Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 1072) (1903 05)
The text was read from the page scans by machine (OCR), so it has mistakes and its columns may run together. See the pages · About this title · At the Internet Archive
Page 1
a oe WAL Ss Sea ae Used by Permission of Gio. W. Cartrron & Co., Owners of the American Copyright. i r Copyricut, 1882, py BeapLe & ADAMS, = 5 oe rs e ; Cadvewahanan ee j ‘ SES Tih ea ie eT OP eT er Pee et eee RET ee May, 1903. No, 107), Povimea every MS IVER CO. Publishers, 0 cents a conv. ol [YYYIV s ° Month. 379 Pearl Street, New York. $1.00 a Year. ' : c — ee — ae — r ~ a —- Se re = ow rere rf - & ROMANCH OF NORTHERIN MESICO.. BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID, AUTHOR OF ‘' THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN,” “THE DEATH-SHOT,” ‘*THE SCALP HUNTERS,” ETC., ET@ r fy Vk “yn ool ity fa RY SEEN ‘9 Ne | ! Si 4 | IN A MOMENT ALL WAS OVER, THE TERRIFIED MUSTANGS HAD SPRUNG OVER THE CLIFF. ‘| 4
Page 2
but the bull, making a sudden lurch, whipped The White Chief. . A ROMANCE OF NORTHERN MEXICO. BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID, AUTHOR OF ‘‘THE RIFLE RANGERS,” SCALP HUNTERS,” ETC., ETC. “THE CHAPTER I, fris‘he day of San Juan. A broad grassy plain lis just outside the town of Saa Ildefonso, end upun this the ci zens are assembled. It is the scene of the festival, and the sports wil) soon in. e tave arrived in front of several rows cf seats rsised above one another. Let us observe who occupy them. Ataglance it is apparent they are in possession of the aristocracy of the settlement. And there, too, observed of all, is the lovely Catalina de Cruces, the daughter of Don Ambrosio, the wealthy miner. He will ba a lucky fellow who wins the smiles of Catalina, or rather perbaps the good graces of ber father —for Jon Ambrosio will have mucb to say in | the matter of her marriage. Indeed, it is ru- mored that that matter isalready arranged; | and that Captain Roblado, sec nd in command at the Presidio, is the successfvl suitor, With all his gold lace and gallant strut, Catalina dis- plays no great taste in her choice—but is he her | choice? Mayb> not. Vizcarra, the comandante, is on the ground— | a tall colonel of forty—laced and plumed like a peacock. There, too, is the third officer—there are but the three—the ¢ niente, Garcia by name. These are young men of all grades in society, and all of them mounted—of course each in the way hecan. There they go, prancing over the ground, causing their caparisoned steeds to caper and curvet, especially in front of the tiers of seated senoritas. Nearly a hundred intend to take part in the various trials of skill in equitation. Let the sports begin! The first exhibition on the programme was to be the colvo de turers, which may be rendered in English as “ tailing the bull.” he arrangements having been completed, it ‘was announced by a herald that the coleo was about to begin. These arrangements were ' simple enough, and consisted in collecting the crowd to one side, so that the bull, when let loose, would haveaclear track before him in the direction of the open country. Should he not be allowed this favor he might head toward the crowd—a thing to be apprehended, _ The competitors were now drawn up in a line, There were a dozen detailed for this first race— oung men of all classes, who were, or fancied Thetoeel oes, “crack” riders. Several dragoons, too, were arroyee with the rest, eager to prove their superiority in the manege of the horse, At a given signal the bull was brought forth from a neighboring corral. His conductors were well-mounted vaqueros, who, with their lazoes around his horns, were ready, in case of his showing symptoms of mutiny, to fling him to the earth by a jerk. A vicious-looking brute he appeared, with shaggy frontlet and scowling lurid eye. It was plain that it only needed a little goading to muke him a still more terrible object; for he oar Fa ks his tail angrily against his flanks tossed his long straight horns in the air, snor sharply, and beat the turf af intervals with his hoofs. He was evidently one of the fiercest of a fierce race—the race of Spanish bulls, The bull was led out some two hundred yards beyond the line of horsemen, where he was halt- ed, with his head turned to the open plain. The lazoés, that held him by a leash-knot, were then cautiously Peed, two or three fire-squibs pointed and barbed, were shot into his bips, an away he went amid the yells of the specta- tors! Next moment the riders spurred after, each shouting in his own fashion, . The bull, maddened by the arrowy squibs, and terrified by their renig 1 ran at the top of his speed in a nearly direct line. The start he had been allowed was not so easily taken up, even by fast riders, and he bad gota full mile er more before any one neared him. Then a 4ragoon, mounted on a large bay horse, was seen pressing him closely, and at length laying hold of the tail. He was observed to give it a erk or two, as though endeavoring to-fling the brute by sheer strength. It was a failure, how- ever; for the next moment the bull shot out in a side direction, and left his pursuer behind. _ A young hacendado, splendidly horsed, was _ next upon his flanks; but each time he reached forth to Brasp the tail it was whisked beyond ris reach. He succeeded at length in seizing it; il trom’ the rider's hands, and left him also jon of the “‘coleo” was that each Bk E. < Re The White Chief. Popular Edition of Captain Mayne Reid’s Works | competitor, after having once failed, should re- | plain. He would not serve for a second run, so tire from the ground; so that the bacendado | he is lassoed and run off—to be delivered to the and the dragoon were now actually Aors de | victor as his prize. chasse, On went the bull, and after him the eager and excited horsemen. Another dragoon soon tried his ‘‘pluck,” and also failed; aud then a vaquero, and another horseman, and another, with like success—each failure being hailed by a groan from the crowd. There were several tumbles, too, at which the spectators laughed heartily ; and one horse was badly gored, hav- ing headed the bull and got entangled upon his | | No wonder, horns. In less than ten minutes eleven out of the twelve competitors were seen returning from the chase, : Only one now remained to make his trial. The ball had proved a splendid fellow, and was already in high favor, and loudly applauded by the spectators. ** Bravo, turo! bravissimo !” was heard on all sides. At the first glance it was plein that the bull had now behind him the handsomest borse and best? That was to be tried. The horse was a large, coal-black mustang, | with a long full tail, pointed at the tip, and car- ried like the brush of a running fox. Even | while in gallop, bis neck slightly curved, and | his proud figure displayed against the smooth sward, called forth expressions of admiration. The rider was a young man of twenty or complexion distinguished him from all his com- petitors—who were, without exception, dark- skinned men. He was dressed in full ranchero horseman upon the field—would they prove the | | terror and screaming among the women A second is brought forth and started, with a fresh dozen of horsemen at bis heels. These seem to be better matched, or rather, the buil has not run off so well, as all overtake him at once, riding past him in their Readlong speed. Most unexpectedly the animal turns in his tracks and runs back, heading directly for the stand! Loud screams are heard from the poblanas in the carretas—from thesenoras and sen<cvitas. In ten seconds the enraged trute will be in their midst! The pursuing horsemen are still far behind him, The sudden turning in their headiong race threw them out of distance, Hven the foremost of them cannot come up in time. The other horsemen are all dismounted. No man on foot will dare to check the onward gush of a goaded bull! Confusion and Joud shouting among the men, are the characteristics of the scene. Lives will be lost —perhaps many. None know but that they themselves will be the victims! The strings of carretas filled with their terri- - fied occupants flank the stand on each side; but, ; running further out into the plain, form with it ' a sort of semicircle. The bull enters this semi-~ circle, and guided by the carretas rushes down, heading directly for the benches, as though de- © termined to break through in that direction. frantic, seem as though they would leap down | upon the very horns of the monster they dread, ! It is a fearful crisis for them, : over; and bis light, curling bair and white-red | The ladies have risen to their feet, and, half- : , costume, with its rich broidery and trappings; and instead of the usual ‘‘serape,” be wore a purple manga—a more graceful as well as cost- ier garment. The long skirts of this he had flung behind bim,.in order to have bis arms free, and its folds, opening to the breeze, added to the gracefulness of his carriage in the saddle. man—for, hanging in the rear with folded manga, he seemed not to have been noticed be- fore—caused unusual attention, and many were heard inquiring his name. ““Oarlos the cibolero!” cried a voice, loud enough to satisfy all at once, Some evidently knew who ‘Carlos the cibol- ero” was, tho by far the greater number on the nd did not. Of the former, one was heard inquiring,— ‘“Why hasn’t he come up before#—He could have dons so if he had wished.” “Oarrambo ! yes,” added another. ‘He might have done so, He only hung back to give the others a trial. He knew none of them could throw that bull. Mira!” The speaker’s conjecture was, no doubt, cor- rect, It was plain, at first _< that this rider could easily overtake the bull. His borse was still in a gentle gallop, and, though his ears were set and his red nostrils starin open, it was only through the excitement of the chase, and chafing at being hitherto checked. The bridle-rein was, in fact, still tightly drawn. As the speaker uttered the couleare ea “* Mira J” achange was suddenly observed in the manner of the horseman. He was about twenty paces from the chase and directly in the rear. All at once his horse sprung forward at double his former , and in afew stretches laid himself alongside the bull. The rider was ob- served to grasp the long outstretched tail, and then lean forward and downward, The next moment he raised himself with a sudden jerk, and the huge horned creature turned sprawling upon his back. The whole thing seemed to cost him no more effort than if the bull had been a tom-cat.. Loud “ vivas/” broke from the spectators, and the victorious horseman rode back in front of the stand, modestly bowed his thanks, and then retired into the depth of the crowd, . There were not wanting those who fancied that in bowing the eyes of the cibolero were directed on the fair Catalina de Cruces; and some wentsofar as to assert that she smiled and looked content; but that could not be. The heiress of the rich Don Ambrosio smile to acom- pliment from a cibolero! There was one, however, who did smile. That was a fair-haired, fair-skinned girl, who ) stood upon one of the carretas, 4 the side of which the victor had placed himself. The fair girl was the sister of the cibolero. A strange-looking woman was seated in the bottom of the carreta~an old woman, with long flowing hair, white as flax, She was silent, but her sharp eyes were bent upon the cibolero with a triumphant expression, Some regarded her with curiosity, but most with fear, akin to awe. These knew something of her, and were strange tales to one another. “ Esta una bruca !—una hechicera!” (She is a witch! a charmer) said they. This they muttered in low tones lest they might be heard by Carlos or the girl. She was their mother | The sports continue, The all Pen by the cibolero, now cowed, walks moodily across the md rar eee ee ee a ee eh eee ee ee A ee ee eS ee Se ee ee ee ee Se eee oe ar i ~ « vi ° as ~ d ~ . ’ a The sudden appearance of this splendid borse-. symmetrical shape that gives promise to sinewy Just at this moment a map is seen advancing, ' lazo in hand, in front of the carretas. He is afoot. As soon as he has detached himself from : the crowd he spins the lazo round his head, and. the noose shooting out, is seen t6 settle itself over the horns of the tull. Without losing a moment, the man runs to a small tree that-stands near the center of the © semicircle, and hastily coils the other end of ; the lazo around its trunk. Another moment \. and he would have been too late, The knot is scarcely tied when a heavy pluck announces that the bull has reached the end of his rope, and the foiled brute is now seen thrown back upon his hips with the lazo a rags A noosed over his horns. He has fallen at the very feet of the spectators! “ Bravo! viva!” cried a hundred voices, as soon as their owners had sufficiently recovered from their terror to call out. . ‘** Viva! Viva! Carlos the cibolero!” It was he who bad performed this second feat of skill and daring. The bull was not yet conquered, however. He was only confined within a certain range—the circle of the lazo—and, rising to his feet, with a furious roar he rusbed forward at the crowd. Fortunately the lazo was not long enough to en- able him to reach the spectators on either'side; and again he tumbled back nm his haunches. There was a scattering on all sides, as it was feared he might still slip the noose; but the horseman had now come up. h lazoes were wound about his neck, others tripped up his legs, and he was at length flung violently upon the ground and his quarters well stretched, He was now completely conquered, and would run no more; and as but two bulls had been pro- vided for the occasion, the ‘ coleo de toros’ was for that day at an end. x The Comandante Vizearra now stepped forth and commanded silence. Piacing a Spanish dollar upon the smooth turf, be called out— “This is to the man who can take it up at the first trial, Five sor onzas that Sergeant Gomez will perform the feat!” There was silence for a while. Five gold *‘onzas ” (doubloons) was a large sum of money, Only a ‘‘ rico” could afford to lose such a sum. After a pause, however, there came a reply. A young ranchero stepped forth: “Colonel Vizcarra,” said he, ‘‘I will not bet that Sergeant Gomez cannot perform the feat; but Pl wager there’s another on the ground can do as well as he. Double the amount if you please.” os ‘‘ Name your man!” said Vizcarra, “Carlos the cibolero,” *‘Enough—I accept your wager. Any one else may have their trial,” continued Vizcarra, addressing the crowd. ‘I shall replace the dol lar whenever it is taken up—only one attempt, remember!” Several made the attempt and failed. Some tquched the coin, and even drew it from its position, but no one succeeded in lifting it. At length a dragoon mounted on a large bay appeared in the list, who was recognized as the, Sergeant Gomez. He was the same that had first come up with the bull, but failed to fling him; and no doubt that failure dwelling still in his thoughts added to the natural gloom of his very sallow face. He was a man of large size, unquestionably a good rider, but he lacked. that ta y. required little preparation. - Ca sergeant | to his saddle-girtns, disineum: ede,
Page 3
— cutie 1 ! ‘bered himself of his saber and belts, and then -set his steed in motion, In a few minutes he directed his horse so as to suave past the shining coin, and then, bending down, he tried to seize it. He succeeded in lift- ing it up from the ground; but, owing to the slight hold he had taken, it dropped from his fingers before he had got it to the hight of the stirrup. A shout, half of applause and half of disap- rohation, came from the crowd. Most were isposed to favor him on Vizcarra’s account. Not that they loved Colonel Vizcarra, but they Seared him, and that made them loyal. The cibolero now rode forth upon his shining black. All eyes were turned upon him. His handsome face would bave won admiration, but for its very fairness. Therein lay a secret pre- judice. They knew he was not of their race ! Woman’s heart has no prejudice, however; and along that line of dark-eyed ‘‘ doncellas” more than one pair of eyes were sparkling with admiration for the blonde ‘* Americano,” for of such race was Carlos, the cibolero, The cibolero scarce deigned to make any pre- paration. He did not even divest himself of his manga, but only threw it carelessly back, and left its long skirt trailing over the hips of bis horse. Obedient to the voice of his rider, the animal *prung intoa gallop; and then, guided by the touch of the knees, he commenced circling round the plain, increasing his speed as he went. Having gained a wide reach, the rider direct- ed his horse toward the glittering coin. When mearly over it he bent down from the saddle, caught the piece in his fingers, flung it up into the air, and then, suddenly checking bis horse underneath, permitted it to drop into his out- stretched palm! All this was done with the ease and hability ofa Hindoo juggler. Even the prejudice1 could not restrain their applause; and loud vivas for coe the cibolero” again pealed upon the air. The sergeant was humiliated. He bad fora long time been victor in these sports—for Car- Jos had not been present until this day, or bad never before taken part in them. Vizcarra was little better pleased. His favorite hum- bled—himself the loser of ten golden onzas—no small sum, even to the comandante of a fron- tier Presidio. Moreover, to be gibed by the fair senoritas for losing awvager he had himself challenged, and which, n6Odoubdt, he felt certain of winning. From that moment Vizcarra lik.d mot “ Carlos the cibolero.” The next exhibition consisted in riding at full gallop to the edge of a ae **zequia” which passed near the spot. The object of this was to show the courage and activity of the rider as well as the bigh training of the steed. The zequia—the canal used for irrigation— was Of such width that a horse could not well leap over it, and deep enough to render it no very pleasant matter for a horseman to get into. It therefore required both skill and dar- ing to accomplish the teat. The animal was to arrive upon the bank of the canal in full run, and to be drawn up suddenly, so that bis four feet should rest upon the ground inside a certain line. This line was marked at less than two lengths of himself from the edge of the drain. Of course the bank was quite , else the ac- complishment of such a feat would have been impossible. t was observed that Carlos the cibolero took no part in this game. What could be the rea- son? His friends alleged that he looked upon it as unworthy of him. He had already exhibited askillin horsemanship of a superior kind, and to take part in this would be seeking a super- fluous triumph. Such was in fact the feeling of Carlos. But the chagrined comandante had other views, Captain Roblado as well—for the latter had seen, or fancied he had seen, a strange ex- one in the eyes of Catalina at each fresh riumph of the cibolero, The two “ militarios” had 9 of their own. Base ones they were, and intended for the bumiliation of Car- los, Approaching him, they inquired why he had not attempted the last feat. “T did not think it worth while,” answered the cibolero, in a modest tone, “ Ho!” cried Roblado, tauntingly; “my good fellow, you must have other reasons than that. It is not so contemptible a feat to rein up on the edge of that ‘zanca.’ You fear a ducking, fancy?’ This was uttered in a tone of banter, lond enough for all to hear; and Captain Roblado wound up his speech with a jeering laugh. Now, it was fast this ducking that the mili- tarios wished to see. * Whether the cibolero suspected their object id not appear. His reply does not show. When it was heard, the ‘zequia” and its muddy wa- ter were at once forgotten. A feat of greater interest occupied the attention of the spectators. CHAPTER Ii. ; Car_os, seated in his saddle, was silent for @ while, Heseemed puzzled for a reply. The manner of the two officers, as well as Roblado’s The White Chief. speech, stung him. He repliedat length, ‘‘Cap- tain Roblado, I have said it is not ecith <8 while to perform what a muchachito of ten years old would hardly deem a feat. I would not wrench my horse’s mouth for such a pitiful exhibition as running him up on the edge of that harmless gutter; but if— ‘Well, if what?’ eagerly inquired Robaldo, taking advantage of the pause, and half suspect- ing Carlos’s design. “‘If you feel disposed to risk a doubloon—I am. but a poor hunter, and cannot place more— I shall attempt what a muchachito of ten years would consider a feat, perhaps.” “And what may that be, Senor Cibolero?’ asked the officer, sneeringly. “T will check my horse at full gallop on the brow of yond. r cliff !” “ Within two lengths from the brow?” ‘Within two lengths—less—the same dis- tanc3 that is traced here on the banks of the zoquia ! ‘hho cliff to which Carlos had pointed was part of the bluff that hemmed in the valley. t was a sort of promontory, however, that jutted out from the general line, so as to be a conspicuous object from the plain below. Its brow was of equal hight with tbe rest of the precipice, of wnich it was a part—a sort of but- tress—and the grassy turf that appeared along its edge was but the continuation of the upper plateau. Its front to the valley was vertical, without terrace or ledge, although horizontal seamstraversing its face showed a stratification of lime and sandstone alternating with each other. From the sward upon the valley to the brow above the hight wes one thousand feet sheer, To gazo up toit wasa trial to delicate ne1ves—to look down put the stoutest to the proof. Such was the cliff upon whose edge the cibo- lero proposed to rein up his steed. No wonder the proposal was received with a surprise that caused a momentary silence in the crowd. When that passed, vo'ces were heard exclaim- ing: ‘* Impossible!” ‘“Fieis mad!” ** Pah! he’s joking!” ‘Esta burlando los mititarios !” (He’s mocking tbe military gents); and suchlike expressions, Carlos sat playing with his bridle-rein, and waiting for a reply. He had not long to wait. Vizcarra and Rob- lado muttered some hasty words between them- selves; and then, with an eagerness of manner, Roblado cried out: **T accept the wager!” “And I another onza?” added the comand- ante, ‘*Senores,” said Carlos, with an air of i arent regret, ‘‘ I am sorry I cannot take both. is doubloon is all Ihave inthe world; and it’s not ce I could borrow another just now.” As he said this Carlos regarded the crowd with a smile, but many of these were in no humor for smiling. They were really awed by the terrible fate which they believed awaited the reckless cibolero, A voice, however, an- swered him: “Twenty onzas, Carlos, for any other pur- *, But I cannot encourage this mad pro- ec It was the young ranchero, bis former backer, who spoke. **Thank you, Don Juan,” replied the cibolero. ““T know you would lend them. Thank you all the same. Do not fear! Il win the onza. Ha! ha! ha! [ haven’t been twenty years in the saddle to be bantered by a Gachupino.” “Sir!” thundered Vizcarra and Roblado ina breath, at the same time grasping the hilts of their swords, and frowning in a fierce, threat- ening manner. “Oh! gentlemen, don’t be offended,” said Carlos, half sneeringly. ‘It only slipped from my tongue. I meant no insult, L assure you.” ‘Then keep your emer behind your teeth, my good fellow,” threatened Vizcarra. ‘“ An- other slip of the kind may cost you a fall.” “Thank you, Senor Comandante,” replied Carlos; still laughing. ‘‘ Perhaps I'll take your advice.” The only rejoinder uttered by the comandante was a fierce * Carrajo!” which Carlos did not notice; for at this moment his sister, having heard of his intention, sprung down from the carreta and came running forward, evidently in great distress. **Oh, brother Carlos!” she cried, reaching out her arms, and grasping him by the knees, “ is it true? Surely if is not true? “What, hermanita ?” (little sister), he asked, with a smile. “That you—” She could utter no more, but turned her eyes, and pointed to the cliff. _** Certainly, Rosita, and why not? For shame, rl! Don’t be alarmed—there’s naught to fear, assure you—l’ve done the like before.” ‘* Dear, dear Carlos, I know you are a brave hors¢man—nene braver—but oh! think of the danger—Dios de mi alma! think of—” “ Pshaw, sister! don’t shame me before the people—come to mother!—hear what she will say. I warrant she won’t regard it.” And, so saying, the cibolero rode up to the carreta, fol- lowed by his sister, a oe eee ‘ ak. pt: 3 ** Mira ! Roblado!” muttered Colonel Vizcarra to his subordinate and fellow-villain. ‘See onder! Sintissima Virgen! Saint Guada- upe! Look, man! Venus, as I’m a Christian and a soldier! In the name of all the saints, what sky has she fallen from?” ‘* Por Dios! .I never saw her before,” replied the captain; ‘‘ she must be the sister of this fel- low; yes—hear them! they address each other as brother and sister! Sheds pretty!” “ Ay de mi !” sighed the comandante. ‘ What a rodsend! I was growing dull—very dull of this monotonous frontier life. With this new 7 excitement, perhaps, I may kill another month. ’ Will she last me that long, think you?” ‘*Scarcely—if she come and go as easily as ’ the rest. What! already tired of Inez?’ : “Poh! poh! loved me too much; and thet I can’t bear, I would rather too little if any- thing.” K ‘*Perhaps this blonde may please you better in that respect. But, see! they aro off!” As Roblado spoke, Carlos and his sister had ~ moved forward to the carreta which held their | aged mother, and were soon in conversation with her, The comandante and his captain, as well asa ~ large number of the spectaters, followed, and crowded around to listen. “She wants to persuade me against it, . mother,” Carlos was heard to say. ‘* Withou your consent, I will not. But hear me, dear mother; I have half pledged myself, and I wish to make good my pledge. It is a point ofhonor, , mother,” The last phrase was spoken loudly and em- phatically in the ear of the old woman, who appeared to be a little deaf, “Who wants to dissuade you?” she asked, raising her head, and glancing upon the circle of faces. “‘ Who? ** Rosita, mother.” ; ‘* Let Rosita to her loom, and weave .rebosos —that’s what she’s fit for. You, my son, can do greater things—deeds, ay, deeds; else have you rot in your veins the blood of your father. Hea did deeds—he—ba! ba! ha!” : The strange laugh caused the spectators to start, accompanied, as it was, with the wild j look of ber who uttered if. **Go!” cried she, tossing back her long flax- colored locks, and waving her arms in the air— ‘*go, Carlos the cibolero, and show the tawny cowards—slaves that they are—what a free American can do. To the cliff! to the cliff!” As she uttered the awful command, she sunk back into the carreta, and relapsed into her former silence, Placing his sister once more in the carreta and giving her a parting embrace, Carlos lea to the back of his steed, and rode forth upon the plain, When at some distance he reined in, and bent bis eyes for a moment upon the tiers of benches where sat the senoras and senoritas of the town. A commotion could be observed among them. They had heard of the intended feat, and many would have dissuaded the cibo- lero from the perilous attempt. There was one whose heart was full to burst- ing—full as that of Carlos’s own sister; and Ppa she dared not show it to those around. She wee constrained to sit in silent agony, and suffer. Carlos knew this. He drew a white handker< chief from his bosom, and waved: it in the air, as though bidding some one adieu. Whether he was answered could not be told; but the next moment he wheeled his horse, and galloped off toward the cliffs. All who had horses followed the cibolero, who now directed himself toward a path that led from the valley to the table above. This path : -wound up the cliffs by zigzag turnings, and was the of one by which the upper plain could be reached at that point. A corresponding road traversed the opposite bluff, so that the valley ; might be here crossed; and this was the only . racticable crossing for several miles up and own. The cibolero, on gaining the ground, pointed out the spot where he had proposed to execute his daring design. From the plain above the cliffs were not visible, and even the great abyss of the valley itself could not be seen a hundred paces back from the edge of the bluff. There was no escarpment or slope of any kind. The turf ran in to the very edge of the peettne and on the same level with the rest of the plain. It was smooth and firm—covered with a short sward of gramma grass. There was neither break nor pebble to endanger the hoof. No ac- cident could arise from that cause. The spot chosen, as already stated, was a sort of buttress-like promontory that stood out from the line of, bluffs. This formation was more conspicuous from below. Sheen it from above, it resembled a tongue-like continuation of the plain. Carlos first rode out to its extremity, and carefully examined the turf. It was just of the roper firmness to preclude the possibility of a orse’s hoof either sliding or sinking into it. He was accompanied by Vizcarra, Roblado, and others. Many approached the spot, but kept ata safe distance from the edge of the borrid steep. Though denizens of this land ef grand
Page 4
Chief. geological features, there were many present who dreaded to stand upon the brow of that fearful ledge and look below. The cibolero sat upon his horse, on iis very | edge, as calm as if he had been on the banks of | the zequia, and directed the marking of the | is horse showed no symptoms of ner- | jine. vousness, : to such situations. It was evident he was well trained Now and then he stretched Sut his neck, gazed down into the valley, and | recognizing some of his kind below, uttered a | shrill neigh. Carlos purposely kept bim on the | cliff, in order to accustom him to it before making the terrible trial, The line wassoon traced, less than two lengths | of the horse from thé last grass on the turf. | Viscarra and Roblado would have insisted upon | short measure’ but their proposal to curtail it | was received with murmurs of disapprobation and rmuutterings of ‘‘Shame!” What did these men want? Though not evi- dent to the crowd, they certainly desired the death of the cibolero. Both had their reasons. Both hated the man. The cause or causes of their bafred were of late growth—with Roblada' still later than his comandante. He had observed something within the hour that had rendered him furious. He had observed the waving of that white kerchief, and as he stood by the stand he had seen to whom the ‘‘adios” was addressed. It had filled him with astonish- ment and indignation; and his language to Carlos had assumed a bullying and brutal tone. The young ranchero, who had accompanied the party to the upper plain, insisted upon fair lay. ** Here, Carlos!” cried he, while the arrange- merits were progressing; ‘‘ I see you are bent On this madness, and since I cannot turn you from it, [shall not embarrass you, But you sha’n’t fisk yourself for such a trifle. My purse! bet what sum you will.” As he said this, ho held out a purse to the cibolero, which, from its bulk, evidently con- tained a large amount, Carlos regarded the purse for a moment with- out making answer, He was evidently grati- fied by the noble offer. His countenance showed that he was deeply touched by the kindness of ths youth. “No,” said he, at length; “no, Don Juan. I thank you with all my heart, but I cannot take A ag purse—onoe onza, nothing more. I should ike to stake one again-t the comandante.” “As many as you please,” urged the ran- chero. *Phank you, Don! only one—that with my own will ba two: “Two onzas!—that, in faith, is the largest bet I bave ever made. Vaya! a poor cibolero staking a double onza!” “ Well, then,” replied Don Juan, ‘if you don’t, Ishall, Colonel Vizcarra!” said he aloud, addressing himself to the comandante, ‘‘I sup- se you would like to win back your wager. arlos will now take your bet for the onza, and I challenge you to place ten.” ‘* Apreed|” said the comandante, stiffly. ** Dare you double it?” inquired the ranchero, “Dare I, sir?’ echoed the colonel, indignant at being tuus challenged.in the presence of the spectators. ‘** Quadruple it, if you wish, sir.” ‘Quadruple then!” retorted the other. ‘‘ Forty onzis that Carlos performs the feat!” * Enough! deposit your stakes!” The golden coins were counted out, and held by one of the bystanders, and judges were ap- pointed, The arrangements rag eer. been completed, the spectators drew back upon the plain and left the cibolero in full possession of the promontory—alone with his horse. All stood watching him with interested eyes. Every movement was noted. He first directed his horse at a walk along the cliff, and within a few feet of its edge. This was to sirengtben the nerves both of himself and the animal. Presently the walk became a a trot, and then a gentle canter. Even this was an exhibition fearful to behold. To those re- mbiend it from below it was a beautiful but riblespectacle. ~- After a while he headed back toward the plein, and then stretching into a fair gallop— he gait in which he intended to approach the cliff—he suddenly reined up again, so as to throw his horse nearly on his flanks. Again ho resumed the same gallop and again reined up; and this mancuver he repeated at least a dozen times, now with his horse’s head turned toward - the cliffs, and now in the direction of the plain. Of course this gallop was far from being the full speed of the animal. That was not bar- gained for. To draw a horse up at race-course speed within two lengths of himself would be an utter impossibility, even by sacrificing the life ot the animal. A shot passing through his heart would not check a racer in so short a space, A fair gallop was all that could ba ex- pected under the circumstances, and the judges expressed themselves satisfied with that which was exhibited before them. Carlos had put the questicn, At Lngth be was seen to turn his horse toward the cliff and take his firmest seat in the paddle, The determined glance of his eyes only be a failure, | showed that the moment had come for the final trial. A slight touch of the spur set the noble brute in motion, and in another second he was in full gallop, and heading directly for the cliff! The gaze of all was fixed with intense earnest- ness upon that reckless horseman. Every heart heaved with emotion; and, beyond their quick breathing, not an utterance escaped from the spectators, The only sounds heard were the hoof-strokes of the horse as they rung back from the hard turf of the plain. The suspense was of short duration, Twenty strides brought horse and horseman close to the verge, within half a dozen Iéugths. The rein still hung loose—Carlos dared not tighten it—a touch he knew would bring his horse to a halt, and that before ha had crossed the line would Another leap—another—yet another! Ho! he is inside—Great God! He will be over! Such exclamations rose from the spectators as they saw the borseman cross the line, still in a gallop; but the next moment a loud cheer broke Ron both crowds,'{and the ‘‘ vivas” of those in the valley were answered by similar shouts from those who witnessed the feat from above, Just as the horse appeared about to spring over the horrid brink, the reins were observe: suddenly to tighten, the fore-hoofs became fixed and spread, and the hips of the noble animal rested upon the plain. He was poised at scarce three feet distance from the edge of the gliff! While in this attitude the horseman raised bis right hand, lifted his sombrero, and after wav- ing it round returned it to his head! The daring feat was ended and over; and hearts but a moment ago throbbing wildly within tender bosoms, now returned to their soft and regular beating. CHAPTER IIL. WnueEn the cibolero returned to the plain, he was received with a fresh burst of vivas, and kerchiefs were waved to greet him. One only caught his eye, but that was enough. He saw not the rest, nor cared to see them. That little perfumed piece of cambric, with its lace border, was to him an ensign of hope—a banner that would have beckoned him on to achieve deeds of still higber daring. He saw it he!d aloft b a small jaweled hand, and waved in triump for him, He was happy. He passed the stand, rode up to tho carreta, and, dismounting, kigsed his mother and sister. He was followed by Don Juan, his backer; and there were those who noticed that the eyes of the blonde were not always upon her brother; there was another on the ground who shared their kind glances, and that other was the young ranchero, , No one, not even the dullest, could fail to notice that those kind glances were more than repaid. It was an affair of mutual and understood love, beyond a doubt. It was a happy little group around the car- reta, and there was feasting, t dulces, and ergeat, and wine from El Paso of the best vin- tage. Don Juan was not afraid tospend money, and he had no reason on that occasion, with fifty onzas of clear gain in his pocket—a fact that by no means sat easily on the mind of the comandante, The latter was observed, with a clouded countenance, strolling around, occasionally ap- proaching the carreta, and glancing somewhat rudely toward the group. His glances were, in fact, directed on Rosita, and the consciousness of his almost despotic power rendered him care- less of concealing bis designs. His admiration was expressed in such a manner that many could perceive it. The poor girl’s eyes fell timidly when they encountered his, and Don Juan, having noticed it, was not without feel- ings of anger as. well as uneasiness. He knew the character of the comandante, as well as the dangerous power with which he was armed, The concluding game was at length heralded. It was to be the ‘t Correr el gallo” (running the cock). As thisis rather an exciting sport, the monte tables and other minor amusements were Nyt pene, ve aside; and all prepared to watch e 0. “Running the cock” is a New Mexican game in all its characteristics. It is easily described. Thus: A cock is suspended by the limbs to a horizontal branch, at just such a bight that a mounted man may lay hold of his head and neck hanging downward: The bird is fastened in such a manner that a smart pluck will detach him from the tree; while, to render this the more difficult, both head and neck are well cov- ered with soap. The horsemen must be in full gallop while passing under the branch; and he who succeeds in plucking down the cock is pur- sued by all the others, who endeavor to rob him of the prize. He has a fixed point to run round, and his goal is the tree from which he sterted. Sometimes he is overtaken before reaching this, the cock snatched from him—or, as not Gate ey. happens, torn to — in the contest, Should he succeed in getting back —still retaining the bird entire—be is then de- clared victor. The scene ends by his Jaying his prize at the feet of his mistress; and she— usually some pretty poblana—appears that ‘e , et A oe TE Earn same evening at the fandango with the feath- ered trophy under her arm—tbus signifying her appreciation of the compliment paid her, as well as giving to the fandangueros ocular proof of the fact that some skillful horseman is her admirer. It isa cruelsport, for it must be re- membered that the poor cock that undergoes all this plucking and mangling is a living bird ! There are two modes of the ‘‘ Correr el gallo.” The first has been described. Thesecond on!y dif- fers from it in the fact that the cock, instead of being tied to a tree, is buried up ‘o his shoulders in the earth. The horsemen, as before, pass in routine—each bending from his saddle, and striving to pluck the bird eut of the ground. For the rest the conditions are the same as be- | fore. The first cock was hung to a branch, and the competitors having taken their places in a line, the game commenced, Several made theattempt, and actually seized the bird’s head, but the soap foiled them. The dragoon sergeant was once more a com- petitor, but whether his colonel made any fur- ther bet upon him is not known, The sergeant, who, as already stated, had the advantage of a tall figure and a tall borse, was able to get a full grasp at the neck of the bird, and being already provided, as was after- ward ascertained, witha fistful of sand, he took the prize with him and galloped off. But there were swifter horses than his on the ground, and before he could double the turning- post he was overtaken by an active vaquero, and lost a MA | of his bird. Another wing was plucked from him by a second pursuer, and he returned to the tree with nothing but a frag ment left! Ofcourse he received neither vivas nor cheers, Carlos, the cibolero, took no part in this con- test. He knew that he had won glory enough for that day—that he had made both friends and enemies, and he did not desire to swell the list of either. Some of the bystanders, however, began to banter him, wishing, no doubt, to see him again exhibit his fine horsemanship. He withstood this for some time, until two more cocks were plucked from the tree—the vaquero already alluded to carrying one of them clear, and laying it at the feet of his smiling sweet~ heart. A new thought seemed now to have entered the mind of Carlos, and he was seen riding into the lists, evidently about to take part jin the next race, ; ‘*It will be some time before I can be present at another fiesta,” remarked he to Don Juan. “Day after to-morrow I start for the plains.‘ So Pil take all the sport I can out of this one.” An innovation was now introduced in the game. The bird was buried in the ground; and its long neck and sharp-pointed bill showed that it was no cock, but a snow-white “ gruya,” one of the beautiful species of herons common in these regions. Its fine tapering neck was not soiled with soap, but left in its natural state. In this case the chances of failure lay in the fact that, loosely buried as it was, the gruya wou!d not allow its head to be approached by a hand, but jerked it from side to side, thus ren- dering it no easy matter to get hold of it. The signal being given, away went the string: of horsemen! Carlos was among the last, but on coming up he saw the white bending neck still there. His hand was too quick for the bird, and the next momént it was dragged from the yielding sand, and flapping its snowy wings over the withers of his horse, It sid Saray not only speed on the part of Carlos, but great adroitness, to pass the crowd of horsemen who now rushed from all points to intercept him. Here he dashed forward, there reined up, anon wheeled round a rider and passed behind him; and, after a dozen such maneuvers, the black horse was seen shooting off toward the turning-post alone. This passed, he galloped back to the goal, and holding up his prize, unstained and intact, received the ap- plause of the spectators. There was a good deal of guessing and won- dering as to who would be the recipient of the trophy, Some girl of his own rank, conjectured the crowd; some poblana or ranchero’s daugh- ter. The cibolero did not seem in haste to gratify their Paige me but, after a few min- utes, he astonished them all by flinging the ruya into the air and suffering it to fly off. he bird rose majestically upward, and then, drawing in its long neck, was seen winging its way toward the lower end of the valley. / It was observed that before parting with the bird Carlos had plucked from its shoulders the long gossamer-like feathers that distinguish the heron species. These he was tying into a plume. Having accomplished this, he put spurs to bis: horse, and, gaHoping up to the front of the stand, he bent gracefully forward, and de- posited the trophy at the feet of Catalina de Cruces | A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd and sharp censure followed fast. What! «# cibolero—a poor devil, of whom nothing was: known—aspire to the smiles of a rico’s daugh- ter? It was not a compliment! It wae an in- sult! Presumption intolerable! : t
Page 5
‘The White Chief. _ _ sehoras and senoritas. The poblanas and ran- cheras were as bitteras they. These felt them- -selves slighted—passed by—regularly jilted— by one of their own class. Catalina de Cruces indeed! Catalina—her situation was pleasant, yet painful—painful, because embarrassing. She smwniled, then blushed, uttered a soft ‘‘ Gracias, cavellero,” yet hesitated a moment whether to take up the trophy. A scowling father had started to his feet on one side, on the other a scowling lover. Tae last was Roblado. “Insolent!” cried he, seizing the plume, and flinging it to the earth; ‘ insolent!” Carlos bent down from his saddle, once more laid hold, of the plume, and stuck it under the gold band of his hat. Then, turning a defiant glance upon the officer, he said, ‘‘ Don’t lose our temper, Captain Roblado, A jealous Jover makes but an indifferent husband.” And transferring bis look to Catalina, he added with @ smile, and ina changed tone, ‘‘ Gracias, sen- orifal” As he said this he doffed his sombrero, and, ee it gracefully, turned his horse and rode 0! The incident had created no small excite- ment, and a good deal of angry feeling. The -cibol ro had roused the indignation of the aris- tocracy, aud the jealousy and envy of the -democracy; so that, after all his brilliant per- formances, he was likely to leave the field any- thing but a favorite. The wild words of ‘bis -strange old mother had been widely reported, and national hatred was aroused, so that his skill called forth envy instead. of admiration. An angel, indeed, should he have been to have won friendship there—he an Americano—a ‘ he- retico’—for in this far corner of the earth fana- ticism was as fierce as in the Seven-billed City pes during the gloomiest days of the Inquisi- ‘tion! Mayhap it wasas well for Carlos that the sports were now ended, and the fiesta about to close. In balf-an hour the ground was elear, and the ‘lean coyote might be seen skulking over the spot in search of a morsel for his hungry maw. CHAPTER IV. TuouGH the field-sports were over, the fiesta of San Juan was not yet ended. There were still many sights to be seen before the crowd ~~. scattered to their homes. * A pyrotechnic display followed—and no mean ’ -exhibition of the sort neither—for in this ‘‘ art” athe New Mexicans are adepts. _. After the fireworks came the “ fandango.” There we meet the same faces, without much alteration in costumes. The senoras and senor- ‘itas alone have doffed their morning dresse:, and here and there a pretty poblana has - changed ber coarse woolen “‘ nagua” for a gay flounced muslin. The ball was held in the large saloon of the ** Casa de Cabildo,” which occupied one side of the Plaza.” On this festival day there was noexclusiveness. In the frontier towns of Mex- ico not much at any time, for, notwitstanding the distinctions of class, and the domineering ‘tyranny of the government authorities, in mat- ters of mere amusement there is a sort of demo- ecratic equality, a mingling of bigh and low, tbat in other countries is rare. English and -even American travelers have observed this ‘with astonishment. All were admitted to the ‘Salon de baile” “who chose to pay for it; and alongside the rico ‘dn fine broadcloth -in bis leathern jac while the daughter of the rich comerciante ‘dane dein tie same set with the ‘ aldeana,” whose time was taken up in kneading tortillas -or weaving rebosos! The comandante with Roblado and the lieu- tenant figured at the fandango in full uniform. “The alealde was there with his gold-beaded cine sand tassel; the cura in hisshovel hat; the padres -in their swinging robes; and all the ‘ familias principales” of the place. There was the rich comercianve, Don Jose Rincon, with bis fat wife and four sleepy-look- “ing daughters; there too the wife and family of the alcalde; there the Echevarrias, with their brother the ‘‘ beau,” in full Paris costume, with dress coat and crush-hat, the only one to be - 4 seen iu the saloon. There too the rich hacen- | @ -dado, Senor Gomez del Monte, with his lean 2 wife and several rather lean daughters—differ- wy ing in that respect from the hundreds of kine > a Z that roam over the pastures of bis ** ganada.” ite And tiere too, observed of all, was the lovely ~ B& Catalina de Cruces, the daughter of the wealthy 3 -~miver Don Ambrosio, who himself is by her > ’sile, keeping a watchful eye upon her, ~.___ Basides taesa grand- people there were employes _ of the mines of less note, clerks of the comerci- -antes, young farmers of the valley, gambucinos, ~ “vaqueros, ciboleros, and even ‘‘leperos” of the ‘town, shrouded in their cheap serapes, A mot- dey throng was the fandango. ht 20e nd fiddle, and the dances were the waltz, the lero and the coona. y ines And these critiques were not confined to the ) | leathern spencer and calzoneros, moved as grace- usie consisted of a bandolon, a harp | bes might see the ranchero | et and velveteen calzoneros; | f | he would be unsuccessful. the saloons of Paris. Even the peon, in his fully as a professor of the art; and the pob- lanas, in their short skirts and gay-colored slip- pers, swept over the floor like so many cory phees of -the ballet. Roblado, as usual, was pressing his attentions on Catalina, and danced almost every set with her; but her eye wandered from his gold epau- lettes and seemed to search the room for some other object. She was evidently indifferent to the remarks of her partner, and tired of his | beds of these great clefts, and pools of water company. Vizearra’s eyes were also in search of some | grow among the rocks, or cling from the seams one that did not appear to be present, for the comandante strolied to and fro, peering into every group and corner with a dissatisfied look, Tf it was the fair blonde he «vas looking for, She was not there, Rosita and her-mother had returned home after the exhibition of the fireworks. Their house was far down the valley, and they had gone to it, aecompanied by Carlos and the young ran- chero, These, however, bad returned to be present at the fandango, detained them. This was why the eye of Cata- lina wandered. Unlike Vizcarra, however, she was not to meet with disappointment. While the dance was going on two young | After heavy rains such aqueous deposits are - men entered the saloon, and soon mingled with the company. One of them was the young ran- chero, the other was Carlos. The latter might easily have been distinguished by the heron- pluine that waved over his black sombrero. The eye of Catalina was no longer restless, It was now directed upon an object, though its glances wero not fixed,-but quick and stolen— stolen, because of the observation of an angry father and a jealous lover. Carlos assumed indifference, though his heart was burning. .Wiiat would he not have given to have danced with her?) But he knew the sit- uation too well. He knew that the offer of such a thing would lead toa.scene. He dared not propose it. At times ho fancied that she had ceased to re- gard him—that she even listened with interest | ridges—and this water not occasional, as from _ to Roblado—to the bean Echevarria—to others. This was but Catalina’s fine acting, It was meant for other eyes than those of Carlos, but he knew not that, and became piqued. He grew restless, and danced. He chose for his partner a very. pretty ‘‘aldeana,” Inez Gon- zales by name, who was delighted to dance with him, Catalina saw this, and became jealous in | on European coasts, and there their existence turn. This play continued for a length of time, but | of a continent, it cannot be regarded as less rew tired of his partner, and | than a singular phenomenon. Carlos at length f sat down upon the bangurta alone. His eyes followed the movements of Catalina. He saw that hers were bent upon him with glances of | but for the water it would be a perilous experi- love—love that bad been avowed in words— | ment to cross it. ; yes, had already been pligeses upon oath. hy should they suspect each other? The confidence of both hearts was restored; and now the excitement of the dance, and the | Rocky Mountains, and running, first southerly, ~ less zealous guardianship of Don Ambrosio, half | and then east, until it becomes part of drunk with wine, gave confidence to their eyes, and they gazed more boldly and frequently at | brushes the northern end of the Llano one another. The ring of dancers whirling round the rocm passed close to where Curlos sat.. It was a waltz. Catalina was waltzing with the bean Echevarria. At each circie her face was to- ward Carlos, and then their eyes met.’ Tn these transient but oft recurring glances the eyes of | Plain” is more definite. Near the head-waters a Spanish maid wiil speak volumes, and Carlos | of the Caradian enother large river has its was reading in those of Catalina a pleasant tale. As she éame round 1'« rocm for a third time, he noticed something Leid between her fingers, which rested over tho shou'der of her partner, It was.a sprig with leaves of a dark greenish | ward takes a southerly direction, before it hue. When passing close to him, the sprig, dexverously detached, fell upon his knees, while he could just hear, uttered in a soft whisper, the word—‘‘ Tuya !” Carlos caught the sprig, which was a branch of ponerse 4 “tuya,” or cedar. He well, understood its | eastward, significance; and after pressing it to his lips, he assed it through the button-hole of his em- se pee ‘*jaqueta.” As Catalina came round again, the glances exchanged between them were those of mutual and confiding love. The night wore on—Don Anbrosio at length became ‘sleepy, and carried eff his daughter, escorted by Robladao. Soon after left thegsaloon, but some tireless votaries of Terpsichore still lingered until the rosy Aurora | point, declining into the mesquite plains and peeped through the ‘trejas” of the Casa de | valleysof numerous smali streams that debouch Cabildo. CHAPTER V. Tue *Liano Estacado,” or “Staked Plain” formations of the Great American Prairie. It is a table-land, or “ steppe,” rising aboye the,| venture to cross it. regions around if toa bight of nearly one theu- sand feet, and of an oblong or leg-of mutton form, trendivg from north to south. : It is four hundred miles jn length, and at its | effect it ia safety! The danger springs 1 [tis but just to say that | widest part between two and three bundred. dancing could not have. been witnessed in Its superficial area is about equal to the island ' in abundance; but even on the we! It was late before | the traveler encounters a region where shallow °. they made their appearance, the road having)| ponds of different sizes stud the plain—a few ost of the ricos and fashionables | of the most ru | of the hunters, is one of the most siugular | from his journey, and there are parts where he of Ireland. Its surface aspect differs consider- ably from the rest of prairie land, mor is it of uniform appearance in every part. Ltsnorthern ? division consists of an arid steppe; sometimes ; treeless, for an extent of fifty miles, and some- times having a stunted covering of meaguite (acacia), of. which there are two distinct spe- cies. This steppe is in several places rent by chasms a thousand feet in depth, and walled in on beth sides by rugged inipassable precipices. Vast masses of shapeless rocks lie along the appear at long intervals, while stunted cedars of the cliffs. : Such chasms, called ‘‘ canyons,” can only be crossed, or even entered, at certain points, and : these passes are frequently arcore of miles dis- me tant from each other. On the upper plain the surface is often a dead level for a hundred miles, and as firm as a - macadamized road. There are spots covered - with a turf of grass of the varieties known as - gramma, buffalo, and mezquite; and sometimes being parmenet. and surrounded by sedge. Most of these ponds are more or less brackisb, some sulphurous, and others perfectly salf. ~ more numerous, and their waters sweeter; but rain seems to fall by accident over this deso- late region, and after long spells of drought the greater number of these pools disappear af altogether. er Toward the southern end of the Llano Estacado the surface exhibits a very singular - phenomenon—a belt of sand-hills, nearly twenty - miles in breadth and full fifty in length, stretch-. ing north and south upon the plain. These hills . are of pure white sand, thrown up in ridges, and sometimes in cones, to the hight of a hun-- dred feet, and without tree, bush, or shrub, to ~ breek their soft outlines, or the uniformity of their color. But the greatest anomaly of this~ ecological puzzle is, that water-ponds are found . in their very midst—oven among their highest - rains, but lying in ‘‘lagunas,’ with reeds, . rushes, and nymphe growing in them, to attest that the water is permanent! The very last place where water might be expected to make alodgment. Ts Such formations of drift-sand are common upon the shores of the Mexican Gulf, as well as | A‘ is easily explained; but here, in the very heart This sand-belt is passable at one or two points, — but horses sink to the knees at every step, and , Where is the Llano Estacado? Unroll your nap of North America. You will perceive a large river called the Canadian, rising in the aes As this river bends eastwardly, it . cado, whose bluffs sometimes approach close to i: its banks, and at other times are seen far off, j- resembling a range of mcuntains—for which - they bave Leen frequently mistaken by travel- + ers. = The boundary of the westside of the “ Staked © “ Arkansas. source. This isthe Pecos. Its course, yeu will observe, is nearly south, but your map is not correct, as for several hundred miles the Pecos runs within a few de;rees of east. It after-. reaches its embouchure in the Rio Grande. — Now the Pecos washes the whole western base of the Liano Estacado; and it is this bat é Sgr ; elevated as it is, that turns the Pecos into its” ccurse, instead of leaving it to flow - : like all the other prairie-streams that ata: head in the Rocky Mountains. ‘ Rs The eastern boundary of the Llano Estacado is not so definitely marked, but a line of some three hundred miles from the Pecos, and cut- ting the headwaters of the Wichita, the Louisi- ana Red, the Brazos, and Colorado, will give some idea of its outline. These rivers, and their numerous tritutaries, all head in the eastern ‘ ceja” (brow) of the Staked Plain, which is _ cut and channeled by their streams into tracks — d and fantestic forms. At the south the Liano Estacado tapers to a into the Lower Rio Grande. This singular tract Gs without one fixed dweller; even the Indian never makes abode noon it beyond the few hours necessary to rest —inured as he is to hunger and thirst—dare not So poe is the ‘jor. nada,” or crossing of the Liano Eetscado, that — throughout all its length of four hundred miles there are only two places where reel ae ‘ora <P ha the want of water, for there are + prass- ruown ? Sania? : eos poe. eet
