The morning call., 1893-05-24
ON THE TRAIL.
A Strange Experience in
New Mexico.
ROMANCE OF A DEAD TOWN.
A Traveller Suddenly Finds the Means
to Avenge WrCEg-The
Tragedy.

We made long overland trip last fall
in New Mexico. writes Francita Trujllo
in the Philadelphia Times. After leaving
Socorro we went southwest through gaps
in the Mogollon Mountains. One morn
ing horseman added himself to our party
and we accepted his company on trust. as
is the common fashion in the West. His
explanation that he had an important er-
rand in this country. also new to him. was
received by us without comment. So we
shared our bacon and coffee and iourneyed
together.
One day after travelling through rain
washed canyon, ascending some rough hills
and circling a mountain, we passed pros
pect holes, the machinery for mining scat
tered around as when last thrown by care
less hands. large stamp-mill empty and
silent and fine hotel without guest. and
rode into streets where numerous houses
came into view. Doors were wrenched
away and though broken win
dows torn curtains 1apped dsmally,
while from the front of great empty
"Restaurant," Groceries" looked down
into deserted streets. The rattle of our
wagons upon the lonely roads brought no
curious face to window or door: not even
dog appeared to bark at US. The tele-
graph poles extended to the railroad town
thirty miles away. but the wires had been
removed. There was no need Of cOmmunlca-
ton with the active world without. for on
hillside nearby the sole inhabitants lay
aslaeD, unconcprned whether gold mines
were discovered or abandoned In dismal,
vacant rooms pictures hung upon the
lonely walls. stoves and tables were lett
and chairs stood about as IL awaiting the
return of the absent. There were articles
of more value. safe and billard-tableS.
the cues and balls thrown down as when
tie last game was played.
As in a dream, we saw the eager, nope
full faces in the narrow, ngly streets, in the
forsaken, desolate homrs-here where they
worked and planned and boasted in the
old familiar way of "Our town." its
golden resources, its glorious pros
poets. In sheltered place child
had made a rude playhouse. On the floor
lay choice bits Of broken crockery. and
Just within the opening, thrown across
box, tiny. ragged suIbounet. We seem
to see the little form within and hear the
hurrying of the childish feet when news
OF the flooding of the mine had called her
to join in the common disaster. tie nasty
packing. the general departure to other
places. How many who came rich III an
ticipation had left poor and disappointed
! Since the disuse of the mine there Is little
passing on these rough mountain roaCs,
which explains why so much was left dust
covered. undlSturbed.
We stayed here for the night. and after
an early supper explored the camp. The
children unearthed amid the litter In a
photographers room negatives of the place
and what had once been its people; little
girrsitting with her doll under a big cactus,
lady leaning against some rocks, hunter
rife in hand and a dead deer at his feet.
boy on his burro and many others taken
In inc in xUt tnl
people delight to have themselves pictured,
while different views of the town. its streets
crowded with people, showed what the
camp had been when hundreds made here
their home.
The stranger ho had made himself our
companion joined US in looking at the
negatives and suddenly snatched one from
my hand. "My wifev' he cried excitedlv.
1t was the fair babyish face OF young
woman, her small round head covered
with short cnrls. AS he lonked he spoke
to himself, "What court could do me jus
tice?" He repea ted this several times and
his mind seemed to dwell on wrongs of
which we could only guess, while his face
expressed mingled anger and pain.
! In the morning we started on and met
! toward noon monntaineer returning 10
| his home in the hills beyond the deserted
mining camp. Our companion asked him
question and only the reply was audible
10 us. Yes; ! know him." the voluble
mountaineer was saying; "he's just over
| that hill now, looking for some cattle.
! He's the wealthiest man in this country
and used to live at that camp you
passed before the mine was flooded with
water; but when his wife died at that
place he buried her without even board
to mark her grave. He was always mean
TO her and some hinted around that she
WASH really his wife, but bad run away
from her own husband. She always
seemed like an ipnocent. good little
woman, though" The mountaineer,
thanking us for the tobacco we gave him,
passed toward the camp we had left
Our companion looked carefully mt his
revolver, and remarking There's some
game back here; do not wait for me-"
rode ovor the hill out of sight. Did We
guess his errand? Did conscience ever re-
prove us hat we did not urge him to wait
for the slow. uncertain decision of earthly
courts ar the promised falling of tho
sword nf heavens vengeance? Upon the
lonely road we waited until the hills re-
vertebrate ed with two shots Perhaps an
other hand had been snrer than his and
he could never come back. In silence still
we waited. Unharmed he snOn appeared
behind, not join ing us, as if he feared his
company might not now hn acceptable.
Ibid you get your game" called one of
the men.
81 got it." he answered briefly.
"Why didn't you bring it with you ?''
questioned one of the children innocently.
WASN'T it good to eat?"
"Not that kiDd nf game, baby" he an
swered gently. IT'S fit food only for coy
otas and buZzards."
Under the heading "Strange Ways OF
Justice" | have just read a newspaper ac-
count of his trial, confession and acQuittal.