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IRONA;

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

AI'T‘HOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOVEU:

3 TM: BOY MINEBS. 28 INDIAN Jm.

6 Tm: WHITE TRACKER. 31 MYSTIC CANOE.

12 mass, THE TRAPPER. 36 THE Bow PIONEER.
23 OLD KENT, THE RANGER. 40 THE HUGE HUNTER.

147 CHINGA, THE CHEYENNE.

‘ > NEVV YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, “
No.newmmsmm.

    

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1561, by

BEA D L E AN 1) COMPANY,
In the! Clerk’s mm or the District Court. or the United States for (bu
' Southern Diutrict. or New York.

 

 

 

 
    
 
 

  

 

IRONA;

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

 

C II A P T E R I .
THE CONFERENCE.

ON a cold, rainy night, in the spring of 18—, two men were
seated in a mansion occupying one of the most aristocratic por-
tions of New Orleans. The apartment in which we find them
bore evidence of the good taste as well as wealth of the owner.
Paintings by the hands of masters, sculpture from skillful Chisels,
and volumes whose binding alone might; tempt the eye of ava-
riee, were arranged by one who ttnderstood and appreciated
their value. The elegant furniture, the yielding carpet, which
gave back no sound of the tread, the ruddy glow of the grate-—
all these were suggestive of comfort and luxury, and upon this
dismal night were in cheerful contrast to the storm raging
without.

The two men occupied opposite sides of a table, on which
stood several wine-glasses and a fiagon of that beverage. Both
had drank but slightly, and their manner was unmistakably
that of two persons about to enter upon a matter ot‘ import-
ance. The eldest was Alfredo Se 'aville, who, though horn up-
on American Soil, inherited all the pride and prejudices of his
Castilian ancestors. 110 was about, sixty years of age, with a
head partially bald, and with hair almost entirely gray. llis
countenance was devoid of that swarthy hue so generally char-
acteristioot‘ his people, and the golden spectacles which he wore,
helped to give. him the appearance ot' a respectable American
gentleman. He seemed a courteous, dignified man—one who
could never stoop to do a low, dishonorable deed; and a keen
reader of human nature would have detected in his air and
manner upon the present occasion that which told plainly there
was little sympathy between him and his guest. His dress was
that of the countrv in which he was horn—7a rich suit of black.
When speaking, his accent was slightly foreign ; but, an he rarely
used the Spanish language, except. when conversing with one of
that. nation, few would have been able to judge his descent and

    

 

  

10 LIFE ON THE OLD scorn-weer 303mm.
education. As we have hinted, he was tenacious in hisprejudi-
cos, and would have deemed any man his mortal enemy who
dared to slight that pride of his life, his descent from the old
Castilian stock of Spain——that which, with one exception, was

cherished beyond all others of his possessions. His wife had

been dead for twelve years, and he had but one child—Irena—
who was now well verged toward womanhood. Upon her he
had bestowed all the kindness of an affectionate father. All

' that wealth and love could do had been done for her. Only
the previous year she had returned from Europe, where several
years had been spent in receiving an education. She had left
mine a child, and returned a woman. Well, indeed, might the
father be proud of his daughter. She was as amiable as accom-
plished, and doubly repaid the warm love of her parent. But

a shadow had crossed their threshold——and this shadow was the

cause of the present interview.

The visitor of Alfredo Seraville was a man about forty years
‘ of age—one whose precise nationality was not known even to
himself. The Italian, Spanish, and American blood seemed
mixed in his composition, neither predominating over the other
His close-cropped hair, which grew low upon his forehead,was
black as midnight. His Indian blood was manifest in the high
cheek-bones and black e Yes. Beneath the latter were numerous
“ crew’s feet.” while the orehead was crossed by several wrinkles,
and a tuft of hair upon the chin, singular] enough, was perfectly
my. He seemed a person addicted to issipation and vicious
indulgence, inured to toil, privation and suffering, of a nature
avarieious, secretive and vindictive, and one whose enmity would
be fatal to any man. He was able to keep his own secrets, and
it was manifest he held many and dangerous ones. He answered
to the truly American title of' Colonel Ovaton. .
“ Before proceeding to business," said the latter, with a mean-
ing glance toward the door, “it’s my belief that it would be best

to see that no other ears beside our own are likely to hear what ‘

is said.”
“Eavesdroppers do not frequent my house, Colonel Ovaton."
“ Oh l—it’s all right, if you say so. I’m sure it makes no dif-
ference to me. I have nothing to lose. Are you ready to pro-

ceed to business ‘3” asked Ovaton, looking steadily over his wine— .

glass at his companion.

" Certainly, sir; I see no objection at all.”

“Well, then, Don Alfredo,” (the appellation of Don was a}
ways pleasant to the one addressed) “ suppose you open the meet-
lng by a statement of its objects, and your ideas about mat-
ters and things in general.”

Colonel Ovaton had emptied his glass, and he now hron ht it

heavily down upon the table, folded his arms, and, leaning sch ,

in his Beat, Compressed his lips, and looked toward his host as ifto

invite him to proceed.‘ The latter, leaning his face upon hil‘

 
 

     
 

 
  
 
 
   
  

 
 

      
   

 

 

 
 
 
  

    

 

 

 
 

moonnnmo :ro Busmnss. a... I it.

 

 

he. 11, while his elbow rested upon the table, gazeddownwmd
a. few moments as if perplexed and troubled. l‘hen raising his
eyes to those of his companion, he ,spoke in a deliberate and
musical voice :

“ You go to Texas to-morrow ‘5’"

Colonel Ovaton nodded assent. ,

“ You expect to be absent a couple of months 5*”

“ About that—perhaps not so long.”

“How many go with you ‘5"

“Three; Pierre Choujeau, Jacques Chonticr, and the young
American, Ross Welland."

“ Your object, Colonel O atom, I believe is to penetrate along
distance into Texas—as far as the Llano Estacmla, if I mistake
not. You are sent out by a firm in our city for the purpose of
learning more of that section than is known to us. They wish
to establish, if possible, a trade or svstem of barter with the In-
dians of that section. Am I. right in my surmises ?"

“ It’s about as you say; that’s the idea of these merchants.”

“ You are not sure you will be gone more than two months ‘3"

“ That is the time 1 have set down for the men, but it is just
as likely, if I come back at all, that it will be at the end of six
Weeks."

“The three men who go with yon—including the young
American—are employed by you. 'lhey bind themselves to re-
main with you, no matter how long a. time you may be absent
For instance, if unforeseen circumstances should compel you to
remain away six months or even a year, they bind themselves
to stay with you. Am I right in this supposition ?"

“ You are right, Don Alfredo; the men who join me on such
expeditions do so for the journey, whether it be a 1mg orsh ort
one.

“Well, then, Colonel Ovaton, the object of my sending for,
you this evening,r is to induce you to remain in Texas for six:
months, at the very least."

“ What!" demanded Colonel Ovaton, looking toward his host
in astonishment.

“ Don’t be surprised; I will explain all in a few moments. I
suppose you can be permtaded to overstay the time which you
have calculated upon “i”

“I have not thought of the matter, Don Alfredo. If you will
consent to make yourself clear, we will be better able to under-
stand each other."

Seraville hesitated a moment, and then proceeded:

“‘ Of course. it is necessary that I should do so, and you Will
understand before going further, that the matter is one which
mentirely between you and myself.

Alleluia nod intimated that that much was understood, at least. »

“ 0 come to the point then :—It is with the greatest pain that, .
during the past few months, -I have discovered a growing

 

 

   

12- an on an on: scum-wen mum

intimat, or friendship between Irena. and Ross Welland, the

oung merican‘.

enough to know they are too well acquainted. It is my Wish
—-m resolve, that all intercourse between them shall end." '

“ ‘an not the American be kept away ?" '

“ So long as they are in the same neighborhood, tltey will
meet, and all the world can’t hinder them. They must be sep—
arated, so far that it is impossible to see each other."

A gleam of intelligence lit up the face 0" Colonel Ovaton, but
he waited for his host to speak further.

“ It would kill me to know this Americana had won the heart:
of Irene. The blood of my family must never mix with that
of his people.”

“ But Senorita, like Don Alfredo, is an American.”

“Born upon their soil, I admit: but not American, for all
that. It was my intention, and the wish of her mother, to have
my only child born in Spain, on the spot where my ancestors
have dwelt for so many centuries. But circumstances have
prevented, and the disgrace ot' the father has fallen upon the
daughter. Her hand shall never be given to an Amer-two.”

“ Ross Welland,” said Colonel Ovaton, “ is no \tagttbond.
He does not go with nte—as do Pierre and Jacques—for the
gold. it brings him. He goes, he tells me, to see the country—
to view its wonders, and in hopes oi sharing some of our ad-
ventures. Helms plenty gold—the American is no poorman,
like Colonel Ovaton.” '

“ That I know as well as yourself ; but he is an American, for
all that; that is why he shall never be received into my family.
Of him personally Iknow little and careless. He is from SOmo
of the Northern btates; he has been in New Orleans hardly a
year; for all you or I know, he may be a vagabond, and a. bad
man. But, as I said, that matters not. I have given my reason
for refusing to acknowledge him as a friend or acquaintance.”

“ There is American blood in 7140, Don Alfredo."

“ And Spanish too, and from your appearance I should say
about a dozen other kinds. Your insinuntion is that I associate
with other Americans. This is partly true. My business com-
, pels me to do so. But I nevcrgo beyond that; they are not
invited to my hous 1. and I go not to theirs. Myjl't'emis, you
will find, me from the country which I claim as my own."

“.1 have no wish to say any thing against. your prejudices,
Don Alt‘redo. You are welcome to them. But, it strikes me
we are wandering from business.’

“ Very true: You must know the cause of my dislike to this
American. Can he be kept from seeing Irona, say for six months;
1 think he will never see her again, or at any rate not until -it is
too late to do him any good. This is the reason why I wish
you to prolong your stay in Tens. Can I induce you to do it i”
“It will be augneat‘expense, Don Alfredo. My man wi‘l

How they became acquainted I know not;it .

   
 

    
 

 
    
  

 
 

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require large pay for such work, and nay-employers may refuse to

pay me. at all.” .
“They must surely understand the uncertainties and danger!

of your journey. But that need occasion you no anxiety. It
shall be a profitable speculation to you. Wlutt amount will in-
sure you against loss ‘3”

Colonel Ovaton sunk his hands into his pockets, frowned and
.ooked up to the ceiling, as thoth running.r over some calcula-
tion in his mind. Suddenly compressing his lips, he looked at
Seraville, and replied : ~

“ Two thousand dollars."

“That amount shall be yours six months from to-morrow,
if you are here to receive it.” _

“I doubt not your word, Don Alfredo, but in bus-tum, you
It can do no hurt to
put this matter in writing.”

“Most surely not. I will return in a moment."

, Don Alfredo passed out the room and was absent a. short
time. Wlen he came in he held in his hand a paper, upon
which was written a pledge, signed by himself, to‘ pay Colonel
Charles Ovaton the sum of two thousand dollars, six months
from date. The note was somethng more than a mere prom-
issory one, as it contained a stipulation, in the form of a post-
script, to be signed by the holder,in which he agreed to present
it to no one except Alfredo Seraville himself. This, of course,
precluded him from obtaining the amount before the expiration
Colonel Ovaton read it. carefully, scan-
ning its construction, and tinally ended by signingr his name to
the postscript. He knew that Seraville‘s promise was as good
as gold, and his written pledge as valuable as the money itself.
This paper was retained by Colonel ()vaton himself: but he
signed another, which Seraville held. This latterwas an'agrec-
meat to remain in Texas for six months air/I. his (-mnpunimm,
and as much longer as was consistent with their safety. Fail-
ing to do this, he forfeited the sum of two thousand dollars.

“ This agreement, I presume, is satisfactory to you,” said Se-
l‘aville, seatin},r himself.

“ Yes; both of us, I believe, are secure; but it strikes me, Don
Alfredo, that you can make a better bargain than you have lust
concluded,” added Ovaton, in a low, meaning voice.

“I am satisfied. I am willing to pay you every cent that I
have promised, if you only do your part."

“You mistake me; that is not what I mean. As on have
arranged matters now they are not certain. Why not 0 certain
about it ‘3"

“ I do not understand you. You intend to fulfil your promise,
do you not ‘2"

“ All abroad 21 ain. I am referring to another cabana-«now

 ,. thingentirely di erenl.”

 

  

 

l4 LIFE ON THE om SOUTH-WEST nonmm.‘ I

 

“Expain yourself, then,‘for I am entirely in the dark.‘
“ You see, the young,r American may return at the end of the
six months. An arrangement might be made to prolong his
stay—in fact, to make it—a—a good while.”

“ I am still at a loss to know'what you mean.” I

“ Carma”! it seems your comprehension is dull, Don Alfie/do.
To be plain, then, I mean we can easily fix matters so that the
American—shall—you know—shall never return! Of course,
this would he a more important piece of work, and of course,
would require a good round sum to carry it through.” .

“ Do you refer to murdering the man ‘3” asked Seravillc, with i
a recoil of amazement.

“Hist! hist! never say mmle ,' it don’t sound well.”

“ Was that what you meant?”

“Some would call it that, but—"

“ No, sir," exclaimed Seraville, indignantly. “ You mistake
me altogether, Colonel ()vaton ; no such a thought has ever en-
tered my mind. I am a man who knows such a thing,r as honor,
and that which I have induced you to do, is no crime. Though
I do not associate with the Americans, I wish them no evil.
They have never done me harm, and may my arm be palsied, it'
It is ever raised against them. All that I ask of you is, to assist
me in keeping Iroua and the American separate for a certain
length of time. Do you understand me ‘3”

“ Oh, yes; I should dislike to harm the man, as he is really a
clever fellow, but I kind ot"——you know—hinted at the matter to
see how you would take it."

“I consider it a deep insult, sir,” said Seraville, in a heat.

“ I ask your pardon, then ; I am sorry that I should have made
such a hint, when l have always been satisfied that Don Alfredo
Seraville would never stoop to do anything which he was not
Willing should he proclaimed upon the housetops.”

“ Give me your solemn promise that you will never do or
suffer harm to he done to this Ross Welland, while he remains
with you.”

“ I promise.”

“ Then there is nothing left unexplained. Had I reason to
believe that the. least harm would befall this man from the
a recment which I have made, I would cancel it this instant.

(3 goes with you for the purpose of adventure and for increas-
Ing his knowledge of that country, and I know not that he has
any objection to being absent fora great length of time. At any
rate, the motive which leads me to take this step is a pure one,
and I am willing to take the responsibility. What time do you
start westward?"

“ Early in the morning, I shall hardly see you again."

“It is not necessary. Everything, I believe, is scttlc‘d,is‘lt

t. '

“Yes, Don Alfredo. I will then bid you good-evening."
. . . r

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“ I wish a pleasant and safe Journey to you and to all who
accompany you. Gaod evening. ’

The host accompanied his visitor to the door, Where they
separated.

C II A P T E R I I .
ANOTHER CONFERENCE.

COLONEL OVATON had been gone barely half an hour when
there was a summons at the door. The servant who answered
it saw, by the lamp in the hall, a figure wrapped in a cloak.
whose collar, uniting with a lnr e slouched hat, concealed all
of his features except his eyes an nose.

“ Good-morningl Is Senorita Irona at home ‘9”

“ She is, sir.”

“ Please hand her this card, then,”—and without waiting for
an invitation, the visitor coolly stepped within and closed the
door behind him. The servant, who now recognized him,
moved away through the hall, while he proceeded to (1011' his
overcoat, overshoes and hat, and to close his umbrella in the
frame. This done, he proceeded to the parlor, where he awaited
the coming of Irona Scraville. In a few moments a light‘step
was heard dancing down the stairs, and, as the door opened, a
yision of beauty seemed to floatiu upon the air. A slight, petite
frame, black hair and eyes, of the true Spanish type, a nose
slightly Roman, a face oval, with all the clear-mess of the Geor-
gian, a small mouth, with thin, flexible lips and a well~p0ised
head—these were the noticeable features in Irona Seraville‘s
appearance, as, in a dress of the purest white, she tripped lightly
into the room.

“ Wh r, Ross, you have come? I had about given you up."

“ As leave tn-morrow, 1 was kept later than I expected to
be, in making my pre iurutions.”

The speaker was a lab- specimen of what we have heard him
termed, a “ youngr American.” llis countenance was not beam
tiful. but it was manly and prepossessing. There was an air of
confidence and seitlroliauce about him, and his bearing was
that ofa freeman—one who considered himself fully as good as
any other person, but no better. He was ruthertull, with it here

.vous temperament and a 121cc stumped with the ruddy hue 0t \
‘ health. He arose as he spoke, and taking the hand of Irona,

seated her, and placed himself beside her.

Well, I suppose you come to bid me that farewell we have
been thinking about so long. You are to be gone moo which
months / Ah, me! how shall I survive it t” . ‘

\

 

 

  

to mm: on ran 01.» seem-mas: manna.

Her black eyes sparkled mischievously as she gave a deep
drawn sigh and attempted a rueful look at the same moment.
The “young Amerimn" replied, with a pleasant smile:

" You can spend t to months, my fair one, in computing the
minutes and seconds that will elapse before you shall behold
me again.”

“ Yes, no doubt I shall, and in sighing away my life at your
absence.” ,

“ lIer clear, silvery laugh rung out at this thought, and Welo
land, catching: the contagion, \\ as compe led to join her.

“ Well, w ell,” said she, with a more serious air, we may he
jestint,r upon what is a serious matter, after all. I am sure, if I
were a man. that nothing could tempt me to make such a jour-
ney. The Texans and Mexicans are constantly at war with
each other.”

“I know; but recollect that we are friendly to the Texans
and they to us, while the cowardly Mexicans never get as far
1101'“!ng we go. So you need have no apprehensions upon that.
score.

“ But. there are the Comanches, and Lipans, and other
Indians, who, it'any thing, are wnrso than the Mexicans could
Se, because, while they are equally bloodthirsty, they are more

arm".

“’l‘llat is true, Irena; but, surely, you can not expect there
can be such a journey as we attempt without some danger. How
could we have the adventure we so ardently long for were it
otherwise? It' I were certain that we were to do nothing but
merely to ride there and back again, I am sure I should not. go
with the party.”

“ I have no doubt but that you will meet with all the adwnr
tum you wish, aml perhaps considerably mm .”

“We are well mounted and fully armed, :u.d Colonel Ovaton
is an old hand at such matters, while his two companions are
equally skilt'ul. All have had the kind of service they need,
and l (‘ould not. wish other company.”

“ Culttllcl ()vaton may be good enough, but I don't like him,”
said lrona. with elliphasis.

“ Why, little one; have you and he tad a falling out ‘8”

“ I never spoke tohim, and never wish to. He has been hero
uwral times."

" What does your father think ot‘lrim ‘3“

" I have never heard him say a word regarding him.
Father has seemed troubled about something for a month or
L“.U“l

"I am sorry to hear it, Irona; I trust that neither you nor I
have been the cause of it.”

“ Just there you are wrong, for I am sure that we we are ill!
131159 of his anxiety.” ‘
“ We two I why, what do you mean t"

  

 

  

  

  
 

 

 

/

 

     

 

connc'nmms W  I?
‘ ““Can’t you guesni.' asked Irona, looking up in his face with
a meaning expression. A suspicion flashed across Welland’s
mind—a suspicion of the truth, he felt it Was, as he looked down
into the dark eyes of the being beside him.

“Is it on account of my visits? Is he sorry of the relation
ill at exists between us ‘3” -

“It is true, Ross." - .

“ I never susptcted this before, Irena. Why did you not an-
quaint me with it ‘3"

“ I did not know it myself."

“'You should have known it, Irena; I am sorry that I did
not. ‘

“I have feared that he disliked you, all along, but I never
knew it before today. I can not help thinking that that Colo-
nel Ovaton has had something to do with it i"

“ When was he here last 1’"

_ “To-night; Iheard his voiCe as he came in, and could not
help knowing it, it is so ditiercnt from other persons‘.”

“ Why do you think Colonel Ovaton has influenced your
father ‘3’ ,

“ I have no reason to give, except a suspicion, if that may be
called a reason. I have never heard them speak, except at the
door, when he came here.”

“ I presume your father had some business to arrange with
him. He is quite a nattu'alist. I understand, and he may have
made some arrangement with him to procure some specimens
for him.”

“Very probably such is the case, Ross. I do not wish to give
you an unjust suspicion. Remember, my feelings only are the
cause of my thinking tints; and I can say, too, that my feelings
hardly ever deceive me."

“ That is," laughed Welland, “ while you wish me to con-
sider your suspicions of Colonel Ovaton without foundation,
still you desire me to understand that they are true. Is that
it?

“ t must be, I suppose. I mean that although I have no

' facts upon which to hang my apprehension, I have something
else equally substantial to me." ‘

“You spoke of your father‘s dislike to me, Irena. What
cause has he for it?” ’

“ None that I know of. I only know that he is prejudiced
against you.”

“To-day, for the first time, you became aware of it. I pro~
mme he gave you his reasons.’ ,

“ I have told you, Ross, that he has no reasons—they are pre-
iudicw. In the first place, you know he has an inveterate dia-
‘ilge, or coldness I might say, toward all Americans."

‘“ No; I never knew that, before."
*Such has been the case with inmevcr since I can wombat.“

 
 

   

’ .18 LIFE ON THE OLD SOU’III-WEST BORDER.

 

“Why does he dislike them? Have they ever harmed him !
Why does he remain in their country? by does he not re-
turn to Spain, which he so WOI'ShipS ?”

“ Ross," said Irena, sternly, “ you are speaking of 'my
father."

“Forgive me, Iron-.1; I did not think. I ask your pardon.
Do not let me interrupt you again.” '

“ To-day, when seated at the table with him, he said that the
more he saw of American people the more he disliked them, and
he really had serious thoughts of going back to Spain. Nothing,
he added, but the fact that he had so many friends of his own
kindred in this city, had prevented him from going before. I
thought nothing of this~as I had often heard him make such
remarks. But when he said, ‘ Rather than see my Irena mar-
ried to an American, I would compel her to enter a convent‘—
when he said that, I say, I understood what he meant. Ifelt
as though I should dro) to the floor. I could feel the blood
rush to my face, and knew he noticed it.

A later, as if he wished to kill me, he asked me when I had last

seen that Amerz‘etmfcllazo.”

“ What did you answer 1*"

“I told him the truth, of course.”

“ Does he know that I am here this evening ?"

“I suppose so; why do you ask ?”

“ It scents strange that he did not make his appearance to
protect you from ‘ that American fellow.‘ ”

“Ross, remember he is my father, and it is his daughter to

"whom you speak. I love him with my whole heart, for he is

the best of titthers to me. I know he has strong pride and preju-
dice, hut I can not bear to hear others speak of them.”

Ross Welland was just now that unenviable person, a suspi-
cions lover. While he had every reason to believe that his own
passion for the fair girl beside him was returned, still the unex-
I 'pected intelligence that her parent entertained a strong dislike

for him. nettled him greatly. The manner, too, in which Irona

spoke of it—~as though it were a matter of course—vexed him

still more. These combined had worked him to a. mood in

which he might be expected to say something ungallant, and to
- do something excessively foolish.

“Let me assure you, then,” said he, rising to go, “ that Don
Alfredo Seraville need have no further tears regarding his Irena.
‘ That American i'ellow’ will henceforth cease to trouble his
house.”

“Ross, what does this mean? Have I given you cause for
it ‘2” demand-Ed Irena, rising also, her dark eyes flushing with

I indiUnation. I

“ I would advise him to send his daughter to a convent, or
ve her to some old, withered up, but noble Spaniard,” repeated

- 9, 'elland, gradually stepping toward the door"‘as he spoke.

»

A few minutes v

   

  
  
  

 
  
   
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
         
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
    
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

    
   
 
      
         
     
     
   
   
       
       
   
   
 
 
 
    
  
   
 
    
 
   
 
   
     
   

  

COMPAGNONB DU vomon. a)

   

Irons. stovd like an indignant queen, not admit an inch, bu.
gazing upon him with a look of mingled pain an scorn.

“ Do you know what you are saying ‘1'” she asked, in a. .ow
tone.

“ I assure you I have ordinary comprehension lett. Good-
evenin r." *

The irate lover hurriedly donned his hat and overcoat, jerked
open the door, and the next minute was striding down the street,
the storm of vexation and jealousy in his breast rivaling that of
Iht elements around him.

\

C H A P T E R I I I .
A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER. .

IT was not until the succeeding morning that Ross Welland
entertained a suspicion that he had wrongly treated Irona Sera-
ville. He may be said tohave slept off his tit ot'jealousy, for he
now viewed his conduct in its true liglit——as that which deman-
ded the most ample apologies upon his part. But he had too
much pride to visit a house where he knew he was viewed as an
intruder, and he felt again provoked when he saw he had done
so more than once—unconsciously to himself, it is true, but it
was none the less humiliating, for that. Then he determined to
address a note to Irena. but when prepared to do so, he reflected
that in all probability it would never reach her. The thought
that it would be compelled to pass the scrutiny of her thther,
was not to be tolerated an instant. No; he felt that he and she
X ' must part with this misunderstanding between them. When he
I
l
l

 
  

returned, he trusted that it would all be adjusted again.
The sun had barely risen, when a boat east loose front the
wharf at New Orleans, and steamed rapidly down the Missisippi
toward the Gulf of Mexico. It wasa modemtelyssized afl'air,
made for coasting along the Gulf. Reaching the waters 01' this.
it swerved to the right, and maintaining a safe distance from
the land, here oti‘ toward the Texan coast. Upon this boat, ,
among a few other passengers, was Colonel OVnton and his
sompagnons (Zu myage. Two ot‘them—himself and Ross Welland
-—are already known to the reader. As the remaining two will
\ necessarily act apart in our history. we will give them a passing
notice as they are steaming across the Gulf. . .
Pierre Choujeau was what might aptly be termed the square
‘ and silent man. He was a. large, bony Frenchman—one wh
often from morning until night never‘ spoke a syllable. The
most direct question generally failed to .receive the slightest ac-
knowledgment, and of those who knew him. none saye 99km!

so LXFE on mi: mum.an 301mm

Ovaton attempted to converse with him. The base of his jaw
being as low as his chin, and the short hair over his forehead
passing straight across it, his face in reality was square. The
nose, with its large but even bridge, was a parallelogram. The
mouthhad theappearancc of a line of ink drawn by rule; it was
never open except when eating, upon which occasion its up-
ward and downward motion was as regular as machiner '.
When he spoke, a small orifice at one corner, as though made
by his pipe-stem, could be seen, from which his words seemed
to drop. A line from his shoulder to the neck would have
been perfectly horizontal. His legs having the appearance of
being seve 111 inches apart at their insertion, made his width at
the shoulders, waist, hips, knees and feet precisely the same.
The latter were not tapering, and in fact every portion of his
body seemed constructed with the one idea of making him square.
What singular thoughts were passing through that eccentric
brain of his no one could ever tell, for they always remained
locked there. His motions were such as a beast of burden
vivould make. All he needed was a directing power. For this
reason he was a most useful man to Colonel Ovaton. the latter
had simply to request or command him, when he would go on,
without turning to the right or left until told to do so. He was a‘
)lodding, persevcrin!r fellow, who knew no right or wrong save
iis master's will. Ife 'as about fifty years of age, but, like the
latter, not a single silver hair glistened on his poll. ‘

Jacques Choutier was ten years younger than Pierre. He was

, of mongrel blood, possessing a few virtues and many vices,

though from his peculiar secretive habits, the latter were rarely
known except to his intunate acquaintances. He was passion-

. ate and vindictive when his anger was roused, but on ordinary

occasions \ '2 s good-natured and quite communi :ative. Quite a
friendship had sprung up between him and Welland. The lat-
ter at first was inclined toward him, for the reason that he was
the only one in their company who would permit such an in-
clination. Colonel Ovaton, when embarked upon an expedi-

'tion like this, was generally reserved, although he was now

and then in a mood which led him to unbend his dignity.

' Jacques had a good fund of stories and information, andrmany

an hour was whiled pleasantly away by Welland in listening
to the recital of his numerous adventures.

The passage across the Gulf Was a pleasant one, and was not
varied by any incident worth mentioning. In due time the
steamer arrived at Matagorda, at the head of the bay of the sumo
name, where our adventurers spent their first night in Texas.
The New Orleans merchants, under whose auspices this expedi-
tion was undertaken, had made ar'angemeuts to transport the

men as far toward their destination as it could be done by wa-

 

    

erdingly, upon their arrival, they found a' small stems
stunner amifing them for this purpeu ’In’ the

    

   
  
  
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

81

_r ma: STRANGEB.
morning, with their horses and efl‘ects, they embarked, and the
vo one up the Rio Colorado commenced; ‘ v v
t did not escape the notice of Welland that, besides the mem

bers of their own Company, there was another person upon tho
steamer—one who, from all appearances, had in view ajoumey
similar to their own. He was accompanied by a magnificent
black horse, was well armed, and had the (out ensemble of a man
of the plains. Lithe, muscular and sunburnt, silent and medi-
tative, he seemed one whose home was beyond the pale of civil-
ization—in the great wilderness where the buffalo, wild horse
and the red Comanche roamed. ,

Despite the air of interest which attached to this man, there
was an unaccountable feeling of repulsiveness which Welland
felt toward him. When two persons meet for the first time, each,
at a glance, forms his opinion of the other. If this opinion be
unfavorable in either case, he who forms it generally can give
himself a reason for it. He can see what it is which produces
this antagonism, although he may not be able to satisfactorily
explain to others what it is. It was different, however, with
Welland. He spent many an hour in the vain elfort to ascer-
tain what particular quality or point about the stranger was so
distasteful to him. The man was reserved and thoughtful, yet
there was nothing in his countenance, which Welland could see,
that bespoke the villain. Compared with Colonel Ovaton, or
either of his two companions, he confessed to himself that the
stranger was superior in every respect. And yet this unaccountc
able dislike not only remained, but so increased that Welland
felt if the stranger really intended to accompany them, he should
be compelled to turn back. A prolonged companionship with
him was impossible. He made inquiries of Colonel Ovaton and
Jacques, but both knew, or professed to know, nothing of him;
the former assuring him, however, that he was not to be their
companion.

1n the afternoon of the second day up the Rio Colorado,
Welland was passing backward and forward upon the small
(lock of the steamer, his hands behind him and his head bent,
in deep thought. He was reflecting, for the hundredth time,
upon his last interview with Irona Seraville, partly excusiu"
yet lamenting his own rashness. The thought that he had parted
from her in anger—that a thousand things might arise to pre-
vent a recmiciliation-atl‘orded him bitter food for reflection.
What she had related regarding her father assured him that his
expected pt: 1 would not he gained without eli'ort upon his part;
nud,le;1ring her as he did, in a moment of angry excitement,
would she not believe his ehullition something more than a mo—
mentary passion? He feared that she would indeed, and that
by the time he returned this would have led her to put awayhh
on forever from her. * ' .

