Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1892-08-13


bay was pounding heavily. while SCOTS horse
was used up he was forced to draw rein.
shouting ~ he did Don't let him escape,
boys. One thousand dollars to the man who
brings him IN dead or alive,'
Wen get him alive if our horses hold out"
answered lane.
A mile farther johns, horse fell and Lane
and Lopez snrged ahead. Almost at the same
moment the latter Missed Spanish OATH ''He
Is In the canon! Ride. ride, boys! Faster.
faster. or he will slip us!''
The form of Flores was. indeed no longer
visible on the white road the. foothills had
swallowed him up. The outline of the hiily
| wall Was broken just ahead, showing an opening
of some size, and here, at command of Lopez,
| they paused to listen.
| The whip-poor-will gave the sad cry beside
| them, the ground-ewl bobbed and chirped to
| them. and from the plain behind came the
| faint low of far away cattle. "a
Here are two canons-it is i'll to tell
whether he is in La Brea or Ell Rodeo." said
the Mexican. and still they waited until Lane
| could scarcely control his impotence.
''Pacenia, hijo (patience, son." whispered
| his companion. just then a coyote howled in
the hills opposite. "Ah, my man, thou art
| there" cried Lopez, and dashed ahead, closely
when you see him shoot at sight," said
Lopez fiercely.
Poor devit' that does not seem fair said
Lane who is he. lopez"
"A northern thief, q murderer! was the en-
| phatic answer.
Carajo, eli diablo is in it.' he cried moment
later, as his horse, slipping on q rolling stone,
went down and lay still. ION, on, boy!' he
shouted. Don't lose him. All rests on thee!"
Lane, half crazy with excitement, dug spurs
deeper and whiried the leather thong faster.
| Side canons opened from the main, in any one
OF which the fugitive might have taken refuge;
but the lad rode blindly on, trusting to luck
fate-he knew not what.
Suddenly, from one Of the pockets sounded
the neigh Of horse. Wheeling his animal
Lane rode straight in the direction Of the
sound. A few PAGES and he saw through the
bushes horseman approaching. The shadow
rested on the face of the rider, but Lane could
see the cleaning rifle held as though ready TO
fire, and bringing his own gun to position called
| loudly in fair Spanish a demand for surrender
The jingling of the spurs, the blowing of his
breathless horse, kept him from hearing the
soft, musical, "Eres tu amigo milo (s it thou,
my friendly" and with the fatal moonlight in
his own face, the shadow on the stranger, he did
not see the lowered rife, the friendly gesture.
but filed with nervousness wilder than any
buck fever, hardly knowing what he did he
fired
Mingled with the report Of the gun. there
sounded IN his ears his own name uttered in a
cry OF agony, Lane! amigor'
Filled with horror unutterable he flung HIM
self from his horse and ran to the side of the
smooth, yellow grass. One hand was flung with
unconscious grace above his head the other
pressed closely hole in his breast from which
the red blood was oozing. His hat had fallen
on, and the moon now shone full on the beauti-
full face.
As Lane bent over and met the gaze Of the
dark eyes he staggered back. mot you, Flores?
Not you?" he moaned
Thou didst not know" Flores questioned
eagerly.
mo, no. Flores, my friend, to whom I owe
my life! They said it was murderer and
"Sh Said they all that, amigo? took only
my own. What matters now? 1 would had a
priest. Mary, mother, intercede for me! Lane
amigo, do not grieve. Florinda Luz de mi
alma. Lane, tell Fiorinda, la muchacha de la
vieja Manuela. that all my love is hers and all
/ own. Tell her ="
His voice failed him; he strove with agony to
speak: With great effort he raised himself
upon his elbow.
"What is it, amigo?' asked Lane, with Sob
supporting the swaying figure in his arms.
The dying man pointed up the canon. turning
questioning, imploring eyes upon his compan-
ion, made one more effort to speak-a vain
one-there was a gurgle of blood in his throat
then with gasp and shudder he fell back
dead.
When the rest of the party came up thew
found Lane unconscious, his head on the breast
of his dead friend. For weeks he Law very
Ill OF brain fever, tenderly nursed by the
kind-hearted Johns. but though health came
back, peace of mind had vanished forever
He lived, remorseful. wretched man, ever
haunted by that death scene in the wild
Redeo canon.
But one hope now remains to him. that
death. coming soon, may wipe away the sin
and the grief, and he may meet again in
friendship the man he SO loved and uncon-
sciously wronged.
For years this story lay among my papers.
utterly forgotten. Strange. too, did not re-
member, when fate finally led me to California,
where married native son of that golden
west. In truth the present was so full L had no
thoughts VI the past.
One summer, as we we're planning our vaca-
ton. said my husband: 1--WE will go this year
neither to the seashore nor the mountains, but
to the foothills, for our hunting"
laughed jovously at the very thought of life
IN the wild woods. few days found us settled
Ill lovely camping place in Ell Rodeo canon,
pretty wooded pass in the foothills, some
twenty miles from Los Angeles.
As soon as they saw we were fairly in order
came the Mexican wood choppers from their
work in the hills around us-0. woful work
to have cigarrito and chat with my husband.
Soon l, too, joined the group. for loved to lis
ten to their quaint tales. told in the musical
Spanish tongue. An old man was speaking:
81, senior; 20 Pedro, y Lugo vimos SAW al
caballero del Lanterno.''
Both Pedro and LugO nodded assent their
names were mentioned and the eyes of all were
wide with excitement
who is the Cavilier of the Lantern?" asked
softly of my husband.
They say" he replied. chat since they have
beensat work in this canon they have seen
on three different nights q man ON horseback
carrying a lantern, his accoutrement of the
early days.
who was he? What did he want?" asked,
unwittingly shocking our visitors.
"Hush!' said my husband, in solemn voice.
though his eyes belied his gravity. "They spoke
to it! 1t vanished! They say it was Flores
hunting his gold, which is hidden in Ell Rodeo
CANON
"Flores hunting his gold in Ell Rodeo canon?"
repeated stupidity. that strange feeling upon
me that had heard those words before
Yes" explained my husband. 'He was an
outlaw, who hid his plumber in this canon and
riding out was shot dead by the sheriff and no
one has been able to find his gold.'
mo. nor gasped. ut was my uncle, Jack
Lane. who shot him.
"Are You crasy?' asked my husband in
amazement.
mo, senor," cried the old man, who had
risen and was watching me in great excitement,
evidently understanding what was saving,
La senora t'ene razon! Juanito Lane mato
Flores! (The lady Is right, Jack Lane killed
Flores)r'
What do you know about it, Chato?" asked
vvnu hrraH