Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 293 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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24 discoveries, and he rode headlong to the camp, galloping directly to the wagons, when he halt- ed and at once dismounted. At that very moment, as he was about to give a loud signal to gather his picked rab of men for the rescue, a shrill and peculiar yell, rung from beyond the river. Steve knew that it came from Bob Barr, and more, that it was a signal of warning, or of danger, Without a word the scout remounted spurred down the stream, forded the same, and rode on through the timber toward the point from which the yell bad sounded. Nor did be need a guide, for again and again the signal came, and Steve aoeed was strangely amaz-d nd bewildered. He was unable to ac- count for the unexpected alarm, scarce believ- ing it pos-ibie that the outlaws had forded the Be Frio and were already in sight on the south plain. But he was unable to account for the signal in any otber way. teve was «lestined, however, to be not only astorished, but terribly alarmed, and for more reasons than one; for, as be spurred in the di- rection of the timber Bob Barr sprung in front of bis horse, clutching the rein, and bringing the animal to a halt, as be cried out: ** Jump to dirt, Steve, lively! Gaze out over ther perrarer, sorter east-like. Dog-gone my ole heart ef hellishness ain’t sprinkled ’roun’ byer- abouts purty thick ’bout now!” ‘‘In Heaven’s name, what do you mean, our asked the young man, springing from his orse, ‘* Yer’ll friz yer peepers onter what I means mighty speedy, L reckon!” returned Bob Barr. _ * Great Lord!” The ejaculation burst from the scout’s lips, in mingled amazement, concern and anxiety. Then be cried out: ‘Leave the borse, Bob! Run, man! Run, and order the men to bitch up, and strike out on the back trail, over the south plain! * Teil all, that life or death depends upon the obeying of my order, and that instantly! _ * All will be massacred, if they remain in ¢ampa half bourlonger! Ruo, man! Run! “ What next, I wonder, in Heaven’s name? And, even if we escape detection, poor Dora’s doom is sealed!” Well might Steve thus express himself, for, to the southeast, out on the moonlit plain, was a large party of horsemen, speeds directly to- ward the Rio Frio—toward the point where he stood. It need but once glance from his practiced eyes to know that they were Indians—that a large war party of Apaches were thunderin toward him, featbers and bair flaunting, an their war gear and equipments glittering in the moonlight! Some two bundred, Steve estimated them to be—two hundred paint-daubed demons eager for blood, dashing madly over the plain! He could not bear the fearful sight, even at a distance and know that the lives of so many helpless women and children depended upon the immediate departure of the train, The Indians might camp on the south side of the stream, and not discover the camp of the whites for some time; but, discovered it would be, and that meant death to all, for there were not enough fighting men to defend the train from such astrong war-party. The Apaches, besides, would fight like demons, for such a rich prize, and so many tae Agonized by these probabilities, Stevesecured his horse to a limb, and rushed to the camp; where to bis relief, he found that the women Stampede Steve. had been left behind by the wagon-train, and Nero as well. Such, indeed, was the case; for the old plan- ter, having recovered sufficiently to realize from the conversation of the people of the train that his daughter had been again abducted—this time by the miscreant, Broquier—had, at the very time Bob Barr rushed into camp with his startling announcement and imperative orders, stolen away into the undergrowth. He led with him Nero, the connecting link between himself and his child. There, in the dark shades, the bereaved father went, in his half-insane state, to moan and weep in silence. Steve, the Scout, rushed at once to his horse, and unloosing the lariat, beld it in hand while he stepped forward, and peered from the under- wesaitin The sight that met his view was one that was well calculated to chill the very marrow in his bones with horror; but it was neither a new nor a strange sight to Stampede Steve. CHAPTER XXIX. APACHES ON THE TRAIL. As Steve Speed gazed out upon the fast-ap- proaching horde of savages, the teanfster came u p. ‘*Hold up, pard Steve!” he said, quickly; ‘“‘ dog-gone my ole beart, ef Bob Barr’s goin’ ter ‘low yer ter run this hull biz alone. Hyerlam, nag an’ fixin’s, allready. I’m with yer, Steve, on this trail, bet yer brains!” ‘“‘Bob,” returned the young scout, ‘‘ why did you come? You are needed to run the train.” ‘‘T opine ther train kin take keer of itself, a blamed sight better’n Miss Dora kin!” ‘*T fear we can do nothing