served as he levelled and fired quickly at it; and, sure enough, the half enounced clarion-note of Chanticleer was lost in the explosion, and it fluttered over dead with a ball through its head. Our exclamations of astonishment and admiration were interrupted by the voice of one of the party," Hays! yonder comes your horse and Littell full tilt up the street." "Yes," observed another, "he rides very stiff. He looks like a dead man." At that moment the panting animal dashed up among us, and stopped by the side of his master. Never, in my life did I look upon a more terrible object than his rider. With both hands clasped convulsively around the high pummel of the Mexican saddle, his eyes closed, his face ashy and rigid, a clotted tide of gore is. suing from his side and streaming down the yellow skirt of his buckskin huntingshirt, his reins on the neck of the horse, his gun missing, his whole figure stiffened and erect-he looked, indeed, a spectre horseman! a riding corpse! "He's dead!" exclaimed several, in awed, low voices, as we were recovering from the shock of this singular apparition. "He's warm yet," said Hays, as he placed his hand upon his chalky fingers, "let's take him down. He may not be dead for all." We sprang to his assistance, and the body at the first effort fell over heavily into our arms. I shuddered at the cold, earthy weight, and that horrid smell of fresh blood, which once experienced can never be forgotten. We bore him into the bar-room and laid him upon a bench. I observed that his pulse was still faintly beating, and on the application of strong restoratives, after a harrowing interval of suspense, it began to rise. We now stripped him and ascertained that he had received a large musket ball just above the ribs, and tracing the blue line, its track had left, half round the body to the opposite side, we were induced to hope that it had glanced under the flesh aud not penetrated the chest. Gradually his pulse heightened, and the color began to return to his pallid face. 66 Boys! to horse! The Bravo must be shot. This is the work of these cursed Mexicans," exclaimed Hays, as soon as our suspense had been relieved somewhat by these favorable symptoms. "Yes, d-n them!" muttered Fitzgerald, as we separated to get our horses, leaving Littell in charge of Johnson. That's a Mexican ball, or it wouldn't have been 66 placed so bunglingly. Let's show 'em the clean thing with our rifles." In a short time we were mounted and collected before the door of the tavern ready to start, when Johnson came out bareheaded, and told us that the wounded man had so far recovered as to be able to speak. He could only understand of what he feebly uttered, "The Bravo was before me when I got it from a thicket!" This gave us some cue as to how the thing had happened, and we set off instantly at full speed. It was evident enough, that either the negro or his Mexican friends had made this murderous attempt from ambuscade to arrest pursuit, and whether the Bravo had not fallen a positive victim was left in painful uncertainty. It seemed probable that the Mexicans had a hand in it, from the fact, that the ball was too large for the rifle the Boy had taken with him, and apparently had been sent from the wide muzzle of a clumsy Mexican musket. I observed that groups of Mexicans, with their "serapés" folded around them, were standing at every corner of the streets as we passed through the town. They were grinning and looking unpleasantly cheerful at us as we went by. We soon reached the wide level of the extended plain on which the town stands, and for several hours galloped along its vast, monotonous expanse with nothing ahead to relieve the eye. After we were thoroughly fatigued by this sameness, a dim, dark line loomed on the horizon before us, which, as we approached it, opened up into broken, írregular masses of timber, some of them heavy and tall, stretching for miles; others-low, brushy, and dense-ranged, like black shaded islands of ragged and angular outlines, on either side of the old trail we followed. Just where it led us within a few paces of the edge of one of these "motts," or islands, we saw a rifle lying upon the ground. It was Littell's, and had the usual charge in it, showing that it had been dropped suddenly from the effect of an unexpected shot from the "chaporal," or thicket, which was an unusually close one of stiff, scrubby brush. We separated to ride around it and look for the trail of the assassin. On coming together, Hays announced that he had found it; both the trampled spot where a horse had evidently stood for some time, and the single trace of its flight leading off in the direction of the Rio Grande. After following this for a quarter of a mile, another trail of a single horse leading from the main track was observed running parallel with