Storyteller.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 22, 26 August 1893, Page 13

Storyteller.

BLACK PETE’S CAPTIVITY,

Before Bodfish’s store at Cactus Station stood a two-mule team and loaded waggon. Upon the driver’s seat Joe Dobbs was waiting to receive the last item of the supplies which he was to take to the Great Cinch Mine. Beside him, with shining ebony face, sat Peter Brayton, whom'Joe had just engaged to serve as cook at the minxxig camp. Peter’s mouth was flashing ivory impartially - at everything humourous or otherwise that Occurred within his ken ; a millionaire might have envied his contentment, though all his worldly goods were contained in a flour sack tucked beneath the seat and in a round pasteboard box held carefully in his lap. In the box was his most cherished possession—a thing at that time an object of curiosity and invariable disrespect in Arizona —a high silk hat, which, tempting fate through ignorance, he was about to take with him to the camp in the Chiricahuas. The clerk having filled a quart bottle in accordance with directions given, corked it, and brought it, wrapped in a piece of gunny-sack, to the waggon. Joe laid the parcel carefully among the bacon sides and flour sacks behind him, then gathered up the reins, halloed to the mules, and was off fox* the desert trail. “ Good luck! ” called the clerk after him. “ Keep your eye peeled for Injuns. Word came in this morning that some of the San Carlos Apaches are off the reservation.” At this fi’iendly warning Joe sniffed contemptuously. The idea of anybody presuming to tell him —twelve months in the country, and one of the owners of the Great Cinch —anything about Apaches ! Despite heat and dust, the trip to the station for supplies was looked on as a pleasui’e excursion by Joe, a Missouri boy, who liked nothing betterthan to “whack” mules. The camp was a long day’s journey away, and he called and cx-acked the whip often at his long-eared steeds to keep them to their pace. The route lay through an arid plain, its bareness vax-ied by scanty tufts of grama, tall sand-grass, scattered clumps of mesquit, and many cactuses and yuccas. Black Pete—to give Peter Brayton his usual and accepted title—was not pleased with the appeax-ance of the country, which was new in his experience. “It’s po’ lan’, fur a fac’, boss,” he commented. “ Huthiri a-gx-owiri but dem big prickly things and a han’ful o’ grass. ’Pears like a mighty fine kentxy ober dar, doxxgh.” And he looked appi’ovingly toward the southern horizon, in which the mirage displayed a beautiful landscape of watersheets, islands and forests. “Oh, over there!” said Joseph, grinning perfidiously, aside. “That’s Mire-age Lake, an’ the islan’s where the oranges an’ cocoanuts grow. Hit’s close by the Gx’eat Cinch. We’ll go thei*e some day.” This romantic statement led Pete to ask more questions, in answer to which Joe told his “ tenderfoot ” passenger many astonishing things, for the truth of which I should not like to be held x-esponsible. About an hour after noon-time the wagon descended the side of a deep hollow winding through the desert, with a dry watercourse at its bottom, bordered by patches of tall brittle grass and two or three stunted cottonwood trees. In the sandy channel, without visible inlet or overflow, spread the pool of muddy alkaline water known as Corunda Springs. Here the mules were unharnessed, watered, and fed with grain, and at a little fire of sticks and grass the two wayfarers cooked the bacon, bread, and coffee which served as their noonday repast. “ What’s all dis talk agoin’ ’bout Injuns, boss ? ” asked Peter, as he smoked his corn-cob pipe after the meal. “ Dem ’Paches, dey say dey’re mighty troublesome nowadays. Alius

