the chief thus.
The next, and the peculiar cry of tbochapaml
cock rolled rapidly over his lips, and then the
bowl of the black wolf once more sounded, as
if in answer.

George Adler stood, with open mouth, gazing
in mingled wonder and inquiry, from Wild
Wolf into the dark shades along the bank of
the river.

Again the Waco chief bent forward, listen—
ing intently, as did his white friend, and soon
the sound of a horse’s hoofs was heard, coming
down the beaten trail, mingled with the swish
of branches and the labored panting of the
steed. which indicated a long and wearing
gallop. The next moment an Indian in full
war paint, mounted upon a foam-necked mus-
tang. bounded into the small clear space in
which the listeners slood, bringing his steed to
a sudden halt by a quick and hard Jerk of the
jaw-strap, the animal’s fore-feet pawing the air
just in front of the Waco chief, its tail sweep-
ing the award.

“ Black Bear is welcome,” exclaimed White
Wolf. “Do bumrds fiy low? Are coyotes
thick between Medina and Big River—(Bio
Grandel—that a Waco warrior rides at night to
find his chief?”

Black Bear cast a questioning look toward
Adler.

“ Water Warrior friend of Wacos,” explained
the chief. “ He brother great scout, Big Foot
Wallace.”

The new arrival sprung from his steed to the
ground, grasping the proffered hand of the
young man. and pressing the same to his
painted breast, saying:

“ Water Warrior friend of great Texas scout.
Friend of Wild Wolf. He friend of Black
Bear. It is well.”

Then turning,
chief:

“Buzzards fly 10w. Coyotes thick. Black
wolves bowl on prairie, for Comanches on war~
path. Braves from Big Plains make man
camps. Ride fast toward Big Water. Kill
heap horses. Kill heap long-horns. Mebbo to
kill heap white men, sqnaws, pqppooses, before
moon grow small.”

“ Who chief?" inquired Wild Wolf.

“ Rolling Thunder,” was the reply.

“How many braves?”

Black Bear opened and closed his hand, out-
stretching his fingers and thumbs six times,
thus indicating that there were sixty Comanche
braves.

“ How many my braves hunt mustangs on
Nueces?”

“ All in camp, Bandera Hills.”

“Good,” said “’ild Wolf with satisfaction,
the war-spirit of his people blazing in his eyes,
and shown in poise of form and motion. “ Let
Comanches come. Big Foot Wallace and his

he made answer to the

brother brave will go on war-path. Black

w... P. m._._ w, W

 

 
 

“12'

‘ 318???? Wallace-

 

Bear will go to lodge of his chief. Warnona
will giVe him venison and corn to eat. She
will give him another mustang. Black Bear
will ride back to the lodges of our people.
Wild Wolf want his braves on San Miguel.
Wild Wolf and Water Warrior will ride fast
on trail. Has Black Bear seen enemies that
wear no war-paint!”

“Bad Mexican.
Miguel.”

“ Who chief ?”

“ Capitan Caramba.”

“ It is enough. Trail of White Hair and his
daughter, and the slaves whose skin is black
as the night when moon hides, points to San
Miguel. We will ride fast. We will say to
them that war-cries of Comanche will wake
them from sleep, that swiping-knife will shine
in their eyes if wagons make trail beyond San
Miguel. Are my brother’s ears open? War-
cries of Wacos soon sound on plain.”

“ Black Bear’s ears open. Wild \Volf’s words
good.”

“ Warnona comes,” said the chief.

As he spoke, the beautiful squaw came dash-
ing up the trail, mounted upon a magnificent
horse, black as ebony, with another animal in
the lead, and both horses snorting with excite-
ment, they evidently not having been backed
for some time previous.

Tossing the jawstrap of the animal in the
lead to George Adler, Warnona dismounted
and delivered the one she had ridden to her
lord, and without betraying by word or look
that she was aware of any addition to their
party.

Our young friend quickly transferred his

saddle and bridle from the injured horse to the
one which the squaw brought him, and mounted
as rapidly as the nature of his condition would
allow; he being very giddy, and his brain op-
pressed with a dull, heavy, leaden pain, but
still eager to be on the trail of the wagons, for
he had the opportunity of reading the char-
acter of the Waco chief, and he now believed,
without doubt, that the Bowens had broken
camp.
“ Warnona will give parched corn and veni-
son to Black Bear,” directed the chief, as he
mounted his impatient steed. “She will give
him a mustang. He will ride back to lodges
of Names. Comanches have had war-dance.
They gallop toward the Big Water. 1 have
spoken.”

“Will moon grow small before Warnona
looks again in the eyes of Wild Wolf?” asked
the squaw, earnestly.

“ .4 ild Wolf cannot say when the war-path
will end,” replied the chief. “ When he sends
red arrow to Warnona, she will ride fast to
Waco camp. She will say to my braves that
Wild Wolf’s war-cry sounds alone on San
Miguel. When Warnona hears Comanche
death yells in the wind, she may look for her
chief soon.”

Swinging the end of the long jaw-strap hiss-
ing about the hams of his fiery mustang, the
chief of the Wacos shot up the river toward
the ford, followed by George Adler, who in-
stinctively bent, cringing down over his saddle,
as he passed through the dense thickets, hear-
ing in mind his late narrow escape from the
deadly lasso—snare of the dastard Mestizo.

Bad white men. On San

 

CHAPTER. X.
THE IGNOBLE QUARTETTE.

WHEN Frank Ames and his three friends left
Big Foot Wallace and Post Oak Bill at George
Homer’s bar-room, they proceeded at once to
the Mengcr House. ordered their horses to be
cared for, and although it was a late hour,
bribed the steward to get them up a first-class
supper.

After'satisfying their appetites. they pro-
cured a fresh supply of cigars. ordered a dou-
ble-bedded room, and directed the clerk to send
up a half dozen “Piper Heidsieck.” They
then bent their wavering way up the stairs to
their apartment, piloted by a diminutive dar-
ky, who grinned from ear to ear, as the newly-
arrived guests strove so manfully to make
steady steps.

At last they reeled into the room assigned
them and sunk heavily into chairs, ordering
the hell-boy as he went out, to bring up the
wine.

“I say, boys,” spoke up Frank Ames, “I

 couldn’t have kept up the square gent biz any
bnger with them scouts. I was playing my
points, and I’m very glad you took the one and
didn't sling any Galveston slang. Big Foot

Wallace, I can see, is a tart. He’s as honest

 

as Ben Franklin, and money wouldn’t hire him
to go on a crooked trail. I know what I’m
talking about, so you needn’t laugh, Burke
Barnes.”

“1 think I have heard you say, a good
many times,” said the latter, “ that every man
had his price.”

“Well, perhaps you have, Burke, but the
big scout is an exception. I know that if he
had any knowledge of the Bowen outfit, and
should see us on their trail, he’d keep his eye
on our movements and spoil our plans, per-
haps, especially if he thought us fast bloods.”

“ You did the thing up hrown,”ssid another,
John Stephens by name; “ but I came mighty
near bursting.”

“ I‘m glad you didn‘t,” said Frank, “for
much depends upon our getting out of this
burg in square shape.”

“Don’t you think,” said Barnes, “that old
Bowen played a right sharp game on you 1”

“ He may think So,” was the retort, “ hut in
the end, lig’ll wish he had said, ‘Here, Frank,
take her, and God bless you.’ ”

These words caused a perfect roar cf merri-
ment.

" I don’t see where the laugh comes in," said
Frank, savagely. " Don‘t you fellows think
I’m good enough for Belle Bowen .0"

“Of course we do. \Ve were. laughing at
the ‘God bless you’ part of it,” said Burke.
“But the question now is, what are we four
going to do against the old man and the nig-
gers? I tell you, he‘ll fight like a fiend, if we
try to abduct Belle openly from the camp.”

“Do you take me for a fool i” asked Frank.
“ Why, I have twenty men to back me, besides
yourselves.”

“ What do you mean?" inquired Barnes, de-
termined to pump him. "You don’t suppose
we swallow any such bosh as that. Where are
those twenty men of yours!"

“ I can get as many men as I am able to pay
for their services. And I can do that, I reckon.
Don't I hold the note of Colonel Bowen for
twenty-five thousand dollars?”

“But if you steal his daughter, he won’t
pay it.”

“Great Cesar! When I’m married to Belle, I
shall be worth two hundred thousand, at the
least.”

“ But perhaps she won’t marry you?”

“There is no perhaps about it. I say, she
shall ! ”

“What will your friend Adler do, in that
case?”

“ I don’t care a copper eon tinental what he
doesl I think as much of having revenge on
him, as I do of the oolonel’s money. Though
it isn‘t his. It‘s all Belle’s; though if Ed should
turn up, he could claim half of it.”

“ He’ll make you turn up your toes, Frank,
if he ever does. That reminds me, it is very

possible that Colonel Bowen knows where he .

is, and is even now on the way to Ed‘s ranch.”

“By Heavens!” cried Frank, “I never
thought of that, Burke; but it looks reasonable.
However, I don‘t care a cuss. I can buck
against the whole family.”

“I know one thing,” said the other; “and
that is, that George Adler is up this way.
When we left, he hadn’t been seen around the
Trinity for some days. I begin to think,
Frank, we’ve got a hard row to hoe before we
corral Miss Belle. But I am forgetting those
twonty men. Ain‘t that a joke, though?”

"You‘ll see it ain’t. But here comes the
wine.”

“Well, Ames,” continued Barnes, “when
we get that crowd together, I reckon we’d bet-
ter dash over the Rio Grande, and take a turn
or two, for luck.”

“Come here to the lounge, boys," said
Frank. “ The walls have ears in trying times
like these.”

All seated themselves as directed, and their
host began:

“Now, boys, I’m going to tell you a very
important secret. You remember Duncan
Dudley, who got up and dusted with old Ad-
ler‘s money, and did that forgery ?”

“Of course; the young rooster he had
adopted.”

“Well, I’ve been in correspondence with
that pious young man ever since he absconded,
and he has often helped me out when 1 had
lost heavy at cards. He has been on the
Trinity several times since he sloped, but no
one knew it except myself. He is the man
who is going to collect the crowd to assist me,
and the agreement is that he is to have the
money the colonel has along with him to pur-

J

chase land with. He is more afraid of George
Adler than he is of the devil; and if he gets
him into his power, I wouldn’t give a picayune
for George’s chances. But I do believe it
Dudley thought Adler was ~on this trail, he
wouldn’t take a hand in the game.”

Just then there was a knock at the door, and
Frank arose hastily and opened it. The hall—
boy stood before him with a letter, which he
handed him, saying:

“ This is for the captain of the four men who
arrived to-night. It ain't directed to no-
body.”

Frank tore open the envelope. Inside was
one of the hotel cards, on which was written
one word—“ Caramba.”

Turning to the negro, Frank Amcs asked:

“ Is the gentleman who gave you this be-
low!”

“Ya~as, marse!”

“ Send him up immediately!”

As he said this, he tore the card in small
pieces. The next moment the door opened,
and the Mestizo whom George Adler had met
at Horner’s entered, his face swollen from the
blow he had received.

As the door closed, Frank asked in a low
voice:

“Are you one of Capitan (‘nramba’s men

“Si. senor,” replied the halfbrocd, placing
his fingers across his lips, in sign of caution.

“He sent you to San Antonio to look out.
for me ?”

“Si, senor .’”

“ Where is his camp?”

“On San Miguel.”

“ How far from the Fort Ewell trail?”

“Twenty miles.”

“East or west of the trail?”

“ \Vest.”

“Will you return, and report my arrival?”

“Si senor J”

“ Have you seen two wagons, one drawn by
two horses, the other by four mules, both
traveling together!”

“Si, senor. On plaza to—day.”

“ Have they left San Antonio?”

“ Gone to Medina. Camp there now."

“Good! How came you to get your face
mashed?” .

The Mestizo grated his teeth furiously, as he
hissed:

“White man strike me, but my knife shall
cut his heart! Mebbe so you know him? Come
from Trinity.”

Frank Ames started as though he had been
shot.

" What is his name?" he asked eagerly.

“ He is the enemy of Capitan Caramba. I
was on watch to kill him, when he strike me.

a”

' But 1 will cut him into little pieces, and feed

him to coyotes!"

“ How do you know he is the enemy of your
captaim”

“El Capitan Caramba send me to watch
for him. He tell me his name. I hear him
speak it when he ask for letter at post-office.”

“ “'0”, what is his name?"

“ Senor George Adler 1”

Frank Ann-s started, as though a rattle—
snake, had sounded its warning at his feet.
Bending toward the Mestizo, while his friends
looked on in wonder, he added:

“ Is lie—is George Adler in town now?"

“ Mebbc so. But soon go on trail. Hear
him talk much heap with scout, Big Foot Wal-
lace.”

“ Are he and the Big Scout good friends?”

“ Si, senor f“

“ Get your horse and follow him.
Do you hear me? Kill him to-night. Kill the
man who struck you. Here is gold! You shall
have more, when I know your knife has split
his hcurtl"

“ Mil g/racius, senor!” said the half-breed,
taking the money. “He shall die. He shall
not see the sun rise.”

“Go, then, before you lose trace of him!
If you can send me word, or if you can ac-
complish your purpose to—night, ride fast to
the San Miguel, and say to Capitan Caramba
that Frank is coming, and the game is in our
hands. You will remember?"

“Bueno, senor!” And touching his som-
brero, the Mestizo departed with hasty steps on
his mission.

“Who, in the name of Wonder, is that?"
asked Burke, the words that passed between
Amos and the half breed, not having been
heard by him and the others.

“I never saw him before,” said Frank,

Kill him i

 

evasively.

 

 

A. __-,_-

-W‘

i  Foot 

 

 

“We can well believe that,” was the rather
angry retort. “None of us oversaw such a
villainous looking human in East Texas, unless
at acircus. But it is quite evident that you knew
something of him before; and as we are
engaged in an enterprise which may cost us
our lives, it is nothing more than fair that we
should know all the ins and outs of it.”

Frank Ames began to realize that he had '
already gone too far in disclosing secrets, and ,
that he must now explain everything, or risk ,
being deserted by his old comrades in riot and 
4 supple and graceful form acting in unison with I

dissipation.

“Can‘t you fellows give me time to think
over what I have just learned? Of course I
intend to explain it all to you. We are in the
same boat, and all have a right the course we
are, soiling.
and,I should judge, a. paid. assassin, in the
service of Dudley Duncan. You see that 110
has recently had a severe blow in the face.
“'ho do you suppose gave it to him?"

The three men naturally gave it up.

“ It was George Adler that struck him.”

“Then George is in San Antonio?” asked
Burke.

“He is in San Antonio,” said Ames, in a
decided tone.

“That means heavy business ahead on the
trail," said Stephens.
not venture 'on the plaza until we know that he
has left.”

“Boys, we must disguise ourselves,” put in
Barns.

“ But how can we do it?” inquired Frank.

“Put these clothes in our saddle-bags,‘ and
get some cheap rough togs. Then shave of!
our mustaches, and get some heavy false
beurilS——”

“You forget,” interrupted Ames, “that
nearly every onle in West Texas wears long
liuir, and ours s cropped so close that an In-
dian would slip us by in the scalping biz.”

“Don’t joke on that subject,” said Burke.
“ We may lose our hair, short as it is. I heard
a rant-hero on the Plaza say that the Com-
anches were on the war-path, and coming
down country.”

“This must be attended to at once. Iam
glad you spoke of it, John,” said Frank. “ It is
dark now, and pretty late. Burke, will you
go with me! We will awaken some Jew, and
give him a chance to make a few dollars.”

"Yes, I’ll go,” agreed Burke, “for I begin
to see that things are getting complicated.
But how come George Adler to go for that
Mestizol‘"

“ Why, Dud. Duncan sent the spy here to
lay for Adler, and kill him. By some means,
he has received information that George has
followed the Bowens, or else it was a mere sus-
picion that he would. do so, and sent this half-
breed to kill him.”

"It s-ems to me that Duncan must have
some txtruordinary means of ascertaining the
movements of people at a distance.”

" Boys," said Frank in a hoarse whisper ap-
prom-hing the lounge, “have you not often
heard of Capitan Caramba, the bandit, who
was at one time leagued with Cortina, the
scourge of the Rio Grande?"

"Certainly," said Burke. “Who has not?
He is a Texan, but has leagued himself with
the most desperate Mexican outlaws. It is not
long since he stopped a coach on the San An—
tonio and El Paso line, and went through the
pas-engcrs, besides slashing the mail-bags, and
081‘”ng off the safe of the Express Company.
I tell you, he’s a terror,”

“P111333” whisperei Frank, “Dudley Dun.
can and C‘Pitan ~Carauiba are one and the
same maul”

The young men Were silent in their astonish-
ment.

“ I should have told you this before, boys,”

c

said Amos, “ but I feared you might leave me .

in the lurch. But you’ll all stand to your
compact Won’t you .’”

“ Come," said Burke, “ we’ll go for the dis,
guises, We have come thus far and we‘ll see
you through. Come; I’m desperate enough to
go in for anything.”

Frank caught Burke’s hand in a shake of
satisfaction, and the two young men left the
hotel; being directed to the establishment of
Uncle Jose, an old and Well-kn0wn pawn.
broker, near the San Podro. From him they pur-
chased the necessary disguiszs, then returned
to the Manger House, and after a brief deliber—
ation, decided to start without delay in the
direction of the Rio Frio, in order to be on
hand at the capture of the wagons. Ordering

Th-it man is a half~breed, a spy. ’

“ Frank, you had better I

1 their horses, without once thinking of the pack-
, mule and provisions they had engaged Martin
Campbell to purchase for them, the four pards
’ in iniquity galloped away from the Alamo
City, until they were half way to the Medina.
Then halted, and assumedtheir disguises; after
which they continued on, passing the ford a
I little before the hour of midnight.

 

CHAPTER XI.
EL Miss'rtzo.
Vi”an WOLF sat his horse like a centaur. his

each movement of his but half-tamed steed,
his plumes of eagle-feathers flaunting and
mingling at times with the long festoons of
Spanish mess.

the timber, and entered the clear space at the
ford. The \Vuco chief halted, and indicated

by a Wave of the hand that George was to do ‘
Then he listened intently for a few i

, likewise.
moments.

“ Waugh!” burst from Wild Wolf’s lips, in
surprise.
thing on the trail 1‘”

answer.

" Water Warrior’s head much had. Come.
IVair. see who ride fast in nightg” land the In—
 dian urged his horse back into cover, followed
by George, who, upon coming to a halt in the
bushes, distinctly heard the sound of approach-
ing steeds, evidento coming up at a fast
gallop. But a very brief time elapsed, when,
up the wagon-road from the direction of San
, Antonio, dashed two horsemen at headlong
5 speed, who, as they reached the open approach
to the ford, jerked their steeds to a halt.

“ Dog-gone my great gran’mother’s old set-
tin' hen! I ’gins ter feel nat’ral-like. I never
:- air feelin’ ’zaetly straight an’ plum—’thout I’m
:a-siumpedin’ on the wings o’ chain-lightniu‘,
an’ chuck full 0’ biz. I couldn’t sleep a wink,
es 1 tole yer, an’ I felt a crawlin’ at the ruts
0’ my hair, what I allers feels when things is
goin’ wrong.
of George. thet new squar’ an’ solid pard o’
3 ourn, hev ’rOVed safe, an’ of he‘s had ther luck
1 ter run ag‘in’ Wild Wolf.” '

“ We’d better skute down-stream, and ace
how things hes panned out, I reckon, ole pard;

red—”

.At this instant the Waco chief raised his
rifle and struck the stem of a’ saplings. bard
blow. Like a flash of light the two scouts
sprung to the earth, on the opposite side of
their horses, cooked and rested their rifles over
their saddles, and aimed at 5the point where
the branches still swayed.

George Adler heard 'a low, peculiar sound,
like the rapid and continuous gnashing of
teeth, which he knew proceeded from his red
5 comrade; and no sooner did this sound break

the deathlike stillness, than the rifles of the

scouts were withdrawn. and the hammers let
down in the twinkling of an eye. Big Foot
, understood the language.

l “Waal, doll—blast yer, W'ild Wolf! I hes
gut a strong hankerin’ ter shoot one o’ ther
feathers offen yer head, er trim yer eye-winkers
with a blue whistler. Break brush, an' show
yer putty pictur’, dog-gone yer!”

“Great Jerusalem!“ said Post Oak Bill;
“ther red gi’n me a cold chill, clean through
my spinal 'nattermy. I bed that cussed half-
breed in my mind, or I shouldn’t ’a' jumped
from my critter, for we hain’t struclca section
whar thar's ary need 0’ keepin’ yer eyes peeled.
Dang my pelt! Thar’s thet solid George,
l straight up an’ hunky.”

i said the King of the Post Oaks. “George.
how does yer open an’ shut by this time?
Waco, what. yer want ter bluff we-’uus in si'ch a
way fer.’ I thought that condemned Greaser

war layin’ fer us."

reply.
“ Who, in ther name 0’ Crockett, air Water
Warrior 9" asked Post Oak Bill. “ Hes yer gut
a red pard in ther bush? Ef yer hes, trot him
out. Let us see ther color 0' his point.”
George Adler smiled, as the Waco pointed
to him.
“He, Water Warrior. ”
“ Ther red hev gut a cog’ hitched outer yer
unictk. Air thet hit. George?" asked Big
00

 

George Adler came on close after. and in a j
short space of time. the two men broke from ,

“ Does my white brother hear any- 1

“ No, I hear nothing,” was the young man's '

I’d like mighty well ter know .

or else, yer kin gi’n ther sign, an’ hoop up ther 7

l “Dang‘d of he ain’t, dead sure an’ sartin,” -

'- Want show Water Warrior how quick great ;
' scouts act on war-path,” said Wild Wolf, in 1

“ I believe that is what he has been doing."
“ How kim he ter gi’n yer that handle?”
George then related his experience with the
Mestizo, since his arrival on the Medina, which
caused both the scouts to give vent to their
surprise.
“ Tber half-breed ain’t a doin’ all thet biz on
his own ’eount,” asserted Big Foot. “Yer kin
I gamble heavy on somebody else bein’ under
the bush, a-urgin’ him on. Mehbe so ther
i four prim galcots what’s at ther Menger, hes
‘ know’d all ther time yer war ahead on ’em,
ever since yer left ther Trinity. Mehbe so,
‘ they hes promised ther yaller cuss a stake ef
he wipes yer out; but, es I said afore yer
struck out. yer hes gutter keep yer eyes peeled,
1 er thet half~breed ’ll send yer ter kingdom
come. on ther whiz. Ef yer runs ag’in’ him
arter this, make a dead sure thing 0’ hit, an’
1 don’t ’low him ter blufl' yer on ther die biz.
Hes yer see‘d ther camp 0‘ ther Angel an’ her
dad, since yer eome so dang’d nigh liein’ choked
offen ther yeurtlif"
i “No. \Ve were just going over to find out
I in what direction they have gone.”
“IVhat! Hes they levanted this time 0’
2 night?”

“ Wild Wolf says he heard them start off.”

“Did they see yer when yer was circussin’
with ther Grosser, an’ gut skeered?”

“I don’t think there was any one awake.
There was no one on watch, that I c' uld make
out; and I can’t account for their making a
start at such an unseasnnable hour.”

“ Ther ole curnil must ’a’ seed yer, er heerd
; ther rumpus. Le's splash through ther drink,

an’ ’vestergate. Where’s Warnona, chiel ?”
l “Warnona at lodge. Black Bear at lodge.
Ride fast from Bandera Hills.”

“ What in ther dickens air up thar, chief?”

“ Comanches on war-path. War-whoop soon
sound on Frio. Mehhe so on San Miguel.”

“Great Je-hoss-i' fat 1’ exclaimed Post Oak
Bill. “Ef thet air ther case, I must glide
toward ther ranch at stompede, er ther cussed
1 scarifyers ’ll kerral thet leetle gall”

i “ Whar did Black B’ar say ther painted hall-
‘ yuns war p‘inted?" asked Big Foot Wallace.

' “ On prairie. Come toward Big Water. Rio
i Frio on one side trail. San Miguel other
i side."

i “ Then ther murderin’ cusses air es liable tor
,, strike for ther San Miguel es any place. Bill,

3 leetle Maggie, sure es yer is horned. George,

j thar ain’t no danger o’ ther Angel’s outfit
gittin’ took in outen ther wet yit a while, on-
less they p’inis west, which they hain‘t gut no
call ter do. Yer lied better foller ’em, an’ tell
’em they must turn tell an’ come back, or luau
ha’r. Pard Bill’s ranch air in danger, an’ his

l leetle gran’daughter air liable. ter be scooped in
by ther sculpers: so we-’uns must glide tar her
’bout es fast es boss-meat kin hump hitself.
We'll keep atween' ther Curmanch‘es an’ ther
wagons. an jine yer es speedy es we kin.” ‘

Big Foot “"alluee rattled these explanatitms
and instmctious off in a decisive manner, while
Post Oak Hill showed great impatience and
concern, as he walked his horse back and'forth,
eager to ford the river and spur toward the
San Miguel, and little Maggie, whose mother
Bill’s only child, had been brutally tortured td
death by the same tribe that now galloped
eastward. on their fearful errand of deathto
the innocent and unprotected.

Wild Wolf gave utterance to a prolonged
yell, fired his rifle,'and turning to George,
said:

“ Water ’Warrior tell Black Bear ride fast

1 to Bandera Hills. Let him say to my braves,
, that war-path open on San Miguel."

l George Adler realized that his new-made
friends were forced to leave him: that duty
called upon them to save one who was near

and dear, as well as helpless, and although he ~

was deeply concerned in regard to the safety

of the Bowens, he could not now ask the aid of
i the scouts, but he said not a word in regard to
having any one accompany him: just the op-
posite, for he urged them to make all haste to
the help of the young girl at the lonely ranch
on the San Miguel.

Bidding Big Foot to rejoin him, with Bill
t and Wild Wolf. on the last mentioned stream,
at a point west of the Fort Ewell trail, as
soon as they could, George was about to shake
hands all around. when another yell sounded,
this time from the other side of the river, fol-
lowed by the clutter of horses’ boots, and to
his surprise, the two scouts and the Indian
urged their animals at headlong speed, and

ole pard, we‘ll hev ter skute. an’ take keer o’ ,

.. —_~ ~.-..».—~.u ...—-— -m~m-~—a

_ ......-.. -. «0......

HM w.-._1... ._

“m... Imu~<wmw-» .. - .

«it. ..~«,. ~ Mum-«we "my-

Big. Foot Wellace.

 

went plunging up the river, Post Oak Bill cry-
ing out as they went:

“Great Cwsari Thet’s Sharp Eye. Thar
red devils air p’inted fer ther ranch, or he
wouldn’t be hyear!”

By the time the scouts had reached the op-
posite side of the Medina, a horseman appeared
upon the high bank over their heads, and as he
discovered them he gave a yell of joy. As
the trio joined the stranger on the south bank
he whirled his horse, waving his sombrero,
and they all disappeared from view, galloping
at headlong speed toward the southwest.

So exciting had been the occurrences of the
night, unexpected and unthought of events
transpiring in quick succession, that George,
still suffering in body, sat his horse in a kind
of stupor for some time after his friends had
left him; and the Meslizo, had he been at the
ford, would have been able to stab his fee in
the back, even with the left hand that remained
to him, so oblivious was he to everything

, around him.

George Adler had led a comparatively quiet
life, and he now found himself suddenly
launched upon the frontiers, with the dread
dangers of the border in his path, seeing in
imagination his darling Belle bound to the ter-
ture stake, while a hundred paint-daubed fiends
danced in glee, as the forks of flame flashed in
her pale, beautiful face, and howled in deri-
sion, as she moved her trembling lips in earnest
prayer.

Drawing his hand across his eyes with a
nervous, weary motion, as if to banish the
picture conjured up by all that he had seen and
heard, George was about to urge his horse to-
ward the ford, when the sound of another
steed, coming up through the bottom timber,
fell upon his ear, and he alighted from his
horse, tossed his rifle across the saddle, and
stood, with a desperate light in his eye, ready
to pull trigger upon the first view of the cow-
ardly assassin who had thrice attempted his
life.

Only a moment had he to wait, but instead
of the fiendish face of the half-breed, the hand-
some features of Warnona burst into full view
from the dark shades, her mustang coming at
terrific speed, her long raven hair flying free,
her face filled with an anxious, puzzled expres-
aion.

Before the disturbed branches had ceased to
vibrate, and as the Waco squaw Jerked her
mustang to a halt in the illumined opening,
Black Bear came crashing through the under-
growth, and he also drew jawstrap and leaned
forward.

“My white brother will be great brave,” he
said. “ Does squaw look like Mestizo that he
points his rifle?"

“No; but I was confused, and had forgotten
that Wild Wolf had signaled Warnona,” he
explained.

“ Where Wild Wolf?” she then asked.

“ He has gone to the San Miguel. Big Foot

‘ Wallace and Post Oak Bill came from San
Antonio and joined us here. A Texan called
Sharp Eyes galloped to the bank yonder from
Bill’- ranch, and brought the news that the
Comanche. are on the prairie this side of the
Frio; or, at least, so I understood by the talk
of the scouts. Black Bear, Wild Wolf requested
me to tell you to ride fast to Bandera Hills and
order the Waco braves on the war-path, down
the San Miguel, to the ranch of Post Oak Bill.”

Black Bear spoke not a word, but plunged
his horse into the waters of the Medina, which
curled away, on either side of him, as the
ainewy animal swam rapidly to the south
hank.

Lifting his sombrero in farewell to Warno-
na, George Adler also urged his horse to the
ford.

“ Where does' Water Warrior ride?” asked
the squaw.

“To find the trail of the two wagons.”

“ My white brother goes to save the scalp of
his squaw. Are not Warnona’s words true?”

“Yes, I go to try and prevent her from be-
ing murdered.”

“Good,” she said. “ Warnona will go. Find
wagon trail.”

“ I shall be very much rejoiced to have my
red' sister’s company, for I am not posted in
reading sign. But will not Wild Wolf be an-

i

i'
“Wild Wolf will be glad,” she said, with a

smile.
In five minutes after reaching the opposite
side of the river, George and his companion
rode into the deserted canp of the Bowens.

 

While the young man was searching the thick-
ets, Warnona discovered the dead bear, and
proceeded to out several rich steaks from it.
They then went together to the margin of the
timber and looked out on the plain.

Not two rifle-shots away, clearly seen in the
moonlight, was a man, with one hand upraised,
galloping like the wind toward the south.

“Ugh!” broke from the lips of Warnona.

“Who is it?” asked George, quickly.

The squaw said but a single word in reply:

“EL Masrxzo."

 

CHAPTER XII.
THE ENCOUNTER.

AFTER Colonel Bowen had ordered his slaves
to hitch up as fast as was possible, the latter
portion of the command being quite superflu—
ous, after the negroes had seen the carcass of
the huge bear, he brought some water and
bathed Bclle’s head, who soon recovered, and
sat up on her couch in the Dearborn.

“0h! papa,” the young girl cried, “I wish
we were back on the Trinity. This has been a
night of horrors. Have you not seen some
strange sights while I have been unconscious?"

" Well,” said the colonel, at length, and
speaking as if he would rather say nothing on
the subject, “what have you seen, my dear,
that you consider so strange? I have killed a
black bear that had probably frightened you
very much; but that is not a strange thing to
see in this portion of Texas. You ought not
to have left the wagon, Belle. I shall station
the servants on guard hereafter.”

