Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 20 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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22 piecing himselfat the head of the warriors, e made so successful a charge, that the Apaches, surprised in their turn, were com- pelled to give ground. Don Pablo and the others then rejoined the hunters, ‘*By Jove! it is warm work,”’ said Val- entine, whose hair and eyebrows werescorch- ed. ‘‘Our friend, Red Cedar, has brought this on us. Iwas decidedly wrong in not killing him.” In the meanwhile the Comanches had re- covered from their terror; the warriors had found arms and assumed the offensive. Not only did the Apaches no longer ad- vance, but at various points they began fall- ing back, inch by inch, it is true—but it was already a retreat. The Pirates, rendered desperate by the wound of their darling child, surrounded her, and tried in vain to recall her to life. Red Cedar alone fought at the head of the Apaches, and performed prodigies of valor. ight had set in, and the combat was still going on by the sinister glare of the fire. Valentine took Pethonista aside, and whispered a few words. **Good,”’ the chief answered ; “‘my broth- - er is a great warrior: he will save my na- tion.’ And he straightway disappeared, making some of his men a sign to follow him. Dona Clara was not long despondent; when the first effect of terror had passed she rose and seized a pistol. **Do not trouble yourself about me,’’ she said to Valentine and her brother. ‘* Do your duty as brave hunters: if I am attack- ed, I can defend myself.’ ‘I will remain by your side,’’ said Shaw, giving her a passionate glance. ‘Be it so,’ she answered with a kind smile; ‘‘ henceforth I shall be in safety.” The Comanches had intrenched them- selves with their squaws in the great square of the village, where the flames did not af- fect them greatly. Indeed, the wretched huts had not taken long to burn; the fire was already expiring for lack of nourish- ment, and they were fighting on a heap of cinders. Valentine, while fighting in the first ranks of his allies, contented himself with holding the positions he had succeeded in occupying, and did not attempt to repulse the Apaches. Allat once the war-cry of the Comanches mingled witha formidable hurrah, sounded in the rear of the Apaches, who were attack- ed with incredible fury. ‘*Bloodson! Bloodson!’’ the Apaches shouted, seized with extraordinary terror. It was, in truth, the stranger, who, follow- ed by Don Miguel, General Ibanez, Unicorn, and all his comrades, rushed like a whirl- wind on the Apaches. Valentine gave vent to ashout of joy in re- sponse to the hurrah of his friends, and rushed forward at the head of his warriors. From this moment the medley became horrible: it was no longer a combat, but a butchery, an atrocious carnage ! CHAPTER XXI. THE AVENGER. In oruer fully to comprehend tbe ensuing facts, we are constrained to relate here an event which occurred about twenty years before our story commences. Marvelously-situated on the Gulf of Mexi- co, endowed with a temperate climate and a fertile soil, which, if tickled with a spade, laughs with a harvest, Texas is assuredly one of the richest countries in the New World. Hence, the Government, foreseeing the future of this province, did all in its power to populate it. nfortunately, it effected very little, in- eraeni? as it wds of populating even Mex- co. Still, a considerable number of Mexicans went across and settled in Texas. mong the men who let themselves be tempted by the magic promises of this vir- in soil were two brothers, Don Stefano and on Pacheco, of the best families in the pro- vince of Nuevo-Leon. The active part they played in the war of independence had ruined them, and not ob- taining from the Liberals, after the triumph of their cause, the reward they hada right to expect for the services they had rendered —Don Gregorio, their father, having even paid with his life forhis attachment to the ah nd had no other resource but set- ling in Texas, a new country, in which they had hopes of speedily re-establishing their fortunes. Owing to their thorough knowledge of agriculture, and their inte igeuce, they soon ve a considerable extension