Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 December 1900 — THE TEXAS CRUISER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE TEXAS CRUISER

—BY— T. BURLINGAME ROSS

CHAPTER Xll.—(Continued.) The Mexicans labored under disadvantage on all hands. They were wholly un--artnecL, and the suddenness' and strangeness of the attack struck them with a <degnee of astonishment that nearly upset ttheir powers. Within five minutes from tthe time that Mac Wayne reached the ■deck the eight men who were on deck •were down and bound. The feat of knocking them down was very easily performed for when the Yankees first came upon them they had all gathered wonderingly about the fallen man, and thus they „began to fall ere they knew any more had fteft the boat. The outcries of the man at the helm «oon brought Captain Migdon to the deck, <bot he was knocked down ere he had ’taken a dozen steps forward, and in a imoment more his feet were in a noose iformed on the end of the topgallant hal■tlards. His hands were then bound‘t|>ehlnd him with a piece of marline stuff, and he was then laid away in the waist. The next move was to the wheel, where they, took and bound the Mexican, and placed Adams in .his place. Then they hastened to the fore-hatch, where - they sfound Sloan.just running the risk of being -overcome, one of his blows having missed -its object, and a man having darted up •ijy him. But the business was quickly now. There were two of the men ■flielow already stunned by Sloan’s blows, and the other six quickly surrendered upon being assured that no harm should oame to them further than imprisonment. The next work was to put the ."Mexicans in irons. The captain was the .last one they came to. “Well, senor," said Clarence, as he and Max approached the fallen chieftain, “yon see the fortunes of war have changed.” It was some moments before Migdon •poke; but finally he opened his lips, and . his tone presented a strange mixture of anger, regret and surprise. “Perdition have thee, thou Yankee villains! But how did you do it? Tell me Jhow.” “Why,” answered Clarence, “this is but '{>art of what we had planned long before you thought you’d captured us. This was all arranged when we commenced to ahoot your men on the chase.” “But how did you do it? Tell me that. How did you get those iron off?” “Don’t you see —we haven’t got them off yet. We have only bitten them in /.two.” "Pity you couldn’t bite your lies off be- < tore they drop from your mouth,” uttered the captain, showing a feeling of anger. “Perhaps we might if we had them to k practice upon,” returned Clarence, with .« smile. “But come, we must have you vtry on some of your own ruffles, for we ’Have concluded to relieve you. The fact is, that we didn’t think it hardly right that we should enjoy the sail without doing our share of the work.” - Migdon looked as though he would like i to show fight, but he probably made up I iiia mind that he should not benefit himself much thereby, so he suffered the : irons to be put on. “Where do you mean to run?” he asked, with some anxiety manifesting itself •mid his anger, as soon as the irons were van. "You will probably be landed someerhere near Galveston,” Clarence returnad. Migdon seemed on the point of asking some favor, but he now changed his mind, and remained silept. “Look here,” said Max, after Migdon ffcad been stowed away between two of the guns, “what do ye s’pose has become .of the schooner?” “O, she’s probably out of sight to lee- * ward by this time,” returned Howard. -“When this breeze sprang up, I noticed that- the brig left her fast. I don’t think 4t best to pay any attention to her, and ■<f or two reasons. In the first place, this trig, which is now your prize ” “Our prize, capt’n,” interrupted Max. “Yes —your prize. I meant to include men, of course.” “And you. too.” “No, no, my good sir. Under no cir•cumstances whatever will I accept or claim anything save my own property. I got you into the scrape, and if I have Helped get you out, heaven knows that my own escape is a heavenly reward for my labor.” Upon this there followed quite a little passage of dispute, for old Max seemed •determined that his young friend should take a big share of the prize. But finally, when Clarence brought his foot down with such promptness that there could be no more mistaking his real wishes in the matter, the point was conceded. “And now,” the youth resumed, "as I was remarking—the prize will more than repay you, and when I am gone you will not have more than men enough to manage her. And in the second place—if you attempt to wait for the schooner, you may lose all you’ve gained, for in all probability there are other Mexican cruisers about” So the brig was kept on her course, and the schooner left to shift for herself. <jlarence obtained his watch and money, *nd the rest of the victors got back their .rifles. Jack Sloan swore that sooner t than lose his two rifles he’d lose the achooner—that is, if he had to choose between the two; and there is no reason (tor doubting him. It was arranged that the |>rig should tone* first at the mouth of the Rio *orande, and then keep on up to Gray--jmh, and from thefl|»e to Galveston. On morning the schooner was ajtot to be seen, an<f“rom that time no Core thought was given her. /'i’The wind held fresh and fair* through day, and Clarence knew that they Apiould make the land by the coining midAbout eleven o’clock the brig was I Store to, and thus she lay until morning, <2t which time the laud was seen only ■Wmnt ten miles distant. Clarence and JBeter ate * hearty breakfast, packed Ip their bundles, and at seven o’clock ‘they wer# ready to leave, the brig having WTher ibalDrtopHall to the mast within aßv a mile of the shore* sfiThe boat was flELpd and 'dropped .la/the gangway. ..oacapee ebook bands with those he was 4a leave behind, and tbuq went over the

