The Darlington news. (Darlington, S.C.) 1875-1909, March 15, 1894, Image 3
CHAPTKK IX—('oniiuu'd
For tfie moment, tneretore, lie ooiua
do nothing more but look for snocor.
A glance down the deeert told him hie
fellowe were at last rudely awakened.
True to the practice of the craft, the
instant fire was opened from the rocks
each man bad put spurs to his horse
and dashed away to a safer distance
with such speed as was possible with
their jaded mounts, each trooper warily
scanning the dark line of the foot hills
in search of the foe and striving as he
rode to unfasten the flap that held his
carbine, in the fashion of the day,
athwart the pommel of his saddle, and
now, circling farther out upon the
plain, in wide sweep, with carbines
advanced, they were hastening to the
succor of their comrade. Presently one
of their number suddenly drew rein,
halted his startled “broncho,” aimed
to the left of the horse’s head and fired,
then, cramming a cartridge into the
chamber, came riding farther. The
others, too, followed suit, shooting at
some object apparently among the rocks
in front of the sergeant’s position. One
of the men threw himself from his sad
dle, and kneeling on the sands drove two
or three shots at long range. Eager to
add his own fire to theirs. Wing pulled
his hatbrim over his eyes, threw for-
(Fiuff threw forward the barrel over the
now tinted carcase of poor Dick.
ward the barrel over the now stilled
carcass of poor Dick, and peered eagerly
up the ravine in search of some foe at
whom to aim. Blindly he searched
for dusky Apache skulking frc^i rock
to rock. There was no moving thing
in sight But what was this—this ob
ject that suddenly shot out from behind
a little ledge, and turning sharply to the
left went clattering into the depths of a
dark and frowning gorge? Could he
believe his eyes? Did the Chiricahuas,
then, have horses and wear trooper
hats? Bending low over his steed and
spurring him to the uttermost exertion,
a tall, even soldierly, form had darted
one instant into view and then gone
thundering out of sight. Dp to this
moment Wing never had lost full con
trol of his faculties. Now his brain
reeled. Before his eyes rose a dense
cloud of mist rushing forth from the
mountain side. Bowlders, near at
hand, took to waltzing solemnly with
their neighbors, and when at last the
foremost trooper flung himself from
his horse and crept to the sergeant's
side, while his comrades rode on, keep
ing vigilant watch against the appear
ance of other foes, Sergeant Wing was
found lying beside his dead horse. He
had swooned utterly away.
By and by, with anxious face and
bandaged bead and arm, Lieutenant
Drummond came galloping down. Wing
was then submitting to the rude ban
daging of his leg and lying limp and
weak, his head resting on Dick’s stiff
ening shoulder. But Wing’s eyes were
covered by his gauntleted hand and
he never looked up at his young com
mander, though he heard his anxious
queries.
“Is he much hurt? Were there many
of them?”
"Shot through the leg here, dr,” an
swered the sturdy corporal, “and was
in a dead faint when we got to him.
I don’t know how many there was of
them, lieutenant; they skipped off the
moment we opened fire.”
“They couldn’t have seen us coming,
lieutenant, ” eagerly spoke a young re
cruit “They must have thought the
sergeant was alone, for when we charged
they just lit out for all they were
worth, didn't they, Mike?” he eagerly
asked his comrade, an older trooper.
“Oh, shut up, Billy I There’s nothing
an Apache doesn't see, but we were too
far off to tell how many there was. I
only saw one as he lept away. Shure
the sergeant was nearer—he could have
seen."
"Sergeant Wing, it is I, Lieutenant
Drummond. Look up a moment if you
can. You were close to them; how
many did you see?"
"How many Indiana, sir?” asked
Wing faintly.
"Yes, how many?”
A pause. Then at last!
“! didn’t see oue, sir.”
CHAPTER X.
Another day dawned and another pa
tient was added to Mias Harvey's hos
pital list at the caves. The original
plan of starting on the return soon aft
er daybreak had now to be abandoned,
as Drummond explained, because here
was a man who could not stand the
journey. Surely there would not be
many hours before the relief party from
Btoneman, following their trail, would
come speeding to the rescue, bringing
to the wounded the needed surgical
skill and attention, bringing to the
Harvey girls their devoted father. The
only question in the young lieutenant's
paind as the sun rose, a burning, das-
sling disk, over the distant mountains
to the east was, Which will be first to
reach us, friends or foes?