Indulgtng in these hitter meditations,  

 

 

  

’2‘ LIFE ON THE OLD’SOC I‘H-WEST BORDER»

up, and started as he saw the stranger standing a few [at from
him, gazing at him with a fixed and piercing look. He turned
his eyes away the instant he encountered those of Welland, but
the latter, certain that he had been subjected to this scrutiny for
a. longtime, determined to solve the mystery at once. \Vithout
pausing a moment, he walked directly up to him, and laying his
hand upon his shoulder, asked : ‘

“ What if your name?”

“ Que .9” asked the stranger, with a wonder-inc stare.

“ Do you not speak Eng ish ?" asked Welland.

He shook his head, as though he misunderstood the question.

“ Fudge, then, I say! I haven’t learned enough of your
beautiful language yet to hold a conversation in it."

So, without attempting it, Welland turned and left the (leek.

That night a. bright moon arose in the early part of the even-,
ing. The pilot having ascended above this point in the river
on a previous occasion, with the same boat, and beingr well ac-
quainted with the stream, kept her under way dining the entire
night. Welland was standing at the bow of the boat,gazing at
the dark outlines of the shore, as they steamed up the river.
Raising his eyes, he saw the stranger engaged in the. same man-
ner—not looking at him but at the shore. The moon shone full
in his face, and he was gazing upon the banks with an intensity
iii interest that made him inscnsihle to what was passing around

nm.

It was with a feeling akin to horror that, at this instant, the
conviction flashed upon Welland that this man was to play an
important part in his own destiny. Iie endeavored to dismiss
the thought as a whim which had suddenly possessed him; but
the more he reflected, the more fixed became that belief; and
the more he attempted to think of something else, the more per-

.sistently did the one troublesome impression remain, until it

occupied his mindrto the exclusion of every thing else. For
nearly an hour did he watch, hardly once removing his eyes
from him. The stranger still scanned the shore with deep in-
terest, and now and then moved his lips as though muttering to
himself. To \Vclland‘s utter amazement, he distinctly heard
the words, in good English :

“We hain‘t passed the point, I‘m sure, and it must be hyer-
abouts."

His first impulse was to step forward and accuse the fellow
of the deception which he had practiced; be t, upon second
thought, he concluded to keep his knowledge to himself. Now
and then \Vclland could see the lips part, and hear him mutter-
ing, but caught no words. All at once the stranger raised his
hand to his forehead, and, shading his eyes, leaned over the
railing of the boat, and gazed toward the shore, as if he would
Wm-tmtugh every‘ohstacle with his piercing age. A tew

~ minutes seemed to satiety him, when he hurriedly lget’t his place.

 

 

md-EA

  

 

 

 
   

qua-mu:

 

 

  

THE sum. 33

and shortly after, the boat stopped. ln conversation With the
pilot, Welland had been told that the man who troubled him so
much was to leave the boat during the night; therefore he un-
derstood the cause of its stoppage.

A small boat was lowered, into which the stranger stepped,
while Welland, by request, accompanied one of the men to as?
sist in rowing him to the shore. He sat in the stern, holding
the bridle of his horse, who swam behind, and in this manner

‘, the three 'apidly approached the land. On the shore the strait-
ger instantly mounted his horse, and, without a syllable, cantered
off in the darkness. Welland and his companion paused by
common consent until the retreating footsteps died away in the
distance, when they rowed back to the steamer.

“ We are now rid of you," muttered Welland, “ and I ferventh
trust I shall never meet you again.” .

But he was to be disappointed.

 

C II A P ’I‘ E R I V .
THE FIRST ENCAM‘PMEXT AND rm; FIRST ALARM.

Tim point at which the stranger left the steamer was a few
miles above the month of the Llano branch, which puts into
the Rio Colorado from the west. Above, the navigation was
exceedingly difficult. Indeed, there were obstructions south of
Austin, which, so long as they remained, would prevent the
ascent of ordinary steamers even to that point, and it. was evi-
dent that even their flat-bottomed cratt could pass but a short
distance further.

The boat moved slowly duringr the night, and in the morning
the captain informed Colonel Ovaton that he should put back
by noon, at the latest. The country on both banks of the stream
was now the rolling prairie, which stretched away to the north
and south as far as the eye could reach. The air was dry and
bracing. and Jacques int'm‘med Welland that they were ap-
proaching one of the healthiest regions on the globe. At noon
the boat ran aground, and our adventurers (~tl'ected their debark-~
ution, the river beingr so shallow that they easily rode ashore on
their horses. As they reached land, the little steamer succeeded
in backing off the bar, and, alter interchange of farewells, the
.adventurers saw it put about and steam do“ n th river.

The men had landed upon the north-eastern s tore of the Col-
orado, it being their intention to ascend the right bank of that
river. As they are now fairly embarked upon their journey,
we will give, in a few words, the manner in which they con-

ducted it. The four, as we have before ‘stated, were well

 

  

       
       
   
       
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
  
   
 
   

,84

mounted and well armed, each pOSSessing a fine rifle, a brace
of pistols, a. bowie-knife, and an abundance of ammunition.
Two pack-horses carried their baggage, cooking utensils, and
the articles needed upon such an expedition as theirs. Colonel,
Ovaton was an uneducated man, and his employers depended

‘for their information upon the verbal report which he was to '
make on his return. Consequently, his observations were re~

corded in his memory only. The merchants who had fitted 

mm on rm: or.» sonru-wxsr nonnnn

 
 

out this expedition did it solely for the purpose of gaining more
nt‘ormation regarding the central and northern part of Texas.
The knowledge which they sought was just such as they felt
Colonel Ovaton was titted to gain, viz.: the capabilities which
the country possessed for trade, the size of the streams, etc.

In journeying, this man generally rode ahead, sweeping the
horizon continually for Comanche, Lipan, or wild animals.
Jacques or Welland rode next, and Chou'eau. the silent man,
brought up the rear with the two pack-horses. Sometimes Col-
onel Ovaton t'ell behind,and it devolved upon Jacques and Wel-
land to take the lead.

Journeying thus on the afternoon succeeding their debarka-
tion, they came in sight of the Colorado Ilills stretching away
to the Llano lrlstacado, in a direction parallel with the river.

At nighttall, a small stream near its base was reached, where
Colonel Ovaton concluded to encamp for the night. The grass
was luxuriant and succulent, and the air sutliciently cool to
make the warmth of a tire enjoyable. This was started in the
bed of the brook, so that it could be seen but. a short distance
in 'av.

“The Comanche sometimes comes as far east as this,” re-
marked Jacques to \Velland, “ but it‘s altogether unlikely that

\

 

 

there are any within two hundred miles of us.”
“Unlikely, but by no means impossible, I presume, friend
Jacques.”
“ Exactly; though nigh enough to impossible to make ma
feel safe.” , 9'
“I am satisfied that Colonel Oraton would permitnothing  a
which could endanger the safety of the party, and you must I; 5‘
not understand me as doubting the bropriety of kindling this ” 5C
fire. It will not be t'uily night for an hour or two, and 1 pro- ' _
pose that we take a ramble among the mountains. Have you i“
any objection, Colonel ()Vaton 1’" asked Welland, turning toward ml
the latter. t
" What do You want to go there for?" . , he,
"Nothing in particular, althouin I thought we might find <
something for our ritles.” - ,‘ all
“ It‘s a poor time to hunt, late as this in the day, and ’tain’t [ d‘“
likelv we'd see nothing of you ag’in till morning." ' as?
. “ {donut lnten‘d to 1mm, but merely wish to have a ramble ‘ ‘
‘ through a part ot the momma as.” I ~ tout

 

w-"

 

“5r.” ‘

t
a

sumo ovum. “25

“There's plenty time tomorrow," replied Ovaton, shaking

'5 head. .

Welland said no more, as he felt it was hardly proper to dis‘
puto with their leader on so small a point as this; but he coulc
not help thinking that he“ was more arbitrary than he bad right t
to be, and as he had come upon this expedition for his own per-
sonal benefit, he resolved that he would be his own master-—
going whither and whenhe. pleased without questioning any one.

Pierre was the cook of the party,,and soon had toasted a

nod-sized piece of meat, from a quantity which they had
n'ought with them. This, washed down by several draughts
from the sparkling,r stream beside them, formed their eveninr
TCpast,Et11tl it was devoured with a zest. by each. When tinishm ,
the four gathered around the tire, their blankets wrapped around
their forms, and, producing their pipes, prepared for the even-
ing's pleasure. Had there been a perfect friendship between
the (liti'ereut members of the party, this would have been a pe-
riod of the most delightful reunion. Conversation would have
been indulged in, stories and adventures given, and the bond of
friendship strengthened by these pleasant communications. "An
undertaking which involved such personal danger as this should
have united any persons, but it did not. Colonel ()vaton was
moody and silent, and had already impressed Welland with a.
strongr dislike toward him. Pierre, of course, on such an occa-
sion, was a nonenlity, save that this very quality made him
distasteful to one tuiaequainted with him. No one could tell
what good or bad traits he possessed, until they were shown by
notion. Welland had little in sympathy with Jacques; but, as
he was the only one with whom he could hold converse, he
felt some little fellowship for him.

“ Who stands guard to-night?" asked Jacques of Ovaton.

“ llim," he replied, nodding toward Welland.

“This  the best time for you," remarked Jacques. ‘/‘ You
see, ’twouhl hardly do to put you on duty when we were in
among the Comanches, Apaches, or Lipaus. You don't under-
stand their devilments yet, and they would be sure to come
some of them over you.” . _

“ I am perfectly willing, of course. I expect to share the du-
ties as well as the pleasures of this expedition, and wish to take
my turn with each 01' yut.”

Colonel Ovaton grunted, as if to intimate that his wish would
be amply gratified in thefuture.

' The hour being now quite late, the fire was replenished, and
all save chlland, with their blankets wrapped about them, laid
down with their feet toward it. Before they had done So, he«
asked of Colonel Ovaton his instructions for the night.

“ Why, keep your peepch peeled; don’t let a bird Chirp with-
,out knowinv where it's perched, and blaze away at anything
you ado moving." . -. ' ‘

x

    
       
   
   
      
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
   
  
 
    
  
 
 
    
  
 
       
     
     

:6 LIFE ON. THE OLD ACUTE-WEST BORDER.

   

“ Shall I not awaken you ‘3” '

/ “ (Iarrai/ We’ll wake, you may be sure. If you see a down
red-skins, fire into ‘em, or if it’s nothing but a wild horse; but,
you’ll see little, I guess. If any thing comes, it’ll be from to-
ward the mountains yender.”

With these instructions, Welland commenced his watch for ‘
the night. ‘ -,

No moon or stars were visible. A bank of clouds, which lay”
in the horizon at sunset, had gradually overspread the heavens.

These were not of a character to threaten storm, and objects
were faintly visible at fifteen or twenty yards distance. The
horses were picketed in the bed of the stream and within twenty
yards of the sleepers, theirlariats allowing them to cross and
recross the brook at will. The soft, rippling gurgle of this, and
the noise of the animals as they munched the rich grass, were
all the sounds that Welland heard, save now and then when the
wind swept through the Colorado Hills with a noise like the
faint murmur of the ocean in the distance.

Welland felt there was little danger of his falling asleep, yet,
to guard against such a misfortune, he placed his rifle over his
shoulder and commenced walking slowly backward and for-
ward, passing, in his walk, from the animals to a point a short
distance from the fire. This ail’ordod him a View of the prairie ‘
upon both sides, and probably was the best course that he could

‘ have adopted.

He commenced his duties of the night with the firm resolve
tot obey Colonel Ovaton. I‘Ie meant to keep an unremitting
watch until daylitrlit, and suffer nothing at all to occur which

I his vigilance could prevent. He had no apprehension of danger,
but he well knew it might threaten them, and there was no oc-
casion better than the present to prepare himself for such a
duty. It was all easy enough to resolve to do this, and under 1
any other circumstances probably would have been easy enough ‘

 

 

to perform it. But, there were now two subjects of thought ‘
that may be said to have constantly occupied his mind. These t
were, the stranger, and—Irons. Seraville. Thus it was that 1.
Ross Welland, unconsciously to himself, gradually fell into n 1]
reverie which, for the while, made him insensible to what was 1;
passing around. He muttered regrets for the hundredth time b
at ‘his rudeness when he had last parted from the only one u,
whom he had ever loved. He wondered whether he would fa
ever dare to approach her after this—whether she still cherished “
the affection he was Certain she once entertained for him—wad a,
whether, upon his return, she would consent to receive him. ,8,
Musing thus for a long time, he started with a feeling of terror 3],
us his thoughts suddenly reverted to the mysterious stranger. sh.
Who and what could he be, he again asked himself. Why was In,
he thus affected when he thou ht of the fellow? Why, he 9f
could 'not tell, but that he dislike him he' was painfully certain. .' he,
t

/ l

     
 

 

   
   
 

  

    

 

 betwun hear the tramp of the horse, and when the  in‘

 

27

 

- A CHALLENGE AND A 580T.’

Welland had come to the conclusion that he was some trapper
or hunter, who preferred to pursue his avocation in solitude,
and whose appearance, or manner, or both, had created this re-
pulsion upon his own part. He felt provoked that any stranger
should give him so much uneasiness, and resolved again and
again to dismiss him forever from his mind.

Our hero awoke from this reverie as from a dream, and felt
somewhat alarmed when he reflected how derelict he had been.
Several times he walked hurriedly up and down the stream,
and then paused and listened; but he saw nothing unusual, and
only heard the munching of the two pack-horses—the other
having lain down for the night—~and the occasional sighing of
the Wind through the mountains above him. Being somewhat
fatigued, he seated himself for a moment near the animals, and
the instant he did so, heard distinctly a foott‘all upon the prairiel
It was like the clump of a horse’s hoof, and so plain that there
could be no mistake about it. His first thought was that one
of their own animals had broken his lariat, but a glance snfiiced
to show him his mistake. He next believed it to be nothing
more than some wild beast, that had been attracted by the
smell of their cooking meat, and remembering the injunction
of Colonel Ovaton, that if a bird chirped to ascertain its perch,
he listened for a second evidence of its proximity. In a few
moments a sound was heard in another direction, as if made
by the hoof of some animal striking a stone. Welland arose
and walked toward the spot, with the intention of approaching
nigh enough to ascertain the cause. He had gone but a few
steps, when it occurred to him that he was performing an act
which endangered not only his personal safety but that of the
entire company. It was very possible that a human enemy
might be in the vicinity, who was maneuvering for that‘ very
purpose.

I e instantly turned on his heel and approached the fire
which was now so low that the forms of the sleepers were
barely visible. As he did so, the foott‘all was repeated, and
looking around, he caught. the shadowy outlines of a mounted
horseman! Before he could bring his rifle to his shoulder, it
had vanished. To say that Welland was now alarmed would
be but the simple truth.
unexpected—so entirely unlocked for, that he was taken aback
for a few moments. He determined,however, :: challenge it
when it next appeared, and to tire if the stranger refused to
answer. lie believed him to be some Indian scout, who was
seeking to ascertain whether they were upon their guard or not,,
although, even to Welland, it seemed strange that. an Indian
should endeavor to reconnoiter them on horseback. For fully
half an hour did he exert himself to obtain the wished-for si ht
of the man, and again and again was he disappointed. ow

This appearance of danger was so’

’ 28 LIFE ’01"! "THE'OLD SOUTH-WEST nonnzn.

 

that direction, the animal whisked from view like some phan-
tom.
the stream several times, so that it was evident the horseman
was circling around him, but without approaching any closer,
however.

Suddenly he distinguished the head of the horse looming up
in the darkness, and saw him approach until he stood but fifty
feet. away. As the animal t'aced him, his head and that of his
rider were distinctly outlined.

“ Who goes there ‘3" asked Welland.

Ile waited fully a minute, but received no reply.

“ Who goes there, I say ?" he repeated, in a tone louder than
before.

lint the horse and rider remained as motionless as death.

"‘ Once again, and for the last time, I challenge you," said
Welland, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, “ and give you two

‘ seconds to answer in.”
‘ Two, and ten seconds elapsed without bringing any sum-
mons, and Welland took as deliberate an aim as the darkness
ermitted. While his finger was pressing the trigger, the horse
ecame so indistinct that, fearful of losing his aim, he raised
his head to assure himself that his ritle was really pointed to-
ward them. To his amazement. both had disap reared!

It was not this fact alone that so agitated Ross Vel'land. The
noiseless, imperceptible manner in which they had vanished
had its effect; but there was a suspicion, which had taken the
form of a certainty with him,.wheu he brought his rifle to his

shoulder. He was satisfied that. this horseman was the very
one who had left the propeller the night. before !

“ Be he man or (lemon 1” he exclaimed, “ I will not challenge
him again before I fire.”

He regretted his leniency, and determined to atone for it as
far as in his power. He approached somewhat closer to the
fire, being careful, however, to keep his own form from being
seen. About an hour later. while looking carefully around him,
his eyes rested upon the horse and his rider, still nearer than
before—«so near, in tact, that the contour of the man’s face was
visible. It was indeed the man that he believed it to he !

“Now, my fine fellow." thought Welland, “I’ll try a different
method of challenging you.”

He took a quick aim and fired. The report of the rifle rung
out with stunning clearness upon the still night-air, and was

‘ instantly followed by that of another, the bullet of which
whiz‘zed within an inch of \Velland‘s forehead. and buried it~
' self in the sleeping form of Jacques. Ittstantvaolouel Ovaton
and Pierre were on their feet and beside \‘Velland, who, in a
few hurried words, related the cause of his firing. ’l‘hctwn

‘ tanner immediately separated and made a circuit upon the
1» prairie, but Wastitwithoat 'lrnving ‘ohtained a new. i)? th- V

He heard it descend the hollow of the brook and cross,

      
 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

«as w»

 

 

 

ant

mg"
Na‘
tieh
’ lt-
filo“
.11 8|
\\V0

 

 

1’s: woman m; ‘ . 89

horseman. Satisfied that he would not appear again, Colonel
Ovaton turned his attention toward Jacques, who was sufi'erinxi
greatly from his wound.

, CHAPTER V.

m THE MOUNTAINS—THE FLIGHT. j
TIN wound of Jacques. although a bad one, was not necessa-
rily (lingerous. He had been lying with his feet tox'ard WeL
land, and thchullet, striking just above his knee, plowed its
way nearly to his hip, where it passed out, making an 11eg flesh
rip. He was unable to rise, or use this log“. The most that
could be done was to watch beside him until morning. Wel-
land willingly performed this duty, while Colonel Ovaton and
Pierre acted as sentinels. Nothing more, however, was seen or
heard of the horseman.

' In the mornng a consultation was held.

“ How soon will you he able to ride your horse 9" asked Ovat-
ton of the wounded man.

“ In two weeks, i s’pose,” replied the latter, with a groan.

“ Not before that, sure.”

“ You needn‘t \ rait for me, howsotnever," added the sufferer;
“ if you’re rather anxious to get ahead, take me and the horse
up to the mountains, leave me a piece of fodder, and I’ll shift
for myself."

“I protest against such an inhuman proceeding," said Wel-
land, excitedly. “ it is u uthing better than murder, and—"

“ When we want you advice, sir, we‘ll ask it," interrupted
Ovaton. “lt' Jacques wished to remain thus, and we could
spare him, he should do so—"

“ And I should stay with him," said Welland, indignantly.

“That would i) - as I thought best, young t'eller, and I'd ad-
vise you to keep a civil tongue in that head ot‘ yourn. But
that. ain't the style in which I intend to do husint s. Jacquie
('au‘t be spared no more than can any of us. So we‘ll move
our camp up to the hills yonder, where we‘ll stay till he‘s nth
to use his legs ag‘iu. How does that suit, Jacques I?”

“ it‘ll do.” v

“Being light now, I‘ll fix up his hurt summat better than
’twas done in the night ; and, Pierre, you see that we’ve seine-
thing to eat, as soon as such a thing can he done.”

Pierre set about this duty, while Ovaton proceeded to unloosa
the rough hand e of the wound and to re-dress it. This was
none in the simp est manner, and at itsycorwiusion thetsulferer
felt mud: mlhved. All that was now needed; was {[1901}! it to

 

 

 

80 LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

heal. Jacques had had worse wounds before. and felt no alarm
for the result of this.
Colonel Ovaton was talking with him, and Welland was list.-
ening, when their attention was attracted by an exclamation
from Pierre. So unusual an occurrence caused them to look
instantly toward him, and Ovaton to ask:
“ What’s the matter now, Pierre?”
“ Umph! Look l” said he, pointing to the northward.
Several miles away they saw a horseman, galloping at a rapid
gait toward the Colorado Hills. At such a distance he resem-
bled a pigmy, but as he stood out in relief against the clear sky
beyond, he was so distinctly outlined that there could be no
mistaking the person.
“ He is the one who fired the shot," said Welland.
Colonel Ovaton, shading his eyes, gazed long and intently at
him and finally added: '
‘y‘yit’s the very same chap that came from Matagordalwith
us.
“What I thought last night. What can he mean by follow-
ing us in this manner ‘3” asked Welland. Ovaton made no re-
ply, and the three sat down to the morning meal. Jacques ate
a small portion. He questioned Welland in regard to the horse-
man, and finally remarked :

“ I’ve seen that chap before, I’m sure.”

«“ Where ?”

“I’ve been trying to think for the last half-hour.
Ovaton, haven’t you seen him yourself ‘3”

“ N ot before he came on the boat at Matagorda.”

“That's a downright lie,” said Jacques, in a lower tone, to
Welland. “ Ijust now thought where it was we had set eyes
on him, for Ovaton was with me at the time. It was in St.
Louis, two cars ago. Me and the Colonel had been trapping
up on the I latte. We made a trip up to Fort Laramie on our
way back, and when we left there, that knave was there,
mounted on the same black horse that he’s on this minute. We
struck a bee-line for St. Louis, and when we drove up to the
“ Hunter’s Home,” the very fast one we laid eyes on was that
identical chap. I remember how Colonel Ovaton axed. him

' whether he was the flyingr Dutchman, ’cause we’d made up our
minds that about the shortest time ever made between Fort
Laramie and St. Louis had been made by us, and hycr was that
same knave in a good day ahead of us."

.“Did he talk English to you ?”

“ Talk English ! I should think he' did. We stayed there a
week, and he was there when we leit. He spent a pile in treat..-
ing us and. everybody else who happened to drop in, and he
used to spin some long yarns that he said he’d heard—for he
never once told any thing that he went through."

“ Did you learn, any thing of him 1?" ’

Colonel

,

   

    

 
      

 
 
    
 
   
 
 

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it-
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' it?) the knave pretended he didn’t know us.

A connection between the two

SUSPICION AROUSED.

“ Not a bit. I tried to pump him a dozen tunes, but it was
no go. I didn’t even l’arn his name, or how he floated his m'dcs.’
He always had plenty of the chink about him. _

“Did you see him again before the other day ?"

“ Yes; I met him last summer in Memphis. Colonel Ovaton
happened to be with me that time, too. But, (would you believe
He stuck to it he
had never met us before, and when I kind of insinuated that he
Was lying tremendous big, he clinched it by saying that he'd
never been in St. Louis.”

“ Could you not have been mistaken ?”

“ No, sir. If you notice, one of his eyes is gray and t‘other is
black, and he remembered us well enough. I oti‘ered to bring
myself to his mind by making,r a free 1i ght with him, but he didn’t
appear to care particularly about it.”

“Well, now, Jacques, who can he be, and what does he mil-tn
by following us in this manner 1?”

“ You may scalp me if I can tell.
square last night’s account with him.
I’m thinkingjust now.”

“ I presume 'our wound was an accidental one upon his part.
He undoubtedly meant it for me."

“All the same. He fired at our party, and he hit me.

I only ax the chance to
He’ll find out who I am,

Can

' you see him yet ‘3"

“ No; he has reached the Hills and probabl is aseending them.
He is concealed by the bushes upon their sides.”

“ Wal, as we are going to them same Hills, I shouldn’t wonder
if we had the chance to make his acquaintance ag’in."

“ I trust not in the same mannerihat we did last night.”

“Why not? You must take better aim next time.”

“ I took as deliberate and true an aim as it is possible for me
to take, right at the fellows shoulders, and I am not satisfied by
an means that he is not hurt.”

acques shook his head. ‘ “ You haven't grazed him."

“ How was it that he missed me 1*”

“ You was on the ground and he fired by the flash ofyour un.
You had him ag‘in the sky, which, though pretty dark t en,
was light enough to let on have his profile.”

“Which proves that could not have, well missed him."

“ Which doesn’t prove any thing. Depend on it he ain't hurt
at all. Such characters are allowed to run their race bet‘ore they
go under; but his time, like every body else’s,\\'ill come some time. ’

“ Do you believe Colonel Ovuton remembers him ?" asked ‘Vel-
land, in a whisper. -

“ He can’t help it. I know he does.”

“ Do you believe Colonel Ovaton knows any thing,r of the cams
which has led him to follow us? Do you believe there is any

on

' How he made hi! l.‘ m.

  
 
 
 

 

  

 

52' LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

“ I never thought ot'that; it. may be so.”

“ If such be the case-—-”

“ ’Sh! they are ready to move,” admonished Jacques.

The pack-horses were loaded, and every thing: ready, with the
exception ofthc wounded man, for ajourney. \V’elland mounted
his own horse, and assisted by Ovaton and Pierre, lifted Jacques
up before him him, where he held him as they rode. [in-ward.
In this fashion, they moved off toward the Hills. ’I‘wo hrurt
brought them to the base, and they began the toilsome ascent.
One-third the way upthey mm to a large, valley-like depres-
sxon, through which a small stream of cold and sparkling water
flowed. Here Colonel Ovaton decided to establish their camp.

A sort of rttde tent was erected upon the banks of the stream,
where it was completely screened by the luxuriant trees and
vegetation. The best of proreuder was all around them; there
was, therefore, no anxiety on account ol'their horses. Allerthe
arrangements had been completed, Colonel ()vaton, accompa-
nied by Pierre, spent several hours in wandering over the moun-
tains to ascertain their precise situation and to see whether there
was any prospect of reeetvmg a. visit from the Comanches.
From this elevation they were atforded a magnificent view of
the surroumling.r country. To the north and east stretched the
billowy prairies, covered with all kinds ot'vegettttiou, and crossed
and recrossed by streams and rivers. To the south and west the
same prospect met the eye; not a sign of a human being was vis-
ible. They felt that, with their companions, they were alone in
this vast solitude.

On and around the mountains were found the various species
of oak, tapulo,ash, gum, cedar. pecan, and here and there the
mezquit trees. No signs of game were seen, yet they were sat-
isfied there was plenty in the mountains, which their rifles would
ever be an unfailingr reliance in obtaining. They finally descen-
ded to their campirig-ground, reachingr it near the hour of noon.
A dark scowl passed over Colonel Ovaton’s face when he saw
\Vclland and Jacques engaged in earnest conversation. He
delgned no reply to the latter's questions, and more than once
made an instilling remark to the former, who, although severely
stung, possessed enough prudence to restrain his temper. Im-
metlintely after the meal, Colonel ()vaton, refusing the company
of any one, shouldered his rifle and took his departure.

It is‘not our purpose to dwell upon all the particulars of this
encampment among the mountains, but to give only those which
directly concern the progress of our story. , A week gradually
lengthened into two, and it was found that. Jacques would not be
fit to mount his horse until another had expired. Colonel Ova-
-ton, who seemed perfectly satisfied to remain any length of time
nnn )tinced that they should not move away until their disabled
companion was perfectly able to accompany them.

Jacques looked up with a wondering expression and replied:

      
   

   
 

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A DISOQVW,

The greater part of the day was spent by Ovnton in wander-
ing alone over the mountains, and once or twice hehad taken
Pierre with him. Although a good shot, \Velland could not belt
noticing that he never brought back any game; this duty the
volving upon himselfand I’ierre. Front this, he concluded their
leader employed the time in some other manner than hunting.
VVell-a nd himself occasionally spent an hour i ‘. an aimle rant-
ble, and on two separate occasions did not return till after dusk.
The last time, Colonel Ovaton cautioned him that it would be
dangerous to repeat this experiment, as it was more than prob-
able that enemies were abroad in the mountains.

Nothing had been seen or heard of the horseman by Welland,
but he had not forgotten him by any means. He believed he
was not many miles away, and that he would be heard from be-
fore they were any further upon their journey.

One pleasant alternoon he ascended the mountain and took a
(lirection in which he had been accustomed to travel—«that is, to
the northward. He also went further than he intended, and
when he seated himself upon a rock, found he was at the base
ofthe tnountain upon the opposite side. While looking listlesst
about him, he was startled by hearing the stamp of a horse's foot.

   

“I :‘

     

From the sound he knew the animal was somewhere near him,

but: was evidently concealed by the dense vegetation. Deter-
mined to ascertain his locality, he arose and cautiously made

his way through the shrubbery and undergrowth, and had gone- -

scarcely a dozen steps when he came upon the black horse ot'the
hunter with whom he had exchanged shots upon the night 0t
their first encampment! While wondering and speculating up-
on this, he heard the hum of voices nea‘ at hand, and after
some more careful reeonnoiterina, discovered the hunter hint-
sclf in conversation with Colonel 0 Mon. They were seated up-
on a fallen tree, and so earnestly engaged that both could have
been pounced upon by a couple of Italians with a moral certainty
of success.

Welland felt the circumstances would have justified him in
playing the eavesdropperil‘it could have done him any good ; but,
twerhearing a word or so, he found they were speaking in the
Spanish—a language of which he had not enough knowledge to
avail himself. Not knowing; how soon their conference might
end. he withdrew and made his way back to the encampment.
On his way thither he had almost come to the conclusion to im-
part what he had learned to Jacques, but, singular as it may
scent, the incidents of the last day or two had tilled him with
suspicion of this man, and he resolved to keep his own counsel.
An unenviable situation, certainly—inn wild country with those
whom he could no more trust than his red enemies around him.

Thatnight Ross Welland almost resolved to leave his com- ,

puny andreturn to the east.
certainty. that the disposition of his own person was determined

l

\

A suspicion—in fact, an absolute.

 

   

84' LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.
by Ovaton, led to this, and he made a mental vow that he would
not advance a step further north in his company. He could
not well leave at the time he formed this conclusion, as Pierre
was acting as sentinel. It could do no harm, he concluded, to
remain a (lay longer, and in the mean time he would keep 5
elOser watch upon those around him.

The next day passed as had many of the former ones. Colo-
nel Uvaton was absent most of the time, and, as good fortune

.1 would have it, \Velland was assigned the duty of acting senti-

nel through the night. This convinced him that no suspicion

was entertained of his intention, and assured him that coolness
and selficon’tidenco were all that was needed to insure success.