side, Max and Sloan accompanying him. Finally the young man stood upon the beach, with Peter by his side. “I hope we shall meet again,” he said, extending both his hands—one to Max and the other to Sloan. “We shall. T feel it in my bones,” exclaimed Max, shaking tjie hand he held vehemently. “I know we shall. It mayn’t be at sea. for I don't go much; but we’ll heave in sight somewhere. Maybe on the plains of Texas —maybe on the mountains of Mexico; and perhaps away in Californy. Bat we’ll meet somewhere.” “I sincerely hope so,” was Clarence’s warm response. ' “And until that time comes may heaven bless you and yours. You may say in Galveston that I didn’t get you into a scrape without helping you out of it.” “I will.” “Adieu.” Ere long after this the boat started back towards the brig, while Clarence Howard, throwing his bundle across his shoulder, and bidding Peter to follow, turned away towards the country. There were gloom and danger ahead, but he faltered not.. Hope lightened the former, and he had no fear for the latter. CHAPTER XIII. Slowly and wearily Irene and Cassandra moved on their way. It was a long distance for them, in a strange way, and at a strange work; but they stopped not until they had reached the small house with the watering place before it. A few rods beyond This they walked, and then Cassandra proposed sitting down. “Let us move on to the turn,” said Irene. “I am weak and weary. The dawn of day is close at hand, and we will not stop here. People“mfiy~c<fin<rout from this house.” So on they moved. It was only quarter of a mile further, but it “seemed" a long, long distance to them. Every step now seemed but an expiring effort, and the fainting nerves were busy only in carrying their messages of pain to the brain. But the corner was reached at length. Down the narrow path they turned, and at the distance of a few rods they stopped beneath a large sabino tree, and sank down upon the light turf. Irene St. Marc slept very soundly for awhile; but at length she began to dream. She dreamed that she had done a murder —that she had struck her father with a dagger and killed him. To avoid apprehension she had fled from her home, and was in a dense wilderness, where the giant trees grew thick, and the underwood was rank and matted. In her fright she turned to go back, when she was stopped short by finding a gigantic alligator directly before her —his monsteT jaws opened wide, and his long, sharp teeth gleaming in the strange light that came from his glaring eyes. With a deep groan Irene started baek and turned to flee. But lo! the way was closed- up behind her. Where she was sure she had before seen a narrow path she now found a tangled mass of cypress shoots and thorny vines; and wound all in among the dark foliage were innumerable serpents, whose slimy folds gleamed with horrid distinctness, and whose heads were raised as if ready for a blow at the intruder. In her agony the wanderer turned again. The alligator had grown larger in bulk, flames of fire were issuing from his mouth, and she felt that she was burning up. Her,face was hot —she was burning—burning—when a low sound seemed to issue from the monster’s throat, and it distinctly pronounced her name. “Irene! Irene!”

