The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1940-12-20


Is up there shooting" said Parda-
loe amiably. And without hesita-
ton he stepped into the doorway
himself. No shot greeted him.
"Jus's thought; JUS two NV 'em
there. Look here" he said, shak-
ing the squatter savagely, who's
up in the woods?" 4
"Must be Deaf Peterson m the
captain" the squatter mumbled.
"Jus's thought, Henry-Blood
and Peterson" commented Parda-
loe.
SECT to the horses" exclaimed
Bowie. "We'u see how much fight
there is in those fellows. Pedro,
look after the woman. Burn the
shack and ride after us. That tim
Der is thin; not much chance to
hide. Col" V
The run, with Pardaloe and the
long-bearded Simmie at Bowie's
heels, was across an open meadow
that exposed the riders to rifle fire.
This was held back until the three
men were fair moonlight targets.
But the beads were drawn on men
squirting hard and heading straight
at the enemy.
The squatter rifles blazed. Blood,
especially, was accounted dead
shot, but the odds that night were
against craftsmanship from the
wood. Pardaloe's horse stumbled.
His knees crumpled, and Pardaloe
took a cropper. Man and beast
rolled violently along the ground.
Sirnmie took flesh wound under his
right arm. Bowie, riding faster,
reached the timber before the squat
ters could reload.
Blood and his companion made
no stand. Bowie caught sight of the
two dashing through the trees on
horseback and gave chase to the
j one closest Simmie, more enraged
than seriously hurt, took after the
other. 1t CHANGED that Peterson was
Simmie's quarry; Bowie was chas-
ing Blood.
The squatters rode the fresher
horses; they were more familiar
with the country. And their pur-
suers, not able at every moment to
keep their eyes on the chase and
dodge among the willows and lau-
rels, found their hands full.
Bowie succeeded in chasing his
man out of the timber to stretch
of open country. Both horses, de-
spite the desperate squirting of their
riders, were showing the grueling
pace, but both held out till day was
breaking.
In the stiffness of the early dawn,
with Bowie straining every effort to
keep his man in sight, the chase,
mile after mile, went on; only the
flying rhythm of the horses hoofs
broke the silence ushering in
peaceful day. And where nature
offered every possible beauty to
calm the heart of man, two men
Numbered in deadly enmity across
field of peoples that turned the dull
brown of the cropped grass for miles
into glory of golden blooms.
The Texan with straining eyes
held his man against the distant
horizon. No thought of relenting, no
thought of mercy, restrained him.
The insolence and invasion of a
squatter might be forgiven. But the
Texans thoughts were set on the
cold-blooded murder of an unoffend-
ing Indian. That murderer must
be held and punished, and his pur-
suer meant he should be.
With sharp jerk of the bit Blood
wheeled suddenly to the right, away
from the peoples and toward the
Melena. It was a desperate move
for refuge, but if the murderer could
gain the swamp far enough ahead
of his pursuer he could turn on Bow
lie and pick him off his horse from
hiding.
It was ten-mile run to the great
swamp. Mile after mile fled under
the drumming feet of the straining
ponies. Yet Blood, even on the
fresher mount, could gain but little
on his grim pursuer. Every glance
backward from the murderer's sad.
die lessened his hope of chance to
reload for a shot after gaining the
swamp, for Bowie, alive to the trick,
was bent on defeating it.
Sooner than seemed possible, the
two men, racing on narrowing
grass of the Melena border. Blood,
glancing back over his shoulder,
yelled a defiance and, hating on
the very edge of the morass,
whipped out pistol and threw a
shot at his pursuer.
It was an impossible shot, made
from the saddle on a FESTIVE horse at
more than fifty yards, yet the slug
went home, tearing into Bowie's al
ready pricked right forearm and
shattering it between the elbow and
wrist.
With an impatient curse the
wounded Texan, crouching in his
saddle, spurred headlong at his en-
envy. But Blood did not wait for the
attack. Bowie knew that the squat
ter must have second loaded pis-
toll or he never would have fired so
wild a shot--a shot with which he
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