Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 122) (1886 05 12)
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emma A nc ; o Mallia! LIZ ory 4 FAR L LLL ti a nt Copyrighted, 1886, by Brapue anp Apams. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., a8 Second Class Mail Matter. May 12, 1886. i Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams. P Vol ku... eee LY Uy Beale Abd Aan, |: irc ae z he “BE HE MAN OR DEMON !” HE EXCLAIMED, ‘I WILL NOT CHALLENGE HIM AGAIN BEFORE I FIRE,”
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The Hunted Hunter, The Hunted Hunter; The Strange Horseman of the Prairie, A Romance of the Southwest Border, BY EDWARD §, ELLIS, AUTHOR OF “BILL B:DDON,”’ “SETH JONES,” ETO, OHAPTER I, THE CONFERENCE. On a cold, rainy night, in the spring of 18—, two men were seated in a mansion occupying one of the most aristocratic portions of New Orleans. The apartment in which we find them bore evidence of the good taste as well as wealth of the owner. The elegant furniture, the yielding poe nie which gave back no sound of the tread, the ruddy glow uf the grate—all these were suggestive of comfort and luxury, and upon this dismal night were in cheerful contrast to the storm raging without. The two men occupied opposite sides of a table, on which stood several wine-glasses and a flagon of that beverage. Both had drank but slightly, and their manner was unmistakably that of two per- sons about to enter upon a matter of importance, The eldest was Alfredo Seraville, who, though bora upon American soil, inherited all the pride an prejudices of his Castilian ancestors, He was about sixty years of age, with a head partial! bald, and with hair almost entirely gray. His countenance was devoid of that swarthy hue so generally characteristic of his people, and the golden spectacles which he wore, helped to give him the anpearance of a ectable American gentleman, His dress was that of the country in which he was born—a rich suit of black When ging his ac- eent was slightly foreign; but, as he rarely used the Spanish language, excep’ when conversing with one of that naton, few would have been able to judge his descent and education. His wife had been d for twelve years, and he bad but one child— Trona—who was now well verged toward woman- hood. Upon her he had Deesonred all the kindness of an aff-ctionate fither, All that wealth and love could do had been done for her. Only the previous year she had retarned from Europe, where several years had been spent in receiving an education. She had let home a child, and returned a woman. Well, indeed, might the father be proud of his daughter: She was as amiable as accomplished, and doubly repaid the warm love of her parent. But a shadow had crossed their threshold—and this shadow was the cause of the present interview, The visitor of Alfredo Seraville was a man abont forty years of age—one whose pr-cise nationality was not known even to himself. The Italian, Snan- ish, and American blood seemed mixed in his com- position, neither prelominating over the other. His c'ose-cropped hair, which grew low upon his fore- head. was black as midnight. His Indian blood was manifest}in the high cheek-bones and black eyes. Beneath the latter were numerous “ crow’s-feet,” while the forehead was crossd by several wrinkles, _ anda tuft of hair up n the chin, singularly enough, was perfeotly gray. He seemed a person addicted to dissipation and vicious indulgence, inured to toil, privation and suffering. of a nature avaricious, se- eretive and vindictive, and one whose enmity would be to any man. He answered to the truly American title of (o’o «l Ovaton. * Before proceeding to business,” said the latter, with a meaning glance toward the door, ‘it’s my belief that it would be best to see that no other ears ides our own are likely to hear what is said.” Py ee ab do not frequent my house, Colonel vaten.’ * Oh!—it’s all right, if you say so. I’m sure it makes no difference to me. J have nothing to lose. Are 7 ready to proceed to business?’ asked Ova- ton, looking steadily at his companion. “Certainly, sir; I see no en at all.’ “* Well, then, Don Alfredo,” (the appellation of Don was always pleasant to the one addressed) “ suppose you open the meeting by a statement of its ob- jects, and your ideas about matters and things in general.”’ Colonel Ovaton had emptied his glass, and he now brought it heavily down upon the table, folded his aftms, and leaning back in his seat, compressed his lips, and looked toward his host asif to invite him to proceed. The latter, leaning his face upon his hand, while his elbow rested upon the table, gazed downward a few moments as if perplexed and troubled. Then raising his eyes to those of his coin- panion, he spoke in a deliberate and musical voice: * You go to Texas to-morrow?” Colonel Ovaton nodded assent. “You i to be absent a couple of months?” ** About that—perhaps not so long.” “ How many go with you?” “Three; Pierre Choujeau, Jacques Choutier, and the young American, Ross Welland.” “Your object, Colonel Ovaton, I believe is to nene- trate a long distance into Texas—as far as the Llano Exjacad,if I mistake not. You are sent out by a firm in our city for the purpose of learning more of that section thanis known to us. They wish to es- tablish, if possible, a trade or system of barter with the Indians in that section, Am I right in my sur- mists?” “Tt's about as you say.” “You are not sure you will be gone more than two m >nths?” “That is the time I have set down for the men; but it is just as likely, if I come back at all, that it will be at the end of six weeks.” “Tae three men who go with you—including the young American—are employed by you. They bind themselves to remain with you, no matter how long atime you may be absent. For instance, if unfore- seen circumstances should compel you to remain away six months or even a year, they bind them- selves to stay with you, Am I right?” “You are right, Don Alfredo.” “Well, then, Colonel Ovaton, the object of my sending for you this evening is-to induce you to re- main in Texas for siv months, at the very least.” . “ What!” demanded Colonel Ovaton, looking to- ward his host in astonishment. “Don’t be surprised; I will explain all ina few mo- ments, 1 mrepeee you can be persuaded to overstay the time which you have calculated upon?” “T have not thought of the matter, Don Alfredo, Tf you will cons-nt to make yourself clear, we will be better able to understand each other.” Seraville hesitated a moment and then proceeded: “ Of course, it is necessary that I should do so, and ou will understand before going further that the matter is one which is entirely betwcen you and myself.” A quiet nod in‘imated that that was understood. “To come to the point, then: It is with the great- est pain that, during the past few months, I have discovered a growing intimacy or friendship between Irona and Ross Welland, the young American, How they became acquainted I know not; it is enough to know that they are too well acquainted. It is my wish—my resolve, that all intercourse between them shall end.” “Can not the American be kept away?” “So long as they are in the same neighborhood, they will meet, and all the world can’t hinder them, They must be separated.” A gleam of intelligence lit up the face of Colonel Ovaton, but he waited for his host to speak further. “Tt would kill me to know this Amert avo had won the heart of Irona, The blood of my family must never mix with that of his people.”
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The Hunted Hunter. 3 “But senorita, like Don Alfredo, is an American.” “Born upon their soil, lL admit; but not American, for all that, It was my intention, and the wish of her mother, to have my only child b orn in Spain, on the spot where my ancestors have dwelt for so many centurt But circumstances have prevented, and the disgrace of the father has fallen upcn the caughter. Her hand shall never be given to an Am 7é an.” “Ross Welland,” said Colonel Ovaton, “is no vagabond. He does not go with me—as do Pierre and Jacques—for the gold it brings him. He goes, he tells me, to see the country—to view its wonders, and in hopes of sharing some of our adv ntures. He has plenty of gold—the American is no poor man like Colonel Ovaton.” «That I know _as well as yourself; but he is an Amer cm for all that; that is why he shall never bo ree-ived into my family. Of him ~personally I know little and care less. e is from some of the Northern States; he has been in New Orleans hardly a year; forall youor I know, he may bea vagabond. andabad man, But, as1 seid. that matters not. I have given my reason for refusing to acknowledge him as a friend or acquaintance.” ‘“There is American blood in me, Don Alfredo.” “And Spanish too, and from your ee I should say about a dozen other kinds. our insinu- ation is that I associate with other Americans. This is partly true. My friends, you will find, are from the country which I claim a’ my own.” “T have no wis to say anything against your presadioes, Don Alfredo, You are wrleome to them. ut, it strikes me we are wandering from busi ess.” “Very true. You must know the cause of my dis- like to this American. Can he be kept from seeing lrona, say for six months, I think he will never see her again, or at any rate not until it is too late to do him any good. This is the reason why I wish you eo prolong your stay in Texas. Can I induce you to ol? “It will be agreat expense, Don Alfredo. My men wili require large pay for such work, and my em- ployers may refuse to pay at all.” “They must surely understand the uncertainties and dangers of yourjourney. But that need occa- sion you no anxiety. What amount will insure you against loss?” Colonel Ovaton sunk his hands into his pockets, frowned and looked up to the eviling, as though run- ning over some calculation in his mind. Suddenly pes pressing his lips, he looked at Seraville, and re- plied: “Two thousand dollars.” “That amount shall be yours six months from to- morrow, if you are here to receive it.” “T doubt not your word, Don Alfredo, but in busi- ness, you know, pen and pap r are generally used. 1t can do no hurt to put this matter in writi g.”” * Most surely not. I will return in a moment.” Don Alfredo passed out of the room and was absent a short time. When he came in he held in his hand a paper, upon which was written a pledge, signed by himself, to pay Colonel Charles Ovaton the sum of two thousand dollars, six months from date. The note was something more than a mere promissory one, as it contained a stipulation, in the form of a pos'script, tobe signed by the holder, in which he agreed to present it to no one except Alfredo Sera- ville himself. This. of course, precluded him from obtaining the amount before the expiration of the time mentioned. Colonel Ovaton read it carefully, scanning its construction, and finally ended by sign- ing his name to the postcript. He knew that Sera- ville’s promise was as good as gold. end his written pledge as valuable as the money itself. This paper was retained by Colonel Ovaton himself; but he signed another, which Seraville held, This latter was an agreement to remain in Texas for six months with his companions, and as much longer as was econ- sistent with their safety. Failing to do this, he for- feited the sum of two thousand dollars, ’ 2 a | | | | “This ry mane be, I presume, is satisfactory to you,” said Seraville, seating himself. ** Yes; both of us, I believe, are secure; but it strikes me, Don Alfredo, that you can make a bet- ter bargain than you have just concluded,” added Ovaton, in a low, meaning voice, “Tam satisfied. 1 am willing to pay you every cent that I have promised, if you only do your part.” “You mistake me: that is not what ITmean, As sou have arranged matters now they are not certain. Why not be «estain about it?” “Tdo not understand you. You intend to fulfill your Premise, do you not?” “All abroad again. I am referring to another scheme—something entirely different.” “[xplain yourself, then ” “You see, the young American may return at the end of the six months. An arrangement might be made A his stay—in fact to make it—a—a good whi “T am still at a loss to know what you mean.” “Onrai! it seems your comprehension is dull, Don Alfredo, To be plain, then, I mean that we can ” Le, ‘easily fix matters so that the American—shall you know—shall never etuwn/ Of course, this would be & more important piece of work, and of course, would require a good round sum of money.” “Do you refer to murdering the man?” asked Se- raville, with a recoil of amazement. “Hist! never say murder; it don’t sound well.” “Was that what you meant?” * Some would call it that, but—” ** No, sir,” exclaimed Seraville, indignantly. ‘‘ You mistake me altogether, Colonel Ovator.; no such a thought has ever entered my mind. I am a man who knows such a thing as honor, and that which T have induced you to do, isno crime. All that 1 ask of you, is to assist me in keeping Irona and the American separate for a certain length of time. Do you understand me?” ‘*Oh, yes; I should dislike to harm the man, as he is really a clever fellow, but I kind of—you know— hinted at the matter to see how you would take it.”’ * T consider it a deep insult, sir,’’ said Seraville, “Task your pardon, then; I um sorry that | should have made such a hint, when I have always been satisfied that Don Alfredo Seraville would never stoop to do anything which he was not willing to proclaim upon the housetops.” “Give me your solemn promise that you will never do or suffer harm to be done to this Ross Welland, while he remains with you.” “T promise,” “Then there is nothing left unexplained. Had I reason to believe that the least. harm would befall this man from the agreement which I have made, I would cancel it this instant. What time do you start westwar ?” “Early in the morning. T shall hardly see you again,” “Tt is not necessary.” “T will then bid you good-evening.” *T wish a pleasant and safe journey to you and to all who accompany you. Good-evening,”” The host accompanied his visitor to the door, where they separated. CHAPTER II. ANOTHER CONFERENCE CotoneL Ovatron had been gone barely half an hour when there was a summons at the door, The servant who answered it saw, by the lamp in the hall, a figure wrapped in a cloak, whose collar upiting with a large slouch hat, concealed all of his features except his eyes and nose, “Good-morning! Is Senorita Irona at home?” “She is, sir.”’ “Please hand her this card, then”—and without waiting for an invitation, the visitor coolly stepped within and closed the door behind him. The ser- vant, who now recognized him, moved away through the hall, while he proceeded to doff his overcoat,
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4 The Hunted Hunter, overshoes and hat, and to close his umbrella in the frame. This done. he proceeded_to the parlor, where he awaited the coming of Irona Seraville. In a few minutes a light step was heard dancing down the stairs, and, as the door opened, a vision of beauty seemed to float in upon the air. A slight, petite frame, black bair and eyes, of the true Spanish type, a nose slightly Roman, a face oval, with ail the clearness of the Georgian, a small mouth, with thin, flexible lips and a well-poised head—these were the noticeable features in Irona Seraville’s appear- ance, as, ina dress of the purest white, she tripped lightly into the room, “Why, Ross, you have come? I had about given you up.” ** As I leave to-morrow, I was kept later than I expected to be in making my preparations,” The speaker was a fair specimeu of what we have heard him termed, a “young American.” His coun. tenance was not beautiful, but it was manly and beccnmmmentes 9 He was rather tall. with a nervous mperament and a face stamped with the rudy nue of health. He arose as he spoke, and taking the hand of Irona, seated her, and placed himself be- side her. * Well, I wapene you come to bid me that fare- well we have buen thinking about so Jong. You are tobe gone two whole months! Ah, me! how shall I survive it?” Her black eyes sparkled mischievously as she gave adeep-drawn sigh and attempted a rueful look at the same moment. The ‘young American” replied with a pleasant smile: “You can spend the months, my fair one, in com- puting the minutes and seconds tht will elapse be- fore you shall behold me again.”’ “Yes, no doubt I shall, and in sighing away my life at your absence.” ‘ Her clear, silvery laugh rung out at this thought, and Welland, catching the contagion, was compelled to join her. “Well, well,” said she, with a more serious air, “we may be jes'ing upon what is a serious matter, afterall. Iam sure, if I were a man, that nothing could tempt me to make sucha journey. The Tex- ans and Mexicans are constantly at war with each other.” “I know; but recollect that we are friendly to the Texans and they to us, while the cowardly Mexicans never get as far north as we go. So you need have no. apprehensions upon that score.” “But there are the Comanches, and Lipans, and other Indians, who, if anything, are worse than the Mexicans. © That is true, Irona; but, surely, you cannot ex- pect there can be such a journey as we attempt with- out some danger. How could we have the adventure we so ardently long for were it otherwise? If I were certain that we were to do nothing but merely to ride there and bick again, 1am sure I should not go with the party.” “T hive no doubt but that you will meet with all the adventure you wish, and perhaps considerably more.”’ “We are well mounted and fully armed, and Colonel Ovaton is an old hand at such matters, while his two oe ave equally skillful.” * Colonel Ovaton may be good enough, but I don’t like him,” said Trona, with emphasis. “Why, little one, have you and he had a falling out?” “T never spoke to him, and never wish to. He has been here several times.” | s ““What does your father think of him?” “T have never heard him say a word regartling him. Father has seemed troubled about something for a month or two.” “Tam sorry to hear it, Irona; I trust that neither you nor I have been the cause of it.” “Just there you are wrong, for I am sure we two are the cause of his anxiety.” “Wetwo! Why, what do you mean?” * Can’t you guess?” asked I-ona, loolkinz up in his face with a meaning expression, A suspicion flash- ed across Welland’s mind—a suspicion of the truth, he felt it was, as he looked down into the dark eyes of the being beside him. “Ts it on account of my visits? Is he sorry of the relation that exists between us?’ “Tt is true, Ross.” “T never suspected this before, Irona. Why did you not acquaint me with it?” “T never knew it before to-day. I cannot help thinking that that Colonel Ovaton has had some- thing to do with it!” ‘* When was he here last?” “ To-night; [heard his voice as he came in, “Why do you think Colonel Ovaton has influenced your father?” “T have no reason to give except a suspicion, if that may be called a reason.” “I presume your father had some business to ar- range with him, He is quite a naturalist, I under- stand, and he may have made some arrangement with him to procure some specimens for him,”’ “Very probably such is the case, Ross. I do not wish to give you an unjust suspicion, Remember, my_f elings only are the cause of my thinking thus; and I can say, too, that my feelings hardly ever de- ceive me,”” “ That is,” laughed Welland, ‘while you wish me to consider your suspicions of Colonel Ovaton with- out foundation, sti] you desire me to understand that they are true. Is that it?” “Tt must be, I suppose.” “You spoke of your father’s dislike to me, Irona, What cause has he for it?” * None that I know of,” “To day, for the first time you became aware of it. I pr sume he gave you his reasons.” “T have told you, Ross, that he has no 7veasons— they are prejudices, In the first a you know he has an inveterate dislike, or coldness I might say, toward all Americans.” , **No; I never knew that, before.” “Such has been the case with him, ever since I can remember.” “Why does he dislike them? Have they ever harmed him? Why does he remain in their country? Why does he not return to Spain?” ‘*Ross,’’ said Irona, sternly, ‘ you are speaking of my father.” ‘Forgive me. Irona; I did not think. I ask your pardon. Do not let me interrupt you again,” “To-day. when seated at the table with him, he said that the more he saw of American people the more he disliked them, and he really had serious thoughts of going back to Spain. I thought noth- ing of this—as I had often heard him make such re- marks. But when he said, ‘Rather than see my Trona married to an American. l would compel her to enter a convent’—when he said that, | say I understood what he meant. I felt as thouch I should drop to the floor, I could feel the blood rush to my face and I knew he noticed it. A. few minutes later, as if he wished to Kil me. he asked me when I had last seen that American fellow.” “ What did you answer?” *T told him the truth, of course.” | “Does he know that I am here this evening?” “*T suppose so; why do you ask?’’ “Tt seems strange that he did not make his ap- arance to protect you from ‘that American fel- low.’ * “Ross, remember he is my father, and itis his daughter to whom you speak. T love him with my whole heart, for he is the best of fathers to me. T know he has strong pride and poemes but I cannot bear to hear others speak of them.” Ross Welland was just now that uncnviable person, a suspicious lover. While he had every reason to believe that his own passion for the fair girl beside him was returned, still the unexpected intelligence that her parent entertamed a strong dislike for him,
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The Hunted Hunter. 5 nettled him greatly. The manner, too, in which Trona spoke of it—as though it were a matter of course—vexed him still more. These combined had worked him to a mood in which he might be expect- ed to say something ungallant, and to do something excessively foolish, “Let me assure you, then,.”’ said he, arising to go, “that Don Alfredo Seraville need have no furt er fears regarding his Trona, ‘That American fellow’ will henceforth cease to trouble his house.” “Ross, what does this mean? Have I given you cause for it?” demanded Irona, rising also, her dark eyes flashing with indignation. “T would advise him to send his daughter to a con- vent, or give her to some old, withered up. but no'le Spaniard.” repeated Weiland, gradually stepping toward the door as he spoke. A Trona stood like an indignant queen, not stirring an inch, but gazing upon him with a look of mingled pain and scorn. “Do you know what you are saying?’ she asked, in a low tone, * Tassure you I have ordinary comprehension left. Good-evening!"” The irate lover hurriedly donned his hat and over- coat, jerked open the door, and the next minute was striding down the street, the storm of vexation and jealousy in his breast rivaling that of the elements around him. CHAPTER IIL A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER. Ir was not until the sueceeding morning that Ross Welland entertained a suspicion that he bad wrong- ly treated Irona Seraville. He may be said to have slept off his fit of jealousy, for he now viewed his conduct in its true light—as that which demanded the most ample apologies upon his part. But he had too much pride to visit a house where he knew he was viewed as an intruder, and he felt again pro- voked when ke saw he had done so more than once —unconsciously to himself, it is true, but it was none the less humiliating, tor that. Then he determined to address a note to [rona, but when prepared to do so, he reflected that in all probability it would never reach her, The thought that it would be compelled to pass the scrutiny of her father, w s not to be tol- erated an instant, No; he felt that he and she must yart with this misunderstanding between them, When he returned, he trusted that it would all be adjusted again, The sun had barely risen, when a boat cast loose from the wharf at New Orleans, and steamed rapidly down the Mississippi toward the Gulf of Mexico. It was a moderately-sized affair, made for coasting along the Gulf. Reaching the waters of this, it sweryed to the right, and maintaining a safe dis- tance from the jiand, bore off toward the Texan coast. Upon this boat, among afew other passen- gers, was Colonel Ova on and his compagnons du voyage. Two of them—himself and Ross Welland— are already known to the reader, As the remaining two will necessarily act a part in our history, we will give them a passing notice as they are steaming across the Gulf, Pierre Choujeau was what might aptly be termed the square and silent man. He was a large, bony Frenchman—one_ who often from morning until night never spoke a syllable. The most direct question generally failed to receive the slight» st ac- knowledgment, and of those who knew him, none save Colonel Ovaton attempted to converse with him. The base of | is jaw being as low as his chin, and the sort hair over his forehead passing straigit across it, his face in reality was square. The nose, with its large but even bridge, was a parallelogram, The mouth had the appearance of a line of ink drawn by rule; it was never open except when eating, upon which oecasion its upward and downward motion was as regular as machinery. _When he spoke, a small orifice at one corner, as chdugh made by his pipe-stem, could be seen, from which his words seemed to drop. A line from the shoulder to the neck would have been perfectly horizontal. His legs having the appearance of being several inches apart at their insertion, made his width at the shoulders, waist, hips, knees and feet precisely the same. The latter were not tapering, and in fact every portion of his bod y seemed constructed with the one idea of making him sgvare. His motions were such as a beast of burden would make. All he needed was a directing power. For this reason he was a most useful man to Colonel Ovaton. He was a plodding, persevering fellow, who knew no right or wrong save his master’s will. He was about fifty vos of age but like the latter, not a single silver hair glittered on his poll, Jacques Choutier was ten years younger than Pierre. He was of mongrel blood, possessing a few virtues and many vices, though from his peculiar secretive habits, the latter were rarely known except to his intimate acquaintances, He was passionate and vindictive when his anger was roused, but on ordinary occasions he was good-natured and quite communicative, Quie a friendship had sprung up between himself and Welland. The latter at first was inclined toward him, for the reason that he was the only one in their company who would permit such an inclination. Colonel Ovaton, when embark- ed upon an expedition like this, was generally re- served, although he was now and then ii. a mood which led him to unbend his dlentty Jacques had a ood fund of stories and information, and many an nour was whiled pleasantly away by Welland in list- ening to the recital of his numerous adventures, The passage across the Guif was a pleasant one, and was not varied by any incident worth mention- ing. In due time the steamer arrived at Matagorda, at the head of the bay of the same name, where our adventurers spent their first night in Texas, The New Orleans merchants, under whose auspices this expedition was undertak: n, had made arrangemen s to transport the men #s far toward their destination as it could be done by water. Accordingly, upon their arrival, they found a small stern-wheeled steamer awaiting them for this purpose, In the morning, with their horses and_ effects, they em- barked, and the voyage up the Rio Colorado com- menced, It did not escape the notice of Welland that, be- sides the members of their own company, there was another person upon the steamer—ove who, from allappearances, had in viewa journey similar to their own. He was accompanied by a magnificent black horse, was well armed, and had the (cut ensend le of a man of the plains. Despite the air of interest which attached to this man, there was an uneccountable feeling of repul- siveness which Welland felt toward him, He spent many an hour ip the vain effort to ascertain what particular quality or point about the stranger was so distasteful to him, The man was reserved and thoughtful, yet there was nothing in bis countenance which Welland could see. that bespoke the villain, And yet this unaccountable dislike not only remain- ed but so increased that Welland felt if the stranger really intended to accompany them, he should be compelled to turn back, He made inquiries of Col- onel Ovaton and Jacques. but both knew, or pro- fessed to know, nothing of him. Inthe afternoon of the second day up the Rio Colorado, Welland was passing backward and for- ward upon the small deck of the streamer, his hands behind bim and his head bent, in deep thought, He was reflecting, for the hundredth time, upon his last interview with Irona Seraville. partly excusing yet lamenting his own rashness. The thought that he had parted from ber in anger—that a thousand things might arise to prevent a reconciliation— afforded him bitter food for reflection, Indulging in these bitrer meditations, Wellend suddenly looked up, and siarted as he saw ihe stranger standing a few feet from him, gazing at him with a fixed and piercing look, He turned his