The maiden uttered a quick, sharp cry, and started up. She opened fier eyes and gazed about. For awhile she was completely blinded by the dazzling brightness that surrounded her; but when she did get her eyes open she found the sun shining down hotly upon her, while Cassandra, who sat by her side, held one of her hands, and was gazing anxiously into her face. But this was not all she saw. Close by, and gazing earnestly upon her, stood a man, and a boy who held a couple of mules by the halters. “What is it?” asked Cassandra, anxiously. “You are not hurt?” “No, no—but I had a dream; O, a terrible dream’.” “So did I,” returned Cassandra. “I had a dreadful one, and this man was just in time to wake me out of it. We must have slept a long while, for seethe sun is far up in the heavens.” Xhe man still stood, only a few feet distant, gazing upon the two girls. He was a native Indian, towards the middle age of life, and very stout and strong. He was by no means a good-looking man, so far as beauty was concerned, but lie had a kind look, and Irene thought he gazed sympathizingly upon her. “Ladies,” he said, speaking in very good Spanish, “you will pardon me for waking you, but I found you here, and I knew the sun was burning you up. I passed this way very early this morning, just before daybreak, and you were here then, fast asleep; so I knew you had slept about long enough. Ah, those robes don’t hide your sex by daylight." “You were, very kind, sir,” returned Irene, gaining courage from the stranger’s kind tone. "We walked all night, nearly, and were very tired when we reached hero." "Perhaps you came from the city?” said the Indian, interrogatively. Irene hesitated. “You need not fear inti,” the man said. "We did come from the city, senor,” “And may I ask which way you are going?” “Why not trust him?” whispered Cassandra, in her mistress’ ear. -“Perhaps he is going the same way we are, and in all probability will know where we go. So we had better trust him, for these people seldom betray one who engages their honor.” “I will,” replied Irene; and turning to the stranger, she said: “There is a native settlement beyond here, l think." “Yes, lady, over beyond the hill.” “We were going there.” “Ah, you know some one there?” “No, senor. But perhaps yon do." “Y«i; I live there." ’

“Then perhaps you may know one Jarcar Xanpa?” Irene said, earnestly. “Yes,” returned the man, with a smile; “though here is a boy who knows him, perhaps better than I do.” The boy thus alluded to was a bright, intelligent-looking lad, about fourteen years of age, and though rather slight in frame, yet muscular and agile. He gazed up with a quaint smile as Jhe man spoke, and the expression of his countenance wore a puzzled shade. “However,” resumed the man, “though the great book-makers say that a man can’t find a more difficult lesson than to learn himself, yet I fancy I have gained a good share of the knowledge. My name is Jaear Xanpa, and this is my son, Zeno.”. Irene started to her feet at once, and every shade of doubt left her face. “Do you know the good priest Father Gonzales Rondo?” she asked. Thd smile departed from Xhnpa’s face, and a look of deep, prayerful gratitude took its place. “Yes, lady,” he returned, in a low key. “I know him well. I am not one who makes long prayers, but I can pray for him.” “Well, senor, he directed us to seek Jacar Xanpa, assuring us that he would not only give us shelter, but help us otherwise as well as his means would permit.”

