Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1893-02-21

white horse moved on quicker ut this
gesture. He seemed tireless machine,
not nesh and blood-a being like his
master living and acting by the force Of
apurpose alone.
Our chief led the way into the canyon.
Terrible riding II wn! A pavement
Of slippery, sheeny rock; great beds OF
loose stones; barricades Of mighty bowl.
ders, where cliff had fallen an con ago,
before the days Of the rosdniaker race;
crevices where an unwsry foot might
catch; wide riffs where q shaky horse
might fall. or . timid horseinan drag
him down.
An arroyo, the channel Of dry tor
rent, followed the pass. Il had made its
way as water does, not straightway, but
by that potent feminine method Of pass.
ing under the frowning front Of an OBJ
stacle, and leaving the dull rock staring
there, while the wild creature 1t would
have held is gliding away down the val.
ley. This zigrag channel bafHed Us; we
must leap 1t without check wherever II
crossed our path. Every second now
was worth . century. Here was the
sign Of horses, passed but now. We
could not choose ground. We must take
our leaps on that cruel rock wherever
they offered.
Poor Pumps!
He had carried his master % noblyl
There were 30 few miles to dol He had
chased 10 well; he msrited to be In ai
the death.
Brent lifted him at leap across the
arroyo.
Poor Pumpsl
His hind feet slipped on the time
smoothed rock. He fell short. He
plunged down q dozen feet among the
rough bowlders Of the torrent bed.
Brent was out Of the saddle almost be.
fore he struck, raising him.
No, he would never rise again. Both
his forelegs were broken at the knee.
He rested there, knseling on the rocks
where he fell.
Brent groaned. The horse screamed
horribly, horribly-there Is no more
agonized sound-and the scream went
echoing high up the cliffs where the red
sunlight rested.
II costs loving master much to
butcher his brave and trusty horse, the
half Of his knightly self; but II costs
him more to hear him shrek In such
misery. Brent drew his pistol to put
poor Pumps out Of pain.
Armstrong sprang down and caught
his hand.
"Stop!" he said In his hoarse whisper.
He had hardly spoken since we started.
Ny nerves were 20 strained that this
mere ghost of sound rang through me
like death yell, q grisly cry Of merci.
less and sIultant vengeance. ! seemed
to hear Its echoes, rising up and swell.
Ing In food Of thick uproar, until they
burst over the summit Of the pass and
were wasted In the crannies OF tho
towering mountain tanks above.
"Stop!' whispered Armstrong. "No
shootingl They'll hear. The knifer
He held out his knife to my friend.
Brent heeitated one heart beat. Coul
he stain his hand with his faithful serv-
ants bloodi
Pumps screamed again.
Armstrong snatched the knife and
drew 1t across the throat Of the crippled
horse.
Poor Pumps! He sank and died with.
ont q moan. Noble martyr In the old,
heroic cause.
I Icaught the knife from Armstrong.
cut the thong Of my girth. The heavy
California saddle. with its macheers and
roll of blankets, fell to the ground. Icut
of my spurs. They had never yet
touched Fulano's hanks. He stood be.
side me quiet, but trembling TO be of.
snow. Brent! up behind me" whis.
pered-for the awe Of death was upon
Us.
mounted. Brent sprang up behind.
I ride light for tall man. Brent Is the
slightest body Of an athlete I ever saw.
Fulano stood steady till we were firm
In our seats.
Then he tore down the defle.
Here was that vast reserve OF power
here the tireless spirit; here the hooi
striking true rs o thunderbolt, where
the brave eye saw footing; here tha,
writhiug agony Of speed; here the great
promise fulfilled, the great heart thrill
Ing to mine, the grand body living te
the beating heart. Noble Fulano!
rode with snaffie. I left It hanging
loose. I did not check or guide hin,
| He saw all. He knew all.
We sat firm, clinging as we could, ~
we must. Fulano dashed along the re
sounding pass.
Armstrong pressed after-the gann'
white horse struggled to emulate hi,
leader. Presently we lost them behind
the curves of the alley. No other hors'
that ever lived could have held with the
black In that headlong gallop to save.
Over the slippery rocks, over th'
sheeny pavement. plunging through the
loose stones, staggering over the barri
csdes, leaping the arroyo, down, up, on
always on-On went the horse, we cling
ing as we might.
Il seemed one beat Of time, 1t seemet
an eternity. when between the ring o.
the hoofs I heard Brent whisper In IN!
ear;
"we are there"
The crags flung apart, right and left
I saw q sylvan glade. Isaw the glean o
gushing water.
Fulano dashed on, uncontrollablei
There they were-the murderers.
Arrived but one moment!
The lady still bound to that pack mul
branded A &. A.
Murker Just beginning to unsaddle.
Larrap not dismounted, In chase OF tn
other animals ~ they strayed to graz-.
The men heard the tramp and saw u
as we sprang into the glade.
Both my hands were at the bride.
Brent, grasping my waist with on
arm, was awkward with his pistol.
Murker saw ms first. He snatched hi
sixshooter md fred.
Brent shook with spasm. His pisto
arm dropped.
Before the murderer could cock again
Fulano was upon him!
He was ridden down. He was beaten
tra,npled down upon the grass-crushed
abolished.
We dissutang!ed ourselves from th
melee.
Where was thu otheri
The coward, without firing q shot. wa
squirting Armstrong; asthead hon
blindly up the canyon, whence We In