The paper was from Captain Givens, of the Mounted Rifles, recommending the bearer, Patsey McQuirk, as an honest but ignorant boy.

I informed Patsey that his "character" was satisfactory, and I would take him along, bidding him put his luggage in one of the wagons.

He stood looking at me with a comically puzzled expression on his face, and, thinking that perhaps he did not understand what I said, I again told him to put his things into one of the wagons, for we should probably start early in the morning.

"What things'll I put in the wagin, sur?"

"Your baggage,--your clothes," said I.

"Shure, sur, ef I put my clothes in the wagin, it's little I'd hev to wear mysilf," answered the boy.

"Well, well, then, go with Ned; he'll show you what to do."

It had been our intention to start early on the following morning; but, information having been received at the fort that a large party of Comanches had been seen, only two days before, on our direct route, it was thought advisable to wait a short time, in the hope that Don Ignacio and his train might overtake us. Nor did we wait in vain; for, on the evening of the third day, he rode into camp, and announced his train a short distance behind.

This was good news for us, and we immediately commenced preparations for our departure the following day.

Hal begged permission to carry the news to Don Ramon, and I never saw a happier boy than he, at the thought of once more being on the road.

About eight o'clock the next morning we again started, pa.s.sing through the _canon_, over a fine, natural road. Two hours later saw the ambulance of Don Ramon, with its six white mules and four outriders, approaching from the direction of the fort, at a pace that promised soon to overtake us.

Hal at once took a position beside the carriage, and, during the rest of the day, hardly left it. I did not interfere until we were approaching our camping-ground, when I sent Patsey back, to say that I wished to see him.

The boy returned, saying,--

"He's a-comin', but he says, kape yer timper."

"What did he say?" inquired I, in no little astonishment.

"He said, Yis, he'd come, but kape yer timper; shure, so he did."

At this moment Hal rode up. I asked him what he meant by sending such an extraordinary message, at the same time telling Patsey to repeat it.

Hal heard it, and burst into a laugh, declaring that he told Patsey to say he would be with me "_poko tiempo_,"--in a little while--which, as Patsey did not understand Spanish, he had interpreted into "kape yer timper."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Antelope, Patsey and Ned.]

The night pa.s.sed quietly, and, just after sunrise we were again on the road, bound for "Dead Man's Hole," which was our next camping ground. We reached it quite early in the afternoon, and, shortly afterwards, Ned came to me in great glee, saying that he'd shot an antelope, and wanted Patsey to go and help him bring it in.

Away they rushed, and soon returned, fairly staggering under the weight of a fine fat antelope.

I could fully understand Ned's feeling of pride, as the men, one after another, examined the game, and complimented him on his success; for Ned was a great favorite in the camp; but, when old Jerry graciously told him that he was more'n twice as old afore he killed an antelope, the boy's eyes fairly danced with joy.

His greatest triumph, however, was at supper, when he helped Hal to a bountiful supply of the fat, juicy steak. It had been a matter of rivalry between the two, as to which of them would kill the first antelope; and Hal was inclined to feel a little uncomfortable at Ned's victory, especially before Patsey slyly suggested, that, ef he hadn't kilt an antichoke, he'd got a _dear_ beyant, and that was betther than a dozen artichokes.

When I made my usual round of the camp, before going to bed, Jerry was not to be found; so I concluded to sit up until his return.

Half an hour later he came in, informing me that "he'd heerd a _coyote_ bark four or five times rather suspiciously nigh camp, and had been out to reconnoitre, thinkin' p'raps it was an Injun signal; but, havin' seen more or less of the critters prowlin' about, he rekconed it was all right."

Commending him for his care and watchfulness, and, a.s.sured by his confident manner that there was no danger, I "turned in," and soon fell asleep. How long I had slept I could not tell, but I was awakened by a sound that sent a thrill of terror to my heart, and caused the blood to curdle in my veins; for it was the terrible war-whoop ringing in my ears, so close and distinct, that it seemed to be in my very tent.

I sprang into a sitting posture, and hurriedly looked about me. I saw Hal's and Ned's frightened faces, then seized my rifle and rushed out. As I pa.s.sed through the door of the tent, I received a blow that felled me to the earth. When I recovered my senses, I found the camp a scene of dire confusion: every one was hurrying hither and thither, giving orders, and talking in the wildest manner. I caught sight of Don Ramon, bare-headed, barefooted, and half clad, wringing his hands and calling in frenzied tones for his darling Juanita. Hal was talking loudly one minute, and, the next, crying, while Ned was vainly attempting to pacify him.

As Ned appeared to be the coolest person in sight, I asked him the cause of the commotion, and learned that the Indians had attacked Don Ramon's camp, and carried off his daughter and her maid, prisoners.

CHAPTER IX.

