The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1891-03-28

party Of prospectors might hear the drinr.
and chen with good doctor all would wi
DO well. He could find one at any Of the
military posts.
All these thoughts and thousand
others crowded through his brain while
he was placing himself in better position
for defense Cautiously raising himself
he glanced over the bowlder in the direc-
ton whence the last shots came. Crack,
crack crack the bullets whiz surlily
around him.
Bangl bangl bangi goes the rifle.
A new feeling takes possession of him.
His nerves tighten like steel, and he pumps
empty shells out Of the rifles chamber and
cartridges In with fierce speed Kill
kill Let him take one of those bowling
murderers with him, and he doesn't care
how soon after death comes. But what is
the matter with his aimi He has not yet
killed one, not even wounded one that he
knows Of. He refills the magazine of his
rifle In nervous, feverish haste, and then
peeps through the crevices of the powders
to see IL there is an enemy in sight. None.
They are there Tough. They are waiting
and he is dying How hot II isl He is
burning up with thirst and heat. How
sit" hurts. He has got SO that he thinks
of his wound only as ''it,' us If it were
some terrible monster that he could not
escape.
The blood-small as the quantity--that
flows from his wound has formed pool,
clothed and coagulated, 1t adds to his dis
comfort by its sickness. He thinks how
strange that ones own blood should annoy
one so, and then wonders where so many
flies could have come from, as he raises a
swarm by the movement of his body. He
looks across to where the burro has fallen
with the canteen, and sees that the vessel
has been jammed by coming in contact
with the bowlder, and that the precious
fluid has nearly all run out. How much
he would give to have what little water re-
mainsl He feels almost tempted to try to
reach it, but no; that would mean throw
ing his life away without chance for re-
venge. Revengei He will have it. Thirst
is nothing; death is nothing now If he can
only kill, kill
II he could only kill them all, how happy
he would diel
He looks over the bowlder Nothing in
sight but powders, lava, cacti, sand and
gazette grass. "They are there, though"
He almost laughs in sarcasm as he catches
himself scanning the horizon to see if any
relief were in sight. Relief For DAYS he
and the man that lay dead there had trav-
eled without finding u trail made by shod
horse-without finding trail OF any kind
How childish to expect any helpl Better
brace up and die like man.
He looked at the body of the dead man.
How hideous the face looked with its swol-
len lips, open mouth, staring eyesi How
black 1t had grownl What a vast quantity
of blood had come from the wound in the
headl His eye catches movement in the
tuft Of grass to his left. Bang bangl goes
his rifle. Nothing there" he thinks, as
he crouches closer to the ground to escape
the shots that come in return.
So the hours 20 by, but he hardly marks
their fight. The sun is getting lower in
the west, and the white Leat of day gives
way to the yellowish purple haze that in
Apache land is always the forerunner Of
night. How when he was first hit he had
longed for night How little he cared for it
nowl He could feel himself growing weak
err. His Winchester was heavier than any
he had ever before lifted. Even 'it," that
terrible thing that chained him there,
panied him less, but the thirst grew horri-
bic. Anyhow night would give him a
chance to reach the canteen. At times he
felt almost drowsy, but fought off the
feeling. He was merely waiting for the
end. He thought it strange that he could
face it so complacently He hardly cared
now how soon it came. Would he shoot
all his cartridges away before it reached
himp He would not waste them though.
If lie could only reach Toms gun and re-
volver and destroy them 1t would make
those that killed him angry. 1t was for
these things, worth perhaps $50, that he
and Tom had been murdered
lie was beginning to think of himself MS
already dead, At least how easy to ruin
Toms rifle, 1t was only two or three
PAGES away. lie took his revolver and
fired at it, aiming to hit it just in front
and below tho hammer its most vulnera.
BILE part. Instead, the bullet hits the
ground, and richocheting enters the breast
of the dead man. He shudders as the
body stirs from the force OF the shot, al
though he knows that life bus been gone
for hours, Everything is plain to him
now why his other shots had not taken
effect. He was unnerved. How could q
man with a hole through his body hope tc
hit anything. lie had heard of men shot
through the heart killing their assailants
and had often wondered il he could do it
Could Tom have done its How far Of
and yet how short seemed the years that
he and Tom had been togetherl How
little there had been in them that seemed
worth now recallingl Crack! asingle shot
off to the right, and he fires where he see.
the smoke curling upward. Fires again
Nothing. He counts his cartridges aud il
astouished that he has fired so many H,
must have lost some No, there are tn,
empty shells.
Another shot off to the right. One to tn,
front. lie fires at both. He feels that h
is growing nervous, and brings all his re
manning powers into play to secure bette
control Of himself He will put away tn
idea Of death, of his wound of everythin,
but revenge. Only one, and he will be sat
isfed, and for the first time in years h
prays, prays without words, though, tina
he may kin but one.
The sun is sinking lower; It has cimos
reached the far Off western mountain tops
1t would soon be night, and then wha
would they dor Steal up under cove
of the darkness and shoot him from benin
some bowltler before he would he aware n