Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 20 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

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Although the two Mexicans eagerly desired to know their host’s projects, they were too much men of the world to question him, and restrained their curiosity while patient- ly awaiting an explanation which he would not fail soon to give them. ‘* Good news, friends,’’ he said, as he join- ed them. ‘* Ha!” the General muttered, ‘ that’s novel fruit here.”’ ‘““One of my friends,’’ Bloodson con- tinued, ‘arrived here this morning, accom- panied by a Canadian hunter, and Red Ce- dar’s daughter.”’ At this unexpected good news, the Mexi- cans started with joy and surprise. ““Ah,’? Don Miguel said, ‘‘she will be a precious hostage for us.”’ ‘That is what I thought,’’ Bloodson coy tinued; ‘‘ however, the poor childis perfect- ly innocent of her father’s crimes; and if he is at this moment in our power, it is only because she wished to save your daughter, Don Miguel.” ‘*What do you mean?’ the haciendero asked, with an interpal tremor. ** You shall understand it,’’ Bloodson an- severed. And, without apy further preamble, he tuld his listeners all the details connected with the flight of the girls, which the reader already knows. When he had finished his narrative there was a moment’s silence. ‘* The position is aserious one,’’ the Gene- ral said, shaking his head. ‘* We must save our friends, at all risks,” Don Miguel exclaimed, impetuously. ‘*Thatis my intention,” said Bloodson; ‘‘at present the position of affairs is im- proved.” ‘*How so?’ the haciendero asked. ‘* Because it is better for Doua Clara to bea greapas with the Apaches than with Red Ce- r. ‘“* That is trae,’?’ Don Miguel observed. ‘* How can we get her out of their clutch- es ?’’ asked the General. ‘*That does not embarrass me,’’ Bloodson said; ‘*to-morrow, at daybreak, we start with our people, and go to Unicorn’s vil- lage, who will join his warriors to ours, and then we will attack the Apaches in their vil- lage.”’ ‘* Very good; but shall we be sure of find- ing my daughter at the village?’ ‘*In the desert every thing is seen and known. Do you fancy that Don Valentine has remained inactive since heleft us? You may feel assured that he has long been on the trail of the young lady, if he has not al- ready liberated her.”’ - ‘* May heaven grant it,’’ the father remark- ed, with a mournful sigh; ‘‘ but who will ad- vise us of what he has done ?”’ ‘* Himself, you may be convinced of that. Still, as we are a very leng distance from the village where your daughter is probably ‘confined, we must hasten to get nearer to her; hence, my guests, get up your strength, for to-morrow will be a tiring day, I warn you. Now, permit me to bid you good- night, and leave you, in order to give my final orders,” ‘‘ Ove word more, I beg of you.”’ **Speak.”’ ‘*Whiat do you intend doing with the girl whom a strange accident has thrown into your power ?”’ ~ ‘“*f do not know; events will decide her fate, Ishall regulate my conduct by that of our common enemy.” ‘* You said yourself,’ Don Miguel continu- ed, -‘‘ that the girl is innocent of her father’s crimes.’’ Bloodson gave him a peculiar gence. ‘*Do you not know, Don Miguel,” he answered in a hollow voice, that, in this world, the innocent always suffer for the guilty ?’’ And, not adding a vord further, he gave — me peng profound bow, and slowly re- red. The two gentlemen looked after him, as he gradually disappeared in the gloom of the Teoeali; then they fell back on their beds despondingly, not daring to impart to each a the sorrowful thoughts that oppressed em. CHAPTER XXIII. APACHES AND COMANCHES, AT daybreak some forty horsemen, at whose head rode Bloodson, Don Miguel Za- rate, and General Ibanez, started in the di- rection of the Comanche village, guided by Unicorn. In the midst of the band rode Ellen, close- ly watched, and Harry, who would not leave her for amoment, galloped by her side. The maiden had guessed, in spite of the attentions offered her, or perhaps through them, that she was regarded rather as a pri- soner than a friend by the men who sur- rounded her. Hence, on leaving the Teocali, she had given Harry a suppliant glance to remain by her side. The hunter had understood this glance, and, in spite of all that Bloodson urged to induce him to ride with them at the head of ne party, he obstinately remained at Ellen’s side, By astrange coincidence, at the very mo- ment when the partisans, guided by Unicorn were leaving the Teocali to go in search of their friends at the Comanche village, the latter were executing their miraculous flight had left the islet on which they had defende themselves so bravely, and, after boldly crossing the Apache camp, were also pro- ceeding, though by a different route, to the same destination. The march of a numerous party in the de- sert is generally less rapid than that of a few men, and it is easy of explantion. Two or three men, proceeding together, pass without difficulty anywhere, gliding through the chapparal, and following the track of wild beasts; but some forty persons compelled to adopt the Indian file, that is to say, march one after the other, alony these problematical paths, scurce wide enough for one horseman, are constrained to check their pace, and advance with extreme caution, especially on an expedition of the sort the partisans were now undertaking. Hence, in spite of the diligence they dis- played, they advanced but slowly, The horses and riders, harassed by the fa- tigues of a long journey, were dragging slowly along, when Unicorn, who was about one hundred yards ahead, suddenly turned back and rejoined his comrades, who at once halted. ‘* What is the matter?’ Bloodson asked, as soon as the chief found him; ‘has my brother seen any thing that alarms him ?”? : ‘* Yes,’’ the Indian laconically replied. ‘“‘T am waiting for my brother to ex- plain.”’ ‘* The desert is not quiet,’’ the chief went on, in agraye voice; ‘‘ the vultures and the white-headed eagles are flying in long circles, the deer and buffaloes are restless, the as- shatas are bounding in every direction, and the antzlopes flying with all the speed of their limbs northward,’’ Bloodson frowned, and waited a moment ere he replied. The Mexicans examined him anxiously; but at length he raised his ead “What do you conclude from these signs?’ ' “This : the Apaches are crossing the prai- rie; they are numerous, for the desertis dis- turbed for a very considerable extent.”’ ‘‘ Why the Apaches sooner than others ?” Bloodson answered. ‘‘ Can not wood-rang- ers have produced the excitement you have noticed, at well as the Indaius?”’ The Comanche warrior shook his head in contradiction. ‘“‘They are Apaches,” he said, peremp- torily. ‘* This is not the season of the great hunts; the animals are not troubled by man at this period of the year. They know it, and dv not desperately fly from him, as they are certain of not being pursued. The wood- rangers march alone, or only three or four together, employing precautions not to startle the game. But the Apaches are. ignorant dogs, who, like the coyotes they resemble, continually assemble in lange parties, and, instead of marching like men or warriors, pass like a hurricane over the prairie, burning, destroying, and devastating every thing in their passage.”’ “That is true,’ Bloodson muttered; ‘* your sagacity has not deceived you, chief; only the Apaches can be near here.”’ ‘Good; and what will my brother do?” the Comanche asked. The stranger’s eye flashed fire. ‘* We will fight them,’’ he said. The Indian gave an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, ‘‘No,” he said; ‘‘that is no good; we must not fight at this moment,’’ ‘* Speak, then, in the demon’s name,’’ the stranger exclaimed impatiently, ‘‘and ex- plain your plan to us.” The Indian smiled. ‘‘ My brother is quick,’’ he said. Bloodson, ashamed o hawing given way to his temper, had already regained his cool- ness. ‘‘ Pardon me, chief; I was wrong.” — And he held out his hand, which Unicorn *ook and pressed warmly. ‘* My brother is wise,” he replicd ; “‘ [know that he did. not wish to insult a friend.” ‘“ Speak, chief; time is slipping away ; ex- plain your plan to me,” “ Behind that hill is Unicorn’s village; the warriors will remain here while he ad- yances alone, in order to know what © go- ing on,” “Good; my brother can go; we will wait.”’ The Indian set spurs to his horse and went off, and he soon disappeared from their sight. ‘‘ What do you think of what the ehief has just told us ?”’ the General asked. ‘It is ey serious,”’ the stranger answer- ed. “The Indians haye an extraordinary skill for discovering what goes on iu the des- ert—they have an infallible insthuct which never. deceives them. This man is one of the most intelligent I know. I am only acquainted with two men in the world ca- pable.of contending with him—that fright- ful scoundrel, Red Cedar, and Deon Valen- tine, that French hunter whom the Indians themselyes have surnamed the Trail-Hunt- ““An!? Don Miguel said, “then your opinion is—”’ “That we must await the result of the ‘step Unicorn is taking at this moment; his Village is only an hour's march at the most from the spot where we now are.”’ ‘“But in that case, why stop us ?”’ ‘‘ An Indian never returns home till he has assured himself that allis in order. Who car foresee what has happened during his ab- sence ?”” ‘That is true: let us wait, then,’’ the ha- ciendero said, stifling a sigh. Nearly an hour passed thus.” All the par- tisans, seated on their horses, with their fingers on the triggers of their rifles, remain- ed motionless as bronze statues. In the meanwhile the sun had set in a mist of vapor, the shadow spread gradually over the desert like a thick winding-sheet, and me stars were slowly lit up in the dark blue sky. Sill Unicorn did not return. Suddenly, Bloodson, whose eye had been obstinately fixed in the direction where the Comanche chief had disappeared, Pf a slight start and whispered in Don Miguel’s ear: ‘* Here he is.”’ The gallop of a horse was heard gradually drawing nearer till the chief reappeared. ““Well?’ the stranger shouted to him. ‘*Koutonepiand the pale virgin are in the village,”” he said; ** the hunter has deliver- ed the maiden.”’ ‘*May Heaven be praised!’? Don Miguel said, fervently. Unicorn looked at him sad)y. ‘The Apaches are pursuing them,’’ he added; ‘“‘at this moment the village is be- ing attacked, but our friends defend them selves bravely.”’ ‘*Let us fly to their help,’’ the Mexicans shouted. Bloodson turned to them. “ Patiencé,” Le said; ‘let the chief ex- plain.” ‘“My pale brother,” the Comanche con- tinued, ‘‘ with one-half of the warriors, will turn the hill and enter the village by the north, while I, with the other half, will en- ter by the south.” “Good,” said Bloodson; ‘‘ but we are far off vet; perhaps our friends will be unable to hold out till our arrival.”’ Unicorn smiled scornfully. “The Apaches are cowardly dogs,’ he said. ‘The Comanches will defend them- selves; they know not flight.”’ ; Without replying, the partisan divided his band, taking the command of one party, and intrusting the other to the Comanche warrior, } All these men were Indians, long habit- uated to a war of ambushes and surprises; this boid stroke was a God-send to them ; with flashing eyes and quivering lips, though apparently unmoved, they impatiently await- ed the signal fordeparture. — ‘Let us go,’”? Bloodson vociferated, bran- dishing his rifle over his head. All bent over their horses’ manes and started forward. On reaching the foot of the bill one band went to the right, the other to the left, El- len remaining behind, under the guard of a few warriors and the Canadian hunter, who would not leave her. ‘This little band moved forward gently as a rear-guard. In the meanwhile, the partisans reached the village at headlong speed; and it was high time for them to arrive, for the huts, enveloped in flames, resembled a voleano. By the gleam of the fire, shadows could be seen darting hither and thither; and shouts of pain and rage, mingled with the discharge of fire-arms, incessantly rose from this burn- ing mass, The partisans rushed into this horrible