Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1061 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

-" hot Cie 4 a ys as Oe € > A. —~? _. ee he a : Vs. taght long) m2 fdke & Tt +? s* - the north, his whole aspect changing to quick action; his breast swelled, his nostrils expanded like a race-horse’s at the starting signal, and he rung up the trail Sam had made coming from Antonio, Upon reaching firm ground he threw himself prone upon the earth and rested his ear for an instant against the sward. Then, with a step as light and cautious as a panther stealing upon its prey, Warlula arose, returned to the tree, bounded up among the branches and disappeared. Five minutes after the Tonkaway had secreted himself there came to his ears the swish of branches, and panting of hard-ridden steeds. Peering from bis look-out he observed six fierce Mion cut-throats ride beneath the tree, dismount, and examine the ground where, but a short time previous, Sam and himself had ‘*Caramba! the cursed Gringo has again escaped us!” growled one of the party. ‘‘Surely E) Diablo guards well his muchacho.” ** Por Dios, senores,” added another, ‘‘ Los Indos has met the Texan. Scalp-Taker is in league with el hombre Colorado.” ** Si, senores, it’s plain as el camino del Rey !” spoke up one, who had been up and down the stream, intent upon the sign, and who, from his authoritative manner, was evidently chief cut-throat of the gang. ‘'Carajo!/ the cunning Texan has gone toward our last night’s vamp, and Los Indos has pointed a trail up the river on foot. His trail is as light as a chaparral rabbit’s. Our course is plain. The Indos isa runner. He has gone to the ranchos at the ford, and will return alone. Here his life trail must end. Diable! Ihavean idea! This must be the same red-skin the young Texan cut from the tree, in our camp on the Bravo, when he shot so many of ourmen. G rdo, you will stop here. You know the red dog, and never show me your face until you bring his ears with you. Senores, come! we follow the white boy who shoots faster than the lightnings of the Gulf. The doubloons must rattle in our 1 aaa when we attend the next danza in onterey. Gaspardo, remember! your cara- Sina shoots well—meet us at Mission Conception to-morrow, with the ears of the Tonkaway. Adios !” ‘** Adios, compadries. Mil on capitan. I have ridden long and fast, I need rest. It is well. I can shoot a Tonkaway as well as a Gringo.” And Gaspardo led his horse away to ‘a small, clear spot; removed the bridle, and secured the animal to a limb. As his comrades went galloping down the trail made by Sam, he seated himself behind the long festoon of moss, which hid him from the sight of any one coming down the river. Then he took from his pouch tobacco and shucks, and making a cigarette, commenced deliberately to smoke, a habit to which his class are so Shained that they will indulge in it even when it endangers their lives. As the bandits rode away, leaving Gaspardo, Warlula sprung from limb to limb, far up into the tree, to an ingeniously constructed hut, made of reeds from the river, woven thickly to- ther, and secured to the limbs of the tree. he procured a long, stout lariat. _ Returning to his former look-out, directly over the head of the Mexican, the Indian fastened one end of the rawhide rope to the limb, and, with great care and caution twisting his limbs about the rope, began sliding slowly downward, his long scalping-knife between his teeth. Ceperies attention, from some slight noise up the river, became attracted in that direction, and the cigarette between his thumb and finger burned close to the flesh, causing him to throw it quickly from him and mutter a deep curse. erlula took advantage of this distraction, and sliding still further down, hung just over his head, the sombrero of the bandit shutting out from sight the awful avenger swaying . above, The fingers of Gaspardo were buried again in his tobacco-pouch, when right before his eyes swung along, glittering knife, heldin a muscular hand of bronze, the steel gleamed only long enough for his dull brain to fully comprehend the sight. The bright blade described an up- ward curve, cuf the air with the velocity of lightning, and was buried to the hilt in the breast of the bandit. One long-drawn groan of mortal agony, and Gaspardo fell backward, his death-stricken eyes seeing for an instant a revolving figure in the air, and the next moment Warlula stood before him, his eyes flashing with the war-spirit of vengeance, ‘‘Greaser dog, sing death-song—no more spit Warlula face—when tie Warlula to tree like dog, Warlulasay kill some time—W arlula never e! Stooping, the Indian drew the long knife from the breast of the Mexican, the blood epurting in a dense stream upon the sward, and aspardo, with another deen groan, crossed hiwself, uttered a prayer ULrougu his ghastly lips, and was dead, Quick flashed the blood-dripping steel around the head of the dead man and with gory scalp im one hend, knife in the other, beid bigh in air Warlula, with a wild, weird dance, and guttural f, J ‘ . : ew 2 , rr teas ; fn é Ww? Sis * x r > t 7 - > 7 rf — 7. . - 2 ~ J "Se wee aS ee u . ; Vt ig Fab ° wo a | » | » at oy 2 . ' Buckskin | Sam. song of exultation, whirled around his victim for a moment. Then at length, seizing the body he dashed it with great force through the branches, and it disappeared with a plunge and splash beneath the waters of the Medina. Then he Jigers wns 00 g up the tree, but almost immediately descended, yas 7 i of his finery, holding a Sharp’s carbine in his hand, and with the long stride peculiar to his people vanished amid the underbrush, down the river, on the double trail of the bandits and his white brother. CHAPTER VI. THE FIGHT AT MISSION CONCEPTION. Less than three leagues below the Alamo City, on the bank of the San Antonio river, there stands one of the many hundred Catholic Missions, built a century ago, which are found in every city and town of Spanish origin, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, in fact many of them stand isolated from settlements, and bad, in the old time, under their control, vast tracts of land, over which roamed countless herds of cattle, horses and mules. In and below the city of San Antonio are four of these ancient and imposing structures, in a Lage state of preservation. They are named respectively: the Alamo, San Juan, San Jose, and Mission Conception. The reader’s attention is called to the last named, upon the night following the day on which our hero had the interview with Warlula the Tonkaway, on the banks of the Medind, It is the midnight hour and a hazy moonlight lights up the scene. Approaching the Mission Conception from the north its dome, and towers loom up to the sight while in front is a small opening, which extends from the back walls of the Mission to the narrow line of pecan trees, which fringe the stream, or form the bottom timber. Many of the out-build- ings, the dormitories of priest and nun, are fallen todecay, and the adobe debris, is scattered on the ground. All that remains of the north wing is the front wall. What formerly were the windows are now gaping, unshapely holes. The trail coming from the south, leads north to San Antonio, passing directly in front of the Mission, and is somewhat higher than the round inside of the wall, as there were at one time vaults beneath the wing, which bave caved in and been but partially filled with the crumb- ling adobe falling from the walls above. This has made it a dangerous place, seldom trod by foot of man or beast. The main Mission is a massive structure, the walls near three feet in thickness, with but a few narrow windows and.niches for saints, to break the plainness of outline. The roof is nearly flat, with the exception of the dome; and the walls stand breast high above the roof, with projecting eve-spouts in the old Spanish style of architecture. It was and is a fortress of no lit- tle strength, and easy for a few to defend against a host unless cannon were brought to bear upon its walls. In dangerous times it has a place of refuge, as well as a house of prayer. At the time of which I write it had become a rendezvous and hiding place for bandits, thieves and desperadoes; and the white man who would loiter about its ruin, especially in the night time, must have put little value upon his life. The murmur of the beautiful San Antonio river, laughing, plunging, and rolling its crystal waters over its rocky bed, sounds sooth- ingly sweet. The noble pecan trees lining its bank interlace their branches, and call on trail- ing vine and moss to assist in gens rar from the scorching sun by day, and the col stare af the moon by night, the dearly loved waters which nourish their roots, but here and there the silver rays filter through the verdant screen, and turn the rippling waterlets into shimmering silver. ; From the river to the far-off prairie on either side stretck out mesquite mottes, and through them, at full speed comes Buckskin Sam, He holds his Sharp’s rifle at a ready, and his eyes wander nervously about the shadows of the trees, and the old ruins. By the labored lope of the mustang, it has been a long and fast ride they have had; but there is no falter in speed until a gentle word from Sam brings the horse toa halt in the middle of the opening, in the rear of the Mission. Then Sam springs to the ground. Again his eyes rove about the borders of the opening. With suspicious air he makes a circuit round Black Cloud, his rifle resting in the hollow of his left arm, his right thumb pressed upon the hammer, and ready for instant use. Nothing but the music of the waters, and song of the insects of the night, strikes his ear. Naught but wood-shadows and somber ruins meets his eye. It is evident that Sam only intends to make a short stop, for the purpose of resting his horse; for he merely loosens the girth, and slips the bridle bit, to allow the animal to feed from the rich, curly mesquite grass which covers the opening. Laying his Sharp’s rifle upon the sward at a half-cock, Sam pulls some of the grass from the - Me : ; : La " ‘ / - ¥ 4 . ‘ » « y ° é 7 7 “ha . > , ; ’ sue 4 ae eA eee Lise we ar - ot. . i: s, - ih +> ff) 5 +) do ‘Jal 4 | or Me ve 4! ray ai ‘ | b ; *, v : r a , Ga Ny ( j s > we — 4 . ; ” f é. se “a! or + y i vf % ~ 2 : * 4 a " — e