The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1940-12-27
CHAPTER XIX

Bowie, leaping his horse into the
Jungle as he crouched in the saddle,
knew he had one more pistol slug
to face; and knew that only his
knife was left him for a hand-to-
hand fight. Yet such was his tradi-
ton and his training that, of all
weapons available to him, the bowie
knife would be his choice in a short
arm struggle. He plunged into the
jungle without qualm and headed his
horse through the thicket by the
sounds of the struggling horse
ahead.
Then came silence as Bowie,
with his shattered arm, pressed for
ward. A pistol shot from the squat
ter rang and echoed through the
jungle. The slug whistled past
Bowie's head. His only answer to
it was cry, a plainsman's cry.
Blood spurred to the right, close
to a huge sycamore. Bowie's horse
was struggling up to it's knees in
mud and slime with every leap like
to be its last. Suddenly there
came a whirring, clashing sound
ahead, and terrible cry choked
short.
Through the tangle of vines and
branches before him Bowie caught
a glimpse of riderless horse, ly-
ing begged. What did it mean?
Slowing up, the Texan peered
through the screen of leaves ahead.
He worked his way closer to the
giant sycamore, when his horse
SHE'D violently.
Half submerged, face downward
N the marshy water, lying so close
that Bowie's horse almost tram
pied it, he saw the sprawling figure
of man. Clutching his knife in his
left hand, the Texan slipped from
his saddle, plunged through the
slime and, watching narrowly for
trick, lifted the mans head by the
hair out of the ooze. AS he took the
head in his hands it turned, dis
jointed at the neck; the squatter was
quite dead.
With one arm disabled, Bowie
could do no more than partly drag
the trunk of the body closer to the
roots of the big tree. He stood for
moment in bewilderment and con-
fusion, stunned by the gruesome
sight. Almost at his side lay the
squatter's pony, only its heaving
TANKS showing life.
The Texan stood hatless beside
his painting horse, wiping beads OF
sweat from his forehead and trying
to decide what to do.
The instinct to hurry away from
the tragedy must be denied. If he
left the body it would be virtually
impossible to find it again, and it
would almost certainly be mangled
by coyotes before it could be re-
covered. Nor could Bowie, partly
disabled, get it on his horse-the
squatter was a large man-to carry
it out of the swamp. Nor had he a
pistol in hand to load for shot.
But he had still stentorian voice.
He knew Pardaloe and Simmie
would trail him to the Melena. He
sent out slow high cry and lis
tened. No response greeted his ear.
After a long wait, for even breath
was precious in his predicament, he
tried a second call and sat down to
figure out what had befallen Blood.
Soon he heard in the distance a
pistol shot. He knew it was sig
nal. Again he gave the plainsman's
shrill plaintive cry, and there came
at last an answering call.
It was frontier wireless long be-
fore the day of wires. Patience and
calling and answering brought Par
daloe and Simmie, swearing their
way into the heart Of the Melena to
where Bowie stood leaning with his
left hand on the sycamore tree.
''Henry, you been hit! Where?
Dog it, man, you've lost aplenty
blood. Set down. Where's Blood,
Henry"
Pardaloe was concerned. His
questions came fast. Bowie pointed
to the fallen squatter. Simmie
pulled at his beard refiectively-the
only sign he ever gave of excite
ment. Pardaloe stared a moment,
pulled the body around, but he saw
no blood.
Henry" he asked, peering,
''where'd you hit him?"
II had no pistol. We were go
ing fast. / was within ten yards of
him when we got here. He jumped
his horse past the tree without see
ing this pool. The horse went down."
Bowie pointed upward. 'See that old
grapevine hanging across from the
trunk to the branch? That's what did
it."
Late that morning Carmen, after
searching the horizon since day
break with straining eyes, perceived
a little party of horsemen riding
slowly toward the ranch house.
Most of all she searched among
them for the caballero to whom she
had given her life in promise. Her
acute agony of suspense ended when
she made out his broad hat and tall
figure in the saddle.
Carmen had promised herself she