Colonel Ovaton was the first to fall asleep, and Pierre the next.

Jacques, from sleeping so much through the day, was restless

and waket‘uI; but, at a late hour, Welland concluded matters

looked lavorable enough to make the attempt. StealingIr cau-
tiously away from their rude tent, he passed out to where the
horses were grazing: His own animal was there, and mount—
ing him, he carefully descended the mountain, reached the open
prairie, and struck off on a gallop to the south—east, in a direc-
tion parallel with the Hills. Now and then he reined his ani-
mal down to a walk, and listened for the sounds of pursuit, but
none were heard, and as he galloped onward, he felt little ap-
prehension of again meeting Colonel ()vaton, and the equally
to be feared Pierre. He 'as satisfied that his life was worth
nothing in their hands, and as he accompanied the expedition
for his own personal benefit, he was justified in leaving it as he
chose. He determined to reach the Rio Colorado and follow
it down to Mutagorda, or some of the eastern cities, where he
would take the first opportunity to make his way back to New

Orleans. He would explain his haste and apologize for his

rudeness to Irena—and what then?

Ross Welland was suddenly awakened from these reflections
by the mingled reports of ritles, faintly heard in the distance.
As he paused and listened, he distinguished several sounds, as
if they were the yells of Indians. They were directly ahead
of him, and showed that. a conflict was going on at that mo-
ment.

CHAPTER V1.

' THE WHITE STEED OF THE PRAIRIE—AN UNEXPECTED
MEETIXG.

‘WELLAND knew that the combatants, whoever thevmight be,
were probably a long distance away. Feeling little fear of com-
ln u with them, at least for several hours, he determined to
ride orward, in the direction from which the sounds came, an

/

   

 
  
 
 
 
  

--4

 

 

 

    
   

TAKINH THE BACK TRACK.

  

long as he deemed it expedient, when he could change his
course to suit circumstances.

At night the moon arose. as if coming from the bed of the
ocean, and, inspired as \Velland was with the thought that ex cry
hour was drawing him nearer to his adored l'roua, and increas-
ing the distance between him and his enemies, he could not re-
sist the intluence of the seene around him. To the left the dark,
gloomy mass of the Colorado Hills stretched miles and miles
away, while on the right, in the re: r, and on the front, the ro.l-
ing prairie, covered with its exuberant vegetation, encompassed
him. He seemed a \ 'anderer upon the limitless sea.

As the moon rose higher and higher, and the prairie became
lightened up, a view ot‘ several miles in extent was aliorded.
In the midst of the ocean, tossed upon a spar, the shipwrecked
mariner gains some idea of the vastness ot‘ the expanse around
him, and of his own littleness in this great world of» ours. So
the traveler journeying alone over the western prairie, feels, per- ’
haps in a lesser degree, the mighty extent of the American con-
tinent. Hour after hour, day after day, he may gallop over the
monotonous waves of land; week after week he may kindle
1115 camp-tire on the banks of streams and on the plains them-
selves, and for months he may wander whither his fancy leads
him,with0ut meeting one of his own kind. Naught but the
wild animal, and the no less wild human inhabitant of these
regions, will he encounter, save, perchance, some wanderer like
himself.

About a mile in advance, Welland distinguished a vast tract
of the prairie which seemed entirely devoid of vegetation,hav-
ing the appearance of newly-plowed earth. This phenomenon
was soon explained by a deep, thundering roll, and a sudden
trembling of the earth as if shaken by an earthquake. It was
en almost innumerable herd of buffaloes, who, seeming danger
l“ '2 in the air, were plunging away over the prairie, which fairly

vibrated beneath their tread. They took a direction at right

anvles to the one he was following, and he rained up until they

had passed before him. He then resumed his journey, crossing
. abelt of prairie which looked as if it ha‘ been desolated by a
‘ tornado. ,

It was still far from midnight, and, riding,r steadily forward,
he gm e way to his feeling-s, and indulged in a pleasant reverie.
From this he wasreealled by the sudden sheetingr of his horse,
and a neigh of alarm. At first he was at a loss to discover the
cause of his tear; hut in a few moments distinguished a :cilri‘ a.»
imal, Several hundred yards distant, which was keeping pace
with his own. A feeling of superstitious alarm took poSsession

be, of Welland at this unexpected apparition. It was not gallop-
”, , ing, like his own beast, but pacing, and its hoots rung ant with -
m 1, sun-thug cleamess upon the prairie. l

1 " The Camila Blanca. as I live l“ exclaimed Welland. “That

 
   
     
       
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
     
   
 
 
 
 
    
   
 

h... J

 

1pc:-

  

 

 

U, me on my; LLD acorn-wear BSJRDEIL
famed animal of which I have heard and read so many
,marvels.” -

It was indeed a beautiful white horse—the veritable one
which has become so celebrated in history, and Welland now
viewed him with the most fervent admiration. Once he laid
his hand upon his ritle, as he reflected that it was in his power
to bring down this king of the prairie, but he dism . “ the
thought as unworthy of a civilized being. No one could wish
to slay or maim such a magnificent beast, although battled, as:
many had been, in their ctl'orts to capture him. The White
Steed and that of Welland had exchanged a friendly neigh or
two, and they now gradually verged toward each other until
within less than a hundred yards. Welland endeavored to ap-
proach still closer, but the royal pacer would not permit it, and
at this relative distance they careered, the one on a swift gallop,
and the other upon an easy, steady, l‘:lCi{iltt;'-])th(‘. As Welland
viewed his unexpected but welcome companion. again and
again he felt there could be no mistake about his supposition.
This was the ell-m‘lrllo {Ila/sea (It) [as “((1108, (the white steed ofthu
prairie.) and no other. No such animal as that had ever been
encountered before or since. That pure, snow-white color, the
ears only being tipped with a jet-black, that form of incompar-
able symmetry, the long, clean, taperng limos, the luxuriant
mane that streamed far out over his back as he sped onward,
the tail, so lengthy and exuberant that ove ' a that at 1 ’ast mus:
have rested upon the earth when he was standing, that transpa-
rent nostril and fiery eye, all these were characteristics of that
wonderful animal which he had heard rehearsed again and

again by hunters and travelers. He had 11 -ard, too, that the
beast was as erratic in his wanderings as the Comanche himself.
He had been seen in the C I lmsaw country, to the north of the
B 'azos; he had ranged over the prairie as far east as the Gua-
dalupe mountains extended, and as far north as the sotu'Ces of
the Rio Grande. lie who dared to enter the Great Desert—the
Llano listacado—hzal encountered him there, and the dweller
in Northern Mexico recounted many a story of his fruitless
etioris to come up with him when mounted upon his swit‘test
charger.

The most determined etl'orts had been made for y *ars to lasso
this \i'liite Steed. The Comanches had pursued him a; iii) and
again, but with one burst of amazing tleetness, he lett their
swit‘test animals far in the I‘Cul‘. The hunters had endeavored
lo anti-up him, but he was too cunning for them. The animal
(ad accounts to' the contrary notwithstanding) had never been
lusoed or ridden by any person. \Vhat ultimately was his death
x 9 one knows, but; it is certain he came by it without the inter-
position of man.

   

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. “Heavens! if I only had you under saddle and bridle l" ex-"

claimedIWellandfia he again surveyed the noble horse. t‘ Next

  
   

  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 

 

 

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um noun menu. 87

to my own Irena, you are the most beautiful creature that I

have overseen. N o wealth could purchase such a treasure.
Welland’s horse, which had never been lett behind in a con-

test of speed, seemed vexed and uneasy at this st 'angre animal

He chat'ed under the bit, and

maintaining his place beside him.
He was determined to

would not be restrained by his rider.
display his own powers.

“ Well, go ahead. my good horse,” said his rider, loosening
the rein; “you have never met your match before, but you will
liud out you now have. I have an idea, however, that you can
compel him to resort to his best to keep his distance. Go ahead 1"

The horse headed toward the White Steed, and burst away
at a. tremendous gait. lle gradually gained until he was within
twenty feet, and Welland’s heart leaped with exultation at the
thought that the animal he bestrode was able to cope with this
celebrated paeer, when the latter thing his head alol't, looked
back, and, with a whinny that sounded lilac the scream of a
panther, shot ahead with such extraordinary Velocity that for a
moment \Velland believed his own horse had dropped down to
a walk, so rapidly was he left behind. But, as he looked down
and saw that he was calling his utmost powers into play, he no
longer wondered at the marvelous stories that were told of the
White Steed. One that could thus travel was a. phenomenon
in nature which deserved mention in history.

The horse, now fully a quarter of a mile in advance, turned
his side toward his pttrsuer, and prancing thus, maintained the
same distance for several minutes. Under the bright moonlight,
every grace and charm were as distinctly brought out as at
noonday, and when he coursed across the prairie with arrowy
swiftness, a. more singularly beautiful spectacle could not have
been imagined. With a shrill neigh, as it‘ in scorn of this at-
tempt of man to cope with him, he burst away again, describ-
inga complete circle around Welland. and approaching within
a. few yards of him with that dainty, delicate step which is seen
when the trained horse is mined down to a walk by his master.
Welland‘s horse, seemineg conscious that he was in the com-
pany of no ordinary animal, gave orcr his territie etl’orts, and
settled down into the same easy, swinging gallop as bet'ore,:
while his rider contented himself with watchingr the curvetiugs
and gyruticns ot' the White Steed.

Prancing, pacing thus, and taunting him, the latter continued
his playful l'ancies t'or ove ' an hour, when, sending forth e no of
his piercing screams, he shot otl‘ upon the prairie with inercdi
ble swil'tness. soon disappeared, and was seen no more.

Welland judged it now to be midnight, and deemed it lzest
that his horse should have several hours‘ rest. A half-mile
ahead. it long. dark line stretched across the plain, blending at
either end with‘ the darkness. -.This he knew to be a‘belt of
timber fringing n small tributary of the Rio Colorado‘imd'hdra

    
   

  

BB - LIFE )N THE oi.i) SQU'i‘ll-ll’EST noimm

be determined h: should halt until morning. As he rode up
md down the billowy swells of the prairie, he kept his eye fixed
upon it,‘ with the object of selecting some favorable spot for his
purpose. He was within several hundred yards, when some-
thing twinkled like a firefly iii the grove, and immediately dis-
appeare 1. As he ascended the rise in the prairie, the glimmer
was visible, and,‘halting a moment, be satisfied himself that he
was within a short distance of some oiie’s camp-fire.

This was a discovery as unexpected as alarming. Welland
was convinced that they were eiiciiiies—inost probably Co-
nianehes, who had thus fearlessly exposed themselves to the
gaze of any who might be .in the vicinity. Likely they were
some large war-party, returning from a toruy upon the settle-
ments in the east, and without doubt it was their guns that he
had heard some time before. At any rate, he determined to be
assured before crossing,r the grove.

He approached the timber in a'eircuitous direction, and fast-
ening his horse upon the outskirts, carefully picked his way
through it._ He discovered, in a few moments, that the tire was
upon the opposite side of the. stream; the latter, however, was
Very shallow, and he crossed it without difhculty. A few yards
further, passed with a tread as Silent as death, and he gained a
full View of the tire. Instead of a party of hideous Indians

upon the war-path, he saw two white men, evidently hunters

or trappers, lazily smoking theirpipes. Both were bronzcd and
shagg '-looking, and sat gazing into the the before them with
the most iinperturhable gravity, and Without speaking a word.
Welland changed his position to gain a better View, and as he
did so, discovered that there was a third party. This was a
female, sitting with a shawl wrapped around her, leaning her
head forward, and covering her face with her hands. She was
of a. slight, delicate frame, with black, luxuriant hair, and Wel-
land supposed her to be the young squaw of one of the hunt-

ers. She sat as motionless as a statue, and the three, all equally '

moveless and silent, formed a singular and picturesque tableau.

At this instant a twig snapped beneath the foot of Welland.
and the female looked up. The light of the camp-fire shone
full upon her face, and Ross Welland saw before him—Irons
Seravillel

 

CHAPTER VII.
THE HUNTERS AND rrrmm ADVENTURE.

THERE was no mistaking her. The same oval face, the same
mass black hair, the dark eyes, the features all were here.
Yes, rona. Seravillo was before him. Unaccountabiens Wu
her appearance, Welland felt no doubts of her identity. ' ‘Bho

 

 

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, A ems: emu. _ 8!

who, he was certain, was in a distant city, where he had let} be:
several weeks before, was here, alone with two rude hunters up»
on the prairie of Texas. What could it mean? What conjure»
tion had been at work to bring_about this marvelous state of at1 '
hairs? Were these her protectors or her captors? A feeling 0!
deep disgust took possession of Welland, as he reflected that per-

' haps she had voluntarily resigned home and followed him: but

this thought instantly passed. Irona Seraville would never make
one step toward any advance when she knew, as Welland did,
that she was not in the wrong. No; whatever cause had brought
about this great change in her lot, he felt satisfied that it was
against her wish or will. a

Hardly ten seconds had elapsed since this astounding dis-
covery, when Welland resolved to advance, make himself known
to the hunters, and claim their companion. With this intention
hestepped noiselessly from behind the tree, and by that move-
ment saved his life. As he did so, the sharp crack ot‘a ritie re-
manded through the grove, and the whistle of a bullet was
within an inch of his eyes. The breaking of the twig beneath
his foot had betrayed his proximity to the hunters, and ten
seconds suficed for them to ascertain his hiding-place. Ere he
had recovered from his confusion created by this greeting, a dark,
ball-like body bounded toward him, and leaping in the air came
down like a panther upon him.

“ Hold l" shouted Welland, struggling vainly in the Herculean
grasp, “I am a friend I Do not strike 1 ’

Instead of having the hold upon him loosened, Welland was
dragged to the fire, where his head was unceremoniously bent
.down and a View of his features taken.

“ White, or I’m a red-skin," exclaimed his captor. “ What you
doin’ in these parts, say 2’"

Before replying, Welland glanced at Irona, and saw with

titication that she had not recognized him. Keeping his

ck toward her, and partly disguising his voice, he answered:

“I saw your camp-fire for some distance. and was seeking to
find out whether it belonged to friends or fees, when, it seems,
you discovered me."

“ Wal, we did, stranger, and rayther a dangerous diskiver it'
come nigh bein‘ to you, didn’t it, oh ‘6"

“ More so than I care about undergoing again."

“ What mought be the handle you uses in these parts, strait--
ger ?" asked the second hunter. "

“ Ross Welland, si-r.”

“ Ifit ain’t axing too much, what niought be the handle you
uses at hum, eh ?"

“ Why, the same, of course.”

3'“ ,mrlwo! Come, now, that mightedo withsomemutitdon’tzo V
.7 down’ with us. Howsumerer, it‘s. none. ofnur business, and 3%:
' needn't tell us if you don't choose.“ From thc.,States.g,s‘pce

 

   

  

mm L: Tm: owvsoU'rn-m'r BORDER.
“Yes, sir.” ._ '
“What mought have been'the inducezacnt‘fcr you to emigrate

——house‘-burning, house-breaking, murder, or any of them gen
tlemanly amusements ?” asked the first hunter, with a sly look.
‘ “I don’t understand you, sir," replied Welland; getting an ink-
ling of their meaning the instant he had made his answer.

“Don’t understand, eh? What give you the notion of mi-
grating .9” V

“ I came to Terms of my own free will a. few weeks since,with
Colonel Ovaton.” '

“ With who, did you say ?" quickly asked the hunter.

“ Colonel Ovaton, and two of his friends.”

“Colonel Ovaton, eh ? And a pretty ruili’n he is, too. I
cac‘late if he had his dues. he’d be hun in every State, city and
village between us and the Potomac. t don’t speak well, Mr.
Ross Welland, for you to tell such a story alter bein’ in Colonel
Ovatou’s company.” ~

“ I know nothingof Colonel Ovaton, except that he has been
employed by several wealthy merchants to examine north-west-
ern Texas. For the novelty and adventure I undertook to no-
company him.”

“ What you doin’ in these parts then, eh ?" r

“ I saw several things about him that I did not particularly
like; so I left him in the early part of the evening.” '

“ A lucky leave, I should say, though I don’t know as the man
had any fancy for you.”

“ I have given you my name, friends, and now I should be glad
to hear ours.”

“Ef I m called Ned Nuggens, I won‘t get mad,” replied the
hunter who had come so nigh shooting ll elland.

“And yours, if you please ‘3" he asked, turning toward the
other.

“ By the same token, I’m called John Smith."

“John Smith,” laughed Welland; “it seems I hate heard
that name before.” ' .

“ Mought he ; I’m pretty generally known in these parts.”

“ Those are the names, I presume, that you use in fines,” said
Welland, incaningly.

“ That’s why we give ’em."

“ I won’t ask you, as you did me, the inducement that led you
to emigrate, for I can not believe it was on crime.” ‘

“ No,sir, it warn/t. .John Smith is the on y handle I ever used, '
and Ned N ug us is the only one that Comanche over thar ever
toted about. fife didn’t emigrate. We was both born down ’lon

, the Texan coast, and We’ve seen some tall times in our day. r t

ain’t many strangers we've come across, as are from the

‘States, but what have leen sorter swim, as you might leg", to

 That's why I axed you." ' X ' v M

*‘f‘ mpposoyoumhunm”  ‘

v

1‘ .

/

 

.3  the circleofthe tire, where he

 

humus um Isms. ‘ 
. ,“ Exactly. Haln’t you got a hoes 1’” . j V .
'V “ Cerlghily; he is picketed a short distance away. Why did
you as "

“Only ’cause I wanted to know. Where are
just now ?” ~

“ I am on my way to New Orleans. I suppose you are on a
hunting or trapping expedition 1’”

gExaetly; we’re goin’ up toward the upper part of the Cole-
ra o."

“ghe Comanches, I believe, frequent that part of the coun-

you bound to‘,

“ Yes, but we‘re used to ’em; had many a brush with ’em,’
{indnjest to get our hand in we had a scrimmage to-night with a
ct.

V“, You did? Then it was your guns I heard ?” _

“ Shouldn’t wonder, if ’twas about three or four hours ago. If
you heard ours you heerd theirs too, for they used ’em."

“ What was the cause of the afl'ray ?" cage? asked Welland.

“ That piece of calico back thar,” replie u gene, in a low
tone. ‘

“ Ah ! was she in their possession—a prisoner 1’" pursued Wel-
land. unable to restrain his eagemes.

' j “ That’s what was the matter with her." i

“ Let me have the particulars, will you ‘P”
' “ In the morning," replied Nuggens. “ ’8 too late in the even--
in now.”
elland deemed it prudent not to press the hunter, as he knew '
~, enough of their class to understand that it could avail nothing.
He arose and remarked: '
“ I will attend to my horse and then rejoin you."
As he passed out among the trees, he glanced at

?' was gazing intently at him, as though she suspected the truth,
t3 and he was tempted to return and make himself known to her;
 but on second thought, he deemed it best to wait until mornin .
 He found his horse as he had left him, and, satisf 'ing himse f
t that he was secure until that time, he returned to t to catnip-fire.

. Here he saw that the arrangements for the night had been com-
pleted. Moi'e t‘agots had been heaped upon the blazes screen

of brush was re-arranged so as to conceal the flame, while Irons
had retired for the night. One of the hunters’ huge blankets
‘wasspread upon the ground and formed her bed.- Her-[own
shawlwas first wrapped around her, and then the other gatlm‘ed
up, a roll at the head forming the pillow, so that, all things cou-
Iidered, her condition was as comfortable as'it could be under.
the circumstances. “ John Smith " resembled a monstrous turtle,
hermeticallysesled in his shell. Neither his head not his feet
" -.-nothing but a roll of blanket, puti‘ed up to an enormous s'

, unsealed his dwelling-place. ‘ Nu gens'_waslseat_ed just 
settled himself to keep’ww

/,
,

Irons. She ‘

a“

 

a‘ urn: ox  soma-wnsnnonnnn.
over his sleeping companions through the night. Hoping that
he‘ mi ht be disposed to enter into conversation, Welland ap
prose ed him:

“ Do you a prehend a visit from the Comanches to-ni ht Y"

“ Don’t unc erstand that big word you used. Speak nglish

; and I’ll understand.” .

“ Have you any fear of the Indians attacking you before mor-
ninv ‘!

“lie and Smith don’t fear the red-skins.”

“ That isn’t exactly what I mean. Do you believe that they
will attack you ‘2”

“ Why didn’t you say so at‘ore? No, don’t think they w’ll."

“ Isn't there danger of your fire being seen from the prairie P”
‘ “ I reckons not.”

“ I saw it, before I reached the timber, and it was that which
directed me to it.”

“ How fur off mought you have seen it ‘3” '

“ It was at no great distance, but, I should think, further than
you care about its being visible.”

_“Bein’ what?" asked Nuggens, turning toward Welland with
m expression of disgust.

“ Being Meme—being seen, if that’s piainer.

“No, the fire can’t be oisz'bled by any of the imps, ’iess they
top right into it, which they ain't noways likely to do. 'Cause
why, we’ve kivered it up by the brush and stuff around hyer

/ We hadn’t this here side screened as much as we ort to, and you
hap ened to strike just the p’int where you could see it.“

“ riend Nuggens,1 don’t feel very drowsy this evening,and,,

if you have no objection to offer, should like to talk with you
. awhile, about that girl sleeping over there."
"‘I understand; you’re struck, you are.
EVer seen her afore t”
‘ “ She is an old friend—and an old acquaintance.”
“ Not very old, I reckons, youngster, from her looks.”
“ I have been long acquainted with her.” .
“ You have, eh ? Why didn‘t you make yourself knowed to
?"

Got it strong, sure.

“ I did, intend to, but I thought it best to wait until to-morrow.”
“ Where’d you ever see her afore ‘3”
“ In New Orleans.”

“ Yas ;" said the hunter, nodding his head, as if talking with '

himself. “ That’s whar site said she come from.”

“She told you, then, did she? Nuggens, can you not give
me the particulars of your rescue of her, and of all you have
learned regarding her?’ ‘

, '“ You’ll know it all in the mornin.’ I’d tell you now, but I;
fit? keep watch till daylight and it makes me sleepy to talk.-

3 ,w 6 you n at dayl gm, before she 01" Smith are up. and!
’ " itb’youfl that’lido. - - V -— r v

. V.e....~......,r. 1 “. W

 

Jed 4

b‘d:aem:=~.....--..

 

 

 

 

  

  

Ar warmtst ADVERSE!)an . a

: Weiland simificd. his satisfaction with this smart meat and
hid clowu. 5With the knowledge that Irena was undreds of;
miles from her hotne in this great wilderness, and that moment
within a dozen feet of him—with the ignorance in regard tot
this presence to perplexhim, it may well be supposed that lit-
tle sleep visited his eyes. For a long time he tortured himself
to explain this remarkable state of affairs, but of course without
avail, and finally made the resolve that he would think no more
upon it. With this firm determination he rolled his blanket
more closely around him, and gave himself up to slumber.

But no slumber was to visit him that night. Scarcely had he
thus resigned himself, when he heard N uggens make a move-
ment which awakened his curiosity. Throwing the blanket
from his face, and looking where he was last seated, he saw him
stealthily glide out and disappear in the darkness. At first he
was disposed to rise and follow him; but he reflected at once
that such a proceeding would bring down the ire of the hunter.
Accordingly he laid down and listened. The instant his ear
touched the ground, he heard several pulse-like thumps as it's.
horse were approaching. They were heard distinctly for the
space of a minute, when they ceased, as though the rider had
suddenly reined up his anima . ’

Now followed a moment of intense stillness, during which
Welland heard nothing but the beat of his own heart, and the
regular breathing of the unconscious Smith. He lay with his
ear to the ground, his whole being absorbed in the one object
of listening. All at once the earth seemed to tremble, and the.

liar thmnpety-thump of a horse in full gallop was heard, fol-
owed bya loud splashing through the water; but to Welland’s
astonishment, there was no discharge of fire-arms. He arose,
and passing beyond the light of the smoldering fire, awaited the
approach of the hunter. In a moment he loomed up in the
gloom, and took his seat with as much composure as though
nothing had occurred to disturb him. It was impossible for
Welland to restrain his impatience, and clinging noiselessly to .
his side. he asked:

“ What was the meaning of all that noise ?"

The hunter turned toward him as it' surprised at the questirn,
and replied :

“ What business have you to be pokin’ rot and this time of
right? Go to sleep.”

‘ ~‘ I am certain that it would occasion you no harm to answer
a civil question."
“ thI go to sleep ;' maybe you’ll find out in the mom-

I
“in other course Wasdeft fbr himpand accordingly he laid
down again, not in the best of moods, however, at the rebufiVhe.

lhldreceived. The night passed own: without further incident...

Attila first appearance of daylight.   ‘

l

 

 

M ‘ LIVE on- m om scum-weer BOBle '

were astir, and Nuggens related to them both the pamcntare'of
his nocturnal adventure. ~ . ‘

He had detected the step of a highly-trained horse,'crossing
the brook, and, as he believed, approaching their camp. The
noise was so slight that it would not have been understood or
even heard by an ordinary person. He instantly moved off to
discover what visitor he was likely to have; but the rider’s sus-
picions were evidently awakened at the same moment with his
own. The sounds suddenly ceased, and for amoment the hun-
ter was at fault. Searching carefull , however, he saw the head
and shoulders oi'amau, and the hea of ahorse, the latterstand-
ing in the center of the stream. A doubt that the stranger was
an enemy restrained Nuggens from firing. He moved nearer
to him, when the horse wheeled, and dashed through the tim-
ber to the open prairie. The hunter follows] him, and in the
bright moonlight distinguished him fol-along 3.;stanee, as he as-
cended the regular elevations and his body came out in clear
relief against the sky beyond. He saw him halt sever-.11 hundred
yards away, when two other horsemen rode up and joined him.

This latter circumstance awakened the suspicious of Welland,

and he inquired more particularly in regard to the one who en- '

tered the timber. The hunter could give nothing more except
that he wore a Mexican sombrero—one with a wry broad Tim.
The others were at too great a distance upon the prairie for him
to notice the peculiarities of their dress. But, Welland had
learned enough. He had no doubt that. the first-mentioned
horseman was the stranger—the one who had visited him before
and who seemed to haunt him now. The other two were Pierre
and Colonel Ovaton. ‘ '

.Their knowledge of Irons. was now what Welland wished
from the hunters. This was unsatisfactory in regard to the
great question with him, and was given in a few words. The
_ day before, while riding along the Colorado, they discovered
three Indians,'in the distance. They were Comanches, and it

was evident that they were impeded with a captive. Their im-
placable hatred of these red-men led the hunters to the resolve
to capture their prisoner and give them a taste of their mettle at

the same time. Three Comanches and two white men formed

an admirably-balmced enemy in their opinion, and there was
not the least hesitaney upon the part of eitherSlnith or N uggens.

Prudence led them to defer their assault until evening. Should
the Comanches find that their captive was likely to full int:

other bands, they would not hesitate to tomahawli her an I

save themselves by flight. The hunters kept a cot! distance
away, saw where thevaere likely to encamp, am as soon as it
was dark, commenced their approach. ‘They reached their
camp before the moon arose, and, contrary to their expectation,

found the Indians entirely unprepared for any attack. One Will
engag’d’ in preparing their supper, while the other two were

    

  

“aw... ..

  

 

 

' int; their attention to that point.

A arm’er FOR TWO._ _  4g

ioiling upon the grass, in idle enjoyment. Irons,thc captive,
m a few feet away, and was unbound. This, considering the
fancied security of the Indians, was not strange, as a‘dozen
thongs could not have made her more secure in their possession
than she already was. While Smith crept forward toward their
horses, which were picketed a short distance away, Nuggens
“ drew head” upon one ofthe Conianehes and held his aim un-
til the proper moment should arrive for him to tire. Smith now
made some confusion among the animals, in the hope of draw-
The stratagem turned out just
as they wished. One of the Indians arose and started toward
them to ascertain the trouble. . So soon as he camenigh enough,
Smith fired, and at the same moment, Nuggeus did the same and
rushed forward to finish the remaining one.

The latter, however, was too quick for him. He instantly
broke for cover, and before they could reload, he was beyond
their reach. One of those slain, however, proved to be a white
man in disguise. They found Iroua unharmed, and grateful
enough that she was once more in the hands of the white peo~
pie. She stated that she had been taken prisoner by a hand of
thirty-Comanches a week previous, and that two days afterward,
had been intrusted to the charge of these three. What their
destination or intentions were she did not know, but believed
they meant to retain her for the ransom which would be otl'ered.
Beyond these mere facts, the hunters knew nothing. Where
Irona'was when captured, and how the opportunity came to be
given, she refused to tell. {she offered them a handsome sum
to return with her to some point in Eastern Texas where she
could make her way back to New Orleans. The hunters had
consented to do it, but upon Welland's otl‘ering himself as her
escort, they willingly yielded. It was agreed that he should
start east with her in at'ew hours, while they would continue
their journey to the north-west.

W'hile Smith was preparing the morning meal, Irons awoke
and looked about her. She started with wonder at seeing Wel-
land, who, approaching her, said: .

“ You are undoubtedly surprised, dear Irena, at meeting me
hen, but you can not have one jot of the amazement I feel at find-
ing you—hundreds of miles from the home where I left you a
few weeks since, and where I expected to find you upon my
return. I trust nothing has bet'allen your father?”

She shook her head with sadness. “No,I believe he is at
Home, indulging the belief that his daughter is safe in Austin.”

“ In Austin! ‘ Why does he expect you are there?"

_ “ Because he sent me there. Ross, do not question me now;
I will explains" to, you some other time, provided you are in s

. mood to receive it." v ’ , f
' ‘Wr-lland understood the allusions 311“ coloredvto his 191139.19“
 “11M yourjorgtveness. Irons, for my conduct upon. that

. A»

 

  

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

‘5

night. I was blinded by jealousy, and acted rudely, I admit.

Had it been possible, I should have deferred the expedition un-

til I could have explained it to you.”

“ I willingly forgive you, and now let us say no more about
Do you accompany us on our return i)”

“ I go with you, but Smith and Nuggens proceed in the op
’ posite direction. They are very anxious to reach some point

' near Mexico, and think we can make our way back to the set-

tlements without difficulty.”

,“I trust so, for I am anxious enough to reach them.”

“I see they have our breakfast ready. We will partake of.
something and be on our way as soon as possible.”

The hunters had prepared a substantial meal, of which all
partook heartily. When they had finished, Smith did up a por-
tion of buffalo-hump for Welland to take with him. Welland
now noticed, with some misgivings, what had already been no‘
ticed by others, viz. : that there was but one horse for him and
Irona. His animal, however, was a powerful one, fully capable
of bearing both, and the matter could not be mended, so he said
nothing about it.

FareWells were cxclmntred with the hunters. Irena thanked
them again and again, and extorted a promise from each to 
it New Orleans upon the first opportunity, she intending—al-
though she did not mention the latter fact—to give them some. ,
thing more substantial than mere thanks.