Page 6
— —_——— ae _ — ———— routes there are, at certain seasons, stretches of sixty and cighty miles where not a drop of water is to be procured! Tn earlier times one of these routes was known asthe ‘Spanish Trail,” from Santa Fe to San Antonio de Bexar, of Texas; and lest travelers should lose their way, several points were marked with “palos,” or stakes. Hence the mame it has received. The Llano Estacado is now rarely traveled, except by the ciboleros, or Mexican buffalo- hunters, and ‘‘ Comancheros,” or Indian traders. Parties of these cross it from the settlements of New Mexico, for the purpose of hunting the buffalo, and trafficking with the Indian tribes that roam over the plains to the east. Neither the hunt nor the trafficis of any great import- ance, but it satisfies a singular race of men, . whom chance or inclination has led to the adopting it as a means of subsistence. These men are to the Mexican frontier pretty much what the hunter and backwoodsman are bw the borders of the Anglo-American set- tlements, They are, however, in many re- spects different from the latter—in arms and ipments, modes of hunting, and otherwise. he outfit of a cibolero, who is usually also a coureur de bois, is very simple. For hunting, he is mounted on a tolerable—sometimes a fine —horse; and armed witha bow and arrows, a hunting-knife, and along lance. Of fire-arins he knows and cares nothing—though there are exceptional cases, A lazo is an important part of his equipment. For trading, his stock of soos is very limited—often not costing him wenty dollars! A few bags of coarse bread (an article of food which the prairie Indians are fond of), a sack of ‘ pinole,” some baubles for Indian ornament, some coarse serapes, and pee of high-colored woolen stuffs, woven at ome; these constitute his ‘‘invoice.” Hard- ware goods he does not furnish to aay great extent. These stand him too high in his own market, as they reach it only after long carriage and scandalous imposts. Fire-arms he has nothing to do with; such prairie Indians as use these are furnished from the eastern side; but many Spanish pieces—fusils and escopettes— have got into the hands of the Comanches through their forays upon the Mexican towns of the south. In return for his outlay and perilous journey the cibolero carries back dried buffalo-flesh and hides—some the produce of his own bunting; some procured by barter from the Indians. Horses, mules, and asses, are also articles of exchange, Of these the prairie Indians possess vast herds—some individuals owning hundreds; and most of them with Mexican brands! In other words, they have been stolen from the towns of the Lower Rio Grande, to be sold to the towns of the Upper Rio Grande, and the trade is deemed perfectly legitimate—at least, there is no help for it as the case stands, The cibolero goes forth on the plains with a rare escort. Sometimes a large number of these men, taking their wives and families with them, travel bog, ad ust like a tribs of wild In- dians, enerally, however, one or two leaders, with their servants and equipage, form the expedition. They experience less molesta- tion from the savages than ordinary travelers. The Comanches and other tribes know their ob- ect, and rather encourage them to come among bem. Notwithstanding, they are often cheated and ill-used by these double-faced dealers. Their mode of transport is the pack-mule, and the **carreta” drawn by mules or oxen, The car- reta is of itself a picture of primitive locomo- tion. A pair of block-wheels, cut out of a cotton- wood tree, are joined by a stout wooden axle. The wheels usually approach nearer to theoval, orsquare, than the circular form, A long tongue leads out from the axle-tree, and upon top of this a square, deep, box-like body is placed. To this two or more pairs of oxen are attached in the most s!mple manner—by lashing a cross- viece of wood to their horns which has already een made fast tothe tongue. Theanimalshave neither yoke nor harness, and the forward push of the head is the motive power by which the carreta is propelled. Once in motion, the noise of the wooden axle is such as to defy descrip- “tion. The cries of a whole family, with chil- dren of all sizes, in bitter agony, can alone re- present the concert of terrible sounds; and we must go to South Mexico to find its horrid equal fin a troop of howling monkeys. CHAPTER VI. Anout a week after the flesta of St. John, a small party of ciboleros was seen crossing the Pecos, at the ford of the ‘Bosque Redondo,” The party was only five in number, and consist- ed of a white man, a half-blood, and three pure- bred Indians, having with them asinall atajo of pack-mules, and three ox-team caryetas. Tho crouching trot of the Indians, as well as their tilma dresses and sandaled feet, showed that fhey were “Indios manzos.” They were, in fact, the hired perns of Carlos the cibolero— the white man, and chief of the party. The half-blood—Antonio by name—was ‘‘ar- ricro” of the mule-train, while the three In- diens drove the ox-teams, guiding them across the ford with their long goads. Carlos himself nee was mounted upon his fine black horse, and, muffled in a strong serape, rode in front to pilot the way. His beautiful manga had been left behind, partly to save it from the rough wear of such an expedition, and also that it might not excite the cupidity of the prairie Indians, who, for such a beautiful mantle as it was, would not hesitate to take his scalp. Besides the manga, the embroidered jacket, the scarlet searf, and velveteen calzoneros, had all been put off, and others of a coarser kind were now worn in their place. This was an important expedition for Carlos. He carried with him the largest freight he had ever taken upon the prairies, Besides the three earretas, with four oxen each, the atajo con- sisted of five pack-mules, all loaded with mer- chandiso — the carretas with bread, pinole, Spanish beans, Chile peppers: and the packs were made up of serape blunkets, coarse woolen cloth, and a few showy trinkets, as also some Spanish knives, with their pointed triangular blades. It was his bold luck on the day of the fiesta that had enabled him to provide such a stock. In addition to his own original onza and the two he bad won, the young ranchero, Don Juan, had insisted upon bis accepting the loan of five others toward an outfit for this expedi- tion. The little troop, having safely forded the Pecos, headed toward the ‘‘ceja” of the Llano Estacado, that was not far distant from the crossing of Bosque Redondo. A sloping ravine brought them to the top of the ‘‘ mesa,” where a firm, level road lay before them—a smooth plain, without brake or bush to guide them on their course. : But the cibolero needed no guide. Noman knew the Staked Plain better than he; and, set- ting his horse’s head in a direction a little south of east, the train moved on. He was striking for one of the head branches of the Red River of Louisiana, where he had heard that for sey- eral seasons past the buffalo had appeared in great numbers. It was anew route for him— as most of his former expeditions had been made to the upper forks of the Texan rivers Brazos and Colorado. But the plains around these rivers were at this time in undisputed possession of the powerful tribe of Comanches and their allies, the Kiawas, Lipans and Tonke- was. Hence, these Indians, uninterrupted in their pursuit of the buffalo, had rendered the latter wild and difficult of approach, and had also thinned their numbers. On the waters of the Red river the case was different. This was hostile ground. The Wacoes, Panes, Osages. and bands from the Cherokee, Kickapoo and other nations to the east, occasionally hunted there, and sanguinary conflicts occurred amon them; so that one party or another often los their season’s hunt es the necessity of keeping out of each other’s range; and the game was thus left undisturbed, It is a well-known fact that in a neutral or ‘‘hostile ground” the buf- falo, as well as other game, are found in t- est abundance, and are there more easily ap- proached than elsewhere. With a knowledge of these facts, Carlos, the cibolero, had determined to risk an expedition to the Red river, whose head-waters bave their source in the eastern ‘‘ ceja” of the Llano Esta- cado, and. not in the Rocky Mountains, as laid down upon maps. Carlos was well armed for hunting the buffalo —so was the half-blood Antonio—and two of the three peons were also experienced hunters, Their arms consisted of the bow and lance, both weapons being preferable to firearms for buf- falo-bunting. In ote of the carretas, however, might be seen a weapon of another kind—a long brown American rifle. This Carlos kept for other and higher game, and he well knew how to use if. But how came such a weapon into the hands of a Mexican cibolero? -Remem- ber, Carlos was not of Mexican origin. The weapon was a family relic. It had been his father’s, We shall not follow Carlosand his ‘‘ caravan” through all the detai:s of their weary ‘ journey- ings” across the desert plain. At one place they made a “ jornada” of seventy miles with- ont water. But the experienced Carlos knew how to accomplish this without the loss of a single animal, He traveled thus. Having given his cattle as much as they would drink at the last watering place, he started in the afternoon, and traveled until near daybreak, Then a balt of two hours was made, so that the animals should graze while the dew was still on the grass. Another long march followed, continuing until noon, then a rest of three or four bours brought the cool evening, when a fresh spell of marching brought the *‘ jornada” to its end, far on in the following night. Such is the mode of traveling still practiced on the desert steppes of Chibua- hua, Sonora, and North Mexico. After several days’ traveling the cibolero and his party descended from the bigh ‘* mesa,” and passing down its eastern slope, arrived on a tributary of the Red river, Here the scenery assumed a new aspect—the aspect of the ‘ roll- ing” prairie. Gentle declivities, with soft, rounded tops declining into smooth, verdant vales, along which meandered streams of clear and sparkling water. Here and there along the banks stood groves of trees, such as the ever- green, live the beautiful ‘‘ pecan,” with its oblong, edible nuts; the “ overcup,” with its odd-looking acorns; the hackberry, with its nettle-shaped leaves and sweet fruits, and the silvery cottonwood. Along the swells could be seen large trees standing apart, and at almost equal distances, as though planted for an orchard. Their full, leafy tops gave them a fine appearance, and their light pinnate leaves, with the long, brown legumes hanging from their branches, told they were the famous ‘*mesquite ” trees—tbhe American acacia. The red mulberry could be seen in the creek bot- toms, and here’ and there the beautiful wild- china-tree, with its pretty lilac flowers. The whole surface both of hill and valley was clad ina rich mantel of short buffalo grass, which gave it the aspect of a meadow lately mown, and springing into fresh verdure, lovely landscape, and no wonder the wild bulls: of the prairies chose it for their favorite range. The cibolero had not traveled far through this favored region until he came upon the buf- faJo sign—‘' roads,” ‘* wallows,” and ‘ bois de vache;” and next morning he found himself in the midst of vast herds, roaming about like’ tame cattle, and browsing at their leisure. So little shy were\they, they scarce deigned to make off at his approach! Of course he had reached the end of his jour- ney. This was his great stock farm. ‘These were his own cattle—as much his as any one else’s; and he had nothing more to do but set to killing and curing. As to his trade with the Indians, that would take place whenever he should chance to fall in with a party—which he would be certain to do in the course of the season. 2 Like all men of the prairie, rude trappers as well as Indians, Carlos had an eye for the pic- turesque, and therefore chose a beautiful spot- for hiscamp. It was a grassy bottom, through which ran a clear “arroyo” of sweet water, shaded by pecan, mulberry, and wild-china- trees, and under the shadow of a mulberry grove his carretas were halted and his tent was. pitched. Bose CHAPTER VII. : CaRLos had commenced bis hunt, and was making rapid progress, In the first two days: he had slaughtered no less than twenty buffaloes, and had them all carried to camp. He and An- tonio followed the buffalo and shot them down, while two of the game skinned the animals, cut up the meat, and packed it to camp. There, under the hands of the third, it underwent the further process of being “jerked,” that is, cut into thin slices and dried in the sun. The hunt promised to be profitable. Carlos would no doubt obtain as much “‘tasajo” as he could carry home, besides a large supply of hides, both of which found ready sale fn the towns of New Mexico. _On the third day, however, the hunters no- ticed a change in the bebavior of the buffalo. They had suddenly grown wild and wary. Now and then vast gangs P sme them, runnin, at full ed, as if terrified and pursued! it was not Carlos and his companion that had so- frightened them. What then had set them a- running? Carlos conjectured that some Indian tribe was: in the neighborhcod engaged in hunting them. His conjecture proved correct. On ascendin a ridge which gave him a view of a beautifu valley beyond, his eye rested upon an Indian encampment, _It consisted of about fifty lodges, standing like tents along the edge of the valley, and fronting toward the stream. They Were of @ conical form, constructed of a framework of poles set in a circle, drawn together at their tops, and then covered with skins of the buffalo. **Waco lodges!” said the cibolero, the mo- ment his practiced eye fell upon them. “* Master,” inquired Antonio, ‘how do you tell that?’ Antonio’s experience fell far short of that of his master, who from childhood had’ spent his life on the prairies, a How ?” replied Carlos; ‘‘ by the lodges them- Seives, ‘*T should have taken it for a Comanche cainp,” said the half-blood, “I have seen just such lodges among the ‘ Buffalo-eaters,’ ” ‘“Not so, Antonio,” rejoined his master. ‘Tn the Comanche lodge the poles meet at the top, and are covered over with the skins, leaving no outlet for smoke. You observe it is not so with these, They are lodges of the Wacoes, who, it is true, are allies of the Comanches.” Such was in reality the fact. The poles, though bent so as to approach each other at the top, did not quite meet, and an open hole re- mained for the passage of smoke. The lodge, therefcre, was not a perfect cone, but the frus- tum of one; and in this it differed from the lodge of the Comanches. **The Wacoes are not hostile,” remarked the cibolero. ‘1 think we have nothing to fear: from them. No doubt they will trade with us. But where are they?” This question was drawn forth by the cibo- ‘lero observing that not a creature was to be t was @. or ee ee aed
Page 7
—— a ne Te a ——T 4 OE oe aa 4 The White Chief. seen about the lodges—neither man, woman, child, nor animal! And yet it could not bea deserted camp. such lodges as these—at least they would not leave behind the fine robes that covered them! No, the owners must be near; no doubt, among the neighboring hills, in pursuit of the buffalo. The cibolero guessed aright. As he and his companion s looking down upon the en- campment, a loud shouting reached their ears, and the next moment a y of several hundred horsemen was seen approaching over a swell of the prairie. They were riding slowly, but their anting, foaming horses showed that they had just left off harder work. Presently another nd, still more numerous, appeared in the rear. These were horses and mules laden with huge brown masses, the buffalo-meat packed up in the sheg v hides. This train was conducted by the wer: » 2nd boys, and followed by troops of dogs and sreaming children. As they ¢:me toward the encampment from an opposite direction, Carlos and his companion were not for a while seen. The Indians, however, had not been long among the lodges before the quick eye of one caught sight of their two heads above the ridge. A warning cry was uttered, and in a moment every one of the dismounted hunters was back in his saddle and ready for action. One or two galloped off toward the meat-train, which had not yet come into camp, while others rode to and fro, exhibiting symptoms of alarm. No doubt they were under apprehensions that the Panes, their mortal foes, had stolen a march upon them. Carlos soon relieved them from this apprehen- sion. Spurring his horse to the crest of the ridge, he drew up in full view of the Indians. A few signs, whicb he well knew how to make, and the word ‘‘amigo!” shouted at the top of his voice, restored their confidence; then a | young fellow now rode out in front, and ad- vanced up the hill. When sufficiently near to be heard he halted, and a conversation, partly by signs and partly by means of a little Spanish, enabled him and Carlos to understand each other. The Indian then gallo back, and after a short interval, return vited the cibolero and his companion to the encampment. Carlos of course accepted the courtesy, and a few minutes after he and Antonio were eating fresh buffalo beef, and chatting in perfect amity with their new hosts. The chief, a fine-looking man, and evidently essing full authority, became particularly endly with Carlos, and was much pleased at hearing that the latter bad a stock of goods. He promised to visit his camp the next morning and allow his tribe to trade. As the cibolero had conjectured, they were Waco Indians—a noble race, one of the noblest of the prairie tribes, 3 Carlos returned to his camp in bigh spirits. He would now have his ee exchanged for mules—so the chief promised—and these were the main objects of his expedition. In the morning, according to appointment, the Indians arrived, chief andall; and the little valley where the cibolero had encamped was | filled with men, women and children. The packs were opened, the goods were set forth, and the whole day was spent in continuaus Sane. The cibolero found his customers bee fectly honest; and when night came, and they took their departure, not a single item of Car- los’s stock remained on his hands. In its place, however, a handsome mulada of no less than | ~thirty mules was seen picketed in the bottom of the little valley. These were now the property of Carlos, the cibolero. Not a bad outlay of his eight onzas! ‘ Not only would they yield well on his return, but it was bis intention that each of them sbould carry back its full load of buffalo-hides, or ‘‘tasajo.” It would be a successful expedition, indeed; and dreams of future wealth, with the hope of being some day in a condition to advance a legitimate claim to the hand of the fair Cata- lina, were already passing through the mind of Carlos, Once a “rico,” refiscted he, evén Don Am- brosio migbt sanction bis suit. On that night soft was the slumber and pleasant the dreams of Carlos, the cibolero. CHAPTER VIIL. Next day he followed his hunting with in- creased ardor. He was now provided with the means of transport to any amount. There was no fear he should have to leave either his robes or tasajo behind. With his own mules—he had now thirty-five—and that number, with the three carretas, would carry a splendid freight— of the value of hundreds of dollars, He had already obtained some dressed robes from the Indians. trade, and those of his men, the bullion bands and shining tags of their sombreros—every thing about them that glittered! Their arms of course not. These the Wacoes not want. They had similar ones them- Indians would not abandon | again and in- For these he had parted © with everything for which an Indian would | Even the buttons from off his jacket | selves, and could manufacture them at will. | They would have purchased the long, brown rifle; but that was a souvenir Carlos would not have parted with for a score of mules. For the next day or two the cibolero con- tinued his hunting. He found the buffalo grow every hour more excited and wild. He noticed, too, that the “running” gangs came from the north, while the Wacoes were hunting to the southward of hiscamp! It could not be the latter that were disturbing them. Who then? On the third night after his trade with the Indians, Carlos had retired to rest with his people. Antonio kept watch until midnight, at which hour he was to be relieved by one of the ns. Antonio bad grown very sleepy. His hard riding after the buffalo had wearied bim; and he was doing his best to keep awake for the last half-hour of bis vigil, when a snort reached bis ears from the direction of the mulada. This brought him to himself. He placed his ear to the ground and listened. Another snort louder than the first came from the mulada— another—and another—quick in succession! ‘“*What can it mean# Coyotes? or, perhaps, a bear? I shall wake my master,” said Anto- nio to himself, Stealing gently to the side of Carlos, the half- blood shook the sleeper by the arm. A slight shake was enough, for in an instant the cibolero was upon his feet and handling his rifle. He always resorted to this weapon in cases of | danger, such as a hostile attack by Indians, ; using his bow only in the chase. After a word or two had passed between | Carlos and Antonio the three peons were | awakened, and all five stood to their arms. The little party remained in the midst of the carre- | tas, which had been drawn up so as to forma small triangular corral. The high boxes of these would be an excellent protection against | arrows; and, as there was no fire in the camp to make a light, they could not be seen from | without. The camp, moreover, was sbadowed by the thick foliage of the mulberries, which rendered it still more obscure; while its occu- pene commanded a view of the prairie in front. ut for the wood copses which stood at inter- vals, they could have seen the whole ground both up and down the valley and along its sides. These copses, however, might have con- cealed any number of foes. The hunters remained silent, listening intent- i. At one time they fancied they could see a ark form crouching along the ground in the direction of the mu that was picketed not a hundred yards off. The light, however, was so uncertain, not one of the five could be sure of ' this. Whatever it was, it moved very slowly, for it appeared to remain near the same spot, Carlos at length set himself to observe it more closely. He stole out from the corral, and, followed by Antonio, crawled along the ground. When the two had got nearer the dark object, it was distinctly seen to move. ‘There is something! whispered the cibolero. At that moment the mules again snorted, and | one or two of them struck the ground with | their hoofs, as if startled. ‘*Tt must be a bear, I fancy,” continued Car- los. ‘“‘It bas the appearance of one. It will stampede the animals—a shot will be less likely to do so.” As he said this he raised his rifle, and taking | aim as well as the darkness would allow him, | pulled trigger and fired. Itseemed as if the shot had invoked all the demons of the infernal regions, A bundred voices burst forth in one simultaneous yell, the hoofs of a hundred horses rung upon the turf, the mulada got into motion, the mules squeal- | ing and plunging violently, and the next mo- ment every one of them had broken their lariats, and were running at a furious gallop out of the valley! A-dark band of yelling horsemen was seen closing in after and driving them off; and, before Carlos could recover from his surprise, both mules and Indians had dis- | appeared out of sight and hearing! Not a single one remained of the whole mu- lada. The ground upon which they had been picketed was swept perfectly clear! CHAPTER IX. -THE first streaks of daylight were just falling upon the pest: when the quick, kean eye of the half-blood, ranging the ground in every direction, was arrested by the appearance of something odd upon the grass. It lay near the spot vyhere the mulada bad been picketed. It was @ darkish object in a recumbent position. Was it bushes or gorse? No. It could not be that. Its outlines were different. It was more like some animal lying down—perhaps a large wolf? It was near the place where they had fancied that they saw something in the dark- ness, and at which Carlos had fired. Antonio, on first perceiving the object, called his master’s attention to it, and both now gazed over the box of the carreta, scanning it as well as the gray light would permit them. | As this became brighter, the object was seen more distinctly, while at each moment the curiosity of the ciboleros increased. They would have long since gone out to examine it more closely; but they were not yet free from apprehensions of a second attack from the Indians, and they prudently remained within the corral. - At length, however, they could forego an examination no longer. They had formed their om of “what the object was, and Carlos and Antonio climbed over the carretas, and pro- ceeded toward it. On arriving at the spot they were not so much surprised—for they had partially antici- pated such a thing—at finding the body of a dead Indian. It waslying flat upon the face downward, and on closer examination, & wound, from which much blood had run, was perceived in the side. There was the mark of a rifle bullet—Carlos had not fired in vain! They bent down, and turned over the body to examine it. The savage was in full war cos- tume—that is, naked to the waist, and painted over the breast and face so as to render him as frightful as possible; but what struck the cibo- leros as most significant was the costume of his head! This was close shaven over the temples and behind theears, A patch upon the top was clipped short, but in the center of the crown one long lock of hair remained uncut, and this lock was intermingled with plumes, and plaited so as to hang, queue-like, down the back. The naked temples were stained with vermilion, and the cheeks and bosom daubed in a similar manner, These brilliant spots contrasted with the colorless and deathly hue of the skin, and with the blanched lips and glazed eyeballs, gave to the corpse a hideous appearance. Carlos, after gazing upon it for some moments, turned to his companion with a look of intelli- gence, and pointing to the shaved head, and then to the moccasins upon the Indian’s feet, im a tone that expressed the satisfaction he had felt at the discovery, pronounced the word: “e Pane !? ~ The dead Indian was a Pane beyond doubt. The tonsure of his hair, the cut of his mocca- sins, his war- paint, enabled Carlos to tell this, Just then both he and Antonio remembered that the Panes had themselves gone in the di- rection of the Waco camp! It was not two miles distant—they could hardly fail to find it, even in the night. What if they had taken the ices by surprise and had already made their attac Carlos feared he might be too late to give warning. His Waco friends may have already perished! Whether or no, he determined to proceed at once to their encampment. Leaving Antonio and the peons with direc- tions to guard and defend his own camp to the last, he rode off, armed both with rifle and bow. It was vet but gray day, but he knew the trail leading to the Waco village, and followed it without difficulty. He rode with caution, scan- ning the timber co before approachin them, and running his eye along the crests o the ridges as he advanced. This caution was not unnecessary. The Panes could not be far off—they migbt still be in am- bush between him and the Waco camp, or halted among the hills. The cibolero had but little fear of meetin one or two of them. He rode a horse in whic he had full confidence; and he knew that no Pane could overtake him; but he might be sur- rounded by numbers and intercepted before he could reach the Waco lodges. That was the reason why he advanced with so much caution. His ears were set to listen attentively. Every sound was noted and weighed—the ‘gobble ” of the wild turkey from the branches of the oak; the drumming of the ruffed grouse on some dry knoll; the whistling of the fallow- deer; or the tiny bark of the prairie marmot. All these were well-known sounds; and as each was uttered, the cibolero stopped and listened attentively, Under other circumstances he would not have heeded them, but he knew that these sounds could be imitated, and his ear was bent to detect any counterfeit. He could dis- tinguisb the Pane trail of the previous night. A strong band there must have been, by the numerous tracks on the grass. At the crossin of a stream Carlos could detect the prints o moccasins in the sand. There were still some of the party efoot then, though, no doubt, the stolen mulada had mounted a good many, Carlos rode on with more caution than ever: ° He was half-way to the Waco village, and still the Pane trail led in that direction. Surely these could not have passed without finding if? Such skilled warriors as the Panes would not. They would see the trail of the Wacoes leading to the cibolero’s own camp—they would soon discover the lodges—perbaps they had already made their attack—perhaps— The reflections of the cibolero were snddenly interrupted; distant sounds fell upon his ear— shouts and cries of fearful import—with that continued murmur that results from the min- gling of many voices in loud and confused clamor. Now and then was heard a whoop, or a cheer, or a sbrill whistle, rising above the ordinary noises, and carrying far over the plain its tones of triumph or revenge, Carlos knew the import of these shouts and cries—they were the sounds of battle!—of terri- bie and deadly strife! tw
Page 8
i + ’ ~ | rf ‘ norant of whence the shot had come, continued aes eS They came from behind the hill—the cibolero was just climbing it. He spurred his horse, and galloping forward to its crest, looked down into the valley. The conflict was raging before him! = — —_ . . a ! { He had a full view of the dreadful scene. | Six hundred dusky horsemen were riding about on the plain; some dashing at each other with couched lances—some twanging their bows from a distance: and others close together in the hand-to-hand combat of the deadly tomahawk! Some were charging in groups with their long gspears—some wheeling into flight, and others, dismounted, were battling on foot! Some took shelter among the timber islands, and sprunz out again as they saw an opportunity of send- ing an arrow, or lancing a foeman in the back; and so the red contest continued, The first impulse of the cibolero was to gallop forward and mingle in the fight—of course, takk- ing side with tha Wacoes. The sound of the | in which the chief Ilen, spot_were high copses that hid it from the rest | oy ¥ bt e The White Chief. one, now alive, had been witness to the conflict had fallen. Around the of the field, and at the time this conflict oc- curred, the fight was raging in a different direc- tion. The warrior, therefore, thought he was imparting to Carlos a piece of news, and the latter remained silent. But there was a mystery among the braves, and Carlos saw this by their manner. Five | Indians lay dead upon the ground unscalped ! That was the mystery. They were the three conflict roused his blood, and the sight of the | robbers who had so lately ruined him rendered | him eager for revenge. Many of them were | mounted upon the very mules they had taken | from bim, and Carlos was determined to have some of them back aga n, He was about to put spurs to his horse, and dash forward, when a sudden change seemed to occur in the conflict that decided him to remain where he was. Tie Panes were giving way! Many of them were seen wheeling out of the plain, and taking to flight, As Carlos looked down the hill, he saw three of the Pene warriors in full run, making up to the spot where he stood, Most of the band were still fighting, or had fled in a differant. di- rection; but these, cut off from the rest, came directly up the hill at a gallop. The cibolero had drawn his horse under the cover ofsome trees, and was not perceived by | them until they were close ‘othe spot. At this moment the war-cry of the Wacoes was beard directly in their rear, and Carlos saw | that two mounted warriors of that tribe were in ursuit, The fugitives looked back, and, see- | ng only two adversaries after them, once more Panes, and the chief with the other Waco, They could not have slain each other, and all have fallen on the spot, That was not proba- ble. The Waco and one of the Panes lay apart, The other three were close together, just as they had fallen, the chief impaled by the Pane epear, while Wis slayer lay behind him still grasping the weapon! The red tomahawk was clutched firmly in the hands of the chief, and the cleft skull of the second Pane showed where it bad last fallen. So far the Indians translated the tableau, but the mystery lay not there. Who had slain the slayer of their chief? That was the puzzle. | Some one must have survived this deadly strife, wheeled round and gave fizht, At their first charge one of the pursuers was | killed, and the other—whom Carlos now recog- nized as the Waco chief—was left alone against | three assailants. The whip-like crack of the cibolero’s rifle | sounded on the air, and one of the Panes dropped out of his saddle. The other two, ig- their onset on the Waco chief, who, dashing close up, split the skull of one of them with his tomahawk. His horse, however, bore him ra idly past, and before he could wheel round, the remaining Pane—an active warrior—rushed after and thrust bis long spear into the back of the chief. Its head passed clear through his body, completely taping him; and with a death-whoop, the noble Indian fell from his horse to the ground, - But his enoniy fell at the same time. The arrow of the cibolero was too late to save, though not to avenge, the Waco’s fall. Ib oe ac the Pane just at the moment the Jatter ad made his thrust, and he fell to the grouud simultaneously with his victim, still clutching the handle of the spear! A fearful group lay dead upon the sward; but | C»rlos did not stay to contemplate it. The fight still raged in another pirt of the field, and, ee spurs to his horse he galloped off to ke part in if. But the Panes had now lost many of their best worriors, and a general panic had seized upon them, ending in their full flight. Carlos | followei along with the victorious pursuers, now and then usivg his rifls upon the fl eing robber:. But ipo 3 that a stray party of them might attack his own little camp. he turned from the line of pursuit and galloped n that direction. On arriving, be found Antonio and tie peons fortified within their corral, and all safe, Ssray Indians bad passed them, but all apparevtly too much frightened to have any desire for an attack upon tlie little party. As soon as the cibolero liad uscertained these | facts, he turned his borse and rode back toward , the scene of the late conflict. t ‘chief had been siain, : CHAPTER X.. : As Carlos approached the spot where the fe heard the death-wail chanted by a chorus of voices, On getting still nearer, he perceived a ring of warriors dismounted and standi: g around a corpse. Ib was that of the fallen chief, Ovhers, fresh from the pursuit, were gathering to the piace: each taking up the melancholy dirge as e drew nigh. : Phe cibolero alighted and walked forward to the ring. Some regarded him with looks of surprise, while others, who knew he bat aided then in the ficht, stepped up and grasped him by the band. One old warrior taking Carlos’s arm in his, le) bim forward to the ring and | silently. pointed ta tiie now ghastly features,’as ; thouch he was imparting to the cibelvro the | news that their chief was dew! Neither be nor any of tie warriors knew where five warriors bad died together! Ifa Pane, surely he would not have gone off without that great trophy which would have rendered him famous for life—the scalp of the | If a Waco, where and who was | Waco chief? he? These questions ‘passed from lip to lip. No one was found to answer them, but there were yet some warriors ‘to return from the pursuit, and the inquiry was suspended, while the death- song was again chanted over the fallen chief, At length all the braves had arrived on the spot, and stood in a circle around the body. One of the warriors stepped forward to the midst, and by a signal intimated that he wished to be beard. A breathless silence followed, and the warrior began; *“Wacoes! our hearts are sad when they should otherwise rejoice. In the midst of vic- tory a great calamity has fallen uponus. We have lost our father—our brother! Our great chief—he whom we all loved—has fallen. las! In the very hour of triumph, when bis strong right hand had hewn down bis enemy on the | field—in that moment has he fallen! ‘The bearts of his warriors are sad, the hearts of his people will long be sad! ** Wacoes! our chief has not fallen unavenged. His slayer lies at his feet pierced with the deadly dart, and weltering in his blood. Who of you hath done i) ‘g?” Here the speaker pa ised for a moment as if waiting for areply, None was given. * Wacoes!” he continu:d, ‘‘ our beloved chief has fallen, and our heartsaresad. But it glads them to kuow that his death has been avenged. There lies bis slayer, still wearing his hated scalp. What brave warrior claims the trophy? Let him step forth and take it?” Here there was another pause, but neither v ice nor movement answered the challenge. The cibolerg was silent with the rest. He did not comprebend what was said, as the speech was in the Waco tongue, and he understood it not. He guessed it related to the fallen chief and bis enemies, but its exact purport was un- kuown to Lim, ‘Brothers!’ sgain resumed the orator, ‘brave men are modest and silent about their deeds. None but a brave warrior could have done this. We know that a brave warrior will avow it. Let hina fear not to speak. The Wa- coes will be grateful to the warrior who has avenged the death of their beloved chief,” Still the silence was unbroken, except by the voice of tiie orator. “ Brother warriors!” be continued, raising his voice and sperking in an earnest tore, ‘‘T have suid that the Wacoes will be grateful for this deed, Ihave a proposal tomake. Hear me!” All signified assent by gestures. “Tt is our custom to elect our chiefs from the braves of our tribe, 1 propose that we elect him now hnd here—here! on the red fleld where lis predecessor has fallen. J propose for our chief the warrior who has done this deed!” And the warrior pointed to the fallen Pane. ‘My voice for the brave who bas avenged our chief!” cried one. ** And imine!” shouted another. “And mine! and mine! and mine!” ex- claimed all the warriors. “Then solemnly be it proclaimed,” said the orator, ‘‘ that he to whom belongs this trophy,” he pointed to the scalp of the Pane, ‘‘sball be chief of the Waco nation!” “Solemnly we avow it!” cried all the war- riors in the ring, each placing his band over his | heart as he spoke. * Enough!’ said the orator. ‘ Who is chief of the Waco warriors? Let him declare him- self on the spot!” A dead silence ensued, scanning the faces around. the circle, every heart was beating to hai! their new chief, | Every eye was busy Curlos, unconscious of the houor that was fu | | moments he was unable to muke repiy. He was store for bim, was standing a little to one side odserving the mos: ments of his dusky ¢ m- ee rr al Ne i. idea of the question that had heen put. Some one near him, however, who spoke Spaniel ex- plained to him the subject of the inquiry, and he was about to make a modest avowal, when one of the braves in the circle exclaimed: ‘“Why bein doubt longer? If modesty ties the tongue of the warrior, let his weapon speak. | Behold! his arrow still pierces the body of our foe. Perhaps it will declare its owner—it is a marked one!” “True!” ejaculated the orator. ‘ Let us question the arrow!” And, stepping forward, he drew the shaft from the body of the Pane, and held it aloft. The moment the eyes of the warriors fell upon its barbed head, an exclamation of astonish- ment passed from their lips. The head was of wos ! No Waco ever used such a weapon as that! All eyes were instantly turned on Carlos the cibolero, with looks Sly | and admiration. All felt that it must be from his bow had sped that deadly shaft; and they were the more con- vinced of this because some who had noticed the third Pane pierced with a rifle bullet, had just declared the fact to the crowd. Yes, it must be so. The pale-face was the avenger of their chief. CHAPTER XVII. CARLOS, who by this time had become aware of the nature of their inquiries, now stepped forward, and, in modest phrase, detailed through the interpreter how the chief had fal- len, and what part he himself had borne in the conflict, A loud murmur of applause broke from the circle of warriors, and the more excited of the young men rushed forward and grasped the cibolero’s hand, uttering as they aid sO expres- sions of gratitude. Most of the warriors al- ready knew that to him they were indebted for their safety, It was the report of his rifle, fired in the night, that had put them on their guard, and prevented the Panes from surprising their encampment, else the day’s history might have been very different. In fact, the Panes, through this very signal having been heard, bad been themseives surprised, and that was the true secret of their disaster and sanguinary retreat. When, in addition to this service, it was seen how the cibolero had fought on their side, kill- ing several of their foes, the hearts of the Wacoes were filled with gratitude; but now that it became known that the pale-faced war- rior was the avenger of their beloved chief, their gratitude swelled into entbusiasm, and for some minutes their loud expressions of it alone could be heard, When the excitement had to some extent sub- sided, the warrior who seemed to be recognized as the orator of the tribe, and who was regard- ed with great deference, again stood forth to speak, This time his speech was directed to Carlos alone. ‘White warrior!” he said. ‘TI bave spoken with the braves of our nation. - They all feel that they owe you deep gratitude, which words cannot repay. The purport of our recent de- liberations has been explained to you. Upon this ground we vowed that the avenger of him who lies cold should be our future chief. We thought not at the time that that brave warrior was our white brother. But now we know; and should we for that be false to our vow—to ou romised word? No! not evenin thought; se vere, with equal solemnity, we again repeat that oath,” “We repeat it!” echoed around the ring of warriors, While each with solemnity of manner placed bis band over his heart. “White warrior!” continued the speaker, #‘our promise remains sacred. The honor we offer you is the greatest that we can bestow. It has never been borne but by a true warrior of the Waco tribe, for no impotent descendant of even a favorite chief has ever ruled over the braves of our nation. We do not fear to offer this honor to you. We would rejoice if you accept it, Stranger! we will be proud of a white chief when that chief is a warrior such as ou! We know you better than you think. ve have heard of you from our allies, the Co- manche—we have heard of Carlos, the Cibolero ! ‘*We know you are a great warrior; and we know, too, that in your own country, among your own people; you are nothing. Excuse our freedom, but speak we not the truth? We despise your people, who are only tyrants and slaves. All these things bave our Comanche brothers told us, and much more of you, We know who you are, then; we knew you when you came among us, and were glad to see you, We traded with you as a friend. “We now hail you as a brother, and thus say —if you have no ties that bind you to your un- grateful nation, we can ¢ffer you one that will not be ungrateful, Live with us—be our chief!” As the speaker ended, his last words were berne like an echo from lip to lip until they had gone round the full circle of warriors, and then a breatkless silence ensned, Carlos was so taken by surprise thar for some not alone surprised by the singrlar pr poral hat part Carlo. bad boroéin the uffuir. No} panions with interest. He had not the slightest | thus singularly made to him, but the knw vier) a <n f .. Sade Jak he
Page 9
