The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1894-05-18

men, ! mean. VIII you deliver his
messenger"
Just as you say. Why shouldn't
you?'
eth have so much more effect from
your lips, major. They may misdoubt
me.
Far out on the trail the quick trip
ping hoofs of mules could now be
heard. Presently horseman shot up
out of the gloom.
"Halt therer' sang out Feeny.
Whose party's this?"
"Harvey's, Tucson. Looking for
Moreno's. Are we near?''
You're there now, but you can't
stop. Mr.. Harvey wants you to come
right along after him. He has taken
the trail to the Christobal, where the
Indians have carried off his daughters. y
The man fairly reeled in his saddle.
shocked at the dreadful tidings.
when? How did it happen? Who's
gone with him?"
"Some time this morning, from all
we can learn. Two squads of cavalry
are ON the trail, one with Ned Harvey,
the other just out from here at dark.
The old man and George followed them
as soon as they got in. Who's with
your
1.-TWO Mexicans, that's all. They re
no account. I'd best leave them here
with the mules. They're just behind
and have been scared to death already"
And so in 10 minutes two more of
the low caste half breed Mexicans were
added to the paymaster's garrison, and
Sergeant Feeny's brief exposition of
the situation at the ranch only delayed
the incoming American long enough to
: water his horse and stow little grain
in sack.
81 wouldn't wonder a id bit
if the Morales gang were around here,
was his discomforting assurance. None
of 'em have been seen about Tucson for
a week before we left. Wish could
stay and stand by you, but my first duty
is with Mr.. Harvey. I've been in his
employ nigh onto eight years.
"What sort of looking man is Ned
Harvey?' persisted the sergeant, still
hopeful of some fraud.
Tall, dark, smooth face-loolSs like
a Spaniard, almost. / never saw any
body who resembled him hereabouts.
I'm afraid it's no plant. don't want
to offend you, sergeant, but wish to
God it was all the Morales gangs do
ings and that it was only your money
they were after. If it's Apaches, and
they have got the old mans children,
he'll never get over it..
"By heavenv' muttered Feeny to
himself, as the loyal fellow put spurs
to his horse and disappeared; "by heav-
en-, l begin to believe it's both.
And now with gloomy face the SER
geant returned to where he had left
Major Plummer watching the westward
trail. A brief word at the doorway as
sured him the clerk was still alert and
ready. Apause under the open window,
high above the ground, of the room
where slept Moreno's wife and daugh-
ter, if they slept at all, told him that
all was silence there, if not slumber,
and then he joined his superior.
"That fellow was of the right sort,
sergeant, +" said Plummer. 81 wish we
had one or two like him"
Il wish we had, sir. Those greas-
ers are worse than no guards at all.
They II sit there in the corral and smoke
papelitos by the hour and brag about
how they fought their way through the
Apaches with Harvey's mules, but for
our purpose they're worse than useless.
At the first sign of an attack they'd be
stampeding out into the darkness, and
that the last we'd see of them. Heard
anything further out this way, sir?"
why, confound it, yes. try to
convince myself it's only imagination,
but two or three times, far out there
toward the Picacho, I've heard that
whip cracking. / have felt sure there
was a hammering sound, as though
some one were pounding ON wagon
tire. Once was sure heard horse
snort. That was in measure expect
ing. If those fellows mean to attack,
they'll come mounted, of course, but
what wagon would they have?"
Zone of Ceralvo's perhaps, to cart off
the safe in, if they couldn't burst into
it here"
"There! Hark now, sergeant! Didn't
you hear?" suddenly spoke the major,
throwing up warning hand.
Both men held their breath, listening
intently. For moment nothing but
the beating of their own hearts served
to give the faintest sound. Then, out to
the west, under the starlit. vault of the
heavens, somewhere in that black ex-
panse of desert, plainly and distinctly,
there rose the measured sound of iron
or stone beating on iron. Whether it
were tire or linchpin, hame or brake,
something metallic about wagon or
blackboard was being pounded
place or shape.
"It's them, sir, muttered the SER
geant. Its that bloody gang, for
there's no stage due tonight, and if it
was Harvey's ambulance, recaptured,
tits from the northeast it would be COM
ing"
''Mightn't they have missed the trail
in the darkness, and having no ranch
lights to guide them got lost somewhere
out there?'
"Not likely, sir. Shure, there'd be