Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1061 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

— oo = - ~. _ > and their tongues swollen with maddening thirst. The eyes of man and mustang are centered upon the verdant belt before them, which in- sures relief from their sufferings. Suddenly Warlula jerks bis horse upon its haunches: and the animal, standing almost erect upon its bind legs, its tail mingling with the prairie grass, snorts with pain and auger— pain from the sudden twitch upon the torn jaws, anger at being brought to a halt when nearing the cool water, and green grass, so madly craved. What has caused Warlula to come to a }sudden stop? He is as anxious to proceed as his steed. His eyes are still fastened upon the bottom timber, and two moving specks, which have just sprung from its shade—specks resembling animals. They are horses—one. ridden, one led—and are bounding through the tall grass which fringes the timber toward the open prairie and Warlula. Who is the rider? Travel through a dozen tribes and you would not see an Indian maid that could com- pare with her who comes at reckless speed over the plain toward the Indian, and whose appearance bas brought him to a sudden halt since distance and the quivering, hazy heat that hovers over the surface ot the prairie, mask her character. She sits her horse as one who has spent years upon a mustang’s back, moving gracefully and in unison with the motion of a spotless black mare, whose long, slender limbs and neck show speed more than endurance; whose flowing mane and tail, and glossy ccat, show the animal bas not, for a time at least, been used to hard service. The Indian maid is clad in a complete suit of buckskin, fringed and beaded. A silken sash about her waist supports a Colt’s revolver and Spanish stilétto; a Sharp’s carbine hangs from the horn of her saddle; while upon her head rests jauntily a hat, still fresh and green, made from the ribbon reeds, plucked from the ‘banks of the Nueces. VY Her long hair, black as raven’s wing, floats ‘behind her eyes that now flash with pleasure— for she has recognized the lone rider afar over the plain. On her chéeks a faint blush shows through the skin, but faintly tinged by Indian blood and Southern sun. As we see her ‘mounted and speeding over the plain, she forms a picture so fresh, grand and beautiful that it is worthy of the noblest artist's dream. The horse she has in lead is a powerful animal, whose appearance also showa. long lingering in luxurious pastures. Warlula and his mustang resemble, and are as fixed upon the p....n as an equestrian statue of bronze. Suddenly the lips of our Indian queen part in & joyful smile, and then the prolonged, shrill scream of a panther flies from them over the plain. , As this signal reaches the ears of Warlula he nce more urges on his horse toward the Nueces. The speed they sare making biings warrior and maiden face to face in a very short time, and they gaze into each other’s eyes, as those long loving and long parted. Before a word is spoken by either the Indian maid loosens a gourd from her saddle and passes it to Warlula, who eagerly drinks, pours the cool water over his head and face, and then into the mouth and over the nostrils of his suffering steed, Warlula speaks first, as is his right. ‘* Lulula bas been at nest of Warlula—she has been on Medina—sbe seen the talking leaf — it is good—Warlula heart glad.” ‘* Tjulula has seen the talking leaf,” answered ‘the Indian maid. ‘“ She has been on Medina— talking leaf told her come to Warlula—she has come.” She raised a long, wide and still green leaf, upon whi'h was punctured, with a thorn, a Dumber of figures in a rough, uncouth manner, but still plain talk for the one tor whom it was intended, and passed the same to tue war- rior. On ove end of this leaf was a rude representa- tion of a party of horsemen, with sombreros upon their heads, one figure among them with flowing hair and skirts. Back of these, and apparent.y following, was a single hoiseman, ‘whose eagle plumes proclaimed his character; and at the other end of the leaf, also headed toward those mentioned, was a figure mounted upon one horse, leading another. This figure : Buckskin Sam. ce ee ee had long hair, a single plume as ornament, and held a bow and arrow in the hand which pointed toward those ahead. , This leaf, pinned with the thorn which had been the tool used to execute this rather in- rousing old San Antonio breakfast, they felt much better. | It was some time yet before sunrise, and Sam, anxious in regard to Lena Castro, crushed down the feelings of faintness produced by artistic picture to a limb of the big tree in | pain of wounds and lossof sleep, and proceeded the Medina bottom, within whose branches | Warlula had his nest, together with an arrow | beneuth it, which pointed toward the Nueces at a particular ford, had been plainly under stood by Lulula. It told her that her warrior | was on the trail of Mexicans, and that she | must follow with a fresh horse for him. That | was all; and she had filled the bill. | Warlula tore the talking leaf to pieces, which he dropped in the prairie grass. Then, turning again to the Indian maid he inquired: | ‘Did Lulula see my white brother—did she | see Buckskin on Medina—did she see Rangers?” | ‘‘Lulula see no Rangers—sbe no see the white brother of Warlula—-she rode fast—she came like the prairie dove to her mate—her | eyes mako her heart glad—she has not looked on the face of Warlula for many sleeps—War- lula -has [made nest of Medina—-when will he come back to gladden the heart of bis squaaw— when will soft words fall from his lips—when will he walk in flowers, shoot deer and forget to sound war-cry?” ‘© When Lulula hear death-yell of Warlula,” | answered the brave, ‘‘ then she know be forget war-cry of his people—he has sworn by Great Spirit to be true to white brother—Warlula | tongue not forked—the* voice of Liiula es) sweet as the birds of Guadalupe—he loves to | hear it—but be is not a squaw—he is a warrior — Warlula has crossed the Bravo— he must,cross the big river again — he has long trailto go—then he find the lodge of Lulula—he will see her on Guadalupe before next moon grow small,” ‘** LululJa will sit by her lodge and wait—she will ask the Great Spirit to bring Warluta back—the birds sing sweeter, the - flowers