As soon as I could get upon my feet, I inquired for Jerry, and was told he was looking after the mules. I immediately sent for him, and he came, accompanied by Don Ignacio, who, hearing the disturbance, had come over to ascertain what it meant. When we could secure the presence of Don Ramon, we learned from him the story of the surprise.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Capture of Juanita.]

Every heart was moved to pity as the old man, in broken sentences, told us that he had been awakened by hearing his beautiful, his darling, shriek. He had sprung to his feet, half asleep, and seen two Indians tearing her from her bed in the ambulance, while calling upon him for help.

One of the Indians threw her across his horse, and then jumping upon the animal himself, galloped madly off. Another seized her maid in the same way; but she, poor girl, made such a desperate resistance that the savage brutally plunged a knife into her heart, and then, with the rapidity of lightning, scalped her and flung her body to the ground.

Piteously the half-crazed father besought us to rescue his child from the terrible fate in store for her. Offering half--yes, the whole of his immense fortune to any one who would restore her once more to him.

After a hurried consultation, we decided to send a messenger back to the fort to notify the officers, and ask them to send a company of dragoons in pursuit, at once; Don Ignacio offering to dispatch his a.s.sistant, a thoroughly trustworthy man, who knew every foot of the country, with the message. While I was writing the note to Colonel Sewall, Hal came to me, and urged strongly to be allowed to accompany the messenger, saying that Don Ignacio thought I should send some one, and had offered to mount him upon one of his best horses if I would permit him to go. I hesitated a long time before consenting; but he pleaded so earnestly, I finally said yes, warning him on no account to leave the travelled road. This he promised, and the two set out.

A short time after they left, we decided to send a party out ourselves, to follow the Indians and recapture the girl if possible, as well as recover the mules stolen. Jerry offered to lead the party in person, provided I would accompany it, and Don Ignacio could be induced to take charge of the camp during our absence. The arrangements perfected, Jerry selected a dozen of the best men; and before daylight, we were in the saddle and on the trail.

All day we rode over rocky _mesas_ or through dense _chapparal_,--here fording a stream, now thundering over a barren plain, or picking our way through gloomy _canons_ or up steep bluffs.

The sun set; but Jerry did not pause in the pursuit. With his eyes on the ground, and the same eager, anxious expression on his face, he rode as he had ridden all day. Every nerve was strung to its utmost tension, every sense was on the alert. Hardly had he spoken, not once hesitated as to the course, nor for a single instant lost the track we had been following.

At last we came to a little valley, shut in by dark gray rocks and tall mountains. At a signal from Jerry, we dismounted, unsaddled our animals, and partook of a hasty supper; then again took to the trail; penetrating deeper and deeper into the mountain fastnesses, over rocks and through dense underbrush, until at last the shimmer of the waters of a broad river met our gaze, and we paused upon its banks.

It was the Rio Grande; and here we decided to encamp for the night.

A few hours' rest and, just at daylight, we plunged into the water and renewed our search, following the banks for miles; but no trace of the track could we find. Just as we were giving up in despair, one of the party, who was a long distance in the lead, uttered a shout: he had again found the trail. It was evident now, that, in order to deceive any party that might follow them, they had entered the river and followed its bed through the water, nearly ten miles; hoping thereby to successfully hide their course.

We now sent one man back to the point where the trail entered the river, that he might guide the soldiers, whom we every moment expected to arrive from Fort Davis.

It was a useless precaution however, for no soldier came. If we had but known! but, alas! how could we? We waited until twilight came, and then reluctantly retraced our steps, believing it useless to attempt to follow the thieves after so long a time had been given them in which to escape with their prisoners. I was much pleased, however, to hear Jerry express the opinion, that the Comanches would gladly ransom them, and that the only obstacle in the way would be the difficulty in communicating with the band who made the capture; for it seemed probable that they belonged in that, then, almost inaccessible portion of the state, known as the "Pan-handle."

When midnight came and no tidings reached us from the fort, we reluctantly determined to start homeward.

While pursuing our way towards camp, Jerry and myself determined to visit a spring several miles to the east of our course, and then to overtake our party at a point where the trail led over a spur of the mountains, that ran far out into the plain.

We experienced no difficulty in finding the spring; and, after a short rest, filled our canteens with the cool, sparkling water, and started to intercept our friends at the place agreed upon.

Ere we were a mile upon the road. Jerry uttered a low whistle, and said, "Look behind you, will you?"

I turned; and, to my astonishment, not more than a mile away, saw eight mounted Indians; and it was evident from the cloud of dust in which they rode, that they were coming at no very slow gait.

We were not an instant deciding that we had no wish to encounter eight mounted Comanches, well armed, upon the open plain, if it were possible to avoid them.

The ground was a dead level for miles in every direction; and, in a straight line six or seven miles away, we could see the spur of the mountains where we expected to meet our party. If we could only reach that, we were safe.