Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1061 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

At this instant a prolonged, piercing shriek rung through the house, seeming to come from a closed apartment in a distant part of the casa. Seeing a shudder of alarm shake the form of Lena, Panchito exclaimed: “There is no harm being done. I will tell you ubout this to morrow. Now go to sleep, forI must leave you. We may be suspected if I do not give up the key. I shall watch over you, my sister. ‘* Bueno noche !” The door closed, the key grated, the bolts shot with a rasping, grinding sound, that sent ashiver of dreariness through the poor cap- tive, and Lena was alone. ’ Realizing that she must seek repose, and hav- ing faith in Panchito, that she would explain the horrible scream which, from the Mexican girl’s menner, she believed ought not to cause her alarm, sbe eventually, from the utter -ex- haustion of many nights full of anguish and concern, fell into a deathlike slumber. Then the sweet notes of a czenzontle, the mocking- bird of Mexico, filled the room, as, perched upon a branch at her window, the feathered warbler seemed to be calling down blessings on the head of the captive Castilian maid, who, in ber dreams, once more hung her arms around the neck of her dearly beloved and much-suf- fering father. CHAPTER XV. THE BATTLE AT THE LAREDO FORD. On the American side of the Rio Grande ride, late at night, a score or more of horse- men, their mustangs half-sliding, half-stumbling down the steep bank at the Laredo ford. Although not a word is spoken, and no noise is made, except the unavoidable jingle of bit, spur and accoutermeuts, it is not hard to recognize the Texan Rangers, with Sam, Joe, B_n, Bill, and Big Foot in the lead. The waters of the river glide on in inky blackness before them, but there is no hesi- t@tion as they come to their edge. Each man hangs his ammunition and revolvers about his neck, shoulders his rifle, and giving a loose rein to his steed, plunges in, each leaving a long, dark, boiling eddy behind. They soon disappear in the darkness; but by intently listening, the grinding of hoofs, the rattle of gravel, and dripping of waters, can be heard, as the mustangs scramble out and up the opposite bank. : .The Rangers are pvpon the dangerous border —the dark and bloody ground of Mexico. Upon the south side of the Rio Grande a white man's life is not worth a real. Before them lies one wide expanse of foes; what may be be- hind them they have never thought, ard so, certainly, could not guess. Yet there are some in their rear who are either friends or foes; for on that border there are no neutrals, Searcely bas the ‘sound of the tramping of the Ranger’s steeds died away in the distance when a single horseman comes down the bank, following over the,very gronnd trodden by those who have gone on, The moon, just peeping over the prairies, gives light enough to recognize the solitary rider. It is Black Bravo—he who dogged Buckskin Sam’s footsteps the night when ‘he sought the presence of Lena Castro's father. He is armed to the teeth; his features, his form, and manner in the saddle show a deli- cacy almost feminine. But there is nothing delicate nor feminine about the way he urges his mustang, mad- dened by the torturing spurs, into the river, with a sputtering plunge, He is following the trail of those in his front with intense eagerness; but even that interest does not entirely account for his haste. There is still another on the trail, the sound of whose approaching gallop can be distinctly heard _be- fore Black Bravo bas mounted the bank and | plunged into the bushes upon the other side of tie Laredo ford. A few moments after Black Bravo has passed from sight an Indian in war-paint, and armed with rifle, revolver and a bow and quiver at his back comes down to the water’s | briak, and halts for a moment. A seeming Indian warrior; and yet the graceful movement of the body, acting in con- | cert with each step of the animal, the graceful poise of the Indian’s head, and lastly the intri- cate and elaborate ornamentation of the quiver show that it is Lulula, the beautiful Tonkaway, who has taken the trail of him she loves. LL TLL 22 ee eee SS. eeaeEaEaE ee _——_ . a en . | down; - ~ Buckskin Sam. A moment she listens to the vanishing sounds of the now distant gallop of Black Bravo's mustang, then Lulula urges on her horse, it breasts the waters of the rolling river, and is soon speeding on the trail of those who have | gone before. And not a moment too scon has she gone, if she would escape observation, for once more there is a clatter of hoofs, this time of a hun- dred, and down the bank, in a disorderly throng, go a score of Texan Mexicans, with Don Jose Castro at their head. By his side rides a young Castilian gentleman, clad ina richly ornamented costume, and armed with weapons tipped and embellished with silver and gold. Though years and misery had racked and broken his frame Don Jose had been unable to rest supinely under the burden of grief cast upon him by the abduction of his daughter. A day or two of inaction had rendered him al- most insane. Visions of a thousand nameless horrors were conjured up in his brain, through all of which he saw his beloved daughter passing, until he could rest quiet no longer and live. It was then, that he and Augustin Siliceo, having had a long conference, decided to hire this party of San Antonio Mexicans to go with them to aid the Bangers in regaining Lena, and punishing his hated enemy Don Brogado. Thus many armed, determined avengers are speeding toward the old hacienda, and the prospects are that the bandit gang of Don Brogado will soon have a lively time of it amid the dense thickets of thorns which mask their stronghold. The Rangers could have gone down the American side of the river, as far as Guererro, or even to Roma, and not added any miles to their trail, supposing the bandits had taken Lena into the vicinity of Monterey; but it was possible that the rendezvous of the guerrillas might be on the Rio Sabinas—indeed, it was quite likely. So far they had had clear work, as the Tonkaway had left plain sign, and in addition the robbers had, for security, left the regular, traveled road, and taken to the chaparral stock paths where there was but small chance of meeting either wagon trains or soldiers of the republic. But the calculations and reasonings of the Rangers, although not correct in