Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 349 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

eer wer s én 4 A> af: ay By ae the horse free range, ae Slowly he walked his horse through the ford, = i (om +. ae hod Aneerr ay p> ) “hes saddle, with the utmost amazement and the most torturing apprehension. That bis darling bad been to the barranca, expressly to gain some intelligence of him- self—as he had often left notes there for her when he missed meeting her—Gerald fully believed; and now she was speeding beadlong to her home, which was wrapped in flames. Ifthe ranch had been fired by Indians, the red fiends must still be there, performing their murderous work; and Gracie, agonized beyond reason, would gallop directly into their midst, and be captured—perhaps slain outrigbt! This caused Gerald to spur on yet faster: he vowing that she should be terribly avenged if injured in the least, and rescued if captured, at the risk of his life, The world would be dark, and most miserable bis lot, were Gracie Greene slain, This he well knew; indeed he felt that he would prefer death to life without her. More than four miles had the young man gal- loped, when he lost sight of the fast flying maid- en and her horse; but he knew that she had deviated slightly from a direct course between him and the flames, and consequently could not be seen agains’ the dark’timber line, Not only this; but he felt that she was in the immediate vicinity of the timber, and that afew bounds of her horse would bring her to the ranch. The anguish of the ‘young man was terrible, when he realized that it was impossible for-him to overtake his darling; that, did his fears prove true, she was doomed to death, or a worse fate, at the hands of the red fiends of the Rio Pecos! But be must reach her. On like the wind he bounded until less than a mile separated him from the timber; when, to his utmost amazement, he discovered, clearly outlined against tbe lurid flames, a horse gallop- sey Da peke him at terrific speed. s it approached, Gerald reeled in his saddle. He recognized the horse as belonging to Gracie. It was the very animal his darling had been but recently riding. He could distinguish the fiying stirrup and bridle-reins. Proof be- syond doubt, But where was Gracie? ! There remained no doubt as to the horse, for the animal in its frantic fright, galloped along- side that of the young scout, panting and foam- flecked, revealing the gay saddle and bridle of (Gracie Greene, as well as the identity of the beast itself. A heavy groan burst from Gerald, as he re- eognized the horse and equipments, At the same time, he jerked bis own steed toa halt, and grasped the bridle of Beauty. At this instant, the wild whoops of the sav- ages, as the latter stampeded the herd along the eastern edge of the timber, reached the young man’s ears; piercing his brain like red-hot shafts of steel. Then, with another deep groan, torturing te hear, be drove spurs and flow, like an arrow, toward the line of timber. That Gracie had dashed into the horde of Indians, been torn from her saddle, and her horse escaped in fright, he had no doubt. Greene’s Ranch was destroyed, and the entire family either murdered, or captured! As this dread truth became stamped upon his brain, Gerald Granger’s eyes fixed themselves on the fiery glow abead, and his handsome fea- tures presented the look of a murderous thirst and determination for revenge. Around to the front on his belt, he slipped his pistols and bowie, ready for instant use; drop- ping the bridle-reins of Beauty, and allowing Then he clutched bis car- bine, and quickly picked off the caps, thrusting fresh ones On the nipples, and revolving the cylinder, to assure himself that the weapon was in good working order. His first impulse bad been to dash up, at once, to the burning ranch; but, upon nearing the timber, he having had time to reason, he jerked his steed to a walk, and advanced with caution, knowing that perhaps the lives of some might pec upon him alone, f the family had been taken captives, and he should ride up recklessly, and be himself slain or taken, by the Apaches, then all would be doomed: there being not one whe eould gallop for assistance, Hence the caution of the young scout, To his surprise, however, there was not the | cae sound, to indicate the presence of the oe, Nothing, except the sound of the flames, met bis ear, as he halted on the west bank of the ie ¥ : Wild Wolf, the Waco. . : : ’ and on, around the clumps of undergrowth, fully believing that the Indians had carried the whole family off. Suddenly his horse stepped clear of the bushes; but, instantly, with a terrified snort, reared upward, and then sprung, in fright, to the left, Gerald Granger uttered a groan of soul-drawn anguish, and trembled in his saddle, as if stricken with an ague-fit, His staring eyes were fixed, in a gaze of bewildered horror, upon the mutilated corpses of the mother, sis- ters, and brothers of bis darling! The slaughtered ones lay, gashed and ghast- ly, before his agonized gaze; rendered more awful, more horrible, by the red light of the flaring flames! ———-——— CHAPTER IV. WILD WOLF. GERALD GRANGER sprung from his saddle as soon as he recovered from the sickening weak- ness that bad overcome bim, upon discovering the gory remains of those for whom he had long held a great and brotherly affection. Mrs. Greene had been as kind and loving as a mother to bim; and now she lay before him, gashed and hacked in a horrible manner, cover- ed with gore, and scalped; the firelight from her burning home playing upon her glassy eyes, and causing the young scout to shudder as he gazed upon them. The pretty and innocent children, the brave and joyous elder brother of Gracie—all of whom had listened many a time, as he related his ad- ventures on plain and in chaparral—there they lay, beside their mother, mangled and dead! All gone back to God, together! Only one keen sweeping glance around the burning ranch, out on the plain, and into the dark shades of the timber, gave Gerald; he then sunk upon his knees, the tears coursing down his cheeks, while from his lips sprung the words, as if doubting all on earth, and in Heaven: “Ob, my God! Where is thy justice?” He now decided, upon looking around him, that Gracie, as he had at first concluded, had been torn from her saddle, on dashing through the timber. There was not the slightest doubt in the mind of the young scout, after his rapid inspection of the surroundings of the burfiing