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S The Hunted Hunter. eyes away the instant he encountered those of Wel- land, but the la ter, certain that he had be-n sub- jected to this scrutiny for a long time, determined tosolve the mystery at once. Without pausing a moment, h» walkei directly up to him, and laying his hand upon bis shoulder, asked: “What is yo name?” i Que?” asked the stranger, with a wondering stare. ‘**Do you not speak English?” asked Welland. Ue shook his head, as though he misunderstood the question. “TWudge, then, Tsay! Thaven’t learned enough of your beautiful language yet to hold a conversation in it.” nat without attempting it, Welland turned and.left the deck, That nizht a bright moon arose in the early part of the evening. The pilot having ascended above this point in the river on a previous occasion, with the same boat, and being well acquainted with the stream, kept her under way daring the entira nicht, Welland was stan ling at the bow of the boat, gazins at the dark outlines o* the shore as they steamed up the river. Raising his eyes. he saw the stranger engaged in the Same minner—not looking at him but at the shore, The moon shone fullia bis fac, and he was gazing upon the banks with an intensity of interest that made him insensidle to what was pass- ing around him. t was with a feeling akin to horror that, at this instant, the conviction flashed upon Welland that this man was to play an important vart in his own destiny. He endeavored to dismiss the thought as a whim which bad suddenly possessed him; but the more he reflected, the more fixed became that be- lief. For nearly an hour did he watch, hardly once removing his eyes from him. — The stranger still sca ined the shore with deep interest. and now and then moved his lips as thouzh muttering to himself. To Welland’s utter amazement, he distinctly heard the words, in good English: ‘* We hain’t passed ths point, I’m sure, and i5 must be hyerabouts.” His first impulse was to sten forward and accuse the fellow of the deception which he had practiced; but, upon second thought, he conclude 1 t» k-ep his knowledge to himself. Now and then Welland could s3e the lips part, and hear him muttering, but caught no words, All at once the stranger raised his hand to hs forehead, and, shading his eys. leaned over the railing of the boat, and gazed toward the shore, as if he would penetrate through every ob- stacle with his piercing gaze A few minutes seemed to satisfy him, when he hurriedly lef: bis place, and shortly after, the boat stopped. In conversation with the pilot, Welland had been told that the man who troubled him so much was to Jeave the boat during the night; therefore he understood the cause of the stoppage. A small boat was lowered, into which the stranzer stepped, while Welland, by request, accompanied one of the men to assist in rowing him to the shore. He sat in the stern, holding. the bridle of his horse, who swam behind, and in this manner the three rapidly approached the Iand, On the shore the stranger instantly mounted his horss, and, without a syllable, cantered off in the darkness. Welland and his companion paused by common consent until the retreating footstevs died away in the distance, when they rowed back to the steamer. “We are now rid of you,” muttered Welland, “and I fervently trust I shall never meet you ar ut he was to be disappointed. CHAPTER IV. THE FIRST ENCAMPMENT AND THE FIRST ALARM. Tae point at which the stranger left the steamer was a few miles above the month of the Llano _ branch which puts into the Rio Colorado from the west. Above, the navigation was exceedingly difficult, The boat moved slowly during the night. and in the morning the captain informed Co'one!l Ovaton that he should put back by noon at the latest. The country on both banks of the stream was now the rolling prairie, which stretched away to the north and south as far asthe eye could reach. Tue air was dry and bracing. and Jacques informed Welland that they were approaching one of the hraithiest regi>ns on the globe. At noon the boat ran aground, and our adventurers effected th ir debarkation. the river being so shajlow that they easily rode ashore on their horses, As they reached land, the little steamer succeeded in backing off the bar, an‘, after interchange of farewells, the adventurers saw it put about and steam down the river. The men had Janded upon the northeastern shore of the Colorado, it being their intention to ascend the right bank of that riv r. As they are now fairly embarked upon their journey, we will give, ina few w: rds, the manner in which they con- dueted it. The four, as we have before stated, were well mounted and well armed, each possessing a fine rifle, a brace of pistols, a bowie-knife, and an abuid- ance of ammunition. The pack-horses carried their baggage, cooking utensils, and the »rticles needed upon such an expedition as theirs. Colonel Ovaton was an uneducatscd man, and his employers dep -nded for their information upon the verbal re- port whic he was to make on his return. In journeying, this man _ geuverally rode ahead, sweeping the horizon continually for Comanche, Lipan, or wild animals. Jacques or Welland rode next, and Choujeau, the silent man, brought up the rear with the two pack-horses. Sometimes C Jonel Ovaton fell behind, and it devolved upon Jacques and Welland to take the lead. Journeying thus on the afternoon succeeding their debarkation, they came in sight of the Colorado Hills stretching away to the Llano Estacado, in a direc- tion parallel with the river. At nightfall, a small stream near its base was reached, where Colonel Ovaton concluded to encamp for the night. The grass was luxuriant and succu- lent, and the air sufficiently cool to make the warmth of a fire enjoyable. This was started in the bed of the brook, so that it could be seen but a short dis- tance away. “The Comanche sometimes comes as far east as this,’ remarked Jacques to Welland. “but it’s al- together unlikely that there are any within two bun: dred miles of us.” * Unlikely, but by no means impossible, I presume, friend Jacques.” “Exactly, though nigh enough, impossible to make me feel safe.” “Tam satisfied that Colonel Ovaton would permit nothing which could endanger the safety of the party, and you must not understand me as, doubting he propriety of kindling this fire. It will not be fully night for an hour or two, an1 I propose that we take a ramble among the mountains. Have you any objec‘ion. Colonel Ovaton?” asked Welland, turning toward the latter. “Tt’s a poor time to hunt, late as this in the day, and *tain’t likely we’d see nothing of you ag’in till morning. There’s plenty time to-morrow,” replied Ovaton, shaking his head. y Welland said no more, as he felt it was hardly proper to dispute with their leader on so small a pore as this; but he could not help thinking that e@ was more arbitrary than he hadright to be, and as he had come upon this expedition for his own per- sonal benefit, he resolved that he would be his own master—going whither and when he pleased withous questioning any one. Pierre was the cook of the party, and soon had toasted a good-sized piece of meat, from. a quantity which they had brought with them. This, washed down by several draughts from the sparkling stream beside them, formed their evening repast, and it was
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The Hunted Hunter. < v7 devoured with a zest by éach. When finished, the four gathered sround the firé, their blankets wrap- ped around their forms, and, producing their pipes, aor red for the evening’s pleasure. “Who stands guard to-night?” asked Jacques, of Ovatou. “Him.” he replied, nodding toward Welland. “ This is the best time for you,” remarked Jaques, “You see, ‘twould hardly do to put you on duty when we were in among the Comanches, Apaches, or Lipans. You don’t understand their devilments yet, and they would be sure to come some of them over you.’? “Tam perfectly willing, of course. I expect to share the duties as well as the pleasures of this expedition, and wish to take my turn with each of ‘ou. Colonel Ovaton grunted, as if to intimate that his wish would be amply gratified in the future. The hour being now quite late, the fire was re- plenished, and all save Welland, with the blankets wrapped about them, laid down with their feet to- ward it. Before they had done so, he asked of Col- onel Ovaton his instructions for the night. ““Why. keep your peepers peeled; don't let_a bird chirp without knowing where it’s perched, and blaze away at anything you see moving.” *Shall I not awaken you?” . * Garrat! We'll wake, you may be sure. If you see a dozen red-skins, fire into ’em. or if it’s nothing but a wild horse; but, you'll see little, I guess,”” With these instructions, Welland commenced his watch for the night. No moon or stars were visible. A bank of clouds, which lay in the horizon at sunset, had gradually overspread the heavens. These were not of a char- acter to threaten storm, and objects were faintly visible at fifteen or twenty yards distance. The horses were picketed in the bed of the stream, and within twenty yards of the sleepers, their lariats al- lowing them to cross and recross the brook at will, Welland felt there was little danger of his falling asleep, yet, to guard against such a misfortune, he placed his rifle over his shoulder and commenced walking slowly backward and forward, passing in his walk from the animals to a point a short distance from the fire. This afforded him a view of the prairie on both sides, and probably was the best course that he could have adopted. He commenced his duties of the night with the firm resolve to o'ey Colonel Ovaton. He meant to keep an unremitting watch until daylight, and suffer nothing at all to occur which his vigilance could prevent. Several times he walked up and down the stream, and then paused and listened; but he saw nothing unusual, and only heard the munching of the two pack-horses—the other having laid down for the night—and the oceasional sighing of the wind throuch the mounteins above-him. Being some- what fatigued, be seated himself for a moment near the animals. and the instant he did so, heard dis- tinetly a footfall upon the prairie! It was like the clamp of a horse’s hoof, and so plain that there could be n» mistake about it. His first thoucht was that one of their own avimals had broken his ‘arint, but a glance sufficed to show him his mist ke. He next believed it to be nothing more than some wild beast, that had been attracted by the smell of their cooking meat, and remembering the in- junction of Colovel Ovator, that if a bird chirped to ascertain ifs perch, he listened for a second evi- dence of its proximity. Ina few moments a sound was heard in another direction, as if made by the hoof of some animal striking a stone, Welland arose and walked toward the spot, with the inten- tion of approaching nigh enough to ascertain the eause. He had gone but a few steps, when it oc- curred to him that he was performing an act which endangered not only his personal safety but that of the entire company: He instantly turned on his heel and approached the fire, which was now so low that the forms of the sleepers were barely visible. As he did so, the foot- fall was repeated. and looking around, he caught the shadowy outlines of a mounted horseman! Be- fore he could bring bis rifle to his shoulder, it had vanished, To say that Welland was now alarmed would be but the simple truth. This appearance of danger was so unexpected—so entirely unlooked for, that be was taken aback fora few moments. He determined, however, to challenge it when it next appeared, and to fire if the stranger refused to an- sSwer, For fully half an hour did he exert himself to ob- tain the wished-for sight of the man, and again and again was he disappointed. Now he would hear the tramp of the horse, and when he looked in that direc- tion, the animal whisked from view like some phan- tom. He heard it d«scend the hollow of the brook and cross the stream several times, so that it was evident the horseman was circling around him, but without approaching any closer, however. Suddenly he distinguished the head of the horse looming up in the darkness, and saw him approach until he stood but fifty feet away. As the animal faced him. his head and that of his rider were dis- tine! ly outlined. ' ‘* Who goes there?” asked Welland. He waited fully a minute, but received no reply. “Who goes there, I say?” he repeated, in a tone louder than before. é Ba i the horse and rider remained as motionless as eath. “Once again, and for the last time, I challenge you,” said Welland, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, and give you two seconds to answer in.” Two, and ten seconds elapsed without bringing any reply, and Welland took as deliberate an aim as the darkness would permit. Whil+ his finger was pressing the trigger. the horse became so indistinct that, fearful of losing his aim, he raised his head to assure himself that his rifle was really pointed to- ward them. To his amazement, both had disap- peared! ‘*Be he man or demon!" he exclaimed, ‘I will not challenge him again before I fire.”’ He regretted bis leniency, and determined to atone for it as far as in his power. e arproncne’ some- what closer to the fire, being careful, however, to keep his own form from being seen. About an hour Jater, while looking carefully around him, his eyes rested upon the horse and his rider, s'ill nearer than before—so near, in fact, that the contour of the man’s face was visible. it was indeed the man that he believed it to be! “ Now, my fine fellow,” thought Welland, “I'll try a different method of challenging you.” ? He took a qu'ck aim and fired. The report of the rifle rung out with stunning clearness upon the still night air, and was instantly followed by that of an- other, the bullet of which whizzed within an inch of Welland’s forehead, and buried itself in thesleepin form of Jacques. Instantly Colonel Ovaton an Pierre were on their feet and beside Welland, who, in a few hurried words, related the cause of his firing. The two former separated and made a cir- cuit upon the prairie. but returned without having obtained a view of the horseman _ Satisfied that he would not appear again, Colonel Ovaton turned his attention toward Jacques, who was suffering greatly from his wound. : CHAPTER V, IN THE MOUNTAINS—THE FLIGHT. THe wound of Jacques, although a bad one, was not necessarily dangerous. He had been lying with his feet tow rd Welland. and the bullet, striking just above his knee, plowed its way nearly to his hip. where it passed out, making an ugly flesh rip. He was unable to rise or use t is leg The most that could be done was to watch beside him until morn- ing, Welland willingly performed this duty while
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Colonel Ovaton and Pierre acted as sentinels. Noth- ing more, however, was seen of the horseman. ‘po the morning a consultation was held. “How soon will you be able to ride your horse?” asked Ovaton of the wounded man. “In two weeks, [ s'pose,"’ replied the latter, with & groan, * Not before that, sure.” “You needn’t wait for me, howsomever,” added the sufferer; “if you're rather anxious to get ahead, take me and the horse up to the mountains, leave me a piece of fodder, and I'll shift for myself.” 7 ne pee against such an inhuman proceeding,” said Welland, excitedly, ‘It is nothing better than murder, and—" “When we want your a‘ivice, sir, we'll ask it,” in- terrupted Ova'on. “If Jacques wished to remain onan we coull spare him, he should do so—” “ And [should stay with him," said Welland, in- dignantly. That would be as I thought best, young feller, and I'd advise you to keep a civil tongues in tha head of yourn. But that ain’t the style in which [ intend to do business. Jacques can’t be sp red no more than can anyof us. So we'll move our cam up to the hills yender, where we'll stay till he’s able to nae bie legs ag’in. How does that suit, Jacques?” 4 0. “ Being light now, 1'll fix up his hurt summat bet- ter than ‘twas done in the night, and, Pierre, you see that we've something to eat, as soon as sucha thing can be done.” Pierre set about this duty, while Ovaton proceeded to unloose the rough bandage of the wound, and to re-drass it, This was done in the simplest manner, and at its conclusion the sufferer felt, much relieved, All that was now needed was time for it to heal. Jacques had had worse wounds before, and felt no alarm for the result of this. Colonel Ovaton was talking with him, and Welland was listening, when their attention was attracted by an exclamation from Pierre. So unusual an occur- rence caused them to look instantly toward him, and Ovaton to ask: “What is the matter now, Pierre?” Several miles away they saw a horseman. gps 7 ing at a rapid gait toward the Colorado Hills, At such a distance he resembled a pigmy, but as he stood out in relief against the clear sky beyond, he was 40 distinctly outlined that there could be no mis- taking the person. * He is ths one who fired the shot,” said Welland. Colonel Ovaton, shading his eyes, gazed long and intently at him, and finally added: “It's the very same chap that came from Mata- gorda with us.” “ What I thought last night. Whit can he mean by following us in this manner?” asked Welland. Ovaton made no reply, and the three sat down to the morning meal. Jicques questioned Wellan1 in re- gard to the horseman, and finally remarked: *T've seen this chap before, I’m sure.” “Where?” “T have been trying to think for the last half- en 1 Colonel Ovaton, haven’t you seen him your- 8 **Not before he came on the boat at Matagorda.” “That's a downright lie,” said Jacques, in a lower tone, to Welland, *‘I just now thought where it was we had set eyes on him, for Ovaton was with me at the time. Tt was in St. Louis, two years ago. Me and the colonel had been trapping up on the Platte, We made a trip up to Fort Laramie on our way back, and when we left there, that knave was there, mounted on the same black horse that he’s on this minute, We struck a bee-line for St. Louis, and when we drove up to the ‘Hunter’s Home,’ the very fu’st one we laid eyes on was that identical chap. I remember how Colonel Ovaton axed him whether he was the Flying Dutchman ‘cause we'd made up our minds that about the shortest time ever ?. The Hunted Hunter, made between Fort Laramie and St. Louis had been made by us. ‘* Did he talk English to you?” “Talk English? I should think hedid, Westayed there a week, and he was there when we left. He spent a pile in treating us and everybody else who happened to drop in, and he used to spin some long yarns that he said he’d /e 7d—for he never once told anything that he went through.” “Did you learn anything of him?” “Not a bit. I tried to eel hima dozen times, but it was no go. I didn’t even l’arn his name.” “Did you see him again before the other day?” “Yes; Imet him last summerin Memphis. Colonel Ovaton happened to be with me that time, too. But, (would you believe it?) the knave pretended he didn’t know it. He stuck to it he had never met us before, and when I kind of insinuated that h+ was lying tre- mendous big, he clinched it by saying that he'd never been in St. Louis.” “Could you not have been mistaken?” “No, sir, If you notice, one of his eyes is gray and t'other is black, and he remembered us well enough. I offered to bring myself to his mind by making a free fight with him, but he didn’t appear to care goss od about it.” “Well, now, Jacques who can he be, and what does he mean by following us in this manner?” “You may scalp me if I can tell, I only ax the chance to square last night’s account with him. He'll find out who Jam, I’m thinking just now.” “T presume your wound was an accidental one upon his part. He undoubtedly meant it for me,” “Allthe same. He fired at our party, and he hit me, Can you see him yet?” “No; he has reached the Hills and probably is ascending them. He is eoncealed by the bushes upon their sides,” “Wal, as we are going to them same Hills, I shouldn't wonde if we had the chance to make his acquaintance ag’in,”” Do yon believe Colonel Ovaton remembers him?” asked Welland, in a whisper. “He can't helpit, I know he does,” “Do you believe Colonel Ovaton knows anything of the cause which has led him to follow us? Do i: 8 ig there is any connection between the wo Jacques looked fup with a wondering expression, and replied: “T never thought of that; it may be so." The pack-horses were loaded and everything ready, with the exception of the wounded man, for a journey. Welland mounted his own horse, and as- sisted by Ovaton and Pierre, lifted Jacques up be- fore him, where he held him as they rode forward. In this fashion they moved off toward the Hills. Two hours brought them to the base, and they began the toilsome ascent. One-third the way up they came to a large, valley-like depression, thranek which a small stream of cold and sparkling water flowed. Here Colonel Ovaton decided to establish their one 9 A sort of rude tent was erected upon the banks of the stream, where it was completely screened by the luxuriant trees and vegetation, The best of proven- der was all around them; there was, therefore, no anxiety on account of thei: horses, After the ar- rangements had heen completed, Colynel Ovaton, accompanied by Pierre, spent several hours in wan- dering over the mountains to ascertain their precise situation and to see whether there was any prospect of receiving a visit from fhe Comanches. From this elev tion they wers afforded a magnificent view of the surronndine country, To the north and east stretche"’ the billowy prairies, coverel with all kinds of vegetation, and crossed and recrossed by streams and rivers. To the south and west the same prospect
