Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 1061 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

. death turough the windows yonder, > night, man as ever wore paint, or sounded war-whoop. This is Warlula, the Tonkaway. You have often heard Gen’! Houston speak of his faithful services to the State. Warlula, this is ‘ Reck- less Joe,’ my brother by long association on gea and iand. We were together when little boys, far away, a thousand leagues in the land of the north, where the rain comes white like feathers, and covers tho grass from sight; where the leaves on the trees fly away on the wind, and leave the branches bare, the same as in the land of the Sioux and Blackfeet.” The Indian and Joe grasped hands and having huried steel in fricadship, gazed inte each other’s eyes with mutual regard, knowing by that glance that each would be true to the other. ‘*Now, we have wasted time enough; to business,” exclaimed Sam impatiently. ‘I don’t understand why those Greasers did not make sure work of us, when they had the chance. When did my red brother come to the Mission? Did Warlula see the Greaser dogs take away the white Lily—a pale-faced maiden? Our council ended on the Medina, how came my red brother here?’ “Warluia follow trail Greaser dogs come Medina Warlula take one scalp—follow others —they ride fast ior Buckskin—Warlula ride fast on trail. -maybeso save scalp of white brother --come quick here—heap big fight— Greas'r knife Buckskin—Greaser knife Joe— Warlula sound war-wt:op—shoot quick—save Buckskin cut Greaser heart—save Joe scalp— Greaser ride fast south —that way—have white squaw—Warlula stay—maybeso Buckskin go on dark trail—Warlula heart sad—now heap glad.” Before the words were half spoken Joe and Sam had grasped tiie hands of the Indian, their eyes speaking the thanks which, by his manner and character, they knew he would not allow their tongues to utter. They were filed with surprise and gratitude, and truly appreciated the heroic efforts of the Indian and his well-timed charge:in their behalf. As Sam c'learly comprehended the state of affairs, and the pale, pleading, innocent face of Lena Castro was reproduced in his imagination, as he lase saw her, he became aroused to the necessity of rescuing her from the bandits before they crossed the Rio Grande. One thing wae plain. Their trail must be followed to ascertain what ford they were pointing for. Neither. Joe nor himself were equal ti. the task, wounded as they were, and grasping again the hand of the Tonkaway he exclaimed: ‘‘Warlula is the Buckskin’s brother. He saved the life of him and his friend, The Great Spirit has seen it and he will cause his rifle to shoot straight, and zame in plenty to hover aroune \is trail. Warlula has done much, but I know he will do more. The Greaser dogs have stolen the white ‘ Lily of the Alamo.’ Her white-haired father weeps with grief. His only child has been torn from his old arms. All be holds dear is now being taken toward the Bravo in the arms of a bandit to be bid away from his old eyes for- ever—perbaps dishonored. They stole her this ni¢ht, and by some means she nearly escaped upon her mustang, which leaped to his ‘Your white brother tried hard to save her from them, but mumbers prevailed aguinst my two arms, and thy bave her again. Your white brother bas met Aer but twice, yet he clainis her as his sister, end has sworn to save her at every hazard. » My brother Joe and myself are wounded aod weak; we cannot foilow them to- Warlula wil follow the yellow-skinned thieves, and see to which ford on’ the Bravo their trail points. My heart tells me my red brother will do this.” Before Sam Lad ceased speaking the Indian had loosened a lasso from one of the saddies, and coiled and held the loop. Then as one of the riderless mustangs, frightened by the coy- otes which were now prowling arcund the field, came dashing past, he threw with the quick- ness of thought the circling noose, and bring- ing the slack end about his hips to add his weight te his strength, brought the mustang to a sudden halt, answering ac the same time Sam’s last words in his laconic style: ‘*Warlula will follow Greaser dogs.” He gave a run, hauling im the lariat, hand ever hand, grasped his Sharp's rifle from the @arch, and sprung into the saddle. Bringing the slaek end of the lariat with a “hirl over his head he lashed it about the Buckskin Sam. ooo mustang