Argosy, Volume XXIII — Index Page, 1897 — page 32: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

602 A CAMPAIGN OF STRATEGY. ‘“‘ Have no fears; I shall not allow pleasure to interfere with business.”’ What a striking scene, indeed! In the background were the roaring flames, filling the level plain with the light of the noonday sun. Over the intervening fourth of a mile, between the fire and the dismounted horsemen, half a dozen Apaches were riding furiously straight toward them, with no suspicion of their danger, for the white men were in shadow, while the In- dians could not have been more distinctly shown, as they sat upright on their ponies. By and by, when they were nearer, they would catch sight of the prostrate forms, but it would then be too late to save themselves. The ‘‘ exposure’’ of the trap would be hastened by Atwood, who was on his feet behind the tripod, pointing the camera toward the conflagration, with the dusky horsemen apparently cavorting in the flames themselves. The opportunity perhaps was not the best for obtaining a good picture, but the superabundance of light was sure, barring accident, to bring out something. ; With a self possession that was almost beyond belief, the photographer awaited the precise moment, when he clapped the cap over the mouth of the tube. He had caught the view, so far as it was possible todo so. In the same instant, he dropped to the earth and seized his Winchester ; and that he had kept his promise not to allow pleasure to affect duty or business, was proven by the fact that he was not only the first man to fire, but when he did so a hideous buck, coming ‘‘ head on,” flung up his arms, and lunged headlong to the earth, as dead as Julius Ceesar. Kingsford and Gannet were but an instant later, their Winchesters cracking simultaneously, and with the same fatal effect asin the first instance. The Apaches were thrown into a panic—something that rarely occurs with them. It looked as if they had dashed into an ambuscade, where a dozen riflemen were waiting to receive them. Those who escaped the first volley wheeled their ponies abruptly to one side, and circled far out on the plain, flinging themselves over the sides of their steeds, so as to offer as slight a target as possible. ‘The whites sprang to their feet, and began pumping bullets after them as fast as they could fire, but the conditions were so unfavorable that it could not be seen that any further damage was done. It was a stirring encounter, and not the least striking feature was the fact that it seemed to begin and end within a few seconds. Atwood was detained a brief while to rearrange his apparatus, for whose safety he was concerned, and without waiting for him, Gannet and Kingsford scurried away to the burning structure. Moving forms were in sight, but they had been recognized as Bozeman and his three assistants, Tonto Jack, Bronco Brisbin, and Shorty Sam Bray. The last named was a towering cowboy, six feet three inches in height, so that his sobriquet was in the nature of pleasant irony. They had rushed to the spot upon the first appear- ance of the fire, and each was mounted on his tough little animal. As Bozeman and Kingsford rode up, quickly followed by Atwood, the excited group came together. A few seconds sufficed for mutual explanations. “They were not burned in the building,’’ was the declaration of Bozeman, who thereby lifted an awful load from the hearts of the others, instantly suc- Eomicbooks.co =>