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BEADLE AND COMPANY,
44, PATERNOSTER ROW.

 
LONDON :
PRINTED BY CLAYTON AND CO.,

17, BOUVERIE STREET.

 
 

IRON A;

oR,

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

ae PALI

 

CHAPTER 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 skilful chisels,
and volumes whose binding alone might tempt the eye of ava-
rice, were arranged by one who understood 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
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 flagon of that beverage. Both
had drunk but slightly, and their manner was unmistakeably
that of two persons about to enter upon a matter of importance.
The eldest was Alfredo Seraville, who, though born upon Ame-
rican soil, inherited all the pride and prejudice of his Castilian
ancestors. He was about sixty years of age, with a head par-
tially bald, and with hair almost entirely grey. His countenance
was devoid of that swarthy hue so generally characteristic of
his people ;and the golden spectacles which he wore helped
to give him the appearance of a respectable American gentle-
man, He seemed a courteous, dignified man—one who could
neyer stoop to doa low, dishonourable deed; and a keen reader
of human nature would haye detected in his, air and manner

 
    

  

6 IRONA; OR,

upon the present occasion that which told plainly there was
little sympathy between him and his guest. His dress was that
of the country in which he was born—a rich suit of black.
When speaking, his accent was slightly foreign; but, as he
rarely used the Spanish language, except when conversing with
one of that nation, few would have been able to judge his de-
scent and education. As we have hinted, he was tenacious in
his prejudices, 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—which, with one excep-
tion, was cherished beyond all others of his possessions. His
wife had been dead for twelve years; and he had but one child
—Irona—who was now well verged towards 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 home a child, and returned a woman. Well, in-
deed, might the father be proud of his daughter. She was as
amiable as accomplished, 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. Indian, 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 eyes. Beneath the latter were several “crows’-
feet,” while the forehead was crossed by numerous wrinkles, and
a tuft of hair upon the chin, singularly enough, was perfectly
grey. He seemed a person addicted to dissipation and vicious
indulgence ; inured to toil, privation, and suffering; of a nature
avaricious, 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.

 
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 7

“ Before proceeding to business,” said the latter, with a
meaning glance toward the door, “it’s my belief that it would
be best to see that no other ears besides our own are likely to
hear what is said.”

“ Eavesdroppers do not frequent my house, Colonel Ovaton.”

“Oh! it’s all right, if you say so. I’m sure it makes no
difference to me. Ihave nothing to lose. Are you ready to
proceed to business ?” 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
always pleasant to the one addressed —“ suppose you open the
meeting by a statement of its objects, and set forth your ideas
about matters and things in general.”

Colonel Ovaton had emptied his glass, and he now brought it
heavily down upon the table, folded his arms, and, leaning back
in his seat, compressed his lips, and looked toward his host, as
if to invite him to proceed. The latter, leaning his face upon
his hand, while his elbow rested upon the table, gazed down-
ward a few moments, as if perplexed and troubled. Then,
raising his eyes to those of his companion, he spoke, in a deli-
berate and musical voice: “ You go to Texas to-morrow?”

Colonel Ovaton nodded assent.

“You expect to be absent a couple of months?”

“ About that—perhaps not so long.”

“ How many go with you?”

“Three—Pierre Choujeau, Jacques Choutier, and the young
American, Ross Welland.”

“ Your object, Colonel Ovaton, I believe, is to penetrate a long
distance into Texas—as far as the Llano Estacado, 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 system of barter with the
Indians 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?” '

“That is the time Ihave set down for the men; but it is

 
  

    

     

8 IRONA; OR,

just as likely, if I come back at all, that it willbe at the end
of six weeks.”

“The three men who go with you, including the young
American, are employed by you. They 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 for six months, or even a year, they bind them-
selves to stay with you. Am I right inthis supposition ?”

“You are right, Don Alfredo; the men who join me on
such expeditions do so for the journey, whether it be a long or
short one.”

“ Well, then, Colonel Ovaton, the object of my sending for
you this evening, 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 ina few moments.
Isuppose you can be persuaded to overstay the time which

you have calculated upon ? ”

“T have not thought of the matter, Don Alfredo. If you
will consent to make yourself clear, we will be better able to
understand each other.”

Seraville hesitated a moment, and then proceeded: “Of
course, it is necessary that I should do so; and you will under-
stand, before going further, that the ‘matter is one which is
entirely between you and myself.”
>. A quiet nod intimated that that much was understood, at least.

“To come to the point, then. It.is with ‘the greatest pain
that, during the past few months, I have discovered a growing
intimacy or friendship between Irona and Ross Welland, the
young American. How they became acquainted, I know not;
it is enough to know they are too well acquainted. It ismy wish

_—my resolye—that all intercourse between them shall end.”

“ Cannot the American be kept away?”

“ So long as they are in the same neighbourhood, they will
meet, and all the world can’t hinder them. They must be

separated so far that it is impossible to see each other.”
 

 

 

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 9;

 

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

“Tt would kill me to know this Americano had won the
heart of Irona. The blood of my family must never mix with
that of his people.”

“ But Sefiorita, 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 an-,
cestors have dwelt for so many centuries. But circumstances
prevented, and the disgrace of the father has fallen upon the
daughter. Her hand shall never be given to an American.”

“Ross Welland,” said Colonel Ovaton, “is no vagabond,
He does not go with me—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 of sharing some of our ad-
ventures. He has plenty of gold: the American is no poor:
man, like Colonel Ovaton.”

“ That I knows 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, I know little, and care less. He is from some
of the Northern States; 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 me, Don Alfredo.”

“ And Spanish, too; and, from your appearance, I should say
about a dozen other kinds. Your insinuation is, that I associate
with other Americans. ‘This is partly true. My business com-
pells me to do so. But I never go beyond that; they are not
invited to my house, and I go not to theirs. My friends, you
will find, are from the country which I claim as my own.”

“T have no wish to say anything against your prejudices,
Don Alfredo. You are weleome 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

  

  
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

IRONA; OR, .

months, I 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 Texas, Can I induce
you to do it?”

“It will be a great expense, Don Alfredo. My men will
require large pay for such work, and my cunpiey, ers may refuse
te pay me at all.”

“They must surely understand the uncertainties and dangers
of your journey. But that need occasion you no anxiety. It
shall be a profitable speculation to you. What amount will
insure you against loss ?”

Colonel Ovaton sunk his hands into his pockets, frowned,
and looked up to the ceiling, as though running over some
calculation 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.”

“T doubt not your word, Don Alfredo; but, in business, you

“know, pen and paper are generally used. It can do no hurt to

put that matter in writing.”

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

Don Alfredo passed out of the room, and was absent a short
time. When he came in, he held in his hand a paper, upon
which was a written pledge, signed by himself, to pay Colonel
Charles Ovaton the sum of two thousand dollars, six months
from date. The note was something more than a mere promis-
sory_one, as it contained a stipulation, in the form ofa postscript,
to be signed by the holder, in which he agreed to present it to
no one except Alfredo Seraville himself. This, of course, pre-
cluded him from obtaining the amount before the expiration of
thetime mentioned. Colonel Ovaton read it carefully, scanning
its construction, and finally ended by signing his name to the

postscript. He knew that Seraville’s promise wasas good as gold,

and his written pledge as valuable as the money itself. This
paper was retained by Colonel Ovaton himself; but he signed
another which Seraville held. This latter was an agreement
to remain in Texas for six months, with his companions, and as
    

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

much longer as was consistent with their safety. Failing to do
this, he forfeited the sum of two thousand dollars.

“This agreement, I presume, is satisfactory to you,” said
Seraville, seating 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 just concluded,” added Ovaton, in a low, meaning voice.

“Tam 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 you have
arranged matters now, they are not certain. Why not be
certain about it?”

“TJ do not understand you. You intend to fulfil your pro-
mise, do you not ?”

“All abroad again. I am referring to another scheme—
something entirely different.”

“Explain yourself, then ; for I am entirely in the dark.”

«“ You see, the young 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.”

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

“ Carrai! it seems your comprehension is dull, Don Alfredo.
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 be 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?” asked Serayille,
with a recoil of amazement.

“ Hist! hist! never say murder; it don’t sound well.”

“ Was that what you meant ?”

* Some would call it that, but——”

“No, sir,” exclaimed Seraville, indignantly. “You mis-
take me altogether, Colonel Ovaton; no such a thought has
ever entered my mind. I ama man who knows such a thing
as honour; 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 haye never done me harm; and

   
     
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

IRONA; OR,

may my arm be palsied if it is ever raised against them! All
that I ask of you is, to assist me in keeping Irona and the
American separate for a certain length of time. Do you
understand me?”

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

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

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

“Give me your solemn promise that you will never do, nor
suffer harm to be 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
agreement which I have made, I would cancel it this instant.
He goes with you for the purpose of adventure, and for in-
creasing his knowledge of that country ; and I know not that
he has any objection to being absent for a 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 settled, is it
not ?”

“Yes, Don Alfredo. I will, then, bid you good evening!”

“T wish a pleasant and safe journey to you, and to all who
accompany you. Good evening!”

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

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

CHAPTER II.
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 large slouched hat, concealed all
of his features except his eyes and nose.

“Good morning! Is Sefiorita Irona at home?”

“ 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 doff his
overcoat, overshoes, and hat, and to close his umbrella in the
frame. This done, he proceeded to the parlour, where he
awaited the coming of Irona Seraville. In a few moments a
light step was heard dancing down the stairs, and, as the door
opened, a vision of beauty seemed to float in 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 clearness
of the Georgian, a small mouth, with thin, flexible lips and a
well poised 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.

“Why, Ross, you have come? I had about given you up.”

“ As I leave to-morrow, I was kept later than I expected to
be, in making my preparations.”

The speaker was a fair specimen of what we have heard him
termed, a “young American.” His countengnce was not beau-
tiful, but it was manly and prepossessing. There was an air
of confidence and self-reliance about him, and his bearing was
that of a freeman—one who considered himself fully as good
as any other person, but no better. He was rather tall, with
a neryous temperament and a face stamped@vith the ruddy

 

  
IRONA; OR,

hue of health. He arose as he spoke, and taking the hand of
__ Trona, 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 two whole
months! Ah me! how shall I survive it?”

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

i 4, You can spend the 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.” i
i Her clear, silvery laugh rang out at this thought, and Wel-
i land, catching the contagion, was compelled to join her.

i “Well, well,” she said, with a more scrious air, we may be
| jesting 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
| journey. 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 so far
north as we go. So you need have no apprehensions upon that
score.”

“But there are the Comanches and Lipaus and other Indians,
who, if anything, are worse than the Mexicans could be,
because, while they are equally bloodthirsty, they are more
daring.” .

“That is true, Irona; but, surely, you cannot 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? If I were certain that we were to do
nothing but merely ride there and back again, I am sure I
should not go with the party.”

“JT have no doubt but that you will meet with all the
|| adventure you wish, and perhaps considerably more.”

“ We are wellgnounted and fully armed, and Colonel Ova-

 

     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
    
   
   
 

 

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER, 18

ton is an old hand at such matters, while his two companions
are cqually skilful, All have had the kind ef service they-
need, and I could not wish other company.”

‘Colonel Ovaton may be good enough, but I don’t like him,”
said Irona, with emphasis.

“ Why, little one, have you and he been falling out

“TI never spoke to him, and never wish to. He has been
here several times.”

“. What does your father think of him?”

“T have never heard him say a wordregarding him. Father
has seemed troubled about something for a month or two.”

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

“ Just there you are APNE for I am sure that we two are
the cause of his anxiety.”

«Wetwo! Why, what-do you mean?”

“ Can’t you guess ?” 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.

“Ts it on account of my visits? Is he sorry of the relation
that exists between us?”

“ It is true, Ross.”

“TI never suspected this before, Irona. Why did you ney
acquaint me with it?”

«J did not know it myself.” ;

« You should have known it, Irona; I am sorry I did not.” .

“TI have feared that he disliked you all along, but I never
knew it before to-day. I cannot help thinking that that
Colonel Ovaton has something to do with it.”

«“ When was he here last?”

“To-night ; I heard his voice as he came in, and could not
help knowing it, it is so different from other persons’.”

«“ Why do you think Col. Ovaton has influenced your father:

“JT 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.”

+2”

9”

 

  
 
 

 

IRONA}; OR,

“TI presume your father had some business to arrange with
him. He is quite a naturalist, I hear, 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 aré
the cause of my thinking thus; 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?”

“It 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, Irona. 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 pre-
sume he gave you his reasons.”

“TI have told you, Ross, that he has no reasons—they are
prejudices. In the first place, you know he has an inveterate
dislike, or coldness, I might say, towards a/l Americans.”

“No; I never knew that before.”

“ Such has been the case with him ever since I can remember.”

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

“ Ross,” said Irona, sternly, “ you are speaking of my father.”

“ Forgive me, Irona: 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 the 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

 
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 17

my Irona married to an American, I would compel her to
enter a convent,’—when he said that, I say, I understood what
he meant. I felt as though I should drop to the floor. I
could feel the blood rush to my face, and I knew he noticed
it. A few minutes later, as if he wished to /7l/ me, he asked
me when I had last seen that American fellow.”

“ What did you answer ?”

“T told him the truth, of course.”

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

“T suppose so; why do you ask?”

“Tt seems 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 fathers to me. I know he has strong pride and
prejudice, but I cannot bear to hear others speak of them.”

Ross Welland was just now that unenviable person, a sus-
picious lover. While he had every reason to believe that. his
own passion for the fair girl beside him was returned, still the
unexpected 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 fears regarding his
Trona. ‘That American fellow’ will henceforth cease to
trouble his house.”

“ Ross, what does this mean? Have I given you cause for
it?” demanded Trona, rising also, her dark eyes flashing with
indignation.

“J would advise him to send his daughter to a convent, ‘or
give her to some old, withered-up, but noble Spaniard,” repeated
Welland, gradually stepping toward the door as he spoke.
Trona stood like an indignant queen, not stirring an inch, but
gazing upon him with a look of mingled pain and scorn. °
   

 
 

18 IRONA; OR,

“ Do you know what you are saying ?” she asked, in a low
tone.

“ T assure you I have ordinary comprehension left. Good
evening!” 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 the elements around him.

CHAPTER Iii.
' A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER.

If was not until the succeeding morning that Ross Welland
cutertained a suspicion that he had wrongly treated Irona
Seraville. He may be said to have slept off his fit of jealousy,
for he now viewed his conduct in its true light—as that
which demanded 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 Irona, but
when prepared to do so, he reflected that in all probability it
_ would never reach her. The thought that it would be com-
pelled to pass the scrutiny of her father, was not to be tole-
rated an instant. No; he felt that he and she must part with
this misunderstanding between them. When he returned, he
trusted that it would all be adjusted again.

The sun had barely risen, when a boat cast loose from the
wharf at New Orleans, and steamed rapidly down the Missis-
sippi toward the Gulf of Mexico, It was a moderately-sized
affair, made for coasting along the Gulf. Reaching the waters
of this, it swerved to the right, and maintaining a safe distance
from the land, bore off toward the Texan coast. Upon this
boat, among a few other passengers, was Colonel Ovaton and
his compagnons du voyage. Two of them—himself and Ross

 
 

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 19

Welland—are already known to the reader. As the remain-
ing two will necessarily act a part 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 wasa large, bony Frenchman—one
who often from morning until night never spoke a syllable.
The most direct question generally failed to receive the slight-
est acknowledgment, and of those who knew him, none save
Colonel 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 short nose, with its large but even bridge, was a paral-
lelogram. The mouth had the appearance of a line of ink
drawn by rule; it was never open except when eating, upon
which occasions its upward and downward motion was as
regular as machinery. 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 several 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 them square. What singular thoughts
were passing through that eccentric brain of his no one could
tell, for they always remained locked there. His motions
were such as a beast of burden would 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 plodding, perse-
vering fellow, who knew no right or wrong save his master’s
will. He was 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

 

  
 

20 IRONA}; OR,

known except to his intimate acquaintances. He was passion-
ate and vindictive when his anger was aroused; but, on ordi-
nary occasions was good-natured and quite communicative.
Quite a friendship had sprung up between him and Welland.
The latter at first was inclined toward him, for the reason that
he was the only one in their company who would permit such
an inclination. Colonel Ovaton, when embarked upon an
expedition 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, and many
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 same name, where our adventurers spent their first night
in Texas. The New Orleans merchants, under whose auspices
this expedition was undertaken, had made arrangements to
transport the men as far toward their destination as it could
be done by water. Accordingly, upon their arrival, they
found a small stern-wheeled steamer awaiting them for this
purpose. In the morning, with their horses and effects, they
embarked, and the voyage up the Rio Colorado commenced.

It did not escape the notice of Welland that, besides the
members of their own company, there was another person
upon the steamer—one who, from all appearances, had in
view a journey similar to their own. He was accompanied
by a magnificent black horse, was well armed, and had the
tout ensemble of aman of the plains. Lithe, muscular, and
sunburnt, silent, and meditative, he seemed one whose home
was beyond the pale of civilization—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 unfavourable in either case, he who forms it gene-
 

 
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 21

ally 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
effort to ascertain 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 spoke 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 unaccountable dislike not onky 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.

In the afternoon of the second day up the Rio Colorado,
Welland was passing backward and forward upon the small
deck 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 excusing,
yet lamenting, his own rashness. The thought that he had
parted from her in anger—that a thousand things might arise
to prevent a reconciliation—afforded him bitter food for reflec-
tion. What she had related regarding her father assured him
that his expected prize could not be gained without effort
upon his part; and leaving her, as he did, in a moment of
angry excitement, would she not believe his ebullition some-
thing more than a momentary passion? He feared that she
would indeed, and that, by the time he returned, this would
have led her to put away his love for ever from her.

Indulging in these bitter meditations, Welland suddenly
looked up, and started as he saw the stranger standing a few
feet 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

  
 

22. IRONA; OR,

this scrutiny for a long time, determined to solve the mystery
at once. Without pausing a moment, he walked directly up
to him, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, asked :

“ What is your name?”

“ Que?” asked the stranger, with a wondering stare.

“Do you not speak English ?” 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 2 conversation in it.”

So, without attempting it, Welland turned and left the deck.

That night, a bright moon arose in the early part of the
evening. The pilot having ascended above this point in the
river upon a previous occasion, with the same boat, and being
well acquainted with the stream, kept her under way during
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 manner—not looking at him, but at the shore.
The moon shone fully in his face, and he was gazing upon the
banks with an intensity of interest that made him insensible
to what was passing around him.

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. He endeavoured to dismiss
the thought as a whim which had suddenly possessed him; but
the more he reflected, the more fixed became that belief 3 and,
the more he attempted to think of something else, the more
persistently did the one troublesome impression remain, until
it occupied his mind to the exclusion of everything else. For
nearly an hour did he watch, hardly once removing his eyes
from him. The stranger still scanned the shore with deep
interest, and now and then moved his lips as though muttering
to himself. To Welland’s utter amazement, he distinctly
heard the words, in good English: “ We hain’t passed the
point, I’m sure, and it must be hyerabouts.”

His first impression was to step forward and accuse the fel-
low of the deception which he had practised; but, upon second
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 23

thought, concluded to keep his knowledge to himself. Now
and then, Welland could see the lips part, and hear him mut-
tering, 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 penetrate through every obstacle with his piercing
gaze. A few minutes seemed to satisfy him, when he hur-
riedly left his place; and, shortly after, the boat stopped. In
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 understood 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
assist in rowing him to shore. He sat in the stern, holding
the bridle of his horse, which swam behind; and, in this man-
ner, the three rapidly approached the land. On the shore, the
stranger instantly mounted his horse, and, without a syllable,
cantered off in the darkness. Welland and his companion
paused by common consent, until there treating footsteps died
away in the distance, when they rowed back to the steamer.

