Fort Worth gazette. [volume] (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1891-1898, 1895-07-07
and anticipation. and unfolded his

and anticipation. and unfolded his
tragic tale as follows:
las / said. gentlemen, n good fnjun
is n dead Injun and more than ever
does he get good by dying when he has
lived as an Apache. The Indian in ro-
nance may be a noble savage, but in
fact, I mean in the bloody reality of
the days / am going to tell you of,
he was vermin, ruthless, cunning,
brutal vermln, and no good till he was
dead--and precious little good then.
1T was away back in the middle OF
the fifties, and ! was scouting in the
Iuni country In the valley Of the Rio
de Zuni In New Mexico west OF the Rio
Grande. Wed campcd on the southern
edge Of the Sierra Madre Plateau, on
the banks Of the San Miguel, just south
of what is now the border of New
Mexico, partly, of course. FOR nights
rest, which we needed sadly after a
long days travel over the plain, and
partly to walt for a Mexican guide
Don Manuel he called himself-and
three Moquis Indians that we'd en-
gagged for the trip across the Sierra
Madre Mountains into Sonora. needn't
trouble you with the names OF the
party or anything about the Journey
because that's not In the story.
wed got the camp fixed to rights,
and were making ourselves comfortable
for the night, when Don Manuel came
in with his Indians, and two of these
were half supporting, half carrying be-
tween them long, weather beaten
loose-llmbed old fellow who had evil
IDENTIFY seen trouble and lot of it.
When he got close enough to us to
make out the sort of people we were
he pulled himself together, and putting
out his two hands towards us,--the
Indians were holding him by the Shout
ders, you know-he said, like a man
waking from bad dream:
'Amerlcansi Thank God, I've got
to friends at lastr
You can guess we weren't long in
making him at home, for we saw that
he badly wanted any comforts and help
that we could give him. He was more
than half starved what clothes he had
on were little better than rags, and he
had an arrow wound in his right thigh
that was about n week old and hadn't
been properly attended to. We gave
him a good feed and fixed him up with
some clothes and made him as COM
Portable as we could, and after supper
we asked him to tell us all about it,
and this, as nearly as / can remember
his words. is what he told us:
My name is Ezra Porter, as / have
told you, gentlemen. A little more than
two months back ! left Pineville, Mis-
souri,. and started out for Los Angeles,
where I've got a son that meant to
settle down near. There were fix of
us-me and the old woman, Eph, my
second son that is. or / should say was.
two girls, Rose and Mary, and jeff
the youngest alive. We had the traps
we brought away with us on three
light wagons, prairie schooners, you
know, drawn by mules, and me and
the lads and Rose, the eldest girl. had
horses.
"'we had very tolerable times and
not much bad luck. considering. until
getting on for a fortnight ago-last
Tuesday week II was, and this, / be-
lieve. is Friday-that we made camp in
as pretty a little valley as l guess
and the Pacific. We hadn't seen or
smelt a sign OF an Indian, but these
Zunis and Moquis, which seemed TO be
harmless fellows enough, and Were
beginning to think that the yarns we
had heard about the Apaches had been
mostly made up for the papers or else
maybe to keep people out of the coun-
try.
"'weil. we were camped In this val
ley. as ! said, and as us and our beasts
were tired and not In over good con-
ditiou we allowed that we'd stop there
a day or two and fatten up a bit We
kept watch the first night, me and the
two lads. turn and turn about. but
nothing happened; and the second and
the third night It was the same. and
SO at last we reckoned that there was
nothing to keep awake for. and thought
Il was no good doing without the sleep
which we miRhtn't get further on. and
the fourth night we all turned In to-
gether.
4 don't know how long we slept.
but l woke un with an awful heart