“I see that they are hitching up. Are we
going on further, papa?”

“Yes. I think it better to travel now; it is
so much cooler in the small hours of the morn-
ing.”

“ You are trying to deceive me, papa! I am
sure that you have seen more than that bear,
or you would not move camp so soon.”

“ I asked you what you had seen, my child;
and you have not told me yet. Let us com-
pare notes.”

“Well, to begin with, I saw an Indian, all
daubed with paint, only a few yards from
here.”

The colonel started. with a look of surprise,
for he had disbelieved his own senses, upon re-
flecting on the face he had seen among the
foliage. He now knew that there had been
really an lndian at the camp, and he was
greatly mystified, as well as not a little
alarmed. However, after a moment’s thought,
he decided that no hostile party could be on
the Medina, and that the warrior in question
must be some friendly Indian in the service of
the State. ,

He explained, in his way, the presence of the
brave to his daughter; but she startled him
still further by relating the strange sight which
had at the first attracted her attention; namely,
the half-breed crawling along the path, and the
desperate fight between the two men, which
had ended in both falling headlong down the
bank into the river.

Colonel Bowen was more puzzled and
alarmed than his words or looks indicated,
for he strove to appear unconcerned; but Belle
was thoroughly frightened by these strange
occurrences, and the dread possibilities that
the future might still have for them.

“The men whom you saw fighting were
doubtless enemies,” the colonel explained.
“One of them, some precious Mexican horse-
thief; and they would have met and fought
just the same if we had not been here. I
doubt very much if they knew of our presence;
and that Indian, I pretume, lives near at hand.
But there is nothing to fear. For the future,
however, I will be on the alert; and woe be to
any lawless men, red or white, who interfere
with us. Now, do try and get to sleep, Belle.
We will push toward the San Miguel, where
we can get fish and game.”

“ I fear we are going to our death, papa.”

“0h, nonsense, Belle! you are feeling worn
out from our journey, and you are weary from
loss of sleep. You will be as bright as a lurk
in the morning.” And, wishing to avoid fur—
ther comments on the situation of affairs, the
colonel hastened to mount his horse. He lheu
ordered Rosa, 9. young quadroon, to get into
the Dearborn with her mistress, directed the
other slaves to keep quiet, and’ not be alarmed,
and then riding forward, guided the teamsters
down the stream, on the margin of the timber,
and cautioning them against making any out-
cries to the animals.

 

As their course led over an easy, moss-grown
prairie, the motion of the vehicle lulled Belle
to sleep, in spite of all her anxiety and fore-
bodings.

Nothing could be more terrible for Colonel
Bowen to contemplate, than the thought of
the beautiful girl who had grown into his
heart, wedded to the son of her mother’s mur-
derer; and he felt a certainty that had he re-
mained on the Trinity, Frank Ames would
have found a way to abduct Belle, and compel
her to become his wife. Besides this, there
was something nearly as terrible that he
dreaded. If Frank should endeavor to collect,
according to law, the note of his father’s
which was in his possession, his past history
would be raked up, and he would dc disgraced
in his old age, after having passed the latter
years of his life in repenting of the wrong
doings into which he had been led through the
evil influence of Jack Ames.

\Vith such possibilities hanging over him, he
could not stay on the Trinity, or anywhere
that was known to Frank, and he hoped now
to find a place where he could establish a home,
and pass the remainder of his days with the.
daughter who was now all the world to him.

Not for a moment did the old man think it
pOSsiblo that Frank Ames would be able to
trace him; much less, that the latter was now
within fifteen miles of him, and in hot pur—
suit.

Colonel Bowen thought too of George Adler,
and although he knew nothing against the
character of the young man, and was positive
that he loved his daughter, and also that Belle
loved him; he, for the reason that George’s
father had once loved his murdered Agnes,
had resolved that neither should this be. This
resolution, however, was made more through
selfishness than aught else; for he wished to
keep Belle with him while life lasted, no other
having a claim upon her.

The happiness of his daughter was not con--
sidered; or if so, was overweighed by his own
selfish feelings, and being of a stubbom dispo—
sition he resolved to keep on, although he had
been forewarned, by several whom he met in.
San Antonio, of the dangers in his path.

With these thoughts filling his mind. the
colonel rode on, his head bent forward; had.
not this been the case, he would have seen
afar to his right, a man lashing his horse at a
terrific rate of speed.

The face of this night-rider was swollen, and.
contorted with fiendish rage and intense pain,
and his right hand, which was uplifted as he
rode, was bandaged with rags, and dripping
with the blood. But even had colonel seen this
man at the time when he arrived at a point
abreast of the wagons, he would have lost sight
of him the next moment, for a drifting cloud
covered the moon, and not only prevented the
Mestizo from being discovered, but also screen-
ed from view a party of horsemen who,
although far 08 on the plain, had been seen
and recognized by the keen-eyed spy. Before
the moon again rolled clear in the blue sky,
and illumined the prairie, the solitary horse--
man had disappeared; but a matte of post
oaks, some two miles ahead of the wagons,
indicated his hiding-place, as well as that of’
the equestrian party—or would have done soto
Colonel Bowen, had he been so fortunate as to
have seen the night-riders before the moon be—
came obscured.

Had the colonel been accustomed to border
life, he would have avoided the vicinity of the
motto, even though he might have had every
reason to suppose that it was impossible for
any foe to be lurking within its shadows; but
he seemed to be utterly oblivious of any break
in the level plain ahead of him—in fact, he
was half asleep, as were also the negro drivers.
The males in the lead naturallv followed Colo-
nel Bowen, who, in a fast walk, proceeded di-
rectly toward the matte, in such a course as to
pass within a few yards of the undergrowth.
Had the mare he rode been a mustang, or even
of the Spanish stock of Mexico, the animal
would have steered clear of the motto without
control of its rider, as it would have scented the
presence of human beings; and all on the bor-
der, who do not belong to the “outfit,” are
avoided by the animals of the same, when
those animals belong to the above mentioned
breeds. A mule or a mustang will scent the.
presence of the lurking Indian about a camp,
and will snort with fright and alarm; but the.
scent of the first mentioned is stronger than
that of the last.

As we have said, the horse ridden by the

 

--V__._-. M.“ .__, a--. .‘

‘ an,» WW\ .

 

Big Foot Wallace.

 

colonel pointed directly past the matte, which
was not a quarter of an acre in extent; and, as
the animal reached the further extremity of
the same, it suddenly threw up its head with a
snort of alarm, at the same time springing
away from the dense shadows.

But too late did the beast scent danger; for,
at this moment a lasso hissed through the air,
the noose of which fell quickly over the head
and shoulders of Colonel Bowen, binding his
arms to his side as in a vise; while, at the
same instant, his horse sprung in frantic
bounds toward the open plain, the movement
jerking the old man violently to the earth.

As the colonel struck the award, a ruflianly
looking Mexican, with an exultant expression
upon his ugly yellow face, sprung from the un-
dergrowth directly astride of the prostrate
man, whose breath had been knocked from his
body by the terrible fall.

As Colonel Bowen struck the earth, and the
Mexican sprung like a panther'upou him, the
sharp reports of rifles broke from the dark
shades, and both the negro drivers fell dead
from their seats beneath the wheels; while
other Mexicans sprung to the heads of the
horses and mules, grasping the bridles, and
checking the frantic animals.

The report of fire-arms awakened the other
slaves, and also Belle; the former filling the
air with their screams of terror, the latter
grasping her rifle, and gazing in fear and hor-
ror from the Dearborn.

Now, out from the motte dashed half-a-dozen
horsemen and half atscore more Mexicans,
these last on foot, the mounted men being
whites, but with villainous and brutal faces
which were stamped with exultant satisfac-
tion, as they spurred their horses up to the
wagons.

“Jerk them niggers down, and choke the
Squall out of them! Unhitch the mules, and
throw off the harness! Work lively there!
Jim, see if our beauty is there.”

Thus Spoke one who appeared to be the leader
of the bandit horde, who, although but a young
man, showed in his face the marks of dissipa-
tion and a life of recklessness.

He was attired in a fanciful!y decorated -
tume of buckskin, consisting of the inevi le
breeches and jaquete. of the Rio Grande; and
his sombrero, as well as his revolvers, belt, and
bowie hilt, were richly ornamented with gold
fllagree work. His hair was long, and black
as midnight, as were his eyes, that now
gleamed with a murderous light, though he
had not drawn a weapon.

The man whom be designated as Jim, spurred
his horse to the rear of the Dearborn, and
looked within it. It was only for a flitting
instant that he had the power of sight; but, in
that instant, he saw a young and beautiful
girl, standing erect, braced for defense, her
rifle cocked and clasped tightly to her shoulder,
the muzzle of the weapon within a foot of his
head! He stood. without the power of motion,
his features became of an ashen hue, the next
there came a blinding flash and a far-sounding
report, and the outlaw, without a sound pass-
ing his lips, fell forward over his saddle-horn
with a bullet through his brain, his horse
bounding with a snort toward the open plain,
as its rider fell upon the prairie sward.

As the report of the rifle burst upon the ears
of the bandits, and the horse dashed away,
they all gnned in surprise toward the Dear-
born, only to be doubly amazed at seeing a
young Klrl leap from the wagon. and with a
cocked revolver in each hand, dash between
them and the motto, her eyes filled with des-
peration, her weapons pointed toward the
rufllan horde.

Up to the prostrate form of her father ran
Belle Bowen, and before the bandits had
recovered from their surprise, “other sharp
report rung out. Then they saw their 00m.
rode, the M01106“ Who beltrode Colonel
Bowen, stagger to his feet and beat the an
with his hands like a blind man groping his
way; then the blood burst from his mouth “(1
nostrils, and he too fell a corpse-

Then Belle sprung to the opposite side of her
prostrate father, turned and faced the outlaws,
with revolvers prefiented, and he? 308°" 0!!
the tri 1-3.

All gift: happened in a moment‘s time. The
next, a score of weapons were leveled at the
daring and desperate girl; but darting like an
arrow from the bow, the bandit chief spurred
his horse between Belle Bowen and his lawless
crew, at the same time his revolvers flashing
in the moonlight, as he yelled:

 

“ The first man who pulls trigger dies on the
spot! This girl brings gold to our band. Jim
ought to have known better than ride up to
the wagon in that manner; and if Antone
couldn’t evade the shot of a woman, he was
out of place in this crowd!”

Sullenly the men lowered their weapons, and
gazed with vengeful looks toward the fair girl
who stood over the senseless form of her father,
With her pistols still leveled, and desperate
daring shown in the poise of her form and the
glance of her eye.

Near the wagons were the terrified negroes
upon their knees, praying with quivering lips,
all except Resa, the quadroon, who still
remained in the Dearborn.

“ Wait a minute, boys! I’ll square this thing
with you to your satisfaction. This girl is my
game; remember that! and I’ll have the heart’s
blood of the man who dares to raise a weapon
against her. Capitan Caramba makes no
threat that he can’t back up. You all know
that, I hope, by this time!"

Turning on his horse the bandit chief now
faced Belle Bowen, who with pallid face, but
firm mien, gazed into his dark evil eyes with-
out flinching.

The outlaw band were now filled with
wonder, for it suddenly dawned upon them
that their chief had exposed himself, by having
turned his back upon the determined girl, and
she had not fired upon him, for they knew,
from what they had witnessed of her skill,
that she could have killed him instantly.

As Capitan Caramba whirled his steed, he
politely touched his sombrero, and exclaimed:

“How-dy, Belle Botvenll Allow me to ex-
press my admiration for your beauty, bravery
and skill, and to request you to lower those
rather dangerous weapons.”

As her name fell from the bandit’s lips, the
girl started in astonishment; but she lowered
her revolvers, and looked fearlessly into his
face, while she demanded in a clear calm
voicc:

“Who are you, that dare speak my name in
so familiar a manner? Who are you, whom I
find in command of a horde of cowardly
bandits, murderers of innocent, unarmed
negroesi Who are you, who so outrageously
assault a gray-haired man who never harmed
you?. Answer me—who are you i”

“ Capitau Caramba, at your service, my
brave beauty!” answered the outlaw chief, in
a polite tone.

“I have heard of your dastard deeds,” she
said. “You are infamoust famous; but I
cannot think you as bad as those whom you
command. I should have shot you in the back
just now, had I not felt sure that my father,
myself, and our servants would have all been
murdered, had I done so. You are a white
man—a Texan, I judge—and, by some means
unknown to me, you have gained a knowledge
of our names and our route. Let me beg of
you—let me pray you, not to harm my poor
father, and to save us from those Mexicans!”

“You shall not be harmed; but I must use
some means to smooth over the effects of your
rash shooting.”

With these words, Capitan Caramba rode
up to the Conestoga wagon. ~

“ Here, Bud, hold my nag!" he ordered, as
he slipped from his saddle. “Jump in this
wagon, some of you, and throw everything
out. There is a box of gold in there, if I am
not mistaken; and that must be divided, after
we get to our camp. "

At this intelligence, the eyes of the roman
horde brightened, and they all sprung with a
will to obey him.

“ Put everything that is of use to us into the
Dearborn, then throw the harness and all use-
less articles back into the wagon. We will
burn it when we leave. Jose, lead those
horses this way.”

The commands of the bandit chief were in-
stantly obeyed, and the Dearborn was then
drawn to the point where Belle and her father
—the latter having recovered his senses—sat,
side by side, on the sward, the young girl
with her arms about the neck of the old man.
As the wagon, with the outlaws approached,
however, Belle sprung to her feet, and again
grasped her revolvers.

“ Put up "your weapons, or I’ll not answer for
your lives l"

“ Who, in the flend’s name, are you, sir
bandit 1” demanded Colonel Bowen of the chief,
as he spoke.

“Never you mind who I am, but climb into
that Dearborn lively, or some of these mild-

 

mannered men of mine may take a notion to
cut your throat.”

“ Do as he orders, father. It is our only al-
ternative. I fear we are doomed to death.”

In her deep solicitude for her father, Belle
neglected to watch the movements of the out-
laws, and, at a motion from their chief, two
Mexicans jerked the pistols from her hands,
and bound her securely. Two others tied the
hands of the colonel; and, this done, they were,
both lifted into the back of the Dearborn,
neither of them daring to speak a word.

“Jose. take the reins, and start toward the
camp. We will soon overtake you.” ordered
the chief, and away went the affrighted steeds
over the plain to the west. ‘

Three negroes and a young quadroon still
crouched upon the plain, weeping and praying,
and Capitan Caramba, seeing them, cried out,
in a careless way:

“ There's a hole in that matte, boys. Throw
Jim and Antone into it, and cover them up.
Then you can do what you please with them
niggers. I‘m off! Follow on as soon as you
set fire to the wagon.”

Springing upon his horse, Capitan Caramba
spurred out over the plains toward the Dear~
born in the distance; but he had not galloped
a thousand yards, when his ears were filled
with yells of agony. as the brutal Mexicans
murdered the negroes. Then, from the matte
arose shrieks, so full of horror, dread, and
deathly terror, that even the outlaw chief
clapped his hands over his ears. He turned in
his saddle, and saw the wagon in flames. He
knew that none of the blacks were alive, ex-

cept the young quadroon, and that she was in

the power of his merciless Mexican followers.
He still heard her screams of agony, but the
flames could not flash their light through the
thick foliageof the matte, and re Veal the fiend-
ish, dastardly crime that was being perpe-
trated.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
m. CAPITAN CARAMBA.

Worms cannot express the feelings of Colonel
Bowen and his daughter, as they fully realized
their desperate condition, after the excitement
of the capture was over. and they lay bound
in the Dearborn. They knew that their lives
were in danger, for the murderous deeds of
Capitan Caramba and his mongrel horde had
been known to them long before they left their
home on the Trinity.

Little did they then think that they would
ever be in the power of the merciless bandit,
who, report said, was in league with that most
notorious outlaw, Juan N. Cortina, the scourge
of the Rio Grande.

But that which puzzled them most of all,
was the fact that their names and route were
known to the bandit. However, this was
partly explained to the mind of Belle, by the
remembrance of what had been said to her by
the Mexican that had been shot and then hanged
on the plaza in San Antonio. This man, who
had no doubt merited his fate, terrible though
it was, must have been a spy of Carnmba’o,
and not only that, but there were others in the
Alamo City who were connected with him.

As Belle- thought of this, she suddenly ro-
called the features of one of the Mexicans she
had observed at the motto. She had been im-
pressed with the idea at the time that she had
somewhere seen those swollen repulsive foa-
tm and she now recalled the face she had
seen on the Rio Medina. It was allplain
now.

He was the man she had discovered crawling
along the cow-path, and who soon afterward
became engaged in a haud-to-hand conflict
with some other man, whose face she had been
unable to see.

. Both men had fallen into the river while in
desperate fight. This Mexican, it was now

 

p.

evident, had been the victor, and had gallOped .

on to guide his comrades. Then came the
question: who was the man with whom he had
fought? If an enemy of the outlaws, and con-
sequently friendly to her father, why did he not
cry out and gain their aid? Next, she thought
of the face she had seen, or dreamed that she
had seen, among the foliage—the face of
George Adler. How could it have been

ble that George could be so near? It could not
be. And if it were possible, he would not
have been in the company of a war-painted
Indian. The mysteries of the night were be-
yond solving. The horrors and crimes, how-
ever, were standing out boldly and forcing her
thoughts from every other subject. a

w

4...... .

. , ‘
fan—ram

m m dwsumm-tkw 3

, 16‘

Big Foot Wallace. ‘

 

 

It was probable that the Mexican spy of the
Medina, had met Capitan Caramba by accident,
when the latter was abroad on some foray; and
the spy, having witnessed the start of the
wagons, had made his report to his cblef, which
had resulted so disastroust to her and hers.
Both the colonel and his daughter had heard
the piercing shrieks of the quadroon girl, and
trembled as their imagination pictured the
fearful crimes that were being committed at
the matte.

So utterly prostrated was Colonel Bowen, so
regretful for what he had left undone, that be
mentally cursed himself for his selfishness and
cowardice, in not remaining on the Trinity,
and defying Frank Ames to do his worst. But
these regrets and self-accusations came too late.
He was now in the very depths of a hopeless
despair. But as the colonel sunk deeper and
deeper into despondency, Belle, much to her
surprise, became more deflant and hopeful; for
she recalled the fact that George Adler had
promised to follow and protect her, and also
that the noted scouts, Big Foot lVallace and
Post Oak Bill were aware of the direction they
had taken, knew all the dangers of the route,
and would doubtless make it their business to
ascertain if herself and poeple had arrived
safe at the San Miguel. The outlaws had been
amazed at the daring and skill displayed by
the young girl; but their surprise was nothing
compared with that of Belle herself.

0n the Rio Medina she had fainted with
fright, at the sight of a bear; but no sooner

' had she been awakened by the report of rifles,
than she became insanely desperate, her fear
and timidity being drowned by her most
heart-rending concern for the safety of her
father. and the helpless slaves.

As these thoughts came into her mind, she
remembered that she had cast aside her rifle
after she had shot the outlaw fromthe rear of
the Dearborn, and that probably the gun was

ill in the vehicle, as the wagon cover having

idden all her movements, the outlaws doubt-
less supposed she had used a revolver.

She now resolved to try and loosen her
bonds, recover her weapon and defend herself
and father, should they again be assaulted. At
this moment, however, she heard a sound which
induced her to postpone the attempt. Capitan
Caramba urged his steed up to the wagon and
cried out:

“I hope you are having a pleasant journey,
Belle Bowan. I am pleased to state, in order

, to somewhat relieve your mind in your pre-
sent trying position, that Frank Ames will
soon be in my camp. He has paid me to cup-
ture you for him, and he proposes to marry
you as quickly as a priest can be induced to
risk his neck in such a lawless crowd as mine.
But just now I have a different idea. He has
been too cowardly to win an unwilling bride

v by his own exertions, so I feel the less com-
punction for going back on him. I detest a
coward. Your bravery and daring have im-
pressed me greatly, and I think I’ll marry you
myself :”

Without waiting for a reply, the bandit
chief rode 03 at headlong speed over the plain

~ in advance of them. A heavy groan burst
from the lips of the colonel at the mention of
Frank Ames. He did not hear the latter part
of the outlaw’s speech, in regard to his own
intentions with reference to Belle.

‘At first a sickening feeling of aversion at the
thoughts conjured up by the bandit chief when
he avowad his intention of making her his
wife, took possession of Belle: but she soon
grew more calm, and the anguish of her father
caused her to drown all considerations of her-
self.

All was now plain to them both, except the
identity of Capitan Caramba. who seemed to
know their whole history, and whose voice at
times had a sound that seemed to them fa-

. miliar. Frank Ames had known of their de-
parture, followed them, and sent the Mexican
spy to inform Capitan Caramba in regard to
their course and destination. Belle was filled
with amazement. She now knew that Ames
and this bandit chief must have been intimate
friends in the past. The manner and words of
the latter showed it. But who could he be!

The old colonel was in despair. He knew
the desperate character of Frank Amos, and it
was this kn'0w1edge that had made him leave
his heme on the Rio Trinity. He realized that
he and Belle were in the power of those who
would hesitate at no crime; yet he felt that
he would rather they should both be so situated
than that his darling should be linked for life

 

to the son of Jack Amos. His brain was now
on fire, and he wanted—oh, so much—to reveal
the secret of his wife’s death to his daughter,
but he dared not do so, for he knew that Jack
Amos had been spoken of by many, in Belle’s
presence, as his own old friend and boon com-
panion. Belle would hate and despise him, if
she knew that he had affiliated with a das-
tardly poisoner, a criminal of the deepest dye.
Not only this, but she would naturally con-
clude that the fearful crime was the result of a
vile conspiracy between them.

“ Do not worry, papa,” said the young girl.
“Frank Ames will find out that his plans will
be frustrated. God will never permit such a
miscreant to succeed.

 

We must risk it at all hazards, and try our
plan at once. The driver can be secured to his
seat, as if alive.”

“ Your plan is an excellent one, Belle. You
are a most remarkable girl. Give me the
knife, Rosa. The driver must diei”

“ Be sure that you strike a vital spot. father.
But, to give you more confidence, 1 will stand
here with my rifle. and although the report
may break up our plan of escape, I will shoot
him if he prOVes too agile and strong for you.”

“Don’t shoot, Belle! For God‘s sake, don’t
shoot!” pleaded her father, in ahoarse whisper.
“EVen if he kills me, you must make an ef-

‘fort to escape. by leaping frou‘ the wagon.

I have not been idle all ‘

this time—I have good reason to believe there ,

are those upon our trail—”

At this moment she was interrupted by the
sound of many galloping steeds in the rear of
the wagon, and she became aware that one of
the horsemen was close up, and looking in upon
them.

Glancing up, she saw the swollen, hideous
face of the man she had seen crawling in the
cow-path on the Medina, and afterward noticed
at the matte.

With a horrid exulting laugh, the Mestizo,
for it was none other, rode on to join his Com-
rades, and all swept away over the plain, after
their chief.

Belle could not repress a shudder as the
laugh of the half-breed sounded in her ears,
and the old colonel again groaned in agony of
spirit; but, at this moment, she felt a hand
grasp her ankle, and she drew up her feet, as
if she feared some terrible reptile Was in the
wagon. For an instant, the blood in the poor
girl‘s veins seemed to be congealing; then the
thought occurred to her, that she had not seen
Rosa with the other slaves, and that she had
no doubt been concealed in the Dearborn.

With a powerful effort Bell rose to a sitting
posture, and peered out into the darkness at
the driver, who had been placidly smoking his
pipe, 'without paying any attention to his cap-
tives; in fact. to do so, he would have been
obliged to stand up, and look over the bales of
goods which were piled behind him near the
wagon seat.

Belle could distinguish nothing, so she ut-
tered the name of the quadroou in a nervous
whisper.

No answer came, but again her ankle was
grasped, and she was now conscious that it
was by a human being. Had she not felt posi-
tive that it was Rosa, she would have fainted
with fright, for the daring and desperation
which had upheld her at the matte, had now
deserted her.

A tunes of curls now soon swept her cheek,
and trembling lips were at her ear, whisper-
mg:

“Here I am, Miss Belle! For the good
Lord’s sake tell me what Rosa can do for

out" v
“Thank Heaven!" was Belle’s fervent re-
sponse. “Everything may depund upon im-
mediate action. Put your hand into the breast
of my dress, Rosa, and you will find a knife.
Cut us loose quickly.”

With trembling fingers the frightened slave
obeyed, and a moment afterward, both Belle
and the colonel were freed from their bonds.

Up to this time Colonel Bowen had seemed
as helpless as an infant; but no sooner did he
realize that he Was free from the cruel cords,
and that there was a chance of escape, than he
sprung at once to a sitting posture, and whis-
pared:

“ God bless you, Rosa! I believe that
Heaven has preserved you as an agent to save
us from a terrible fate. I shall be myself in a
moment. Belle, leap from the wagon, and lie
still in the grass. You, Rosa, follow her. I
will join you in a moment.”

“I shall not. leave you, father,” said Belle,
firmly. “Besides, it would be foolish to at-
temrt leaving the wagon, while the driver is
alive. He is certain to look back very soon,
and when he finds we are gone, he will fire of!
his rifle as a signal to recall the bandits, and
then We would be recaptured.”

“ You are right, my daughter. My head is
not as clear as it might be; but if I kill the
driver, will the horses keep on! That is the
question. You must know that the outlaws
will now and then look back to see ifthe wagon
is following them.”

“ The horses will naturally follow their
kind, especially in the night time. They are
checked up so that they cannot step to feed!

 

and crawling through the grass, mid away from
the trail."

“Words are useless, papa. Make the at-
tempt, and the cause of right and justice must
succeed."

Rosa cowered at the feet of her mistress, and
the old colonel, his knife graSped tightly in his
hand, pressed a kiss upon his daughter’s fore-
head, and then crept slowly but cautiously
over the ba‘es of goods toward the driver.

As if to favor the colonel, the wagon had
struck a belt of “hog-wallow” prairie, and in
consequence the violent swaying and joltiug of
the Dearborn obliged the Mexican driver to
concentrate all his attention upon the guiding
of his horses.

Instantly realizing this, Colonel Bowen
crawled quickly forward until just in the
rear of the driver, when, without a moment’s
pause for preparation, by a lightning-like
movement, he knocked the sombrero from the
doomed man’s head, grasped him by the hair,
pulled his form quickly backward. and then
plunged the knife to the hilt in his breast.

There was no time for a struggle, or an at-1

tempt to ward off the deadly blow. Before
the outlaw could realize that he was in danger,
the life-blood spurted from his mouth and nos-
trils. smothering the shriek of horror and
deathly fear that he strove to utter.

So instantly was he struck with death, that
the reins did not fall from his hands; just the
opposite indeed, for they were clutched in the
de - rip, and held tightly after the breath
of e. outlaw had left his lungs forever.
Steadying the dead man in the seat, the col-
onel cried out:

“Jump, Belle! Jump from the wagon, my
child! We are free, thank Godi’.’

Hastin catching up the loose ends of the
reins, the colonel tied them around' the body;
then, with a rope which be secured from under
the seat, be secured the corpse in a natural po-
sition, replaced the sombrero on the head. after
which be wiped the blood from the face. There
was now little out ward change in the Mexican.

Filled with heartfelt joy at the prospect o‘f
escape, Colonel Bowen now crawled rapidly?
to the rear of the wagon, where he was caught
around the neck by his daughter, her feelings
finding vent at last, now that there seemed in-
deed a hope of freedom.

“ Why did you not obey me, my child?
Come, as quickly as we can! One moment’s
delay may cost us our liberty, if not our lives;”
and springing out the rear end of the Dear-
born, he assisted Belle and Rosa to the ground.
Then sinking upon their knees, the young girl
passed the rifle to her father, and they all
crawled in haste from the trail into the tall
prairie grass, and then disappeared.

CHAPTER XIV.
SHARP EYE.

ON the morning of the day that Big Foot
Wallace 0 effectually and promptly “ civil-
ized ” Miguel, the Spy,of Cnpitan Caramba, in
San Antonio, a beautiful girl of some eighteen
summers, in company with a young man, ap-
parently a Texan, might have been seen gal-
loping up the north side of the San Miguel,
near the ribbon of timber which bordered each
side of the stream.

Both were mounted upon spirited half -l.reed
horses of speed and endurance, that c'worted
and tossed their heads playfully. as their fast-
flying hoofs scattered the dew from the flowers
and grass in their course. The young girl was
Maggie Moore, the grand- child of Post Oak
Bill, and her companion was a young ranchero,
somewhat noted as a scout, and known by the
name of Sharp Eye, which cognomen had been
given him by Wild 'Wolf the Waco, with
whom the young Texan had hunted and scout-
ed upon many a trail.

But few knew or cared what his real name
might be, and there was no man on the San

 

 

 

 

Big Foot Wallace.

....._..- a“

4...»...‘i. “- M

1'7

 

 

Miguel or the Medina, Who was more respected.
He was attired in a buckskin suit of Rio
Grande make, and armed with a Sharp’s rifle,
Colt‘s revolvers, and bowie, while several
raw-hide lassoes were attached to the cantle of
his saddle, as well as a pair of malettos, or sad-
dle-bags, a. tin-cup, and canteen.

Maggie Moore was a brunette of striking
beauty: and her flashing eyes and firmness of
manner showed plainly that she was much
braver and more fearless than the majority of
her sex.

It was plainly to be seen that Sharp Eye
and Maggie had long loved each other, as no
shym-ss was observable in their intercourse.
That there was an understanding betWeen
them nonA Could doubt: and also, that one
would s i to speak, go through fire and water
for the other.

“Maggie, when did Bil-l say he would re-
turn to the ranch?" As Sharp Eye asked this
question, he swept the plain ahead with his
plt‘l‘f‘lll’j glance.

“ ilc vw-nt to meet Big Foot Wallace,” was
the re; 1y. “ They had arranged to go to San
Antonio together, for ammunition: and when
those two are in company it is dillicult to say
when they will head their mustangs for the
San Miguel. But I think he will not be away
for any length of time this trip. for he seems
anxious and worried about leaving me. You
know he must have been, or he would not have
stopped at your ranch, and asked you to ride
over and stay here until his return. I am
very sorry that he hal no more consideration
for you. He must have thought that you had
plenty of leisure. It is really too bad, I
must sav."

“Mugqic,” said Sharp Eye “while I have
been basking in your smiles, I have lost sight
of some very important matters, which ought
to have been uppermost in my mind. When
out hunting for ‘ Mavericks’ yesterday, I met
a party of Wild “'olf’s warriors who had been
after mustangs up the Frio, and they informed
me that they had seen the camp of a large
war-party of Comanches, which fact had
caused them to hasten to their village in the
liandera Hills. They were about to send off
one of their number immediately to their
chief, Wild Wolf, who is now encamped below
the Pleasanton ford on the Medina. Thosa
fiends may strike across to the San Miguel and,
guided by the stock trails, discover your home.
I hope Bill will return soon, for I lay awake
last night, thinking of your helpless condition
should they drop in on us in that pleasant way
they have.”