“We are now rid of you,” muttered Welland; “and I fer-
vently trust I shall never meet you again.”

But he was to be disappointed.

CHAPTER IV.
THE FIRST ENCAMPMENT AND THE FIRST ALARM.

THE point at which the stranger left the steamer was a few
miles above the mouth 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

°

 
    

 
 

24 IRONA} OR,

evident that even their flat-bottomed craft could pass but a
short distance further.

The boat moved slowly during the night; and, in the morn-

ing, 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 informed Welland that they
were approaching one of the healthiest regions on the globe.
At noon, the boat ran aground ; and our adventurers effected
their debarkation—the river being so shallow that they easily
rode ashore upon their horses. As they reached land, the little
steamer succeeded in backing off the bar, and, after interchange
of farewells, the adventurers saw it put about and steam down
the river. The banks of the latter were so low that the boat
was visible many hours afterward, and, even when it had
faded in the distance, a thin vapoury line that wound into the
horizon betrayed the devious course of the river.

The men had landed upon the north-eastern shore of the
Colorado, it being their intention to ascend the right bank of
that river. As they are now fairly embarked upon their jour-
ney, we will give, in a few words, the manner in which they
conducted it. The four, as we have before stated, were well
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 upon his return. Consequently, his observations were
recorded in his memory only. The merchants who had fitted
out this expedition did it solely for the'purpose of gaining more
information regarding the central and northern part of Texas.
The knowledge which they sought was just such as they felt
Colonel Ovaton was fitted to gain—viz., the capabilities which
the country possessed for trade, the size of the streams, &c.

In journeying, this man generally rode ahead, sweeping the

 
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 25

horizon continually for Comanche, Lipau, or wild animals.
Jacques and Welland rode next; and Choujeau, the silent
man, brought up the rear with the two pack-horses. Some-
times, Colonel Ovaton fell behind, and it devolved upon
Jacques and Welland to take the lead.

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

At nightfall, 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 sufficiently
eool to make the warmth of a fixe enjoyable. This was
started in the bed of the brook, so that it could be seen buta
short distance away.

“ The Comanche sometimes comes as far east as this,” re-
marked Jacques to Welland; “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.” i

“ Exactly, though nigh enough to impossible to make me
feel safe.”

Tam satisfied that Colonel Ovaton would permit nothing
which could endanger the safety of the party; and you must
not understand me as doubting the propriety of kindling this
fire. It will not be fully night for an hour or two, and I pro-
pose that we take a ramble among the mountains. Have you
any objection, Colonel Ovaton ?” asked Welland, turning
toward the latter. ,

“What do you.want to go there for?”

“Nothing in particular, although I thought we might find
something for our rifles.”

“Jt’s a poor time to hunt, late as this in the day, and ’taint
likely we'd see nothing of you ag’in till morning.”

“I. do not intend to hunt, but merely wish to have a ramble
through a part of the mountains.”

“ There’s plenty of time to-morrow,” replied Ovaton, shaking
his head,

 

 
    

26 IRONA; OR,

Welland said no more, as he felt it was hardly proper to dis-
pute with their leader on so small a points this; but he could
not help thinking he was more arbitrary than he had right to
be, and as he hadcome upon this expedition for his own personal
benefit, he resolved that he would be his own master—going
whither and when he pleased without questioning any one.

Pierre was the cook of the party, and soon had toasted a
good-sized piece of meat, from a quantity which they had
brought with them. This, washed down by several draughts
from the sparkling stream beside them, formed their evening
repast, and it was devoured with a zest by each. When
finished, the four gathered around the fire, their blankets
wrapped around their forms, and, producing their pipes, pre-
pared for the evening’s pleasure. Had there been a perfect
friendship between the different members of the party, this
would have been a period of the most delightful reunion.
Conversation would haye been indulged in, stories and
adventures given, and the bond of friendship insensibly
strengthened by these pleasant communications. An under-
taking which involved such personal danger as this should
have united any persons, but it did not. Colonel Ovaton was
moody and silent, and had already impressed Welland with a
strong dislike toward him. Pierre, of course, on such an oc-
casion was a nonentity, save that this very quality made him
distasteful to one unacquainted with him. No one could tell
what good or bad traits he possessed, until they were shown
by action. Welland had little in sympathy with Jacques ;
but, as he was the only one with whom he could hold eon-
verse, he felt some little fellowship for him.

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

“Him,” he replied, nodding toward Welland.

« This is the best time for you,” remarked Jacques. ‘ You
see, twould hardly do to put you on duty when we were
in among the Comanches, Apaches, or Lipaus. You don’t
understand 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

   
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 27

duties as well as the pleasures of this expedition, and wish to
take my turn with each of you.”

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

The hour being now quite late, the fire was replenished,
and all save Welland, 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 peepers peeled; don’t let a bird chirp
without knowing where it’s perched, and blaze away at any-
thing you see moving.”

“ Shall IT not awaken you?”

“ Carrai! We'll wake, you may be sure. If yousee a dozen
redskins, fire into ’em, or if it’s nothing but a wild horse; but,
you'll see little, I guess. If anything comes it'll be from
towards 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, their lariats 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 forward, passing, in his walk, from the animals to a point
a short distance above the fire. This afforded 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

 

 
 

28 IRONA}; OR,

to obey Colonel Ovaton. He meant to keep an unremitting
watch until daylight, and suffer nothing at all to occur which
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 in such a duty.
It was alleasy enough to resolve to do this, and under any other
circumstances probably would have been easy enough to perfom
it. But there were now two subjects of thought that may be said
to constantly occupy his mind. These were, the stranger, and
Trona Seraville. Thus it was that Ross Welland, unconsciously
to himself, gradually fell into a reverie which, for the while,
made him insensible to what was passing around. He mut-
tered regrets for the hundredth time at his rudeness when he
had last parted with the only one whom he had ever loved.
He wondered whether he would ever dare to approach her after
this—whether she still cherished the affection he was certain
she once entertained for him-—and whether, upon his return,
she would consent to receive him. Musing thus for a long
time, he started with a feeling of terror as his thoughts sud-
denly reverted to the mysterious stranger. Who and what
could he be, he again asked himself. Why was he thus
affected when he thought of the fellow? Why, he could not
tell, but that he disliked him, he was painfully certain. Wel-
land 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 repul-
sion upon his. own part. He felt provoked that any stranger
should give him so much uneasiness, and resolved again and
again to dismiss him for ever 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 sigh-
ing of the wind through the mountains above him. Being some-
what fatigued, he seated himself for a moment near the ani-

—#
—4

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 29

mals, and the instant he did so, heard distinctly a footfall
upon the prairie! It was like the clamp 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 sufficed to show him his mistake. He
next believed it nothing more than some wild beast that had
been attracted by the smell of their cooking meat, and remem-
bering 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 yicinity, who was

manceuvring for that very purpose.

He 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 footfall was repeated, and
looking round 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. This appearance of danger was so
unexpected—so entirely unlooked for, that he was taken aback
for afew moments. He determined, however, to challenge it
when it next appeared, and to fire if the stranger refused to
answer. He 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 In-
dian should endeavour to reconnoitre them upon horseback.
For a full half hour did he exert himself to obtain the wisaed-
for sight of the man, and again and again was he disappointed.
Now he would hear the tramp of the horse, and when. he looked.
in that direction, the animal whisked from view like some
phantom. He heard it descend the hollow of the brook and

I BE ETO
30 IRONA; OR,

cross 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 faced him, his head and that of his
rider were distinctly outlined.

“Who goes there?” asked Welland.

He waited fully a minute, but received no reply.

“Who goes there, I say?” he repeated, in a tone louder than
before. But 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
permitted. While his finger was pressing the trigger, the horse
and rider became so indistinct that, fearful of losing his aim, he
raised his head to assure himself that his rifle was really pointed
toward them. ‘To his amazement, both had disappeared!

It was not this fact alone that so agitated Ross Welland.
The noiseless, imperceptible manner in which they had vanished
had its effect ; but thete was a suspicion, which had taken the
form of certainty with him, when he brought his riffe 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 demon,” he exclaimed, “ I will not challenge
him again before I fire!”

He regretted his leniency, and determined to atone for it as
far asin 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 fact, that the contour of the man’s face was
visible. It was, indeed, the man that he believed it to be.

“Now, my fine fellow,” thought Welland, “Tl try a dif
ferent method of challenging you.”

   

onaiiiad

_—

fe

    
LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. “Sl

He took a quick aim, and fired. The report of the rifle rang
out with stunning clearness upon the still night air, and was
instantly followed by that of another, the bullet of which
whizzed within an inch of Welland’s forehead, and buried
itself in the sleeping form of Jacques. Instantly Colonel
Ovaton and Pierre were on their feet and beside Welland,
who, in a few hurried words, related the cause of his firing.
The two former immediately separated, and made a circuit
upon the prairie, but returned witheut having obtained a view
of the horseman. Satisfied that he would not appear again,
Colonel Ovaton turned his attention toward Jacques, who was
suffering greatly from his wound.

CHAPTER V.
IN THE MOUNTAINS—THE FLIGHT.

Tue wound of Jacques, although a bad one, was not neces-
sarily dangerous. He had been lying with his feet toward
Welland, and the bullet, striking just above his knee, ploughed
its way nearly to his hip, where it passed out, making an ugly
flesh rip. He was unable to rise, or use this leg. The most
that could be done, was to watch beside him until morning.
Welland willingly performed this duty, while Colonel Ovaton
and Pierre acted as sentinels. Nothing more, however, was
seen or heard of the horseman.

In the morning, a consultation was held.

“How soon will you be able to ride your horse?” asked
Ovaton, of the wounded man.

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

“Not before that, sure.’’

“ You needn’t wait forme, howsomever,” added the sufferer ;
“if you're rather anxious to get ahead, take me and the hoss
up to the mountains, leave me a piece of fodder, and T'll shift
for myself.”

 

 

 
 

32 / IRONA } OR,

“TI protest against such an inhuman proceeding,” said Wel-
land, excitedly. “It is nothing better than murder, and— ”

«“ When we want your advice, sir, we'll ask it,’ interrupted
Ovaton. “If 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 be as. J thought best, young feller; and I'd
advise you to keep a civil tongue in that head of yourn. But
that aint the style in which I intend to do business. Jacques
_ can’t be spared, no more than can any of us. So we’ll move

our camp up to the hills yender, where we'll stay till he’s able
to use his legs ag’in. How does that suit, Jacques?”

“Tt’ll do.”

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

Pierre set about this duty, while Ovaton proceeded to un-
loose the rough bandage of the wound, and re-dress it. This
was done in the simplest manner; and, at its conclusion, the
sufferer felt much relieved. All that was now needed, was
time for it to heal. Jacques had had worse wounds before, and
felt no alarm for the result of this.

Colonel Ovaton was talking with him, and Welland listen-
ing, 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!” 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
resembled 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 ailded = “JTt’s the same chap that came
from Matagorda with us.”

 

     
  

   

 

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LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 33

 

“ What I thought last night. What can he mean by following
usin this manner?” asked Welland. Ovaton made no reply, and
the three sat down to the morning meal. Jacques ate a small
portion. He questioned Welland in regard to the horseman,
and finally remarked: “I’ve seen that chap before, I’m sure.”

“ Where?”

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

“Not before he came on the boat at Matagorda.”

“ That ’s a downright lie,” said J acques, in a lower tone, to
Welland. “TI just 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 years ago. Me and the Colonel had been trapping
up on the Platte. 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 fust one we laid eyes on was
that identical chap. I remember how Colonel Ovaton axed
him whether he was the Flying 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 hyer
was that same knave in a good day ahead of us.”

“ Did he talk English to you?”

“Talk English? Ishould think he did. We staid there a
week, and he was there when we left. He spent a pile in
treating us, and every body else who happened to drop in; and
he used to spin some long yarns that he said he’d heerd—for
he never once told anything that he went through.” -

“ Did you learn anything of him ?”

“Nota bit. I tried to pump him a dozen times, but it was
no go. Idid’nt even larn his name, or how he floated his sticks.*
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 Ova-
ton happened to be with me that time, too. But (would you
* How he made his living.

2

   

 

 

  
  

34 eae IRONA; OR,

believe it?) the knave pretended he didn’t know us. 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! Ifyou notice, one of his eyes is grey, and t’other
is black; and he remembered us well enough. I offered to
bring myself to his mind by making a free fight with him, but
he didn’t appear to care particularly about it.”

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

* You may scalp me if I can tell. I only ax the chance to
square last night’s account with him. He'll find out who I
am, I’m thinking just now.”

“T presume your 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. Can
you see him yet ?”

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

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

“T trust not in the same manner that 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 fellow’s shoulders, and I am not satis-
fied by any means that he is not hurt.”

Jacques shook his head. ‘ You haven’t grazed him.”

“ How was it that he missed me?”

“You was on the ground, and he fired by the flash of your
‘gun. You had him ag’in the sky, which, though pretty dark
then, was light enough to let you have his profile.”

“Which -proves that I could not have well missed him.”

“Which doesn’t prove anything. Depend on it he ain’t
hurt at all, Such characters are allowed to run their race
before they go under ; but his time, like everybody else’s, will
come some time.”

 

 
   
 

Stall
NM
o

L-—-

——— “f~

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 35

“Do you believe Colonel Ovaton remembers him?” asked
Welland, in a whisper.

“ He can’t help it. I know he does.”

“Do you,believe Colonel Ovaton knows anything of the
cause which has led him to follow us? Do you believe there
is any connexion between the two?”

Jacques looked up with a wondering expression and replied:
“T never thought of that ; it may be so.”

“Tf such be the case es

“Sh! they are ready to move,” admonished J acques,

The pack-horses were loaded, and everything ready, with
the exception of the wounded man, for a journey. Welland
mounted his own horse, and, assisted by Ovaton and Pierre,
lifted Jacques up before him, where he held him as they rode
forward. In this fashion, they moved off toward the’ Hills.
Two hours brought them to the base, and’ they commenced the
toilsome ascent. One-third the way up, they came to a large,
yalley-like depression, through which a small stream of cold
and sparkling water flowed. Here Colonel O¥aton decided to
establish their camp.

A sort of rade tent was erected upon the banks of the stream,
where it was completely screened by the luxuriant trees and
vegetation. The best of provender was all‘around them; there
was, therefore, no anxiety on account of their horses. After
the arrangements had been completed, Colonel Ovaton, accom-
panied by Pierre, spent several hours in wandering over the
mountains to ascertain their precise situation, and to’ see
whether there was any prospect of receiving a visit from the
Comanches. From this elevation they were afforded a magni-
ficent view of the surrounding country. To the north and east
stretched the billowy prairies, covered with all kinds of vege-
tation, and crossed and recrossed by streams and rivers. To
the south and west the same prospect met the eye, but not a
sign of a human being was visible. They felt that, with their
companions, they were alone in this yast solitude.

Onand around the mountains were found the various species
of oak, tapulo, ash, gum, cedar, pecan, and here and there the

 

 

 

 
 

   

36 IRONA; OR,

mezquit trees. No signs of game were seen, yet they were
satisfied there was plenty in the mountains, which their rifles
would ever be an unfailing reliance in obtaining. They finally
descended to their camping-ground, reaching it near the hour
‘ ofnoon. A dark scowl passed over Colonel Ovaton’s face when
he saw Welland and Jacques engaged in earnest conversation.
He deigned no reply to the latter’s questions, and more than
once made an insulting remark to the former, who, although
severely stung, possessed enough prudence to restrain his tem-
per. Immediately after the meal, Colonel Ovaton, refusing
_ the company of any one, shouldered his rifle and took his de-
parture.

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 weck gradually
lengthened into two, and it was found that Jacques would not
be fit to mount his horse until another had expired. Colonel
Ovaton, who seemed perfectly satisfied to remain any length of
time, announced that they should not move away until their
disabled companion was perfectly able to accompany them.

The greater part of every day was spent by Ovaton in wan-
dering alone over the mountains, and once or twice he had taken
Pierre with him. Although a good shot, Welland could not help
noticing that he never brought back any game; this duty de-
volving upon himself and Pierre. From this he concluded their
leader employed the time in some other manner than hunting.
Welland himself occasionally spent an hour in an aimless ram-
ble, and on two separate occasions did not return until after
dusk. The last time Colonel Ovaton cautioned him that it
would be dangerous to repeat this experiment, as it was more
than probable that enemies were abroad in the mountains.

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

One pleasant afternoon he ascended the mountain and took
a direction in which he had been accustomed to travel—that

  
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 37

is, to the northward. He also went considerably further than
he intended, and when he seated himself upon a rock, found
he was at the base of the mountain upon the opposite side.
While looking listlessly about him, he was startled by hearing
the stamp of a horse’s foot. From the sound he knew the
animal was somewhere near him, but was evidently concealed
by the dense vegetation. Determined 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 of the hunter with whom he
had exchanged shots upon the night of their first encampment!
While wondering and speculating upon this, he heard the hum
of voices near at hand, and after some more careful recon-
noitring, discovered the hunter himself in conversation with
Colonel Ovaton. They were seated upon a fallen tree, and. so
earnestly engaged, that both could have been pounced upon
by a couple of Indians with a moral certainty of success.

Welland felt the circumstances would haye justified him in
playing the eavesdropper, if it. could have done him any good ;
but, overhearing a word or so, he found they were speaking in
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
impart what he had learned to J acques; but, singular as it
may seem, the incidents of the last day or two had filled him
with suspicion of this man, and he resolved to keep his own
counsel. An unenviable situation, certainly—in a wild coun-
try, with those whom he could no more trust than his red
enemies around him.

That night Ross Welland almost resolved to leave this com-
pany and return to the east. A suspicion—in fact, an absolute
certainty—that the disposition of his own person was deter-
mined by Ovaton, led to this, and he made a mental vow that
he would not advance another step further north in his com-
pany. He could not well leave at the time he formed this
conclusion, as Pierre was acting as sentinel. It could do no

 

 
   

  

38 IRONA; OR,

harm, he concluded, to remain a’ day longer, and in’ the mean
time*he would keep a closer watch on those around him.

The next day passed as had’ many of the former ones.
Colonel Ovaton was absent most’ of the time, and, as good for-
tune would have it, Welland’ was assigned’the duty of acting
sentinel through the night. This convinced him that no sus-
Picion was entertained of his intention; and assured him that
coolness and self-confidence were'all that was needed to insure
suecess! Colonel Ovaton'was the ‘first’ to fall asleep, and'Pierre
the next. Jacques, from sleeping so much through the day,
was restless and wakeful; but, at’ a‘ late hour, Welland con-
cluded matters looked favourable enough to make the attempt.
Stealing cautiously away from‘ their rude’ tent, he passed out
to where the horses were grazing. His own animal was there,
and;mounting him, he carefully descended: the mountain,
reached the open prairie, and struck off on a gallop to the
south-east, in a direction parallel with the Hills.

Now ‘and then he reined his animal down to a walk, and
listened for the sounds of pursuit, but none were heard, and as
he galloped onward, he felt little apprehension of again meet-
ing Colonel Ovaton, and the equally-to-be-feared Pierre. He
was satisfied that his life was worth nothing in their hands;
and‘ashe accompanied the expedition for his own personal
benefit) he was justified in leaving it as he chose. He deter
mined to reach the Rio Colorado and follow it down to Mata-
gorda 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
Trona—and what then ?