SS ‘The White Chief. aaa EAS SY) EY SO Se a a which the speaker betrayed of his ciyaumstances quite astonished him. True, he had traded much among the Comanches, and was on milly terms with the tribe, some of whom, times of peace, even visited the setthement of San Udefonso; but it seemed odd that these savages should have noticed the feet—for fact ft} was—that the cibolero was somewhat of an outeast among his own people.. Just then he had no time to reflect upon the ya nae oe | gf the cireumstances, as the warriors wai his reply. he scarcely knew what reply to make. H lees outcast that be was, for a moment the pro- seemed we i At home was little better a eve; here hs would be Fst ae dove eleot of ‘ agoes, though savages by name, were wa po! men eae a mane, He ha pots re him. is Sonne Geatiny; but Mother and sister Catalina—ha! that one thougts ready: hayreflected ne fiiitper. Generous warritt™he ranked, ‘T feel from the bottwm of my thdrt a full sense of the honor you have offered te confer upon me. I wish that by words I ot ey wo how much I bim; thank you, I carinot. words, therefore, shali be few and frank. It % true that in my own land [am not honored—I am one of the Prorat of its people; but there is a tte that inds me to it—a liv.of the heart that cadls upon me to return. Wacoes, I have spoken?’ “Enough!” said the orator; ‘ enough, brave stranger: it is not for us to inguire iato the mo- tives that guide your acts. If not our chief, you will wmain our friend. We have yet a way—a poor one—left us to show our gra you heve suffered from our enemies; you have ost your property, but th been recovered, and shall be yours again, er, we entreat by to remain with us for some days, and par- take of our rude hospitality. You ‘will stay with us?” Yhe invitation was promptly echoed by all, and as prompily aecepted. About a week after this time an atajo of pack- | weales—nearly fifty’ in number—loaded with | baFalo- iles and tasajo, was seen strugglip * wp the eastern ceja of the Mano Estacado, an heading in a north-westerly direction over that desert plain. The arriero, mounted upon the mulera, was a helf;blood Indian, Three car- retas, drawn by omen and driven by dusky Peons, followed the mule-traia, making nafSe eye" to frighten even the coyotes that be- nd skulked through the coverts of mezquite. A dashing borseman mounted upov a fine black steed rode in advance, who, ever and anon turning in his saddle, looked back with a satis- fied glance upon the fine atajo. That horseman was Carlos, The Wacoes had not forgotten to be generous. That train of mules and those heavy packs were the gift of the tribe to the avenger of their chief. But that was not all. In the breast ocket of the cibolero’s jacket was a ‘‘bolsa,” Alled with rare stuff, also a present from the Wacoes, who promised some day that | their guest should have more of the same. What did that bolsa contain? coin? money? ewelst No. It contained only dust; but that ust was yellow and glittering, It was gold! CHAPTER XI. A OAVALCADE, dusty and way.worn, was seen aoving toward the settlement df San Ildefonso It consisted of an atajo of paekmules, with some earretas drawn by ome One man only | Wes on horseback, who, by his dress and man- / Sond could be recoguized as the owner of the Btajo, k Despite the fatigue of along march, despite the coating of dust which ¢evered bdth horse ) and rider, it was not difficult to tell who the horseman was. Carlos the citolero! | _Tjnus far bad he recched on bis homeward way. Another stretch of five miles along the dasty road, and be would balt befor the door of his hunrble rancho. Asother hour, and his mother, his fomd sister, would fling them- ves into his arms, atid receive his affectionate ! _ What a ise it would be! They would not be expecting him for weeks—long weeks. | And what a surprise be had for them in an- | Other way! His wonderful luck! The superb | Taulndy and cargo—quite a littie fortune in- deed! Rosita should have a new dress,—not a / , @0arse woollen nagua, but one of silk, real foreign silk, and a manta, and the prettiest Pair of satin slippers—she should wear fine stockings on future fiesta days—she sbould be worthy of his friend Don Juan. His old mother, ® should drink tea, coffee, or chocolate, which she preferred—no more atole for ber! The rancho was rude and old—it should come ©wnm, and another and better one go up in its ace—no—it would serve as a stable for the aon and the new rancho should be built be- side it. In fact, the sale of his mulada would enable him to buy a good strip of land, and it well too. hat was to hinder bim to turn ranchero, arm or yrage on his own accouat? It ‘ teemed the boy Carlos fit company for the lit- ude ;- would be far more respectable, and would give ) him a higher standing in the settlement, Noth- | ing to hinder him. He would do so; but first one more journey to the plains—one more visit to his Waco friends, who bad promised him— Ha! it was this very promise that was the keystone of all his hopes. The silk dress for Rosita, the luxuries for his old mother, the new house, the farm, were all pleasant dreams to Carlos; but he indulged a dream of a still pleasanter nature—a dream that’ eclipsed them all; and his hopes of its realization layin that one more visit to the country of the Wacoes. Carlos believed that his poverty alone was the barrier that separated him from Catalina. He knew that her father was not, properly speak- ing, one of the “‘rico” class. True, he was a rico now; but only a few years ago he had been a r ‘‘gambucino ”—poor as Carlos himself. In faci, they had once been nearer neighbors; and in his earlier days Don Ambrosio had es- tle Catalina, What objection, then, could he have to the | cibolero—provided the latter could match him in fortune? ‘Certainly none,” thought Carlos. **Tf I can prove to him that 1, too, am a ‘rico,’ he will consent tomy marrying Catalina. And why not? The blood in-my veins—so says m mother—is as good as that of any hidalgo. And, if the Wacoes have told me the truth, one more journsy and Carles the cibolero will be able to | show as much gold as Don Ambrosio the miner!” These thoughts had been running in his mind throughout the whole of his homeward journey. Every day—every hour—did he build his airy castles; every hour did he buy the silk dress for Rosita—the tea, coffee, and chocolate for his mother; every hour did he erect the new rancho buy the farm, show a fortune in gold-dust, and demand Catalina from her father! Chateaux en Espagne ! Now taat he was close to his home, these pleasant visions grew brighter and seemed nearer; and the countenance of the cibolero was radiant with joy. Whata fearful change was soon to pass over it! Several times be thought of spurring on in adVance, the sooner to enjoy the luxury of his mother’s and sister’s welcome; and then he changed his mind again. ‘** No,” muttered he to himself; ‘I will stay by the atajo. I will better enjoy the triumph. e shall all march up in line, and halt in front of the rancho, They will think I have some | stranger with me, to-whom belong the mules; | When I announce them as my own they will | fancy I have turned Indian, and made a raid | on the southern provinces, with my stout | retainers. Ha! ba! ba!” And Carlos laughed | at the conceit. | ** Poor little Rosy!” he continued; ‘she shall | marry Don Juan this time! I won’t withhold my consent any longer! It would be better, too. He’s a bold fellow, and can protect her while I'm off on the plains again; though one | more journey, and I have done with the plains. One more journey, and I shall change my title | from Carlos, the cibolero, to Senor Don Carlos, | ——. Ha! ha! ha!” Again be laughed at the prospect of becoming | a ‘‘rico,” and being addressed as ‘* Don Carlos.” “Very odd,” thought he, ‘I don’t meet any one! I don’t see a soul upon the road, vp or down, Yet. it’s not late—the sun’s above the bluff still, Where can the people be? And yet the road’s covered thick with fresh horse-tracks! Ha! the troops have been here! they have just pessed up! But that’s no reason why the people aro not abroad; and I don’t see even a straggler! Now, I could have believed there was an alarm of Indians had [ not seen these tracks; byt I know very well that, were the Apaches on their | war-trail, my Comandante and. bis Whisker- andos would never bave ventured so far from the Presidio—tbat I know. . “Well, there’s something extraordinary! I can’t make itout. Perhaps they’re all up to the town at some fiesta. Anton, my boy, you know all the feast-days! Is this éne? * ‘* No, master.” ‘* And where are all the folks?” “ Can’t guess, master / Strange we don’t see some!” ‘So [ was thinking. You don’t suppose there | have been wild Indians in the neighborhood?” ) “No, master—mira! They’re the tracks of | the ‘lanzegos'—only an hour ago. No Indians where they are!” As Antonio said this, both his accent and look had an expression which guided his master to the true meaning of his words, which moight otherwise have been ambiguous. mean that the fact of the Riicets having been on the ground would prevent the Indians from occupying it, but exactly the reverse. It was, not ‘‘lancers no Indians,’ but ‘Indians no lancers,” that Antonio meant. ‘ Carlos understood him; and, as this had been his own interpretation cf the tracks, he burst out into a fit of laughter. Stil no travelers Speeatod: and Carlos did not like it. As yet he had not thought of any | He did not misfortune to those he loved; but the unpeo- pled road had an air of loneliness about it, and did not seem to welcome him. As he passed on a feeling of sadness came stealing over him, which after it bad fairly taken poss.sSion he could not get rid of. He had not yet passed a settlement. There were none before reaching his own rancho, which, as already stated, was the lowest in the valley. Still the inbahitants fed the flocks far below that; and it was usual, at such an hour, to see them driving their cattle home. He neither saw cattle nor vaqueros. The meadows on both sides, where cattle used to graze, were empty! What could it mean? As he noticed these things an indefinite sense of uneasiness and alarm began to creep over him; and this feeling increased until he had arrived at the turning which led to his own rancho. At length he headed around the forking angle of the road; and having passed the little cop- © pices of evergreen oaks, came within sight of the house. With a mechanical jerk he drew his horse upon his haunches, and sat in the sad- dle with open jaw and eyes glaring and pro« | truded. The rancho he could not see—for the cover- ing interposed columns of the cacti—but through the openings along their tops a black line was visible that had an unnatural look, and a strange film of smoke hung over the azotea! “God of heaven! what can it mean?” cried he, with a choking voice; but, without waiting to answer himself, he Janced the flanks of bir horse till the animal shot off like an arrow, The intervening ground was passed; and, flinging himself from the saddle, the cibolere rushed through the cactus-fence, The atajo soon after came up. Antonio hur ried through: and there, inside the hot, smoke blackened walls, half-seated, half-lying on the banqueta, was his master, his head hanging for ward upon his breast, and both hands nervously twisted in the long curls of bis hair. Antonio’s footfall caused him to look up—only for a moment. “Oh, God! My mother—my sister!” And, as he repeated the words, bis head once more fell forward, while his broad breast rose and fell in convualsed heaving. It was an hour of mortal agony; for so~ e secret ifistinct had re- vealed to him the terrible truth, CHAPTER XII. For some minutes Carlos remained stupefied with the shock, and made no effort to rouse himse?f. A friendly hand laid upon his shoulder caused kim to look up. Don Juan the ranchero was bending over bim. Don Juan’s face were a look as wretched as hisewn. It gave him no hope; and it was most mechanically the words escaped his lips: ‘*My mother? my sister?” " “Your mother is at my house,” replied Don uan. ‘* And Rosita?” “ Don Juan made no reply—the tears -were rolling down bis cheeks, “Come, man!” said Carlos, seeing the other in as much need of consolation as himself; ‘‘ out with it—let me know the worst! Is she dead?” ’ “No, no, no!—I hope not dead !” “Carried off?” ‘* Alas, yes!” peg vhom?”* “The Indians,” ‘You are sure by Juditans ?” As Carlos asked this qocetion; a look of strange meaning glanced from his eyes. “Quite sure. I saw them myself—youy mother?” “ My mother! What of ber?” “She is safe. She met the savages ir the doorway, was knocked senseless by £ os0w, apes saw no more.” * But Rosita?” ‘*No one saw her; but certainly she was taken away by the Indians.” “You are sure they were Indians, Dor Juan?” ‘Sure of it. They attacked my house almost at the same time. They had previously driven off my cattle, and for that, one of my people was on the lookout. He saw them approach; and, before they got near, we were shut up and ready to defend ourselves. Finding this, t soon went off. Fearing for your people, I sto out as soon as they were gone, and came here, When I arrived the roof was blazing, and your mother lying senseless in the doorway. te. was gdne! Madre de Dios! she was gone!” And the young rancbero wept afresh. “Don Juan!” said Carlos, in a firm voice; ‘you have been a friend—a brotber—to me and mine. I know you suffer as much as I da, Let.there be no tears! See! mine are dried up! I weep no more—perhaps sleep not—till Rosita is rescued or reyenged. Let us to business, then! Tellme all that is known about these In dians—and quick, Don Juan! I have a keex ay cee for your news!” be ranchero detailed the various rnmors that had been float for the three or four days pre- i - ee) one ye ees > ee hr Ss ea ee - eee Ate ie See FA an - aga a a) eee a a
Page 10
1 ceding—as well as the actual occurrences—how the Indians had been first seen upon the upper weet their encounter with the shepherds and e driving off of thesheep; their appearance in the valley, and their raid upon his own cattle— for it was his ganaderio tnat tad suffered—and then the after circumstances already known to Carlos. He also informed the latter cf the activity shown by the troops; how they had followed that morning upon tbe trail of the robbers; how he had desired to accompany them with some of his people; and bow the request was refused by tle comandante, ** Refused?’ exclaimed Carlos, interrogatively. “Yes,” replied Don Juan; ‘he said we would ouly binder the troops! I fancy bis motive was nis chagrin with me, He does not like me ever since the fiesta.” “Well, what then?” “The troops returned but an hour ago. They | report that they followed the trail as far as the | Pecus, where it crossed, striking dire@t for the Liano Estacado; and, as the Indians had evi- dently gone off to the great plains, it would have been useless to attempt pursuing them further. So they alleged. “The people,” continued Don Juan, “will be only too glad that the savages have gone away, | and will trouble themselves no further about it. I have been trying to get up a party to follow them, but not one would venture. it was, lintendeda pursvit with my own peo ple; but, thank God! you have come!” ‘Ay, pray God it may not be too lute to fol- low their trai]. But no; only last night at mid night, you say? There’s been neither rain nor high wind—it will be fresh as dew; and if ever hound— Ha! where’s Cibolo?” ‘* At my house the dog is. He was lost this morning; we thought he had been killed or car- ried off; but at midday my people found bim by the ranchero bere, covered with mud, and bleeding where he had received the prick of a spear. We think the Indians must have taken bim along, and that he escaped from them on the road.” “Tt is strange enough—Ob! my poor Rosita! —poor lost sister!—where art thou at this mo- ment?—where?—where?—Shall I ever see you again?—My God! my God!” And Carlos once more sunk back into his at- titude of despair. Then suddenly springing to his feet, with clinched fist and flashing eyes, he cried out: ‘*Wide taough the prairie plains, and faint the trail of these dastardly robbers, yet keen is the eye of Carlos the cibolero! I shall find thee yet—I shall find thee, though it cost me the search of a life. Fear not, Rosita! fear not, sweet sister! I come to your rescue! If thou art wronged, woe, woe to the tribe that has done it!” Then turning to Don Juan, he con- tinued: ‘‘ The night is on—we can do nothing to-night. Don Juan!—friend, brother!—bring me to her—to my mother.” Ther» is a wild poetry in the language of grief, and there was poetry in the words of the cibolero; but these bursts of poetic utterance were grief, and he again returned to the serious reality of his situation. Every circumstance that could aid him in his purposed pursuit was considered and arranged in a sober and practi- eal manner. His arms and accouterments, his horse, all were cared for, so as to be ready by the earliest hour of light. His servants and those of Don Juan, were to accompany him, and for these horses were also prepared. Pack-mulrs, too, with provisions and other necessaries for a long journey—for Carlos had no intention of returning without the accom- plishment of his sworn purpose—rescue or re- venge. His was no pursuit to be baffled by slight obstacles, He was not going to bring back the report ‘‘no los pudimos alcanzar.” He was resolved to trail the robbers td the fur- thest point of the prairies—to follow them to their fastness, wherever that might be. Don Juan was with him heart and soul, for the ranch ~mnterest in the result was equal to his owm—his agowy was the same. Their peons nombered a score—trusty Tagnos all, who loved their masters, and who, if not warriors by trade, were made so by sympathy and zeal. Should they overtake the robbers in time, there would be no fear of the result. From ali circumstances known, the lattet formed but a weak band. this not been the case, they would never bave left the valley with so trifling a booty. Could they be overtaken before join- ing their tribe, all might yet be well. They would be compelled to give up both their plun- der and their captive, and, perhaps, pay dearly for the distress they had occasioned. Time, therefore, was a most important consideration, and the pursuers had resolved to take the trail with the earllest light of the morning. Carlos slept not—and Don Juan only in short and feverish intervals. Both sat up in their dresses—Carlos ty the bedside of his mother, who, still suffering from the effects of the blow, appeared to rave in her sleep. 6 cibolero sat silent, and in deep thought. He was busied with plans and conjectures— oonjectures as to what tribe of Indians the ma- Hoveless as | | and armed, m The White Chief. rauders could belong to. Apaches or Comanches they were rot. He had met parties of beth on his return. They treated him in a friendly manner, and they said nothing of hostilities against the people of San Ildefonso, Besides, no bands of these would bave been in such small force as the lafs robbers evidently were. Carlos wisbed it had been they. He knew that jn such a case, when it was known that the cap- tive was his sister, she would be restored to him. But no; they had nothing to do with it. Who then?—the Yutas?. Such was the belief among the people of the valley, as he had been told by Don Juan. If so, there was still a hope —Carlos had traded with a branch of this pow- erfuland warlike tribe. He was also on'friendly terms with some of its chiefs, though these were now at war with the more northern set- tiements. But the Jicarillas still returned to his mind. These were Indians of a cowardly, brutal dispo- sition, and his mortal foes, They would have scalped him on sight. If his sister was their captive, ber Jot was bard indeed; and the very thought of such a fate caused the cibolero to start up with a shudder, and clinch bis hands in | a convulsive effort of passion. It was near morning, The peons were astir The horses and mules were saddled in the patio, and Don Juan had announced. that all was ready. Carlos stood by the bedside of | She beckoned him | She was Still weak, for blood had flown | his mother to take leave. near. freely from her, and her voice was low and feeble. “My son,” said she, as Carlos bent over ber, “know you what Indians you are going to pur- *? ‘‘No, mother,” replied Carlos, ‘‘ but I fear they are our enemies the Jicarillas.” ‘Have the Jicarillas beards on their faces and jewels on their fingers?” “No, mother; why do you ask such a ques- tiont—you know they have no beards! My poor mother!” added he, turning to Don Juan; ‘* this terrible stroke has taken her senses!” ‘* Follow the trail, then!” she continued, with- out noticing the last remark uttered by Carlos in a whisper; ‘‘ follow the trail—perhaps it will ide thee to—” and she whispered the rest into $ ear. ‘* What, mother?’ said he, “pene as if at some strange information. ‘‘ Dost thou think so? “‘T have some suspicion—only suspicion—but follow the trail—it will guide thee—follow it, and be satisfied!” ‘Do not doubt me, mother; I shall be satis- fied of that.” ; ‘*One promise before you go, Be not rash— be prudent.” ‘* Pear not, mother! I will.” ” ‘“*Tf it be so—” “Tf it be so, mother, you'll soon see me back. God bless you!—My blood’s on fire—I cannot stay!—God bless you, mother !—Farewell !” Next minute the train of mounted men, with Don Juan and Carlos at its head, passed cut of the great gate, and took the road that led out from the valley. CHAPTER XIII. Ir was not yet daybreak when the party left the house, but they had not sterted too early. Carlos knew that they could follow the road so far as the lancers had gone, in the darkness; and it would be light enough by the time they had got to the point where these had turned ack, Five miles below the house of Don Juan the road forked—one, leading southward, was that by which Carlos had returned the evening be- fore; the other, or left fork, led nearly in a direct line toward the Pecos, where there was a ford. , The left fork bad been that taken by the troopers, as their horse-tracks showed. It was now day. They could have followed the trail at a gallop, as it was a much-traveled and well-known path. But the eye of the cibo- lero was not bent upon this plain trail, but upon the ground on each side of it, and this double scrutiny eaused him to ride more slowly. On both sides were cattle-tracks. These were, no doubt, made by the cattle stolen from Don Juan—in all numbering about fifty. The cibo- lero said they must have passed over the ground two days before, That would correspond with the time when they had been taken, The trackers soon — the limits of the valley, and entered the plain through which runs the Pecos. They were about approaching that stream in a direct line, and were still two miles from its banks, when the dog Cibolo, who had been trotting in advance of the party, sud- denly turned to the left, and ran on in that direction. The keen eye of Carlos detected a new trail upon which the dog was running, and which parted from the treck of the troopers. It ran in a direction due north. What appeared singular both to Carlos and Don Juan was the fact of Cibolo having taken this new route, as it was not marked by a road or path of any kind, but merely by the foot- prints of some animals that had lately passed over it. 2 ne eee ——— Hd Cibolo gone that way before ? Ca ‘los dismounted to examine the tracks. ‘Forr horses and one mule,” he said, speaking to Den Juan. ‘Two of the horses shod on the fore f-et anly: the other two, with the mule, Larefoot. AJl of them mounted—the mule led —perhaps with a pack. No!” he added, aftera little further examination, ‘‘it’s not a pack- mule!” It scarce cost the cibolero five minutes to ar. rive at these conclusions, How hé did so wasa mystery to most of his companions—perhaps to all except the half-blood, Antonio. nd yet he as right in every particular. e continued to scrutinize the new trail for some moments longer. “‘ The time corresponds,” said he, still address- ing Don Juan. ‘ They passed vesterday morn- ing before the dew was dry. You are sure it was not midnight when they left vour bouse?” ‘* Quite sure,” replied the ranchero. ‘It was still only midnight when I returned with your mother from the rancho, 1 am quite sure of that.” ‘One more question, Don Juan: How many Indians, think you, were iu the party that made their appearance at your house—few or many?” . *“*Not many, L think. Two or three only could be beard yelling at once; but the trees prevented us from seeing them. I fancy, from ae the traces left, that the band was a very small ! one, rancho, Thev could have arrived at my house afterward. There was time enough.” ‘“T have reason to believe they were the same,” said Carlos, still bending over the hoof- prints, ‘‘and this may be their trail.” ‘*T do. See—there! Is this not strange?” The aker pointed to the dog, who, mean- while, had returned to the spot, and stood whimpering, and showing an evident desire to proceed by the trace newly discovered. “Very strange,” replied Don Juan, must have traveled it before.” “ Perhaps so,” said Carlos. ‘' But it will not spoil by an hour’s keeping. Let us first see where these valiant troopers have been to. I want to know that before I leave this main path. Let us on, and beret a All spurred their animals into.a gentle gallop, the cibolero leading as before. As before, also, his eyes ren the ground on both sides in search of any trail that might diverge from that on which they traveled. Now and then cross-paths appeared, but these were old. No horses had passed recently upon them, and he did not slacken his pace to exam- gtr inutes’ gallop the part r a twenty-minutes the halted upon the bank of the rhe. g at the ford. It was plain that the troopers had also halted there, and turned back without crossing! But cattle had crossed two days before—so said the cibolero—and mounted drivers. The tracks of both were visible in the mud. Carlos rode through the shallow water to ex- amine the other side. Ata glance he saw that no troops had crossed, but some forty or fifty head of cattle. After a long and careful examination, not only of the muddy bank, but of the plain above he beckoned to Don Juan and the rest to ford the stream and join him. When Don Juan came up, the cibolero said to him, ina tone full of intelligence: ‘Amigo! you stand a fair chance to recover your cattle.” ‘Why do you think sot” ‘* Because their drivers, four in number, have been near this spot not much over’ twenty-four hours ago, The animals, therefore, cannot be far off.” ‘* But bow know you this?’ ‘*Oh! that is plain enough,” coolly responded the cibolero. ‘‘The men who drove your beasts were mounted on the same horses that made yonder trail.” The speaker indicated the trail which he had halted to examine, and continued: ‘‘ Very probably we’)l find the herd among the spurs of the ae yonder.” As Carlos said this, he pointed to a number of ragged ridges that form the brow of the Llano Estacedo jutted out into the plain, They appeared to he at the distance of some ten miles from the crossing. ‘Shall we push on there?” asked Don Juan. The cibolero did not give an immediate an- swer. He had evidently not decided yet, and was debating in his own mind what course to pursue. ‘* Yes,” be replied, at length, in a solemn and deliberate voice. ‘It is better to be sure. With all my terrible suspicions, I may be wrong. She.may be wrong. The two trails may yet come together.” The latter part of this was spoken in solilo- quy; and, though it reached the ears of Don uan, he did not comprehend its meaning. He was about to ask his companion for an explana- tion, when the latter, suddenly collecting his energies, struck the spurs into his horse, and, calling to them to follow, galloped off upon the cattle-track. After a run of ten miles, which was made in “ He It might be the same that burned the ° é 4 ‘Think you so?” inquired Don Juan. | : i i | 3
Page 11
4 } i | : }_. unders ess than an hour, the party entered a lar; ravine or point of the plain Lm EE gy like a deep bay, into the mountain-like side of the high steppe. As they entered this, a singular spectacle came under their eyes. The ravine, near its bottom, was covered with zopilotes, or black vultures. Hundreds of them were perched upon the rocks, or wheeling overhead in the ir; and hundreds of others hopped about upon the plain, flapping their broad wings as if in full enjoyment. The coyote, the larger wolf, and the griasly bear were seen moving over the ground, or quarrelling with each other, though they need not have quarreled—the repast was plenteous for all. Between forty and fifty car- casses were strewed over the groned, which Don Juan and bis vaqueros, as they drew near, recognized as the carcasses of his own cattle! “I told you so, Don Juan,” said Carlos, in a goice now husky with emotion, “ but I did not expect this. What a deeplaid plan! They might bave strayed back! and that—ob, bor- rible villain! My mother was right—it is he! tt is he!” : “Who, Carlos? What mean you?” inquired Don Juan, wondering at these strange and in- scongruous phrases. ** Ask me not now, Don Juan! Presently I shall tell you all—presently, but not now; my brain’s too hot, my heart is burning; presently, resently. The mystery is past—l know all—I ad suspicion from the first—I saw him at the fiesta—I saw his bad rufiian gaze bent upon her. Oh, despot! I'll tear your beart out! Come, Don Juen! Antonio! comrades! After me on the frail! It’s easily followed. I know where it will lead—well I know. On!” And driving the spur into the flanks of his horse, the cibolero galloped off in tae direction of the crossing. The wondering troop—Don Juan among the meee their animals in motion, and galloped after, There was no halt made at the ford. Carles dashed his horse through the water, and the rest imitated hisexample. There was no halt either on arriving at the trace that led north- ward. The dog scampered along it, yelping at pigevals; and the troop, kept close after his eels, They had not followed it quite a mile when it suddenly turned at rigot angles, and took the direction of the town ! Don Juan and the rest expressed surprise, but there was nothing in all this to surprise the cibolero, He was expecting that. The expres- sion of his face was not that of astonishment. arate far different—far more terrible to be- His eyes wers sunk in their sockets and gleam- ing with a lurid light, as if fire were burning within them, His teeth were firmly set—his lips white and tightly drawn, as if he was meditating, or had already made, some desper- ate resolve, He scarce looked at the tracks; he needed their guidance no longer. He knew where he was going. The trail crossed a muddy arroyo. The dog ‘sweltered through, and the red clay adhered to is shaggv coat. It corresponded with that with which he had already been besmeared! Don Juan noticed the circumstance and point- ed it out. ‘, He has been here before,” said he. I know it,” replied Carlos; ‘I know it all— all, There is no mystery now. Patience, amigo! You shall know all, but now let me think, Ihave no time for aught else.” The trail still led in the direction of the town. It did not re-enter the valley, but passed over a sloping country to the upper plain, and then ran nearly parallel with the bluffs. _. Master,” said Antonio, riding up by the Side of Carlos, ‘‘ these are not the tracks of In- dian horses, unless they have stolen them. Two of them are troop horses. I know the herra- dura well. They are offivers’ horses, too, I can tell that from the shoeing.” _ The cibolero showed no signs of being aston- ished at this information, nor made he reply. © seemed engrossed with his thoughts. Antonio, thinking he bad not been heard or id tood, repeated whati be bad said. m Good Antonio!” said the cibolero, turning is eyes on his follower, ‘‘ do you think me blind or stupid?” This was not said angrily. Antonio under- stood its meaning and fell back among his com- panions, On, moved the trackers—now at a gallop, now i slowly, for their animals were by this Ma somewhat jaded. On they moved, still eeping the trail, and still heading straight for sige ength they reached a point where a road rag the upper plain led by a zigzag path to Co, valley below. It was the same by which arlos had ascended to perform his great feat ae the day of the fiesta. At the top of the be tg Carlos ordered the party to balt, and th Don Juan rode forward to the edge of the Projecting cliff—at the very spot where he had exhibited his skill—the cliff of Nina Perdida, oth drew up when near the edge. They commanded a full view of the valley and the The White Chie! . ‘ 11 “Do you see that building?” inquired the cibolero, pointing to the detached pile which lay betwen them and the town. ‘* The Presidio?” “The Presidio.” **-Yes—what of it?” ** She is there!” CHAPTER XIV. At that moment upon the azotea a man was pacing to and fro, He was not a_ sentinel, though at opposite angles of the building two of these could be seen who carried carbines— their Leads and shoulders just appearing above the crenated top of the battlement towers. The man en pronenade was an officer, and the part of the azotea upon which he moved was the roof of the oflicers’ quarter, separated from the rest by a wall of equal bight with the parapet. It was, moreover, a sacred precinct —not to be disturbed by the tread of common troopers on ordinary occasions, It was the *quarter-deck” of the Presidio. ‘he officer was in full dress, though not on any duty; but a single glance at the sty’e and cut of bs uniform would convince any one that he was a ‘‘ dandy soldier,” and loved to appear at all times in fine feathers. The gold lace and bright-colored broad-cloth seemed to affect him as his rich plumage does the peacock. Every now and again he paused in his promenade, glanced down at his lacquered boots, examined the tournure of his limbs, or feasted his eyes upon the jewels that studded bis delicate white fingers. He was no beauty withal nor hero either; but that did not prevent him from indulging in the fancy that he was both—a combination of Mars and Apollo, He was a colonel in the Spanish army, bow- ever, and Comandante of the Presidio—for the oromenader in question was Vizcarra himself. hough satisfied with his own appearance, he was evidently not satisfied about something else, There was a cloud upon his features that not even the contemplation of the lacquered boots or Jily-white hands could banish. Some Gragrenen’s thought was pressing upon his mind, causing him at intervals to make fitful starts, and look nervously around him. ‘Bab! ’twas but a dream!” he muttered to himself. ‘ Why should I think of it? ‘twas only a dream!” His eyes were bent downward as he gave ex- pression to these abrupt phrases, and as he raised them again chance guided his look in the direction of ‘‘La Nina Perdida.” No, it was not chance, for La Nina had figured in his dream, and his eyes were but following his thoughts. The moment they rested on thecliff he started back as if some terrible ter were before him, and mechanically caught hold of the para- t. His cheeks suddenly blanched, his jaws ell, and his chest heaved in hurried and convul- sive breathing! What can cause these symptoms of strong emotion? Is it the sight of yonder horseman sondee upon the very pinnacle of the bluff, and outlined against the pale sky? What is there in such an appearance to terrify the comandante—for terrified he is! Hear him! ““My God! my God!—it is he! The form o his horse—of himself—just as he appeared—it is he! I fear to look at bim! I cannot—” And the officer averted his face for a moment, covering it with his hands, It was but a moment, and again he looked upward. Not curiosity, but the fascination of fear, caused him to look again. The horseman had disappeared. Neither horse nor man—no object of any sort—broke the line of the bluffs! “Surely I have been dreaming again?” mut- tered the still trembling caitiff. ‘Surely I have? Tbere was no one there, least of all— How could he? He is hundreds of miles off! It was an illusion! Ha! ha! ha! What the deuce is the matter with my senses, I wonder? That horrid dream of Jast night has bewitched them! Carrambo! Ti think no more of it!” As he said this he resumed his pace more briskly, believing that that might rid him of his unpleasant reflections, Atevery turn, how- ever, his eyes again sought the bluff, and swept along its edge with a glance that betokened fear. But they saw no more of the specter horseman, and their owner began to feel at ease again. A footstep was heard upon the stone steps of the ‘‘escalera.” Some one was ascending to the roof. The newt moment the head and shoulders of a man were visible; and Captain Roblado step- pes out upon the azoter, The ‘‘ buenos dias” that passed between him aud Vizcarra showed that it was their first meeting for that day. In fact, neither had been long up; for the hour was not too late for fashionable sleepers. Roblado had just break- fasted, and come out on the azotea to enjoy his Havana, ‘Ha! ha! ba!” laughed he, as he lighted the cigar, ‘‘ what a droll masquerade it has been! *Pon my soul! Ican scarce get the paint off ; and my voice, after such yelling, won’t recover fora week! Ha! ha! Never was maiden wooed Ee he Lhe Pp sf ba i 4 ‘ | ter. -the report that and won in such a romantic, roundabout way. Shepherds attacked—sheep driven off and scat- tered to the winds—cattle carried away and killed in regular battuwe—old woman knoc over, and rancho given to the flames—besides three days of marching and couneermarch travestying Indian, and whooping ai one hoarse: and all this trouble for a poor paisane —daughter of a reputed witch! Ha! ov! bal It would read like a chapter in some Eastern ro~ mance—Aladdin, for instance—only that thé maiden was not rescued by some process of magic or knight errantry. a! be! ba?” . This speech of Robiado will disclose: what is, . perhaps, guessed at already—that the late in- cursion of ‘‘ los barbaroy ” was neither more nor * less than an affair got up by Vizcarra xoe aime j self to cover the abduction of the cibolece: ss | The Indians who bad burried the sheep! and cattle—who had attacked the hacienda of “ Don Juan—who had dred the rancho and car- | ried cff Rosita—were Colonel Vizcarra, his offt- cer Captain Roblado, bis sergeant Gomez, and ~ a soldier named Jose—another minion of ht confidence and will. | There were but the four, as that number was deemed sufficient for the accomplishment of tix. atrocious deed; and rumor, backed by tear, ! gave them the strength of four hundred te | sides, the fewer in the secret the bettes Shy - was the prudence or cunning ot Robiaao, Most cunningly, too, had they taken their | measures, The game, from beginning to evd, was played with design and execntion “ie » r of a better cause. The shepherds were tirst a tacked on the Sper plain, to give certainty to ostile Indians were vear. Tbe! scouting-parties were sent out from the Presi- / dio, and proclamations issued to the inhabitants | to be on their guard—all for effect; and the fur- , ther swoop upon the cattle was clear proot of the presence of ‘‘los barbaros” in the valley. In this foray the fiendish masquers took an portunity of “killmg two birds with one stone;” for, in addition to carrying out their general design, they gratified the mean crvenge which they held against the young rancoerv. Their slaughtering bis cattle in the reyine had a double object. First, the loss it wonid be to him gave them satisfaction; but their princi- pal motive was that the animals might not stray back to the settlement. Had they done so, after paving been captured by Indians, it would have looked suspicious, As it was, they hoped that, long before any one should disvover the battue, the wolves and buzzards would do their work; and the bones would only supply food for conjecture. This was the more bable, as it was not likely, while the Indian alarm lasted, that any one would be bold enough to venture that gt aay ob was no set- tlement or road, except ian trails, leading in that direction, Even when the final step was taken, and the victim carried off, she wes not brought dérectly ua? ca ig ar for even ey was ob pe hood- winked, On contrary, she was upon a roule, led by one of the ruffians, and permitted to see the way a were going, until they had reached the point where their trail turned back. She was then blinded by a leathern ‘tapado,” and in that state carried to the Presidio, and within its walls—utterly ignorant of the distance she had traveled and the place where she was finally tted to rest. Every act in the diabolical drama was con- ceived with astuteness and enacted with a Y wn cision which must do credit to the head of Cap- tain Roblado, if not to his heart. He was the principal actor in the whole affair. Vizcarra had, at first, some scruples about the affair—not on the score of conscience, but of impracticability and fear of detection. would indeed have done him a serious injury. The discovery of such a villainous scheme would bave spread like wildfire over the whole country. It would have been ruin to him. : Roblado’s eloquence, combined with bis own vile desires, overruled the slight opposition of his superior; and, once entered on the affair, . the latter found himself highly amused in car- rying it out. The burlesque proclamations, the exaggerated stories of Indians, the terror of the citizens, their encomiums on bis own ener- getic and valorous conduct—all these were a pleasant relief to the ennwi of a barrack life, and during the several days’ visit of ‘*los bar- baros,” the comandante and his captain were never without a theme for n irth and laughter. So adroitly had they managed the whole matter that, upon the morning after the final coup of the robbers—the abduction of there was not a soul in the settlement, them- selves and their two aids excepted, that bad the slightest suspicion but that real hostile Indians were the actors! Yes, there was one other who had a suspicion —only a eee ett mother. Even girl believed herself in the hands of Indians~ af belief she had. CHAPTER XV. ‘Hal ha! ha! A capital joke, by my honor!” continued Roblado, laughing as he puffed his cigar. ‘It’s the only piece of fun I’ve enjoyed since we came to this stupid plaee. Even in a : a caer sf Ls " Yo Vt oe : 5 vA $ Me rie a elie’ ir ig (st teed OE bed Bea ie inet oe el el le Pa ve ni a)
Page 12
12 frontier post I find that one may have a little amusement if he know how to make it. Ha! ha! ha! trouble. But come, tell me, my dear comand- ante—for you know by this time—in confidence, was it worth the trouble?” ‘*T am sorry we have taken it,” was the reply, delivered in a serious tone. Roblado looked up in the other’s face, and now for the first time noticed its gloomy ex- pression. Busied with his cigar, he had not ob- served this before. * Hola!’ exclaimed he; ‘‘ what’s the matter my colonel? This is not the look a man should wear who has spent the last twelve hours as pleasantly as you must have done, Something amiss?” “*Rverything amiss.” “Pray what? Surely you were with her?” “ But a moment, and that was enough.” ‘Explain, my dear colonel.” “She is mad!” “* Mad!” “Raving mad! Her talk terrified me, I was but too glad to come away, and leave her to the care of Jose, who waits upon her. [ could not bear to listen to her strange jabber- ings. I assure you, camarado, it robbed me of all desire to remain.” **Oh,” said Roblado, ‘‘ that’s nothing—she’ll get over it ina day or so. She still thinks her- self in the hands of the savages, who are going to murder and scalp her! Jt may be as well for you to undeceive her of this as soon as she comes to hersenses. I don’t see any harm in letting her know. ‘You must do so in the end, and the sooner the better—you will have the longer time to get her reconciled toit. Now that you have her snug within earless and eye- less walls, you can manage the thing at your leisure. No one suspects—no one can suspect. They are full of the Indians to-day—ha! ha! ha! and ’tis ssid her inamorato, Don Juan, talks of getting up a party to pursue them! Ha! ha! el not do that—the fellow hasn’t influence enough, and nobody cares either about his cattle or the witch’s daughter. Had it been some one else the case might have been differ- ent. As it is, there’s no fear of discovery. Even were the cibolero himself to make his appear- ance—” **Roblado!” cried the comandante, interrupt- ing him, and —* in a deep, earnest voice. “Well?” inquired the captain, regarding Viz- carra with astonishment. “T have had a dream—a fearful dream; and that—not the ravings of the girl—it is that is . now troubling me. * You, comandante—a valiant soldier—to let a silly dream trouble you! But come, what is it? ’m a good interpreter of dreams. read it to your better satisfaction.” “Simple enough it is then. I thought myself u the cliffof La Nina. 1 thought that I was one with Carlos, the cibolero. I thought that he knew all, and that he had brought me there to punish me—to avenge her. I had no power to resist, but was led forward tothe brink. I thought that we closed and struggled for awhile; but at length I was shaken from his grasp and pushed over the precipice! Ifelt myself falling —falling! I could see above me the cibolero, with his sister by his side, and on the extremest oint the hideous witch, their mother, who aughed a wild, roaiiac laugh, and clapped her long, bony hands! I felt myself falling—falling —yet still not reaching the ground; and this horrible feeling continued for a long, long time —in fact, until the fearful thought awoke me. Even then I could scarce believe I had been prrengi so palpable was the impression that remained. Oh, comrade, it was a dreadful dream!” “And but a dream; and what signifies—?” ‘Stay, Roblado! I have not told you all. Within the hour—ay, within the quarter of that time—while I was on this spot thinking over it, I chanced to look up to the cliff; and yonder, upon the extreme point, was a horseman clearly outlined against the sky—and that horseman the very image of the cibolero! I noted the horse and the seat of the rider, which | well remember. I could not trust my eyes to look at him: LIaverted them for amoment—only a moment; and when I looked again he was gone! So quickly had he retired that I was inclined to thin it was only a fancy—that there had been none—and that my dream lad produced the il- lusion!” “That is likely enough,” said Roblado, de- sirous of comforting bis companion; ‘likely enough—nothing more natural, In the first lace, from where we stard to the top of La ina is a good five thousand varas as the crow fiies; and for you, at that distance, to distin- guish Carlos the cibolero from any other horse- man is a plain impossibility. in the second igs Carlos the cibolero is at this moment full ve hundred miles from the tip of my oe pk risking his precious carcass for a cartloa of stinking hides and a few bultos of dried buffalo- beef, us hope that some of his copper-col- ored friends will raise his hay-colo hair which some of our poblanas so much admire, And now, my dear comandante, as to your dream, that is as natural as way be. It could hardly After all, there was a deuced deal of | iablos! a fearful dream!” | I warrant I | ] j The White Chief be otherwise than that you should bave such a dream. ‘The remembravce of the cibolero’s feat of horsemanship on that very cliff, and the later affair with the sister, together with the suspicion you may naturally entertain that Senor Carlos wouldn’t be too kind to you if he knew all and had you in his power—all these thing :, being in your thoughts at one time, must come together incongruously ina dream, The old woman, too—if she wasn’t in your thoughts, she has been in mine ever since I gave her that knock in the doorway. Who could forget such a picture as she then presented? Ha! ha! ha!” The brutal villain laughed—not so much from any ludicrous recollection, as to make the whole thing appear light and trivial in the eyes -of his compavpion. ** What does it all amount to?” he continued. ‘*A dream! asimple, everyday dream! Come, my dear friend, don’t let it remain on your mind for another instant!” **T cannot help it, Roblado. It clings to me like my shadow. It feels like a presentiment. I wish I had left this paisana in her mud hut. B Heaven! I wish she were back there. I shall not be myself till 1 have got rid of her. I seem to loathe as much as I loved the jabbering idiot.” “Tut, tut, man! you’)l soon change your way of thinking—you’ll soon take a fresh liking—” **No, Roblado, no! I’m disgusted—l can’t tell why; but I am. Would to God she were | off my hands!” ‘Oh! that’s easy enough, and without hurt- ing anybody. Shecan go the way she came. It will only :e another scene in the masquerade, and no one will be the wiser. If you are really in earnest—” *Roblado!” cried the comandante, grasping his captain by the arm, ‘‘I never was more in earnest in my life, Tell me the plan to get her back without making a noise aboutit. Tell me quick, for I cannot bear this horrid feeling any longer.” “ Why, then,” began Roblado, “ we must have another travestie of Indians—we must—” He was suddenly interrupted. A short, sharp groan escaped from Vizcarra, His eyes looked as though about to start from his head. His lips vd white, and the perspiration leaped into drops on his forehead! What could it mean? Vizcarra stood by the outer edge of the azotea that commanded a view of the road leading up to the gate of the Presidio. He was gazing over the parapet, and pointing with outstretched arm. Roblado was further back, near the center of the azotea. He sprung forward, and looked in the direction indicated. A horseman, covered with sweat and dust, was galloping up the road. He was near enough for Roblado to dis- tinguish his features, izcarra had already aap them. It was Carlos the cibo- ero! CHAPTER XVI. THE announcement made by the cibolero on the biuff startled Don Juan, as if a shot had passed through him. Up to this time the simple ranchero had no thought but that they were on the trail of Indians. Even the singular fact of the trail br maiygeg, ogc to the valley had not undeceived him. He supposed the Indians had made some other and later foray in that quar- ter, and that they would hear of them as soon as they should descend the cliffs. When Carlos pointed to the Presidio, and said: ‘‘She is there!” he received the an- nouncement at first with surprise, then with in- credulity. Another word from the cibolero, anda few mo- ments’ reflection, and his incredulity vanished, The terrible truth flashed upon his mind, for he, too, remembered the conduct of Vizcarra on the day of the flesta. His visit to the rancho and other circumstances now rushed before him, aiding the conviction that Carlos spoke the truth. For some moments the lover could scarce give utterance to his thoughts, so painful were they. More painful than ever! Even while under the belief that his mistress was in the hands of wild Indians he suffered less. . There was still some hope that, by their strange code in relation to female captives, she might esca that dreaded fate, until he and Carlos might come up and rescue her. But now the time that had elapsed—Vizcarra’s character —oh God! it was a terrible thought! and the young man reeled in his saddle as it crossed his min He rode back a few paces, flung himself from his horse, and staggered to the ground in the bitterness of bis anguish. Carlos remained on the bluff, still gazing down on the Presidio, He seemed to be ma- turing some plan. He could see the sentries on the battlements, the troopers lounging around the walls in their dark blue and crimson uni- forms. He could even hear the call of the cav- alry bugle, as its clear echoes came dancing along the cliffs. He could see the fi of a man—an officer—pacing to and fro on the azotea, and he could perceive that the latter had halted, and was observing hiin, It was at this very moment that Vizcarra SS EE SS Se vo | portunity? They might spend days in fruitless: had caught sight of the horseman on the bluff— the sight that had so terrified him, and whick indeed was no illusion. **Can it be that fiend himself?’ thought Car— los, regarding the officer for a moment. ‘‘ Quite likely it ishe, Oh! that be were within range of my rifle! Patience—patience! 1 will yet: have my revenge!” And as the speaker muttered these words, he reined back from the bluff and rejoined his companion. A consultation was now held as to what would be the best mode of proceeding. Antonio was called to their couneil, and to him Carlos declared his belief that his sister was a captive within the Presidio. HK was telling Antonio what he had already divined. The mestizo had been to the fiesta as well as his master, and his: keen eyes had been busy on thatday. He, too,, had observed the conduct of Vizcarra; and long before their halt he had arrived at an elucida- tion of the wany mysteries that marked the Jate Indian incursion. He knew all—his mas- ter might have saved words in telling him. Neither words nor time were wasted, The hearts of both brother and lever were beating too hurriedly for that. Perhaps at that mo- ment the object of their affection was in il— perhaps struggling with her rufflan abductor: Their timely arrival might save her! These considerations took precedence ef all plans; in fact, there was no plan they could adopt. To remain concealed-—to skulk about the place—to wait for opportunity—what op-- os Days!—hours—even minutes would be tco long. Not a moment was to be lost be- fore some action must be taken. And what action? They could think of none —none but open action. _What! dare a man: not claim his own sister? Demand her restora- tion? But the thought of refvsal—the thought of subterfuge—in fact, the certainty that such: would be the result—quite terrified them both. And yet how else could they act? They would at least give publicity to the atrocious: deed; that might serve them. There would be sympathy in their favor—perhaps more. Per- haps the people, slaves as they were, might sur- round the Presidio, and clamor loudly—in some: way the captive might be rescued. Such were their burried reflections, “Tf not rescued,” said Carlos, grinding his: 7 teeth together, ‘‘ she shal] be revenged. Though the garrote press my throat, he shall not live if ” be a women I yg age { “*T echo the oath!” cried Don Juan ing’; the hilt of his machete. Silat ‘‘ Masters! dear masters!” said Antonio, ‘you. both know I am not a coward. I shall aid vou with my arm or my life; but it is a terrible business, Let us have caution, or we fail. Let us be prudent!” “True, we must be prudent. I have already promised that to my mother; but how, com- rades?—how? In what does prudence consist?— to wait and watch, while she—oh!” All three were silent for a while. None of — could think of a feasible plan to be pur- sued, The situation was, indeed, a most difficult one, There was the Presidio, and .within its walls—perhaps in some dark chamber—the cibolero well knew his sister was a captive; but: under such peculiar circumstances that her re- lease would be a most difficult enterprise. In the first place, the villain who held her would assuredly deny that she was there. To have release her would have been an acknow!l- edgment of bis guilt. What proof of it could Carlos give? The soldiers of the garrison, no doubt, were ignorant of the whole transaction— with the exception of the two or three miscre- ants who hed acted as aids, Were the cibolero. to assert such a thing in the town he would be laughed at—no doubt arrested and punished. Even could he offer proofs, what authority was there to help him to justice? The military was the law of the place, and the little show of civic authority that existed would be more disposed to take sides against him than in hisfavor. He could expect no justice from any quarter. All the proof of his accusation would rest only’ on such facts as would neither be underst nor regarded by those to whom he might appeal. The return trail would be easily accounted for by Vizcarra—if he should deign to take so much | trouble—and the accusation of Carlos would be ~ scouted as the fancy of a madman. No one would give credence to it. The very atrocious- ness of the-deed rendered it incredible! Carlos and his companions were aware of ali: these things. They had no hope of help from any quareen, There was no authority that could give them aid or The cibolero, who had remained for awhile silent and thoughtful, at length spoke ont. His. tone was altered. He seemed to have conceived some plan that held out a hope. “ Comrades!” he said, ‘I can think of nothing — but an open demand, and that must be made within the hour. I cannot live another hour without attempting her rescue—anotber hour. and what we dread—No! within the hour it must be. I have formed a sort of plan—it may —
Page 13