“Why did you not kpeak of this before,
Ed i”

“ Well, Maggie, I did not wish to worry you,

.and banish your smiles until I was sure that

there was danger; but. upon reflection. I have
decided to inform you. I objected to your
coming with me this morning, as you remem-
her, for my main object is to ascertain if there
are any signs of the Comanchos on the, plain.
I intended to have stolen away from the
ranch, but you were too watchful for me;
howwer, we are both of us better mounted
than any of the Indians can possibly be, and
have besides the advantage of the timber to
cover our movements. So far, we are all
right.”

“Ahd do you really think the Wacos saw
this War-party. or is it one of the friqucnt
frontier scares?"

“ There is no doubt whatever about it in my
mind. I would believe any of the. braves of
Wild Wolf more readily than nine out of ten
While mell- If the reds do point for the ranch,
“'8 Shall be forced ‘50 strike out toward the
Medina.”

“Ell, I shall not leave my home, A11 the
Indians between Phantom Hills and the Staked
Plains could not frighten me from my dear
old cabin, my treasures, and my petsl"

“ Don’t say that, Maggie, for we con not,
defend ourselves. Should the Comanche: dis-
cover the cabin, they would burn it over our
heads, and roast us alive, if we were so foolish
as to remain in it. We shall be obliged to
gallop for help to the Medina. There are not
men enough on the San Miguehwest of the old
Fort Ewell trail, to hold their own against
fifty Indians, unless all were within the log
walls of a good block-house. So you see how
it is.”

“Ed, your conversation, if continued in that
strain, will give me the blues. I came out for

a good bracing gallop. and you will oblige me
by changing the subject.

Post Oak Bill is not

 

the man to leave any one whom he cared for, 
where there was danger of her losing her scalp. '
Do you think, Ed, that my hair is the fashion- :
able color among the Comanches for decorating
a shield or lance?"

“You do not know those red devils, Maggie,
or you would not joke on so grave a subject,” 3
said Sharp Eye, again sweeping the prairie.
With his eagle glance. “You consider the
ranch perfectly safe. for the reason that you
have lived there a year, and have as yet seen
no hostiles. Have you ever seen an Apache,
or a Comanche, painted and prepared for war?
Have you ever heard their blood curdliug;
whoops!”

“I never have, Ed. and I don’t care to. But
I imagine they would not look more hideous
than Wild \Volt' and his braves.”

" I see there is no use talking to you on this
subject, Maggie. I will just say one thing
more, and that is—no one, not even Post Oak
Bill. can tell where the hostiles will strike.
Settling on the frontier is like taking a ticket I
in a lottery. One may livu for years un-
molested. and his next neighbor may be
butchered, his family tortured, or taken to .
what is worse than death, the first week they
have been located in their uew home. But,-1
come: let us turn into the timber, and cross
the creek. Iwish to take a goo] look over I
the south plain toward the Rio Frio.“

Both turned abruptly beneath the tall trees,
and went crashing through the underbrush. l
It must have been Providence that prompted 
Sharp Eye to turn into the timber at that par-
ticular time and place, for the horse of the
scout plunged directly into a dense under—
growth which sqrved to screen the painted
form of a. Comanche spy.

Maggie Moore was destined to see a hostile
in war-paint much sooner than she had I
anticipated.

So suddenly and unexpected were the horses l
turned into the bottom, that the lurking .
Indian had no time to retreat or spring aside; 1
for as he realized his position, he sprung
upward, and actually struck the back of his
head against the nose of Sharp Eye's mustang,
causing the animal to rear upward in its
fright.

Away went the red brave toward the stream.
and the young scout, feeling that their lives
depended upon preventing the spy‘s return,
went crashing after him through the under-
brush.

Maggie remained motionless. her face
blanched with horror. The young scout sprung .
to a standing position in his saddle, made a ;
flying leap ov--r the bushes that drooped into
the water, directly upon the Indian, who was
now swimming for life toward the opposite A
side of the stream. '

The Comanche was almost paralyzed when
he saw the scout fly from his saddle across the
bushes and directly upon him. He had but
just control enough oVer himself to make an
attempt to dive under water; but this move-
ment was executed toolato. His determined
foe was upon him. Had not the back of the
Comanche been some distance beneath the
water, from the fact that he was swimming, as
do most ot the Indians, “dog-paw,” his spine
would have been broken: but, although he was
forced far below the surface, his head broke
water at the same instant as did that of Sharp
Eye, and red and white, with knives uplifted,
lunged toward each other, struggling in the
water in an endeavor to use their blades, and
then, by a dexterous movement, each grasping
the knife hand of the other at the wrist.

Thus gripped, the orbs of each man gazing
into those of the other with murderous light,
and with muscles and senses strained to the
utmost. the hideous face of the Comanche con—
torted with fury at his inability to break from
the vise-like grip of the young scout.

Slowly the two men drifted down the cur-
rent, neither of them being able to gain any
advantage over the other; Sharp Eye, all the
while watching the facial muscles of his foe,
ready to force him beneath the surface if he
noticed any attempt at giving a. signal
whoop.

Maggie spurred her horse directly after the
young scout, and as the latter sprung into the
stream, she caught the bridle-rein Of his Steed,
and sat in her saddle, her features pale as
death, her eyes filled with horror, as she saw
the paint daubed face of the Comanche rise
above the surface, and witnessed the fierce
struggles, and the lightningdike play of hands.

 

as each for a moment strove to stab the other

before wrists were grasped; then, as the two
floated slowly down the stream, and neither
appeared to have gained any advantage, she
sat with her lips Wide apart, her eyes staring

; fixedly, until slowly the two heads vanished

from view around the bend of the river.

With a half-suppressed cry of anguish, Mag-
gie struck both the horses violent blows, and
went crashing through the underbrush, soon
arriving at a point where, once more, the
agonizing sight met her view—the two heads
still floating slowly. the eyes of the white man
and the red-mun still glaring into each other,
the glittering steel of each still controlled by
the other, by a grip that had caused the muscles
of their arms to swell out in huge knots. Only
one slight change did she notice. Sharp Eye
had gotten his red foe turned partly about,

1 forcing him to float with his back down the

stream.
Maggie instantly comprehended the object

, of her lover’s moveman for she saw. at some

distance down the San Miguel, that a tree had

i fallen down the bank. one of us. huge limbs,

jagged and broken. pi'i_‘~jectiiig up the stream,
its lower edge alm: st touching the water.
Once more she urged the horses through the
underlirush, but not daring to paSs the floating

‘ combatants. for fear she would draw the atten-

tion of the Comanche down the stream. and in
this way let him discover the danger that was
awaiting him‘.

The friendly limb was over the current, but
only on its outer edge; and Sharp Eye was
forced to use great caution and skill, in order
that his red fce should not pass the jagged
branch which was now his only hope; for the
young scout, although of great strength and
hardihood, fclt himself growing weak, while
the iron-molded son of nature was apparently
as fresh and full of vim as at the start.

Maggie’s breath came and went in short
gasps, and her brain was being racked with
dread concern and indescribable anguish.

Still the two men floated on. the Indian
seeming to comprehend that the strength of
his foe was ebbing fast: the expression of
which was noticeable upon the Comanche’s
face, all daubed though it was with ocher and
vermilion.

This expression was, however, soon to be
suddenly changed, for the nrarly submerged
foes were now approaching the point at which
the lifebloiid of one or the other must mingle
with the waters of the San Michl.

The next moment would decide Maggie
Moore's happiness or misery, for life: and she
held her breath. in the intensity of. her fczlings.

Not two feet now separated the snag from the
head of the Comanche, and Sharp Eve well knew
that his life hung by a hair. Gathering up his
entire strength, the ycung scout drew up his legs
beneath the waters, until his knees touched his
breast then by a dexterous inuiion he kicked the
Indian in the bowels. recovering instantly his
former position. Then thro‘ving his whole
weightinapowerful lunge forward, he still
guided the course of his red foe. All this
transpired in a moment.
of the Comanche dashed with force against
the limb, tearing the very scalp in places from
his skull, causing the Indian to close his eyes,
quiver from head to foot, and for an instant
t > relax his grip on the wrist of his white an-
tagonist.

Wrenchiug his knife-hand free, Sharp Eyes
raised the same above the waters, and then
drove the glittering steel to the hilt in the
paint-daubed breast of the savage. Then, as
the warrior openedvhis mouth to give the death
yell, the young scout thrust him beneath the
water, which was now dyed with his blood,
and a gurgling. horrible sound issued from it
as the Comanche sunk, struggling in his death-
agony.

Graspiug the friendly branch with one hand,
and holding the Indian under the water with
the other, Sharp Eyes gazed anxiously up and
along the north bank, meanwhile panting with

exertion.

With a cry of intense joy and relief, Maggie
lashed the horses abreast of the point where
the desperate water combat had come to an
end, and the young scout waved his hand in
exultation and victory, as he permitted the
dead brave to slide away with the current. He
then swam ashore to rejoin the beautiful girl,
who, though not engaged in the fight, had
probably suffered more horror and anxiety
than she would had she been in the pasition of
her lover.

“Come quick, Maggie! Follow me in-

 

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18

Big Foot Wallace.

 

 

stantlyl” cried out Sharp Eye. “We must
ford the stream and take a look over the south
plain. I bar the Comanche war-party is close
at hand.”

Without a word, Maggie followed her lover
over the stream, the latter climbing a tall tree
on the outer edge of the timber.

“ The red devils are coming!" he exclaimed.
“ I see them plainly. They are pointed for
the San Miguel.”

Quickiy descending, the young Texan sprung
into his saddle, his face filled with anxiety.

“Maggie, my darling,” he said, “we must
gallop like the wind. There is blood, torture,
death and worse flying down on the western
breeze!”

“ How many of the red fiends are there,
Edi” Maggie asked at length, as she urged her
horse close to the one ridden by her lover,
whosc mind was so filled with thoughts bearing
on the situation, that he seemed scarCely to be
aware of the presence that was so dear to
him.

“I should ,judge there are three score of
them, Maggie; and, had you seen them, you
Would be eager to fly towrad the Medina. You
will go there with me now, will you not!”

“Ed, I will not leave the San Miguel! There
are many hiding-places near, and at our cabin,
and you can ride on much faster without me.
You will probably meet your friends before
you reach the Medina, and you can'also inform
Wild Wolf that we are in danger, and need his
assistance. You said he was at the ford. If
so, he can get word to his braves in a short
time. I don’t think I should have the least
fear or anxiety, if he and Big Foot Wallace

I were at the ranch.”

“ Can it be possible, Maggie, that you are re-
solved to stay at the ranch while I am away?”

“Certainly I am. Ican hide away very
easily.”

“ But the merciless devils may find you out,
for all that.”

"If they come before you return, which I
much doubt, they will conclude that all the
whites have left the vicinity, and will waste
time in searching.”

“ That is reasonable, I admit, Maggie; but

I hesitate about leaving you, all the same. It
seems to me that the fright you experienced up
the stream, when you had but one Comanche
before your eyes, has been very soon forgot-
ten.”
“Why, Ed, my fright was not on my
own account, but yours. If that Indian had
killed you, I would have faced the war—party
on the plain alone!”

Sharp Eye, as he looked at the lovely girl
by his side, felt, by the expression of her face,
and his knowledge of her character, that she
spoke the truth. Upon thinking over her de-
cision. he decided that it would probably be
safe for her to remain, and that he could, as
she had said, proceed on his mission with
greater speed if he went alone. He knew
besides that, in the way of the Comanches was
the ranch of a Texan, who, on seeing the war-
party, would without doubt hasten down-
stream for help, in which event he would stay
with Maggie until the arrival of the scouts.
If the Indians did discover the ranch, it would
delay them at least a day; so Sharp Eye, find-
ing it useless to try and persuade Maggie, con-
tented himself with this reasoning, and gal-
loped of! toward the Medina, at headlong
speed.

 

CHAPTER XV.
m annex on rat: runes.

Tn cabin of Post Oak Bill was situated in
a small natural Opening within the bottom tim-
ber, shielded from view on all sides; the rip
pling waters of the San Miguel being audible
from the wide veranda, although the stream
was hidden from sight by a narrow belt of
timber and dense undergrowth.

Towering some eighty feet above the ground,
near a herder’s but, at the corral in a little
opening, further up-stream, was a gigantic
oak, its branches literally covered by long
fentoom of Spanish moss, Huge grape-vines
also wound about and amid the limbs, forming,
by their natural network, an arbor shut in
from the sun. Two-thirds up this tree, Maggie
Moore had once, in her wild and reckless way,
climbed to gain a view of the plain; and, finding
there such a cosey nest, had prevailed upon
Juan, one on the mquems, :0 construct some
ladders of raw hide, commencing at a point

i

 

which could not be seen from below. This was
easy of access, and Maggie soon learned to
reach the “ nest” without much exertion.

Juan and Antonio, the herders, were absent
on the prairie when Sharp Eye and Maggie
galloped up to the ranch, but the young scout
av0wed his intention of sending them back, to
remain there until his return.

Maggie, refusing all assistance from her
lover, and bidding him start immediately, car-
ried a pair of blankets and some food up to her
arbor in the tree, not forgetting a small rifle
and a brace of revolvers, recently presented to
her by Sharp Eye.

Looking out over the plain to the north, as
soon as she had completed her arrangements,
the maiden saw her lover speeding like the
wind toward the Medina, and also discovered
Juan and Antonio galloping toward the ranch,
they having been warned by the young scout
of the danger that was hovering over their
home, and the necessity of their holding the
cabin. should the Indians attack it, until he
should return with their employer, and such
other assistance as he might be able to pro-
cure.

Descending to the ground as the Mexicans
arrived at the ranch, Maggie furnished them
with plenty of ammunition, and then securely
fastening the oaken window-shutters and the
rear entrance to the dwelling, she stationed
Juan at the front door, and directed Antonio
to scout about the corrals, and at times to
cross the river, and ascertain if the Indians
were within view along the line of timber.

Directing the two men to enter the cabin at
nightfall, or at any time when they were sus-
picious of danger, and bar the door, as also to
defend the dwelling to the best of their ability
in case of an attack, Maggie again ascended
to her perch, glanced quickly from the
north and south lookouts without discovering
anything of interest or danger. Then she
selected a favorite volume of poems, threw
herself into her hammock, and began to read
as if nothing had occurred to interrupt the
even tenor of her mind; indeed she was sur-
prised herself at her unconcern under the pos-
sible dangers that threatened her.

However, situated as she was, she knew that,
with her rifle and revolvers, she could defend
herself successfully against a dozen Comanches.
should such a number attempt to climb up the
oak, as she would have every advantage.

The previous night, Maggie had not retired
until a late hour, as she had been conversing
with her lover; and now, it was not half an
hour after she had opened her book before she
fell asleep. When she awoke the sun was just
sinking in the west.

In surprise the young girl gazed out over
the plain to the south, in the direction of the
Frio, and uttered a stifled cryas she did so;
for, not half a mile from the timber of the San
Miguel, and riding parallel with it, were a
score of Comanches.

The Indians were using their quirts without
mercy, and their mustangs were flying over
the grass at break-neck speed. It was a fear-
ful sight to look upon, but it was some conso-
lation to Magic to know that the war-party
had been weakened by the departure of those
braves, and also that they were apparently ig-
norant of the location of the cabin.

As these warriors passed from view to the
east, Maggie, although she knew that Sharp Eye
had not had time to reach the Medina and re-
turn, ganed out over the north plain, when again
her face blanched as she discovered three In-
dians in hot pursuit of one of Post Oak Bill’s
herds of horses. She knew that the animals, if
they possibly could evade the Comanches, would
gallop directly to the comic, and then the
hostiles would discover the ranch. She soon
saw that her fears would be verified, and she
quickly descended the tree, ran to the cabin,
and, after explaining the situation to Juan and
Antonio, bade them secrete themselves near
the corrals, and kill the three Indians if possi-
ble; for in that way only could they hope to
save the ranch and their own lives.

The faithful Mexicans at once started for
the corrals, and Maggie soon heard the dull
rumble like thunder, as the horses, in a wild
stampede, entered the hard-beaten corrals.
After this there was an occasional din. caused
by the animals rushing about the inclosures,
proving to the anxious girl that the gates had
been secured, and in a short time Juan and
Antonio came running toward the cabin.

“Well, my brave boys," said Maggie, “what
success?”

 

“Loo Comanches no steal cl caballos,” said
Antonio.

“ What have you done? Tell me, Antonio!”

“Hide in bush. Throw ropes quick,” was
the reply. .

“ And the three Indians—where are they?”

“ Gone to jornudu. del muerto," said Juan.

“ Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Maggie. “ You
are brave boys, but I feared that one of the
red fiends would escape, and if so, he would
have brought down the whole band upon us.
Do you think we will be safe now from attack
during the night?”

“Braves no go back. Other braves go see
Where gone. Best for senorita go up tree.”

“I will do as you advise, J uan,” said Maggie.
“I saw about twenty Comanches galloping
down the river on the south side not long since.
If we can hold out until the morning, we will
then, I hope, he in a position to defend the
ranch."

“ Plenty Comanches on San Miguel,” said
Antonio.

With a shudder Maggie returned to her nest
in the tree. She saw the two Mexicans enter
the cabin, and in the stillnees of night heard
the heavy bars fall into place; then all was
silent. Hour after hour passed, each seeming
to be the length of a night, when suddenly the
maiden’s heart sprung to her throat, and a cry
to her lips; for the bright flash and sharp re-
ports of two rifles came from the loop-holes in
the cabin. The flash revealed to the terrified
girl two score of war-painted Comanches,
weapons in hand, all cautiously approaching-
the opening. Soon their war-whoop burst on
the air, as the reports of the rifles echoed
through the natural arches, beneath which
flowed the dark waters of the San Miguel.

Close following the reports of the guns fired
by the Mexicans, came a rapid fusilade of re—
volver shots from the same soume, followed by
vengeful cries, which caused the terrified girl
to shudder, and grasp a limb of the tree for
support.

For a time all was now silent except the
groans of the wounded, and the weird death-
chants of the dying; these proving that Juan
and Antonio had aimed their rifles well. The
cessation of all sounds of conflict indicated that
the Indians had drawn of! to concoct some
plan of assault, which would point toward the
capture of the cabin and its inmates.

For a few minutes nothing was to be seen,
but soon tbe‘hut of one of the borders, almost
directly beneath the large oak, burst into a
blame, and dense clouds of smoke began to' arise
from it.

Providentially, alight breeze from the west
blew the smoke into the timber below, other-
wise the poor girl would have been in danger
of suffocation; but it opened out a scene that
was truly fearful.

Nearly all the Comanches were standing he-
hind trees, or perched in the undergrowth, but
some halta-donen were crawling like snakes in
the low shrubbery at the rear of the cabin.
The bake-oven was about twenty feet from
the back door of the dwelling, and near it
were a number of large stones, which had been
left when the oven was constructed, and had
not been removed.

As the creeping savages reached the vicinity
of these stones, one of their number gave a
peculiar signal, and immediately several braves
rushed from their hiding-places on the opposite
side of the dwelling.

A mixed volley of arrows and bullets was
now fired at the front entrance, in order to
draw the attention of the defenders from the
rear loop-holes.

That this movement was moccasin], was
proved by the sharp reports of the rifles of Juan
and Antonio, followed by the death~yells of
two of the Indians. '

This urged on the attacking party to greater
fury. The skulking braves, in the rear of the
cabin, each caught up a heavy rock, and
rushed in single file toward the back door.
When within three paces of it, the leader
buried his missile with great force against it,
and then sprung aside, to give room to the one
who followed; and so on, till the six warriors
had all hurled these huge projectiles against;
one particular spot. They then threw them--
selves flat against the lower log of the ca
to shield themselves from view at the loop-
holes.

No door could stand such shocks. The!
middle plank was split: and the interior cross-
picces were knocked to the floor inside, making
a complete wreck.

w

 

 

' Big Foot Wallace...

.. ..--.. . ..... -mm‘ m.me

 

19

 

E:

No sooner was the last rock hurled, and the
effects of their efforts known to them, than the
Indians gave an exulting whoop, which was
the signal for a grand rush toward the ranch
from all points; but Maggie knew in her own
mind that the faithful Mexicans were at the
breach, with weapons ready, to send the first
red murderers who approached, to their doom.
She was right.

As the whoops of the painted fiends broke on
the ears of the two men, they located the spot
where the lurking Comanches lay hidden;
then, with rifles grasped, and fingers on the
triggers, both dashed through the gap and
toward the timber, shooting two braves dead
that barred their way, and knocking two
others senseless with their rifle barrels.

So unexpected was this movement to the
Indians, that they stood for a full minute as
ifincapable of “'Ol‘d or motion; but the next,
the opening,r and the bottom rung with fiendish
yells, and the whole war-party dashed in pur-
suit of the two Mexicans.

For a moment, all who saw the desperate
run for life of Juan and Antonio, had little
thought other than admiration for their des-
perate courage. '

In the excitement of the moment, thinking
only of the defenseless girl, whose many acts
of kindness had won their esteem and regard,
both Antonio and Juan rushed to the nearest
point of cover, then down through the timber
toward the burning hut, losing sight of the
fact that the blaze would reveal their pres not:
to the enemy. Soon they climbed into the
large oak, with the thought that they could
reach Maggie Moore without being discovered.
Throwing their now useless rifles aside, the
'vaqucros, ran, as though the fiends of Hades were
at their back, as indeed they were, or as bad.

To their consternation they now saw that
the leaves of the tree had been burned to such
an extent, that it could afford them no conceal-
meat.

The heated air and gasses almost suffocated
the two men, but with set teeth, they strained
their muscles to superhuman efforts, really
believing that their young mistress must have
perished in the flames. Not more than twenty
feet from the lower branches, had they climbed,
Antonio being above, when they were greeted
with the vengeful yells of their pursuers, and
a shower of arrows hurled around them. Juan
shrieked out: “Madre de Dios,” relinquished
his hold, and fell to the earth. Antonio cast
one glance of horror downward. Juan lay
upon his back, near to the burning ruins of his
but, with half a dozen arrows projecting
through his body, and feeny making the sign
of the cross, while his eyes were filming in
death.

Antonio, shuddering from head to feet, and
expecting the same fate for himself, again
sprung upward, and reached a point where
the green foliage hid him from view. The
next moment, with acry of “ Gracias a Dias,”
he fell prostrate into the elevated retreat
where crouched his young mistress.

“0h, Antonio!" exclaimed Maggie, “why
did you come up here? You have made escape
impossible for me now. But forgive me—I am
almost crazed with the horrors of this night.
Where is Juan 3”

“My life-long compadre is dead,” said the
poor fellow. “ El Diablo Comanche: have
killed him 1”

Then, while the tears fell from the poor
Mexican’s eyes, he drew knife and revolver,
braced himself, and stocd as if determined to
face death alone.

Maggie also, with weapons in hand, her face
the hue 0‘ death, Ind a prayer on her lips,
stood ready to shoot into the first painted face
that broke through the foliage. However, the
Indians had met with such heavy loss they
prudently avoided showing themselves to one
who had proved himself 80 during and skillful;
and a score of braves sprung into the surround-
ing trees, the branches of which were inter-
laced with the giant Oak. Then, with cautious
movements, they wormed themselves this way
and that amid the vines and moss to positions
of advantage near to Maggiehnd Antonio,
who, although expecting to be discovered, were
not aware, so stealthy had been their move-
ments, that they were now surrounded and
overlooked by the hideous fiends who glared
upon them, taking care, however, not to reveal
their presence by exposing even an arm be-
yond the outer screen of leaves that hid them.
Maid and man, so strangely situated, stcod
listening intently, but hearing naught except

 

the throbbing of their own hearts and the

slight flutter of leaves that met their ears.
Then the horribly suggestive dragging of
bodies along the rough branches proved to
them that the crisis was at hand; that perhaps
in another moment their hearts, which now
heat so wildly, would be stilled forever.

It was indeed enough to cause the bravest
man to quail; and both trembled at the ap-
proach of the unseen but deadly danger,
against which they knew that they were pow-
erless to combat. The burning but was now
a smoldering mass of coals, and threw out a
strange red light, which caused objects to as-
sume unnatural shapes.

The silence of the .

night, together with the distorting glow from I‘

beneath, was torture to Maggie, for she knew

that the very air she breathed was pregnant ,
with blood, torture and death—ay, worse than '

death at its worst!

But the dread silence and suspense was sud-
denly broken by a chorus of horrible yells of
cxultation, sounding all about them; then
foHOWed the whirr of a. volley of arrows, and

Antonio, with a cry of agony, sprung high in ,

the air, and fell with a crash to jom Juan in
the jornadu del muerto!

With a cry of horror Maggie cocked her re-
volver, but ere she could fire, a dozen warriors
were about her, red arms encircled her, yells
sounded in her ears, and then—God was mer-
ciful—she became unconscious.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
RIDING TO THE anscvn.

IT was midnight when Big Foot Wallace and
Post Oak Bill joined Sharp Eye on the south
bank of the Medina, and all drove spurs, point-
ing their course southwest. toward the San
Miguel, aiming to strike the stream at the ranch.

It required but a few words from Sharp
Eye, shouted on the run, to explain the situa-
tion of affairs.

Big Foot \Vallace said not a word, for he
heard that the Comanches, might cross the
river, when they would be sure to notice the
stock-paths, and by following them, discover
the home of his pard.

The mind of the Giant Scout was racked
with thoughts of the probable danger of Mag-
gie Moore, who was considered by Big Foot to
be but a. child, and who was very dear to him
also. Often had he tried to prevail upon Bill
to send Maggie to San Antonio, where she
could mingle with “kaliker-kivered humans,”
and be safe from marauding Indians and
Greasers; and Bill himself had endeavored,
more than once, to frighten her into the plan,
but she loved the wild, free life at the ranch
too well to leave the San Miguel.

The trio of scouts were all most dreadfully
concerned by the probable danger which
threatened the beautiful girl who ruled them
with her wand of love, and not one could
speak the word of consolation which he felt
that he had no ground to offer. Spurting on,
without mercy, the eyes of the three men soon
became fixed on a far-off lurid glow, that
spoke the worst. Grasping their rifles and
tossing the barrels over the hollow of their
left arm, they drove the torturing steel into
the bleeding flanks of their steeds. that now
made fresh efforts to obey the will of their
masters.

They had but just cleared the belt of oaks,
when, as they swept the plain with keen
glance, they discovered four horsemen afar to
the eastward, who appeared aiming to strike
the San Miguel some twenty miles below the
ranch of Post Oak Bill. Instantly, the latter
and Big Foot Wallace thought of the four
strangers they had met in the bar-room at
San Antonio; but supposing they were at the
Monger House, they were puzzled in regard to
who the night riders might be, although forced
to conclude that they must be some of the
bandits under the notorious Capitan Caramba,
who might be on a spying expedition. They
thought it possible that the Mestiw might have
communicated with them in regard to the
presence of Colonel B0wen and his daughter,
and if so, the latter were in great danger.

This, added to the anxiety of mind which
already oppressed them, made the scouts less
merciful in their treatment of the noble ani-
mals they rode, than they would otherwise
have been. No men could be more considerate
in regard to the kindly usage of their horses
than were these scouts; but this was a time
when all such rogard was pitted against the
life of a helpless maiden. With all this, they
might be too late, but should such be the case,

 

they would, in the time to come, have the
satisfaction of knewing that they did not spare
their horses, when human life depended upon
their speed.

On, on, over the prairie, grinding the ten
thousand flowers into the dust, and throwing
out afar the silvery dew drops from the bend-
ing grass.

On, like the rush of a norther, the swish of
grass. the tramp of hoofs, the frequent snort,

and the continuous panting of the steeds, being '

the only sounds that broke the night; the sil—
very moon smiling down in seeming mockery
of the misery of these men, who might for
aught they knew be now dashing into the
midst of a hundred red-handed fiends, who
would yell with delight and triumph as they
tore the reeking scalps from the heads of their
foes.

The blaz3 died down, the red glow blended
with the darkness, until but a faint glimmer
rose and fell to guide the scouts, who, as they
neared the ranch, were filled with dread the
most intense, as with eyes that burned like
coals of fire, they gazed, the ominous silence
seeming conclusive proof to them that they had
come too late.

Each of the trio, as they cleared the under-
growth and entered the opening, halted as if
paralyzed. for the silence of the grave ruled.
all in front of them.

One glance toward the giant oak, and all
hope was gone, for the smoldering ruins of
the herder‘s hut proved to all that Maggie
Moore was not in the tree; that, if the smoke

“ and heat had not killed her, she had been com—

pelled by it to leave the tree, and thus place
herself in the power of her foes.

Sharp Eye rushed up the oak like a mad-
man.

“ Bill," said Big Foot ‘Vallace, sadly, “ we-
{uns hes ‘roved too late, but don’t wilt. We’ll
rip up ther hull dang’d country from this ter
ther Rockies, afore we’ll give up leetle Mag-
gie. Hit’s a open warm trail ahead, an’ a fa’r
show fer comin’ out 0. K. 1 doesn’t ’low ter
close my peepers, nor chaw dried beef, ontil
Maggie air as free es her own leetle birds on
ther San Miguel!”

Post Oak Bill reversed his rifle, and bowed
his head upon his bands which clasped the
breech.

As Wallace ceased speaking, be considerate
ly walked toward the cabin, leaving his pard' to
give vent to the anguish that racked him to
the core. Big Foot had no sooner turned the
corner of the dwelling, than he stopped short,
and cried out in fury:

“ Dog-gone ther cussed Comanches inter
dangnationl Bill, jist h’ist yerself this-a-wayr,
an’ I’ll show you a sight that’ll make yer chaw
yer tongue halfoff with p‘izen mad. Hyer’s
Juan an' Antonio strung up like butchered
mav’ricks. Thar boyees stood tar ther posts,
bet yer life; but I ain’t a-goin’ ter linger roun’
hyer—a-ways. I’m 08 ter hunt up some fresh
nags; then, ef I doesn’t hump myself for ha’r,
on a solid jump clean through ther biz ontil I
makes ther bull per-rarer pirate outfit puke,
I’m a dod-blasted out-an’-out pervaricatorl”

Post Oak Bill braced himself, and with a
desperate and murderous look, walked rapidly
to the front of his home. The doors were open,
and many things that were useless to the In-
dians were scattered about. At this moment
Sharp Eye came running in, crying out in a
voice of despair:

“Maggie’s gone, pard Bill! Maggie‘s gone!
The red fiends have carried her off. I have
been sick and faint, and almost hopeless, Bill;
but now,” raising his clinched fist, “my mus-
cles are of steel, my will is iron, my brain is
filled with such merciless madness toward the
painted devils, that I feel I can scorn fatigue
and hunger, and laugh all sleep to scorn while
on the trail. We cannot spare time even to
bury these poor defenders of Maggie and your
home. Cut them down, Bill, and lay them in
the smoke-house, while I go and assist Big
Foot.”

Post Oak Bill seemed utterly prostrated, and.
the horrid sight before him added to the tor-
tures of his brain. Opposite the door of the
cabin, with their heads downward, were hang-
ing the mutilated bodies of the faithful J nan
and Antonio.

The scalps of both had been torn from their
heads, and the Comanches had given vent to
the hate and fury, mused by the death of their
fellow warriors. by mutilating the bodies of
those brave and faithful men.

Only for an instant did Bill gaze at the hor~

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rible sight; then he laid down his rifle, and
rose erect, setting his teeth firmly, and with
an effort controlling himself. His momentary
weakness was now past, woe to any Cornanche
brave who stood in his path. Nothing buta
satiety of revenge could bring the scout of San
Miguel back to his free and easy, gay and
happy self. .