Ross Welland was suddenly awakened’ from’ these reflec-
tions by the mingled reports of rifles, faintly heard in the
distance. Ashe 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 moment.

 
 

 

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

CHAPTER VI.

JHE WHITE STEED OF THE PRAIRIE—AN UNEXPECTED 8
MEETING

WELLAND knew that the seashells whoever they might
be, were probably.a long distance away. Feeling little fear
of coming up with them, at least for several hours, he deéter-
mined ‘to ride forward in the direction from which the sounds
came as 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 Welland was with the thought that
every hour was drawing him nearer to his adored Irona, and
increasing the distance: between him and his enemies, he could
not resist the infiuence of the scene around him. To the left,
the dark, gloomy mass of ‘the Colorado Hills stretched miles
and miles away, while on the right, in the rear, and on the
front, the rolling prairie, covered with its exuberant vegeta-
tion, encompassed him. He seemed a. wanderer ee the
limitless sea. ; "

As the moon rose /highervand ‘higher, and the prairie ishonai
lighted up, a view-of several miles in extent was afforded.) In
the midst of the ocean, tossed! upon a spar, the shipwrecked
mariner gains some‘idea of the vastness of the expanse around
him, and of his own littleness in this great world of ours: (So the
traveller 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 ‘his
eamp-fire on the banks of streams and on the plains themselves,

and for months he may wander whither his fancy leads him,
without 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.

 

  

 
    

 
 

40 IRONA; OR,

. About a mile in advance, Welland distinguished a vast tract
of the prairie which seemed entirely devoid of vegetation,
haying the appearance of newly-ploughed earth. This pheno-
menon, was soon explained by a deep thundering roll and a
sudden trembling of the carth as if shaken by an earthquake.
It was an almost innumerable herd of buffaloes, who, scenting
danger in the air, were plunging away over the prairie, which
fairly vibrated beneath their tread. They took a direction at
right angles to the one he was following, and he reined up
until they had passed before him. He then resumed. his
journey, crossing a belt of prairie which looked as if it had
been desolated by a tornado.

It was still far from midnight, and riding steadily forward,
he gave way to his feelings and indulged in a pleasant reverie.
From this he was recalled by the sudden sheering of his horse,
anda neigh of alarm. At first he was ata loss to discover
the cause of his fear; but in a few moments distinguished a
white animal several hundred yards distant, which was keeping
pace with his own. A feeling of superstitious alarm took
possession of Welland himself at this unexpected apparition.
It was not galloping like his own beast, but pacing, and its
hoofs rang out with startling clearness upon the prairie.

“ The Cavallo Blanco, as I live!” exclaimed Welland. ‘ That
famed animal of which I have heard and read so much.”

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 rifle, as he reflected that it was in his power
to bring down this king of the prairie, but he dismissed the
thought as unworthy of a civilized being. No one could wish
to slay or maim such a magnificent beast, although baffled, as
many had been in their efforts 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 endeavoured to
approach still closer, but the royal pacer would. not permit it,

and at this relative distance they careered, the one on a swift

 

oe
ak

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 41

gallop, and the other upon an easy, steady, racking pace. ‘As
Welland viewed this unexpected but welcome companion,
again and again he felt there could be no mistake about his
supposition. This was el cavallo blanco de los Uanos' (the
white steed of the prairie), and no other. No such animal as
that had ever been encountered before or since. That pure
snow-white colour, the ears only being tipped with a jet bla¢k
that form of incomparable symmetry, the long, clean tapering
limbs, the luxuriant mane that streamed far out over his back,
as he sped onward, the tail, so lengthy and exuberant that
over a foot at least must have rested upon the earth when he
was standing, that transparent nostril and fiery eye, all these
were characteristics of that wonderful animal which he had
heard rehearsed again and again by hunters and travellers.

He had heard, too, that the beast was as erratic in his wan-
derings as the Comanche himself. He had been seen‘in thé
Clitelicanw country to the north of the Brazos; he had ranged
over the prairie as far east as the Guadalupe mountains ex-
tended, and as far north as the source of the Rio Grande. He
who dared to enter that great desert—the llano Estacado—
had encountered him there, and the dweller in Northern
Mexico recounted many a story of his fruitless efforts to come
up with him when mounted upon his swiftest charger.

The most determined efforts had been made for years to
lasso this White Steed. The Comanches had pursued him
again and again, but with one burst of amazing fleetness he-
left their swiftest animals far in the rear. The hunters had
endeavoured to entrap him, but he was too cunning for them.
The animal (all accounts to the contrary notwithstanding) had
never been lassoed or ridden by any person. What ultimately
was his death, no one knows, but. it is ccrtain he came by it
without the interposition of man.

“Heavens! if I only had you under saddle and bridle! *
exclaimed Welland, as he again surveyed the noble horse.
“Next to my own Irona, you are the most beautiful creature
that I have ever scen. No wealth could purchase such a trea-
sure from its owner.”

 

 
 

  

42 1) TRONA; OR;

. Welland’s horse, which had never been left’ behind in a
contest fof speed, seemed vexed) and: uneasy at this strange
animal maintaining his place*beside him. He chafed under
the bit;:and would not. be restrained by his rider. He was
determined to display his own powers:

“ Well, go ahead, my good horse;” said his siden, loosening
the rein; “you haye never met your match before, but you
will find 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 !”

»| The’ horse headed toward the White Steed, and burst away
at) a tremendous gait. He gradually gained, until he was
within twenty feet, and Welland’s heart leaped with exul-
. tation at the thought that the animal he bestrode was) able
to:cope with this celebrated pacer, when the latter flung his
head aloft, looked back, and with a whinny that sounded like
the scream of a panther, shot ahead with such extraordinary
velocity, that for a moment Welland believed his own horse
hdd 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 mar-
vellous stories that were told of the White Steed. One that
could thus travel was'a phenomenon in nature which deserved
mention in history.

» Thehorse, now fully a quarter of a mile in advance, turned
his: side toward his pursuer, 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 if in scorn at
this attempt of man to cope with him, he burst away again,
describing a 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 reined:down to a-walk
by his master. Welland’s horse, seemingly conscious that he
was in the company of no ordinary animal, gave over his

 

  
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 43

terrific efforts, and settled down to the same. easy, swinging
gallop as before, while his rider contented himself with watch-
ing the curvetings and gyrations of the White Steed.

Prancing, pacing thus, and taunting him, the latter con-
tinued his playful fancies for over an hour, when, sending forth
one of his piercing.screams, he shot off upon the prairie with
ineredible swiftness, soon disappeared, and was.seen no more.

Welland judged it now to’be midnight, and deemed it best
that his horse should have several hours’ rest. A half mile
ahead, a long, dark line stretched across the plain, blending at
either end with the. darkness. ‘This he knew to be a belt of
timber, fringing a small tributary of the Rio Colorado, and
here he determined he should halt until morning. As he rode
up and down the billowy swells in the prairie, he kept his eye
fixed uponit, with the object of selecting some favourable spot
for his purpose. He was within several hundred yards, when
something twinkled like a fire-fly in the grove, and immediately
disappeared. As he ascended the rise in the prairie, the glim-
mer was visible, and, halting a moment, he satisfied himself
that he was within a short distance of someone’s camp-fire.

This was a discovery as unexpected as alarming: Welland
was convinced that they were enemies—most probably Co-
manches, 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 foray 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 the grove.

He approached the timber in a circuitous direction, and
fastening his horse upon the outskirts, carefully picked his
way through it. He, discovered, in a few moments, that the
fire was upon the opposite side of the stream: the latter, how-
eyer, was .very shallow, and he crossed it without difficulty.
A few yards further, passed with a tread as silent as death,
and he gained a full yiew of the fire, ,Instead of a party of
hideous Indians ,upon..the war-path, he saw two w hite men,
evidently hunters ‘or. trappers, lazily smoking their pipes,

 

 
  

   

     

44 TRONA; OR,

Both were bronzed and shaggy looking, and sat gazing into
the fire before them with the most imperturbable 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 Welland supposed her to be
the young squaw of one of the hunters. 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—Irona
Seraville !

CHAPTER VII.
THE HUNTERS AND THEIR ADVENTURE.

“TERE was no mistaking her. The same oval face, the same
massy black hair, the dark eyes, the features all were hers.
Yes, Irona Seraville was before him. Unaccountable as was
her appearance, Welland felt no doubts of her identity. She
who, he was certain, was in a distant city, where he had left
her several weeks before, was here, alone with tw6 rude hunters
upon the prairie of Texas. What could it mean? What con-
juration had been at work to bring about this marvellous state
of affairs? Were these her protectors or her captors? A
feeling of deep disgust took possession of Welland, as he re-
ected that perhaps she had voluntarily resigned home and fol-
lowed 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.
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 45

Hardly ten seconds had elapsed since this astounding dis-
covery, when Welland resolved to adyance, make himself
known to the hunters, and claim their companion. With this
intention he stepped noiselessly from behind the tree, and by
that moyement saved his life. As he did so, the sharp crack
of a rifle resounded through the grove, and the whistle of
2 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 sufficed for them to ascer-
tain his hiding-place. Ere he had recovered from his con-
fusion 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!” shouted Welland, struggling vainly in the Hereu-
lean grasp, ‘‘lama friend! Do not strike!”

Instead of haying 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 redskin!” exclaimed his captor. “ What
you doin’ in these parts, say ? ”

Before replying, Welland glanced at Irona, and saw with
gratification that she had not recognized him. Keeping his
back toward her, and partly disguising his voice, he answered :
“T saw your camp-fire for some distance, and was seeking to
find out whether it belonged to friends or foes, when it seems,
you discovered me.”

“ Wal, we did, stranger, and rayther a dangerous diskiver
it come nigh bein’ to you, didn’t it, eh ?”

“ More so than I care about undergoing again.”

“What mought be the handle you uses in these parts,
stranger?” asked the second hunter.

“ Ross Weliand, sir.”

“Tf it ain’t axing too much, what mought be the handle
you uses at hum, eh?”

“« Why, the same, of course.”

“Wa! wa! come, now, that might do with some, but it
don’t go down with us. Howsumeyer, it’s none of our busi-

 

 
 

  

46 TRONA}; OR,

ness, and you needn’t tell us if you don’t choose. From the
States, I s’pose ?”

‘Yes, sir.”

“ What mought have been the inducement for you to emigrate
—house-burning, house-breaking, murder, or any of them gen-
tlemanly amusements ?” asked the first hunter, with a sly look.

“J don’t understand you, sir,” replied Welland, getting an
inkling of their meaning the instant he had made his answer.

«Don’t understand, eh? What give you the notion of
emigrating ?”

“TI came to Texas 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 Oyaton, eh? And a pretty ruffi’n he is, too. I
cale’late if he had his dues, he’d be hung in every State, city
and village between us and the Potomac. It don’t speak well,
Mr. Ross Welland, for you to tell such a story after bein’ in
Colonel Ovaton’s company.”

“I know nothing of Colonel Ovaton, except that he has
been employed by several wealthy merchants to examine
north-western Texas. For the novelty and adventure I under-
took to accompany him.”

What you doin’ in these parts then, eh?”

“T saw several things about him that I did not particularly
like ; so 1 left. him in the early part of the evening.”

“A lucky leave, I should say, though 1 don’t know as the
man had any fancy for you.”

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

“Ef Pm called Ned Nuggens, I won’t get mad,” replied the
hunter who had.come so nigh shooting Welland.

“ And yours, if you please ?” he asked, turning to the other.

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

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

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

   

  
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 40

“ Those are the names, I presume, that you use in Zexas ?”
said Welland, meaningly.

“That's why. we give ’em.”

“T won't ask you, as you did me, the inducement that led
you to emigrate, for I cannot believe it was any crime.”

“No, sir, it wayn’t. John Smith is the only handle I ever
used, and Ned Nuggensis the only one that Comanche over
that ever toted about. We did’nt emigrate. We was both
born down ’long the Texan coast, and we’ve seen some tall
times in our day. It ain’t many strangers we’ve come across,
as are from the States, but what have been sorter induced, as
you might say, to emigrate. That’s why I axed you.”

“T suppose you are hunters?”

“ Exactly. Hain’t you got a hoss?”

“ Certainly; he is picketed a short distance away. Why
did you'ask?”

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

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

“Exactly; we’re going up toward the upper part of the
Colorado.”

“The Comanches, I believe, frequent that part of the
country?”

“Yes, but we’re used to’em. We’ve had many a brush
with ’em; and, jest to get our hand in, we had a scrimmage
to-night with a lot.”

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

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

«What was the cause of the affray?” eagerly asked Welland.

“ That piece of calico back thar,” replied Nuggens, in a low
tone.

“ Ah! was she in their possession—a prisoner?” pursued
Welland, unable to restrain his eagerness.

“ That ’s what was the matter with her.”

“ Let me have the particulars, will you?”

 

 
    

 
 

48 TRONA} OR)

“In the morning,” replied Nuggens.  “’S'too late in the
evening now.”

Welland 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: ‘‘1 will attend to my
horse, and then rejoin you.”

As he passed out among the trees, he glanced at Irona. She
was gazing intently at him, as though she suspected the truth,
and he was tempted to return and make himself known to her ;
but, on second thought, he deemed it best to wait until morning.
He found his horse as he had left him; and, satisfying himself
that he was secure until that time, he returned to the camp-
fire. Here he saw that the arrangements for the night had
been completed. More faggots had been heaped upon the
blaze, a screen of brush was rearranged so as to conceal the
flame, while Irona had retired for the night. One of the hunters’
huge blankets was spread upon the ground, and formed her
bed, Her own shawl] was first wrapped around her, and then
the other gathered up, a roll at the head forming the pillow ;
so that, all things considered, her condition was as comfortable
as it could be under the circumstances. “John Smith” re-
sembled a monstrous turtle, hermetically sealed in his shell.
Neither his head nor his feet—nothing but a roll of blanket,
puffed up to an enormous size, revealed his dwelling-place.
Nuggens was seated just beyond the circle of the fire, where
he had settled himself to keep watch over his sleeping com-
panions through the night. Hoping that he might be disposed
to enter into conversation, Welland approached him: “Do
you apprehend a visit from the Comanches to-night ?”

“Don’t understand that big word you used. Speak English,
and [ll understand.”

“Have you any fear of the Indians attacking you before
morning ?”

“ Me and Smith don’t fear the redskins.”

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

“ Why didn’t you say sc afore? No; don’t think they will.”

 
   

    

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 49:

“Isn’t there danger of your fire being seen from the prairie?”

“T reckons not.”

“ Tsaw it before I reached the timber, and it was that _—
directed me to it.”

“ How fur off mought you have seen it ?”

“Tt 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 an expression of disgust.

“ Being visible—being seen, if that’s plainer.”

No; the fire can’t be visibled by any of the imps, ‘less they
run right onto 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 happened to strike just the p’int where you could see it.”

“Friend Nuggens, I 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.”

“T understand; you’re struck, you are. Got it strong, sure.
Ever seen her afore ? ”

“ She is an old friend—and an old acquaintance.”

“Not very old, I reckons, youngster, from her looks.”

“T have been long acquainted with her.”

“You have,eh? Why didn’t you make yourself knowed
to her?”

“T did intend to, but I thought it best to wait till to-morrow.”

“‘ Where ’d you ever see her afore?”

“In New Orleans.”

“Yas,” said the hunter, nodding his head, as if talking with
himself. “ 'That’s whar she 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
must keep watch till daylight, and it makes me sleepy to talk.
I’ll wake you up at daylight, before she or Smith are up, and
give it to you, if that’ll do.”

 
   

  

50:

Welland. signified his satisfaction with this arrangement,
and laid down. With the knowledge that Irona was hundreds
of miles from her home, in this great wilderness, and at that
moment within a dozen feet of him—with the ignorance in
regard to this presence to perplex him—it may well be sup-
posed. that little 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 determina-
tion, he rolled ‘his blanket more closely around him, and gave
himself up to slumber.

But no slumber was to visit him that night. Scareely had
he thus resigned himself, when he heard Nuggens make a
movement 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 re-
flected at once that such a proceeding would bring down the
ive of the hunter: Accordingly, he laid down and listened.
The instant his ear touched the ground, he heard several
pulse-like thumps, as if a 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 animal.

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, being entirely absorbed in the one object of
listening. All at once, the earth seemed to tremble, and the
peculiar thumpety-thump of a horse in full gallop was heard,
followed by a loud splashing through the water; but, to Wel-
land’s astonishment, there was no discharge of fire-arms. He
‘arose, and. passing beyond the light of the smouldering 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, cringing noiselessly
to his side, he asked: “ What was the meaning:of all that noise?”

TRONA; OR,

   
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 51

The hunter turned toward him, as if surprised at the ques-
tion, and replied : “What business have you to be pokin’ round
this time of night? Go to sleep.”

“T am certain that it would occasion you no harm to
answer a civil question.”

“Ugh! go to sleep; maybe you'll find out in the morning.”

No other course was left for him, and accordingly he laid
down again—not in the best of moods, however, at the rebuff
he had received. The night passed away without further
incident. At the first appearance of daylight, both Welland
and Smith were astir; and Nuggens related to them both the
particulars 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 2 moment, the
hunter was at fault. Searching carefully, however, he saw the
head and shoulders of a man, and the head of a horse—the latter
standing in the centre 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
timber to the open prairie. The hunter followed him, and, in the
bright moonlight, distinguished him for a long distance as he
ascended the regular elevations and his body came out in clear
relief against the sky beyond. He saw him halt several hundred
yards away, when two other horsemen rode up and joined him.

This latter cireumstance awakened the suspicions of Wel-
land, and he inquired more particularly in regard to the one
who entered the timber. The hunter could give nothing
more, except that he wore a Mexican sombrero—one with a
very broad rim. 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

 

 
 

 
 

52 IRONA; OR,

visited him before, and who seemed to haunt him now. The
other two were Pierre and Colonel Ovaton.

Their knowledge of Irona 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
soon evident that they were impeded with a captive. Their
implacable 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-balanced enemy, in their opinion; and there was
not the least hesitancy upon the part of either Smith or Nug-
gens. Prudence led them to defer their assault until evening.
Should the Comanches find that their captive was likely to fall
into other hands, they would not hesitate to tomahawk her and
save themselves by flight. The hunters kept a good distance
away, saw where they were likely to encamp, and, 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 was
engaged in preparing their supper, while the other two were
lolling upon the grass in idle enjoyment. Irona, the captive,
sat 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 bead” upon one of the Comanches, and held his aim
until the proper moment should arrive for him to fire. Smith
now made some confusion among the animals, in the hope of
drawing their attention to that point. 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 came
nigh enough, Smith fired, and, at the same moment, Nuggens
did the same, and rushed forward to finish the remaining one.
The latter, however, was too quick for him. He instantly

 

 

   
 

 

 

  

53

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

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 Irona unharmed, and grateful
enough that she was once more in the hands of the white
people. She stated that she had been taken prisoner by a
band 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 offered. Beyond these meze facts, the hunters knew
nothing. Where Irona was when captured,’and. how the oppor-
tunity 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 offer-
ing himself as her escort, they willingly yielded. It was
agreed that he should start east with her in a few hours, while
they would continue their journey to the north-west.