, Our hero and heroine were mounted, the latter seated in front
of him, when Smith approached and signified that he had some-
thing t'or Welland’s private ear. He leaned over and the hunter
whispered :

, “ It arn’t Comanches you’ve to fear; it’s white man. You
know who I mean. Keep a sharp look-out, fur I’m sartain
they're on your trail. If they get you into tight quarters, may-
be me and N uggens will turn up for you.” ,

" W'ellan’d thanked him, promised to be on the alert, and he

> and Irona again bade them farewell. A minute later, their

horse’s head was turned toward the east, and their eventful
homeward journey was begun.

   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
  
  
      
  

It.

i
(

 

‘ CHAPTER VIII.
‘ ‘ «m moron: or m STRANGE HORSEMAN.

’ - Tm: direction WhichWelland took was nearlyfidue south-out.
‘, alled with, and a short distance from the i0 Colomdogit
"fa-n his intention to follow this stream, bothas a guide, and an

 the mast direct route to the-coast. The‘mditibnzu

I

  

l

  

l

l
i
l
,3

    
  
  

_when I

A. (moss-mm) Henson. ‘3
Weight of Ironn seemed scarcely felt by his noble home, which
reguired a drawn rein to keep him down to a walk.

I‘he parting words of Smith were ever present to Welland.
They had changed his suspicion of the' ill-feeling of Colonel
Ovaton and the strange horseman toward him, into the certain-
ty that both were his mortal enemies. Why they felt thus.
he had not the remotest suspicion. Colonel Ovaton, he believ-
ed was friendly, or, at least, indifferent toward him when the
journey commenced, and his change of feeling was to be ascribed
to the influence of the strangur. This man, then, concluded
Welland, was the prime cause of all the mischief, and he it was
who was so doggedly pursuing him.

“It is the opinion of a certain gentleman, that, if the chance
ts offered, his racing days will come to a sudden stop,” muttered
Welland, wholly absorbed in revolving the question in his ex-
cited mind.

" Whom do you mean?" asked Irona.

“ I am unable to tell you, except that he is an enemy.”

“Where is he ?"

“Neither can I answer that, except that he is behind us. He
is a dark, swarthy-looking man, who always wears a large Mex-
ican sombrero.”

“ What t” demanded Irona, turning around and looking him
in the face with the most painful eagerness.

,“ He is a black-looking man, who is distinguised by the large-
hrimmed hat he wears.”

“ Is he a cross-eyed person ?” ‘

“ I believe he is. one eye being gray and the other black. It
seems you know something of him." l

“ I do, indeed. He, I believe, was the cause of my being ta-
ken prisoner by the Comanche Indians.”

It was Welland’s turn now to be astonished.

“ He the cause of your being captured by them? How can
that be ‘P”

“It was he who incited them to do it, and I am sure it was
for him that they did the. deed.”

“ Please explain yourself, Irona.
for any length of time ?”

. “For several years; I knew him in Europe.”

“ Irona. you now can have no objection to relate all that has
trans )ircd since I left your home.”

“ o; I will tell all that I know of these strange events.

“ First, in regard to this stranger, as you call him. ‘ His name
I believe is J uarez Vasquelon. Three years ago, when I was
gt school in Madrid, I met him on the street. I reme her how

Have you known this man

. wrowa he watched. me, and how often I found him ollovving
was alone or in the 'com anffiof my schoohnates. ‘He’
.mednte be «shadonjor seam u .

Not a ' mu
ween us;;but so sure as I turned to 100k  

    

\

\

 

 

to see those dreadful eyes fixed upon me. This continued on»
oral months, during which I grew to fear. him as I would have
feared a wild animal.

“ But, one day I missed him, and the next day saw nothin
of him, and when a week had passed without his appearing}
began to hope that he had left the city. So it proved. I never
saw him in Madrid again.

“A year ago, I returned home to my dear father in Ncw OI-
leans, During my absence I had grown to be quite a woman,
so that at. first he hardly recognized me. I had been at home a
month or so, when, one day, father told me a gentleman, and a
much respected friend, was to spend the afternoon with him.
He said he desired to present him to me, and from severat hints
which he dropped I was convinced that he wanted me to be
prepared to look upon him in the light ofa suitor. '

“In the afternoon the man came, was presented, and he was
Juarez Vasquclon l
had long,r ceased to think of him, and, indccd,had nearly forgot-
ten how he appeared. My agitation was so great that father
became alarmed, and led me out the room. He had no suspicion
of the’true cause, and upon my recovering urged me to return
to the draw ing-room. I could not refuse, and did so. Vasque~
lon remained during the afternoon, and called regularly for a
week or two. My dislike and fear of him increased so much,
that, at last, I told father the whole truth, relating how I had
seen him in Madrid, and saying that I looked upon him with
loathing and horror. He seemed much surprised, and said
that, for the present, I should receive no more visits from him,
if they were so painful. He remarked that Vasquelon was a
Spaniard of honorable stock, and he had long cherished the idea
of having him for his son-in-law. He promised solemnly, how-
ever, that as I entertained such a marked dislike to him, h
“should encourage him no longer. . ‘

“ I am sure that my father related to Vasquelon all that I had
said, and told him that, under the circumstances, he could per-

'mit him no longer to visit me, for he never came to the house
'any more. But I had my several months’ cxperience in Madrid
over again. I could not go out in the street without being,r fol-
lowed hy him, and this continued for several months after you
and I became acquainted.

“I suspected that this Vasqut lon had remained in Madrid un-
til'h‘e learned who my father was, when he departed to America,
and while I was at school he was doingr his utmost to gain in
father’s good opinion. This I at‘. erward learned was true.
,had not remained in New Orleans continually, but had been
absent several times for a long period When he went I can
mat tell, and it matters not. .. , ., A ,

fir'wfim'thnt‘he knew of your vhita to are, laid.
'“Ifima, in a lower tone, “ that they were the only one: the: WM

/

,I V ‘
um ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

It being two years since I had seen him, I \

1-9,

l

M“- ,I. .4. .

 «r.

 

  

rnoua’s mmx'rmu. . ,4.

acceptable. That he entertains a deep—seated aversion to you
I am certain, and know he would not hesitate to do you all the
him his power. You mentioned his wearing a large-rimmed
sombrero. This first made me suspect his identity. He wore
such a hat in Madrid, and has, in fact. ever since I knew him.

“ About a month before you started with Colonel Ovaton to
this country, he left New Orleans, and we know he must have
gone to Texas. I saw nothing more of him until a few days
Since.

“Three days after your departure, father asked me how I
should like to visit his brother, in Texas. He had resided in
Austin for many years and had long held a ‘romise that I should
visit him upon my return from Europe. am sure there was
something deeper than this more promise that led my father to
make this proposition, else he would never have allowed me to
go without his own company. Even now I can not under-
stand the cause that led him to it. It must have been a power-
ful one, for I know it. cost him a great deal of pain to see me go.
He, however. made it entirely optional with me, and said that
if I had any objections he advised me not to go. At any other
time, I am sure I should have refused; but, I reflected that you
would be absent three or four months, during which the time
would pass drearily if I remained at home. Furthermore, my
own visit was to he two months only, there set-med no dancer
attending it, and I had a strong love for travel—so I decided to
make the visit. ,

“Two faithful attendants accompanied me, and we left New
Orleans the next day. I did not know precisely what portion
of Texas was your destination, an had no idea that we were
really following in your track. 0 encountered a severe storm
in crossing the gulf. and were delayed several days in reaching
Matagorda. We finally ascended the river to Austin, where, up-
on diseinbarking,l learned that my uncle had been absent in

> Mexico for a long time and consequently had not received the
letter which my father had sent a month before notifying him of
my intended visit. llis family—~his wife and one daughter—re-
ceived me with the greatest cordiality, and insisted that. I should
lrcmain until he returned, which they were sure would be within
a few weeks. Iconsentcd, and several days passed pleasantly
awav.

“ Marie—my cousin—and I. attended by two servants, used to
wander about the town toward the close ofthe day, and man
hours we thus beguilcd together. The second day ot‘my arrival:
I met a man in the city that I had seen before with Vasquelon.
He Was small in stature, and his features resembled those of an
Indian. I thought little of it, although I remember he followed
motor a considerable distance. _ . v \ . 7 _

f‘The next evcnin Marie and I fell into an interesting our
mention. and 'exl ourwalk much: further than ulna

.. '.I\

t

 

  

 

;

i

3550 / LIFE ox THE OLD scorn-was? BORDER ‘
‘had before. We had just turned to retrace our steps, when is
heard a scream from our attendants, and looking up saw a score
of hideously-painted Indians, riding rapidly toward us. We
were fully a quarter of a mile from the nearest house of the
town, and flight was useless. We therefore stood pale and
‘trembling until they came up. Before reaching us, they sep-
arated in the form of a circle, and then rapidly closed around us.
Instead of offering harm, one of the Indians stooped from his
horse, liited me upon it, and they all rode away. The next
'morning I was given in charge of three, one oi‘whom I recog-
nized through his paint as the man that had followed and
' watched me closely the day before. My rescue from these three
is already known to you.”
“ Did not the Indians harm or carry away your cousin or any
)i' the servants?” ,
“ Not one; they did' not seem even to notice them. This
makes me think my abduction was arranged beforehant .”

“It was, most certainly; and Vasquelon, the villain, is the'

one who arranged it.”

“ It must be so. Until I learned from you that he was in this
section of the country, I supposed it only an artifice of this white
man who has been killed, to secure a ransom for me—he know-
ing that a heavy one could be secured. 0h, Ross! you do not
know how much I dread to meet that Vasqnolon again i”

“ As long as this arm has strength he shall not even approach

on 2’

“ Do you believe he is following us ?”

“ I should not be surprised if he were. His particular genius
seems to be that of the hound. I think, if he really be following
us, he will reach the end of the trail. He has attempted my life,
and I am 'ustified in seeing that another opportunity is not iv-

, en him. at yonder is quite an elevation, which will afl'or us
an extended view of the prairie. We will ascend that and see
,whether there are any friends or enemies visible.”

t

 

CH A P ’I‘ E R 1 X.
FUGITIVES.

WELLAND ascended the elevation, and with an anxious eye

" be swept the horizon, every part ot'nhich. from his stand-point,

v was visible. North, south, east and west, the 'blue dome shut.

down, as if to wall them in from the outside world. The vast

extent of prairie which lay beneath his gaze was threaded by

r numerous streams, and crossed by bolts of timber and patches
‘Atf‘nwoodhnd. -In theth could beacons black, , '

 
 

 

. and these were riding. side b si

m.msnnnn  - Id

.mass, which Welland knew to be a herd of buffaloes. .To the
.north, at the right of the Colorado Hills, they distinguished an-

other mass, more scattered than this, which was in motion, the
bodies rising ,nnd sinking with a beautiful wave-like more
Elem over the rolling prairie. These were wild horses. At the
end, like a mass of snow, shone one of- their number that took
the lead. This was the White Steed. But Welland saw no

human being. ‘
“ It seems we are alone,” said he. “I can distin ish no pct-

; son in all this broad expanse of prairie hut ourse ves. What
is it that so interests you, Irons ?" ‘ ' A

She did not reply for a moment, she was so intently occupied.

“ Do you see any thing to alarm you ?”

“ Yonder is something that looks human,” said she, pointing
to the west.

5‘ Yes, I see them—ah ! they’re one again,” added Welland.

.38 he lost them. The objects, w mtever they might he, were

like stars at midday. They could not be seen in the glare of
the sunlight, unless the eye chanced to look directly at them.
when they were so distinct and clearly defined that Welland
could only wonder wh he had not noticed them at the first

, glance, and while wont ering suddenly lose them again.

“ I see them now," he added, wrinkling his face with his ef-
forts to keep his gaze fixed. “ There are two—two horsemen,
I an pose.”

“ wo !” repented Irons, in astonishment. “ There are surely
three, riding in Indian file or in a straight line.”

Welland looked again and aaguin. but he saw the two on] ,

e. What was the cause of th
discrepancy in their vision? ’

“ I’ll stake my life there are but two," said he, decidedly.

“ And I know there are three I" said Irons, as positive y.

In roved that both were right and both were wrong.

“ here is it you are looking ?" asked Welland.

Irons. pointed, and, following the direction of her fin er, Wel-
land saw, indeed, three horsemen, and Irena, under his guid-
ance, distinguished the other two, so that the discrepancy we!
explained.

" .Now, who can those different parties be 1’" asked his com-
panion. ,

“ The two whom I first new are undoubtedly Smith nnsl Nig-
gens, the hunters.”

“ And the other three?"

“ Are Colonel Ovaton, Pierre Choujcau and Vasquelon. Thc

. hunters appear to. be going from us, as we mightexpect.”

“And the others ?" )
“ Are coming toward us, as also we might expect.”

 - “ Do the parties see each other ?"

“I think not. You notice therein evgroxeorlrethlefiglgfl '/

 

  

 

u}: LIFE 0)! m  som~wmsr 301mm
‘timber between them. Our (pursuers are evidently. aware of the .
proximity of the hunters, on are purposely keeping themselves
concealed from their view. I am sorry for this; for had they
not seen the hunters, they would still have believed they were
in our company, and natural] ' enough would have considered
us too strong to be insulted With impunity. Besides, did Smith
and Nuggens know who were in their neighborhood, they could
have easily prevented their own presence from being known '
I am sorry at this state of matters.”

“ You then really believe we are pursued i"

“ Most certainly we are.”

“ Can they see us ?"

“ They can, but I do not think they do. I will drive down
the other side of the hill where we shall be secure from obser-
vation.”

‘f How will they be enabled to find us.”

“ They are on the trail of my horse, and that infernal Pierre.
Choujenu, I believe, could track a bird through air."

r “But, can they overtake us? Your animal, you say, is It
fleet one.”

, “Ah! my dear Irons, do on not see how utterly unavailing
his fleetnessis? All three 0 our enemies are well mounted, and
each has only his accustomed rider to carry. Swiftness of foot
will not save us."

“But you will not have the temerity to sit still and surren-

' der ‘P’Lasked Irons, with some excitement.

“ As lon as I have life you shall be‘safc from all three of those
villains. shall do my utmost to eti‘cct our escape."

' “Forgive my suspicion, dear Ross. Pray tell me how you
expect to accomplish it.”

“It can only be done by stratugem. They must be thrown
otf our trail." -

,“ I can not understand how that is possible. You say one of
them is wonderfully skillful in tracking a. person."

“ He is, but I believe I can outwit- him."

,CHAP'I‘ER X.
ox- run lawn.

WELLAND and Irene were now galloping over the prairie in
.nsouth-east direction, at the distance of a mile from the Rio ~
Dolor-ado. The plain was of the rolling kind, covered withrnnk
guttinth vegetation. sothat the progress of thohom no

\

\

 

    
  
    
    
   
   
 
 
    
 
   
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   

 naming. ' '  I

"‘ How do you hope to elude our pursuers, if not by hurrying
tbrward i” asked Irena. ’
“ By going backward,” replied Welland.
“ By going backward l” repeated his companion.
'f‘ A , by that very means. To mystify you no longer, I will
, explain. I have been reflecting how they could be avoided ever ‘ ,
I l . since we started. That it can not be done by direct flight is evi— _ r

V dent 'to both of us. We must, therefore, make some move

‘ which will throw them off our trail, at least until we shall have
placed filly miles between us, which will give us abundant time
 to reach the frontier settlements. They are still a good distance I
' in the rear, and we need have no apprehensions 01‘ being trou-

_  bled by them before to-morrow." '

; “But, Ross, they do not know that I am with you, and I
think, or at least hope, they will not persist in pursuing you,
knowing, as they do, that your horse can not be overtaken by

en's

‘5'52-05‘55

in

% “Most certainly they do know you are with me, or I should
“ l not care a ii for this pursuit. How they have found out I can
not tell—per rape by the Comanche that escaped the hunters,
or more liker Vasquelon himself learned it last night, although ‘
, Smith seemec to think that he had but a glimpse at the compo
' fire. No; they are certainly aware that we are together, and
we may make up our minds that they will be relentless in their
‘attempts to overtake us. This afternoon I shall drive into the
Colorado, and turn my horse's head up-stream, ascending so
, that when we strike the opposite bank it shall be a half—
mile above the point where we entered. At night we will
resume our journey, having given our animals a few hours'
M'\ and before they strike our trail, I think you will be forever
safe beyond their reach. Now, what does my Itona think oi ,
my lan ?" asked Welland, pressing her to him. 4 ‘
“ fl is a goodone. I think; with Heaven’s blessing it will avail."
" I know it will," added Welland, confidently.
“ Do not be too confident. They may suspect that very strat-
agem, and take means to defeat it at once."
“ I can not think they will. They may go some distance up
the bank, but they will never dream 0." going a half-mile."
“ Will the river allow you to ascend 't thus far ?"
, “ Not only that far, but as much furtuor as We could possibly ‘
wish. In ascending it in thesteamboat, our only dilficulty was .
g on account of the shallowness of the water."
l The day was rather warm, and, are it was quite noon, Wel-
' ‘ land halted for a few moments to rest their horse and partake
of the food they had brought with them. This doneghe'turned
the head of their animal toward the river, and . in a short thno
had reached the bank. Welland took a mafia}. may or the
shores, and‘then rode int» The “gageer hm
 considerable reluctance to enter unwfim‘n W

  

  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   

\

. \

Y 05

 long enough to know the cause of this, he, too, would
have hesitated. ' t

The river was very shallow, averaging barely two feet in

epth; but the bottom was muddy and soft, and several times
he horse plunged heavily. He was headed directly across the
stream, and after considerable labor had approached within a-
rod or two of the land. Welland then pulled his- heud around
so as to point tip-stream, and commenced ascending the river.

The horse seemed vexed, and was restrained with difficul‘y
from making his way to land. He manifested a. sort of agitation
and terror that to Welland was unaccountable. Several times
he snorted, shook his head, and reared his fore-feet out of the
grater while his rider, losing patience at his actions, plunged

is spurs into him, and resolutely kept him in the stream.

A quarter of a mile was thus passed, and Welland was now
between the mainland and a low, sandy island, the distance
from each being about a dozen yards. he water was about
twenty inches in depth, and very muddy and swift. The horse
had quieted somewhat, although he turned toward the shore
several times, and Was not yet rid of his terror. Welland was
on the point of making some remarks to Irena, when a gasping
" My God i" from her arrested him. At the same moment the
horse uttered a scretun of agonized fear, and sprung several feet
out of water. Welland looked down, saw the huge, cavernous
mouth of a monstrous alligator, whose long tail was thrashin
the water into mud and foam, and which had glided directly
under the horse‘s belly. The ponderous jaws snapped together,
and again the horse made a leap so frenzied that in an instant
Welland and Irona were thrown into the water.

” In this dreadful moment our hero did not lose his presence
of mind. Retaining a firm hold of Ironn with his right arm,
and of his rifle with his leti. hand, he stepped upon the crusted
back of the floundering,r nilig‘ntor, and making a leap toward
the island, was upon its hard, compact surface in the twinkling
of an eye. Looking beelgthen, he saw his horse. the bridle-rein
streaming over hisback, galloping furiously through the water,
which, churned into muddy spray behind him, showed how
closely the aquatic monster was pursuing him. The horse soon
sprung upon the land, where he was safe, but with every Sign
of'the wildest terror, he went careering over the prairie. in a
northern direction, until he vanished in the distance. Welland
. then turned toward Irona, and, in her face, read their fate. She
was beating bravely up; but while he had watched the flight
cf their horse, she had found time to look about her, and a

nu: on “mime scorn-Wan nonnzx.

‘ : glance told as much as a day’s survey could. ~ The island upon

11,14: they had taken refuge was about a hundred yards in
of an ellipticalt‘orm, and probably titty yards broad at

' “Veg”. .
“Evident port. Itwns reullyxno‘thing but. sanding, thrown

*‘Dkfthv‘fltdon of marker.

     

    

aid

[1‘9
he

Lid

 

Invmmn. , V ‘ a

' :flYou look despairing, Irena. I do not think we need give'

up hope yet. You wait here until I explore the island.” ‘ ..
,“ You cam do it just as well by standing where‘you are.”

“ Perhaps not. At any rate, it can do no hurt.‘

Welland walked over to the opposite end of the island, and
then passed slowly around it, examining minutely every portion.
He had hoped to find some drift-wood cast upon it, but he was
disappointed. Not even the smallest twig did he discover, and
Winn he returned to Iron-a it was impossible to keep up the
aemblunce of hope with which he had left her. ‘

“ We can not wade ashore ‘3” she remarked, inquiringly.

‘ No; for the channel of the river is between the bank and
us. I noticed the horse, when running from the alligator, once
sunk nearly out of sight in the deep water. This must have
been the channel, and it is over our heads."

“ And look at those,” said Irona, with en expresaion of ain- ,
ful disgust. pointing out into the river, where fully at half-t ozen
dirty, log-like objects were gliding backward and forward, as if
in search of prey.

“ Alligators, certainly, and Heaven only knows how, we es-
caped them." '

“It was they that frightened our horse, and they must have
attacked him when he made such it spring out ot the water.”
" Will they not attack us ‘5"

“ Not unless we go into the water.”

“ Is there no wood on this island. Ross ?"

“Not enough to make u lucit'er match." I

Irena. looked inquirineg into Welland’s face, and he read
her question before she spoke it. It occurred to both at the
same instant, and in mi almost inaudible whisper they repeated it:

" How are we to leave this island .9”

C II A P 'I‘ E R X I.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.

“How are we to leave this island t” It was a question which
neither could solve. They were upon a piece of land which
ntforded no food, no timbel'-—-—nothing, in fact, excepting a rest-
ing-place for their feet. They were surrounded by a stream
whose depth they could not fathom, and which was swarming
with loathsome monsters. A few hours yet remained ere night
would come-«a night that Welland felt would be one of horror
both to himself and his companion. He determined, for' 
sake to :rtl'ect n cheerfulness which he was fur from feeling. _

“ ext, Krona," said be. laughing) 7, ‘don’t you thiukw'ofiu ‘
outwittodtheui?’ . g ‘ ~ ; I! V ._ 1

  

 

\

‘6' un 0N run one sown-wran- non on.

“And ourselves um, I am strait ," she answered, with  -

Duo ancy of feeling;

“ told you I could throw that Pierre 05' our trail, and I feel
certain that I have done it. I think the island will be the last
place where he will look for us.”

“If he follows the tracks of our horse to the river, will he
not be enabled to see us? Yonder is the spot where we entered,
and it can be seen very easily from this point.”

"' Perhaps so; and if he does, what good will it do them ‘3"

“ They can surely cross over to the island. They can do as
much as we can."

“ I only hope they will, and those alligators will make minceo
meat of them."

' “ It can make little difference to us, because we must either
perish here or fall into their hands.“ ' '

“ I do not see the danger of falling into their hands."

" Can not they come to this island in any manner except up
on their horses? There is plenty of timber on the mainland-—
enough to float them all out to us.” 1 .

Welland gave utterance to an exclamation of amazement.
Strangely enough, he had not thought of this. Ironahad spoken
the truth ; but he replied:

“After all,I do not think they will attempt it—I am pretty
certain they will not.”

“ Why not? What is to prevent them ?”

“ It will prove too dangerous. Remember, I have my rifle
and plenty of ammunition, and ere they reach us I will pick
eve one off the raft."

“ on may be willing and able enough to do that; but you
must reflect, Ross, that there are three against you, and that they
will be more likely to shoot you.”

“ We can not tell, Irona. God only can deliver us from this
difficulty, and although it looks dark enough now, somehow I

r can not help thinking every now and then that we are to remain
here but a short time. In the mean time do not let us borrow
trouble. It is getting dark now, and we will make preparations
to pass our first and last night, I trust, upon this island of the
Rio Colorado.”

These preparations were necessarily very simple.‘ The com-
mon hunter’s blanket of “'elland which he had wrapped around
Irena, when riding the horse, was saved when thrown into the
water. He scooped out a hollow place in the sand, near the
center of the inland, and laying the blanket in it, uttered it tc
hen:

“ Poor enough,“ said he, laughingly, “but I need not tell you
It's the best accommodation the place affords.”

V > “And how will you pass the night, clear Ross ?" ‘ .

7 "*‘anwitchin v over you." V y ._ I I . " “

“lieuven wil do that, mail shall need no other preteen.“

J ~ -___.-_.\..... t

s 929un

_ _. .4; scab-fin

 

 

 

 

- otherwise.

   

sumo m tanner tr. V 52‘
- "I have no disposition to sleep, Irena. . Should I feel drowsy
I will 'lie down upon the sand, and slumber a few hours. Have
no alarm about me, however. I wish to be alone and think up-
on some plan of escape from this dreadful place. ' When you
awaken, I'think I shall have hit upon a means of relief. So go
to sleep, and be he py in dreams.’
Vt'elland walkec away to the opposite end of the island, in

.order to leave his fair companion alone during her devotions.

It was over an hour before he returned, and when he did so.
she was sleeping as sweetly as if at home in her own father‘s
house. Wrapped closely in the blanket, she was indeed the pic-
ture of“ Sleeping Innocence." Her face looked sad and pale
in the faint moonlight. Welland wondered how it could be
Poor Irena! How varied and singular had been
her fortunes during the past few weeks. The child of affection
and favor, eyen‘now a fugitive upon the prairies, pursued by

.fotg,_whom she leared more. than the wild Comanches, who so

recently had been her captors. How she was to escape them,
Welland indeed felt he could not tell; but, as he looked upon
the sweet, melancholyface, he vowed that while he possessed the
power, no human being unless a. friend should setlfoot upon
that island. .

And this set him upon a new train of thought. He recalled
the words which Irona had uttered. There were three armed
enemies to contend against, and it was an easy matter for either of
them to shoot him from the shore. The bare, flat surface of the
sand afforded him no protection in case they had a disposition ,
to do so. He felt certain that the keen orbs of Pierre would not
fail to note the island, when, of course, he would be instantly seen.

Then, too, they could easil construct a raft and float it over
to the island and thus obtain lrona. ’l‘his reflection stirred Wel-
land up to more vigorous thought, and in a few minutes he had
decided upon a plan to resist any approach of his enemies. A-
few yards from where Irona lay he commenced throwinrr up an
embankment. In doing this he used the stock of his ride, and
as he encountered nothing but sand, it was not a work ‘of great
difliculty. He scooped out a large space, packing the sand in
front, until he had a hank'some four feet in hight and as man
yards in length. This he intended should protect Irons and his
own person while he was firm upon his enemies—«for he had
full made up his mind it wou (1 Come to this.

’ 0 make matters sure, he constructed a similar fortification in
his rear, and upon the sides, so that should Colonel Ovaton
and his friends cross the river at a point higher up, they would
not be able to obtain an advantage over him in this manner.
This labor occupied him some two hours. by which time the ‘,

. moon was high in the heavens; butits light was thcnrecl by a

number of clouds that were drifting across its face, and. now “4
mmumngtheidandinduknus. '  .,

  

  

   
 

1""

m ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST pORDIl

" ‘Welland was viewing his miniature fort, and endeavoring to

think of some means by which he could improve it, when-kin v,

was startled by a noise in the water. Looking up, he saw with

v uns ‘eakable horror along, black object, resembling a tree-trunk,

- sliding over the land directly toward the spot where Irona was

sleeping. He ran with almost the speed of thought, and when

he reached her was not a dozen feet in advance of the gigantic

alligator.

, fore him, his fore parts balanced upon his Z-like legs, and ready

to plunge backward or forward as his fancy should lead him.

The light was favorable, and Welland could easily distinguish

' his fishy eyes fixed upon him. He was well aware of the avenue

to the seat of life in this creature, and raising his rifle, so close

:that the muzzle almost touched him, he pulled the trigger. The

animal seemed to be driven full ten feet backward by the force

of the yshot. He rolled over on his back, his short. legs beat the

-- air a moment, a spasmodic quiver ran through his body, and he
Was dead. .

As the report of the rifle rung out over the water, Welland
saw fully a dozen of these creatures swim hurriedly away from
the shore, which it seemed they were upon the point of invading.
There was now another cause for his watching through the
night. These creatures would, in all probability, give the island

:9. visit before morning, and prove dangerous customers if not
:maipt at a respectable distance. Welland carefully reloaded his
' e, and took his position near Irena.

“ Was that the report of your rifle that awoke me 1’" she asked,
somewhat bewildered.

“ I suppose so, as I have just fired.”

“ What at ?” ,

“This fellow here," replied Welland. " He was rather im-

. prudent in exposing himself and I thought to teach him caution.”

“ Don’t let them come too near, Ross, they’re horrid animals.”

“ I will take good care that they do not. Lie down again, my

- dear, and sleep as sweetly as you may.” '

Irona drew the blanket close around her, and lay back, while

Welland betook himself to watching again. He carefull sur-

‘veyed his fortification from the outside, and, satisfied that it was
as im )regnable as it could he made, he stepped within it, and

.- kneeling down, placed his rifle over the top to see how well hi.
him would serve.

The clouds at this moment drifted clear of the moon, and the
dark line of the northern shore was distinctly visible. His rifle-
bam-l glistened in the moonlight, and, following its direction

‘Welland saw with unspeakable astonishment that it was aim

, directly at a human being upon shore. Standing upon the bank,
' ' in full relief against the blue sky, was the form of a man, as mo-
. ..tionless as a statue. The outlineof his body was distinctly
 shown, but the body -Ml‘f,.:£rom vita-peculiar position,

'WII

The latter halted suddenly as he beheld a. man be- :

aura: fié!

 
   

 
 

v .. : mutant firtng'shortly awakened Irons,and shew

 

'39

’ arm. ‘.

’ ipert‘ectly blacker) that the features and pomiliarities of dress
' "could not be made out. But the‘ large, flapping sombrero told

unmistakably who he was. .

Three times the hammer of Welland’s rifle was raised, and
three times his finger pressed the trigger until it was read to r
fall again. But a feeling, unaceountable to himself, restrained
him. Perhaps it looked too much like murder, this shooting a
man without a moment’s warning; but more probably it was
his natural repugnance to taking human liib that prevented him.

“ It will do him good if I give him warning of the risk he is

A running," thoughtWelland, sighting his rifle again. But Vas-

quelon had disappeared; he had descended the bank to the ‘
water’s edge, and was hid from View b the shore itself. A mos ‘
'ment later, the half-doubled form of ierre Choujean skurried

‘over the bank and also disappeared. Welland rightly judged

‘ they were examining the shore, and knowing they would at-

' tempt nothing during the night, he gave himself no immediate

concern regarding them.
It was well that Welland withdrew his attention to the dan-
r that Was nearer. The sleeping Irons was not six feet from
int, and another liugc alligator was not that distance from her.
His long, shovel-like head was pushing forward upon the earth,
approaching slowly and with evident 'ear, but nevertheless, ap-

, proaching with certainty. Welland sprung toward the monster,

and {amming the muzzle of his rifle almost in his eye, sent the
who e charge through the creature’s brain. The unwieldy brute

idiod after a. few struggles, and his companions, many of which
Were but a few yards distant, scattered to the water, frightened
by the flash and report of the un. The explosion did not fully
awaken Irona. She muttere( something, and merely turning
her head, was instantly unconscious again. v

CHAPTER XII.
\ mm ms.

