Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1889-05-17

as tindsr by their long exposure to the
baking sun and rarificd air. Immediately
following we heard the sharp crackle Of
the flames, kindled into additional
strength by a strong westerly breeze,
and above all rose the exulting yells of
the Apaches, who Of course expected
that we should very shortly be driven
from cover.
81 don't know how you feel about it,"
said my companion in the same hard,
Unconditional voice, "but / had rather
burn to death hundred times than fall
into the hands of those fiends."
Before could reply, a great tongue
of fire burst through into the interior.
A sudden thought seemed to come to
the brave woman at my side.
"This way-quickl" she exclaimed.
And pulling upa trap door in the rough
flooring, she dropped lightly through
l following-letting the trap fall back
to place.
There was no time for standing on
ceremony. Reaching out small hand,
that was icy cold, though firm as a rock,
Mrs. Rainsford, taking my own,
drew me to the further end
Of the rude cellar. In those parts
it was customary to construct sort of
vegetable cellar few feet away from the
house, in addition to the one under the
dwelling, for winter use. But Rainsford,
from some whim of his own, had dug
his place of winter storage in one end of
the main cellar itself, roofing it over on
the outside with slabs of gray sandstone
from the river bottom. All this his
widow hastily explained as we groped
our way to the heavy door of thick
planking in the side of the cellar wall,
and, having entered, pulled it to after
us.
1t was indeed a last resort, and it is
no wonder that for some time neither Of
us was inclined for conversation. Over
head was the roaring of flames, followed
| little later by the crash of falling tim
bers and beams. The heat was almost
sitting, but luckily the wind blew the
fire and smoke directly away from the
covering above, or else, despite the
apertures left for ventilation, we should
have been smothered.
We could hear the Apachcs' cries Of
fiendish joy as they stood about the
burning building, expecting to see their
victims bursting through the famoa, aud
it was trifling satisfaction to know
that they were doomed to disappoint-
ment.
As the anxious hours went by, and
the intens ty of the heat decreased some
what, drew from Mrs. Rainsford her
simple story. She and her husband.
who was twice her own age, had moved
southwark from Montana. ale was al
ways good to me, Jim was, she said,
with little sob, and so they had lived
in quiet contentment on their small
ranch till the terrible tragedy of the
previous day. War Cloud had ridden
up with his party and demanded whis-
Eu which pnt ii rnf,,cn.I I, III
out ceremony. Whereupon the Apache
chief deliberately shot him through the
heart, and, strangely enough, the band
rode away without offering any violence
to his Mortified wife, who, all alone, had
dug a grave under the cottonwoods, and
buried her husbands body out of sight.
She was intending to make her way to
the nearest settlement on the following
morning, and after communicating with
her people in Montana, decide upon her
further course of action. Then l had
appeared upon the scene. In
return, l told her of myself as
far as seemed necessary, and l
need hardly say, placed myself entirely
at her service, as the faintest of returns
for all she had done for me-saving my
life in double sense, as it were, for
not only had she afforded me protection
from the fury of the savages, but had
undoubtedly prevented my dying hor-
rible death from the poisoned arrow.
1t is probable that the Apaches pre-
sumed that we had both perished in the
flames, for, after day dawn, when l ven
tured to push aside one of the slabs
of stone covering our retreat, they had
gone. And two hours later a party of
home bound prospectors with a four horse
mule team and complete outfit hove in
sight, and need hardly say, after hear
ing our story, they extended every kind
ness toward us.
We reached Ell Paso with them in
about fortnight, and their said good
by to Mrs. Ransford, for time at least
Did ever see her again7
Why, yes. married her the
year after, and We came
East to live, for it's your aunt Bess I've
been telling you about--didn't you mis-
trust9 No2 Well, those are the facts
in the case, as the lawyers say, but
there she comes across the street. Better
not mention that / have told you the
story; she never likes to talk of that ex-
perience, or hear it mentioned. But her
hair has been as white as it is now ever
since that night in the cellar of the burn
ing house. The Argosy.
Drawing the Line.
Bromley, did you tell Jones that 1
nevar told tho frnth ,,