that they had brought led-horses for us. And there was Antone again-the brazen knave bragging with as obstreperous impudence as ever; though he kept a little back and a sharp eye about him this time, for the Texan-but this only made it necessary for him to talk the louder. As his character of privilege as boaster and spokesman-general seemed to be conceded, even the bloody veterans of yesterday sat quietly and listened while he made speeches for them; expressing in super-grandiloquence, the sense they entertained of their own magnanimous generosity, in thus furnishing us gratuitously with the means of sharing with them on equal terms the flowering laurels they were about to gain.

After this peroration, they opened their ranks, and led out for our admiration the steeds they had brought us. Oh Mars! hadst thou belonged to the mythology of Mexico, they would have made thee all legs! The horses they rode themselves were nimble and active animals, while those they offered us were the veriest starved, worn, ulcerated, miserable anatomies, that can be conceived-looking as though their legs could hardly totter under the raw and wretched sack of bones which made up their shriveled bodies. It appeared that they were three packhorses the Comanches had left behind them as useless in their passage through our "bottom." I turned off in angry despair, while the Colonel and Lieutenant selected the two best, determined to make the most of it. Just at this moment, a Mexican woman came running to us with the information that she had noticed a number of wolves prowling about a low thicket a few hundred yards off. The Comanches had passed through it as they were approaching to attack us the morning before, and she supposed they had left a dead body there, for the wolves looked so bold and eager-as they always do where a human body is concerned that she had been afraid to go herself to see what it was; but, that they were tearing and fighting over something on the ground, she could distinguish very plainly. We determined to leave the dispute about the horses, and see what this meant. The Mexicans charged with headlong rashness and shouts, down upon the thicket, and five or six wolves actually scurried out, with tails between their legs, looking a good deal frightened. They were so much exhilarated by this success, that they kept on after the wolves

to let off their surplus valor in imagining them Indians flying before their arms; while we went into the thicket, where a most revolting sight met our view. A spot, several yards in circumference, was trampled into a black, bloody mire, strewed with white hair, torn clothes, and the fragments of what we saw had been the body of an American boy. There lay the head torn by the neck out from the shoulders, one-half the face eaten away, and the marks of ravenous teeth scratched in white lines across the skull; here, the bare ribs; there, the legs torn from their sockets and stripped of flesh, except one on which a stocking still remained; and when it was pulled off there was the pale foot with its livid nails, entire-and the flaxen hair clotted into locks, as the bloody brutes had shaken its tangles from their fangs, clung about the bones and to the shrubs around, whose broken twigs and red stains bore witness to the wild struggle that had so dismembered it. I was absolutely sickened by the horrid sight, and even the rude men around me were subdued and touched; even the Colonel's voice sunk into low tones of something like sadness, as he ordered a Mexican to bring a mattock, and we went reverently to work according to his directions, to gather up the scattered fragments and heap them together for the grave. By turns we took the mattock and silently dug away at the rude hole. That he was an American boy was all we knew, and this was enough for our sympathies. That he had been killed by the Comanches we were convinced from parts of his clothing, in which we could discover plainly the cut of a lance head, and this was enough to occupy us with stern thoughts of vengeance. The hasty grave was finished. and the bones laid decently in such order as we could into it, and the dirt, wet with his own blood, thrown in upon them, Dust to dust, poor boy! yours was a hideous fate indeed! We then collected logs from every direction, and heaped them in a great pile upon the grave, to keep the wolves from digging the bones up with their paws, and turned to go back-all parties more thoroughly sobered than I should have thought it possible for such men to be.