a-spyin’ roun’ waitin’ ter s’prise yer, an’ den it’s good-by, nigger. Dey’ll burn yer feet, an’ den dey’ll sculp yer ha’r off’n yer head.” “ Apaches ! ” said Joe, with lofiy contempt. “ That’s talk fux- tenderfeet. Yer safe ter gamble that thar ain’t an Injun within a hundred miles o’ hyar. The red devils know better’n come where we minex-s are. They don’t like to run up agin thin kind o’ truck.” And the boy touched his revolver and his belt tilled with cartridges. Pete decided he would take a nap. Depositing his hat-box fox’ safety upon the wagon-load, he accidentally displaced the bottle in the gunnysack. “ What’s in dat bottle, boss ? ” he asked. “ Sumfin good tex* dxfink ? ” “ You let it alone; hit’s medicine,” said Joe. “Peg Leg Ci’awford thinks it’ll cure anything from climate and bad water ter old age. I’ll read yer what it’s made uv.” Taking from his pocket a worn piece of brown wrapping-paper, he spelled out a roughly written fox’mula calling for “ Brandy, Camflx-e, K. N. pepper and Perrygorick.” “ ’Clar for it,” remarked Pete. “ Wxd sich congrievances as dat, a drink ud give a pusson a drefful stirrin’ up, sho’.” “ Pizen him more likely,” said Joe. “ Hit’s powerful sleepifyin’ stuff. I tuk a dose last summer when I got the colic f’om eatin’ cactus plums, an’ it ’peared like I’d never get awake arter it.” Pete crawled beneath the wagon and went to sleep. The mules having eaten their barley, Joe, who meant to finish the trip in the cool of the day, picketed them out on the bank, where, within range of their* lariats, they could nibble at the grass. This duty discharged, the Missouri boy yielded to the fascination of px*ospecting, and strolled along the gulch. Stopping now and then to sift a handful of sand through his fingers, or turn over a pebble to see if it carxfied mineral, he wandered far up the dry channel, out of sight and hearing of the wagon. Absorbed in his entrancing pursuit, Joe took no heed of the passing minutes, until the length of his shadow on the ground warned him that it was time to return to the team. As he reti’aced his steps, looking across the last turn of the bank between him and his outfit, the spectacle of Pete’s tall shiny hat bobbing high in the air caused him to stop short to investigate matters befox’e going farther. Cx’ouching low, he stole to a point where, hidden by tufts of sandgx-ass, he could see what was going on about the spring. Six Apaches in war-paint had captured and now were plundexfng the outfit. In the body of the waggon Pete was at work for dear life throwing out the contents to five of the Indians, who examined them as they fell. Upon the seat stood a stalwart Warrior in bi’eech clout and moccasins, his head adeemed with Pete’s high hat, set off by an eagle’s feather in the band. With fi’equent strokes of the heavy “ blacksnake ” whip he was stimulating the negro’s exertions ; and occasionally, fox* the same purpose, or for private enjoyment, an Apache would point a rifle at the captive. fl’lie bacon the Indians left where it fell; the flour they emptied upon the ground, and laid the sacks aside to take away. The sugar, coffee, tobacco, and axnmunition were welcomed with grants of satisfaction, but the plunderer’s were angry at finding no “ whisk.” They bad with them two horses, which bore harness marks, showing them to have been captured recently from some freighter. Hhody, Joe’s favourite riding mule, had been led to the wagon, and upon .her the Apaches were packing their plunder. Having selected what they wished, they held a short powwow, which ended by one of them taking from his belt a war ckxb, the handle tipped with the end of a cow’s tail, and advancing threateningly upon the trembling prisoner. Shaking with fear and indignation,

