Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 427 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

— eo ee = © eo eee 2 prairie. The atmosphere was hazy and quiver- ing, and seemed filled with the finest of dust, almost impalpable, which now crimsoned by the declining rays of Old Sol, fairly agonized the eyes to look upon, if one gazed toward the westward. The appearance of the prairie, hard trampled, and entirely devoid of grass, proved conclusive- ly that this particular section, which we now bring before the reader’s notice, was included in the great bison range; as the buffaloes, thou- sands in number, migrated toward the south, on the eastern borders of the Llano Estacado, or Staked Plains, in ante bellum days, The peculiar aspect of sky and air, to which we have alluded—viz., the universal prevalence of impalpable dust—proved that, since dawn, an immense stampede of bison had thundered over the broad expanse of prairie. As far as eye could reach, east, south, and west, there was naught to break the view, ex- cept the seemingly limitless plains, without even a bush, stone, or hillock to relieve the dreary monotony. But, to the north, stretching some The Thres Trailers. His eyes are wild and glaring. The strong bands of buffalo-skiri have cut into his wrists and ankles, and the flesh around them is inflamed and swollen. His mouth is open; his teeth gleam white and clinched, and occasionally grind together. His broad breast heaves, and his muscles swell out in great knots, as he struggles, but in vain, to break free from his cruel bonds, His face, naturally handsome, indicates an age in the vicinity of two and twenty, and is now contorted with agony. Sounds, from time to time, strike his ears, cutting through his brain like ragged-edged darts of red-hot steel, and causing him to strive for a view in the direction from which they pro- ceeded. What are the nature of these sounds? To witness the expression of anguish that they produced upon the face of the tortured man, one would know that they came from one so dear that his own agony of body was as nothing com- pared with the awful anguish produced by them. Who would, for a moment, deem it poet two miles from east to west, was a dark green | that the cry of a babe could, or would, be hear serpentine line upon the savannah, which mark- ed the course of.a tributary of the Rio Concho. This was but a creek, but there was a timbered bottom on either side, with dense undergrowth beneath, reaching over and entwining, and thus screening the waters from the sun. These boughs were thickly draped with Span- ish moss and flowering vines. But for this, the waters, which were thus kept cool, would have been warm and insipid, The vast prairie, level as a floor, was as a sea in a dead calm; indeed, dead in more senses than one, for it was barren as the Great American Desert, which was but two days ride to the west. Yet, but a couple of weeks previous, it had been covered with rich, rank grass, flowers and buffalo clover, . No one, to look over that broad expanse, would believe this, however, unless he was a roamer of the plains, and had witnessed the bison stampedes which leave the blooming prai- rie grassless, and trampled as hard as any much- frequented road. It was a weird and wondrous ' scene, but withal, not a pleasant one to look upon, “And who, for the first time enh upon this vast and barren expanse, would have been filled with astonishment and awe, even to the disbe- lieving at first of the evidence of his senses, For a time, he would be forced to think he had been transported to another, and a somewhat singular sphere. Afar to the eastward, it seemed gloomy indeed, in comparison with the blood- hued west, the sun seeming powerless to cast its rays through the dusty haze beyond the center of the picture, the lurid light becoming less and less powerful, and blending beautifully with the opaqne glow of the zenith, And, in that broad view, there was no sigh of life perceptible, | But, stay— Up in the heavens are some tiny black specks. They are moving objects. Vultures! Red-jowled buzzards soar in wide circles, with no movement of wing, sailing slowly, and with dreamy motion. A plainsman would have known at once, from the movements of these foul car- rion-seekers, that their instinct had drawn them to that particular point. And yet, one accus- tomed to prairie wanderings could have told that the prey the buzzards were anticipating was as yet living. Had it been otherwise, they would have at once swooped down upon the plain to gorge thémselves, The altitude of many, and the movements of others of the huge birds, indicated that that which was a feast in premeye to them, was not yet available for their purpose. Yet, helpless or wounded, their expected prey must be, or they would not be thus circling over a particular point on the plain. What is it? Upon that level plain, outstretched upon his back, and in a torturing position—his limbs ex- tended from his body, aed fast bound by wrists and ankles to stakes, but six inches of which were above the ground—thus bound, isa heavily built, strong, and muscular man, tall in stature, and of symmetrical mold. His feet and arms, as well as his body to the waist, are bare, and sunburnt even to blisters; while bruises and torn flesh testify to a violent struggle with the fiendish foes who have thus bound him. His hair is long, black, and wavy, and is now co‘ered with the dust of the plain. This had been hollowed out beneath his head, from his writhings and twistings in his torture. | insuch a place? And yet, this was the sound he heard! It broke the awful stillness on that barren plain each cry being echoed by a groan of mortal anguish from the strong but helpless man. But there was still something, which increased the awfulness of the scene. Not ten feet from the fettered victim lies a little child—its baby face and tiny bare arms exposed to the scorching sun! ts dress, its hands, and golden curls are all begrimed with the dust of the prairie, as it has rolled over and over, in the agony of hunger, thirst, and heat. Its blue eyes are now wild and glassy, and its outcries prove, by their intonation, that it has screamed itself into a condition of utter help- lessness, At times it sits upward for a brief space, and then crawls, its head hanging almost to the earth, toward the prostrate, bound, and groan- ing man. That man is the infant’s father, ‘*God in heaven!” he