11‘ required most imceasing watchfulness to keep the silly»
tors at bay. It was not the death of. two of their number that
7 did this, but the flash and sound of Welland's gun. Whenever
this weapon was discharged, all hurriedly left the island, to re
turn, however, in a few minutes. Welland fired in among them
without aim. as it would have been a vain etl‘ort to attempt to
thin them out. The bullet striking their impenetrable backs
glanced off as if it had encountered solid.rock,and the .alligatorl

-' re probably unaware of having been touched at all. .

 

  

    

LIFE or! m OLD soon-Wiser 30an
‘with Welland until morning. So soon as it was fairly light, all
the, alligators took to the river again, and the two were new set?
at least from them.

But there were fees still more to he dreaded, and Welland’s
attention was new wholly directed toward them. Carefully
scanning both shores, neither he nor Irena could detect any
signs of their presence, but were satisfied they were somewhere
near at hand. VVelland‘s rifle, no doubt, had revealed their
I hidingoplace, and in all probability given them an idea. of the

difillmlty in which they were placed.

“ You first saw them, Irena, yesterda ,” said Welland, “ and
perhaps you will see them first to-day. ave you examined the
shore yonder ‘3”

“ I see nothing of them, but you notice the dirt is broken down
along the bank directly opposite us. Is that the place where
you saw Vasquelon and Pierre last evening Y”

“That is the spot, and the dirt and debris must have been
loosened by them. It is singular they do not show themselves.
They-Can not be afraid.”

' “ It is some plan of theirs.
glimpse of you.” I

“Just like them. The can not be very near the shore, as
there is no place I that Wlll hide their bodies from our view.
There is grass, but it is too short to answer for that purpose, and
as they all have horses, they must be picketed some distance

10

They may be waiting to obtain a

awafil

“ oss," said Irena, as if speaking in a reverie, “ look again at
the spot where they descended the bank. It seems to me their
tracks are visible close to the water's edge.”

Welland followed the line of the shore for some distance, but
his own position being about equally depressed, he could see
the trail but a few feet from the starting-point. ‘

“ There is a point about a hundred feet further down-stream,”
said Irena, “ where it seems to me they have ascended the bank
again. Ithink I see the prints of their feet in the bank. In
this direction."

In his anxiety, Welland forgot discretion, and arose to his
feet in order to obtain a. better view of the suspicious signs
pointed out by his fair companion.

' ‘,‘ Be carefu , Rees, our—"

He dropped instantly to the ground as a bullet whistled with-
in}; at? inch of his face, and went skimming over the water be-

n .

'* “ Where did that shot come from ?" he asked, excitedly. “All!
I lee the spot.” ' '

  

 

. ~ A thin wreath of smoke was rising from the grass, at the point '

which Irena had ointed out as the one where Pierre and Vas-
quelon had. aseen

_ . , and at‘this point Welland aimed-his rifle ' ‘1
«and. it. A low, toasting high- we the reply,» tho _ ,

 
   

- Wel‘nnd hesitated a moment before he noticed this sign.

«in

A PARLEY.

‘ [More or Vasquelon rose to view, and with or threatening 359 ‘ ‘

sure. he retreated out of sight.

“ I’vo been a fool the second time,” exclaimed Welland, im~
patiently. “ Last night I had a chance to put that villain out of
the way, and didn‘t do it. If I ever let another chance pass, I
hope he will put me out the way."

“ ’Sh ! it was for the best, and regrets can do nothing,‘ re-
buked Irena.

Welland and Irene, it will be remembered, were behind the
embankment which our hero had constructed. His compan-
ion, at his suggestion, seated herself upon the blanket and kept,
entirely out of sight. Not that he apprehended any danger for
her, but he wished to be entirely alone, and rely upon his own
mm in the coming danger. He was confident that their assail~
ants would be unceasuig in their watchfulness, and would hesi-
tate at no means to outwit and overcome him.

It was therefore with considerable astonishment that he saw
Vasquelon appear again upon the river-bank, bearing a stick
in his hand, with a handkerchief fluttering from the end as a

' flag of truce. Pierre and Colonel Ovaton were not to be seen,
(indeed, the latter had not shown himself at all thus far,) but
He
feared there was treachery at the bottom of it and asked the ad-
vice of Irona. She advised him to treat it honorably, and to
‘ answer any questions of Vasquelon as he chose, but not to ex-
pose his own body.

“Hello, there I” called out Vasquelon, in broken English.

“ What do you want ‘t" asked Welland, in turn.

“ Why don't you show yourself? We want to talk with you."

“ I can hear you as well from this place as I could by step-
‘ in out from it. If you have any question to ask, ask it, and

Will do as I please about answering it.”

.,“ What are you doing, then, on that bar?”

“Doing nothing, except to keep you villains off of it.”

“ Hal ha! How long do you intend n) stay there i”

, “ Until we choose to go. At present it is as comfortnb-e
quarters as we could possibly wish."

“ we would like to come over and see you, it' you do not care
about it.”

“ Under the circumstances, I must; positively decline receiv-
ing any Visuors." . . I

“ But suppose. we insist."

“Then 1 shall resist. it" the alligators allow you to put 01}
from the shore, i think 1 shall havetime to shoot some of you

' ‘ before you land, and you may be assured, friend Vasque on,

that I_ shall not hesitate to do it." . 
, “ Bet ha! you talk big. The alligators sleep soundly at noon "
twin: them- is hot, and We hove-no fear ofithlem,‘ _ Wag;

easily much you." ' ‘ - .'

 

  

    

,  ms or: run om som-wns'r 302mm.

aw“ And‘my good ride can easil 1 reach you. Juarez Vasquelon.

there is no need of you and gbandying words. I know you
.snd your objects, and it is about time you knew me. You are
seekmg Irona Seraville, and will hesitate at no villainy to ob.
,lain her. Ere you do this, you must pass over my dead body.’

“Do not think, Americana, that will be long, either. Have
you food on that island to last forever? Perhaps you will dine

,s-duy ofl‘ the alligators?”

I “ ‘Ifie’i‘ore you shall be allowed to set foot on this little island.
wr .
“ A very delightful dinner for the Senorita and you.”
_ “Make no answer to such insulting remarks," whispered
.rona.

“Juarez Vasquelon, as I trust we fully understand each other,
)ur conversation may as well terminate.”

“ Your pardon, but I trust you are not in earnest in saying
vou wish to remain upon that orrid mass of sand.”

“ I most certainly am."

“ But you will perish. There is nothing there to support life."

“ I comprehend my situation as well as you do.”

“We intend no harm to either of you—we—”

“ What meant that shot a few minutes ago ?”

“ It was only a warning—an intended miss. As I was say-
ing, we wish no harm to either of you.”

“ Why do you persist in pursuing us ‘2”

“My only wish is to restore Don Alfredo Seraville‘s daughter
' to him, for he is distracted at her loss." I
. “ That is false,” whispered Irena, “ for he can not know any
thin of it.” ‘

“ pledge myself to do that," replied Welland.

“ But how? Your situation doesn't look much like it now."

This was a puzzling question to Welland, and he hardly
knew what answer to make, but he was fully determined to

ield nothing.

“ Unfavorable my situation is, I will confess; but, for all that,
the probabilities of Miss Semville’s return would not he increas-
ed by changing hands with you. Therefore, I must again do.
Cline receiving any assistance from you.”

“ But we pledge our honor that no harm shall he offered
either of you. You will be allowed to go free, and Senorita
shall be restored to her agonized father at once, or you may no
company her. Senor Welland can not object to this.” ‘

, ,“1 tell you, Juarez Vasquelon, your proposals are useless,
"and I have no wish to converse further with you. I have griv-
eu you my determination, and you need not think to change it.

1: all intercourse now end.”

:w,.",‘Ha! he!” laughed Yasquelon, with his insulting, taunting
may.“ witlfienor W land fiance uptho river and tell igwhat

thinks ofwhat he i" ' , 5 ' "1' ,

/

 

 

 

'1' OHI-

\

 

I finished.

guiding it toward the island.

ruinoan “may. An
, A glance. indeed, was sufficient to show Welland how com-
pletely he had been duped. Right under his own eyes, in‘rango
of his unerring rifle, Colonel Ovaton and Pierre Choujeau had
constructed and launched a raft with Which to float out to the
island. The flag of truce, the conversation, was only a ruse 'ol
Vasquelon’s to divert his attention until this contrivance was
The minute Welland realized the trick which he had
been served, he raised his rifle to shoot the author of it; but
that individual had wisely withdrawn, and with his flag of ’trute
Was beyond danger

Had it been nothing more than a mere raft, Welland would
have little occasion for alarm, as he could have kept them at bay
with his rifle; but, as we have termed our hero’s protection a
fort, this might haVe been called a floating battery. It was con-
structed of light, cork-like logs and limbs, evidently collected
with considerable difficulty, fastened together, and having a
breastwork erected upon it, behind which the men could work
it as they pleased.

Now and then the head of one of the party flitted to view,
and Vasquelon suddenly flittcd upon it.
menced their efforts to launch. Their united work sunk it into
the mud. and as they dared not expose themselves, it required
considerable labor before it was accomplished. Welland, still
hoping to prevent the attempt, called out:

“ Colonel Oraton, do you hear me ‘8"

“ Wal, what’s wanting, my tine fellow ‘2"

“ Do you intend to make the attempt to land upon this
island ?"

“We don’t just intend it, but we calculate to do it. If youv’e
gotl any aflhirs you want settled, I advise you to make you:
W1 .

“ Colonel Ovaton," said Welland, rising to his feet in spite ofl
the remonstrance ot' lrona, “ Colonel Ovaton, I have no desire
for your blood, and I now give you fair warning of what I shall
do. Before you can effect. a landing upon this spot, I can at
least shoot one of you ; if you persist, that one shall be you, for
I believe you are at the bottom of all this mischief."

“ Save your talk. for it- can’t serve you any," replied Ovatonr

“Come on then,”—-and Welland sunk down within his forti-

'fieation.

The ratt at this instant swung clear, and Welland could set:
by the ends of the poles in their hands that they were busy

erected upon it came about to their shoulders, so that they were
obliged to labor in a stooping position. As it would be several
minutes before they could reach the bar, lVelhmd concluded 10
try the efi‘eet ofa shot upon the concern. He tired directl at

- .  center of the pile of limbs and-logs, and his shot had ,a. , s
‘ I Meet-thawing coutddnve daul‘to wish: - Thefortiflcofiwv ‘ ~

. V :

The three then com ‘

The protection which they had ,.

 

   
 

  

.“ LIFE_ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

'wus merer a loose pile, which instantly tumbled down as tin
ball out through it, exposing the three persons behind. Wel—
land commenced reloading as fast as in his power, while his en-
semieshostily gathered the logs before them again. They threw
several on top of each other, intent on protectitw themselves
The consequence was that by the time our hero’s ride was loaded,
they were safe from his aim.

The current of the Rio Colorado at this point is very swillz,
and the time lost by those upon the raft was too great to be re‘
covered. Stooping over on their knees, they plied their guid
lug-poles with great diligence, but, when abreast the upper part
of the island, they saw their distance was too great, and crouch-
ing behind the protection, they made ready to deliver their shots
in passing.

Welland was expecting this, and the only inconvenience he
suffered was from the sand which their bullets scattered in his
face. He discharged his rifle in return, but with no effect, ex-
cept to make the three shrink closer to the logs beneath them.

The raft drifted on down-stream for a quarter of a mile, when,
feeling safe from any rifle-bullet, the three arose and worked it
in to the northern shore.

“ There is one danger passet ." said Welland, “and let us pro.
pare for the next."

CHAPTER XIII.
TILE msr NIGnT UPON THE isnitnn.

Tm: day proved to be unusually hot. The situation of our
hero and heroine was almost intolerable. The sand was burn-
ing to the touch, and seemed to give. forth scorching volumes
oi'air that nearly sutfocated them. The blanket afforded a. par-
tial protection from the fiery rays of the sun. A tormenting
thirst was felt by both 1mm. and \Velland, but neither spoke to
the other of it. They had no wish to increase their snfl‘erings
by useless complainings.

’ The two alligators, stretched upon the sand, nnd subject to the

full force of the blazing; sun. connncnced to putret'y, and in a r

few hours were so bloated that their skins seemed distended to
burstin r. They were hideous objects, distorted thus to such an
unusui size, and Welland felt willing to risk the chance of a
/ 'tra shot, if he could have rolled them into the river and allow-
‘ ed t mm to float away. As yet no disagreeable smell came from
them, but another twenty-four hours would be sufficient to make
their presence nnendurable. .
Nothing further. was seen of their enemies. and he half- sua-
:p‘lcwd they had retired to some cool spot , to wait ‘ until m

 

JAAMAHAkI-‘B'.

A

afier

'WW. :I'I‘

 

 

 

  

mum. ,  ‘~ , at:

MVenient season before they made another attempt against
him. Still, he was too cautious to expose himself, and he resoa
lutely kept within his fortification for nearly the entire day. 
At sunset his own thirst was so dreadful, that he arose, and

- Walking to the river’s edge, 1an down and quafl‘ed his fill. The
0

muddy waters of the Rio Co rado tasted sweeter to him than
could the nectar of the gods, and no pleasure could have been
renter than that he experienced when he felt that he crold
rink no more. Joining his hands, he scooped up a quantity and
carried it to Irona. She endeavored to conceal her thirst, hut
Welland saw how eagerly she swallowed it, and he passed ’haelb ,
ward and forward several times before she was satisfied. '
This movement of Welland’s, made as it rovcd to be with-
out danger, convinced him of one thing. o further attempt
for Some time would be made to land upon the island. Colonel
Ovaton and his companions had withdrawn to some distance
and would Only-return at occasional intervals to look at them.
They would wait, until convinced that he and lrona were so
weakened by sufl'ering and privation that they could oii‘er no re:

 sistanccflvhen they would make their way out to them upon
' rafts, without running any risk.

As it was growing dark, Welland saw the sombrero of Vasque-
lon appear upon the bank, and remaining stationary a moment,
disappear again. The fellow had come down to the bank, and
satisfied himself that his victims were safel cared for, and then
returned to report the same to Colonel gvaton. The whole
company were probably several hundred yards back from the
stream.

This night was without a moon until late in the evenin . ‘-
Welland had some apprehensions of his enemies using a rat
and coming down upon the island in the darkness; and leaving
his fortification every few minutes, he walked to the upper part
of the island, and long and anxiouslylookcd out in the niglrt,lear- '
ing that every moment the dread object would loom up to vieW._.
But there were good reasons for feeling safe upon this point.
The alligators, formidable enemies, were active and watchful
through the night. It was only during the middle of the day, , ‘
when basking in the sunshine, that they were so sleepy and in-
difl’erent as to he passed in safety.

Another night upon the island 1 How wearily the hours dragv i
ged by; how monotonous sounded the soft wash of the Rio Co -
orado; how oppressive was the silence of the dark, level shore!
The black masses gliding over the sand, the snouts plowing
through the water, the loathsome temerity of the creaturesthem-

- selves, were too horrible to be borne.

For the first time he gained an ade quate idea of the situation
of himself and Irons. He began to feel the pangs of hunger.
,fidfiéf) river-water could only he drank when very thirsty.
hat was to be: theend’ of this? Were they to be m

 

  

  

at, uni on m OLD MUTE-WEST Bonner.

until they could make no resistance? What would be done with
them when they fell into their enemies’ hands? ,Ah, there
could be but one answer to this question.

. Welland prayed ardently that the attack would be made that
night. While he possessed strength and the ability, he longed '
to cope with these villains. He would gladly have permitted
them to land upon the island. in order to bring about and ter-
minate the ali‘rny at once. He would have gone forth and met
the three single-handed had it. been in his power.

But no such t'ortune awaited him. The hours wore on, and
once more the bright sun rose upon them. The day gave evi-
dence of being as warm and harassing as the previous one. The
two alligators lay st‘retched upon the sand, having been undis-
turbed by their companions. They were swelled to double their
usual size, and when Welland looked upon them, it was with
the determination to heave their carcasses into the river. He
was rising for this purpose, when lrona touched his arm.

“ Yonder is Vasquclon, it'I mistake not," said site.

The sombrero was visible, and in a moment it. was followed by
the swarthy face of the owner himself. He stood a few moments
perfectly motionless, offering a strong temptation to Welland‘s
skill. To the surprise of the latter, he called out:

“ Are you there, Senor Welland t” I

“ Let that answer," said the latter, firing his piece at his head.
The sombrero suddenly ducked out of sight, and a thrill passed
through Welland as he thought he might be fortunate enough
tohave finished the rascal; but the head soon appeared again.

“ That was a bad trick—a bad trick. Senor Welland. It will
serve you no good turn. It came very nigh my thee.”

“ I only regret it failed to strike it,” called out Welland.

“Ha! hal your gun is not true enough,” added Vasquelon,
taking 00d care, however, that a second opportunity was not
afl‘ord . to test its accuracy. “ Howsumever, we’ll let that ass.
How do you like your present quarters upon the island? ow
is Senorita pleasec with them ‘1”

“ \Ve prefer them just now tothe shore.”

“ I’ve no doubt ot‘itl I've no doubt of It. How long do you
intend to remain ‘3”

“ It’s time you learned that we remain as long as we chocse,
aud besides, that we intend to keep you oti‘ equally long."

“ No doubt of it at all. We can afford to wait, and are quite
willing just now.”

“Have you any further questions to ask '1’"

“Nothing in particular that I think of just now.”

“ I have a few then to propose. Will you answer than?"

’ L“‘A3 well as Senor Welland has mine.” '

.’ “ When are you coming upon this island '1”?

.'-“ Wehnven’t decided yet, but probably not beforerthree arm.
thy-Menasww , v  .

.

/

 

 

 

 

‘5'

'VI— nil-Iona.

 

 

 

 

 
 

~ A HAmrI'KOUM" ' ' 07.7

A“ Why 'not sooner ?" '

“ To tell the truth, Colonel Ovaton and I have found out it it
useless risk. That infernal gun of yours may by accident harm
some of us. There‘sno need of that. We don’t think you’ll feel
particularly anxious then about shooting. Good idea, eh ‘2’

“ You intend to wait till I‘m starved into submission ‘3”

“ That’s what we intend, I guess.”

“ In other words, you three are afraid to attack me 1*”

“'Not afraid—only prudent. We can well afford to wait.”

“ Why not remain upon the bank ?"

“ Ha! ha! I'm afraid Senor Welland would hardly respect I.

of truce if we reared it above our heads.”

“ I have no further questions to ask. You can depart now.”

“ I suppose-you will wait there until we see you again," asked
Vasqnelon, With a taunting laugh. Welland made no answer

I except to adjust his rifle (which he had managed to load during

the conversation) so as to fire at him. The villain, however,
was too cunning to be caught by this stratagem. He had sus-
pected all along that Welland had no object in continuing the
discourse between them, except to gain time. He kept his eye
continually fiXed upon him, and very discreetly took himself

' away before another bullet was sent after him.

u He is gone," muttered Welland, with some disappointment
in his tone. “I He Will not appear again until near night. Irena,
those dead objects out there must be removed. Our situation’ib

'bad enough without having it made worse by their presence.”

“ Do not go out yet. Vasquelon may be hid along the shore,
and waiting for you toyshow yourself.”

“ No fear of that. He and the others are safe under some
shade. He thinks there is no need of picking me 03‘. He feels
sure of both of us.” I l

‘ “ And is he not ?" asked Irena, in a. low voice. ,

- “ I will move those animals at once,” said Welland, hurriedly,
pretending not to have heard her remark. He could make no
answer to that question. He had asked himself the same one
more than once, and he had not dared to reply even to himself.
The truth—the awful truth was staring him in the face.

He stepped over the embankment and moved away toward
the alligators.

CHAPTER XIV.
ANOVEL RIDE.

KRONA’S attention wasattracted by an exclamation from ,Wel.
l ‘d. Looking up, she saw him acting like a madman. He war
I )1 atom, dancing‘on the sand.- swinging his hands and; ' '
1:. king the most excited demonstrations of joy. Her heart and:

 

 

  

    

 

\

158.»: um: 01: rangtnsomn-wnsr 3011mm.

within her, as she reflected that perhaps he was really mean,
and for a few minutes she was unable to ‘utter a word. We;-
land, his face all aglow with pleasure, approached her without
speaking.

“ What is the matter ‘8" she asked, concealing her own agita
lion as well as she could.

“What is the matter?” repeated he. “Matter enough! Do
you wish to remain on this island any longer Y"

“Not if it can be helped."

“ It can be helped—of course it can! What a fool I was net
to think ot'it before.” .

, Irona all this time was narrowly watching,r the face of Wei-
land to discovur whether he really possessed his senses. The
latter, noticingr this, ’urst into a laugh. “

" Do ou think I am crazy, Irena? I believe I am somewhat
so, but have still some sense left. Can’t you understand the
cause of my joy ‘6”

“ I certainly can not. Do explain yourself."

“Look yonder," said Welland, pointinur to the water’s edge,
where the bodies of the two alligators lay. lrona did as requested,
and a suspicion of the truth crossed her mind. ,

“ I see you understand,” said Welland, eagerly V Hatching her
countenance. “ Those creatures that have been such a pest are
to be the means of our salvation l"

Irona, at his request, stepped out from the hreastwork and
with him approached the two alligators. They lay upon the
lurt'ace of the'water, where their bodies floated like corks. To
show the feasibility of his plan, Welland walked out upon the
broad breast of one, which was so bloated and buoyant that
nearly one-half remained above the surface. It did, indeed,
somewhat resemble a miniature flat-boat, the head serving as a
prow, and the tail, drooping in the water, serving as a huge
rudder. while the legs sticking up served as stanchious by which
to hold on.

“ We will lash these two together," said he, “ when a steamer
would not carry us more safely than they.”

‘t But the living alligators?” repeated Irona, with an inquir
in" expression.

3 It is now midday, and they are sleeping like logs. “'e can
brush their noses without arousing them.”

’ "' You are very hopeful, Ross; 1, too, am anxious to make the
attempt, as we can not by any possible result make our situation
worse.” ’

The creatures were floated side by side, and stepping upon the
breast ot‘one, Welland lashed them firmly together by their ltga
and long tails hymeans 01f strips .tornfroin his blanket. It. re- ‘
guired but a. few minutes, when the two stepped upon their one

on

a boat, which. yielding to the bum ot the sti'eam,,drit}ed -

p

 

 

 

“with the horizon.
’ toward thisihe l en: his {masters

 
    

ESCAPE FROM THE ISLAND; .6,

, That was a novel ride, indeed! As the swift current gained
central over them; they were home rapidly downward as if
propelled'by the force of several oars. On every side the black,
’dirty forms of the sleeping alligators lay, inanimate as logs.
Irena looked upon these with unspeakable terror, as she ex-
pected an onslaught. from them. The carcasses beneath them
drifted head down the stream, guided by their tails. More than
once they rubbed the bodies of one of the live monsters, which
merely floundered a little, or more often did not notice it at all.
It was their sleeping-time, and something unusual was required
to arouse them. ‘

Welland’s great anxiet was lest Vasquelon should return to
the shore'betore the 11m gone far enough down the river to be
beyond his Sight. ‘he probability was that this would not oc-
cut, and yet the possibility was enough to keep him in a fever
of fear. He kept. his eyes fixed upon thepoint where the villain

enerally made his appearance, until. with unspeakable relief,

t was hid from view by a bend in the river. After an hour’s
ride their boat swept close to the river‘s bank, when Welland
sprung ashore and soon had his unwieldy craft fast.

' “ Now for home," said Welland, hopefully. “ I am sure there

.can be no greater danger before us than the one through which

We have just passed.”

“'I am sure there is suilleient. There are the while men and

(the red-men who are our enemies."

“Very true; but the settlements can be at no great distance.
.I believe We shall reach them in a day or two. Are you able
to walk it”

“Yes, or to run when it is necessary. I shall not tire before

cu do.

“We will get a little further from the river, so as not to be
_seen by any who chance to be upon the other side, and we will
then follow the course of the stream, as that is probably the
most direct route to the settled parts of the country. I trust
we shall soon come upon some mime, when we will enjoy a
feast for the first time in a good while.”

“ I am not very hungry, but feel somewhat faint.”

Welland saw that his fair companion was weaker and more
exhausted than she would admit; and, although progress was
now the most important object with him, he resolved to make ,
a halt, as soon as a suitable resting-place could be found, where
they might rest until morning. The surrounding- land was the
common rolling prairie, interspersed, at long intervals, with

' belts or roves of timber. These were generally where a small
_‘stream

owed into the Colorado, the trees lining the banks.
While on the island, Welland was enabled to see one of the
oases in thedlstance, its soft, blue outlines blending like a’xclcud
This was now but smile or two “remand

 

  

     

Tne sun lacked several hours of setting when his resting-

noe Was reached, and be commenced his preparations for pass-
ng the night in it. A stream of icy cold watergurgled throu h
thecenter, while the trees and shrubbery fringing its ban
were dense, and afforded an admirable concealment. A suitable
spot waspelected, when Welland threw down his blanket (someo‘
what the worse for having a portion lost) for Irena, and then
departed to seek the wherewithal for the evening meal.

Animal life is abundant in Texas, especially in this portion,
and it was not long before our hero Secured a couple of plump
rabbits, so unaccustomed to the sight of man that he killed
them with a blow from his gun merely. Fuel was plenty, and
in a. short time they were furnished with a steaming, nourishing
supper, such as would be acceptable to many a peason in a far
more civilized country. This completed, night was at hand.

“ I think it best that the lire should go out, as the dark-
ness comes on,” renmrked Welland, utter a few moments
of thought. “ I will keep watch while you sleep, Irona,
for itnwould not do for us both to be unconscious at the same
time.

“ You have slept but little during the past few days, dear
Welland, and I am sure I care little about sleeping—"

“ Tut, tut, you foolish little thing. Be still, now, like a good
little girl; say your prayers, shut your eyes, and go to sleep."

/
LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

I’roua evidently concluded it best toobey her protector, for .

she said no more. Welland carefully wrapped the blanket
around her, arranged her position iuthe most comfortable man-
ner possible, and then kissed her a good-night. Wearied and
exhausted by her unusual sufferings, she soon sunk into a
dreamless slumber.
Welland, seeing that she was breathing regularly, and prob-
ably would not awaken for man hours, arose, and carefully
made his way out of the grove. s be emerged upon the open
prairie, he noticed that the night was clear, with starlight, de~
void of a moon, which would not rise till far toward morning.
_Despite his cheerfulness of manner before Irena, Welland had
strong misgivings of their safety, and the observation was to
satisfy himself, as far as lay in his power, upon this point. Al-
though it would have been extremely dangerous for his enemies

to attempt to reach him when upon the island, on account of ,

the presence otlthe alligators, still they would experience little
or no difficulty in crossing the river at another point. From
Iome cause, unaccountable to himself, the little island seemed
to be located in a portion of the stream literally swarming with
these atrocious creatures; so that, having proved the mean!
of his'salvation in one instance, he could now hope for no tur-
ther benefit from them. ' ~ ‘ .

.~ , Welland stood .a. full half-hour, carefullyscrutinizingevary

otfiect around him. Then, satisfied for the present that there

 

 
   

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Were no human beings in the vicinity, he moved ofl‘ toward the
Colorado, scarce a half-mile distant. It was his intention to
make his way to it, in order to ascertain whether Colonel Ovaw
ton and his companions had yet learned their flight. He had
gone but a short distance, however. when it suddenly occurred
to him that he was acting very imprudently in leaving Irena
alone at such a time. There might be wild beasts prowling in
the vicinity, who, attracted by the smell of the roasted meat,
would not hesitate to attack her, while she had no means for
defending herself. More than this, he could not avoid the sin-
gular impression that there were human foes in the grove, and
that his own presence was needed. He could give no cause for
this suspicion, but felt it, nevertheless. Indeed, it increased
every moment, until it had'well-nigh settled into a firm belief
that some great and dreadlul danger threatened Irona.

With a heart heating with the most painful apprehension, he
hurriedly retraced his steps, pausing once or twice for an instant
to listen for some sound, but hearing nothing save the almost
inaudible wash of the Rio Colorado. As he neared the rove,

A ironin- 'or-‘aeoiér.

. he proceeded with great care and caution, for, as its dark, g oomy

shadow enveloped him, a shadow as dark and gloomy enveloped
his spirit.
He moved on down the little strealulet, and was now within
a few feet of the spot where he had lett her—the dearest object ‘
on earth. He slowly arose from the ground. and his heart was
ln‘his month as he detected a dark mass which he knew was his ,
blanket, enveloping her.
. .‘f Thank God, I was mistaken! I thought you were gone—"
He stopped short as he rested his hand upon the blanket, for
no Irena was there I '

I,

/

 

C H A P '1‘ E R X V.
A DEATH AND AN ALARM.

FOR a minute Welland scarcely breathed, so overcome was
l0 at this astounding fact. He stood with his blanket in one
hand, his rifle in the other. gazing down where he had last seen

Irena lying. “ What can it mean 2" he asked himself again and‘ ‘
again. At almost any other time he would have felt. no approx

ension at her absence; but, knowing that he had lelt her in I
5189p almost as deep as death itself, ie was certain something
extraordinary must have occurred to awaken her—a sleep so
Jleevy, indeed, that‘she might be litted and carried away with-
wit‘gxlfwglz’git. --   '   

, real site: ‘ 9,59 “19-9!” 953:. ‘
“Quay not)» lost to xiii; 5" he exclaimetfli of

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER

“

Reflecting that probably she was still within the grove, he
set: about searching every part. so far as lay in his ‘power. «He
~passed up and down the stream, crossed it again and again,
paused and listened, and more than once repeated the loved
name in -a husky whisper. But no response came,_ save the
gurgle of the brook, and the soft breath of the night-wind
overhead.

“What devilish invention has spirited her away again ‘3” he
muttered. “ I’ll never return without her, or, it‘ she is slain,
without the lives of her murderers.”

He was standing beneath a lame tree as he muttered this. A
few feet distant was a saplincr. The top of this he saw suddenly
incline d’owm ': rd, as if borne by a heavy weight, and the next'
moment a dark figure bounded lightly down in front of him.

“ Is that you, Ross ‘3” it asked.

“ Good heavens! Irona, what does this mean ?” asked Wel-
land, with a recoil of astonishment.

“ ’Sh i not so loud," she admonished.
at hand. Have you not seen them ‘3"
“ Seen them? No; I had supposed you were carried off.”

