The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1897-04-04


which the yellow bakers call by twenty
pet names. Plainly something had hap
pened. The open space in front of the
adobe house was filled with excited men.
Among them stood Sanchez, the owner,
giving rapid commands. Between soft
Spanish oaths. ripped out as violently as
if they meant something, he explained.
one of his men had been sent out that
morning to drive up a herd of thirty odd
stock horses" or those used In working
cattle. He had gone to their range. They
were not there, but in their stead was
broad trail leading away from the Saos
neighborhood. Sanchez was then making
up his party Of pursuit. He would take
fifteen men, since there could not be less
than a half dozen driving the stolen stock.
They would not make any speed with less.
Would we join? Sure, we would. Where
was Pedro?
He came up well mounted. More than
six feet high; meagre almost to ghastli-
ness; his naturally dark skin burned al
most 20 African blackness; his eyes small,
deepset and close together; his nose aqui-
line his lips thin and compressed. His
snaky black hair fell upon his shoulders
His manner had the repressed gravity of
his Indian race. Around him, where 1t
chung In some mysterious manner, was a
gaudy blanket. II had no fastening that
/ could see. Under his right knee nestled
and dangerous man. IAN ready?" asked
Sanchez. Come on" 1t was as wild a
troop as ever swept over a Tartar steppe
The swarthy faces were set and the eyes
glittered angrily. A whisper ran from
man to man as they clattered on king
Feeshr' Fisher was a noted desperate
who lived on the Nueces river He had
killed some OF them and robbed them more
than once They were satisfied that the
last theft was his work. Moreover, the
horses, thirty-two In number, were the
hest on the ranch, especially broken and
trained.
Full eighty miles TO the northward ran
that trail, but when they struck 1t they
struck II as the eagle strikes homeward TO
her nest upon the crag when the way is
far and the sun is low and talons are
heavy. 1t was as broad and plain as a
country road More than $50 hoofs had
made It so. 1t ran straight away across
the open country. Pedro was in front and
by his side rode Sanchez Shannonhouse
and / followed. Behind me were the
vaqueros. They were going fast" said
Pedro. We were riding at the sharp steady
trot that the ranch horse develops. Mile
after mile was put behind US. I'VE can't
afford to go more slowly" said Sanchez,
In courteous explanation. 'They have
had more than twelve hours start" IF
you come up with them, what then?"
asked. "Ahl" he said. We had ridden
thirty miles and the dark was coming
down when the broad trail disappeared.
IL was wiped out as a boy swabs wet
sponge across a slate. I'VE will eat"
said Sanchez. THE moon will be up
soon" One OF the men had shot a pee
cary. Another had small package Of
salt in a pocket Of his saddle. We roast
ed and ate the wild hog without bread.
THE trail is gone" said Pedro, because
they have scattered the horses. No mat
ter"
once more in the saddle, with the white
moon streaming over all the wide country
Pedro rode now leaning far over his
horses shoulders. He was following sin
gle track. The gait was a fast walk. The
character OF the country had changed II
had become rocky and billy, but was still
bare. SO we rode and rode. Suddenly be-
fore US again stretched the wide road
made by the fugitiyes. a sibilant hiss Of
satisfaction greeted Il. Now troti Up hill
and down, while loose pebbles clattered
from under the horses hoofs. once
startled herd Of antelope bounded almost
from beneath our feet and scurrled away.
Dawn found us steadily riding A cup
Of coffee and two hours sodden sleep:
then the relentless pursuit. Again the
train vanished and again Pedro, casting
about like a hound, signaled Sanchez 20
come on. Three miles farther and the
single track disappeared. Instead, cross
ing II almost at right angles, was a trail
wider even than that which left the
ranch. Pedro was at fault here half
hour, hunting Ike a sleuth for his Sign"
"They have run Wild cattle across the
trail" explained Sanchez.
Late that afternoon heavy cloud Of
semoke rose on the far horizon. Pedro
smiled for the FIRST time. THAT is their
last trick" he said In his patois "They
are burning the grass behind them In the
hope that the ashes will cover the trail"
The sun hung like a red ball when we
had crossed the burned belt. and saw In
the distance the chaparral and trees that
marked the Nueces river. "They have