The St. Johns herald., 1889-09-12


 to greet him on his return.
 Bruce Webster confidently hoped to find the missing calf within quarter of mile of the ranch. This was by no means the first time the truant Tom had wandered away from his little herd of youthful companions. for it would seem that he simply detested the confinement to which he was subjected during the day, and endeavored, to the extent of his limited ability, to manage his own particular affairs in way more to his liking. Bruce had always declared that Toms aristocratic mo- tions regarding the superiority of blue blood was the cause of his preferring solitude to the society of the common herd of Texan long-horns, which sup position was based on the fact that old Reddy. Toms mother. was a full blooded Hereford that the Websters had brought with them all the way from their old home in the North.
 It was, really, rather strange that this highly-prized scion of an ancient family should have been so prone to make his owners trouble; since, for the first six months of his life, he had been petted by his owner, and allowed to wander at will about the door-yard, so that he might enjoy perfect inn munity from the assaults of wander ing wolf or Mexican lion; but al- though he still remembered some of the numerous accomplishments taught him by Bruce in leisure moments, one of which was to charge blindly at the tantalizing wave of red handker- chief, he was in other respects as wild as any other young cattle.
 As he had expected, Bruce found the calf's tracks without difficulty, plainly showing in the dusty path that led down the valley of the little creek; but he was somewhat surprised to find that Tom had jogged steadily along, swerving neither to the right nor left, for nearly a mile, finally leaving the trail at point where the rocky nat ure of the soil and dense underbrush rendered futile all attempts at further trailing, and the most persuasive and persistent calling failed to elicit any responsive bleat from the litt!e runa- way.
 For @ mile farther Bruce wandered down the little valley, shooting now and then a green-crested duck, or one of the numerous gray squirrels that parked and chattered at him from the limbs above his head; but, search as he would, no further trace of the lost Tom could be discovered.
 Puzzled and disheartened, the lad finally turned back, resolving to mount his pony after dinner, and search out the entire country for a radius of three or four miles.
 Crossing the stream, he hunted back along the south bank, hardly expect ing to discover the object of his search, but adding occasionally to his string of game.
 Presently his attention was attracted by an unusually demonstrative squir- rel who was saucily bidding him de- fance from his perch on the limb of a large hollow oak. The shotgun was brought to the boys shoulder, but, as if aware of his danger, the threatened animal lodged out of sight in a con- venient orifice in the tree trunk.
 Hello! you are sharp little fellow, I see!' muttered our young hunter. "Never mind, though! You can't stay in that hole forever; and the next time you show up you'll never know what hurts you"
 A fallen tree near by offered a con- fortable seat, and Bruce assumed an easy position, with his back against the moss-covered stump; and, resting his gun across his knees, awaited the of the beleaguered squir- rel.
 Minutes passed, but nothing more was seen of the sharp, rat-like ears and beady eyes, although Bruce's vigilance never relaxed.
 Half way down, a mass of scarlet and yellow ivy leaves hid a second opening in the tree trunk, and here, by the lad, the cunning squirrel watched his every motion, with not the slightest intention of ex- posing himself further.
 Another pair of eyes were riveted on the unsuspicious boy-a pair of snaky, black orbs that gleamed dan gerously near, in clump of verdant foliage; for, by some unlucky chance, the route to safety selected by Caddo Bill, the red fugitive from justice, had lain through this quiet valley, after all; and the escaped murderer was now crouched, like 8 tiger gathering for spring, not twenty paces from the un- Bruce.
 If Caddo Bill had fancied his safety assured upon successfully lodging his guard and climbing the stochade at Fort Griffin, his mind must have soon been disabused of that impression. For more than forty-eight hours he , fzI ! L AL