“I came pretty near it, I can tell you.”

“ Who by? When? How was it prevented ?”

“ I awoke too soon, but I will tell you all in a minute. Are
you sure there is no one who will overhear us ?”

“ I have hunted through and through the wood for you, and
ham: seenlnothingpr of anybody else.” -

“They have Withdrawn, then. They are out on the prairie.”

“ But I have been there, too, Irona, and saw nothing of them.”

“ They were there, nevertheless. Remember, I saw one of
them myself.”

“ You say they. Whom do you mean

“ You must know it can be no other but those three," replied
Irona, in a meaning voice.

“.But, Irona, explain what you mean,” urged \Vclland, taking
her hand in his, and drawing her to him.

'“ I presume you left me shortly utter I fell asleep ?" she asked.

“ Yes; I had some misgivings about those infernal villains

' that are following us, and \veut out on the prairie to see whether
they were anywhere tear. I had been gone but a short time,
when I'reiiceted that. I was leaving you in great danger, and
immediately retraced my steps only to find you gone, however,
and, as I thot glit, irrecoverably so.”

“ It must have been a few minutes after you left that it. occth
rcd,t-hough it seemed several hours to me. You remember 1
was sleepimr very soundly. I remained thus a short time, when
all at once opened my eyes, as sensible and as wide awake as
I an), at this moment. What. it was that aroused me I can not
‘86“. 1):: sure nothing touched me, and there was certainly no

noise made; ‘but'itsee‘ms the prmna of danger sometimes a aka

“ There are others near

K!”

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flu}! felt. I opened in ' eyes, and without moving the rest of
my body. raised my heat and looked around me. Standing not
e ten feet distant, on the some side of the stream with myself, I
discovered the sombrero ot‘Juztrez Vusquelou. Iknew that on
must be absent or this CtHlLl not h we occurred. He seemed to
be listening. for he stood seveml minutes without stirring, and
then with it stealthy stop he approached. How at heart beat
'as I saw his hated form coming newer to me. was on the
point ot'scremning out, when he passed me and went on down-
stream. The instant. I (lurst do so, I arose, leaving the blanket
where it lay, and hurried further into the woo-:1; but. fate seem.
' ed to have decreed that I should not escape him, for several
times I came within it huir's-breztdth of walking directlyinto his
arms. This so ulztrmcd me, that I ascended this tree, and (could
on believe it ‘3) five minutes utter, he passed directly under it.
ut I saw no more of him. I heard you and took you for him
until you paused here and spoke, when, us you know, I de-
scended to you.”

“ You lnwe had a narrow escape, Ironu. How is it possible that
Vasquelou and I failed to encounter ouch other whenlwe were
both searchingr in the grove at the same time ‘3” .

“I think he must have gone out as you entered, or very
shortly after."

“ One thing, however, seems settled. Those three have
learned of our escape t‘rmn the island, and are pretty certain

, that we are in this grove." A "

“ I do not think they are certain of this, but probably they
have suspected we would take refuge here, and have thought
they might. come upon us when we were asleep, and thus secure
us without trouble. This, I think, is the reason why Vasque-
lon entered mid searched the wood to-uight.”

“ If he finds me asleep, I hope he will get me without trouble.
Heavens! what a. pity we couldn‘t have stumbled upon each
other when we were both searching for you."

“It is best, I think, that you did not. The others must be
close at hand, and you could not have saved yourselt'ngninst
all three.” '

“ We must do it, however, to-morrow, for then, I am convirh
cod, the lust struggle—the struggle of lid: and death—must come.
Colonel Ovatou will surely find out that we are concealed here,
and incited, us he must be, by revenge against myself, he will

:uve no meuns unused to put me out the way and recover you."

“ Is there not room for concealment somewhere near us 2/”

-“ There may be, but it can avail us nothing. We are regu~
"My besieged, us much as we were upon that island; but our cir-
‘cumstances are considerably improved, and I huve hopes of
"mukhig'a better resistance. But, Ironu’, it is yet =eady4in mg

n sno’r m'r roux

I '. you we worn out and exhaustedand Ihtwom id:
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 therefore,.th3it yon take that net which your yawn!)
much needs.” ' " ‘ 7 "  
; “ If you think it best, dear Ross, 1 will do so; although with
gigs dreadful danger threatening us, I ha ve little disposition to

e .

“ will watch over you, and you need have no fear."

.Irona obeyed. him like a child. The blanket which Welland
had brought with him was once more spread upon the ground,
and in a few minutes she was again unconscious. Welland took
his station near her, prepared to wait and watch until morning.

Hour after hour wore on without any thing occurring to
alarm him. Twice he detected a plush in the brook, as thou It
made by the step of some creature, but nothing further than this.
The first’honr was spent by Welland in walking slowly back»
ward and forward, when he sat down, confident that he was
able to remain awake in that position ; but a drowsiness gradtb
ally overcame him, and he was on the point of passing off into
forgetfulness, when, for the third time, he heard the splash in
the stream. He started up alert, cocked his rifle and stepped
behind the tree underneath which Irena lay sleeping. He had
stood here but a few moments, when he saw, risintr above the
bank of the stream, a broad Mexican sombrero. Welliund’sheart
throbbed as he reflected that his most implacable enemy was
now in his power. The hat rose hivhcr and higher, until the
shadowy outlines of the burly shoulder became visible. Then
he sighted his rifle as well as possible. The distance was short
and he was sure of his aim. He pressed the trigger—B. flash, 3
shar , quick report, a heavy fall, and then all was still.

“ t‘s the private opinion of Senor Welland that Juarez Vas-
quelon will cease minding other folks’ business,” remarked our

pherorcoolly, proceeding to reload his rifle. “It’s a bad practice
to be spying another person’s movements, and I wouldn‘t ad-
vise you to try it again.”

He looked anxiously at Irena, to see whether the report had
awakened her; but the pale, exhausted suii‘erer was sleeping as
soundly as ever. Having now carefully reloaded his rifle, he
stood on his guard, waiting the further development of matters.

. He fully expected the appearance of Choujeau and Ovaton, or
both; but, as fully an hour passed without seeing or hearing
any thing of them, he began to think that Irona had been mis«
taken in supposing them in the grove. They were probably a
good distance off, and Vasquelon had come forward to recon-
noiter for himself.

With this belief he moved forward to examine the body. He
found it as he expected, lying upon its back, and stone dead.
"He secured the rifle and ammunition, and then dragged the
bed; further dorm-stream, where it was not likely to be seen
jg tong While donating-the amnbrero dropped off.- Fee,’

a curith to   natures, Welland gtnpkggmh __

     

 

  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

(w it up to his .t‘ace.

  

“' ‘l'. 

.35

To ldsnnspeakable dismay he saw-that
it was not J uarez' Vasquelon, as he had supposed, but an entire
stranger! .He had never seen the man before, and consequently
knew nothing ot'his identity. y

This discovery both pleased and alarmed Welland. In the
first place, he was confident he was an enemy, and he was there-
fore justitied in slaying him ; in the second place, it convinced
him that asvyet his three most dangerous enemies knew nothing
,oi'his whereabouts, and for the present he was therefore safe.

“ 0n the whole, this is best as it is,” he concluded, “for we
stand a good chance of still eluding, Colonel Ovaton and his
brother villains, as they probably have not yet suspected our
fli ht, and may not for several days.” .

ut this pleasant. illusion was soon dispelled. When the gray
light of morning entered the grove, he passed out to the edge

of the prairie to take a .view ot‘. it. His tirst glance showed him '

 

 

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1 _shall never leave that grove.l

‘ faint great distance. when.

Ovatou, Pierre and Vasquelon, mounted on their horses and
riding leisurely toward the grove. Welland was in full View,
and when a couple of hundred yards distant. was discovered by
the latter, who pointed toward him, when all three reined up as
if taken aback at his appearance in this place. Our hero step-
ped behind a tree, and, showintar that he had two rides, called:

“I warn you to come no nearer. It is time you understood
me, and I solemnly swear that it‘ a single one of you attempts
to enter this grove, I will shoot him, as sure as he is within
range. You see I have two ritles; and it' you wish to know
whether they are loaded, you have only to approach ninher." ,

. “And where did Senor Welland get his second gun 't' asked
Vasquelon, placing his open hand beside his mouth, as if to di-
rect his words. .-

“I took a stranger for Juarez Vasquelon, and shot him b
mistake.”

From the sensation which this announcement made, Welland
felt certain that, whoever the stranger night be, he was one of
their men, who had been sent forward to reconnoiter, and whose
return they were probably looking for at that moment.

They remained consulting together for a considerable time,
and then, singularly enough to Welland, Colonel ()vaton turned
toward him and spoke: '

“ Ross Welland, it’s about time this game was ended. None
of us have had any designs upon you, but Vasqnelon here right-
fully claims and shall have your companion, Senorita Irouu.
I now make you our last ott‘: If you yield her up. you will

be allowed to pass unmolested upon your way; but if not, you
I

n.
a.

The repetition of this insulting proposition so incensed We}.
had that he raised his rifle, and wasaiming at the speaker even.
, he felt a light touch upon-his m
wasstnndinggtmahorw. : j , I . __ . 3,

’8 mm: on ran on: sown-Wear 303nm

“ Don't fire, Ross, for the distance is too great. Wait till th
come nearer. You would now miss them, and they wc aid to
upon you before you could reload.”

“ I don’t believe the cowards can muster courage to approach.
They have been standing',' there a half-hour already, and they yet
hesitate."

“ They are only forming their plans—-”

“Ah l I understand them,” interrupted Welland, in an CICited
manner. “ They are going to separate and approach the grove
singly, in different directions."

Such really appeared their intention, as they were alread
some yards apai't; but their design was suddenly frustrate .
All three halted and gazed behind them, away out on the prai-
rie, as it' alarmed at the appearance, while Welland watched
their movements with astonishment.

“ They see something to alarm them,” whispered Irona;
“ what can it be 1'”

’ “It may be only a ruse—no, it isn’t either. See them ride
together again. All three are haltlt'rightened to death. How
Singular I"

Colonel Ovaton’s arm was outstretched as though pointing to
something in the distance, and his gestures were excited. Wel-
land looked in the direction indiented,but he could See nothing,
although he began to suspect the true cause of their fear.

“ Danger threatens them, and it threatens us, likewise,” said

0.
“ What can it be ?" asked Irona.
“ I feel convinced, although 1 have seen nothing of them, that
I. company of Comanches are approaching."

 

C H A P T E R X V L
mm commcnns.

COLONEL Ovuox and his companions suddenly commenced
riding toward the grove.

“ ilait l" commanded Welland, stepping out in full view and
raising his rifle in a threatening manner. They did halt for an
mstnnt.

“ A band of Comanche Indians are coming this way,” said
Ovaton, “ and we are only seeking concealment from them.
They may enter this grove, and you will be glad of our. assist»
Ance to repel them in that case.’

“ I t'eel_able to take care of myself, and you certainly ought to
he" by this I would as soon have the ‘Comanches ante:
thxsumber an to have you. Therefore, I Warn you for the bl

    

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time to approach no nitrher, for if you do, Colonel Ovuton will
be the first man to fall}? , v /

This declaration was in too decided language to be misundero
stood. There was little time for the.horsemen to spare in use.
less conversation. They consulted together a moment, and
then, turning the heads of their animals to the castu'ard, they '
galloped away at, the top of ther speed.

“ The Indians can be at no great distance,” said \Velland,
“and it would be best to retreat further into the wood, where
there is no danger of being seen. You do so, Irona, whiiel
will ascend this tree and watch their movements."

Irona obeyed. Slinging one of the ritles over his back, Wel-
land climbed the tree beneath which he had been standing. It
was quite lofty, and he made his way to the top, where the leafy
branches effectually concealed him, and where he was all‘ordeo.
a wide view of the prairie. Looking to the eastward he dis-
cerned Colonel OvatOn and his cou‘ipanions riding,r for dear life.
They were not yet a mile distant, but they were troiug over the

ound at a tremendous pace. Turning his gaze to the north-
west, Welland encountered a sight that thrilled every nerve in
his body. Not two miles distant were at least twenty Coman-
ches coming on a full gallop toward him. Their glittering
lances, each crowned with a bright, fluttering ribbon, alter the
manner of the Mexicans, were pointed npvard,and were car-
ried as regularly as the bayonets of a marching column. Their
uniforms flashed and scintillated in the sunlight, and their mag-
nificent ‘hersemauship made them one of the most picturesque
sights that could be imagined. They had evidently seen the
three whites, and without doubt were in pursuit, for they were

oing at full speed, although their bodies rose and fell asuni-
firmly as the swells of the prairie. What was more, their
splendid animals were gaining upon those of the whites, and
while the race might be a long one, it was plain enough what
the result would be, if the Comanches persevered.

Nearer and nearer came this frightful band, their dazzling
dress haunting in the air, and their horrid painted faces gleam-
ing with all the passions of the ferocious savage. Welland held
his breath as they thundered past, and not till they were full
at mile may upon the prairie did he breathe free again. "Ije
then descended, and shortly rejoined Irona.

The grove in which our hero and heroine had sheltered them-
Ielves, as we have already stated, abounded with the smaller
game usually found in forests; hence, they had no anxiety or
trouble on the score of food. Whenever this was needed it
was easily procured. On this Occasion, in spite of the alarm-
hgcircumstances by which they had been surrounded, they

.made a. nourishing and substantial meal. At its. conclusion,

Irons said: _ ,, - .
f‘  you ham._hardly rested emollient for the M

v

 

      
   
 
 
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
      
   

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two 01' three days. I do not now need rest, as I slept well la!
night: "I hope you will, therefore, secure what. yonean during
teat a . ~

' ngland’s own prudence told him that the advice should be
followed. Afier playfully biddingr his companion good-night,
he lay down upon the ground and slept. Irona busied llcrseli
in watching over him, 0e 'asionally wandering to the edge oi
the timber to look for signs of their enemies, and then humming
in a low tone some Spanish song that she had learned years be-
fore, and in far ditl'erent circumstances. Noon cam ‘ and passed,
and still Welland slept. She could not awaken him, t'orshz‘
knew he needed all the slumber that came to him.

An hour or so after the sun had passed its 1neridian,Irona
was standing on the margin of the prairie, looking away in the
horizon, when she‘heard the faint, report of guns. They were
at a great distance, but the report was elea ' and distinct. Once
or twice they rattled like musketry, as though numbers were
discharged nearly sitnultamously, and then she either heard, or
fancied 'she did, that clear. peculiar yell which a Comanche In-

' dian sometimes makes when attacking a fee. A tew minutes i
later a deep and oppressive stillness SthlCtl over the prairie.

“ The Indians have overtaken the whites, and there has been
a deadly struggleflshe retlected. as me made her way back to
where Welland was lying. “ What‘the result has been I can
not tell, but it seems impossible that. either Colonel Ovaton or
one of his men should have escaped. W hat will the Indians do
no’w? Will they return in this direction, and will they halt.
'herc? Heaven t'orbid.”

It. was not until night was again settling over the prairie that
Welland awoke. Irena deemed it best to acqpaint him with
the sounds which she had heard some hours bet'orc, and to give
her suspicion ot'their cause. As she expected, Welland believed
them to have been produced by an atl'ray between the. Coman-
ches and the fugitives.

“ Whether they will return in this direction or not, why, of
0011180, we can only conjecture. Should they do so, and even
make a halt in this grove, I do not despair of escaping them.
Unless,”—said he, as the thought tlashed across him—“ unless
they have taken a prisoner and he has told them that we have
taken refuge here. I hardly think that has been done, however,
and it' their suspicions be not. aroused, it is not even probable
that they will discover us. They must have t ‘aveled u ecnsid~ ‘
erable distance, and. will hardly reach this spot before t! mots t
row.”

“ Why not to-night ?”  , \
. .n LT’hey will encamp and not resume their journey until day'-

' t; _ . _ . ,
g“But itwas early in the afternoon that I/hearci, their gun! In}

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. “ Very true, but not far enough wrenches. Remember,'th§it
horses Were going at their'best speed, audit isn’t probable they
will return at that rate.” _

"‘ But, Ross,” said Irona, with a brightened countenance,
“ what need is there of our remaining here until morning? By
that time we may be many miles away, and what is to hinder
us from going ?”

"-1 have thought of that course, dear Irona, but have given it
up. We can gain nothin" by night-traveling, while we run the
risk of losing our way. s I said, a minute ago, I do not think
there is anv danger of the return of the Indians, for twenty hours
at least. we will therefore rest contented until morning, when
We will contmue our journey—making many miles, I trust, be-
fore they reach this spot.”

" But will we not meet each other ?"

, “ That is the great danger, as we must necessarily take nearl
the same direction that they have. Our guide is the river, whic
here sv'erves to the southeast, and whose course, in all proba
'bility, has been followed by Colonel Ovaton and the others."

“ As it is already dark, would it not be best to make our pro-
,parations for spending the night?”

“ If you wish it. As I have just awakened, of course I have
no disposition to sleep at present. It is your turn, and while
you slumber, I will watch beside you. Would to heaven that!
alwavs might,” exclaimed Welland, tenderly drawing Irona to
.him and kissing her fair forehead. “ How my heart bleeds for
you! A few months since you knew no wish ungratified; but
now, by a wonderful train of circumstances indeed, you are a
fugitive on the prairies for your life and honor. Kind Provi-
dence I know will watch over a being as pure and as good as

oursclf.”

“ Don‘t think of me," responded Irona; “I am in the hands
of God, and feel resigned to any fate that he may decree me.
With his good will and your strong, noble heart to protect me,
I need have no fear, no matter what danger threatens me."

“ Irena,” said Welland, modulating his own voice to the soft
tones oflove, “here alone on the broad prairies we should nn~
.derstnnd each other. I have told you how ottenl have thought
of my last interview with you and regretted the temper I then
displayed. I have. felt sorry for this, I say, and you have for-
given me for it. I believe we shall both escape from this noun.
t! 5'; but, we may not. And now, Irona, wil you not give me
what I have never asked yet—the assurance that I possess the
love- of your heart?”

“ I do, Ross, devoutly and truly,” replied Irona, in a [one
ybich indicated the depth and, the purity other love. '

 .f‘I . no  Good-Ill hit-*- °°Q:nlgixt,if' Was allthe 9y.

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,dw .tie _ EB; when”
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home !"

rWA‘bcgéicté’m

‘50

_made a coach of branches and shrubbery beneath some heavy
bushes, which sheltered her from the night-dews. Here, folded
in his thick, warm blanket, she rested as sweetly ,as if in her
own chamber in a distant home.

Welland stationed himself a few feet distant, where, seated
upon the ground, at a late hour, he. fell asleep and did not
awaken until aroused by the chattering of the birds overhead.
Almost at the same moment Irona also awakened, and soul}
ineg saluted him.

" A long journey is before us,” said she, “ and I believe we
are to commence it. as soon as possible.”

“ Very true," replied Wellanr , “ and it will not belong before
We shall be upon our way. Of course we must have our mom~
int: meal before starting.”

his required but a short time, as enough remained of the
evening‘s repast to afford them all that was needed. Welland’s
blanket was strapped to his back, the charges of his two rifles
examined, and all pronounced ready.
, “Do you feel able to walk a great distance?” he asked of
Irons, as they were about to start.
" I surely do," she answered, “ and as I am not encumbered

La”! 01‘? THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

‘by any extra weight or load, I think I shall not be the first one

to give out.”

“ That remains to be proved," said Welland. “ And now for

“ Wait a moment,” interrupted Irona; “ought we not to ex-
amine the appearance of the prairie before venturing upon it?
We know not how close at hand enemies may he.”

“I should have thought of that before. Wait here until‘ I re- '
turn.”

Saying this, Welland moved hastily through the grove to-
ward the prairie. A few rods brought him to the edge of the

"timber, when, as he looked out on the plain, he saw, no less than

a quarter ot‘a mile distant, the whole band of Comanches gal.

loping directing toward him. He paused scarcely asecond, but

long enough to assure himself that their destination was unmis-

takably the grove in which he was standing. He made all

haste back to Irena, and communicated the astounding intelli-
(‘1ch.

“ We can not flee, as the prairie is so open we should be dis.
Covered almost immct‘liatcly. We. must secrete ourselves at
once. There is no time to lose. Enter the spot where you
slept last night and I’wiil pull the bushes over you, so that 1
think there is no danger of your being seen."

“ And yourself?” asked Irena, mechanical?
i

obeying him.
' “ Never mind me, I will take care of myself.

would notdo

hide there. Quickui‘rona,   badooulatgi;
biting

the‘bushes,'wh_ , , _
such a manner that there was no probability ’

 

 
 

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discovered even b the lynx-eye of a Comanche, unless his main:
ciou Was directet toward the spot. This was scarcely done
when the tread of horses’ feet was heard, and ’ha'rdly conscious
'of what he did. Welland caught the limb of a tree near at hand
and hastily ascended among its branches.

A. moment later, and the score of Comanches entered the

ore, sprung from their horses and turned them loose, while

Ely threw themselves upon the grass for an hour’s rest. They
be encamped near at hand and hreakt'asted, as the made no
demonstrations toward preparing food. They lolle upon the
ground after the manner of a parcel of children, talking, chat-
ting, smoking, and engaging now and then in some trifling sport,
as it‘ with the sole object 01 passing away the time. They had
halted about twenty yards from where Welland was secreted,
and formed a picturesque sight. Every form was matchless in
its symmetry, lithe, active and muscular, they would have
formed a formidable body for an attacking force. Mounted on
their highly‘trained horses, each rider seemed a part of his anio
'mal, whose most frenzied etforts could not unseat him.

. But Welland had little inclination to admire their appearance
'at thhl time and in this place. In a menagerie or show, where
they were safe li'om doing harm, he might have had such feel-
ings; but, the drama in which he was performing a part was
far too real to admit any such thoughts, and he watched their
movements with the most jealous scrutiny. He soon saw that
it was not the men he had so much cause to fear as it was their
horses. The former remained nearly in the same spot where
the had first placed themselves, and seemed to have no incli-
nation to wander away; but with the latter, the case was dif-
ferent. In browsing and cropping the herba‘re, they had al-
ready approached within a few feet of Ironas hiding-place.
Should these s‘g'ucious animals discover her, it was morally cer-
tain that their masters would. ‘

The horse of a Comanche Indian is generally as intelligent as
his rider, and when one makes a discovery, it is not long before
he imparts it to the other. The animal, when on the war-trail,
will scent danger and warn his master of it, while yet it is ,l'ar

i distant, and when encamped, no more faithful or unerring sen~
tinels could he found. _ ,

In the present instance. there being no breeze, and the horses
themselves suspmtz'ng no danger) if we can he allowed such an
expression,) Iron». might pass unnoticed unless they invaded
the ver spot where she la . The danger of this occurring
kept V elland in a fever 0' apprehension. She was between
him and the Indians, and the risk that she run was indeed a
fearful one. In his anxiety, Welland more than once impruo
dently exposed himself to the wandering gaze of any savage,

glad he ‘ ed being seen only by goo Aortune. “
 {curls rest, the war-party gave Sign; of 

 

  

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new came the most critical moment of all. ’I‘he'Comanc‘he'l’
vc a peculiar whistle, which brought most of their horses-1m
s’tan'tly to them; but there were several that, from some cause
or other. paid no attention to the signal. Among the latter'wae
one which was plucking the buds and leaves from the very
bushes which sheltered Irena. I-Ic obstinately refused to leave,
and when Welland saw his savage master start toward him.
his trepidation was so great that he could hardly maintain his
position in the tree.
As the Comanche reached his animal, the latter, with a snort
' of alarm, retreated several steps, as though he had discovered
some alarming object in the bushes before him. The Indian
noticed the action, and taking his horse by the head, endeavored I
to lead him forward. At first the brute betrayed some fear, but'
radually quieted down and slowly approached the bushes. As-
ie reached them, the Indian vaulted upon his back. and sou ht
to urge him through them, evidently thinking there was noth ng
formidable there. The horse made a steportw‘o, and then, with
a wild neigh, took the bit. in his teeth, and galloped otl’ to where
his companions Were standing. Here the Indian yieided him
up to a comrade, and dismounting, walked hurriedly toward
the bushes, plainly determined to satisfy himself as to the cause
of the animal‘s alarm.
'Welland now seriously debated whether heshoul‘d’ shoot the'
, savage or not; but the certain consequences of such a proceed-
ing restrained him, and, tormenting as were the circumstances,
he qtg‘etly watched his moycments. The Comanche circled
aroun ' the suspicious spot several times, and then cautiously
approached it. Cocking his rifle, he reached the muzzle for-
ward,pushed it between the leaves, and carefully gazed in. For
a few seconds, which seemed minutes to the excited Welland,
he stood perfectly motionless. Then with a. “Ugh!” of sur-
rise, he stooped down, took Irena by the arm, and led her
rth. ~

 

CHAPTER XVII.
LOST‘AGA'IN.

'l‘ma appearance of Irena among the Comanches, naturally
created the greatest surprise and wonder. They gathered around
her, questioning her captor, until he had given the particulars‘
, of her discovery, and then several proceeded to the bushes and
examined them. The blanket was brought forth, and new
speculations were indulged in. Irona’s remarkable beauty made
, n atimpression upon their savage hearts, and she was- theatre}

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he'd descended again and again upon the Texan and Mexi-
can villages; they had shot the men, tomahawkel the children,
and carried ofl‘ the young women. They had kept these as prisn
oners, had outraged and then slain them. Their name was a
word of exeemtion and terror along the frontier and they had
properly acquired the title of the Bedouins of America. But,
in their manner toward the helpless captive now in their poo:
session, there was nothing of rudeness or insult. She stood
with her limbs free, and her head downcast before her captors.

The leader of the compan stepped forward before her, and
speaking quickly, in broken nglish, asked: n

“ Where come from?” '

Irena was on the point of replying, when it occurred to herj
that it would be safer to feign ignorance of the English language
She would not tell a falsehood to save either the life of Welland
or herself; and by refusing to answer at all, she was saved the
ordeal. She therefore looked up with a wondering gaze, as
thou h the meaning of the words was not known to her.

“ here come from ?~—-Who be ?—-what do here ?” repeated
the chief, bending his face close to hers. Still she made no reply.’

“ ‘- Eseucha V. [03216 16 dt'go?" (Do you listen to what ‘1 tell
you '3) asked the In ‘

' ' "'fmite'fii

ntn,in Spanish.

This was Irona’s own language, and, as she heard its musical
words uttered so fluently by the Comanche, she well-nigh for-
got herself; but, as before, the questioner received no answer.
E“;- thla V. at espalwl 0 cl ingles 2” (Do you speak Spanish or

-n lish?

he In)dian, receiving no answer to this second question, re-
peated it in English until satisfied that his prisoner either could
not or would not make any reply to him. He then turned to
his follou ers and addressed to them a few words in his own-
tongue. Welland instantly divined what he said, from the fact
that they all scattered through the grove and commenced 8'
search. It was now time to look to his own personal safety.
He went up the tree till he had reached its densest part. Here
he slid out on the limb, and lying down, with his arms and feet
around it, awaited the result of the search.

From his situation he was now unable to see the movements
of the Indians, but he could hear their tread through the bushes,
their guttural exclamations to each other, and a word or two
that the chief now and then uttered to the silent firms. ‘In .1
few moments a rent clamor was heard. Welland descended
as far as he dared, but could see nothing. From the direction
from which the noise came, he concluded they had come upon
the dead body of his unknown enemy. .

The minute Irons saw them brin 'ng the dead body to u...
thiefiit occurred to her that she mi t make it do Welland .

at her  would“

.ml-mm', - 11- we'coma-ncbes'eoul be madeto believe that it

nu the dead form

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further ;' or, at any rate, would not have so strong a belief that
any one else was at hand. She therefore covered her face with

, emotion—a, genuine emotion, but produced by far difi‘erent
causes than her captors belieued.

This inanitbstation had partly the desired cfl‘ect. The (10
manche chief consulted with his warriors, and examined thc
dead hunter again and again. None had ever seen him before,
although, from his dress and appearance, he was judged to be
a Mexican. After a free interchange of sentiments. the conclu~
sion reached was that the man had been shot by Colonel Ova.
ton or one of his men. The latter, when first seen, it will be
recollected, were reincd up in front of the grove, in parlc with
Welland. The Comanches had come down like a thunc erbolt
upon them. frightening them away, it was believed, before they
had time to make off with Irena,

' Still the chief directed the search to be continued, instructing ..
his warriors, at the same time, tocxamine the trees!" When this
order was given, Welland had returned to his limb, and his
arms and legs were closed around it, while he listened to the tu-
mult below. The first intimation he had of the character which
the search had taken, was when he caught the glimpse of a
bronzed body flitting through the branches of a large tree a few
yards away. The savage had ascended this, as his companions

/ were doing the others. Welland could judrre by the agitation
made among the leaves, the position of the Tndian’s body. He
saw him go up full fifty feet above himself, where he paused a.
moment, and then commenced dropping downward from limb
to limb, as dcxtrously as a monkey could have done. When a
few feet below our hero, he made a spring of nearly a dozen
feet through the air, catching the branch of another tree. and
oing to its to with the same celerity that he had displayed
efore. In a tow moments he was in a ditferent tree, repeatin
the same maneuvers, and at the same time getting further an
further from the tree which contained Welland. The reason
why he failed to visit this was because it was a small one, in
winch he ri btly judged no person would take refuge from
_‘choice. Hat Welland had a. few minutes longer to consider,
he never would have used it for that purpose. The Comanche
did bestow a searchin glance upon it: but, bein a consider-
, able distance away, ant having no suspicion. he ailed to note
the peculiar appearance of the limb which was weighed down
with the wei rht of a then. For the space of perhaps twenty
inutes, We land saw nothing more of the Indian climbers,
ut‘, during all this time, he could hear them springing from
limb to limb, and dropping on the ground with exclamations of
, flies pointment. He expected every moment to see one of them
11an up his own two, and couud only wonder that 
v  WWI a0. Isms- . .  ~

 

her hands, and, bending her head, her whole frame shook with ‘ ,

  

 

  
  
 
 
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
  

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1 . From the manner in. which the search Was'lbeing‘ canducm.

’he felt satisfied the tree would afl‘ord' him concealment but a few
minutes longer; he therefore determined to resort to stratagem
to mislead the savages. The latter, at that moment, were hunt.
mg in another part of the timber, and unless a stray one of their
number should wander in that direction, they would probably
not return for some minutes. The tree in which he had first
seen the Comanche stood very close to his own. As this had
already been searched, he concluded that if he could get into it,
he would be safe, and he (btcrmined to make the attempt.

He passed out on his own branch until it bout with his weight.
He had brought only his rifle with him. This he carefully
tossed, so as to make it fall in a horizontal position upon the
branches opposite. To his dismay, however, instead of catch-
ing and remainin , it fell end over end through the limbs to the
ground. Wellanc crouched down and listened. but the noise
made was not noticed. It had fallen a good distance from the
base of the trunk, and the rank grass closing over it made him
confident it would not be seen unless accidentally stepped upon..