e Le ee et. TAty RwrvrrAavyw Be w@ - a eS RT Tt = = ef , ” im ‘ wad rudent—but there is no time ear it!” not be the most for reflection, +“ Go on id > **Is will be of-no use our appearing before the gate of the Presidio in full force. There are hundreds of soldiers within the walls, and our twenty Tagnos, though brave as lions, woald be of no service in such an unequal fight. I shall go alone,” * Alone?” “Yes; I trust to chanos for an interview with | He is | er gaoler; and when the gaoler sleeps, the cap- | him. It Il can get that, it is all I want. tive may be freed. He shall sleep then!” The last words were uttered in a significant tone, while the speaker placed his hand mechan- ically upon the handle of a large knife that was stuck in his waist-belt. “He shall sleep then!” he repeated; “and soon, if Fate favors me. For the rest I care ‘not: Lam too desperate. If she be dishonored I care not to live, but I shall have full revenze!” | “But how will you obtain an interview?” “suggested Don Juan. ‘‘He will not give you “one. Would it not be better to disguise your- ‘self? There would be more chance of seeing him that way?’ “No; [ am not easily disguised, with my light hair and skin. Besides, it would cost too much time, Trust me, I will not be rash, I havea plan by which I hope to get near him — to see him, at all events. If it fail, Lintend to make no demonstration for the present. None of the wretches shall know my real errand, Afterward I may do as you advise, but now I cannot wait. I must on to the work. I believa it is he who is at this moment pacing yonder ‘azotea, and that is why I cannot wait, Don Juan. If it be he—” ' 4 ‘But what shall we do?” asked Don Juan. “Can we not assist in any way?” “Yes, perhaps in my escape. Come on, I shall place you. Come on quickly. Moments sare days, My brain’s on fire. Come on!? So saying, the cibolero leaped into his saddle ‘and struck rapidly down the precipitous path that led to the valley. From tte poixt where the road touched the valley bottom, for more than a mile in the direction of the Presidio, it ran through a thick g wth of low trees and bushes forming a é oF onal difficult to pass through, except by following the road itself, But there were several cattle-paths through ‘the thicket, by which it might be traversed; and these were known to Antonio, the half- ‘blood, who had formerly lived in this neighbor- ‘hood. By one of these a party of mounted men might approach witbin half-a-mile of the Presi- i dio without attracting the observation of the ‘sentries upon the walls. To this point, then Antonio was directed to guide the party; and in due time they arrived near the edge of the jungle, where, at the command of Carlos, all dismounted, keeping themselves and their horses under cover of the bushes. Now,” said the cibolero, speaking to Don Juan, ‘remain here. If I escape, I shall gallop direct to this point. If I lose my horse, you Shall see me afoot all the same. For such a short stretch I can run like a deer; [ shall not be overtaken, When I retarn I shall tell you eerie ee 5 “See! Don Juan!” he continued, grasping ‘the ranchero ey the arm, and drawing him for- ward to the edge of the chaparral. ‘It is he! Heaven, it is he!” Carlos pointed to the azotea of the Presidio, where the head and shoulders of a man were ‘seen above the line of the parapet. 5 I the comandante himself!” said Don aan, also recognizing him. “Enough! T have no time for more talk,” arian the cibolero. ‘Now or never! If I re- tenet Shall know what todo. If not, Iam : re ay or killed, But stay here. Stay till late ed e might; I may still escape. Their prisons It tite Res Strong, besides, I carry this gold. » “Pie. No more. Adios! true friend, adios!” With a of the ranchero’s hand, Carlos 's saddle, and roje off. in the direction of the Presidio, have discovered him too soon. to the front gate; and this path he took. Antonio guided him to the edge of the timber, | “and then returned to the rest, Carlos, once on the road is 5 . Spurred hi: horse y Sa a gallop, and dashed boldly forward to the tgreat gat ofthe Presidio, Tije dog Cibolo fol Tow ed, keeping close up to the heels of his horse. —_—_—_ CHAPTER XVII. * By the Virgin, it is he!” exclai ’ 7 yn, e} 4 ed ‘ ’ -ewith a look of astonishment ont Meee re fellow himself, as I live!” ” . knew itl—I kuew ity shrieked Vizearra. saw him on the c'f: it was no vision ed ‘Where can he have come from? In the ‘ _ Mame of all the saints, where has the feliow—” 3 “Roblado, must go below aren cm ! must go in} Leann! wh to meet kim! ale i, I rr Tee? . , Seles © | He has seen and recognised you already. If | you appear to shun him, it will arouse sus- picion. He has come to ask our help to pursue ‘the Indians, and that’s his errand, I warrant ; rou! - **Do you think so?” inquired Vizcarra, par- tially recovering his self-possession at this con- jecture. ‘“No doubt of it! What else? He can have no suspicion of the fruth. How is it possible he eould, unless he were a witch, like his mother? Stay where you are, and let us hear what he | has got to say. Of course, you can talk to him from the azotea, while he remains below. If he shows any signs of being insolent, as he has already been to both of us, let us have him arrested, and cooled a few hours in the cala- bozo. I hope the fellow will give us an excuse for it, for I have not forgotten his impudence at | the fiesta.” “You are right, Roblado; I will stay and hear him. It will be better, I think, and will | allay any suspicion. But, as you say, he can | have none!” | ‘On the contrary, by your giving him the | aid he is about to ask you for, you may put him | entirely off the scent—make him your friend, in fact. Ha! ba!” The idea was plausible, and pleased Vizcarra. | He at once determined to act upon it. | This conversation had been hurriedly carried | on, and lasted but a few moments—from. the | time the gay wenge| horseman had been first seen, until he drew up under the wall. For the last two hundred yards he had ridden slowly, and with an air of apparent respect—as though he feared it might be deemed rude to approach the place of power by any swaggering exhibition of horsemansbip. On bis fine features traces of grief might be observed, but not one | sign of the feeling tbat was at that moment | uppermost in his heart, As he drew near, he raised his sombrero in a respectful salute to the two cfficers, whose | heads and shoulders were just visible over the | parapet; and having arrived within a dozen paces of the wall, he reined up, and taking off is hat egain, waited to be addressed. “What is your business?” demanded Roblado, ** Cavalleros! I wish to speak with the coman* dante.” This was delivered in the tone of one who is about to ask a favor. lt gave confidence to Vizcarra, as well as to the bolder villain—wbo, notwithstanding all his assurances to the con- trary, bad still some secret misgivings about the cibolero’s errand. Now, however, it was clear that his first conjectu: e was correct; Carlos had come to solicit tneir aasi:tance. “*T am he!” answered Vizcarra, now quite recovered from his fright. ‘I am the com- andante. What have you to communicate, my man?” . : ‘Your excellency, I have a favor to ask;” and the cibolero again saluted with an humble bow. “TI told you so,” whispered Roblado, to his superior, ‘* All safe, my colonel.” “Well, my good fellow,” replied Vizcarra, in his usual haughty and patronizing manner, “Jet me hear it. If not unreasonable—” “Your excellency, it is a very heavy favor I would ask, but I hope not unreasonable. I am | sure that, if it do not interfere with your mani- _ fold duties, you will not refuse to grant it, as the interest and trouble you bave already taken in the cause are but too well known.” 3 “TI told you so,” muttered Roblado, a second ime, “Speak out, man!” said Vizearra, evcourag- “IT can only give an answer when Ll have | ingly; *‘I | beard your request.” ** It is this, your excellency. Iam but a poor cibolero,” ** You are Carlos the cibslero! I know you.” | Yes, your exceliency, we bave met—at the | fiesta of San Juan—” | Yes, ves! I recollect your splendid horse- | manship.” | “Your excellency is kind to call it so. It ) = avail me now. I am in great trou- ble! | ‘‘ What has befallen? Speak out, man!” Both Vizearra and Robiado guessed the pur- | port of the cibolero’s request. They desired ) that it should be heard by the few soldiers lounging about the gate, and for that reason | they spoke in a loud tone themselves, anxious | that their petitioner might do the same. Not to pbhige them, but for reasons of his ‘own, Carlos replied in a loud voice. He, too, wished the soldiers, but more particularly the sentry at the gate, to hear what passed be- tween bims lf and the officers, *‘ Well, your excellency,” replied he, ‘I live , ina poor rancho, the last in the settlement, with my old mother and sister. The night bo- fore last it was attacked by a party of Indians | —my mother left for dead—the rancho set.on , fre—and my sister carried eff!” | “T have heard of allthis, my friend —nay, | more, I tave myself been out in pursuif of tne . Savages,” “T know it, your excellency. I was absent on the plains, und ouly resarned last night. | ee ee have heard that your excellency was prompt in pursuing the savages, and [ feel grateful.” ** No need of that; I only performed my duty. a: I regret the occurrence, and sympathize with - you; but the villains have got clear off, and i there is no hope of bringing them to punish- a ment just now; perbaps.some other time—when oe the garrison here is strengthened—I shall maks : an incursion into their country, and then your sister may be recovered.” So completely had Vizcarra been deceived by the cibolero’s manner, that his confidence and / oe coolness had returned, and any one knowing > i- nothing more of the affair than could be gath- } ered from that conversation would have cer- - tainly been deceived by him. This dissimula-~ tion both in speech and manner appeared per- 6 fect. By the keen eye of Carlos, however— - os with his knowledge of the true situation—the- . ets tremor of the speaker’s lips, slight as it was. . ee —his uneasy glance—and an occasional hesi- - tancy in his speech, were all observed. Though = 4 Carlos was deceiving him, he was not deceiving — rep Carlos. : ‘* What favor were you going to ask?’ he in-:. quired, after be had delivered his hopeful prcm- “Yes, your excellency, anywhere.” Re “It would be impossible,” said Roblado. “It . is now two days old; besides, we followed it be- . yond the Pecos, and we have no doubt the rob- bers are by this time far out of reach of any ~ pursuit. It would be quite useless to attempt. ‘ such a thing.” : i ‘*Cavalleros!”— Carlos addressed himself to “ both—‘‘ I assure you J could find them. are not so far off.” Both the comandante and his captain started, ae and visibly turned pale. The cibolero did not Sih affect to notice this, : a ‘“Nonsense! my gocd fellow!” stammered ', Roblado; “they are—at least—bundreds of > eg miles off by this—away over the Staked Piain \ Sa —or to—to the mountains.” , i “Pardon me, captain, for differing with you; ? but I believe I know these Indians—I know to ‘ a what tribe they belong.” ae “What tribe?’ simultaneously inquired the ~ “43 officers, both with an earnestness of manner - a and a slight trepidation in their voices; ‘ what _ “2 tribe? Were they not Yutas?” F “No,” answered the cibolero, while he ob served the* continued confusion of bis Pe tioners. ‘Who, then?” . “*T believe,” peg Carlos, ‘they were not ope eae likely my sworn foez, the Jicaril- _ as. “Quite possible!” assented both, in a breath, and evidently relieved at the enunciation, * Quite possible!” repeated Roblado. ‘‘ From the ney tg given us by the people who saw. them, we had fancied that they were the Yutas, They . ay: : yen It may be a mistake, however. The peop ‘ were so affrighted, they could tell but little pe about them. Besides, the Indians were only ; seen in the night.” “Why think you they are-the Jicarillas?” ~e the comandante, once more breathing reelv. ‘“* Partly because there were so few of them,” replied Carlos. ‘‘ Had they been Yutas—” * But “they were not so few. The shepherds report a large band. They have carried off im- mense numbers of cattle. There must have been a covsiderable force of them, else they would not have ventured into the valley—that is certain.” . “T am convinced, your excellency, there could not have been many. A small troop of ur brave soldiers would be enough to bring lack both them and their booty.” 4 Here the lounging Janzeros erected their dwarfish bodies, and endeavored to look taller. “Jf they were Jicarillas,” continued Carlos, “T should not need to follow their trai!. They are not in the direction of the Liano. If they bave gone that wey: it was to mislead youin pursuit. I know where they are at this mo- ment—in the mountains.” ** final you think they are in the mcuntains?? “Tam sure of it; and not fifry miles from — here. If your excellency wou! but send a troop, I could guide it direct to the spot, and without following the trail they have taken out of the valley—which | believe was only a faler one, Seve. ™ ot:
Page 14
® 14 The comandante and Roblado drew back from the parapet, and for some minutes talked togetber in a low tone. “It would look well,” muttered Roblado; ‘‘in fact, the very thing you want. The trump cards seem to drop right into your hands. You send a force at the request of this fellow, who is a nobody here. You do him a service, and yourself at the same time. It will tell well, I warrant you.” “But for him to act as guide?” “Let him; So much the better—that will satisfy all parties, He won’t find bis Jicarillas, —ha! ha! ha!—of course; but let the fool have his whim!” ‘* But suppose, camarado, he falls upon our trail?—the cattle?” ‘* He is not going in that direction; besides, if he did, we are not bound to follow such trails as he may choose for us; but he has said he is not going that way—he don’t intend to follow a trail: He knows some nest of these Jicarillas in the mountains—like enough; and to rout them —there’s a bit of glory for some one. A few sealps would look well over the gate. It hasn’t had afresh ornament of that sort since we’ve been here! What say you? It’s but a fifty- mile ride.” “Thave no objection to the thing—it would look well; but I shall not myself. I don’t like being along with the fellow out there or anywhere else—you can understand that feel- ing, I suppose?” ere the comandante looked significantly at his companion. aoe certainly—certainly,” replied the lat- r. ** You may take the troop; or, if you are not inclined, send Garcia or the sergeant with them.” “Pll go myself,” replied Roblado. ‘It will be safer. Should the cibolero incline to follow certain trails, Ican lead him ef from them, or refuse—yes, if will be better for me to go myself. By my soul! I want to havea brush with these red-skins. I hope to bring back some “hair,” as they say. Ha! ha! ha!” ‘When would you start?” ‘*Instantly—the sooner the bettter. That will be more agreeable to all parties, and will be our promptitude and patriotism. Ha! a! ha! ** You had better give the sergeant his orders to get the men ready, while I make our cibolero happy.” Bobiado hastened down from the azotea, and the next moment the bugle was heard sounding ‘boots and saddles,” CHAPTER XVIIL DvRING the conversation that had taken place the cibolero sat motionless upon his horse where he had first halted. The two officers were no lovger in view, as they had stepped back upon the azotea, and the bigh parapet concealed them. But Carlos guessed the object of their temporary retirement, and waited patiently. The group of soldiers, lounging in the gate- way, and scanning him and his horse, now amounted to thirty or forty men; but the bugle, sounding the well-known call, summoned them off to the stables, and the sentry alone remained by the gate. Both heand the soldiers, baving overheard the late conversation, guessed the object of the summons. Carlos felt assured that his request was about to be granted, though as yet the comandante had not told him. Up to that moment the ciboloro had conceived no fixed plan of action. How could be, where so much depended on chance? Only one idea was before his mind that could be called definite—that was to get Vizcarra alone, If but for a single minute, it would’ suffice. Entreaty, he felt, would be idle, and might | waste time and end in his own defeat and death. A minute would be enough for ven- geance; and with the thoughts of bis sister’s ruin fresh on his mind, be was burning for this. To anytbing after he scarce gave a thought, For. escape, he \trusted to chance and his own superior energy. p to that moment, then, he had conceived no fixed plan of action. It had just occurred to him that the comandante himself might lead the party going out. If so he would take no immediate step. opportunity would be excellent—not only for destroying his enemy, but for bis own escape. Once on tie wide plains, he would have no fear of ten times the number of lancers. His true steed would carry lim io: beyond their reach. The troop was going. .Tbe bugle told bim so, Would Vizearra go with it? That was the question that now engrossed his thoughts, as he sat immobile on his horse, regarding with anxious look the line of the parapet above. Once more the hated face appeared over the wall—this time to announce what the coman- dante believed would be glad news to his wretched petitioner. With all the pompous importance of one who grants a great favor he announced it, , A gleam of joy shot over the features of the cibolero—not at the announcement, though Vizearra thought so; but at bis observation of While acting as guide, bis | The White Chief. the fact that the latter seemed to be now olone | else was above, upon the azotea. Roblado’s face was not above the wall. “It is exceedingly gracious of your excel- lency to grant this favor to an bumble individ- | ual like myself, I know not how to thank you. “No thanks—no thanks; an officer of his ater Majesty wants no thanks for doing his uty. As the comandante said this, he waved his ) hand with proud dignity, and seemed about to retire backward, Carlos interrupted bis inten- | tion by putting a question: ‘‘Am TI to have the honor of acting as guide to your excellency ?” **No; Ido not go myself on this expedition; but my best officer, Captain Roblado, will lead it. He is now getting ready. You may wait for him.” As Vizcarra said this, he turned abruptly away from the wall, and continued his promenade along the azctea. No ddéubt he felt ill at ease in a tete-a-tcte with the cibolero, and was glad to end it. Why he had condescended to give all | this informaticn need not be inquired into; but / it was just what the cibolero desired to know. The latter saw that the time was come—not a moment was to be lost, and, quick as thought, he resolved himself for action. Up to this moment be had remained in his saddle, His rifle—its butt resting in the stirrup, its barrel extending ~ to his shoulder—had been seen by no one. The “‘armas de agua” covering his legs, and the serape his shoulders, had completely concealed it. In addition to this, bis sharp hunting- knife, strapped along his left thigh, escaped observation under the bang- ing corner of the serape. These were his only weapons, During the short conversation between the comandante and Roblado he bad not been idle, though apparentiy so. He had made a full reconnaissauce of the walls. He saw that out of the saguan, or gateway, an escalera of stone steps led up to the azotea, This communication was intended for the soldiers, when any duty required them to mount to the roof; but Carlos knew that there was another escalera Pt. which the officers ascended; and althou h he bad never been inside the Presidio, he rightly con- jectured that this was at the adjacent end of the building. He had observed, too, that but one sentry was posted at the gate, and that the stone banquette, inside the saguan, used as a lounging-place by the guard, was at the moment unoccupied. The guard were either inside the house, or had strayed away to their quarters. In fact, the discipline of the place was of the loosest kind. Vizcarra, though a dandy him- self, was no martinet with his men. His time was too much taken up with his owu pleasures to allow him to care for aught else. All these points bad passed under the keen observation of the cibolero before Vizcarra re- turned to announce his intention of sending the troop. He had scarce parted out of sight the second time ere the former had taken his meas- ures, Silently Sete fre: his horse, Carlos | left the animal standing where he had halted bim. He did not fasten him to either rail or post, but simply hooked the bridle-rein over the **horn” of the saddle. He knew that his well- trained steed would await him there. His rifle he carried under his serape, though | the butt was now visible below the edge, pressed closely against the calf of hisleg. In this way he walked forward to the gate. Ose doubt troubled him—would the sentry ermit him to passin? If not the sentry must | die! This resolve was quickly made; and the cibo- lero under bis serape kept his grasp on the han- dle of his hunting knife as he approached the ate. f Toe attempt..was made to pass through. For- | tunately for Carlos. and for the sentry as weil, it was successful, The latter—aslouching care- less fellow—had heard the late conversation, ' and had no suspicion of the other’s design. He made some feeble opposition, notwithstanding: but Carlos hastily replied that he bad some- thing to say to the comandante, who had_ beck- oned him up to the azotea. This but half satis- fied the fellow, who, however, reiuctantly al- lowed him to pass. Once inside, Carlos sprung to the steps, and glided up with the stealthy silent tread of a cat. | So little noise had his moceasins made upon the | stones, that, when he arrived upon the roof, its occupant—although standing but six feet from the head of the escalera—was not aware of his presence | ) There was he—Vizcarra himself—the despot —the despoiler—the violator of a sister’s inno- cence and honor-—there was he within six feet of the avenging brother—six feet from the muz- zle of his ready rifle, and still ignorant of the | terrible situation! His face was turned in an | es direction—he saw. not his peril. The glance of the cibolero rested upon him but an instant, and then swept the walls to as- certain if any one was above. He knew there were two sentries on the towers. They were | not visible—they were on the outer walls and could not be seen from Carlo’s position, No one His enemy alone was there. and his glance in rested upon him. Carlos could have sent the bullet into back, and such a thought crossed his mind, but was gone in ao instant. He had come to take the man’s life, out not in that manner. Evew prudence suggested a better plan. His knife would be more silept, and afford him a bette chance of escape when the deed was done! With this idea, he brought the butt of his rifle gently to the ground, and rested its barre against the parapet, The iron coming fm eon- tact with the stone wall gave a tiny clink, Slight as it was, it reached the ear of the com andante, who wheeled suddenly round, and started at the sight of the intruder. At first he exhibited anger, but the eounte- nance of the cibolero, that had undergone @ complete on during tke short inter- val, soon changed his anger into ‘*How dare you intrude, sir+—how dare—” ‘** Not so loud, colonel !—not so loud—you will be beard.” ‘Ree low husky voice, and the firm tone of command, in which they were uttered, terrified the cowardly wretch to whom these words were addressed.’ He saw that the man who 8 before him bore in bis face and attitude t xpression of desperate and irresistible re- solve, that plainly said, ‘‘ Disobey, and you are a dead man!” This expression was hightened by the gleam-- ing blade of a long knife, whose haft was firmly” grasped by the hand of the cibelero. At sight of these demonstrations Vizcarra: turned white with terror. He now compre- hended wh@was meant. The asking for the troop had been but a subterfuge to get near his own person! The cibolero had tracked bim; his guilt was known, and the brether was now come to demand redress or have vengeance! The horrors of his night-dream returned, now | mingling with the horrors of the fearful reality” befere him. He scarce knew what to say—he could scarce’ speak. He looked wildly aronnd in hopes of seeing some help. Not a face or form was in sight—nothing but the gray walls, and before: him the frowning face of his terrible antago- nist. He would have called for help; but that: face, that angry attitude, told him that the eae | would his last. He gasped out at: ength: ‘What want you?” “7 want my sister |” “Your sister?” ‘* My sister!” ** Carlos—I know not—she is not here—I—~—” ‘Liar! she is within these walls. See! yore der the dog howls by the door. Why is that?” Carlos pointed to a door in the lower part of the building, where the dog Cibolo was at that moment seen, whining and making other demon- strations, as if he wanted to get inside! <A sol- dier was endeavoring to drive him off. Vizcarra looked mechanically as directed. He saw the dog. He saw the soldier, too; but. dared not make a signal to him. The keen blade was gléaming before his eyes. The ques- tion of the cibolero was repeated: ‘Why is that?” *T—l—kvow not—” ‘ **Liar again! She has gone in by that door. Where is she now? Quick, tell me!’ ‘“*T declare, I know not. Believe me—” **False villain! she is here. I have tracked! you through all your paths; your tricks have not served you, eny her once more, and this. to your heart. She is here! Where—where—L say?” ‘Oh, do not murder me! I shall tell all. She—she—is—here. ] swear I have not wronged: her; I swear I have not—” “ Here, ruffian, stand at this point, close to the wall here. Quick!” The cibolero had indicated a spot from which pert of the patio, or court-yard, was visible. lis command was instantly obeyed, for the: craven comandante saw that certain death wag? the alternative. ‘Now give orders that she be brought forth! You know to whom she is intrusted. Be cool and calm, do you hear? Any sign to your min- ions, either word or gesture, and this knife will. pass through your ribs! Now!” “Oh, my God! my God! it would ruin me! All would know! Ruin! ruint I pray yon, have mercy, have patience! She shall, be re- stored to you—I swear it—this very night!” “This very moment, villain! Quick! pro- ceed! call those who know! Let ber be brought © forth! Quick! I am on fire! One moments more—” ‘Oh Heaven! you will murder me—a mo- ment— Stay!—Ha!” The last exclamation wasin a different tone from the rest. It was a shout of exultation—of: triumph! The face of the comandante was turned to- ward the escalera by which Carlos had ascend ed, while that of the latter Jooked in the oppo-: | site direction. Carlos, therefore, did not per- ceive that a third person had reached the roof,, until he felt his upraised right arm grasped by” a strong hand, and held back! He wrenched h arm free—turning as he did so—when he found’
Page 15
a a oe | himself face to face with a man whom he recog- nized as the Lieutenant Garcia. “JT have no quarrel with you,” cried the cibolero; ‘*keep away from me.” The officer, without saying a word, had drawn a pistol, and was leveling it at his head. Carlos ed upon him. The report rung, and for » moment the smoke shrouded both Garcia and the cibolero. One was heard to fall heavily on the tiles, and the next moment the other sprung from the cloud evidently unhurt. It was the cibolero who came forth; and bis knife, still in his grasp, was reeking with blood! He rushed forward toward the spot where he had parted with the comandante, but the latter was gone! He was some distance off on the azotea, and inning toward the private stair- way. Carlos «*” ta glance he could not overtake him before | should reach the escalera, and make his descent; and to follow him below would now be useless; for the shot had given the alarm. It was a moment of d r—a short moment: for in the next a bright thought rushed into the mind of the cibolero—he remembered his rifle. There might be still time to overtake the co- mandante with that! He seized the weapon, and, springing beyond the circle of smoke, raised it to his shoulder. Vizcarra had reached the stairway, and was already sinking into its trap-like entrance. His and shoulders alone appeared above the © of wall, when some half - involuntary thought induced him to stop and look back. The coward had partly got over his fright now that he had arrived within reach of succor, and he oye back from a feeling of curiosity, to see if the struggle between Garcia and the cibolero was yet over. He meant to stop only for an instant, but just as be turned his head the rifle cracked, andthe bullet sent him tum- bling to the bottom of the escalera! The cibolero saw that his shot had taken ef- feet—he saw, moreover, that the other was dead —he heard the wild shouts of vengeance from below; and he knew that unless he could escape by flight he would be surrounded and pierced by a hundred lances, His first thought was to descend by the esca- lera, up which be had come. The other wa Sealy led into the patio, already filling wit en, He leaped over the body of Garcia, and ran toward the stairway. A crowd of ela. | men was coming up. His escape was cut off! Again he crossed the dead body, and, running along the azotea, sprung upon the outer parapet and looked below. It was a fearful leap to take, but there was no other hope of escaping, Several lancers had reached the roof, and were charging forward with their pointed weapons. Already carbines were ringing, and bullets whistling abont his ears, It was no time to hesitate. is eye fell upon his brave horse, as he stood proudly curving his neck and champing the bit, ‘‘ Thank eaven, he is yet alive!” Nerved by the sight, Carlos dropped down a the wall, and reached the ground without jury. A shrill whistle brought bis steed to bis side, and the next moment the cibolero had sprung into the saddle, and was galloping out into the open plain! Bullets hissed after, and men mounted in hot pursuit; but before they could spur their horses out of the gateway, Carlos had reached the edge of the chaparral, and disappeared under the leafy screen of its thick foliage. A body of lancers, with Roblado and Gomrz at their head, rode after. the edge of the chaparral, to their astonish- ds ® score of heads appeared above the us 1} and a wild yell hailed their advance! : ndios bravos!” los barbaros!” cried the a halting, while some of them wheeled “ in alarm, _A general halt was made, and the pursuers waited until reinforcements should come up. The whole garrison turned out, and the chaparral was surrounded, and at length entered. But no Indians could be found, though the tracks of their animals led through the thicket In every direction, After beating Stone for several hours, Ro- blado and his troopers returned to the Presidio. CHAPTER XIX. GARCIA was dead. Vizcarra was not, though, when taken up from where he had fallen, be looked like one who had not. long to live, and bebaved like one who was afraid to die. His face Was covered with blood, and bis cheek showed the scar of a shot. He was alive, however— moaning and mumbling. Fine talking was out the question, for several of his teeth had been Carried away by the bullet. 1S wcund was a mere face wound, There was not the slightest danger; but the ‘‘ medico ” of the place, a young practitioner, was not suf- ficient!y master of his art to give him that as- surance, and for some hours Vizcarra remained ig anything but blissful ignorance of his fate. ‘ { As they approached | ‘The White Chief. The garrison doctor had died but a short time before, and bis place was not yet supplied. A scene of excitement for the rest of that day was the Presidio—not less so the town. The whole settlement was roused by the as- tounding news, which spread like a prairie fire throughout the length and breadth of the valley. It traveled in two different shapes. One was, that the settlement was surrounded by ‘‘los barbaros,” headed by Carlos the cibolero; that they must be in great numbers, since they had made an open attack upon the military stronghold itself; but that they had been beaten off by the valiant soldiers after a desperate conflict, in which many were killed on both sides; that the officers were all killed, including the comandanie; and that another at- tack might be looked for that night, which would most likely be directed against tae town! This was the first shape of the ‘ novedades,” Another rumor had it that the ‘‘ Indios man- sos” had revolted; that they were headed by Carlos, the cibolero; that they had made an un- successful attempt upon the Presidio, in which as before, the valiant soldiers had repulsed them, with great loss on both sides, including the comandante and his officers; that this was but the first outbreak of a great conspiracy, which extended to all the Tagnos of the settle- ment, and that no doubt the attack would be renewed that night! To those who reflected, both forms of the ru- mor were incomprehensible. Why should “ In- dios bravos” attack the Presidio before pro- ceeding against the more defenseless town, as well as the several rich baciendas? And how could Carlos, the cibolero, be their leader? Why should he of all men—he who had just suffered at the hands of the savages? It was well known through the settlement that it was the cibolero’s sister whoshad been carried off. The idea of an Indian incursion, with him at the head of it, seemed too improbable. * Then, again, as to the conspiracy and revolt. Why, the tame Indians were seen laboring quietly in the fields, and those belonging to the mission were working at their usual ng owe tions! News, too, had come down from the mines—no symptoms of conspiracy had been observed there! A revolt of the Tagnos, with the cibolero at their head, would, of the two ru- mors, have been the more likely to be true; for it was well known to all that these were far from content with their lot—but at present there was noappearance of such a thing around. There were they all at their ordinary ray 5 ments. Who, then, were the revolters? Both rumors, therefore, were highly improbable. Half the townpeople were soon gathered around the Presidio, and after stories of all shapes had been carried back and forward, the definite facts at length became known. These, however, were as mysterious and puz- zling asthe rumors. For what reason could the Siboleko have attacked the officers of the garri- son? Who were the Indians that accompanied him? ‘Were they ‘‘ bravos” or ‘‘ mansos?”—sav- ages or rebels? The most remarkable thing was that the sol- diers themselves who had taken part in the im- aginary “fight” could not answer these ques- tions. Some said this, and some that. Many bad heard the conversation between Carlos and the officers; but that portion of the affair, though perfectly natural in itself, when taken in connection with after circumstances only rendered the whole more complicated and mys- terious! The soldiers could give no explanation, and the people returned home, to canvass and discuss the effair among themselves. Various versions were in vogue. Some believed that the cibolero hsd come with the bona fide desire to obtain help against the Indians—that those who accompanied bim were only a few Tagnos whom he had collected to aid in the pursuit— and that the comandante, having first promised to aid him, bad afterward refused, and that tbis had led io the strange conduct of the cibo- lero! There was another hypothesis that gained more credit than this, It was that Captain Robiado was the man whom the cibolero had desired to make a victim; that he was guided against him by motives of jealousy; forthe con- duct of Carlos on that day of the fiesta was well known, and had been much ridiculed—that, in failing toreach Roblado, he had quarreled with the comandante, and so forth. Improbable as was this conjecture, it had many supporters, in the absence ef the true mo- tive for?the conduct. of the cibolero. There were but four men within the Presidio to whom this was known, and only three outside of it. By the general public it was not even suspected. In one thing all agreed—in condemning Car- los the cibolero, The garrote was to6é good for him; and when taken, they could all promise bim ample punishment, The very ingratitude of the att was magnified. It was but the day | before that these same officers had gone forth sid wie 4 % os ; axe 7 iat ‘ Pers (3; ry a ia tp POA) SA ae, ie ae eC oe ok ee with their valiant soldiers to do bim a service! The man must have been mad! His mother had no doubt bewitched bim, To have killed Lieutenant Garcia!—he who was such a favorite! Oarrambo | } Nellis is ssp i tg a SD, 15 This was true. Garcia was liked by the peo- ple of the settlement—perhaps not so much from the possession of any liar virtues, but in contrast with his superiors. He was an affable, harmless sort of person, and had won general esteem. That night the cibolero had not one friend in San Ildefonso. Nay, we speak wrongly. had one. There was one heart beating for him as fondly as ever—Catalina’s—but she, too, was ignorant of the motives which had led to his mysterious conduct. hatever these motives were, she knew they could not be otherwise than just. What to her were the calumnies—the giber—that were heaped upon him? What to her if he bad taken the life of a fellow-creature? He had not done so without good cause—without some fearful rovocation. She believed that in her soul, he knew his noble nature too well to think otherwise. He was the lord of her heart, and could do no wrong! Sorrowful, heart-breaking news was it to her. It boded long separation—perhaps for- ever! He dared no more visit the town—not even the settlement! He would be driven to the wild plains—hunted like a wild wolf or the savage bison—perbaps taken and slain! Bitter were her reflections, When should she see him again? Maybe, never! CHAPTER XX. DurineG all this time Vizcarra lay groaning upon his couch—not so much with pain as fear for the fear of death still haun him. Bu for that, his rage would have been boundless; but this passion was in abeyance—eclipsed by the terrors that flitted across bis conscience, Even had he been assured of recovery he would still have been in dread. His imagina- tion was diseased by his dream and the after reality. Even surrounded by his soldiers, he feared the cibolero, who appeared able to accom- plish any deed and escape its consequences. He did not even feel secure there in his chamber, with guards at the entrance, against that aveng- ing arm! Now, more than ever, he was desirous of get- ting rid of the cause—more than ever anxious that she should be got rid of; but he reflected that now more than ever was that a delicate and difficult matter. It would undoubtedly get abroad why the cibolero had made such a des- perate attempt upon his life—it would spread until it reached high quarters—such a report could not be passed over—an investigation might be ordered; and that, unless he could de- stroy every trace of suspicion, might be his ‘ruin. These were his reflections while in the belief that he was going to recover; when a doubt of this crossed his mind he grew still more anxious about the result, Roblado had hinted at a way in which all might be arranged. He waited with impatience for the latter to make his appearance. The warlike captain was still engaged in beating the chaparral; but Gomez had come in and re- ported that he was about to give up the search and return to the Presidio, To Roblado the occurrences of the day had been rather pleasant than otherwise; and a close observer of his conduct could bave told this. If there was anything in the whole busi- ness that really annoyed him it was the wound of the comandante—it was not fatal! Roblado, more experienced than the surgeon, knew this well. The friendship that existed between the two was a fellow-feeling in wickedness—a sort of felon’s bond—durable enough so long as there was no benefit tc either in breaking it. But this friendship did not prevent Roblado from ‘regretting with all his heart that the bullet bad not hit his friend a little higher up or a little lower down—either in the skull or the throat! He entertained this regret from no malice or ill-will toward the comandante, but simply from a desire to benefit himself. It was long since Roblado had been dreaming of promotion, He was not too humble to hope he might one day command the Presidio himself. Vizcarra’s death would have given him that station at once; but Vizcarra was not to die just then, | and this knowledge somewhat be was then experiencing. And it was joy. Garcia and he had been ene- mies. There bad been jealousy and ill-will be- tween them for long; therefore the lieutenant’s death was no source of regret to him. But the joy of Roblado owed psrtly its origin to an- other consequence of that day’s drama—one that affected him more than.any—one that was nearest his heart and his hapes. Absurd as appeared the pretensions of the cibolero in regard to Catalina, Roblado had learned enough of late to make him jealous— ay, even to give him real uneasiness. She was a strange creature, Catalina de Cruces—one who bad shown proofs of a rare spirit—one not to be bought and sold like a bulto of goods. She had taught both her father und Roblado a lesson of late. She bad taught them that. She had struck the ground with her little foot, and threatened a convent—the grave—if too rudely / clouded the joy . | ZS tis. SR
Page 16
+ Se | + there: and 16 Messiah sa mies a pressed! She had not rejected Roblado—that is, in word; but she insisted on having her own time to make answer; and Don Ambrosio was compelled to concede the point. Under such circumstances her suitor felt un- éasy. Not so much that he was jealous—though | story as plausible as it can be made, he did love her after his own fashion, and was | a at the thought of such a rival—but he eared that spirit of hers, and dreaded that her splendid fortune might yet escape him. Such a woman was capable of the wildest resolve. She might take toa convent; or maybe to the plains with this base-born cibolero! event in the life of such a woman would be neither impossible nor unlikely. In either case she could not take her fortune with her; but what mattered? it would not remain with him, blado. The conduct of the cibolero had removed all obstacles, so far as Such an | he was concerned. There | was no longer any dread of rivalry from that | source. His life was now forfeited. Not only would ‘he be cut off from all communication with her, but he would not dare to show him- self in the settlement. A constant vigilance would be kept on foot to guard regs that, and Roblado even promised himself the enjoy- ment of rare sport in hunting down his rival, executioner. These were the ideas that crossed the mind of the savage captain, and that made him feel satisfied with the events of the day. After scouring the chaparral, and followinz the track of the supposed Indians to the ceja of | the table plain, he returned with his men to the Presidio, to make preparations for a more pro- longed pursuit. CHAPTER XXI. Rosiavo’s arrival brought relief to Vizcarra, as he lay chafing and fretting, Their conversation was, of course, upon the late occurrence, and Roblado gave his account of the pursuit. “And do you really think,” inquired the comandante, *‘ that the fellow had a party of savages with him?’ “No,” answered Roblado. ‘I did think so at first—that is, the men thought so, and I was deceived by their reports. Iam now convinced they were not Indian bravos, but some of those Tagno friends of his; for it appears the padre was right—he has a suspicious connexion. That of itself might have been sufficient cause for us to have arrested him long ago; but now we need nocause, He is ours, when we can catch him.” ‘* How do you propose to act?” “ Why, 1 have no doubt he will Jead usa Jong chase. We must do the best we can to follow bis trail. I came back to provision the men so that we can keep on for a sufficient time. The rascals have gone out of the valley by the upper pass, and perbaps have taken to the mounsiins, thinks Gomez. We shall have to follow, and endeavor to overtake them. We must send express to the other settlements, so that the cibolero may be eaptured if he make bis appearance in any of them. I don’t think he will attempt that.” “Why?” “Why! becauso it appears the old witch is still alive! and, moreover, be will hang around here so long as he has any hopes of recovering the sister.” * Hal you are right; he willdoso. He will mever leave me till she—” “So much the better; we shall have all the finer opportunity of laying hands on him, which, believe me, my dear colonel, will be no easy matter. The fellow will be watchful asa wolf, and on that superb horse of his can escape from our whole troop. We'll have to capture him by some stratagem,” “Can you think of none?’ “T have been thinking of one.” “ What?” “Why, it is simply this—in the first place for the reasons I have given, the fellow will hang around the settlement. He may visit now and then the old hechicera, but not ofte., The other would be a better decoy.” “You mean her?” Vizcarra indicated the di- | rection of the room in whico Rosita was con- | ed. *Tdo. He is said to be foolishly fond of this sister. Now, were she in a place where he rould visit ber, (1l warrant he would come then we could trap him at our pleasure.” “Th a place!—where?” eagerly demanded Vizearra, “Why, back to her own neighborhood. They'll find some residence, If you will con- sent to let her zo for a while. you cau easily recover rer—/he more easrly when, we have set- tled with him ” desire above ail things. My mind willmot be easy while she is bere. it such a report should get in circulation. | | ) | Listen! and becoming at the same time his captor and | | inatter how far cff or how near. We must have our There must be no color of asuspicion—no rumor! It will be well to get her off our hands for the present.” ‘“But how—that it is that troubles me—how, without increasing the chances of suspicion? If we send her home, bow is it to be explained? That would not be the act of Indians? You said you had some plan?’ ‘“*T think I bave. But first tell me, colonel, what did you mean by saying she was mad?” ‘*That she was so: is so still,—so says Jose,— within the hour, muttering strange imcongrui- ties—knowsenot what is said to her. I tell you, Roblado, it terrified me.” ‘ vs You are sure she knows not what is said to er?’ “Sure of it.” “So muc)) the better, She will then not remember where she és or has been. Now I know that I have a plan—nothing easier than to get her off. She shall go back and tejl—if sbe can tell anything—tbat she bas been in the hands of the Indians! That will satisfy you?” ‘* But how can it be arranged?” ‘“My dear comandante, no difficulty ir it, To-night, or before day in the morn- ing, Gomez and Jose, in Indian costume as before, can carry her off to some spot which I shall indicate.. In the mountains be it. No She may be tied, and found in their company in the morn- ing in such a way as to appear their captive. So much the better if she has recovered her senses enough to think so. Well: I with the troopers, in hunt after the cibolero, will come upon these Indians by accident. A few shots may be fired at sufficient distance to do them no hurt, They will make off, leaving their cap- tive, whom we will rescue and bring back to cause will be inquired into, | the town, where she can be delivered out of our hands! Ha! ha! ha! What think you, Coman- dante, of my scheme?” ** Excellent!’ replied Vizcarra, his mind seem- ingly relieved at the prospect of its execution, **Why, it would blind the very devil! We shall not.only be ffee from suspicion, but we'll get credit by it. What! a successful affair with the savages—rescue of a female captive !—restore her to her friends!—she, too, the sister of the very man who has endeavored to assassinate you! I tell you, comandante, the cibolero him- self, if that will be any comfort to you, will be humbugged byit! She will swear—if her word be worth aniything—that she has been in the bands of los barburos all the while! She will give the lie even to her own brother!” y 4 hee plan is excellent. It must be done to night! S To-night, of course As soon as the men have gone to bed, Gomez can start with her. I must give over the idea of following the trail to-lay, and in truth, I regard that asidle. Our only chances for taking him will be to set our trap, with ber for its bait; and that we can arrange hereafter. Give yourself no further uneasiness about it. By late breakfast to- morrow I shall maka my report to you. ‘ Des- perate affiir with Jicarillas, or Yutas—several warriors killed—female captive rescued—valiant conduct of troops—recommend Corporal —— for promotion, ete.’ Ha! ha! ha!” The comandante joined in this Jaugh, which, erhaps, he would not have done, but that Roblado had already assured him that bis wound was not of the slightest danger, and would heal in a couple of weeks, Roblado had given him assurance of this by calling the doctor a fool, and heaping upon bim other opprobrious epithets. The delivery, there- fore, from the fear of apprehended death, as well as from the other thought that was tortur- ing him, bad restored Vizcarra to a composure he had not enjoyed for the twenty-four hours preceding, and now he began to imbibe, to its full extent, another passion—that of vengeance against the cibolero, That night, after tattoo had sounded, aud the soldiers bad retired to their respective quarters, a small mounted party was seen to issue from the gateway of the Presidio, and take a road that led in the diregtion of the mountains. The party consisted of three individuals, One, closely wrapyed, and mounted upon a mule, appeared to be a female. The other two, oddly attired, and fantastically adorned with paint and feathers, might bave been taken for a brace of Indian warriors. But they were not Indians, They were Spanish soldiers in Indian disguise. They were A me nt Gomez and the soldier Jose | in charge of the cibolero’s sister. CHAPTER XXII. WHEN Carlos reached the edge of the chap- | arral, bis pursuers erro still only parting from | the walls of the Presidio. Of course none fol- “Consent, Roblado!—it is the very thing I | We are both in danger | If it | should reach certain ears, we are ruined—are | Wwe sot?” ‘Why now there is some truth in what you’ Say. Garcia's death must be reported, aud the lowed him on foot, and it had taken the men some time to get their arms and borses ready. So far as he was concerned, he no longer feared pursuit, ard would have scorned to take a cir- cuitous path, He bad such éonfidence’in the steed ke bestrode, that ke knew he could escape hefore the eves of his pursuers, and need not have hidden hiniselé ia the chaparral, 4 ing no longer of hisown safety, but of that of Don Juan and his party. Their critical situa- tion suddenly came before his mind. How were they to escape? Even before he had half crossed the open ground this thought bad troubled bim more than his own peril, and a play had been before him—to make direct for the pass of La Nina and shun the chaparral altogether. This would have drawn the dragoons in the same direct course; and Don Juan, with his Tagnos, might have got off at their leisure. Carlos would have put this plan in executign, could he have trusted to the prudence of Don Juan; but he feared todoso. The latter was somewhat rash, and not over-sagacious. See- ing Carlos in the act of escape, he might think it was his duty, as cursed. upon, to show him- self and his men on the edge of the thicket—the very thing Carlos now wished te prevent. For that reason the cibolero galloped direct to the place of ambuscade, where Don Juan and his men were waiting in their saddles. ‘*Thank God you are safe!” cried Don Juan; ‘but they are after you. Yonder they come in scores!” ** Yes!” replied Carlos, looking back; ‘“‘anda good start I’ve gained on them!’ ‘“What’s best to be donei” inquired Don Juan, ‘Shall we scatter through the chap wali or keep together? They’ll be upon us soon Carlos hesitated a moment before making reply. Three plans of action were possible, offering more or less chance of safety. First, to scatter through the chaparral as Don Juan had suggested; second, to make off together, and at once, without showing themselves, tak- ing the back track, as they had come; and, third, to show themselves in front to the pur- suers, and then retire on the back path, Of course the idea of fight was not entertained for a moment. That would have been idle, even absurd, under the circumstances, The mind of the cibolero, used to quick ac- tion, examined these plans with the rapidity of thought itself. The t was rejected without a moment’s consideration, To have scattered through the chaparral would have resulted in certain capture, The jungle was too small, not over a couple of miles in width, though extend- ing to twice that length. There were soldiers enough to surround it, which they would do. They would beat it from side to side. They could not fail to capture half the party; and though these had made no demonstration as yet, they would be connected with the affair at the Presidio, and would be severely punished, if not shot down on the spot. To attempt to get off through the chaparral without showing themselves at all would have been the plan that Carlos would have adopted had he not feared that they would be overtaken before night. The Tagnos were mounted on mules, already jaded, while most of the troopers rode good and gpift horses. But for that Carlos might bave h@Ped that they would escape ~n- seen, and thus neither Don Juan nor his pa ls would bave beep suspected of having had any part in the affair. This would be an important consideration for the future; but the plan was not to be thought of. The third plan was adopted. The hesitation of the cibolero was not half so long as the time you have occupied in-reading of it. Searce ten seconds elapsed ere he made reply, not to Don Juan alone, but to the whole band, iu a voice Joud enough for all to hear. The reply was in the form of a command. “Riie through the bush, all of you! Show } yourselves near the front, your head and shoul- ders only, with your bows! Give your war-ery, and then back till you are outof sight. Scatter right and left. Follow. me.” ° As Carlos delivered these hurried directions, he dashed forward through the underwood and soon appeared near its edge. The Tagnos, + guarded by Don Juan on one side and Antonio on the other, showed almost simultaneously in an irregular line along the margin of ‘the thicket; and flourishing their bows above their heads, they uttered a defiant war-whoop, as though they were a party of savage Indians. It would have required a practiced eye to have told froma a short distance that they were not. Most of them were bare-headed, with long flowing hair; and, in fact, differing very little in appearance from their brethren of the plains. They all had bows, a weapon still carried b the Indios mansos when engaged in any hostili- ties: and their war ery differed not at all from some tribes called ‘* bravos,” “‘ wild.” Many in the band n2d but a short time left aside the full practice of warfare, Many of them were but moped ee to the arts of peace. The effect of the demonstration was just what the cibolero hed calculated op. The soldiers, who were galloping forward in straggling knots, and some of whom had got within three bun- dred paces of the chaparral, reined up in sur- prise. Several showed symptoms of a desire to gallop back again, but these were restrained at sight of a large body of their conmrades now is- suinz from the Presidio, Tke whole of them were taken Ly surprise.
