The Dickinson press., 1891-02-07
A HCMAN BLOODHOUND.
INSTINCT GUIDES THE INDIAN ON
HIS DEATH MISSION.

INSTINCT GUIDES THE INDIAN ON
HIS DEATH MISSION.
Graphic Account OF an Almost Track
less Pursnit-uow tho Untutored Savage
Follows and Finds His victim-TAe
Camp Fires Deadly Evidence.
"Hist!"
Asinsle Indian has been following the
right hand bank of the Rio Pecos river
where it trends to the anglo of the Chico
mountains, New Mexico.
Fort Sumner is so miles to the south,
Santa Fo 100 to the north. 1t is wild,
weird country, with tho staked plains
sweeping right up to the water of the
Pecos from the east. and the country to
the west is forest. ravine, valley and
desolation.
In a dip of tho earth, and still further
shielded by great powders, the Indian
has found u few charred sticks and a
handful of ashes-relics of q camp fire.
He springs to the cover of n rock, and
for quarter of On hour nothing is seen
or heard of him. Instinct taught him
that-tho same instinct that any wild
animal has, By and by ho carefully
rises into view and steps forward to ex-
anime the ashes.
"Ughw
It rained three days before. Tho ashes
are dry. The black sticks preserve their
gloss. A twig broken frora q bush is
still bleeding. A bono in the ashes is
broken to get at tho marrow. This is
Wednesday, and tho hour is 10 o'clock
in the forenoon. That fro was built
Monday noon. Tho prints of boot heel
are numerous. 1t was white man.
The prints arc exactly alike. There was
but one man-scout. hunter or pros
pector. He was heading up tho stream.
"Ugh!"
ON THE TRAIL.
Everything is clear to tho Indian in
five minutes, and hc picks up tho trail.
1t is forty-six hours since that fire was
lighted-at least forty-four since the
white man left it behind. That is an
old trail, but hero is human blood
hound. Nature has made him to endure
heat, cold and fatigue as if ho were an
animal. Hc la,; .!::2 cunning of fox,
the ferocity of panther and n vindic-
tive persisteIcy which nothing but death
can discourage
There is no trail-nothing which the
kecnest dog could follow. But the In
dian glides forward like shadow, look.
ing only at the lay of the ground. A
man who travels without fear takes the
easiest road A man who is not pursued
travels slowly. To the right-to the left
over rocks-acrossri rills-up hill-down
lnll-ncver flagssin::,,. no matter what the
distractions, and 1t tho end of three
hours he turns sharply to the left, pene-
trates the cedars for a few yards and
comes to halt before another camp fire
A branch among tho ashes gives out
faint smoke. The ashes arc still warm.
The fire was built Nc. lay night, and
over its flanlo the white man cooked his
Tuesday breakfast. This is Wednesday
ut o'clock The white man has been
moving slowly.
Half an hour for rest and a bite to
eat and the Indian moves forward again.
Here and there as ho flies along lie gees
a broken branch-tho moss torn from a
rock-the leaves disturbed-plenty of
signs that some ono has passed that way.
The scent is too old for u bloodhound;
neither panther nor wolf could real the
signs. In three hours he has reached
another camp fire 1t was built near a
spring bubbling out of the rocks. and
water was thrown on the flames tc
quench them.
1t was not thoroughly done, however
Fire clings to several sticks, and the
earth under tho ashes is warm. The fire
was built Tuesday night The white
man left it about 8 o'clock this (Wednes-
day. morning. 1t is now o'clock p. IN
He Is only eight hours ahead, and there
are still three hours of daylight.
THE VICTIM.
Has he Travelled fast or leisurely? Is
he dozen miles away or only three OF
four? Tho question is answered before
the Indian has pursued tho trail half a
mile. Tho white man has stopped to
break off piece of rock with his ham,
mer. He is prospector. Ho goes up
this ravine half a milo aid returns. He
leaps this creek to examine the face Of
the cliff-passes an hour or more in
specting the sand and gravel in the bed
of the creek. 1t is locality of promise.
There is no hurry.
"Ugh!'
1t is twilight in tho forest-night in
the canyons and gorges The Indian has
no trail to follow, but there is an instinct
which leads him on. He knows he is
close on the quarry. He moves swiftly
bat stealthily. There are rocks and
bushes and limbs and vines and pitfalls,
but he seems to see them in the darkness
as well as in the light. The flame of a
camp fire has caught his eye.
A man clothed in the coarse garments
of a miner sits with his back to rock
On the fire at his feet his meat is toast
ing and his coffee is boiling. The silence
about him is that Of the grave. His sur
roundings arc bowlders, cliffs, lodges,
ravines, trees. 1t is wild, weird spot.
Nature was in vindictive mood when
she made it. One sitting here alone at
high noon would feel chill of loneli-
ness. The man looks into tho fire. For
a moment his thoughts are elsewhere
Of sudden that mysterious something,
that current which passes between life
and death, electriies him, and with his
gazo riveted into tho darkness beyond
the fire he springs to his feet.
Too late! The Indian is not thirty
feet away, but before he can lay hand
On the body life has departed. When u
bullet strikes the human heart life is
measured by seconds and fractions Of
seconds.-Detroit Free Press.
An old piece of zinc is the best thing
tlat tl.ara I, with 1,.hicl, 4, .,,a.lx 4.aa.