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Show By FRANK H. SPEARMAN Franl H Sn U hrank H. Spearman WNU Sarvlc. "You'll like me less if you don't move on pronto." The invader very slowly drew a double-barreled horse pistol from his belt. The movement cost Bowie his first tremor. He wheeled his horse back toward Carmen. "Senr rita," he said in Spanish, "ride home. This fellow is drunk and might shoot wild. You're in danger here." "What will you do?" asked Carmen Car-men coolly. "I think I can handle the situation. Go, do," urged Bowie. He turned to face the threat from the insolent horseman, who stormed on. "I want you to understand I'm Captain Blood, and I don't take no back talk from any greaser. If you open your mouth once more I'll blow your head off." Bowie felt suddenly angry with himself. Perhaps for the first time since riding inspection of the rancho he had come out unarmed. In his exhilaration at seeing Carmen in the saddle he had forgotten his revolver. re-volver. His anger turned on the intruder. "So you're Captain Blood!" he called out rather contemptuously. The doughty captain's only retort was to make good his words. He leveled his big pistol at Bowie. The Texan spurred violently and ducked in his saddle as Blood fired. The ' L -Continued MDst care an occa-.JSould occa-.JSould rattle down itunately the dull .4 the small water- !; noise. Tor the weary lal climb on hands ! m their rifles with , -J, the hardships S ffjust as the first ,dawn lightened the "turned the top of the .j, men into a second "reCipice. an crept around the ,ld with astonishment fifty yards away ., eJ dancing and chant-Sanchez chant-Sanchez did not alio al-io be even whispered. red his surprise; what, ackt , kKp warm?" asked :het ."whispered Sanchez. ; tonight" aclaimed Bowie men-a men-a them to surrender, II yell of the vaquero Jer the empty gorge, stopped, petrified. The up and scurried from '2 called for surrender, warriors looked about , foe. They raised a tell of defiance. For it was the last A 'jt toppled them over . - TVm fow ufhrt But he searched in vain for Ame-lita. Ame-lita. Beside himself, he searched every rift in the cave for Yosco. His frantic efforts were bootless. His bloody knife In hand, he faced the beaten subchief of the savages, threatening instant death for all unless un-less Yosco were produced. "Only his squaws can tell you where Yosco Yos-co is," muttered the stolid Indian. "Yosco is not here," said the swarthy, wrinkled woman. "He started yesterday for the high mountains." moun-tains." "Where is Amelita?" demanded Sanchez, beside himself. "He took two mission girls along. Amelita was one." Late that night a weary and straggling strag-gling procession roused Santa Clara Mission with resounding shouts. Despite the hour they were given a Joyous welcome. Padre Martinez, for himself and his associates, ordered or-dered the slender reserves of his fatlings brought from the cold room, and at midnight the fires were still blazing and the kettles bubbling to fill a half-starved company with the best provender the mission afforded. To the surprise of the savages, who expected to be executed at once, they, too, were served with an abundance and went to their quarters, filled both with stew and with amazement. The Californians, after mutual congratulations, scattered for their ranchos. It was almost daybreak when Don Ramon, with Dona Ma- CIIAPTER X Bowie, dismounting and stooping to release his captive, heard the clatter of hoofs. He sprang up, expecting ex-pecting enemies. It was only Pedro Pe-dro and Sanchez, galloping in hard after the report of the two shots. "Sanchez." said Bowie in Spanish, Span-ish, "ride fast back to the house and fetch me my gun. Pedro," he added, "loosen this fellow and set him up. Then pick up his pistol-it's pistol-it's over by that hill somewhere. And bring in his horse it's probably proba-bly grazing back of the hill." A moment or more passed before the doughty captain sat up, staggered stag-gered to his feet and shook himself to see whether he was all apart or all together. Hatless, hair awry, breathless and covered with dust and dry grass, he was a sight. Bowie, Bow-ie, remounting, eyed him with little sympathy. "So your name's Blood?" he snapped. "Ben Blood," answered the man. "You'll pay for this. I'm a scout from General Fremont's expedition." expedi-tion." "What are you scouting down this way?" "Horses three hundred head." "You've come to the wrong place for horses." "Give me my horse and pistol, and I'll be going." "You'll be going, Blood with an escort. This vaquero will take you to the presidio for trial. You're under un-der arrest." "You'd better not arrest me! Give j men. The few who j the fatal hail stag-jed, stag-jed, wounded, back to : and sooner than the could reload, a fresh ors ran out; one limp- inted in the direction . A shower of arrows : cave mouth. As these ks hiding the attack-j attack-j a volley came from :von. Three of the war-in war-in before the rifles of :wts and Pedro. The not recovered from rent at gunfire from a when a second volley to them from the Cali-;en Cali-;en on the trail, ie trouble of the cave rs were tumbling down j above. As warrior f, yelling defiance, Is-he Is-he cave he was struck ledge was soon covered Sffll Sanchez waited, lithe patience of Bowie it shivering rancheros :1 But the patience of .passes the patience of ' protested Bowie at as been half an hour has come out" waiting to ambush us," luietly. "If he can get Ik will fight." We can't lie behind day," continued Bow-f Bow-f sun gets high enough us off with arrows, re's a hole at the other tave. They can crawl t and get above us. we're done. Sanchez, rush the cave." "Bowie called quickly Suing about him. He ? situation and what he a asked for five or six casin shod, crept down we, followed closely and the picked Califor- ria. Carmen, Bowie and his men reached Guadalupe. Lights were still burning everywhere in the ranch house. Some moments passed before Bowie came into the living room. After taking measures with the scouts and vaqueros for the guarding guard-ing of the corral, Don Ramon and his wife were just retiring to their rooms. "You must ask Senor Bowie more about the fight itself," Don Ramon was saying to his wife. He had evidently evi-dently been recounting the story of the day. "Because," he added with a cold glance at the Texan, "he kept me out of it for which I do not thank him." The early morning was gray with fog, but even the gray of a California Cali-fornia morning Is an inspiration to the young. When the mist floats lazily in from the sea, when the valley lies green in the soft light of dawn, when the cattle and the horses in thousands shake off the torpor of the night and turn peacefully peace-fully to the lush grass of the hill slopes, when the curtained bay lies asleep in the distance, not even the sun is needed to inspire youth with j strength and hope. But the Texan had an added inspiration in-spiration that early morning when he rode up the field to the house, in the spectacle of Carmen in the saddle. The two wheeled together and loped down the valley on the major-domo's daily round of inspection. inspec-tion. Carmen, animated by the brisk ride, slowed down after a few miles. "Senor," she said, turning to Bowie, "I wanted to thank you for your protection of my dear father. It meant so much to me. I am sorry he did not understand." "I hope his resentment will pass," said Bowie. "I know it wilL He has the highest high-est opinion of you, and rightly, since you saved his life." He looked at her to disclaim. But me my horse." "You're headed for the presidio, Blood. Climb into your saddle." Bowie then spoke in Spanish to his vaquero. "Ride this wretch well away from the rancho far north; and lose him somewhere along the Melena de Leon. Let him think he's escaping. We don't want to bother with him. When he gets away, chase him and give him a good scare" When Carmen and Bowie reached the rancho Don Ramon and Dona Maria were on the porch with a group of house servants huddled close at hand, and Dr. Doane. After the story of the morning was told, the surgeon engaged Bowie and with some effort extracted from him a story of the fight at the cave. The event of the morning was passed over briefly by Bowie. "But, Don Ramon," he added, "do not deceive de-ceive yourself. Half-drunken rascals ras-cals like this one we encountered this morning will be back. We must always be prepared for them. Their leaders are unscrupulous the rank and file are worse." Bowie tried all next day to catch Dona Maria alone in order to lay a momentous request before her. But an itinerant painter had appeared ap-peared at the rancho and for that day and next few, the family was busy having their portraits painted. Even Bowie was Included In the paintings. One day the artist took his leave and Bowie appealed to Dona Maria, asking that he might have a word with her. The lovely mistress of the rancho was, as always, gracious. "You certainly may, Senor Bowie," she said in her gentle Spanish, "and as many words as you like. Come with me." She led him to her sitting room. "Speak freely," she said. "I am a stranger to you. Dona Maria," he began. "Not wholly," smiled Dona Maria, Ma-ria, "but let that pass." "Thank you; yet I am and to "Had enough?" demanded Bowie. bullet missed its mark. Bowie's pony po-ny plunged. The Texan rode neither nei-ther toward nor from Blood, but headed sidewise, loosing his reata from its coil as he rode. The belligerent bel-ligerent captain was confused by the tactic. He whirled his own horse about to keep face to face with the flying Texan and get in his second shot to better purpose. But a racing horseman is a notoriously no-toriously slippery mark for an enemy ene-my in the saddle with his own horse jumping under him. In point of fact, Bowie already had his foe at his mercy. Even the captain, sobering so-bering rapidly at this unexpected shift in the fight, sat alertly awaiting await-ing his chance to shoot. So vividly intent was he on getting a bead on his adroit antagonist that he saw in his field of vision only as a remote danger the long snakelike coils of the deadly reata now circling above him. When he perceived his periJ it was too late. The great loop set- was too late. The great loop settled set-tled gracefully over him. Pistol in hand, he tried to dodge, flung a wild shot at Bowie, and the next instant, caught like a rat, he was jerked violently from his horse and, with arms pinioned, dragged headfirst and bumping violently at the heels of his captor. It was rough treatment. treat-ment. No man could have lived long under it But Bowie was thoroughly thor-oughly angry and hardhearted. It was not consideration