Tenderly he cut Juan and Antonio loose,

‘; and laid the corpses on the green sward; then

going into his once neat and tidy dwelling, be
secured two blankets from a closet, and wrap-

 

ping one of the bodies in each, he carried them I

to the smoke—house; and laid them side by side
on the floor.

At this moment Big Foot Wallace and
Sharp Eye came galloping up from the corral,
each mounted upon a fresh and fiery steed.

“Hyer we air, pard Bill,” said the Giant
Scout; “an’ we hes foun’ some nags what An-
tone an’ Juan lariuted ter trees in ther bot-
tom. Gmer'ly speakin’ I don’t count hefty on
a Greaser, but I’m a snake-eatin’ Piute of our
boyees warn’t slam-up XXX white men, from
thor ha’r ter ther toe nails!”

“You are right,” said Sharp Eye; “but we
must be wff on the trail. Think of poor Mag-

iel”.

“Hold yer mustang.” replied Big Foot; “I
hain't lied time ter think. l’ll gi'n yer a show
ter plant lead inter red meat soon, so don’t yer
fret. I knowa ther snake-eyed, dog-eatin’

scarificrs clean through, an’ I’m a-gainblin“

heavy they doesn‘t git ther bestest 0’ a man

what chews ther bark offeu an acre 0’ post!
, every mornin’ jist ter git up a appetite.”
Post Oak Bill beckoned the two men now, to a

come to his side, and pointed to the blistered
hands of the Mexicans. ,

" Wa-al, dod-blast my ole skin,” exclaimed
Wallace: “ef I doesn’t sot some kind of a
monimmt OVer ’em! Arter they hed sent all
ther re '5 they could ter grass, they dusted ter
pertect Maggie. an’ hed ter climb ther burnin’
bark to do hit! But, pards, I’m kinder in
clemated ter think that we’-uns hes a hefty
ole he jab ahead 0’ us, an' hit’s gut ter be did
on the wmgs o’ clnin-iightnin’.”

As Big Foot spake, he began changing the
equipments of his jaded horse to the one he
had just brought- up, and his companions were
not slow in following,r his example. A slight
examination of the surrounding paths was suf—
ficient to put them upon the right trail. The
Com-inches had gone down country.

Spurring on in the lead, the Giant Scout at
times dismounting to examine the “sign,” all
proceeded toward revenge, and the rescue of
Maggie Moore; hoping that Wild Wolf, who
had left them tc gallop northWest over the
plain, and hasten his braves on the war-path,
would make his appearance in time to do good
service.

 

CHAPTER XVII.
AGAIN raxnx CAPTIVE.

Tan Score of COmflllChPS who had been ob-
served by Maggie from the oak, the evening
previou-z to the attack on the ranch, galloped
over the prairie to the eastward; but before
they had proceeded ten miles they crossed the

,river, when they Weft brought to a halt by an

ejaculation of surprise from the leading chief.

Checking their half-wild ponies on the mar-
gin of the bottom, their black eyes glittcred
with the prospect of a fight, for they saw a
long scattering line of horsemen approaching
the timber, and about to enter the same at a
horse—shoe, bend, a half mile below.

They s on perceived that the night-riders
were heavily armed, and too strong in num-
bers for them to attack; and, as they continued
to sweep the plains, they also discovered, afar
of! on the prairie, a wagon which was follow-
ing, and probably belonged to the party who
were riding from the east.

With a quick, guttural order, the chief of
this little band of war-painted Indians whirled
his horse, and re-crossed the stream, followed
by his braves, and rode down the San Miguel,
shielded from the view of the night riders, by
the bottom timber. *

Scouts wore sent on foot to inspect the camp
in the bend and all waited in the dense shades
until the return of their spies, with information
in regard to the encampment. The chief then
dispatched one of his braves on the back trail,
to the main war-party, with the intelligence
gained; then, with his warriors, he again went
dashing down the Miguel on the south side,

..

 Fo‘o‘t Wallace..-

for some miles, when, for-ding the stream, they
passed through the timber, galloping over the
north plain.

 

When Colonel Bowen assisted Belle and
Ross. from the wagon, they all crawled on
their hands and knees toward the dark line of
timber which marked the course of the San
Miguel, knowing that within the thick under-
growth they could conceal ihemselves with
some hope of safety.

But the river was a long distance away, and
often were the poor fugitiws forced to halt,
crouched together and rest. their hands bleed-
ing from contact with the sharp blade of wire-
grass, which, although seeming a soft verdant
carpet, cut the flesh like so many tiny knives.

Colonel Bowen was now upon the rack, in
his anguish of mind; vividly realizing, as he
now did. that he had brought his fair child
from a happy home, in which she was sur-
rounded with all the luxury that a refined
mind could crave, and dragged her to these bor-
der wilds amid savage and lawless men, where

danger in some of its worst forms had already ‘

come to her. He strove to forget that but
now, she, had been bound like a slave, but the
humiliating fact hovered continually before his
tortured mind.

But through it all, Belle Bowen was her own
bright an”; and, by forced cheerfulness and
words of hope, strove to instill into her father
and Rosa, Courage to go on.

The moon smiled brightly down upon their '

misery) seeming in league with their foes; for,

' had darkness fallen upon the earth, they could

 

have risen to their feet and in a short time
have reached the safe shelter of the dense
thickets in the bottom timber of the San Mig-
uel.

As it was. they dared not stand erect, for

. fear of being seen by some of the bandits; who

might, at any moment perceive that the mules
were traveling an irregular course, without
guidance; and then, when they found that the

driver was dead, and the captives gone, gal- '

lop on the back trail, beating the grass to find
them.

At times, however, Belle would elevate her
queenly head, and peer toward the west. Then
she would see, afar off, the white top of the
wagon, and shudder as she thought of the dead
man who held the reins, while she thanked
God that they were free, although suflering as
they were. A .

The poor fugitive had passed half the dis-
tance between the point where they had left
the wagon and the timber of the San Miguel,
when Belle caught sight of some moving ob-
jects issuing from the timber, and she trem-
bled violently as she realized that they were
horsemen.

The colonel and Rosa were lying upon the
ground, in order to relieve their limbs from the
fatigue caused by the unnatural position they
had been compelled to assume in crawling over
the ground.

As Belle gazed fixedly for a few moments in
the direction of the horsemen, being reluctant
to alarm her father, she began to perceive the
character of the new danger that threatened,
and her blood froze, while she almost gasped
for breath; for, on like the wind toward them
galloped a score of Indians upon their half—
wild steeds, their long hairiflying in the bright
moonlight.

The appalled girl gave out a choking, gasp-
ing sound, in an endeavor to speak, and burst
out, in a hoarse, unnatural voice:

“ Father in Heaven, protect Thy helpless
children!”

Colonel Bowen raised himself to a sitting
posture, and glanced in alarm at his daughter.
Then, guided by her fixed eyes, he looked
southward. ‘

“Great God, forgive me for dragging my
child into such a country! Belle, my darling,
our time has come. We are lest, we are lost!"

No sooner had the colonel spoken, than Belle
recovered herself, and desperate daring was
stamped upon every line of her features.

“Father, you fought Indians in Florida.
Don’t be so hopeless and despairing, but let us
fight to the last. Quick! Crawl to the east.
They have not discovered us yet, and if they
do. I will shoot one of them, if you are not
firm enough to point the rifle.”

“ I have the gun, and I will use it,” said the
old man. “I will defend you to the death,
my child. Feeble as I am, I {Gel the strength
of a dozen men providentially given me. But
death is preferable to the tortures of both mind


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and body that we had to endure since leaving
a the Medina. Again, I pray most earnestly

that I may be forgiven my selfish act in bring-
,ing you here. Belle, if your life be spared,
ircmember me kindly, for I have striven to
make you happy. This last unlucky move,
Ethough I was actuated by selfish motives, I
,' most truly thought would be for your comfort,
l releasing you from the persecution of that un-
, principled wretch, Frank Ames."

While Colonel Bowen was speaking, they
had all three been crawling stealthin to the
, southward; but their guardian angels had evi-
(lently been taking a night off. for, although
they had not been seen by the Indians, the
latter. as if guided by a fiendish enemy,
Swerved from the course they had been travel—
ing, directly toward the crouching fugitives.
The panting steeds were now close upon them,
ani fearful of being maimed, or crushed to
1 death, all three arese to their feet. As they
ldill so, the hot breath of the horses fanned
their checks, as the animals sprung in affright
to the right and left.

The colonel sprung with his rifle directly in
front of his daughter and Rosa. and leveled
‘ the weapon; but suddmly Belle realized that if

he killed an Indian he would be bruincd before
. her eyes, or if not, that their chance of escape
2 would be much lessened, and with the quick-
, ness of thought she caught the gun and thrust
its muzzle to the earth, at the very moment
that her father had pulled the trigger.

“ Father, you would have been killed before
my eyes," cried Belle. “if you had shot one of
' those vengeful braves. “'0 were insane to
. think of defending ourselves against such a
: horde. Let me have the rifle, and allow me to
, act as my judgment prompts. We may even
yet escape.”

Belle spoke these words in a rapid, nervous
manner, and the Colonel made no effort to re-
; tain the weapon, which she took, and advan-
 cing fearlessly to one of the Comanches, whom,
l by his dress she took to be the chief she passed

the rifle into his hands. This act was followed

by “ Ughs ” and “ Waughs ” from the circular
1 mass of braves who witnessed it.
4 The young girl then returned, and clasped
i the neck of her father, while the terrified. Rosa
. clung to the colonel on the other side, thus
forming a. tableau of brilliant beauty, and
helpless daring, and proud, grand old age.

It was a sight that, for the moment, drew the
admiration of even the merciless Comanches;
the knocking down of the rifle, and thus sav-
ing the life of one of their number, impressing
them greatly.

The chief, however, issued his orders in a
rapid manner, which were at once obeyed by
three warriors springing to the earth, and toss-
ing the jaw-straps of their horses to three of
their fellow braves. This done, the dismounted
Comanches tightened their belts, and then an
rapidly over the trail by which they had
come, toward the bottom timber of the San
Miguel.

Other warriors then quickly bound the
bands of the captives, assisted them to mount the
horses which the riders had given up, and then
secured them tothe peculiar saddles used by
the Comanche tribe— being somewhat similar to
the Government pack-saddle, except much
smaller, and having a wide strap of buffalo-
skin extending from born to cantle, and upon
which the rider sits. This done, all whirled
their mustangs, those towhich the captives
were bound being led by the three Indians, and
then sped on the back trail toward the river;
for the chief was too cunning to risk being
caught on the plain, with his small force, by
the desperate and well-armed Texans and
Mexicans who were encamped further up, and
who, he felt sure, had heard the report of the
rifle fired by the old man they had captured.

It required but a little thought on the part
of the chief to decide that those he had found
on the plain, without horses, and seeking con-
cealment, had escaped from the wagon which
he had seen, and that the men encamped above
would, when they ascertained that their cap-
tives were gone, connect the report of the rifle
with the latter, and hasten in the direction
whence the sound had proceeded.

Hence he urged his braves and captives with
all‘speed to cover, although he felt sure they
had been observed by the four men who had
before been noticed galloping from the north,
and now were within half a mile of the camp
at the bend, as was also the wagon; but both
approaching the same from different direc-

 

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Big m. Wallace. '

21

 

 

The captives, especially Belle, being on the
alert and watchful, had also observed these
four horsemen. Belle, at first. thought that
George Adler might be one of the number, be
having, perhaps, engaged others to accompany
him; but when she reflected that they were

proceeding directly toward the point at which I

she had decided the bandits were cut-amped.
she knew, or at least felt sure, that her lover
could not he. one of the quartette; if so, he was
riding to his doom.

Then. suddenly, s-‘ie recalled the Words of
the bandit chief, and she became positive in
her mind that the four n7ght riders Were Frank
Ames and some of his lawless max-,intes. who
were on their way to the camp of the bunditfl

of the half-breed, and regretting that Wild i Warnona called to him from the trail toward

Wolf had not put a bullet through the miscre-
ant’s heart. He had now no doubt that the
Mestizo was connected with the band of Capi-
tan Caramba, and that the latter had, through
spies. communicated with Frank Ames. He
also felt sure that the half-breed had been em-

- ployed to kill him, but he was greatly puzzled

i
l

as to how the bandit chief had become pos-
seSSed of so much information in regard to the

' Bowens and himself; unless, indeed, Frank E
i Ames had known of the departure of all at the
g very time they left the Trinity.

eXpecting lo fin-l her there, and force her into j
a marriage with ililll, which the outlaw Chief
had spoken of as too arrangement betWeen
them.

. peusut-ion for his servicos.

Although bound and helpless, and in the:

power of Wood cravingr savages, ani with no
Welldnnse'l hope of release, Belle Bowen felt
some consolation from the consciousness of

However, it was plain that the Bowens were
in great danger, and that the (utlaw chief was

leagued with Amos for no other purpose than ‘

to bring about a marriage between the latter ‘

‘ and Belle; although there was no doubt that '
Capital) Carainba had in view a liberal Com-

knew that Colonel Bowen intended to purchase
land and stock, he had no idea of the amount

. of money which the latter had taken with him

having escaped being forced into a marriage ,
with Frank Ames. who had been the direct ,
means of launching them all into a sea of,

misery, suffering, torture, and death—or per-

times worse than death.

The attention of both the Comanches and
their captives was directed up-stream, that
being the point from which both parties were
apprehensive of danger; but if as they ap-
proached the dark shades of the San Miguel,
amid which was concealment, perhaps safety;
it, at this time, red marauders or white prisoners
had casta glance down-stream to the east, they
would have seen a strange and perplexing
sight plainly outlined in the moonlight—a sight
that would have filled the hopeless heart of
Belle Bowen with joy, and would have drawn
from her lips a prayer of the most earnest,
heartfelt gratitude.

That sight, upon the moonlit plain, was
made up of two human beings, both mounted
upon prancing steeds.which they skillfully
managed. The one was a squaw, young and
handsome, her costume glittering with thou-
sands of heads; the other was a young Texan,
his face pale as death, and desperation flashing
from his eyes as he strove to break from the
iron grasp of the Indian woman, and dash to
the rescue of the IOVely maiden who ruled his
heart and soul, and whom he now saw bound,
and in the power of the merciless Coman-
ches.

These two were George Adler, or-Water
Warrior, and Warnona, the squaw of Wlld
Wolf, the Waco.

CHAPTER XVIII.
woman‘s WISDOM.

Amn Warnona had asserted that the horse-
man who galloped southward from the Rio
Medina was the Mestizo, George Adler sat his
horse for a moment, wrapped in deep thought.
Then he asked quickly:

"How do you know that it is the half-
breed!” .

“Hold his hand in air.” wns the squaw’s re.
ply. “The bullet of Wild Wolf has cut off
his fingers.”

“That is very good proof that he is the man
you mention; but I could not detect at such a
distance that he held his hand in that position.
\Varnona’s eyes are keen us the eyes of an
eagle.”

“ Warnona has played on the prairies and
lived in the woods since the Great Spirit gave
her strength to walk," said the squaw, evi-
dehtly Pleased at the compliment. “She can
point at a flower-sucker (humming bird) across
the Medina, who her white brother might say
it was a fly. W 8!) the bee flies home to his
hollow tree, he darts like the lightings of the
Great Spirit, but he escapes not the eye of
Warnona.”

“I can readily believe you, my red sister;
but where have the wagon; gone? The Mes-
tizo is not riding in pursuit of them, I hope."

“Come. Trail point down Medina. The
friends of my White brother were afraid.
They go not straight to prairie.”

Urging her horse down the stream, the bean-
tiful squaw, with her form bent toward the
earth, kept on at a rate that was little more
than a fast walk, easily followmg the wagon-
trails where the tall bunch-grass had been
crushed down.

George Adler followed close after, filled
with great anxiety in regard to the departure

I, such an unprincipled rascal
,‘ Amos, and George resolved that he would save
‘ her at the risk of his life.

 

from the Trinity.
Reasoning in this strain, the young man be-

Although George I

1 among his enemies.

gan to feel positive that no bodily injury was ‘
intended to either the colonel or his daughter; ,
, but there could he no worse fate imaginable 3
hope, for herself and Rosa, a fate ten thousand :

than for his darling to he linked for life to
as was Frank

In fact, he feared
that he would become so enraged if he dis-
covered that Belle was in the power of the
bandits, that he would be imprudent and throw
caution to the winds, thereby losing all chances
of assisting his promised wife in her great
need and extremity.

Since lVarnona had decided that the fast
galloped horseman was the wounded Mestizo,
who had upon three occasions attempted his
life. George was positive that the half-breed
was now hastening to report to Capitan Caram-
ba the presence of the Bowens south of the
Medina, and also of himself, in order that the
bandit could take action with a view of captur-
ing all hands.

Without a word, our young friend followed
close after Warnona, thankful from his inmost
heart that he had met the Waco chief, and that
his brave squaw had volunteered to accompany
him, otherwise he might have gone astray on
the trail.

It did seem as though the fates were against
all who were his friends, and favored these
who were bent upon dastard deeds; for, when
he had counted upon the assistance of Big
Foot Wallace and Post Oak Bill, as well as
that of Wild Wolf, all three had been called
from his side by their own most urgent affairs.
The Wacos would, without doubt, be brought
in contact with the Comanches, which would
leave Capitan Caramba to act his part, without
let or hindrance.

The exciting scenes and dangers through
which the young man had passed since he
arrived in San Antonio, together with loss of
sleep, and the severe contusion he had received
on the head, when hurled from his horse, all
tended to discourage and enervate him, and
the departure of the scouts and Wild Wolf had
well-nigh cansed him to despair, but the brisk
walk of his horse along the border of the Cool
shades of the Medina bottom timber revived
him, and when Warnona turned abruptly south,
away from the river, and passed through the
belt of scattering mesquites. he braced him-elf,
feeling sure that by daylight they would roach
a point where the wagons could be seen—per-
haps encamped where he could get an oppor-
tunity to speak with his darling, and inform
her of the dangers that threatened her on all
si les.

For some time George and Warnona main-
tained the same rate of speed and distance
apart, without, exchanging a word; then they
broke for the mesquites, and pushed out boldly
upon the trail, which was easily followed upon
the moonlit plain. When they came near to
the matte, they could see, far off to the south-
west, the heads of a number of horsemen bob-
bing up and dowu, and beyond these the white
tilt of a wagon.

As George Adler caught sight of this dis—
couraging view, he drew rein quickly, and
grew faint as death, for he felt that he had
come too late; that the Romans were in the
p0wer of the bandits, although it was impossi-
ble that the half-breed could have communi-
cated the movements of the wagons to Capitan
Caramba and his band. .

While looking after them with a fixed stare,

l

the motte, and he at once rode up to her side.
observing, as he did so, a slight smoke which
arose from a bed of dying embers.

The evrdence now before his eyes was con-
elusive. The iron work of a wagon lay among
the ashes, proving plainly that the Bowens
were taken.

“The friends of my white brother are gone.
Bad white men and bad Mexican take them
over the plain to the San Miguel. W'hat will
Water Warrior do!"

Thus spoke Warnona, watching George’s face
as she did so.

“ I shall follow them even to the ends of the
earth,” was the answer, in a hoarse but deter-
mined tone.

“ My white brother cannot fight a war party
alone,” said the young squaw. sadly.

“I can crawl into the camp, and make an
effort to save them, even it I am killed in the
attempt.”

“ Water “'arrior is a great brave, but his
legs or his horse would carry him too fast
He must be sly as a fox,
and Warnona will help him to get his squaw
away.”

“I do thank you, my red sister. I need

i help now, if ever; but there are those in you

 

 

 

wagon who new shed tears of sorrow at the
thoughts of their condition. They must be
saved, if pOssible!”

“Black people are not in wagons,” said
VVarnona.

“ If the negroes are not in that wagon, where
are they?” asked the young man in surprise.

Warnona guided her horse to the north side
of the motto, George following her, and point-
ed inward to a small clear spot, not ten feet
from them.

“ Merciful God i” he exclaimed in horror.
“ The dastardly wretches have murdered the
poor negroes. Great Heaven! My darling is
in the power of brutes far worse than the
savages of the Pecos. Come, Warnonal We’ll
trail them to their lair. Then we will gallop
with the speed of the wind to Post Oak Hills
ranch. We. must have help. Colonel Bowen
and my darling shall be saved, if I have to

wade through blood, and fly through flre. _‘

Come Warnona, we must follow them 1”

Driving spurs to his horse, George Adler, his
face drawn with anguish, his eyes blazing with
insane fury, dashed OR at full speed toward the
point where he had last seen the heads of the
horsemen. Warnona, knowing it would be
worse than useless to reason with him, followed
close in the rear, her long hair flying wild, her
black eyes blazing with the war-spirit of her
people, brought forward by the distress of one
she had but just met for the first time, but
who was the friend of Big Foot Wallace and
Post Oak Bill. This, with the indorsement of
Wild Wolf was enough to cause her to risk her
life in his service. So, on she dashed, a very
Queen of Nature, in the full glare of the yellow
moon, and disdaining any concealment from
lurking foes on either hand.

On, on flew the death pale man, and close
followed the red beauty, sweeping the plain
ahead with her eagle glance, their horses pant-
ing with exertion, and the White foam flying
from the prairie grass and flewers!

Why had they not been sooner! Why had
they lingered at the matte.“ Why was it that but
a few fleeting moments, a few bounds of their
steeds, were all that was required to save the
three human beings crouching among the prai-
rie grass? So, the red demons surrounded
them; and Belle Bowen. within sight of her
lover, now struggling with the more prudent

‘ and rational Warnona to rush to her'reecne,

was urged forward, with her father and her
faithful maid, into the dark shades of the San
Miguel, in the company of fiendish, paint-
daubed Comanches, whose hands had been
often bathed in the innocent blood of helpless
women and babes.

As the Indians and their captives became
swallOWed up in the dense undergrowth it seem-
ed to George Adler that they had gone from his
sight forever; and, with a despairing cry, he
again strove to urge his horse forward on the
trail, but Warnona. who had discovered the
Indians first, had secretly slipped an extra jaw-
strap into the mouth of his mustang, attaching
the other end of it securely to her own saddle-
hom, well knowing what the y g man
would attempt to do, and then, when criti-
cal moment arrived, she had easily prevented
the animal from obeying the spur of Water
Warrior. A fierce struggle ensued, for George,

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upon finding he could not control his steed, en-
deavored to leap from his saddle, his object
being to run on foot, and alone to save the
idol of his heart. .

“ ls 'Water qurr'or a child? I} my white
brother 9 fool that lie would hold his head
down for a Comanche to scalp? Listen to
“famous! The White squaw shall not burn at
the torture stake.

lodge of a Comanche. My white brother shall

walk with his squaw among the log lodges of 3

his people; but he must listen to the words of
Warnona.”’

As the young squaw said this, George calmed
down, but his mind was still in a most demor—
aliZed condition. He had been riding with his

head bent down, and watching the plain; and j

had not observed the Indians. They, likewise,
being engaged in watching the plain in the di-
rectivn of the bandit camp had not observed
the white man and the squaw. So, when they
had surrounded their strangely secured cap—
tives. they paid no notice to aught else, except
to glance up the stream toward the only point
from which they felt they had any need to
dread danger to themselves.

“Come,” said Warnona; “Water W'arrior
must wet his head in the river, and the mus-
tangs must drink. The trail of the Comanches
may lead to Rio Frio.”

George Adler lifted his sombrero, and placed
his hand Upon his bruised head. His hair was
thickly saturated with blood, and he knew the
flow must be stopped, or he would not be able
to travel. His brain seemed like molten lead,
strange fancies and depressing feelings causing
him much concern in regard to his strength of
mind and being equal to the requirements of
the occasion.

He had lost a large amount of blood, while
lying at the foot of the tree on the Medina,
against which he had been thrown; and he re-
alized the necessity of applying cool water,
and bandging the wound. He therefore sub—
mitted himself to the guidance of the Waco
squaw who led him into the bottom timber,
some three thousand yards above the place
where the red marauders had disappeared with
their captives.

She then left Water Warrior to bathe and
bandage his head; and then, securing her
horse, Warnona stole through the dark timber
to gain intelligence of the movements of both
the Indians and the bandits.

 

CHAPTER XIX.
noouns FALLING our.

THE bend in the San Miguel, toward which
the wagon and the bandits under Capitan
Caramba were headed, was a position admir-
ably chosen for defense; at this point it was a
matter of impossibility to ford the stream.

At the neck of the bend, which was narrow,
and very easily guarded, a path had been dug
away. in order to procure water for cooking,
and to lead the animals, one at a time, to
drink.

A few rough cabins of logs, which were
green, proving that the same were of recent
construction, were located in the edge of the
timber, which bid from view the southern end
or swell of the bend, the middle of the same
being clear of tree or bush.

Previous to the arrival of the main part of
the band, who had waylaid the wagons, there
were half a score of brutal-visaged, desperate-i
looking men, engaged in cooking, and in clean-
ing arms; while at the neck of the bend, a
sentinel set upon a log of deadwood, with rifle
in hand, scanning the plain.

Half of these men were whites, of the most
depraved and reckless character, and the re-
mainder were Mexicans of the Rio Grande,
the most lawless, cowardly, and cruel set of
men on the American continent, assassins by
trade, bandits by nature.

The cabins were well furnished with spoils
taken from ranches in their numerous raids;
although it was evident that they had but re-
cently established themselves, and for the time
being only, at this point, it being a position
'which they could not hope to maintain, being
so near the settled portion of the Medina and
San Miguel. A large number of horses of
various brands were lariated to the grass in the
natural opening, plainly proving the character
otthe camp.

As the sentinel arose to his feet. with a yell
of pleased surprise, when he caught sight of
the returning members of the band, and the
Wagon in the distance, each man left his occu-

Sha shall not sweep the ‘

i pation, and rushed out for a view of the plain
l to the east.
‘ “ Dang’d ef Capitan Caramba hain’t made a
ten strike this trip!” exclaimed one burly
I scoundrel “ He's corraled some bosses an’
‘ mules, an’ a wagon, an’ I reckon thar’s some-
thin’ in hit, or he wouldn’t be skutin’ back
quite so speedy.”

“Thet’s the Cap, all over." agreed another.
“ Thar ain’t no soft sodder ‘bout him, an’ he’d
’a’ gene cl’ar through ter San Antone, afore
" he‘d ’a’ come back without his freight. Hyer
he comes, jist a-b’ilin’, an’ he looks es though
I Somethin’ hed struck him—struck hard et

thet.”
l Capitan Caramba galloped at full speed past
the sentinel, his followers looking on in admira-
' tion.
i “ Viva, nmchachitos .' Hurrah, boys!" he
yelled. “We've struck arich streak! Fifty
‘ thousand in oro. besides provisions, blankets,
ammunition, mules. and horses, and the hand-
somest girl in Texas, a captive. We’ve got
her father, as well, who’ll be forced to shell
out heavy before we’ll allow him to scoot
l toward civilization. However, we’ve lost two
: men. Big Jim and Garcia, both shot by the
‘ beauty, Belle of the Brazos! You better believe
j she’s got grit.”
' Wild cries burst from the lips of the brutal
, horde, their rage at the death of their com-
rades being appeased by thoughts of the gold,
the distribution of which would enable them to
gratify their one great passion—gambling at
their favorite game, manta.

“ Boys," continued the captain, as he grace-
fully dismounted, “this girl is the one l’ve
been promised a large sum to capture, but I‘ve
taken a fancy to her myself, for she not only
is a beauty, but a regular devil when aroused.
In fact, she is just the girl for a prairie rover’s
wife. Hello! What’s up with that Mestizoi
I forgot to say that we owe our luck to him,
and that the scouts and citizens hung Miguel
in San Antonio. Our spy has got his hand
shot to pieces, and you see it hasn’t improved
his tern er. He is boiling over with fury."

The estizo came dashing from the plain,
with his mutilated hand uplifted, and yelling
like a fiend, as he waved his arm toward the
north.

All now cast quick glances in the direction
indicated, and discovered four horsemen ap-
proaching at a gallop. The alarm became
general.

“Who are those men?” demanded the bandit
chief.

“Senor Ames,” was the reply of the half-

breed.
' “Aha!” exclaimed Caramba. “ Frank is
eager for his bride, but as he has been too late
to take a hand in the fight, I think I shall have
to disappoint him. He has pards enough, some
of the old Brazos boys, I reckon, and I propose
to ring them all into some scrape that will pre-
vent them from returning to flip cards and
suck champagne down country. Cook some
grub, boys, for we are all hungry as bears.”

Four of the Mexicans hastened back to the
camp-fires to obey their chief, who stood lean-
ing against the shoulder of his horse, his arm
over the saddle, and a proud, triumphant look
upon his face, mingled with something of con-
tempt and disdain, as he watched the approach.
ing horsemen, who, if they noticed the wagon,
did not for a moment suppose that it was the
vehicle of the Bowens, as there was but one
team to be seen on the plain.

“ Carrth !” yelled the Mestizo, furiously,
grinding his teeth together, as he slid from his
saddle and held his mutilated hand in the air.
“ Senor Adler shall die the death of a dog! I
will laugh in his eyes, I will spit in his face,
when I cut out his heart!"

“I judge,” said the outlaw chief, “that
George Adler is a hard man to kill, Ignacio.
He has got the best of you every time, and I
advise you to steer clear of him. You can’t
do much with one hand. I reckon he will give
us trouble yet. If he knew who Capitan
Caramba was, he would be mighty apt to put
a ball through me. Did you say he was with
a Waco Indian?”

“ Si, senor.”

“That means mischief. Especially when we
consider that he was with noted scouts in San
Antonio. Those two could run in a crowd on
us at any time if they knew where we camped.
I’m inclined to think we shall be forced to re—
turn to the Frio. But here come our visitors.”

Frank Amos and his friends now rode into
the opening, their horses showing hard usage,

 

 

and their own faces being flushed with drink
and excitement.

“Dudley, old boy, how are you?” said Frank,
in a voice of extreme relief and pleasure.
“ We have had a long and rapid ride, and are
not sorry we are at our journey’s end. I have
some of the old boys of the Brazos with me,
you see. Don’t you remember Burke Barnes,
John Walker and John Stephens?"

As Frank spoke he walked his horse toward
Capital] Carnmba and extended his hand to
the latter, whose manner, however, was far
from being as cordial as the visitors had been
led to expect.

The bandit chief somewhat reluctantly took
the hand of Ames, who was not slow to notice
the coldness of his reception.

“ You are welcome to the scant accommoda-
tions of my camp, gentlemen,” said the captain,
rather haughtily.

“ Did you receive the information in regard
to the movements of the B0wen outfit. Capitan
Caramba’l” asked Frank, thinking that possibly
he had offended the outlaw by addressing him
in too familiar a manner.

The bandit chief, by way of reply, pointed
to the Mestizo.

Frank recognized the half-breed, and asked
quickly: '

“Who wounded you in that manner, my
friend?”

“Senor Adler. But I will have his heart's
blood. Ignacio Valdez will not sleep until he
is food for wolves.”

The expression of pleased surprise on the
face of Ames was noriced by the chief, who
curled his lip in scorn, for be detected his cow-
ardly thoughts instantly.

“Have you seen the wagons, Ignacio. since
the Bowens left San Antonio?” asked Frank,
with some impatience.

There was an angry glitter in the eye of
Capitan Caramba at this. He did not permit
the spy to answer, but raised his own hand
and pointed.