Page 17
fees Wide nde sil ‘They believed that the “Indios bravos” were in the chaparral, and no doubt in overwhelm- ing numbers. Their belief was strengthened by the proceedings of the previous days, in whieh they had done naught else, as they sup- ed, but ride scout after ‘‘los barbaros.” The atter bad now ceme after them! They halted, therefore, ov the plains, and waited for their fellows to come up. That this woals be the effect of his ruse Carlos foresaw. He now directed his com- panions te rein gently back until they were once mere under cover of the brush; and the whele party arrived at the spot where they had waited in ambush, Antesio then took the trail and guided them ‘| through the chaparral; not as they had come | ‘ to La Nina, but by a path that led to the upper plain by another pass in the cliffs. From a point in this pass they obtained a distant view of the chaparral and the plain beyond. Though now full hres miles from the place of aribark. * they could see the valiant troopers still figuring on the open ground in front of it. They had not yet ventured to penetrate the dangerous underwood which they believed to be alive with ferocious savages! Carlos, having reached the upper plain, struck off with his band in a direction nearky north. His object was to reach a ravine at some ten miles’ distance across the plain, and this was gained withouta single pursuer having appeared in the rear, This ravine led in an easterly direction as far as the Pecos bottom. 1t was the channel of a stream, in which water flowed in the rainy season, but was now quite dry. Its bed was covered with small pebbles, and a horse-trail upon these was scarcely to be followed, as the track only displaced the pebbles, leaving no “sign” that could be ‘‘read” to any pe. na tage. Old and new foot-marks were all the me. Into this ravine the party descended, and after traveling down it for five or six miles halted, Carlos calling the halt for a special ob- ject—to detail a plan for their future proceed- ing, which had been occupying his attention during the last hour or two, As yet, none of the party was compromised but himself. It would not advantage bim that they should be, but the contrary. Neither Don Juan nor Antonio had shown themselves out of the thicket; and the othereusky faces, seen but for an instant through the brambles, could not have been recognized by the frightened troop- ers, If, therefore, Don Juan and his peons could get back to their home without observa- tion, for them a] would stall be well. his was a possible event, At starting Car- Jos bad cautioned secrecy as to the expedition. It bad left at an early hour, before any one was abroad, and no one knew of it. Indeed, no one in the valley was aware that the cibolero had returned before the news of the affair at the Presidio. His mules had been quietly unpacked and were herded at a distance trom the rancho by one of his men. If, then, the troopers should not visit that neighborhood before the follow- ing day, Don Juan and his people could go back in the night and engage in their usual occupa- tions without any suspicion. No doubt Roblado would be there in the morning, but nut likely before. It was netural to suppose he would first endeavor to fellow the route they had taken, and it led almost in the opposite direc- tion from the house of Don Juan. To track ‘them along all the windings of that route would the work of one day at least. Then their partners would be no wiser as to where they ad betaken themselves, for Carlos, from the point of halting, intended to adopt a plan that be be certain to throw the troopers off the It was decid-d, in fine, that Don Juan and bis Sie should return home—that the peons of rap should also go back to the rancho; roof the following day—for ft only wanted that; and remain by it as if neti had ov- curred, They could not be made answerable for the deeds of their master, As for the cibolero himself, his residence must ~~y Temain unknown, except to one or two of his i tried friends, © knew where he should find a ; Shelter, To him the open plain or the mountain Cave was aike a home. He needed no roof. The starry canopy was as welcome as the gilded ceiling of a palace, The Tagnos were enjoined to secrecy. They were not sworn. A Tayno is not the man to talk; besides, they all knew that their own “sed perhaps their lives, depended on their All these matters were at length arranged, but the pariy remained where they had halted till near sunset, tinued on down the ch nnel. When they had gone a mile or so one of them climbed out of the ravine, and heading southward, rode off across the plain. This di- rection would bring him back to the valley, by & pass near the lower end of the settlement. They then mounted, and con- | Shortly after, a second Tagno left the ravine | and rode off in a Jine nearly parallel to that | taken by the first. Soon another imitated the | | example, and then another and another, until | all bad forsaken the ravine except Don Juan, Antonio, and the cibolero himself. The Tagnos | had been instructed to reach home by different | passes, and some of them, more sagacious, were sent by the most circuitous paths, | There was | | no trooper belonging to the Presidio likely to follow that trail. Carlos and his two companions, after riding | to the furthest end of the ravine, also turned to | the right, and re-entered the valley of San Ilde- | fonso at its lower extremity. It was quite dark, but all of them knew the road well, and about | midnight they arrived near the house of the | young ranchero, A reconnaissance was necessary before they | dared approach. That was soon made, and the report brought back that all was right, and no troopers had yet made their appearance. Carlos once more embraced his mother hur- riedly, related what had passed, gave some in- stractiongto Don Juan, and then, mounting his horse, rode off from the place. He was followed by Antonio and a pack- mule loaded with provisions. They passed down | Che valley, and struck outin the direction of the Liano Estacado, CHAPTER XXIII. On the following day a new incident created a fresh surprise among the inhabitants of San Iidefonso, already excited by an unusual series of * novedades.” About noon a party of lancers passed through the town on their way to the Presidio. They were returning from a scout in search of the ‘* assassin ”’—so Carlos was designated. Of him they had found no traces; but they had fallen in with a large body of ** Tndios bravos ” among the spurs of the mountains, with whom they had had a terrific conflict! This had resulted in the loss of great numbers killed on the part of ‘tthe Indians, who had contrived, as usual, to carry off their dead—hence, the soldiers bad re- turned without scalps! They had brought how- ever, afar more positive trophy of victory—a young girl belonging to the settlement, whom they had recaptured from the savages, and whom Captain Roblado—the gallant leader of the a ape I pS gg to be the same that had been carried off a few days before from a rancho at the lower end of the valley! The captaam halted in the plaza, with a few men—those in charge of the recovered captive. The remainder of the troop passed on to the Presidio, Roblado’s object in stopping in the town, or in coming that way—for it did not lie in bis re- turn route—was threefold. First, to deliver his cuarge into the hands of the civic authorities; secondly, to make sure that everybody should witness the delivery, and be satisfied by this living evidence that a great feat had been per- formed; and thirdly, that he might have the opportunity of a little swagger in front of acer- tein balcony. : j These three objects the captain attained, but the last of them did not turn out quite to his satisfaction. Although the bugle had played continuously, announcing the appreach of a troop—although the recovered captive was placed CONES in the ranks—and al- though his (Roblado’s) horse, under the in- fluence of sbarp spurs, pitched himself into the most superb attitudes, «ll went for nothing— Catalina did not show in the baleony! Among the faces of ‘“‘dependientes” and *criados,” hers was not to be seen; and the triumphant look of the victorious leader, as soon as he had ridden past, changed to a gloomy expression of disappointment. A tew minutes after he dismounted in front of the ‘Casa de Cabildo,” where he delivered the girl into the hands of the alcalde and other authorities of the town. This ceremony was accompanied by a_ grandiJoquent speech, in which an account of the recapturo was given with some startling details; sympathy was ex- pressed for the parents of the girl, whoever they might be; and the speaker wound up by ex- pressing his opinion that the unfortunate cap- tive could be no other than the young girl re- ported to have been carried off a few days be- fore! All this was very plausible and proper; and Robledo, having resigned his charge to the keeping of the alcalde, mounted and rode off amidst a storm of complimentary pbrases from the authomties, and ‘‘ vivas” of applause from the populace. ** Dios lo pague, capitan !” (Gcd reward you, | captain!) was the prayer thet reached his ears | as be pushed through the crowd! A keen physiognomist could at that moment | have detected in the corner of Roblado’s eye a | | very odd expression—a mingling of irony with | a strong desire to laugh. In fact, the gallant | captein could hardly keep from bursting out in | the faces of his admirers | where the poorest people lived. 17 mentee Back to the captive. The crowd pressed around her, all eager to ratify their curiosity. Strange to say that this feeling predominated. There was less ap- arance of sympathy than might bave been ooked for under the circumstances. The num- ber of those that uttered the ‘‘ pobrecita!”— that tender expression of Mexican pity—was few; and they were principally the poor dark- skinned native women. The well-dressed shop- | keepers, both Gachupinos and Criollos, both men and women, looked on with indifference, or _ with no other feeling than that of morbid cu- , riosity. . Such an indifference to suffering is by no .~ means a characteristic of the Néw Mexican peo- ple—I should rather say of the females of that - land—for the men are brutal enough. As re- gards the former, the very opposite character is theirs. Their conduct would be unaccountable, there- ° fors, but for the kcowledge of a fact which” guided it on this occasion. They knew who the r captive girl was—they knew she was the sister of Carlos the cibolero—Carlos the murderer / This it was that checked the flow of their better feelings. j Against Carlos the popular indignation was ; strong. ‘‘ Asesino,” “‘ladron,” ‘‘ingrato,” were ° the terms used in speane of him. A wretch! to have murdered the good lieutenant — the ; favorite of the place; and for what motive? - Some paltry quarrel or jealousy! What mo-; tive, indeed? There seems no motive but a; thirst of blood on the part of this ‘‘ demonio,” ; this *‘ guero heretico.” Ungrateful wretch, too, * to have attempted the life of the valiant co- mandante—he who had been striving all he | could to recover the assassin’s sister from the : Indian savages! “ And now he had actually succeeded! Only ; think of it! There she was, brought safe home ? again by the agency of this very comandante, | who had sent his captain and soldiers for re this very man whom he would bave killed! Demonio! asesino! ladron! They would all be glad to sre him seated in the chair of the ** garrote.” No ‘‘buen Catolico” would have acted as he bad done—no one but a sinful ‘*heretico” —a_ blood - loving ‘‘ Americano!” , How he would be punished when caught ! Such were the feelings of all the populace, ex- cept, perhaps, the poor slaves—the mansos— and a very few Criolloes, who, although not ap- proving of the acts of Carlos, held revolutionary principles, and hated the Spanish regime with } all their hearts. : With such prejudice against the cibolero, no wonder that there was but little sympathy for | the forlorn creature, bis sister. That it was his sister no one doubted, | although there were few on the spot who knew $ either. Up to the day of the fiesta her brother, ‘ now so notorious, was but little known to the | inhabitants of the town, which he rarely visited |: —she less; and there were but few in the place ; who had ever seen her before that hour. But the identity was unmistakable. The fair, - golden hair, the white skin, the glowing red of . the cheeks, though common in other parts of | the world, were rare characteristics in North ° Mexico. The proclamation upon the walls de- scribed the “‘asesino ” as possessing them. This could be no other than his sister. Besides, there were those who bad seen her at the fiesta, where her beauty had not failed to attract both admiration and envy. She looked beautiful as ever, though the red was not so bright on her cheek, and a singular, wild expression appeared in her eyes. To the questions put to her she either answered not or returned vague replies, She sat in silence: but several times broke forth into strange, unintel- ‘ ~ ligible, exclamatory phrases, in which the words “Indios” and “barbaros” repeatedly ; occurred. : ‘Esta loca !” (‘She is mad!) muttered one ; to another; ‘“‘she fancies she is still with the’ savages!” Perhaps it was so, among friends. The alcalde inguired if there was any one present—relative or friend—to whom he could deliver her up. A young girl, a poblana, who bad just ar- rived on the spot, came forward. She krew the “pobrecita.” She would take charge of her, and conduct ber to her home. A half-Indian woman was in company with the poblana. It might bave been her mother. Between the two the restored captive was led away; and the crowd soon dispersed and re- turned to their various evecations. The girl and her cenductors turned into a narrow street that led through the suburb Passirg this, they emerged into the open country; and then, following an urfrequented path through the chaparral, a few bundred yards trought them toa small mud rancho, which they entered. In a few minutes after acarreta, in which sata Certainly she was not , and was only re-| peon, was driven up to the door, and stopped strained from doing so by the desire of keeping | there. the joke bottled up till he could enjoy it in the The poblana, lending the girl by the hand, company of the comandante—to whom he was | came out of the bouse, and buth mcunted inte now has.eving. the carreta. , it would te night by the time be could reach this pass, and be was not likely to enecuster ny one on the route—now thal the © wiid” In- jians were abroud!
Page 18
_ forgotten the presence of Josefa an 18 As soon as the two were seated upon the bunches of dry ‘zacate’ thrown into the carreta for this purpose, the driver goaded his oxen and moved off. The vehicle, after passing out of the chaparral path, took the main road leading to the lower settlements of the valley, As they moved on the poblana regarded ber companion with kind looks, and assisted her in arranging her seat, so as to defend her as much as possible against the joltings of the carreta. She added numerous expressions of a sympa- thizing and consolatory character, but none that bespoke recognition or old acquaintance. It was evident that the girl bad never seen Rosita before. When they had gone about a mile from the town, and were moving along an unfrequented part of the road, a horseman was seen coming after, and at such a speed as to overtake them in a few minutes, He was mounted on a pretty mustang that bore the signs of being well cared for. Its flanks were rounded with fat, and it capered as it galloped along. s it came close to the carreta the rider called auc to the driver to stop; and it then p kageby that the horseman was a woman, as the soft, sweet voice at once indicated. More than that, the rider was a senorita, as the soft cheek, the silky hair, and the delicate features showed. At a distance it was natural enough to have taken her for one of the opposite sex. A com- mon serape covered her shoulders; a broad- brimmed sombrero concealed most of her black, shining hair; and she rode according to the eneral custom of the country—the custom of ts men. “Why, senorita!l—is it you?” asked the pob- lana, in a tone of surprise, and with a gesture of respect. ‘“Ha! ha! you did not know me then, Jo- sefa?” “No, senorita—ay de mi! how could I in that disguise?’ “Disguise do you call it? Why, it is the usual costume!” ‘*True, senorita, but not for a grand senora like you, Carrambo!” ‘Well, I think I must be disguised, as I several acquaintances who would not bow to me! Ha! ha! ** Pobrecita—ita—ita !” continued she, sud- denly changing her tone, and regarding Josefa’s companion with a look of kind sympathy. “* How she must have suffered! Poor dear girl! I fear it is true what they have told me. n- tissima Virgen ! how like—* The phrase was unfinished. The speaker had the peoa, and was delivering her thoughts in too loud a soliloquy. The unfinished sentence had invol- untarily escaped from her lips. Suddenly checking herself, she looked ea toward the two, The m was busy with his oxen, but the poblana’s face wore an expression of curiosity. ih Like whom, senorita?” innocently inquired she. “One whom I know. No matter, Josefa.” And, as the lady said this, she raised her finger to her lips, and looked significantly toward the n. F yoeath: who knew her secret, and who guessed the ‘‘one” meant, remained silent. After a moment the lady drew her mustang nearer the carreta, upon the side of which Josefa sat, and, bending over, whispered to the latter: ‘*Remain below till the morning; you will be too late to return to-night. Remain! perhaps you may hear something. Come early—not to the house. Bea in time for oracion., You will find me in the church. Perhaps you may see Antonio. If so, give him this.” A diamond set in a golden circlet sparkled a moment at the tips of the lady’s fingers, and then lay hid in the shut fist of the poblana. ‘Tell him for whom—he oeed not know who sent it. There is money for your expenses, and some to give her, or give it to her mother, if they will ac- cept it.” Here a purse fell in Josefa’s lap. “Bring me news! oh, bring me news, dear Jo- sefa! Adios! adios!” The last salutation was uttered hurriedly; and, as the lady pronounced it, she wheeled her glossy mustang and galloped back toward the town. She need not have doubted that Josefa would folfill her instructions about “remaining be- low until the morning!” for the poblana was nearly, if not quite, as much interested as her- self in this journey, The rather pretty Josefa chanced\to ba the sweetheart of the half-bloed Antonio; and whether she saw Antonio or not, she was not likely to hurry beck that night, If she did net see him, so much the pleasanier to remain; if not, she should remain in the hope of such an event. d With a fall purse of “pesos”—a sixth of which wouli pay expenses—and the pros- pect of meeting with Antonio, the rough car- reta seemed all at once transformed to an ele- ganb coach, with springs and velvet cushions, ve as Josefa had heard of, but had never seen The kind-hearted girl readjusted the seats, placed the head of Rosita on her lap, spread ber reboso over he: to keep off the evening dew, The White Chief A AEA a ERS SRE OE 8 and then told the peon to move on. The latter uttered a loud ‘‘ ho-ha!” touched his oxen with the goad, and once more set them in motion along the dusty road. CHAPTER XXIV, THE bell of the church of San Ildefonso had just commenced to ring for “ oracion,” when a female form was seen issuing from the gateway of one of tie largest mansions of the town, and taking the direction of the church. It was yet scarce daybreak, and the’ person thus observed was Closely muffled; but her tall upright form, the dignity and se cf her carriage, and the proud elastic step told that she was a grand senora. As she reached the portal of the church she stopped for some moments and looked around. er face wes not visible, as it was ‘“‘tapada” under the folds of a closely- drawn manta; but her attitude, with her head occasionally moving around, showed that she was scanning the figures that, at the summons of the bell, approached like shadows through the gray light. She was evidently expecting some one; and from the eager scrutiny with which she regarded each new form that entered the plaza, it was some one whose presence was much desired. The last of the devotees had arrived and en- tered the church. It would be idle to remain longer; and, turning on her heel with an air of disappointment, the lady glided across the por- tal, and disappeared through the dcor. In another moment she was kneeling in front of the altar, repeating her orisons and telling over the sof her rosary. ° She was not the last toenter the church; still, another devotee came later. About the time that she was leaving the portal a carreta drove into the plaza, and hal in a remote corner. A young girl leaped out of the carreta, tripped nimbly across the square, in the direc- tion of the church, and passed within the portal. The dress of this new-comer—a flaming red ‘*nagua,” broidered chemisette, and reboso— showed that she belonged to the poorer class of citizens. Sbe was a poblana. She entered the church, but before kneeling, she threw an inquiring glance along the array of backs. Her eye became fixed upon one that was covered with a manta. It was tnat of the lady of whom we have spoken. This seemed to satisfy the poblana, who, gliding over the floor, knelt down in such a position that her elbow almost rested against that of the lady, So silently had this movement been executed that the lady did not perceive her new neigh- bor until a slight ‘‘nudge” upon the elbow caused her to start and look round. A gleam of satisfaction lit up her features, though her lips continued to repeat the prayer, as if noth- ing had happened. After a while came the cue for adopting the pose of rest, and then the two kneeling figures —senorita and poblana—drop toward each other, so that their arms touched, A moment later and two hands became uncovered—one a little brown-skinned paw from under the re- boso—the other, a delicate arrangement of white and jeweled fingers, from the manta. They came in contact as if by a mutual un- derstanding, and, though they were en rapport but a half-second, a close observer might have noticed a small roll of paper passed from one to the other—from the brown fingers to the white ones! It would have required a close observer to have noticed this maneuver, for so adroitly was it executed that none of those kneeling around, either in front or rear, saw anything amiss. The two hands again disappeared under their respective covers; the little bell tinkled, and both senora and poblana once more shot into an upright position, and, with most devout looks, repeated the prayers of the misa. Vhen the ‘‘oracion” was over, aud while sprinkling themselves at the sacred. fount, a few hurried words passed between them; but they went out of the church separately, and walked off in separate directions, The poblana hastened across the square, and disappeared into a narrow sireet. The senora walked proudly back to the mansion whence she had come, her countenance radiant with joyful an- ticipation. ‘ As soon as she had entered the house she pro- ceeded directly ‘to her own chamber, and, opening the little folded slip of paper, read: * QumRmpA CATALINA! “You have made me happy. But an hour ago I was the most wretched of men, I had lost my sis- ter, and I feared your esteem. Both are restored to ine, My sister is by my side, and the gem that sparkles on my. finger tells me that even calumny bas failed to rob me of your friendship—your love. You do not deem me an assassin., No; nor am I one, Ihave been an avenger, but ne assassin, You shall know all—the fearful plot of which Iand mine have been the victims. It is scarce credible—so great is its atrocity! Iam indeed its victim. Ican no more show myself in the settlement. Tam hence- forth to be hunted like the wolf, and treated as one if captured. Icare not for that, so long as I know that you are not among my enemies. “But for you Iysbould go far hence. T cannot leave you. would sooner risk life every hour in the day than exile myself from the spot where you dwell—you, the ouly being [ can ever love. “T have kissed the gem a hundred times. In life the sweet token can never part from me, ““My foes are after me like bloodhounds, but Ifear’ them not. My brave steed is never out of my sight, and with him I can scorn ee tia pursuers, But I must venture one visit the town. I must, see you once, querida. I have words for you I can- not trust to paper. Do not refuse to see me, and E shall come to the old place of meeting. To-morrow night—midnight. Do not refuse me, dearest love. I have much to explain that I cannot without seein, you face to face. You shall know that I am not: re assassin—that I am still worthy of being your over. ‘“‘ Thanks!—thanks for your kindness to my poor" little wounded bird! I trust to God she will soon be. wellagain. My querida, adios! 8 Ss When the beautiful lady had finished reading the note, she pressed it to her lips and fervently kissed it, ADs aves of being my lover!” she murmured ¢, ‘fay, worthy to be the loverof a queen! Brave, noble Carlos!” Again she kissed the paper, and, thrusting it. into her bosom, glided softly from the apart- ment, CHAPTER XXV. VizcaRrRa’s desire for revenge grew stronger every hour. The almost joyful reaction he had experienced, when relieved from the fear of death, was short-lived. So, too, was that which followed his relief from the anxiety about his captive. The thought that now tortured him was of a different character. The very breath of his existence—his personal appearance—was. ruined foreyer. He was disfigured for life. When the mirror was passed before his face it caused his heart to burn like a coal of fire. Coward though he was, he would almost as soon have been killed outright. Several of his teeth were gone. They might have been replaced; but not so could be restored the mutilated cheek. A portion had been car- ried off by the ‘‘tear” of the bullet. There would be a hideous scar never to be healed! The sight was horrible. His thoughts were. horrible. He groaned outright as he contem- plated the countenance which the cibolero had given him. He swore vengeance. Death and torture if he could but capture Carlos—death to him and his! At times he even repented that he had sent. away the sister. Why should he have cared for consequences? Why had he not revenged himself upon her ? He no longer loved her. Her scornful laugh still rankled in his heart.. She had been the cause of all his sufferin f sufferings that would never end but with life— chagrin and mortification for the rest of his days! Why had he not taken her life? That would have been sweet revenge upon the gmt It would almost have been satisfac- ion. He tossed upon his couch, tortured with these reflections, and giving utterance at intervals to- groans of anguish and horrid imprecations, Carlos must be captured. No effort must be — to insure that event. And captured alive if possible. He should measure out the punish- ment. It should be death, but not sudden death. No: the savages of the plains should be his teachers. The cibolero should die like a captive Indian—by fire at the stake, Vizcarra swore this! After him, the mother, too. She was deemed a witch. She should be punished ‘as often witches have been. In this he would not have to act alone. He knew that the padres would indorse the act. They were well inclined to. such fanatical cruelties. Then the sister, alone—uncared for by any one. She would be wholly in his power—to do with her as be would, and no one to stay his will. It was not love, but revenge, Such terrible resolves passed through’ the mind of the wretched caitiff. Rodblado was equally ohaer for the death of the cibolero. His vanity had been scathed as well, for he was now satisfied that Catalina was deeply interested in the man, if not already on terms of intimacy—on terms of love, mutu- ally reciprocated and understood. He had visited her since the tragical cecurrence at the Presidio. He bad observed a marked change in her manner. He had thought to triumph by the malignant abuse heaped on the assassin > | | but she, although she said nothing in defetise of the latter—of course she could not—was equally silent on the other side, and showed no symp- toms of indignation at the deed. His (Robla- | do’s) abusive epithets, joined to those which her © | own father liberally heaped upon the man, seemed to give her pain. It was plain she would have defended him had she dared! All — Roblado had noticed during his morn- ing call, But more still had he learned, for he had a. spy upon her acts. One of ber maids, Vicenza, who for some reason had taken dislike to her mistress, was false to her, and had, for a length of time, been the confidant of the military wooer. A little gold and flattery, and a soldier- sweetheart—who chanced to be' Jose—had ren- dered Vicenza aecessible. Roblado was master of her thoughts, and through Jose he received information regarding Catalina, of which the latter never dreamt, This system of espionage
Page 19
Vern Psy had been but lately established, but it had al- ready produced 4 Through it Roblado had ained the knowledge that he himself was hated y the object of his regard, and that she loved some other! What other even Vicenza could not tell. That other Roblado could easily guess It is not strange that he desired the capture and death of Carlos the cibolero. He was as oage r for thas event as Vizcarra himself. oth were making every exertion to bring it about. Already scouting parties had been sent out in different directions. A proclamation had been posted on the walls of the town, the joint production of the comandante and his captain, offerivg a higy reward for the cibolero’s head and a still higher sum for the oibolero himself if captured a The citizens, to show their zeal and loyalty, had also issued a proclamation to the same effect, heading it with a large sum subscribed among them—a very fortune to the man who should be so lucky as to be the captor of Carlos. This proclamation was signed by all the princi- pal men of the place, and the name of. Don Ambrosio figured high upon the list! There _ even some talk of getting up a volunteer mpeny to assist the soldiers in the pursuit of the heretico assassin, or rather to earn the golden price of his capture. With such a forfeit on bis head, it was an enigma how Carlos should be long alive! Roblado sat in his quarters busy devising neue for the capture. He had already sent his rustiest spies to the lower end of the valley, and these were to hover day and night in the neighborhood. Any information of the haunts of the cibolero, or of those with whom he was formerly in correspondence, was to be immedi- oat brought to him, and would be well paid A watch was placed on the house of the young ranchero, Don Juan: and though both izearra and Roblado bad determined on spe- cial action with regard to him, they agreed upon leaving him undisturbed for the present, as that might facilitate their plans. The spies who had been employed were not soldiers, but men of the town and poor rancheros, A mili- tary force ap ing below would frustrate their design, That, however, was kept in readi- mess, but its continued presence near the rancho, thought Vizcarra and his captain, would only frighten the bird and prevent it from returning to its neat. There was good logic in this. Roblado, as stated, was in his quarters, com- picting ay arrangements. A knock aroused m from the contemplation of some documents. They were communications from his spies which had just reached the Presidio, addres both to himself and the comandante. They were concerning the affair. ** Who is it?’ he asked, before giving the pri- i to enter, m “T, captain,” answered a sharp, squeaky oice, Roblado evidently knew the woice, for he called out; ** Oh, it is you? Come in, then.” he door opened, and a small dark man, of sharp, weasel-like aspect, entered the room. He had a skulking, shuffling gait, aud notwith- standing his soldier’s dress, bis saber and his spurs, the man Jooked mean. He spoke with a cringing accent, and saluted his officer with a cringing gesture. He was just the sors of per- son to be employed upon some equivocal ser- vice, and by such men as Vizcarra and Roblado; and in that wey\he had more than once served them. It was the soldier Jose. ‘Well, what have you to say? Have you seen Vicenza? ” I have, captain. z Any news?” I don’t know whether it may be news to the captain; but she has told me that it ,was the ee Her? hat sent her home yesterday.” Last night I met her out.” a H » Captain, the guera.” £0 on! y, you know when you left her with the she was offered to whoever would take Weil, a young girl came up and claimed ‘Yes. ee Hat cw Vb alcalde her. to be the giri’s mother. She was given up ‘to them without more ado, and they took her away toa house in the ¢ haparral below the town.” She did not stay there. I know she’s gone down; but | have not yet heard the particulars. ow did she go?” Well, captain; only very shortly after she arrived at the house of the woman, a carreta came up to the door, driven by a Tagno, and the girl—that is, the daughter, who is called Joseta—mounted into the carreta, taking the Below. along with her, and off they went down Ow ** Now, neither this girl nor ber mother ever Saw the guera before, and who does captain think sent them, and the carreta, too?” ** Who says Vicenza?” ‘*The senorita, captain.” * Ha!” sharply exclaimed Roblado, ‘‘ Vicenza is sure of that?” ‘‘More than that, captain. About the time the carreta drove away, or a little after, the senorita left her house on her horse, and witha an aequi tintance, and a woman who was The White Chief _19 common serape over her, and a sombrero on her head, like any ranchera, and in this—which I take to be a disguise for a lady of quality like her—she rode off by the back road. Vicenza, however, thinks she turned into the camino abajo after she got past the houses, and over- took the carreta, She was gone long enough to have done so.’ This communication seemed to make a deep impression upon the listener. Shadows flitted over his dark brow, and gleams of some new poms Aoeny or design appeared in his eyes. He was silent tor a moment, engaged in communi- cating | with his thoughts. At length he in- uir he that all your jnformation, Jose?” ** All, captain,” “There way be more from the same source. See Viceuzs to uight again. Tell ber to keep a close watcu. if she succeed in discovering that there is a correspondence going on, she shall be well rewarded, and yow shall not be forgotten. Find out more about this woman and her daughter. Know the Tagno who drove them. Lose no time about it. Go, Jose!” The minion returned his thanks in a er inging tone, made another cringing salute, and shuffle out of the room, As soon as he had left, Roblado sprung to his feet, and walking about ‘the room in au agitated manner, uttered his thoughts aloud: ‘“By Heaven! I had not thought of this. A correspondence, I have ne doubt. Fiends! such a woman! She must know all ere this—if the fellow himself is nof deceived by us! I must watch in that quarter too, Who knows but that will be the trap in which we'll take bim! Love is even a stronger lure than brother] affection. Ha! senorita; if this be true Tl a rae a purchase upon you that you bitte mn pa Ill bring you to terms without the aid of your stupid father!” After figuring about for some minutes, in- dulging in these alternate dreams of vengeance and triumph, he left his room, and proceeded toward that of the comandante, for the purpose of PB to the latter his new-gotten knowledge CHAPTER XXVI. THE house of Don Ambrosio de Cruces was not a town mansion. It wassuburban—that is, it stood upon the outskirts of the village, some seven or eight hundred yards from the plaza. It was detacved from the other buildings, and at some distance from any of them, It was nei- ther a ‘‘ villa” nor a “cottage.” There are no such buildings in Mexico, nor anything at all resembling them. In fact, the architecture of that country is of unique and uniform style from north to south, through some thousan miles of latitude! The smaller kinds of houses —the ranches of the noare classes—show a variety corresponding to the three thermal divisions arising from different elevation— caliente, temp and fria. In the hot lands of the coast, and some low valleys iu the in- terior, the rancho is a frail structure of cane and poles, with a thatch of palm-leaves. On the elevated ‘‘ valles,” or tables plains — and here, be it observed, dwell most of the popula- tion—it is built of i adobes, ”- and this tule is universal. On the forest-covered sides of the more elevated mountains the rancho is a house of logs, a ‘‘ log-cabin,” with long hanging eaves and shingled roof, differing entirely from the log-cabin of the American backwoods, and far excelling the latter in neatness and picturesque appearance, So much for the “‘ranchos.” About them there is some variety of style. Not sd with “casas grandes,” or houses of the rich. A sameness characterizes them through thirty oe: grees of latitude—from one extremity of ico to the other; and, we might almost add, thronghout all Span ish.America, If now and then a ‘* whimsica!”™ structure be observed, you may find, on inquiry, that the owner is some foreigner resident—an English miner, a Scotch manufacturer, or a German merchant, These remarks are meant only for the houses of the country. In small villages the same style as the country: house is observed, with very slight modifications; but in large towns, although some of the characteristics are stil] re- te 1ined, there is an approximation to the archi- tecture of E uropean Cities—more particularly, of course, to those of Spain. The house of Don Ambrosio differed very little from the general fashion of ‘casas grande#’ of country style. It had the same aspect of gaol, fortress, convent, or workhouse —whichever you please; but this aspect was con- siderably lightened by ‘the peculiar coloring of the walls, which was done in broad, vertical bands of red, white, and yellow, alternating with each other! The effect produced by this arrangement of gay colors is quite Oriental, and is a decided relief’ to the otherwise heavy ap- pearance of a Mexican dweiling, In some parts of the country this fashion igs common. In shape there was no peculiarity. Standing upon the,road in front you see a long wall, with a large gateway near the middle, and The s of wrought- three or four windows irregularly set. windows are shielded with Bar iron standing vertically. Thatisthe ‘ reja.’ None of them have either sash or glass. 6 gateway is — be a heavy wooden door, strongly clas bolted with iron. This: front wall is bat ie story high, but its top is. continued so as to form a parapet, breast-high above the roof, and this gives it a loftier ap- pearance. The roof being flat behind, the para- pet is not visible from below. Look around the corner at either end of this front wall. You will see no gable—there is no such thing on a house of the kind we are describing. In its place you will see a dead wall of the same hight as the parapet, running back for a long distance; and were you to go to the end of it. and again look around the corner, you enak find a similar wall at the back closing in the parallelogram. In reality you have not yet seen the true front of Don Ambrosio’s bouse, if we mean by that the part most embellished. A Mexicam spends but little thougbt on the outside appear- ance of bis mansion, itis only from the court- yard, or “patio,” you can geta view of the front upon which the taste of the owner is dis- played, and this often exhibits both grandeur and elegance. Let us pass through the gateway, and enter the ‘‘ patio.” The “‘ porsero,” when summoned by knock or bell, admits us by a sma)! door, form- ing part of the great gate already mentioned. We traverse an arched way, the ‘‘za ,” run- ning through the breadth of the bu Iding, and then we are in the patio. From this we have a view of the real front of the house. The patio itself is paved witb painted bricks —a tesselated pavement. A fountain, with jet. and ornamental! basin, occupies its center; and several trees, well trimmed, stand in large ves- sels, so that their roots may not injure the pave- ment. Around this court you see the doors of the different apartments, some of them glazed and tastefully curtained. The doors of the “sala,” the “cuarto,” and the sleeping-rooms,. are on three sides, while the ‘‘cocina” (kitchen), the ‘' dispensa ” (store-room), ‘“‘ granero” (gran- ary), with the ‘‘cabajleriza” and coach-house,, make up the remaining part of the square. There is still an important portion of the mansion to be spoken of—the “ azotea,” or roof. It is reached by an “ escalera,” or stone stair- case, It is flatand quite firm, being covered with a cement that is proof against rain. Itis inclosed by a t running allround it—of’ such a hight as not to binder the view of the surrounding country, while it protects those occupying it from the intrusive gaze of persons: g below. When the sun is down, or be- ind 4 cloud, the azotea is a most agreeable promenade; and to render it still more 80, that. coer the house of Don Ambrosio had been ar- 4 ls dea gaMs Mi, ee. ie of ign
Page 20
. ran 20 colored clouds, in which gold and purple and cerulean blue mingled together in gorgeous magnificence; end in which the eye of the be- | holder could not fail to note the outlines of strange forms, and fancy them bright and glorious beings of another world. It was a icture to giadden the eye, to give joy to the eart that was sad, and make happier the happy. : t was not unobserved. Eyes were dwelling upon it—beautiful eyes; and yet there was a ‘sadness in their look that ill accorded with the picture on which they were gezing. But those eyes were not drawing their inspi- ration from the sky-painting before them. Though apparently regarding it, the thoughts which gave them expression were drawn from a far different. source. The heart within was dwelling upon another object. The owner of those eyes was a beautiful girl, -or rather a fully-developed woman still unmar- ried. She was standing upon the azotea of a noble mansion, apparently regarding the rich sunset, while in reality her thoughts were busy with another theme, and one that was less pleasanf to contemplate. Even the brilliant giow of the sky, reflected upon her counte- mance, did not dissipate the shadows that were passing overit. The clouds from within over- came tie light from without, There were shadows flitting over her heart that corre- sponded to those that darkened her fair face. It was a beautiful face withal, and a beauti- ful form—tall, es of soft graces and serie outlines. ‘he lady was Catalina de rucss, She was alone upon the azotea—surrounded | only by the plants and flowers, Bending over the low parapet that overlooked the garden to | the rear, she at the same time faced toward the siuking orb—for the garden extended westward. Now and then her eyes were lifted to the sky and the sun; but oftener they sought the shaded coppice of wild china-trees at the bottom of the | inclosure, through whose slender trunks gleamed | the silvery surface of the stream. Upon this spot they rested from time to time, witn an ex- pression of strange interest. No wonder that | to those eyes that was an interesting spot—it | was that where love’s first vows had been ut- tered in ber delighted ear—it had been conse- crated by a kiss, and in her thoughts it was hal- lowed from the ‘ earth’s profound” to the bigh | heaven above her. No wonder she regarded it as the fairest on earth, The most famed gar- dens of the world—even Paradise itself—in her a ination, kad no spot so sweet, no nook so ‘wha a as the little arbor she had herself trained amid the foliage of those wild china-trees. Why was she regarding it with a look of sad- mess? In that very arbor, and on that very night, did she expect to meet him—the one who bad rendered it sacred. Why then wasshe sad? Such a prospect should have rendered her coun- tenance radiant with joy. And so it was, at intervals, when this thought «came into ber mind; but there was anothber— | some other thought—that brought those clouds upon her brow, and imparted that air of un- | easy apprehension. What was that thought? In her hand she held a bandolon, She flung herself upon a bench, and began to play some old Spanish air. The effort was too much for her. Her thoughts wandered from the melody and her fingers from the strings. She laid down the instrument, and again rising to her feet, paced backward and forward upon the azotea. er walk was irregular. At intervals she stopped, and lowering her eyes, ‘seemed to think intently onsomething that was | absent. Then she would start forward and stop again in the same manner as before. This she repeated several times, without uttering either word or exclamation. Once she continued her walk all around the azotea, casting a scrutinizing look among the plants and flower-pots on both sides, as if in search of something; but whatever it was, she was unsuccessful, as noching appeared to arrest her attention. She returned once more, and took up the bandolon. But her fingers had hardly touched tbe strings before she laid the instrument down again, and rose from the bench, as if some sud- den resolution bad taken possession of her. | ' “| never thought of that—I may have dropped | ait in the garden!” she mutterec to herself, as | she glided toward a small escalera that led down | into the patio, From this point an avenue communicated with ‘*Carrambo ! it is very strange!—neither in my chamber—the sala, the cuarto, the azotea, the garden!—where can it be? Oh Dios! if it | should fall into the hands of papa! It is too in- | telligible—it could not fail to be understood—uno —no—no! Oh Dios! if it should reach other hands !—those of his enemies! It names to-night —true, if does not tell the place, but the time is mentioned—the piace would be easily discov- ered. Oh! that [knew where to communicate with him! But I know not, and he will come. Ay demi! it canvot be prevented now. I must hope no enemy has gotit. But where can it be? Madre de Dios! where can it be?” All these phrases were uttered in a tone and emphasis that showed the concern of the speaker at the loss of some object that greatly interested her. That object was no other than the note brought by Josefa, and written by Carlos the cibolero, in which the assignation for that night had been appointed. No wonder she was un- easy at its loss! The wording not only com- promised herself, but placed the life of her lover in extreme peril. This it was that was casting the dark shadows over her countenance—this it was that was causing her to traverse the azotea and the garden in such anxious search. ‘**] must ask Vicenza,” she continued, ‘TI like not to do it, for I have lost confidence in her of late. Something has changed this girl. She used to be frank and honest, but now she has grown false and hypocritical. Twice have I detected her in the act of deceiving me. What does it mean?’ She paused a moment as if in thought. I must ask her notwithstanding. She may have found the paper, and, not deeming it of any use may have thrown it in the fire! Fortunately she does not read, but she has to do with others whocan. Ha! I forgot her soldier sweetheart! If jshe shonld have found it, and shown it to him! Dios de mialma!” This supposition seemed a painful one, for it caused the lady’s heart to beat louder, and her breathing became short and quick. “That would be terrible!’ she continued— “* that would be the very worst thing that could happen. Ido not like that soldier—he appears mean and cunning, and I have heard is a bad fellow, though favored by the comandante. God forefend be should bave gotten this paper! I shall lose no more time. I shall cali Vicenza, and question her.” She stepped forward to the parapet that over- looked the patio. * Aqui, senorita,” answered a voice from the interior of the bouse. ** Ven aca!—Ven aca!” (Come bither.) “ Si, senorita.” “Anda! Anda!” (Quickly.) A girl, in short, brigbt-colored nagua, and white chemisette without sleeves, came out into the patio, and climbed up the escalera that led to the roof. Sbe was a mestiza, or half-blood, of Indian and Spanish mixture, as her brownish-white skin testified. Sbe was not ill-looking; but there was an expression upon her ‘countenance that precluded the idea of either virtue, honesty, or amiability. It was a mixed expression of malice and cunning. Her wanner, too, was bold and offensive, like that of one who had been guilty of some known crime and hud become reckless. It was only of late she had assumed that tone, and her mistress had ob- served it among other changes. ‘* Que quiere V., senorita? (What want you, my lady?”) ** Vicenza, I bave lost a small piece of paper. It was folded in an oblong shape—not like a letter, but this.” Here a piece of paper, similarly put up, was held up for the inspection of the girl. * Have you seen anything of it?” *‘ No, senorita,” was the prompt and ready answer. * Perhaps you may have swept it out, or thrown it into the fire? Jt looked insignificant, and, indeed, was not of much importance, but there were some patterns upon it I wished to copy. Do you think it has been destroyed?’ **Il know not that, senorita, I know that 7 did not destroy it. I neither swept it out nor threw it into the fire. Isbould not do that with any paper, as I cannot read myself, and might that was valuable.” destroy somethin there was in the lost part of Whatever trut | her barangue, the mestiza knew thot its earlier the garden; and the next moment she bad | passed through this and was tripping over the sanded walks, bending from side to side, and eeping behind every plant and bush that could Rave concealed the object of her search. She explored every part of the intlosure, and lingered a moment ip the arbor among the china-trees—as if she enjoyed that spot more than any other—but she came back at length with the same anxious expression, that told she was not rewarded by the recovery of whatever she had icet, The lady once more returned to the azotea— once more took up the bandolon; but after a few touches of the strings, laid it down, and again rose to her feet. Again she soliloquized: declarations were true enough. She had not destroyed it, either by sweeping out or burn- ing. Her answer was delivered with an ingenuovs naivete, accompanied with a slight accent of | anger, ast hough she was not overpleased at be- t - ing suspected of negligence. Whether her mistress noticed the latter did | not appear from ber answer, but she txpressed | herself satisfied, “It is of no consequence, then,” said she. | You may go, Vicenz:.” | The girl welked off, looking sulky. When | her head was just dsxppearing below the top | of the escalera, her face was toward her mis- | tress, whose back was now turned toward ber. | A scornful pouting of the hips, accompanied by ‘* Vicenza!l—Vicerza!” Sp RB we a demoniac smile, was visible upon it. It was evident from that look that she knew some- thing more of the lost ; aper than was admitted in her late declaration. Catalina’s gaza was once more turned upon the setting sun. In a few minutes he would disappear behind the snowy ridge of the moun- tain. Then a few hours, and then—moments of bliss! Roblado was seated in his cuartel as before, As before, a tiny knock sounded upon the door, As before, he called out, ‘‘ Quien es?’ and was answered, ‘‘ Yo!” and, as before, he recognized the voig@e and gave the order for its owner to enter. As before, it was the soldier Jose, who, in a cringing voice and with a cringing salute, approached his officer. * Well, Jose, what news?” “Only this,” replisd the soldier, holding out a slip of paper folded into an oblong shape. ‘“What is it?’ demandw, ,~~blado. ‘* Whois it from?” in the seme breath. * The captain will understand it better than I ean, as I can’t read; but it comes from the senorita, and looks inside like a letter. The senorita got it from somebody at church yester- day morniug: so thinks Vicenza, for she saw her read it as soon as she got back from morn- ing prayers. Vicenza thinks that the girl Josefa brought it up the valley, but the captain most likely can tell for himself.” Roblado had not listened to balf of this talk; but had instead been swallowing the contents of the paper. As soon as he had got to the end of it he sprung from bis chair as if a needle hed been stuck into him, and paced the room in great agitation. ‘Quick! quick, Jose!” he exclaimed. ‘*Send Gomez here. Say nothing to any one. Hold vourself in readiness—I sball want you too, Send Gomez instantly: Vaya!” The soldier made a salute less cringing be- cause more burried, and precipitately retired from the apartment, Roblado continued— ** By Heaven! this is a pres of luck! Who ever failed to catch a fool when love was his lure? This very night, too, and at midnight! I shall bave time to prepare. Oh! if I but knew the place! °Tis not given here.” Again he read over the note, ‘*Carajo, no! that is unfortunate. What's te be dope? [ must not go guessing in the dark! Ha! I have it! She shall be watched !—watched to the very spot! Vicenza can do that while we lie somewhere in ambusb, The girl can bring us to it. Weshall have time to surround them. Their interview will last long enough for that. Weshall take them in the very mo- ment of their bliss. Hell and furies! to think of it—this low dog—this butcher of buffaloes— to thwart me in my purposes! But patience, Roblado! patience! to-night—to-nigbt!—” A knocking at the door. Sergeant Gomez was admitted. ‘““Gomez, get ready twenty of your men; picked fellows, do you hear? Be r.ady by eleven o’clock. You have ample time, but sce that you be ready the moment I call you. Not a word to any one without. Let the men saddle up and be quiet about it. Load your carbines. There’s work for you. You shall know what it is by and by. Go, get ready.” Without saying a word the sergeant went off to obey the order. ‘ ** Curses on the luck! if I but knew the place, or anything near it. Would it be about the house, or in the garden? Maybe outside—in the country somewhere? That is not unlikely. He would bardly venture so near the town, lest some one might recognize bim or his horse. Death to that horse! No, no! I shall have that horse yet, or 1 much mistake. Ob! if I could find this place before the bour of meeting, then my game were sure. But no, nothing said of the place—yes, the old place. Hell and furies! they have met before—often—often—ob !” A groan of ageny broke from the speaker, and he paced to and fro like one bereft of his senses. ‘* Shall I tell Vizearra now,” be continued, or woit till it is over? 1 sball wait. It will bea dainty bit of news along with supper. Perhaps I m»y garnish the table with the ears of the cibolero, Ha! ha! ha!” And uttering a diabolical laugh, the ruffian took down his saber and buckled the belt around his waist. He then armed himself with a pair of heavy pistols; and, after looking to the straps of bis spurs, strode out of the room, CHAPTER XXVAI. Ir wanted bué an-hour of midnight. There was a moon in the sky, but so near the borizon that the bluff bounding the southern side of the valley threw out a shadow to the distance of many yards upon the plain. Porallel to the line of the cliffs, and close in to their base, a horseman could. be ssen ad- vancing up the valley from the lower end of theseitlement. His cautious pace, and the anx- ious glances which be at intervals east before him, showed that he was traveling wih some apprehension, and was desirous of remuining unseen. It was evident, too! that this was >is object in keeping within the shadow of the