sod and rubs off the reeking sides of Blaek Cloud, who still pants bard from his exertions. The inspection of the bandit camp and a after leaving Warlula, has kept our hero long than he anticipated, but he is now on his way te San Antonio, to rejoin his Ranger pards, at the San Pedro Springs. While Sam wes ty rubbing the foam and perspiration from his prairie steed, speaking low words of enco e ment, well unders and appreciated by his dumb friend, the latter suddenly jerked his head, stopped Swen the grass hanging from his lips, and witha low snort gaze toward the 4 trail, north. Sam quickly re- covered his rifle and stood by the side of his faithful mustang, every nerve and sense of- each strained to the utmost. They heard the dull clatter of horses’ hoofs coming in a desperate gallop toward the Mis sion, the sound increasing until our here dis~ tinctly interpreted the din to be occasioned by a number of horsemen in pursuit of one whe was some distance in the ‘eal. Sam instantly decided that mischief was in the wind, and slipping the bridle bit into tha mouth of Black loud, he vaulted into the saddle. Man and mustang were, for a pat gies silent as statues, with heads bent forward, an eyes and ears intensely strained to solve the cause of the alarm. : The thundering clatter of hoofs now sounded clearly upon the ear of our hero, who estimated. in his mimd that full a score of horsemen were coming, at break-neck speed, but he was totally , ignorant of the nature or nationality of those he had decided to meet, be they friend or foe. Suddenly the sharp report of a pistol broke on the midnight air, followed by a plercing shriek of terror from feminine lips, there was a flutter of snow-white garments through the mesquite motte at terrific speed, amd then, just as was about to dash toward the trail, a sight met his view, which drove the blood surging back to his heart. Through one of the embrasures, in the ruined wing of the Mission, not fifty paces from his ition, sprung, in a wild, te leap, night-black mustang, with a young maiden, pale as death, re igs in terror to flowing mane of the animal. As that fair, white face was, for a fleeting in stant, presented to his view, the long raven hair flying away from her brow with the wind formed by the lightning-like leap as the moon, for that brief instant, lit up the clans features Sam recognized Lena Castro, whose shriek had drawn his attention at the bull-fight. Then = and rider sunk in a ghastly crumpled eap. Like a méteorn, Black Cloud plunged toward the ruin, and Sam sprung to earth, Dashing over the crumbling heaps of adobe he grasped the senseless form of the young girl from off the disabled korse, who lay with broken limbs, amid the debris of the w and bore her to clear ground, laying her by the feet of his mustang. Then, drawing his bowie-knife, he returned, and to save the animal from useless suffering buried the steel to the hilt in its heart. As he sprung away from the dying mustang back to the prostrate form of Lena tro, an his impatiently pawing steed, loud yells and maledictions in Spanish, mixed with Clattering hoofs, close-at hand, bruke upon hisear. Re- gaining his saddle, he leaned over to ‘earth, steadying himself by bis left heel under the cantle of his saddle, and lifted tenderly the senseless form of the lovely Castilian girl from the sward. Sustaining Lena Castro over his left arm, Sam drew the bridle-rein over the horn of the saddle, being able to control Black Cloud by word of mouth and pressure of limb. Then grasping a Colt’s navy six in bis right hand, he was ready for the custhroats, who now dashed up and crowded the holes in the ruined wing of the Mission. As they caught sight of Lena in the arms of Sam the sharp, quick detonations of the latter’s six shooter sounded in their astonished ears; and the leaden messengers of death caused six of their number to either fall dead or wounded from their mustangs. With deep, loud curses mingled with yells of pain, they drew back for a moment. “El Mvehacho Diablo!” cried the bandi as they leveled their escopetas and fired. shots were wasted on the empty air, for Black Cloud, as Sam emptied his revolver and pressed his knees in signal to the steed, sprung like an arrow shot from bow around the corner of the Mission into the south part of the opening. Right in the middle of the opening he jerked the bridle-rein, bringing Black Cloud back on his haunches until they almost rested upon the sward. In his front came the bandits, who, on the previous day had just missed meeting him during his council with Warlula, and who had — heen on his trail since that time. Rigbt in his front they came dashing through the mesquite motte like mustangs in a stampede, upon the Scalp-Taker of the Llanos and the Lil Alamo; while around the south Mission, on bis flank, charged the the pursuing party, maddened by the fearf of the : * >a aa + te a 13 ee + intently ~ Sa? med ty ‘a + » 8 : “v5 . ’ * *. ~~ om -% e! ee te 3 Bt yl ye >" are re A en 4 - Per 4.7 ~y ~ - “ae es ~ ey - =< a. 4 ne * -4 * — * a , ig of the’ 8207.18 > : ; r - ft ma ay : ot hn gat CDOOKS.C ue A Ae) a * > : °s c ' - : . ; * mt, Bee ge d “| aw y 4 _* =