While Smith was preparing the morning meal, Irona awoke
and looked about her. She started with wonder at seeing
Welland, who, approaching her, said :

“You are undoubtedly surprised, dear Irona, at meeting me
here, but you cannot haye one jot of the amazement I feel at
finding yow—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 befallen 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.”

“Tn Austin? Why does he expect you are there ?”

“Because he sent me there. Ross, do not question me
now; I will explain all to you some other time, provided you
are in a mood to receive it.”

Welland understood the allusion, and coloured to his temples.

“TI beg your forgiveness, Irona, for my conduct upon that
night. I was blinded by jealousy, and acted rudely, I admit.
Had it been possible, should have deferred: the expedition
until I could have explained it to you.”

  

  

 
 

  

54 TRONA; OR,

“T willingly forgive you; and now let us‘say no more about
it. Do you accompany us on our return ?”

“TI go with you, but Smith and Nuggens proceed in the
opposite direction. They are very anxious to reach some
point near New Mexico, and think we can make our way
back to the settlements without difficulty.”

“T trust so, for Iam anxious enough to reach them.”

“T 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 upa
portion of cooked buffalo-hump for Welland to take with him.
Welland now noticed, with some misgivings, what had already
been noticed by the 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 interchanged with the hunters. Irona
thanked them again and again, and extorted a promise from
each to visit New Orleans upon ‘the first opportunity, she
intending—although she did not mention the latter fact—to
give them something 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 for Welland’s private ear. He leaned over, and the hunter
whispered: “It arn’t Comanches you've to fear; it’s white men.
You know who I mean. Keep a sharp look-out, fur I’m -sar-
tain they’re on your ‘trail. If they get you into tight quar-
ters, maybe me and Nuggens will turn-up for you.”

Welland 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.

 

  
 

 

 
 

LIFE ON THE OLD’ SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

CHAPTER, VIII.
_THE HISTORY OF THE STRANGE HORSEMAN.

THE direction which Welland took was nearly due south-
east, parallel with, anda short distance from, the Rio Colo-
rado—it being his intention to follow this stream, both as a
guide and as affording the most direct route to the coast. The
additional weight of Irona seemed scarcely felt by his noble
horse, which required a drawn rein to keep him down to a walk.

The 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 cer-
tainty that both were his mortal enemies. Why they felt
thus, he had not the remotest suspicion. Colonel Ovaton, he
believed, 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 stranger. This man,
then, concluded Welland, was the prime cause of all the
mischief, and he it was who was so doggedly pursuing him.

‘It’s the opinion of a certain gentleman, that, if the chance
is offered, his racing days will come to a sudden stop,” mut-
tered Welland, wholly absorbed in reyolying the question in
his excited mind.

“ Whom do you mean?” asked Ivona.

“Tam 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
Mexican sombrero.”

« What ?” demanded Irona, turning nearly around and look-
ing him in the face with the most painful eagerness.

“He is a black-looking man, who is distinguished by the
large-brimmed hat he wears.”
“Ts he a cross-eyed person ? ”

 

  

 
 

  

56 IRONA; OR,

“T believe he is, one eye being grey and the other black.
It seems you know something of him.”

“T do, indeed. He, I believe, was the cause of my being
taken 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?”

“Tt 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. Have you known this
man for any length of time ? ”

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

“Trona, you now can have no objection to relate all that has
transpired since I left your home.”

“No; I will tell you all that I know of these strange events.

“First, in regard to this stranger, as you call him. His
name I believe is Juarez Vasquelon. Three years ago, when I
was at school in Madrid, I met him on the street. I remember
how narrowly he watched me, and how often I found him
following when I was alone or in the company of my school-
mates. He seemed to be a shadow or second self. Not a word
passed between us; but so sure as I turned to look behind me,
I was sure to see those dreadful eyes fixed upon me. This
continued several 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 I saw nothing
of him, and when a weck had passed without his appearing, I
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 New
Orleans. During my absence I had grown to be quite a
woman, so that at first he hardly recognized me. I had been
home a month or so, when, one day, father told me a gentle-
man, and a much-respected friend, was to spend the afternoon
with him. He said he desired to present him to me, and from
_ several hints which he dropped I was convinced that he wanted
me to be prepared to look upon him in the light of a suitor.

 

  
2

   

 

   

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 57

“(In the afternoon the man came, was presented, and he was
Juarez Vasquelon! It being two years since I had seen him,
I had long ceased to think of him, and, indeed, had nearly
forgotten how he appeared. My agitation was so great that
father became alarmed, and led me out of the.room. He had
no. suspicion of the true cause, and upon my, recovering urged
me to return to the drawing-room. I could not refuse, and
did.so. Vasquelon remained during the afternoon, and called
regularly for a week or two. My dislike and fear of him
inereased 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 honourable stock, and he
had long cherished the idea of having him for his son-in-law.
He promised solemnly, however, that as I entertained such a
marked dislike for him, he should encourge him no longer.

“Tam sure that my father related to Vasquelon all that I
had said, and told him that, under the circumstances, he could
permit him no longer to visit me, for he never came to the
house any more. But I had my several months’ experience
in Madrid over again. I could not go out in the streets with-
out being followed by him, and this continued for several
months after you and I became acquainted.

“T suspected that this Vasquelon had remained in Madrid
until he learned who my father was, when he departed to
America, and while I was at school he was doing his utmost
to gain my father’s good opinion. This I afterward learned
was true. He had not remained in New Orleans continually,
but had been absent several times for a long period. Where
he went I cannot tell, and it matters not.

“JT am sure that he knew of your visits to me, and,” added
Trona, in a lower tone, “that they were the only ones that
were acceptable. That he entertains a deep-seated aversion to
you, I am certain, and know he would not hesitate to do you
all the ill in his power. You mentioned his wearing a large-

 
    

58 IRONA; ‘OR,

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 went ‘to
Texas. I saw nothing more of him until a few days since.

“Three days after your departure, father asked me howl
should like to visit his brother, in Texas. He had resided in
Austin for many years and had long held a promise that I
should visit him upon my return from Europe. I am sure
there was something deeper than this mere 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
cannot understand the cause that led him to it. It must have
been a powerful 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 re-
fused; but I reflected that you would be absent three or four
months, during which the time would pass drearily if I re-
mained at home. Furthermore, my own visit was to be two
months only, there seemed no danger attendingvit, 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, and had no idea that we were
really following in your track. We encountered a severe
storm in crossing the gulf, and were delayed several days in
reaching Matagorda. We finally ascended the river to Austin,
where, upon disembarking, I 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. His family—his wife and
one daughter—received me with the greatest cordiality, and
insisted that I should remain until he returned, which they
were sure would be within a few weeks. I consented, and
several days passed pleasantly away.

    
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 59

“Marie—my cousin—and I, attended by two. servants, used
to wander above the town toward the close of day, and many
hours we thus beguiled together. The second day of my ar-
rival, I met a man in the city that I had seen before with Vas-
quelon. He was small in stature, and his features. resembled
those of an Indian. I thought little of it, although I remem-
ber he followed me for a considerable distance.

“The next evening, Marie and I fell into an interesting
conversation, and extended our walk much farther than we
ever had before. We had just turned to retrace our steps,
when we heard a scream from our attendants, and, looking up;
saw a score of hideously-painted Indians riding rapidly
towards us. We were fully a quarter of a mile from the
nearest house of the town, and flight was useless. We there-
fore stood pale and trembling until they came up. Before
reaching us, they separated in the form of a circle, and then
rapidly closed. around us. Instead of offering harm, one of
the Indians stooped from his horse, lifted me upon it, and they
all rode away. The next morning, I was given in charge of
three, one of whom I recognized through his paint asthe man
that had followed and watched me so 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 of the servants?”

“Not one; they did. not seem even to notice them. This
makes ‘me think my abduction was arranged beforehand.”

“It was; most. certainly; and Vasquelon, the villain, is the
one who arranged it.”

“Tt 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 knowing that a heavy one could be secured. Oh, Ross!
you do not know how much I dread to meet that Vasquelon
again!”

“ As long as this arm has strength, he shall not even ap-
proach you.”

“Do you believe he is following us?”

 
    

  

60 IRONA; OR,

“J 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 justified in seeing that another
opportunity is not given him. But, yonder is quite an eleva-
tion, which will afford us an extended view of the prairie.
We will ascend that, and see whether there are any friends or
enemies visible.”

CHAPTER 1X.
FUGITIVES.

WELLAND ascended the elevation, and, with an anxious cye,
he swept the horizon, every part of which, from his stand-
point, 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 numerous streams, and crossed by belts of timber
and patches of woodland. In the west could be seen a black,
undulating mass, which Welland knew to be a herd of buffa-
loes. To the north, at the right of the Colorado Hills, they
distinguished another mass, more scattered than this, which
was in motion, the bodies rising and sinking with a beautiful
wave-like movement over the rolling prairie. These were
wild horses. At the head, 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.

“Jt seems we are alone,” said he. “I can distinguish no
person, in all this broad expanse of prairie, but ourselves.
What is it that so interests vou, Irona ?”

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

“ Do you see anything to alarm you?”

“ Yonder is somcthing that looks human,” said she, point-
ing to the west.

   
 

&#

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. pag 61

“Yes, I see them—ah! they’re gone again,” added Wel-
land, as he lost them. The objects, whatever they might be,
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 closely defined that
Welland could only wonder why he had not noticed them at
the first glance, and, while wondering, suddenly lose them
again,

“T see them now,” he added, wrinkling his face with his
efforts to keep his gaze fixed. “There are two—two horse-
men, I suppose.”

“Two!” repeated Irona, in astonishment. “There are
surely three, riding in Indian file or in a straight line.”

Welland looked again and again, but he saw two only, and
these were riding side by side. What was the cause of this
discrepancy in their vision ?

“ll stake my life there are but two,” said he, decidedly.

“And I know there are three !”” said Irona, as positively.

It proved that both were right and both were wrong.

“ Where is it you are looking ?” asked Welland.

Irona pointed, and, following the direction of her finger,
Welland saw, indeed, three horsemen; and Irona, under his
guidance, distinguished the other two—so that the discre-
pancy was explained.

“Now, who can those different parties be?” asked his
companion.

“The two whom I first saw are undoubtedly Smith and
Nuggens, the hunters.”

“And the other three?”

“Are Colonel Ovaton, Pierre Choujeau, and Vasquelon.
The hunters appear to be going from us, as we might expect.”

« And the others ?”

“ dre coming toward us, as also we might expect.”

“ Do the parties see each other ?”

“TI think not. You notice there is a grove, or rather belt of

timber between them. Our pursuers evidently are aware of
the proximity of the hunters, and are purposely keeping them-

 

 
 

62 IRONA; OR,

selves 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, naturally enough, would have
considered us too strong to be insulted with impunity. Be-
sides, did Smith and Nuggens know who were in their neigh-
bourhood, they could have easily prevented their own presence
from being known. Iam sorry at this state of matters.”

“ You, then, really believe we are pursued ?”

“ 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
observation.”

“ How will they be enabled to find us.”

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

“ But, eam they, overtake us? ‘Your animal, you say,.is a
fleet one.”

“Ah! my dear Irona, do you not see how utterly unavail-
ing his fleetness is ? All three of 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 sur-
render ?” asked Irona, with some excitement.

“ As long as I have life you shall be safe from all three of
those villains. I shall do my utmost to effect our escape.”

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

“Tt can only be done by stratagem. They must be thrown
off our trail.”

“T cannot understand how that is possible. You say one
of them is wonderfully skilful in tracking a person.”

“ He is;. but I believe I can outwit him.”

 
  

  
 

    

    

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

CHAPTER X.
ON THE ISLAND.

WELLAND and Trona were now galloping over the prairie in
a south-east direction, at the distance of a mile from the Rio
Colorado. The plain was of the rolling kind, covered with
rank and luxuriant vegetation, so that the progress of the
horse was somewhat laboured and tardy.

* How do you hope to elude our pursuers, if not by hurry-
ing forward ?” asked Irona.

“ By going backward,” replied Welland.

“By going backward!” repeated his companion.

“Ay, by that very means. To mystify ‘you no longer, I
will explain. Ihave been reflecting how they could be avoided,
ever since we started. That it cannot’ be done by direct flight
is evident to both of us. We must, therefore, make some
move which will throw them off our trail, at least until we
shall have placed fifty miles between us, which will give us
abundant time to reach the frontier settlements. They are
still a good distance in the rear, and we need have no appre-
hensions of being'troubled 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 cannot be overtaken by
theirs.” -

“Most certainly they do know you are with me, or I should
not care a fig for this pursuit. How they have found out I
cannot tell—perhaps by the Comanche that escaped the hunt-
ers, or more likely Vasquelon himself learned it last night, al-
though Smith seemed to think he had but a glimpse at the
eamp-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, ascend-
ing so far, that when we strike the opposite bank, it shall be

 
 

64 IRONA; OR,

half a mile above the point where we entered. At night we
will resume our journey, having given our animal a few hours’
rest, and, before they strike our trail, I think you will be for
ever safe beyond their reach. Now, what does my Irona think
of my plan?” asked Welland, pressing her to him.

“Tt is a good one, I think; with Heaven’s blessing, it will
avail.”

“T know it will,” added Welland, confidently.

“Do. not be too confident. ‘They may suspect that very
stratagem, and take means to defeat it at once.”

“T cannot think they will. They may go some distance up
the bank, but they will never dream of going half a mile.”

“ Will the river allow you to ascend it thus far?”

“Not only that far, but as much farther as we could possi-
bly wish. In ascending it in the steamboat, our only difficulty
was on account of the shallowness of the water.”

The day was rather warm, and, ere 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 done, he turned
the head of their animal toward the river, and in a short time
had reached the bank. Welland took a careful survey of the
shores, and then rode in. The sagacious animal manifested
considerable reluctance to enter the water, and had Welland
reflected long enough to know the cause of this, he, too, would
have hesitated.

The river was very shallow, averaging barely two feet in
depth; but the bottom was muddy and soft, and several times
the horse plunged heavily. He was headed directly across the
stream, and, after considerable labour, had approached within a
rod or two of the land. Welland then pulled his head round,
go as to point up stream, and commenced ascending the river.

The horse seemed vexed, and was restrained with difficulty
from making his way to land. He manifested a sort of agi-
tation and terror that to Welland was unaccountable. Several
times he snorted, shook his head, and reared his fore-feet out of
the water, while his rider, losing patience at his actions, plunged
his spurs into him, and resolutely kept him in the stream.

 
ee SS ee

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 65

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. The 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 Trona, when a gasping
“My God!” from her arrested him. At the same moment the
horse uttered a scream of agonized fear, and sprung several
feet out of water. Welland looked down, saw the huge; ca-
vernous mouth of a monstrous alligator, whose long tail was
thrashing 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 Irona with his right arm,
and of his rifle with his left hand, he stepped upon the crusted
back of the floundering alligator, and, making a leap toward
the island, was upon its hard, compact surface in the twinkling
of an eye. Looking back then, he saw his horse, the bridle-
rein streaming over his back, 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 towards Irona, and in her face read their
fate. She was bearing bravely up; but, while he had watched
the flight of their horse, she had found time to look about her,
and a glance told as much as a day’s survey could. The island
upon which they had taken refuge was about a hundred yards
in length, of an elliptical form, and probably fifty yards broad
at its widest part. It was really nothing but a sand-bar
thrown up by the action of the river.

3

 

 

 
   

 
 

66 : IRONA; OR,

“You look despairing, Irona. I do not.think we need give
up hope yet. You wait here until I explore the island.”

“ You can 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 por-
tion. He had hoped to find some drift-wood cast upon it, but
he was disappointed. Not even the smallest twig did he dis-
cover, and when he returned to Irona it was impossible to keep
up the semblance of hope with which he had left her.

“ We cannot wade ashore?” 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 an expression of pain-
ful disgust, pointing out into the river, where fully a half-
dozen dirty, log-like objects were gliding backward and for-
ward as if in search of prey.

“ Alligators, certainly, and Heaven. only knows how we
escaped them,”

“Tt was they that frightened our horse, and they must have
attacked him when he made such a spring out of the water,
Will they not attack us?”

“ Not unless we go into the water.”

“Ts there no wood on this island, Ross ?.”

“ Not enough to make a lucifer match.”

Trona looked inquiringly into Welland’s, face, and he read
her question before she spoke it. It occurred to both at the
same instant, and in an almost inaudiable whisper they repeated
it:—“ How are we to leave this island ?”

 

~
 

   

   
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

CHAPTER XI.
A NIGHT OF TERROR.

“ How are we to leave this island?” -It was a question
which neither could solve. They were upon a piece of land
which afforded no food, no timber—nothing, in fact, except-a
resting-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 to both him and his companion. He determined for
her sake to affect a cheerfulness which he was far from feeling.

‘Well, Irona,” said he, laughingly, “don’t you think we
have outwitted them ?”

“* And ourselves too, I am afraid,” she answered, with some
buoyancy of feeling.

“JT told you I could throw that Pierre off our trail, and I
feel certain 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?”

“ They can oe cross over to the island. They can do as
much as we can.”

“I only hope they will, and those alligators will make
mince-meat of them.”

“Tt 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 they not come to this island in any manner except
upon their horses? There is plenty of timber on the main-
land—enough to float them all out to us.”

Welland gave utterance to an exclamation of amazement.
Strangely enough, he had not thought of this. Irona had

 
 

68 IRONA; OR,

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?”

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

“ You may be willing and able enongh 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 cannot tell, Irona. God only can deliver us from this
difficulty, and although it looks dark enough now, somehow
I cannot help thinking every now and then that we are to
‘remain here’ but a short time. In the meantime 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 thig
island of the Rio Colorado.”

These preparations were necessarily very simple. The com-
mon hunter’s blanket of Welland which he had wrapped around
Trona, when riding the horse, was saved when thrown into the
water. He scooped out a hollow place in the sand, near the
centre of the island, and laying the blanket in it, offered it to
her.

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

“ And how will you pass the night, dear Ross?”

“In watching over you.”

“ Heaven will do that, and I shall need no other protection.”

‘J have no disposition to sleep, Irona. 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
upon 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 happy in dreams.”

‘Welland walked 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
 

   

    

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 69

house... Wrapped closely in the blanket, she was indeed the
picture of “Sleeping Innocence.” Her face looked sad and
pale in the faint moonlight. Welland wondered how it could
be otherwise. Poor Irona! How varied and singular had
been her fortunes during the past few weeks. The child of
affection and fayour, ev ennow a fugitive upon the prairies,
pursued by foes whom she feared more than the wild Coman-
ches, 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, melancholy face, he vowed that, while
he possessed. the power, no human being, unless a frieud, should
set foot 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, and that of course he
would be instantly seen.

Then, too, they could easily construct a raft and float it over
to the island, and thus obtain Irona. This reflection stirred
Welland up to more yigourous thought, and in a few minutes
he had. decided upon a plan to resist any approach of his
enemies. A few yards from where Ivona lay he commenced
throwing up an embankment., In doing this he used the stock
of his rifle, and as he enconutered nothing but sand, it was not
a work of great difficulty. He scouped out a large space, pack-
ing the sand in front, until he had a bank some four feet in
height, and as many yards in length. This he intended should
protect Irona and his own person while he was firing upon his
enemies—for he had fully made up his mind it would come to
this.

To 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.