Page 21
eliff; for on arriving at certaim points where the precipice became slanting and cast no shadow, he would halt for a while, and after carefully reconnoitering the ground, pass rap- idly over it. Concealment could be his only object in thus closely hugging the bluffs, for a much better road could have been found ata little distance out from them. After traveling for many miles in this way, the horseman at length arrived opposite the | town, which still, however, was three miles dis- tant from the cliff. From this point a road led | off to the town, communicating between it and | a pass up the bluffs to the left. The horseman halted, and gazed awhile along the road, as if undecided whether to take it or not. Having resolved in the negative he moved on, and rode nearly a mile further under the shadow of the bluffs. Again he halted, and | scanned the country to his right. A bridle- path seemed to run in the direction of the town, or toward a point somewhat above it. After a short examination the horseman seemed to rec- ognize this path as the one he was in search of, and, heading his horse into it, he parted from the shadow of the bluffs, and rode out under the full moonlight. This, shining down upon him, showed a young man of fine proportions, dressed | in ranchero costume, and mounted upon a noble steed, whose sleek black coat glittered under the silvery light. It was easy to know the rider. “His bright complexion and light-colored bair, curling thickly under the brim of his sombrero, were characteristics not to be mistaken in that land of dark faces. He was Carlos the cibolero. It could be seen now that a large wolf-like dog trotted near the heels of the horse. The dog was Cibolo. Advancing in the direction of the town, the caution of the horseman seemed to increase. The country before him was not quite open. It was level; but fortunately for him, its sur- face was studded with copse-like islands of tim- ber, and here and there straggling patches ¢f chaparral through which the path led. Befora entering these the dog preceded him, but with- out noise or bark; and when emerging into the | open plain again, the horseman each time halted and scanned the ground that separated him from the next copse, before attempting to pass | Over if. Proceeding in this way, he arrived at length within several hundred yards of the out- skirts of the town, and could see the walls, | with the church .cupola shining over the top of the trees, One line of wall on which bis eyes _ Were fixed lay nearer than the rest. He recog- nized its outline. It was the parapet over the house of Don Ambrosio—in the rear of which - he had now arrived. He halted in a small copse of timber, the last upon the plain. Beyond, in the .direction cf Don. Ambrosio’s house, the ground was open aud level up to the bank of the stream already described as running along the bottom of the arden, The tract was a meadow belonging to on Ambrosio, and used for pasturing the horses of his establishment. It was accessible to theso by means of a rude bridge that crossed tha stream ontside the walls of the garden. An- other bridge, however, joined the garden itself to the meadow, This was much slighter and of neater construction—intended only for foot- Ssengers. It was, in fact, a mere private ridge, by which the fair daughter of Don Am- brosio could cross to enjoy her walk in- the leasant meadow beyond. Upon this little ridge, at its middle part, was a gate with lock and key, to keep intruders from entering the Precincts of the garden, his bridge was not over three hundred yards pai chy ad in which Carlos had halted, and the gate, li ; . . he could A, ea po} in her light, china-trees growin ing along its bottom. After arriving in ie cope Carlos dismounted; is horse into the darkest pom bald the trees, there left him. He did bridle Famer to anything, but merely rested the it might er the pommel of the saddle, so that deer not draggle upon the ground. He had & ag0 trained the noble animal to remain ante “ was placed without other fastening This arrangement com ompleted, he walked for- bor eee of the underwood, and there the dark IS @yes fixed upon the bridge and nak eae rove beyond it, It was not the first sae im to go through all the maneuvers . escribed—no, not by mary—but, per- at ee on no other occasion were his emotions sd Het, and strange as on the present, Was nae! Prepared himself for the interview he bend abe e ting—he had promised himself a fo hess of speech bis modesty had never be- re permitted him to indulge in—he had re- solved on proposals—the rejection or accept- a Shek Minas mi oy eerie ne bis future fate. 8 heart beat within reast wadible to his own ears. Beiter oe tape 3 3 ¢ ® ~¥ a S et s ® Q » cay ® nm a sf = < g a ct | and not a light appeared from door or window. | closely | ful gait appeared even when constrained and | even returned back through the avenue, to | she came back? She fancied so; and alarmed The White Chief. Perfect stillness reigned through the town. The inhabitants had all retired to their beds, All were close shut and fast bolted. No one appeared in the streets, except the half-dozen ‘*serenos” who formed the night-watch of the place. These could be seen muffled up in their dark cloaks, sitting half asleep on the ban- quetas of houses, and grasping in one hand their huge balberds, while their lanterns rested upon the pavements at their feet. Perfect stillness reigned around the mansion of Don Ambrosio, The great gate of the zaguan was closed and barred, and the portero had re- tired within his ‘‘lodge,” thus signifying that ail the inmates of the dwelling had returned hom’, If silence denoted meng. o all were asleep; but a ray of light escaping through the silken curtains of a glass door, and falling dimly upon the pavement of the patio, showed that ons at least still kept vigil. That light proceeded from the chamber of Catalina. All at once the stillness of the night was broken by the loud tolling of a bell. It was the clock of the parroquia announcing the hour of midnight. The last stroke had not ceased to reverbe- rate whon the light in the chamber appeared to be suddenly extinguished—for it no longer glowed through the curtain, ecg after, the glass door was silently opened from the inside; and a female form muffled came forth, and glided with stealthy and sinuous step around the shadowy side of the patio. The tall elegant figure could not be hidden by the disguise of the ample cloak in which it was muffled, and the grace- stealthy. lt was the senorita herself. Having passed round the patio, she entered the avenue that led to the garden. Here a heavy door barred the egress from the house, and before this she stopped. Only a moment. A key appeared from under her cloak, and the large bolt with some difficulty yielded to her wo- man’s strength. It did not yield silently. The rusty iron sounded as it sprung back into the lock, causing her to start and tremble. She make sure whether any one had heard it; and, standing in the dark entrance, glanced round the patio. Had she not beard a door closing as by it, she stood for some time gazing upon the different doors that opened upon the court. They were all close shut, her own not excepted, for she had closed it on coming out. Still ber fancy troubled her, and, but half satisfied, she returned to the gate, This she opened with caution, and, passing through, traversed the rest of the avenue, and came out in the open ground. Keeping under the shadow of the trees and shrubbery, she soon reached the grove at the bottom of the garden. Here she paused for a moment, and, looking through the stems of the trees, scanned the open surface in the direction of the copse where Carlos had halted. No object was visible but the outlines of the timber island itself, under whose shadow a buman form in dark clothing could not have been recognized at such a distance. Aftar pausing a moment she glided among the trees of the grove, and the next moment stood upon the center and highest point of the bridge in front of the little gate. Here she again stopped, drew from under her cloak a white cambric handkercbief, and, raising her- self to her full hight, held it spread out between her hands, The air was filled with ftre-flies, whose lights sparkled thickly against the dark background of the copsewood; but these did not prevent her from distinguishing a brighter flash, like the snapping of a_lucifer-match, that appeared among them. Her signal was answered! She lowered the handkerchief, and taking out a small key, applied it to the lock of the gate. This was undone in a second, and, havin thrown open the wicket, she retired within the shadow of tho grove and stood waiting. Even in that dark shadow her eyes sparkled with the light of love, as sho saw a form—the form of a man on foot, parting from the copse, and coming in the direction of the bridge. It was to her the dearest on earth; and she await- ed the approach with a flushed cheek and a heart full of joyful emotion. ¢ CHAPTER XXIX. Tt was no fancy of Catelina’s that she heard the shutting of a door as she returned up the avenue. A doorin reality had been closed at that moment—the door that led to the sleeping apartments of the maid servants. Had her steps been quicker, she might have seen some one rush across the patio and enter this door, But she arrived too late for this. The door was closed, and all was silent again. It might have been fancy, thought she. It was no fancy. From the hour when the family had retired to rest, the door of Cata- lina’s chamber had been watched, An eye had been bent ali the time upon that ray of light es- 21 caping through the curtained glass—the eye of. the girl Vicenza. ~ During the early part of the evening the maid had asked leave to go out fora while. It had been granted. She had been gone for nearly an, hour. Conducted by the soldier Jose, she had had an interview with Roblado. At that interview all had been arranged between them, She was to watch her mistress from the house and follow her to the place of assignation. When that should be determined, she was to re~ turn with all baste‘to Roblado—who appointed a place of meeting her—and then guide him and his troop to the lovers. This, thought Roblado, would be the surest plan to proceed upon. He had taken bis measures accordingly. The door of the maid’s sleeping-room was just oppo-ite that of Catalina’s ohasiher. Through the key-hole thé girl bad seen the light go cut, and the senorita gliding around the patio. She had watched her into the avenue, and then, ‘a pene opening her own door, had stolen after er. At the moment the senorita had succeeded in unlocking the great gate of the garden the mes- tiza was peeping around the wall at the entrance of the avenue; but, on hearing the other return —for it was by the sound of her footsteys she was warned—the wily spy had darted back into her room and elosed the door behind her. It was some time before she dared venture out again, as the keyhole no longer did her an service. She kept her eye to it, however, and, seeing that ber mistress did not return to her chamber, she concluded that the latter bad con- tinued on into the garden. Again gently open- ing her door, she stole forth, and, on tiptoe ap- proaching the avenue, peeped into it. It was no longer dark. The gate was open, and the moon shining in lit up the whole. passage. It was evident, therefore, that the senorita had gone through and was now in the garden, Was she in the garden? The mestiza remem- bered the bridge, and knew that her mistress carried the key of the wicket and often used it both by day and night. She might by this bave crossed the bridge, and got far beyond into the open country. She—the spy—might not find the direction she had taken, and thus spoil the whole plan. With these thoughts passing through her mind, the girl burried through the avenue, ahd, crouching down, hastened along the walk as fast as she was able. Seeing no one among the fruit-trees and flower-beds, she began to despair; but the thick grove at the bottom of the garden gave her promise—that was a likely place of meeting— capital for such a purpose, as the mestiza, ex- perienced in such matters, well knew. To approach the grove, however, presented a difficulty. There was a space of open ground— a*freen parterre—between it and the flower- s. Any one, already in the grove, could perceive the approach of another in that direc- tion, and especially under a bright moonlight. This the mestiza saw, and it compelled her to pause and reflect how she was to get nearer. But one chance seemed to offer. The high adobeewall threw a shadow of some feet along one side of the open ground, In this shadow it might be possible to reach the timber unob- served, The girl resolved to attempt it. Guided by the instinctive cunning of her race, she dropped down flut upon her breast; and, dragging herself over the grass, she reached the selvedge of the grove, just in the rear of the arbor. There she paused, raised her head, and glanced through the leafy screen that a the arbor. She saw what she de- sired, Catalina was at this moment upon the bridge, and above the position-of the mestiza, so that the latter could perceive her form outlined against the blue of the sky. She saw her hold aloft the white kerchief. She guessed that it wus asignal. She saw the flash in answer to it, and then observed ber mistress undo the lock~ and fling the wicket open. The cunning spy was now sure that the place of meeting was to be the grove itself, and might have returned with that information; but blado had distinctly ordered her not to leave © until she saw the meeting itself, and was cer- tain of the spot. She therefore remained where she was, and awaited the further proceedings of the lovers. ) Carlos, on perceiving the signal, had answered it by flashing some. powder already ay make 5 He lost no time in obeying the well-known summons A single moment by the side of his horse, a whisper which the latter well under- stood, and he parted from the copse, Cibolo fol- lowing at bis heels. On reaching the end of the bridge he bent down, and, ng some words in a low the dog, ed to crossover. The animal did not follow him, but lay down on the te bank of the stream. he next moment the lovers were together. From the spot where she lay the mestiza wit- nessed their ting. The moon shone upon their faeces; the fair skin and curly locks of Carlos were distinctly visible under the light. The girl knew the cibolero—it was he. She had seen all that was necessary for Ro»
Page 22
22 blado to know. The grove was the place of meeting. It only remained for her to get back to the officer and give the information. She was about to crawl away, and had al- ready half risen, when to her dismay the lovers eyecare? coming through the grove and toward the very arbor behind which she lay! Their faces were turned toward the spot where she was crouching. If she rose to her feet or attempted to go off she could not fail to be seen by one or other of them. She had no alternative but to remain where she was, at least until some better Coportenty offered of getting away; and with this inten- tion she again squatted down close under the - ehodow of the arvor. 4 iil A moment after the lovers entered and seated th» mselves upon the benches with which the little bower was provided. CHAPTER XXX, Tue hearts of both were so agitated that for some moments neither gave utterance to their thoughts. Catalina was the first to speak. “Your sister?” she inquired, **She is better. I have had the rancho re- stored. They have returned to it, and the old scenes-seem to have worked a miracle upon her. Her senses came at once, and relapse only at long intervals. I have hopes it will be all well again.” “T am glad to hear this, Poor child! she must have suffered sadly in the hands of those rude savages.” “Rude savages! Ay, Catalina, you have styled them appropriately enough, though you little know of whom hs are speaking.” “Of whom?” echoed the lady, in surprise. Up to this moment even she had no other than the pular and universal belief that Carlos’s sister fed been a captive in the hands of the Indians! “Tt was partly for this that I have sought an interview to-night. I could not exist without explaining to you my late conduct, which must have appeared to youa mystery. Itshall beso nolonger. Hear me, Catalina!” Carlos revealed the horrid plot, detailing ev- ery circumstance, to the utter astonishment of Lis fair companion. **Oh, fiends! fiends!” she exclaimed; ‘‘ who could have imagined such atrocity? Who would suppose that on the earth were wretches like these? But that you, dear Carlos, bave told me I could not have believed in such villainy! I knew that both were bad; I have heard many a tale of the vileness of these two men; but this is wickedness beyond the power of fancy! Santissima Madre! what men! what monsters! it is incredible!” “You know now with what justice 1 am called a murderer?” **Oh, dear Carlos! think not of that. Inever gave ita thought. I knew you bad some cause ust ip gan Fear not! The world shall yet ow all— “The world!” interrupted Carlos, with a sneer. ‘‘For me thereis no world, I have no home. Even among those with whom I have been brought up I have been but a stranger—a heretic outcast. Now I am worse—a hunted outlaw with a price upon my head, and a good large one too. In truth, I never thought I was worth so much before.” Here a laugh escaped from the speaker; but his merriment was of short duration. He continued: “No world have I but you, Catalina—and you no longer exceptin my heart. I must leave you and go far away. Death—worse than death—awaits me here. I must go hence, I must return to the people from whom my parents are sprung—to our long-forgotten kindred, Per- haps there I may find a new home and new friends, but happiness I cannot without you— No, never!” Catalina was silent, with tearful eyes bent upon the ground. She trembled at the thought that was passing in her mind. She feared to give it expression. But it was no time for the affectation of false modesty, for idle bashful- ness; and neither were her characteristics, Upon a single word depended the happiness of her life—of her lover’s. Away with womanly coyness! let the thought be spoken! She turned toward her lover, took bis hand in hers, leaned fcrward till her lips were close to his, and looking in his face, said in a soft, but firm voice: ‘Carlos! is it-your wish that J go with you?” In a moment his arms were around her, and their lips bad met. ‘€Oh, heavens!” he exclaimed; “is this possi- ble? do J hear aright? Dearest Catalina! it was this I would have proposed, but [ dared not do it! I feared to make the proposal, so wild does it seem. What! forsake all for me? Ob, quer- tda ! querida! Tell me that this is what your words mean! Say you will go with me!” * Taill !” was the short but firm a tak Oh, God! Iam too happy—a week of terri- ble suffering, and I am again happy. But a week ago, Catalina, and I was happy. I had met witha strange adventure, one that promised fortune. I was full of hope—hope of winning you; not you, querida, but your father. Of winning him by gold. See!’ Here the speaker held forth his hand filled with shining ore. ‘16 ee ee es eee ee ee a aa The White Chief. is gold. Of this I have discovered a mine, and I had hoped with it to have rivaled your father in his wealth, and then to have won his consent. Alas! alas! that is now hopeless, but your words have given me new happiness. ink not of the fortune you leave behind. I know you do not, dear Catalina. 1 shall give you one equal to it—perhaps far greater. I know where this precious trash is to be procured, but I shall tell you all when we have time. To- night —” He was interrupted by Catalina, Her quick | ear had caught a sound that appeared odd to her. It was but a slight rustling among the leaves near the back of the arbor, and might have been caused by the wind, had there been any. But not a breath was stirring. Some- thing else had caused it. What could it be? After a moment or two both stepped out, and examined the bushes whence the sound was supposed to have proceeded; but nothing was to be seen. They locked around and up toward the garden—there was no appearance of any- thing that could have caused the noise! It was now much darker than when they had entered the arbor. The moon had gone down, and the silvery light had turned to gray; but it was still clear enough to have distinguished any large object at several yards’ distance. Catalina could not be mistaken, She had heard a rust- ling sound toa certainty. Could it have been the dog? Cuarlosstepped forward on the bridge. It was not—the animal lay still where he had been placed; it could not have been he! What em Some lizard? perhaps a dangerous ser- ent . At all events they would not again enter the arbor, but remained standing outside. S:ill Catalina was not without apprehensions, for she now remerobered the Joss of the note, and later still, the shutting of the door, both of which she hastily communicated to ber com- panion. ‘ Hitberto Carlos had paid but little attention to what he believed to be some natural occur- rence—che fluttering of a bird which bad been disturbed by them, or the gliding of a snake or lizard, But the information now given made a different impression upon him. Used to Indian wiles, he was a ready reasoner, and he per- ceived at once that there might be something sinister in the sound which had been heard, He resolved, therefore, to examine the ground more carefully. Once more he proceeded to the back of the arbor, and dropp to his knees, scanned the — and bushes. a moment he raised his ead with an exclamation of surprise. ‘As I live, Catalina, you were right! Some one has been here, beyond a doubt! Some one has lain on this very spot! Where can they have gone to? B eaven, it was a woman! Here is the trail of ber dress!” “Vicenza!” exclaimed the lady. “It can be no i epee | maid, Vicenza! Dios de mi alma! she has heard every word!” ** No doubt it was Vicenza. She has watched and followed you from the house. What could have tempted her to such an act?” “Ay de mi! Heaven only knows; her con- duct has been very strange of late. It is quite annoying! Dear Carlos!” she continued, chang- ing her tone of regret to one of anxiety, ‘‘ you must stay no longer. Who knows what she may do? Perhaps summon my father! Per- haps still worse—Santissima Virgen! may it not be!” Here Catalina hastily communicated the fact of Vicenza’s intimacy with the soldier, Jose, as well as other circumstances relating to the girl and urged upon her lover the necessity of instant departure. “TY shall go then,” said he, ‘* Not that I much fear them; it is too dark for their carbines, and their sabers will never reach me, while my brave steed stands yonder ready to obey my call. But it is better for me to go, There may be something in it. I cannot explain curiosity that attempts so much as this girl. Ishall go at once then, And so Carlos had resolved. But much re- mained to be said; fresh vows of love to be pronounced; an hour to be fixed for a future meeting—perbaps the last before taking the final step—their flight across the great plain. More than once had Carlos placed his foot upon the bridge and more [than once had he returned to have another sweet word—another parting kiss. The final ‘‘adios” bad at length been ex- changed ; the lovers hnd parted from each other ; Catalina had turned toward the house, and Carlos was advancing to the bridge with the intention of crossing, when a growl from Cibolo caused him to balt and listen. Again the dog growled, this time more fierce- ly, following with a series of earnest barks, that told his master some danger was nigh. The first thought of the latter was to rush across the bridge and maké toward his steed. Had he done so, be would have had time enough to escape; but the desire to warn her, so that she might hasten to the house, impelled him to turn back through the grove. She had already reached the open parterre, and was crossing it, when the barking of the dog caused her to stop, SN ee eee eee eee eae ee ee a eee eee z£ a and the moment after Carlos came a But he had not addressed a word to her before the trampling of horses sounded outside the adobe walls of the garden—horsemen galloped down on both sides, while the confused striking of hoofs showed that some were halting outside, while others deployed around the inclosura The rattling cf the timbers of the large brid was heard almost at the same instant; then the dog breaking into a fierce attack; and then, through the stems of the trees, the dark forms of horsemen became visible upon the opposite bank of the stream. The garden was sur- rounded! CHAPTER XXXI, Lone after the lovers bad entered the arbor the mestiza had remained in her squatting atti- tude, listening to the conversation, of which not a word escaped her. It was not, however, her interest in that which bound her to the spot, but her fear ©. being discovered should she at- tempt to leave it, She had reason while it was still moonlight, for the open ground she must pees over was distinctly visible from the arbor. t was only after the the moon went down that she saw the prospect of retiring unseen; and, choosing a moment when the lovers bad their faces turned from her, she crawled a few yards ; back, rose to ber feet, and ran nimbly off in the ; darkness, : Strange to say, the rustling heard by the . senorita was not made by the girl at the mo- ment of her leaving the arbor. It was caused by a twig which she had bent behind a branch, the better to conceal herself, and this releasin itself bad sprung back to its place. That ! was why no object was visible to the lov- | ers, although coming hastily out of the ar- . bor, The spy at that instant was beyond the ! reach of sight as well as hearing. She had got * through the avenue before the twig moved. : She did not stop fora moment. She did not } return to her apartment, but crossing the patio i hastily entered the zagnan. This she traversed } with stealthy steps, as if afraid to awake the portero, i On reaching the gate she drew from her { cket a key. It was not the key of the muin } ock, but of the lesser one, belonging to tle postern door which opened through tue grevt , ate. This key she had secured at an earlier hour «f the evening, for the very use she was now abon,! to make of it. She placed it in the lock, and then shot the } bolt, penis, all the care she could to preven! it from making a noise. She raised the Jatch } with like caution; and then, opening the decor pped gently to the outside. She next closed ~ the door after her, slowly and silently; and this done, she ran with all her speed along the road toward some woods that were outside the town, , and not far from the house of Don Ambrosio. It was in these woods that Roblado held his | men in ambush. He had brought them thither | at a late hour, and by a circuitous route, so that no one should see them as they entered the timber, and thus obs the ibility of a frustration of his plans, Here he was waiting the arrival of his spy. The girl soon reached the spot, and in a few minutes detailed to the officer the whole of what she had witnessed. What she had heard there was no time to tell, for she communicated to Roblado how she had been detained, and the latter saw there was not a moment to be lost. The interview might end before he should be ready, and his prey might still escape him. Had Roblado felt more confidence as to time he would now have acted differently. He would have sent some men by a lower crossing, and let them approach tho bottom of the garden directly from the meadow; he would, moreover, have spent more time and caution about the “surround.” iy But he saw he might be too late, should he adopt this surer course. A quicker one recom- mended itself, and he at once gave the orders to his followers, These were divided into two parties of different sizes. Each was to take a side of the garden, and deploy along the wall, but the larger party was to drop only a few of its men, while the rest were to ride hastily over the greater bridge, and gallop round to the bot- tom of the garden. Roblado himself was to lead this party, whose duty would likely be of most importance. As the leader well knew, the garden walls could not be scaled without a ladder, and the cibolero, if found within the garden, would attempt to escape by the bridge at the bottom. Lest he might endeavor to get through the avenue and off by the front of the house, the girl Vicenza was to conduct Gomez with several men on foot through the patio, and guide them to the avenue entrance. The plan was well enough conceived. Rob- lado knew the ground well. He had often strolled through that garden, and its walls and approaches were perfectly familiar to him, Should he be enabled to surround it before the cibolero could get notice of their approach, he was sure of his victim. The latter must either be killed or captured, In five minutes after he had communicated th he arrival of the spy whole of their duties
Page 23
The White Chief. to the men; and in five minutes more they had ridden out of the woods, crossed the small tract that separated them from the house, and were in the act of surrounding the garden! It was at this moment that the dog Cibolo first uttered his growl of alarm. “Fly—fly!” cried Catalina as she saw her lover approach. ‘‘Oh! do not think of me! They dare not take my life. I have committed no offense. Oh, Carlos, leave me! fiy! Madre de Dios / they come this way!” As she spoke a number of dark forms were seen from the avenue, and coming down the garden. Their scabbards clanked emgage * bushes as they rushed through them. hey _ Were soldiers on foot! Several remained by the entrance, while the rest went forward. _ _ Carlos had for a moment contemplated escape ‘Gn that direction. It occurr:d to him, if he ‘ould get up to the house and on the azotea, he might drop off on either side, and, favored by the darkness, return to the meadow at some distant point. This idea vanished the moment he saw that the entrance was occupied. He glanced to the walls. They were too high tole scaled, He would be attacked while attempt- ing it. No other chance offered but to cut Bis way through by the bridge. He now saw the error he had committed in returning. She was in no danger—at least in no peril of her lifer Indeed her greater danger would arise from his remaining near hér. He should have crossed the bridge at first. He was now separated from his horse. He might summon the latter by his call—he knew that—but it would only bring the noble animal within reach of bis foes—perhaps be captured, That would ke as much as taking his own life. No; he could not summon his steed from where he was, and he did not utter the signal. What was be to do? To re- main by the side of Catalina, to be surrounded and captured, perhaps cut down like a dog? To imperil her life as well*—No. He must make @ desperate struggle to zo out of the inclosure boa weno the open country if possible, an Pn thoughts went no further. He cried _— “Querida, farewell! I must leave you—do not ir, If I die, I shall carry your love to heaven! Farewell, farewell!” These words were uttered in the parting haste of the moment, and he had sprung away so sud- ay that he did not hear the answering fare- . The moment he was gone the lady dropped to weit Riots na egg ar clasped, an i ow ave i sate ty m, Offered her prayer for his -a-dozen springs brought Carlos once more under the shadow of Plo AiBoy He saw his foes on the oppcsite bank, and’ from their voices he could tell there were many of them. They were talking loudly and shouting direc- tions to one another. He could distinguish the voice of Roblado above the rest. He was call- ing upon some of the men to dismount and fol- low him over the bridge. He was himself on foot, for the purpose of crossing. arlos saw no other prospect of escape than by making a quick rush across the bridge, and cutting bis way through the crowd. By that means he might reach the open plain, and fight 1s Way until bis horse could come up. Once in the saddle he would have laughed at their at- ‘tempts to take him. It wasa desperate resolve, —a perilous ruaning of the gantlet,—almosi | certain death: but still more certain death was | the alternative if he remained where he was. ere was no time for hesitation. Already yl mon had dismounted, and were making voward the bridge. He must cross before they ad reached it, one was already upon it. He must be beaten back, Pr verarer cocking his pistol, rashed forward to | th gate. The man had reached it from the | 0 a side, They met face to face, with the Ps still shut between them. Carlos saw that $ antagouist was Roblado himself! | : 2 ~\0b & word was spoken between them. ee ge also had his pistol in readiness and this ty but missed his aim. He perceived es = , dreading the fire from his adversary, | fall 4ggered back to the bank, shouting to his bg heal to discharge their carbines. of th = they could obey the order, the crack Riise pistol rung upon the air, and | ve ado, with a loud oath, rolled down by the | 5° Of the water. Carlos dashed open the gate, and was about to rush onward, when he | perceived through the smoke and darkness | several carbines brought to the level, and aimed | at ea. A sudden thought came into his mind, ) brid iy changed his design of crossing the The time was but the pulling of a trig- | eh ut, short as it was, he effected his purpose. aie carbines blazed and cracked, all neariy at © same Justant, and when the smoke cleared | bie 4 Carlos was no longer on the bridge! Had me fone back into the garden? No—already half-a-dozen men had cut off his retreat in that alrection! He is killed!” cried several voices, ‘ Carajo! —he has fallen into ee river! Mira!” eyes were turned upon the stream. Cer- tainly a body had plunged into it, as the bub- eee) ; were to be seen! ‘*He has sunk! he’s gone to the bottom!” cried some, “Be sure he hasn’t swum away!” counseled a voice; and several ran along the banks with their eyes searching the surface. ‘Impossible! there are no waves.” ‘‘He could not have passed here,” said one who stood a little below the bridge. ‘‘I have been watching the water.” **So have I,” cried enother from above. “ He has not passed my position.” “Then he is dead and gone down!” **Carajo! let us fish him out!” And they were proceeding to put this idea into execution, when Roblado, who had now got to his feet, finding that a wounded arm was all he had suffered, ordered them to desist. ‘““UOp and/down!” he thundered; ‘‘scatter both ways—quick, or he may yet escape us. Go!’ The men did as they were ordered, but the party who turned down-stream halted through sheer surprise. The figure of a man was seen, a distance of a hundred yards below. The next glided over the plain with lightning speed, in the direction of the copse of timber! ‘‘Hola!” exclaimed several voices; ‘* yonder he goes! Por tedos santos, it is he!” Amid the cracking of carbines that followed, a shrill whistle was heard; and before any of the mounted men could ride forward, a horse was seen shooting out from the copse and meet- ing the man upon the open meadow! Quick as thought the latter vaulted into the saddis, and after uttering a wild and scornful laugh gal- oo off, and soon disappeared in the darkness! ost of the dragoons sprung upon their horses and followed; but after a short gallop over the plain they gave up the chase, and one by one returned to their wounded leader. To say that Roblado was furious would be to characterize very faintly the state he was in. But he had still one captive on which to vent his rage and chagrin. Catalina had been captured in the garden, taken while praying for the safe escape of her lover. Jose had remained in charge of her, while the rest rushed down to assist in the cap- ture of Carlos, at which Jose, knowing the cibo- lero as he did, and not being over brave, evi no desire to be present. Catalina heard the shots and shouts that de- noted the terrible struggle. She had heard, too, the shrill whistle and scornful laugh that rung loudly above the din. She bad heard the shouts of the pursuers dying away in the dis- tance. She knew that her Her heart beat with joy. lover was free! She thought then, and then only, of herself. She thought, too, of escape. She knew the rude taunts she would have to listen to from the brutal leader of these miscreants. What could she do to avoid an encounter? She had but one to deal with—Jose. She knew the despicable character of the man. Would gold tempt bim? She would make the trial. It was made, and suceseded. The large sum offered was irresistible. The villain knew that there could be no great punishment for letting go a captive who could at any time be taken again. He would risk the chances of his cap- tain’s displeasure for such a sum. His captain might have reasons for not dealing too severely with him. The purse was paid, and the lady was allowed to go. She was to close the door, locking it from the inside, as though she had escaped by flight; a this direction of Jose was followed to the etter. As Roblado crossed the bridge he was met by the soldier, who, breathless and stammering, announced that the fair prisoner had got into the house. She had slipped from his side and ran off. Had it been an ordinary captive; he could have fired upon her; but he was unable to overtake her until she had passed the door, which was closed and iocked before he could get near. For a moment Roblado hesitated whether to **storm the house.” His rage almost induced him to the act. He reflected, however, that the proceeding might appear somewhat ridicu- lous, and could not much better bis position; besides, the pain of his wounded arm admon- ished him to retire from the field. He recrossed the bridge, was helped upon his horse, and, yimmoning around him his valiant troop, he rode back to the Presidio—leaving the sey town to conjecture the cause of the alarm. —- CHAPTER XXXIL NEXT morning the town was full of “ nove- dades.” At first it was supposed there bad been an attack of Indians repelled as usual by the mo What valiant protectors. the people ad! After a while it was rumored that Carlos the murderer had been captured, and that was the in a bent attitude and crawling up the bank, at | moment it rose into an erect position, and bles and circling waves testified, bnt only these 23 cause of the firing—that Captain Roblado was killed in the affair. Presently Carlos was not taken, but he had been chased, and came very near being taken! singly, hand to hand, and had wounded him, but in the darkness he had got «ff by diving down the river. In the encounter the outlaw had shot the —— through the arm, which prevented the latter from making him a prisoner. This rumor came direct from the Presidio. It was partly true. The wounding of Carlos by Roblado was an addition to the truth, in- tended to give a little eclat to the latter, for it became known afterward that the cibolero had escaped without even a scratch, People wondered why the outlaw should bave ventured to approach the town, knowing as he did that there was a price upon his head. Some very powerful motive must bave drawn him thither. The motive soon became known—the whole story leaked out; and then, indeed, did scandal enjoy a feast. Catalina had been for some time the acknowledged belle of the place, and, what with envious women and jealous men, she was now treated with slight show of charity. The very blackest construction was put upon her “compromisa.” It was worse even than a mesailiance. The ‘‘ society” were borrified at her conduct in sto ping to intimacy with a ‘“‘lepero;” while even the lepero class, itself fanatically religious, condemned her for her association with “un asesino,” but, still werse, a ‘‘heretico.” The excitement produced by this new affair was great indeed—a perfect panic, The cibo- lero’s head rose in value, like the funds. The magistrates and principal men assembled in the Casa de Cabildo. A new proclamation was drawn out; a larger sum was offered for the capture of Carlos, and the document was ren- dered still eens, yal by a declaration of severe punishment to all who should give him feod or protection. If captured beneath the roof of any citizen who had voluntarily sheltered him, the latter was to suffer full confiscation of his —_ — besides such further punishment as might be fixed u pon. The Church was not silent. The padres prom- ised excommunication and the wrath of Heaven against those who would stay justice from the heretic murderer! These were terrible terms for the outlaw! Fortunate for him, he knew how to live without a roof over his head. He could maintain exist- ence where bis enemies would have starved, and where they were unable to follow him—on the wide desert plain, or in the rocky ravines of the mountains. Had he depended for food or shelter on his fellow-citizens of the settlement, - he would soon have met with betrayal and de- nouncement, But the cibolero was as independ- ent of such a necessity as the wild savage of the prairies. He could sleep on the grassy sward or the naked rock, he could draw sustenance even from the arid surface of the Liano Estaca- do, and there he could bid defiance to a whole army of pursuers. At the council Don Ambrosio was not present. Grief and rage kept him within doors. stormy scene had been énacted between him and his daughter. Henceforth she was to be strictly guarded—to be kept a prisoner in her father’s house—to be taught repentance by the exercise of penance. To describe the feelings of Roblado and the comandante would be impossible, These gen- tlemen were well-nigh at their wits’ end with mortification. Disappointment, humiliation, physical and moral pain, had worked them into a frenzy of rage; and they were engaged to- gether during all the day in plotting schemes and plans for the capture of their outlawed enewy. Roblado was not less earnest than the co- mandante for the success of their endeavors. Carlos had now given both of them good cause to hate him, and both hated him from the bottom of their hearts. What vexed Roblado most was, that bo was no longer able to take the field, nor was be like- ly to be for several weeks. His wound, though not dangerous, would oblige him to sling his arm for some time, and to manage a horse would be out of the question, The strategic designs of the comandante and himseJf would have to be carried out by those who felt far less interest in the capture of the outlaw than they did. Indeed, but for the arrival of a brace of lieutenants, sent from division head-quarters at Santa Fe, the garrison would have been with- out a commissioned officer fit for duty. These new-comers—Lieutenants Yanez and Ort: ga— were neither of them the men to catch the ci- bolero, They were brave enough—Ortiga in articular—but both were late arrivals from Spain, and knew nothing whatever of border warfare, The soldiers were desirous of hunting the out- law down, and acted with sufficient zeal. The stimulus of a large reward, which was promised to them, rendered them eager of effecting his capture; and they went forth on each Fresh scout with alacrity. But they were not likely to attack the cibolero unless a goodly numbex of them were together. No one or two of them j ;
Page 24