it. This was that of a shod horse, and Hays exclaimed as soon as he saw it, Ha! the Bravo is after him. He'll get him. He was ahead and saw the scoundrel running." The sharp experienced eyes of these men at once recognized the trail of their comrade and the main features of the Occurrence. We followed these two trails until nearly sundown at the same headlong, rapid pace we had held since starting. Though they continued on the same general course with the old beaten road, yet they did not lead into it again, but diverged in an irregular line, dodging around amongst the "motts," with all the evidences of a desperate flight and chase. I was greatly astonished at the skill with which they unerringly traced this devious trail, though we were going at a fast gallop. This hard running had very greatly fagged both ourselves and horses. We had begun to fear that the night would close around and prevent us from following up the chase to any satisfactory termination; a wide and seemingly interminable plain, too, was opening before us, whose bare undulating surface offered little of either pleasure or encouragement to our perspective. Suddenly, however, and most unexpect edly, one of the men in front shouted, while he pointed with his gun over to the right. "Look! that must be the Bravo. He's got him." We looked, and the figures of two horsemen were just rising into view over the ridge of an undulation far away across the plain. The figure of a man heaving in sight amidst these wide solitudes, always causes a startle and thrill of expectation and doubt, similar to the feeling produced by the announcement of "a strange sail ahead" on shipboard, during a long voyage. The eye glances with careless indifference over great herds of deer, buffalo, or mustangs, dotted on the distance; but a glimpse of any shape, even remotely resembling a brother man, makes the pulse leap sharp and fast, and the blood rush back to the heart; for in this lawless region it is impossible to conjecture, whether, what should naturally be an auspicious event, may not result in a mortal struggle and death to one party or the other. This distorted condition of things causes strange emotions, for it does seem most outré and unnatural, that the outlines, which of all others ought to be most agreeable, should be productive of the most unpleasant excitement while we can look upon thousands and multiplied thousands of brutes with a negative feeling, if not one of pleasant companionship. I have been particularly struck with this while travelling alone, when any thing the imagination could conjure into a resemblance of the human form would produce the most uncomfortable sensations. There is nothing to fear from the animals, but from that likeness to yourself everything of hate and treachery is to be dreaded. We instantly headed our horses towards these distant riders, who seemed to be jogging on very sociably at a leisurely gate in the direction of San Antonio. As we neared them, every moment made it more probable that the man's first conjecture was right. They soon observed us and stopped with some flurry and hesitation of manner, but after a long and deliberate survey they started to meet us. I thought at first that they intended to wheel and make off, but the assured recognition was simultaneous, and with a loud cheer we increased our speed. The Bravo waved his sombrero in the air and answered us. In a little while more we crowded around him and his prisoner, eagerly asking a multitude of questions. The man was tied with a lariat about his feet, which was passed under the belly of his horse. His hands were also tied behind him, and their appearance of sociability at the distance, was fully explained when we saw that the Bravo was leading his horse by another lariat. He was a Mexican of spare figure, with a lean Roman face, sharp black eyes, and a vivid expression of bold knavery, not at all cowed by our numbers and wrathful looks. His whole appearance was altogether unlike the usual downward-eyed, sneaking, wolfish look, common to Mexicans in circumstances of such peril as those surrounding him. The audacity of the fellow's bearing at once attracted comment. "Why, Bravo," said Fitzgerald, "what the deuce are you doing with that saucylooking fellow alive? You are the last man I should have suspected of having 'the vice of mercy in you." "Ha, ha!" laughed he, "the best of the joke is, that I kept him alive, simply because he gave me so much trouble in catching him. He's a regular curiosity; and wanted to show you a live Mexican, who was good pluck to the very backbone. The only specimen of the kind, that I conjecture any of you ever saw." "The scoundrel!" said Hays, "I don't see that it required any great bravery to shoot a man from the bush. We'll take him off your hands. I'll have him disposed of." "That's