The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1890-11-06

iOrO CTeek, heeP ou tAo Souoo"t. ~ 2
as hard as iron. I crossed there to-day" "
"Thank you. Adios."
Simple, smiling speech, those words
of Stoner's, and yet they were intended
to send Warren to his death more surely
aud safely than by bullet of pistol or pei
let of secret poison.
Stouer took an extra swig of brandy
and went to his rest. Warren rode down
the rugged hill to the bottom of the ra-
vine, then turned seaward, and at last
the wide gulch opened broadly to the
shore of the Pacific.
The cliffs were from fifty to three hun
dred feet high, and full of wave-worn
caves. Warren drew rein on the beach,
and for fully ten minutes watched the
ocean sway and rise. His thoughts
throbbed with dreams of Tessa. He
would take her away from her narrow
aud hurtful surroundings. He would
lift her into happier and better circum-
stances. He would force Stoner's con-
sent, marry her, and make her happy.
He rode rapidly south, and in half an
hour the mouth of the Toro appeared, in
the midst of sand dunes, breakers rolling
in, and the steady river flowing out.
Here was the long sand-bar, ten feet
wide, and stretching across hardly an
inch higher than tie watery surface.
Warren was beginning to have some
suspicious of Stoner, but not such as to
lead him to doubt the simple directions
he had received. The sand-bar looked
safe, but within few days the sea, rs
Stoner knew, had swept it nightly, torn
out the long-compacted bar, and placed
instead a quivering mass of quicksand,
so treacherous that not even light
footed rabbit could cross without be-
ing swallowed up and dragged bodily
down. Warren rode swiftly forward; he
had crossed sandbars hundreds of times.
Some horses would have been wiser, but
the animal he rode had been bred in the
valley.
The approach to the bar was hard for
few rods as he galloped on. Suddenly,
in one heart breaking, breathless de-
scent, noiseless but unutterably dread
full, Tom Warren's horse went down,
down; and the soft, Shiny sand came up
to his name. He shrieked out that
ghastly cry of appeal and agony that a
deperate, dying horse will sometimes
utter.
Tom knew the peril. He had thrown
his feet from the stirrups and drawn
them up at the first downward throb,
but the sand began to grasp him also.
He threw himself fiat on his breast and
tore himself loose from the poor animal,
over whose back the mingled sand and
water were running, as it rolled from
side to side in Intellectual struggles to cs-
cape.
Tom spread himself out over as much
surface as possible, but slowly, resistless-
ly, the mighty force drew him down
ward. The hard beach was only ten
feet distant, but practically the chasm
was impossible. He felt his horse sink
out of signt; the sand gripped his own
knees and arms, his thighs and shoul-
ders. Two inches more and the end by
sutfocation was inevitable. Up to this
time he had not shouted; only his Horses
wild death scream had told of the
tragedy. What was the use2 Who would
be passing along that lonely road? Then
he thought of Tessa, and of life. He
raised his voice in clear, strong shout
for help, again aud again repeated.
Far off, along the deep ravine, came q
cry in response, and horses hurIying
feet; and hope awoke in his heart. The
margin of life was five minutes now
not longer. Faster, faster, oh, fearless
rider.
"Tom, where are you2"
"Here, Tessa; don't come too near. !"
But the mountain girl knew the dan
ger. Creeping downstairs for drink
of water she had heard her fathers
words to Warren, had thrown shawl
about her shoulders and run 70 the pas
ture. Then she caught her pet horse,
sprang upon his unsaddled back, seized
a RATA as she passed the stable, and gal
loped at the utmost speed down the
ravine, hoping against hope, for many
minutes had necessarily elapsed since
Warren started.
She sprang to the ground and tossed
the rawhide rope to the one arm be held
above the sand She folded her Jhawl
and put it over her horses shoulders, and
tied the RATA around like q collar. Then
she led him slowly away from the quick
sands, and Warren thought his arm would
break; but slowly, reluctantly, painfully,
the sand gave up its prey.
"Your father told me to take this
road, Tessa," said the young sheriff.
"Yes, know that, and 1 heard one of
the men tell him to-day that the bar was
swept out"
There was q long silence between
them.
"Tessa, go with me to San Luis" said
Warren, "and lei us be married"
And Tessa went.
Old Stoner heard the news few days
later. Within an hour he had "retired
from business" The camp was broken
up, the hunters disappeared, mysterious
lights flashed at intervals all night from
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