Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 239 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

— a —— eC there would probably never be an opportunity, as the assassin would not dare show himself north of San Antonio, a beavy reward being uffered for him, dead or alive, by the brother officers of Captain Warrington. Time passed, and the excitement consequent upon the strange assassination of the captain ‘ond the raid, so unusually far to the eastward, f the Apaches, died away. No tidings mean- vhile were gained either of Bird Blackwell or Lionel Lacrosse, neither of whom dared re- turn. Winnie Warrington, as she had promised, joined her uncle at Fort Mason; and, some time after, when the lieutenant was ordered to a post further west, she aecompanied bim. But it was only to be plunged into deeper de- spair, and to suffer privation and_ horrors, to which ber former experience was as nothing. To behold the only one whom she loved, and to whom she was true as steel, battling for life with hideous painted savages, whom he sought to provert from harming or capturing herself. To see him struggle with herculean strength to reach her side, only to be crushed to the earth, and then bound by blood-dripping hands, while fiendish eyes glared exultantly into his and then into ber own, causing ber to faint with sickening aversion and deathly horror— this the future bad iu store for her. But we will proceed with our story in de- tail and not further anticipate, To do this, we must follow trails that will Jead us into dread and terrible scenes, which pen can but feebly describe, in their dread but truthful details, CHAPTER XII, SNAKES IN THE GRASS, THE old St. Louis and Santa Fe stage mail- route, via Fort Belknap, Horse-Head Crossing, and E) Paso, fords the Red Fork of the Colora- do River, about twenty miles a little west of south from Fort Chadbourne; thence on, for thirty miles to the Rio Concho, which is forded eight miles west of old Camp Johnston, where Fort Concho is now located, and from whencs a governmenf wagon trail leads to San Antonio du Bexar. Some six months after the tragic occurrences on Salade Creek, a horseman was proceeding, ata leisurely pace, along the wagon-trail just mentioned, between Camp Johnston and the Sr. Louis and Santa Fe stage-road. Although much tanned from continuous prairie travel, besides being attired in buck- skin of his own make, and wearing his bair long, any one who had seen him within the last five years would most certainly have recognized him as Lionel Lacrosse, , The same free, bonest look of the eye, the same noble bearing, and finely developed form, would anywhere command attention. He is mounted upon the same black horse, altbough the animal bas changed more than its master, having bettered its condition since we last saw it in the gallant charge upon the Apaches, in the canyon near the Salado, As the young man rides on, sitting his steed in a listless attitude, some motion of the-horse attracts bis attention, his head is raised quick- ly, his eyes sweeping his surroundings, while his face assumes a most desperate and revenge- ful look; indicating that his trails have led where dangers often come suddenly and un- heralded upon bim—dangers that he has not avoided, but has met with vengeful fury, giv- ing back defiant yell for savage whoop, as he charged upon the savage torturers of his sire, and desecrators of bis home. Now he guides his horse from the plain into the bottom timber of the Rio Concho; not, however, until he observes a berd of antelope emerge from the same—these animals having been in the timber, enjoying the cool sbade, and drinking of the waters. Their presence _ proved that no red-men were lurking within the bottom. His borse immediately proceeded to the brink of the stream, there to slake its thirst; and Lionel, filling his canteen, proceeded on, up the Concho, holding bis deadly Colt’s rifle in the hollow of his arm, at half-cock, ready for instant use. And thus we take leave of this much- wronged man, on his way to the ford, where he is doomed to have his beart’s wounds opened afresh, his very soul to be filled with the utmost joy and wonder at the start, then with anxiety and agony, and last with a reckless bravery that crushes foes like reeds The Terrible Trio. NN ee eee before him, Crushes them at the first, but | alas to no purpose. Had Lionel Lacrosse, when he turned his horse into the timber, forded the Concho, passed through the belt of trees, and gazed from the same out upon the north plain that stretched to the Rio Colorado, be would have seen a government ambulance, drawn by four mules, and a mounted escort of soldiers, eight in number, including a sergeant, riding in front and rear of the vehicle. The sun was | just setting, and although the parties spoken | of were nearly a mile from the timber, the glint of the sunlight on the arms of the cavalry- men would have decided their character to him at once, Whether, however, soldiers and ambulance would bave changed the order of the events to be recorded, it is impossible to decide; most probably not, The escort were members of the old and gallant Second Cavalry, as the brass figures upon their caps proved; and they were wel! used to frontier service, as was also shown by the sergeant’s ordering one of the men to gal- lop on abead to the ford, and inspect the same; and to give the alarm, or return, if the pres- ence of foes was in any way indicated. On the front seat by the side of an infantry his discovery of the rington, He was engaged in conversation with a very beautiful youvg lady—none other than Winnie Warrington, his niece, the daughter of his murdered brother, The old sad expression is still noticeable on the face of the young girl, but it serves only to enbance her beauty; giving her a more ethe- real appearance, The same wealth of golden hair, crowned by a wide-brimmed straw hat, decorated with tiny prairie flowers; a neat ccstume of some pale-blue fragile fabric, in keeping with her complexion, caused ber to appear almost fairy- like. It was an enchanting picture. ‘* Yes, Winnie,” said her uncle, in answer to a question from our heroine; “it is yet a long way to Horse-Head Crcssing. It is about a hundred miles, and the