Beadle's Dime Library No. 51: Red Rob, The Boy Road-Agent — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

© Red. Rob, The Boy Road-Agent. ee. Three horsemen emerged from the shadows of the woods and drew rein. One familiar with a mining district would at once have pronounced the trio a party of miners. They were mounted on strong-limbed, yet jaded-looking ponies; and were provided with huge packs, from which protruded the handles of picks and spades and other evidences of their being treasure-hunters on a prospecting tour through the country. They were also well armed. Coming from the direction of the Quivira ruins, there was nothing in their looks to engender distrust in the minds vf the soldiers. Though rudely dressed, the open, frank ex- pression in’ each face dispelled all apprehension. Their ¢om- ing broke the savage monotony of the camp, and the’ quat* tette hailed their presence with a feeling akin to pleasure.’ These three men were entirely different so far as age and personal appearances went. ‘The eldest must have been fifty years or more of age. He was a tall, powerful man, straight and erect, with a proud, martial bearing. His features wore a pleasant, yet stern and resolute expression that was indica- tive of great decision of charactar. His eyes were of @ dark gray, with that peculiarity of expression in them that one often sees in those of a docile lion. His face was covered with a ponderous white beard that gave him a still more venerable and imposing Jook. This man was Basil Walraymond. The next man in point of years was Nathan Wolfe. He was about forty years of age, and was a splendid specimen of the physical man, with a rough, bearded face, upon whose features cropped out the predominant traits of the person’s’ character, The third was a young man of perhaps five-and-twenty years. A little above the medium hight, he was possessed of the form of an athlete and the face of an Adonis. His hair, which was a dark-brown color, was cropped closely to his head. A heavy mustache, of the same color as his hair, shaded an expressive mouth, and lent an additional look of strength to his features and of firmness to his character. In his dark-blue eyes burned the luster of health, the fire of im- petuous youth and the spirit of adventure. His cheeks were bronzed, yet this rather served to strengthen his manly beauty, His voice was clear and full—almost musical. This was Asa Sheridan. All three were dressed in buck-skin with woolen under- shirts. All wore heavy boots witl? jingling spurs at the heels. Broad-brimmed hats covered each head. ‘A leather belt encircled each waist, and in this belt were a pair of re- volvers and a murderous-looking knife. A handsome rifle was swung at the back of each, by means of a strap passing over the left shoulder and under the right arm. A month previous these three were strangers, By chance they had been thrown together at Santa Fe. Their acquaint- ance ripened into mutual friendship, and then their friendship developed itself into a spirit of adventure. This finally car. ried them on a prospecting tour into northern New Mexico and southern. Colorado. The profession and character of each one before their meeting at Santa Fe seemed of little concern to the others, for they made no inquiry of one and another of anything ex- tending beyond their first meeting. They asked for no pa- pers of recommendation, of moral character or social stand- ing. On the border all kinds of characters meet—good, bad and indifferent—many of them to begin life anew; and so the past is usually considered beyond the beginning, as it were, and to ask a man for a history of himself would be almost as absurd as to ask a child for its history before it existed. The three were friends, that was certain. They were true to each other; that had been tested in more than one difficulty with the Arapahoes and Apaches. ‘*A militaty camp, by Jove!” cried young Sheridan, as he caught sight of the soldiers’ uniform in the dim glow of the camp-fire, and reined in his horse within a rod of the camp. ‘“Yes, on a small scale,” replied Miller, advancing. Sheridan dismounted and saluted—his companions follow- ing his example. ‘‘From Fort Wingate? or Defiance?” Defiance,” responded Miller. ‘‘ Judging from appear- ances you are miners, and as it is camping time, I would just say that the hospitality of the San Juan valley and our bivouac is at your service.” ‘Thank you, sir,” said the old man, in a bluff, yet kindly tone, It required but a few minutes to unpack their animals and