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The Hunted Hunter. 9 ed 38 eye; not a sign of a human being was visible. Nosigns of game were seen, yet they were satisfied there was plenty in the mountains, which their rifles would ever be an unfailing reliance in pany They finally descended to their camping-groun reaching it near the hourof noon, A dark scow assed over Colonel Ovaton'’s face when he saw elland and Jacques engaged in earnest conversa- tion. He deigned no ag to the latter’s questions, and more than once made an insulting remark to the former, who, though severely stung, possessed enough prudence to restrain his temper. Imme- diately after the meal, Colonel Ovaton, refusing the company of any one, shouldered his rifle and took his departure. It is not our purpose to dwell upon all the particu- lars of this encainpment among the mountains, but to give only those which directly concern the pro- gress of our story. A week —— lengthened into two, and it was found that ues would not be fit to mount his horse until another had, expired. Colonel Ovaton, who seemed perfectly satisfied to remain any length of time, announced that they should not move away until their disabled companion was perfectly able to accompany them. The greater part of the day was spent by Ovaton in wandering alone over the mountains, and once or twice he had taken Pierre with him. Although a good shot, Welland could not help noticing that he never brought beck any game; this duty devolving upon bimself and Pierre. From this. he concluded their leader employed the time in some other man- ner than hunting. Welland himself occasionally spent an hour in an aimless ramble, and on two separate occasions did not return till after dusk, The last time Colonel Ovaton cautioned him that it woul’ be dangerous to repeat this experiment, as it was more than probable that enemies were abroad in the mountains, Nothing had been seen or heard of the horseman by Welland, but he had not forgotten him by any means. One pleasant afternoon he ascended the mountain and took a direction in which he had been accus- tomed to travel—that is, to the northward. He also went further than he intended, and when he seated himself upon a rock, found he was at the base of the mountain upon the opposite side. While look- ing listlessly about him, he was startled by hearing the stamp of a horse’s foot, From the sound he knew the animal was somewhat near him, but was evidently concealed by the dense vegetation. De- termined to ascertain his locality, he arose and cau- tiously made his way through the shrubbery and undergrowth, and had gone scarcely a dozen steps when he came upon the black horse of the hunter with whom he had exchanged shots upon the night of their first en; ment! While wondering and speculating upon this, he heard the hum of voices near at hand, and after some more careful recon- on discovered the hunter himself in conver- sation with Colonel Ovaton. They were seated upon a fallen tree, and so earnestly engaged that both could have been pounced upon by a couple of In- dians with a moral certainty of success. Welland felt the circumstances would have justi- fied him in playing the eavesdropper if it could have done him any good; but, overhearin word or s0, he found they were speaking in the Spanish—a lan- guage of which he had not enough knowledge to avail himself. Not. knowing how soon their confer- ence might end, he withdrew and made his way back to the encampment, On his way thither he had almost come to the conclusion to impart what he had learned to Jacques, but, singular as it may seem, the incidents of the last day or two had filled him with suspicion of this man, and he resolved to ieee his own counsel. . at night Ross Welland almost resolved to leave his company and return to the East. A suspicion— in fact, an absolute certainty, that the disposition of his own person was determined by Ovaton, led to this, and he made a mental vow that he would not advance a step further north in his company, He could not well leave at the time h» formed this con- clusion, as Pierre was acting as sentinel. It could do no harm, he concluded, to remain a day longer, and in the mean time he would keep a closer watch upon those around him. The next day passed as had many of the former ones. Colonel Ovaton was absent most of the time, and, as good fortune would have it, Welland was as- Signed the duty of acting sentinel through the night. This convinced him that no suspicion was entertain- ed of his intention, and assured him that coolness and self-confidence were all that was needed to in- sure success. Colonel Ovaton was the first to fall asleep, and Pierre the next. Jacques, from sleepin so much through the day, was restless and wakeful; but, at a late hour, Welland concluded matters look- ed favorable enough to make the attempt. Stealing cautiously away from their rude tent, he passed out to where the horses were grazing. His own animal was there, and mounting him, he carefully descended the mountain, reached the open prairie, and struck off on a gallop to the southeast, in a direction paral- lel with the Hills. He determined to reach the Rio Colorado and follow it down to Matecords, or some of the Eastern cities, where he would take the first opportunity to make his way back to New Orleans. fe would explain his haste and apologize for his rudeness to Irona—and what then? Ross Welland was suddenly awakened from these reflections by the mingled reports of rifles, faintly heard in the distance. As he paused and listened, he distinguished several sounds, as if they were the yell of Indians, They were directly ahead of him, and pumas that a conflict was going on at that mo- ment. CHAPTER VI. THE WHITE STEED OF THE PRAIRIE—AN UNEXPECTED ETING. WELLAND knew that the Soniuaient whoever they might be, were probably a long distance away. Feeling little fear of coming up with them, at least for several hours. he determined to ride forward, in the direction from which the sounds came, as long as he deemed it expedient, en he could change his course to suit circumstances. At night the moon erose, as if coming from the of the ocean, and, inspired as Welland was with the thought that every hour was craig him nearer to his adored Irona, and increasing the dis- tance between him and his enemies, he could not resist the influence of the scene around him. To the left, the dark, gloomy mass of the Colorado Hills stretched miles and miles away, while on the right, in the rear, and on the front, the rolling prairie covered with its exuberant vegetation, encom| him. He seemed a wanderer upon the limitless sea. As the moon rose higher and higher, and the rairie became lightened up, a view of several miles i extent was afforded. About a mile in advance, Welland distinguished a vast tract of the prairie which seemed entirely de- void of vegetat on, having the appearance of newly: plowes earth. This phenomenon was soon explained a deep, thundering roll and a sudden trembling of the earth as if shaken by an earthquake, It was an almost innumerable herd of buffaloes, who, scenting danger in the air, were plunging away over the prairie, which fairly vibrated beneath their tre They took a direction at right angles to the one he was following, and he reined up until they had passed before him. He then resumed his jour- ney, crossing a belt of prairie, which looked as if it had been desolated by a tornado. It was still far from midnight, and, riding stead! forward, he gave way to his feelings, and indul; in a pleasant reverie. From this he was reca by the sudden sheering of his horse, and a neigh of
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(Se Rt d\) = ee ae fy 10 The Hunted Hunter. alarm. At first he was at a loss to discover the cause of his fear; bit in a fev moments distin- shed a wil’ » nemal, several hundred yards dis- it, which was keeping ced ») with his own. A feeling of superstitious alarm took possession of Welland at this unexp»cted apparition, It was not alloping, like his own beast, but pacing, and its oofs rung out with startling clearness upon the prairie. - “The Cavallo Blanc, as 1 live!” exclaimed Wel- land. “That famed animal of which I huve heard and read so many marvels.” It was indeed a beautiful white horse—the veri: table one which has become so celebrated in history, and Welland now viewed him with the most fervent admiration. Once he laid bis hand upon his rifle, as he reflected that it was in his power to bring down this king of the prairis, but he dismiss -d the thought as unworthy of a civilized being. No one could wish to slay or maim such a magnificent beast, although baffled many had been, in their efforts to capture him, The White Steed anl that of Wellasd had ex- changed a friendly neigh or two, and they now gradually verged toward each ofher until wihhia less than a hundred yards, Welland endeavored toa - proach still closer, but the royal pacer would not permit it. and at this relative distance they careere | the one on a swift gallop, and the other upon aa easy, steady, racking-pace. “Heavens! if T only had you under sade and bridle!” exclaimed Velland, as he again surveys | the noble horse. ‘Next to my own Trona, you ar> the most beautiful creature that IT have ever seen. No wealth could purchase such a treasure.” Welland’s horse, which had never been left behind in a contest of speed, sesmed vexed and uneasy at this strange animal maintaining his place beside him, He ec afed under the bit, and would 19t be restrained by his rider. He was determine 1 to display his own powers. .“ Well, go ahead, my gool horse,” said his rider, loosening the rain; ‘* you have never met your mate 1 bef re, but you will find out you now have. I hay» an idea, however, that youcan compel him to resort to his best to keep his distance. Go ahead!” The horse Headed toward the Waite Steed, and burst away at a trem*ndous gait. He gradually gained until he was within twenty feet, and Well- and’s heart leaped with exultation atthe thought that the animal he bestrode was able to cope with this celebrated pacer, when the latter flung his head aloft, anl with a whinny that sounded like the scream of a panther, shot ahead with such extraor- dinary velocity that for a m»ment Welland believed his own horse had ae down to a walk, so rapidly was he left behind. Bunt, as he looked down and saw that he was calling his utmost powers into lay, he no longer wondere | at the marvelous stories hat were told of the White Steed. The horse, now fully a quarter of a mile inadvance, turned his side toward his pursuer, and prancing thus, maintained the same distance for several minutes. Under the hright moonlight, every grac> and charm were as distinctly brought out as at noon- day, and when he coursed across the prairie with arrowy swiftness, 2 more singularly beautiful spec- tacle could not have been imagined. With a shrill neigh as if inscorn at this attempt to cope with hin, he burst away azain cescribine a complete circle around Welland, and approaching within a few yards of him with that dainty, delicate step which is seen when the traine! horse is reined down to a walk by his mast:r. Welland’s horse, seemingly conscious th wt he wasintheconpiny of no ordinary animal, gave over his terrific efforts, and settled down into the same easy, swinging gallop as before, while his rid-r contented himself with wa cing the curvetinzs and gyrations of the White Seed: Princiug, paciug thus, and taunting him, the latter continued his playful antics for over an hour, when, sending forth one of his piercing screams, he shot | off upon the prairie with incredible swiftness, soon disappeared, and was seen no more. Welland judged it now to be midnizht, and deemed it best tha’ his horse should have several hours’ rest, A half-mile ahead. a long. dark line siretched across the plain, blending at either end with the darkness. This he knew to be a belt of timber, fringing a small tributary cf the Rio Colorado, and here he determined he suould halt until morning, Ashe rode up and down the billowy swells of the prairie, he kept his eye fixed upon ir, with the ob- ject of selecting some favorable spot for his purpose. T+ was within several hundred vards, when some- thing twinkled like a firefly in the grove, and imme- diately disappeared. As he ascended the rise in the prairie, the glimmer was visible, and, halting a moment, he satisfied himself that he was within a short distance of some one’s camp-fire, He approached the timber in a circuitous direction and fastening h’s ho se upon the outskirt, carefully picked his way through it. He discovered, in a few moments, that the fire was upon the opposite side of the stream; the latter, however, was very shallow, and be crossed it witho it difficulty. A few yards fur- ther, p’ssed with a tread as silent as death, and he gained afull view of the fire. Instead of a party of hiteous Indians upon the war-path, he saw two white men, evidently hunters or trappers, lazily smoking their pipes. Both were bronzed and shaggy- looking, and sat gazing into the fire before them with the most imperturbable gravity, and without speak- ing a word, Wellin! chanzed his position to gain a better view, and as he did so, discovered that there was a third party. This was a female, sitting with a shawl wrapped aroun’ her, leaning her head forward and covering her face with her hands, She was of a slight, delicate fram», with black, luxuriant hair, and Welland supposed her to be the young squaw of one of the hunters, She sat as m tionless as a statue, and the three, equally moveless and silent, formed a singular and picturesque ta’ leau. At this instant a twig snapped beneath the font of Welland, and the female looked up. The light of the camp-fires shone full upon her face, and Ross Wel- land saw before him—lIrona Seraville! CHAPTER VII. THE HUNTERS AND THEIR ADVENTURE. Turre was no mistaking her. The same oval face, the same massy black hair, the dark eyes, the fee- tures ali were hers, Yes, Irona Seraville was before him. Unaccountable as was her appearance. Wel- land felt no doubts of her identity. She who, he was certain, was in a distant city, where he had left her several weeks before. was here, alone with two rude hunters upon the prairie of Texas. Hardly ten seconds had clapsed since this astoun- ding discovery, when Welland resolved to advance», make bimself known to the hunters, and claim their companion, With fois intention he stepped naiseless- ly from behind the tree, and by that movement saved his life, As he did so. the ery crack of a rifle resounde:l through the grove, and the whistle of a bullet was within an inch of his eyes. The break- ing of the twig beneath his foot had betrayed his proximity to the hunters, and ten seconds sufficed for them to ascertain his hiding-place Ere he had recovered from his confusion created by this greet- in. a dark, ball-like body bounted toward him, and pesca d in the aircame down like a panther upon him. “old!” shouted Welland. struggling in the Her- culean grasp, ‘lama friend! Do not strike!" Instead of having the hold upon him loosened, Welland was drag ‘ed to the fire, where his head was unceremoniously bent down and a view of his feat- ures taken “ White or I’m a red-skin,” exclaimed his captor. “What you doin’ in these parts, say?” B-fore replying, Welland glanced at Irona. and saw with gratification that she had not recognized
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The Hunted Hunter. him. Keeping his back toward her and partly dis- guising his voiee, be answered: “I saw your camp fire for some distance, and was seeking to find out whether it belonged to fmends or foes, when, it seems, you discovered me.” “Wal, we did, stranger, and rayther a dangerous diskiver it come nigh bein’ to you, didn’t it, eh?” ‘* More so than I care about undergoing again.” “What mought be the handle you uses in these parts, stranger?” asked the second hunter. “Ross Welland, sir.” “Tf it ain’t axing too much, what mought be the handle you uses at Aw, eh?” * Why, tha same, of course.” “Wai wal Come, now, that might do with some, but it don’t go down with us. Howsumever, it’s none of our business, and you needn’t tell us if you don’t choose. From the States, I s’pose?” ‘Yes; ei. “What mought have been the in/ucement for you to emigrate—house-burning, house-breaking, mur- der, or any of them gentlemanly amusements?” asked the first hunter, with a sly. look, ‘I don’t und crs‘and you, sir,” replied Welland, etling an inklins of their meaning the instant he ad made his answer, * Don’t understand, eh? of emiyratng?” ‘*T came to Texas of my own free will afew weeks since, with Colonel Ovaton.” ‘““With who, di: you say?’ quickly asked the hunter. * Colonel Ovaton, and two of his friends.” “Colonel Ovaton, ch? And a pretty ruff’n he is, too. 1 ca’e’late if he had his dues, he’d be hung in every State, city and village between us and the Potomac. It den’t speak well. Mr. Ross Welland, for you to tell such a story after bein’ in Colonel Ovalon’s company.” “T know noit ing of Colonel Ovaton, except that he has been employed by several wealthy merchants to examine Noi thwestern Texas, ur the novelty and adventure I undertook to accompany bim.”’ “What you doin’ in these parts then. eh?” “T sw several things about him that I did not pecticalars! like; so 1 Jeft him in the early part of he evening.” “A lucky leave, I should say, though IT don’t know as the man had any fancy for you,”* “T have given you my name, friends, and now 1 should be glad to hear yours,” “Br I’m called Ned Nuggens, I won’t get mad,” replied the hunter, who bad come so nigh shooting Welland. ‘And yours, i? you please?” he asked, turning to- ward the other, ‘ By the same token, I’m called John Smith.” * Jobn Smith,” laughed Welland; “it seems I have heard that name before.” eS Renan be; I’m pretty generally known in these parts. “Those are the names, I presume, that you use in T xvas,” said Welland, meaningly. ““Tha'’s why we give ’em ” “T won't pd you, as you did me, the inducement that Jed you to emigrate, for I cannot believe it was any crime.”’ 4 “No, sir, itararn’/. John Smith is the only handle I ever used, and Ned Nuggens is the only one that Comanche over thar ever tote’ about. We didn’t emigrate. We was both born down ‘long the Texan coast, and we've seen some tall times in our day. It ain’t many strangers we've come across, as are from the States, but what have been sorter induced, as you might say, to emigrate. That’s why I axed ‘ou, we I suppose you are hunters?” “Txaectly, Hain’t you got a boss?” “Certainly; he is picketed a short distance away. Why did you ask?” “Only ‘cause I wanted to know. bound to, just now?” What give you the notion Where are you 11 “Tam on my way to New Orleans. 1 suppose you are on a hunting or trapping expedi‘ion?” “Exactly; we’re goin’ up toward the upper part of the Colorado.” “The Comanches, I believe, frequent that part of the country?” “Yes, but we're used to ’em; had many a brush with ’em, and jest to get our hand in we had a scrimmage to-night with a tot.” “You did? Then it was your guns I heard?” “Shouldn’t wonder, if ’twas abow' three or four hours ago. If you heerd ours you heerd theirs too, for they used 'em.” “What was the cause of the affiay?” eagerly asked Welland. “That piece of calico back thar,” replied Nuggens, in a low tone. “Ah! was she in their possession—a prisoner?” pursued Welland, unable to restrain Lis eagerness, “That’s what was the matter.” “Let me have the particulars, will you?” “Tn the morning,” replied Nuggens. *‘*°S too late in the evening now.” Welland deemed it prudent not to press the hunter, as he knew enough of their class to understand that it could avail nothing. He arose and remarked: ‘**T will attend to my horse and then rejoin you.” As he passed out among the trees, he planced at Trona. She was gazing intently at him, as though she suspected the truth. and he was tempted to re- turn and make himself known to her; but on second thought, he deemed it best to wait until morning. He found his horse as he had left him, and, satisfy- ing bimself that he was secure until that time, he returned to the camp-fire. Here he saw that the ar- rangements for the night bad beeu completed. More fegots had been heaped upon the blaze. a screen of brush was re-arranged so as to ecnceal the flame, while Irona had retired for ihe night. One of the hun- ters’ huge blankets was spread upon the ground and formed her bed. Her own shawl was first wrapped around her, and then the other gathered up a roll at the head forming the pillow, so that. all things con- sidered, her condition was as comfortable as it could be under the circumstances. ‘John Smith” re- sembled a monstrous turtle, hermetically sealed in his shell, Neither bis head nor his feet—nothing but a roll of blanket. puffed up to an enormous size, revealed his dwelling-place. Nuggens was seated just beyond the cirele of the fire, where he had set- - tled himself to keep watch over his sleeping com-- pantone through the night. Hoping tLat he might ~ be disposed to enter into conversation, Welland ap- proached him: : “Do you apprehend a visit from the Comanches to-night?” “Don’t understand that big word you used. Speak English and I'll understand,” “Have you any fear of the Indians attacking you before morning?” “Me and Smith don’t fear the red-skins.” “That isn’t exactly what I mean. Do you believe that they wil! attack you?” ‘“*Why didn’t you say so afore? No, don’t think they will.” “Tsn’t there danger of your fire being seen from the prairie?” ? , “*T reckons not.”’ “ 7 saay it before T reached the timber, and it was that which directed me to it.” ¢ “ How fur off mought you have seen it?” “Tt was at no great distance, but, I should think, further than you care about its —e visible.”’ ‘Pein’? what?” asked Nuggens, turning toward | Welland with an expression of disgust. “© Boing visitle—being seen, if that’s plainer.” “No, the fire can't be rési+led by any of the imps, ‘less they run right into it, which they ain't noways likely to do, ‘Cause why, we've kivered it up by the brush and stuff around hyer. We hadn’t this here side screened as much as we ort to, and you hap- pened to strike just the p’int where you could see it,”
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12 The Hunted Hunter. “Friend Nuggens, I don’t f°el very drowsy this evening, and, if you have no objection to offer, should like to talk with you awhile, about that girl sleeping over there.” *“[ understand; you're struck, you are. Got it sbonq, sure. Ever seen her afore? “She is an old friend—an4 an old acquaintance.” “Not very old, I reckons, youngster, from her looks.” “T have been long acquainted w'th her.” “You have, eh? Why didn’t you make yourself knowed to her?” * I did intend to, but I thought it best to wait until to-morrow.” “Where'd vou ever see her afore?” “In New Orleans,” “Yas,” said the hunter, nodding his head, as if talking with himself. “That’s whar she said she come from.” “She told you, thev, did she? Nuggens, can not give me the particulars of your res ‘ue of her, and of all you have learned regarding her?” * You'll know it all in the mornin’. I'd tell you now, but I must keep watch till daylight, and it makes me sleepy to talk. I'll wake you up at day- light. before she or Smith are up, and give it to you, if that'll do.” ‘ Welland signified his satisfaction with this ar- rangement and laid down. He rolled his blanket more closely around him, and gave himself up to slumber, But no slumber was to visit him that night, Scorce- ly ha’ he thus resigned himself, when he heard Nug- gens make a movement which awakened bis curios- saa Tbrowing the blanket from his face, and looking where he was last sated, he saw him stealthily glide out and disappear in the darkness. At first he was disposed to rise and follow him; but he reflected at once that such a proceedjng would bring down the ire of the hunter. Accofdingly he laid down and listened. The instant bis ear touche’ the ground, he heard several pulse-like thumps as if a horse were app oaching. They were heard distinctly for the space of a minut’, when they ceased, as though the rider had suddenly reined up his animal. Now followed a moment of intens» stillness, during which WeHand heard nothing but the beat of bis own heart, and the regular breathing of the unconscious Smith. He lay with his ear to the groun |, his whole being absorbed in the one object of listening, All at once the earth seemed to tremble, and the peculiir thumpety-thumnp of a horse in full gailop was heard, followed by aloud splashing through the water; but to Welland’s astonishment there was no discharge of fire-arms, He arose, and passing beyond tha licht of the smoldering fire, awaited the approach of the hunter. Ina moment he loomed up inthe gloom, and took his seat with as much composure as though nothing had. occurred to disturb him. It was im- possible ior Welland to restrain his impatience, and cringing noiselessly to his side, he asked: “What was the meaning of all that noise?’ The hunter turned toward him as if surprised at the question, and replied: “What business have you to be pokin’ round this time of night? Go to sleep.” “Tam certain that it would occasion you no harm to answer a civil question.” “Ugh! go tosleep; maybe you'll find out in the morning.” No other course was left for him, and aecordingly he laid down again. The nieht passed away without f .rther incident. At the first appearance of day- ligt both Welland and Smith were astir and Nue- fons related to them both the particulars of bis noc- tinal adventure, He had detected the step of a highly-trained horse crossing the brook, and, as he believed. approaching their eamp. H-* instantly moved off to discover wat visitor he was likely to have; but the rider’s susvicions were evirlently awakened at the same mo- ment with his own, The sounds suddenly ceased, and for amoment the hunter was atfault. Search- ing carefully, however, be savvy the head and shoul ders of aman, and the head of a horse, the latier standing in thecenter of the stream. A doubt that the stranger was an enemy restrained Nuggens from firing. He moved nearer to him, when the horse wheel-d, and dashed through the timber to the open prairie, The hunter followed him, and in the bright moonlight distinguished him for a long distance, as he ascended the regular elevation and his body came out in bold relief against the sky beyond. He saw him halt several hundred yards away, when two other horsemen rode up and joined him, This latter circumstance awakened the suspicions of Welland, and he inquired more particularly in re- gard to the one who entered the timber, The hunter could give nothing more except that he wore a Mex- ican sombrero—on* with a very broad 1am, The others were at too great a distance upon the prairie for him to notice the peculiarities of their dress. But Welland had learned enough. He had no doubt trat the first-mentioned horseman was the strager—the one who had visited him before and who seemed to haunt him now. The other two were Pierre and Colonel Ovaton. Their knowledge of Trona was now what Welland wished from the hunters. This was unsatisfactory in regard to the great question with him, and was given in a few words. he day before, while riding along the Colorado, they discovered three Indians, in the distance. They were Comanches, and it was evident that they were impeded with a captive. Their implacable hatred of these red-men led the hunters to the resolve to capture their prisoner and give them a taste of their mettle at the same time, Prudence led them to defer their assault until eve- ning. The hunters kept a good distance away saw where they were likely to encamp, and as soon as it was dark, commenced their approach. They reach ed their camp before the moon arose, and, con'rary to their expectation, found the Indians entirety un- prepared for any attack. One was engaged in pre- paring their supper, while the other two were lolling upon the grass, in idle enjoyment. Irona, the cap- tive, sat a few feet away, and was unbound. This, considvring the fancied security of the Indians, was not strange. While Smith crept forward toward their horses, which were picketed a short distance away. Nuggens “drew bead” upon one of the Comanches and held his aim until the proper mo- ment should arrive for him to fire, Smith now made some confusion among the animals, in the hope of drawing their attention to that point, The strata- gem turned Seed pr as they wished. One of the Indians arose and started toward them to ascertain the trouble. So soon as he came nich enough, Sith fired, and at the same moment Nuggens did the same, and rushed forward to finish the remain- ing one, The latter. however, was too quick for him, Hs instantly broke for cover, and before they could re- load, he was beyond their reach. One of those slain however, proved to be a whi/e man in disguise, They found Irona unharmed, and grateful enouch that she was once more in the hands of the white people. She stated that she had been taken prisoner by 9 band of thirty Comanches a week previous, and that two days afterward _had been intrusted to the charge of these three. What their destination or in- tentions were she did not know, but believed they meant to retin her for the ransom which would be offere 1. Beyond these mere facts, the hunters knew nothing. Where Irona was when captured, and how the dpportunity came to be given, she refused to tell She offered them a handsome sum to return with her to some point in Eastern Texas where she could make her way back to New Orleans. The hunters had consented to do it. but upon Welland’s offering hims-If as her escort, they willingly yielded. Tt was agreed that he should start east with her in a few hours, while they would continue their journeyeto the northwest, ab
