The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1894-01-04
COPYRIGHT, 1898 BY CHARLES KING
CHAPTER l.


CHAPTER l.
3ne sun was just going down, hiss
ing globe of fire and torment. Already
the lower limb was in contact with the
jagged backbone of the mountain chain
that trimmed the desert with purple
and gold. Out on the barren, hard
baked fiat in front Of the corral, just
where it had been unhitched when the
paymaster and his safe were dumped
socn after dawn, weatherbeaten am
bulance was throwing unbroken a mile
cong shadow toward the distant Chris
tobal. The gateway to the east through
the Santa Maria, sharply notched in the
cleaning range, stood a days march
away-a days march now only made
by night, for this was Arizona, and
from the rising of the sun to the going
down of the same anywhere south of
that curdling mud bath, the Gila, the
only human beings impervious to the
fierceness of its rays were the Apaches.
And they" growled the paymaster
as he petulantly snapped the locf of
his little safe, they're no more human
than so many hyenas." ?"
A big man physically was the Gus
todian and disburser of government
greenbacks- big that, as he stepped
forth through the aperture in the hot
adobe wall, he ducked his head to
avert unwilling contact with it's upper
edge. Green glass goggles, broad
brimmed straw hat, pongee shirt,
loose trousers of brown linen and dust
colored canvas shoes made up the outer
man of a personality as distinctly un-
military as it was ponderous. Slow and
labored in movement, the major was
correspondingly sluggish in speech.
He sauntered out into the glare of the
evening sunshine and became slowly
conscious of desire to swear at what
he saw; that, though in minute or two
the day god would "douse his glim"
behind the black horizon, no prepara-
tion whatever had been made for q
STAR. There atQQd the .ambula lance. ey.;
cry bolt and fink and tff6 hot as 4 stoVec
lid, but not q mule in sight.
Turning to his left, he strolled along
toward a gap in the adobe wall and
entered the dusty interior of the corral.
One of the four quadrupeds browsing
under the brush shelter languidly turned
an inquiring eye and interrogative ear
in his direction and conveyed, after
the manner of the mule, a suggestion
as to supper. A Mexican boy. sprawl
ing in the shade of bale of govern
ment hay and clad in cotton shirt and
trousers we'll nigh as brown as the skin
that peeped through occasional gaps,
glanced up at him with languid inter-
est an instant, and then resumed the
more agreeable contemplation of the
writings of an impaled tarantula.
Under another section of the shed two
placid little burros were dreamily
blinking at vacancy, their grizzled fronts
expressive of that ineffable peace found
only in the faces of saints and donkeys
In the middle of the inclosure rude
windlass coiled with rope stood stretch
ing forth decrepid lever arm. The
whippletree, dangling from the end
over the beaten circular track, seemed
cracked with heat and age. The stout
rope that stretched faulty from the coil
passed over a wooden wheel and dis
appeared through broad framed aper-
ture into the bowels of the earth.
Close at hand in the shade of brush
covered "leanto'' hung three or four
huge ollas, earthen water jars, swathed
in gunnysack and blanket. Beyond
them, warped out of all possibility of
future usefulness, stood what had once
been the running gear of California
blackboard. Behind it dangled from
dusty pegs portions of leather harness,
which all the neatsfoot oil of the mil
itary pharmacop9ia could never again
restore to softness or pliability. A
newer edition of the same class of ve-
hicle was covered by canvas ''paulin. -
A huge stack of barley bags was piled
at the far end of the corral, guarded
from depreciation (quadrupedaD by a
barrier Of wooden Stats, mostly down,
and by tattered biped. very sound
asleep.
Where's the sergeant?" queried the
paymaster slowly, addressing no one
in particular. but looking plaintively
around hlm.
Still leaning brown chin on u near
ly black hand, and stirring up his
spider with the torked stick he held
in the other paw. the boy simply tilted
his head toward the dark opening un-
der the farther end Of the shed, an
aperture that seemed to lead to moth
ing but blackness beyond.
What's he doing?"
| No sa-a-abe," drawled the boy,
never lifting his handsome eyes from
the joys before him.
| why hasn't he harnessed up?"
| A shrug Of the shoulders was the only
reply.
/ "Hey?"
mo sa-a-abe, I" slowly as before.
! What's your name3''