 

 
 

“70 IRONA; OR, ))) 0

‘This labour occupied him some two hours, by whith time the
moon was high in the heavens; but its light was obscured by
‘a number of clouds that were drifting across its face, and now
‘and then shrouding the island in darkness.
' Welland was viewing his miniature fort, and endeavouring to
think of some means by which he ‘could improve it, when he
‘was startled by a noise in the water. Looking up, he saw with
unspeakable horror a long black object, resembling a tree-trunk,
sliding over the land directly toward the spot where Ivona was
sleeping. He ran with almost’ the speed of thought, and, when
‘he reached her, was not a dozen fect in advance of the gigantic
alligator. ~The latter halted suddenly as he beheld a man be-
fore him, his foreparts balanced upon his Z-like legs, and ready
to plunge backward or forward, as his fancy should lead him.
The light was favourable, 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 back-
ward by the force of the shot. He rolled over on his back, his
short legs beat the air a moment, a spasmedic 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 invad-
ing. There was now another cause for his watching through
the night. These creatures would, in all probability, give the
island a visit before morning, and prove dangerous customers,
‘if not kept at a respectable distance. Welland carefully re-
‘loaded his rifle, and took his position near Irona.
' Was that the report of your rifle that awoke me?” she
‘asked, somewhat bewildered. ;
“ T suppose so, as I have just fired.”
ee What at?”
“This fellow here,” replied Welland. “He was — impru-
‘dent in exposing himself, and I thought to teach him caution.”
''©Yon’t let them come too near, Ross; they’re horrid animals.”

 
 

    

   

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. i

“I will take, good, care that they do ttt Lie daw ae
my: dear, and sleep,as sweetly as you may.” (

Trona drew the blanket, close around) her, and ia eis
while Welland. betook himself to watching. again. He care-
fully surveyed. his’ fortification from the outside, and, satisfied
that, it -was as impregnable as it could, be. made, he stepped
within it, and, kneeling down, placed his’ rifle over he ~~ to.
see how well his aim would serve.

The clouds'at this moment drifted clear of the moon,: ona the
dark line of the northern shore was distinctly visible... His
rifle-barrel glistened in the moonlight, and, following its direc-
tion, Welland saw with unspeakable astonishment that it was
aimed 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 motionless as.a statue.. The outline of his body was
distinctly drawn, but the body itself, from its peculiar position,
was perfectly black, so that the features and peculiarities of
dress could not be made out; but the large, flapping sombrero
told unmistakably who its was. ;

Three times the hammer of Welland’s vifle was raised, and!
three ‘times his finger pressed the trigger until it was ready to
fall again; but a feeling, unaccountable to. himself, restrained
him. Perhaps it looked:teo much like murder, this shooting a
man without a moment’s warning’; but‘more probably it was his
natural repugnance to'taking human life that prevented him.

“Tt will do him'good if I give him a warning of the risk he
is running,” thought Welland, sighting his rifle again. » But
Vasquelon had disappeared; ‘he had descended the bank to the
water’s: edge, and was hid from view by the shore: itselfi:) A
moment later, the half-doubled form of Pierre Choujeau skur-
ried over the bank, and also disappeared. Welland rightly

judged they were examining the shore; and, knowing they:
would attempt nothing during the night, he gave himself no
immediate concern regarding them.

It. was well that Welland withdrew his attention to the dan-
ger that was nearer. The sleeping Irona was not six feet from
him, and another huge alligator was not that distance from her.

 

 
 

72 IRONA} OR,

His long shovel-like head was pushing forward upon the earth,
approaching slowly and with evident fear, but nevertheless ap-
proaching with certainty. Welland sprung towards the mon-
ster, and, jamming the muzzle of ‘his rifle almost in his eye,
sent the whole charge through the creature’s brain. The un-
wieldy brute died 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 gun. ‘The ex-
plosion did not fully awaken Irona: she muttered something,
and, merely turning her head, was instantly unconscious again.

CHAPTER XII.
THE RAFT.

Ir required the most unceasing watchfulness to keep the alli-
gators at bay. It was not the death of two of their number
that did this, but the flash and sound of Welland’s gun. When-
ever this weapon was discharged, all hurriedly left the island,
to return, however, in a few minutes. Welland fired in among
them without aim, as it would have been a‘vain effort to attempt
to thin them out. The bullet, striking their impenetrable backs,
glanced off as if it had encountered solid rock, and the alliga-
tors were probably unaware of having been touched at all.

The constant firing shortly awakened Irona, and she watched
with Welland until morning. So soon as it was fairly light,
all the alligators took to the river again, and the two were now
safe at least from them.

But there were foes still more to be dreaded, and Welland’s
attention was now wholly directed toward them. Carefully
scanning both shores, neither he nor Irona could detect any
signs of their presence, but were satisfied they were somewhere
near at hand. Welland’s rifle, no doubt, had revealed their
hiding-place, and in all probability given them an idea of the
difficulty in which they were placed.
 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 73

“ You first saw them, Irona, yesterday,” said Welland, “and
perhaps you will see them first to-day, Have you examined
the shore yonder ?” :

“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 ?”

“ That is the spot, and the dirt and débris must, haye been
loosened. by them. . It is singular they do not show themselves.
They cannot be afraid.”

Tt is some vlan of theirs, They may be waiting to obtain
a glimpse of you.”

“Just like them. They cannot be very near the shore, as
there is no place that will hide their bodies from our view.
There is grass, but it is too short to answer for that purpose ;
and, as Aleit all have horses, they must be picketed some dis-
tance away.”

“ Ross,” said Irona, 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 Irona, “ where it seems to'me they have ascended
the bank-again, I think 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 aiteipiaaiatie

“ Be careful, Ross ; our——”

He dropped to the ground as a bullet whistled within an.
inch of his face, and went skimming over the water behind.

«« Where did that shot come from?” he asked, excitedly.
« Ah! I see the spot.”

A thin wreath of smoke was rising from the grass at the
point which Irona had pointed out as the one where Pierre and
Vasquelon had ascended, and at this point We land aimed ‘his

 

 
 

74 iFCROH TAI -ERONA;OOR, SET YO 2ATI

rifle'and ‘discharged. ~A low, taunting laugh was'the reply, as
the sombrero of Vasquelon rose'to view, and ats a threatening
gesture he retreated out of sight.

‘.- Ttve been a fool the second time!” plaid Welland, im-
patiently. ‘Last night Thad a'chance to’put that villain out of
the way, and didn’t do it. If I ever let another chance pass, I
ere he will put me out of the way.”

Sh! it was for the best, and regrets can do nothing,”
— Trona.

Welland and Irona, it will be remembered, were behind the
embankment which our hero had constructed. His companion,
at his suggestion, seated herself upon the blanket, and kept 'en-
tively out of sight; not that he apprehended any danger for
her, but he wished to be entirely alone, and rely upon his own
arm in the coming danger. He'was confident that their assail-
ants would be unceasing in their watchfulness, and would
hesitate at no means to outwit and overcome him.

It was, therefore, with considerable:astonishment that he saw
Vasquelon appearagain onthe river bank, bearing a stick in
his hand, with a handkerchief fluttering’ from the end asia flag
of truce. Pierre and Colonel Ovaton were not to be seen (in-
deed, the latter had not shown himself at all thus far), but
Welland hesitated a moment before ‘he ‘noticed this sign. He
feared there was treachery at the bottom of it, and asked the
advice of Irona. She advised him ‘to treat it honourably, and
to answer any questions of Rengnctee ashe chose, but not to
expose his own body.

. Hello, there!” called ont Vasquelon, in broken English.

“ What do you want?” asked Welland, in turn.

“ Why don’t you show yourself? We want to talk with
you.”

“ Lean hear you as well from this: place as I could by step-
ping 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.”

“ Ha! ha! How long do you intend to stay there?”

 
 

    

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SQUTH-WEST BORDER 78

“Until we choose to go.,.At present it is as. comfortable
quarters as we could possibly wish.”

“ We would like to come oyer,and see you, if you do uot, care,
about it.”

“ Under the circumstances, I nile positively decline receiving,
any visitors.”

“ But suppose: we insist.”

“ Then I shall resist... If the alligators allow you to put! off
from the shore, I:think I shall have time to shoot some of you
before you land; and you may be assured, friend Vasquelon, ,
that I shall not hesitate to do it.”

“ Ha! ha! you talk big. The alligators sleep soundly at
noon, when the sun is hot, and we have no fear of them. , We,
can easily reach you.” :

“And my good rifle can easily reach you, Juarez V asquelon,
there is no need of you.and I bandying words. I know you,
and your object, and it is about time you knew me. You are)
seeking Irona Seraville, and will hesitate at no villainy to ob-
tain lee Ere you do this, you must pass over my dead body.”

“ Do not ‘think, Americano, that will be long, either. Haye.
you food on that island to last for ever? Perhaps you will
dine to-day off the alligators.” i

“Before you shall be allowed to set foot on this little island,
I will.” : L 203

“ A very delightful dinner for the Sefiorita with you.”’

“ Answer no such insulting remarks,” whispered Irona.

“ Juarez Vasquelon, as I trust we fully understand cach.
other, our conversation may as well terminate.”

« Your pardon, but I trust you are not in earnest in saying:
you wish to.remain upon that horrid mass of sand.”

“JT mosticertainly am.”

« But you will perish. There is nothing there to support life.”

“T 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 Iwas say~
ing, we wish no harm to either of you.”

   

 
 

16 IRONA; OR,

“Why do you persist in pursuing us >”

“ My only wish is to restore Don Alfredo Seraville’s sededes
to him, for he is distracted at her loss.”

“ That is false,” whispered Irona, “for he cannot know any-
thing of it.”

“T 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 yield
nothing.

‘*Unfavourable my situation is, I will confess; but, for all
that, the probabilities of Miss Seraville’s return would not be
increased by changing hands with you; therefore, I must again
decline receiving any assistance from you.”

“ But we pledge our honour that no harm shall be offered
either of you. You will be allowed to go free, and Seliorita
shall be restored to her agonized father at once, or you may
accompany her. Seiior Welland cannot object to this.”

“T tell you, Juarez Vasquelon, your proposals. are useless,
and I have no wish to converse further with you. Ihave
given you my determination, and you need not think to change
it. Let all intercourse now end.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Vasquelon, with his insulting, taunting
‘tone ; “will Sefior Welland glance up the river and tell us
what he thinks of what he sees?”

A glance, indeed, was sufficient to show Welland how com-
pletely he had been duped. Right under his own eyes, in
range of his unerring rifle, Colonel Ovaton and Pierre Chou-
jeau had constructed and launched a raft with which to float
out to the island. The flag of truce, the conversation, was
only aruse of Vasquelon’s to divert his attention until this
contrivance was finished. 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 truce was beyond danger.

Had it been nothing more than a mere raft, Welland would
have little occasion for alarm, as he could haye kept them at
 

    

    

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 77.

bay with his rifle; but, as we have termed our hero’s protec-
tion a fort, this might have been called a floating battery, It
was constructed of light, cork-like logs and limbs, evidently
collected with considerable difficulty, fastened together, and
having a breast-work 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 fitted upon it. The three then commenced
their efforts to launch. Their united work sunk it into the mud,
and as they dared not expose themselves, it required considerable
labour before it was accomplished. Welland, still hoping to pre-
vent the attempt, called out: “Colonel Ovaton, do you hear me?”

“ Wall, what’s wanting, my fine fellow ?”

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

“ We don’t just intend it, but we cale’late to do it. If you've
got any affairs you want settled, I advise you to make your will.”

“ Colonel Ovaton,” said Welland, rising to his feet in spite of
the remonstrance of Irona, ‘‘ 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 Ovaton.

“ Come on, then,”—and Welland sunk down within his for-
tification.

The raft at this instant swung clear, and Welland could see
by the ends of the poles in their hands, that they were busy
guiding it toward the island. The protection which they had
erected upon it came about to their shoulders, so that they
were obliged to labour in a stooping position. As it would be
several minutes before they could reach the bar, Welland con-
eluded to try the effect of a shot upon the concern. - He fired
directly at the centre of the pile of limbs and logs, and his
shot had a better effect than he could have dared to wish.
The fortification. was merely a loose pile, which instantly
tumbled down as the ball cut. through it, exposing the three

 

 
 

78 ? IRONA; OR,

persons behind. Welland commenced reloading as fast as in
his power, while his enemies hastily gathered the logs before
them again. They threw several on top of each other, intent
only on protecting themselves. The consequence was that by
the time our hero’s rifle was loaded, they were safe from his aim.

The current of the Rio Colorado.at this point is very swift,
and the time lost by those upon the raft was too great to be
recovered. Stooping over on their knees they plied their
guiding-poles with great diligence, but, when abreast the
upper part of the island, they saw their distance was too great,
and crouching 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 past,” said Welland, “and let us
prepare for the next,”

 

CHAPTER XIIT.
THE LAST NIGHT UPON THE ISLAND.

. Tae 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
of air that nearly suffocated them, The blanket afforded a
partial protection from the fiery rays of the sun. A torment-
ing thirst was felt by both Irona and Welland, but neither
spoke to the other of it. They had no wish to increase their
sufferings by useless complainings.

The two alligators, stretched upon the sand, and subject to
the full force of the blazing sun, commenced to putrefy, and in
 

  

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. V9

a few hours were so bloated that their skins seemed distended.
to bursting. They were hideous objects, distorted thus to such
an unusual size, and Welland felt willing to risk the chance of
a stray shot, if he could have rolled them into the river and
allowed them to float away. As yet no disagreeable smell
came from them, but another twenty-four hours would be
sufficient to make their presence unendurable. :

Nothing further was seen of their enemies, and he half sus-
pected they had retired to some cool spot to wait until a more
convenient season before they made another attempt against
him. Still, he was too cautious to expose himself, and he re-
solutely 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, lay down and quaffed his fill. The
muddy waters of the Rio Colorado tasted sweeter to him than
could the nectar of the gods, and no pleasure could have been
greater than that he experienced when he felt that he could
drink no more. Joining his hands, he scooped up a quantity
and carried it to Irona. She endeavoured to conceal her thirst,
but Welland saw how eagerly she swallowed it, and he passed
backward and forward several times before she was satisfied.

This movement of Welland’s, made as it proved to be with-
out danger convinced him of one thing. No 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 Irona were so
weakened by suffering and privation that they could offer no
resistance, when they would make their way out to them upon
rafts, without running any risk.

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

 

  

 
 

80 ; ITRONA; OR,

This night was without a moon until late in the evening.
Welland had some apprehensions of his enemies using a raft
and coming down upon the island in the darkness; and leay-
ing his fortification every few minutes, he walked to the upper
part of the island, and long and anxiously looked out in the
night, fearing 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 indifferent as to be passed in safety.

Another night upon the island! How wearily the hours
dragged by; how monotonous sounded the soft wash of the
Rio Colorado; how oppressive was the silence of the dark,
level shore! The black masses gliding over the sand, the
snouts ploughing through the water, the loathsome temerity of
the creatures themselves, were too horrible to be borne.

For the first time he gained an adequate idea of the situation
of himself and Irona. He began to feel the pangs of hunger,
and the river water could only be drunk when very thirsty.
What was to be the end of this? Were they to be starved
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 terminate the affray at once. He would have
gone forth and met the three single-handed had it been in
his power.

But no such fortune 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 stretched 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

 

 
   

 

   

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 81

with the determination to heave their carcases into ‘the river.
He was rising for this purpose, when Irona touched his arm.

“ Yonder is Vasquelon, if I mistake not,” said she.

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, Sefior Welland?”

« Let that answer,” said the latter, discharging his piece: at
his head. The sombrero suddenly ducked out of sight, and a
thrill passed through Welland as he thought he might be for-
tunate enough to have finished the rascal ; but the head soon
appeared again.

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

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

“ Ha! ha! your:gun is not true enough,” added Vasquelon—
taking good care, however, that a:second opportunity was not
afforded to test its accuracy. ‘“ Howsumever, we'll let that
pass. How do you like your present quarters upon the
island? How is Seiiorita pleased with them ?”

“We prefer them just now to the shore.”

“Tye no doubt of it! I’ve no doubt of it! How long do
you intend to remain ?” i

“It’s time you learned that we remain as long as we choose
—and besides, that we intend to keep you off 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 ?”

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

“T have a few, then, to propose. Will you answer them?”

“ As well as Senor Welland has mine.” t

“When are you coming upon this island ? ”

“We haven't decided yet, but probably not before three or
four days have passed.”

‘‘ Why not sooner ?”
“To tell the truth, Colonel Ovator and I have fourd out it i is

 
 

82 j IRONA; OR,

aiseloss risk; that infernal gun of yours may by accident harm one
of ts. There’s no need of that being done. We don’t think you'll
feel particularly anxious then about shooting. Good idea, eh?”

* You intend to wait till I’m starved into submission ?”

' “ That’s what we intend, I guess.”

“Tn other words, you three are afraid to attack me?”

“Not afraid at all—only prudent. We can afford to wait.”

“Why not remain upon the bank ?”

“Hat ha! I’m afraid Sefor Welland would hardly respect
a flag of truce if we reared it above our heads.”

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

“T suppose you will wait there until we see you again?”
asked Vasquelon, with a taunting laugh. Welland made no
answer 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 suspected all along that Welland had no object in conti-
nuing 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.

“He is gone,” muttered Welland, with some disappointment
in histone. “He will not appear again until near night. Irona,
those dead objects out there must be removed. Our situation is
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 to show yourself.”

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

“ And is he not ?” asked Irona, in a low voice.

' J 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.

 
 

    

 

    

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

CHAPTER XIV.
A NOVEL RIDE.

Trona’s attention was attracted by an exclamation from
Welland. Looking up, she saw him acting like a madman.’
He was jumping about, dancing on the. sand, swinging: his
hands, and making the most excited demonstrations of joy.
Her heart sank within her, as she reflected that perhaps he was
really insane, and for a few minutes she was unable to utter a
word. Welland, his face all aglow with pleasure, approached
her without speaking.

“ What is the matter?” she asked, concealing her own
agitation as well as she could.

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

“ Not if it can be helped.” t

“Tt can be helped—of course it can! What a fool I was not
to think of it before!”

Trona all this time was narrowly watching the face of Wel-
land to discover whether he really possessed his senses. The
latter noticing this, burst into a laugh.

“Do you think Lam crazy, Irona? I believe I am somewhat
so, but I have still some sense left. Can’t you understand the.
cause of my joy?”

“I certainly cannot. Do explain yourself.”

** Look yonder,” said Welland, pointing to the water’s edge,
where the bodies of the two alligators lay. Irona did as re-
quested, and a suspicion of the truth crossed her mind.

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

Trona, at his request, stepped out from the breastwork, and
with him approached the:two alligators. They lay upon the:
surface of the water, where their bodies floated like corks. To
show the feasibility of his plan, Welland walked out upon the
the broad breast of one, which was so bloated and buoyant that

 

 
    

 
 

84 IRONA; OR,

nearly one-half remained above the surface. It did, indeed, some-
what resemble a miniature flat-boat, the head serving as a prow,
and the tail, drooping in the water, serving as a rudder, while
the legs, sticking up, served as stanchions by which to hold on.

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

‘‘ But the living. alligators?” repeated Irona, with an in-
quiring expression.

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

“You are very hopeful, Ross; I, too, am anxious to make
the attempt, as we cannot by any possible result make our
situation worse.”

The creatures were floated side by side, and, stepping upon
the breast of one, Welland lashed them firmly together by their
legs and long tails, by means of strips torn from his blanket.
It required but a few minutes, when the two stepped upon
their curious boat, which, yielding to the force of the stream,
drifted away.

