Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1876-01-19
WOODSTOCK, VT, WEDNESDAY, JANAURY 10, 1875.

0eeu IL was curious 10 WAUGH tHs
struggle in my employers minds be-
tween their natural eagerness to es'
cape a financial wreck that almost
amounted to ruin, and the Kindly ap
prehension lest | should lose my life
in their service.
As for myself, | knew we'll enough
how much risk l ran, and for how mo.
mentous a stake | was about to play,
and had not the goal before my men
tai vision been the bright prospect Of
calling Rosamond my wife, even the
prospective partnership would hardly
have tempted me to set off on an er-
rand so perilous. AS it was, / was
resolved ; and as got ready for the
start, tried quietly to weigh the
chances for and against my safely
reaching Cristabal. I had a fair
knowledge of the country, which l
had traversed on four or five occasions,
and was no novice in camping out, or
in the familiar incidents of prairie
travel. | could ride well, too, and
was better mounted than most of the
residents in that district, where horse.
flesh is cheap and plentiful, having in
my possession a splendid chestnut
thoroughbred, originally brought from
Kentucky by some United States Off
Ger, which was celebrated for strength
aud speed. | was fond of Sunbeam,
and he OF me, for he was docie and
intelligent as we'll as swift, and would
follow me for miles as a dog follows
his owner, or stand, when | bade him,
with his reins hanging loose upon his
glossy neck.
There was scanty time for leave
taking. It was deep in the afternoon
when started, dozen or more of the
younger citizens of Tucson riding with
me for the first half hour, and giving
me hearty cheer as we parted.
More than one strong right hand
trembled little as it grasped nine
in token of adieu, and there was an
unwonted moisture glistening in the
honest eyes of some of the kind.heart.
ed young fellows as they wished me
"God speed and a safe return" Well
do | remember wheeling my steed on
a little elevation in the rolling flower
enamelled prairie, and waving my hat
in answer to the waving of hats and
handkerchiefs from the little knot of
horsemcn, not one of whom, | am
sure, ever expected to see me again on
this side OF the grave. Then | rode
on, and lost sight of the friendly band
of well, wishers.
The heavy sultry heat seemed to
enwrap the land like A mantle. There
was not a breath to stir the droop-
ing leaves of the low cottonwood
trees that passed in the lower levels,
and on the uplands the long, rank
grass was parched brown by the fierce
sun, for it was long since rain had
fallen. The shrill, sharp chirp of the
prairie cricket. and the far-of barking
of that curious animal, the prairie dog,
alone broke a stiffness that was abso-
luteIy oppressive. Some three hours
after leaving Tucson I regned up be-
side the blue, bright waters of a creek,
and Stacking my horses girths, l al
lowed him to drink freely, myself re.
penishing the metal canteen which
was slung at my Saddle-bow, for in
that desert land another opportunity
Of appeasing thirst might not readily
occur. And presently leaving the
grassy prairie, we struck into tract
of country still more lonely and desc
late, where the only sound was the
thud of my horses hoots on the
scorched and barren earth.
Far away to the left, there cleaned
against the sky something like shin
ing wall, imperfectly visible, but which
| knew to be the serrated crests and
mountain peaks of the Mimbres, the
natural Businesses where dwelt the
barbarian tribe whose torch and toma.
hawk had laid waste many happy
home. Nor were mementoes of their
hostility lacking, as I traversed the
track-deeply scanned by wagon
wheels and strewn with the bleached
bones Of mules and oxen-that did
duty for a road. Eight Or nine times
there loomed before me rude wooden
cross, on which was coarsely painted,
in letters of black or red, sometimes
name, more often mere initials, fol.
lowed by the simple inscription,
"Killed by the Apaches.
The sun went down, the dew glist.
ened on the rank herbage and tufts of