Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1891-04-03


The foam rains round and the canyon reels,
And-safe! Do you hear her hail!
Charles T. Lummis in Belford's.
TWO AFTERNOONS.
A hot day. The sun directly overhead,
glowing with a fire that made the air in
the shadeless canyon culver as if heated in
an oven. Not tree in sight, not bush
everything brown and barren. Every
where powders of lava immense in size
and sometimes split in twain, as if in rapid
cooling from the intense heat which gave
them birth. Here and there between the
gray green of the giant cacti. raising their
thorny forms fifty and sixty feet in the air,
assuming with their strangely formed
limbs the shapes of immense crosses or
trunks of trees from which all leaves and
smaller branches have been torn. Between
the black and brown of the sunburnt lava
an occasional tuft of tall, almost colorless
grass. Over all stiffness that to one IN
accustomed to the land would seem strange
and oppressive. Not a bird to break it
with it's song. Even the lizards sought out
what shade they could, making with their
green, red and variegated coats almost the
only dash of color to relieve the monotony
of the all prevailing brown and black lava
that each moment grew more oppressive to
look at under the glow of the fierce heat.
Save these, not living thing was in
sight except where off to the west buzz
zard floated high in the air, and two men,
with burro lazily following, passing
down the canyon.
and thpi, outfit
Opened shirts, showing red, hairy
breasts, waite their loosely buckled belts,
heavy with long, bright cartridges, whose
furnished surfaces. made doubly bright
from the rays of the hot sun, seemed
strangely out of place in such quietude.
Neither spoke. Each walked along as if
alone, looking for the ''float" that might
indicate the presence of some mineral
ledge higher up, more from habit than
from hope, as the formation" gave but
little indication Of treasure.
How hot the sun! The hurro, patient
eyed, forgot his old trick of nipping the
tops of the long gazette grass, and contented
himself with keeping closely in the trail of
the two men, whose worldly possessions of
blankets, cooking utensils and tools, capped
with an enormous canteen of water, he SO
patiently bore. Not breath of air stir
ring, only the quivering heat that made
the eyes burn and ache. The men shifted
their rifles constantly from one hand to an
other, as if to avoid getting blisters from
the places where they touched the highly
heated metallic parts of their guns.
Crack! crack! crack!
Not fifty yards ahead, from behind doz-
en- powders leap out as many jets of fire,
10 no TO cfc
I'D few feet and disappear in the CULVER
ing air,
One of the men stops for an almost i'm
perceptible instant, as if to brace himself.
His hands rise to the level of his chest, as if
to bring his rifle to his shoulder, and then
down he falls headlong to the ground in a
limp mass. Deadl Shot through the head.
Not CULVER, not motion; without a
sound, were it not for that made by his
falling rifle.
AS he falls his companion staggers back
pace or two, catches himself, and then,
half crouching, half falling, drops behind
enc of the many powders. "HitE' he
thtnks TO himself, ''but, thank God! not
fatally. only q Scratch" Life seems new
thing; to live, a new JOY.
Only a scratch. "Where?" He hardly
has time to think as he places his gun
across the bowlder and fires at figure,
naked, dark, clothed only in breech clout
and with red scarf wound around the
head. He notes almost unconsciously how
pronounced its color is against the dark
face and darker hair of it's wearer. ga
miss!'' he mentally remarks as the figure
disappears. "But better luck next time"
he thinks as he pushes down the lever of
his gun and throws out the empty shell,
replacing it with q cartridge. 'Short
range;'' he should have hit. It can't be
that he was losing his old cunning; that
his aim was bad "No;' he fired in haste
and was ''rattled' "Another shot and he
will show them" are the thoughts that
fash through his mind as he peers cautious
~ ahead to discover his enemies.
None in sight.
For the first time he feels pain. Half
numbness, half fire; how it tears as ne
raises his shirt and looks at little blue
hole hardly larger than pea near the right
side in the short ribs. ''Only scratch, or
it weuld bleed worse Did it go through"
he asks himself, as he passes his hand IN
his back to find if there be an orifce of
exit. mo" THAT is bad, for there is no
surgeon to be had to cut the missile out.
Pshaw, what matters it? Other men have
lived with bullets in them-why could not
heP flight would soon come, and then
with darkness he would go. He was not
losing blood sufficient to weaken him much,
and by morning he would be far away.
After all it would only be close call, some
thing to tell about, But poor Toni he
was gone" and as he looked at the lifeless
form of his partner he could hardly keep
back the tears.
Crack! crack go q couple Of shots off to
his left, and he sees the dust flying up
from near his feet. He tries to draw his
lia1.bs up to get them in a safer position.
Tries again, and the cold sweat breaks
from him. He cannot move thafel
They are dead-paralyzed!
Something like Il sob breaks from him.
It is all over. In the first flush of possible
eseaps he had not thought of the spine
being injured, He knew it now. The game
was played. 4 fey hours longer as bhe
best. Tomorrow and the next day, and
the days and the years to come would find
him there The end was only II question of
a short time. Yet he had only thought it
a scratch.
With his arms he drags himself into
safer position, This done, he unbuckles
his belt, and as be lays it before him to
have it handy he thinks Of the time away
back on the Platte when he mad frst Pit
one on. How proud he then felt, as a strip
ling boy, of the outfit! How bright the
future had looked! And now it was all to
end. After all life to him had been hard
one 1t had brought to him few Of tAe
treasures for which he had longed. For an
instant he thought "why not take the six
shooter and end it ALP"
fsSuicide?'
NO." he would die fighting.
He would take some of them with him.
Yet, why kill at all. They were but saw
ages-Apaches. Their deaths would mean
nothing. would gain nothing. Better to
kill himself and keep from them the salts,
faction of doing it. No; relief might come.
Some of the many scouting parties of cav
airy always in the field, or perhaps a
party of prospectors might hear the firing,
and then with good doctor all would yet
be well. He could find one at any of the
military posts
All these thoughts and a thousand