Wearied and shattered though he was
and replete as the night had been with
anxiety and vigil, Drummond climbed
the goat track that led to the sentry’s
perch feeling full of hope and pluck and
fight. He and his men had divided
the night intowatchee, one being awake
and astir, not even permitting himself
to sit a moment, while the others slept
The fact that he was able to send trek
to the caves, have an ambulance hitch
ed in and driven down to where Wing
jay wounded, and to bear him slowly,
carefully, Daca to sneiter, rescuing rne
caves without further molestation be
fore darkness set in. had served to con
vince the young commander that he
could count on reasonable security for
the night. Unless they know their prey
to be puny and well nigh defenseless,
Apaches make no assault in the dark
ness, and so, with the coming of the
dawn, he had about him fit for service
a squad of seven troopers, most of
them seasoned mountain fighters. His
main anxiety now was for Wing, whose
wound was severe, the bullet having
gone clear through, just grazing the
bone, and who, despite the fact that
Fanny Harvey early In the night had
every now and then crept noiselessly in
to cool his fevered head, seemed strange
ly affected mentally, seemed unnatu
rally (lightly and wandering, seemed
oppressed or excited alternately in a
way that baffled Drummond complete
ly, for no explanation was plausible.
Two or three times during the night he
had been heard moaning, and yet the
moment Drummond or, as onoe hap
pened, Miss Harvey hastened to Ms
side he declared it was nothing. “1
must have been dozing A1 imagtasd
the pain was greater than it was.”
Awake and conscious, so stout a soldier
as he would be the last to give way to
childish exhibitions of suffering, yet
twice Drummond knew him to be
awake despite his protestation of doz
ing, and he did not at all like it that
Wing should bury his face in his arms,
hiding it from all. What could have
occurred to change this buoyant, Jayos*
high Spirited trooper all sn a sudden
into a sighing, moaning, womanish fel
low ? Surely not a wound of which,
however painful, any soldier might be
proud.
Somewhere along toward 4 o’clock,
when it was again Patterson’s watch,
and Drummond arose from his blanket
after a refreshing sleep of nearly two
hours and he and his faithful sentry
were standing just outside the mouth
of the cave, they distinctly heard the
same moan of distress.
“Is there nothing we can do to ease
the sergeant, sir?” whispered Patter
son. “This makes the second time 1
have heard him groaning, and it's so
nnlike him.”
“We have no opiates, and I doubt if
he would use one if we had. He de
clares there is no intense pain. ”
"Well, first off, sir, I thought he was
dreaming, but he was wide awake, and
Miss Harvey came in only a moment
after I got to him. Could those devils
poison a bullet as they do their arrows,
and could that make him go into fever
so soon?”
“1 hardly think so, but why did you
say dreaming?”
“Because once it was ’mother’ he
called, and again—just now—I thought
he said ‘mother. ’ ”
The lieutenant turned, looking
straight at his soldierly subordinate.
"By Jove, Patterson, so did 11”
There was a little stir across the
canyon. Moreno was edging about un
easily and beginning to mutter blas
phemy at his bonds.
"That fellow begged very hard to be
moved down into that wolf hole of a
place where the Mexican women are,
lieutenant, with those two bunged up
bandits to take care of. Nice time
we'd have, sir, if the three of them was
able to move. The boys'd make short
work of them now, the way they’re
feeling. I went in and took a look at
those two fellows. One of ’em is a
I goner, sure, but they’re dead game,
both of ’em. Neither one has a word
to say. ”
“No," answered Drummond, "they
refused to give their names to me—said
it was no os 4 hly consequence what
name we put ov< - their graves; the right
set of fellows would be along after
awhile and do them all the honor they
cared for. How were the Moreno women
behaving?"
“The girl was asleep, I should judge,
sir. The old hag was rocking to and
fro, crooning to herself until one of
the two—the live one, I should call
him—hurled a curse at her in Span
ish and told her to dry up or he’d kill
her. All a bluff, for he can’t move a
Peg-’’
"Watch them well, Patterson, all
the same. Hush I”
Again from within the deep shelter
of the rocky cave came the low moan
of anguish:
“MotherI mother 1 if you knew”
“Here, Patterson, I can't stand this.
I’m going in to him. ” And picking
np the dim lantern which he had taken
from the Harvey wagon Drummond
stole in on tiptoe and knelt again be
side hia wounded comrade.
“Wing! sergeant! Look up, man.
Speak to me. You must be in distress,
mental or bodily. Do let me help you
in some way.”
For a moment no reply whatever.
Wing’s face was hidden. Then be
looked gently upward.
“Lieutenant, I’m ashamed to be giv
ing you so much trouble. Please go and
lie down again, sir; you’re worse hnrt
than I am—only 1 suppose I get to doz
ing off and then turn on that side. ”
“No, it isn’t that, sergeant. There’s
something wrong, and it has all come
on you since yesterday morning. Where
is your mother?”