A Mexican from the madam's Rancho, and on foot, here joined us; he told us that the Comanches had done a great deal of mischief before they reached us. In addition to a number of other murders,

they had come suddenly upon a man by the name of Black, who lived some twenty miles off, when he was ploughing in the field. He was holding the plough handles, while his son, about thirteen years of age, drove the oxen. The Indians were nearly on him before he saw them. He seized his little son by the hand and ran for life towards the house, where his rifle was. The Indians were so close upon him, that in the hurry the little boy fell and broke the hold of his father's hand; he looked back, and saw that if he stopped an instant to regain him, their lances would be into him-they were already standing in their stirrups to launch them -so he kept on, hoping to get his rifle in time to rescue him. He sprang into his house, and one of them was in such eager pursuit that, before he could check his headway, his horse run its head into the door, and had nearly pitched its rider head-foremost into it. Before he could recover himself, Black had dashed his brains out with his rifle. He then sprang into the saddle of the Indian, maddened with a father's agony as he saw the rest of the party making off at full speed with his child-for only the single one had followed him after he dropped his boy. One of them, lifting the boy on the point of his lance by the clothes, had set him behind another, and then they had wheeled and cleared out, seeing, probably, what would be the result of the affair with Black. The poor man saw they had greatly the start of him, but he gave chase alone with the desperation of frantic hope; and frantic it proved to be, for they outstripped him far enough, and he soon lost sight of them. He then turned, and made for Bexar, to get Hay's Rangers, in the hope that he should be able to intercept them before they reached the hills.

"Ah!" said the Colonel, "this is the son of poor Black we have just buried! A most unfortunate man he has been! This is the second son he has had killed within the year, and is the last of his family. He's a brave man, but has been foolish in always living where nobody else would dare to live; he was living in just such a place when his other boy was killed. Black had a very fine horse, and the boy was riding it after cattle, when one of Agatone's men, who had been lurking about to steal it for several days, waylaid the boy, shot him, and took the horse. When he was going to live in this place, I tried to persuade him not,

but to come and live nearer to me; but he wouldn't do it! He's a strange, wild sort of a man. They say his wife, that he loved very much, was killed by the Mexicans, and that Agatone had something to do with it, and the poor fellow has been a little cracked ever since! but 1 don't pity a man much who would let the death of a woman crack his brain!"

Paugh! I felt as if I could ram the butt of my gun into his mouth for the utterance of so coarse a thought; but I remembered the scene at breakfast with the Texan, and held my peace. Such a comment was sacrilegious, upon a story which, unconsciously to him, was a most touching one. I felt a deep and sadder interest for the man at once. Such a grief was that of a strong nature--haunting him out from all social ties, to live in the constant presence of dangers which appalled other men, that he might dedicate his solitary life to past memories and vengeance. Truly was it a piteous fate to see thus cut off, one after another, the only living bonds between that love and the deep oblivion of death! This man is an instance, among many others, of the strange, passionate eccentrics to be met with on this frontier.

"But, Colonel," said I, "if this be the son of Black, why should the Indians have brought him all this distance to kill him, if they intended to do it!"

"Oh! they didn't intend to do it when they brought him off: they don't often kill white children when they can get them away. They adopt the boys, and make warriors of them, and value them very highly, for a number of their most distinguished war chiefs were stolen in this way; but for the girls they care little: they take them if it is convenient, and if it isn't, they seldom kill them. They don't make wives of them, but merely slaves. They have so great contempt for the Mexicans though, that they always kill them--man, woman and child. They never permit a white boy to be rescued; and if there is any probability of this, they invariably kill him. I suppose the way this thing happened was, that the Indian with the boy behind him, was in the rear, and the boy hearing the guns, and thinking that friends were near, jnmped off and attempted to run for it, and the Indian struck his lance into him and left him. It is a settled point with them always to do this; for they consider that if the boy

escapes them, he will become a white warrior; but if they kill him, it is one future enemy out of the way!"

