The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1896-12-18

possibilities of peril to loved ones at
such a time. Somebody was sure to be
killed and several wounded-no matter
how the Indians were driven. 1t al
ways happened so. The troops might
win the fight and hold the ground and
drive the warriors heller skelter
through the hills, but who suffered
most? Who got the worst of the fight
itself? was the thing which wives and
children, mothers and daughters, most
considered, and in almost every case it
must be owned that the preponderance
of dead and wounded lay with the
troops. Already two of our best are
gone," sobbed an Irish laundress, "and
what have we got to show for it?"
1.-Two killed outright" cried Mrs.
Foster, land one of them our Rafferty,.
and now where is Leon?"
Alas! who could say? Leaving Ray
mond, his weeping women and anger
ing men, let us spur on after Turner
and the sorrel troop, by this time near
ly half way to the Sandy Even on
aeetest of American horses we cannot
hope TO overtake them until they are
almost within pistol range of the will
lows in the bottom, and when we do
the first platoon is dispersed in wide
skirmish line, the men riding five
yards apart. The other is in reserve,
ready to strike wherever the foe may
be developed. Only mile away lie the
old ruins across the Sandy. Only
mile and a half up there along the
fol- 10 n hn ,0rfh orn hn
adobe buildings of Kelly's little ranch,
Hereaway to the north, nearly opposite
the gateway of Apache canyon,
through which the Sandy comes brawl-
ing, towers the black pyramid of
Signal Butte, thin smoke still float
ing skyward from it's summit. A dozen
times, say the men of the reserve, have
they seen Icons pony tracks on the
way, but not once since passing the
dry arroyo two miles back. Over
beyond that strange cone-shaped
butte, so strong landmark as
1t stands like a sentry guarding
the canyons gate, the shallow rift in
the Socorro tells where the trail comes
In from Ration Springs over on the
northeast. Riding at speed until within
a mile of the timber. Turner has been
watching with eager eye for any sign of
life or action, of friend or foe, from
across the stream, and not so much as
wave of flag or blanket, or even bana
dana has rewarded his wistful scrutiny.
Kelly's home is apparently deserted.
The dismantled walls of the old post
are now hidden behind the sheltering
fringe of timber close to the stream.
Downey's ranch below is out of sight
behind the shoulder bluff that shrugs
to the very brink of the Sandy.
"Queer," says Thornton. Not sign,
yet they must have seen us coming.
Look out for every clump of trees or
bush ahead there, Turner. Since last
nights experience l sniff an Indian in
every twig" Turner only mods grimly
in reply. All along the slsirmish line
the carbines are advanced, the men
peering eagerly into the thickcts
ahead of them. The road itself winds
through the low bottom and enters the
stream at gravelly bend opposite the
walls of the old quartermaster's corral,
but that is u couple of hundred yards
| further to the south now. Turner is
hlhluS W redcn inc open grOunu ml4z
way between Kellys and the post, and
thereby he enabled most promptly to
lend aid to either. If the Tontos are
in strong force and lurking in the tim
Der to give him hot welcome, then the
fight will be hand to hand, and that's
what he wants. If, on the contrary,
they are too weak to match him, then
there is little hope of netting punish.
ment, for in his own hands the Apache
can only be thrashed when thoroughly
f! surprised, and one might almost as well
hope to catch a weasel asleep. One
hundred yards only to the timber now,
and not sign from anywhere. More
slowly, cautiously, the line advances,
expecting any instant to hear the crack
of the Indian rifle among the trees.
The suppressed excitement of the men
communicates itself through muscles,
that pardonahly quiver a bit, to the
mettlesome horses, and these are sniff
! ing the hot air suspiciously, with wide
eye and nostrils, and erect, twitching
ears shrinking from the possible ans