Again Wing turned away, burying
hia face in his arms.
"Listen, sergeant; we hope to get
you out of this by tonight Dr. Gray
3 kt surely to reach us by that time,
while we may have to keep up a
field hospital hen a day or two my
first duty will be to write and tell your
mother how bravely you have served
us, and she shall be told that you are
wounded, but not in such a way as to
alarm her.”
Out came a restraining hand.
“Lieutenant she must not know at
all.”
“Well, she can’t so far as I’m con
cerned, as I don’t know her address.
But think a moment; you know and I
know— Hold on, wait!” And Drum
mond rose and tiptoed to a cleft in the
rock through which shone a dim light
It was the entrance to the reacts in
ner cave where the Harvey gins were
sleeping. Assured that his words could
reach there no listening ears, Drum
mond returned, kneeling again by the
sergeant’s side. “Just think, man;
any moment after daybreak the Apaches
may be upon us, and, who knows? it
may be my last fight. Of course I be
lieve that our fellows can stand them
off until rescue comes, but a bullet may
find me any moment, and then who is
these to report your conduct and secure
the .recognition due you, or if the doc
tor should be late in coming and fever
set in and this wound prove too much
for your strength is there nothing that
ought to be said to her for you?”
Again only painful silence. At last
Wing spoke.
“I understand. I appreciate all you
say. But I've got to think it over,
liuntenant. Give mo an hour or so.
Don’t ask me to tell you now. ”
“So be it. man. Now rest all you
possibly can. It's almost day. The
crags are beginning to light up back of
us here already. Yea, and the sentry's
calling me now. I'll be back by and
by. What is it, Patterson?” he whis
pered, going to the mouth of the cave.
“I’ve just come down from the tree
up there, sir. You can see quite a ways
down the range now, though the light
is dim, and what 1 take to be a signal
fire leaped up not three miles belowj,
certainly this side of where Wing was
shot. ”
“So soon? All right; then get bark
to the post just as quick as you can.
I’ll rouse the man who has slept long
est. All must be astir in half an hour,
but you keep watch there. ”
And half an hour later it is that, field-
glass in hand, the young officer is there
by Patterson's side, peering eastward
almost into the eye of the sun, search
ing with anxiety inexpressible for any
s%n of dust cloud rising along the trail
on whteh they came, for the sight he
has seen down the range, now brilliant
in the morning light, has filled his
heart with the first real dread it has yet
known. In three places, not more
than four or five miles apart, down
along the sunlit side of this wild and
picturesque mountain chain, signal
smokes have been puffing straight up
skyward, the nearest only a couple of
miles from this lone picket post, hot
all on the same side of the valley.
Last evening the answer came from
across the broad desert. They have
come over, therefore, and are hastening
up the chain to join the eager advance
here so close to their hiding place. Be
yond a doubt watchful spies are al
ready lurking among those heights to
the west, striving to get close enongb
to peer into the rocky fortress and esti
mate the strength of the garrison.
Great they well know it cannot be. for
did not their keen eyes count nearly 20
chasing those hated brigands far down
toward Sonora pass, and of that num
ber how many have returned? Only
three. Did they not see the flurry and
excitement when that sergeant was shot
from ambush ? Now, therefore, is the
time to strike—now, while the main
body is far away. Whatsoever booty
there may be obtainable in that rocky
canyon ’tis well worth the attempt. And
so from north to south the puff balls of
blue white smoke go sailing upward
through the pines, and it all means
speed! speed!
At 7 o'clock the little command has
had coffee and a hearty breakfast. No
lack of provender here in this hitherto
undiscovered robbers' roost. Drum
mond, cool, confident, bus had his men
about him where none others could see
or hear, has assigned them the stations
which they are to take the instant of
alarm and has given them their instruc
tions. Walsh it is who is now on look
out, and he is-peering away down south
ward so intently that some comrade is
prompted to call up to him in a low
tone:
“See anything?”
To which, without removing the glass
from under his hat brim, the Irish
trooper merely shakes his head.
“Any more smokes?"
“Sorra a smoke have I seen at all. ’’
"Well, then, what in blazes are you
staring at?”
“How can I tell ye till I find out?” is
the Hibernian reply, and this is enough
to send the corporal on a climb. Drum
mond at the moment is again kneeling
by Wing, who has but just awakened
from a fitful sleep, Mias Harvey being
the first to hear him stir and sigh.
Ruth and her sister, too, seem about
to withdraw, but Wing, whose voice ts
weak now, begs them to remain.
“ Has anything been seen yet—back
on the trail—of the Stoueman party?”
he asks.