exclaimed, in his an- guish. ‘*‘ My agony is terrible, but what is that compared with having to witness the torture of my little one? My brain will burst. Merciful Father, take my child to Thyself!” Thus the wretched man prayed, as he gazed upward, His strong frame was conyulsed, as he be. held the soaring carrion birds, which suggested, but too plainly, the dread fate of himself and his child. Well the fiends, who had thus secured him, knew that in no other manner could their vic- tim be so terribly tortured, and well we may guess that only the Apache demons could have perpetrated the hideous act, It was, indeed, to these murderous marauders from the mountains, the pirates of the prairies, that the suffering sire and babe owed their un- speakable agonies. P CHAPTER II, DESPAIR AND DELIVERANCE, LOWER and lower sunk the blood-red sun to- ward the horizon line, and still that strong man remained, in his agony, fast bound upon the plain; and that weak and trembling babe, whose outcries had by this time become but gling gasps, racking the wretched father to the very soul. Many times had the little one sunk in the dust, and then, after resting, had crawled slowly on toward its parent, until its blue eyes could stare into those great wild orbs of his, so expressive of the deepest anguish. The strong man could not weep; his tear- founts had burned dry. Slowly the child crawled, until its little hands were placed upon the father’s broad and blister- ed breast, upon which it fell, with a gasping cry of relief. The broad breast heaved, as though the brave, stout heart strove to burst forth. The muscles of the brawny arms became knotty, and writhed like serpents beneath the scorched skin, in an endeavor to tear from the cruel stakes, and clasp his darling one. But the thongs held firm, and, with a still deeper groan, the struggles of the worse than cru- cified man ceased, his breath coming and going in faint gasps. Silent lay the babe, as though dead, and the mental prayer of its father was that the little sufferer’s sou] might indeed then go out from its frail earthly tenement. For a time, he believed that this was really the case; yet he strove with all his great power of will, to bear up under his accumulated agony. There appeared no hope of relief, of rescue; et, in spite of all this, he still endeavored to ope against hope. He prayed not for death to come to him, and relieve his feariul torture; as almost any man would, under similar circum- stances, And why? Because he battled against death, for an object that had become, since his capture, the cne great thought of his being. Long before he had been bound, and thus left upon the plain, to witness the death of his darling’, and then himself to die a lingering death, he had taken an oath of ven- geance. nd well he might. No man ever hed greater cause to so swear, as the reader will admit, if not at this point in our narrative, most certainly when he has been fur- ther informed. Had one bent low to those cracked and bleed- ing lips, after the wretched man had decided that his child was dead, the hoarsely whispered words, to which he gave faint utterance would have hinted at still another case of awful cruelty. He still hoped and pleaded that rescue might come. Such were his whispered words of prayer, drawn from his inmost soul. ‘**T will not die! I will live—ay, live to save my poor wife from those fiends! Yes, I will live for revenge—IJ must !” ‘* Oh God help my poor Marion, and lead me to her rescue! For that, if for naught else, save me from the doom that hangs over me!” Straight upward, toward the sky, his eyes were directed, and staring asif he beheld, in his imagination, his cherished wife in the clutches of the red demons. So realistic was the imaginary scene, he made a most herculean effort to spring upward, toss- ing the still form of his infant from his breast. Then, with a wild shriek, his muscles relaxed, and he lay, hmp, mercifully bereft of all sense and suffering. There, in a death-like stupor, the babe lay where it had fallen, beside its father; the crim- son rays of the setting sun casting a sanguine glow upon the pale face of each. For a while, both parent and child lay as if dead; then as if the decrease in heat and light had begun to influence them, they gradually be- came in a measure conscious, and at nearly the same time. The eyes of the man suddenly shot open, a strange expression mirrored in their depths; he, evidently, comprehending for the time neither his position nor condition. The babe, with a piteous cry, rolled over, as if striving to gain its former position upon the breast of its father. This caused the latter, not only to recover comprehension entirely, but to groan in agony, and to regret most intensely that his baby boy still clung to life and suffering. It was to the wretched father a most terrible shock. This, too, was followed by another, and one which caused a spasmodic shudder to con- vulse the frame of the awfully wronged suf- ferer. It was the Jong-drawn how] of the ‘‘ loafer,” the big wolf of the pr: irie. Ominous of a fearful doom was that howl. It banished hope, and, for the moment, all thought of revenge. Lower now swooped the still waiting vultures. Another and yet another howl shot through the still night air, when the red-jowled buzzards, as if realizing that they were about to be de- frauded of their prey, swooped downward so low that even in the dim twilight the tortured man could distinguish their repulsive and gloat- ing eyes, ‘om side to side he rolled his head, gazing at the gaunt wolves that now pursued a half-circle in the dim light, not fifty feet away. The sight was more than the father could bear: a terrible cry of anguish rung out, with all the power of the tortured man’s lungs, to ex- yress his own feelings and to frighten away the horrible birds and brutes—if only for a moment, The expression upon the wretched Texan’s face suddenly changed, for hardly had the shriek ut- tered by him died away on the night air, when, as if in answer, there came from over the prairie the vengeful war-whoop of an Indian, followed by a peculiar yell. The wolves drew near, filling the air with their unearthly howls. The agonized man could see that the hungry brutes were about to spring in a body upon him and his child. He closed his eyes upon, as he believed, the last of this life. But he opened them with a loud cry. It was a yell of thankful joy. His very life i