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The Hunted Hunter. While Smith was preparing the morning meal, Trona awoke and looked about her, She started with bh at seeing Welland, who, approaching her, sald: “You are undoubtedly surprised, dear Trova, at meeting me here, but you cannot have one jot of the amazement I feel at finding you—hundreds of miles from the home where I kf! you a few we ks since, aud where I expected to find you upon my return. I trust nothing has bef Jlen your father?” She shook her head with sadness. ‘ No, I believe he is at home, indulging the belief that his daughter is safe in »ustin.” “In Austin! Why does he expect you are there?"’ ‘* Because he sent me there, Ross, do not question me now; I will explain all to you some other time, provided you are in a mood to receive it.”’ bi ony understood the allusion and colored to bis temples “T beg your forgiveness, Trona, for my conduct upon that night. I was blinded by jealousy, and acted rudely, Ladmit. Had it been possible, I should have deferred the expedition until I could have ex- plained it to you.” “T willingly forgive you, and now let us say no more about it. Do you accompany us on our re- turn? “T go with you, but Smith and Nuggens proceed in the opposite direction. They are very anxious to reach some point near Mexico, and think we can aia our way back to the settlements without diffi- culty. ‘“*T trust so, for I am anxious enough to reach them.”’ “T see they have our breakfast ready. We will parta’e of something and be on our way as soon as possible.” The hunters had prepared a substantial meal, of which all partook heartily, When they had finished, Smith did up a portion of buffalo-hump for Welland to take with him. Welland now noticed, with some misgivings, what had already been noticed by others, viz.: that there was but one horse for him and frona, His animal, however, was a powerful one, fully capable of bearing both, and the matter could not be mended, so he said nothing about it. Farewells were exchanged with the hunters. Trona thanked them again and again, and extorted a promise from each to visit New Orleans upon the first opportunity, she intending—although she did nt mention the latter fact—to give them something more substantial than mere thanks, Our bero and heroine were mounted, the latter seated in front of him, when Smith approached and signified that he had eomeras for Welland’s meerers ear. He leaned over and the hunter whis- pered: “Tt arn’t Comanches you've to fear; it's shite mn. You know who I mean. Keep a ikea look- out, fur I’m sartain they're on your trail. If they get you into tight quarters, maybe me and Nuggens will turn up for you,” Welland thanked him, promised to be on the alert, and he and Irona again bade them farewell, A minute later, their horse’s head was turned toward os enst, and their eventful homeward journey was egun, CHAPTER VOL THE HISTORY OF THE STRANGE HORSEMAN, Tur direction which Welland took was nearly due southeast, parallel with, and a short distance from the Rio Colorado, it being his intention to follow this stream, both as a gnide, and as affording the most direct; route to the coast. The additional welgné of Trona seemed scarcely felt by his noble 10rse, The parting words of Smith were ever prevent to Welland. They had changed his suspicion of the ill-feeling of Colonel Ovaton and the strange horse- man toward him, into the certainty that both were his mortal enemies, Why they felt thus, he had not 13 the remotest suspicion, Colonel Ovaton, he believed was friendly, or, at least, indifferent toward him when the journey commenced and his change of feeling was to be ascribed to the influence of the stranger, This man, then, concluded Welland, was the prime cause of all the mischief, and he it was who was so doggedly pursuing him, “It is the opinion of a certain gentleman, that, if the chance is offered, his racing days will come to a sudden stop,” muttered Welland, wholly absorbed in revolving the question in his excited mind, “Whom do you mean?” asked Irona, “T am unable to tell you, except that he is an enemy.” “Where is he?’ “Neither can: I answer that, except that he is be- hind us. He is a dark, swarthy-looking man, who is distinguished by a large Mexican sombrero.” “What? demanded Jrona, turning around and looking him in the face with the most painful eager- ness. “He is a black-looking man, who is distinguished by the large-brimmed hat he wears,” ‘Ts he a cross-eyed person?” “T believe he is, one eye being gray and the other black, 1tseems you know something of him?” “Ido, indeed, He, I believe, was the cause of my being taken pag ad by the Comanche Indians."” It was Welland’s turn now to be astonished, “He the cause of your being captured by them? How can that be?” “Tt was he who incited them to do it, andI am sure it was for him that they did the deed.” “ Please explain yourself, frona. Have you known this man for any lens th of time?” “Por several years; I knew him in Europe.” ‘“‘Trona, you now can have no objection to relate all that has transpired since I left your home.” man I will tell all that 1 know of these sirange events, “First, in regard to this stranger, as you call him. His name, I believe, is Juarez Vasquelon. Three aes ago, when I was at schoolin Madrid, I met im on the street. I remember how narrowly he wate'ied me, and how often I found him following when I was alone, or in the company of my school- mates. Not a word passed between us; but so sure as I turned to look behind me, I was sure to see those dreadful eyes fixed upon me. This continued several months, during which I grew to fear him as I would have feared a wild animal. “ But, one day I missed him, and the next day saw nothing of him, and when a week had passed with- out his appearing, | began to hope that he had left abe ys So it proved, I never saw him in Madrid again, “A year ago 1 returned home to my dear father to New Orlears. During my absence T had al to be quite a woman, so that at first he hardly re- cognized me, I had been at home a month or so, when, one day, father told me a gentleman, and a much respected friend, was to spend the afternoon with him. He said he desired to present him to me, and from several hints which he dropped I was con- vinced that he wanted me to be prepared to look upon him in the light of a suitor, “In the afternoon the man came, was presented. and he was Juarez Vasqnelon! It being two years since I hed seen him, I had long ceased to think of him, and, indeed. had nearly forgotten how he ap- peared. My agitation was so great that father be- came alarmed, and led me out of the room, He had no suspicion of the true cause, and upon my recov- ering, urged me to return to the drawing-room. I could not refuse, and did so. Vasquelon remained during the afternoon, and called regularly for a week or two. My dislike and fear of him increased so much, that, at last, I told father the whole truth, relating how I had seen him in Madrid, and saying that I looked upon him with loathing and horror, He seemed much surprised. and said that, for the present, I should receive no more visits from him, if
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14 they were so painful, He remarked that Vasquelon was a Spaniard of honorable stock, and he had long cherished the idea of having him for his son-in-law. He promised solemnly, however, that as I enter- tained such a marked dislike to him, he should en- courage him no longer. “1 am sure that my father related to Vasquelon all that I had said, and told him that under the cir- cumstances, he cou!d permit him no longer to visit me, for he never came to the house any more. But } had my several months’ experience in Madrid over again. Icould not go out in the street without being followed by him, and this continued for severa months after you and I became acquainied, “TI am sure that he knew of your visits to me, and,” added Irona, in a lower tone, “ that they were the only ones that weve acceptable. That he ent: r- tains a deep-seated aversion to youl am certain, ant know he would not hesitate to do you all the ill in his power. You mentioned his wearing a large-rimmed sonbrero. Tuis first made me suspect his identity, He wore such a hat in Madrid, and has, in fact, ever since I knew him. “*About a month before you started with Colonel Ovaton to this country, he left New Orleans, and we know that he must have gone to Texas, I saw nothing more of him until a few days since, “Three days after your departure father aske 1 me how T should like to visit his brother in Texas. He had resided in Austin for many years, and had long held a promise that I should visit him upon my re- turn from Europe. I am sure there was something deeper than this mere promise that led By father to ane tis proposition, else he never would have al- lowed me to go without his own company. At any other time, I am sure I should have refused; but, L reflected that you would be absent three or four months, during which the time would pass drearily if Iremained at home. Furthermore, my own visit was to be two months only, there seemed no danger attending it, and I had a strong love for travel—so I decided to make the visit, “ Two faithful attendants. accompanied me, and we left New Orleans the next day. I did not know recisely what portion of Texas was your destina- jon, and had no idea that we were really following in your track. We encountered a severe storm in crossing the Gulf, and were delayed several days in reaching Matagorda, We finally ascended the river to Austin, where, upon disembarking, I learned that my uncle had been absent in Mexico for a long time and consequently had not received the letter which my father had sent a month before notifying him of my intended visit. His family—his wife and one dangbter—received me with the greatest cordiality, and insisted that I should remain until he returne, which they were sure would be within a few weeks. I consented, and several days passed pleasantly away. CMarie—my cousin—and 1, attended by two ser- vants, used to wander about the town toward the close of the day, and many hours we thus beguiled together. The second day of my arrival,I met a man in the city that I had seen before with Vas- quelon, He was small in stature, and his features resembled those of an Indian. I thought little of it, although 1 remember he followed me for a con- siderable distance. “The next evening Marie and I fell into an inter- esting conversation, and extended our walk much further than we ever had before. We had just turned to retrace our steps, when we heard a scream from our attendants, and looking up saw a score of hideously-painted Indians, ridine rapidly toward us. We were fully a quarter of a mile from the nearest house of the town, and flight was useless, We there- fore stood pale and trembling until they came up. Before reaching us, they separated in the form of a circle and then ng closed around us. Instead of offering harm, one of the Indians stooped from his horse, lifted me upon it, and they all rode away. dhe next morning I was given in charge of three, The Hunted Hunter. es one of whom I recognized through his paint as the man that had fc llowed and watched me closely the day before, My rescue from these three is already known to you,’ “Did not the Indians harm or carry away your cousin or any of the servants?” “Not one; they did not seem even to notice them, This makes me think my abduction was arranged beforehand.” “It was, most certainly; and Vasquelon, the vil- lain, is the one who arranged it.” “Jt must be so. Until 1 learned from you that he was in this section of the country, | supposed it only an artifice of this white man who has been killed, to secure a ransom for me—he knowing that a heavy one could be secured Oh, Ross! you do not know how much I dread to meet this Vasquelon again!” “As long as this arm has strength he shall not even approach you!” “Do you believe he is following us?” “T should not be surprised if he were. His par- ticular genius seems to be thit of the amet I think, if he really be following us, he will reach the end of the trail. He has attempted my life, and I am justified in seeing that another opportunity is not given him. But yonder is quite an elevation, which will efford us an extended view of the prairie, We will ascend that and see whether there are any friends or enemies visible,” CHAPTER 1X. BUGITIVES. Wetiann ascended the elevation, and with an anxious eye he swept the horizon, every part of which, from his stendpoint, was visible. The vast extent of prairie which lay beneath his gaze was threaded by numerous streams, and crossed by belts of timber and patches of woodland. In the west could be seen a black, undulating mass, which Wel- land knew to be a herd of buffaloes, But, Welland saw no human being. “It seems we are alone,’ said he. “I can dis- tinguish no person in all this broad expanse of prairie but ourselves. What is it that so interests you, Irona?” She did not reply for a moment, she was so in- tentiy occupied. “Do you see anvthing to alarm you?” “Yonder is something that looks human,” sald she. pointing to the west. “Yes, Iseé them—ah! they're gone again,” added Welland as he lost them. The objects, whatever they might be, were like stars at midday. They could not be seen in the glare of the sunlight, unless the eye chanced to look directly at them, when they were so distinct and clearly defined that Welland ¢uld only wonder why he had not noticed them at the first glance, and while wondering suddenly lost them again. “Tsee them now,” he added, wrinkling his faco with his efforts to keep his gaze fixed, ‘‘There are two—tw» horsemen, I suppose,” “Two!” repeated [rona, in astonishment. “ There ay surely three, riding in Indian file or in a straight ne. Welland looked again and again, but he sw the two only, and these were riding side by side. What was the cause of this discrepancy in their vision? “T'll stake my life there are but two,” said he, de- cidedly. " bi se, I know there are ¢hrée /” said Irona, as posi- vely. It proved that both were right and both were wrong. ‘“ Where is it you are Inoking?” asked Welland. Trona pointed, and, following the direction of the finger, Welland saw, indeed, three horsemen, and Trona, under his guidance distingnished the other two, so the discrepancy was explained. “Now, who can those different parties be?” asked his companion, Nor -
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2 The Hunted Hunter. / * 15 “The two whom T first saw are undoubtedly Smith and Nuggens, the bunters.”’ “ And the other three?’ “Are Colonel Ovyaton, Pierre Choujeau and Vas- quelon. The hunt 1s appear to be going from us, as we might expect.” ** And the others?” “ Are coming t wa! us, as also we might expect.” “Do the parties see each other?” “Tthink not. You noiice tere is agruve or rather belt of timber between them. Our pursuers are evidently aware of the as mity of the bunters, and are purp¢ ney keeping themsely:s concealed irom their view. Iam sorry for this; for had they not seen the hunters, they would still have believed they were in our company, and naturally enough would have considered us too strong to be insulted with go ae Besides cil Smith and Nuggens know who were in their neighborhood, they could have easily prevented their own pr-sence from being known, Lam sorry at this stat: of matters,” ‘* You then really beli- ve we are pursued?” ** Most certainly we are.” “Can they see us?" “They can, but I do not thinkthey do. Twill drive down the other sive of the hill where we shall be se- cure from observation.” ** How will they be enabled to find us?” “They are on the trail of my horse, and that in- fernal Pierre ©. oujeau, I believe, could track a bird through the air” “But can they overtake us? Your animal, you say, is a fleet one.” * Ah! my dear Irona, do you not see how utterly unavailing his fleetness is? All three of ou enemies are well mounted, and each has pg his accustomed rider to carry. Swiftness of foot will not save us.” “ But you will not have the temerity to sit still and surrender?” asked Irona, with some excitement, “ As long as I have life you shall be safe from all three of those villains. I shall do my utmost to ef- fect our eseape.” “Forgive my suspicion, dear Ross. Pray tell me how you expect to accomplish it.” “It can only be done by stratagem. They must be thrown off our trail ” “T cannot understand how that is possible. You say one of them is wonderfully skillful in tracking a erson. ar He is, but I believe I can outwit him,” CHAPTER X. ON THE ISLAND. WELLAND and Irona were now galloping over the prairie in a southeast direction, at the distance of a mile from the Rio Colorado. ‘How do you hope to elude our pursuers, if not by hurrying forward?” asked Irona. * By qoirg backward,” replied Welland, “ By going backward!” repeated his companion. “Ay, by that very means. To mystify you no longer, I will explain, I have been reflecting how they could be avoided ever since we started. That it cannot be done by direct. flight is evident to both ofus. We must, therefore. m ke some move which will throw them off our trail, at least until we shall have placed fifty miles between us, which will give us abundant time to reach the frontier settlements. They are still a good distance in the rear. and we need have no apprehensions of being troubled by them before to-morrow.” “But, Ross, they do not know that 1am with you, and I think, or at least hope, they will not persist in pursuing you, knowing, as they do, that your horse cannot be"overtaken by theirs.” ** Most certainly thev do know you are with me, or I should not care a fig for this pursuit. How they have found out I can not tell—p rhaps by this Co manche that escaped the hunters, or more likely Vasquelon himself learned it last night, although Smith seemed to think that he had but a glimpse at the camp fire. No; they are certainly aware that we are together, and we may make up our minds that they will be relentless in their attempts to overtake us, This afternoon I shall drive into the Colorado, and turn my horse’s head up stream, ascending so far, that when we strike the Opposite bank it shall be a half-mile above the point where we entered, At night we will resume our journey, having given our animal a few hours’ rest, and before they strike our trail, 1 think you will be forever safe beyond their reach Now, what does my Irona think of my plan?” asked Welland, pressing her to him. “Tt is a good one, I think; with Heaven's blessing it will avail.” “1 know it will,” added Welland, confidently, The day was rather warm, and, ere it was quite noon, Welland Halted for a few moments to rest their horse and partake of the food they had brought with them. This done, he turned the head of the animal toward the river, and in a short time had reached the bank, Welland took acareful survey of the shores, and then rode in. The sagacious animal manifested considerable reluctance to enter the water, and had Welland reflected long enough to de ee the cause of this, he, too, would have hesi- tated. ‘he river was very shallow, averaging barely two feet in depth; but the bottom was muddy and soft, and several times the horse plunged heer He was headed directly across the stream, and after considerable labor had spproached within a rod or two of the land. Welland then pulled his head around so as to point up-stream, and commenced ascending the river, The horse seemed vexed, and was restrained with difficulty from pero! his way to land. He mani- fested a sort of agitation and terror that to Welland was unaccountable, Several times he snorted, shook bis head, and reared his fore-feet out of the water while his rider, losing patience at his actions, plunged his spurs into him, and resolutely kept him in the stream. A quarter of a mile was thus passed, and Welland was now between the mainland and a low, sandy island, the distance from each being about a dozen yards The water was about twenty inches in depth, and very muddy and swift. The horse had vieted somewhat, although he turned toward the shore several times, aud was not yet rid of his terror, Welland wes on the point of making some remarks to Irona, when a gasping “My God!" from her ar- rested him. At the same moment the horse uttered ascream of agonized fear and sprung several feet out of water, Welland looked down, saw the huge, cavernous mouth of a monstrous alligator, whose long tail was thrashing the water into mud and foam, and which had glided directly under the horse’s feng The ponderous jaws snapped together, and again the horse made a leap so frenzied that in an instant Welland and Irona were thrown into the water. In this dreadful mom nt our hero did not lose his presence of mind, Retaining a firm hold of Irona with his right arm, and of his rifle with his left hand, he stepped upon the crusted back of the floundering alligator, and making a leap toward the island, was upon its hard, compact surface in the twinkling of aneye. Looking back, then, he saw his horse, the bridle-rein streaming over his back, galloping furiously through the water, which, churned into muddy spray behind him. showed how closely the aquatic monster was pursuing them. The horse soon sprung upon .he land, where he was safe, but with every sign of the wildest terror, he went careering over the prairie in a northern direction, until he vanished in the distance. Welland then turned toward Trona, and, in her face, read their fate. She was bearing bravely up; but while he had watched the flight of their horse, she had found time to look about her, and a glance told as much as a day's survey could. Theisland upon which they had taken refuge was about a hundred yards in length, of an vein
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16 The Hunted Hunter. elliptical form, and probably fifty yards broad at its widest part. It was really nothing but asand-bar, thrown up by the action of the river. “You look despairing, lrona, I do not think we need give up hope yet. You wait here until I explore the island.” . ~ You can do it just as well by standing where you **Perhaps not. At any rate, it can do no hurt,” Welland walked over to the opposite end of the island, and then passed slowly around it, examining minutely every portion, He had hoped to flnd some drift-wood cast upon it, but he was disappointed, Not even the smallest twig did he discovur, and when he returned to Irona it was impossible to Keep up the semblance of hope with which he had eft her, “We cannot wade ashore?”’ she remarked, inquir- ingly. 8 Xo; for the channel of the river is between the bank and us. I noticed the horse; when running from the alligator, once sunk nearly out of sight in the deep water. This must have been the channel, and it is over our heads.” * And look at those,” said Irona, with an expres- sion of painful disgust, pointing out into the river, where fully a half-dozen dirty, log-like objects were gliding backward and forward, as if in search of prey. “ Alligators, certainly, and Heaven only knows how we eacapesl them,’ “It was they that frightened our hors», and they must have attacked him when he made such a spring out of the water.” ‘“* Will they not attack us?” **Not unless we go into the water.” “Is there no wood on this island, Ross?” * Not enough to make a lucifer match.” Trona looked inquiringly into Welland's face, and he read her question before she spoke it. It occurred to both at the same instant, and in an almost audi- ble whisper they repeated it: ** How are we to leave this island ?” CHAPTER Xf. ? A NIGHT OF TERROR. How are we to leave this island?” It was a question which neither could solvé. A few hours et remained ere night would cohe—a night that elland felt would be one of horror both to him- self and his companion, He determined, for her sake, to affect a cheerfulness which he was far from eoling, Well, Irona,” said he, laughingly, ‘don’t you think we have outwitted them?” _ * And ourselves, too, I am afraid,”’ she answered. “T told you I could throw that Pierre off our trail, and I feel certain that [ have done it. I think the island will be the last place where he will look for * Tf he follows the tracks of our horse to the river, will he not be enabled to see us? ‘Yonder is the spot where we entered, and it can be seen very eens from this point.” ‘ike apers so; and if he does, what good will it do em “They can surely cross over to the island, They can do as much as we can.” **T only hope they will, and those alligators will ‘make mincemeat of them,” “Tt can make little difference to us, because we must either perish here or fall into their hands.” OL do not see the danger of falling into their nds, “*Oan not they come to this island in any manner we upon their horses? There is plenty of timber on ti mainland—enough to float them all out to Welland gave uttevance to an exclamation of amazement, Somngely enough, he had not thought of a Trona had spoken the truth; but he re- pli “After all, T do not think they will attempt it—I am pretty certain they will not.” “Why not? What is to prevent them?” “Tt will prove too dangerous. Remember, I have my rifle and plenty of ammunition, and ere they reach us I will pick every one off the raft.”” “You may be willing and able enough to do that; but. you must reflect, Ross, that there are three against you, and that ¢/ey will be more likely to shoot you.” : “We cannot tell, Irona. God only can deliver us from this difficulty, aud although it looks dark enough now, somehow I cannot help thinking every now and then that we are toremain here but a short time. In the mean time do not ler us borrow trouble, It is getting dark now, and we will make preparations to pass our first and last night, I trust, upon this island of the Rio Colorado.” Thess preparations were necessarily very simple. The common hunter’s blanket of Welland, which ho had wrapped around Irona, when riding the horse, was saved when thrown into the water. Hescooped out a hollow place in the sand, near the center of pe island, and laying the blanket in it, off-red it to er, “Poor enough,” said he, laughingly; ‘‘ but I need ne tell you it’s the best accommodation the place affords,” ‘*And how will you pass the night, dear Ross?” **In watching over you.” “Heaven will do that, and I shall need no other protection.” “T have no disposition to sleep, Irona. Should I feel drowsy I will lie down upon the sand, and slum- ber a few hours. Have no alarm about me, how- ever. I wish to be alone and think upon some plan of escape from this dreadful place. When you awaken, I think I shall have hit upon a means of re- lief So gotosleep and be happy in dreams.” Welland walked away to the opposite end of the island, in order to leave his fair companion alone during her devotions. It was over an hour before he returned, and when he did so, she was sleeping as if at home in her own father's house, Wrapped closely in the blanket, she was indeed the picture of “Sleeping Innocence.” Her face looked sad and pale in the faint moonlight. Welland wondered how it could be otherwise. Poor Trona! How varied and singular had been her for- tunes during the past few weeks. The child of af- fection and favor, even now a fugitive upon the sayin pursued by foes whom she feared more han the wild Comanches, who so recently had been her captors. How she was to escape them, Welland indeed felt he could not tell; but as he looked upon the sweet melancholy face, he vowed that while he possessed the power, no human being unless a friend should set foot upon that island, He recalled the words which Trona had uttered. There were three armed enemies tocontend against, and it was an easy matter for either of them to shoot him from the shore. The bare, flat surface of the sand afforded him no protection in case they had a disposition todoso. He felt certain that the keen orbs of Pierre would not fail to note the island, when, of course, he would be instantly seen. Then, too, they could easily construct a raft and float it over to the island and thus obtain Irona. This reflection stirred Welland up to more vigorous thought, and in a few minutes he had decided upon a plan to resist any approach of his enemies. A few yards from where Irona lay he commenced throwin upanembankment. In doing this he used the stock of his rifle, and as he encountered nothing but sand, it was not a work of great difficulty. He scooped out a large space, packing the sand in front, until he had a bank some four feet in hight and as many ards in length. This he intended should protect rona and his own person while he was firing upon his enemies—for he had fully made up his mind it would come to this To make matters sure, he constructed a similar