“No, sergeant," replies Drummond,
“but remember that we can only see
some six miles of the trail, after that
it is lost in that tortuous ravine down
which we rode on the chase. Walsh is
up there on lookout, and I’ll ask if h«
can see anything now, ” and calling to
one of the men Drummond bids him
inquire. All eagerly a Wait the reply.
At last it comes i *
“No dust on the back track, sir, but
something that looks like it tar to the
south. We think it may be some of our
fellows coming back, but it ia too faint
and far to make it out yet. ”
The corporal is the speaker, his reso
nant voice contrasting strongly with the
feeble accents of his immediate supe
rior, the wounded sergeant
“Then I have something that must
be told you, lieutenant, something Miss
Harvey already has an inkling of, for
she has met and known my dear moth
er. If this pain continues to increase,
and fever sets in, I may be unable to
tell it later. Some of the men thought
I bad enlisted under an alias, lieuten
ant but they were wrong. Wing is
my rightful name. My father was
chief officer of the old Flying Cloud
in the days when American clipper
ships beat the world. The gold fever
seized him, though, and he quit sail
ing and went to mining in the early
days of San Francisco, and there when
I was a little boy of 10 he died, leaving
mother with not many thousand dol
lars to take care of herself and me.
•You will have your brother to help
you' were words he spoke the last day
of his life, and even then I noted how
little comfort mother seemed to find in
that fact It was only a few months
after father’s death that Uncle Fred,
from being an occasional visitor, came
to living With us all the time—made
his home there, though seldom wtthin
doors night or day. He was several
years younger than mother. He was
the youngest it seems, of the family,
’the baby,’ and had been petted and
spoiled from earliest infancy. I soon
found why he came. Mother was often
in tears, Uncle Fred always begging or
dmandlw umbp. Tfet fewu* k*9o1
twlttea me snout my gamoier uncie,
though I've no doubt their fathers gam
bled as much as he. These were just
before the early days of the great war
that sprang up in 1861 and that we boys
out on the Pacific coast only vaguely
understood. Sometimes Uncle Fred
came home drunk, and I could hear
him threatening poor mot her, and things
went from bad to worse, and one night
when I was just 13 1 was awakened
from sound sleep by her scream. In an
instant I flew to her room, catching np
as I ran father’s old bowie knife that
always hung by my door. In the dim
light I saw her lying by the bedside, a
man bending over and choking her.
With all my strength I slashed at him
just as he turned. I meant to kill, but
the turn saved him. He sprang to bis
feet with an oath and cr> and rushed
to the washstand. I had laid Uncle
Fred’s cheek open from ear to chin.
“It was long before mother could
check the flow of the blood. It sobered
him, of course, and made him pitoously
weak. For days after that she nursed
and cared for him, but forbade my en
tering the room. Men came to see him
—insisted on seeing him—and she
would send me to the bank for gold and
pay their claims and bid them go.
At last he was able to walk out with
that awful slash on his thin white
face. Once then he met and cursed
me, but I did not mind—I had acted
only to save mother. How could 1 sup
pose that her assailant was her own
brother? Then finally with sobs and
tears she told me the story, bow he had
been their mother’s darling, how wild
and reckless was his youth, how her
mother's last thought seemed to be for
him, and how on her knees she, my
own mother, promised to take care of
poor Freddie and shield him from every
ill, and this promise she repeated to me,
bidding me help her keep it and to con
ceal as far as I could her brother’s mis
deeds. For a few months things wen*
a little better. Uncle Fred got a com
mission in a California regiment toward
the close of the war and was sent down
to Arizona. Then came more tears
and trouble. I couldn't understand it
all then, but I do now. Uncle Fred
was gambling again, drawing on her
for means to meet his losses. Tbs old
home went under the hammer, and we
moved down to San Diego, where father
had once invested and had left a little
property. And then came the news
that Uncle Fred had been dismissed, all
on account of drink and gambling and
misappropriation of funds. Miss Har
vey knows all about this, lieutenant,
for mother told her and had reason to.
And next came forgery, and we were
stranded. We heard that he had gone
after that with a wagon train to Texas.
I got employment on a ranch, and then
mother married again, married a man
who had long befriended us and who
could give her a comfortable home.
She is now Mrs. Malcolm Bland of San
Francisco, and Mr. Bland offered to
take me into his store, but I loved the
open air and independence. Mr. Bland
and Mr. Harvey had business relations,
and when Uncle Fred was next heard
from he was ‘starving to death,’ be
said, 'actually dying.’ He wrote to
mother from Yuma. Mother wired me
to go to him at once, and I did. He was
considerably out at elbows, but in no
desperate need yet. Just then Mr.Har
vey offered him a good salary to take
charge of his freight train. We all
knew how that must have been brought
about, and I felt that it would only be
a matter of time when he would rob
his new employer. He did and was
discharged, but Mr. Bland made the
amount good, and the matter was hush
ed up. Then he drove stage awhile and
then disappeared. Mother has written
me time and again to find him or find
out what has become of him, and I
promised 1 would leave no stone un
turned. Tell her I have kept my word.
