The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1940-11-08
CHAPTER xII-Continued
p

aDSOluLlOu. ! Will perform yOuI pSH-
ance for you. And whatever hap
pens, you will be ready. Good-by,
my son. You now truly are my
son." He raised his wrinkled hand,
expressed the symbol of eternity
above him, and spoke low and rap
idly the serious words of absolution.
Again the numbering footstep was
heard in the corridor. Gomez"
shouted the guard, unlocking and
opening the door. 1t would have
been so easy, thought Bowie, to
have knocked him down.
II am ready, amigo" Speaking
placatingly, the padre stepped into
the corridor and walked away.
AS darkness fell Bowie stood close
to the peephole, watching for the
padre to pass in the corridor. He
was no longer anxious to finish the
tunnel, feeling sure that he could
take Sanchez with him.
A hooded figure passed Bowels
cell and, without pausing, walked
down the corridor. The Texan tip
toed back to his stool and sat down
to listen.
Hour after hour passed in the cell,
with Bowie straining his ears and
senses to hear the whistle which
should tell him the horses had come.
Sanchez stealthily appeared at the
cell door and unlocked it. Bowie
drew him in for a whispered conf
dence.
1.-TWO horses will soon be left be-
hind the guardhouse. wait for
them"
why two?"
"You are going with me-"
"Me?"
eyes, you. Do you want to be
shot? When you hear the whistle,
come back and we will start"
Sanchez hesitated. "Hark! the
signal" whispered Bowie. 81 will
wait for you at the horses. Work
fast"
The Texan curbed his nervous APP
prehension as well as he could.
Sinking around to the rear of the
Jail, he found the horses, their heads
roped together. They stood quiet
and Bowie, after patting them,
walked back to the guardroom.
Sanchez" whispered Bowie in
the dark, "can you find me a knife
or a pistol?"
Here are both, senior. And
have one each for myself; and pow
der and lead"
''Then you are ready?"
Ready, senor."
Listen. Before ! go back to the
horses I will leave my compliments
to Pico. Take your keys and I'M
lock every door along the corridor"
"Senor!"
"Exactly-every door. Give ev-
cry man his chance to get away
from this Mexican scoundrel. Make
haste"
Bowie returned to the horses. He
loosed them and awaited Sanchez,
who lost no time in rejoining him.
The horses feet were muff1ed, and
the two mounted men, riding with
extreme care and with Sanchez for
guide, made their escape without
an alarm being sounded. Working
east by north, daybreak found them
well into the first range of noun
tains to the east of the preside.
'sWe are well out of that rascaIs
reach, Sanchez" said Bowie. "The
question now is: what do we want
to do? ! am on my way to Texas.
Do you want to come along?"
"Texas, senior? Where is that?"
"A long way-six, seven sleeps if
no trouble on the way. If trouble,
no one can say how many sleeps.
Sometimes bad Indians; sometimes
lose the way. Wide deserts, high
mountains, deep rivers. But
crossed them once. / can do it
again. While we rest, think it over.
If you want to come with me,
will take the best care can of
you.''
Warmed by the sun, breakfasted,
and fatigued by the excitement and
strain of the escape, Bowie
stretched before the dying fire and
fell aSlhep. While he mapped San
chez sat drawing figures in the
sandy soil with bits of sticks.
Bowie woke and rose to his feet.
Sanchez" he asked, what do you
say? What do you want to do?"
The Indians mind was made up.
s'Senor," he said respectfully, ST
think it better for me to stay in my
own country. I will 60 back to
Rancho Guadalupe"
Bowie could hardly have believed,
until he heard them, how sharply
the words would cut him. Guada-
lupe! What that meant to him!
What moments of sheer happiness,
what dreams buoyant with life, what
memories of snow-capped peaks,
challenging storms, delectable SUM-
shine! What peace at an evening
fireside, with presence near, while
he boarded, miserlike, within his
breast the silent treasure Of his
dreams!
Then the rude awakening! The
singing wound, the crushing reali-
cation that his castle dreams had