“Ay, and he told you truly,” cried Xanpa, joyously. “Since that man stretched forth his hand and saved me from an ignominious death, this is the first time he has given me a commission to perform. But come —I have been away with a burden this morning, and you will find easy seats upon these broad panniers. Trust yourselves to me, and-be-assured that I will do all for you in my power.” The girls needed no further urging. One. of the mules had the regular basket pannier upon his back—a wide basket of cane hanging down upon either side —and into these the fair travelers were assisted by the kind-hearted muleteer. They could sit quite comfortably in the baskets, and the mule seemed to take no heed of the new load his master had unexpectedly picked up. The boy leaped upon the back of the other mule and went on ahead, and~Els" father followed, leading the loaded one. __'Jr " ' ~ At length the village was in sight. It was a collection of small cane huts, located close by a small stream that came winding down from the" distant mountains. It was a pleasant place, shielded from the hardest winds by high hills, and ornamented by a variety of handsome forest trees. Xanpa’s hut was close by the stream, and one of the most comfortable looking ones in the place. When they reached the door, the girls were assisted from their seats, and having given his son charge of the mules, the host conducted his fair companions into his dwelling, where he introduced them to his wife. She was a bright-eyed, pleasant looking woman, not over five-and-thirty, and seemed much pleased - with the presence of the newcomers. As soon as the girls were seated, the host called his wife outside, where they remained in conversation some minutes. “You are at home,” the woman said, returning," to Irene. “You shan’t want for anything we’ve got.” She looked upon the girls with moistened eyes as she spoke, for her thoughts had been called to the time when her lost husband was given back to her. And from that moment Irene felt at ease in the humble cot.

CHAPTER XIV. On the morning following the flight of Irene and Cassandra, Antonio St. Marc ate his breakfast alone, and then went out. He did not return until near night, and just as he reached his house he found Jilok Tudel there ready to enter. They shook hands quite cordially and then went in, going at once to the host’s private room. “My dear St. Marc,” said Tudel, after they had taken seats, “I have got to go to Alvarado. I must start in the morning, early; and shall be back Sunday evening. I thought I would just call and see Irene before I went.” “Certainly,” returned St. Marc. “Though I don’t suppose she will be anxious to see me, eh?” added Tudel, with a heartless smile. “Why—to speak the truth, I don’t think she will,” said St. Marc. “She is not very happy, and perhaps, on the whole, it would be full as well if you let her remain in peace until you return.” “Ah —but I wish to see her; if you have no objections, I’ll go a»d hunt her up.” “O, certainly, if you wish. You will probably find her in her room.” So Tudel started out. He was gone some ten or fifteen minutes, and then he returned. “Did you not find her?” asked St. Marc. “Find her? No! Where is she?” “Where is she?” repeated the host, in surprise. “What do you mean? Did you search for her?” “Ay—l searched for her, and I inquired for her; and she has not been seen in the house to-day!”

“Not seen—eh?” returned St. Marc, starting to his feet. “O, don’t attempt that,” retorted Tudel, in a tone rather heavily spiced with swspicious sarcasm. “But tell me where she is.” “Tell you where she is? Why, if she is not in the house, then I know nothing of her.” “Why'did you prevent me from going to see her?” Tudel asked, with a dubious look. “By the host, St. Marc, you must not think to fool me.” “But, my dear man, will j-ju not listen one moment? Who told you that Irene had gone?” “I don’t know what her name is— she s one of your servants.” “I’ll call them hither at once and question them. By my soul, I do not think she can, have gone off.” As St. Marc thus spoke, he pulled the bell cord, and ere long one of his servants came to the door. “Send every soul in the house up here at once,” he ordered. . The man disappeared, and soon afterwards the servants began to file in. When they were all in, to the number of seven, St. Marc spoke. “Look ye,” he said, rather - sternly, “which of you can tell me where my daughter is?” "fi was some time before any one replied; but old Bel at length spoke. '“She hasn’t been in the house to-day, senor, T think," the old woman said. “I weflt up to her room this morning and called to her, but she did not reply, so I thought she was asleep an 4 left her. But when It came ten o’clock and she did not come, I begqn to fear. I went up again.

aid this time 1 called as loud as 1 could, j but got no answer. Her door was locked, and I forced it open—but I found no one ' in there. I went to her cabinet and dress- 1 ing case ; and I found her jewels all gone. I then went into Cassandra’s room and found her gone, too.” For some moments Antonio St. Marc gazed‘"upon his servants in silence. “Haven’t any of the rest of you Seen anything of her?” he asked. But they all shook their heads. (To be continued.)