most desolate portion of our whole route; for the reason that, al- most the entire distance, it is an unbroken plain, barren and devoid of vegetation. ‘‘ Beyond the Rio Pecos, most of the country is broken and mountainous, presenting varied, interesting, and most grand prospects.” ‘* But,” said Winnie, with a shudder, “ are we not entering the most dangerous section of Texas? Are not the Apaches now on the war- path, and we forced to pass through their hunt- ing-grounds?” ** Yes, my dear; we are entering the haunts of the Apaches, who are, for that matter, al- ways on the war path. And they always will | be, until they are exterminated, root and | branch. “Lone Wolf is the most bloodthirsty and merciless chief on the continent; but they sel- dom attack Government escorts, knowing that they must lose a number of their braves, even if they succeed, and warriors are scarce with them. ‘“‘Lone Wolf is cunning, and dashes in among the ranches down-country, by night, carrying devastation aud death, wherever his war-cry sounds. “ His tactics are, to start from the moun- | tains beyond the Pecos with a large war-party; | then, as they reach Santa Ana’s Peak, or fur- ther south in the Bandera Hills, this party is divided into half a dozen, all going in different directions on their errand of butchery, but to meet again at some point agreed upon, with their plunder. ‘* They ride ata headlong gallop, covering eighty miles ina day, or a night. None can know where the red demons may strike. They are here to-day, and far from pursuit by to-mor- row. But my explanations are not such as will relieve your mind, I admit. “‘ However, I assure you, Winnie, we bave really nothing to fear. We shall reach Camp Jobnston to-night, and be in good quarters. Perhaps there may be a detachment about to | leave for El Paso, with which we can travel; but you must bear in mind that we are on the stage-road, over which coaches are passing twice each week, while we have an armed de- tail of eight men, not counting your uncle Warren, who will die in his tracks before his little niece shall come to harm.” ‘Do not speak of the Indians again, uncle,” | | soldier who was driving, was Lieutenant War- 13 said Winnie, ‘‘and I will endeavor to dismiss all thoughts of them from my mind; but I have been greatly worried, ever since we left Camp Colorado. ‘* They told me there so much of the horrible doings of the Apaches that it has revived the terrible memory of the massacres on Salado Creek and the Guadalupe. ‘*T do wish, uncle Warren, we could get some tidings of Mr. Lacrosse. Only think what a terrible injustice he is suffering, and he proved innocent of everything! “Tt is too dreadful to think of, that he should believe himself to be outlawed! Nothing has been heard either of bim or of the real mur- derer, Bird Blackwell], although Single-Eye has been scouting the Mexican and Indian borders in search of both ever since that fearful trag- edy.”’ “Tt is very sad and mysterious,” said the lieutenant, ‘‘ that the young man should have had so much misery laucched upon him at once; but I hope he will soon be found, and that the future will in some way atone for the past in his case.” ‘‘Let me tell you, uncle,” said the young girl, ‘‘I have since that terrible day been greatly consoled by the reflection that I gave Lionel Lacrosse to understand, when the mad mob were about to lynch him, that I did not believe him to be guilty. ‘*Thefe was conscious innoeence in his every word and look. It was a terrible position to be in. ** But see, uncle, we are nearing the line of timber that you say marks the course of the Rio Concho, What a beautiful green is the foliage, and how cool and inviting it appears! Look, uncle, at that glorious, golden sunset!” ‘‘ It is indeed beautiful,” agreed the lieuten- ant; ‘‘and I am not feeling very much grieved at saying good-by to the god of day, for he bas ruled us most tyrannically since his appear- ance this morning. “Yes, yonder is the Concho, teeming with fi-h and its timber with game; but we must pass them all by and hasten on to Camp John- ston.’’ Little dreamed poor Winnie Warrington that the beautiful green foliage, ‘‘so cool and inviting,” served to screen and favor a horde of demoniac savages, who were eager, madly eager, for the blood and scalps of the party. Little dreamed Lieutenant Warrington that the timber of the Concho, which he so regret- ted to pass, on account of its ‘teeming with game,” teemed with paint-daubed Apaches, whose devilish gaze had been bent upon the escort and ambulance sincé the party was no bigger than a black speck upon the plain. For along each side of the trail, on either bank of the stream, amid the dense under- growth, crouched four-score of hideous feather- and-scalp-bedizened braves, their bowsin hand, and the deadly steel-pointed arrows fitted to string. Thus crouched many of the .war - party, while others, further back, mounted upon their half- wild steeds, stood ready to do their part of the bloody work and insure the capture or death of all. The black, snake-like eyes of the painted de- mons glittered and glared with a thirst for blood. They glared out from the terribly-contrast- ing stripes of vermilion and white gypsum, as like hungry panthers, ready to spring upon their prey, they braced their bronzed and sinewy limbs and nerved their arms, bending the straight bows to an arch, bows which a white man could not bend an inch, Thus they stood, the terribls war-whoop ready to burst with blood-curdling power and intonation from their brutal throats. Yet on came the unsuspecting escort and the ambulance with its precious freight; and from down the Concho, oblivious of the presence of human beings, red or white, on toward the ford, at an easy pace, rode Lionel Lacrosse, little thinking what that golden sunset was to shut in upon him! Little thought the young man that it was just such another terrible evening in his life that he had to his soul-felt sorrow passed through before, that was now closing that bright summer afternoon. Little imagined he that the past events, so dread and borrible, and which had caused him to become an outlawed wanderer in the wilds, were now being revived with a new and fresix — ee (C KS (ete) bitterness, Gomichoo