Joe ling-vi-.d Ms revolver, lougin <>; to send a sboH straight into 'Hie' murder us savage, whose painted loured R moniac as he '-..poised., his weapon. There was nothing' that thfe boy cor Id do tor-help the dapfive -.. liable ■ id he discovered- atyany moment, “his own life was in deadly' peril, and he - could only gam in dread, of what was to come, I Pete’s eyes, rolling wildly ‘with terror, spied the bottle which, unnoticed, lay wrapped .in its. gunny sack at his feet, and, picking - , it np, he unrolled offered it ,to the lndiap, ; who paused at his motion. The warrior’s frowning - face, tookon ; a, beaming look as, uncorking,. ity -he recognised the odour of liquor. v “ They’ll kill - ‘hiin. shrc - fur givih’ ’em that stuff,” gasped Joe under his breath. “ They’ll ’low "he mieans to pizen the hull outfit.” But the Indian, after taking’ a long pull at the mixture, showed nothinghut pleasure as. rubbing his stomach, he passed the bottle ;to his companions now eagerly gathered around him. The Apaches had not yet taken the “ diamond hitch ” to seeureVthe pack firmly to Rhody's back. At the magic word “whisk ” they had left'the mule with the lariat dangling loose, and while the bottle went round among them, the knowing animal, not liking her company, quietly started np the channel, distributing her load by the way. She quickened her stops to a gallop as an Indian darted in pursuit, and, rounding the turn in the bank, passed close by Joe. Clutching the swinging rope, he brought the animal to him, and in an instant more was on her back, giving- her free head as she dashed up the bottom, followed by whizzing - bullets sent wildly after them as soon as the Indians could seize their fire-arms. He had often ridden Rhody without saddle or bridle, and she readily obeyed Ids touch on her neck. Once out of range, he turned her head up the bank, making for the high plain and fie trail back to Cactus station. Two of die Indians, w'ho had sprung te their horses’ backs, appeared upon the desert, about three hundred yards behind him, in swift pursuit. It was a race for life, with the chances singularly even. Joe knew Rhodv's pace as swift and untiring, hut behind him were horses ridden by Indians, masters of the art of getting the utmost speed and endurance from an animal., After a mile he looked back, and saiv that they had gained a little on him ; ten minutes later they were nearer; at the end of an hour they had shortened the intervening ddstance frilly a hundred yards. His one hope of escape was in Rhody’s endurance. If he conld keep o far ahead of his pursuers that they should not disable him or his beast by a shot, he believed he could tire out their horses. But when two hours had passed they had drawn dangerously near. As he reached a point wl ere the trail descended steeply to a lower level of the desert, the foremost Indian fired at him, and at the whizzing of tho ball close by his head, the mule swerved. Her foot struck a rolling stone, she ploughed on her knees down the slope, and over her head went Joe. Rhody was up and away in an instant, while her master, fallen upon h’s shoulder, with the breath knocked out of his body by the shock, turned, revolver in hand, to face the enemy. What did it mean—this sharp cracking of rifles, these excited men about him in wide-brimmed hats. California overalls, and heavy boots, these ringing calls P “ There’s one down ! Give it to the other! Quick! he’s running!” “ Hooray, there you have him ! “ Well done, Jack !” “ Out quick some o’ you and catch the horses. Here, Tom, help to lift the boy. Hand him some water; he’s faint. Joe, whose shoulder was painfully wrenched, weakened a moment with a lapse of darkness ; then rallying, he staggered fo the top of the rise. His pursuers lay dead upen the plain.