Tell her I found him. Bnt tell her, for
God's sake, to think uo more of him.
Tell her not to strive to find him or to
ask what he is or even where he ia, be
yond that he has gone to Sonora. ”
“Lieutenant," said Patterson, sud
denly appearing at the opening, “could
you step here a moment?”
Drummond springs up.
“One moment, Mr. Drummond,”
whispers Wing weakly. “I must say
one word to you—alone. ”
“I’ll return in a minute, sergeant.
Let me see what Patterson wants. ”
Mias Harvey and Ruth have risen.
The former is very pale and evidently
trembling under some strong emotion.
Once more she bends over him.
"Drink this, Mr. Wing, and now
talk no more than you absolutely have
to."
Then renewing the cooling bandage
on his forehead her hands seem to lin
ger—surely her eyes do—as she rises
once more to her feet.
Meantime the lieutenant has stepped
out into the canyon.
“What is it, Patterson? Quick!”
“That was some of our fellows, sir,
a squad of four, but they turned all of
Down on his knees he pees,
a sudden and galloped back out of sight
It looks to me as though they were at
tacked. ”
“How far away were they? How
many miles down the desert?"
"Oh, at least six or eight miles down,
sir; down beyond where you met them
yesterday."
"How about our trail? Anybody in
sight there?”
“Nobody, sir,.not a thing, not even
a whiff of dust ”
“ Very welt Keep on the alert. It’s
good to know that all the Apaches are
not around us yet. Neither bullet nor
arrow can get down here so long as we
man the rocks above. I’ll be out in a
moment ’’
Then once more he kneels by Wing.
“Lieutenant, did you ever see a girl
behave with greater bravery? Do you
know what she has undergone—Miss
Harvey, I mean?”
“Both are behaving like heroines,
Wine, and 1 think I am beKUmJhg.te
see through this plot at last. “
"Never let mother know it—promise
me, sir—but when Harvi y discharged
him—my uncle, I mean—ho swore he’d
be revenged on the old man, and 'twas
he”
“The double dyed villain! 1 know,
I understand now, Wing; yon needn’t
tell me. He has been in the pay of the
Morales gang for months. He enlisted
so as to learn all the movements of
officers and scouting parties. He en
listed under his benefactor's name.
He has forged that, too, in all proba
bility, and then deserting it was he
who sought to carry away these pre
cious girls, and he came within an ace
of succeeding. By the Eternal, bnt there
will be a day of reckoning for him if
ever C troop runs foul of him again!
No wonder you couldn't sleep, poor fel
low, for thinking of that mother. This
caps the climax of his scouudrelism.
Where—when did you see him last?
Since he enlisted ?”
But now Wing’s face Is again avert
ed. He is covering it with his arms.
"Wing,answer me!” exclaims Drum
mond, springing suddenly to his feet
“By heaven, 1 demand to know!" Then
down on his knees he goes again, seiz
ing and striving to pull away the near
est arm. "You need not try, you can
not conceal it now. I see it all—all.
Miss Harvey,” he cries, looking up in
to the face of the trembling girl, who
has hastened in at sound of the excite
ment in bis voice—“Miss Harvey,
think of it; 'twas no Apache who shot
him, 'twas a worse savage—his own
uncle. ”
“Promise me mother shall not
know,” pleads poor Wing, striving to
rise upon his elbow, striving to restrain
the lieutenant, who again has started
to his feet. “Promise me, Miss Fan
ny; you know how she loved him, how
she plead with you.”
"1 promise you this. Wing,” says
Drummond, through his clinching teeth,
“that there’ll bo no time for prayer if
ever we set eyes on him again. There’11
be no mercy.”
“ You can't let your men kill him in
cold blood, lieutenant. 1 could not
shoot him. ”
“No; but, by the ®od of heaven, 1
could!”
And now as Wing, exhausted, sinks
back to his couch his head is caught on
Fanny Harvey’s arm and next is pil
lowed in her lap.
’ ‘ Hush 1 ’ ’ she murmurs, bending down
over him as a mother might over sleep
ing child. “Hush! you must not speak
again. 1 know how her heart is bound
up in you, and I’m to play mother to
you now.”
And as Drummond, tingling all over
with wrath and excitement,stands spell
bound for the moment, a light step
comes to his 41e, a little hand is laid on
the bandaged arm, and Ruth Harvey’s
pretty face, two big tears trickling
down her cheeks, is looking up in his.
