The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1894-03-14

women of Moreno's household were al
ready dragging into the corral their few
treasures and rushing back for such
raiment as they could save. Far over
at the corral gate, where the bullets of
the besieged could not find them, Pas
quail Morales and his exulting band
were gathered, the chief lying upon his
serape, with bloody bandages about his
leg, his followers dancing about him in
frantic glee, all keeping carefully out
of range Of the black doorways, yet
three or four crack shots lay fat in the
sands, their rifles covering the now glar-
ing fronts Of the threatened rancho,
ready to shoot down, Indianlike, the
wretched garrison when driven out.
It was at this juncture that from
somewhere in the middle room, behind
Moreno's heavy door, voice was heard:
Hand out the safe. Hand out your
money now, and We'll leave you in
peace. Every man of us will ride away,
and you can come out as soon as we are
gone. Answer, for you have no time
to lose.
Answer him, YOU" shouted Feeny
to Mr.. Dawes. Send a shot through
and hit him if you can
But before the clerk could drop the
fan with which he was striving to re-
vive his fainting chief, the young fel-
low from Harvey's party, he who was
stationed at the north door and had
been so fortunate as to shoot Morales
himself, now suddenly sprang from his
covert, and placing the muzzle Of his
Henry rifle close to the door deliberately
popped three shots in quick succession
through the splintering woodwork, and
in the confusion and dismay which re-
suited was able to leap ni1nbly into his
corner again before the answering shots
could come.
Take that for your answer!'' shout
ed Feeny again, ''you black hearted,
black bellied thafe, and take this, too,
bad scran to ye! Every dollar of that
moneys in greenbacks that'll burn as
aisy as tissue, and if you want it come
and get it now. 'Tis you that's got no
time to lose. Come and get it, I say,
for be the soul of St. Patrick you'll
never have another chance. Just as
sure as ye let that fire reach this ranch
and harm those young leddies-old Har-
veys daughters that never djG ye
harm in the world-every dollar in the
safe goes whack into the fire, and sorra
a shinplaster will you have for all your
pains. Amt that SO, paymaster? Shure
the government ought to be mighty glad
Of the chance Of saving all those prom
ises to pay
Bravo, Feeny!' shouted young Har-
vey from the adjoining room. We're
not smoked out yet, by good deal, " he
added in lover tones. But if the worst
comes to the worst we can make rush
for the barley stack in the corral. Lie
still, Ruth, little sister. It won't be
any time now before the soldiers will
come gallor:ng to us. And, hiding
her terror stricken face in her sisters
breast, the girl obeyed.
Out at the corral gate meantime a
vehement council was being held. Fee
ny's bold defiance and threat had pro-
auced their effect. His voice had rung
out above the roar of the flames, and
what Morales could not hear was
promptly reported by those who had
crawled up nearer to the bar and could
understand every word. Even hampered
by the care of their helpless women, the
defense was undismayed. The little gar
rison was fighting with magnificent
hope and courage.
Beyond the wounding Of one Of their
number, no impression apparently had
been made, whereas the bandits had
a sorry loss to contemplate. Ramon
shot dead. Pasqual crippled and the
two 'gringos. % the daring, enterpris-
ing leaders of the attack, painfully
wounded, one probably mortally so.
And now, with the flames lighting up
the whole valley between the Picacho
and the Christobal, with cavalry known
to be out in several squads within easy
march, some of the men were already
weakening. They had had enough of
it and were quite ready to stink away.
but Pasqual was a raging lion. Re-
venge for the death of his brother,
wrath over his own crippled condition,
fury at the failure of the assault and
hatred on general principles OF all hon
est means and honest men, all prompt
ed him to order and enforce a renewal
Of the attack, all served to madden him
to such degree that even burning his
adversaries to death seemed simply
case of serving them right. What cared
he that two of the besieged were fair
young girls = nonconbatants? They
were George Haryey's daughters, and
that in itself was enough to bring balm
to his soul and well nigh cause him to
forget his physical ills.
no BE CONTINUED