treats 24 argc ;. $. wert TAY Se The White Chief. : PERS bE epee —including the celebrated Sergeant Gomez— would venture within range of his rifie, much less go near enougb to lay hands upon him. The actual experience of his prowess by some of them, and the exaggerated reports of it kmown to others, had m ‘ile such an impression wpon the whole troop that the cibolero could have put a considerable body of them to flight only by showing himself! But im addition to the skill, strength avd daring which he had in reality exhibited—in addition to the exaggera- tion of those qualities by the fancy—the soldiers as well as people had become possessed with a strange belief—that was, that the cibolero was under the protection of his mother—under the rotection of the ‘‘diablo”—in other words, at he was bewitched, and therefore invinci- ble! Some asserted that he was impervious to shot, spear or saber. Those who had fired their carbines at him while on the bridge fully be- lieved this. They were ready to swear—each one of them—that they had hit the cibolero, and must have killed him bad he not been under cg var mat protection! onderful stories now circulated among the soldiers and throughout the settlement. The @ibolero was seen everywhere, and always mounted on his coal-black horsé, who shared his supernatural fame. He had been seen riding along the top of the cliffs at full gallop, and so close to their edge that he might have blown the stump of his cigar into the valley below! Others had met him in the night on lonely paths amid the chaparral, and according to them his face and hands had appeared red and Juminous as coals of firei He bad been seen on the bigh os by the hateros, on the cliff of ‘‘La ina,” in many parts of the valley; but no one had ventured near enough to exchange words with him. Every one had fled or shunned him. It was even asserted that he had been seen crossing the little bridge that led out of Don Awmbrosio’s garden, and thus brought down a fresh shower of scandal on the devoted head c€ Catalina. The scandal-mongers, however, were sadly disappointed on hearing that this bridge no longer existed, but hud been removed by Don Ambrosio on the day following the discov- ery of his daughter’s misconduct! n no part of the world is superstition stronger than among the ignorant populace of the seftlements of New Mexico. In fact, it may be regarded as forming part of their re- ligion. The missionary padres, in grafting the rel'gion of Rome upon the sun-worship of Quet- zeicoatl, admitted for their own purposes a goodly string of superstitions. It would be strange if their people did not believe in others, however absurd. Witchcraft, therefore, and all like things, were among the New Mexicans as much matters of belief as the Deity bimseif. It is not then to be wondered at that Carlos the cibolero became associated with the devil. His feats of horsemanship and hair-breadth %scapes from his enemies were, to say the least, something wonderful and romantic, even when viewed in a natural sense, But the populace of San Ildefonso no longer regarded them in this light. With them his skill in the “coleo de toros,” in “running the cock,”—his feat of horsemansbip on the cliff—bis singular escapes from carbine and lance, were no longer due to himself, but to the devil. The ‘‘diablo” was at the bottom of all! If the outlaw appeared so often during the next few days to those who did not wish to see him, it was somewhat strange that those who were desirous of a sight and an interview could et neither one nor the other. The lieutenants, anez and Ortiga, with their a a of troopers, were on the scout and lookout from morning till nigbt, and from one day’s end to .-the other. The spies that were thickly set in all parts where there was @ probability he might appear, could see nothing of Carlos! To- day he was reported here, to-morrow there; but / on tracing these reports to their sources, it usually turned out that some ranchero witha black horse had been taken for him; and thus ' the troopers were led from place to place, and misled by false reports until both horses and men ' were nearly worn out in the hopeless pursuit. This, however, had become the sole duty on a~which the soldiers were employed—as the com- andante had no idea of giving up the the chase so long as there was a trooper left to take the One place was closely watched both by day and by night. It was watched by soldiers dis- guised, and also by spies employed for the pur- pose. This was the rancho of the cibolero him- i self. The disguised soldiers and spies were placed around it, in such poygions that they could see every movement that took place out- side the walls without being themselves seen. These positions they held during the day, taking others at night; and the surveillance was thus continual, by these secret sentries relieving one another. Should the eibolero sercets it was not the duty of the spies toattack him. They were saly to communicate with a troop—kept in readiness not far off—that thus insured a suf- ficient force for tbe object, . The mother and sister of the cibolero had re- turned to live in the rencho. The peons had Fe-roofed and repaired it—an casy task, as tho rE | walls bad not been injured by the fire. 1t was now as comfortable a dwelling as ever. The mother and sister were not molested—in | fact, they were supposed to know nothing of the fact that eyes were continually upon them. But there was a design in this toleration, ‘They were to be narrowly watched in their meve- ments. They were never to leave the rancho without being closely followed, and the circum- stance of their going out reported to the leader of the ambushed troop at the mement of its oc- currence, These orders were of the strictest kind, and their disobedience threatened with severe punishment. The reasons for all this were quite simple. Both Vizcarra and Roblado believed, or sus- pected, that Carlos might leave the settlement altogether—why should he not#—and take both mother and sister along with him. Indeed, why should he not? The place could be no more a home to him, and be would easily find aa- other beyond the Great Plains. No time could ever releaso him from thé ban that hung over him. He could never pay the forfeit of his life —but by that life. It was, therefore, perfectly natural in the two officers to suspect him of the intention of moving elsewhere. But, reasoned they, so long as we hold the mother and sister as hostages, he will not leave them. He will still continue to lurk around the settlement, and, if not now, some time shall the fox be caught and destroyed. So reasoned the comandante and his captain, and hence the strictness of their erders about guarding the rancho. Its inmates were really prisoners, though—as Vizcarra and Roblado supposed—they were ignorant of the fact. otwithstanding all their ingenious plans— notwithstanding all their spies, and scouts, and soldiers—notwithstanding their promises of re- ward and threats of punishment—day followed day, and sfill the caslaw remained at large. CHAPTER XXXIII, Ir was on the morning of a Sunday, and the people were just coming out of the church, when a horseman, covered with sweat and dust, galloped into the plaza, His habiliments were those of a sergeant of dragoons; and all easily recognized the well-known lineaments of the sergeant Gomez. Tnafew moments he was surrounded by a crowd of idlers, who, although it was Sunday, were heard a few minutes after breaking out into loud acclamations of joy. Hats were up- tossed and vivas rent the air. What news had Gomez announced? A rare bit of news—the capture of the outlaw! It was true. Carlos had been taken, and/was now a prisoner in the hands of the soldiers. He had been captured neither by strength nor strata- hee Treachery had done the work. He had en betrayed by one of his own people. It was thus his capture had been effected. Despniring for the present of being able to com- municate with Catalina, he had formed the res- olution to remove his mother and sister from the valley. He had prepared a temporary home for them far off in the wilderness, where they would be secure from his enemies, while be himself could return at a better oppor- tunity. To effect their removal, watched as they were, he knew would be no easy matter. But he had taken his measures, and would have suc- ceeded had it not been for treason. One of his own people—a peon who had accompanied him in his last expedition—betrayed him to his vigi- lant foes, Carlos was within the rancho making a few hasty Lod PE pom for thejourney. He had left his horse hidden some distance off in the chap- arral. Unfortunately for him Cibolo was not there. To a peon had m assigned the duty thet would otherwise have been intrusted to him—that of keeping watch without. This wretch had been habs bought by Roblado and Vizcarra. The result was that, instead of acting as sentinel for his master, he hastened to warn bis enemies. The rancho wes surrounded by a troop; and although several of the assailante were killed by the hand of Carlos, he himself was finally overpowered and taken. Gomez bad not been five minutes in the plaza when a bugle was beard sounding the advance of a troop, which the next moment defiled into the open square. Neer its middle was tbe pris- oner, securely tied upon the back of a saddle- mule, and guarded by a couble file of troopers, An arrival of such interest was soon known, and the plaza became filled with a crowd eager, to gratify its curiosity by a sight of the noto- rious cibolero. ’ But he was not the only one upon whom the people gazed with curiosity. There were two other prisoners—one of whom was regarded with an interest equal to that felt at the sight of the outlaw himself. This prisoner was his mother. Upon her the eyes of the multitude turned with an expression of awe mingled with indignation; while jeering and angry cries hailed her as she passed on her way to the Cal- abozo, “ Iduera la Rechicera! muera!” (Death to the witch—let her dia} broke from ruffian lips as she was carried along. Even the disheveled hair and weeping eyes of her young companion—her daughter—failed te touch the hearts of that favatical mob, and there were some who cried, ‘‘ Mueran las dos! madre y hija!” (Let both die—mother and daughter !) The guard had even to protect them from rude assault, as they were thrust hastily within the door of the prison! Fortunately Carlos saw naught of this. He: was not even aware that they were prisoners! | He thought, perhaps, they had been left unmo- lested in the rancho, nnd that the vengeance of his enemies extended no further than to him: self. He knew not the fiendish designs of hie: persecutors, The female prisoners remained in the Cala- bozo. Carlos, for better security, was carried! on to the Presidio and placed in the prison of. the guard-house. That night he received a visit. The coman- dante and Roblado could not restrain their das- tard spirits from indulging in the luxury of revenge. Having emptied their wine-cups, t ey with a party of boon companions, entered the: guard prison and amused themselves by taunt- ing the chained captive. Every insult was put upon him by his half-drunken visitors—every rudeness their ingenuity could devise. For long all this was submitted to in silence. A coarse jest from Vizcarra at length provoked reply. he reply alluded to the changed features of the latter, which so exasperated the brute, that he dashed, dagger in hand, upon the bound victim, and would have taken his /ife, but that Roblado end others held him back! He was only prevented from killing Carlos b his companions declaring that such a proceed- ing would rob them of their eee sport? This consideration alone restrained him; but he was not contented until with his fists he had inflicted several blows upon the face of the defenseless captive! ‘* Let the wretch live!” said Roblado. ‘‘To- pre aa we shall have a fine spectacle for’ im! With this the inebriated gang staggered onf,. leaving the prisoner to reflect upon this prom- ised ‘‘ spectacle.” He did reflect upon it. That he was to be made a spectacle he understood well enough. He had no hopes of mercy, either from civil or military judges. His death was to be the specta- cle. All night long his soul was tortured with: painful thoughts, not of himself, but about those far dearer to him than his own life. Merning glanced rig the narrow eo hole of his gloomy cell. Nothing else—naught to eat, to drink—no word of consolation—no kind look from his ruffian jailers.- No friend to make inquiry about him—no sign that a sin- gle heart on earth cared for him. Midday arrived. He was taken, or rather dragged, from his prison. Troops formed around. and carried him off, Where was he going? To execution? His eyes were free. He saw himself taken to: the town and through the plaza. There was an unusual concourse of people. The square was nearly filled, and the azoteas that com- manded a view of it. AJl the inhabitants of the settlement seemed to be present in the town. There were haciendados, rancheros, miners and all. Why? Some grand event must have brought them together. They had the air of people who expected to witness an unusual scene. Perhaps the “spectacle” promised by Roblado! But what could that be? Did wert intend to torture him in presence of the multi- tude? Such was not improbable. The crowd jeered him as he passed. He was carried through their midst and thrust into the Calabozo, A rude banqueta along one side of his cell offered a resting-place. On this the wretched man sunk down into a lying posture. The fast- enings on his arms and Jegs would not allow him to sit upright. He was left alone. The soldiers who had con- ducted him went out, turning the key behind them. Their voices and the clink of their scab- bards told him that some of them still remained | by the door. Two of them had been left there . as sentinels. The others sauntered off, and mingled with the crowd of civilians that filled , the plaza, Carlos flay for some minutes without motion —almost without thought. His soul was over- whelmed with misery. For the first time in his life he felt himsel? yielding to despair. The feeling was. evanescent; and once more he began to reflect—not to bope—no! Hope, they say dies but with life; but that is a para- dox. He still lived, but hope had died. Hope of a there was none. He was too well guarded. His exasperated enemies, having ex- perienced the difficulty of his capture, were not — leave him the slightest chance of escape, ope of pardon—of mercy—it never entered his thoughts to entertain either. But reflection returned. It is natural for acaptive to glance around the walls of his prison—to assure himself that he — is really a prisoner, Ié is his first act when the i. > Le... 2 , hw a : = nS 2 Se af ¥ ae ¥. eas! it So ad a Mas Se ~ y wee ok ~~.) a Be. de As Ded blk ba be eet Oe 4 poe a A ob = ae, be ~*~ -_— ak ——. =. —e =o whe mm =) , a oe Ss. |
Page 25
=. 21 2) a ‘~. FS | } is near you will need no glass! oan “make his way through them easily enough. - he had neither the edge-tool nor the time. | was certain that in a few hours—perhaps min- The White Chief bolt shoots from the lock, and he feels himself alone. Obedient to this impulse, the eye of ‘Carlos was raised to the walls. His cell. was not a dungeon—a small window, or embrasure, admitted light. It was high up, but Carlos ‘saw that, by standing upon the bamqueta, he could have looked out by it. He had no curi- a to do so, and he lay still. He saw that the walls of his prison were not of stone, They were advbe bricks, and the embrasure enabled him to tell their thickness, There was no great Strength in them either. A determined man, with an edge-tool and time to spare, = So Carlos reflected; but be reflected, as well, that He utes—he would be led from that prison to ihe scaffold. Oh! he feared not death—not even torture, which he anticipated would be his lot. His tor- ture was the thought of eternal separation from mother, sister, from the pa noble girl he loved—the thought that he would never again behold them—one or other of them—this was the torture that maddened his soul. Could he not communicate with them? Had he no friend to carry to them a last word?—to convey adying thought? None! The sunbeam that slanted across the cell was cut off at intervals, and the room darkened. Something half covered the embrasure without, It was the face of some idle lepero, who, curi- ous to c.tch a glimpse of the captive, had caused himself to be hoisted upon the shoulders of his fellows. The embrasure was above the heads of the crowd. Carlos couid hear their brutal: jests, directed not only against himself, but against those dear to him—his mother and sister. While this pained: hi~, he began to wonder that they should be so much the subject of the conversation. He could not tell what was said. of them, put in the hum of voices their names repeatedly reached his ear. He had lain about an hour on the banqueta, when the door opened, and the two officers, Vizearra and Roblado, stepped within the cell. They were accompanied by Gomez. The prisoner believed that his hour had come, They were going to lead him forth to execu- tion. He was wrong. That was not their ce- sign. Far different. They had come to gloat over his misery. Their visit was to be a short one, Now, my brave!” began Roblado. “ We ‘promised you a spectacle to-day. We are nien of our word. Wecome to admonish you that it is prepared, and about to come “off. Mount Upon that banqueta, and look out into the plaza you will have an excellent view of it; and as it : ‘ Up then! and don’t lose time. You will see what you will see. Ha! ha! ha!” , And the speaker broke into a hoarsé laugh, in which the comandante as well as the ser- sa joined; and then all three, without wait= ng for a re ly, turned and weut out, ordering the door to be locked behind them. The visit, as well as Roblado’s speech, as- tonished and puzzled Carlos. For some minutes he sat reflecting upon it, What could it mean? ectacle, and he to be a spectatur ? What could it mean? For a time he sat endeavoring to make out ‘the sense of Roblado’s words. For a good while he pondered over the speech, until at length be had found, or thought he had found, the key to its meaning. u Ha!” muttered he; “Don Juan—it is he! Y poor friend! Tney have condemned him, 7: ie is to die before me. That is what tam called upon to witness, Fiends! I shall not gratify them by looking at it, No! I shall remain where I am.” age orem bimself once more prostrate along e vanquetn, determined to remain in that ig hr He muttered at intervals: _ Foor Don Juan!—a true friend—to deat— ay, even to death, for itis for me be dies—for me, pee ol love—love—” : ections were brought to a sudden ter- tear The window was darkened by a mine soe & rough voice called iu: Paes lola! , Carlos, you butcher of buffaloes! loo Lee Carajo / here’s a sight for you! Look at your oid witch of a mother! What a ure she cuts! Ha! ba! he sting of a poisonous reptile—a blow from ‘an enemy—could not have roused Carlos more rapidly from his prostrate attitude. As he spruug to an upright position, the fastenings upon his ankles were forgotten, and, after stag- tire across the floor, he came down upon A second effort was made with more caution, and this time he succeeded in keeping his feet, few moments sufficed for him to worle him- ‘self up to the banqueta; and, baving mounted ‘this, he apptied his face to the embrasure and locked forth, : His eyes rested upon ascene that caused the blood to curdle in bis veins, and started the : veat in bead drops over his forebesd, A'scene that fliled his heart with horror, that. caused chim to feel as if some hand was clu'chiug and B flogers of irun! ae -_- - mae ey! a CHAPTER XXXV. THE plaza was partially cleared—the open space guarded by lines of soldiers. The crowds, closely packed, stood along the sides of the houses, or filled the balconies and azoteas. The officers, alcalde, magistrates, and principal men of the town, were grouped near the center of the plaza. Most of these wore official costume, and under other circumstances, the eyes of the crowd would kave been upon them. Not so now. There was a group more atiractive than they—a group upon which every eye was gazing with intense interest. This group occupied a corner of the plaza, in front of the calabozo, directly in front of the window from which Carlos looked out. It was the first thing upon which his eyes rested. He saw no more—le saw not the crowd, nor the line of soldiers that penned it back—he saw not the gaudy gentry in the square; he saw only that group of beings before him. That was enough irikaap his eyes from wandering. The group was thus composed: There were two asses—small, shaggy brown animals— caparisoned in a covering of coarse black serge, that hung nearly to their feet. Each had a coarse hair halter held in the hand of a lepero driver, also fantastically dressed in the same black stuff. Bebind each stood a lepero simi- larly attired, and carrying ‘“ cuartos” of buffalo- skin. By the side of each ass was one of the padres of the mission, and each of these held in his hand the implements of his trade—book, rosary, and crucifix. The priests wore an offi- cial look. They were in the act of officiating, At what? Listen! The asses were mounted. On the back of each was a form—a human form, These sat not freely, but in constrained attitudes, The feet were. drawn underneath by cords passed around the ankles, and to a sort of wooden yoke arcund the necks of the animals the bands of the riders were tied—so as to bring their backs into a slanting position. In this way their heads bung down, and their faces, turned to the wall, could not yet be seen by the crowd. The eye needed but ore glance at those forms to tell they were women! The long, loose hair —in the one gray, in the other golden—sbroud- ing their cheeks, and hanging over the necks of the animals, was further proof of this. For one it was not needed. The outlines were those of a Asculptor’s eye could not have detected a fault. In the form of the other, age had traced its marks, It was furrowed, angled, lean, and harsh to the eye of the observer. Oh, God! what a sight for the eye of Carlos, the cibolero!’ Those involuntary riders were his mother and sister ! And just at that moment his eye rested upon them—ay, and recognized them at a glance. An arrow passing: through his heart could net have inflicted keener pain, A Sharp, half-stifled scream escaped his lips—the only sign of suffer- ing the ear might detect., He was silent from that moment. His hard quick breathing alone told that he lived. He q He did not retreat from the window. He stood like a statue in the position he had first taken, hugging the wall with his breast, to steady himself. His eyes remained fixed on the group, and fixed, too, in their sockets, as if glued there! Roblado and Vizcarra, in the center of the square, enjoyed their triumph. They saw him at the embrasure. Hesaw not them. He had for the moment forgotten that they existed. At a signal the bell rung in the tower of the parroquia, and then ceased. This was the cue for commencing the horrid ceremony. The black drivers led their animals frem the wall, and, heading them in a direction parallel to one side of the plaza, stood still, The faces of the women were now turned partially to the crowd, but their disbeveled hair sufficiently concealed them, The padres approached. Esch selected one. They mumbled a few unintelligi- ble phrases in the ears of their victims, flour- ished the crucifix before their faces, and then, retiring a step, muttered some directions to the two ruffians in the rear. These with ready alacrity took up their cue, gathered the thick ends of their cuartcs around their wrists, and plied the lash upon the naked backs of the women. The strokes were delib- erate and measured—they were counted! Each seemed to Jeave its separate weal upon the skin, Upon the younger female they were more con- spicuous—pnot that they had been @Celivered with greater severity, but upon the softer, whiter and mgre tender skin, the purple lines appeared plairfer by contrast. Strange that neither cried out. Tho girl writhe i, and uttered a low whimpering, but no scream escvped her Jips, As for the old woman, she remained quite motionless; no sign told that sbe suffered! When ten lashes each had been edministered, a voice from the center of the plaza cried out: as — por la nina!” (Enough for the girl. The crowd echoed this; and be whose c fice it was to flog the. younger female rolled up his cnarto and cesisted. The other went on until twenty-five lashes were told ff, . A bana ef musie now struck up. The asses Venus. eh Sa h gna nae ae iS ae ha hac Ae, at SP se Eee pa ee Seo eee ea id not faint or fall.” were led along the side of the square and halted at the next corner. The music stopped. The padres again went through their mumbling ceremony. The exe- cutioners performed their part—only one cf them this time—as by the voice of the crowd the younger female was spared the lash, though she was still kept in her degraded and shameful position. The full measure of twenty-five stripes was administered to the other, and then again the music, and the procession moved on to the third angle of the plaza. ‘ Here the savy! torture was repeated, and again at the fourth and last corner of the square, where the hundred lashes—the full ~—j~ wv > ~- > number decreed as the punishment—were com- + pleted. The ceremony was over. ered around the victims—who, now released from official keeping, were left to themselves. The feeling of the crowd was curiosity, not sympathy. Notwithstanding all that bad passed before their eyes, there was but little sympathy in the hes rts of that rabble. Fanaticism is stronger than pity; and who cared for the witch and the heretic? Yes—there were some who cared yet. There were hands that unbound the cords and chafed The crowd gathe > > i i \ the brows of the sufferers, and flung rebosos _ over their shoulders, and poured water into the lips of those silent victims—silent, for both bad fainted! A rude carreta was there. How it came there no one knew or cared. It was getting dusk, and people, having satisfied their curios- ity, and hungry from long fasting, were faliing off to their homes. The brawny driver of the carreta, directed by a young girl, and aided by two or three dusky Indians, lifted the sufferers into his vehicle, and then, mounting himself, drove off; while the young girl, and two or three who had assisted him, followed the vehi- cle, It cleared the suburbs, and, striking into a by- road that traversed the chaparral, arrived at a lone rancho, the same where Rosita had been taken before—for it was Josefa who again car- . ried her away. The sufferers were taken inside the house. rt! was soon perceived that one no longer suffered. f t if The daughter was restored to consciousness, |) cnly. to see that that of her mother had forever ed! Her temples were chafed—her lips moistened ~ —hber hand pressed in vain. The wild utter- ance of a daughter’s grief fell unheard upon her wack Death bad carried her spirit to another world. CHAPTER XXXV. From the embrasure of his prison Carlos looked upon the terrible spectacle. said that he regarded it in silence. Not exactl so. Now and then, as the blood-stained las fell heavier than usual, a low groan escaped We have! [ ‘ ~ . him—the involuntary utterance of agony ex-t treme, His lcoks more than his voice betrayed the fearful fire that was burning within. who by chance or curiosity glanced into the embrasure were appalled by the expression of thatface. Its muscles were rigid and swollen, the eyes were fixed and ringed with purple, the teeth firmly set, the lips drawn tight over them, and large sweat-drops glistemed upon the fore- head. Nored showed upon the cheeks, nor an part-of the face—not a trace to tell that blood circulated there. Pale as death was that face, and motionless as marble, From his position Carlos eculd see but two angles of the plaza—tbhat where the cruel scene had its commencement, and that where the sec- Those j . > . ‘ ond portion was administered. The procession . then passed out of sight; but though bis eyes. were no longer tortured by the horrid spectacle, there was but little relief in that, i continued all the same. He remained no longer by the window, He knew it - FS resolve carried him from it—the resolve of self . destruction! His agony was complete. no longer. Death would relieve him, and upen death be was determined. But how to die? He could encure it He had po weapon; and even if be had, pin- ioned as he was, he could not have used it. But one mode seemed possible—to dash bis. bead against the wall! A glance at the soft mason-work of adcbes convinced him that this would not effect Lis purpose. By such an effort he might stun, but not kill bimself. He would wake again to hLor- . rid life, His eyes swept the cell in search of some mode of self-desiruction. -A beam traversed the apartment, It was high enough to hang the tallest man. With hi hands free, and a cord in them, it would éo, There was cord eneugh on them for the pur- pose, for they were bound by several varas of i raw-bide thong, To the fastenings his attention was now di- rected, when, to bis surprise ard delight, he reeived that the thong cose! The hot sweat, iy o> eg 4 bad become sleck end — pouring from bis bands’ -
Page 26
26 and wrists, had saturated the raw-hide, causing it to melt and eae and his desperate exer- tions, made mechanically under the influence of agony and half-madness, had stretched it for inches! A slight examination of the fastenings convinced him of the possibility of his undoin them: and to this he applied himself with a the strength and energy of a desperate man. Had his bands been tied in front, he might have used his teeth in the endeavor to set them free; but they were bound fast together across his back. He pulled and wrenched them with all his strength. If there isa people in the world who under- stand better than any other the use of ropes or thongs, that people is the Spanish-American. The Indian must yield to them in this knowl- edge, and even the habile sailor makes but a clumsy knot in comparison. No people so well understand how to.bind a captive without iron, and the captive outlaw had been tied to per- fection. But neither ropes of hemp nor hide will secure aman of superior strength and resolu- tion. Give such an one but time to operate, and he will be certain to fres himself. Carlos knew that he needed but time. The effect produced by the moistening of the raw hide was such, that short time sufficed. In less than ten minutes it slipped from his wrists, and his hands were free! Ho drew the thong through his fingers to clear it of loops and snarls. e fashioned one end into a noose; and, mounting upon the ban- ueta, knotted the other over the beam. He then placed tho noose around his naked throat —calculating tho hight at which it should hang when drawn taut by the weight of his body! and, placing himself on the elevated edge of the Last pg he was prepared to spring out: **Let me look on them once more before I die—poor victims!—once more!” The position he occupied was nearly in front of the embrasure, and he had only to Jean a pe to one side to get a view of the plaza. He sO. He could not see them; but he saw that the attention of the crowd was directed toward that angle of the square adjacent to the Calabozo. The horrid ceremony would soon be over. Per- haps they would then be carried within sight. ud would wait for the moment, it would be bis ast— “Hal what is that? Oh God! it is—” He heard the ‘“‘ weep” of the keen cuarto as it cut the air. He thought, or fancied, be heard alow moan. The silence of the crowd enabled him to distinguish the slightest sounds. “God of mercy, is there no mercy? God of yengeance, hear me! Ha! vengeance! what am I dreaming of, suicidal fool? What! my hands free—can | not break the door? the lock? I can but die u their weapons! and maybe—” He had flung the noose from bis neck, and was about to turn away from the window, when a heavy object struck him on the fore- head, almost stunning him with the blow! At first he thought it was a stone from the hand of some ruffian without; but the object, in falling upon the banqueta, gave out a dull me- tallic clink. He looked down, and in the dim light could make out that the thing which had struck him was of an oar shape. He bent hastily forward, and clutched it. It was a parcel, wrapped in a piece of silken scarf and tied securely. The string was soon unfastened, and the contents of the parcel held up to the light. These were a rouleau of gold onzas, a long-bladed knife, anda folded sheet of paper he last occupied his attention first. The sun was down, and the light declining, but in front of the window there was still enough to enable him to read. He opened the paper and read: * Your time is fixed for to-morrow, I cannot learn whether you will be kept where you are all night, or | If you remain in the ; Use | be taken back to the Presidio. Calabozo, well. send you two weapons. which you please, or both. The walls can be pierced. There will be one outside who will conduct you safe, Should you be taken to the Presidio, you must endeavor to escape on the way, or there is no hope. I need not recommend courage and resolu- tion to you—the personification of both. Make for the rancho of Josefa, There you will find one who is now ready to share your perils.and your liberty. Adieu! my soul's hero, adieu!” No name appeared. But Carlos needed none —he well knew who was the writer of that note. ** Brave, noble girl!” he muttered as he con- cealed the Set under the breast of his bunting- shirt; ‘“‘thethought of living for you fills me with fresh hope—gives me new nerve for the struggle. If 1 die, it will not be by the hands of the garrotero, No, my hands are free. They shall not be bound again while life remains. I shall yield only to death itself.” As the captive muttered these thoughts he sat down upon the banqueta, and burriedly untied the thongs that upto this time had remained upon bis ankles. This done, he rose to his feet again; and, with the long knife firmly clutched, strode up and down the cell, glancing fiercely toward the door at each turning. He had re- Solved to run the gantlét of bis guards, and by The White Chief. his manner it was evident he had made up his mind to attack the first of them that entered. For several minutes he paced his cell, like a tiger within its cage. At length a thought seemed to suggest itself that caused a change in his manner, sudden and decided. He gathered up the thongs just cast off; and seating himself upon the banqueta, once more wound them around his ankles—but this time in such a fashion, that a single jerk upon a cunningly-contrived knot would set all free. The knife was hidden under his bunting shirt, where the purse had been already de- posited. Last of all, he unloosed the raw-hide rope from the beam, and, meeting bis hands behind him, whipped it around both wrists, until they had the appearance of being securely liced. He then assumed a reclining attitude along the banqueta, with his face turned toward the door, and remained motionless as though he were asleep! CHAPTER XXXVI. In our land of cold impulses—of love calcu- lating and interested—we cannot understand, and scarcely credit, the deeds of reckless daring that in other climes have their origin in that strong passion, Among Spanish women love often attains a strength and sublimity utterly unfelt and un- known to nations who mix it up with their merchandise, With those highly-developed dames it often becomes a true passion—un- selfish, headlong, intense—usurping the place of every other, and filling the measure of the soul. Filial affection—domestic ties—moral and +e duty—must yield. Love triumphs over all. Of such a nature—of such i ntensity—was the love that burned in the heart of Catalina de Cruces. Filial affection hed been weighed against it; rank, fortune, and many other considerations, had been thrown into the scale. Love outbal- anced them all; and, obedient to its impulse, she had resolved to fling all the rest behind her. It was nearing the hour of midnight, and the mansion of Don Ambrosio was dark and silent. Its master was not at home. A grand banquet had been provided at the Presidio by Vizcarva and Roblado, to which all the grandees of the settlement bad been invited. Don Ambrosio was among the number. At this hour he was at the Presidio, feasting and making merry. It was not a ladies’ festival, therefore Cata- lina was not there. It was, indeed, rather an extemporized affair—a sort of jubilee to wind up the performance of the day. The officers and priests were in high spirits, and had put their heads together in getting up the impro- vised banquet. The town had become silent, and the mansion of Don Ambrosio showed not a sign of life. The portero still lingered by the great gate, waiting his master’s return; but he sat inside upon the banqueta of the zaguan, and seemed to be asleep, He was watched by those who wished him to sleep on. The large door of the caballeriza was open. Within the framework of the posts and lintels the form of the man could be distinguished. It was the groom Andres, There was no light in the stable. Had there been so, four horses might have been seen stand- ing in their stalls, saddled and bridled. A still s'ranger circumstance might have been observed — round the hoofs of each horse were wrapped pieces of coarse woolen cloth, that were drawn up and fastened around the ankles! There was some design in this. The door of the caballeriza was not visible from the zaguan; but at intervals the figure within the stable came forth, and, skulking along, peeped around the angle of the wall, The portero was evidently the object of his scrutiny. Having listened a while, the figure again returned po its place in the dark doorway, and stood as before, Up to a certain time a tiny ray of light could | be detected stealing through the curtains of a | chamber door—the chamber of the senorita, All | | posite bank, they were first headed toward the at once the light silently disappeared; but a few moments after, the door opened noiselessly, A female figure glided softly forth, and turned | along under the shadow of the wall, in the direction of the caballeriza. | Open doorway she stopped, and called in a low | voies: * Andres!” “Aqui, senorita,” answered the:groom, step- ping a little more into the light, ‘* All saddled?” Si, senorita,” ‘* You have muffled their hoofs?” ‘* Every one. senorita.” “Ob! what shall we do with him!” con- tinued the lady in a tone of distress, and point- ing toward the zaguan, ‘* We shall not be able to pass cut before papa returns, and then it may be too late. Santisima !” On reaching the | : . “Senorita, why not serve the portero as I have done the girl? that,” **Oh, Vicenza! how have vou secured her?” ‘In the garden-house—tied, gagged, and I'm strong enough for locked up. I warrant she'll not turn up ti somebody finds her. No fear of her, senorit Till do the same for the portero, if you but the word.” ‘*No—no—no! who would open the gate fe ? No—no—no! it would not do.” She re ected. ‘‘ And yet, if he gets out before th horses are ready, they will soon miss—pursue overtake him. He will get out, I am sure o it. How long would it occupy him? not longs He will easily undo his cord fastenings. I kno that—he once said he could. Oh, holy Virgin he may now be free, and waiting for me must haste—-the portero— Ha!” As she uttered this exclamation she turne suddenly to Andres. A new plan seemed t have suggested itself. “Andres! good Andres! listen! We shal manage it yet!” “Si, senorita.” “Thus, then. Lead the horses out the ba way, tbrough the garden—can you swim then across the stream?” ‘Nothing easier, "Good! Stay!” At this she cast her eyes toward the entranc of the long alley leading*to the garden, which was directly opposite to, and visible from, the zaguan. Unless the portero were asleep, bh could not fail to see four horses passing out in that way—dark as was the night. Here, theng a new difficulty presented itself. Suddenly starting, she seemed to have though’ my lady.” Through the garden take them then of a way to overcome it. ‘* Andres, it willdo, You go to zaguan. § whether he be asleep. Go up boldly. If asleet well; if not enter into conversation with him Get him to open the little door and let you ou Wile bim upon the street, and by some mean keep him there. J shall lead out tke horses.” This was plausible, and the groom prepared himself for a strategic encounter with the po ro. ** When sufficient time has elapsed, steal afte me to the garden. See tbat you manage well Andres. I shall double your reward. You gé with me—you have nothing to fear.” ““Senorita, Iam ready to lay down my lifé for you.” Gold is powerful. Gold had won the stou Andres to a fealty stronger than friendship For gold he was ready to strangle the porter¢ on the spot. The latter was not asleep—only dozing, as Spanish portero knows how. Andres put th stratagem in practice, he offered a cigar; and in a few minutes’ time his unsuspicious fellows} servant stepped with him through the gate and both stood erty en | outside. Catalina judged their situation by the hum of their voices, She entered the dark stable and gliding to the head of one of the horses caught the bridle, and led the animal forth. few moments sufficed to conduct it to the ge den, where she knotted the reins to a tree. She then returned for the second, and thé third, and the fourth and last—all of which sh secured as she had done the first. Once more she went back to the patio. Th time only to shut the stable-door, and lock that of her own chamber; and, baving secured both she cast a look toward the zaguan, and then lided back into the garden. Here she mounteé¢ er own horse, took the bridle of another in he hand, and sat waiting, She had not long to wait. Andres had wel calculated bis time, for in a few minutes he ap peared in the entrance; and, baving closed thé gate bebind him, joined bis mistress, The ruse had succeeded admirably. The por tero suspected nothing. Andres had bidder him “‘ buenas noches,” at the same time expres sing his intention of going to bed. Don Ambrosio might now return when he pleased. He would retire to bis sleeping-room as was his wont. He would not know befo morning the loss be bad sustained, The mufflings were now removed from thé feet of the horses, and, plunging as silently as possible into the water, the four were guided across the stream. Having ascended the op- ¢ cliffs, but before they had proceeded far in that direction they turned into a path of the chap arral leading downward, This path would con duct them to the rancho of Josefa. CHAPTER XXXVI. | From the position be occupied, Carlos did not fail to observe the outlines of his prison and search for that point that might be pierced with least trouble. He saw that the walls were o adobe bricks—strong enough to shut in an ordinary malefactor, but easily cut through by a man armed with the proper tool, and thé determination to set himself free. Two hcurs work would suffice, but how to work that two hours without being interrupted and detected¥ That was the question thab occupied the mind of the captive, One thing was very evident; if would be wise to commence operations before a late ho —until the relief of the guard, Carlos bad well calculated bis measures. He had determined to remain as be was, and keep
Page 27
=. = * oe Lay + { 5 / Ss eee ee a atin cee The White Chief. up the counterfeit of his being fast bound until such time as the guard should be changed. He knew that it was the duty of the old guard to deliver him to the relief; and these would assure themselves of his being in the cell by ocular inspection. He guessed that the hour of ee eonneng must be near. He would, herefore, not have long to wait before the new septries should present themselves in his cell. One thought troubled him. Would they keep him in the Calabozo that night, or take him back to the Presidio for better security? If the latter, bis only chance would be—as she had suggested—to make a desperate effort and es- cape on the route. Onee lodged in the guard- house prison, he would be surprised by walls of stone. There would be no hops of cutting his way through them. r lt was probable enough he should be taken there; and yet why should they fear bis escape from the Calabozo—fast bound as they believed im—unarmed, Sieg by vigilant sentinels? No, They would not dream of h’s getting off. Besides, it would be more convenient to keep him all night in the latter prison. It was close to the place of his in ended execution, which no doubt was to take place on the morrow. The ii had been already erected in front of his ai Partly influenced by such considerations, and /partly that they were occupied with pleasanter matters, the authorities had resolved on leaving him where he was for the night, though Carlos was ignorant of this. had, however, prepared himself for either contingency. Should they convey him back to the Presidio, he would seek the best opportu- nity that offered and risk his life in a bold effort to escape. Should he be permitted to remain in the Calabozo, he would wait till the guard had visited him—then set to work upon the wall after they had gone out. In the event of bein detected while at work, but one course remain —run the gantlet of the guard and cut his way through their midst. is seas) was not an affair of such improb- ability. determined man with a long knife in his gra me who will yield only to death —is a difficult thing to secure under any cir- cumstances, Such an one will often effect his freedom, even when hemmed in by a host of enemies, With Carlos, however, the probabili- ties of escape were much greater. He was in- dividually strong and brave, while most of his enemies were physically but pigmies in com- Parison. As to their courage, he knew that once they saw him with his hands free and armed, they would make way for him on all sides. What he had most to fear was the bul- lets of their carbines; but he had much to hope from their want of skill, and the darkness would favor him, For mere than an hour he lay along the ban- queta, turning over in his mind the chances of regaining his liberty. His reflections were in- terrupted by an unusual stir outside his prison. Pa Pha batch of soldiers had arrived at the Carlos’s heart beat anxiously. Wasita party come to conduct him to the Presidio? It might be so. He waited with painful impatience list- ening to every word. To his great joy it proved to be the arrival of the relief-guard: and he had the satisfaction of hearing, by their conversation, that they had been detailed to guard him all night in the Cal- abozo. This was just the very thing he desired to know. Presently the door was unlocked and-opened and several of the men entered. One bore a lantern. With this they examined him—utter- ing Coarse and insulting r marks as they stood around. They saw that he was securely bound. After awhile ‘all went out and left him to him- self. Tho door was of course relocked, and the Cell was again in perfect darkness. Carlos lay still for a few minutes, to assure himself that they were not going to return. e heard them place the sentries by the door, and then the voices of the greater number seemed borne off to some distance, OW was the time to begin his work. He hastily cast the cords from ‘his hands and feet, drew the long knife from his breast, and at- tacked the adobe wall. The spot he bad chosen was at the corner furthest from the door, and at the back side of the cell, He knew not what was the nature of the ground on the other side, but it seered most - likely that which would lie toward the open country. The Calabozo was no fortress: prison— a mére temporary affair, used by the municipal authorities for malefactors of the smaller kind. a much the better for his chances of breaking The wall yielded easily to his knife. The adobe is but dry mud, toughened by an admix- ture of grass; and although the bricks were laid to the thickness of twenty. inches or more, in the space of an hour succeeded in cutting a hole large enough to pass through. He could have accomplished this feat in still shorter time, bat he was compelled to work with caution and as silently as possible. Twice he fancied that his guards were about to enter the cell, and both times he had sprung to his feet, and stood, knife in hand, ready to assail them. Fortun- ately his fancies were without foundation. No one entered until the hole was made, and the captive had the satisfaction to feel the cold air rushing through the aperture, He stopped his work and listened. There was no sound on that side of the prison, All was silence and darkness. He pressed his head for- ward, and peered through. The night was dark, but he could see weeds and cactus plants growing close to the wall. Good! There were no signs of life there. He widened the aperture to the size of his body, and crawled through, knife in hand. He raised himself gradually and silently. Nothing but tall, rank weeds, cactus plants, and aloes. He was bebind the range of the dwellings. He was in the common. e was free! He started to vard the open country, skulking under the shadow of the brushwood. form rose before him, as if out of the earth, and a voice softly pronounced his name. He recog- niz‘d the girl Josefa. A word or two was ex- changed, when the gir] beckoned him to follow, and silently led the way. They entered the chaparral, and following a narrow path, succeeded in getting round the village. On the other side of the rancho, and in half an hour’s time they arrived at and entered the humble dwelling. In the next moment Carlos was bending over the corpse of his mother! There was no shock in this encounter. He had been half prepared for such an event. Besides, his nerves had been already strained to their utmost by the spectacle of the morning. Sorrow may sometimes eclipse sorrow, and drive it from the heart; but that agony which he had already endured could not be supplanted by a greater. The nerve of grief had been touched with such severity that it could vibrate no longer! Beside him was one who offered consolation— she, his noble preserver. But it was no hour for idle grief. Carlos kissed the cold lips—hastily embraced his weep- ing sister—his love, ** The horses?” he inquired. “They are close at hand—among the trees.” “Come, then! we must not lose a moment— we must go hence. Come!” . As he uttered these words, he wrap the serape around the corpse, lifted it in his arms, and passed out of the rancho. The others had already preceded him to the spot where the horses were concealed. Carlos saw that there were five of these animals. Ft ae of joy shot from his eyes as he recogni his noble steed. Antonio had recovered him. Antonio was there, on the spo*. All were soon in the saddles. Two of the horses carried Rosita and Catalina; the other two were ridden by Antonio aud the groom Andres, The cibolero himself, carrying his strange burden, once more sprung upon the back of his faithful steed. Bea the valley, master?’ inquired An- mio. Carlos hesitated a moment, as if deliberating. ‘*No,” replied he, at length. ‘They would follow us that way. By the pass of La Nina. They will not suspect us of taking the cliff road. Lead on, Antonio!—the chaparral path—you know it best. On!” The cavalcade started, and in a few minutes had passed the borders of the town, and was winding its way through the devious path that led to the pass of La Nina. No words were ex- changed, or only a whisper, as the horses in single file followed one another through the chaparral, An hour’s silent travel brought them to the pass, up which they filed without halting till they had reached the top of the ravine. Here Carlos rode to the front, and, directing Anto- nio to guide the others straight across the table- land, remained himself bebind. As soon as the rest were gone past, he wheel- ed his horse, and rode direct for the cliff of La Nina. . Having reached the extremity of the bloff, he halted at a point that commanded a full view of San Ildefonso. In the somber darkness of night the valley seemed but the vast crater of an extinct volcano: and the lights, glittering in the town and the Presidio resembled the last sparks of flaming lava that had not yet died out! The horse stood still. The rider raised the corpse upon his arm; and, baring the pale face, turned it in et direction of the lights, “Mother! Mother!” he broke forth, in a voice hoarse with grief. ‘‘Oh! that those eyes could see—that those ears could hear!—if but for a moment—one short moment—that you might bear witness to my vow! Here do I swear that you shall be revenged! From this hour I yield up my strength, my time, my soul and body, to the accomplishment of vengeance. Ven- geance! why do I use the word? — It is not ven- geance, but justice—justice upon the perpetra- tors of the foulest murder the world has ever recorded. But it shall not go unpunished. iy of my mother, hear me! Jt shall not. our death shall be avenged—your torture shall have full retribution. Rejoice, you ruffian y BS es tee i | ey crew! feast, and be merry, for your time of sorrow will soon come—sooner than you think for! Igo, buttoreturn. Have patience—you shall see me again. Yes! once more you shall stand face to face with Carlos the cibolero!” He raised his right arm, and held it out- stretched in a menacing attitude, while a gleam of vengeful triumph passed over his counten- ance. His horse, asif actuated by a similar im- pulse, neighed wildly; and then wheeling round - a apey from his rider, galloped away from the cliff! CHAPTER XXXVIII. AFTER having witnessed the disgusting cere- mony in the plaza, the officers returned to their quarters at the Presidio. As already stated, they did not return alone. The principal men of the place had been invited to dine with them—cura, padres, alcalde, and all. The capture of the outlaw was a theme of public gratulation and rejoicing; and the com- andante and his captain—to whom was due the credit—were determined to rejoice. To that end the banquet was spread at the Presidio. It was not thought worth while to remove Carlos to the soldiers’ prison. He could remain all night in the Calabozo. Fast bound and well uarded as he was, there was not the slightest anger of him making his escape. To-morrow would be the last day of his life. To-morrow his foes should have the pleasure of seeing him die. To-morrow the comandante and Roblado would enjoy their full measure of vengeance. Even that day Vizcarra had enjoyed part of his. For the scorn with which he had been treated he bad revenged himself, though if was he who from the center of the plaza had cried ** Basta!” It was not mercy that bad cause him to interfere. His words were not prompted by motives of humanity—far otherwise. His designs were vile and brutal. To-morrow the brother would be put out of the way, and then— The wine, the music, the jest, the loud laugh —all could not drown some bitter reflections, Ever and anon the mirror upon rhe wall threw back bis dark face spoiled and distorted. His: success had been dearly purchased—his was a sorry triumph. It prospered better with Roblado. Don Am- brosio was one of His guests, and sat beside him. The wine had loosened the heart-strings of the miner. He was communicative and liberal of his promises. His daughter, he said, had. nted of her folly, and now looked with in- difference upon the fate of Carlos. Roblado might hope. t is probable that Don Ambrosio had reasons for believing what he said. It is probable that Catalina had thrown out such hints, the better to concee! her desperate ee The wine flowed freely, and the guests of the comandante reveled under its influence. There were toasts, and songs, and patriotic hes 5, and the hour of midnight arrived before the company was half satiated with enjoyment. In the midst of their carousal a proposal was- volunteered by some one that the outlaw Carlos should be brought in! Odd as was this proposi- tion, it exactly suited the half-drunken revelers. Many were curious to have a good sight of the cibolern, now so celebrated a personage. The proposal was backed -by many voices, and the comandante pressed to yield to it. Vizearra had no objection to gratify his guests. Both he and Roblado rather liked the idea. It would be a further humiliation of their hated enemy. Enough. Sergeant Gomez was summoned, the cibolero sent for, and the revelry went on. But that revelry was soon after brought to a sudden termination, when Sergeant Gomez burst into the salcon, and announced in a Joud voice that— The prisoner had escaped ! A shell dropping into the midst of that com- pany could not have scattered it more com- pletely. All sprong to their feet; chairs and tables went tumbling over; glasses and bottles were dashed to the floor; and the utmost con- fusion ensued, - ; The guests soon cleared themselves. of the room. Some ran direct to their houses to see if their families were safe, while others made their way to the Calabozo to assure themselves of the truth of the sergeant’s report. Vizcarre and Roblado were in a state border- ing upon madness, Both stormed and swore, at the same time ordering the whole garrison under arms, In afew minutes nearly every soldier of the Presidio had vaulted to bis saddle, and was gal- loping in the direction of the town. he Calabozo was surrounded. There was the hole through whidh the cap- tive had got off. How had he unbound his: Apninge vey had ‘furnished him with the cnife? The sentries were questioned and flogged— and flogged and questioned—but could telb nothing, They knew not that their prisoner was gone, until Gomez and his party came te demand him!