"You, too, will be ill, Mr. Drum
mond. Oh, why can’t you go and lie
down and rest? What will we do if
both of you are down at once with
fever?”
She is younger by over two years
than her brave sister. Jail though she
has grown, Ruth is but a child, and
now in all her excitement and anxiety,
worn out with the long strain, she be
gins to cry. She strives to hide it,
strives to control the weaknees, and
failing in both strives to turn away.
All to no purpose. An arm in a
sling is of little avail at such a mo
ment. Whirling quickly about, Drum
mond brings his other into action. Be
fore tne weeping uttie mam is wen
aware what is happening her waist is
encircled by the strong arm in the dark
blue sleeve, and how can she see that
she is drawn to his breast, since now
her face is buried in both her hands and
those hands in the flannel of his hunt
ing shirt—just as high as his heart ?
Small wonder is it that Corporal Coe-
tigan, hurrying in at the mouth of the
cave, stops short at sight of this pic
turesque partie carree. Any other time
he would have sense enough to face
about and tiptoe whence be came, but
now there's no room left for sentiment
Tableaux vivants are lovely in their
way, even in a cave lighted dimly by a
hurricane lamp, but sterner scenes are
on the curtain. Drummond’s voice is
murmuring soothing, yes, caressing
words to his sobbing captive. Drum
mond’s bearded lips, unrebuked, are
actually pressing a kiss upon that child
ish brow when Costigan, with a prelim
inary clearing of his throat that sounds
like a landslide and makes the rock
walls ring again, startles Ruth from
her blissful woe and brings Drummond
leaping to the mouth of the cave.
"Lieutenant, there’s something com
ing out over our trail. ”
"Thank Godl” sighs Wing, as be
raises his eyes to those of his fair nurse.
"Thank God, for your sakes!”
“Thank God, Ruth!” cries Fanny,
extending one hand to her sister while
the other is unaccountably detained.
“Thank God! it’s father and the Stone-
man party and Dr. Gray. ”
And Ruth, throwing herself upon
her knees by her sfster’z sida, buries
her head upon her shoulder and sobs
anew for very joy.
And then comes sudden start. All
in an instant there rings, echoing down
the canyon, the sharp, spiteful crack of
rifles, answered by shrieks of terror
from the cave where lie the Moreno
women and by other shots out along
the range. Three faces blanch with
sudden fear, though Wing looks instant
ly up to say:
“They can’t harm you, and our men
will be here in lees than no time. ”
Out in the gorge men are springing
to their feet and seizing their ready
arms; horses are snorting and stamp
ing, mules braying in wild terror. Two
of the ambulance mules, breaking loose
from their fastenings, come charging
down the resounding rock, nearly an
nihilating Moreno, who, bound and
helpless, praying and cursing by turns,
has rolled himself out of bis nook and
lies squarely in tho way of everything
and everybody. But above all the
clamor, the ring of carbine, the hiss
and spat of lead flattening upon the
rocks, Drummond’s voice is heard clear
and commanding, serene and confident.
“Every man to his post now. Re
member your orders. ”
Gazing out into the canyon with di
lated eyes, Ruth sees him nimbly clam
ber np the opposite side toward the
point where Walsh is kneeling behind
a rock—Walsh with his Irish mug ex
panded in a grin sf delight, the smoke
just drifting from the muzzle of his
carbine as he points with his left band
somewhere out along the cliffs. She
sees her soldier boy, crouching low,
draw himself to Walsh's side, sees him
glancing eagerly over the rocks, then
—p. uwi! mn i,*.
Kt^-nallhg to some one on tneir own
! nide, pointing here and there along the
wooded slope beyond her vision; sees
him now, with fierce light in his eyes,
suddenly clutch Walsh's sleeve and nod
toward some invisible object to the
She secs Mm clutch Walsh's slcci'e and
nod toward some object to the south
south; sees Walsh toss the butt of his
carbine to the shoulder and with qnick
aim send a bullet driving thither; sees
Drummond take the fieldglass, and,
resting it on the eastward ledge gaze
long and fixedly out over the eastward
way; sees him start, draw back the
glass, wipe the lenses with his silken
kerchief, then peer again; sees him drop
them with a gesture almost tragic, but
she cannot hear the moan that risca to
bis lips:
“My God, those are Apaches too!”
CHAPTER XI.
Ten o'clock on a blazing Arizona
morning. The hot sun is pouring down
upon the jagged front of a range of
heights where occasional clumps of pine
and cedar, scrub oak and juuiper.seem-
ed the only vegetable products hardy
enough to withstand tho alternations of
intense heat by day and moderate cold
by night, or to find sufficient sustenance
to eke out a living on so barren a soil.