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The Hunted Hunter. 17 EE — fortification in his rear, and upon the sides, so that should Colonel Ovaton and his friends cross the river at a point higher up, they would not be able to obtain an advantage over him in this manner. This Jabor occupied him some two hours, by which time the moon was high in the heavens; butits light was obscured by a number cf clouds that were drifting across its face, and now and then shrouding the island in darkness. Welland was viewing his miniature fort, and en- deavoring to think of some means_ by which he could improve it, when he was startled by a noise in the water. Looking up, he saw with unspeakable horror a long, black object, resembling a tree-trunk, sliding over this land directly toward the spot where Irona was sleeping. The animal halted suddenly as he beheld a man before him, his fore paris balanced upon his Z-like legs, and_ready to plunge backward or forward as his fancy shoul! lead him. — The light was favorable, and Welland could easily distinguish his fishy eyes fixed upon him, He was well aware of the avenue to the seat of life in this creature, and raising his rifle, so close that the muzzle almost touched him, he pulled the trigger The animal seemed to be driven full ten fet backward by the force of the shot. He rolled over on his short legs, beat the air a moment, a spasmodic quiver ran through his body, and he was dead. As the report of the rifle rung out over the water, Welland saw fully a dozen of these creatures swim hurriedly away from the shore, which it seemed they were upon the point of invading. There was now another cause for his watching through the night. Welland carefully reloaded his rifle, and took his position near Irona, ‘Was that the report of your rifle that awoke me?” she asked, somewhat bewildered. “T suppose so, as I have just fired,” “What at?” “This fellow here,”’ replied Welland. ‘He was rather imprudent in exposing himself and I thought to teach him caution.” “Don’t let them come too near, Ross, they're hor- rid animals ”” “TI will take good care that they do not. Lie down again, my dear, and sleep as sweetly as you may. Irona drew_the blanket close around her, and lay back, while Welland betook himself to watching again. He carefully surveyed his fortification frem the outside, and, satisfied that it was as impregna- ble as it cou'd be made, he stepped within it, and kneeling down, placed his rifle over the top to see how well his aim would serve, * The clouds at this moment drifted clear of the moon, and the dark line of the northern shore was distinctly visible. His rifle-barrel glistened in tho moonlight, and, foliowing its direction, Welland saw with unspeakable astonishment that it was aime l directly at a human being upon the shore. Stand- ing upon the bank, in full felief against the blue sky, was the form of a man, as motionless as a statue. The cutline of his body was distinctly drawn, buc the body itself, from its peculiar position, was per- fectly black, so that the features and peculiarities of dress could not be made out. Butthe large flapping sombrero told unmistakably who he was. Three times the hammer of Welland's rifle was raised, and three times his finger pressed the trig- ger until it was ready to fall again. But a feeling, unaccountable to himself, restrained him, Perhaps it looked too much like murder, this shooting a man without a moment’s warning; but more probably it was his natural repugnance to taking human life that (oe een him. - , . “Tt will do him good if I give him warning of the risk he is running,” thought Welland, sighting his rifleagain. But Vasquelon had disappeared; he had descended the bank to the water's edge, and was hid from view by the shore itself. A moment later, the half-doubled form of Pierre Choujeau skurried over the bank and also disappeared. Welland rightly judged they were examining the shore, and knowing they would attempt nothing during the night, he gave bimself no immediate conecrn regarding them, It was well that Welland withdrew his attention to the danger that was nearer, Thesleeping Irona was not six feet from him, and another huge allirator was not that distance from her. His long, shovel- like head was pushing forward upon the earth, ap- proaching slowly and with evident fear, but never- theless Spompacn’ng with certainty, Welland sprung toward the monster, and jamming the muzzle of his rifle almost in his eye, sent the whole ckarge through the creature’s brain, The unwieldy brute died after a few struggles, and his companions, many of which we-e but a few yarcs Cistant, scattered to the water, frightened by the flash and report of the gun, The explosion did not fully awakenIrona, She muttered something, and merely turning her head, was in- stantly unconscious again, CHAPTER XII. THE RAFT, Ir required most unceasing watchfulness to keep the alligators at bay. It was not the death of two of their number that did this, but the flash and sound of Welland’s gun. Whenever this weapon was Gis- charged, all hurriedly left the island, to return, how- ever, In a few minutes. Welland fired in amon, them without aim, as it would have been a vain ef- fort to attempt to thin them out. The bullet stril- ing their impenetrable backs glanced off as if it had encountered solid rock, and the ailigators were probably unaware of having beea touched at all, The constant firing shortly awakened Lrona, and she watched with Welland until ata So soon as it was fairly light, all the alligators took to the rape again, and the two were safe now at least from them. But there were foes still more to be dreaded, and Welland’s attention was now wholly directed toward them. Carefully scanning both shores, neither he nor Irona could detect any signs of their presence, as arere satisfied they were somewhere near at and, ‘“You first saw them, Irona, yesterday,” said Welland, “‘and perhaps you will see them first. to- day. Have you examined the shore yonder?” *“T see nothing of them, but 1 notice the dirt is broken down along the bank directly opposite us. Is that the place where you saw Vasquelon and Piérre last evening?” “That is the spot, and the dirt and d/bjts must have been loosened by them. It is singular they do not show themselves, They cannot be afraid.” “Tt is some plan of theirs. They may be waiting to obtain a glimpse of you,” * Just like them. They cannot be very near the shore, as there is no place that will hide their bodies from our view. There is grass, but it is too short to answer for that purpose, and as they all have horses, they must be picketed some distance away.” “Ross,” said Irona, as if speaking in a reverie, “look again at the spot where they descended the bank. It seems to me their tracks are visible close to the water's edge.” Welland followed the line of the shore for some distance, but his own position being about equally dep*essed, he could see the trail but a few feet from the starting-point, “There is a point about a hundred feet further down-stream,” said Irona, “ where it seems to me — they have ascended the bank again. I think I see the prints of their feet in the bank, In this direc- tion.’ In his anxiety, Welland forgot discretion, and arose to his feet in order to obtain a better view of the suspicious signs pointed out by his fair companion, : “ Be careful, Ross, our—” : He dropped instantly to the ground as a bullet whistle? within an inch of his face, and went skim- ming over the water behind,
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is The Hunted Hunter, | “Where dil that shot come from?” he asked, ex- citedly. ‘‘Ah! I see the spot.” A thin wreath of smoke was rising from te grass, at the point which Irona had pointed out as the one where Pizrre and Visquelon had ase nied, and at this point W ‘Ilan? aimed his rifle and discharg d it. A low, taunting laugh was t e reply, as the sombrero of Vasqu ‘lon rose 'o view, and with a threatening gesture he retveared out of sicht, “I've been a fool the second time.” exclaimed Welland, imp ‘tieutly. “Last night I had a chance to put taat villvin out of the wey, and didn’t do it. If Lever let another chance pass, I hope he will put m+ ont of the way.” ‘Sit it was for the best, and regrets can do noth- ing ” rebuked Irona, Welland and Irona, it will be remembered, were behind the embankmen‘ which our hero had con structed. His companion, at his sugzestion, seated hers ‘If upon the blanket anJl kept entirely out of sight, Not that he apprehend:d any danger for her, but he wished to be entirely alone, and rely upon his own arm in the coming danger. He was confi tent tha» their assailants would be unceasing in their watchfulness, and would hesitate at no means to outwit an} overcame him. It was therefore with considerable astonishment that he siw Vasqu+lon appear azain upon the river- bank, bearing 1 stick in his han‘, with a handker- chief fluttering from the end asa flr of truce, “Hello, ther:!” called out Vasqu:lon, in broken English. * What do you want!” asked Welland, in turn. “Why don’t you show yourseif? We want to talk with you.” “T can hear you as wel from this place as I could by stepping ont from it. If you have any question to sian it, and I will do as I pleas about answer- ng What are you doinz, then, on that bar?” ee nothing, except to keep you villains off f “Ha! ha! How lonz do you intend to stay there?” “Unril we choose to go. At present it is as com- fortabl « quarters a3 ws could possibly wish.” “We would lik» to coms over and see you, if you do not care about it,” “Under the circumstances, I must positively de- cline receiving any visitors.” “But suppose we insist?’ “Then I shall resiet, If the alligators allow you to put off from the shor’, { think T shall have time to shoot some of you before you lant, and you may be assured, friend Vasquelon. that I shail not hesitate to do it.”” “Wi! ha! you talk big. The allizators sleep soundly at noon when the sin is hot, and we have no fear of them, We can easily reach you.” “And my good rifl+ can easily rere’) yu, Juarez Vasquelon, tere is no need of y wand I bandying words. J know you and your objects, and it is about time you knew me. You are seeking Irona Sera- ville, and will hesitate at no villainy to obtain her, Ere you do this, you must pass over my dead body.” “Do not think, Americ mo. that wil be long. either. Have you fooi on that island to last forever? Per- haps you will din» to-day off the alligators?” Before you shall be allowel to set foot on this littl» island T will.” “A very delizhtful dinner for the senorita and “Make no answer to such insulting remarks,” whispere1 Irona, “Juarez Vasqulon, as IT trust we fully understand each other, our conversation may as wellt rminate.”” “Your pardon, but [ trust you are not in earaest saying you wish to remain upon that horrid mass of sand. “T most certainly am.” “But you will perish. There is nothing there to mppor ife.” comprehend my situation as well as you do,” .The flag of truce, the conversation, was onl “We intend no harm to either of you—we—” * What meant that shot a few minutes ago?” “It was only a warning—an intended miss, As I was saying, we wish no harm to either of you.” “ Why do you persist in pursuing us?” **My only wish is to restore Don Alfredo Seraville’s daughter t> him, fur he is distracted at her loss."’ “That is false,’ whispered Irona, ‘for he cannot know anything of it.” “T pledge myself to do that,” replied Welland. * But how? Your situation doesn’t look much like it now.” This was a beget question to Welland, and he hardly knew what answer to make, but he was fully determined to yield nothing. “Unfavorable my situation is, I will confess; but, for a'l that, the probabilities of Miss: eraville’s re- turn would not be increased by chonging hands with you. Therefore, I must again deciine receiving any assistance from you.” *But we pledze our honor that no harm shall be offered either of you. You shall be allowed to go free, and senorita shall be restored to her agonized father at once, or you may accompany her, Senor Welland, cannot object to this.” “T tall you, Juarez Vasquelon, your proposals are useless, and I have no wish to converse further with you. T have given you my determination, and you nent not think to change it. Let allintercourse now end.” : “Hal! ba!” laughed Vasquelon, with his insulting, taunting tone, “ will Senor Welland glance up the river and tell us what he thinks of what he sees?” A glance, indeed, was sufficient to show Welland how completely he had been duped. Right under his own eyes, in range of his unerring rifle, Colonel Ovaton and Pierre Choujeau had constructed and launched a raft with which to float out to the island, a ruse of Vasquelon’s to divert his attention until this con- tr'vance was finished. The minute Welland realized the trick which he had been served, he raised _ his rifla to shoot the author of it; but that individual had wisely withdrawn, and with his flag of truce was beyond danger. Had it been nothing more than a mere raft, Wel- land would have little occasion for alarm, as he could have k*pf them at bay with his rifle, but, as we have termed our hero’s protection a fort, this might have been called a floating fede: A It was cons'ructed of light, cork-like logs and limbs, evi- dently collected with considerable difficulty, fasten- ed together, and having a breastwork erected upon = rs which the men could work it as they pleased, Now and then the head of one of the party flitted to view, and Vasqu*lon suddenly flitted upon it. The three then commenced their efforts to launch, Their united work sunk it into the mud, and as they dared not exposé themselves, it uired consider- able labor before it was accomplished, Welland, still hopin to prorat the dttempt, called out: “Colonel Ovaton, do you hear me?” “Wal. what’s wanting. my fine fellow?” ‘*Do you intend to make the attempt to land upon this island?” . “We don’t just inten1 it, but we calculate to do it. If you've got any affairs you want settled, I ad- vise you to make your will ” * Colonel Oyaton,” said Wellan’, rising to his feet, in spite of the remonstrance of Irona, “ Colonel Ovaton, I have no desir + for your blood, and I now give you fair warning of what I shall do, . Before you can effect a landing upon this spot, I can at least shoot one of you; if you persist. that one shall be ym, for I believe you are at the bottom of this mischief.” ‘*Save your talk, for it can’t serve you any,” re- plied Ovaton. “Come on then,”—and Welland sunk down within his fortification. ‘The raft at this instant swung clear, and Welland
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The Hunted Hunter. could see by the ends of the poles in their hands that they were busy guiding it toward the island. The protection which they had erected upon it came about to their shoulders, so that they were obliged to labor in a stooping position. As it would be sev- eral minute: before they could reach the bar, Wel- land concluded to try the effect of a shot upon the concern, He fired directly at the center of the pile of limbs and logs, and his shot had a better effect than he could have dared to wish. The fortification was merely a loose pile, which instantly tumbled down as the ball cut through it, exposing the three persons behind. Welland commenced reloadirg as fast as in his power, while his enemies hastily gath- ered the logs before them again. They threw several on top of each other, intent on protecting themselves. Te consequence was that by the time oe hero)s rifle was loaded, they were safe from his aim. The current of the Rio Colorato at this point is very svwil't, and the time lost by those upon the raft was too great to be recovered. Stooping over on their knees, they plied their guiding poles with great diligence, but, when abreast the upper part of the island, they saw their distance was too great, and crouching bebind the protection, they made ready to deliver their shots in passing. Welland was expecting this, and the only incon- venience he suffered was from the sand which their bullets scattered in his face. He discharged his rifle in return, but with no effect, except to make the three shrink closer to the | 2s beneath them. The raft drifted on down-stream for a qnarier of a mile, when, feeling safe from any rifle-bullet, the three arose and worked it in to the northern shore, “ There is one danger passed,” said Welland, “and let us prepare for the next.” CHAPTER Xt'T. THE LAST NIGHT UPON THE ISLAND. Tat day proved to be unusually hot. The situa- tion of our hero and heroine was almost intolerable. The sand was burning to the touch, and seemed to give forth scorching volumes of air that nearly suf- foeatedthem. A tormenting thirst was felt by both Trona and Welland, but neither spoke to the other of it. They had no wish to increase their sufferings by useless complainings. The two alligators, stretched upon the sand, and subject to the full force of the blazing sun, com- menced to putrefy, and in a few hours were so bloated that their skins seemed distended to burst- ing. They were hideous objects, distorted thus to such an unusual size, and Welland felt willing to risk the chance of a stray shot, if he could have rolled them into the river and allowed them to float away. As yet no disagreeable smell came from them, but another twenty-four hours would be suffi- cient to make their presence unendurable, Nothing further was seen of their enemies, and he half suspected they had retired to some cool spot to wait until a more convenient season before they made another attempt against him. Still, he was too cautious to expose himself, and he reso- lutely kept within his fortification for nearly the entire day. At sunset bis own thirst was so dread- ful, that he arose, and Iking to the river’s edge lay down aud quaffed his fill, The muddy waters of the Rio Colorado tasted sweeter to him than could the nectar of the gods, and no pleasure could have been greater than that he experienced when he felt that he could drink no more. Joining his hands, he scooped up a quantity and carried it to Trona, She endeavored to conceal her thirst, but Welland saw how eagerly she s vallowed it, and he passed back- ward and forward several times before she was satisfied. This movement of Welland’s, made as it proved to be without danger. convinced him of one thing. No further attempt for some time would be made to land upon the island, Colonel Ovaton and his com- panions had withdrawn to some distance and would | reasons for feel 19 only return at occasional intervals to look at them. They would wait, until convinced that he and Trona were so weakened by suffering and privation that they could offer no resistance, when they would mako their bed out to them upon rafts, without running any risk. As it was growing dark, Welland pv the sombrero of Vasquelon appear upon the bank, and remaining stationary a moment, disappear again. The fellow had come down to the bank, and satisfied himself that his victims were safely cared for, and then re- turned to report the same to Colonel Ovaton, This night was without a moon until late in the evening. Weliand had some apprehensions of his enemies using a raft and coming down upon the island in the darkness; and leaving his fortification every few minutes, he walked to the upper part of the island, and long and anxiously looked out in the night, fearing that every moment the driad object would loom i to view. But there were good ng safe upon this point. The alli- gators, formidable enemies, were active and watch- ful through the night. It was only during the mid- dle of the day, when basking in the sunshine, that ay Pi so sleepy and indifferent as to be passed n safety, Another night upon the island! How wearily the hours drageed by; how monotonous sounded the soft wash of the Rio Colorado; how oppressive was the silence of the dark, level shore! The black masses gliding over the sand. the snouts plowing through the water, the loathsome temerity of the oe themselves, were too horrible to be orne, For the first time he gained an eee ya idea of the situation of himself and TIrona, He began to fee) the pangs of hunger, and the river-water could only be drank when very thirsty. What was to be the end of this? Were they to be starved until they could make no resistance? What would be done with them when they fell into their enemies’ hands? Ah, there could be but one answer to this question, The hours wore on, and once more the bright stn rosé upon them, The day gave evidence of being as warm and harassing as the previous one, The two alligators lay stretched upon the sand, having been undisturbed by their companions. They were swelled to double their usual size, ond when Welland looked upon them, it was with the determination to heave their carcasses in the river, “7 was rising for this purpose, when Irona touched — is arm. Ta is Vasquelon, if I mistake not,” said she. The sombrero was visible, and in a moment it was followed by the swarthy face of the owner himself. He stood a few moments perfectly motionless, offer- ing a strong temptation to Welland’s skill, fo the surprise of the latter, he called out: ‘Are you there, Senor Welland?” g “Let that answer,” said the latter, firing his piece at his head. The sombrero suddenly ducked out of sight, and a thrill passed through Welland as he thought he might be fortunate enough to have yee the rascal; but the head soon appeared again. “That was a bad trick—a bad trick, Senor Wel- land. It will serve you no good turn. it came very nigh my face.” wan ny regret it failed to strike it,’ called out eland. “Hal ha! your gun is not true en-ugh,” added Vasquelon, taking good care, however, that a second opportunity was not afforded to test its accuracy, ‘“Howsumever, we'll let that pass. How do you like your present quarters upon the island? How is senorita pleased with them?” ‘We prefer them just now to the shore ” “Tve no donbt of it! I've no doubt of it, How long do you intend to remain?” ‘Tt's time you learned that we remain aS long as
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20 The Hunted Hunter. we choose, and besides, that we intend to keep you off equally long.” “No doubt of it at all. We can afford to wait, and are quite willing just now.” - Have you any further questions to ask?” ‘* Nothing in particular that I think of just now.” ‘“*Thave a few then to propose. Will you answer them?” ** As well as Senor Welland has mine.” * When are you coming upon this island?” “We haven't decided yet. but probably not before three or four days have passed.” “Why not sooner?” “Mo tell the truth, Colonel Ovaton and IT have found out that itis useless risk. That infernal gun of yours may by accident harm some of us. There’s no need of that. We don’t think you'll feel particu- larly anxious then about shooting. Good idea, eh?’ pre eae intend to wait till I'm starved into submis- ion?”* * That’s what we intend, I guess.” ney other words, you three are afraid to attack me ‘ “Not afraid—only prudent. We can well afford to wait.” “Why not remain upon the bank?” “Ha! ha! I’m afrail Senor Welland would hardly respect a flag of truee if we reared it above our heads.” ro! have no further questions to ask, You can de- now.” srenpucee: you will wait there until we see you ain?” asked Vasquelon, with a taunting laugh. elland made no answer, except to adjust his rifle (which he had managed to loid during the conversa- tion) so as to fire at him. The villain, however, was too cunning to b3 caught by this stratagem. He had suspected all along that Welland had no object in continuing the discourse between them, except to gaintime He kept his eye continually fixed upon him and very discreetly took himself away before another bullet was sent after him. “He is gone,’’ muttered Welland, with some dis- appointment in his tone, “ He will not appear again until near night. Irona, those dead objects out there must be removed. Our situation is bad enough without having it made worse by their presence.’ “Do not go out yet. Vasquelon may be hid along the shore, and waiting for you to show yourself.” “No fear of that. He and the others are safe under some shade, He thinks there is no_ need of picking me off. He feels sure of both of us.” “ And is he not?” asked trona, in a low voice. “T will move those animals at once,” said Welland hurriedly, pretending not to have heard his remark. He could make no answer to that question. He stepped ever the embankment and moved away toward the allizators, CHAPTER XIV. A NOVEL RIDE, { Trona’s attention was attracted by an exclama- tion from Welland. Looking up, she saw him acting like a madman. He was jumping about, dancing on the sand. swinging his hands and making the most excited demonstrations of joy. “What is the matter!" she asked, concealing her own agitation as well as she could, “What is the matter?” repeated he, ‘* Matter enough! Do you wish to remain on this island any longer?” ** Not if it can be helped.” “It can be helped—of course it can!, What a fool I was not to think of it before.” Irona all this tim» was nar-owly watching the face of Welland to discover whether he really possessed his senses. The latter, noticing this, burst into a ug! “Do vou think 1 am crazy, Irona? 1 believe Tam somewhat so, but I have still some sense left. Can't you unierstand the cause of my joy?” “T certainly cannot. Do explain yourself.” “Took yonder,” sail Welland, pointing to the — edge, where the bodies of the two alligators jay. Trona did as requested, and a suspicion of the truth crossed her ind “T see you understand,” said Welland, eagerly watching her countenance. “Those creatures that have been such a pest are to be the means of our sal- vation!” Trona, at his request, stepped out from the breast- work and with him approached the two alligators, They lay upon the surface of the water, where their bodies floated like corks. To show the feasibility of his plan, Welland walked out u>on the broad breast of one, which was so bloated and buoyant that near- Vy one-half remained above the surface It did, in- deed, somewhat resemble a miniature flat-boat, the head serving as a prow, and the tail, drooping in the water, serving as a huge rudder, while the legs stick- ing up served as stanchions by which to hold on, “We will lash these two together,” said he, “when a steamer would not carry us more safely than they.” “ But the living all'gators?” repeated Irona, with an inquiring expression. “*It is now midday, and they are sleeping like logs, We can brush their noses wit ont arousing them.” “You are very hopeful, Ros:; I, too, am anxious to make the attempt, as we cannot by any possible result make our situation worse.” The creatures were floated side by side, and step- ping upon the breast of one, Welland lashed them rmly together by their legs and long tails, by means of strips torn from his blanket. it required but a few minutes, wher the two stepped upon their cu- rious boat. which, yielding to the force of the str‘am, drifted away. That was a novel ride, indeed! As the swift cur- rent gaixed coatrol over them, they were borne rapidly downward as if propelled by the force of several oars. On every side the black, dirty forms of the sleeping alligators lay, inanimate as logs. Irona looked upon these with unspeakable terror, as she expecte! an onslaught from them. The car- easses beneath them drifted head down the stream, guided by their tails! More than once they rubbed the bodies of one of the live monsters, which merely floundered a little, or more often did not notice it at all. It was their sleeping-time, and something un- usual was required to arouse them, Welland's great anxiety was lest Vasquelon should return to the shore before they had gone far enough down the river to be beyond his sight. The probability was that this would not occur, and yet the possibility was enough to keep him in a fever of fear. He kept his eyes fixed upon the point where the villain generally made his apnear- ance, until, with unspeakable relief, it was hid from view by a bend in the river. After an hour's ride their doa swept close to the river's bank, when W> 1- ae sprung ashore and soon had his unwieldy craft ‘ast. ‘“*Now for home,” sail W Mand, hopefully, “I am sure there can be no greater danger before us than the one through which we have i passed.” ‘“T am sure there is sufficient, here are the white mon and the red-men who are our enemies.” “Very true; but the settlements can be at no reat distance. I believe we can reach them ina day or two, Are youable to walk?” “Yos, or torun wheni is necessary, I shall not tire before you do.” * We will get a little further from the river, so as not to be seen by any ‘vho chance to. be upon the other side, and we will then follow the course of the stream, as that is probvbly the most direct route to the settled parts of the country. I trust we will soon come upon some game, when we will enjoy a feast for the first time in a good while.” p 7 I am not very hungry, but feel somewhat ‘aint, Welland saw'that his fair companion was weaker
