Daily camera., 1901-08-01
CHAPTER ",

Strange to say, the journey back to
the Mescalero seemed to benefit rather
than injure Merriam. The doctor vain
ly endeavored to restrain him-to in
duce him to shorten the long days
marches, but Merriam declared he was
never so well rs when in the saddle, and
that nothing wearied him so much as
waiting. II anything, he seemed less
jaded than his physician when. on the
third day, they reached the bivouac Of
the little command. and Billy Whit
tnker welcomed them to a supper OF
bacon and frijoles, and calmed Mer-
Rams feverish impatience by the news
that the civilian who had so desired to
see him was still alive, conscious, but
sinking rather than gaining. The min
ers' camp was n mile away. The dead
had been buried, and the feud dropped
with the brief prayers with which the
| bullet-riddled body was consigned TO
earth. Wells first duty lay with the
! two troopers, who were in bitter plight.
and no morsel Of food passed his lips
until he had ministercd TO them. Then
| Merriam had to wait until he had swal.
| lowed some coffee, and then, taking
Whitaker with them. they rode for
ward 10 n branch of the canyon, where
at nightfall they came in view of the
| fires of the little camp. Wells made
prompt examination Of the wounded
man, and came out from the rude shell
ter under which he lay. glanced at
| Whitaker and shook his head. Pres
emily. with n dazed look on his face,
Merriam reappeared. billie" said he,
stand here and see that there are no
cavesdroppers. know some of this
| poor fellows people, and he has mes
sages to send" The two or three hang
ers-on took the hint and slouched away.
Il may need you to witness his state
ment later" he whispered. Come in
if call. but lei no one else hear u.s.
For half an hour the low murmur OF
voices came from within the shack" as
darkness settled down upon the scene.
| Then both Wells and Whitaker were
summoned. and by the dim light OF a
camp lantern they knelt beside the pal
I let of the dying man. You know both
these gentlemen, by reputation, ut
least" said Merriam, gently, though his
eyes were cleaning, his lips quivering,
and his hands trembling with some
strong and strange emotion. "In their
presence ! desire you to read over this
/ statement that I have written from
your dictation. II it's entirely right,
say SO. sign it. and they will witness
| your signature. but will have no knowl-
edge of its contents"
For few minutes hardly a sound
save the deep breathing OF three power
| full. soldierly men and the feeble gasp
| ing of the sufferer broke the stiffness
Of the rude shelter. The wounded man
| lay propped on Merriam's shoulder, but,
| through weakness from his long illness
| and the mental excitement of the mo-
men,, the latter's trembling grew so
marked tina, Whitaker quickly slipped
| his left arm under the dropping head
| and drew his friend away. McLane
| seemed TO gain strength from the vigor
of this new support, though he could do
no more than whisper thanks. Present
| ly he beckoned TO Merriam and pointed
TO line on the page.
II said she was over a." he began,
then Merriam's hand was slipped over
| his mouth.
'Tll make any corrections you wish,
but do not speak of what is there" said
he, and with his fountain pen he erased
| word and wrote another. Then the
sufferer nodded. ''It is all right now"
he whispered, and, taking the pen, was
lifted to a half.sitting posture and
feebly. scratchily wrote rs follows:
John Harold McLane, Jr., aged 25;
born June l, 1867, Sacramento, Cal.
Died June -, 1899, Mescalero noun
tains, N. NJ" Then. dropping the pen,
he fell back to his rude pillow, pant