Frank Amos gazed out across the plain, and
saw a scattering line of desperate-looking men
riding toward the bend, and about half a mile
in their rear was a wagon. All this he and
his comrades had before observed, but had not
dreamed that the wagon could be one of the
two owned by Colonel Bowen.

‘.‘ Can it be possible?” he said, in surprise and
joy; “ that you have captured the Bowen out-
fit so soon is almost too g00d to be true. This
will be a rich haul for you, Dad, for I’m a lib-
eral paymaster.”

“ I generally pay myself, sir,” returned the
bandit chief, curtly. “I seldom trust to the
promises of others.”

Ames was greatly worried in mind by the
words and manner of his old associate. The
letters which had passed between them for
some years were in the most friendly language,
and he had placed the gold of the Bowens in
the hands of the outlaw, so to speak; for the
latter would have known nothing in regard to
the movements of the old colonel had he not
informed him. Frank was extremely puzzled,
and those whom he had induced to accompany
him Were in a very embarrassing position, not
having been even invited to dismount.

“Did you find the gold?” Frank next
inquired.

“Yes,” was the laconic reply of Capitan
Caramba.

Slowly the bandit band now rode into the
opening, and sat their horses near their leader,
all looking with surprise and curiosity upon
the new-comers, who could scarce keep frOm
shuddering, as they found themselves in the
midst of such a ruflianly horde. ‘

“ Did you secure the colonel and Belle?”
asked Frank.

“ I secured the colonel and Belle,” answered
the captain, with a peculiar emphasis on the
name of the young lady which increased
Frank‘s perplexity.

“What has come over you, Dudley? You
do not seem to be as friendly to me, as I
expected I would find you. Judging from
your letters, I thought you would be pleased to
meet me. and especially after I had placed in-
formation in your hands which enabled you to
enrich yourself and band more than a dozen
dangerous raids would have done. Fifty
thousand in gold is not picked up every day,
and besides there is more for you in prospect,
when I get the Bowen estates into my hands.”
“ Fifty thousand dollars is a. more bagatell'
with me, sir," said the bandit chief. “If you
were so anxious to capture the outfit why did

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you communicate with me at all? You have
three men with you, andI would not give a
picayune for you, if, with such help, you
could not overpower an old man and a few
Diggers. HoweVer, I believe Belle Bowen

Wtruld have shot all four of you, for she sent two .

of my men to grass.”
As Capitau Caramba spoke. the assembled
rufflans muttered oaths of rage, at recalling

the death of their comrades, Whom they had .
forgotten in their brutal lust and thirst for‘

blood.

This caused Frank Antes to be still more
anxious. He began to tremble for his personal
safety. From the cold reception which he and
his friends had received, together with the
words of the bandit chief, and the vengeful
mutterings of his men, he was forced to con-
clude that the outlaws Were much exasperated
by the death of two of their number, and that,
as he had been the cause of their attacking the
Bowen outfit, they might be prompted to mur-
der him and his party. He attributed the
cold words and manner of Capitau Caramba, to
the disaster met with on the plain, and he now
began to fear that bodily harm would come to
the colonel and his daughter, which, in the
event of escaping himself, would ruin all his
plans, reducing him to poverty, and with no
hope of gaining wealth in the future. He had
staked his all on this issue. He had borrowed
quite a sum from his sporting friends to pur-
chase horses and equipments, and to defray
the expenses of the trip; and, after having ab-
sented himself from his old resorts at the very
time that the Bowens had left their home on
the Trinity, should it become known that they
had been feully dealt with, the crime would be
laid at his door. And, besides, there were
sumcient proofs along the trail to show plainly
that he had been implicated in a plot to way-
lay them. He knew too, that those whom he
had employed were liable at any moment, “in
their cups," to betray him, and to concoct
plans to shield themselves from any complicity
with him in the capture of the Bowens.

Frank, therefore, began to be most fearfully
concerned, and to think more of escape than of
the accomplishment of his plan, which he now
decided to be a very difficult programme to
carry through as previously arranged; but, as
the wagon came nearer, his whole attention
was fastened upon it, and his perplexed mind
ran riot with a thousand and one new plans
and projects.

Suddenly Capitan Caramba sprung away
from his horse, gazing with a strange look
toward the point of entrance, as he exclaimed
in a loud tone:

“ What the deuce is the matter with that
driver? The team is coming in wild, and with
loose reins!"

'At this moment the sentinel sprung from
his post, and uttered an exclamation of horror.
He then made a bound into the bushes, and at
the same time, the animals, frightened by this

movement of the Mexican, swerved to one:

side, and broke into a headlong gallop, speed-
ing along the border of the timber toward the
river, the wagon jolting this way and that,
among the tall bunch grass.

Capitau Caramba vaulted into his saddle,
spurred his horse in chase, and yelled furi~
ously:

“Head them 06?, boys!
say! There’s something wrong there.
them off!”

Every bandit had sat his steed, speechless
with astonishment; for all of them had caught
a glimpse of the pale face, and the fixed, glassy,
glaring eyes of the driver, as well as the strange
and unnatural posture in which he was seated.

However, when the order of their chief rung
in their ears, all dashed deep their spurs. and

Head them off, I
Head

flew to the right and left, surrounding thei

aflrighted mm: “id bringing them to a halt.

No sooner had the bandit leader yelled his
order, and asserted that something was wrong.
than Fk'ank Ames, with a quick gesture of
warning to his three comrades, slowly guided
his horse toward the narrow trail that led to
the opening. .

The three young men followed, until near
the undergrowth; then, for an instant, they
drew rein. .

“We are in a tight fix. boys.” said Frank;
“and when I give the order, follow me, or We
are lost. We must ford the river at once, and
take chances.” .

As he said this, a loud yell of surprise and
rugs came from the outlaw chief, as he cried
out, in a voice of fury:

 

“Boys, the driver has been murdered, and
the captives have escaped!”

“Come, boys, quick! It’s life ordeath now,”
exclaimed Frank Ames; and while the bandits
were all, with bitter curses of furious rage,
inspecting the wagon, the new—comers, unseen
by the sentinel, spurred their horses in desperate
haste through the timber, beyond the bend.
Then, plunging into the river, they forded the
same, and struck for the south plain, while
their cars were tortured, and their blood
chilled by the fiendish yells that were now
turning the bandit camp into pandemonium.

 

CHAPTER XX.
'rar. WACOS ox THE TRAIL.

WHEN Capitan Caramba discovered that the
driver of the wagon, although seated in his
place, was dead, and that the colonel and
Belle had made their escape, his rage was terri-
ble. In his fury, he hurled the dead teamster
to the earth, as if the man murdered in his ser-
vice had been the cause of his loss.

This done, he began tossing over the goods
in the wagon, throwing them out, until the
supplies were all upon the ground. Then,
stringing from the wagon, his face contorted
with baffled fury. he cried out:

“By all the fiends! Boys, the gold is gone!
To horse! A score of you follow me. We’ll
have back that which blood has been spilled
for. Vamonos.”’

The next moment, with a score of brutes at
his back, the bandit chief dashed from the
opening. on the back trail, and ordering his
men to be silent. as they had. since learning
the loss of the gold, been yelling like demons
who had been cheated of their victim.

(filly a. short time did it take for the outlaws
to reach a point near to that where, across the
river, the Comanches were concealed with the
same captives who had so recently escaped
from their own pOWPl‘; and so excited and
enraged had the bandits been, that they never
once thought of the four visitors who had
been so coolly treated by their chief. Capitan
Caramba himself had also forgotten them, in
his new trouble and excitement.

Still galloping at headlong speed, sweeping
the plain with quick but keen glances, to de-
tect those who, he had no doubt. were crouch-
ing in the grass, they were soon brought to a
halt by the yells and shrieks from beyond the
river. Then, at a gesture from their chief,
they walked their animals slowly and can-
tiously toward the bottom timber, and entered
the dark shades, their weapons grasped tightly,
ready, if need be, for a desperate conflict.

As has been mentioned, the river at this
point was very difficult to ford, although the
Indians had not been delayed in crossing by
this fact, as they were well acquainted with
every turn, and break, and shallow, in the
San Miguel. But, as it was quite dark beneath
the thick foliage, and it was impossible to dis-
cover the one place where the Comanches had
forded, the bandits were compelled to halt
within a pistol-shot of a party of men of whose
character they were in total ignorance.

Capitan Caramba was not only greatly puz-
zled, but he was most extremely dumfounded;
and the desperate fury which had ruled him
since discovering the loss of the gold, cooled
down under the mystery now in front of him,
which he strove in vain to account for, al-
though he recalied the fact that Frank Ames
and his comrades had left his camp in the
excitement attendant upon the arrival of the
wagon.

it did not seem possible that Frank and his
pards had reached this distance from the bend;
and, supposing this to be the case, what occa—
sion could they have for such a hubbub! Such
sounds could not have been giVen except by
mortals in the extremity of fear or agony, and
that the shrieks had proceeded from strong
men, was beyond a doubt.

No sounds of a conflict, other than those, had
met his car. No fire-arms had been used, to
indicate that the men who had ViSited his
camp had quarreled among themselves, and
fought. No signs of any other party being on
the river had been reported by his guards and
spice. Capitan Caramba began to feel cold
chills run through his blood, as he gazed
over the black rolling waters into the dark
shades beyond, through which had come so
recently, such cries of agony, but which now
were silent as the grave.

The outlaw phief and his men sat their horses
as if dazed, peering over the stream, and all

hearing the rustle of leaves and twigs. although
no breeze fanned their livid cheeks. Suddenly
the spell was broken. The bandit leader
scented danger in his front and threw of! the
depressing influence which ruled him for the
moment only. He caught up his bridlerein,
intending t-l whirl about and return to the
plain, but at the same instant that he was
forming the word of command, the twang of a
score of how-strings Sounded from the shadows
beyond the river, followed by the whirr of
deadly arrows. and then mingled with the
screams of agony from the wounded bandits,
and the human-like shrieks of mustangs, as the
Comanche war~whoop rung out with blood-
curdling power.

Capitan Caramba. is himself again. Un-
touched by the volley of the Indians. he yelled
to his followers, as he fired a fusilade from his
revolvers into the darkness.

“ Give them hot lead, boys!
the plains!”

But a few of his men remained to heed the
order, for the Mexicans who had escaped being
serious] y wounded, had fled in terror, none but
the white desperadoes standing their ground
long enough to discharge their revolvers. How-
ever, the death-yells that sounded from over
the San Miguel proved that, although the ene-
my were pnotected by the darkness and the
thick bushes, the lead had not all been wasted.

Then spur for

Leaving their wounded and dead on the bank ‘

of the stream where they fell, the outiawa
made good time to the moonlit plain, where
Capitan Ouramba, insane with rage, ordered
his band to reload and follow him, for he now
felt sure that it was the Indians who had
killed his teamster, and taken his gold and
captives.

He resolved to recover his losses and avenge
the s‘ain; and although his men were \demor-
alized by the unexpected disasters, and were

no return, they dared not falter, but spurred
after their leader down-stream to a fordable
spot in the river, which was well known to all
of them.

Soon again their ears were filled with the
most horrible screams of deathly agony, cut-
ting the night air and chilling the very mar-
row in their bones. Thinking that the Comano
ches were now torturing his wounded men, the
bandit leader urged his horse and men to
greater speed. After fording the river, they
cautiously made their way to the undergrowth
near which the Indians had been posted, send-
ing on in advance a spy to reconnoitcr, who
shortly gave a signal to approach—that all was
well.

The outlaws now dashed into the clear space
that had been the halting-place of the Indians,
but no paint-daubed face or form met their
view.

A faint moan, however, sounded from the
direction of the south plain, and the bandits,
confident that the Comancbes had gone, urged
their steeds toward the spot whence the sound
lproceeded, but could discover nothing until
they rode into the edge of the moonlit prairie,
when, upon turning their horses toward the
timber, a terrible sight met their view, causing
even the. Mexican murderers and Mestizo butch-
ers to quake in their boots.

Four small trees had been trimmed of their
branches for ten feet, and all underbrush cut
away, and between these trees was a sight
that would have caused a peace commissioner
to turn scalp-taker. =

Barnes, Stephens and Walker all were here;
but all three—thank Godi—were dead. All
were beyond the pale of the fearful suffering
that had racked their frames more than if they
had been burned at the stake. As seen by the
outlaws, they bore no semblance to humanity,
except in form, for all were one mass of gore.

To the base of the trees, next the earth, the
feet of all had been secured, and their hands
had been outstretched and elevated above their
heads, and also bound fast. Their toe and
finger-nails had been pulled out, and their
scalps had been taken. Their eyelids had been
cut away. Their tongues had been half-
severed. and their ears had been hacked from
their heads, Next, the red fiends had ,cut
gushes with their knives and arrow points upon
all parts of their bodies and limbs. causing a
slow and horrible death to the three young
men who had been lured from civilization by a
thirst for gold, offered by one who had seduced
them from the paths of virtue and honesty,
and by keeping them in a semi-intoxicated

 

condition, induced them to stoop to crime for

averse to engaging in any light which promised ’

a .

.x.l»...

'0'» ; -u§-.4».. . . 

 

1/24

. Big Foot Wallace.

 

the furtherance of his own dishonorable and
dastardly aims.

Even the cowardly bandits, who had them-
selves, many of them, but recently perpe-
trated a most horrible crime upon the defense-
less quadroon, and then murdered her, with
the others on the prairie—even they grew sick
and faint and turned away in horror, while
Capitan Caramha, who had known these ill-
t'ated men in their innocent boyhood, as he
rode off in haste. bowed his head to conceal
the tortured exiircssion of his features, at the
same time yelling:

“Come on! The hell-hounds will attack our
camp:”

Not fifty yards had the bandit chief galloped,
however, a hen he j-‘rkcd his horse to a halt, as
dil his folfoivers. lor hqu a mite ahead on the
plain were a score of (,‘oznanches, and in their
midst were a gray-haired man and a beautiful
girl.

D ‘spm‘ ite and daring: as he u~uaily was,
C ipitan Carnniba, although he saw his captives
in the hands of a force buta little stronger
than his own, his men being also much better
armed, he turned his steed, and (lashed, shud-
dering, into the timber, completer unnerved
by the sight, and determined to be at the head
of his whole command betore attacking such
inhuvn-in monsters—fargctting that, taking his
own advantages of educition and civilization
into consideration, he was a thousand times
worse. than they.

In half an hour more he was again in the
bend, with near a score of Rio Grande devils
around him and a dozen as desperate and iner—
ciless whites as ever cut the throat of a sleep-
ing man; but he little thought that more than
half a hundred Comanches were within half a.
mile of his retreat, drawn thither by the re
port of their spies. Not only this, but other
dangers. quite as unexpected, were threatening
him; all brought on him by his compact with
one whom he had already insulted and scorned
—-in fact, driven into the very clutches of the
Comanches.

The fact that Frank Ames was not with his
tortured comrades was no proof, however, that
he still lived, and the bandit chief reasoned
that Frank had been killed while defending
himself against capture.

But Captain Caramba was not the man to
quail, or avoid a fight, when he saw any
chance of defeating those who opposed him;
and as he gathered his desperadoes about him,
he became more like his former self. The fact
that Belle Bowen was the only woman he had
ever met, who had created such a passion in
his breast that he now felt, since he had seen
her in the power of the Comanches, most
keenly tearing at a part of his anatomy which
he never before believed that he possessed, de~
termined him to save her, even at the risk of
his life; although he knew, that in so doing, he
Was running great danger of losing his au-
thority over the cowardly Greasers who had
more tear of an Indian, than all else 0n earth.

He now informed his men that hehad no
doubt the Comanches had secured the box of
gold; and not only this, but if they could clean
out the war-party, they would get'their cap-
tives back, from whom a large sum could be
scoured as ransom, besides the horses of the
Indians could be sold over the Bravo (Rio
Grande) for a large amount.

Ignorant of the fact that more than twice
the number of Indians they had seen, were
lurking within a few rifle-shots of their camp,
it needed no lengthy argument to induce the
outlaws to make the attack.

The moon, although still shining brightly,
was now low in the Western sky, casting its
brilliant rays aslunt, its arrows kissing alike
the paint-dauhed check of the Comanche, the
yellow face of the Mexican, the bronzed fea-
tures of the Texan outlaw, and the pallid lily
skin of the trembling captive in the Comanche
camp.

Out upon the northwest plain, hidden bya
bend of the Sdn Miguel, the orb of night shone
down upon a galloping mass of Waco warriors.

On, like a mass of dry leaves before the
north wind, with Wild Wolf at their head,
flew the Wacos: their fierce black eyes darting
glances ahead, their quirts hissing through the
air, their mustangs snorting and panting—all
bent forward, with rifles grasped tightly, as
the hoofs of their steeds cut the flowers and
the dew-decked grass from the parent stems,
sending shoWers of pearly drops upon every
side.

On, the south bank of the San Miguel, the

 

moon smiled placidly also upon three men, who
were driving the cruel spur at every bound of
their steeds, as their eyes stare fixedly and
painfully ahead, their sense of hearing strained
to the utmost, their faces bearing the impress
of agonizing concern and deadly resolution,
while tight compressed lips and grating teeth
promise no mercy to those who have stolen
their jewel.

On, thus, ride Big Foot \Vallace, Sharp Eye,
and Post Oak Bill; with every muscle, nerve
and sense, strained to the utmost, ready at any
moment for deadly battle, insanely eager to
hurl themselves among the Comanches.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
IN HIS rowan.

“'IIEN Maggie Moore recovered her senses,
she found herself securely fastened to a tree
opposite her home. She was at first unable to
collect her ideas, but the sight of the red
braves who, to her horror, were inutilating the
bodies of Juan and Anttnio, brought to her
mind, only too vividly, the dread OCCUI‘I'QDCL‘S
of the night.

Size shivered from head to foot, as she saw
the Indians tear the scalps from the dead, and
held her head between her hands to shut out
the dread view.

A hideous, repulsive-looking fiend, who stood
near, would at times thrust his paint-daubul
face closely to hers, causing the poor girl to
grow faint with loathing; and it was relief in-
deed to her, when the horrible orgies were
over, and she was bound fast upon one of her
own horses.

The fire from the caquero‘s but was now but
faint and flickering, casting out at times a
weird light, amid which here and there, in
confused preparation, rushed the painted (le-
mons, presenting a scene most appalling. This
howeVer, lasted but a short time, for ten
braves were ordered by the chief, Rolling
Thunder, to hasten west with all the stolen
stock; and the main party, with poor hopeless
Maggie in their midst, forded the Sm Miguel,
and galloped at headlong speed down the river.
Maggie felt sure that her lover would soon
reach the ranch with help, and that they would
follow the trail; but she feared he would not
beableto collect a force sufficient to rescue
her from such a strong war-party.

She knew that the Comanches would not
dare travel very far east, lest the whites
might collect a party of scouts and rangers, of
sufficient strength to annihilate them. This
worried her greatly, for the Indians might at
any moment, especially if they saw signs of
enemies in their front, or of pursuit, turn
south over the plain to the Rio Frio; and then,
under cover of the timber, hasten northwest
toward their distant villages, from which, if
she was so unfortunate as to be taken there,
she could not hope for rescue or escape from a
fate too terrible to think of.

On swept the fast galloping horde like a tor-
nado, the hundreds of boots whisking through
the grass, causing a sound like the rush of a
fierce norther, the quick, sharp snorts of the
half-wild steeds being the only sounds that
broke the stillne;s of the night, except the rat-
tle and clatter of arrows in their quivers; for
no words came from the savage lips of those
who surrounded her, causing the painted horde,
who kept gazing ahead and from right to left,
to look doubly diabolical and frightful from
this very silence.

Poor Maggie glanced over the savage hand,
and in her half‘cruzed mind decided that she
was lost; that it would only result in disaster
and death to the scouts it they made an at-
tempt to save her from the clutches of such a
numerous war party.

Ou they sped for at least an hour and a half,
then suddenly they turned their horses into the
timber and forded the San Miguel, encamping
upon the north side of the stream, at a point
where their animals and themselves were se-
curely hidden by the bottom timber and dense
thorny undergrowth which grew along the
edge of the same, near the plain.

Desperately and dangerously situated as the
young girl Was, she retained throughout a
calm and firm exterior, which, from the fact
that she was alone, the only captive, caused
the red braves to look upon her with admira-
tion and something of respect, aside from the
feelings of the same character, occasioned by
her great beauty, which to them seemed un-
natural, and belonging to another world.

She was conscious that the Indians had been

 

r

impressed by this, for they were less rough
when they removed her from her horse, and
secured her with more consideration for her
comfort than they had before shown. Still,
she was tied in such a way that it was impos-~
sible to escape.

A gourd of water was held to her lips by a
young brave, and she drank a long draught,
as she was very thirsty and feverish from ex-
citement and horror; but she controlled her-
self by a great effort, and her eyes took note
of each movement of her savage captors, her
mind being filled with a whirlwind of thoughts
in regard to her dreadful position, and spcc-
ulations in relation to the possibility of her
friends effecting her rescue.

She had noticcd that an Indian had galloped
from down the river, and met the party who
held her captive, and that a short halt and con
sultation fodowed. Shortly after this they
had crossed the stream and encaniped, and
Maggie judged that some important news had
been received from this lone brave, who was
doubtless an advance spy. She hoped that
this news was of the presence of whites, who
would bar further progress, or who were in-
formed as to the raid, and would attack the
Indians. But, of all the thoughts that raslied
through her brain, none gave her more con-
cern than the probability that her lover, Sharp
Eyes, would become so anxious in icgard to
her safety, that, upon reaching the Medina
river, he Would send some one of the ranchcros
at the Pleasenton ford to San Antonio after
Big Foot W'allace and Post Oak Bill, and then
return to the ranch; when, upon finding the
ruqucros murdered and herself gone, he might
follow on the trail alone, and thus endeavoring
to rescue her, lose his Own life. Then, again,
should he succeed in getting help, the whites
would not be of sufficient numerical strength to
combat with the Indians. Even such invin-
cibles as the two noted scouts could not, except
by strategy, be of any assistance to her.

Maggie ?S(‘!‘Ved that the Indians built no
fires, and n t only this, but that they retained
their war equipments, their mustangs being
secured, here and there, without their jaw
straps or saddles being removed, and from this
she concluded that there must be enemies to
them and frierds to her near at hand, or these
precautions against sudden attack, or prepara-
tions for speedy flight would not have been
taken.

It was some time after reaching the dark
shades of the timber before her eyes became so
accustomed to the situation that she conld'make
these discowries, there being but here and
there a ray of moonlight, which, darting
through the thick foliage, caused the scene to
appear more wild and unnatural, especially
when the plumed and painted savages stalked
between the gigantic trees with their festoons
of Spanish moss and converSed together in
low and ominous guttural tones.

 

Warnona had proceeded but a short distance
after leaving George Adler bathing his head in
the stream, before she halted, and removing
her beaded costume, turned the same inside
out, it being lined with dark green cloth. She
then bound several large leaves about her
lower limbs and head, thus rendering herself
almost invisible against the background of
veidure, even in the moonlight.

This done, she glided, graceful as a panther,
through the timber, and crcssed the river
amid the interlaced limbs and vines which
over arched the inky waters.

As she approached the southern margin of
the belt of trees, she moved more slowly and
cautiously; at times stopping to listen; and
she soon discowred that she was within a short
distance of the Comanches who had captured
the friends of Water Warrior. The war-party
were secreted amid the undergrowth at the
very edge of the bottom, apparently watching
the plain to the west, the river here making a
gradual bend which gave a clear view of the
approaches up the stream.

Well aware that such a small number of
hostile braves would not be far from a larger
force, Warnona resolved to return to Water
Warrior, and with him, make their way to as«
certain the strength and pfisitlon Of all foes,
thereby securing knowledge that would great-
ly benefit her chief and the scouts, should they
return to the rescue of the Bowens.

She reasoned that the braves before her
were waiting for the main war-party from
Post Oak Bill’s ranch: and this fact almost
proved conclusively that‘Wild Wolf and the

w,

 

 

 

 

 

IA

VI)

._ dunks—1an

 

“scuff H

 

 

 

 

‘

1‘

r

I Big. 

 

 

scouts would arrive too late to save the young
squaw on the San Miguel.

With this conviction came the thought that
she might be the means of saving Maggie
Moore from the merciless Comanches; and as
Maggie had, on more than one occasion be-
friended her, Warnona was eager to do all in
her power, even at the risk of her life to
rescue the Rose of the San Miguel.

Warnona stole back to the spot where she
had left George Adler, but to her great con—
cern he was not to be found. His sombrero
lay on the river bank, and the fair squaw at
first thought he had fallen into the stream, but
she soon f-wund that this was not the case, upon
discovering that his horse was gone also. She
had secured the mustang herself, and knew
that it was impossible for the animal to have
gotten loose. Water Warrior had vanished,
and it was impossible to follow his trail until
dayligh'; when it would probably be useless to
do so, as she had no doubt he would be killed
or captured before sunrise, as his reckle
manner proved that, upon seeing his friends
captives to the Comanches, he would again ex-
pose himswlf in the same way that he did when
he first came within sight of them. However,
she had but little idea that he would be able to
discover them, as it was a Very difficult feat to
ford the river at this point.

Mounting her mustang, Warnona urged the
animal up the stream some distance, then ford-
ed it at a point half-way between the Comanche
war-party and the bandit camp, and where she
could observe the screen of bushes in which the
Indians were concealed. As she came up, she
was startled by a series of wild yells of rage,
from up the stream, and she gazed out toward
the west, and over the plain, along the border
of the timber. But a moment did she look,
when she was again surprised by seeing four
white men gallop their steeds frantically from
the bottom, and then urge them in her direc-
tion, keeping near the cover of the trees.

Warnona now remembered having seen four
horsemen speeding over the plain toward the
point where she felt sure the bad white men
and Mexicans under Capitan Caramba were
encamped.

That these men wore in league with the ban-
dits she felt sure; therefore when she realiIGd
that they were about to ride into the very
camp of the Comanches, she felt no desire to
warn them. On the contrary, she was rejoiced
that some of the enemies of Water Warrior
and her other while friends would be put out
of the way from further troubling them.

As the {our men came opposite her covert,
the young squaw saw that they were pale as
death, having been apparently greatly fright-
ened by the yells in the camp from which they
had just come, and which now sounded from
the north plain, proving that the bandits were
going east, either in search of the men before
her or the captives she had seen in the power
of the Conianches. The yells, however, soon
ceased, and all became still again.

As the quartette came toward Warnona, all
at times glancing over their shoulders in terror,
she saw Water Warrior spur his horse in for-
rific bounds from the bushes to the west of her,
directly in their path.

That George Adler was now insane from the
blew his head had received on the Medina, the
Ice: of blood, and his terrible anxiety of mind,
Warnona had no longer a doubt; indeed she
had feared it, when she struggled to prevent
him from rushing among the Comanches, and
now surely no lane man would have attacked
a party of four armed horsemen, unless he
courted death.

But Warnona had no desire to expose herself
to the view of the Indians down the stream;
so she was forced to Witness the encounter,
without giving aid to her white brother, who,
she felt, would be killed. .

It required all her strong will power to con-
trol herself; but surprises were not at an end,

' for as George Adler dashed toward the four

men he drew his knife, and singling out one of
the number, spurred his horse directly against
the animal, nearly hurling both to the earth by
the shock.

Grasping the man by the throat, George,
with a look of insane desperation that was ter-
rible to witness, pointed his knife down the
river, as his glassy eyes became fixed upon the
companions of his captive. .

Filled with horror, but none of them daring
to draw Weapon, for they saw the butt of two
revolvers projecting from the holsters at the
saddle-horn of the' maniac, the trio dashed

 

25

 

 

madly down the stream, leaving their comrade
to his death.

A loud pea] of laughter sounded from the
throat of George Adler, as his grip tightened;
and as his hoise bounded forward, Ames was
forced backward upon his animal, his eyes
protruding and his upturned face filed with
horror and dread.

George Adler, with insane cunning, slipped
one arm through his bridle min, and at the
same instant his captive slid over the tail of
his beast; the crazed aVenger flung himself
from his saddle directly upon the half-strangled
plotter, without relinquishing his torturing
grip at his throat.

Quickly clutching the revolvers and knife of
Frank Ames, George threw them out of reach
in the long grass, and then, with a peal of ex.
ultant laughter, he jerked his captive to his
feet with a strength that was born of madness,
and forced him toward and into the cover of
the underbrush.

Warnona was so amazed at all this, that she
sat still in utter bewilderment, much relieved,
however, when she saw that Water Warrior
had succeeded in securing his enemy, without
harm to himself. .

This was a new kind of warfare to the
squaw, and she was puzzled to know why her
white friend had not, having the advantage of
a surprise, shot more of his enemies; for she
supposed that if one of the party was his foe,
they all must be so.

Like all of her race, she was not willing to
interfere with, or even approach her friend,
now that he was undoubtedly insane. The
Great Spirit had laid His hand upon the head
of Water Warrior, and this being so, she must
avoid him.

However, Warnona was not left long to
meditate upon the mental condition of her
white brother, for a thought of the other three
men suddenly flashed upon her mind, connect-
ing them with the deadly danger they were
unconsciously galloping to meet down the
river, and she glanced quickly in that direc-
tion, just in time to see a line of painted
Comanches dashheadlong from the d irk shades
of the bottom timber, directly into the path of
the three fugitives. .

She saw tho glint of arrows in the moon-
light. Bhe heard a series of agonizing shriek:
and cries. Then, white and red vanished in
the dark timber of the San Miguel.

 

CHAPTER XXII.
anornnn AND SISTER.

Warm Warnona saw that the companions of
the man who had been captured by Water
Warrior had been dragged by the Comanches
into the timb‘r, she knew that they were
doomed, and she then turned her attention to
the little thicket to the north of her, into
which her unfortunate white friend had jerked
his quaking, terrified captive.

Making her way stealthin through the
bushes, the young squaw soon reached a point
where, unobserved, she could witness the pro-
ceedings of George Adler, but with which she
had no intention of interfering; for she felt
assured that the stranger had, at some time,
greatly wronged Water Warrior, or the latter
would not have shown such intense hatred and
desire for revenge, at a time, too, when he
was driven to desperate madness, principally
by the knowledge that his friends and his
promised wife were in the power of the Co-
manches.

As Warnona peered through the branches,
she saw that her white brother had bound his
captive fast to a tree, and that the face of the
latter was stamped with the mast abject ter-
ror and dread, for there was no mercy in the
glassy orbs that now gazed vengefully into
his.

With one quick wrench, George Adler tore
the clothing from the neck‘ to the waist of
Frank Ames, baring the white breast of the
latter, who was speechless and hopeless, as the
bright steel flashed in the moonlight before his
eyes, and held in the vise-like grip of his maniac
captor.

Thus they stood in the silent forest; 0“,
dumb through deathly fear, the other, from
wounds and a tortured heart and brain. One,
bent on murder, the other, paralyzed, with a
prayer for mercy trembling on his pallid lips
-a prayer that he sought to call up from
lganglia-Mrs chamber, unspoken since his child-

Piercing and vengeful was the glance of the
eye that met his, showing no more mercy than

 

glittered in the deadly uplifted steel, which
seemed to be delayed in air only to torture
the breast into which it was to be buried; but,
as the firm hand that held the blade was drawn
back to give more force to the blow, there
sounded from down the river, a chorus of
heart-rending shrieks of agony and horror,
ending in unearthly sounds that seemed im—
posSible to have proceeded from either man,
beast, or bird.

