The Press., 1892-11-17

planning now another villain outrage still impartial Nature did not change her laws for them. Sunshine, air, water, life-these boons of hers-she gave them freely. That higher boon. of death, if they were to receive it, must be from some other power greater than the un- discriminating force of Nature.
 Good luck and good omen, this well of water in the sand! It proved that our chase had suffered as we, and had been delayed as we. Before they had dared to pause and waste priceless moments here, their horses must have been droop- ing terribly. The pit was nearly five feet deep. A good hours work, and no less, had dug it with such tools as they could bring. I almost laughed to think of the two, slowly bailing out the slid ing sand with tin plate, perhaps, and 8 frying pan, while 8 score of miles away upon the desert we three were riding hard upon their tracks to follow them the heeter for this refreshment they had left. tSic vos non vobisp' I was ready to say triumphantly; but then remem- bered the third figure in their group-a woman, like Sibyl, growing calmer as her peril grew, and succor seemed to withdraw. And the pang of this picture crushed back into my heart any thoughts but a mad anxiety and frenzy to be driving on.
 We drank thankfully of this we'll by the wayside. No gentle beauty here abouts to enchant us to delay. No grand old tree, the shelter and the landmark of the fountain, proclaiming an oasis near. Nothing but bare, hot sand. But the water was pure, cool and bright. It had come underground from the Sierra, and still remembered it's parent snows. We drank and were, grateful, almost to the point of pity. Had we been but avengers, like Armstrong, my friend and I could wellnigh have felt mercy here and turn ed back pardoning. But rescue was more imperative than vengeance. Our busi- ness tortured us, as with the fanged scourge of Tisiphone, while we dallied. We grudged these moments of refresh ment. Before night fell down the west, and night was soon to be climbing up
 
 wiped the dust and spume away from Fulano's nostrils and breathed him mo- ment. Then I let him drain deep, de licious drafts from the stirrup cup, He whinnied thanks and undying fealty my noble comrade! He drank like a reveler. When mounted again, he gave jubilant curvet and bound. My weight was feather to him. All those leagues of our hard, hot gallop were nothing. The brown Sierra here was close at hand. Its glittering, icy summits, above the dark and sheeny walls, far above the black phalanxes of clambering pines, stopped forward and hung over us as we rode.
 We were now at the foot of the range, where it dipped suddenly down upon the plain. The gap, our goal all day, opened before us, grand and terrible. Some giant force had clutched the mountains and riven them narrowly apart. The wild defile gaped and then wound away and closed, lost between it's mighty walls, l thousand feet high, and bearing two brother pyramids of purple cliffs aloft | far above the snow line. A fearful portal into scene of the throes and agonies of earth! and my excited eyes seemed to 1 read, gilded over it's entrance, in the dead gold of that hay October sunshine, words from Dante's inscription: Per me si va tra la perduta gente;
 Lasciate ogni speranza vol, ch' entrate!
 'Here we are," said Brent, speaking | hardly above his breath. ''This is Lug gernel alley, at last, thank God! In an hour, if the horBes hold out, we shall be at the springs, that is if we can go through this breakneck gorge at the same pace. My horse began to finch a little before the water. Perhaps that will set him up. How are yours?''
 "Fulano asserts that he has not begun to show himself yet. l may have to carry you en croupe before we are done. j
 Armstrong said nothing, but pointed impatiently down the defiIe. The gaunt white horse moved on quicker at this | gesture. He seemed tireless machine not flesh and blood-a being like his master living and acting by the force oi a purpose alone.
 Our chief led the way into the canyon
 Terrible riding it was! A pavement of slippery, sheeny rock;. great beds oi loose stones; barricades of mighty bowl. ders, where cliff had fallen an con ago before the days of the roadmaker race crevices where an unwary foot might catch; wide rifts where shaky horse might fall, or timid horseman drag him down.
 An arroyo, the channel of dry tor rent, followed the pass. It had made it. way as water does, not straightway, but by that potent feminine method of pass ing under the drowning front of an ob stacle, and leaving the dull rock staring there, while the wild creature it would have held is gliding away down the val ley. This zigzag channel baf1ed us; Vt must leap it without check wherever il crossed our path. Every second now was worth a century. Here was tn. sign of horses, passed but now. w. could not choose ground. We must talk our leaps on that cruel rock wherever they offered.
 Poor Pumps!
 He had carried his master so nobly There were so few miles to dol He hae chased so we'll; he merited to be in a the death.
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