The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1878-05-23
Not a word more was spoken; but a

dozen hands grasped their rifles, dozen
men sprang into their saddles. With
hoarse shouts, they declared they would
not return until Alec and pretty, win
some Molly were rescued; though we
all knew that if the savages once gained
their covert in the mountains, recap
ture would be nearly impossible.
McRae, on his powerful mustang, led
the party, and for hours we rode steadily
on. Scarcely a word was spoken. It
needed but glance at the bent form of
the father-his bare head, and long
white hair streaming in the wind-at
the agony of his features, to incite any
man to do his best.
Our trail led to the west, through
dense chaparral, over level plains, and
the rough, broken ridges that marked
the course of the Nueces. On we went,
through the small timber that skirted
the bank of the river, down into the
stream, across it, and for many miles
over the hot, dry prairie beyond.
Suddenly McRae, who still kept in
advance, raised himself in his stirrups,
and cried, "See there, boysI' Then,
plunging his spurs into his horses sides,
he rode swiftly forward.
We had seen nothing ourselves, but
we pressed after him with a maddening
excitement that was beyond any deserip-
ton. Even our horses caught the same
spirit and each seemed eager to be first
at the fray.
Presently we caught a glimpse of the
foe in the distance, as they were crossing
divide. After fierce pursuit of sew
eral miles farther, we had gained but
little upon them, Notwithstanding we
urged our horses to their utmost.
Suddenly one of our men, with an ex-
clamation, pointed to dark object lying
beside the trail before us-and, with
yell, we recognized the horse of a war
rior, which, from sheer exhaustion, had
fallen to the ground. Then we knew
that we should overtake them. Their
horses were giving out. Soon we passed
another, and then another, and still an
other.
"See, they are trying to reach the
timber on that hill" cried one of the
men; ga sure sign that they don't mean
to fight"
con! onln is the cry. "No quarter
to the thieves! Don't let 'em escape
usl"
Now we are gaining on them. Soon
we are within range. Shall we give
them volley?
As we raise our rifles, some one cries,
"Stopl Not yet" Then we remember
that the Comanches always kill their
male prisoners if there is a prospect of
their being rescued. What shall we do?
We looked to the father for instructions.
He did not utter a word, but rode on,
looking straight before him. He gave
no sign, and so we followed his lead. In
a moment more, somebody cried:
" See, they are scattering in the tim
Der! They will escape us!"
The next moment dozen rifles sent
forth their deadly missiles, and nearly
as many dark forms tumbled headlong
from their saddles to the ground.
1t is plain that the Indians had no
firearms, or we should have heard from
them before; therefore witaout stopping
to reload, the men, with a genuine
Texas yell, sprang from their horses and
rushed into the timber with dubbed
rifles, in pursuit of the flying foe.
1t is desperate fight, hand-to-hand
encounter. The noise of hurrying feet,
the dull thud of crushing blows, the
heavy fall, mingled with dying groans,
are the only sounds heard.
Suddenly, Where are the children?
Who has seen them ?" was asked.
"Herep' cried the voice of McRae.
We turned to the spot from whence
the sound came. On the ground,
stretched beneath the shade of post
oak, we saw the father weeping over the
body of little Alec, who lay writhiDg in
agony from a terrible wound in his side.
Close beside him was the bloody lance
with which the cruel deed was done.
As we approached, every man un-
covered his head, for we were in the
presence of approaching death.
We looked at the sad group before us.
Little. Mollie raised her eyes, full of
tears, to her fathers face, and tried to
comfort him by saying:
The naughty Indians wouldn't kill
me, papa. L told 'em not to hurt Alec,
but to kill me instead" We turned
away and left the father with his dying
child
A litter was hastily constructed of
twigs and buffalo skins; the children
were placed upon it and borne with ten
der care toward their fathers house;
while rough, bearded men, who for years
had unfinchingly endured the danger
and privations of frontier life, wept
like women to see the tender, thought
full care bestowed upon the dying boy
by his weeping sister.
Alec died before reaching home; and,
as the men stood around his open grave,
day or two later, there was not one
who did not mourn with the father over
his early death.