The copper era and Morenci leader., 1912-01-26
CHAPTER |!
The Scene of Tragedy.

The Scene of Tragedy.
 Whatever might be the nature of the tragedy it would be over with long before this, and those moving black spots away yonder to the west, that he had discerned from the bluff, were undoubtedly the; departing raiders. There was nothing left for Keith to do except determine the fate of the unfortunates, and give their bodies de cent burial. That any had escaped, or yet lived, was altogether unlikely, unless, perchance, women had been in the party, in which case they would have been borne away prisoners.
 Confident that no hostiles would be left behind to observe his movements. Keith pressed steadily forward, lead ing his horse. He had thus traversed fully half mile before coming upon any evidence of fight-here the pur- suers had apparently come up with the wagons, and circled out upon either side. From their ponies tracks there must have been a dozen in the band. Perhaps hundred yards furth- CT along lay two dead ponies. Keith examined them closely-both had been ridden with saddles, the marks of the cinches plainly visible. Xvi dently one of the wagon mules had also dropped in the traces here, and had been dragged along by his mates. Just beyond came a sudden depression in the prairie down which the wagons had plunged so heavily as to break one of the axles; the wheel lay a few yards away, and, somewhat to tho right, there lay the wreck of the wag- cn itself, two dead mules still in the traces, the vehicle stripped of con- tents and charred by fire. A hundred feet further along was the other wagon, it's tongue broken, the canvas top ripped open, while between the two were scattered odds and ends of wearing apparel and provisions, with a pile of boxes smoking grimly. The remaining mules were gone, and no semblance of life remained anywhere. Keith dropped his reins over his horses head, and, with Winchester cooked and ready, advanced eau tiously.
 Death from violence had long since become almost a commonplace occur renee to Keith, yet now he shrank for an instant as his eyes perceived the
 
 across the broken wagon tongue. The grizzled hair and beard were streaked with blood, the face almost unrecog- nizable, while the hands yet grasped a bent and shattered rife. Evidently the man had died fighting, beaten down by overwhelming numbers after expendtng his last shot. Then those fends had scalped and left him where he fell. Fifty feet beyond, shot in the hack. lay younger man, doubled up in a heap, also scalped and dead. That was all; Keith secuted over 8 wide circle, even scanning the stretcr of gravel under the river bank, before he could fully satisfy himself there were no others in the party. It seem d impossible that these two travelling c1one would have ventured upon such : trip in the face of known Indian hostility. Yet they must have done SO, and once again his lips muttered: s "Of all the blame fools!"
 Suddenly he halted, staring about over the prairie, obsessed by a new thought. an aroused suspicion. There had appeared merely the of-prints of the one horse alongside of the flee ing wagons when they first turned out from the trail, and that horse had eeep newly shod. But there were two dead ponies lying back wonder; neith- or shod, yet both had borne saddles More than this, they had been spur red, the blood marks still plainly wis ible, and one of them was branded; he remembered it now, a star and ar row. What could all this portend? Was it possible this attack was nc Indian affair after all? Was the dis figuring of bodies, the scalping, mere ly done to make 1t appear the act of savages? Driven to investigation by this suspicion, he passed again over the trampled ground, marking this time every separate indentation, ev- cry fainuest imprint of hoof or foot. There was no impression of mocca- sin anywhere; every mark remaining was of booted feet. The inference was sufficiently plain-this had been the deed of white men, not of red foul murder, and not savage war.
 The knowledge seemed to scar Keith's brain with fire, and he sprang to his feet, hands clinched and eyes blazing. He could have believed this of Indians, it was according to their nature, their method of warfare; but the cowardliness of it, the atrocity of the act, as perpetrated by men of his own race, instantly aroused within him a desire for vengeance He wanted to run the fellows down, to discover their identity. Without thinking of personal danger he ran forward on their trail, which led di- rectly westward, along the line of cottonwoods. These served to con- ceal his own movements, yet for the moment, burning with passion, he was utterly without caution, without slightest sense of peril. He must