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The Hunted Hunter. and more exhausted than she would admit; and, althouch progress was now the most important object with him, he resoived to make a halt as soon as a suitable resting-place could be found, where they might rest until morning. The surroundin land was the common rolling prairie, interspersed, at long intervals, with belts or groves of timber, These were generally where a smal) stream flowed into the Colorado, the trees lining the banks. While on the island, Welland was enalled to see one of the oases in the distance, its soft, blue outlines blending like a cloud with the horizon. This was now but a mile or two away, and toward this he bent his foot- steps. The sun lacked several hours of setting when his resling-place was reached, and he commenced his preparations for passing the nightinit. A stream of icy-cold water gurgled through tue center, while the trees and shrubbery fringing its banks were dense, and afforded an admirable concealment. A suitable spot was selected, when Welland threw down his blanket: (somewhat the worse for having a portion lost) for Irona, and then departed to seek the wherewithal for the evening meal. Animal life is abundant in Texas, especially in this portion, and it was not long before our hero secured a couple of plump rabbits, so unaccustomed to the sight of a man that he killed them with a blow from his gun merely. Iucl was plenty, and in a short time they were furnished with a steaming, nourish- ing supper, such as would be acceptable to many a person Th a far more civilized country. This com- plted, night was at hand. “T think it best that the fire should g> out, as the darkness comes on,” remarked Welland, after a few moments of thought. “T will keep watch while you sleep, frona, for it would not do for us both to be unconscious at the same time.” “You have slept but little during the past few days, dear Welland, and I am sure I care little about sleeping—” be Pat. tut, you foolish little thing. Be still, now, like a good little girl; say your prayers, shut your eyes and go to sleep.” lrona evidently concluded it best to obey her pro- tector, for she said no more. Welland carefully TORE the blanket around her, arranged her posi- tion in the most comfortable manner possible, and then kissed her a good-night. Wearied and exhaust- ed by her unusual sufferings, sie soon sunk into a dreamless slumber. Wellan1, seeing that she was breathing regularly, and probably would not awaken for many hours, arose, and carefully made his way out of the grove. As he emerged upon the open prairie, he noticed that the night was clear, with starlight, de- void of a moon, which would not rise till far toward morning. be Welland stood a full half-hour, carefuly scrutiniz- ing every object around him, Then, satisfied for the present that there were no human beings in the vicinity, he moved off toward the Colorado, searce a half-mile distant, Itwas his intention to make his way to it, in order to ascertain whether Colonel Ovaton and bis companions had yet learned their flight. He had gone a short distance, how- ever, when it suddenly occurred to bim that he was acting very imprudently in leaving Irona alone at such atime. There might be wild beasts prowling in the vicinity, who, attracted by the smell of the roasted meat, would not hesita'e to attack her, while she had no means for defending herself. More than this, he could not avoid th+ singular im- pression that there were human foes in the grove and that his own presence wis neesed, He could ive no cause for the suspicion. but felt it, neverthe- less Indeed, it increased every moment. until it had well-nigh settled into a firm belief that some great and dreadful danger threatened Trona. With a heart beating with the most painful appre- hension, he hurriedly retraced his steps, pausin once or twice for an instant to listen for some soun 21 but hearing nothing save the almost inaudible wash of the Rio Colorado. As he neared the grove he proceeded with great cire and caution, for, as its dark, gloomy shadow enveloped him, a stuadow as dark and gloomy enveloped his spirit, He moved on down the little sir amlet, and was now within a few feet of the spot where he had left her —the dearest object on earth, He slowly arose from the ground, and his heart was in ] is mouth as he detected a dark m ss which he knew was his blanket, enveloping her. st Thank God, I was mistaken! I thought you were gone— He stopped short as he rested his hand upon the blanket, for no Irona was there! CHAPTER XV, A DEATH AND AN ALARM, For a minute Welland scarcely breathed, so over- come was he at this astounding fact. He stood with his blanket in one hand, his rifle in the other, gazing down where ne had Jast seen Irona lying. ‘What can if mean?’ he asked himself again and again, At almost any other time he would have felt no ap- eiginens at her absence; but, knowing that he nad left her in a sleep almost as deep as death itself, he was certain something extraordinary must have oceurred to awaken her—a sleep so_ heavy, indeed, that she bal be lifted and carried away without knowing it. ‘Oh, Heaven! after escaping these many dangers, grant that she may not be lost to me now," he ex- claimed, in bitterness of spirit. Reflecting that probably she was still within the grove, he at once set about searching every part, so far as lay in his power. He passed up and down the stream, crossed it again and again, paused and listened, and more than once repeated the loved namein a husky whisper, But no response came, save the gurgle of the brook, and the seft breath of the night-wind overhead, “hat devilish invention has spirited her away again?’ ho muttered, “Vil never return without her, or, if she is slain, without the lives of her mur- derers.” He was standing beneath a large tree as he mut- tered this. A few feet distant wes a sapling. The top of this he saw suddenly incline downward, as if borne by a heavy weight, and the next moment a dark figure bounded lightly down in front of him. “Ts that you, Ross?” it asked. = “Good heavens! Jrona, what does this mean?” asked Welland, with a recoil of astonishment. ‘Sh! nots» loud!” she admonished, ‘There’ are others near at hand. Have you1 ot seen them?” ~ “Seen them? No; I had supposed you were car- ried off.” “T came pretty near it, T can tell you.” “Whoby? Where? How was it prevented?” » “1 awoke too soon, but I will tell vou all ina minute, Are you sure there is no one who will over- heer us?” “T have just hunted through and through the pA Sond you, and have seen nothing of anybody else d “They have withdrawn, then. They are out on the prairie.” * But T have been there, too, Irona, and saw noth- ing of them,” “They were there, nev, rtheless. saw ove of them myself.” “You say ‘hry. Wiat do you mean?” “You must know if can be no other but those thie,” replied Irona, in a meaning voice. “But, Trona, explain what you mean,” w Welland, taking her hand in bis, and drawing her to him. ‘| presume you left me shortly after I fell asleep?” she asked, “Yes, 1 had some misgivings about those infer- nal villains that are following us,and went out on - the prairie to see whether they were anywhere Remember, I
Page 22
near. I had been gone but a short time. when T re- flected that I was leaving you in great danger, anid immediately retraced my steps only to find you gone, however, and, as I thought, irrevocably so.” “Tt must have been a few minutes after you left that it occurred, though it seemed several hours to me. You remember I was sleeping very soundly. I remained thus a short time, when all at once I opened my eyes, as sensible and as wide awake as I am at this moment, What it was that aroused me I cannot tell. I opened my eyes, and without moving the rest of my body, raised my head and looked around me. Standing not ten feet distant, on the same side of the stream with myself, I discovered the sombrero of Jnarez Vasquelon, Iknew that y u must be absent or this c uld not have occurred. He seemed to be listening, for he stood several minutes without stirring, and then with a stealthy step he approuched. How my heart beat as I saw his hated form coming nearer to me. I was on the point of screaming out, when he passed me and went on down-stream. The instant I darst do so, I arose, leaving the blanket where it lay, and hurried furt ier into the wood; bat, fate seemed to have decreed that I should not 2ip2 him, for several times I came within a hair’s-breadth of walking directly into his arms, This so alarmed me that Iascen 'ed this tree, and (could you believe it?) five minutes afcer, he passed directly under it. But I sv no “more of him, I heard you and took you for him until you pausel here anl spoke, when, as you know, I descends 1 to you.” “You have had a, narrow escap?, Irona. How isit possible that Vasquelon an] | failed to enconnter each other when we were both searching in the grove at the same time?” “T think he must have. ons out as you entered, or very shortly after.” * One thing, h ever seems settled. Those three have learned of our escape from the island, and are pretty certain that w» sre in this grove.” “T do not think they are certain of this, but prob- ably they have susnected we would take refuce here, anil have thought they might come upon us when we wera asleep, ani thus secure us_without trouble. This, I think, is the reason why Vasquelon entered an! searched the wood to night ” “Tf he finds mo asleep, I hope he will get me with- out troubl>, Heavens! wht a pity wa culln't haye stumbled upon each other when we were both searching for you.” “This bost, think that youdid not. The others must ba close at han], and you coullnot have saved yours Il against all three.” “We must do it, however, to-morrow, for then, T am convinead, ths last struggle—the struggle of life and death—must come.” *Is there not rooin for concealment somewhere near us?” “There may be, but it can avail us nothing. We are regularly besiege l, as much as we were upon that island; but our circumstances are considerably improved, and I have hopes of making a better re- sistance. But Irona, ib is yet early in the nirht; you are worn out and ex 1austed, and I have no idea what privations and sufferings ar» in store for you; let mo insist, the: efore, that you take that rest which your system so much needs.” “Tf you think it best, dear Ross, I wi'l do so, al- though with this drea lful danger threatening us, I have little disposition to sleep.” “T will watch over you, and you need have no fear,” Trona obeyed him like a child, The blanket which Welland had brourht with him was once mora spread upon tha ground, and in a few minutes she was again unconscious, Welland took his station near her, prepared to wait and watch until morning. Hour after hour wore on without anything occur- ring to alarm him. Twice he detected a plash in the brook, as though made by the step of some creature, but nothing further than this, The first hour was The Hunted Hunter. -Started up alert, cocked his r' spent by Welland in walking slowly backward and forward, when he sat down, c nfiiznt that he was able to remain awake in that position; but a drowsi- ness gradually overcame him, and he was on the point of passing off into forgetfulness when, for the third time, be heard the sy h in the stream, He ifle and stepped behind the 1ree underneath which Trona lay sleeping. He had stood here but a few moments, when he saw, rising above the bank of the stream, a broad Mexi can sombrero, Wella’ d’s | eart throbbed as he flected that his most implacable enemy was now in bis power, The hat rose vigherand hicher, until the shadowy outlines of the burly shoulder became visible. Then he sig’ ted his rifle as well as p sssible, The distance was short and he wamsure of his aim. He pressed the triggcr—a flash, a sharp, quick re- port, a heavy fall, and then all was still “lt’'s the private opinion of Senor Welland thet Juarez Vosquelon will cease minding other folks’ business,” remarked our hevo, cooliy, proceeditg to reload his rifle, ‘‘Iv’s a bad practices to be spying another person’s movements, and I wouldn’t advise yon to try it again.” He looked anxiously at Trona, to sea whether the report had awakened her; but the pale, exhauste] sufferer was sleeping as soundly as ever. Having now careful'y reloaded his rifle, he stood on his guard, waiting further development of matters. Ho fully expected the appearance of Choujeau or Ova- ton, or both; but, as faily an hour passed witoout seeing or hearing anything of them, he began to think that Irona had been mistaken in supposing them in ths grove. They were probably a good dis- tance off, and Vasquelon had come forward to recon- noifer for himself, With this belief he moved forward to examine the body. He found it_as he expected, Ising upon its back, and stonedead. He secured the rifle and am- munition, and then dragged the body further down- stream, where it was not likely to be seen by Irona, While doing this, the sombrero dropped off. Feeling a curiosity to examine his features, \“elland struck a match and hell it up to his face, To his unspeak- able dismay he saw that it was not Juarez Varque- lon, as he had supposed, but an entire stranger! He had never seen th» man before, and consequently knew nothing of his identity, This discovery both pleased and alarm d Welland, Tn the first place, he w. s confident he was anenemy, ani he was therefore justified in slaying him; in the secon place, it convinced him that as yet his three m 1st dangerous enemies knew nothing of his where- abouts, and for tho present he was therefore safe, * Ou the whole, this is best as it is,” he conclude, “for we stand a good chance of still eluding Colo. nel O ‘aton and his brother villains, as they probably have not yet suspected our flight, and may not for several days.” Bué this pleasant illusion was soo1 dispelled, When the gray light of morning enter-d ‘hs grove, be passed out to the edge of the prairie to take a view of it. His first glance showed him Ovaton, Pierre and Vasquelon, mounted on their horses and riding leisurely toward the grove. Wellaitd was in full view, and when a couple of hundred yards dis- tant, was discovered by the latter, who poin‘ed toward him, when all three reined up as *f taken aback at his appearance in this place. Or hero stepped behind a tree, and, showing that he had two rifles, called: “Twarn you to come no nearer. Itis time you understood me, and I solemnly swear that if a single one of you attempts to enter this grove, I will shoot him, as sure as he is within range. You see Ihave two rifles; an1if you wish to know whether they are loaded, you have o°ly to approach nigher.” “And where did Sonor Welland get his second gun?” asked Vasquelon, placing hisopen hand be- side Iris mouth, as if to direct his words, “T took a stranger for Juarez Vasqueton, and shot him by mistake,’
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- approach no nig! The Hunted Hunter, 23 From the sensation which this announcement made, Wel'and-felt certain that, whoever the stran- ger might be, he was one of their men, who had been * sent forward to reconnoiter, a d whose return they were probably looking for at that moment. They remained consulting together for a consider- able time, and then, singularly enough to \ eliand Colonel Ovaton turned towarg him and spoke: “Ross Welland, it’s about time this gamx ended. None of us have had any designs upon you, but Vasquelon here rightfully claimsand shall have your companion, Sevorita Irona, I now make you our Jast offer. If you yield her up, you will be allowed to pass unmolested upon your way; but if not, you shall never leave that crove.” ; e repetition of this insulting proposit‘on so in- censed Welland that he raised his rifle. and was aim- ing at the speaker even at that great distance, when he felt a slight touch upon hisarm, Irona wasjstand- ing at his elbow. “Don’t fire, Ross, for the distance is too great, Wait till they come nearer, You would now miss them, and they would rush upen you before you could reload.” “T don’t believe the cowards can muster courage toapproach. They have been standi.g there a half- hour already, and yet they hesitate.” “They are only forming their plans—” “Ah! [understand them,” interrupted Welland in an excited manner. ‘‘They are going to separate and approach the grove singly, in different direc- tions.’ Such really appeared their intent‘on, as they were already some yards spare but their design was sud- denly frustrated. All three halted and gazed behind them, away out on ohana te as if alarmed at the appearence, while Welland waiched their move- ments with astonishment. “They see something to alarm them,’ whispered Trona; “ what can it be?” “It may be only a ruse—no, it isn’t either, See them ride together again. Al}l three are half-fright- ened to death. How singular!” Colonel Ovaton’s arm was outstretched as though inting to something in the distance, and his ges- ures were excited. elland looked in the direction indicated, but he could see nothing, although he began to suspect the true cause of their fear. “Danger threatens them, and it threatens us, likewise,”’ said he. “ What can it be?” asked Irona, “I feel convinced, although I have seen nothing of them, that a Company of Comanches are approaching.” ? CHAPTER XVI. THE COMANCHES. Cotonet Ovaron and his companions suddenly commenced riding toward the grove. ‘Halt!’ commanded Welland, stepping out in full view and raising his rifle in a threatening manner, They did halt for an instant. “A band of Comanche Indians are coming this way,’ seid Ovaton, “ and we ar» only seeking con- cealment from them. They may enter this crove, and you will be glad of our assistance to repel them in that case.” “T feel able to take care of myself, and you cer- tainly ought to be by this time, I would as soon have the Comanches enter this timber as to have you. Therefore, I warn you for the last time to her, for if you do, Colonel Ovaton, will be the first man to fall.” This declaration was in too decided language to be misunderstood. There was little time for the horse- men to spare in useless conversation, They con- sulted together a moment, and then, turning the heads of their animals to the eastward, they gallcped awav at the top of their speed. . “The Indians can be at no great distance,” said Welland, ‘and it would be best to retreat further into the wood, wkere there is no danger of being seen, You do s0, Irona, while I will ascend this tree, and watch their movements.” Irona obeved. Slinging one of the rifles over his back, Welland climbed the tree beneath which he had been standing, It was quite lofty, and he made his way to the top, where the leafy brane es «ffectu- ally concealed him, and where he was afforded a wide view of the prairie. Looking to the eastward he dise*rned Colonel Ovaton and his companions riding for dear life. They were not yet a mile dis- tant, but they were going over the ground at a tremendous pace. Turning his gaze to the north- west, Welland encountered a sight that thrilled every nerve in his body. Not two miles distant were at least twenty Comanches comicg en a full gallop toward him. Their glittering lances, exch crowned with a bright, fluttering ribbon, after the manner of the Mexicans, were pointed wpwerd, and were carried as regularly as the bayonets of a march- ing co'umn. They had evidently seen the three whites, and without doubt were in pursuit, for they were going at full speed, although their bodies rose and fell as uniformly as the swells of the prairie. What was more, their splendid animals were gaining upon those of the whites, and while the race mig! be a long one, it was plain enough what the result would be, if the Comanches persevered, Nearer and nearer came this frightful band, their dazzling dress flaunting in the air, and their horrid ainted faces gleaming with all the parsions of the erocious savage. Welland held his breath as they thundered past, and not till they were full a mile away upon the prairie did he breat e free again, He then descended, and shortly rejoined Irona, The grove in which our hero and heroine had shel- tered themselves as we have already stated, sbound- ed with the smaller game usually found in forests; hence, they had no anxiety or trouble on the: core of food. Whenever this was reeded it was easily rocured, On this occasion, in spite of the alarm- ng circumstances by which they had been sur- rounded, they made a nourishing and substantial meal. Atits conclusion, Irena said: ‘*Dear Ross, you have hardly rested a moment for the past two or three days, Ido 1.ot now need rest, as I slept well last night. I bop: you will, therefore, secure what you can duving to-cay.” Welland's own prudence told him thet the advice should be fellowed, After pias fully bidaing his companion <ood-night, he lay down upon the ground, and slept. Trona busied herself in watching over him, occasionally wandering to the edge of t! e tim- ber to look for signs of their enemies. Noon came and passed, and still Welland slept. Ste could not awaken him, for she knew he necded all the slumber that came to him. An hour or so after the sun had passed its merid- ian, Irona was ts on the marcin cf the prairie, looking away in the horizon. when she heard the faint report of guns. They were at a gr at distance, but *he report was clear and Gistinct. Once or twice they rattle} Jike musketry, as though numbers were discharged nearly simultaneously, and then she either heard, or farcied she did, that clear, peculiar yell which a Comanche Indian semetimes males when attacking a foe, A few minutes later a deep and oppressive stillness settled over the preirie. “The Indians have overtaken the wlites, and there has been a deadly struggle,” she reflected, as she made her way back to where Welland wns lying. “What the result has been I cannot tell, but it seems impossible that either Colonel Ovation or cne of his men should have escaped. What will the In- dians do now? Will they return in this direction, and will they halt here? Heaven forbid.” It was not until night was again settling over the prairie that Welland awoke. Irona deeme/ it best -to acquaint him with the sounds which she had heard some hours before, and to give her suspicion of their cause. As she expected, Welland | elieved them to have been produced by an affray Letween the Comanches and the fugitives,
