Warren sheaf., 1892-12-15

.Oh, come now, !" observed q gentleman
from Gila Bend, what are you p wing
us? Worth one million!'
ssThat's what
''There's story with that horse,''
remarked another from Casa Grande.
while a gentleman from Red Rock sug.
gested that the horse was worth more
than the .'hull territory
'"Ihere is stor ? connected with that
horse, and so long as Beach lives that
horse sha'n't do any harder work thar
eat alfalfa"
"a story! What is it? Go ahead.
exclaimed all in breath.
''Well, sir" began Mr.. Carpenter,
settling himself, st was way back
during the Indian troubles that my
story refers. The rascally reds were
besieging Fort Mojave and 1t was sure
death to everyone in the fort unless
succor was obtained. But now to pei
news to the outer world of this dread.
full situation? The blessed Indian.
were here, there and everywhere,
picking off men, women and children.
An 1ldian don't care who he shoots,
bless you.
''Well. sir, there was q buckskir
hose in camp which, if he once got
start OF yard or so of any Indian ami
NAL, he would never be caught. It,
owner had often spoken of this animal
and Bill Hardy, rs brave man as ever
lived, said if the horse would be lent te
sim hn would \ ~,
''Of course it was dangerous worl
and there were ten chances to one he
would never get out of sight of the
fort, and the bravest man there shud
dered to think what would be Hardy's
fate when captured. The Indians
mutilate their prisoners most hideous.
ly and their tortures are exquisite be.
fore they finish them up. / tell you
gentlemen, there was greater pluck
shown by Hardy in volunteering to re
than in leading forlorn hope, where
death is speedily met by bullet o,
saber.
''The bucksl1in was saddled and Har.
dy made dash for the open country
The horse knew as well as its rider
what was required of him. He passed
the line of Indians before they were
well awake. Then when they did get
up they gave chase. The desert was a
swarming mass of red devils, al.
screaming and urging their horses after
Hardy. But the buckslxin had the lead.
Hardy was a good rider. He rode as il
race, and not till Prescott wa.
reached, one hundred and fifty mile,
away, did he draw rein. Do you sup
pose the Indians stopped-not bit o.
it. They kept right on after him, the
bullets tearing up the mud right along
side. No wonder Beach says that n.
man shall ever again ride that buck
skin.''
"You bet, Beach is right not to le,
any man ride that horse, but I have 4,
horse which went one hundred miles il
forty-eight hours dragging heavy
wagon with whole outfit and two
heavy men weighing about two hun
dred POUNDS piece" said gentleman
from Casa Grande.
The Red Rock man leaned over to m.
and whispered in my ear: ''That's The
doggondest liar in the territory, ant
cheerfully began:
''Give me mule every time. have
a mule which could have beaten that
horse"
''You have, eh,'' said Mr.. Carpenter
Eyes, sir; I have mule which wen
forty miles between water at straigh,
gallop in the dead heat of summer, ant
what took the fastest horse four day.
to do this mule could do in two days
know time when this mule did thre.
hundred and twenty miles in two days
and the water holes were thirty-fv.
miles apart Why, sir, that mule coule
go fifty miles at dead run and never
touch drop of water
My horse went the last sixty mile.
without a drop of water" retorted tn.
Casa Grande man, ssand the two me1
were about dead, with their tongue.
lolling out of their mouths, but m,
horse was as fresh as daisy
The Red Rock man stared at hin
with sad, wan, pitying smile, as if h.
were wondering why anyone would i'm
peril his soul about such trif1e as that
and relapsed into silence. Occasional
ly he mournfully shook his head, bu'
when he caught me alone he said: Sc
wonder that fellows tongue don't gel
paralyzed telling such whoppers
There amt no horse living that car
travel twenty miles on the desert be
tween drinks, let alone sixty. l know
can't! Nominate yer pizen."
"But your animal went forty mile,
without water?''
Look a-here, young man, I didn''
say nothing about horse. said mule
m-u-l-e-mule. See? Whisky straight
boss. Never mind yer tarnation water.
j ohm Hamilton Gilmour, in San Fran
cisco Chronicle.