ind two men were. riding after their, horses, which * they quickly caught. . Rhody came back to him of her own '•accord'. Captain McKinley, the leader of the prospecting party,, ashed the boy how he felt, and explained the rescue to him. '' , ! - “We saw you coming,” he said, “and lay low. The Injuns didn't spot us till they got almost top of us. Then we riddled ’em.” Joe told them of the capture of his outfit,,.and Pete.. The prospectors shook their heads. “ lidohe gpin’ straight on to Opr-: - unda - Springs,” We ’low ter camp there to-night. But. you’ll not find the darky alive., ; It’s lucky .-if' they haven’t tortured him.” . Marching over the trail that Joe had twice travelled that day, it- was half-way to midnight when they came near the Spring. “ Won stop here,” said Captain McKinley to , his men, -a,-hundred yards frem the brink of the hollow. .Tom Hoover and' the hoy and I’ll reconnoitre.” They crept to - the edge and peered into the depression. The wagon and -the mule were still there, and amid the scattered freig’ht several dark forms of men stretched on the ground could be dimly discerned. On the wagon tongue a solitary figure was seated ; upon his head was a high hat, beneath which came the intermittent glow of a pipe in frill action. The captain was puzzled. “ taking it mighty easy,” he whispered. “.Those fellers on the- ground are Injuns sure enough ; but I can’t savey that thing tipped off with the stove-pipe.” “ That’s the chief,” breathed Joe. ■“ He had Pete’s hat on when I first got sight uv ’em.” “ We’ll wake ’em in a way that’ll make that hard-b’iied hat risiu’ property. Tom, go hack and tell the boys to come up. Leave two men with the horses. Remember no, firingwithout orders.” Tom crawled back toward the cavalcade, while the captain and Joe kept up their watch. The figure on the wagon tongue took the pipe from his mouth, and sang - to a campmeeting air • “ De ce’ible bab me up a tree ! Ob,'gco.l Lord, deliber me !” Joe excitedly grasped the captain’s arm. “ That’s Pete,” he said. The voice went on to sing : “ De debblc he start fur ter climb, He ‘low he git me sho’ dis time. “ It’s a darky, no mistake, and he’s happy,” said the captain. “ De debble be git full o’ rum; He miss bis grab, an down be come,” The captain motioned stillness to his men now taking their positions along the brink; then said to the hoy, “ Call him by name.” “De debble—” the singer had begun, when Joe hailed him ; “ Oh-h Pete !” “Huh ! Hullo up dar ! You back, boss P T’ought yer done fur, she’ !” Joe dashed down the slope ahead of the men, who, with weapons in readiness against a surprise, followed slowly. “ Why, Pete, how on earth did yon get the better uv the redskins ? Yer’ve laid ’em all out.” The four Indians, tied hand and foot, were stretched unconscious on the ground like dead men. The negro chuckled. “ Two git a-hosshack and go fur yon,” he said to Joe ; “de udder fo’ dey stay, an’ dey drink all dat bottle. Dey dance an’ yell scand’l’us, an’ tie meter de wag’n wheel, an’ pile der bacon sides roan’ me, an’ dey gwine bum me sho’, on’y de udders hain’t come back fen de fun. Den dey lurch an’ nod, an’ go ter sleep like dey nebber g - wine ter wake. I wnk loose, an’ git dar guns, an’ tie eb’ry Injun so to keep out o’ mischief. What we gwine do wid ’em?” “ We’ll talk of that later,” spoke Captain McKinley, grimly. Supper was cooked and eaten, and a guard of two men having been set the others went to sleep. At half-past three o’clock in the morning the captain arose, called the two men due to

relieve ■ the ’gmaild at four, and,, held with thbm ail'd the men bn duty a whispered cerisul fafioh. The Indians, now awake’,, were furtively'trying to slip from their bonds. Joe, sleepily stirring in his blanket, heard Captain McKinley say, “We -cant take ’em along with us,.and we won’t turn ’em'lbdsb.” It "whs still dark when the camp, awakened by' the Sound of a volley, sprang to arms.' The prisoners were gone. Somewhehe above the spring the shooting fora few moments was brisk, then’ceased:. 'The men would have rushed toward the scene of the firing’, but the captain was walking' back with smoking revolver in handj -followed,by the guards. “Tt’s all right, boys,” he called. “ The prisoners made a break to get away, and he had to stop ’em.” Up the channel the dawning light revealed the four Apaches lying on the sands. Ko one went near them. The prospectors helped to unload the waggon, and with brief farewells all "hands 'went their way. With Black Pete arid his hat-box, Joe Dobbs reported at noon at the Great Cinch, bringing some scanty and mussed-up freight,- Peg Leg Crawford’s empty medicine bottle, a sprained shoulder, and great reason for thankfulness that things -were no worse. —rHarper’s Weekly. •