Out to the eastward, stretching away
to an opposite range, lies a sandy des
ert dieted at wide intervals with little
block bunches of “scrub mesquite"
and blessed with only one redeeming
patch of foliage, the copse of willows
and cottonwood here at the mouth of a
rock ribbed defile where a little brook,
rising heaven knows how or where
among tho heights to the west, comes
frothing and tumbling down through
the windings of the gorge only to bury
itself in the burning sands beyond the
shade. So narrow and tortuous is the
canyon, so precipitous its sides, as to
prove conclusively that by no slow proc
ess, but by some sudden spasm of na
ture, was it rent in the face of the
range. And hero in its depths, just
around one of the i|larpest bends, honey
combed out of Aie solid rock, are half a
dozen deep lateral fissures and caves
where the sunbeams never penetrate,
where the air is reasonably cool and
still, where on this scorching May morn
ing, fur away from home and relatives,
two young girls are sheltered by the
natural roofs and walls against tho fiery
sunshine and by a little band of reso
lute men against the fury of the
Auaches.
[TO BB OONTUTOTO.]
A man was arraigned in a London
court for creating a nuisance by play
ing a bagpipe. The court ruled that
the bagpipe is a musical Instrument,
and he went scot free. Whether or not
the decision is a musical one is a ques
tion.
Twelve steel plates from designs for
illustrations to "Pickwick, ” made near
ly half a century ago by Onwhyn, have
been discovered in London, and prints
from them have been published.
«»W.B.McGIRl,D.D.S.,«A
Offers his professional sei vices t*
the people of Darlington and vicln'ty.
Office over the store of Edwards, s c
ment & Co.
Jan 19,’90—lv
Manutacturers
—OF—
Doors, Sash, Blinds,
:m:otjx.:d juntos
—AND-
Building Material,
ESTABLISHED 1842.
CHARLESTON, 8. C.
(CHARLESTON, SUMTER ~AND
^ NORTHERN RAILROAD
CHARLES E. KIMBALL Receiver
In Effect Jan. 16.
1894
NORTH.
SOUTH.
1
2
AM.
P.M.
Lv
7.30
Charleston
8.45 Ar
8.40
Pregnall’s
7.27
10.47
Sumter
5.27
12.05
Darlington
4.12
12 56
Beimettsville 8.21
1.20
Gibson
2.57
1.47
Hamlet
2.30
Ar
6.00
Raleigh
10.15 Lv
P.M.
P.M.
No.
1 connnects with
Seaboard
Air Line at Hamlet for Raleigh
Wilmington, Charlotte, Shel
by. Routherfordton ; and at Charlotte
with R. A I). Vestibule Limited for
Washington and New York. Passen
gers can take sleepers at Charlotte at
3 :39 p. m.
No. 2 passengers by this train have
through Sleepers. New York to Char
lotte, connects with 8. A. L. at Ham
let from Charlotte, Raleigh and
North, and from Wilmington, con
nects with S.C. Ry. at Pregnalls for
harleston, Columbia, Angugta and
the West. Dinner at Hamlet.
C. MILLARD, Superintendent
c.
it D. and C. St S. RAILROADS.
In effect Dec 3, 1893.
Through Passenger Train.
Leave Wad**abort)
4.30 a m
Bennett’s
4.51 a m
Morven’s...
. 5.04 a in
McFarland
. 5 17 a in
Cheraw
6.00 a m
Cash's
6.12 a m
Society Hill
6.26 a m
Dove’s
6.44 a m
Floyd’s
6.49 a m
Darlington
7.00 a iti
Palmetto
Arrive Florence
Leave Florence
Palmetto
7.28 p m
Darlington -
7.38 p m
Floyd’s
7.50 p in
Dove’s
7 55 p in
Sqciety Hill
8 13 p m
Casti’s
8.27 p m
Cheraw
8.50 p m
McFarland
9.13 p m
Morven’s
9.39 p m
Bennett’s
9.54 p in
Arrive Wadesboro
10.15 p m
Freight Train.
Leave Florence
7.30 a m
Darlington
8.40 a in
Arrive Cheiaw
.11.20 a in
Leave Cheraw
1.00 p m
Darlington
4.00 p m
Arrive Florence
6.00 p ra
A. F. RAVENEL, President.
|KTORTHEA8TERN RAILROAD.
i.V In effect Jan. 11, 1894.
SOUTH BOUND.
No. 61
Leave Florence
7.45 a in
Kingstree
8.58 a iu
Lanes
0.20 a in
Arrive Charleston
11.20 a in
No. 35.