to their set- lement, which they had the pleasure of see- daily grow more prosperous, in defiance Indians, buffaloes, tempests, and illness, The New York Library. The Hacienda del Papagallo (Parrot farm) inhabited by the two brothers, was, like all the houses in this country, which are con- tinually exposed to the inroads of the sav- ages, a species of fortress built of carved stone and surrounded bya thick and em- brasured wall, with a gun at each corner; it stood on the top of a ratker lofty hill, and commanded the plain for a considerable dis- tance. Don Pacheco, the elder of the two broth- ers, was married and had two daughters, lit- tle creatures scarce three years of age, whose joyous cries and sweet smiles filled the interior of the hacienda with gayety. ardly three leagues from the farm was another, occupied by adventurers of more than dubious conduct, who had come to the country no one knew how, and who, since they inhabited it, lod a mysteriously proble- matical existence, which gave birth to the strangest and most contradictory reports about them. It was whispered that, under the guise of peaceful farmers, these men maintained rela- tions with the bandits who flocked into the country from every side, and that they were the secret chiefs of a dangerous association of malefactors, who had ravaged the country for several years past with impunity. On several occasions the two brothers had disputes with these unpleasant neighbors about cattle that had disappeared, and other affairs of the same nature. In a word, they lived with them on the footing of an armed peace. A few days previous to the period to which this chapter refers, Don Pacheco had a sharp altercation with one of these squat- ters, of the name of Wilkes, about several slaves the fellow tried to seduce from the hacienda, and the result was, that Don Pa- checo, naturally hot-tempered, gave him a tremendous horsewhipping. The other swallowed the insult without making any attempt to revenge himself; but he had withdrawn, muttering the most terri- ble threats against Don Pacheco. Still, as we have said, the affair had no other consequences. Nearly a month had passed, and the brothers had heard nothing from their neighbors. On the evening of the day when we take up our narrative, Don Stefano, mounted on a mustang, was preparing to leave the haci enda, to ride to Nacogdoches, where impor tant business called him. ‘Then, you are really going?’ Don Pa- checo said. ‘*At once; you know that I put off the journey as long as I could.”’ **How long do you expect to be ab- sent ?” ‘*Four days, at the most.”’ 339 Good ; weshall not expect you, then, be- “Oh, it is very possible 1 may return sooner.”’ “Why so?” ‘Shall I tell you? Well, I do not feel easy in mind.’’ “What do you mean ?” “Tam anxious, 1 know not why. Many times I have left you, brother, for longer journeys than this—’”’ ** Well !”? Don Pacheco interrupted him. ‘“‘T never felt before as I do at this mo- ment.”’ ‘*You startle me, brother. What is the matter with you ?”’ ‘*] could not explain it toyou. Ihave a foreboding of evil. In spite of myself, my heart is contracted on leaying you.”’ “That is strange,’’ Don Pacheco muttered, suddenly becoming thoughtful. ‘I did not dare confess it to you, brother; but I have just the same feeling as yourself, and am afraid, I know not why.”’ ‘Brother,’ Don Stefano replied in a gloomy voice, ‘‘ you know how we love each other. Since our father’s death we have constantly shared everything—joy and sor- row, fortune or reverses. Brother, this fore- boding is sent us from heaven. A great danger threatens us.”’ ‘Perhaps s0,’’ Don Pacheco said, sadly. ‘“* Listen, brother,’’ Don Stefano remarked, resolutely. “I will not go.” And he made a movement to dismount, but his brother checked him. ‘*No,”’ he said, ‘‘we are men. We must not, then, let ourselves be conquered by foolish thoughts, which are only chimeras produced by a diseased imagination.” ‘‘No. I prefer to remain here a few days longer.” ‘* You told me yourself that your interests claim your presence at Nacogdoches. Go, but return as soon as possible.”’ There was a silence, during which the brothers reflected deeply. The moon rose d and mournful on the horizon. “That Wilkea is a villain?’ Don Stefano went on; “‘who knows whether he is not waiting my departure to attempt on the ha- cienda one of those terrible expeditions of which he is accused by the public voice ?”’ Don Pacheco began laughing, and stretech- ing out his hand in the direction of the farm- house, whose white walls stood out clearly on the dark blue sky, he said: “The Papagallo has too hard sides for those bandits. Go in peace, brother, they will not venture it.’ ‘* May heaven grant it,’’ Don Stefano mur- mured, **Oh, those men are cowards, and I inflict- ed a well-merited punishment on the scoundrel.”’ ** Agreed,” ‘Well ?”’ “It’s precisely because those men are cowards that I fearthem. I know as well as you that they will not dare openly to at- tack you.”’ ‘* What have I to fear then ?”’ Don Pacheco interrupted him. ‘*Treachery, brother.” “Why, have I not five hundred devoted peons on the hacienda? Go withouv fear, I tell you.”’ ‘*You wish it ?”’ ~“T insist on it.” **Good-by, then,’’ Don Stefano said, stifi- ing a sigh, ** Good-by, brother, till we meet ain.’ Don Stefano dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks, and started at fullspeed. Stimulated by the vague fear that haunted him, he only stopped the absolutely necessary period at Nacogdoches to finish his business, and hur- ried back scarce two days after his depar- ture. Strangely enough, the nearer he drew to the farm, the greater his anxiety grew, though it was impossible for hlm to explain the causes of the feeling. Around him all was tranquil—the sky, studded with an infinite number of glisten- ing stars, spread over his head a dome of azure. Don Stefano still advanced, bowed over his horse’s neck, with pale forehead and heaving chest, listening to the numerous sounds of the solitude, and trying to pierce with vivid glance the darkness that hid from him the point to which he was hurrying with the speed of a tornado. After a ride of six hours, the Mexican sud- denly uttered a yell of agony, as he violent- melt oY up his panting steed. efore him the hacienda appeared, sur- rounded . a belt of flames. The magnifi- cent building was now only a shapeless pile of smoking ruins, reflecting its ruddy flames on the sky for a considerable distance. ** My brother! my brother!’’ Don Stefano shriecked in his despair. And he rushed into the furnace, At every step the Mexican stumbled over corpses half-consumed by the flames and horribly mutilated. Mad with grief and rage, with his hair and clothes burned by the flames that enveloped him, Don Stefano continued his researches. What was he seeking in this accursea charnel-house. He did not himself know, but still ho sought. Not a shriek, nota sigh! On all sides the silence of death !—that terrible si- Jence which makes the heart leap, and ices the bravest man with fear! What had taken place during Don Stefa- no’s absence? What enemy had produced these ruins in a few short hours ? The first beams of dawn were beginning to tinge the horizon with their fugitive opa- line tints, and thesky gradually assumed that ruddy hue which announces sunrise. Don Stefano had passed the whole night ic vain and sterile researches, and though he had constantly interrogated the ruins, — rema@ nod dumb. he Mexican, overcome by grief, and com- pelled to acknowledge his own impotence, gave heaven a glance of reproaeh and de- spair, and throwing himself on the calcined ground, he hid his tace in his hands, and wept! The sight of this young, handsome, brave man weeping silently over the ruins - whose secret he had been unable to discover must have been heartrending. Suddenly, Don Stefano. started up, with flashing eye, and a face on which indomite- ble energy was imprinted. **Oh,’’ he shouted, ina voice that resem- bled the howl of a wild beast, ‘ vengeance! vengeance !|”’ A voice that seemed to issue from the tomb answered his, and Don Stefano turned round with a shudder. Two yards from him, his brother, pale mutilated, and bleeding, was leaning against # fallen wall, like a specter. ‘* Ah!” the Mexican exclaimed, as he rush- ed toward him. ‘** You come too late, brother,”’ the wound- ed man murmured, in a yoice choking with the death-rattle, . - ed 2» = 4 —— " 1% a oa i. J wei . eta Me > . «el + - *..P . ————— =