lariat them out to grass along with the soldiers’ horses. This done, the three new-comers brought out their supply of dried venison, roasted bear-meat and hard biscuit, and took supper along with their newly-made acquaintances. ‘*Tt is a blessed relief,” said Basil Walraymond, *‘ to meet white men with white hearts in this country, What are you doing here, anyhow, soldiers?” ‘*Looking up a new agency for the Navajoes,” replied Miller; ‘‘ and you—” ‘We ure hunting gold and silver and diamonds,” inter- rupted the mysterious old man of stone, anticipating Miller’s question. ‘With what success, senor?” asked Alviso. The old man bent his fierce look upon Alviso, and his im- mobile face seemed to wear a faint smile of scorn. ‘I'd be a fool to tell you,” he responded; then his voice softened, and he continued: “‘ but you are soldiers, You have no time to hunt treasuré, so we need have no fears of you jumping our claims. The fact of it is, however, we have no gold, no silver, no diamonds; but we have found rubies, turquoises and garnets of great value. But you needn’t murder us for them, -for-they are cached a hundred miles from here,” and the speaker broke off into a fit of silent, good-natured laughter. ‘‘Did you come from the direction of Quivira ruins?” Mr. Miller asked, ‘‘Not far in that direction. We've just returned from Colorado. We saw your smoke, and bent our course this way. We go to the ruins to-morrow,” replied the old man. ‘*T saw a smoke in the direction of the ruins a few minutes ago, ‘There must be a settlement down there, or else—” ‘‘Do you think so, commandant?” asked Walraymond, betraying some sudden emotion. “It may be a party of hunters or Indians, or miners like yourselves,” continued the agent. .‘‘A party of emigrants passed northward through Santa Fe a year or two ago, and nothing has been heard of them since,” *‘ Were there any women with them?” asked the old man. ‘* Yes, there were two or three women. The party acted very queer and mysterious, some thought; but since I saw that smoke off westward, I am inclined to believe those Silent Tongues, as they were called, have crept away into this de- serted valley and taken up their abode. They might have found a rich gold mine, and are working it secretly; or they may be one of those bands of outlaws that infest the moun- tains.” Basil Walraymond glared at Miller while he was speaking with a savage yet thoughtful look in his dark gray eyes, Then he bent his gaze upon the ground, stroked his long, hoary beard fiercely, and then resumed his eating. The old man was agitated, and the soldiers were somewhat puzzled by his strong emotions; and were even surprised at the manner in which his own companions regarded him, He seemed to puzzle them all—a liying enigma. Supper was concluded in silence, By this time darkness had set in. The coyotes had begun their demoniac chatter—the forest its nocturnal moan, The cool breeze from the mountains swept chill and sad down the valley. The dark bri w of the San Juan frowned omin- ously down upon the bivouac. | The fire was replenished with fuel. The blaze leaped upward and threw its ruddy light over the rough, bearded faces around it, Millions of sparks drifted into the purple dome of darkness above. Shadows grim and grotesque danced in and out of the impenetrable wall of gloom around them as the flames rose and fell with the currents of air. | Silence, deep and profound, came over the party. The chill air had first checked that spontaneous flow of genial. spirits that characterized most of the party. And now the warm glow of the fire being felt through every form, it car- ried them back to the home fireside. . It recalled many pleasant thoughts, and many bitter ones, no doubt. Eve- ning’s home pleasures are associited with the warm, cheery glow of a fire. The faces we knew in youth; faces we know in manhood; faces that are gone from our view forever; faces that were went to grow bright at our coming—all appear be- fore the mental vision in the glowing flame. The fireside is a powerful agent. It conjures up a thousand vague images; it resurrects long-buried thoughts, oft-times opening anew old wounds, or reviving sad, desponding spirits. And it must have wrought its mysterious influence upon Basil Wal- raymond, for at times a faint smile would overspread his stern, bearded face and light up the eyes; then would follow & nervous twitching of the facial muscles, and a quivering of the eyelids, that told of some bitter, agonizing thoughts tugging at his heart-strings, Gomichbooks. Go =}