brighten, when Warlula is at his home lodge—” ‘*Warlula will come.” Ashe spoke the Tonkaway sprung from his panting mustang and commenced to change its trappings to the lead horse, brought by his equaw. *‘Sun soon go down in plain,” he continued —‘* Warlula go back to Bravo—Lulula ride fast ‘to nest on Medina-~—leave sick mustang here—he find grass, fiad water—Warlula catch him when come back from war-path—my white brother will come on trail—Lulula will see him—she will tell him Warlula watch Greaser dogs—trail lead Eagle Pass—maybe- so Monterey—Warlula find where take pale iily—meet Buckskin on Mexican side Brayo— no time much talk on war-trail—Warlula say good-by.” Stepping to the side of the horse ridden by Lylula he pressed ber hand to his heart, gave one look into her eyes, and exchanged a full for the empty gourd. Then he sprung upon the fresh horse, swung his quirt hissing through the air, as the pursuit yell burst from his lips, and again went speeding over the plain, to- ward the Rio Grande. Lulula bent forward, with a yearning, anx- ious look upon her features, mingled with sad- ness and regret, until the form of her savage lord grew small in the distance, Then whirl- ing her mustang, she turned on her trail, and went like the wind toward the north, crossing the Nueces. Without halt she lashed her mus- tang en for the Medina, to do the bidding of him she worshiped more than all the world, CHAPTER XI. , A FATHER’S GRIEF, Sam and Joe, upon cbe-r arrival in San An- tonio, aitér the fight at the Mission, crossed the Main Piaza and rode dowa Commerce street, finding at that hour Pluzas aud streets quite deserted. Arriving opposite the Commerce streef sta- bles, ut W hittle’s boarding-house, Sam climbed over the fence, opened the gate, and by that time Mr, Whittle himself, awakened by the noise, Came upon the scene, When he recognized his old friend Hall he bustled around, att«nded to the horses and then awakened tbe seryants to prepare entertain- ment for our two fiends, so much in need of food and rest. When Whittle found that Sam and Joe were wounded he sent for Dr. Reed, who was a par- ticular friend of our hero and was overjoyed to see him; after their wounds had been dressed by the doctor and taey had partaken of a to the residence of Don Jose Castro The old Castilian opened the door himseif at Sam’s knock, for he had not pressed bed ' during the night, and stood with tear-dimmed eyes and a countenance full of anguish ard despair. With a hasty salutation our hero grasped the old man’s hand and gently pushed him | back into the hall, and wo sooner had the door closed behind them than Sam laid his hand on the shoulder of the old Castilian, saying: “Don Jose Castro, you do not know me, I reckon, but that matters not. The words I propose to say to you will give an imsight inte ‘You have lost your donghter. Please to state to me the circumstauces of fher abduc- tion as far as you know them, and who you suspect has instigated, or accomplished the Villainous deed. Yet, in the first place, to set your mind at rest, I will say that my wounds were received in an endeavor to rescue and bring her back to your arms,” The old man grasped the hands of our hero and wrung them, while kis eyes mirrored the thanks and gratitude his tongue refused from deep feeling to express, A hasty, impatient gesture from Sam brought him to the point in question. Clearing his throat and drying his eyes he assumed a calmer expression and answered the former’s questions. “Don Samwell, Ido know you. I saw you do a heroic deed at the bull-figbt. I learned from my daughter of a service you once did her; and those things coupled with the in- formation gained from my servants, were suffi- cient to prove to me that you were a worthy gentleman, before | gained the knowledge from your own lips to-night that you have suffered and fought for me and mine. I know IJ can trust you, even with a secret which bas preyed upon my mind for years. I have reason to believe that my dear daughter, Lena, my only child, has been stolen—torn from my arms— by Lorenzo Brogado, my bitterest enemy, who abducted my beloved wife from my hacienda near Monterey, and who was elso guilty of the death of my saintly parents, Lena went toa danza—a private ball— under trusty guardian- ship, as I supposed, last evening; and my ser- vants were overpowered by mounted men, who, according to their story, placed my daughter upon a horse and galloped down the river with ber. Several of my servants were wounded and one killed while striving to pro- tect her. My heart is broken, and having bad so much misery in the past, this great calamity has left me paralyzed and powerless, although | my character. 1 have gold to pay for the services of any - who will endeavor to save my darling from the fearful fate that is in store for her. The city authorities have pronounced themselves unable to do anything for me, and I am at a loss to know which way to look for assistance. At least I was previous to your arrival, I now have a glimmer of hope, aud would ask you to inform me when and in what condition you saw Lena. Ab m@, I fear thac I shail never see the loved form of my innocent child again.” As he spoke the tears coursed afresh down the furrowed cheeks of the grief- stricken old Castilian, ‘‘My presence here, Don Jose, ought to have led you to suppose that | came with a knowl- edge regarding your great loss. Listen and I will relate the circumstances aud incidents which have brought me bere this mornipg.” And Sam related in detail the fight, rescue and recapture of Lena Castro, ‘‘T wisa to state, for the relief of your feei- ings, that I have taken steps te have the trail of the bandits followed, by one upon whom [ can depend; and also that I lave comrades, ready and eager to pursue even ‘o Monterey. I have registered an Oath t/ ei, ier rescue your daughter or die in the attempt.” ‘““My dear young friend, your words give. me hope. You shail have all the gold you wish to carry out your plans, and if you suc- ceed anything I }-0-sess shall be yours,” - “Task no pay fr such a service. Indeed I would never undertake such a trail, were it not for the deep sympathy I feel for you in your troubles. If true Texan courage and perseverance amount to or can accomplish any- ~Eomicbooks ) ; F ‘ > § i + ~ % = fe 4a a “* » 4 - ris ys « ‘ TT. .