El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1901-02-11

infantry, made my first trip across the
great Staked plains of Texas as an es-
cort to a couple of civil engineers had
heard of the death bird of the desert.
No living man had ever seen it, but
there were plenty who had heard its
notes, and its notes always meant dan
ger. One might travel to and fro on
the Staked plains for n year and never
see bird of any sort except about their
edges The only living things to be
met with arc serpents. lizards, scorpi-
onS and skulking wolves. The aridness
and desOlatiOn are too much even for
the buzzards.
The death bird. so the legend went,
appeared only at night, and then no
LIN saw him He came to give warn
ing. His notes were peculiar, and no
hunter could initiate him, but one hear
ing them I'm the silence of the night and
the desert could make no mistake. Be
fore making the trip an old hunter said
to me:
There is but one danger to look out
for-the Apaches. They may follow
you clear across the desert. They
will not attack you by daylight. but at
night, without your having seen n sign
of them. they will creep upon you as
ten for the notes of the death bird, and
when you hear them take instant warn
ing"
There We're 16 of us I'm the party.
Fourteen soldiers were supposed to
constitute a force able to take care of
itself anywhere. There was more anx-
iety as to our water and rations than
as to the Indians who might dog our
footsteps 1t was midsummer, and the
heat on that great surface of sand and
alkaH soil was simply terrific After
the first day. when we were clear Of
shelter. a march of six or eight miles
was all any one was capable of. The
nights brought cool breezes and recu-
peration, but they also brought lone
Illness no person can describe Men
afioat on the wide ocean in a small
boat hear strange sounds at night and
are made afraid. Men on the desert
are almost made towards by the I'M
canny surroundings. If there is the
chirp of a cricket or the howl of a coy
ote, it is not company. 1t simply adds
to the loneliness. If the night is unbro-
ken, then it is as If heavy blanket
had been thrown over your head to
shut out the living world.
We saw nothing of Indians. No one
believed that party took our trail. A
faithful watch was kept, however, but
after few nights when had come to
realize how helpless we really were 1
found myself depending on that legend
of the death bird. If we were menaced,
he would warn us. We had been out a
week when there came the blacklist of
black nights. 1t was black because it
was moonless and storm was gather
fn0 nryr cnf III in q
ter, but they could not be seen at dis
lance of six feet. Three sentinels were
on duty, but they could not see the
sands at their feet If the Indians had
followed, there would never be a bet
ter night for a surprise. 1t would be
no trick at all to creep within stabbing
distance Of the sentinels, and a volley
Of arrows and bullets sent through the
tents must wound or kill most of us.
1 was sitting in the door Of my tent
an hour after midnight, wondering
how soon the storm would break, when |
there came to me from a point not far |
distaa 1T the notes of the death bird. !
They sounded bit like the call Of
quail, and yet they were unlike They |
were like words instead Of notes. They |
were soft and clear, and from the very |
first they said to me:
Look outI Look outi Look outl |
Danger! Danger! Danger! Death |
Death! Deathw
L repeat that the bird seemed to be |
talking instead of crying out in its nat
ural notes. / may have got this idea J
from my state of nervous apprehen-
sion, but so it was. / turned and woke
up the two sleeping engineers and ask
ed them to listen. They did not make
out words as l did, but one Of them
whispered:
That's a danger cry, or / never
heard one. / tell you we are menaced
by some great peril"
Thrice the death bird called its notes.
and then all was silence as before. A
soldier was sent creeping away to call
in the sentinels. A few rods to the
north of us, as we had noticed when
going into camp, the sands had been
toyed with by some strong gale until
the ridges almost formed a natural
fort With the greatest care and In the
deepest silence we left tents and bag
gage, and, taking nothing but our wa
ter bottles and muskets, we crept out
of camp to the north and by and by
reached the fort 1t was so dark that
men had to be felt for instead of spo-
Ken to, but at the end of half an hour
we lay in line with our muskets resting
on a sand ridge and pointing toward
camp. One could tell by the feeling IL
The air that the storm would soon
break and that the first break would be
a vivid fash of lightning. The men