Leave Florence
8.37 a m
Lanes
4.52 a m
Arrive Charleston
6.50 a m
No. 23.
Leave Florence
7.25 p m
Kingstree
8.37 p m
Lanes
9.00 i> m
Arrive Charleston
.11.00 p m
No. 53.
Leave Lanes
7.05 p m
Arrive Charleston
8.45 p m
Train on C. St D. R. R. connects at
Florence with No. 61 Train.
NORTH BOUND.
No. 78.
Leave Charleston
Lanes
5.30 a m
Kingstree
5.52 a m
Arrive Florence
7.10 a m
No. 60
Leave Charleston
. 6 00 p m
Lanes
. 7.05 p.m
Kingstree
7.25 p w
Arrive Florence
. 8.50 p m
No. 14.
Leave Charleston
3.30 p m
Lanes
5.29 p in
Kingstree
5.45 p m
Arrive Florence
6.45 p m
No. 62.
Leave Charleston
7.00 a m
Arrive Lanes
. 8.35 am
No. 62 runs through to Columbia
via Central R. R. of S. C.
No. 78 runs solid to Wilming
ton, N. C., making close connection
with W. & W. R. R. for all point*
North.
Train No. 14 runs via Wilson
and Favetteville—Short Line—and
makes close connection for all points
North.
J. F. DIVINE, Gen. Supt.
vv
ILMINGTON, COLUMBIA ft
AUGUSTA RALROAD.
In effect Dec. 8, 1893.
SOUTH BOVHD.
No. 65.
Leave Wilmington 3.20 pm
Marion 6.11 p m
Arrive Florence 6.50 p m
No. 50.
Leave Florence 7.10 p m
Sumter 8.28 p in
Arrive Columbia 10.00 p m
No. 58.
Leave Florence 7.45 a m
Arrive Sumter 9 20 a m
No. 52.
Leave Sumter 9.53 a m
Arrive Columbia 11.06 a m
April, 2o 18!'3—1
EAGLE BRAND
No. 52 runs through from Charles
ton via Central Railroad; leaving
Lanes 8.40 a m, Manning 9 18 a m.
NORTH BOUND.
THE BEST
ROOFING
Is unequalled for house, barn, fact
ory or out-buildings, and costs half
the price of shingles, tin or iron. It
is reaily for use and easily applied by
anyone. RUBBER PAlNT costs on
ly 60 cents per gallon in barrel lots, or
$1.50 for 5 gallon tubs. Color dark
red. Will stop leaks in tin or iron
roofs that will last for years. Try it.
Send stamp for samples and particu
lars.
Excelsior Paint and Roofing Co.,
155 DUANE ST., NEW YORK, N. Y.
Dec 28—2m.
TTART8VILLE RAILROAD.
** In effect Dec 8, 1893.
DAILY MIXED TRAIN
Leave Hartsvllle 6.00 a m
Jovaun 6.20 a m
Floyd’s 6.35 a m
ArriveDarlington 7.20 a m
Leave Darlington 6.30 p m
Floyd’s 8.00 p m
Jovann— 8.2U p m
Arrrive Hartsvilie 8.40 p m
J, F, DIVINE, Gen. Supt.
Leave Columbia
Sumter
Arrive Florence
Leave Florence
Marion
Arrive Wilmington.
Leave Colombia
Arrive Snmter
Leave Colombia...
Snmter
Arrive Florence—
No. 51.
4.30 a m
5 57 a m
7.15 a m
No. 56.
. 7.40 a m
. 8.28 a m
•11.10 a in
No. 53.
4.20 pm
5.35 p in
No. 59.
.. 5.45 p m
.. 6.55 p in
No. 63 runs thiougu no i narleston
via central Railroad, arriving Man
ning 6.15 p m, Lanes 7.00 p m,
charleston 8.45 p m.
Trains on Manchester and Angusta
B. R-, leave Snmter daily except Sun
day, 10.50 a. m., arrive Rimini 11:59 a.
in. Retnrning leave Rimini 1.00 p.
m.. arrive Sumter 2:10 p. m.
Trains on Wilmington, Cbadboura
and Conway Railroad leave Chad-
bourn at 10.10 a m, arrive at Conway
12.30 p m, retnrning leave Conway at
2:00 p. m.. arrive Chadbcurn 4:50 p.
m. Leave Chadboom 7.00 a m and
5.15 p m, arrive at Hub 7 45 a m and
6.00 pm. Returning leave Hub 8.16 a
m and 6.80 p m, arrive at Chadbouro
9.00 a m and 7.15 p m. Dally except
Sunday.
JOHN F, DIVINE. Owl Sup’t,