Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1891-07-30

that were led out of the woods and
rode away, he on the white steed hum
ming bit of some old Spanish love
song to the time Of his horses stop.
1t was a dreamy August afternoon in
Southern California when the mayor Of
Los Angeles and fellow official were
driving along the old sand lad through
the Arroyo Seco toward ;own- Over
the brow of hill half mile in front
OF them group of horsemen appeared
at gallop. They swept down the hill
and met the buggy of the mayor. The
galloping horses were yanked back
upon their launches and a swarthy
Mexican upon white horse showed
pistol in the mayors face and said,
with show of his teeth in a smile:
Your money, senor."
The mayor thought it was a joke and
laughed.
'Quick! quiclxr' SAID the horseman,
as his weapon clicked. "I am Vas
quez."
The mayor laughed again.
'Eef you don't believe me, senior,
look"
He pointed back to the hill. and there
appeared another group of horsemen
riding at full tilt from the town
''Quickr' said Vasquez II am no
fool"
The mayor looked down the pistol
barrel at the pair of black, glittering
eyes that lined the sights, and put up
his hands He was lightened of his
chamois bag of gold, as was his friend,
and the bold robbers wheeled and were
of at run, the posse from the town
riding up five minutes too late to catch
them or to save the mayors coin The
band escaped into the chapparal
Vasquez made history in this way for
five years and then was caught like a
rat In a trap in 'dobe house near the
scene of the robbery of the mayor, and
was shot down by a newspaper cor
respondent detailed to accompany the
search party. He survived his wounds,
was taken to San Jose, where one Of
his earliest and most atrocious murders
had been committed, and there met his
fate on the Scaffold.
And now for the horse. Every tine
the robbers appeared one of them. the
leader, would be mounted upon white
horse. That he had a world of speed
was shown in the way that he would
gallop away from the rest of the gang
when they were pursued. The horse
was hitched behind the house when
Vasquez was shot. One of the captur-
ing party tried to take him and was Sc
verely bitten for his cupidity. The
horse broke away, went careering on
toward the canyon where VaSquez had
had his rendezvous and was lost to
sight. Most people say he died in the
mountains of starvation, but the Mexi-
cans say no. They saw him again.
The night after Vasquez was hanged
white horse gallOped up the street to
the Jail, stood a moment at the door
and gave a neigh. The Mexicans
heard in it call to the dead Vasquez.
There came no answer to the horses
challenge and he wheeled about and
went as suddenly as he came Then he
turned bandit and followed Vasquez'
old trails. Once in awhile a man would
Se found on the road with his body
frightfully mutilated and his flesh bear
ing the marks of hoofs. Sometimes in
the night a white horse would appear
at the door of Mexican cabin in some
lonely spot and neigh. If no answer
came he would be off like the wind, but
If any man dared to show himself the
horse would attack him with hoof and
teeth and it was seldom that a victim
escaped.
Time and again he was shot at, and
one Mexican buck was fOolhardy
enough to try to rope him and met a
horrible death. The horse bore a
charmed life. He became almost
as great a terror to the Mexicans as
Vasquez had been to the rich Ameri-
cans. If by chance Mexican's pony
got out of the corral and wandered of
in search of grass the white horse
would find him and enlist him. First
he had one follower, then two, then
half dozen. No man could kill them
and no man dared to attempt to capt
ure them With no loads upon their
backs they were feet as the wind and
could outstrip the best horse with a
rider. The Mexicans named the leader
the "White Devil" and said that
Vasquez lived again in his horse.
As the years went by and Vasquez
became memory, and his exploits the
theme for children's stories, the White
Devil lost his companions. His visits
to the vicinity of the little towns be-
came less and less frequent and then
ceased altogether. At long intervals
Mexican would ride in with a report
that he had seen the White Devil in
some canyon among the hills Even
these reports ceased, and few Ameri-
cans of the latter days in California
had heard of him until the freight train
killed the white horse. The Mexicans
came for miles to look at him. All of
them knew him, at least they said so,
and they respected him sufficiently to
look at his dead body from a distance.
When he was dragged from beneath
the engine by the trainmen horse
doctor looked at him. He was q mag
animal even in death, and the
veterinary said that he had been stone
blind for years.
Vasquez' deeds are history; the story
of the White Devil is Mexican super
Free Press.
And what" asked the young
woman who is sometimes facetious,
sis the rank of the individual who
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