just what I wanted, Jack, (so Hays was familiarly called); I spared the rascal once, because he made me laugh by his bold impudence, just as I was in the act of pulling trigger on him for the second time, and I don't feel disposed to kill him now-though I want you all to do it, for he deserves it a hundred times. Don't you remember him?" "I think I have seen him before," said Hays, "but where or when I can't recollect. It doesn't matter though--we'll relieve you of him." "You have not forgotten Gonzalez, the dextrous thief, who stole your sorrel horse last summer, and run him off across the Rio Grande?" "Ha! this is the same fellow. Well we'll pay him off all scores this time." "He understands perfectly what you say. By the way, have you seen or heard any thing of Littell? He went off in very singular style." Hays explained to him the circumstances the reader is already in possession of; and while we rode slowly toward a distant line of timber, indicating a stream on which we meant to camp for the night, the Bravo related his story of the day's events to us. "After leaving you in the street this morning, we continued at the best speed of our horses on the old Rio Grande trace for though we saw nothing of the Boy's trail on it at first, I felt convinced that we should find it after a while, for I knew he must have taken this route. Sure enough, within about five miles of town, we saw where it came in along with another horse. I suspected at once that this was a Mexican who was guiding and assisting him. We kept on very rapidly, and Littell had fallen several hundred yards behind me, when, after passing that point of timber some moments, I heard a gun behind me, and turning my head very quickly, I saw your horse just shying from the smoke, and wheeling on the back track-while the rifle of Littell dropped from his hands. I saw at once, from his manner, that he was hit, and expected to see him fall. The horse appeared to be greatly frightened and was clearly running without any control. It at once occurred to me, that the man who fired would attempt to escape from the other side of the mott, and, thinking more of vengeance than any thing else, as soon as I could rein up and turn my horse, I galloped around it. I saw this fellow already in the saddle, making across the prairie, and instantly took after him. He had the start of me, and kept it for nearly two hours, through the hottest and hardest chace that ever I had. I thought at one time the wretch would beat me and get away, but the staunch bottom of my horse proved too much for his. Such doubles and turns and twists as he made among the motts you never saw." "Yes," interrupted Fitz., "we have a very perfect idea of them-haven't we been worried enough in following your trail?" "As his horse began to fail," continued the Bravo, "he doubled like a fox in the effort to lose me among the islands; but I had no notion of being thrown off, and after a while began to close rapidly upon him. When he became convinced that there was no chance for his escape, very greatly to my astonishment, he turned suddenly in the saddle, levelling a large pistol at me-I bent forward over my horse's neck, and the ball whizzed above me. As I straightened up, I also fired, but missed, and at the same instant my horse came full tilt against his, and we went down together. I was on my feet first, and with my second pistol against his prostrate body, was in the act of firing into him, when with the utmost cool and comical expression conceivable, under the circumstances, he exclaimed, as he looked up grinning in my face, 'You missed and I missed-we are even.' 1 burst into a laugh and threw down my pistol, while the fellow rose and shook himself, and began to kick and curse bis prostrate horse. Garracho! you nasty brute; if I hadn't thought you were better bottom, I should not have gone to the trouble to steal you,' and turning to me, he observed, but he pushed you some, any how. I shall have to steal your bay next.' I was so tickled at this unprecedented impudence that I fairly roared, while the knave, finding he had got the right side of me, continued in the same strain. I let you pass, but it was an old grudge 1 had against Littell. He had me whipped in Matamoras last spring, and I promised to be with him before the year was out, and you see I have been as good as my word. I hope ་ he's done for.' There was something so funny and original in the rascal's saucy self-possession, that it was some little time before I could restrain my laughter sufficiently to address him. You can't expect any mercy from us, you scamp,' said I. Oh no, I suppose you are going to have me shot. Muy bueno-1 think I've worked for it. I have stolen some half-dozen horses from you Rangers.' Ha! you are Gonzalese? Yes.' Well, I pity you, if Hays or any of the boys get hold of you. I mean to tie you and take you into town.' Bueno,' he said, holding out his hands readily, and I tied them, and here he is. You may shoot the fellow if you can, but I'll be sworn that I neither can nor will have a hand in it. He's such an odd genius, that I think it would be a sin almost to shoot him-though it ought undoubtedly to be done, and I wish you all would do it." Oh!" said Hays, dryly, "never fear, Bravo, we'll relieve you on that score very shortly. But here's the water-we'll draw lots for the six who shall shoot him, as soon as we get ready for camping." 