. That was a novel ride, indeed! As the swift current gained
control over them, they were borne 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.
Irona looked upon these with unspeakable terror, as-she ex-
pected an onslaught from them. The carcases 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 anxiety was lest Vasquelon should return to
the shore before they had gone far enough down the river to be
beyond his sight. The probability was that this would not
occur, and yet the possibility was enough to keep him in a fever
of fear. He kept his eyes fixed upon the point where the vil-
lain generally made his appearance, until, with unspeakable
relief, it was hid from view by a bend in the river. After an

 

 

 
 

    

 

   

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 85

hour's ride, their boat swept close to the river-bank, when Wel-
land 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.”

‘“‘T am sure there is sufficient.. There are the white men and
the red. men, who are our enemies.”

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

“ Yes, or torun when it is necessary. I shall not tire before
you 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 portions of the country. I trust
we shall soon come upon some game, when we will enjoy a
feast for the first time in a good while.”

“Tam 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 resolyed 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 groves of timber. These were generally where a small
stream flowed into the Colorado, the trees lining the banks.
While on the island, Welland was enabled to see one of the
oases in the distance, its soft blue outlines blending like a cloud
with the horizon. This was now but a mile or two away, and
toward this he bent his footsteps.

The sun lacked, several hours of setting when his resting-
place was reached, and he commenced his preparations for pass-
ing the night in it. A stream of icy-cold water gurgled through
the centre, while the trees and shrubbery fringing its banks
were dense, and afforded an admirable concealment. A suit-
able spot was selected, when Welland threw down his blanket
(somewhat the worse for having a portion lost) for Irona,

 
    

 
 

86 " ‘TRONA}. OR,

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 plentiful, and in
a short time they were furnished with a steaming, nourishing
supper, such as would. be acceptable to many a person in a far
more civilized country. This completed, night was at hand.

_ “1 think it best that the fire should go out, as the darkness
comes on,” remarked Welland, after a few moments’ thought.
“T will keep watch while you sleep, Irona, for it would 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 Iam sure I care but 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.”

Irona evidently concluded it’ best to obey her protector, for
she said no more. Welland carefully wrapped the blanket
around her, arranged her position in the most comfortable man-
ner possible, and then kissed her a good night. Wearied and
exhausted by her unusual sufferings, she soon sunk into a dream-
less slumber. Welland, seeing that she was breathing regu-
larly, and probably that she would not. awake for many hours,
arose, and carefully made his way out of the grove. As he
emerged upon the open prairie, he saw that the night was clear
with starlight, devoid of a moon, which would not rise till far
toward morning. Despite his cheerfulness of manner before.
Irona, Welland had strong misgivings of their safety, and the
observation was to satisfy himself, as far as lay in his power,
‘upon this point. Although it would have been extremely dan-
gerous for his enemies to attempt to reach him when upon the
island, on account of the presence of alligators, still they would
experience little or no difficulty in crossing theriver at another
point.. From some cause, unaccountable to himself, the little
island seemed to be located im a portion of the stream literally
swarming with these atrocious’ creatures; so that, having,

 

 
 

   

 

   

LIFE ON THE OUD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 87

proved the means of his salvation in one instance, he could
now hope for no further benefit from them. .

Welland stood a full half: hour, carefully scrutinizing every
object around him. ‘Then, satisfied for the present that no
human beings were in the vicinity, he moved off toward the
Colorado, scaree a half mile distant. It was his intention to
make his way to it, in order to ascertain whether Colonel
Ovaton and his companions had yet learned their flight. He
had gone but a short distance, however, when it suddenly oc-
curred to him that he was acting very imprudently in leaving
Trona alone at such atime. There might be wild beasts prowl-
ing 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
singular 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 in-
creased every moment, until it had well-nigh settled into a firm
belief that some great and dreadful danger threatened Irona.

With a heart’ beating 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
grove, he proceeded with great care and caution, for as its
dak gloomy shadow enveloped him, a co as dark —
gloomy enveloped. his spirit.

He moved on down the little streamlet, and was now within
a few feet of the spot where he had left her—the dearest. ob-
ject on earth. He slowly arose from the ground, and his heart
was in his mouth as he detected a dark mass which he knew
was his blanket, enveloping her.

“Thank God, I was mistaken! JI thought you were
gone——” He stopped short as he rested his hand upon ‘the
blanket, for no Irona was there!

 
 

  

CHAPTER XV.
A DEATH AND AN ALARM.

For a minute, Welland scarcely breathed, so overcome was
he at this astounding fact. He stood with his blanket in one
hand, his rifle in the other, gazing down where he had last
seen Irona lying. “What can it mean?” he asked himself
again and again. At almost any other time he would have
felt no apprehension at her absence; knowing that he had
left. her in asleep almost as deep as death itself, he was cer-
tain something extraordinary must haye occurred to awaken
her—a sleep so heavy, indeed, that she might be lifted and
carried away without knowing it. .

“Oh, Heayen! after escaping these many dangers, grant
that she may not be lost to me now,” he exclaimed in bitter-
ness of spirit.

_ Reflecting that probably she was still within the grove, he
set about searching every part, so far as layin 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 ?” he
muttered. “T’ll never return without her, or if she is slain,
without the lives of her murderers.” He was slanding be-
neath a large tree as he muttered this. A few feet distant
wasa sapling. The top of this he saw suddenly incline down-
ward 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?” it asked.

“Good heavens! Irona, what does this mean?” asked
Welland with a recoil of astonishment,

«“’Sh! not so loud,” she admonished. “There are others
near at hand. Have you not seen them?”

“Seen them? No; I had supposed you were carried off.”

 

 

  
 

   
 

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

«“T came pretty near it, I can tell you.”

“Who by? When? How was it prevented ?”

“TI awoke too soon, but I will ‘tell you all in a minute.
Are you sure there is no one who will overhear us?”

“T have hunted through and mai the wood for you,
and have seen nothing of anybody else.”

“They have withdrawn, then. They are out on the prairie.”

“ But I have been there, too, and saw nothing of them.”

“They were there, nevertheless. Remember, I saw one of
them myself.”

“You say they. Who do you mean?”

“You must know it can be no other but fuse three,”
replied Irona, in a meaning voice.

“But, Irona, explain what you mean,” urged Welland,
taking her hand in his, and drawing her to him.

“J presume you left me after I fell asleep?” she asked.

“Yes; I had some misgivings about those infernal villains
that are following us, and went out on the prairie to see
whether they were anywhere near. I had been gone but
a short time, when I reflected that I was leaving you in great
danger, and immediately retraced my steps only to find you
gone, however, and, as I thought, irrecoverably so.”

“Tt must have been a few minutes after you left that it oc-
curred, though it seemed several hours to me. You remember
I was sleeping very soundly. I remained thus a short time,
when all at once I opened my eyes, as sensible and as. wide
awake as I am at this moment. What it was that aroused
me I cannot tell. Iam sure nothing touched me, and there
was certainly no noise made; but it seems the presence of
danger sometimes makes itself felt. I opened my eyes, and
without moving the rest of my body, raised my head and
looked around me. Standing not ten feet distant, on the
same side of the stream with myself, I discovered the sombrero
of Juarez Vasquelon. I knew that you must be absent or
this could not have occurred. He seemed to be listening, for
he stood several minutes without stirring, and then with a
stealthy step he approached. How my heart beat as I saw

    

 
 

90, RAMOS Te TRONA;, OR; , ‘

his hated form coming nearer to me. ) Iwas on the. point of
screaming out, when.he passed me,and went,on down, stream.
The instant.I durst do so, I arose, leaving the blanket, where
it lay, and hurried further into the wood; but, fate seemed to
haye, decreed. that I should not escape. him, for, several, times
I came within a hair’s-breadth of walking. directly into his
arms. This so. alarmed me, that, I ascended the tree, and
(could you. believe it?) five minutes after, he passed directly
under. it... But I saw no more of. him... I heard you and took
you for him until you paused here and spoke, when, as you
know, I descended to you.”

‘*‘ You haye had a narrow escape, al How is it, possible
that Vasquelon and I failed to. encounter each other when we
were both searching in the grove at the same time?”

“TI 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 from the island, and are: pretty certain
that we are in this grove.”

“I do not think they are certain of this, but probably a
haye 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, isithe reason why
Vasquelon entered and searched. the wood to-night.”

“If he finds me asleep, I hope he will. get me without
trouble... Heavens! what. a pity we couldn’t haye stumbled
upon each other when we were both searching for you.’

“Tt. is best, I think, that you did not. The others must) be
near, and you could not. have saved yourself against all three.”

“We must, do it, however, to-morrow, for then, I am con-
vinced, the last. struggle—the struggle of life and death—must
come. Colonel Ovaton will surely find out that we are con-
cealed here, and incited, as he must be, by revenge against
myself he will leave no means unused to put, me out of the
way and recover you.”

“Ts there not room for concealment somewhere near us?”

“ There may be, but it can avail us nothing. Weare regu-

 
 

LIFE ON THE ‘OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 91

larly besieged, as much ‘as we were upon that island; but
our circumstances are considerably improved, and I have
hopes of making a better resistance, But, Irona, it is yet
early in the might; you are worn-out and exhausted, and I
have no idea what privations and sufferings are in store for
you; let me ‘insist, therefore, that you take that rest which
your system so much needs.”

“If you think it best, dear Ross, I will do ‘so, although
with this dreadful danger threatening us, I have little disposi-
tion to sleep.”

“T will watch over you, and you need have no fear.”

lrona 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 anything occur-
ring to alarm him. Twice he dectected a splash in the brook,
as though made’ by the step of some creature, but nothing
further than this. The first hour was spent by Welland in
walking slowly backward and forward, when he sat down,
confident that he was able to remain awake in that position; but
a drowsiness gradually overcame him, and he was on the point
of passing off into forgetfulness, when, for the third time, he
heard the splash’ in thestream.  He'started up alert, cocked
his rifle and stepped behind the tree underneath which Irona
lay sleeping. He had‘ stood here but a few moments, when

- he saw, rising above the bank of the stream, a broad Mexican
sombrero. Welland’s heart throbbed as he reflected that his
most implacable enemy was now in his ‘power. The hat rose
higher and higher, until the shadowy outlines of the burly
shoulders 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—a flash, a sharp, quick report,
a heavy fall, and then all was still.

“It’s the private opinion of Sehor Welland that Juarez
Vasquelon will cease minding other folks’ business,” remarked
our hero, coolly, proceeding to reload his rifle: “It’s a bad

 

 
 

TRONA} OR,

practice to be spying another person’s movements, and I
wouldn’t advise you.to try it again.”

He looked anxiously at: Irona, to see whether the report
had awakened her; but the pale, exhausted sufferer was
sleeping as soundly as ever. Having now: carefully reloaded
his rifle, he stood on his guard, waiting the further develop-
ment of matters. He fully expected the appearance of
Choujeau and Ovaton, or both; but, as fully an hour passed
without seeing or hearing anything of them, he began to
think that Irona had been mistaken in supposing them in. the
grove. They were probably a good distance off, and Vasque-
lon had come forward to reconnoitre 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 body further down stream, where it was not
likely to be seen by Irona. While doing this, the sombrero
dropped off. Feeling a. curiosity to examine his features,
Welland struck a match and held it up to his face. To his
unspeakable dismay he saw that it was not Juarez Vasquelon,
as he had supposed, but.an entire stranger! Hehad never seen
the man before, and consequently knew nothing of his identity.

This discovery both pleased and alarmed Welland. In the
first place, he was confident he was an enemy, and he was,
therefore, justified in slaying him; in the second place, it

convinced him that as yet his three most dangerous enemies
knew nothing of his whereabouts, and for the present he was
therefore safe.

“On 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 flight, and may not for several days.”

But this pleasant illusion was soon dispelled. When the
grey light of morning entered the grove, he passed out to the
edge of the prairie, to take a view of it. His first glance
showed him Ovaton, Pierre, and Vasquelon, mounted on their
horses, and riding leisurely toward the grove. Welland was

 

 
   

 
  
 
 

    
    

   

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 93

in full view, and, when a couple of hundred yards distant,
was discovered by the latter, who pointed towards him, when
all three reined up as if taken aback at his appearance in this
place. Our hero stepped behind a tree, and, showing that he
had two rifles, called out: “I warn you. to come no nearer.
It is time you understood me, and I solemnly swear that if 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 tworifles;
and, if you wish to know whether they are loaded, you _
only to approach nigher.”

“ And where did Sefior Welland get his second gun?”
asked Vasquelon, placing his open hand beside his mouth, as
if to direct his words.

“T took a stranger for Juarez Vasquelon, and shot him by
mistake.”

From the sensation which this announcement made, Wel-
land felt certain that, whoever the stranger might be, he was
one of their men, who had been sent forward to reconnoitre, 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 Ovaton
turned towards him and spoke: ‘Ross Welland, it’s about
time this game was ended. None of us have had any designs
upon you, but Vasquelon here rightfully claims, and shall have,
your companion, Sefiorita Irona. I now make you our last offer.
If you yield her up, you will be allowed to pass unmolested
upon your way; but, if not, you shall never leave that grove.”

The repetition of this insulting proposition so incensed Wel-
land, that he raised his rifle, and was aiming at the speaker
even at that great distance, when he felt a light touch upon
hig arm. Irona was standing at his elbow.

‘Don’t fire, Ross, for the distance is too great. Wait till
they come nearer. You would now miss them, and they
would rush upon you before you could reload.”

«I don’t believe the cowards can muster courage to approach,
They have been standing there half an hour already, and they
yet hesitate.”
94 ; IRONA; OR,

“They are only forming their plans.”

“ Ah, I understand them!” interrupted Welland, in an
excited manner. “They are going to separate, and approach
the grove singly, in different directions.”

Such really appeared their intention, as they were already
some yards apart; but their design was suddenly frustrated.
All three halted and gazed behind them, away out on the
prairie, as if alarmed at the appearance; while Welland
watched their movements with astonishment.

“They see something to alarm them,” whispered Irona;
‘what can it be?”

“Tt may be only a rusé—no, it isn’t either. See them ride
fogetheragain. All three are half frightened to death. How
singular!”

Colonel Ovaton’s arm was outstretched, as though pointing
to something in the distance, and his gestures were excited,
Welland looked in the direction indicated, but could see no-
thing, although he began to suspect the cause of their fear.

“Danger threatens them, and us, likewise,” said he.

“ What can it be?” asked Irona.

“TI feel convinced, although I have seen nothing of them,
that a company of Comanches are approaching.”

CHAPTER XVI.
THE COMANCHES.

COLONEL OVATON and his companions suddenly commenced

riding toward the grove.

“Halt!” commanded Welland, stepping out in full view,
and raising his rifle in a threatening manner. They did halt
for an instant.

“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
assistance to repel them in that case.”

 
 

 
  

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LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 95,

“I feel able to take care of myself, and. you certainly ought
to be by this time. I would as soon haye the Comanches,
enter this timber'as to have you. Therefore, I warn you for
the last time to approach no nigher, for if you do, Colonel
Ovaton will be the first man to fall.”

This declaration was in too decided language to be misun-
derstood. ‘There was little time for the horsemen to. spare in.
useless conversation. They consulted together a moment, and
then, turning the heads of their animals to the eastward, they
galloped away at the top of their speed.

“The Indians can be at no great distance,” said _Wel-
land, ‘and it would be best to retreat further, into the
wood, where there is no danger of being seen. You, do
so, Irona, and I will ascend this tree and watch their
moyements,” 2

Trona obeyed, Slinging one of. the rifles over his back,
Welland climbed the tree beneath which he had been stand-
ing. It was quite lofty, and he made his way to the top,
where the leafy branches effectually concealed him, and where
he was afforded a wide view of the prairie. Looking to the
eastward, he discerned Colonel Oyaton and his companions
riding for dear life. They were not yet a mile distant, but
they were going over the ground 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 Comanches coming on a full gal-
lop toward him. Their glittering lances, each crowned with,
a bright fluttering ribbon, after the manner of the Mexicans,’
were pointed upward, and were carried as regularly as the ;
bayonets of a marching column. Their gaudy uniforms flashed
and scintillated in the sunlight; and their magnificent horse- -
manship ‘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 going at
full speed, although their bodies arose and fell as uniformly as
the swells of the prairie. What was more, their splendid ani-
mals were gaining upon those of the whites; and while the

 
 

96 tae IRONA; OR,

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 flaunting in the air, and their horrid, painted faces
gleaming with all the passions of the ferocious savage. Wel-
land held his breath as they thundered past, and not till they
were full a mile away upon the prairie did he breathe free
again. He then descended, and shortly rejoined Irona.

The grove in which our hero and heroine had sheltered
themselves, 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 alarming circumstances by which they had been sur-
rounded, they made a nourishing and substantial meal. At
its conclusion, Irona said: “Dear Ross, you have hardly
rested a moment for the past two or three days. Ido not
‘now need rest, as I slept well last night. I hope you will,
therefore, secure what you can during to-day.”

Welland’s own prudence told him that the advice should be
followed. After playfully bidding his companion good-night,
he lay down upon the ground and slept. Irona busied herself
in watching over him, occasionally wandering to the edge of
the timber to look for signs of their enemies, and then hum-
ming, in a low tone, some Spanish song that she had learned
years before, and in far different ‘circumstances. Noon came
and passed, and still Welland slept. She could not awaken
him, for she knew he needed all the slumber that came
to him.

An hour or so after the sun had passed its meridian, 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 clear and distinct.
Once or twice they rattled like musketry, as though numbers
were discharged nearly simultaneously ; and then she either
heard, or fancied she did, that clear, peculiar yell which a
Comanche Indian sometimes makes when attacking a foe. A

¢
A

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 9%.

few minutes later a deep and oppressive stillness scttled over
the prairie.

“The Indians have overtaken the whites, and there has
been a deadly struggle,” she reflected, as she made her way
back to where Welland was lying. “What the result has
been I cannot tell, but it seems impossible that either Colonel
Ovaton or one of his men should have escaped. What will
the Indians do now? Will they return in this direction, and
will they halt here? Heaven forbid.”

It was not until night was again settling over the prairie
that Welland awoke. Irona deemed it best to acquaint him
with the sounds which she had heard some hours before, and
to give her suspicion of their cause. As she expected, Welland
believed them to have been produced by an affray between the
Comanches and the fugitives.

“‘ Whether they will return in this direction or not, why, of
course, 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 flashed 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, how-
ever, and if their suspicions be not aroused, it is not even pro-
bable that they will discover us. They must have travelled a
considerable distance, and will hardly reach this spot before
to-morrow.”

“ Why not to-night ?” E

“They will encamp and not resume their journey until
daylight.”

“ But it was early in the afternoon that I heard their guns,
and they could have travelled a long distance since.”

“Very true, but not far enough to reach us. Remember
their horses were going at their best speed, and it isn’t pro-
bable 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 aw ways and what is to
hinder us from going?”

4

 
 

98 7 IRONA; OR,

“T have thought of that course, dear Irona, but have giver
it up. We can gain nothing by night-travelling, while we
run the risk of losing our way. As I said a minute ago, I do
not think there is any danger of the return of the Indians, for
twenty hours at least. We will therefore rest contented until
morning, when we will continue our journey—making many
miles, I trust, before they reach this spot.”

“ But will we not meet each other ?”

“That is the great danger, as we must necessarily take
nearly the same direction that they have. Our guide is the
river, which here sweryes to the south-east, and whose course,
in all probability, has been followed by Colonel Ovaton and
the others.”