for the impudent im-pudent bully that checked his pace, but as he dragged his captive down the slope whom should he see watching him but Carmen. Instinctively he checked his pony. He seemed to realize that this would be too unpleasant a scene for her approval. He was pulling the struggling strug-gling man toward outcropping rocks. In five minutes more their jagged edges would have torn him to pieces. . Bowie halted within speaking distance dis-tance of Carmen. He was still under un-der the influence of his anger and spoke sharply. I asked the Senonta to ride home." T She spoke without resentment. I disobeyed." You have exposed yourself to danger," he said bluntly. Don't kill that poor man. if he isn't dead already. Please "He tried to kill me, didn't he?" asked Bowie tartly. yes, but let him go, senor-if he's still alive." It's hard to kill such vermin. Please let him go." He'll make more trouble another anoth-er time," grumbled Bowie. Please let him go. Bowie rode back to him. His eyes were staring wildly and I he was panting. "Had enough?" demanded Bowie sullenly. The captive could not ra.se breaU. enough to speak but he nodded fee-bly. -w closer to the cave 7 heard within the low sWaws in death song if warriors; its one lr the men advancing d absorb the slight fragments underfoot. ,Jlus able, by hugging : 8ain the side of the -without discovery. only long enough to -wers, then, whirling - rew himself, knife to oarrow cave open- i yell burst from !-i only his knife and by Sanchez, Bowie 1 fot warrior, a tall not heavy, but with . For a few swift aeadly encounter was "session of the mouth The floor on which the Texan at a dis-,ut dis-,ut he managed to -Jt of the Indian until 8 "im down. 1 Jimmied his way in-; in-; as best he could knife ,i,bIs, but he gained too furious-to I 15 "ley saw inevitable JjWng warriors re-weir re-weir squaws into the Ss of the cave and Wrier. his Californians I'm e ot the ranche-,'7 ranche-,'7 Wounded, Sanchez Woody bruises and , -ered a vicious knife ls bared chest and tCal'fornians wtre for fit c Texan would 'L Sanchez, wild to 1? s and Amelita. 'ghtened neophytes been hidden by the the vision of her face, the deptn and splendor of her eyes bent full and with perfect poise on his own, confused him. Just the faintest flush crept to her cheeks. He looked down and could utter only a word or two. "It was nothing, noth-ing, really nothing. Shall we go a bit faster?" ' Her spirit attracted him; it was so brimming with fire. And all the time she was sinking deeper into his life. He knew she could ride, but now she surpassed even his idea of her daring. The race was cut short by the appearance of a horseman gallop-, ing smartly around the hill ahead of them. He was swinging his hat in his hand as he rode. Heavily bearded, tall in the saddle and riding rid-ing free as he came on. Bowie placed him as an American, and as he drew closer the verdict was strengthened. "Hello, greaser." shouted the stranger in Yankee fashion. "Who are you and what do you want?" asked Bowie in curt English. Eng-lish. "Looking for some stray horses, greaser. What are you doing here with a pretty girl?-I'd like to get acquainted with that shy one myself." my-self." Bowie felt sure the man was lying ly-ing about stray horses, and. ear y as it was. he was evidently drunk. A nearer inspection of his features did not better Bowie's opinion ol him. . . u Ta "Look here, Yank," said the Te. an. chopping his words sharply, "bridle your tongue before you get into trouble. You're on Rancho Guadalupe. The quicker you get off it the better it will suit me. And don't make any more remarks about my companion." "Greaser, I don't think I W" you." your people. My stay under the roof of Don Ramon has been a very happy one." "Surely," exclaimed Dona Maria, alarmed, "you are not leaving us?" "That is the last thing I'd like to think of, Dona Maria. I have come to love Californianos and California, Califor-nia, I can honestly say, as if it and they were my own. "I am a Tejano. vly own people are from Maryland and France. When Don Ramon asked me to take charge of Guadalupe I hesitated, as you know. The presence of your daughter, Senorita Carmen, made me fear, from the first time I ever saw her, that my feelings might carry me beyond my depth. "They have done so, Dona Maria, I am obliged to confess. And I am painfully conscious that I have nothing noth-ing to offer her. She is an heiress of large possessions. Yet here I am, asking you for her hand. I am not worthy of it. What will you do with me?" Dona Maria listened with varied feelings, nor did she seem shocked at the confidence, though her expression ex-pression was grave, as seemed to her to befit the situation. "Your words do you honor, Senor Bowie," she responded evenly. "There are, indeed, as you say, un usual circumstances to be considered. consid-ered. Yet after discussing it with Don Ramon, I shall not hesitate to lay your avowal before Carmen. From him I do not anticipate any serious objection. As to her feelings, feel-ings, I am not, much as you might so think, in her confidence. Carmen is mature beyond her years and much reserved by nature. She has been delicate " "She seems in perfect health now," suggested Eowie. "So she is," declared Dona Maria, Ma-ria, "in perfect health have no mis-"wings mis-"wings on that score." (TO BE COSTIMED) |