George Adler whirled in his tracks, his hands
were pressed hard upon his forehead, and his
eyes protruded from their sockets, as he stared
into the deep gloom surrounding him, and
listened to the dread sounds from down the
river.

It appeared to Warnona that there was a
faint impression in the brain of Water Warrior
that pointed toward his captured friends, con-
necting the latter with the fearful cries which
had just reached him; but that he could not col-
lect his wandering thoughts from labyrinthian
trails, and arrive at a conclusion suflciently
clear to guide him to action. She was the
more positive that this was the case, when she
saw him sink listlessly to the earth, where he
sat still silent, his forehead clasped tightly by
both bands. his eyes closed, and apparently
endeavoring to solve the mystery of his condi-
tion, seemingly forgetful of his captive, who
with a deep-drawn sigh of relief, wrenched at
his hands, in a vain attempt to free himself
from them.

Warnona’s great wish was that her white
friend would not at present recover his normal
senses, as she felt sure he would immediawa
sacrifice his life in an attempt to rescue that
old man and the beautiful maiden from tho
Comanches.

The wild war-whoops and rattle of fire-arms
which soon followed the dread cries, which
Warnona knew proceeded from tortured
whites, simply caused her white brother to lift
his head for a moment, his hands being
pressed tightly over his temples; but, anon
after, when the dull tramp of many home
came to her from the plain, she noticed that
Water Warrior braced himself, and crawled
upon hands and knees through the bushes
toward the edge of the timber, whence he
could gaae out over the plain. The squaw
followed, taking a parallel course, and also
looked out at the same time, casting a glance
now and then toward George Adler, who
seemed incapable of motion from the time he
first caught a glimpse of the moonlit plain, or
rather, of the parties who were now passing
over the same toward the north.

Much to the relief of Warnona, she saw that
the gray-haired man and the two maidens, who
had been in the wagon, and were the friends
of Water Warrior, were still alive, they having
been bound to horses, amid a horde of Coman-
ches, who were fresh from torturing the three
men, and from battling with fees whom she
supposed to be the bandits, and now passed up
the river, stopping just opposite her cavert to
wave their lances in exultation to a party of
horsemen down the stream.

The squaw was new certain that the fight,
the sounds of which the had heard, had oe-
curred between the had white men and
Comanches, and she also knew that the latter
had been the victors. But Warnona was now
most concerned in regard to Water Warrior
who, she feared, would dash out from the
bushes, on seeing his friends among the hou-
tiles; but she was most agreeably disappointed,
for George Adler scemed to be unable to sepa-
rate the real scene before him from the many
like scenes, which were flitting through his
now fever disordered brain.

The defiant manner of the small war—party,
who seemed to be not at all afraid of an equal
number, proved conclusively to the squaw that
there must be a larger force near at hand; and
she decided that the Comanche; who had
raided the ranch of Pcst Oak Bill, were now
secreted in the timber, not far from the spot
where George Adler was crouched.

These thoughts led Warnona to think of
Wild Wolf and the scouts; and, if her pre.
vious reasoning: were correct, she felt sure
that they were new galloping to the rescue of
Maggie Moore, if the latter had not been
killed by the savages at the ranch.

Paying no more atte‘ntion to George Adler,
she glided swiftly up the river, passed the out-
law eamp, which was in great confusion, and
then proceeding in a more stealthy manner,
soon found herself in the vicinity of the main
war-party of Comanches. The Waco squaw

.‘r-t

"my?! 1; s

26

Big Foot Wallace.

 

soon saw Maggie, and then greatly relieved,
but seeing it was impossible to aid her, stole
on up the San Miguel to try and intercept the
scouts, and give them the valuable information
she had gained.

Big Foot Wallace and Post Oak Bill had
been so deeply concerned in regard to the dan-

ger of Maggie Moore and the ranch, that they, _

galloping as they did, from the Medina, found
no time to explain to Sharp Eye who the

young man was whom he had found with them ‘

at the ford; consequently Sharp Eye knew no-

i
l
l

thing of the Bowen outfit, and it was well he i

did not, for he had enough to weigh him down
as it was, and especially after he found that
his promised wife had been taken captive by
the Comanches.

The three scouts Were dashing, as we have
previously described, down along the edge of
the timber on the south side of the San Miguel,
and had reached a point not more than a mile
above the Comanche war-party, when they
were brought to a sudden halt, by observing an
Indian, standing boldly in the moonlight, with
both hands uplifted, and the palms extended
taward them, thus proving that he was a
friend.

However, they slackened the pace of their
steeds, but upon coming nearer, recognized
Warnona.

. “ Wa-al, dodgast my puserlanimous panther-
cat!” exclaimed Big Foot; “of thar ain’t Wild
Wolf's squaw what we-’uns left et ther Medina.
I never know’d ther “'aco ter spit out a squar’
lie, but I’ll sw’ar his tongue must ’a’ bin kinder
crooked when he said thet Warnona war et

, ther lodge down crick.”

' The hearts of the scouts were filled with joy,

[as they discovered the young squaw, and

heard the words of Wallace, who was confi-
dent that'no foes were lurking within hearing
(if his voice. .

I The two first-mentioned scouts knew that
Wagnona must have some important intelli-
genes, and even Big. Foot, although he spoke as
he did, well knew that Wild lVolf had not
lied. .
“For God’s sake, \Varnona,” cried .Sharp
Eye, “tell us if you have seen Maggie?”l

B ‘Jerk hit out quickl” exclaimed Post .Oak

ill.

“My white sister has not sung her deathl
song,” said the squaw. “She is in Comanche
camp, but the braves of the (lanes build no
fires.” f

Post Oak Bill dashed the tears of gratitude
from his eyes, and gripped his rifle with a
firmer hold, while Sharp Eye removed his som-
brero, and looked upward.

“How many 0’ ther cusses air thar on the
San Miguel?” asked Big Foot Wallace.

“Mebe so you know how many warriors
at ranch? My white brothers have seen trail.”

“ Thar war ’bout sixty lit in on Antone an’
Juan, but ther boys wiped out eight or ten,
sfore they lost thar ha’r. ’Bout fifty, I reckon,
skuted down this-a-ways,” said the Giant
Scout.

“ More down river before they come,”
said Warnona. “So many ;” and she- opened
and closed her hands, with fingers extended,
designating twenty, then raising one hand to
indicate five, she added: “ So many git shot.”

“Who in ther name 0’ Crockett shot ’em?”

“Bad white men,” answered the Waco
squaw. '

“ Capitan Caramba and his gang!”

.“Yes.” .

“Wa—al,” exclaimed Big Foot, “ef we-’uns
c’u’d git up a fandang’ ’tween ther tellers an’
reds, an’ then skip in arter Maggie, hit would
be a. scrumptious game ter play. Anyways
I’m dang glad .Capitan Caramba hev gut biz
on his han‘s.”

“ Bad whites took wagons before Comanches
come,” continued. Warnona. “Burn one
wagon. "Kill black pe0ple on prairie. Tie gray
hair man. Tie white squaw. Put in wagon.
Comanches take white captives from bad Mexi-
cans and bad white men.”

“Great Je-hoss-i-fat!” burst out Big Foot,
in deep conCern as well as fury; “whar’s
Adler?”

“He heap bad in head. So many white
men ride fast to camp of Capitan Caramba—”
Warnona held up four fingers—“then ride on
plain. Water Warrior catch one. Comanches
all rest. All kill. Hear yell much heap at
torture.”

“ Jumpin’ Jerusalem!” yelled Wallace,
“held me, somebody! Both ther leetle gals tuck
by ther cussed reds. Ef I doesn't wade over

 

 

my butes in Curmanch bleed I’m a dodgasted
pervaricator. But We-’uns hes gut ter play
shy, an’ keep our peepers peeled. If leetle
Maggie, er leetle Belle gits a scratch, or loses a
ha‘r, I’ll skin eVery cussel Curmanch in ther
hull (led-blasted country!”

Post Oak and Sharp Eye, although almost
insane with impatience, knew that careful
planning and a thorough knowledge of the
situation ahead, was necessary for the success
of their attempt at rescue, and both were
greatly amazed at the information brought
them by \Varnona.

Sharp Eye had started at.the mention of
Adler, but when “'allzice spoke the name of
Belle, he spurred quickly to his side, and asked
with much anxiety and excitement of manner:

“Who are this Adler and Belle, that you
speak of !”

“Adler air the man what war with me an’
Bill at ther ford, when yer rid up on t’other
side. He was wantin’ us tcr go an’ pertect a
outfit 0’ two wagons, same as VVarnona says
was tuck by Capitan Caramba. Adler hed
followed ’em from Brazos-ways, an’ I reckon
he war soft on ther girl, leetle Belle, es purty
a lady as I ever see’d. Tlfir war four cusses
from down country arter'ther outfit. One on
’em -—Frank Ames he said his handle war, bein’
on a crooked game ter git Miss Belle, hes gut
balked, hit ’pears. \Vhat‘s ther matter, Sharp
Eye?”

The young scout was reeling in his saddle,
his face ghastly, but he braced up, and
demanded:

“\Vho is this Belle? 'What is her other
name?”

“ Her dad's name an’ hern, that is, the last
handle, air Bowen. He air cnrnil, an’ she air
Belle.” '

“ Great Gel! This is more than I can bear.
Friends, pards, Belle Bowen is my sister—my
only blood relation on earth! Think of it!
She too I love more than all the world—both
in the power of those fiendish savages, Come,
Bill! Come, Wallace! We must save them,
even without the aid of lVild “lolf. Imust
go at once. I cannot control myself, with
this new anguish added.”

Never were two men more surprised than
were Post Oak Bill and Big Foot lVallace.
They both stared at Sharp Eye, thinking that
he had gone mad. They had never heard him
speak the name of Bowen, and supposed his
name to be—as it was—Edward Duval.

But there was no time for explanations now.
All gathered their reins to dash ahead, but
Warnona held up her hand in a gesture that
commanded attention, saying:

‘ “My white brothers must go into the woods.
Comanches watch plains. See scouts there.
Kill white squaws. War-party only few
shoots down the river. Leave Mustangs in
bush. Try save captives. Warnona ride fast
for Wacos. Where Wild Wolf go?”

“He rid of! et stampede speed arter his
fighters,” answered Big Foot,“an’ ther’ ain’t no
need 0’ your levantin’ ’thout hlt air ter guide
him plum inter ther bestest p’int fer asquar’
lunge et ther cusses. Skip, an’ run in Wild
Wolf on ther sly ef yer feels like hit, Warnona,
fer we-‘uns is boun’ ter hev ther seven year
itch, or somethin’ wusser, ef we doesn’t git up
an’ dust mighty lively outen hyer on ther trail
0’ ther dod-gasted scariflers. Come, boyees,
all this gab hed ter be slung, ter git a cl’ar
trail toward reg’lar biz, ’thout takin’ chances
fer a bad break.” '

All dashed into the timber eastward, except
the Waco squaw, who ran directly north, to
cross the river, and gaze over the plain toward
the Bandero Hills, from which point she looked
for her warlike lord at the head of his braves.

The scouts proceeded some three-fourths of a
mile down-stream, riding rapidly, but using
great judgment and careful. not to make the
slightest noise. They then secreted their
horses, as Warnona had counseled them, in a
dense thicket, from which they stole, keeping
in coves along the river-bank, toward the
halting-place of the red fiends, who held their
loved captive, and who were liable, at any
moment, to torture, death, or a fateinfinitely
worse.

\ CHAPTER XXIII.
IN THE COMANCHE CAMP.

FOR some time after Warnona’s departure,
George Adler sat as she had left him, with his
hands clasped about his fevered brow, and
striving to grape through the distorted visions
that swarmed in his brain, and to divide the

 

!

 

fl

real from the unreal. There were instants
when the dread facts were before his mind‘s
eye in all the horrible vividness of reality; but
no sooner did these facts flash upon, causing
him to form plans instantaneously toward the
assi<tance of the poor captives, than the
thought of Belle‘s terrible position plunged
his weakened brain once more intoa sea of
madness.

His struggle with Frank Amos—he having
in a lucid moment recognized his rival, who he
knew was the cause of all the disaster brought
upon the Bowens—had caused the womd upon
his head to break out afresh, and the blood now
flowing down over his face, added to his in-
flamed eyes and wild look, gave him a truly
horrid appearance.

It was while thus seated in the thicket, in
the perplexing state of mind just mentioned,
being totally unconscious of the existence of
Frank Ames. his recent struggle being forgot-
ten, that Adlcr was startled by a cry of sur~
prise and relief, that sounded from behind
him. Springing half upright, he peered through
the bushes, and discovered the form of Ames,
still bound to the tree, as he had himself se‘
cured him, although he did not at first recall
what had passed. The face of Frank, being
within a patch of moonlight, was fully and
plainly revealed, and was filled, as his outcry
had intimated, with extreme joy and relief, his
eyes being fixed upon a cow path which wound
through the bottom toward the bandit camp.

Frank Ames suppOscd that his enemy had
gone, and although he had been expecting
death at the hands of the maddened man, he
now felt a still more terrible dread of the In-

,dians, who, he was confident, had Ibutchcred

his friends, and who had been seen by him, as
they rode up the river, with the colonel, Belle
and the quadroon girl in their midst. The
firing down-stream he supposed to have been
between the Comanches and the bandits, and
he hoped that Capitan Caramba had met death
in payment for his treacheryto him'in connec-
tion with the Bowens.

He now saw how foolish he had been to sup-
pose' that the outlaw chief would allow‘ such a.
prize as Belle to slip through his hands, for-
such a paltry sum as he had paid for their capo
ture. Had he and his friends secured the gold
of Colonel Bowun, then he could have hired
the very men who owed allegiance to the ban-
dit chief to forward his schemes. Now, how--
ever,.all was lost, and the Bowens were con-
demned to death, without doubt. He, too, .was
in danger of discovery at any moment; when
the Comanches would torture him, as they had
his unfortunate companions. It was while
these depressing thoughts ruled the mind of
Ames that he discovered a flitting human form
approaching up the cow-path; and as the
moon‘s rays for an ins nt lit up the face of
the man, Ames was in transport of joy, for
the swollen, contorted tinge of the Mestizo
which he recognized seemed angelic to him,
forgetting that his friendship and claims had
been repudiated by the chief to whom this
half-breed was no more than a. slave. '

The same light revealed the face of' the Mes-
tizo to George Adler, who, himself unseen,
braced at once for conflict, his eyes glaring
with insane joy at again meeting the ruflian
who had escaped him both in San Antonio and
on the Medina.

Notwithstanding that the half-breed knew
his chief had suddenly changed from a friend
of Ames to an enemy, be advanced with as
cordial an air as it was possible for him to
assume, holding up his bandaged hand in can-
tion, be having evidently been sent by Capitan
Caramba to spy out the position and strength
of the Indians. Advancing, as if he feared
danger on every side, the half-breed drew his
knife with his left hand, and it was not until
this moment that Frank Ames recalled the
fact that the bandits could not, under the pres-
sure of their leader, be friends of his, especially
after having lost their captives and gold. As
these thoughts flashed through his mind, the
expression upon his face changed to one of ab
ject terror; the Mestizo no longer having an
angelic appearance, by being the harbinger of
freedom from torture and death. It was pos-
sible that the half—breed had intended to liber-
ate Ames, but as he saw the sudden change in
the face of the latter, he became excited to
frenzy. knowing that it implied a distrust and
fear of him. Be it as it might, the Mestizo
suddenly paused within five feet of the terri-
fied captive, with knife tight gripped, his lips
curling, his teeth grating and his black, trench-

i

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. a .,..;

 

"l‘i£;Mm‘.;« ' - i‘A” w

 

""‘Th; e‘. his

 

 

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l
l

...L’4 . ..........  ....‘- .. . . a . 'i.‘ -. ...

Big Foot Wallace.

27

 

erous eyes darting hate—most murderous hate
——tbe cXpression of it being unmistakable.
Ame-s strove to speak, but his tongue seemed
paralyzed, and his breath came in dry gasps, as
the horrible eyes of the half-breed glared
fiercely into his.

George Adler watched the scene in amaze-
ment, for the face of the Mestizo was no

I

 

l

longer within his view, and the expression on ‘

that of Ames was perplexing to him.

Neither '

of them were, however, left long in sus-f
pense, for the half-breed, his teeth grating,-

like a maniac, sprung with his glittering knife

derer and spy, had gone to answer for his
many dastard crimes. .

The dread experiences through which George
Adler had, in such a little time, been called
upon to pass, the suffering brought upon him
by the severe blow he had received upon the
head when hurled from his horse, the terrible
anxiety of mind and soul that had been his
since he reached the motte, and his discovery
of the criminal traces of the bandits which
proved that his loved one was in their power,
together with the horror that had filled him
later, upon seeing her hurried into the dark

uplifted into the patch of moonlight, his hideous i shades of the San Miguel by a horde of fiendish,

face being thrust close into that of his helpless
victim, his snake-like eyes gazing gloatingly
into his.

A blood-chilling hiss shot from the lips of
the Mestizo, then be spat in the face of
the wretched Amos, his knife still uplifted. as
if he enjoyed the terrible torture he was in-

l

flicting. At this moment the flapping of i
in new madness, with a frenzybf pride, be
overhead, caused the cowardly aSsassin to start ‘

wings, followed by the hoot of an owl afar

with apprehension, and he drew his knife
back, then, throwing his whole strength and
weight into the blow, he plunged the deadly
blade forward, miSsiug, in his left-handed awk-

wardness and sudden alarm, a vital pirt, but ,
burying the cuchillo in the shoulder of the‘

young man, who, with a cry of horror and
despair. now fainted away.

At this instant, with a bound like that of a
panther, George Adler, his heart filled with
hate, his form filled with the strength of a
madman, sprung upon the assassin and buried
his knife in the Mestizo’s back, the steel crush-
ing through the shoulder-blade. Leaving his
knife in the wound, he jerked the cuchillo from
the body of Frank Ames, and quickly cut loose
a part of the larth not in use, with which the
latter-was bound to the tree.

When the Mestizo felttha steel crash through
his frame, filling him with an agony most ex-
cruciating, and deathlike fainlucss, which in-
creased as the blood 110 Ned profusely, he began
beating the air with his hands; then, as George
Adler sprung past him for the lariat, and he
recognized the man who had on three occasiOns
escaped him, now to turn up, when and where
least expected, to be his slayer—when this
knowledge flashed upon him, he was like all of
his kind, filled with a superstitious dread that
left no hope . of life, and no intention to strug-
gle against fate; and with prayers mumbling
from his repulsive lips, and the blood walling
from his wound and pattering upon the dead
leaves, his hideous face fillecl with auhorror of
deathyhis palsied tongue refusing to utter the
screams of agony and. hopeless despair that
gurglod in his throat, he fell forward to the
earth. . ,

, Quickly did George Adler attach a rope’s end

to each of the wrists, of the Mestim; then,
before the latter had fallen to the ground, be
secured the other end. of the rope to limbs of
the tree, the same being some four feet apart,
thus leaving the dying half-breed suspended by
the armsdirectly in front of the still senseless
Amos, wheee head had fallen forward upon his
breast, his face like that of a corpse, while the
blood slowly trickled from his wound, and
down his breast. With a feeling of insane
triumph, George stepped backward, and stool
viewing the horrible scene. There were .now
his two mast litter and deadly enemies, slowly
dying together, in the dark murder-pregnant
woods of the sac Miguel. Truly, retribution
had begun. ,

The eyes of the Mestizo, glazing in death,
were filled with a soul-racking horror at being
secured near to what be supposed was a. corpse,
having thus to pass his last moments on earth
in the company of a dead man, fined his super-
stitious soul with the m08t terrible dread. The
patterng of his life blood upon the lavas a;
his feet seemed like the hasty footsteps of
fiends, speeding to bear him to never ending
torment. No human being ever gazed upon a.
more repulsive sight than that which was
presented by the dying Mestizo, hanging, with
filming eyes fixed upon the exultant faoeof
his slayer, even when the bonds that bound
him to earth were snapping: one by one» his
head sinking slowly forward, his wild tangled
hair mingling with thesoft curly locks of
Frank Amos, and the breath seemed at last to
have gone from him,

Then his wiry form, of a sudden, began to
tremble and quiver spnsmzzdically for a mo-
ment, the MOM gushed from his mouth and
nostrils, and Ignacio Valdez, the Illestizi mur-

. mustangs.

 

war—painted Comanches—all this had so de-
moralized his brain that he did not appear,
nor indeed was he, so to speak, the same being.

The scene before him, so full of horror,
which his own irresistible vengeance bad cre-
ated, the awful stillness of the night, which

caused him to think that even Nature l)0\VUtl 

to his superior will, filled the young man with

thinking himself now to be “monarch of all
he surveyed," which, by the way, owing to
the darkness, was not very much after all.

H )weVer, be bad nut and overcome his two
greatest enemies, and in doing so had created
a thirst for blood that bad hitherto been un-

known to him~that indeed wasabborrcnt to ‘

him. Thus possessed, he darted here and there
amid the dense thickets, all the while slashing
with the knife of the Mestim, which be
clutched in his hand, wandering about thus in
his madness. After-a. time this feeling sub-
sided; a listless apathy followed, and in that
state he made his way slowly up the river
through the heavy timber, unconscious of his
course or object.

Thus he wandered for some distance, when
he suddenly came to a bait, for the impatient
stamping of horses of the Indians fell upon
his car from a point but a few yards ahead.

Once again he fell upon his hands and knees.
and with the cunning of insanity hastened
through the thick undergrowth, but without
making any noise that, would be noticed, out-
side of that which was caused by the restless

At this time, very providentially for George
Adler, nearly all the Comanche: were collected
together, but a pistol-shot distant, listening to
the report of a spy, who  returned from an
examination of the bandit camp.

George crawled onward, and upon peering
through the branches of a thicket into a small
clear space in the timber, he discovered a man
lying prone upon the sword, face upward, and
upon the gray hair and anguish~drawn features
played a ray of moonlight, revealing vividly
the well-known face of Colonel Bowen, who
was bound hand and foot. ,

The mind of Adler had, through his recent
dread experiences, been led to dwell more par-
ticularly upon avenging himself than augbt
else, and his recent success in that line had im-
pressed him greatly; consequently, when he
first saw the old colonel, the bitter enmity of
the latter, in forbidding his daughter to asso-
date with him, was at once brought to the
front in the young man’s mind. In his insane
state, forgetting the one who should have been
uppermost in his thoughts, and for whom he
should have bsen searching, he stole stealthin
forward, with the knife between his teeth, to
the side of Colonel Bowen, whose bonds he in-
stantly severed.

No sooner had George accomplished this feat
in the very heart of the Comanche camp than
he raised the stiff form of the old man and
leaned him against the trunk of a large tree in
the dense shade. .

Colonel Bowen had suffered great} y in body
and mind, and when he realized that he was
free be was so dazed that he knew not whether
he had been rescued by a friend, or had been
cut loose to be carried to torture. The flitting
glance he had caught of the face of the man
who had severed his bonds was not that Of one
that would create confidence; for, “Ohm”?
standing that he had known Adler Since his
early childhood, he did not recognize him-
But before he could collect his thoughts the
young man, all blood-stained and with eyes
glaring like coals, led one of the half-wild
mustangs of the Indians up to the tree, and
springing upon the animal’s back, leaned over,
and with a strength that was miraculous, drag-
ged him upon the steed.

Colonel Bowen strove to speak, strove to
ask his preserver, if such he was, to let him
go. and to save his daughter, win was close at

hand; but when words did form upon his
tongue, the sounds were drowned by a series
of yells and whoops, and he realized that the
horse, with its double load, was galloping
through the thickets, and through a horde of
savages, while bow—strings twanged, and cries
of fury mingled with the hail of arrows that
5 cut the foliage on every side. A wild, exultant
r yell burst from the man whom he now knew
i had preserved him from a terrible fate, but for
which he Could not thank him, as he preferred
death with his child, to life without her.

The cry of the man seemed unnatural and
I inhuman, and his strange silence, together
: with the painful force of the grip with which
, he held him, caused the Colonel much uneasi-
‘ness, as the madman. for he was little less,

dashed wildly through the thickets, and amid
. the drooping limbs, tearing his clothing and
i scratching his flesh immercifully.

But the snorting and afl'rigbted mustang
was scon jerked to a halt, and springing to the
‘carth, the strange being, who had evidently
. risked life to rescue him, supported his trem-
! bling steps toward a patch of moonlight, pass-

 

_ ___.

‘- ing along a path; then, the colonel, as he was _

,about to gain control over his feelingsyand
‘ thank his preserver, flund himself in another
moment bound to a tree.

Filled with the utmost surprise and concern,
l Colonel Bowen gazed in front of him, as the
‘ strange man sprung aside; then his eyes stared
j in horror, his form trembled, as if struck with
,an ague fit, for, straight before him was a
gblood-stained form, and a face—Great God!
ayes, the same steely eyes, the same bloody
a froth upon the 1i; 5, the same expression- each,
i all, as vivid as upon that dread night when he
drove the knife through flesh and bone.
, There, just before him,,lighted up by the pale
- moon—~01], so ghastly! with a background of
i blackness that was typical of dread and
ldespair, was—yes, surely it was the same—
Jack Amos, whom he had slain on the distant
l Trinity! '
: With a gurgling cry of horror and dread,
; the corpse of the Mestizo, though so near the
'other, not being observed by him, Colonel
Bowen’s head fell forward, and his frame hung
limp and senseless upon the bonds that held
him.

George Adler’s eyes blazed with insane
delight. He was having great success in thus
rapidly disposing of his enemies.

 

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
rm: BANDITS RDL'TED.
As George Adler went dashing through the

captive thus borne away in the clutches of the
maniac rider, they became furious, especially

through the breast of a recumbent warrior,

arrows fired in pursuit.

The piercing death—yell of this brave just as
the hoofs of the snorting steed were over his
form, and he realized that he was doomed,
awakened the Indians to immediate action; but
as they were on foot, and could not expect
thus to stand before the mad, plunging advance
of the mustang, their efforts were of no avail,
and the sudden appearance of this single foe in
their very midst so excited them that their
arrows flew wild, and the darkness beneath
the timber contributed to the success of the
dash made by Adler through the woods.

When the madman and captive disappeared,
the braVes were furious; but, one, 3 br er of
the warrior who had been crushed to death,
was frantic, and demanded the immediate tor-
ture of the remaining captives, before they too
should be rescued. They all thought that
5 George Adler was one of the bandits, and that
l the men in the bend might possibly run in on
them, and gain the battle.

However, spies were kept going and return-
ing, reporting every movement made by Cap-
itan Caramba and his men, and thus a sur-
‘ prise was rendered impossible. But, with all
this precaution, the brave we have mentioned
still clamored for the blood of the captive
, women, and many other warriors joined in the
l demand for torture.

1‘ Rolling Thunder, the chief, had decided in
lhis own mind that both Maggie Moore and
‘ Belle Bowen should be taken to his far-away
l village. He had never before seen such beau-
! tiful squaws, and from the fact that Maggie
 been taken from the ranch of Post Oak
’ Bill, be b-‘licVeri her to be the daughter of that
famous scout who had k?ll:d so many of his

 

Comanche camp, and the savages saw their

when the hoofs of the flying mustang went

and the escape was made amid a volley of

(o.

 

28

Big Foot Wallace.

 

braves, and he was filled with delight, and
determined that the child of the great scout
should sweep his lodge.

The squaws should taunt her, and whip her
with rods; they should put upon her the most
degrading duties. He would make her his

slave, and degrade her below the dogs of hi< :

village. The squaws of the braves who bail
been slain by her father should tie her in tor-

turing positions all night, at the fall of every r

moon, until she would ask the Great Spirit to
take her to the desolate regions beyond the
moon, where the grass is dead, where no
game abounds, and she must wander forever
amid the dry rocks for the water she would
never find.

As for Belle, her daring and defiant manner,
as well as her great beauty, had impressed the
chief to such an extent that be resolved to make
her one of his wives. His other squaws should
wait upon her, and he would brain the one
who dared offer her harm. She should be

queen of his branch of the tribe.

All this had been decided by Rolling Thun-
der, and stepping within the muttering circle,
.he cried out:

“ Creeping Coyote’s brother has gone on the
long dark trail. His blood calls for vengeance,
but the blood of squaws pays not for warrior
slain. My braves shall ’sound war cries, and
checks of Mexicans shall grow pale. Squaws
of San Miguel, whose cheeks like prairie rose,
go to village on plain. Creeping Coyote can
have yellow squaw for torture, but he will be
alone. Come, braves, war-path open. War-
crles on lips. Rolling Thunder has spoken.”

Then, striding toward the main part of the ‘

camp where the women were secured, and
near where the mustangs, fully equipped, were
kept in a compact mass, he detailed six braves
to guard the captives, as Creeping Coyote, his
anaky eyes filled with a thirst for blood, cut
the thongs about the ankles of Russ, the
quadroon. Jerking the poor girl to her feet,
the red fiend twisted his fingers in her curly
hair, and dragged her, shrieking with terror,
into the dark depths of the timber, while Belle
and Maggie, both expecting to share her fate,

’gssed into each oth‘er’s eyes in speechless

horror.

As the vengeful Indian dragged Rosa away
to the torture stake, Rolling Thunder led out
his braves over the plain, to act their part in
the strategic movements that were destined to
annihilate the band of Capitan Csramba.

Six burly braves stood, lances in hand, to
guard the heuntiful captives, who, could they
have done so, would have stopped their ears to
drown the cries and shrieks of the poor quad-
renn. ‘

These piercing screams caught the ear of th
three scouts, causing them to halt suddenly,
and listen, their senses almost paralysed with
horror.

The cries reached the point, too, where
Warnona, gazing out over the plain, stood
watching for her lord's coming, and her eyes
flashed with the war-spirit of her people, as
she saw Wild Wolf and his braves dashing
wildly toward the San Miguel; but the pride,
caused by this moving sight, was turned into
one of concern, quickly changed into fury, as
she realised that the fiends of the llanos were
torturing their captives. Her eyes blazed, her
form dilated, and, drawing her how and arrow,
she darted like an antelope through the timber,
headless of the drooping branches that tore her
clothing.

As the scouts heard the shrieks, a groan of
anguish burst from Sharp Eye, while Post Oak
Bill fairly gnashed his teeth in a frenzy of
rage.

“ Come on, pards!" cried Big Foot Wallace.
“ I’m a hashin’ hellyuns now on ther jump.
Save ther kallkers of we wades in bleed !”

With these words he drew his knife, and
they all plunged through the tangled thicket.
But a short time did it take them, guided by
'the screams of the pretty quadroon, to reach
the scene of torture, when a sight met their
eyes which brought them to a halt in horror.

In front of them was a small opening, not
more than ten feet across, the western side
being clear of tall trees. In the middle of it
was a conical mound, some four feet in hight,
the nature of which caused them to shudder,
for they knew that it was a nest of the tortur-
ing red ants.

A small, but strong pecan sapling was bent
over from the margin of the opening, and to
it were bound fast the wrists of Rosa, the
quadroon, her weight bending it in such a man-

F-Ias "
 g:
. .5
a
5?":

 

ner as to cause her to stand directly upon the
terrible mound. Her clothing had been torn
from her form, and her flesh was gashed in a
horrible manner, her eyes being torn from
their sockets.