“As it is already dark, would it not be best to make our
preparations for spending the night ?”

“Tf you wish it. As I have just awakencd, 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
I always 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 lifeand honour. Kind
Providence, I know, will watch over a being as pure and as
good as yourself.”

“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.”

“Trona,” said Welland, modulating his own voice to the
soft tones of loye, “here alone on the broad pairies we should
understand each other. I have told you how often I 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 forgiven me for it. I believe we shall both escape
from this country; but we may not. And now, Irona, will

 

 
    

 

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LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 99

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 tone
which indicated the depth and purity of her love.

“Task no more. Good night—good night!” was all the
lover could utter as he drew her to his bosom, and then led
her to the spot selected for her resting-place during the night.
He had made a couch 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 was awakened, and
smilingly saluted him.

“A long journey is before us,” she said “and I believe we
are to commence it as soon as possible.”

“ Very true,” replied Welland, “ and it will not be long
before we shall be upon our way. Of course we must haye our
morning meal before starting.”

This 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
Trona, as they were about to start.

“T surely do,” she answered, “ and as I am not encumbered
by any extra weight or load, I think I shall not be the first
one to give in.”

“That remains to be proved,” said Welland. “And now
for home!”

« Wait a moment,” interrupted Irona; “ought we not to
examine the appearance of the prairie before venturing upon
it? We know not how close at hand enemies may be.”

“JT should have thought of that before. Wait here until I

return.”

 
 
 

100 IRONA; OR,

Saying this, Welland moved hastily through the grove
toward the prairie. A few rods brought him to the edge of the
timber, when, as he looked out on the plain, he saw, less than
a quarter of a mile distant, the whole band of Comanches gal-
loping directly toward him. He paused scarcely a second, but
long enough to assure himself that their destination was xnmis-
takably the grove in which he was standing. He made all haste
back to Irona, and communicated the astounding intelligence.

“We cannot flee, as the prairie is so open we should be dis-
covered almost immediately. We must secrete ourselves at once.
There is no time to loose. Enter the spot where you slept last
night and I will pull the bushes over you, so that I think there
is no danger of your being seen.”

“ And yourself?” asked Irona, mechanically obeying him.

“ Never mind me, I will take care of myself, It would not do
for us both to hide there. Quick, Irona, or it will be too late.”

She crouched down in the bushes, which closed after her, in
such a manner that there was no probability of her being dis-
covered, even by the lynx-eye of a Comanche, unless his sus-
picion was directed toward the spot. This was scarcely done
when the tread of horses’ feet was heard, and hardly 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
grove, sprung from their horses and turned them loose, while
they threw themselves upon the grass for an hour’s rest. They
had encamped near at hand and breakfasted, as they made no
demonstrations toward preparing food. They lolled 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 if with the sole object of 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 animal, whose most frenzied efforts could not unseat

 

<j

    
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LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 101

him. But Welland had little inclination to admire their
appearance at this time and in this place. In a menagerie or
show, where they were safe from doing harm, he might have
had such feelings; but the drama in which he was performing
a part was far too real to admit any such thoughts, and he
watched their every movement 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 they had first placed themselves, and seemed
to have no inclination to wander away; but with the latter,
the case was far different. In browsing and cropping the
herbage, they had already approached within a few feet of
Trona’s hiding-place. Should these sagacious animals discover
her, it was morally certain’ 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 far distant, and when encamped, no more faithful or
unerring sentinels could be found.

In the present instance, there being no breeze, and the
horses themselves suspecting no danger (if we can be allowed
such an expression), Irona might pass unnoticed unless they
invaded the very spot where she lay. The danger of this
occurring kept Welland in a fever of apprehension. She was
between him and the Indians, and the risk that she ran was
indeed a fearful one. In his anxiety, Welland more than once
imprudently exposed himself to the wandering gaze of any
savage, and he escaped being seen only by good fortune.

After an hour’s rest, the war-party gave signs of moving,
and now came the most critical moment of all. The Comanches
gaye a peculiar whistle, which brought most of their horses in-
stantly to them; but there were several that, from some cause
or other, paid no attention to the signal. Among the latter
was one which was plucking the buds and leaves from the very
bushes which sheltered Irona. He obstinately refused to leave,
and when Welland saw his savage master start towards him,

 
 
 

102 IRONA} OR,

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, endea-
voured to lead him forward. At first the brute betrayed some
fear, but gradually quieted down and slowly approached the
bushes. As he reached them, the Indian vaulted upon his back,
and sought to urge him through them, evidently thinking there
was nothing formidable there. The horse made a step or two,
and then, with a wild neigh, took the bit in his teeth, and gal-
loped off to where his companions were standing. Here the
Indian yielded him up to a comrade, and, dismounting, walked
hurriedly towards the bushes, plainly determined to satisfy
himself as to the cause of the animal’s alarm.

Welland now seriously debated whether he should shoot the
savage or not; but the certain consequences of such a proceed-
ing restrained him, and, tormenting as were the circumstances,
he quietly watched his movements. The Comanche circled
around 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, witha “Ugh!” of sur-
prize, he stooped dowh, took Irona by the arm, and led her forth.

CHAPTER XVII.
LOST AGAIN.

THE appearance of Irona 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

 

  

    

 
  

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v

 

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 103

speculations were indulged in. Irona’s remarkable beauty made
a great impression upon their savage hearts, and she was treated
in reality with respectful consideration. These Comanches had
descended again and again upon the Texan and Mexican vil-
lages; they had shot the men, tomahawked the children, and
carried off the young women. They had kept these as prisoners,
had outraged and then slain them. Their name was a word of
execration and terror along the frontier, and they had properly
aequired the title of the Bedouins of America. But, in their
manner towards the helpless captive now in their possession,
there was nothing of rudeness or insult. She stood with her
limbs free, and her head downcast before her captors.

The leader of the company stepped before ‘her, and, speak-
ing quickly in broken English, asked: “Where come
from ?”

Trona was on the point of replying, when it occurred to
her 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 though the meaning of the words was not
known to her.

“Where come from ?—who be ?—what do here?” repeated
the chief, bending his dark face close to hers. Still she made
no reply.

“3 Escucha V. lo que le digo?” (Do you listen to what I
tell you ?) asked the Indian, in Spanish.

This was Irona’s own language, and, as she heard its musical
words uttered so fluently by the Comanche, she well-nigh forgot
herself; but, as before, the questioner received no answer.

“3 Habla V. el espanél 6 el ingles?” (Do you speak Spanish
or English ?)

The Indian receiving no answer to this second question, re-
peated itin English, until satisfied that his prisoner either could
or would not make any reply to him. He then turned to his
followers, and addressed to them a few words in his own tongue.
Welland instantly divined what he said, from the fact that

 

  
 

104 IRONA; OR,

they all scattered through the grove and commenced a search.
Jt was now time to look to his own personal safety. He went
on up the tree until 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 gutteral exclamations to each other, and a word
or two that the chief now and then uttered to the silent Irona.
In a few moments, a great clamour was heard. Welland de-
scended as far as he durst, 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 Irona saw them bringing the dead body to the
chief, it occurred to her that she might make it do Welland
a good turn. If the Comanches could be made to believe that
it was the dead form of her protector, they would search no
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 her hands, and, bending her head, her whole frame shook
with emotion—a genuine emotion, but one produced by far
different causes than her captors believed.

This manifestation had partly the desired effect. The
Comanche chief consulted with his warriors, and examined
the 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
conclusion reached was that the man had been shot by Colonel
Ovaton or one of his men. The latter, when first seen, it will
be recollected, were reined up in front of the grove, in parley
with Welland. The Comanches had come down like a thunder-
bolt upon them, frightening them away, as they believed,
before they had time to make off with Irona.

Still the chief directed the search to be continued, instruct-
ing his warriors, at the same time, to examine 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

 
-

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 105

the tumult below... The first intimation he had of the new
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
judge by the agitation made among the leaves the position of
the Indian’s body. He saw him go up full fifty fect above:
himself, where he paused a moment, and then commenced.
dropping downward from limb to limb, as dexterously 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, catch-
ing the branch of another tree, and going to its top with the
same celerity that he had displayed before. Ina few moments
he was in a different tree, repeating the same mancouvres, and
each time getting further and further from the tree which
contained Welland. The reason why he failed to visit this
was because it was a small one, in which he rightly judged no
person would take refuge from choice. Had Welland had a
few minutes longer to consider, he would have never used it
for that purpose. The Comanche did bestow a searching
glance upon it; but being a considerable distance away and
having no suspicion, he failed to note the peculiar appearance
of the limb which was weighed down by the weight of a man.
For the space of perhaps twenty minutes, Welland saw
nothing more of the Indian climbers; but during all this
time, he could hear them springing from limb to limb, and
dropping to the ground with exclamations of disappointment.
He expected every moment to see one of them coming up his
own tree, and could only wonder that he had escaped obser-
vation so long.

From the manner in which the search was tein conducted,
he felt satisfied the tree would afford him concealment but a
few minutes longer; he, therefore, determined to resort to
stratagem to mislead the savages. The latter, at that moment,
were hunting 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 scen the Comanche stoog v“ry close to his

 
 
 

106 IRONA; OR,

own. As this had already been searched, he concluded that
if he could get into it, he would be safe from further molesta-
tion, and he determined to make the attempt.

He passed out on his own branch until it bent with his
weight. Hehad brought only his own 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 catching and remaining, it fell end over end through the
limbs to the ground. Welland 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 that it would not be seen unless
accidentally stepped upon by some of the searchers.

Welland now made preparations for his leap. It was over
six feet he had to spring, and then run the risk of sustaining
himself by the twigs and branches of the other tree. He care-
fully measured the distance with his eye and leaped onward!
What a thrill of horror passed through his body when, in mid-
air, he saw he should not accomplish it! As he came down,
he frantically clutched the branches, but they would not sus-
tain him. They bent down, and the twigs slowly slipped
through his blistered fingers. It was like a horrid night-mare
—this falling—falling, without power to check himself—that
dreadful sinking sensation 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
astanding position. He glanced despairingly around, and felt
a faint hope, as he saw, singularly enough, that he had not
been observed. Without losing an instant, he renewed his
attempt, and in a few moments was snugly ensconced in the
top of the second tree.

It was not ten minutes later that 2 brawny Comanche was
on the very limb which he had so recently left. Narrow,
indeed, had been his eseape—far narrower than he suspected ;
for the unusual appearance of the surrounding branches was
noticed by the savage. He saw that they had been made by
a person springing from one tree to another; and the same

 

neces

  

—s

 

  
  

—

 

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 107

sagacious eye that showed him this, showed still further that
whoever had made the leap had failed in its execution and had
fallen to the ground. If he felt surprise that a Comanche
warrior should have made such a failure, he thought nothing
more. There was not enough in the circumstance to make
him suspect that it might have been done by a white man, and
he rejoined his companions upon the ground.

The search was now given over. Every tree and every nook
that could have concealed a person had been subjected to the
severest scrutiny, without revealing a white man, and the
Indians were convinced that their first supposition was right.
The chief mounted his horse, lifting Irona like an infant in front
ofhim. She struggled and made signs that she wished to
remain where she was, but she was in the grasp of a giant and
it availed nothing. Away sped the Couinichies to the north-
ward, bearing Irona 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 gazing at the point where they had disappeared. He sat
motionless, despairing and hopeless. After a long time he
drew a deep breath, and then looked around him.

“ Gone, gone again, when I thought the danger was passed !
What will become of her? God only ‘knows. Dishonour,
death, to Irona Seraville!. And here I have been compelled to
sit and see her carried off by those inhuman savages. Her fate
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
Lever knew her! Forget that I ever knew Irona Serayille!”
repeated Welland, after a pause. “Not while memory lasts!
And would I ever forget my own baseness in thus deserting her
in the moment of direst:necessity? Away with the thought! I
will follow her as long as she lives. If she is dishonoured, my life-
shall be spent in avenging her. If not, I shall never give over:
my efforts until she is reseued or I have died in the attempt.”

He sat a few minutes longer in deep thought; and then
added: “ What canI do? Ihave two rifles, it is true, but I

 

  
 

108 E IRONA; OR,

have no horse to ride; while twenty Comanche warriors are
opposed to me. I cannot steal into their camp and rescue her
es. They are too cunning for that. But I can fol-

“Tow after them. There is no dreaming what opportunities
may be offered me.”

Yen minutes later and Welland was walking rapidly across
the prairie in the trail made by the passage of the Comanche
horses. In the afternoon, he halted a few moments; and by
night, had passed over a good long distance. As he expected,
the trail led up to the Colorado, which it still followed when
night closed around him. He intended, when starting, to
travel all night, but he had already undergone too many hard-
ships to bear this tax upon his endurance. While tooking
about him, he caught the glimmer ‘of a camp-fire in the dis-
tance on the bank of the river. This, he believed, undoubtedly
belonged to the Comanches, and he determined to approach
nigh enough to reconnoitre. Near as seemed the camp, it
required almost two hours’ walking before he reached it. To
his unbounded surprise, as he came up, not a single person
was in sight. This was the more surprising as it seemed lite-
rally impossible for twenty men and horses to conceal them-
selves around the fire, which was kindled down the bank,
where there were no trees or shelter.

Welland passed and repassed it several times, gradually
approaching nearer, and incautiously exposing himself. Only
a faint light was cast by the smouldering embers, and within
the circle of this he at length ventured. He had hardly done
so when a dark, ball-like body bounded from the darkness,
and alighting on his shoulders, bore him downward with irre-
sistible strength.

“T 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. Speak quick! Who mought you be?”

“Tam Ross Welland; don’t you know me, Ned Nuggens?”

“Him, and no mistake,” replied that hunter, peering down
in his face, and then allowing him to rise. Where's the gal?”

“ The Comanches have got her.”

 

a

~»——_——-

 
 

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 109

“ What'd I tell you, John ?” said the hunter turning to his
companion, who now made himself visible. “I know’d them
ruffins had somebody among ’em that they had no right to,
when we met ’em to-day. Howis it they didn’t git you, too?”
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: “ Just like
the ruffins; they’ve got an account to settle with us. But what
are you doing here ?”

“T am in pursuit of them.”

“Give us your hand! You've got the stuff in you. You'll
pass, you will.”

“How is it you two are here?” asked Welland. “I under-
stood your destination 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 foller you. That
night, we found your horse. Then we know’d something was
up, sure. We went down on this side the river, and not
thinking of looking im 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
mought have passed you, we took the back-track again. But
we couldn’t see nothing of you, ’cause, like a couple of fools, we
had got on the wrong side of the river. So we give it up, and
started for the Staked Plain, and have got this fur on the way.”

“You say you found my horse some time since. What did
you do with him?”

“Why, kept him, of course. Such animals are too scarce
to let slip.” ‘

‘« And he is in your possession this minute ?”

‘“«If you don’t believe it, jest walk out there where our two
animals is standing. Being we've found his owner he’s no
longer ours.”

   

  
 

 
 

110 IRONA; OR,

’ “Such a turn of fortune I am forced to believe is an augury
of my suecess—— ”

“Ts what?” interrupted Smith.

“Ts a sign—a token of my success in my efforts to rescue
Trona.” -

“ 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
Comanches alone, do you ?”

“Tf I started on foot with that firmintention, what would in-
duce me to give it up now that I have recovered my horse?”

“What can you do among such a lot of ruffins ? ”

“The chances are greatly against me, I will admit, but I
should never forgive myself did I not make an effort.”

“Can your horse travel faster than theirs?”

“ He is fully their equal.”

“That don’t matter. Suppose you should 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 effort.”

“ All alone, eh?”

“T expect to do so.”

“Wal, I expect you won't.”

“Why not?” asked Welland, thinking that perhaps they
intended to prevent him.

“?Cause we goes with you!” exclaimed Nuggens, heartily.
‘*When that little gal of yourn getsinto difficulty, why I reckons
we does, and stays there, too, till she’s out. Eh, Smith?”

* Just so—exactly.”

“ Let’s shake hands on that.”

And Welland grasped hands with the two hunters.

 

  

 
  

 

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER.

CHAPTER XVIII.
IN THE COMANCHE CAMP.

TuIs much, then, was settled—three armed and mounted
white men were to pursue twenty armed and mounted
Comanche Indians, with the object of reseuing a captive
white girl from them. A foolhardy proceeding, to say the
least; but, curiously enough, Ned Nuggens, who always
saw the dark side of the picture, was very sanguine of
suecess.

“Thave an idea of my own,” said he, with a wise look, the
next morning, as they were about to start.

“ Pray, let us know what it is,” asked Welland, with some
curiosity.

“Can’t do it jest now,” he replied, with a shake of his head.
“ You'd all laugh at me, sure.”

“Tell a fellar if he guesses?” quizzed Smith, leaning on his
horse and looking up in his companion’s face.

‘Yas, don’t know but what I will.”

“Ts it to buy her?”

“Buy her! Where'd I get anything to buy her with?”
asked Nuggens, in amazement.

“That’s what I should like to know. You going to make
a dash among ’em, do some ha’r-raising, and be off like a
thunder-clap ?”

“ Nothin’ of the kind.”

“Going to sneak into camp and steal her?”

“ 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 yet.” .

“ Wh-e-w-w!” exclaimed Smith, giving vent to a long, pe-
culiar whistle. “Going to appeal to their better natur’, I
s’pose. Hain’t you been on the prairies long enough yct to
find out that Comanches ain’t human ?”

 

  
 

112 IRONA; OR,

“No!” replied Nuggens, with a meaning emphasis.

“Wal, Ihave; and if you hain’t, you will mighty soon.” *

“T know not what plan you have in view,” said Wel-
land, “but if 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 Comanches; but I feel
very sartin—so much so, that if I don’t succeed I loses my
ha’r, sure.”

Nuggens seemed to enjoy the astonishment his words created.
He added, with a meaning smile: “ I’Il 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 scrape. For that matter,
you could both just as well stay where you are, and let me go
onalone. But let us lose no more time in talking. We shall
have a good tramp to overtake them Injins.”

Nuggens galloped ahead, and the two followed on a brisk
canter. He 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 en-
campment, the embers of whose fires were still burning. The
surrounding signs were carefully examined by the hunters,
and the Indians pronounced to be nearer than was at first
supposed.

“At this gait,” said Nuggens, “we'll be on to ’em by
the middle of the afternoon. They ’ve made quite a halt

here.”
“Do they always keep up that rapid canter of theirs ?”

“Bless you,no! Zhy’re animals get tired as well as others.
They sometimes halt for three or thirty hours, jest as the
notion takes them.”

‘The Comanches are the acknowledged sovereigns of this
section, I believe ?”

“ They ’re the sovereiyns—if that means the masters—though
they find that question is often disputed with them. They do

<7

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i
}

 
Sa

Se ee

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 11,

pretty much as they please, especially where Mexicans are
concerned. The Texans are tougher customers.’

“Tt always seemed singular to me that the Mexican 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 fee amin are all
cowards—that’s what makes things as they are. Santa Anna
and all their seaners are cowards, and the Comanches know it,
and despise ’em.’

a They can be at no great distance ahead of us. Wi ill it not
be running a great risk to come unexpectedly upon them ?”

“We ain’t going to do that thing.”

“Tt strikes me that we cannot 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 im-
mediately, or to wait until night ?”

_“Tlldo it at once, as there is no stratagem or sneaking
about it.”

Despite the manceuvres to which Smith resorted, he could
not induce Nuggens 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.

