Waterbury evening Democrat., 1894-01-06
THE PHANTOM OF THE DESERT.

A Strange Cry That Fell upon Ch0 SO1-
 diers' Ears.
 As we leave the Pecos river and journey northward toward the great sandhills of the staked plains our Indian scouts and guides look about them as if expecting to see an enemy at any moment, and as the summer day draws to a close we notice them whispering together slnd exhibiting signs of uneasiness. They are speaking of the Phantom of the Desert. From the year 1868 to that of 1873 strange tales were told at the frontier posts and around the camp fires regarding that phantom. Hunters. soldiers and Indians believed them, and hunters and Indians were driven away from the headwaters of the Concha river by their fears of something they had never seen.
 We make our camp amid the sands sands sod dry and deep that they would absorb the waters of the Mississippi and scarcely feel damp to the touch. The cactus, the rattlesnake, the vulture and the sandsl Nothing else, unless it be the bones our horses feet throw to the surface as they dig for water to cool their tongues. The rosy hues die out of the west, and ev g comes. Evening finally gives place to sol emn night. It is a starlight night, but a mist rises from the sands to make the stars look small and pale and far away. Tn re are no tents, no fires. At 10 o'clock nearly all the command are asleep. The sleepers are lying as saw the dead lie when aw" it. ing burial at Gettysburg. Each face is ln- covered and upturned to the night, and you feel chill as you look at them. You know they sleep, and yet you fear they are dead a camp of dead men on desolate and ac- cursed groundl The men are hardly asleep before the horses become quiet. Some lie down to sleep and sigh; others remain on their feet, and weave to and fro, and arouse themselves at intervals to look about in a dazed, queer way. Loneliness and night and desolation affect horse as much as man. He cannot sleep and forget the situa- tion as his rider can. Only the sentinels are alert now. The Indians are at peace with us, and no danger need be feared, but they have heard of the Desert Phantom and are nervous and wakeful.
 Eleven o'clock, and all is quiet. But for the faint craunch of the footsteps of the sentinels it would be the stiffness of tomb. On the plains you will hear an occasional cry from some night bird, the howl of the coyote, the chirp of the crickets. Here is blankness-darkness- silence so deep that you are afraid of it.
 Midnight, and the sergeant of the guard is about to arouse the relief guard and march them out, when a strange, weirG sound comes to his ears from the north. It is the cry of human being-of woman such a cry as a woman might utter as she tottered about and sunk down to die of hunger and thirst. It is the cry of the Phantom. It has been heard hundred times before, and no man has ever smiled in contempt at the sound.
 ''The Phantom! The Phantom The Phan- tomr' So whisper the three sentinels on that side of the camp as they desert their posts and hasten in.
 Fools! Cowards! Get back or I will re- port your' answers the sergeant, but they move timidly and look to the right and left.
 Now comes the cry from the east side of the camp-not shriek nor a scream, but a long drawn, quavering cry full of anguish and desolation. Was it fancy? Then why did every horse on the ground leap to his feet and point his ears at the first cry? Was it the cry of some lost and confused vulture flying heavily over camp as it searched for the flock? If so, why did the second cry arouse every sleeping man and cause him to turn his face to the east-men who would have slept cn amid she bowling of wolvesP
 What is it, sergeant"
 'Thc Phantom Of the Desert, sir!'
 The officer had heard the legends many times, but smiled in pity on those who re- lated them. An officer of the regular army a believer in phantoms! A troop of regu- lar cavalry, most of the men in service for a dozen years, panic stricken because of a cry from the darkness beyond!
 Sergeant, give me the names of those men who deserted their posts, and I'll''-
 The cry came again-this time from the west-a cry in which there were more an- guish and desolation than before It quay cred on the night air for 10 long seconds, and when it ceased every mans heart was beating so he could hear the sound. Many of the horses stamped and snorted, and the men crowded together and reached for their carbines. Four parties of three men each were pushed out into the darkness, and candles were lighted and men ordered to shout welcome to the poor wanderer. After an interval of five minutes we heard the cry again, but it was farther away this time, and we thought it had changed too. There was note of anger and disappoint- ment in it. A long 10 minutes passed away, and then we got the cry for the last time-a wailing, petulant cry which might be uttered by tired and sleepy child.
 Men and horses slept again, but with c sort of nightmare upon them. When day light came we secured the desert for signs and found them in plenty-the footprints of naked feet all about our camp. Some said they were those of a woman, but all were mystified. The Phantom of the nes- ert had come and gone-come from no one could say where-vanished in what direc- tion we could not say. We were yet stoop- ing over the footprints when they seemed to melt away in the sand. One night year later that wild, weird cry aroused camp of soldiers almost on the same spot. The Indians had become hostile again, and thinking it the signal for an attack the sentinel fired into the darkness. The cry was not repeated. but in place of it came scream of pain and terror. Nothing was found next morning, but day or two later still another party came across dead body on the sands. They did not ride close enough to disturb the vultures. Some said it was the body of woman clothed in rags, with tangled hair falling to the knees; some thought it that of deserter who had become wandering lunatic. From that time on the Phantom of the Desert has not been heard of. The soldiers bullet sent