Just opposite, and between the scouts and
poor Rosa, whose >hrieks had now died away
to low moans, stood Creeping Coyote, his hide-
ous paint-daubed face filled with gloating
(-xultation, his form drawn proudly erect, and
his hands reeking with the blood of his inno-
cent victim. It required a most powerful
effort of will to act as the dread occasion de-
manded. No word of consultation or explana-
tion, however, passed between the trio.

Big Foot sprung toward the sapling, while
Post Oak Bill and Sharp Eye dashed upon, and
held Creeping Coyote to the earth. Big Foot
wrenched the sapling top around, and cut the
poor victim loose. He then cried out:

“Drag ther dangnation devil hyerl We‘ll
g’in him a taste 0’ his own way 0’ tortur’l"

The scout’s order was instantly obeyed. The
Comanche, knowing that he was doomed, be-
gan his death-song.

“ I’ll slop that dang‘d quick,” aid Bill, in a
fury. “ Mebbe so he’s bed a hand in torturing
Maggie!”

With these words, the infuriated scout cut
of! the tongue and tore off the scalp of the In-
dian.

“I’ll take ther cuss's ha’r,” he exclaimed;
“for sich as he ain’t fit ter go inter even an
Injun he’ven.”

Then Big Foot allowed the sapling toresume
its previous position, dragging with it the
Comanche to the top of the mound, when in
an instant the red ants darted over his feet
and limbs and began to cut in atoms the flesh
from his body—a just retribution for Creep~'
ing Coyote.

Just as the scout laid poor Rosa in the
bushes, the death rattle sounded in her throat,
for amerciful God had taken her to himself,
purified by a torture greater than that of fire.

"Thank ther Great Master! Ther poor gal
air dead,” said Wallace, as he lifted his 80m.
brero from his head and looked skyward for
an instant.

“ Never spit out a word ’bout how ther poor
gal died ter ther t’others, at so be as they hes
bin spared ter us,” he said. “But come on;
we-’uns hes hefty work ahead. Ther reds an’
Capitan Caramha air at hit, tooth an’ nail, er
I air muchly mistook. Come, pards; I kin
carve ther hull war-party. I’m b’ilin’ over
with simon-pure prussic acid hyderfobyl”

It needed no words to prevail upon Bill and
Sharp Eye to act promptly. All dashed for-
ward, with the rage of panthers deprived of
their young.

The dangers of the living overshadowed all
duties to the dead. On they rushed, knowing
that now if ever was the time to rescue the
captives, before the return of the main portion
of the war-party.

Assistance from the Wm was now unex-
pected by the scouts, until it would probably
be too late.

Guided by the directions Warnona had
given them they were obliged to proceed with
caution, as they approached the position which
they supposed to be their objective point; and
the woodcraft and judgment of Wallace was
brought into use and put to good advantage at
this critical time, for to make a miss and stum-
ble into the presence of those who had been
left to guard the captives, would only insure
their death.

The giant scout was, by his coolness, enabled
to keep his two pards within prudent bounds;
but he knewif either of them discovered Mag-
gie in anything like a perilous position, they
would lose that caution arid judgment soneces-
sary to success; and that the brunt of the com-
ing struggle would fall upon himself. He
therefore gathered his forces, after giving or-
ders that no arms except noiseless steel must
be used.

Providentially the trio were led to point di-
rectly to the position occupied by the captives,
and they were soon peering through the
branches, within ten paces of the dark forms
of the eight erect warriors who guarded the
maidens.

The attention of the braves was directed
toward the bend, from which arose the mad
sounds of desperate fighting, which fact gave
every advantage to the would-be deliverers.

There was no time for plans. Each of the
three men braced himself, gripped his bowie
tightly, and in gigantic bounds sprung forward,

 

Post Oak Bill and Sharp Eye leaping at once
upon the braves nearest to her whom they
recognized as Maggie Moore.

The scene that followed baffles description.
No dozen men, unprepared for such an attack
could have successfully stood their ground be-
fore such a terrible trio. Bowies flashed like
the lightnings of the Gulf; strong braves sunk
to the earth, the death-yell gurgling in,their
throats, smothered by their own blood, without
having seen their foes, or comprehended their
c vlor or character. For all the herculean
efforts and play of steel, two braves kept free
from the terrible melee, cut loose the maidens,
and grasping them in their arms, ran like deer
into the thickets toward the north plain; the
scouts at this moment being engaged handic-
hand with the three remaining warriors, the
three others lying dead at their feet. All this
happened in a moment’s time. The next, when
the scouts had backed their foes to the earth
and dashed over their bodies after the captives,
having now no hopes of taking them alive,
the twang of bow-strings sounded, followed by
yells of agony. mingled with the Waco war-
cry, and Wild Wolf and Warnona rushed into
view, each bearing in arms one of the maidens,
both being blood-stained and unconscious.

Wild Wolf placed Belle in the arms of Big
Foot Wallace, while Post Oak Bill and Sharp
Eye folded their arms about little Maggie, all
trembling with excitement, and muttering
prayers of gratitude.

“No time talk,” said Wild Wolf, impera-
tively. “War-path open. War-cry on lips.
Heap fight down river. Put squaws up tree.
Comanche no find. Warnona stay watch.
My white brothers ride in fight with Wild
Wolf. See, horses in bushes.”

These quickly spoken words, not one being
useless, were recognised by the scouts as words
of wisdom and to the point. Wamona, com-
prehending what was expected of her, grasped
two lariats, and sprung into the branches of a
moss~draped tree which drooped near the
ground.

In little more than a minute, Belle and Mag-
gie were bound to these limbs, in an easy po-
sition, secure from observation, and Warnona,
with bow ready and arrow fitted, crouched in
the thick hanging moss, to guard with her life
the senseless maidens.

“Now, psrds," said Big Foot, “I’m ready
fer ther hellyuns; an’ when kaliker ain’t ’pen-
din’ immejitly ’pon me, I reckon I kin skupe
in ha’r an’ spill bleed, ’bout 6!! speedy es ther
nex’ pilgrim. Hoop-la! I’m hunk now. Thor
Angel air safe, an’ leetle Maggie. Bullets air
trumps, an’ I hold a full band!”

Springing upon an Indian mustang, the
giant scout dug his spurs deep, juked both re-

volvers, holding the weapons in his left hand,

then, handling the jaw-strap after the manner
of a full-blooded Comanche, he dashed after
Wild Wolf, who had, on the instant, bounded
through the wood upon his horse, and took his
place at the head of the Waco braves.

Post Oak Bill and Sharp Eye followed close
after Big Foot. having secured two horses be-
longing to the Indians they had slain; and, in
a few moments, broke out from the bottom
into the north plain, where, before their eyes,
in a long line galloping neck-and-neck, were a
score and a half of brave Wacos, Wild Wolf at
their head, and nearly all armed with some
kind of gun, from an escopet to a Mississippi
yager, some having old-fashioned muskets, be-
sides the bows at their backs.

It was a grand sight; and, filled with a
hatred the most intense for both red butchers
and bandits, beyond all thirsting for revenge,
with a hundred bloody outrages and terrible
torture scenes in their minds, almost as vividly
impressed as was the recent horrible fate of
the quadroon, the scouts spurred on the half-
wild steeds they rode, and dashed toward the
bend, hugging the timber-line, and riding
parallel with the Wacos on the plain, who, as
has been mentioned, were discovered by Cap-
tain Caramba, as the latter made his escape to
the cover of the thicket, having realised that
his band was forever broken up, nine-tenths of
them having been killed.

CHAPTER XXV.
rm: wacos vrcromous.

CAPTAIN Cannon was no fool. Indeed,
had he not been gifted with good judgment,
instantaneous in acting upon the same, and
daring to a fault, he would not have been in
command of the desperadoes and ladroms of
the Rio Grande.

 

 

“IMM‘H


l
l

l,

3

 

 

 

‘ tured them. Nothing of this,'however, did he

I

o

29

 

Big F621? Wallace- 

 

 

 

Upon dne reflection. he decided that the
small party of Comanches who had tortured
the friends of Frank Ames to death, and then
gall m- I up the river bantering him to follow,
woul ! in ii. have acted in the manner they did,
hall tin-re not been reinforcemonts near at
ban! to back them; he therefore very pru- ‘
dently returned to his stronghold, resolved to
get his men in order, and prepare for defense ,
or at‘nck.

However, he did not believe for a moment I
that a war-party of sufficient numbers to cope :
successfully with his well armed band Could be
in the neighborho d; and. if so, they would
not dare to attack him in a position so easy of
defense as the bend.

Not for an instant did he entertain the
thought of giving up Belle Bowen, without a
hard struggle to repossess himself of his beau-
tiful captive.

The vary fact that she had been torn from
him caused him to prize her the more highly;
and b er beauty and daring became magnified
from the same cause. So it was that he made
a mental vow that she should be his, even
should he be forced to risk his life a score of
times to regain her.

With well Selected words, spoken to act upon
the revengeful (lisp0~iti.)ns and the avarice of
his men, be influenced them into the same train
of thought, until they were eager to attack the
Indians; fully believing, as their chief had
asSerted, that it was the Comanches who killed
the driver of the wagon, and carried off the
fifty thousand dollars in gold.

Capitan Caramba had not spoken of this,
however, until he had gotten his followers
greatly elicited and furious for revenge; as he
knew that, in their calm moments, they would
reason. and cirrectly, that neither the murder
of the driver nor taking the orptives from the
wagon could be the work of Indians; for the
latter would have scalped the man, stolen the
horses, and packed the animals with the
blankets and other valuables in the wagon.

Assoon as the bandit chief arrived at the
bend, he sent the Mastizo up the riveras a spy,
to aSCertain the force and position of the In-
dians; and also the state and location of the
captives. He had seen, as well as his men who
were with him at the scene of torture, that
there were two female prisoners in the midst
of the Comanches; the men supposing that one
had been captured at some ranch previous to
their having discovered the wagon; but the
presence of this second female explained to
Capitan Caramba the mystery of the escape,
and the killing of the teamster. He felt sure
that one of the slaves had been secreted in the
Dearborn, and had released the colonel and
Belle; that the former had then knifed the
driver, and then all escaped to the plain,
where the Indians had discovered and cap-

hint at to his followers, for the very obvious
reasons that we have mentioned.

After his men had been furnished with am-
munition, and were ready for fight, Capitan
Caramba galloped his horse back and forth,
cursing with fury at the delay of Ignacio, the
spy. Had he been able to pierce the darkness
and foliage, and see the terrible sight at the
tree up the river, the curses would have died on
his lips. But, as it was, every moment the
outlaw chief grew more furious, until at
length the yells of the Comanches, as George
Adler galloped through their camp, broke out
loud and clear, causing the bandits to look
upon one ,another in amazement; a feeling
which also began to rule their leader. Here
was another mystery. The question now was,
who could be attacking the Indians? True, no
guns had been fired, but notwithstanding this,
Capital! Cammba knew that enemies were, or
had been, in the Comanche camp, Again he
cursed the Mestino into the bottomless pit for
not relie‘iing his anxiety. This feeling was
now doubled by his hearing a series of the
most piercing shrieks that told of some one—
aud . female at that—being tortured. Quick
as a flash, the thought came into his mind that
it w” Belle Bowen! That he was now being
robbed of the only one who had ever made an
lmpremton upon his stony heart. So he spurred
at break-neck speed toward the neck of the
bend, close followed by his desperate crew.
He halted suddenly, for, out on the moonlit
plain, in all their paraphernalia of savage
war, dashed a long line of warriors.

One close after the other, out from the
dense shades they came, near two-score in

 

number, as all could see, when the last had

broken cover; then, the front having reached
a point south of the entrance to the bend, all,
at a signal from their chief, twitched their
mustangs half about, and facing the same.

There they sat their horses, a crescent of red
fiends, for once having a foe in their front who
deserved no mercy from them, or from any
one.

Cnpitan Caramba laughed long and derisive—

ly, waving his sombrero, for he did not sup- i

pose that the Indians would dare charge, with
their inferior Weapons, upon his splendidly
armed force.

The Comanchcs, however, tool: no notice of
the laughter and gestures of derision and ban-
ter, but sat their steeds silent, and more terri—
bly impressive for being silent, and perfectly
motionless.

Thus they sat, while the shrika of agony,
that tortured all ears except those of the red-
men of the plains, sounded on the still night
air, although growing weakt r and weaker.

Keeping the same position. the bandits
twisting on their saddles, nervous and impa-
tient, the silent and motionless Comanches un-
manning them more by acting in this way
than if they had been charging in wild war-
whoops, and amid a hurtling shower of arrows
and glittering lances into the bend.

So the crescent of red warriors remained,
until from out the timber the shriek of a pan-
ther drowned for an instant the feeble screams
of the tortured woman in the distance; then,
as one man, with loud, far-sounding war-
whoops waking the echoes of the night, the
line of braves, with lances in reserve, and
arrows fitted to their bows, dashed at headlong
speed upon their snorting mustangs, the hair
of horses and riders flying wild, the braves
bent forward, their black eyes glittering in the
moonlight, and a savage thirst for blood dis-
torting their paint-smeared visages.

No sooner did the Comanche war-cries cut
the air than Capitan Caramba whirled his horse
facing his men, and yelled: '

“ Into line, all! Wait until you see the bows
bend, then each 0]. you pick his opposite red!
Sling rifles after first fire; draw sixes, and give
the red devils hot lead as fast as you can cook
and pull!”

On came the yelling horde. The thundering
tramp of the steeds, as their hoofs struck the
earth in concert, sounding like far~off thunder,
the Comanche chief leading the savage charge!

Suddenly, as the bows of the horsemen in
the front were brought up from the shoulders
of thrl mustangs, ready to bend and send the
terrible shafts on their mis=ion of death, and
as the rifles of the bandits were being jerked
to shoulder, the twang of many bow-strings
sounded from the rear of the outlaws, and be-
fore the latter could catch sight on the warriors
in their front, dashing like an avalanche upon
them, a score of arrows hurtled among them
from the bushes that bordered their grazing
ground, sending nearly as many to earth, with
shrieks of agony; the horses of the slain and
wounded dashing here and there in frantic
fright, stamping their fallen masters with
their fast-flying hoofs.

Then followed a scene that neither pen nor
pencil .could describe or paint.

The bandits, never having expected that
they would be called upon to contend with In-
dian foes who would perform such a strategy
as to cross the river through the limbs of the
trees, and under the protection of a threatened
charge in front when the attention of all was
there drawn and held, wore appalled and
thoroughly demoralized', and although those
who were not killed or wounded pulled trig-
ger, their bullets for the most part flew wild,
and the next moment a murderous volley of
arrows from the main war-party caused the
bandits to jerk their horses about to avoid the
next and quick following flight of steel-pointed
missiles.

This movement was their ruin; for, although
they drew their revolvers, they were too late
in bringing the weapon into use. Too late;
for in a moment’s time after slinging their now
useless rifles, the outlaws found themselves
struggling amid a mob of warriors, whose
blood-curdling yells could not drown the pierc-
ing, agonizing cries of the wounded.

Striving in vain to keep his men in order,
and breasting the savage charge with a des-
perate daring that, as he shot down braves as
fast as they presented themselves, commanded
the admiration of the Comanches themselves,
Capitan Caramba at last drove spurs and
fought himself away from the horrible bend

that seemed suddenly turned into a pandemo-
nium, a fighting field for fiends. No sooner
had the entlnw chief cleared himself from the
battling horde, than, as he cast a quick glance
around in quest of a place of refuge, he saw
upon the plain another war-party of Indians,
speeding like dry leaves before a “norther,”
to the scene of the conflict. The end was not
yet.

Filled with horror unspeakable, his followers
all either killed, wounded or resorved fcr tor-
ture, or else fugitives in the bottom-timber,
(,‘apitan Cnramba, with (Infill) staring him in
the tace on all sides, urged his horse madly into
the thickest shades; there, panting from exer-
tion and struck with a denthlike horror, the-
bandit chief waited the progress of events.

At the very moment that Capitan Caramba

l thus succeeded in making his escape from the
bend, the Comanche yells of victory rung loud
and clear, while here and there braves were t6

, be seen springing from their steeds and tearing
the reeking scalps from Mexican and whites,
now and then, however, being themselves
wounded by bullets from the few bandits who
had escaped the massacre. These now strag-
gled through the bottom thickets, striving to
collect together, by signals, and thus to defend
themselves against skulking reds who were now
hunting them like bloodvhounds.

It was while thus occupied, and totally un-
conscious of danger to themselves, indeed not
dreaming that foes were near them, that the
Comanches were suddenly startled at the sound
of thundering hoofs, and the next moment the
Wacos, their wild war-whoop sounding shrill,
dashed in an overwhelming charge into the
bend; while galloping through their flank to
their rear, shooting down all before them, rode
like the wind Big Foot Wallace, Post Oak Bill
and Sharp Eye, by this movement placing
themselves in the rear of the foe, to cut of! the
retreat of those who had on foot crawled
through the branches to attack the bandits
from behind, the scouts having seen at once
that there were a score of braves who had no
horses.

Rolling Thunder began to perceive that his
war party was doomed, and with half-a-doaen
of his most distinguished warriors, made a
dash at a lance charge, and himself with three
braves escaped to the timber above the bend.

Then followed a massacre. The wild,
exultant whoops of the Wacos, the rattle of
fire—arms, the dying groans and shrieks of
agony, sounding on the still morning air. The
moon, as if hcrrified at the dread scenes of the
night, sinking below the western hOrizon, as
the gray streaks of the morning shot up to the
east.

When Capitan Caramba saw that all was
now lost, and that his only refuge was on the
Rio Grande, he guided his horse slowly up the
San Miguel, beneath the cover of the timber,
resolving to ascertain if Belle Bowen still
lived, and if so, and guarded by a few braves,
be determined to recapture her, and hear her
away to Mexico, thus merging himself in some
measure for the disaster that had been brought
upon him through her, and plunging George
Adler, the man he had robbed of his fortune in
the beginning, into hopeless despair.

He had detested his foster-brother from the
very first. The studious habits of George, and
the favoritism very naturally shown by Major
Adler to his son, had first caused the feeling.
But, in his own heart, he knew George to be
more truthful and honorable than himself—in
fact, more of a man in every way—and he
exulted in defrauding him and his father of
such a large amount as would leave them
comparatively poor.

But, with all this, he had been compelled to
feel a great respect for Major Adler, who had
given him a home and an education; who had,
indeed, been as kind to this unworthy son of
his adoption, as any man could have been to a
child that was not his own.

When Dudley Duncan absccnded with the
property of his benefactor, he had, in reality,
taken but a small sum with him. The great,
bulk of the money he had possessed himself of,
he had secreted in a hollow tree on the Adler
estate, dropping the gold coins, one by one,
down a hole made by a wood-pecker.

This was a great satisfaction to him now, as
he resolved to diguise himself, go back to the
Trinity, secure his treasure, and then fly to
Mexico.

But best of all would be to rob George Adler
of the maiden he loved. This would be a sur-
feit of revenge for all his boyish grievances,

 

'-

e-

.32,

30

Big Foot Wallace;

 

real, or imaginary, and he laughed fiendishly at
the thought, imagining himself the owner of a
grand hucienda across the Rio Grande, with
the beautiful Belle as his mistress, and pesos at
his command without number.

W'ith these pleasant anticipations, Capitan
Caramba rode stealthily on, calculating the
location of the captives by the sounds that he

“ Did you know that Belle, your sister, was
one of them?”
Until this moment, such had been the anx-

, iety and excitement of Sharp Eye, that he had

had heard previous to the attack, and from the ,
point at,which the Comanches had left the _,

timber to charge over the plain.

Rolling Thunder and his three braves also .

took to the timber, with the intention of carry-
ing away the captives, supposing, of course,
that the eight warriors were still guarding them.

The three scouts also, as soon as the battle
was won, sped in haste to the rescued maidens
in the tree; all filled with anxiety in regard to
what must now be their critical condition,
after experiencing such horrors, and also fear-

-ing that stragglers from among the bandits or
Comanches might discover, and perhaps mur-
der them.

The absence of George Adler, as well as of
Colonel Bowen, was a mystery; but the scouts
were forCed to the conclusion that all three had
been killed.

Consequently, while the victorious and
exultant Wacos were scalping the slain, these
three parties were, at different distancss, all
stealing up the river toward the Comanche
camp; and, while Warnona sat ensconced in
her mossy retreat, watching the pallid faces of

the two half-dead girls, Maggie and Belle, and I
witlzout the slightest thought or premonition of ‘

danger, two parties were approaching, and
both alike eager to secure her unconscious

charges.

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
“NONE now run: BRAVE DESERVE 'rnn ram.”

CAPITAN Canaan; was the first to come
upon the heap of dead braves, slain by the
scouts, and above which were the captives and
Warnona, the bow of the latter half bent, and
arrow fitted to the string, ready at any mo-
ment to send the deadly shaft into the heart of
the bandit chief, should occasion require it.

However, the Waco squaw was not called
upon to do suchan act, for the outlaw hearing
horsemen approach spurred his mustang into a
thicket, and halted, secure from view.

Presently Big Foot Wallace, Post Oak Bill
and. Sharp Eye dashed up. and paused under
the tree where the girls were hidden.

Gazing up the tree, Sharp Eye asked quickly:

“ Warnona, are you there?”

“ Warnona, here ” was the answer; “and
the white lilies heap sick. No talk. No see.”

“We must get the girls down, and out of
this terrible place,” said Sharp Eye, “or they
will die.”

“Hold yer mustang a minnit,” advised Big
Foot. “Thar mought be a sprinklin’ 0’ hell-
yuns askutin’ ’roun’ permiscu’s like till yit.”

Post Oak Bill had stepped quickly to the
trunk of the tree, and while Big Foot spoke he
was gazing upward; but the whisk of a horse‘s
tail in the thicket near him, warned him of
danger, and he quickly fired his revolver in
that direction. ‘

instantly there was a loud shriek, and out
from the undergrowth rolled a horse in the
agonies of death, crushing its rider beneath its
quivering body, as its hoofs beat the air. '

Big Foot jerked the man out from the dying

horse, and set him against a tree. The face of
the stranger was pallid, and blood was issuing
from his lips, while his eyes glared wildly.
/ “ Dog-gone, my panther-cat!” exclaimed the
Giant Scout; “of that ain’t the cantankerous
cuss, Capitan Caramba, I’ll chaw bugs an’
snakes fer grub, for ther nex‘ six months.”

Sharp Eye and Post Oak Bill looked into the
face of the apparently dying man, the horn of
the saddle, as the horse reared upward and fell
backward, having crushed through the ribs
into his vitais. As his eyes now became fixed
upon the young scout, he said in a hoarse

“aspenwhublewammxw, not.

from his lips:

“ Come here; bend down to me, Eddie
Bowen, or Duval, if you so call yourself.”

“In Heaven’s name, who are you?” asked
Sharp Eye,.in astonishment, as be bent his ear
to the mouth of the outlaw.

“El Capitan Caramba, once Dudley Duncan,
the adopted son of Major Frank Adler: but
never so black as I have been painted. Where
are the captives?”

“Safe in that tree over our beads,” was the

reply.

forgotten what Wallace had told him in regard

to Colonel Bowen and Belle being in the vicin-
i ity and in danger; but all was now recalled,
, and he trembled with emotion at the thought
of the two who were dearest to him of all on
earth, who had been in such f- nrful peril. As
he was about to. spring up the tree in this
fresh excitement, a gasping whisper again came
from the dying man, who asked:

“ Where is George Adler .4”

“None on us knows,” put in Big Foot Wal-
lace. “ But we hopes he ain’t gone up jist
yitl”

“Tell him to look in the trunk of the old
oak, where he fought me for robbing the birds'
nest long ago. There—is—his—father’s—
goldi”

At the last word a spasm shook the frame of
the dying bandit, blood gushed from his mouth
and nostrils, and his head sunk forward, his
eyes glaring wildly for a moment, then turning
glassy, as the soul of Dudley Duncan, alias

 

Capitan Caramba, went—God knows where!
As soon as the three men realized that the

.noted outlaw was dead, they all went to
’ work with a will to revive the captives, who

were brought tenderly down, and carried out

‘ on the plain, there being laid upon blankets,

Warnona bathing their heads, and doing all in
her power to relieve them. But the poor girls
were so prostrated with fright, horror, and
physical suffering, that when they did revive,
and found their friends around them, only low
moans came from their lips.

The horses were caught, and harnessed to
the Dearborn, which was found at the bend
but slightly injured by bullets, blankets were
spread in the bottom of the vehicle, and the
maidens were conveyed under an escort of
Wacos to the ranch of Post Oak Bill. Black
Bear, who arrived too late for the fight, be
having galloped up the Medina too far to dis-
cover the Wacos in time to avoid a trip to the
Bandera Hills was now dispatched to Pleasan-
ton for a physician. ‘

Big Foot Wallace and Post Oak Bill, after
the departure of Sharp Eye with the maidens,
and the greater number of the Wacos, set
about athorough search for the colonel and
George Adler, the bodies of neither of them
having been discovered among the dead; and
not long was it before the horrible spectacle in
the bottom-timber broke upon them. Although
not as dread and terrible as when illuminated
by the moon, it was sufficiently so to fill the
scouts with cold chills, and cause them to halt
in their tracks in amazement.

Before them were the Mestizo and Frank
Ames, both stone dead. Near at, hand was
Colonel Bowen, secured to a tree, senseless but
alive, and the key to the horrible sight and the
puzzling position of the three bodies, lay be—
tween the same; outstretched upon the sward,
knife in hand, was none other than George
Adler. His face burned with fever, his heart
was beating like the rattle of a drum, and his
eyes glared vacantly up among the green
leaves, while his parched lips muttered childish
texts and prayers, or laughed wildly, as insane
thoughts controlled him.

The old scouts could not repress atear, as
they saw what must have been the sufferings
of the young man and the colonel; and they
felt positive that it was the former who had

3 killed the half-breed whom he had caught in
‘ the act of murdering Frank Ames.

Colonel Bowen and George Adler wore both
taken to the cabin of Post Oak Bill, which, for
a number of weeks, was more like a hospital
than a cattle ranch, as the doctor from Pleas-
onton was forced to remain during the run of
brain fever, with which both the colonel and
George were afflicted.

Maggie and Belle, however, speedily recov-
ered, and were assiduous in their care of the
acne encamped just above the
comb permanently, at the request of Post
Oak Bill.

But, dear reader, we must now wind up this
tale, so truly descriptive of border life.

George Adler was not long in finding the
immense sum of money that Dudley Duncan
had secreted in the oak, it having been too
heavy for him to carry away.

The box containing the fifty thousand dol-
lars, thrown from the wagon by Colonel Bowen,
was found on the prairie, and immediately

 

upon the colonel’s recovery was given to Sharp

c
.1
v-
if

 

Eye, who, to please Belle, as well as the old
gentleman, agreed to be known in future as
Edward Bowen.

The scouts, with the aid of Wild Wolf
buried from sight forever the mutilated bodies
of the three men. Barnes, Walker, and
Stephens, who met their terrible fate through
being induced by the flattering promises of
Frank Ames to aid the latter in his cowardly
and criminal project to gain the hand of Belle
Bowen in marriage.

Frank Ames and Ignacio the Mestizo, to‘
gether with Dudley Duncan, or Capitan Ca-
ramba, were buried side by side in the same
grave, and Big Foot Wallace decided that it
was a “ purty ’propriate plant. ”

All the horses of the Comanches and the ban-
dits, with the plunder of both camps, were
allotted to the gallant Wacos, the squaws of
the slain receiving the share that would have
fallen to their braves, had the latter survived.

Great was the surprise and relief of Edward
Bowen, on ascertaining that he had not killed
Frank Ames in the due]; and that his forced
wanderings, under that impression, had been
unnecessary, although he was very glad that
in consequence of this belief, he had met his
great happiness, in gaining the love of Maggie
Moore, whom otherwise he might never have
kn0wn. ’

The experiences of George Adler, during his
temporary madness, were as a horrid night-
mare, more than anything having the sem-
blance of reality, and they were never referred
to, either by himself or by Colonel Bowen.

When the colonel and Belle were informed
of the real name and character of Capitan
Caramba, they were no longer surprised at the
knowledge he had displayed in regard to them
and their affairs, when they Were in his power.

The remains of poor Rose were laid to rest
beneath the drooping moss of an oak, far from
the last terrible scene of her earthly suffer-
ings; and the horrors of her death were never
made known to either Maggie or Belle.

The stock of Post Oak Bill was purchased by
Edward Bowen, and the ranch was deserted,
although Bill and Big Foot often climbed up to
Maggie’s nest in the old tree, and convened
about the daring and heroism which their dar~
ling had displayed amid the fearful dangers she
encountered, and the bravery and faithfulness,
even unto death, of the Mexican boys, Juan
and Antonio, both of whom were buried where
they fell, at the foot of the giant oak. Often,
in after days, when Maggie and Belle together
visited the spot to decorate their gme with
prairie flowers, the former would recount their
desperate deeds of daring in her defense.

After Colonel Bowan‘s recovery, he was a
changed man. He really believed in his cwn
mind that George Adler had been informed by
Frank Ames, previous to the death of the lat-
ter at the tree—the knowledge of Frank‘s
death, and the place and manner of it having
been communicated to the colonel, dispelled
the notion he had taken up of the ghost of
Jack Ames—in regard to that note for twenty-
flve thousand dollars, and possibly much more
from the buried and unhappy past; so he
offered no further objections to the marriage
of George and Belle. Indeed, he expressed
himself as strongly in favor of ‘it, after be
ascertained that George had recovered his
father’s gold.

George Adler, however, had some cause to
be jealous, as Edward Bowen, who, with
Maggie Moore and the two scouts, accom-
panied the colonel, ’with Belle and George,
hack to the Trinity, was almost continually
monopolizing the society, not only of Maggie,
but of Belle, from whom he had been so long
separated.

In due course of time, the double marriage
was celebrated with great oclut, the scouts and
Wild Wolf being present, and all of whom
received handsome gifts from the old colonel.
The latter, soon after, at the earnest request of
Belle, seconded by George and Edward, and
encouraged by the scouts and the Waco, sold
out his plantation'and all his effects, and lo-
cated with his children, at a safe pOint on the
Medina, where they prospered in the stock
business, were made happy in the love of each
other, and doubly so, when they were visited,
as they frequently were, by Wild Wolf, War.
none, and the scouts—Post Oak Bill who,
after Maggie’s marriage, “ parded "continually
with his giant friend on the plains—and the
celebrated King of the Poet Oaks, _

“BIG Foo'r WALLACE. "  ”"
THE END.

 

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l Deadwood Dick, TEE PRINCE or THE ROAD
By Edward L. Wheeler.

2 leliowstone Jack. BV J05.  Badger, Jr.

3 Kansas King. B Butlalo Bill.

4 The Wild-Horse unters. By Captain
Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker.

5 Vagabond Joe, THE YOUNG WANDERING Jim.

B ' Oil Coomes. Double Number ilk-ts.

0 Tim Blddon, Trapper. by E. s. Ellis.
7 The Flying Yankee. By (‘0 . l’. Ingraham.
8 Seth Jones . By Edward S. Ellis.

9 Adventures oi Baron Munchausen.
0 Nat Todd. By E. S. Ellis.

The Two Detectives. Ely A.W. Aiken.
Gulliver’s Travel-I. B Dcan Swift.
The DuInb S I)’. By 0 Coomes.
Aladdin: or, us: \VONDEREI'L LAME.
Th Sou-Cat. By Capgln Fred. Whittaker.
Ro inson Crusoe. (.4 Illustrations.)