for her,” said Steve. hopelessly. ‘* What’s ther reason, pard?” ** Look at those red devils! That is your an- swer!” ‘*T doesn’t undercomstan’ what ther cussed ’Paches hes gut ter do with ther leetle gal.” ““T see, Bob, that I have not explained to you my discoveries, I found the trail. The out- laws had recrossed the river, and sped directiy st the entrance to the bend, while we were ating the bush on this side of the stream, ‘* We know, therefore, that they will advance up the Frio but a short distance; for they will point by the most direct route to Mexico. ‘‘They dare not proceed further west than is necessary to avoid being seen on the south plain by us. Now, if the Apaches pass up the Leona, there is little hope for Dora Dale, for those keen- eyed braves will see the outlaws if they have taken to the plain, and ten chances to one will discover them if they encamp on the Leona.? ‘Their mustangs are quite fagged, and the red demons will soon camp. Had I not felt sure of this, I would not have given the orders I did. They are quartering directly to this point, and [ would not take any risks. ‘* Now, I perceive they are swerving more westerly, and nearly parallel with the river, ‘* Bob, I believe that Miss Dale is in more danger than the people of the train, even had they remained incamp. But if the fiends do take her, it will cost them dear. ‘IT care notif you know it, Bob—TI love the girl, and she loves me!” Deep and impressive were these words, ‘* Dog-gone my ole heart, pard Steve, did ye think I were blind? I know’d bit all along. ** Never g’in up, Steve! I’m with yer ontil the Panama freezes up. Howsomever, I doesn’t reckon we'll bevy much show ter keep our thatches onter our brain-boxes ef we hes a tussle wi’ that crowd o’ ha’r-tearers. Not a sound came from any lipin all that hideous hurde. The hiss and whack of the quirts, and the swish of hoofs through the grass and flowers, the rattle of arrows in the dry-hide quivers, the tinkle of silver trinkets, together with the treaiulous rumble of the earth—these were the sounds that would bave betrayed to any one to the manner born who and what were pass- ing. though he were blindfolded, bus, on dashed the savage war-party, with- out cessation of the cruel quirt-hiss and thwack; thus on, past the two trembling men, and up the river, Jike hideous demons, a)l athirst for blood, although no foe was in view! But Stampede Steve well understood the cause of the mad and vengeful rage, that ruled the paint-daubed horde. Evidence was before him, which explained the fury of the red riders; for, in the rear of the on-plunging mob of braves, were at least a dozen mustangs, upon the backs of which were bound their dead and blood-smeared masters; upon whose sightless eyes the moon now played —a most repulsive and horrid spectacle—while as many more bore evidence of wounds received in battle. These were in the rear of the corpse-laden_ beasts, which they urged forward; the animals, at times, casting their beads around, and snort- ing in fright at the strange load upon their backs, and the scent of human blood. And yet another sight, which caused the two lurkers to shudder with horror, was there in that on-galloping war-party. This was a white man, evidently a Texan ranchero, fast bound on the back of a mustang, in the midst of the savage mass. A low groan broke from the lips of Steve and Bob, as they perceived the captive. ‘‘Thet pore fellow’s wounded,” whispered the teamster; ‘‘ Lord help him, fer he’s gut a heap o’ tortur’ afore him!” ‘It’s a terrible sight, Bob; enough to make many a man faint in his tracks, “Yes, that captive is wounded, and cannot be taken to the Rio Grande for torture; conse- quently, they'll have their merciless revenge on him, at the next camp. Tbat is what they are anticipating. “They are infuriated at the loss of their | braves, and are thirsting for the cries of agony from their one captive. They have met with strong resistance on their raid, and not far be- low this place, ‘* Bob, those demons will keep on to the Leona —I feel it in my very soul—and Dora will fail a victim to the painted fiends of the Pecos!” ‘* Ef things bes bin movin’ es yer puts’em up, bit does look. kinder dub’ous fer ther leetle gal; an’ I reckon, we'll hev ter glide up ther drink, though hit’s pokerish biz, an’ air calkerlated ter make a pilgrim’s ha’r crawl plum off’n bis head!” Steve had advanced nearer the outer edge of the ufdergrowth, and was, with torturing anxiety, gazing up the line of timber, at the on- speeding horde of Apaches. Bob continued: ‘‘Thar’s no show fer we-’uns ter foller, with- out bein’ diskivered; and then we can’t do any good ter pore Miss Dora. I opine we’d better cross ther drink, an’ jist everlastin’ly git up, an’ dust west’ard, ontil we gits "bove ther p’int whar ther Leona glides inter ther Frio, ‘““Then we kin skute ’cross both