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24 The Hunted Hunter. “Wether they will return in this direction or not why, of course, we can only co jecture. Should they do so, and even make a halt in this grove, I do not despair of escaping them. Unless,’”—said he, #s the thought flashed across him—‘* unless they have taken a prisoner, and he has told them that we have taken refuge here. I hardly think that has been done, however, andif their suspicions be not aroused, it is not even probable that they will discover us, They must have traveled a considerable distance, and will hardly reach this spot before to-morrow.” y not to-night?” “They will encamp and not resume their journey until daylight.” * But it was early in the afternoon that I heard their guns, and they could have traveled a long dis- tance since.” “Very true, but not far enough to reach us. Re- member, their horses were going at their best speed, and it isn’t probable they will return at that rate.” “But, Ross,” said Irona, with a brightened coun- tenance, * what need is there of our remaining here until morning? By that time we may be many miles away, and what is to hinder us from going?” “TY have thought of that course, dear Irona, but have given it up. We can gain nothing by night- traveling, while we run the risk of losing our way. As I said, a minute ago, I do not think there is any danger of the return of the Indians, for twenty hours at least. We will therefore rest contented until morning, when we will continue our journey.” * Bub will we no&§ meet each other?” “That is the great danger, as we must neces- sarily take nearly the same direction that they have. Our guide is the river, which here swerves to the southeast, and whose course, in all prob- ability, has been followed by Colonel Ovaton and the others.” “As it is already dark, would it not be best to make our preparations for spending the night? ’ “Tf you wish it. As I have just awakened, of course I have no disposition to sleep at present. It is your turn, and while you slumber, ! will watch beside you. Would to Heaven that I always might,” exclaimed Wellan1, tenderly drawing Irona to him, and kissing her fair forehead. ‘How my heart bleeds for you! A few months since you knew no wish ungratified; but now, by a wonderful train of circumstances indeed, you are a _fucitive on the rairies for your life and honor. Kind providence I ow will watch over a being as pure and as good as yourself,” “Don’t think of me,” responded Irona; ‘I am in the hands of God, and feel resigned to any fate that he may decree me. With His good will and your strong, noble heart to protect me, ( need have no fear. no matter what danger threatens m>.” “Trona,” said Welland, modulating his own voice to the soft tones of love, “here alone on the broad bergen we should understand each other. I have Id you how often I have thought of my, last inter- view with you, and_regretted the temper I then dis- layed. I have felt sorry for this, Isay, and you ave forgiven ma for it. I believe we shall both es- ' cape from this country; but we may not. And = y Trona, will you not give me what I have never aske: — assurance? that I possess the love of your ear’ “T do, Ross—devoutly and truly,” replied Trona, in atone which indicated the depth and the purity of her love. “T ask no more. Good-night-—good-night!”’ was all the lover could utter as he drew her to his bosom and then led her to the spot selected for her resting- a et during the night. He had made a couch of ranches and shrubbery beneath some heavy hush- es, which sheltered her from the night-dews. Here, folded in his thick, warm blanket, she rested as sweetly as if in her own chamber in a distant home. Welland stationed himself a few feet distant, where, seated upon the ground, at a late hour he fell asleep and did not awaken until aroused by the chattering of the birds overhead, Almost at the same moment Irona also awakened, and smilingly saluted him, - “A long journey is before us,” said she, “and I believe we are to commence it as soon as possible,” “Very true,” replied Welland, ** and it will not be long before we shall be upon our way. Of course we must have our morning meal before starting.” This ape but a%short time, as enough re- mained of the evening’s repast to afford them all that was needed. Welland’s blank»t was strapped to his back, the charges of his two rifles examined, and all pronounced ready. “Do you feel able to walk a great distance?” he asked of Irona, as they were about to start. “T surely do,” she answered, ‘‘and as I am not in- cumbered by any extra weight or load, I think I shall not be the first one to give out.” “That remains to be proved,” said Welland. * And now for home!” ‘* Wait a moment,” interrupted Irona; ‘‘ ought we not to examine the appearance of the prairie before venturing upon it? We know not how close at hand enemies may be.”’ ‘**T should have thought of that before. Wait here till return.” Saying this, Welland moved hastily through the grove toward the prairie, A few rods brought him to the edge of the timber, when, as he looked out on the plain, he saw, no less than a quarter of a mile distant, the whole band of Comanches galloping di- rectly toward him, He paused scarcely a second, but long enough to assure himself that their destina- tion was unmistakably the grove in which he was standing. He made all haste back to Irona, and communicated the astounding intelligence. “We cannot flee, as the prairie is so open we should be discovered almost immediately. We must secrete ourselves atonce. There is no time to lose. Enter the spot where you slept last night and I wilt pull the bushes over you, s> that I think there is no danger of your being seen.” ; a pee yourself?’ asked Irona, mechanically obey- ng him. “Nover mind me, I will take care of myself. It would not do for us both to hide there. Quick, Trona, or it will be too late.”’ She crouched down in the bushes, which closed after her, in such a manner that there was no prob- ability of her being discovered even by the lynx-eyo of a Comanche, unless his suspicion was directed to- ward the spot This was scarcely done when the tread of horses’ feet was heard, and hardly con- scious of what he did, Welland caught the limb of a tree near at hand and hastily ascended among its branches. A moment later, and the score of Comanches en- tered the grove, sprung from their horses and turned them loose, while they threw themselves upon the grass for an hour’s rest. He soon saw.that it was not the men he had so much evuse to fear as it was their horses. The for- mer remained nearly in the same spot where they had first place? themselves, and seemed to have no inclination to wander away; but with the latter, the ease was different. In browsing and _ cro ping the herbage, they had already erproacnet within a few feet of Irona’s hiding-place. Should these sagacious animals discover her, it was morally certain that their masters would, The horse of a Comanche Indian is generally as intelligent as his rider, and when one makes a dis- covery, it is not long before he imparts it to the other. The animal, when on the war-trail, will scent danger and warn his master of it, while yet it is far distant, and when encamped, no more faithful or unerring sentinels could be found, After an hour's rest, the war-party gave signs of moving, and now came the most eritical moment of all. The Comanches gave a peculiar whistle, which brought most of their horses instantly to them; but there were several that, from some cause or other, >
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~» The Hunted Hunter. 26 paid no attention to the signal. Among the latter was one which was plucking the buds and leaves from the very bushes which sheltered Trona. He ob- stinately refused to leave, and when Welland saw his savage master start toward him, his trepidation was 80 es that he could hardly maintain his posi- tion in the tree. As the Comanche reached ethe animal, the latter, with a snort of alarm, retreated several steps, as though he had discovered some alarming object in the’bushes before him. The Indian noticed the ac- tion, and taking his horse by the head, endeavored tolead him forward. At first the brute betrayed some fear, but gradually quieted down and slowly approached the bushes, As he reached them the Indian vaulted upon his back, and sought to urge him threugh them, et nay thinking there was nothing formidable there. The horse made a step or two. and then, with a wild neigh, took the bit in his teeth, and galloped off to where his companions werestanding. Here the Indian yielded him up to a comrade, and dismounting, walked hurriedly to- ward the bushes, plainly determined to satisfy him- self as to the cause of the animal’s alarm, Welland now seriously debated whether he should shoot the savage or not; but the certaingeonse- quenceg of such a proceeding restrained him, and ts eae as were the circumstances, he quietly watched his movements. The Comanche circled around the suspicious spot several times, and then cautiously approached it. Cocking his rifle, he reached the muzzle forward, pushed it between the leaves, and carefully gazed in. Fora few seconds, which seemed minutes to the excited Welland, he stood perfectly motionless. Then with a “Ugh!” of surprise, he ot pg down, took Irona by the arm, and led her forth. CHAPTER XVII. LOST AGAIN. Tue appearance of Irona among the Comanches, naturally created the greatest surprise and wonder, They gathered around her, questioning her captor, until he had given the particulars of her discovery, and then several proceeded to the bushes and exam- ined them, The blanket was brought forth, and new speculations were indulged in. Irona’s remarkable beauty made a great impression upon their savage hearts, and she was treated in reality with respect- ful consideration. The leader of the company stepped forward be- fore her and speaking quickly, in broken English, asked; ** Where come from?” irona was on the point of replying. when it oceur- red to her that it would be safer to feign ignorance of the English language. She would not tell a false- hood to save either the life of Welland or herself; and by refusing to answer at all, she was saved the ordeal. She therefore looked up with a wondering aze,as though the meaning of the words was not nown to her, “Where come from?—who be?—what do here?” repeated the chief, bending his face close to hers. Still she made no reply. * Hechuca V. lo que la digo?” (Do you listen to what I tell you?) asked the Indian, in Spanish. This was Irona’s own language, and, as she heard its musical words uttered so fluently by the Coman- che, she well-nigh forgot herself; but, as before, the questioner received no answer. “ Habla V. el espanolo el ingles?” (Do you speak Spanish or English?) The Indian, receiving no answer to this second question, repeated it in Euglish until satisfled that his prisoner either could not or would not make any reply to him, He then turned to his followers and addressed to them a few words in his own tongue, Welland instantly divined what he said from the fact that they all scattered through the grove and com- menced a search, It was uow time to lonk to his own personal safety. He wept up the tree till he had ce reached ils densest part. Here he slid out on the limb, and lying down, with his arms and feet around it, awaited the result of the search, From his situation he was now unable to see the movements of the Indians, but he could hear their tread through the bushes, their guttural exclama- tions to each other, and a word or two that the chief now and then uttered to the silent Irona. In a few moments a great clamor was heard. Welland de- scended as far as he dared, but could see nothing. Vrom the direction from which the noise came, he concluded they had come upon the dead body of his unknown enemy. The minute Irona saw them bringing the dead body to the chief, it occurred to her that she might make it do Welland a good turn. If the Comanches could be made to believe that it was the dead form of her protector, they would search no further; or, at any rate, would not have so strong a belief that any one else was at hand. She therefore covered her face with her hands, and, bending her head, her whole frame shook with emotion—a genuine emo- tion, but produced by far different causes than her sag ne believed, his manifestation had meet, the desired effect. Tho Comanche chief consulted with the warriors, and examined the dead hunter again and again. None had ever seen him before, although, from his dress and appearance, he was judged to be a Mexi- can. After a free interchange of sentiments, the conclusion reached was that the man had been shot by Colonel Ovaton or one of his men, The latter, when first seen, it will be recollected, wcre reined up in front of the grove, in parley with Welland. The Comanches had come down like a thunderbolt upon them, frightening them away, it was believed, be- fore they had time to make off with Trona. Still the chief directed the search to be continued, instructing his warriors, at the same time, /o eramive the trees! When this order was given, Welland bad returned to his limb, and his arms and legs were elesed around it, while he listened to the tumult below, The first intimation he had of the character which the search had taken, was when he caught the geminee of a bronzed body flitting through the ranches of a large tree a few yards away. The savage had ascended this, as his companions were doing the others. Welland could judge by the agita- tion made among the leaves, the peaieon of the In- dian’s body. He saw him go up full fifty feet above himself, where he paused a moment, and then com- menced dropping downward from limb to limb, as dexterously as a monkey could have done. When a few feet below our hero, he made a spring of nearly a dozen feet through the air, catching the branch of another tree, and going toits top with the same celerity that he had displayed before. In a few mo- ments he was in a different tree, repeating the same maneuvers, and at the same time getting further and further from the tree which contained Welland, The reason why he failed to visit this was because it was a small one, in which he rightly judged no person would take refuge from choice, Had Wel- land had a few minutes longer to consider, he never would have used it for that purpose, The Comanche did bestow asearching glance upon it; but, being a considerable distance away, and having no suspi- cion, he failed to note cho powen appearance of the limb which was weighed down with the weight ofaman. For the space of perhaps twenty minutes Welland saw nothing more of the Indian climbers, but during all this time, he could hear them spring: ing from limb to limb, and dropping to the ground with exclamations of disappointment, He expected every moment to see one of them oe up his own tree, and could only wonder that he had escaped observation so long. From the manner in which the search was bein conducted, he ‘felt satisfied the tree would affo him concealment but a few minutes longer; he therefore determined to resort to stratagem to mis- lead the savages. The latter, at that moment, were
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hunting in another part of the timber, and unless a stray one of their number should wander in that direc ion, they would probably not return for some ininutes, The tree in which he had first seen the Comanche stood very close to hisown. As this had already been searched, he concluded that if he could get i:to itr, he would be safe, and he determined to make the attempt. He passed out ou his own branch until it bent with his weight. He had brought only bis rifle with } im. This he carefully tossed. so as to make it fallin a horizontal position upon the branches opposite. fo his dismay, however, instead of catching and remain- Ing, it fell end oyer enl through the ‘imbs to the The Hunted Hunter. ground. Welland crouched dow) and listened, bat | the noise made was not noticed, [h hal fatlen a good distance from the bise of the trun‘, and the ran‘ grass closing over it maids him confident it would not be seen unless accidentally step el upon. Welland now made prop irations for his leap. It was over six feet be had to spring, and then run the risk of sustaining himself by the twigs and branches of the other tree. He carefully measured the dis- tance with his eye and leaped outward! Wht a thrill of horror passed through his body when, in mid-air, he saw he could not accomplish it! As he came down, he frantically clutched the branches, but they would not sustain him, They bent down, ani. the twigs slowly slipped through his blistered fingers. It was like a horrid nizhtmare—this falling ~—falling, without power to check himself—that dreadful sinking sensation, as though dropping into some dark pit. If was no us2 to attempt saving him- self. Down,down he went through the limbs. and finally cime2 to the ground in a standing position. He glanced despniiringly around, and felt a fains hops, as he saw, singularly enougn, that he had not been observed. Without losing an instant, he re- newed his attempt, and in a few minutes was snugly ensconced in the top of the second tree. It was not ten min ites later that a brawny Co- manche was on the very limb he had so recently left. Narrow, indeed, had been his esecan2—far narrower than he suspected: for the unusual appearance of the surrounding branches was noticed by the savase. He saw that they hal been made by a person spring- ing from one tree to another; and the same saza- cious eye that showed him this, showed still further that'wioever hid made the leap had failed in its executio ) an’! had fallen to the ground. If he felt surprise! that a Comanche warrior should have made such a failure, he thought nothing more. Thore was not enough io the circumstances to make him suspect that it might have been done by a white man, and he rejoined his companions upon the ground. The search was now given over. Every tree and every nook ‘bat could have concealed a person had been subjected to the severest scrutiny, without re- vewling a white man, and ‘he Indians were convinced that their first supposition was right. The chief mounted his horse, lifting Irona lixe an infant in front of him. She struggled and made signs that she wished to remain where she was, but she wasin the grasp of a giant and it availed nothing. Away sped the Comanches to the northward _ bearing Irona Seraville with them. W land, from his lofty posi- tion, watched them as they rapidly receded in the distance. Soon they became mere moving specks in the horizon, and finally faded altogether from view. Hour after hour he sat gazing at the point where they had disippeared. He sat motionless. despair- ing and hopeless. After a long time he drew a deep breath, and th n looked around him, “Gone, gone again, when I thought the danger was passed! What will become of her? God only knows. Dishonor, death to Irona Seraville! And here I have been compelled to sit and see her carried of by those inhuman savages. Her fate must be knew Irona Seraville!” repeated Welland, after a pause. “Not while memory Jasis! And would I ever forget my own baseness in thus deserting her in the moment of direst necessity? Away with the thought! I will follow her as long as she lives. If she is dishonored. my life shall be spent in avenging her. If not, I shall never give over my efforts until she is rescued or [ have died in the attempr.” He sat a few minutes longer in deep thought, and then added: “What canI do? I have two rifles, it is true, but no horse to ride, while twenty Comanche warrio:s are opp°sed tome, I cannot steal into their camp aad rescue her by stratagem, They are too cunnin’; for that. But lean follow afterthem. There is no dieaming what opportunitis may be offered me.” Ten minntes later and Welland was walkingr pidly across the prairi> in tne trail made by the passa: > of the Comanche horses. Inthe afternoon he halte | a few moments, and by night had pass d over a good long distance. As he expected, the trail led up to the Colorado, which it stall followed when night closed around him. He intended, when starting. to travel all night, hut he had already undergone too many hardships t» bear this tax upon his endurance, While | ing about him, he caught the glimmer of a campfires in the distance on the bank of the river. This he believed undoubtedly belonged to the Co- manches, and he determined to approach nigh enough to reconnoiter. Near as seemed the camp, it required almost two hours’ walking before he reached it. To his un- bouned surprise as he came up, not a singia person was in sight. This was the more surprising, as it seemed literally impossible for twenty men and horses to conceal themselves around the fire, which was kindled down the bank where there were no trees or shelter. : Welland passed and repassed it several times, gradually approaching nearer and incautiously ex- posing himself, Only a faint lig t was cast by the smoldering embers, and within the circle of this he at length ventured. He had hardly done so, when a dark, ball-like body bounded from the darkness, and alizhting on his shoulders, bore him downward with irresistible strength. “T takes you fora white man,” said a rough voice, as his throat was grasped like a vise, ‘“ but you've no business to be sneakin’ round like this. Speak quick! Who mought you be?” “Tam Ross Welland; don’t you know me, Ned Nuggens?” “Him and no mistake,” replied that hunter, peer- ing down in his face and then allowing him to rise. ““Wh>re’s the gal?”” ‘The Comanches have got her.” _ “ What'd I tell you, John?” said the hunter, turn- ing toward his joa ym who now made himself visible. “I know’d them ruffians had somebody among ’em that they'd no right to, when we met ‘em to-day. How is it they didn’t git you, too?” asked the 1 goarhag indignantly, as though Welland had no right to be free when one placed under his charze was a prisoner. “ Hav» patience, and you will understand it all in amoment '’—and thereupon our hero explained what is already known to the reader. At its conclusion, Nugzens exclaimed: * Just like the ruffi’ns; they’ve got an account to settle with us; but what are you doing here?” “Tam in pursuit of them.” “Give us your hand! You've got the stuf in you. You'll pass, you will.” “How is it you two are here? I understood your destination was the Llano Estacado, when we parted.” “So it was—so it was; but after we'd left you some time, John, here, said he believed there was something wrong going on, and the next mornin written in the book of destiny. It is no use striving | we turned back to foller you. That night we foun azainst it. I will return to the United States and forget that I ever knew her! Forget that I ever your horse. Then we kow'd something was w sure. We went down on this side of th» river, : - , - , > K
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Ba The Husted Hunter. SS not thinking of looking in the river for you, why we didn’t see you on that island that you just told us about. We went on and hunted for yon two or “three days, and then thinking we mought have passed you, we took the back-track again. But we couldn't see nothing of you, cause, like a couple of fo ls, we had got on the wrong side of the river, So we give it up and started for the Staked Plain, and have got this fur on the way.” “You say you found my horse some time since. What did you do with him?” “Why, kept hin, of course. scarce to let slip.” * And is he in your possession this minute?” “Tf you don’t believe it. just walk out there where our two animals is standing. Being we've found his owner, he’s no longer ours,”” “Such a turn of fortune Tam forced to believe is an augury of my suecess—" “Is what?” interrupted Smith. *Ts a sign—a token of success fn my « fforts to res- cue frona.”” “Oh!—tbat’s what you mes big worc round these port causa v hy? no one can’t swallow’ m. Burt eou, you don’t really mean to follow them twenty Comanches alone, do you?’ “Tf T started on foot with that firm intention, what would in‘tuce m. to give it up now that I have recovered my hors: ?” “What can you do emong such a lot of rufflans?” “The chances ars freatly against ma, I will ad- mit. but | shoud never forgive myself did I not mote an effort.” “Can your horse trave * Te is fully th: ir eq “That don’t mat ¢ which you never will—h« from them twenty cha * As Thave just sail. the chances are desperate, but I shall make the effort.” * All alone, eh?” “*T expect to do so.” “Wal, Texp ct you won't.” “Why not?” atked Welland, thinking that perhaps they intended to prevent him. “Cause we gors with you!” exclaimed Wuggens, heartily, *‘* When that litle gal of yourn gets into difficulty why I reckons we does too, and stays there too tili she’s out, Eh, Smith?” * Just so—exactly.”* ‘Let's shake hands on that.” And Welland grasped hands with the two hun- ters. Such animals are too 1. Don't use them 1 faster than theirs?” pose you get the gal— rare you going to get away CHAPTER XVII IN THE, COMANCHE CAMP, Tas much then was s«ttl-d—three armed and mounted white men were to pursue twenty armed and mounted Comanche Indians, with the object of rescuing a captive white girl from them. A fool- hardy proceeding, to say the least; bat, curiously enough, Ned Nugg ‘ns, who always saw the dark side of the picture, was very sanguine of success, “*T have an idev of my own,” said re with a wise look, the next morning, as they were xbout to start. “Pray, let us know what it is,” asked Welland, with some curiosity “*Can’t do it jest now ” he replied, with a shake of his head. “You'd all lauzh at me, sure.” “Tell a feller if he guesses?” quizzed Smith, lean- ing on his horse and looking up in his companion’s face. “Yas, don't know but what I will.” “Ts it to buy her?” “Ruy her! Where'd I get anything to buy her with?” asked Nugg«ns, in amazemenr. “That's what I should like to know. You going to make a dash among ‘em. do some ha’r-raisin’, and be off like a thunder-clan?” “Nothin’ of the kind $n “Going to sneak into camp and steal her? 27 “You're all wrong ag’in.” “Going to lecture ‘em !—tell ’em they’re bad boys and shouldn't do such things?” “No, sir; but I'll say that last guess is the nearest you've come yet.” * Wh-e-w-w!” exclaimed Smith, giving vent to along, peculiar whistle. ‘Going to appeal to their better natur’, T s’pose. Haint you been on the praines long enough yet to find out that Comanches ain't human?" . * replied Nuggens, with a meajing emphusis. “Wal, Zuave, and if you hain’t you will, mighty soon,”” “*T know not what plon you have in view,” said Welland, “‘butif you are ec rain of its success, I am perfectly satisfi.d. Wi'hthat assurance, I shall go forward with renewed hope.” “Tt’s ‘mpoxsitle to be sarvin with Comanches ; but I feel very sart’in—so much so, that if 1 don't succeed I lose my ha’r, sure.”’ Nuggens seemed to enjoy the astonishment his words created. He added, with a meaning smile: “Til say this. much, though I don't choose to tell you more. The plan that I’ve hit upon doesn’t bring either of you in the scrape. For that matter, you could both just as well stay where you are, and let me go on alone. But, let us lose no mo e tite talk- ink We shall have a good tramp to overi ake them njins. Travia galloped ahead, and the two followed on a brisk canter. He gave it as his opinion that the Comanches would be overtaken gt right, provided the es up their own swinging pace. The trail still led along the Colorado, and he felt confident that it would continue so for many miles. A few hours’ ride brought them upon the site of their last encampment, the embers of whose fires were still burning. The surrounding signs were carefully ex- amined by the hunters, and the Indians pronounced to be nearer than was first suppesed. “ At this gait."’ said Nuggens, “we'll be onto ’em by the middle of the afternoon. They've made quite a halt here.” : “Do they always keep up that rapid canter of theirs?” : “Bless you, no, Their anima's get tired as wellas others. They sometimes halt for three or thirty hours just as the notion takes them,” “The Comanches are the acknowledged sover- eigns of this seetion, I believe?” ‘They're the serercigns—if that means the masters. —though they find that question is often disputed with them. ‘They do pretty much as they please, especially where Mexicans are .concerned. The Texans are tougher customers.” y “Tt always seemed singular to me that the Mexi- eans bore the continual aggressions of these Be- douins, as I have heard them called, A firm stand would scatter them to the winds, although they are as good riders and warriors as you can find on this continent.’ “'That’s true. what you've said; but the Mexicans are all cowards—that’s what makes things as they are, Santa Anna and all their leaders are cowards, and the Comanches know it and despise em.” “They can be at no great distance ahead of us, Will it not be running a great risk to come unex- nee upon pen re chak geiteiec® “We ain’t going to do that thing. “Tt strikes me that we cannot very well help it, if we keep up this rate.” ~ “You're mistaken, We'll come in sight of them as near the middle of the afternoon as it can be. “Do you intend to resort to that original idea of yours immediately, or to wait until night? “11 do it at once; there is no stratagem or sneak- in’ about it.” Despite the maneuvers to which Smith resorted, be cou'd not indue* Nuggens to give an inkling of his plan, Severaltimes the latter laughed to hims-if, as thourh mightily pleased with it. Then be would shake Lis head and look serious. :