7 Ralph Roy, THE BOY BUCCANEER; or, THE

FUGITIVE YACET. B Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
18 Sindbad the Sal or. His Seven Voyages.
19 The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill.

20 The Double Daggers. By E. L. Wheeler.

21 The Frontier Angel. By Edward S. Ellis.

22 The Sea Ser ent. Juan Lewis.

23 Nick 0’ the ight. y T. C. Harbaugh.

24 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraiiam.

25 The Do Ca tain. By Roger Starbuck.

26 ('ioven oo ,TRE BUFFALO DEMON; or, Tm:
BORDER VULTURm. By Edward L. Wheeler.

27 Antelope Abe,TIIE BOY GUIDE. Oll Coomes

28 Buii‘alo Ben,TRE PRINCE or TEE STOL;
or, DEADme DICK IN DIsGmsE. E. L. eeler.

29 The Dumb Page. B Capt. F. Whittaker.

30 Roaring Ralph Roe wood,m RECE-

RANGER. By Harry St. Geo e.

31 eon-Knife, PRINCE or TEE RAIaIEs. By
011 Coomes.

32 Bob Woolf, TEE BORDER RUrrIAN; or. THE
GIRL DEAD-SHOT. By Edward L. Wheeler.

33 The Ocean Bloodhound. S. W. Pierce.

34 Oregon 801' or, NICE WRII-TLEs' BOY SPY
B'Ca t. J. F. (3. Adams.

35 \WII Ivan. By Edward L. Wheeler.

36 The Do Clown . By Frank S. Finn.

37 The Hi den Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh.

38 Ned W Ide, THE BOY SCOUT. By Texas Jack.

39 Death- ace, TEE DETECTIVE. By Wheeler.

40 Roving Ben. By J. J. Marshall.

.41 Lasso Jack. B 011 Coomes.

42 The Phantom . iner. BE E, L.Wheeler.

43 Dick Darling, TEE PONY males RIDER.
B Ca t. Frederick Whittaker.

44 [{att lug Rube . By Harry St. George.

45 Old Avalanche. By Edward L. Wheeler.

46 Glass Eye, THE GREAT Saar or run: WEsT.

D‘I-Ilhlfl-IflI-l
amoun—

B Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
47 Nvl htin ale Nat. By T. C. Harbnufih.
48 B ark ohn, THE ROAD-AGENT. By Edger.

49 Omaha Oil. By Edward L. Wheeler.

50 Burt Bunker, TEE TRAPPER. C. E. Lasalle.

51 The Bo ' Riiics. By Archie C. irons.

52 The “'h te Bull'alo. By C. E. Lasalle.

53 Jim Bludsoe Jr. Bf Edward L.Wheeler.

54 Ned Hazel. B’y Ca t. .F. C. Adams.

65 Deadly- Eye, TEE NRNOWN SCOIYT' or, TEE
BRANDED BROTHERROOD. B ' Buffalo Bill.

66 Nick Whlfllos’ Pet.‘ . J. F. C. Adams.

67 Deadwood Dick’s Bag es. 7 By Wheeler.

68 The Izoider Kli3 . BysOlléJoomes.
OldHc or'. y a ' L. eo e.

23 The White indian. rat)». J.  Adams.

61 Buckhorn Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler.

62 The Shadow Ship. BV Col. P. Ingra am.

63 The Red Brotherhood. W. J. Ham ton.

Dand Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh.

Hnrr cane Bill. By JOE. E. Badger. Jr

66 Single "and. B ' '. J. Hamilton.
67 Patent-leather oc. By l’hili l S. Warne.
68 Border Robin Hood. BY ut‘faio Bill.

By Edward L. W’heeler.
By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.

Gold Rifle.
Old le’s Cabin.
Delaware Dick. By 011 Coomes.

2 Mad 'l‘om \I'cstorn. By W. J. Hamilton.
3 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Wheeler.
4 Hawk-eye Harry. By Oll COomes.

'75 The Boy Duclist. By Col. P. Ingraham.
A be Colt, TIIE CROW-KILLER. By A. W. Aiken.
'77 Corduro Charlie, Tm: BOY BRAVO; or,
DEADWOOD ICk‘s LAST ACT. By E. L. )Yheeler.
Blue Dick. By Ca tain Mayne Reid. .
Sol Gin er, GIANT RAPPER. By A.W. Aiken.
Rosebu Rob. By Edward L. “ heeler.
Lightning J o. By Capta§n J. F. C. Adams.
Kit Hareiqot. By T. C. iarlmugh.
Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes.
ldyl the Girl Elinor. By E. L. Wheeler.
Buck Buckram. B Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
Dund Rock. By .WaldO Browne.
The and Pirates. ByCa t, Mayne Reid.
88 Phottfirralph Phil. By E. fiwheeler.

s9 Inlan J m. By Brace I'idae
90 The Dread Rider. By (5.
91 The Captain ofthec ub

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aldo Browne.

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vaL ATHLETEs. By Braoshrl Hemyng.
92 Canada Chet. By Edward L. , ex.
93 The Bo Miners. Byi‘Edward S. s.
94 Midnig It Jack By ._C. Harba h.
95 The Rival Bo rs. Lieut. Col. azeltine.
96 w.u-]..'..}ye. m SHADOW. B ' . Wheeler.
97 The outlaw Brothers. By .J. Marshall.

931391,“. flood TIIE OUTLAWEI) EARL; orl, TEE

Rssxwoon. Prof. Gilders eeve,
mnnrgzirogl‘ ’l‘aos. By G. Waldo Browne.
100 Deadwood Dick in Leadvillc; or, A
STRANGE STROKE FOR LIBERTY. By Wheeler.
101 Jack nukgway in New York. By
mm!!! Hemyng.
102 Dick‘ Dead-Eye. By Col. Ingraham.

 

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The Lion of the Sea.
Deadwood Dick’s Device. BY Wheeler.
.- Old Rube, THE HUNTER. Ca )t. H. Holmes.
6 Old Frosty. THE GI'IDE. By .C. Harbaugh.
7 One-Eyed Si'ln. By James L. Bowen.
8 During Dav¥i By Barry St. George.
9 Deadwood [ch as Detective. By
Edward L. Wheeler.
0 The Black Steed or the Prairies. A
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1 The Sea-Devil. By 061. P. Ingraham.
‘ The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe.
’ Jack Hoyle, THE YOI'NG SPECULATOR; or,
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The Black Schooner.
. The Mad Miner. By C. Waldo Browne.
The Hussar Ca tain. Col. P. Ingraham.
Gilt-Edged Dic . By E. L. Wheeler.
\Vill Somers. THE BOY DETECTIVE. Moms.
Mustang Sam. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont.
Cinnamon Chip. By Fdward L. Wheeler.
Phil Hardy, THE Boss BOY. By C. Morris.
Kiowa Charley. By T. C. Harbaugh.
Tippy, THE TEXAN. By George Gleason.
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Plea une Pete. By Charles Morris.
Wil -Fire, Bosses-mm) . BvDumont.
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Deadwoo Dick’s Double. By Wheeler.
Detective Dick. By Charles Morris.
The Golden Hand. By Geo. W. Browne.
The Hunted Hunter. By Ed. 8. Ellis.
Boss Bob, TIIE KING or THE BOOTELACRE:
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Sure Shot Seth. Br 01] Coomes.
(3a tain Paul Tm: ENTUCRY MOONSBBN'ER;
or . BOY SPY or THE MOUNTAINs. Bv Clark.
Night-Hawk Kit. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.
The Hei less Hand. Capt. Mayne Reid.

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Blonde ill; or, DEADWOOD DICII’s lian
BABE. Edward L. Wheeler.
Judge ynch, Jr. B T. C. Harbaugh.

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Daint Lance, THE 30Y SPORT. By Badger.
Capta n Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler.
Silver Star, THE BOY KNIGHT. By Coomes.
Will Wildfire, TEE THOROUGHBRED; or,
TI-IE WINNING HAND. By Charles Morris.
Sharp Sam. J. AlexanderPatten,
A Game of Gold. By Ed. L. Wheeler,
Lance and Lasso. By Capt. F.Whitmker,
Panther Paul, Tm»: mil!!! Forum or,
DAINTY LANCE To um Ramon. J. E. Badger.
2 Black Bess, WILL WILDFIRE’s RACER; or,
WINNING AGAINST ODDS. By Charles Morris.
axle Kit, THE BOY DEMON. B Oil Coonies.
4 The SWOrd Hunters. B'Iy' .Whittaker.
5 Gold Trigger TEE SPORT. . C. Harbaugh.
6 Deadwood flick of Deadwood' or,
Tm: PICKED PARTY. By Edward L. Whee er.
57 Mike Merry, m HARBOR POLICE Borzor,
Tat NIGHT-HAWKS or PHILADELPHIA. Morris.
Frank of Colorado. Buflalo Bill.

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09 The out Captain. By Whittaker.
0 The Black Gian‘t. J. E. Badger, Jr.
1 New York Nell. By .L.W'heeler.

2 “'iil Wildfire in the Woods. Morris.
3 Little. Texas. By 0]] Conmes.

4 Dandy Rock’s Pledge. B ' G.W. Browne.
5 Bill: Bax age. B Char es Morris.

6 Hie ory arr . yHarry St. George.
7 Asa Scott, TIIE TEAMDOAT BOY. By Willett.
8 Deadly Dash. BY Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
9 Tornado Tom.

By T. C. Harbaugh.
0 A Trum Card. y Charles Morris.
bony

an. By Frank Dumont.
Thunderbolt Tom. By Har St. George.
Dandy Rock’s Rival. By 1.W. Browne.
Bob Rockelt, THE BOY DODGEIL BY Morris.
Captain A rlzona. By Philip S.Warne.
The Boy Runaway. By Lieut. Perry.
Nobby Nick of Nevada. E. L. Wheeler.
Old Solitary. ByOll Coomes.
Bob Rockctt, THE BANK RI'NNER. Morris.
The Sea Trailer.
“'lid Frank, TEE BUCRSKIN BRAVO; or,
LADY LILY‘s LOVE. By Edward L. Wheeler.
Little Hurricane. By 011 000mm.
The Hidden Hand. By Chas. Morris.
The Boy Trailers. By Badger. Jr.
Evil Eye, KING or CATer THIEVES: 0r, TEE
VUL'rrREs or THE RIO GRANDE. B F. Dumont.
Cool Desmond. By Col. De 6 Sara.
Fred Halyard. By Charles Morris.
Ned Temxle, THE BORDER BOY. Harhaugh.
Bob Roc ett, Tm: CRACKSMAN. By Morris.
Dand Darke. BV Wm. R. Eyster.
Ruii'u 0 Billy. By Can‘.Taylor, U. S. A.
Captain K it. By Lieut. H. D. Perry,U.S.N.
Captain Musk. By Phili S. Warne.
. A Buii‘alo Bill’s Bet. By ‘aptain Taylor.
Deadwood Dick’s Dream._ By Wheeler-
Shadowed. By Charles Moms.
Little Grit, THE WILD RIDER. By Ingraham-
Ar'lrtan. “g; TEE MAN WITH THE KNIFE
. C. ar u: .
9 eatherwolzht. By Edward Wine“.
00 The Boy Bcdollins. By Whittaker-
201 The Black Hills Jezebel. By Wheeler.
011 Coomes.
203 The Roy Pards. By JOE. E.
204 Gold Plume, THE BOY BANDIT. Inkj‘aham.
205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom. By Wheel??-
206 Dark Paul, THE TIGER KING. By C. Moms.
207 Navajo Nick. . By'r. C. Harbaugh.

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004::

LIBRARY.

By Col. Delle Sara. :

Roger Starbuck. ‘

By Lieut. H. D. Perry.'

8 The Boy Hercules. BY 01! Coomes.

9 Fritz, THE BOUND-BOY DETECTIVE. Wheeler.
0 Faro Frank of High Pine. ByE ster.
i Crooked Cale. By Joe. E. Badger, 

2 Dashing Dave, THE DANDY DETECTIVE.
By Charles Morris.

l‘rltz to the Front. By E. L. Wheeler.
\Volfgang THE Rosana or THE RRINE.
By Captain 1‘ rederick V‘Vhittaker.

5 Ca itain Bullet, THE RAIDER KING. By
T. . Harbauzh.

6 Bison Bill, THE PRINCE or THE Rams.
By Col. Prentiss Ingralmxn.
7 Captain Crack-Shot. B E. L. Wheeler
8 Tiger Tom, TEE TEXAN TERROR. ByOli
Coomes.

9o Dcspard, the Duelist. By P. S. Warne.
l

2

3

NNNNM

NM
Nu-i i—u-i in H I-II-l uni—ca
III-W

MN NM N M

Tom Tanner, SCALAWAG AND SCAPEGBACIL

By Charles Morris.

Sugar Coated Sam. By E. L. Wheeler.

Grit, the Bravo Sport. B

Ozark Alf, KING or TEE

Edward Willi-tt.

Dashing Dick; or. TRAPPER Tom's CAsTIE

By 011 Coomes.

Sam Charcoal. By Charles Morris.

Snoozcr Tm: BOY SHARP. By E. L.Wheelcr.

Dusky arrell. TRAPPER. By E. Emerson.

Little \Viidiire. By 011 Coomes.

229 Crimson Kate, THE GIRL TRAILER. By
Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

230 The Yankee Rajah. By C. D. Clark.

231 Piucky Phil, orm MOUNTAIN TRAIL. By
T. C. Harbauzh.

232 Gold-Dust Dick. By E. L. Wheeler.

233 Joe Buck, oi'An els AND HIE BOY PAaD
PAUL PownERnoaN. y Albert W. Aiken.

234 Old Rocky’s “ Boyces ;” or, BENITO,
THE YOUNG HORSE-BREAKER. By Buckskin Sam.

235 Shadow Sam, TEE MESSENGER Bar; or,
TURNING m TABLES. By Charles Morris.

236 Apollo Bill, THE TRAIL TORNADO. By Ed-
ward Wheeler.

237 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain .
TEE MYSTERIOUS RANCRERO. By P. In: am.

238 The Parson Detective. By 0!! Comes.

239 The Gold-seeker Guide: or, 'i‘IIa L0

240

NQM

Ingz'aham.
OONTAIN. L‘y

t9
Edam

3T
MOUNTAIN. B I Captain Mayne Reid.
Wheeler.

241 Bill Bra 0 an His Bear Pards.
By T. C. H ugh.

The Two ‘ B oods’. Charlesliorris.

243 By Oil Coomes.

244 Sierra Sam, Tux FRONTIER FERRET. By
Edward L. Wheeler.

245 Merle, the Middy. By Col. P.1ngraham.

247 Old Grizzly and His Pets. B tain
“ Bruin " Adams. y up

2-18 Sierra Sam’s Secret. By E. L. Wheeler.

249
Mldshiplnan Mutineer. By lngraham.

251 Light-house nge. By J. F. C. Adams.

252 Dick Dashawayr; or, A DAKOTA Boy n:

o

253 Sierra Sam’s Pard.

The Half Blood; or. TEE PANTHER or
TIII: PLAINS. By Edward S. Ellis.

255 Ca tain Apollo, Tare KING-PIN or Down;
or. o’ LIGRTNLNG’E FEUD. By T. C.
Harbaugh.

256 Youug_Kentuck; or, T3]: RED 14850.
By Captain Mark Wilton.

257 The Lost Hunters: or. Tax UNDER-
GROUND CAMP. By Captain J. F. C. Adams.

258 Sierra Sam’s Seven; or, Ta: STOLEN
BRIDE. By Edward L. Wheeler.

259 The Golden Harpoon; or, Low Aaoxo
TIIE FLOEs. By Roger Starbuck.

260 Dare-Devil Dan, THE YOUNG PRAIm
RANGER. By OllCOomes.

261 Fergus Fearnauzht, TEE NEW You
BOY. By George L. Aiken.

262 The Young Sleuths; or. ROILIme
Mum's HOT TRAIL. By Charles Morris.

263 Deadwood Dick’s Divide. By Edward
L. Wheeler.

264 The Floating Feather; or. luau:
MONTE‘s TREASURE IsLAND. By 00L Prentiss
Ingraham.

265 The Tiger Tamer. By Capt. Whittaker,

266 Killb’ar,the Guide; or, DAVY Cnocxm‘s

(3200an TRAIL. By Evisi Charles Dudley
Warren, (of the Engineer‘sggorps.)

Cyclone K t. B Edward‘L.
242

The Disguiscd Guide.
246 Giant George. By Buckskin Sam.

Milo Romer. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.
250

CHICAGO. By Chas ms.

By E. L. Wheeler.

254

"267 The Buckskin Detective. By T. 0.
Ha nigh. ‘
268 Di'fld‘VOOd Dick’s Death Trail. By
Edward L. Wheeler. '
Core

269 The Gold Ship' or, MERLE. TE
DEMNED. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrahom.

270 Blizzard n.- ma AMA Omit

. By CaptainMarkWi ton. ,

271 The Sloan] Man of the Prairies.
By Edward 8. Ellis. Ready October 8d.

A new (ewe every week.

The Half-Dime Library is for 319‘ all
Ncwsdealers, five. cents per copBYli‘or sent by on
receipt of .six gents cash. . .ADLE & ADAMS.
Pubhshers, 98 William e‘I- et, hew York.

 

1 A Hard Crowd.
2 The Dare-Devil. By Col. Ingrnham.
3 Kit Carson, Jr. By Buckskin Sam.
4 The Kidnapper By P. S. Warne.
5 The Fire-I‘iends. By A. P. Morris.
6 Wildcat Bob. By E. L. Wheeler.
7 Death-Notch. By 011 Uoomes.
8 The Headless Horseman. A strange
story of Toms. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
9 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.
10 Vidocq. THE FRENCH POLICE
W'rltten by llllllht‘lf.
11 Midshipman Easy.
18 The .‘.eath-Shot. By Mayne Reid.
13 Pathaway. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
14 Thayendane ea. By Ned Buntlme.
' 15 The Tiger-S ayer. By G. Aimard.
16 The White Wizard. Ned Buntline.
17 Nightshade. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
18 The Sea Bandit. By Ned Buntline.
19 Red Cedar. By Gustave Aimard.
20 The Bandit at Bay. By Aimard.
21 The Trapper's Da hter; OR,
THE OUTLAw's FATE. By Gustave imurd.
Whitelaw. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
23 The Red Warrior. By Ned Buutliue
24 Prairie Flower. By G. Aimard.
25 The Gold-Guide. By F. Johnson.
26 The Death-Track. By F. Johnson.
27 The Spotter-Detective. By Aiken.
28 Three-Fingered Jack. THE ROAD-
AGENT OE TIII: ROCKIES. By Jose h E. Badger, Jr.
29 Tiger Dick, THE ARo KING; or,
THE CASHIER’H CRIME. By Philip S. Warne.
30 Gospel Geor e. By J. E..Badger.
81 The‘ New Yor Sharp. By Aiken.
88 B'hoys of Yale. By J. D. Vose.
33 Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken.
34 Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken.
85 Kentuck, the Sport. By Aiken.
36 Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken.
37 Hal-1,. the Hunchback: OR, THE
bWUEDMAKi-ZR or THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
88 Velvet Hand. By A. W. Aiken.
89 The Russian Spy. By Whittaker.
40 The Lon Haired ‘Pardsz’ OR,
THE TARTARs OF THE INS. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.
41 Gold Dan. By Albert W. Aiken.
42 California Detective. By-Aiken.
43 Dakota Dan. By 011 Coomes.
44 Old Dan Rackback. Oll Coomes.
45 Old Bull’s Eye. J0s. E. Badger, Jr.
48 Bowie-Knife Ben. By 011 Coomes.
47 Pacific Pete. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
48 Idaho Tom. By 011 Coomes.
49 The Wolf Demon. By A. W. Aiken.
50 Jack Rabbit. By J. E. Badger, Jr.
51 Red Rob. By 011 Coomes.
52 Death Trailer. By Buffalo Bill.
53 Silver Sam. By Col. Dolle Sal-q.
54 Always on Hand. By P. S. Warns.
55 The Scalp Hunters. Mayne Reid.
56 The Indian Mazeppa. By Aiken.
57 The Silent Hunter. P. B. St. John.
58 Silver Knife. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
59 The Man From Texas. By Aiken.
60 Wide Awake. By Frank Dumont.
61 Captain Seawaif. By Ned Buntline.
62 Loyal Heart. By Gustave Aimard.
63 The Win ed Whale. By Aiken.
04 Double- ifiht, the Death Shot.
By Jose h E. Badger. r.
as The Red Ra ah. By E Whittaker.
66 The Specter que. Mayne Reid.
67 The Boy Jock . By J. E. Badger.
68 The P hting p or: or, KIT
By Ca . J. F. C. Adams

CAssos To THE EscuE.
69 The Irish Ca tain. By Whittaker.
70 Hydrabad. y Dr. J. H. Robinson.
71 Captain Cool-Blade. J. E. Badger.
72 The Phantom Hand. By Aiken.
73 The Knight of the Red Cross:

or. THE MAGICIAN or GRANADA. Dr. J. H. Robinson.
74 Captain oftho Rifles. Mayne Reid.
75 Gentleman Goo . By Aiken.
76 The Queen’s usketeer: or,

'I‘Ersnn. THE Famous PAms'r. By George Albany.
77 The Fresh ofPrisco. By Aiken.
78 The Mysterious 57. By Grainger
79 Joe Phonix. POLICE PY. By Aiken.
80 A Han of Nerve By P. S. WEI-no.

81 The Human Tiger. By Aiken.

82 Iron Wrist. the Swordmaster.
By COL Thomas H. Mouster-

By P. S. \Varne.

SPY.

Capt. Murryat.

~HERITAGE or HATRED. B

 

__ F .,

ll“
1

83 Gold Bullet Sport. By Buffalo Bill.
84 Hunted Down. By A. W. Aiken.
85 The Cretan Rover. By Ingraham.
86 The Bi Hunter; or. THE QUEEN
or THE WOODS. y the author of “ Silent Hunter."
87 The Scarlet Captain. belle Sara.
88 Big- George. By J 05. E. Badger, Jr.
89 The Pirate Prince. By Ingruham.
90 Wild Will. By Buckskin Sam.
91 The Winning Oar. By Aiken.
92 Buflalo Bill. By Dangerfield Burr.
93 Captain Dick Talbot. By Aiken.
94 Freelance, By Col. P. Ingrabam.
95 Azhort, THE AXMAN. By A. P. Morris.
96 Double-Death. By F. Whittaker.
97 Bronze Jack. By A. W. Aiken.
98 The Rock Rider. By Whittaker.
99The Giant Rifleman. Oll Coomes
100 The French Spy. By A. P. Morris.
101 The Man from New York: or,
TEE ROMANCE or A RICH YOUNG WOMAN. By Aiken.
102 The Masked Band. Goe. L. Aiken
103 Merle. the Mntineer. Ingruham.
104 Montezuma, the Merciless: or,
THE EAGLE AND THE SERPENT. By Col. P. Ingrsham.
105 Dan Brown of Denver, 'l‘uE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN DETECTIVE. By J 03. E. Badger, Jr.
106 Shamus O'Brien. Col. .Delle Sara.
107 Richard Talbot of Cinnabar:
or, THE BROTHERS or THE RED HAND. B A.W. Aiken.
108 The Duke of Diamon s; or, THE
FLOWER or CADcu'I'rA. By Capt. Frwl. Whittaker.
109 Captain K (1. By Col. Ingraham.
1 10 The Silent iflelnan. By Herbert.
1 1 1 The Smu ler Captain; or, THE
SEIPPER‘S CRIME. By edBuntline.
112 Joe Phenix, PRIVATE DETECTIVE;
or, THE LEAGUE or THE SKELETON KEYS. By Aiken.
113 The Sea Sli per: 0r, TIHE AMA-
am.

'rEUR FREEEOOTERs. By 1'. J. H. I
114 The Gentleman from c: or,
THE GHOST or THE CANYON. By Philip S. Warne.
115 The Severed Head. Whittaker.
116 Black Plume. By Col. Ingraham.
1 17 Dashing Dandy. By Major Burr.
118 The Burglar Captain; or, THE
FALLEN STAR. By Pro . J. H. Ingraham.
119 Alabama Joe. By J. E. Badger.
120 The TexanS y. By N. M. Curtis.
121 The Sea C et. By Ingrsbsm.
122 Saul Sabberda . Ned Buntline.
123 Alapaha, the quaw; or, THE
RENEGADEs on THE BORDER. By Francis Johnson.
124 Assowaum, the Ave er; or,
TEE D00: or THE DES ms. By Fran Johnson.
125 The Blaéhhmith Outlaw; or,
MERRY ENGLAND. By Harrison Ainsworth.
126 The Demon Duelist. By Monstery.
127 Sol Scott. THE MAstD MINER; or,
DAN BsowN’s DOUBLI. By Joseph E. Badger.
128 The Chevalier Corsair: or, THE
the author of “Merle.”
129 Mississip i ose. B ' Ed.Willett.
130 Captain oleano. y Aiken.
131 Buckskin Sam. By Col. Ingraham.
132 Nemo, King of the Tram s; or,
THE ROMANY GIRL‘E VENGEANCE. By Whit ker.
133 Rody. the Rover. By W. Carleton.
134 Darkie Dan. By Col. Ingmham.
135 The Bush Ran or. By Johnson.
136 The Outla’w- unter. Johnson.
137 Long Beard. By ()1! Coomes.
138 The Border Bandits. Johnson.

139 Fire- e. THE SEA HYENA; or,
THE BRIDE or A UCGANEEE. By Col. P. Ingmham.

140 The Three Spaniards. By
George Walker.

141 Equinox Tom. By J. E. Badger.

142 Captain Crimson. THE MAN or THE
IRON FACE. By Major Dangerfield Burr.

143 The Csar’s S . By Monstery.
. 144 The Hunchbac ofNotre-Dams.
By Victor Hugo. '

145 Pistol Pards. By W. R. Eyster.

146 The Doctor Detective; or, THE
Inns! or THE GOLDEN Con-n1. By Geo. Lemuel.

147 Gold Spur. By Col. P. lngrshsm.

148 One-Armed Alf. By 011 Coomes.

149 The Border Rifles. By Alum-d.

150 31 Rubio Bravo. KING or m
870mg. By Col. Thomas Boyer Monster-y.

151 he Proobootors. By Aimm‘d-

!" Captain Ironnervo. Tan COUN-
TnnrrsR CH1". By Marmaduke Day.

153 The White Scalper. By Aimard.

154 Joaquin, THE SADDLE KING. By
Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

  :1 In“. Emil L:

 

155 The Corsair Queen. Ingrabnm.
156 Velvet Face. By Major Burr.
157 Mourad. THE MAMELUKE. By
Col. Thomas Ho 13‘ Monster .
158 The oomed osen. Dr. Powell.
159 Red Rudiger. By F. Whittaker.
160 Soft Hand. Sha . By Eyster.
161 The Wolves of ew York; or,
JOE PHENIx’s GREAT MAN HUNT. By A. W. Aiken.
162 The Mad Mariner: or, DISHON-
ORED AND DISOWNED. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm.
163 Ben Brion, THE TRAPPER CAP-
TAIN. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
164 The King’s Pool. By C. D. Clark.
165 Joaquin, the Terrible. Badger.
166 Owlet, the Robber Prince; or,
THE UNKNOWN HIGHWAYIAN. By Septimus RUrbun.
167 The Man of Steel. A. P. Morris.
168 Wild Bill, THE PISTOL DEAD SHOT.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingrnham.
169 Corporal Cannon. THE MAN OF
FORTY DUELs. By Colonel Thomas Hoyer Monstery
170 Sweet William, THE TRAPPER
DETECTIVE. By Jose h E. Bridger. Jr.
171 Tiger ick, THE MAN OF THE
IRON HEART. By Phili IS. Warne.
172 The Blac Pirate. By lngraham.
173 California John. By A.W. Aiken.
174 Phantom Kni hts. By Whittaker.
175 Wild Bill’s rump Card. By
Major Dangerfield Burr.
176 Lady Jaguarmnn ROBEER QUEEN.
By Captain Mark Wilton.
177 Don Diablo. THE PLANTER-COR<
HAIR. By Col. Prentiss lngraham.
178 Dark Dashwood. By Major Hall.
179 Conrad, the Convict; or. WAS
HE GUILTY? By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve, LL.D.
180 Old ’49. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.
181 The Scarlet Schooner; or, THE
NEEEsrs OF THE SEA. By (‘01. Prentiss Ingraham.
182 Hands Up! By Wm. R. Eyster.
183 Gilbert. the Guide. C. D. Clark.
184 The Ocean Vam ire: or, THE
HEIREss or CASTLE ('URsE. By .01. P. Ingrshsm.
185 Man Spider. By A. 1’. Morris.
186 The Black Bravo. Buckskin Sam.
187 The Death's Head Cuirassiers;
or. BRAVIOJ‘ALL BRAVES. Bst. t. Fred.Whitta.ker.
188 The Phantom pa. By
M I- D rfleld Burr.
89 ild Bill’s Gold Trail: or, THE.
DEerRADo DozEN. By 001. Prentiss Ingrahsm.
190 Three Guardsmen. By
Alexandre Dum

as.
191 The Terrible Tonkaway; or,
(Nimbus Hrs lli‘ARDs. BgBuckr'tskin Sam];
6 L13 tning o : or HR:
BAD MEN or SLADGHTER BAR. By? Wm. R. Ey’ster.
193 The Man in Red. By F. Whittaker.
194 Don Sombrero. THE CALIFORNIA
ROAD GENT. By Captain Mark Wilton.
195 The Lone Star Gambler; or,
THE MAID or THE MAGNOLIAs. By Buckskin Sam.
196 La. Msrmoset. THE DETECTIVE

QUEEN. By Albert. W. Aiken.

197 Revolver Rob. THE RED- HANDED;
By Joseph E. er, Jr.

198 T eleton Schooner. By

Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

199 Diamond Dick, THE DANDY FROM
DENVER. By Buckskin Sam.

200 The Rifle Rangers.
Mayne Reid.

201 The Pirate of the Pincers; or,
JOAQUIN‘s DEATH-HUNT. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

202 Cactus Jack. THE GIANT GUIDE;
or, THE MAsRED Rosanna 0E BLACK BEND. By
Captain Mark Wilton. v

203 The Double Detective. By Al-
bert W. Aiken. '

204 Big Foot Wallace, THE KING OF

THE Ian; or. WILD WOLF, THE WAoo. By Buck-

skin Sam.

205 The Gambler Pirate. By Col.
Prentiss Ingraham.

206 One Eye. the Cannonoer: or.
MAEsEALL Nn‘s LAsT LIGAGY. By Capt. Frederick
Whittaker.

207 Old Hard Head; or, WHIRLWIND
All: His MILE-WHITE MAEE. By Philip S. Warne.
208 The White Chief. By Captain
lune Reid.
A modem my week.

Bosdlc’s Dimemllbnry is for; 3:19 5 lgn

sdeal .tencen rcopy orsen ym on

Nl'ecelew t 'oiartswelve centspeeach. BEADLE a ADAMS,
Publahers. % William Street. New York,

By Capt.

 

 

 

“\K.