Welland now made preparations for his leap. It was over six
feet he had to spring, and then run the risk of sustaining him-
self'by the twigs and branches of the other tree. He carefully
measured the distance with his eye and leaped outward ! What
a thrill of horror passed through his body when, in mid-air,'lie
saw he should not accomplish it! As he came down, he frantic-
ally clutched the branches, but they would not sustain him. They
bent down, and the twigs slowly slipped through his blistered »
fingers. It was like a horrid iurht-mare—this falling—falling,
without power to check himse f-—that dreadful sinking sen:
sation, as though dropping into some dark pit. It was no use
to attempt saving himself. Down, down he went through the
limbs, and finally came to the ground in a standing position.
He glanced despairingly around, and felt a faint hope, as he saw,
singularly enough, that he had not been observed. Without
105mg an instant, he renewed his attempt, and in a few mo:
ments was snugly ensconced in the top of the second tree.

. It was not ten minutes later that a brawny Comanche was on
the very limb which he hsd so recently lei . ‘ Narrow, indeed,
had been his escape—far narrower than he suspected; for the
unusual appearance of the surrounding branches was noticed by
the savage. He saw that they had been node by a persma
swinging from one tree to another; and the Sl me sagaeious eye
that showed him this, showed still turthcr that whoever had
made the leap had failed in its execution and had fallen to the
ground. If he felt surprised that a Comanche warrior should
have made such 7o failure..he thought notqu more. There Was
not enough lathe cimuamauoes to make um suspeqtétlm it ,-
nr‘ight have been done ammo man, and he  
panimieupo'nthegroun ' 

 

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.. ,The search was now given over, Every tree and everyggok '

* hat could have concealed}? person» hadbe'en ‘sub'jeéted' to 

jseverest scrutiny, without revealing a white man, and the Ir!-

dians were Convinced that their first supposition was right. The

chief mounted his horse, lifting Irona like an infant in front 0

him. She struggled and made signs that she wished to remain

where she was, but she was in the grasp oi" a giant and it availed
nothing. Away sped the Comanches to the northward, bearing

Irena Seraville with them. Welland, from his lofty position,

watched them as they rapidly receded in the distance. Soon

they became mere moving specks in the horizon, and finally
faded altogether from view. Hour after hour he sat gazimr at the
mint where they had disappeared. He sat motionless, despair-
ing and hopeless. After a long time he drew a deepbreath,

'and then looked around him. .

‘ “ Gone, gone again, when I thoulrht the danver was passed!

,What will become of her? God only knows. Eishonor, death,

to Irona Seraville! And here I have been Compelled to sit and

see her carried oti‘ by those inhuman savages. Her l'ate must

.be written in the book of destiny. It is no use striving against

it. I will return to the United States and forget that ever

knew her! Forget that I ever knew Ironn Seraville l” repeated

Welland, alter a pause. “ N ot while memory lasts l And would

‘I ever forget my own haseness in thus deserting her in the mo-

ment of direst necessity? Away with the thought! I will fol-

low her as lonp,r as she lives. if she is dishonored, my life shall
be spent in avenging her. If not, I shall never give over my eti-
forts until she is rescued or I have died in the attempt.”

f He sat a few minutes longer in deep thought, and then added:

" “ What. can I do? I have two ritles, it is true, but no horse

to ride, while twenty Comanche i 'arriors are opposed to me.

can not steal into their camp and rescue her by stratagem.

They are too cunning for that. But Iean follow after them

There is no dreaming what op )ortunilies may he ofl'ered me.“

I " Ten minutes later and Welland was walking rapidly across
the prairie in the trail made by the passage of the Comanche
horses. 1n the afternoon he halted a few moments, and hy night.
had passed overa good long distance. As he expected, the trail.
led up to the Colorado, which it still tbllowed when night closed
around him. ' 110 intended, when starting, to travel all night,
but he had already undergone too many hardships to hear this
tax upon his endurance. While looking about him, he caught
the glimmer of a camp-fire in the distance on the bank of the
river. This he believed undoubtedly belonged to the Comnnehes,
and be determined to approach nigh enough to recounoiter.

" Near as seemed the camp, it‘required almost two Iteurs’ walk-
, beforehe reached it. To  unbounded surprise aslhgeame
,-' asingle’peyson was in‘ si t‘   the morp'snra

‘ . this ‘52? trees:  “53

     

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mesf'to conceal themselves 'around the fire, which was kindled

‘ Welland passed and rcpassed it several times, gradually up:
preaching nearer and inenutiously exposing himself. Only a
faint light was cast by the smoldering embers, and within the
circle ot'this he at length ventured. He had hardly done sci,
when a dark. ball-like body bounded from the darkness, and
alightfng on his shoulders, bore him downward with irresistible
strength. ‘

“ I takes you for a white man," said a rough voice, as his throat
was grasped like a vice, “ but you‘ve no business to be sneakin‘
round like this. ,Spcak quick! Who mought '01] be?"

' “ I am Ross Welland; don't you know me, t ed Nuggens?"

“ Him and no mistake," replied that hunter, peering down in
his face and than allowing him to rise. “ Where’s the gal ‘3”

“The Comanches have got her.”

“ What‘d I tell you, John ‘2” said the hunter, turnintr toward
his companion, who now made himself visible. “ f know'd

Jhenl rutii’us had somebon among ’ctn that they’d no right to
When we met 'em to-day. How is it they didn‘t git you, too 2‘
asked the speaker. indignantly. as though Welland had no right
to be free when one placed under his charge was a prisoner.

“ Have patience, and you will understand it all in a moment,"
—and thereupon our hero explained what is already known to
the reader. At its conclusion, Nuggens exclaimed :

f “ Just like the rutli'ns; they’ve got an account to settle with us;
but'whnt are you doing here 3’” .

“I am in pursuit of them.”

“Give us your handl You've got the stufl‘ in you.
«bass, on wi l."

“ ow is it you two are here? I understood your des-
tination Was the Llano Estacado, when we parted.”

“So it was—so it was; but after we’d left you some time,
John, here, said he believed there was something wrong going
on, and the next morning we turned back to fuller you. ,That
night we found your horse. Then we It'notc‘tt something was up,
sure. We went down on this side of the river, and not thinking
of looking [It the river for you, why we didn't see you on that
island that you just told us about. we went on and hunted for
you two or three days, and then thinking we thought have
passed you, we took the back-truck again. But we couldn’t- see

nothing ot'you, ’ 'ause, like a couple ot tools, we had got on the
wrong side of the river. So we give it up and started for the
Stain-d Plain, and have got this for on the way.”

“ You say yout‘ound my horse some time since. What did
you do with him i’” ' , _ _

'“ Why, kept him, of course. Such animallg'ure too my

fifgitteamm possess"  minnow?” ‘ " 

. .. urns: gown

You’ll

 

‘33 an on me onn some-qu noun.

‘ " If you don't believe it, jest walk out there where our two sit-
imals is standing. Being we‘ve found his owner,'he’s nolonga
ours. ’

“ Such a turn of fortune I am forced to believe is an augury
of my success—”

“ Is what?” interrupted Smith.

“ Is a sign—a token of success in my efforts to rescue Irena."

“ Oh !—that’s what you mean. Don’t use them big words
around these parts-‘cause why? no one can swallow ’em. But
say, yeou, you don’t. really mean to follow them twenty Comm.
ch'es alone, do you ?”

“ It‘ I started on foot with that firm intention, what would in.

duce me to give it up now that I have recovered my horse i” .

“ What can you do among such a lot of rufli’ns ‘3"

“ The chances are greatl a l'ainst me, I will admit, but I
should never forgive myselft id not make an effort."

“ Can your horse travel faster than theirs i”

“ He is_f'ully their equal.”

“ That don’t matter. 'Sposc you get the gal—which you never
will—how are you going to get away from them twenty chaps ?"

“ As I have just said, the chances are desperate, but I shall
make the ctl'ort."

“ All alone, ch '2”

“ I expect to'do so."

“ Wu], I expect you won‘t.”

“Why not 1’" asked Welland, thinking that perhaps they in-
tended to prevent him.

“ ’Cause we roes with you !" exclaimed Nuggens, heartily.

“ ‘Vhen that litt e gal of yourn gets into (litllculty, why I reckon!
we does too, and stays there, too, till she's out. Eh, Smith Y"

“ J ust so—exactly.”
“ Let’s shake hands on that."
And Welland grasped hands with the two hunters.

CHAPTER XVIII.
L\' 'rm: conmcnn CAMP.

Tms much then was settled—three armed and mounted white
men were to pursue twenty armed and inonnted Comanche In-
dians, with the object of rescuing a captii e white girl from them.

‘ A t‘oolhardy proceeding, to say the least- ; but, curiously enough,
Ned Nuggens, who always saw the dark side of the picture, was
very sanguineof success. . . ' ‘ 

z “I have sudden of! my own," suid‘he, with a~ wise lookflhe
> next 'fllOl’ningpfls they were about to stun. " ‘ '  '

 

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“ Pray, let us know what it is,” asked Welland, with some
' curiosity. ‘ ' 4
y “ Can't do it jest now,” he replied, with a shake of his head.
“You’d all laugh at me, sure."
, " Tell a fellcr if he guesses?” quizzed Smith, leaning on his
horse and looking up in his companion‘s face.
“ Yes, don’t know but what I will.”
“ Is it to buy her ?”

. “Buy her l Where’d I get any thing to buy herwith i” asked
Nag en's, in amazement.

. “ ’ hat’s what I should like to know. You goino‘ to make .a
' dash among,r ’em, do some hair-raising, and be oil‘ Iike a thun-
der-clap ‘3" -

“ Nothin' of the kinc ."
“ Going to sneak into camp and steal her i’"

"“ You’re all wrong ag‘in.”

“ Going to lecture ’em ?—tell ‘em they’re bad boys and
shouldn‘t do such things?”

“ No, sir; but I'll say that last guess is the nearest you’ve
come et.” .
. “ h-e-w-w l” exclaimed Smith, giving vent to a long, pecu- ‘
5 liar whistle. “Going to appeal to their better natur‘, 1 s‘pose.

' Hnin‘t you been on the prairies long enough yet to find on
that Comanches ain’t. human ‘3"

“No,” replied Nag-gens, with a meaning emphasis.
“ Wal, Ihave, and if on hain‘t you will, mighty soon."

_“ [know not what pian you have in view," said Welland,
“but'lf you are certain of its success, I am perfectly satisfied.
With that assurance, I shall go forward with renewed hope.”

,“ It‘s impossible to be sartin. with Uonmncltes ,' but I feel very '
sartiurso much so. that ii'I don‘t succeed I loses my hn'r, sure. '

Nuggeus seemed to enjoy the astonishment his words created.
He added, with a meaning smile:

“ I’ll say this much, though I don’t choose to tell you more.
The plan that I‘ve hit upon doesn’t bring either of you in the

 n scrape. For that matter, you could both just as well stay where

I _ ter.

you are, and let me go on alone. But, let us lose no more time
talking. We shall have a good tramp to overtake them lujins." '
Nu wens galloped ahead, and the two followed on a brisk can-
ii’e gave it as his opinion that the Comanches would be
overtaken at night, provided they kept,.up their own swinging
pace. The trail still led along the Colorado, and he felt confident
that it would continue to do so for many miles. A few hours'
ride brought them upon the site of their last encampment, the
embers of whose fires were still burning. The s: trroundiug signs
Were carefully examined by the hunters, and the Indians pro-
nuanced to be nearer than was first supposed.
., '“At this nit,” said N uggens, “ we‘ll be onto ’em 'by the m,
“#49”. at. They’ve mad'quimhumm" v, - 

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W mm on m-b'r'm' son'i'n-V‘fim' BORDER.
' “ Do they always keep up that rapid center of, theirs ?" V

“Bless you, no! Thy’re animals 0‘et; tired as well as othefi'."
They. sometimes halt for three or thirty hours jest as the notion
takes them." I

“The Comanches are the acknowledged sovereigns of thin
section, I believe 2*" ‘

“They‘re the sovereigns—if that means the masters—thou is
they find that question is often disputed with them. They 0
pretty much as they please, especially where Mexicans are con-
cerned. ’l‘he Texans are tougher customers.”

“' It always seemed singular to me that the Mexicans bore these
continual aggressions of} these-Bedouins, as I have heard them
called. A firm stand would scatter them to the winds, although
they are as good riders and warriors as you can find on this
continent.”

“ That‘s true, what you‘ve said ; but the Mekicans are all cow.
ards—that’s what makes things as they are. Santa Ana and.
all their leaders are cowards, and the Comanchcs know it and
despise ‘em.” ' ~ .

“ The can he at no great distance ahead of us. Will it not
be running a great risk to come unexpectedly upon them ?"

“ We ain‘t. going to do that thing."

“ It strikes me that we can not very well help it, if we keep
up this rate.” _

“ You‘re mistaken. We‘ll come in sight of them as near the
middle of the afternoon as it can be.”

“ Do you intend to resort to that original idea of yours imme-
diately, or to wait until night ‘3"

“ 1’11 do it at once; there is no stratagem or sneakin’about it.”

Despite the maneuvers to which Smith resorted, he could not
induce Nuggeus to give an inkling of his plan. Several times
the latter laughed to himself, as though mightily pleased with
it. Then he would shake his head, and look serious.

“I said there was no stratagem, as you call it, in the thing'
but there is, and it the old Comanche chief finds it out, why it ll
be all up with Ned N uggens. I’m in for it, however, and the
tr’yrwilLbe made." - v

“Thunder and lightning !“ exclaimed Smith, in a gym fury,
“if you ain’t going to tell a fuller what it is, don’t say nothing
mere about it. ’

He paused a moment, as if expecting a reply, and then added:

“ No one wants to know what your smart tdee is, that you’re
making such a fuss over.”

Even this failed to secure the desired information

Indulging now and then in laughing conversatioan specula-
tions and drugs at N uggens’ “plan,” our three friends continued
on a rapid canter. pressing their horses forward as much as they

‘_ ~ Noon eametand, passed, but th‘erv halted not, except,
Mair nuWWflbfifilfi fi'v' V Tweedy“ 

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(on the banks of this, and the trail of tin_Comanches wu'

' plain y visible, as it had not been disturbed by man or animal.

'In the’ course of an hour or so N uggeus dismounted, and ex-

. ‘ unlined the footprints of the horses.

“ What’s the sign ?” asked Smith.
“ All right—ain‘t fur off.”
,Another hour they galloped on, when another examination
Was made.
“How is it now ‘3”
_ “ Close onto ’em,” replied N uggens, remounting.
A “ How close ‘3"

“ Half an hour, or thereabouts."

“ Have they encamped ‘3”

“ Don’t know ; guess not at this time of day.”

As the time advanced, the three began to ride more cautiously,
keeping a bright look-out for the Comanches. But the half-hour
came and passed, and they were not seen. Smith waited some
time longer, when, feeling a little disa ointed, he remarked:

_“ The half-hourhas passed long a 0, ed; where's the Injins i” ‘

“Have patience; we‘ll soon see em.”

“ You shouldn’t have said we‘d‘ see ’em in half an hour ifyou
wasn‘t sure."

-" You needn't fret, Smith, for they are in sin‘ht this minute.“

. At this startling announcement, Smith and3 Welland mined
in their horses, rose in their slirrnps, and looked searchineg
ahead. N uggens had spoken the truth—the Comanches were
in sight. They were still at a great distance, however, and were
on an easy r:illop. An inexperienced person would have tuken‘
them for at ock of prairie hens, or larger animals. Their heads
and shoulders only were visible as they sunk and rose on the
swells of the prairie, and these appeared thus insignificant.

“ How long, at this rate, will it take us to overhaul them i”
asked Welland. ’ ' '

“ Not afore night, I‘m afraid; they're a good ways 011‘, and
traveling at a rousing pace. They’ve made a long halt some-
where, ol‘we’d never come up to them as soon as this.” V

“ I should think they would stop riding sometime. Have thev‘
no destination, or are they always riding from place to place 2"

“They’re nearly always riding, but they have their houses,
like other folks. There’s a big Comanche village about titty
miles further up the river, and that is where this crowd belongs.
The ‘re aiming for the spot."

“ hy not wait till they are at home '3" asked Welland, with
some curiosity.

“My hair wouldn’t be worth a beaver-skin by that time. No,
air," added Nuggens, emphatically, “ I must be among them

‘ rdfli’ns this afternoon or this night, or‘that al is one fln'ever.w
8

‘f Our animals can travel faster,”'snirl Sm th,-striking‘hirimo

I

V r I insure rapid-gallop ’ The others did the slimmest! in a M

    

  

1

LIFE OR was: OLD WWII-WEST BORDER.

time it was plain they were gaining rapidly upon the Indians»,
Their bodies and horses were visible, and it was then that the‘
three whites were called upon to admire the splendid riding of

these western Bedouins. The whole twenty had fallen into

column side by side, and the rise and fall of their bodies, to?
gelher with the rapid motions of their horses, were as regular

and harmonious as the movements at' a platoon of infantry.

.is night approached, our friends had gained so much on the
Coumnehes, that, at N uggens’ suggestion. they drew down into a
walk. It had been his wish, at first, to overtake them at dusk;
but he had changed his mind, and said all now depended upon

, not being seen before that time. The better to avoid this, they
let them shoot ahead several miles, when the three rode down
the river~bank, and cautiously made their way tip-stream.

Several miles were thus passed, when the darkness had so
increased that they again rode upon the prairie, and took the
trail of the Comanchcs. The latter were not visible; baton:-
friends had ridden only a short time, when a red light suddenly
flamed up on the plain, a mile or so in advance. '

“ There's the camp ‘3" exclaimed N uggens, joyously.

- Dark, shadowy forms could be seen hitting backward and for-
‘ward before the tire, and now and then a guttural exclamation
was borne to them on the night-wind. It was plain that the Co-
manches had no fear of attack in this remote section. Their
horses were turned loose, and were busy cropping the grass,
while confusion reigned in the camp. Ten determined enemies
could have made a terrible havoc among those twenty Indians;

.but the latter well knew there were no ten enemies at hand.

Nuggens prepared at once to venture among the Comanehes.
His preparations were slight, and consisted in nothing but dis-
mounting and passing his rifle to Welland. The latter noticed
a tremor in the motions of the hunter, though he did his best to
hide it. The critical moment had come, and he comprehended
the perilous nature of the undertaking he had ventured upon.

V“ Good-by, boys," said he, taking,r the hand of each ; “ it' I
ain’t back by the end of an hour, you’ll know I won‘t—well, I
won’t be back at all.”

“ You expect to return, do you not '3"

,“ I hope I shall; but—but it ain‘t certain by any means."

“ Well, God go with you."

And the hunter was gone.

Smith and Welland remained seated on their horses, gazing
toward the Indian camp, awaiting the moment when Nuggens
would ,make his appearance there. The latter moved directly
forward, without the slightest attempt to conceal his approach,
and it was not many minutes before the two knew by the co -

..motion among the Comanchcs that he had arrived among the
‘ And‘now commenced thehour of surpehse. ’ " ‘ .

 

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must 49mm '

C H A P 'I‘ E It X I X.
CONCLUSION.

LEAVING Smith and Welland a prey to the most a) xioua sue-
pense, we will follow the hunter into the Comanche camp. '

He walked directly toward the camp-tire, as we have stated,
and as it was but a few hundred yards distant, it required but a
few moments to reach it. A visit was so unexpected by the In- t
dians thathe was not noticed until he was really among,r them.
Several at once drew their knives and closed around him‘, and
'for a moment or two his life was in danger.
. -“ What seek you '3” he asked, in ‘he Gomanche tongue. “ I
come among you unarmed. I am m a visit to your chief, Riano
touch. I would see Riantonon.”
. At mention of their leader‘s name, considerable wonder was
created among those immediately surrounding the hunter.

“Do you seek the mighty Riantonon ‘3" said one, stopping
toward him. Nuggens merelv signified his assent.

“ He is by the other tire. Follow me i"

The savage moved oti‘, and his companions made way for
their visitor to follow him. A few yards brought them to the
second tire, around which seve -al Indians were reclining. ‘
' “ One who asks for Riantonon," said the guide, stepping aside,
and allowing Nuggens to advance to the tire. As he did so, a
large, powerful, and not unhandsome Indian arose to receive him.

“ Is it the great and good Riantonon that I see before me l’"
asked N ugeens, with a low oheisance.

“I aim fiiantonon, chief of the Comanches," returned the
Indian, in a voice that sounded like the rumble of thunder.

“ I out from Maxalhon," said Nuggens, with another obcisance.

“ The road to my white brother’s house is long, and it must
be an important wish that britth his messenger hither."

“It is an important errand. llte object of which has possessed
Maxalhon for many days and nights." '

Although the chief was curious to learn the cause of this
singular visit, he was too much of an Indian to betray any 'vni-
gar'curiosity. To :tY()iti.SitOlViug such aweakness, he pm'poseij'
prevented the conversation trout coming to a point.

“ The path that my brother has traveled is a rough one. He
_may rest with us till morning.”

“ The commands of my master are that I set out on my rc-
tara tonight."

“‘h’ly warriors are preparing food. My brother must be hun-

I1}"th rifle in true, and 1 time not wanted for food.“ .' ~ ‘-
“Butlaeenonnns.” ‘ p '  .

 

 

/

a“ m on :33. em scorn-weer manna.

“"I need no weapons in approaching the camp of Rientonoq.
They are a short distance away, with my horse.’

‘«‘ oes not my brother desire rest before telling his wish i’”

“ I have ridden, and am not tired."

A silence of several seconds, when Nuggens, judging that
the proper moment had arrived, said:

“ A girl--a beautiful young white girl was stolen some time
Iinee, by the red-men. She was the dear friend of Maxalhon.”

“ His child?” asked the chief, quickly. .

“ Not his child, but one that he loved as much as his child.
He mourns night and day for her.”

“ Why does he send to Riantonon ‘2"

“ Riantonon is the leader of a strong and valiant band of
warriors. He asks that he will search for the child and bring
her to him. He will (give all his possessions for her."

_ This remark seeme to affect the chief, for he remained fora
moment as if in deep thought, while Nuggens, with his head
bent, dared not look up in his face.

‘zllfiantonon knows not who stole the child. How can he

ier.

“ Maxalhon said that Riantonon and his warriOrs lived upon
the plains and wandered hundreds of miles. Nothing could
escape his eye."

_ This compliment, so delicately given, had its efl‘ect upon the
chief. He felt gratified, and replied: ,

“ Maxalhon spoke the truth. Nothing can escape the eye of
Riantonon.” _

“ Will he find and return the child ?”

“He will," said the chief, decidedly.

' “Mamlhon will then thank him with tears in his eyes, and
Riantonon will receive vast wealth.”

“ My brother will stay with us till morning?”

“ I must return with the good news, and make the heart of

Maxalhon glad with the words of Riantonon.”
' With this, Nuggens made a movement as if to depart, but
the chief commanded him to wait a few moments. The hunter
suspected what was coming, but, of course, he affected igno-
rance. He heard the approach of some one, and looking up,
saw Irena led forward by the chief.

"‘ Here is the captive whom you seek,” said the chief.

Nuggens exhibited the most profound astonishment and joy.
Ile stepped forward, seized the hands of Irena, and congratuo
'latcd her again and again upon her rescue, during the perform-
ance of which he managed to put heron her guard. The quick-
w'itted girl needed no caution, for she saw a ruse was being
played, and understood how to act her part. _ V t

" Grest'an'd good: is Riantonon," said Nuggets; “ Matthieu

  t- 

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um counterm'cnirfir-ncm. , fl

“Two hunters were sent with me to protect me, and they}!!!
Waiting 9. short distance away.” . "
The chief shook his head. i -
“The path is long, and there is danger at every turn. M
warriors will accompany you.”
Now this, above all things, was the very proceeding which
7 the lnmter felt he must prevent. If the chief gave him an cs-
‘3 . ’ cert, all would be lost, for the trick that he had played would
‘ i ’ soon be discovered.
, “ We have come through many dangers, and we can return
L f I through them. I am sure Maxalhon would not permit the good
’ Riantonon to send his warriors with us.”
‘ > “When does my brother return '3”
F . “At-once. A. long distance may be gained before morning.”
K ' . “ Has my brother brought a horse for the captive '3"
' “ I did not expect to find her, and therefore have none.”
. The chief spoke in a low voice, and one of the Indians led
l ; , forward-a magnificent coal-black horse, which he helped Irona
to mount. The Comanche leader himself then led the animal
1 ' forward and placed the bridle in the hand of the hunter. ‘

“ Tell Maxalhon that when the moon is again at her full,
Riantor'on will visit him.”

Nuggens bowed and walked slowly away from the camp-fire,
leading Irona‘s horse. Ile did not hasten his walk, nor speak,
nor even look up to her; but he endured the keenest‘ agony,
karful that the chief would suspect something wrong and call
him back. In such a case he knew all was lost. Then he fan-
cied he was followed, and dared not look behind him ; and then .
again his heart beat with hope as he reflected how well his bold
scheme had succeeded, and how completely he had duped the
Comanches. '

Great was the amazement of Welland and Smith when Nug
gens and Irena made their appearance among them.

“ Don’t stop to talk, boys,” said the former, “ there‘s no time.
Let's be otl’."

"~ He vaulted into his own saddle and struck off on a gallop,
‘ followed by the others. Welland took his position beside'lrona.
He said nothing, but reached over and took her hand for a mo-
ment. She returned the pressure he gave, and the party rode
on in silence. In the course of an hour or so, Nuggens rcined

his horse down to a walk and said : _

“Our animals are tired, for they have done a good heap Ji

:’ traveling. So here we may now halt for the night." .
’ ' _ He turned down the river-bank as he spoke, and leaped to
the grouud. All removed their saddles, the horses were pick-

ete’d, and a fire started. , ,
‘ , “We’re safe from them Cnmanches, at least,” said NUgggni’.
“andznow‘xve’llttrkea rest till daylight.” : ' "  '7
Irons, hyt-his time, had had so much experiende‘in“ caan

 

 

4  LIFE on Tim om scorn-wns'r 301mm

out," that she was provided for without difficulty. he she
Ilépt‘, the others gathered around the fire, and Welland said : . x ' ’
« “Your plan has been tried, and has sueeeeded, Nuggens, and
therefore there can be no danger of our laughing at or ridiculing
it. I trust. you will not hesitate to give it to 11.. ’
“ Yes, in course, let's have it," added Smith.
The hunter laughed to himself a. moment, and then answered:
“It’s a little the best triek,I fancy, that a Comanche was ever
served. That Riantonon is a full-blooded Indian and a regular
ruiii’n. He‘s sealped and hacked up more white people than any
man this side ol‘the Rio Grande. \Vell, he‘s got a half-hrother,
a half-breed, who’s as big a rufli’n as he is himself. His name‘
«is Maxalhou,aml he lives down on the San Antonio, where he’s
rot a big farm and a plenty of horses and cattle, all of which
te’s got by robbing honest people. He used to travel with that
old Comanche rufli’n, but he got so rich at length that he settled
down, as I’ve said. Riantonon often brings his stolen people
'down to his place, where he sometimes allows ‘em to be ran~
somed, but not always, by no means. He gives the old chief
all he wants, and so you see the chief, natural enough, will do
anything for him. This I’ve know’d for over six years. When
me and Smith see the Conntnches, I felt pretty sure that they
was Itiantonon’s band, ’eause he always takes. just twenty with
him, counting himself. ‘ I’ve met ’ein'beiore,antl have had such
serimmoges with 'em that I couldn’t very well forget. him or
his men it‘ I wanted to, though I haven‘t met him so long that
I felt pretty sartin that he wouldn‘t know me, ‘eause besides,
I’ve let a big lot of beard grow out on my face since then. VVal,
when you come along yesterday and let us know what a muss
the gal there was in, I see we couldn’t do nothing by force, and
the only way was to pull the wool over the eyes of the old ruf-
fi’n. 1 know’d it' 1 could make him believe I was from Max-
alhon he would do any thing I wished. The «wreat danger was t
that he would see who I was, and suspicion something; but ,
when I talked with him I kept my head pretty well down. I
see four Injins there, and ever 'one showed scars on his litee that
I helped make, but they didn t know it. I talked away to Iti-
antonon, and the end of the matter was that he believed I van
sent from his‘old brother rufli’n Maxalhon. Ile give me the gal,
and it' she isn’tsafe home in a short time it will be our own fault.”
“ Ha! ha! what a plan 1” laughed Smith.
“ Didn’t I say you'd laugh at it 2’" asked Nuggens, reproachi'ully.
“True, we laugh,” added Welland, smiling, “but not at you,
nor exactly at your cleverly-managed scheme, but at the credit-
lit‘yi‘of the chief and his warriors.”
he night Passed away without incident, and, at the earliest
a pcamnce 0 light, our four friends were riding down the banks
0 .tlteGolorado. Not a sign of In Indian was seen during the
fixated by night they 11 _ accomplished a good long distance.
‘ ' , , . 'x. “ V I“

\

 

, . au-
nominal) 3m 9'!

‘ On the second,'Nnggens descrled a war-party on the opposite

7 side of the river, who made some demonstrations toward cross-
lug over and engaging them ; but they seemed to reach a differ.
ent conclusion, upon second thought, and shortly afterward dis— ~
appeared on the prairie. ,

. . 'On the morning of the third day, they reached the~ grove
where Iroua and Welland had become separated. They felt re-
licved when it was left behind them. Of all their experiences
there had been none more painful than that spot had witnes: ed
Passing Several frontier settlements—or rather the continence
ment of frontier settlements—«our friends at last beheld the pie-‘

. turesque town of Austin before them. It was with a feeling Ll

, jloy indescribable that our hero and heroine rode into the place.

‘ rona led the way to her uncle’s, but ere they had reached his
mansion, the two hunters halted.

“ Here we leave you," said N uggens.

“ What!" exclaimed W ellam , “ you must surely go with us to
Irona’s relations. You have had a long ride and need rest.” '

“ We’re used to that," laughed Smith, “ and don‘t need rest."

“I shall never be forgiven if I fail to let my uncle see you,"
added Irena; “ besides, I promised you a reward—"

“None of that," interrupted Nuggens. " What little we've
done was out of good-will to you, gal, and we doesn‘t take pay
for such work. We thank you as much as if we took up with

our offer. We‘d like to do it, but we can‘t if we wanted. So

ere's a good-by to both. P’raps we‘ll see you ag’in, as we
sometimes bring up in Orleans, and,” pursued the hunter with a
meaning smile, “ 1 s’pose you two will have a placeof yourown
pretty soon. Then you may be sure we’ll call on you." ,

“ Do not fail to inquire for me. I shall always be glad to see
those to whom, under Heaven, I owe the life of Irena."