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28 “*T said there was no stratagem, as you call it, in the thing; but there is, and if the old Comanche chief finds it out, why it'll be all up with Ned Nug- gens. jm in for it, however, and the try will be “Thunder and lightning!” exclaimed Smith, in a reat fury, ‘if you ain’t going to tell a feller what it don’t say nothing more about it.” @ paused a moment, as if expecting a reply, and then added: “ No one wants to know what your smart idee is, that you’re making such a fuss over.” Even this failed to secure the desired information. Indulging now and then in Jaughing conversation, in speculations and flings at Nuggens’s * plan,” our three friends continued on a rapid canter, preeeae their horses forward as much as they dared. Noon came and passed, but they halted not. except to let their animals drink from the river, Their way still kept along the banks of this, and the traii of the Co- manches was plainly visible, as it had not been dis- turbed by man or animal. In the course of an hour or so Nuzgens dismount- ed, and examined the footprints of the horses. “What's the sign?” asked Smith. “All right—ain’t fur off.” Another hour they galloped on, when another ex- amination was made, “ How is it now?” “ Close onto ’em,”’ replied Nuggens, remounting. “ How close?” * Half an hour, or thereabout.”” “ Have they encamped?” “Don't know; guess not at this time of day.” As the time advanced, the three began to ride more cautiously, keeping a bri¢ht lookout for the Comanches. But the: half-hour came ani passed, and they were nof seen. Smith waited some time lonzer, when, feeling a little disappointed, he re- marked: “The half-hour has passed long ago, Ned; where’s the Injins? “Have pesenee: we'll soon see *em,” “You shouldn’t have said we’d see ’em in half an hour if you wasn’é sre.” “You needn't fret, Smith, for they are in sight this minute.” At this startling announcement, Smith and Wel- land reined in their horses, rose in their stirrups, and looked searchingly ahead. Nuggens had spoken _ the truth—the Comanches were in sight. They were still at a great distance. however, and were on an easy gallop An inexperienced person would have taken them fora flock of prairie hens, or larger ani- mals, Their heads and shoulders only were visible as they sunk and rose on the swell of the prairie, and these appéared thus insignificant. “ How long. at this rate, will it take us to overhaul them?” asked Welland. * Not afore night, I’m afraid; they’re a good ways off, and traveling ata rousing pace. They've made a long halt somewhere, or we’d never come up to them as soon as this ” “T should think they would stop riding some fine. Have they no destination, or are they always riding from place to place?’ “They’re nearly always riding, but they have their houses, like other folks, There’s a big Co- manche village about fifty miles further wp the river, and that is where this crowd belongs. Tuey’re aiming for the spot." Saget not wait till they are at home?” asked Wel- land, with some curiosity. “My hair wouldn't be worth a beaver-skin by that time, No, sir," added Nuggens, emphatically “TI must be among them ruffi’ns this afternoon or this nizht. or that eal is gone forever.” “Our animals ean travel faster.” said Smith, striking his into a more rapid gallop. The oth rs did th» sam» and in a short time it was plain they were gaining rapidly upon the Indians. Thoir bodies and horses were visible, and it was then that The Hunted Hunter. the three whites were called upon to admire the splendid riding of these Western Bedouins. The whole twenty had fallen into column side by side, and the rise and fall of their bodies, together with the rapid motions of their horses, were as regular and harmonious as the movements of a platoon of infantry. As night approached, our friends had gained so much on the Comanches that, at Nuggens’s sugges- tion, they drew down into a walk. It had been his wish, at first, to overtake them at dusk; but he had changed his mind, and said all now depended upon not being seen before that time. The better to avoid this, they let them shoot ahead several miles, when the three rode down the river-bank and cautiously made their way up-stream. Several miles were thus passed, when the darkness had so inereased that they again rode upon the adage ye and took the trail of the Comanches. The atter were not visible; but our friends had ridden only a short time when. a red light suddenly flamed up on the plain, a mile or so in advance. aaerce the camp!’ exclaimed Nuggens, joy- ously. Dark, shadowy forms could be seen flitting back- ward and forward before the fire, and now and then a guttural exclamation was borne to them on the night-wind. It was plain that the Comanches had no fear of attack in this remote section. Their horses were turned loose, and were busy cropping the grass, whi'e confusion reigned in the camp. Ten determined enemies could have madea terrible havoc among those twenty Indians; but the latter well knew there wére no ten enemies «t hand. Nuzgens prepared at once to venture among the Comanches. His earenens were slight, and con- sisted in nothing but dismounting and passing his rifle to Welland, The latter noticed a tremor in the motions of the hunter, though he did his best to hide it. ‘The critical moment had come, and he compre- hended the perilous nature of tre undertaking he had ventured upon. “ Good-by, boys,” sat'l he. taking the hand of each; “if Lain’t back by the end of an hour, you'll know I won’t—well, I won't be back at all.” “You expect to return, do you not?” “Thope I shall; but—but it ain’t certain, by any means.” “Well, God go with you.” And the hunter was gone. Smith and Welland remained seated on their horses, gazing toward the Indian camp, awaiting the moment when Nuggens would make Tis app2ar- ance there. The latter moved directly forward without the slightest attempt to conceal his ap- roach, and it was not many minutes before the two <new by the commotion among the Comanches that he had arrived among them. And now commenced the hour of suspense. CHAPTER XIX, CONCLUSION, Leavine Smith and Welland a prey to the most anxious suspense, we will follow the hunter into the Comanche camp. He walked direetly toward the eamp-fire, as we have stated, and as it was but a hundred yards dis- tant, it required but a few moments to reach it. A visit was so unexpected by the Indians thar he was not noticed until he was really among them. Sev- eral at once drew their knives and closed around him, and for a moment or two his life was in dan- ger. “What seek you?’ he asked, in the Comanche tongue. ‘*I come among you unarmed, I amon a visit to your chief, Riantonon. I would see Rian- tonon.”’ At mention of their leader’s nam, considerable wonder was created among those immediately sur- rounting the hunter, “Do you seek ths mighty Riantonon?” said one,
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oe The Hunted Hunter. 29 stepping toward him, Nuggens merely signified his assent. “He is by the other fire. Follow me!”’ The savage moved off, and his companions made way for their visitor to follow him. A few yards brought them to the second fire, around which sev- eral Indians were reclining. “One who asks for Riantonon,” said the guide, stepping aside, and allowing Nuggens to advance t > the fire. As he did so,a large, powerful, and not unhandsome Indian arose to receive bim “Ts it the great and good Riantonon that I see be- fore me?” asked Nuggens, with a low obeisance, “T am Riantonun, chi'f of the Comanches,” re- turned the Indian, in a voice that sounded like the rumble of thunder, *“T am from Maxalhon,” said Nuggens, with an- other obeisance. “The road to my white brother's house js long, and it must be an important wish that brings his messenger hither,” “Tt is an important errand, the object of which has possessed Maxalhon for many days and nights,” Although the chief was curious to ord the cause of this singular visit, he was too much cf an Indian to betray any vulgar curiosity. To avoid showing a weakness, he purposely prevented the conversa- tion from coming to a point. ‘The path that iny brother has traveled isarough one. He may rest with us till morning.” “The commands of my master are that I set out on my return to-night.” = Y, warriors are preparing food. My brother must be hungry.” “My rifle is true, and I have not wanted for food.” “ But I see no arms.” “T need no weapons in approaching the camp of Riantonon, They are a short distance away, with my horse.” “Does not my brother desire rest before telling his wish?” “JT have ridden, and am not tired,” A silence of several seconds, when Nuggens, judg- ing that the proper moment had arrived, said: ‘A girl—a beautiful young white girl was stolen some time since by the red-men. She was the dear friend of Maxalhon.”’ “ His child?” asked the chief quickly. “Not bis child, but one that he loved as much as his child. He mourns night and day for her.” “ Why dors he send for Riantonon?” ‘*Riantonon is the leader of a strong and valiant band of warriors, He asks that he will seareh for the child and bring her to him, He will give all his possessions for her.”’ This remark seemed to affect the chief, for he re- mained fora moment as if in deep thought, while Nuggens, with his head bevt, dared not look up in his face. ; “Riantonon knows not who stole the ch'ld. How can he find her?” 3 q ““Maxalhon said that Riantonon and his warriors lived upon the plains and wandered hundreds cf miles, Nothing could escape his eve.” This compliment, so delicately given, had itseff ct upon the chief. He felt gratified. and replied: * Maxalhon spoke the truth. Nothing can escape the eye of Riantonon,”’ “ Will he find and return the child?” “Fe will,” said the chief, decidedly. ; “Maxalhon will then thank him with tears in his eyes, and Riantonon will receive vast wealth.” “My brother will stay with us till morning? “T must return with the good news, and moke the heart of Maxalhon glad with the words of Rianto- With this Nuggens made a movement as if to de- part, but the chief commanded him to wait a f-w moments. The hunter suspected what was coming, but, of course. he affected ignorance. He heard the appro.ch of some one, and looking up saw Irona led forward by the chief. x rare is the captive whom you seek,” said the chief. Nuggens exhibited the most profound astonish- ment and joy. He stepped forward, seized the hands of Irona, and congratulated ber again and again upon her rescue, during the performance of which he managed to put her on her guard, The quick-witted girl needed no caution, for she saw a i was being played, and understood how to ect er part. ; “Great and good is Riantonon,” said Nuggens. “Maxalhon will pray to see him,” “ Are you alone?” asked the chief, pointedly. “Two hunters were sent with me to protect me, and they are waiting a short distance away.” The chief shook his head, “The path is long, and there is danger at every turn. My warriors will accompany Med : Now this, above all things, was the very proceed- ing which the hunter felt he must prevent. If the chief gave him an escort, all would be lost, for the trick that he had played would soon be discovered. “We have come through many dangers, and we ean return through them. I am sure Maxalhon would not permit the good Riantonon to send his warriors with us.” “When does my brother return?” “At once. A long distance may be gained before morning.” one my brother brought a horse for the cap- tive?’ “T did not expect to find her, and therefore have none,”’ The chief spoke in a low voice, and one of the Indians led forward a magnificent coa)-black horse, which he helped Irona to mount. The Comanche leader himself then Jed the animal forward and placed the bridle in the band of the hunter, “Tell Maxalnon that when the moon is again at her full, Riantonon will visit him.” Nuggens bowed and walked slowly away from the camp-fire, leading [rona’s horse. He did not hasten his walk, nor spe. k, nor even look up to her; but he endured the keenest agony, fearful that the chief would suspect somet! ing wrong and call him back. In such a case he knew all was lost. Then he fan- cied |e was followed and dared not look behind him; and then again bis heart beat with hope as he — reflected how well his bold scheme had succeeded, — and how completely he had duped the Comanches, Great. was the amazement of Welland and Smith when Nuggens and Irona made their appearance among them, * Don’t stop to talk, boys,” said the former, “there’s no time. Let’s be off,” He vaulted into his own saddle and struck off on a gallop, followed by the others. Welland took his: position beside Lrona, He said nothing, but reached over and took her hand for a moment, She returned the pressure he gave, and the party rode on in silence. In the course of an hour or so, Nuggens reined his horse down to a walk and said: “Our animals are tired, for they have done a good heap of traveling. So here we may now halt for the night.” > He turned down the river-bank as he spoke, and leaped to the ground. All removed their saddles, the horses were picketed, and a fire started. “We're safe from (/em Comanches, at least,” said Nuggens, “and now we'll take a rest till day- light.” “tread, by this time, had had so much rience in “camping out,” that she was provided i. with- out difficulty. As she slept, the others gathered around the fire, and Welland said: , “Your plan has been tried, and has succeeded. Nuggens, and therefore there can be no danger o! our laughing at or ridiculing it. I trust you not hesitate to give it to us.” “Yes, in course. let’s have it,” added Smith, The hunter laughed to himself a moment, and then answered:
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“Tt’s a little the best trick, I fancy, that a Co- manche was ever served. That Riantonon is a full- blooded Indian and a regular ruffi’n, He’s scalped and hacked up _more white eons than any man this side of the Rio Grande, ell, he’s got a half- brother, a half breed, who’s as big a ruffi’n as he is himself. His name is Maxalhon, and he lives down on the San Antonio, where he’s got a big farm auda plenty of horses and cattle, all of which he’s got by robbing honest people. He used to travel with that old Comanche ruffi’n, but he got so rich at length that he settled down, as I’ve said. Riantonon often brings his stolen people down to his plac ‘, where he som>times allows ’em to be ransomed, but not always by no means. He gives the ol. chief all he wants, and so you see the chief, natural enough, will do anything for him, This I’ve know’d for over six spare. When me and Smith see the Comanches, I felt ge sure that they was Riantonon’s band, ‘cause he always takes just twenty with him count- ing himself. I've met 'em before, and have had such scrimmages with ’em that I couldn't very well for- get him or his men if I wanted to, though I haven't met him so long that I felt pretty sart’in that he wouldn’t know me, *cause besides, I’ve let a big lot of beard grow out on my face sine? then, Wal, when you come along yesterday and let us know what a muss the gal there was in, I see we couldn't do nothing by forces, and the only way was to pull the wool over the eyes of the old ruffi’n, I know’d if I could make him believe I was from Maxalhon he would do anything I wished. The great danger was that he would see who I was, and suspicion some- thing; but whenI talked with him I kept my head pretty welldown. Isee four Injins there, and every one showed scars on bis face that I helped make, but they didn’t know it. I talked away to Rian- tonon, and the end of the matter was that he be- lieved [ was sent from his old_ brother ruffi'n Maxal- hon. He give me the gal, and if she isn’t safe’ home in a short time it will be her own fault.” * Ha! ha! what a plan!” laughed Smith. “Didn't Isay you'd laygh at it?” asked Nuggens, reproachfully, _ “Tras, we laugh,” addei Welland, smiling, ** but not at you, nor exactly at your cleverly managed scheme, but at the eredulity of the chief and his warriors,” he Pa The night passed away without incident, and, at the earliest appearance of light, our four friends were riding dowa the banks of the Colora lo. Not a sign of an [ndian was seen during the day, and by night they had accomplished a good long distances, On the second, Nuggens descried a war-party on the opposite side of the river, who made some demon- strations toward crossing over and «ngaging them; but they seemed to réach a different conclusion, upon second thought, and shortly afterward disap- peared on the prairie. On the morning of the third day, they reached the grove where Irona and Welland hal become sepa- rated. They felt relieved when it was left behind them, Of all their experiences, there hid been none more painful than that spot had witnessed. Passing several frontier settlements—or rather the com- mencement of frontier settlements—our friends at last beheld the picturesque town of Austin before them. It was with a feeling of joy indescribable that our hero and heroin > rode into the place. Irona led the way to her uncle’s, but ere they had reached his mansion, the two hunters halted. *“ Hare we leave you,” said Nuggens. * What!” exclaimed Welland, “ you must surely go with us to Jrona’s relations. You have had a long ride and need rest.” _“ We're used to that,” laughed Smith, ‘‘and don’t need rest.” Z “‘T shall never be forgiven if I fail to let my uncle see you,” added Irona; “ besi les, { promised you a reward—” ©None of that,” interrupted Nuggens. “‘ What little we’ve done was out of good-will to you, and we The Hunted Hurter. doesn’t take pay for such work. We thank you as much asif we took up with your offer. We'd like to do it, Aut we can’tit we wanted. So here’s a good- by to both. P’r'aps we'll see you ag’in, as we some- times bring up in Orleans, and,” pursued the hunter with a meaning smile, “*I spose you two will havea place of Tou own pre‘ty soon. Then you may be sure we’ll call on you.” **Do not fail to inquire for me. I shall always be glad to see those to whom, under Heaven, I owe the life of Irona.” “* Good-by.”” The parting would have been affecting, if the hunters had only allowed it to be so; but they would not. They cheerfully shook bands, and as they rode away, repeated their laughing adieus. Neither Welland nor Irona ever saw or heard of them again. A few minutes later, and the two were received at the mansion of Albert Seraville, where the reap- pearance of Irona was like the dead coming to life. Her uncle himself was at home, and went nearly crazy with delight. Irona learned, to her extreme joy. that the fact of her abduction had been care- fully kept from her father. Her uncle had offered large rewards for her recovery, and more than one band of hunters, at that very moment, were scour- ing the pinine in search of her. Welland, of course, received a most genuine and hearty welcome, and unknown to him, Albert Seraville placed a letter in Trona’s hands for his brother, in which he was elo- quent in the praises of the “ young American,” and which he felt confident would do much toward re- moving the prejudice be entertained against him, The two remained in Austin for a few days only, when they took passage to Matagorda, Here they were compelled to wait a week before the opportu- nity offered for reaching New Orleans, Finally, they secured berths on board a sieamer, and the next morning were far out in the bright water of tre Gulf of Mexico. The passage across this piece of water was with- out incident worthy of note, until they reached a point off Vermilion Bay, in Louisiana, not many miles west of the entrance to the Mississippi. The weather was extremely hot, and many of the pas- sengers remained on deck through the night iv pref- erence to spending them in their berths. Welland kept his room for several hours, when, finding it intolerable, he arose and passed on deck, He found a number slowly pacing backward and forward, en- gaged in meditation, while others were standing to- gether aod admiring the beautiful scenery around them. The prospect indeed was magnificent, The shore was so distant that the view on every hand was bounded by water. Afew clouds were strag- cling across tiesky, and the state of the atmos- phere was such that the surface of the gulf seemed to reflect more light than was shed uponit. Here and there the white sails of some vessels were visi- ble, like the plumage of some gigantic sea-bird, while the black hall and tapering masts seeme | as if drawn with ink in the misty air. Occasi nally one of these vessels would suddenly loom up before them, approach as if about to ride them down, then glide majestically by with no sound but the water as it was dashed from the prow, and with its course marked for a moment by a broad path of phosphor- escent foam. Silently they met and silently they passed each other, never to meet or pass again, for the steamer that encountered them was approach- ing its doom!” Welland, after gazing upon the scene for some time, turned and commenced pacing the deck. He had taken several turns, when, in wheeliag rather sooner than usual, he came in collision with some one behind him, “ Carrai!” vvuttered the latter person. “Your pardon, friend. [— My heaven!” Th» person before him was Juarez Vasquelon! “Inthe name of heaven. what brings you here?” demanded Welland, with a recoil of amazement,
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The Hunted Hunter. 31 “Your pardon,” said the imperturbable Spaniard lifting bis hat. ‘1 did not anticipate the pleasure o meeting Senor Welland here.” “No, Isuppose not; you believed the Comanches had finished me.” “Ts Senorita Irona well?” The provoking coolness of the viilain tempted Welland to strike him, but he reflected that such an act could do him no good, as there was no further occasion for plotting and counter-plotting against him. He could well afford to be condescending. “She is well; far better, 1 may venture to say, ho body and spirits, than when she saw you asi ; “Tam rejoiced to hear it; she has truly had much So vor the f which Juarez Vasquel “Yor the greatest part of which Juarez Vasquelon is to be thanked.” = 14 “*T hope she will find her dear father well,” added the Spaniard, without noticing the pointed allusion of Welland. * Do your friends, Pierre and Colonel Ovaton, ac- company you!” asked the latter, after a moment’s pause. “They are both dead.” Our hero could not conceal his astonishment at this remark. “Both dead,” added Vasquelon, ia a business-like manner, ‘ from the hands of the Comanch: s.”” “Were they killed by Riantonon and his band?” “They were killed by Riantonon and bis band.” * And how was it that you escaped?” ‘* My horse chanced t » possess such speed that the Indians could not overtake Lim, though | must say they tried very hard.” f ‘Did you see Ovaton and Pierre killed?” “Not exactly; but I saw their horses give out nearly at the same time, and that, you know, was just the same.” “ What a pity yours did not do the same,” mutter- ed Welland. oa go to New Orleans, I presume, Senor Wel- land?” “ That is my intention,” replied our hero, turning away and leaving him to himself. Upon reflection, Welland came to the conclusion that this meeting with Vasquelon was without de- sign upon the part of the latter. The fact that he had not seen him before, showed that he had pur- posely kept out of sight. He resolved to say noth- ing of their interview to Trona, until they had ar- rived in New Orleans. As Vasquelon seemed willing to answer any questions, he made inquiries in re- gard to Jacques. The Spaniard informed him that when he learned of Welland’s fligit and that he was to be porenets he requested to be left behind, prom- ising to follow in a day or two as he was nearly ré- covered; but, from what Vasquelon remarked, Wel- land believed the true-hearted fellow had done this as a ruse to get rid of them, and in all eka ag fF after their departure had made his way back to the settlements. A few days later, and the steamer entered one of the many mouths of the Mississip)i, and commenced the ascent of that mighty river. It was found to ba much higher than usual, and the current so swift | line of the Seravilles is ended, that the progress of the boat was wearily slow. Welland had seen Vasqueion several times, but they had no further conversation than that referred to, On the second morning after their entrance of the Mississippi, before many of the passengers had arisen, the steamer exploded her boiler The ex- plosion was terrific, the upper deck being blown up- ward, and the sides hurled apart in shattered frag- ments, with as much force as though the boiler were a gigantic bomb-shell. At the v ry moment of the dire catastrophe, Welland was standing in conversa- tion with one of the passengers at the bow. Amid the general wreck of flying fracments and human beings, they found themselves floating on a large box, while the screams of dying men and women were all around them in the water.. To save him- ° self, the companion of Welland succeeded _in work- ing their raft some yards from the hulk of the steamer, where they were beyond the reach of the sinking wretches, So soon as Welland comprehend- e3 his situation, he resigued his hold of the raft and swam toward the boat in search of Irona. Twice he was seized by a drowning man and carried undcr, but he sueccecded in freeing himself and passed around the debris withcut seving her. When about to de- spair, he beard his name called, and turning his head, saw her clinging to a door, He hastened to her, and taking hold of ‘it, commenced working his way clear of ‘he mass that surrounded them. ** Are you scalded or burnt?” he asked. “Tam not injured at all; how is it with you?” “Tam not hurt either. Yonder, I see, isa steamer, approaching. so that those who have es.aped need not despair.” . Such was the case, The explosion had been seen by a passing steamboat, which was now making all haste ‘o relieve the sufferers. Welland had floated several rods away from the struggling bodies, when he saw Vasquelon swimming toward him, He was debating within himself whether to allow him to take hold of the support of Irona, when he saw him throw up his arms. ‘Good by, Senorita Irona, and—” The closing water drowned the rest of his words. “ He is dead at last,’’ said Welland, in a whisper, ‘fond Iam glad that it is not by my hand.” The steamer, by this time, had reached the spot, and her boats were picking up those who were still floating on the water, Welland and Irona were soon rescued, and that night reached New Orlcans, We pass over the amazement of Don Alfredo Seraville upon receiving his daughter, and upon — learning from her the incredible experience which had been ber lot during the past two months; we omit his expressions of thankfulness and his declar- ation that she should never more leaVe his roof; we do not record his perplexity upon reading his cher- ished brother’s leiter; but we do say, in this Jast paragraph of this little volume, that his prejudice in regard to ove American at least, was removed for- ever and that to-day were his daughter wedded to the king of Spain, he c-uld not be more rejoiced than he is iv the fact that her husband was born, like herself, on American soil, and that the old Cast THE END
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