regard to finding the retreat of Don Brogado upon the stream ahead;.were so in regard to meeting difficulties at so favorable and favorite a camp- ing place for the bandits of Juan N. Cortina. Just before reaching Rio Sabinas “ Fighting Ben” and his brother, “ Daring Bill,” had ridden on ahead of the command to reconnoiter and ascertain the best place for a halting ca:ip, as the horses needed rest and feed. The boys had but time to reach the timber, which tow- ered above the surrounding chaparrals, and bordered tbe river upon each side, when the main command was suddenly surprised by a fusillade of revolver shots and fierce yells. In an instant, all, except the guard in charge of the pack-mules, drove spurs deep, and bounded along through the many cattle trails which led to the river. The Rangers were not a moment too soon, for Ben and Bill were desperately holding their ground against a horde of Greasers, whose loud yells of ‘* Viva Cortina !” proclaimed their character, Little did the guerrillas think that upon their native soil they would meet such a charge as now cut through and through their ranks, Amid Texan yells, dying groans, and rally- ing cries, a leaden hail of bullets mowed them rifle barrels went crashing through skulls, and bowie-knives, held and guided by sinews of steel, ripped the bandits from breast to thigh. It was fora few brief moments a horrible mélee, shrouded in thick sulphurous _ smoke, the air filled with the sickening taint of blood and powder. During this time, when friend and foe were indiscriminately mixed, Sam, whose horse in the charge had carried him in affrighted plunges clear of the scene of conflict, into the bandit camp, found himself nearly surrounded by a gang’ of Greaser cut- throats, who assailed him from the only point which parted him from his ranger pards, Defending himself with desperation, almost hopeless at the extreme danger of his position, he blazed the remaining shots in his revolvers into the mass coming upon him in an annihila- ting charge, threw his empty weapons at the heads of the nearest of those who survived his tusillade, and grasping his rifle by the barrel ————— SSS... sellin — See OO ee a etal ‘ ; ~ £ . 17 raised it high in air and drove spurs deep into the flanks of Black Cloud, in hopes of rid- ing down or through those in his front. Black Cloud behaved nobly. The rifle swung quickly, and with good effect but the bandits were too many for one man to cope with. <A lasso, from the outside of the now inclosing circle of foes, hissed through the air. the noose encircling bis neck and tightening as a prayer fell from his lips. As the torturing raw-hide was choking out his breath the deadly cuchillo’s (long-bladed knives) flashed upon all sides. But death was not yet to be his portion, for the war cry of a Tonkaway broke upon the air, in brave though somewhat feeble tone. Help was coming. More than one Greaser threw up his arms, dropping the glittering knife he had thought to bury in the scout’s body, while his eyes rolled in death as he sunk* back from the mustang which, with mad plunges, stampeded away. A Tonkaway to the rescue! Still, however, the tightly-drawn noose of the lasso encircled the neck of Buckskin Sam, and it seemed that life for him was very near its close, since a blackness of night was drawn across his eyes, and he felt as though just launching into a great whirlpool. Then suddenly a slender youth in richly or- namented black velvet dashed past our hero, placed his revolver against the twanging lasso and with one shot severed it in twain, while with another he laid low the Mexican who held the further end. At the same time an Indian in full war-paint plunged past, dealing death right and left, while Sam, utterly be- wildered, wounded and bruised, almost choked, swaying and tottering, clung to the mane of the mustang, who cleared the mass of dead and dying bandits with wild bounds and stood panting at the south side of the guerrilla camp. Recovering himself, Sam turned his animal to g-t a view of the field and his preservers. The fight was over. A number of riderless horses were stampeding bere and there, insane from the fight of battle and torturing wounds: their hoofs crashing throvgh the skulls and mangling the ,bodies of those who proudly rode them as masters but a short time before. Just emerging from the mesquites were the Rangers coming in scattering groups, but no sign could Sam see of the mysterious pair of{ friends, who had arrived upon the field so op- portunely, and who had, without a doubt, saved his life. During the,excitement, the danger and the smoke of battle, neither the stranger in velvet nor the Indian had been recognized, nor had our hero any idea of their identity, as he had not seen their faces. **How in; ther name o’ Krocket, come yer out here, little pard?’ yelled Big Foot, as he rode up to our hero and gazed with surprise at the dead bandits some distance away from the scene of the main fight. ‘“‘Are ye hurt? Gerusilem an’ jumpin’ ge- hossifat! ye had a rouser eva fight! That thar beats all ther shootin-— I say, ‘ Buck,’ how did yer git away with all them skum o’ ther Bravo? Thar’s enuff on ’em ter hijist a half-dozen like yer outen thar boots an’ make ‘em wilt inter thar socks—perviden’ tha’ is high born an’ tender-footed enuff ter w’ar wool,” ‘Quite a number of them quit the business, I admit, Wallace,” answered Sam, as he re- loaded his revolvers, which he had regained from among the dead bandits where he had thrown them during the fierce conflict. ‘“ They came near sending me over the river—as near as I ever care to go again—but I had help, very strange help.* Did any of you hear the war-cry of a Tonkaway down here, net long since?” ce No!” ‘*Nary @ war-cry?”’ ** Not a wonst!”’ ‘Well, boys, it was a very lucky thing for me,” explained Sam. “I was lassoed and choked half to death after I got away witha few of them; and the long knives were coming, just a-flashing into my eyes, when I heard a war-yell, a fusillade of revolver shots following, and a gay-locking duck, dressed. in black vei- vet, mounted in style, shot away the lasso and went through the Greasers on a Charley May charge, At the same time a young Indian—I didn’t get a glimpse of the faces of either— tore in upon those that black velvet missed like chain lightning. Between the two they made a ten strike, and vanished before I knew which end my head was on,or could express my | 900 c Cc "hee ee ce eS