o’ ther rivers, goin’ slow an’ easy later on. Dog-gone my beart, ef we can’t ’rove purt nigh es quick es ther painted red niggers yunder! **Good boy, Bob!” returned Steve, eagerly; “‘ that’s just our programme to the letter. I’m and children, with the blankets and camp} ‘But I’m with yer, Steve! I allers s’posed | in such a tortured state of mind, that I bardly '___ tricks, had been already placed in the wagons, | I'd be laid out by a cussed ’Pache, an’ I begin | know which end my bead’s on, | and the mules harnessed. ter reckon ther time’s nigh bout ’roved.” ‘‘ Mount, and away, pard! We'll do our best! ae Well trained were the teamsters, or this ‘We could not die in a better cause,” said “This is terrible; but, by all the gods, that fs: would not have been accomplished in thrice the | the scoutina firm voice, ‘ Here they come | villain, Broquier, or Dusky Dick, shall feel my mt 2 length of time. The young scout rushed around | like a whirlwind! Sink lower, for their eyes | vengeance, if he escapes the Apaches—even ae the circle of wagons, crying out: are keen!” though it may take years to trail bim to earth! ee ‘‘Not a word, men; and don't crack your| As Steve Speed spoke the war-party were | ‘‘On, Bob! on! Dora, or death, is our war- whips! within two hundred yards, and dashing madly ” _ “Strike straight north, clear from view from | up along the line of timber. | And through the dark shades, and through this timber, and then camp, in the same manner Few men would have kad the nerve to main- | the inky waters of the Rio ie the two dashed as here, on the open plain, until you hear from | tain their positions—not ten yards distant—as | with a determination to do, or die, 1a me, did the scout and the teamster. On, until the south plain was reached; and / Keep calm, and all will, I hope, be well. The danger was that the neighing of their | then they dashed headlong up the border of the “Tf it comes to a fight, we have more chances | horses saat betray their presence, line of timber that screened them from the on the plaia than bere. Shake ribbons, and | / Steve instantly thought of that, and turning | view of the Apache fiends—the same friendly Tae ti tare to Bob, pointed to the animals, at the same | ribbon of timber preventing the war-painted Vis One by one, the wagons rolled out from the | time pulling the loose kerchief from his neck | demons from discovering the long line of 2 bend, in a long line; and struck out, over the | and hounding to his steed, the teamster follow- | ‘‘ prairie schooners,” afar on tbe north plain, BS: ain, toward the north, on their back trail, | ing hisexample. and which, seemed hardly to move; although tn hey took care to make no noise, that could be | And none too soon were they, for both horses, | Steve and Bob knew that the drivers were lasb- ve detected, even at the point from which Steve | their heads raised and ears pricked forward, | ing the mules at full speed to gain as long a dis- me Speed had gazed out upon the south plain, at | gave every indication of neighing. The two | tance as was possible from the war-party. & the Apache war-party. men spoke softly and bound the handkerchiefs | ‘‘ Pard Steve,” said the teamster, ‘hit was St Steve’s thoughts now turned to Major Dale; | around the nostrils of the nags, soothing them | lucky yer tole ’em ter camp On ther perrarer, es abe but, as the tent of poor Dora had been placed | by stroking their heads, long es ther smoky sons 0’ Satan didn’t git a in a wagon, the scout sup that the old It was dark where they stood, and the plairf | peep at’em. Ef we hed ’emall byer, ‘ceptin’ ther Pe planter had been lifted into the same vehicle, was illumined by the moon, consequently the | weemin an’ children, mebbe so we c’u’d wipe “* He also thought of Nero, Dora’s favorite | Apaches, in all their dread and terrible hideous- | out ther beft o’ ther varmints.” horse, and felt worried because he had not seen | ness, could be clearly seen. “They'd kill nine-tenths of the men with the the animal secured as usual to the feed-box at On they came like the rush of a wild stam- | train, and those all have families. I tell you, the rear of the wagon, which the unfortunate | pede of mustangs. On they plunged in a | Bob, it would be terrible! ss maiden bad ocoupted. But the young man pre- | mivgied mob, their half-naked forms bent for- | ‘I bope I shall never again bear such shrieks ‘4 Ete sumed that the horse bad been tied to some | ward, swaying in their peculiar saddles, and | and screams as those women and children ut- other vebicle, and he rushed back over the log | their keen eyes darting glances abead. tered, when I rode into camp, over their dead, Bi foot-bridge; little dreaming that Major Dale' It was a perfect picture of savage war, These emigrants are not bordermen, They Bie. ag io comicbooks.co _* ¢ . : J “4," J -! ~~ A i 4 4 o =