“T said there was no stratagem, as you call it, in the thing;
but there is, and if the old Comanche chief finds it out, why,
itll be all up with Ned Nuggens. I’m in for it, however,
and the try will be made.”

“ Thunder and lightning!” exclaimed Smith, in a great fury,
“if you ain’t going to tell a feller what it is, don’t say nothing
more about it.”

He paused a moment, as if he expected a reply, and then
added: “No one wants to know what your smart idee is, that
you're making such a fuss over.”

Eyen this failed to secure the desired information.

 
 

114 IRONA; OR,

Indulging now and then in laughing conversation, in specu-
lations, and flings at Nuggens’ “plan,” our three friends con-
tinued on a rapid canter, pressing their horses forward as much
as they dared. Noon came-and passed, but they halted not,
except to let their animals drink from the river. Their way
still kept along the banks of this, and the trail of the Comanches
was plainly visible, as it had not been disturbed by man or
animal. In the course of an hour or so, Nuggens dismounted,
and examined 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?”

“Close onto ’em,” replied Nuggens, remounting.

“ How close?”

“ Half an hour or thereabouts.”

‘“ Have they encamped ?”

“Don’t know; guess not at this time of day.”

As the time advanced, the three began to ride more cau-
tiously, 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 disap-
pointed, he remarked: “The half hour has passed long ago,
Ned; where’s the Injins.”

“‘ Have patience ; we'll soon see ’em.”

“You shouldn’t have said we'd see ’em in half an hour if
you wasn’t sre.”

“You needn’t complain, Smith, for they are in sight this
minute.”

At this startling announcement, Smith and Welland in-
stinctively reined their horses, rose in their stirrups, and looked
searchingly ahead. Nuggens had spoken the truth—the Co-
manches were in sight. ‘They were still at a great distance,
however, and were on an easy gallop. An inexperienced per-
son would have taken them for a flock of prairie-hens, or
larger animals. Their heads and shoulders only were visible as

AY
,

“)
  

+4

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 115

they sunk and rose on the swells of the praivie, and these.
appeared thus insignificant,

* How long, at this rate, will it take us to overhaul them?”
asked Welland. s

“Not afore night, I’m afraid; they’re a, good ways off, and
travelling ata rousing pace. They’ve made a long halt some-
where, or we'd never come up to them as soon as this.”

“°T should think they would stop riding some time. Have
they no destination, or are their lives spent in riding from one
place to the other ?”

“ They're nearly always riding, but they have their houses
like other folks. There’s a big Comanche village about fifty
miles further up the river, and that is where this crowd be-
longs. They’re aiming for the spot.”

“ Why not wait till they are at home?” asked Welland,
with some curiosity.

“ My hair wouldn’t be worth a beaver-skin by that time.
No, ‘sir,’ added Nuggens, emphatically, «I must be among
them ruffins this afternoon or this night, or that gal is gone
for ever.”

“Our animals can travel faster,” said Smith, striking his into
a more rapid gallop. The others did the same, and in a short
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-
gether with the rapid motions of their horses, were as regular
and harmonious as the movements of a platoon of infantry.

As night approached, our friends had gained so much om
the Comanches, that, at Nuggens’ 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 de-
pended upon not being seen before that time. The hetter to
avoid this, they let them shoot ahead several miles, when the
three rode down the river-bank, and cautiously made their
way up stream. Several miles were thus passed, at the ter-

 

  
 

 
 

116 IRONA; OR,

mination of which the darkness had so increased, that they
again rode upon the prairie, and took the trail of the Coman-
ches. The latter were not visible; but our 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!” exclaimed Nuggens, joyously.

Dark, shadowy forms could be seen flitting backward and
forward before the fire, and now and then a gutteral exclama-
tion was borne to them on the night wind. It was plain that
the Comanches had no fear of attack in this remote section.
Their horses were turned loose and were busy cropping the
grass, while the greatest confusion reigned through the entire
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 Comanches.
His preparations were slight, and consisted in nothing but the
act of dismounting and passing his rifle to the hands of Wel-
land. The latter noticed a tremor in the motions of the
hunter, although he did his utmost to conceal it. The critical
moment had devices and he comprehended the perilous nature
of the undertaking he had ventured upon.

. © Good-bye, boys,” said he taking the hand of each; “if I
ain’t back at 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?”

“JT 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, and
waiting for the moment when Nuggens would make his ap-
pearance 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 commotion among
the Comanches that he had arrived among them.

And now commenced the hour of suspense.

 

—

  
etc emmmmneeaccomm A =

me

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 117

CHAPTER: XIX.
CONCLUSION.

Leavinc Smith and Welland a prey to the most anxious
suspense, we will follow the hunter into the Comanche
camp.

He walked directly toward the camp-fire, 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
Indians, that he was not noticed until he was really among
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?” he asked in the Comanche tongue. “T
come among you unarmed. I am on a visit to your chief,
Riantonon. 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 ?” asked one, stepping
toward him.

Nuggens merely signified his assent.

“ He is by the other fire. Follow me.”

The savage moved off, and his companions made way for their
visitor to follow. A few yards brought them to the second
fire, where several Indians were reclining upon the ground.

“One who asks for Riantonon,” said the guide, stepping
aside, and allowing Nuggens to advance to the fire. As the
latter did so, a large, powerful, and not unhandsome Indian
arose to receive him.

“Ts it the great and good Riantonon that I see before me?”

asked Nuggens, with a low obeisance.
“TI am Riantonon, chief of the Comanches,” returned the

‘Indian, in a voice that sounded like the rumble of thunder.

“TI am from Maxalhon,” said Nuggens, with another

obeisance.
“The road to my white brother’s house is long, and it must

be an important wish that brings his messenger hither.”

 
118 IRONA; OR,

“Tt is an important errand, the 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
vulgar curiosity. To avoid showing such a weakness, he pur-
posely prevented the conversation from coming to a point.

“The path that my brother has travelled is a rough one.
He may rest with us till morning.”

“The commands of my master are, that I set out on my
return to-night.”

“My warriors are preparing food. My brother must be
hungry.”

“My rifle is true, and I have not wanted for food.”

“But I see no arms.”

**T need no weapons in approaching the camp of Riantonon.
They are a short distance away with my horse.”

“ Does not my brother desire rest before telling his wish?”

‘‘T 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 since, by the red men. That
pale face 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 ?”

“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 seemed to affect the chief, for he remained a
moment as if in deep thought, while Nuggens, with his head
bent, dared not look up in his face.

“ Riantonon knows not who stole the child. How can he
find her ?”

“ Maxalhon said that Riantonon and his warriors lived upon
the plains, and wandered hundreds of miles. Nothing could
escape his eye.”

 
  

-

    
_-

=

 

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 119

This compliment, so delicately given, had the effect intended
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.

“ Maxalhon will then thank him with tears in his eyes, and
Riantonon will receive vast wealth.”

“ My brother will stay with us till morning.”

“T 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 thief commanded him to wait afew moments. The hunter
suspected what was coming, but, of course, he affected ignorance.
He heard the approach of some one, and, looking up, saw Irona,
led forward by the chief.

“Here is the captive whom you seek,” said the chief.

Nuggens exhibited the most profound astonishment and joy.
He stepped forward, seized the hands of Irona, and congratu-
lated her again and again upon her rescue, during the perform-
ance of which he managed to put her on her guard. The
quick-witted girl needed no caution, for she saw a ruse was
being played, and understood how to act her part.

“Great and good is Riantonon,” said Nuggens. ‘“ Maxalhon
will pray to see him.”

“ Are you alone?” asked the chief, pointedly.

“Two hunters were sent with me to protect me, and they
are waiting a short distance away.”

The chief shook his head.

“The path is long, and there is danger at every turn. My
warriors will accompany you.”

Now this, above all things, was the very proceeding which
the hunter felt he must prevent. If the chief gave him an
escort, all would be lost, for the trick that he had played would
soon be discovered. :

“We have come through many dangers, and we can return
through them. I am sure Maxalhon would not permit the
good Riantonon to send his warriors with us.”

 

  
120 -. .-IRONA}; OR,

“When does my brother return?”

“At once; a long distance may be accomplished before
morning.”

“ Has my brother brought a horse for the captive?”

“‘T did not expect to find her, and therefore have none.”

The chief spoke in a low voice, and one of the Indians led
forward a magnificent horse of a coal-black colour, which he
helped Irona to mount. The Comanche leader himself then
led the animal forward and placed the bridle in the hand of
the hunter.

“ Tell Maxalhon that when the moon is again at her full,
Riantonon will visit him.”

Nuggens bowed and walked slowly away from the camp-
fire, leading Irona’s horse. He did not increase his walk, nor
speak, nor even look up to her; but he endured the keenest
agony, fearful that the chief would suspect something wrong
and call him back. In such a case he knew all was lost.
Then he fancied 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
Nuggens and Irona made their appearance among them.

“ Don’t stop to talk, boys,” said the former, “ there’s no time.
Let’s be off.”

He vaulted into his own saddle and struck off on a gallop,
followed by the others. Welland took his position beside
Irona. He said nothing, but reached over and took her hand
fora moment. She returned the pressure he gave, and the
party rode on in silence. In the course of an hour or so,
Nuggens reined his horse down to a walk, and said: “Our
animals are tired, for they’ve done a good heap of travelling.
So here we may now halt for the night.”

He turned down the river-bank as he spoke, and leaped to
the ground. All removed their saddles, the horses were
picketted, and a fire started.

“We're safe from them Comanches, at least,” said Nuggens,
“and now we'll take a rest till daylight.”

 
  

 
 

 
   
 
sea en eye ignite

 

 

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 121

Irona by this time had had so much experience in “ camping
out,” that she was provided for without difficulty, As she
slept, the others gathered round the fire, and Welland said:
“ Your plan has been tried and has succeeded, Nuggens, and,
therefore, there can be no danger of our laughing at or ridi-
culing it. I trust you will not hesitate to give it to us.”

* 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 trick, I fancy, that a Comanche was
ever served. That Riantonon is a full-blooded Indian, and a
regular ruffin. He’s scalped and hacked up more white people
than any man this side of the Rio Grande. Well, he’s got a
half-brother, a half-breed, who’s es big a ruffin as he is him-
self. His name is Maxalhon, and he lives down on the San
Antonio, where he’s got a big farm and plenty of horses and
cattle, all of which he’s got by robbing honest people. He
used to travel with that old Comanche ruffin, 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 ransomed, 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
Tve knowed for over six years. When me and Smith see the
Comanches, I felt pretty sure that they was Riantonon’s band,
“cause he always takes just twenty with him, counting himself.
I’ve met ’em before, and have had such scrimmages with ’em
that I couldn’t very well forget him or his men if I wanted to,
though I hayen’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. Well, 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 ruffin. I knowed
if I could make him believe I was from Maxalhon, he would
do anything I wished. The great danger was 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

 

  
 
 

122 TRONA; OR,

there, and every one showed scars on his face that I helped
make, but they didn’t know it. I talked away to Riantonon,
and the end of the matter was that he believed I was sent
from his old brother ruffin Maxalhon. He gave me the gal,
and if she isn’t safe home in a short time, it’ll be our own fault.”

“Ha! Ha! what a plan!” laughed Smith.

“ Didn’t I say you would laugh at it ?” asked Nuggens.

“True, we laugh,” added Welland, smiling, “but not at
you, nor exactly at your cleverly-managed scheme, but at the
credulity of the chief and his warriors.”

The night passed away without incident, and at the earliest
appearance of light our four friends were riding down the
banks of the Colorado. Not a sign of an Indian was seen
during the day, and by night they had accomplished a good
long distance. On the second, Nuggins descried a war-party
on the opposite side of the river, who made some demonstra-
tions toward crossing over and engaging them; but they
seemed to reach a different conclusion, upon second thought,
and shortly afterward disappeared on the prairie.

On the morning of the third day, they reached the grove
where Irona and Welland had become separated. They felt
relieved when it was left behind them. Of all their experiences
there had been none more painful than that spot had witnessed.
Passing several frontier settlements—or rather the commence-
ment of frontier settlements—our friends at last beheld the
picturesque town of Austin before them. It was with a feel-
ing of joy indescribable that cur hero and heroine rode into
the place. Irona led the way to her uncle’s, but ere they had
reached his mansion, the two hunters halted.

“Here we leave you,” said Nuggens.

“What!” exclaimed Welland, “ you must surely go with us
to Irona’s relations. You haye had a long ride and need rest.”

“ We're used to that,” laughed Smith, and don’t need rest.”

“T shall riever be forgiven if I fail to let my uncle see you,”
added Irona, “ 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

 

 
   
  

  

LIFE ON THE ‘OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 123

for such work. We thank you as much as if we took up with
your offer. We'd like to do it, but we can’t if we wanted. So
here’s a good-bye 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, “I s’pose you two will have a place of your
own 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 whee, under Heaven, I owe the life of Irona.”

*“ Good-bye.’

The parting would have been affecting, if the hunters had
only allowed it to be so; but they would not. They cheerfully
shook hands, and, as they rode away, repeated their laughing
adieus. Neither Welland nor Irona 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 re-appearance 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
extreme joy, that the fact of her abduction had been carefully
kept from her father. Her uncle had offered large rewards for
her recovery, and more than one band of hunters, at that
very moment, were scouring the plains in search of her. Wel- —
land, of course, received a most genuine and hearty weleome,
and, unknown to him, Albert Seraville placed a letter in Irona’s
hands for his brother, in which he was eloquent in the praises
of the “young American,” and which he felt confident would
do much toward removing the prejudice he entertained against
him. The two remained in Austin, for a few days only, when
they took passage to Matagorda. Here they were compelled
to wait a week before the opportunity offered for reaching
New Orleans. Finally, they secured berths on board’ a
steamer, and 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 Mis-
sissippi. The weather was extremely hot, and many of the

 

 

   
124 IRONA ; OR,

passengers remained on deck through the night in preference
to spending them in their berths. Welland kept his room for
several hours, when, finding it intolerable, he arose and passed
on deck. He found a number slowly pacing backward and
forward, engaged in meditation, while others were standing
together and admiring the beautiful scenery aroundthem. 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
atmosphere was such that the surface of the gulf seemed to re-
flect more light than was shed upon it. Here and there the
white sails of some vessels were visible, like the plumage of
some gigantic sea-bird, while the black hull and tapering mast
seemed as if drawn with ink in the misty air. Occasionally,
one of these vessels would suddenly loom up before them, ap-
proach as if about to ride them down, then glide majestically
by, with no sound but the water as it was dashed from the
prow, and with its course marked for a mement by a broad
path of phosphorescent foam. Silently they met, and silently
they passed each other, never to meet or pass again, for the
steamer that encountered them was approaching its doom!

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.

“ Carrai!” muttered the latter person.

“ Your pardon, friend ; I—my heaven !”

The person before him was Juarez Vasquelon.

“In the name of heaven, what brings you here?” demanded
Welland, with a recoil of amazement.

“Your pardon,” said the imperturbable Spaniard, lifting his
hat. “I did not anticipate the pleasure of meeting Sefior
Welland here.

“No, I suppose not; you believed the Comanches had
finished me.”

“Ts Sefiorita Irona well ?”
The provoking coolness of the villain tempted Welland to

   

 
   
—

  

 

+ =——

  

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 125

strike him, but he reflected that such an act could do him no
good, as there was no further occasion for plotting and counter-
plotting against him. He could afford to be condescending.

“She is well—far better, I may venture to say, both in body
and spirits, than when she saw you last.”

“Tam rejoiced to hear it; she has truly had much suffering.”

“For the greatest part of which Juarez Vasquelon is to be
thanked.”

“I hope she will find her dear father well,” added the
Spaniard, 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
“from the hands of the Comanches.”

“‘ Were they killed by Riantonon and his band?”

“ They were killed by Riantonon and his band.”

“ And how was it that: you escaped?”

“ My horse chanced to possess such specd that the Indians
could not overtake him, although I must say they tried very
hard to do it.”

“ 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, was just the same.”

“ What a pity yours did not do the same,” muttered
Welland.

“ You go to New Orleans, too, I presume, Sefior Welland ?”

“ That is my intention,” replied our hero, turning and leay-
ing him to himself.

Upon 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 made inquiries in regard to Jacques. The Spaniard

 

  
126 IRONA; OR,

informed him that when he heard of Welland’s flight, and that
‘he was to be pursued, he requested to be left behind, promising
to-follow in a day or ty¥o, as he was nearly recovered ; but,
from what Vasquelon remarked, Welland believed the true-
hearted fellow had done this as‘a ruse to get rid of them, and
in all probability, after their departure, had made his way
back to the settlements.

A few days after, and the steamer entered one of the many
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 progress of the boat was wearily
slow. Welland had seen Vasquelon several times, but they
had had no further conversation than that referred to.

On the second morning after their entrance of the Missis-
sippi, before many of the passengers had arisen, the steamer
exploded her boiler. The explosion was terrific, the upper
‘deck being blown upward, and the sides huried apart in shat-
tered fragments, with as much force as though the boiler were
a gigantic bomb-shell. At the very moment of the dire eatas-
trophe, Welland was standing in conversation with one of the
passengers at the bow. Amid the general wreck of flying
fragments and human beings, they found themselves floating
on a large box, while the screams of dying men and women
were all around them in the water. To save himself, the com-
panion of Welland succeeded in working their raft some yards
from the hulk of the steamer, where they were beyond the
reach of the sinking wretches. So soon as Welland compre-
hended his situation, he resigned his hold of the raft, and
swam toward the boat in search of Irona. Twice he was
seized by a drowning man and carried under, but he sueceeded
in freeing himself, and passed around the débris without seeing
her. When about to despair, he heard his name called, and,
turning his head, saw her clinging to a door. He hastened
to her, and taking hold of it, commenced working his way
clear of the mass that surrounded them.

“ Are you scalded or burnt?” he asked.
“T am not injured at all; how is it with you?”

   

5
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a ays

— ~

 

LIFE ON THE OLD SOUTH-WEST BORDER. 127

“T am not hurt, either. Yonder, I see, is a steamer ap-
proaching, so that those who have escaped need not despair.”

Such was the case. The explosion had been seen by a
passing steamboat, which was now making all haste to relieve
the sufferers. Welland had floated several rods away from
the struggling bodies, when he saw Vasquelon swimming
toward him. He was debating to himself whether to allow
him to take hold of the support of Irona, when he saw him
throw up his arms.

“ Good-bye, Sehorita Irona, and——”

The closing water drowned the rest of his words.

“ He is dead at last,” said Welland, in a whisper, “and Iam
glad that it is not by my hand.”

The steamer by this time had reached the spot, and her
boats were picking up those who were still floating on the
water. Welland and Irona were soon rescued, and that night
reached New Orleans.

* * * * * * * * * *

We pass over the amazement of Don Alfredo Seraville upon
receiving his daughter, and upon learning from her the in-
credible experience which had been her lot during the past
two months; we omit his expressions of thankfulness and his
declaration that she should never more leave his roof; we do
not record his perplexity upon reading his cherished brother’s
letter ; but we do say, in this last paragraph of this little
volume, that his prejudice in regard to one American, at least,
was removed for ever; and that to-day, were his daughter
wedded to the King of Spain, he could not be more rejoiced
than he is in the fact that her husband was born, like himself,
on American soil, and that the old Castilian line of the Sera-
villes is ended.

THE END.

 

Crayton & Co., Printers, 17, Bouverie Street, Fleet Street.