ranch, in re- gard to the fate of his darling. Gracie Greene was a captive to the merciless Apaches, as was also her father; for Gerald felt sure that the old ranchero had at that time of the evening, been at his home. Was it better so? Who could say? An instant’s reasoning caused the young man to decide as well, that the trail of the savages could be easily followed; for the sward around the ranch was torn up, and trampled by the mustangs of the Indians, thus proving that there was a large war-party. @P Not only this; but a glance over the plain— the moon having become brighter as the haze of evening disappeared—showed herds of cattle running wildly afar off, the scout judging by this, that the Apaches had been cn the east prairie, galloping around the borses and mules to secure them, thus frightening the cattle. If they had stolen a large number, the trail would be all the more easily followed, The awful grief, at the discovery of the muti- lated dead so dear to him, and the belief that bis heart’s idol was in the power of the pirate- of the Pecos—all this well-nigh bereft Gerald Granger of all power of action, even of reason. It was only by a great effort of a naturally strong will, that be kept his senses, to the ex- a, of forming the conclusions we have de- tailed. Had he known that the one he loved more than life lay pallid and senseless, on the border of the west line of the timber, but fifty yards from him—had he known that he had galloped within twenty feet of her, his heart would have been filled with the most thankful joy. But poor Gerald did vot know this. Never was a man placed in a more torturing position, born of grief and anguish for the fate of those not bis own flesh and blood, He felt it his duty to depart at once on the trail, but first he must bury the dead. Yet, if he lingered to inter the corpses of the slain, the lives of the captives might be jeopardized. A few minutes, time might be life or death to Captain Greene and his daughter. His services were needed by the living, and the dead must be neglected; although it gave the young scout Breat pain, to leave them thus, to the wolves and uzzards, | | | | | EOEEE—Eeeee..ml ee eee ee eee ae Then he felt relieved at the thought, that the blazing ranch, which would doubtless be a smol- dering mass through the night, at times shoot- ing up forked flames, would prevent the foul beasts and birds from approaching. Not only so; but there was good reason to be- lieve that some campers, or night riders, be- tween the Medina and the Frio, would discover the fire, or the glare in the sky from the same, and hasten to investigate the cause of it, Should any prairie travelers thus find the dead, they would of course bury them, These very natural and reasonable conclusions were arrived at instantly, before Gerald fell upon his knees, and his brain becaine somewhat relieved from the awful anguish and grief that benumbed it. For a moment only the young scout knelt, Then he sprung to his feet, dashing the tears from his eyes. Laying bis carbine upon the sward, he raised his clinched hands on high, gazing skyward, as if calling upon the powers above to grant attention to his pleading. Thus for a moment, his lips quivering, his form swaying, then he became as firm as a rock —a desperate determination in his eyes, end vengeful fury blended with the same—as he cried out, in a firm, rae voice, so strange and unnatural to himself that he gave a visible start. ‘‘God in heaven, bear me! I swear by my hopes of happiness in this world, and in that to come, here over the mutilated remains of these helpless ones, so basely murdered at their happy home—here I swear that I will trail the red demons, who have slain them, and have a ter- rible revenge! ‘‘T swear that the husband and father of these slaughtered ones, that the sister and daughter whom I love as I do my soul’s peace hereafter, shall be rescued by my hand from the Apache tortures! “Sleep and food shall be strangers to Gerald Granger, until he beholds the paint-daubed faces of bis foes. Hear, oh, Heaven! And record this, my oath of vengeance!” As the last word left the lips of the almost insane scout, he lowered bis arms and head, gave one glance at the mangled forms, and then seemed to throw off all the depressing and ap- palling influences of the horrible scene. Springing upon his borse, be urged the ani- mal out, opposite the burning ranch upon the clear space, the commencement of the far- stretching plain, Straight toward the east, he rode at a fast walk, bending low to the shoulder of bis animal, and gazing at the sward. As he reached the track of the stampede, Gerald turned his horse northward along the line of timber. Soon he was on the Apache trail—on the trail for his sworn revenge, on the trail to rescue the fair maiden and ber unfortunate father! Previous to the discovery of Gracie in the light of the fire of her burning bome by Gerald Granger, the horse of the latter had been fresh; and, although he had pressed the beast at terri- fic speed for seven miles, it needed but a very short rest for the animal to recover its usual wind and vim, It was a very brief rest that it had at the ranch; but, soon after, when the young scout passed through the timber and over the creek, to the western border of the bottom, he was forced again to make halt. This gave the black steed time to rest, and also to tear considerable of the rich, nutritious grass from the bottom- sward. The halt was necessitated by the young man’s having discovered the Apache war-party on the plain, and now traveling toward the north west. Did he emerge from the trees to follow the trail, the Apaches would perceive him, and his plans would be frustrated. Although the delay was terribly torturing to Gerald, yet there was po alternative; and he gazed with wistful eye toward the dark mass of borses and Indians speeding over the broad prairie. To gain a view of the war party was a ve encouraging surprise to the young scout, al- thowgh he could not detect the presence of the captives. At once he knew that the des + ation of the savages was to the Rio Medina, « a point west of his own home; and he reasoned that they would encamp in a secure place within the shades of the Medina timber, some time during the following day. To follow on the trail before the Apaches got beyond a point from which they could detect his presence would be madness; and most fear- ful was the anxiety of the young man, to be thus forced to await—the only consolation being aN