Page 28
uf Scouring parties were sent out in every direc- tion—but in the night what could they do? The houses were all searched, but what was the use of that? The cibolero was not likely to have remained within the town. No doubt he was off once more.to the plains! The night search proved ineffectual; and in the morning the party that bad gone down the valley returned, having found no traces either of Carlos, his sister, or his mother. It was known that the hechicera had died on the pre- vious night, but-where had the body been taken to? Had she come to life again, and aided the outlaw in his escape? Such was the conjec- ture! At a later hour in the morning some light was thrown on the mysterious affair. Don Ambro- sio, who had gone to rest without disturbing his daughter, was awaiting her presence in the breakfast room. What detained her beyond the usual hour? The father grew impatient— then anxious, A messenger was at length sent to summon her—no reply to the knocking at her chamber-door! The door was burst open. The room was en- tered—it was found untenanted—the bed un- pressed—the senorita bad fled! She must be pursued! Where is the groom? —the ‘horses? She must be overtaken and brought back! Tue stable is reached, and its door laid open. No groom! no horse!—they, too, were gone! Heavens! what a fearful scandal! The daughter of Don Ambrosio had not only as- sisted the outlaw to escape, but she had shared his flight, and was now with him, ‘‘ Huyeron !” ‘was the universal ery. The trail of the horses was at length taken up, and followed by a large party, both of dragoons and mounted civilians. I[t led into the bigh plain, and then toward the Pecos, where they had crossed, Upon the other side the trail was Jost. Tae horses had separated, and gone in different directions, and their tracks, passing over dry shingle, could no longer be followed. After several days’ fruitless wandering, the pursuing party returned, and a fresh one started out; but this, after a while, came back to announce a similar want of success, Every haunt had been searched; the old rancho—the groves on the Pecos—even the ravine and its cave bad been visited, and examined carefully. No traces of the fuzitives could be discovered; and it was conjectured that they had gone clear _ off from the confines of the settlement. This conjecture proved correct, and guessing was at length set at work, A party of friendly Comanches, who visited the settlement, brought in the report that they had met the cibolero on their way across the Llano Estacado—that he was accompanied by two women and several men with pack-mules carrying provisions—that he had told them (the Indians) he was on his way fora long journey—in fact, to the other side of the Great Plains. This information was definite, and no doubt correct. Carlos had been often heard to ex- press his intention of crossing over to the coun- ‘try of the Americanos. He was now gone thi- ther—most likely to settle upon the banks of “the Sake irl ties He was already far beyond ‘the reach of pursuit. They would see him no more—«s it was not likely he would ever again show his face in the settlements of New Mexico. Months rolled pst, Beyond the report of the Comanches, nothing was heard of Carlos “or his people. Although neither he nor his were forgotten, vet they had ceased to be gener- ally talked of. Other affairs oceupied the minds of the people of San Iidefonso; and there had dately arisen one or two matters of bigh inter- est—almost sufficient to eclipse tha memory of the noted outlaw. The settlement had been threatened by an in- vasion from the Yutas—which would bave taken place, had not the Yatas, just at the tims, been themselves attacked and beaten by another tribe of savages! This defeat had prevented their invasion of the valley—at least for that ‘season, but they had excited fears for the fu- “ture. Another terror had stirred San Ildefonso of late—a threatened revolt of the Tagnos, the Indios mansos, or tame Indians, who formed the majority of the pone anon: Their brethern in several other settlements had risen, and suc- ceeded in casting off the Spanish yoke. It was vatural that those of San Ildefonso should dream of similar action, and conspire, But their conspiracy was nipped in the bud by the vigilance of the autvorities, The leaders were arrested, tried, condemned, and shot. Their scalps were bung over the gateway of the Presidio, as a warning to their dusky com- patriots, who were tbus reduced to’ complete submission. These tragic occurrences hed done much to obliterute from the, memory of all the cibolero and his deeds. True, there were some of San lidefonso who, with good ‘cause, still remem- ‘bered both; but the crowd had ceased to think of either bim or bis Aj] had heard and be- lieved that the outlaw had long ago crossed the reat Plains, and was now cafe under the pro- The White Chief —_ ~— +. tection of those of his own race, upon the banks of the Mississippi. CHAPTER XXXTIX, AND what had become of Carlos? Was it true that he had crossed the great plains? Did he never return? What became of San Iide- fonso? > These questions were asked, because he who narrated the legend had remained for some time silent. His eyes wandered over the valley, now raised to the cliff of La Nina, and now resting upon the weed-covered ruin, Strong emotion was the cause of his silence. His auditory, already half guessing the fate of San Ildefonso, impatiently desired to know the end, After a while he continued. Carlos did return. What became of San Ildefonso? In yonder ruin you have your an- swer. San Ildefonso fell. But you would Know how? Oh! itisa terrible tale—a tale of blood and vengeance, and Carlos was the avenger, Yes—the cibolero returned to the valley of San Ildefonso, but he came not alone. Five hundred warriors were at his back—red war- riors who acknowledged him as their leader— their ‘‘ White Chief.” They were the braves of the Waco band. They knew the story of his wrongs, and had sworn to avenge him! It was autumn—late autumn—that loveliest | season of the American year, when the wild woods appear painted, and Nature seems to re- pose after her annual toil—when all her crea- tures, having feasted at the full banquet she | has so lavishly laid out for them, appear con- tent and happy. | It was night, with an autumnal moon—that | moon whose round orb and silvery beams have been celebrated in the songs of many a harvest | land, Not less brilliant fell those beams where no | harvest was ever known—upon the wild plain of the Llano Estacado, The lone hatero, couched beside his silent flock, was awakened by a growl from his watchful sheep-dog. Raising himself, he looked cautiously around. Was it the wolf, the grizzly bear, or the red puma? None of these. A far different object was before bis eyes, as ho glanced over the level plain—an ob- ject whose presence caused him to tremble. A Jong line of dark forms was moving across | the plain. They were the forms of horses with their riders, They were in single file—the muzzle of each horse close to the croup of the one shat preceded him, From east to west they moved. The head of the line was already near, but its rear extended beyond the reach of the hatero’s vision. | Presently the troop filed before. him, and passed witbin two hundred paccs of where he lay. Smoothly and silently it glided on. There was no chinking of bits, no Jjingting of spurs, no clanking of sabers. Alone conld be heard the dull stroke of the shoe’ess hoof, or at intervais the neigh of an impatient steed, suddenly checked by a reproof from his rider. Silently they passed on—silent as specters. The full moon gleaming upon them added to their un- earthly appearance, The watcher trembled where he lay—though he knew they were not specters, He knew well what they were, and understood the meaning of that extended deployment. They were Indian warriors upon the march. The bright moon- light enabled him to distinguish further. He saw that they were all full-grown men—thet they were nude to the waist, and below the thighs—that their breasts and arms were painted—that they carried naught but their bows, quivers, and spears—in short, that they were braves on the war-trail ! Strangest sight of all to the eyes of the hatero was tho leader who rede at the head of that silent band. He differed from all the rest in dress, in cquipments, in the color of his skin, The hatero saw that he was white! Surprised was he at first on observing this, but not for long, This shepherd was one of the sharpest of his tribe, It was he who bad dis covered the remains of the yellow_ hunter and his conipenion. of that time. He reflected; and in a few mo- ments arrived at the conclusion that the White Chief be now saw could be no other than Car- ra the cibolero! In that corjecture he was right, The first thought of the hatero had been to savo his own life by remaining quiet. the line of warriors had quite passed him, other thoughts came into his mind. The Indians were on the war-trail!—they were marching direct for the set\lement—they were headed by Carlos | : | watcher upon the wall. the cibolerol He remembered the events | Before — The history of Carlos the outlaw now came | before bis mind—le remembered the story; beyond a doubt the cibolero was return- ing to the settlement to take vengeance upon his enemies! Influence! partly by patriotism, and partly by the hope of reward, the hatero at once re- i solved to defeat this purpose, He would hasten to the valley and warn the garrison. * As soon as the line had filed past he rose to to his feet, and was about to start off upon his errand; but. he had mis¢alculated the inte.ti- whole | } ) | gence of the white leader. Long before, the flanking scouts had inclosed both him and his charge, and the next nioment he was a captive. Part of his flock served for the supper of that band he would have betrayed. Up to the point where the hatero had been encountered, the White Chief and his followers had traveled along a well-known path—the trail of the traders, Beyond this, the leader swerved from the track; and without a word headed obliquely over the the plain. The extended line followed silently after—as the body of a snake moves after its head, Another hour, and they had arrived at the ceja of the Great Plain—at a point well known | to their chief. It was at the head of that ra- vine where he had so oft found shelter from his foes. The moon, thoagh shining with splen- did brilliance, was low in the sky, and her light did not penetrate the vast chasm, It lay buried in dark shade. The descent was a difficult one, though not to such men, and with such a guide. Muttering some words to his immediate fol- lower, the ee Chief headed his horse into the cleft, and the next moment disappeared under the shadow of the rocks. The warrior that followed, passing the word behind him, rode after, and likewise disappear- ed in the darkness; then another, and another, until five hundred mounted men were ingulfed in that fearful-looking abysm. Not one re- mained upon the upper plain. For a while there struck upon the ear a con-~ tinued pattering 'sound—the sound of a thou~ sand hoofs as they fell upon the rocks and loose shingle. But this noise gradually died away, and all was silence. gave any token of their presence in the ravine. The only sounds that fell upon the ears were — the voices of nature’s wild creatures whose | haunts bad been invaded. They were the wail of the goatsucker, the bay of the barking wolf, and the maniac scream of the eagle. Another day passes—another moon bas arisen —and the gigantic serpent, that had all day lain coiled in the ravine, is seen gliding silent] ot its botton, and stretching its long vertebrate form across the plain ot the Pecos. ~~ fost pes ft 4 Neither horses nor men ~ out © The stream is reached and crossed; amidst © plashing spray, horse follows horse over the shallow ford; and then the glittering line glides | on. Having passed the river lowlands, ft ascends the high plains that overlook the valley of San Iidefonso, Here a halt is mede>scouts are sent forward —and once more the line moves on, Its head reaches the cliff of La Nina just as the moon has sunk bebind the snowy summit of © the Sierra Blanca. For the last bour the leader has been marching slowly, as though he waited her going down. Her light is no longer de- sired, be done, A halt is made until the pass has been recon- noitered. his followers down the defile; and in anotber half-hour the five hundred horsemen have si- Darkness better befits the deed that is to — That done, the White Chief guides ~ lently disppeared within the mazes of the chap- — arral! Under the guidance of the half-blood Antonio, an open glade is found near the center of the thicket. Here the horsemen dismount and tie their borses to the trees. The attack is to be made on foot. It is now the hour after midnight. The moon has been down for some time; and the cirrus clouds, that. for a while had reflected her light, have been gradually growing darker. Objects can no longer be distinguished at thedistance of twenty feet. The huge pile of the Presidio, looming against the leaden sky, looks black and gloomy. The sentinel cannot be seen upon the turrets, but at intervals his sbrill voice uttering the “ Centinela alerte!” tells that he is at his post.. His cali is answered by the sentinel at at the gate below, and then ail is silent. garrison sleeps secure—even the night-guard in the zaguan with their bodies extended along the’stone banqneta, ere sleeping soundly. The Presidio dreads no sudden attack—thera bas been no rumor of Indian incursion—the neighboring tribes are all en paz; and the Tagno conspirators have been destreyed. Greater vigilance would be superfluous. A sentry upon the azgotea, and another by the gate, are deemed sufficient for the ordinsry guardi¢nsbip of the garrison. Ha! the inmates cf nas Presidio little dream of the enemy thatis nich - * Centinela alerte/” onee more screams the ‘“Centinela alerte !” answers the other by the gate. Sut neither is sufficiently on the alert to per- — ceive the dark forms that, prostrate upon the ground like kuge Jizards, are crawling forward to the very wal!s. Slowly and silently these forms are moving, amidst weeds and grass, eradually drawing nearer to the gateway of the Presidio. A lantern burns by the sentinel. he sees them not! A rustling poise at length reaches his ear, The Its light, » 7 radisting to game distance, does not avail bim— ~ ak a ted 2 oo ee oe Le ame OF om ~ Pao - we - re 4
Page 29
The ‘ quien viva ?” is upon his lips; but he lives not to utter the words. tows bury themselves in his flesh. His heart is Pierced, and he falls almost without uttering a groan. A stream of dark forms pours into the open ateway. fore they can lay hand upon their weapmms! And now the war cry of the Wacoes peals out in earnest, and the bundreds of dark warriors | rush like a torrent through the zagnan. They enter the patio. ‘The doors of the cuar- tos are besieged—soldiers, terrified to confusion, come forth in their shirts, and fall under the spears of their dusky assailants, Carbines and pistols crack on all sides, but those who fire do not live to reload them. Tt was a short but terrible struggle—terrible while it lasted. There were shouts, and shots, and groans, mingling together—the deep voice of the vengeful leader, and the wild war-cry of his followers—the crashing of timber, as doors were broken through or forced from their hinges—the clashing of swords and spears, and the quick detonation of firearms. terrible conflict! It ends at length. An almost total silence follows. The warriors no longer utter their dread cry, Their soldier-enemies are destroyed. very cuarto has been cleared of its inmates, who lie in bleeding heaps over the patio and by the doors. No quarter has been given. All have been killed on the spot. No—not all. There are two who survive— two whose lives have been spared. , Vizcaria and Roblado yet live! Piles of wood are now heaped against the tim- ber posterns of the building, and set on fire. olumes of smoke roll to the sky, mingling with sheets of red flame. The buge pine beams of the azotea catch the blaze, burn, crackle, and fall inward, and in a short while the Presidio ecomes a mass of smoking ruins! But the red warriors have not waited for this, The revenge of their leader is not yet complete, It is not to the soldiers alone that he owes vengeance. He has sworn it to the citi- Zens as well, stroyed! ‘And well this oath was kept, for before the | sun rose San Ildefonso was in flames. The ar- row, and the spear, and the tomahawk, did their work; and meh, women and children per- ished in hundreds under the blazing roofs of their houses! With the exception of the Tagno Indians, few | survived to tell of that massacre. A few whites only—the unhappy father of Catalina among the rest—were permitted to escape and carry their broken fortunes to another settlement. That of San Iidefonso—town, Presidio, mis- sion, haciendas and ranchos—in the sbort space _of twelve hours had ‘ceased to exist. The ‘dwellers of that lovely valley were no more! T have arrived at the last act of this terrible drama. The sceno is La Nina—the top of the - cliff—the same spot where Carlos had performed _ bis splendid feat on the day of San Juan. Another feat of horsemanship is now to be exhibited. How different the actors—how dif- ferent the spectators! pon the tongue that juts out two men are Seated upon horseback, They are not free riders, for it may be noticed that they are tied upon their seats. Their hands do nof grasp a bridie, but are bound behind their backs; and their feet, drawn together under the bellies of their horses, are there spliced with raw-hide ropes. To prevent turning in the saddle, other thongs, extending from strong leathern waist- belts, sta them to croup and-pommel, and hold their les firm. Under such a ligature no F rse could dismount either without also fling- te the saddle, and that is guarded against by the strongest girthing, It is not intended that have Orsemen shali lose their seats until they “ pertormed an extraordinary feat, ‘Sled e no voluntary act. Their countenances een that. Upon the features of both digiew saa” = moat terrible eniations-—craven darkest shadows! its misery—despair in its oa th are men of nearly middle age—both are rs cers in full uniform. But it needs not that C ae ze them as the deadly enemies of : be, os—Vizcarra and Roblado. No longer now ; get They are his ne yd ub for what purpose are they thus mounted? one t scene of mockery is to be enacted? Scene mockery! Ha! ha! ha! tve! the horses upon which they sit are ‘purpose? You shall see. © stands at the head of each horse, zt him with difficulty. The animals are _ ‘kept frontin the a with their heads directed to the utting point of La Nina. -4be Indians are drawn up in line also facing to the cliff, Th _ An ominous Ob! it was a | Tho whole settlement is to be de- | Haif a dozen bow- | strings twang simultaneously, and aS many ar- | The guard, but half awake, perish | ero ney gle Observe! they are blinded The White Chief. steed; and upon him the eyes of all are fixed, as | though they expected some signal. His face is yale, but its expression is stern and immobile. le has not yet_reached the completion of bis vengeance. There are no words between him and his victims. All thathas passed. They knowt.. ir doom, Their backs are toward him, and they ses him not; but the Tagnos. who stand by the horses’ heads have their eyes fixed upon him with a singular expression. What do these ex- pect? A signal. In awful silence was that signal given. To the rigbt and;left sprung the Tagnos, leaving free the heads of the mustangs. Another sig- nal to the line of mounted warriors, who, on receiving it, spurred their horses forward with a wild yell. Their spears soon pricked the hips of the mus- tangs, and the biinded animals sprung toward the cliff! The groans of agonized terror that escaped | from their riders were drowned by the yells of the pursuing horsemen, In a Moment all was over. The terrified mus- tangs had sprung from the cliff—had carried their riders into eternity! The dusky warriors pulled up near the brink and sat gaziig upon each other in silent awe. A horseman dashed to the front, and poising his horse upon the very edge, looked down into the abyss. It was the White Chief. For some moments he regarded the shapeless masses that lay below. He saw that they moved not. Men and horses were all dead, Crushed, bruised and shattered—a hideous sight to behold! ; A deep sigh escaped him, as though some weight had been lifted from his heart, and turning around he muttered to his friend— “Don Juan! I have kept my oath—she ts avenged ! The setting sun saw that long -line of Indian warriors filing from the valley, and heading for the plain of the Liano Estacado. But they went not as they had come. They returned to | BEADLE AND ADAMIiS’ | STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS. Speakers. BEADLE AND ADAMS have now on their lists the fol- lowing highly desirable and attractive text-books, prepared expressly for schools, families, etc. Each vohune contains 100 large sg Pages from clear, open type, comprising the best collection of Dia- logues, Dramas and Retttetions (burlesque, comic and otherwise.) The Dime Speakers for the season of 1882—as far as now issued—embrace twenty-four volumes, viz. : 1. American Speaker. 13, School Speaker. 2. National Speaker. 14. Tudicrous Speaker. 3. Patriotic Speaker. | 15. Komikal Speaker. 4, Comic Speaker. | 16, Youth’s Speaker. 5. Elocutionist. 17. Eloquent Speaker. 6. Humorous Speaker. 18. Hail Columbia Speak- 7. Standard Speaker. er. 8. Stump Speaker. 19. Serio-Comie Speaker. cs deci i pt = = — § — “s 10. Spread-Eagle Speaker . nny Speaker. 11. Dime Debater. . = yy d 12. Exhibition Speaker. %. Dialect Speaker. %4. Dime Book of Recitations and Readin, These books are replete with choice jeces fer the | School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes, ete. The are drawn from FRESH sources, and contain some the choicest oratory of the times. 75 to 100 Declama- tions and Recitations in each hook. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages, em- brace twenty-nine books, viz.: Dialogues No, One. Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No, Two. Dialogues No. Sixteen. Dialogues Ne. Three. Dialogues No. Seventeen, Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues No. Fighteex Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues Ne. Nineteen. Dialogues No, Six. Dialogues No. Twenty. Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues Ne. Twenty-one. | Dialogues No. Light. Dialogues Ne. Twenty-two. Dialogues No, Nine, Dialogues No. Twenty-three. Dialogues No. Ten, Dialogues Ne. Twenty-four. Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. Twenty-five, Dialogues No. Twelve, ‘Dialogues Ne. Twenty-six. | | Dialogues No. their country laden with the plunder of San | Iidefonso—to them the legitimate spoils of war, The cibolero still rode at the head, and Don Juan the ranchero was by his side. The fear- ful scenes through which they had just passed shadowed the brows of both: but these shad- ows became lighter as they dwelt on the pros- pect before them. Each looked forward toa happy greeting at the end of bis journey. carlos did not remain long among his Indian friends. Loaded with the treasure they had promised, he proceeded further east, and estab- lished a plantation ee the Red River of Louisiana. Here, in the company of his beau- tiful wife, his sister, Don Juan, and some of his old servants, he led in after years a life of peace and prosperity. Now and then he made hunting excursions into the country of his old friends the Wacoes —who were ever glad to see him again, and still | hailed him as their chief. Of San Ildefonso there is no more heard since that time. No settlement was ever after made in that beautiful valley. The Tagnos—released from the bondage which the padres had woven | Book around them—were but too glad to give up the half-civilization they had been taugbt. Some of them sought other settlements, but most re- turned to their old habits, and once more be- came hunters on the plains. Perhaps the fate of San Ildefonso might have attracted more attention in other times; but it occurred at a peculiar period in Spanish-Ameri- can history. Just then the Spanish power, all over the American continent, was hastening to its decline; and the fall of San Ildefonso was but one episode among many of a character equally dramatic. Near the same time fell Gran Quivira, Abo, Chilili, and hundreds of other settlements of note, _ Rach has its story— each its red romance—perhaps far more inter- esting than that we have here recorded, Chance alone guided our steps to the fair val- ley of San Ildefonso—chance threw in our way one who remembered its legend—the legend of the White Chief. THE END, THE Sunnyside Library 1 LALLA Rooxn, By Thomas Moore........ Se - 10¢ 2 Don Juan, By Lord Byron... ........... ... 20¢ 8 Panavise Lost. By John Milton ........ o-40e-L08 4 Tae Lapy or rue Lake. Sir Walter Scott.... 10¢ 5 Lucrtzx. By Owen Meredith .. 6 Unprxe; on, THE Warer-Sprarr. From. ‘tin German of Friederich De La Motte Fowque,... 10¢ For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid. on receipt of twelve cents for gin double numbers twenty-four cents. 5 Sea number ADAMS, VICTOR & OO., Publishe mn $8 Wikia street N.Y. ¢ Roi Dialogues No. Thirteen. DialoguesNo. Twenty-seven. Fourteen Dialogues No. Twenty sight. ialogues No. Twenty-nine, 15 to % Dialogues and Dremas in each book. These volumes have been ty awh with especial reference to their availability in all school-rooms, They are adapted to schools with or without the fur- niture of a stage, ard introduce a range of charac- ters suited to scholars of every grade, both male and female, It is fair to assume that no volumes yet | offered to schools, at any price, contain so many availedie and useful dialogues and dramas, serious | and comic. Dramas and Readings. 164 12mo Pages. 2 Cents. For Schools, Parlors, Entertainments and the Am- ateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas, Comedy, Farce, D’ess Pieces, Humorous Dialogue and Burlesque, by roted writers; and Recitations§ | and Readings, new cnd standard, of the ; | celebrity and interest. qrocieet Edited by Prof. A. M, Russell. DIME HAND-BOOKS. Young People’s Series. Beavie’s Diwe Hanpv-Booxs For Youna PrOPL¥ cover a wide range of subjects, and are adapted to their end. They constitute at once the cheapest and most useful works yet put into the market for ular circulation. Ladies’ Letter-Writer, Book of Games. Gents’ Letter-Writer. Fortune-Teller. '\ Book of Etiquette. Lovers’ Casket. - of Verses. Ball-room Companion. Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty, Guide to Swimm 10¢ | ACES ; I.—George n. ison bat Sa” | Hand-Books of Games. Brapir’s Diwz Hanp-Books oF Games AND PoPULAw® | Hanp-Booxs cover a variety of subjects, and are es- pecially ee to their end. andbook ef Summer Sports. Book of Crequet. Chess Instructor. Cricket and Football. : ing. Handbook of Winter Sports—Skating, ete. Manuals for Housewives. Beapie’s Dore Fatty Series aims to supply a class of text-books and manuals fitted for every per- son’s use—the old and the young, the 1 and They are of conceded value. 4. Family Physician. 2. Recipe Book. 5. Drescniiog and Mi 8. Housekeeper’s Guide. linery ‘ Lives of Great Americans Are presen complete and authentic biographies of oan or the na who have added luster :
Page 30
BREADLE'’S*] )IME*[IBRARY. _ |. Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers. — BUFFALO BILL NOVELS. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 994 Buffalo Bill’s Lone Hand. te 989 Buffalo Bill’s Marked Bullet, 984 Buffalo Bill’s Life Raffle. 279 Buffalo Biil’s Relentless Trail. 964 Buffa'o Biid’s Invincibles. \960 Buffalo Bill’s Blue Belt Brigade. 956 Buffalo Bill’s Volunteer Vigilantes. 950 Buffalo Bill at Bay. : 943 Buffalo Bill’s Block Game. _ 936 Buffalo Bill s Black Pard, 927 Buffalo Bill’s Bluff; or, Dusky Dick the Sport. 921 Buffalo Bill’s Quandary: or, Velvet Bill’s Vow. 15 Buffalo Billand the Surgeon-Scout. Buffalo Bill’s League; or, Red Butterfly. Buffalo Bill’s Tangled Trail. Buffalo Bill’s Rough Riders. 895 Buffalo Bill's Secret Ally. 890 Buffalo Biil’s Life-Stake, 882 The Three Bills: Buffalo Bill Wild Billand Band- box Bill; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth, $74 Buffalo ‘ill’s Buckskin Braves. 869 Buffalo Bill’s Road-Agent Round-up, 863 Buifalo Bill's Dea h Charm. 857 Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush. 8651 Buffalo Bill's Poub!e Dilemma, 845 Buffalo Bill's Redskin Ruse. 830 Buffalo Bill's Bovs in Blue, 626 Buffalo Bi'l’s Sharp Shooters. 822 Buffalo Bill’s Best Bower. 816 Buffalo Bi l's Red Trail. 812 Buffalo Bill’s Death-Knell. 794 Buffalo Bill's Winning Hand 787 Buffal® Bill’s Dead Shot. Bill's Brand. 777 Buffalo Bill’s Spy Shadower, 769 Buffalo Bill’s Sweepstake. 765 Biffato Bill’s Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Sam, 761 Buffalo Bill’s Mascot. 757 Buffalo Bill’s Double, 750 Buffalo Bill’s Big Four; or, Custer’s Shadow. 748 Buffalo Bill’s Flush Hand, 739 Buffalo Bill's Blind: or, The Masked Driver. .%35 Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men. 731 Buffalo Bill's Beagies: or, Silk Lasso Sam, 727 Buffalo Bill’s Body Guard. 722 Buffalo Bill on the War-path. 716 Buffalo Bill’s Seout Shadowers, '710 Buffalo Bil Baffled: or. The Deserter Desperado. 697 Buffalo Hill’s Buckskin Brotherhood, 691 vuffalo Bill’s |ilind Trail; or, Mustang Madge. 667 Buffalo Bill’s Swoop; or, The King of the Mines, 658 The Cowbov Clan; or, The Tigress of Texas, (653 Lasso King’s League; or, Buck Taylorin Texas. '649 Buffaio Biil’s Chief of Cowboys; or, Buck Taylor 644 Buffalo Bill’s }tonarza; or. Si ver Circle Knights, 362 Buffalo Bilt’s Grip; or. Catn Bound to Custer. : Buffalo Bill’s Pledge: or. The League of Three, 189 \\ild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen. _ {475 Wild Bill’s Trump Card; or, The Indian Heiress, \268 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot, By Buffalo Bill, 73 The Dread Shot Four Texas Jack, the Lasso King The Ranch King Dead-Shot. White Beaver’s Still Hunt, 807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist. 800 Wild Bili, the Deaa-Center Skot. 39 Buffalo Bill’s Gold King. The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pards of the Plains, 414 Red Renard, the indian Detective. 401 One-Armed Parad; or, Borderland Retribution. 897 The Wizara Brothers: or, White Beaver’s Trail, 394 White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte. fot Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West. 781 Buffalo Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler. The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweetheart. 83 Gold Bullet Svort; or, Knights of the Overland, | 52 Death-Traiier, the Chief of Scouts. By Leon Lewis, Ned Buntline, ete. 773 Buffalo Bill’s Ban; or, Cody to the Rescue, {682 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Service Trail. 629 Buffalo Bill’s Daring Role; or, Daredeath Dick, 1517 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail; or, The Express Rider, 158 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts, itz Buffalo Bill s Strange Pard; or, Dashing Dandy. "9 Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King. BY HAROLD PAYNE. 883 The Man from Mexico in New York. ~ 872 The King-Pin Shark; or, Thad Burr’s Ten Strike, 861 The Tenderloin Big Four 353 The Quaker City Crook. 844 Tracked to Chicago, 836 The Policy Broker’s Blind. 829 The Frisco Sharper’s Cool Hand. 821 The Tramp Sbhadower’s Backer. 813 The Sham Spotter’s Shrewd Scheme. 805 The Grand Street Gold-Dust Sbarpers. 798 Detective Burr’s Luna‘ic Witness 792 The Wall Street Sharper’s Snap. 84 Thad Burr’s Death Drop. ; 742 Detective Burr Among the New York Thugs. 734 Detective Burr’s Foil; or, A Woman’s Strategy. 928 Detective Burr, the Headquarters Special. 713 Detective Burr’s Spirit Chase. 706 Detective Burr’s Seven Clues, 698 Thad Burr, the Invincible; or, The “L” Clue, 690 The Matchless Detective. 680 XX, the Fatal Clew; or, Burr’s Master Case. — BY COL. THOMAS H, MONSTERY. 995 The Czar’s Spy." 986 Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. Champion Sam; or, The Monarchsof the Show. El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen, BY J. W. OSBON, 87 Shadrach, the Sport Detective, 922 Gilbert Goldspur, the Dandy Sport, 905 Shasta Sam, the Sparkler. 877 Cool Creede, the Dead-Shot. .. %59.The Sport from St. Louis. 818 Royal f Richard, the Thoroughbred, = te fe Y ibs ee Ms ess = tee eek. Ee ey ee ke ae sore BY CAPTAIN HOWARD HOLMES, 929 Gentleman George, the Showman Sport. 912 Genteel Joe’s Lone Hand, 903 The Train Detective. 896 Kent Keen, the Crook-Crusher. 888 Nightshade in New York. 879 Falcon Flynn, the Flash Detective, 871 The Crook Cashier. 859 Clew-Hawk Keene’s Right Bower. 847 Hiram Hawk, the Harlem Detectiva, 840 Major Bullion Boss of the Tigers. 831 Shadowing the London Detective. 817 Plush Velvet, the Prince of Spotters, 803 The Bogus Broker’s Right Bower. 788 The Night-Hawk Detective. 779 Silk Ribbon’s Crush-out, 766 Detective Zach, the Broadway Spotter, 751 The Dark Lantern Det: ctive, 736 The Never-Fail D-tective. 724 Captain Hercules, the Strong Arm Detective. 711 Dan Damon, the Gilt-Edge Detective, 701 Silver Steve, the Branded Sport. $94 Gideon Grip, the Seciet Shadower. 684 Velvet Van, the Mystery Shadower. 678 The Dude Desperado 871 Jason Clew, the Silk-Handed Ferret. 664 Monk Morel, the Man-Hunter. 654 Sol Sphinx, the Fer: et Detective, 642 Red Pard and Yellow 608 Silent Sam, the Shadow Sphinx, 592 Captain sid, the Shasta Ferret. 579 Old Cormorant, the Bowery Shadow. 569 Captain Cobra, the Hooded Mystery. 559 Danton, the Shadow Sharp. 550 Silk Hand, the Mobave Ferret. 543 The Magnate Detective. 532 Jack Javert. the Independent Detective, 523 Reynard of Red Jack: or, The Lost Detective 512 Captain Velvet’s Big Stake. 505 Phil Fox, the Genteel Spotter. 496 Richard Redfire, the Two Worlds’ Detective, 487 Sunshine Sam, a Chip of the Old Block, 480 Hawkspear. the Man with a Secret, 4:8 Coldgrip in Deadwood, 460 Captain Coldgrip. the Detective 453 Captain yy de Long Trail. 447 Voicano, the Fvisco Spy. 441 The California Sharp. 434 Lucifer Lynx, the \ onder Detective, 421 Pather Ferret, the Frisco Shadow. 413 Captain Coldgrip in New York, 407 Captain Coldgrip’s Nerve; or, Injun Nick. 400 Captain Coldgrip; or. The New York Spotter. 392 The Lost onanza;: or, The Boot of Silent Hound. 382 The Bonanza Band: or, Dread Don of Cool Clan, 874 Major Blister, the Sport of Two Cities, 365 Keen Kennard, the Shasta Shadow. 352 The Desperate Dozen, 347 Denver Duke, the Man with “ Sand.” 340 Cool Conrad. the Dakota Detective. 335 Flash Dan, the Nabob, or, Blades of Bowie Bar, 821 California Claude, the Lone Bandit. 294 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy, 941 The Shadow Sport from Frisco. BY WILLIAM H,. MANNING, 948 The Red-Gloved Detective, 931 Frisco Frank at ana Gulch, 920 The Montana Miner in New York, 908 The Doomsday-Den Detective. 899 The Double-Quick Detective. 893 Yellow Gid, of Dark Divide. 885 ‘The Expert Detective’s Shake-up. 875 Trapping the Race-Track Judge, 864 The Police Special’s Dilemma, 849 The Genteel Sharper’s Combine 841 Graydon’s Double Deal. — 833 The Sport Detective’s mre 828 The Athlete Sport About Town, 808 TheCrook-Detective’s Pull. 790 Plunger Pete, the Race Track Detective, 782 Royal Rock, the Round-up Detective. 774 Steve Starr, the Dock Detective. 764 The New York Sharp’s Shadower, 738 Detective Claxton, the Record Breaker, 714 Gabe Gall, the Gambolier from Great Hump, 703 Spokane Saul, the Samaritan Suspect 692 Dead Shot Paul, the Deep-Range Explorer. 655 Strawberry Sam, the Man with the Birthmark, 646 Dark John, the Grim Guard, 638 Murdock, the Dread Detective. 623 Dangerous Dave, the Never-Beaten Detective. 611 Alkali Abe, the Game Chicken from Texas. 596 Rastler Rabe; the Round-Up Detective, 585 Dan Dixon’s Double, 57o Steady Hand. the Napoleon of Detectives 563 Wyoming Zeke, the Hotspur. of Honeysuckie, 551 Garry Kean the Man with Backbone, 539 Old Doubledark, the Wily Detective. 531 Saddle-Chief Kit, the Prairie Centaur, 521 Paradise Sam, the Nor’-West Pilot, 513 Texas Tartar, the Man With Nine Lives. 506 Uncle Honest, the Peacemaker of Hornets’ Nest, 498 Central Pacific Paul. the Mail Train Spy. 492 Border Bullet, the Prairie Sharpshooter. 486 Kansas Kitten, the Northwest Detective. 479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassajack. 470 The Duke of Dakota. 463 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator. 455 Yank Yellowbird, thé Tall Hustler of the Hills, 449 Bluff Burke, King of the Rockies, 442 Wild West Walt, the Mountain Veteran 437 Deap Duke; or, The Man of Two Lives. 427 The Rivals of Montana Mill 415 Hot Heart, the Detective Spy. 405 Old Baldy the Brigadier of Buck Basin, 297 Colorado Rube, the Strong Arm of Hotspur. 279 The Gold Dragoon, ur, California Bloodhound, BY NED BUNTLINE. 657 Long Tom, the Privateer. 633 The Sea Spy, 621 The Red 584 Fire Feather, the Buccaneer King. §17. Buffalo Bill’s First Trail, 361 Tombstone Dick, the Train Pilot. 122 Saul Sabberday, the Idiot § 111 The Smuggler Captain; or, 18 The Sea Bandit; or, The Queen of the Isle. 16 The White Wizard: or ‘“he Seminole Prophet. rivateer; or, The Midshipman Rover. The Skipper’s Crime, ; ; | ; | ——— ee ee a { ALBERT W. AIKEN’S NOVELS. Dick Talbot Series, 991 Dick Talbot at the Mines: or, Kentuck, the Sport, } | 988 Rocky Mountain Rob. ‘ 976 Overland Kit; or, The Idy] of White Pine. 741 Dick Lalbot’s Close Call. 737 Dick Talbot in Apache Lend. 733 Dick Talbot, the Ranch King. 729 Dick Talbot’s Clean-Out. 725 Dick Talbot in No Man’s ore ¢ 854 Dick Talbot;'01, The Brand of Crimson Cross — 36 Dick Talbot; or, The Death-Sbot of Shasta, } Aiken’s Fresh of Frisco Series, 825 Fresh, the Race-Track Sport. 660 The Fresh in Montana; or, Blake’s Full Hand, - 652 Tne Fresh’s Rustie at Painted City. 647 The Fresh at Santa Fe; cr, the Stranger Sharp, 556 Fresh, the Sport: or, The Big Racket at Slide Oué. 587 Fresh Against the Field: or, Blake, the Lion, 497 The Fresh in Texas; or. The Escobedo Millions, 461 The Fresh of Frisco on the Rio Grande. 97 The Fresh in Biz Walnut Camp; or. Bronze Jack, Aiken’s Joe Phenix Series. 965 Joe Phenix’s Mascot. 959 Joe Phenix’s Double Deal. 954 Joe Phenix in Chicago. 949 The Doctor from T'rxas; or, Joe Phenix’s Clue 944 Joe Phenix’s Right Bower. 865 The Female Barber Detectiv ; or, Joe Phenix in Silver City. 799 Joe Phenix’s Great Blue Diamcnd Case; or, The New York Sport at Long Branch. 793 Joe Phenix’s Decoy; or, The Man of Three, 760 Joe Phenix’s Lone Hand. | 749 Joe Phenix’s Big Bulge, 745 Joe Phenix’s Mad Case. 708 Joe Phenix's Siren; or, The Woman Hawkshaw 700 Joe Phenix’s Unknown; or, Crushing the Crooks 681 Joe Phenix’s Specials; or, The Actress Detective 637 Joe Phenix in Crazy Camp. 632 Joe Phenix’s Master Search, ' 628 Joe Phenix’s Combin ;: r,the Dandy Conspirator, 620 Joe Phenix’s Silent Six. 601 Joe Phenix’s Shadow; or.the Detective’s Monitor 419 Joe Phenix., the King of Detectives. 161 Joe Phenix’s Great Man Hunt, 112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, The League. 79 Joe Phenix, the Police Spy. ! Aikea’s Miscellaneous Novels, 980 The All-Around Athlete. 940 Captain Jack, the Scalper 935 The Hawks and Wolves of New Yorl 932 Detective Gordon’s Grip. ‘ 926 Old Sunflower, the Silent Smiter. - 923 Old Sunflower. the Hayseed Detective. 901 The Hotel Swell-Sharp; cr, The Siren Shadoweg, 892 The Country man Detective. 876 Gold Button Sport; or, The Miner Sharps. 842 Teton Tom. the Half-bicod. 835 The King-Pin Detective. 814 The New Yorker Among Texas Sports. 775 King Dandy, the Silver Sport. f 753 Gideon’s ae Babylon lar. ; 717 Captain Pat McGowen, the Greencoat Detective, 674 Uncle Sun Up, the Born Detective. y 670 The Lightw eight Detective. \ 665 The Frisco Detective; or, The Golaen G ite Find, ' 618 Keen Billy, the Sport. 607 Old Benzine, the ‘‘ Hard Case” Detective. 594 Fire Face, the Silver King’s Foe. 586 The Silver Sharp Detective, 577 Tom, of Calif ornia; or, Detective’s Shadow Act 570 The Actress Detective; or, The Invisible Hand 562 Lone Hand, the Shadow. 520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo, 490 The one Hand in Texas. 475 Chin Chin, the Chinese Detective, 465 The Actor Detective. . 440 The High Hor-e of the Pacific, 423 The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants. 408 Doc Grip, the Vendetta of Death, 381 The Gypsy Gen tleman; cr. Nick Fox, Detective 376 Black Beards: o1, The Rio Grande High Horse, 870 The Dusky Detective: or. Pursued to the Ena, 863 Crowningshield, the Detective 820 The Genteel Spotter: or The N. Y. Night Hawk, 252 The Wali Street J'lood; or, The yeleerer Girl. 203 The Double Detective; or, The Midnight Mystery, — 196 La Marmoset, the Letective Queen, 101 The Man from New York. 91 The Winning Oar; or. The jankarnee Daughter, 84 Hunted Down: or, The League of Three, 81 The Human Tiger: or, A Heart of Fire. ; %5 Gentleman George: or, Parlor. Prison and Street, 72 The Phantom Hand; or, The 5th Avenue Hesress. ’ 56 The Indian Mazeppa: or, Madman of the Plains. \ 49 The Wolf Demon; or, The Kanawha Queen. 42 The California Detective; or, The Witches of N.Y. 81, The New York Sharp; or, The Flash of Lightning. 27 The Spotter Detective: or, Girls of New York, NEW ISSUES. ji 1000 Buffalo Bill's Grim Guard. By Col, Ingraham,}|, 1001 The Brand-Burners of Cimarron. By Jobn W.” Osbon. 1002 Silver City Sam. By Jos. EB, Badger. 1003 Gold Dany or, Dick Talbot in Utah, By Albert W. Aiken 4. 1004 Buffalo Bill’s Death Deal, By Col. Ingrabam. 1005 Foot-Hills Frank, By Jos. E, Badger. 1006 The Sea Cadet. By Col. P. Tngrabam. JUST ISSUED. 996 Injun Dick. the Shasta Dead Shot, By Aiken. 997 Hotspur Hal, the Sport from Hard Luck, By Jos. H, Badger, Jr. 998. Captain Seawaif, Privateer. By Ned Buntline.- — 999 The Velvet Hand; or, The Iron Grip of Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. A new issue every Wednesday. THE DUNE LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdealers. ton cents ve’ capy or sept by mail ov | receipt of price. Sie. . A), a “ON Br Mang ek Bh ay, x A | | iS 2 gaia reas ny oa gets ee eee
Page 31
STORIES. HUMOROUS PUBLICATIONS. THE CELEBRATED LAUGHING SERIES. v BIG JOKE BOOK SERIES, “OH! MAMMA, BUY ME THAT!” Illustrated. 64 pages. GRIN’S CATECHISM OF FUN. THE TROUBLES OF MR. AND McGINTY’'S JOKE BOOK. WIT AND HUMOR OF THE BENCH AND BAR. 48 pages. WIDE-AWAKE SKETCHES. SOME SCREAMING YARNS. ROARING JOKES FOR FUNNY FOLKS. Illustrated. 64 pages. “JOLLY JOKES FOR JOLLY PEOPLE.” “THE BUTTON BURSTER; or, FUN ON THE RAMPAGE.” LAUGHING GAS; or, DRIVE DULL CARE AWAY. Illustrated. 64 pages. PUT THROUGH; or, FREEMASONRY AND ODD FELLOWSHIP , EXPOSED. By “ BricxrTop.” “FUN ON THE ROAD.” A CoLLection oF JoLLy JOKES AND Forny Illustrated. D MRS. BOWSER. Illustrated. 64 pages. | Illustrated. 64 pages. Illustrated. 80 pages. 64 pages. Illustrated. Illustrated. 64 pages® Illustrated. 64 pages. A Recorp oF AMERICAN WiT AND Humor. 48 pages. PRICE 12 CENTS EACH BY MAIL. POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN. ne ees MY MOTHER-IN-LAW. By “Bricktor.” ' Hopkins. 88 pp., Paper, 8vo. -This is one of the most humorous stories of the day. Every man and yxWoman in the country should read this serio-comic experience of a man with bis mother-in-law, who made home torrid for him, and how he succeeded, after Wany attempts and failures, in getting rid of her. OUR FIRST BABY; or; Tae Inreticrrms or Our Honey- Moon. By the author of ‘‘ My Mother-in-Law,” etc. Ilus- trated. Paper, 8vo. This is a witty and charming narration of a young married couple. It pre- its vividly the first attempts of a young husband at housekeeping. MITH IN SEARCH OF A WIFE. By the author of “Our Illustrations by ; | First Baby,” etc. 64 pp., Paper, 8vo. il | \pature This story is not founded on fact, but there is so much comical human in it that truth couldn't make it any better. It should be read by every: Thomas Worth. | reps aarp the great lottery of marriage. Laughably illustrated by, FARMING FOR FUN; or, BackyarD Granerrs. By “ Bricx- Top.” Tllustrated by Thomas Worth. Paper, large 8vo. A laughable story. The experience of Timothy Budd and his wife at city gardening is brimful of fun; and thousands who read it will exclaim: “I’ve been there!” PARSON BEECHER AND HIS HORSE. By “ Bricxror.” Tllustrated by Thomas Worth 96 pp., Paper, large 12mo. This is a thoroughly enjoyable book, brimful of fresh, brilliant humor and us productions, : | daughable situations, the author claiming it te be the best of his many humor- | FRED DOUGLAS AND HIS MULE. Companion to “ Parson * Beecher and His Horse.” By the same author. Tustrated. 96 pp., large 12mo. As a story of the late war it deals with people who “‘ were there,” and will be doubly popular with the “ Vets,” many of whom enjoyed the very fun that is here depicted. BOUNCED; or, Taz ADVENTURES oF AN Untucky MAN. Br’: Joun Carboy. Illustrated. Paper, 8vo. THE QUIET YOUTH; or, Just Lie His Uncuz. By “Brrege Tor.” Illustrated. Paper, large 8vo. BEANWHACKER’S TROUBLE; or, Nor a Bit Lixe Hs Uncie. A sequel to ‘‘Just Like His Uncle.” By Jonn CarBoy. Illustrated. Paper, large 8vo. DEACON BOGGLES AND HIS LIVER PAD. By be eee! Wanver. Illustrated. 64 pp., Paper, 8vo. This book is a humorous record of the Deacon's frantic struggles with a malignant enemy of the human race—the dreaded Liver Pap. THE KNIGHTS OF PYTHIAS SHOWN UP. By “Brrog-) rop.’”’ Illustrated. . Paper, iad take.” JOINING THE GRANGERS; or, Exrerrenck or SassaFRas| Doperr. By the author of ‘*‘ My Mother-in-Law.” 64 pp., 16mo, DRY GOODS DRUMMER. By Tom Wonder. 88 pp., 16mo. | This is one of the funniest of all the Laughing Series, and its glimpsesof the | trials, scrapes, and troubles of a Drummer on his travels are precisely the medicine to cure the blues and make the reader happy. TRIP OF THE SARDINE CLUB. By “ Bricxror.” 16mo. Profusely Illustrated by Thomas Worth. This book is full of fun and sentiment, giving personal observations and | historical reminiscences of places on the Hudson between New York gi Albany. SCRAPES OF FARMER SKOOPENDYKE. Illustrated. He) buys a Billy Goat. He Gives Widow Snugg a Sleigh-ride. His Experience with Dr, Bungle. Mrs. Maloney’s Goat, etc., etc. Paper, 8vo. 80 pages. “Don’t make any mis-, 96 pps “ Any of the above books sent by mail on receipt of 12 cents. Postage stamps taken. 1M. J. Wers & Co., Publishers, (James Sullivan, Proprietor,) 379 Pearl Street, New York. « 64 pages. i Illustrated. 64 pages. | Sa Kein.
Page 32
y pte BNR PES REP OD ES SS Sapte se = al es Rex Ne ¢ in naind * pall ee mabe Sen as ~ ae vs e of es for ©, a ongress, and Records of Matches at Sheetal tor} ricket on the Ice. Edited by Henry Chadwick. gi