until it sounded like the hiss of a whip- snake on the run, and the mustang sprung south- ward on the trail, disappearing among the mesquites, with the pursuit yell of the Tonka- ways echoing and re-echoing about the ruined walls of Mission Conception, ‘ What do you think of my red pard, Joe?’ asked Sam, as the cry of the Tonkaway died away on the night air, and our hero seated himself upon the sward, quite exhausted from excitement and loss of blood. “Think,” answered Joe. ‘* By the beard of Mahomet 1 haven’t had achance to frame a thought since, I had my snooze broken up in our little cabin yonder. But any one with half an eye, or hulf a thought, could see that he’s a man every inch of him, from the last stitch in his moccasin to the tip of his eagle plumes; [’d trust him to the death, and that’s _toore than I would say of any white man on such a limited acquaintance.” “The Greaser who gave me a knock on the head must have struck me with a bee-tree, for its; been on the buzz ever since.” “The Tonkaway gave me a good bathing in the waters of the San Antonio, The water from that stream woula fetch me back to biz as quick as any liquid this side of old Leomin- ster, for its fairy wavelets kiss the lilies on the shore where dwells my dulcina. And speak- ing of Martha, my fair one and true, brings to the front an idea which has been playing cir- cus around my somewhat disconglomerated brain-box ever since I struck this field of car- nage. Where did you first meet this fair Cas- tilian belle, that you take such a life and death interest in her? I thought your heart was iron-clad and case-hardened. What will the love-sick, languishing creatures who ffirt their beribboned, bemusl ued, fairy forms about the danzas and fandangoes, to gain your smiles for one brief moment, do when they hear of this risking of your life -for this hitherto close- vailed, convent-lived daughter of a Castilian Croesus?” “i care notbh*ng for what they say or do, if they let me follow the trail I have laid out for myself,” answered Sam. ‘‘I owe allegiance to no woman, aid thank God I can say I never wronged Jue. Bless them all, I think too much of them to link my wandering, adventurous fate with one of their number I am wedded to justice and humanity; and a man having these grand objects in view can find plenty of chance for practice in rigbting wro 1g, in saving innocence from being down-trodder by brutal lust, and blotting from the earth those who would disgrace even the wolves of the prairies by association, but who call themselves men. “As to my beingin love—you know me well enough. Were this girl the daughter of the lowest ladrone who frequents the Bull’s- Head, and bets off his children’s last rial at monte, I would follow the trail just as eagerly and just as far.” © ‘*But the boys say, Sam that she’s dead in love with you. You know she fainted when that bull tried to rush ioto your arms like a long lost brother.” ‘‘] am well aware that this Lena Castro is the same girl who fainted at the bull-fight; but have reason to believe that it was not my danger that affected her. The violent death of the matadore before her eyes was sufficient to unbalance the brain of so tender a flower, unused to the world; and, strange to say, this same matadore, who was killed by the bull, was a spy of the bandits, and paid to find out in regard to these Castros, and also to kill your humble servant. You see, I am hunted by paid assassins, The man who takes such an interest in me will, I bope, soon be known to me, if he does residein Monterey, I gained my information from the dying lips of that Mexi- can I shot up the Nueces fight. The boys were going to hang him when I claimed him as my prisoner, and saved ‘his life, though for a bad purpose. as it proved, for he was among the bandits shot on the Plaza, On my visit to Warlula, yesterday, I first became aware of enother body of these cut-throats being about here Coming back on their frail to warn Don Jose Castro of his daughter’s danger, while resting Black Cloud here, at Conception, I beard a rumpus up the trail, and who should make a flying leap through the windows of the ruined wall but the subject of my thoughts, Lena Castro, *“‘T corraled her, put the broken-legged mus: tang out of misery aud fought the devils she had escaped trom after they were joined by the main party, who had been on my trail from the Medina. How they