66 I could not help feeling enlisted in the Bravo's sympathy for the man, who during this conversation-every syllable of which he fully understood-had maintained the same bearing of reckless and defiant coolness. We dismounted by the side of a clear rapid stream, under the narrow fringe of timber which bordered it, and after tying the Mexican to a tree, proceeded to strip our horses, stake them out to grass, kindle a fire, and make all the usual preparations for camping. This was all done in perfect silence, for the stern resolve which was about to be executed left, under any view of it, no room for frivolity of feeling. The Bravo had instantly, on dismounting, and in entire forgetfulness of his faithful horse, stretched himself upon the grass in front of Gonzalese, and continued to regard his face-which maintained unblenchingly its expression of perfect, calm indifference-with an intensely curious interest. Indeed, it was an awful trial his hardy nerve was subjected to-looking upon the silent progress of a preparation the consummation of which he well knew was to close his account with men and the world. There was, to me, something positively terrible in the mute activity of our men, and the sharp, fixed alertness of the regard of the prisoner. When every thing had been arranged, we gathered around the fire in speechless awe-feeling that the crisis had come, yet dreading its action. Not a word was spoken till Hays said, in a low voice as he pulled a pencil and some paper from his pocket-"The six men of the eleven, who draw the lowest numbers, will shoot him!" He proceeded to write them down, and handed them around to us in his hat. I drew my number with a degree of nervousness which surprised me; for, independent of my natural and invincible horror of a cold-blooded execution such as this-I had partaken of the Bravo's liking for the singular and piquant traits he had exhibited, and was very lothe to be made an instrument of his death!— My gratification was extreme, when 1 saw that my number was so high as to place me out of danger. Those who drew the low numbers, seemed to feel the most perfect indifference about the affair, and ranged themselves in front of Gonzalese with precisely the same air which would have characterized them, had it been a wooden target they were going to shoot at, instead of a fellow-being. The row of dark tubes was levelled at him, and Hays was opening his lips to enunciate the fatal word "fire"-when the man, in a clear, petulant voice said— "Garralio! don't aim so low, you clumsy bunglars!" The Bravo, springing to his feet, exclaimed-" Jack! hear that! don't shoot this fellow spare him for my sake-could the devil himself beat that?" Hays waved his hand, and the guns, greatly to my gratification, were lowered, and in another moment the Bravo had cut the thongs which bound the limbs of the Mexican, and he stood before us a free man. With the same unmoved selfcollection and frankness which had characterized his whole bearing, he proceeded to explain to us his connection with the negro's escape. He told us, that, attracted by a human sympathy for the Boy, whom he had met accidentally in the shop of the Blacksmith, with his heavy chains on-he had furnished him with a file to cut them, and advised him to the utmost as to the manner of his escape, and guided and accompanied him in his flight to the thicket-where he had concealed himself while the Boy went on-and recognizing the Bravo, had let him go by-but the features of his old and sworn enemy had proved too much for his prudence, and he shot at him with the results we have seen. Such as it was, this was my first day with the " Rangers," and we were soon afterward sound asleep on the grass. IMITATED FROM GOËTHE. WHILE the learned contend, and the doctors epilogise, Old Merlin the Wise, in his charnel of light, (When a youth I beheld him), thus muttered to me"Tis only a fool strives to set a fool right;" Then, children of wisdom, hear nature's decreeBe choice of your gifts, leave folly to fools; Let them be what they are-'tis the safest of rules. From the heights of aerial Ind, to the tombs Where Thoth lies enwrapped in his mystical scrolls, Talk not to the blind of the colors of light; HORUS. HORUS. HORUS. |