“ Good-by."

The parting would have been affecting, if the hunters had onl
allowed it to be so; but they would not. They cheerfully shoo
hands, and as they rode away, repeated their laughing adicus.
Neither Welland nor Irena ever saw or heard of them again.

A few minutes later, and the two were received at the man-
sion of Albert Seraville. where the reappearance of Irona was
like the dead coming to life. Her uncle himself was at home,
and went nearly crazy with delight. Irona learned, to her cx-_

, treme joy, that the tact of her abduction had been carefully kept

_ from her father. Iler uncle had offered large rewards tor Ilt!
recovery, and more than one band of hunters, at that very mt»
merit, were scouring the plains in search of her. Welland, of
course, received a most genuine and hearty welcome, and un-
known to him, Albert Seraville placed a letter in Irona’s hands
for his brother, in which he was eloquent in the praises of the
“yogi? American,” and which he felt confident would do much

w removing the prejudice he entertained again!" him. ’ 

 

I g; m on. m'onp somerset; BORDER.

The two remained in Austin for a few days only, when th
took passage to Matagorda. Here they were com elled to w
u'week before the opportunity ofl'ercd for reaching ew Orleans
Finally, they secured berths on board a steamer, ard the next
morning were far out in the bright water of the Gulf of Mexico.

The passage across this piece of water was without incident
worthy of note, until they reached a point off Vermilion Bay,
in Louisiana, not many miles west of the entrance to the Missis~
sippi. The weather was extremel hot, and many of the p39-
sengers remained on deck through the night. in preference to
spending them in their berths. Welland kept his room for sev-
eral hours, when, finding it intolerable, he arose and passed on.
deck. He found a number slowly pacing backward and for-
ward, engaged in mediiattm, while others were standing to-
gether and admiring the beautiful scenery around them. The
prospect indeed was magnificent. The shore was so distant
that the View on every hand was bounded by water. A few
clouds were straggling across the sky, and the state of the at-
mosphere was such that the surface ot‘the gult' seemed to reflect
more light than was shed upon it. Here and there the white
sails of some vessels were visible, like the plumage of some gi-
gantic sea-bird, while the black hull and tapering mast seemed
as it‘ drawn with ink in the misty air. Occasionally one of these
vessels would suddenly loom up before them, approach as it
about to ride them down, then glide majestically by with no
so'und but the water as it was dashed from the prow, and 'with
its course marked for a moment by a broad path of phosphores-
cent t‘oam. Silently they met and silently they passed each
other, never to meet or pass again, for the steamer that encoun-
tered them was approaching its doom 1”

Welland, after gazing upon the scene for some time, turned
and commenced pacing the deck. He had taken several turns,
when, in wheeling rather sooner than usual, he came in colli-
sion with some one. behind him.

“ Carrot!” muttered the latter person.

“ Your pardon, friend, I— My heaven 1"

The person before him was Juarez Vasquelon i

“In the name of heaven, what brings you here ?" demanded
Welland, with a recoil ofamazement. .

“ Your pardon," said the imperturbable Spaniard, liltin his
hat". “ I did not anticipate the pleasure of meeting Senor Vel-
land here.” N

“17910, I suppose not ; you believed the Comanches had finished ‘

e

“ Is Senorita Irona Well?"
The )rovoking coolness of the villain tempted Welland .29
Inikchtm, but be reflected that such an act could do him m
d, as there was no further occasion for plotting and counter-
.  He could wettet‘ford to be 

, \

 

' ‘  ‘-‘ She is .well; timbetter—I myventure .to say,- both in body
‘ {ind spirits than when she saw you last." ‘
.' “ I am rejoiced to hear it; she has trulyhad much sutl‘erin ."
- “ For the greatest part' of which Juarez Vasquelon is to

' thanked."

“ I hope she will find her dear father well," added he Span.
lard, without noticing the pointed allusion of Welland. ’ .

“Do your friends, Pierre and Colonel Ovaton, accompany
you ?" asked the latter, after a moment‘s pause.

“ They are both dead.”

Our hero could not conceal his astonishment at this remark.-

“ Both dead,” added Vasquelon, in a business-like manner,
“Item the hands of the Comanches.”

“Were they killed by Itiantonon and his band ‘2"

“ They were killed by Riantonon and his band.”

“And how was it that you es -aped '3"

“My horse chanced to possess such speed that the Indians
could not overtake him, though I must say they tried very hard.”

“Did you see Ovaton and Pierre killed."

“ Not exactly; but I saw their horses give out nearly at the
same time, and that, you know, wasjust thesame."

“ What a pity yours did not do the same," muttered Welland

“You go to New Orleans, too, I presume, Senor Welland ‘3”

“ That is my intention,” replied our hero, turningr and leav-
in him to himself.

pon reflection, Welland came to the conclusion that this
meeting with Vasquelon was without design upon the part of
the latter. The fact that he had not seen him before, showed
that he had purposely kept out of sight. He resolved to say
nothing of their interview to Irona, until they had arrived in
New ,Orleans. As Vasquelon seemed willing to answer any
question, he madeinquiries in regard to Jacques. The Spaniard
informed him that when he learned ot'Welland‘s flitrht and that
he was to be pursued, he requested to be left behind, promising
to follow in a day or two as he was nearly recovered ; but, from
what Vasquelon remarluxl, W ellan .l believed the true-hearted
fellow had done this as a ruse to get rid of them, and in all prob-
ability, utter their departure had made his way back to the set<
tlemeuts.

A few days later, and the steamer entered one of the nmnv
mouths of the Mississippi, and commenced the ascent of that
mighty river. It was found to be much higher than usual, and
the current so swift that the n'og'ress of the boat, was \t'eanlv
slow. \Vellantl had seen Yasquelon several times, but they had
no further conversation than that referred to.

. On the second morning after their entrance of the Mississippi,
before many of the passengers had arisen, the steamer exploded
the: boiler. The ex lesion was terrific, the upper deck ’ "

blown onward, andt ,r sides hurled apart in shuttered (raggean

,

 

1!!) mm on run ow"somu-vmr mm

with as much force “though the boiler wen g gigantic bomb

shell. ,At the very moment of the dire eattuStt‘eplte, Welland,
was standing in conversation with one ofth passengers at the
bow. Amid the eneral wreck of flying fragments and human
beings, they fount themselves floating on a large box, white the
screams of dying men and women were all around them in the
water. To save himself, the companion of Welland succeeded
in working their ratt Some yards from the hulk of the steamer,
where they were beyond the reach of the sinking wretehes. So
soon as Welland comprehended his situation, he resigned hil
'nold ot'the raft and swam toward the boat in search of Irona.
Twice he was seized by a drowning man and carried under, but
He succeeded in freeing himself and passed nronnd the debris
without seeing her. When about to despair, he heard his name
called, and turning his head, saw her clinging to a door. He
mstened to her, and taking hold of it, commenced workingr his
way clear of the mass that surrounded them.

“ Are you sealded or burnt it" he asked.

“ 1 am not injured at. all; how is it with you ‘3"

“ I am not hurt, either. Yonder, i see, is a steamer approach-

. tug, so that those who have escaped need not despair.”

b‘ueh was tlze ease. The explosion had been seen by a pass-
ing steamboat, which was now making,r all haste to relieve the
sutferers. Welland had floated several rods away from the
struggling bodies. when he saw Vasquelon swimming toward
him. He was debating with himself whether to allow him to
take hold of the support of Irena, when he saw him throw up
his arms. 7

“ Good-by, Senorita Irene. and—"

The closing water drowned the rest of his words.

“ He is dead at. last,” said W cilaud, in a whisper. “ and I am
glad that it is not by my hand."

The steamer, by thistime, had reached the spot, and her boats
were picking up those who were still floating on the water. Wel-
land and iroua were soon rescued, and that night reached New
Orleans.

 9‘6 I- 'I- * * if i- * i

We pass over the amazement of Don Alfredo Scratville upon

receiving his daughter, and upon learning from her the incred-
ible experience which had been her lot during,r the paSt tuo
months; we omit his expressions of titankfulness and his declara-
tion that she should never more leave his roof; we do not re-
eord his perplexity upon reading his cherished brother’s letttr;
but we do say, in this last paragraph of this little volume, that
his,prcjudice in regard to one American, at least, was removed
forever. and that to-day, were his (laughter wedded to the king
or Spain, he could not be more rejoiced than hejs in the fact
that. her husband was born. like herself, on American soil, and
“that the old (Justina; line of the Scravilles is ended." _  . -.

“I”: " " ,_.,. I. W .

 

     

 
 
 
   

MKS A

   
 
 
  
  

P nhlun.

 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 

(‘luduelln

  
 
 
 
  
  
  

'r °x
f'n
n’.
T.

  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  

in. May.

       
    
  
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  

{DIM

Ming ndrwwd m w}: wk and
ND mum: l’Eul' E of c\~ev_\'yv:n-.hull| nu.|u nlul 11mm».
ctlmr hunks in Hm mnrlw. M. mn' price, contain lo mun}- uwl‘ul and .wnllalolu dialogqu madam".
i

d wit, pathos, Luuut nu umlnmnr.

Mhotlng ohlna Mat/u. Fur:
linking n Lira E: h
Tum'l Corunuuun.
Fur Lwa l‘uIErI.
'llu Rdllenrml.
l'hkh wlil you Choose! F- :- lwobnyl.
Thu Quwn of NM. Fur lw-n liula mth
Tho Tu-Pnny. '
Thru Seen“ in \V’ml l -- Llfv.
Mn. smm.’ Cunqu on.
Th. Miller: of the Spirits.

The nanan ofL‘hmv.

‘Tlu Golden Rule.
luGil’L of the Fair
nk—n h Ind D un For.

Tho Co “my Aum'n \'ll ltd L110 Cily.
cnl elmmrtcn.

Two Rmnmll.

tho Churn-Mrs. For um: mnlu.

For several ‘ uni .

I n py lelly.
M Buszow. For luv-ml clmruck-n.

Th .‘lnv Qnun.
Dru: I‘usfrn (om‘unnun.
Kn Jug: Bad Cumlumv. A Farr '. F- rflw mnln.
Cum-ll": Undur Difllcnlhu.
National Reprnllltnlh m. A ll :rlu-qnn. 4 umlul.
buplug tlm Drqu Fur nuumrnm umlll.

DIME DIALO
Tl:- I’rnsl King. For tenor mnra reraonl.
awning?" l."-_

'Dla Three Gum-n.
Swain-m. A “ Three l .
Bahlrd the f‘urlnin.
The El: Pi Sonlv-Iy.

 

.S'I‘AN\DARD

E. DIALOGUE

for School Exhibitions and Homo Entertainments.

NM. 1 to £1 lncluairo. u h T5 Popular Dinlnmu and Drawn In on!) bank. Inch volan in

S

Hum 1mg“, “m posbplul, on ru» 1;:5 «lulu-,1“: rem.

Beadle 6: Adams, Publishers, 98 W

_________.—————_.
Thug volume! Info hem yrspum‘l \vll'I esyarlul rofnrourc h lhw‘r Mailnhlllty fwr Exhlhlrlors
du'luri ml}: or willmlltflu lux-nnwrw I n Hm .1 n-I Ill-ml I.>5k'llul4:q

 

47...

St... II. Y.

1'. i. ir m numna Il\.:’.l:o’

DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 1.

Allmnm

 

Fur iix ban.

Var In r Imllu

l"; ‘r

 

Queen.

 

Fur twn malm.

lluc ymmg lmllus.
Fur I. ‘rea bnyl.
For male and “male.

‘Mnla “a fernnl

I-‘h u young hulle

1 males and 1 female.
or, The Lung (Hus: Slipper.

Doing Gun nml smug Uml. Sex-erulclmrnrun.
Two mule! nml lwn lenmlel.
Several (omulu.
lv'nrlwn qhnr '«

 

llulmubblllg. Forfivon onlzrrs.
1.1m Surrul Ur Succeal. 'ur mm! Ipenlren.

\uun ' America. 'Hu‘eo mnlel run-l tun lunnlu.
Jnnop )lnn'l Danny. Four Iemnlcs. (menu-In
The Fullv or tllu hurl. Fur llm-u malupulwn.
Dognmllnm. For lhrnmule lpfllkcl‘l.

’l'llul urnnt (.‘nnlnundcd. Fur two boys.

Tho 1-qu Ymmg Mun. FM two nmlvn.

ha Yenr'u Rucknnlx . 1'2 l'emnlanu-l I will;
Gentlwuu. For

         

ale nml fumnle. Tlm \‘illnue will) 0n;
‘ l male: r..ul om mule.

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 2.

 

Haw to \‘r’xla ‘ Pryulnr ‘ Starla. Two main.
The New mnl zlm um. Fur no mm. -
A Seulzniun m. Lurl. Fm mu "lulu.

'l‘he (irunlunrn. Fur lwu mull-n.

Tlm Tlmla Men of Srllun'. For four mg]...

Thu 0M Lady's “'iil. For {our nmlvl.

'l‘hu Ll|l‘.e l‘h‘l unlike". For two lislllg'rll.
lluw In l~'lml MI 1 Fur fins lunch

“13 “runs. E r I yuuugl...llu.

A Cmmuhlnl Eclngrxc.

l‘he l'nbllc, lllr-Kll‘fl- Flvovnnlnnmlrnefmda.
Tim Englth Trunlur. Fur Lu

l n.
For I"-

   

.nlh’

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 3.

'l lm-u |zl.|l~“| nu l hm

  

11.. ant-mm Prlureu. 2 -..u1m,-.-v.-m1 mm...
Nnnnrxo “'lmen Hun
In... mum cum. l-‘nranvg-Inl n. .m,~.'. h-vmllv
Thhuology. AULuu-iuu. Form-any“lulu.

Tor um «um Irhml.
For kn tumnlcl.

i malafi {\Iltlnlu.

rr in Due. 'lunlue,

Tho (h-nlnl Coulr. For "to mnlu.
.‘llldPI‘IIICI‘O- - Fur two nlnlcl and two (mid. »
The Twn llonuuu. For two Innh-I.

l'ho Smut. S-‘rnndlcant. Forum maln.
~1lmw' ho White Fenlhnr. 411ml». 1 frma‘o.
Tll-l I ll. Call. A Roalmllvu. Fur um mule.

arms, N0. 4.

TIM Stulrh‘u-wu'n Volmmwr.
\ 5 [mm “ l‘nul l‘ry "

l‘ u U m <. l-‘nr llll‘lfl) urnlu null om! Inumlo.

 
 
 

9 males. 1 lemdl.
Fur luur mules.

 

Inmnlns.

  

 

I‘llllh, llv w mu! ("urluu l"nr {Em-.2 llllla lli.
Dnrbv um} Jam. Fur mo Innlvs uh I o m "Av, (“u-l ll Brwnm. in r Ilum mu. plrls.
A Hum! :u-cv. l‘nrzlx lin. u . Hm mum \ A L‘nllnquv. 1:“, W, by“

  

\\ hut 11ml. ‘r Sun. Fur urn lu-nlu.
1 mull,» I I‘Lu (Winn-11 mm... A Culloquv. I’m-lwnlv‘y'.
I m lt-nmrll n! lh-lun'nII-m g. Jur 1V” mm“. ‘

Tho Luna. l“\>l' two mum.

 

DIME DIALOGUES, ITO. 5.

In»

 
 

 

For n

5‘» mo

 

ullocl.
n [and ad

 

d-MtGlm-fir M- a and bl-

W 'lRllh
h
. J F
but.

Iklmflu. ’
Mm bank

0'.‘ 0'

Fur srh’rfll or nrlor.

“ll ("‘4

a null fumnlM.
Fivn bun mud n (e -r‘mr.

Foruvarul lamula chauull.

. For In Myl-

. "ml," and fwnnlel.
lbw Not to Gut All Auunr.
.

IME DIALOGUEB. N0. 6.

“Gray Th-y errifiprrel. lllnln nml lam-la.

l wIn d" h‘ c ll

gnaw-fa. 1.39." 3'11
Inca]

Fat an M

l‘ulllnvr on Airi. A 0 "mm". In two uni...
'l lm M:- ghl M rk. For firvux‘nl 1m) 1.

Two i-luxu n! llle. A Colloquy. lkr in glxl’.
thrm-I from .\lnrlmn Fullrru. ~
l\ln~trv-Mrmoy. An Ac l‘u Churnqu

'l‘lu SI: \‘irlm-n. l-‘or L“! \‘oumt lmlira.

TIN Irinlnnnn In Helm. Fur hm muln.
anlulmmhlu Roqnlnmrnu. Fur thre- fhh.

A Bays! l‘s (Eyen). For clam a mum. gm.

 

feudal.

Thu Two ('onnlflm. PM [hm ranks.

Th. anlth of Fully. For n numlwrol'flll“
Annl Bouy’u "my. Tm" lemnlu Ind twain-let.
Tho UM) Bulk Ml Iva tannin and no In“
‘ Hum Cllml. For I nnmhn a! ban-g.

elm-mm I '

may: mmm

l
s

mllu.
Ikl.

 

 

Dixie Scth Sbfler-Dlnloguu.

 

DIME DIALO

Poor mlh‘u.’ Thm indie: and two gentleman.

Mount.- In and unzio-hilll. Six indiu and Mural
“autumn.

A (an [inn did not fail. Six barn.

Two Wl|_\'l oi muing [hinn Two 1min girll.

Ihn’b count your uliickalll lun'nrn they nre
hnLchexl. Four lnnliel nnd it buy.

All is lilil‘ii love and wnr. :5 laniieu, 2 glaniieninn.

How nnuiu .11»:th riil- f the legncy. va males,
with uvcrnl Udilifufuintionl.

91728 No. 26.

Thu lawn a! mercy. Two very small girls.

Prnclicc whnt yqu prcnch. Fnur indies.

Politicinn. Nnineronl clmraclnrn.

The cnnvauing taunt. 1‘wo main And two
(minder.

Grub. 'l‘wn mnlel.

A migh'. acnre. Three funnies and mm malt.

Hillhfldi ll unnshine. Three young indies.

How Jinn Pztun died. ’i we muicr.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 27.

Pusey O'Dnmi’r campaign. For three mule:
mnl one female.

Hilly inference: not. nlwnyl in".

on.

Diuhnmntml Annie. For govern! cirln.

A double lurnrlm. Four mnics run] on. femnlo.

Whnt Mu it! Fnr five imliuu.

\Vluu. will cure lhenil Fur a lady nnti two hoyl.

inriepunnlvrnl. Fur numerous«immclurl.

Each Iminon lhu heat. Fur fnnr hm '-

Trieil and found \vnnllnz. For nevernl mnlol.

A boy’l plot. For uverni chnrucurl.

DIME DIALO

A an that laid. For m young indiu and two
[tn‘ielull’h

Organizing n debating lnciety. For {our bayu.

Til. Iwnknning. For {our little ulrll.

The rehuko proper. For 3 gentlemen, 2 Min.

Enrolling nn nvll Iylrlt. For It: indiu-

Inth nidel of Ill. (and. For {our innlel.

Numeroui

iThe Ilrrnl girl'x good Angel. For two indiu 1an
two iiuie nil 5.

“That nngrnlelni iltlle nigger." For two Imth

ii I innl ihu money. For ihrre lllliu uirlu.

Appeal-unce- are ilvcc‘ul'nl. For um“ M
nnd one zunilemnn.

Law's prolent. Fur two iltiio giril.

An unlurccd cnre. For sevrrni chnrncurl.

Timur: who preach ninl won who Imll’orm. For
lhruo Innien.

A gentle manque-t. For two young glrb.

GUES No. 28.

No room {or the rlmna. For lhrn "£th 

Arm-chair. For nnlneronl (liOII’ICIIf'.

Meunra l'ur men-ure. For [our glrll.

Sam! by n drum. For .swa min and (In
fslnnlrl. '

An inl‘niilhie sign. For {our barn.

A good me for manor. For H: imla iril.

 

‘ Tin Ipirlu of flat-wood. For two tnnpu of girl»

DIXIE DIALO

Who Ihnii hnu “i. dictionnryl For le typical
. mil. character. And two (mm en.

Tho ml of bravery. Fur {our lmyl and Mather.
Fnriune’l wintel. For (our main churncurl.
Tho mm neuhelel. l-‘nr alx little girin.

Tim yen nnd no 04‘ unohn. For three little barn.
Nn rvfrrcncus. SI: gentlemen nn-l three lnxiiun.
An nnmzing unnd Imy. One Innin, nun feinnlv.
Winn u vi-luLiou (“IL For uvernl indlu.

Au nzrucnbin proruulun. Fér taut-l n:

GU38 No. 29.

Shan. Simon. For four little bay-I.

' llu red light. For four “mien, two “lulu.

Tins :wrewnz though. For tour iiqu glrll.

‘i‘hu Inhnnmn monitor. 6 lmlleu. i gentluuun.

Thraa little l'noln. For four Imnil hon.

Bisn‘nro 0! tin: dog! Fur Ihru indies and “In.
" mnigerl.”

Joe Hum!- hnnt.

For two boys and "to glrin.
mm.

For nix Innien.

DIME DIALOGUEB No. 30.

1nvi<ihie heron. For five young indict.

A " cnlorod ” leclllru. Fur four main.

Wilhel. For live links hm'l.

lmok nl hmne. Fur ihreu little girls.
Fi‘imrmnn'u luck. For two mnlu Ind flirts

nlel. \

_ in) diam hire him. For uni-Al "chur-
nrh-ru.” -

A x'urlunnu mire-rho. For Ii: young lluliel, on.
ill-“U girl and n boy.

A. niphnhatiml monugarlu. For n Vim]. school.

in.

mm and ring. For two “Hie onu.

'l'he resthrle rnreil. For 9 iurliu and 8 gallon“:

Jim modern-i": inn-on. Fur two boys.

The “liner liilo o! the utnrr. For five hamlet.

The nu that lolrl. For five mnlen.

“'m-in! hy proxy. For chm semi-mu! and
twn lnillel.

Learning fro'n "ll. Fur flu born.

'I'hui )tthor'r run. For Ieu boyl Ind “and
z r I. * .

Call ny of nations. For alum pm at rt.

 

I‘lu higin-v mlumnlon. For night born.
l‘hn viciultndu of u mlliinor. For ll: formid-

n 0
Add“ null pennnnllnm for ‘ Gnrideu 0f Libny.‘
A Iconic plan in Dining. No. 34. .

’_ m‘m-mmmwfir finmhhumflhmunuin‘iitvaéfi;

Ban». on mi)» of mu. 10 «Ba m1

- v  m. ‘W‘i  vgxmn 

 

 

DIME POCKET NOVEIAS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-MoNTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH-

1 Hawke e Harry.

9 Dead S 01.

I The Boy Miners.

4 Blue Dick.

5 Nat Wolfe.

t The White Tracker.
1 The Outlnw's W I.
B The Tull Trapper.

9 Lightning Jo.

10 The Island Pirute.
11 The Boy Ranger.
11 Ben, the Trapper.
13 The French Spy.

14 Long Shot.
15 The Gumnaker.

16 Red Hand.

11 Ben, :.i u Trapper.
18 Wild Raven,

19 The Specter Chic].
90 The B ar-Kilicr.

11 Wild Nut.

2') Indian Jo.
23 Old Kent the Ranger.
1‘ One-Eye Trapper.
'25 Gedbo d, the Spy.
‘16 The Black Ship.
‘1'! Single Eye.
98 Indian Jim.
19 The Scout.

a
39 The Golden Harpoon.
33 The Scalp King.
3-1 Old Lute.
35 Rainbult. Ranger.
36 The Boy Pinneer.
31 Cur-Ion, the Guide.
33 The Heart Eater.
39 Wetrel, the Scout.
4') The Huge Hunter.
41 Wild Nat. Trapper.
«1‘2 Lynx-cup.
43 The White Outllw.
H The Dug T:ailer.
65 The Elk King._
46 Adrinn, the Pilot.
(7 The Man-hunter.
45 The Phantom Tracker
49 Mountain Bill.
60 The Wolf Queen.
51 Tom Hawk. Trailer.
[2 The Mad Chief.
53 The Black “Volf.
54 Arkanau Jack.
.15 Blackhgnrd.
56 The River Riflcl.
51 Hunter Ham.

 

58 Cloudwuod.

59 The Texan Hawka.

60 Merciieas Mat.

61 Mad Ant‘ony'a Scuutl

6‘) Luckleea Trapper.

63 The Florida Scout.

64 Tin. Inland Trapper.

65 Wolf-Cap.

till Rattlin Dick.

61 Sharp- ye.

' Iron-Hand.
The Yellow Hunter.
The Phantom rider.
Delaware Tom.
Silver Iliile.

13 The Skeleton Scout.

‘11 Little Rifle.

15 The Wood Witch.

16 ()id Rufl', Tra per.

'11 Scarlet Shouh era.

'18 Border Rifleman.

19 Outlaw Jack.

80 Tiger-Tail, Seminole.

81 Death-Denier.

81 Kenton. the Ranger.

83 S ecter Horeemnn.

SAT 0 Thrue Trapper;

85 Kalealah.

86 The Hunter Herculea.

81 Phil Hunter.

88 The 1ndian Seout.

B9 The Girl Avenger.

90 The R:d Hermiteel.

91 Star-Face the Slayer.

9') The Antelope Boy.

9.! The Phantom Hunter.

94 Tom Pintle, Pilot.

95 The Red Wiaard.

96 The Rival Trapperl.

9‘: The Sqnnw Spy.

9!! Dusky Dick.

99 Colonel Crockett.

100 Old Bear Paw.

101 Redinw.

10‘) Wild Rube.

103 The Indian Huntere.

104 Scarred Eagle.

105 Nick Doyle.

106 The lndian Spy.

101 Job Dean.

108 The Wood King.

109 The Scalped Hunter.

110 Nick the Scout.

111 The Texan Tiger.

11? The Crone-d Knivoe.

113 Tiger-Heart.

114 Masked Avenger.

 

115 The Pearl Piratel.
116 Black Panther.

111 Ahdiel theAvenger.
118 Cato, the Creeper.
119 Two-Handed hint.
120 Mad Trail Hunter.
111 Black Nick.

1% Kit Bird.

113 The S ecter Riders.
124 Giant etc.

125 The Girl Captain.
126 Yankee Eph.

121 Silverepur.

1‘28 S nutter Dick.

1‘29 '1‘ 0 Child Spy.

1250 Mink Coat.

131 Bed Plume.

132 Clyde, the Trailer.
133 The Least Cache.

13‘ The Cannibal Chief.
135 Karaibo.

136 Scarlet Moecuin.
131 Kidnapped.

138 Maid of the Mann-

tam.

139 The Scioto Soon“.
it.) Border Renugnde.
141 The Mute Chief.
142 Boone, the Hunter.
1.13 Mountain Kate.
1“ The Red Scalper.
145 The Lone Chief.
146 The Silver Bugle.
141 Chinxa, Cheyrnne.
148 The Tangled Trail.
119 The Unleen Hand.
160 The lane Indian.
151 The Branded Chief.
151 Billy Bowie .
m The Valley
164 Red Jacket.
155 The Jungle Scout.
156 Cherokee Chief.

151 The Bandit Hermit.
:55 :11: annigt Swan
59 e 00 Range“
160 The Red Foe.

161 Beautiful Unknown.
162 Canebrake Mote.
163 Hank, the Guide.
164 The Border Scout.
165 Vi'iid Nat.

166 Maid of Wyoming.
161 The Three Captivel.
163 The Loat Hunter.
16! Border Law.

110 The Lifted Trail.

ut.

 

1'11 The Trader Spy.

112 The Fore-t Specter.

113 The Border Fool.

11‘ Border Vengeance.

116 Border Beanie.

11‘ The Soul of Liberty.

111 The Lent Bride.

118 Keeteea.

119 The 'l'unkawa Spy.

180 The Prairie Scour|e.

181 Red 1.1 inning.

189 Brave Heart.

183 Night Hawk Kit.

in Muttang Sun.

1255 Hurricane Bill.

186 The Red Outlaw.

181 The Swamp Scout.

188 The Shawnu’e '00.

189 Mohawk Nat.

190 Old Jape.

191 The Prairie Ridee.

199 Old Kyle, Trailer.

198 Big Foot. the Guide.

194 Red Brotherhood.

195 The Man in Green.

196 glen-Eye, the Great
0

L
19'! The Prairie'lfraA .1011
198 Black John.
199 goof-Sxkplfo. .
200 a .
101 The Youliigflépy.’
902 The Indian Avenger.
903 Rival Lieutenant;
90‘ The Swamp Rider.
205 The Balloon 56111”.
$06 Dncotah Scourge.
201 The Twin Scouts
208 Bucklkln Bill.
‘109 Border Ayengen.
910 Tim Bumble'a Charge
211 The Shawnee Scout.
912 The Silent Slayer.
113 The Prairie Queen.
914 The llackwoodamen.
915 The Prisoner of La
Viutreaee.
‘216 Pelez Smith.
21'! The Witch of the
Wallowiah.
218 The Prairie Pirates.
919 The Huaaar Captain.
9:0 The Red Spy.
9'21 Dick Darling.
1‘19 Mustang Hunters.
'2'23 Guilty or Not Guilty
9% The Outlaw Ranger.

m
THE FOLLOWING WILL BE ISSUED 1N THE ORDER AND ON THE DATES lNDlCATED;
225 The Schuylkill Rangers. By the author of”Quindaro.” Ready February 6th.

226 0a the Deep.
22? Ironn.

228 The Mountaineer.
229 The llunter’l Eacnpe. By Edward S. Ellie.
230 The Golden Belt.

By Roger Starbuck.
By Edward S. Ellie.

Read
By Edwnr

March

By Colin Barker.

Read
“'11 iett.

February 20th.

th.

Ready March 20th.
Ready April 3d.

Ready April 17th.

231 The Swamp Riders. By George D. Gilbert. Ready May lat.

282 Jubez llnwk.

By C. Dunning Clark. Ready May 1511:.

283 Maunaoit’a Daughter. By A. J. H. Duganne. Ready May mm.

234 The Mad Hunter.
285 The Reefer of ’76.
286 Antelope Abe, the Boy Gu de.
28? The Hunter’s Vow.
23K The Hunter’s Pledge.

if

239 Huttlepnte.
240 The Pralrle

one year (36 Non.) $9.50.

rlde.

Sentt R. Sherwood.
By Mrs. Henry J.

By Mr:. Mary A. Deniaon.

By Hurr ' Cavendiah.
By Will Dexter.
By Louie Le Grand,

homul.

Ready June 19th.
Ready June 26th.

M. D. Ready July 14!

By Edward Willatt. Ready August 1th.
Read

Auguat 'let.

Ready Jule 1011:.

Ready September 4th.
For all: by nil Nowsdealera; or aent poet-paid: aingle number-a, ten cente; aix monthl

(u Noe).1.2l

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street. New York.