regained the prize you know as well as I do, But how came you to arrive so opportunely upon the ground? [ thought you were with the boys at the San Pedro Springs. If you badn’t come as you did I should have been a gone coos, as Big Foot would say. I owe you my life, clear aad plain.” **Don't mention it. Not that I would de preciate the value of the same, but that I owe you more in that line than I ever can repay. The way I happened to be in this delectatle region was this: 1 got lonesome im camp when you were away and had a j;resentiment o/ danger in connection with you, pard, so I put down the trail the other side of the river ‘c our old cabin, which we built when we fist struck Texas and when we practiced. shootnig under old Grengei’s-directions. You know it ‘ain’t a rifleshot from here over the creek Well, I was having a gay, old-fashioned snooze, tall snoring thrown in, [ reckon, when the fir- ing awakened me, and I went for ‘ Yeung Paint’ fast, but he had strayed off the range, He got the spurs good when I did straddle bim, and I didn’t stop fer brush, nor hunt for the ford, I come blind and got here, it seems, in time to de some good. Ay, me lord duke, the pepper-eating sons of the Montezumas, the sel?- appointed confisticators cf Texas live stock, were about to annihilate you to the last grease- spot, when the war-cry of Joseph knocked them up a standing, and there they are. Hur- rah for us! The Lone Star shines with an extra glitter to-night, Mexic maids will weep for those who will never return with the stolen doubloons of Texans. But, old pard, how do you feel? I think in forty-eight hours I'll be able to exclaim, in the patented words of Will- liam Shakespoke, Esq., Ricbard is bimself again, Be ready to flaunt my banner in the breeze and dare them all to come?!” “Joe, you ought to have stopped in the Bowery. The stage has lost a giittering star, though the Lone Star is gainer by it. How would you like to drop into one of the Wash- ington Market restaurants now and go for fried eggs, buckwheats and coffee in the old style?’ “Don’t mention it, me lord,” answered Joe, caressiug his stomach. ‘‘ Ordinarily I could devour about six of those hash-houses, minus the flunkies; but now I am rather delicate, as the geminine fenders say, although I wouldn't go back ona quart of strong coffee. That Tonk’ ought to\-have been educated as surgeon. He bandaged my wqu und in style. How is it, pard? shall we ride’ to camp, or don’t you think you could make the riffle? I observe me noble steed, Young Paint, is, as is his master's usual custom, laying in a goodly store of prov- ender when he finds it plenty. This curly mesquite grass is more nutritious than corn, The boys will just how] with disappointment to think they were laying at the springs while we had such lively times. Ben Thompson will mention with distinct emphasis the names in rotation of all the gods of mythology, because he had no hand in the deal. Big Foot will prance around that camp and kick or chaw the bark off ail the trees. Dutch Pete will spoil all bis whips, whacking his mules out of pure spite at his being absent: and Austin * will spill the next meal’s sop (gravy) into hit stove-pipe bat. Wake up, pard, the nmght grows old, and I hear the lerdly crow of chan. ticleer from the dim distance, although it ain’t very Clear as yet. How the crow of a rooster will take a fellow back to his boyhood days. Sounds the same the world over, and makes a’ person as homesick ascburch bells. The latter don’t trouble us much here, in this section, What’s brewing in your noddle, Sam? Shbatre off the dull lethargy of wounds, privation ard years, and sweep away all worldly obstacles mm thy trail. Years is good, Sam. Not twenty years old and noted in Texas history—though its a rocky road to Dublin.” “T am far from being asleep, Joe; but Iam thinking of the dreadful situation of» Lena Castro, at the mercy of thoee cowardly cut- throats. A brave man wiil never harm a woman, or see her harmed, but you do nog know what those ruffians of Greasers are capable of doing. ' “T know,” answered Joe, “that if they ars bribed to capture and take her-to Monterey the man who pays for it will not shove out the doubloons, if she comes to harm. {it is policy for them to treat her well. But come: thie cursed air is tainted with the smell of blood, and the coyotes aud bugzurds impatienstr . comicbool ‘S.com peer: ton ax