I had afterwards an opportunity of seeing this savage trait more clearly illustrated! The whole party were now assembled at the blocks of the picketing, armed and mounting, "in hot haste," for the Indian fight; and when everybody else was under way, I found myself by the side of the most disconsolate, wobegone looking beast that ever it was my fortune to put eyes upon. Rosinante was an over-fed, high-conditioned steed compared with him. A starved buzzard would have scorned to pick his lean ribs, and a hungry wolf's tooth could have hardly scraped anything but hair, hide and tendon from his hams; and there was a great disgusting sore on his back. But what was I to do? My feet were still too tender and full of thorns to think of walking. My pride would not permit me to stay behind, and the only resource left was to make the best of this wretched creature. I felt my conscience twinge me hard as the poor animal groaned when I mounted the saddle. The Lieutenant came back and gave me a "quirt" assuring me that there was a wonderful outcome in all these horses, and that I had only to ply it well to make my steed do all I wished-that I could easily keep up until we got to the Comanche camp, and then I could win a horse for myself. This all chimed so well with my own wishes, that I commenced plying the heavy whip upon the sounding ribs of my steed; and as his unexpectedly brisk movement brought me up with the company very soon, I began to conceive that his miserable looks were all a deception, and to feel entirely merciless, as I conceived he had been "playing 'possum" with me in assuming them. The whole of this I was very anxious to believe, and that the saddle, though it rested upon that huge sore on his back, did not hurt him in reality, but that somehow or other he had got used to it. Pardon me, gentle reader, for this cruel sophistry! But you must consider that, in this frontier life, all depends upon your being positively in it, when a fight occurs, for nobody takes the trouble to consider the impossibility of your getting there! If you are not there, your reputation suffers. I felt all this, though 1 felt, too, every lash I gave the poor horse cut into my conscience! But after going a few miles, neither lashing nor

anything else would avail, for out of a walk he could not nor would not

go. The Colonel and all parties, who had been rather laughing at my ridiculous position before, now seriously advised that I should go back, as it was plain the horse could not hold out. But I was excited, and determined to go on and see this affair out at any rate; so I turned my poor steed loose when I found he could not answer to the heaviest strokes I gave him, and determined to keep up on foot. Several of them, seeing that go I would, proposed that I should " ride and tie" with them in turn. I was now comparatively comfortable, and had time to survey the party more critically. Antone, bearing aloft a Comanche lance, rode valorously at the head of the party, and, much to my astonishment, next to him came Davis our " Euphuist" who had rejuvenated his glories, and looked as splendid and gay as ever: and, like his peer Antone, carried simply a lance for his weapon-scorning, no doubt, in his chivalry, to take advantage of superior knowledge in fighting the poor barbarians with his own weapons. He and Antone seemed to be engaged in a bragging match, from the loud ring of their voices. Next to them followed the Mexicans, eager for the fray. Thinking it about time we should be approaching the Medina, I took advantage of this gallant confidence, to secure my turn on horseback, of one of the heroes, who had promised me that I should ride his horse in turn. But as we approached a portion of the road, skirted on each side by thick and scrubby undergrowth, which prevented our seeing far, and the timber before us began to thicken and look tall like that bordering upon a stream, 1 began to notice that the nimble horses of the Mexicans grew suddenly amazingly sluggish, and I perceived myself to be passI ing them one after another, although my horse was walking slowly; and when at last there was a cry ahead of us, "There they are!" I came near to being run over and trampled by the sagacious and politic Antone hurrying back to bring up the lagging rear. He was pouring out eloquent and voluble exhortations to them to remember the glories of their ancestry, and deport themselves worthily of their high descent; while Davis, on the other side, was gesticulating furiously, and talking louder than Antone, though a little ahead of even him, in his anxiety to bring up the very

Lipans, man! They are the Lipans -our friends! Castro, and all of 'em, are old cronies of mine! Keep your thunder for another time! Look at them Mexicans, will you?"

We turned our heads. There they were the blood-stained veterans! about a hundred yards off-just rallied from the flight they had commenced-Antone and Davis now at the head again! Here they come! They see there is to be no fight, and their valorous captains are leading them down with fierce shouts, clattering their weapons as though they intended chopping us to mince meat. Nobody stirred to stop their headlong career, as they expected; so they were under the disagreeable necessity of halting very suddenly themselves, some ten paces off, to ask the meaning of it all. This was done in a very savage, threatening manner, by their two ferocious leaders; both blustering and growling at once, determined to make us all feel, by their surly obtuseness in understanding any explanation of the thing, how much we had escaped in being able to ward off their terrible extirminating charge.

Castro and his warriors looked at them for a moment in contemptuous silence. The ehief then turned to us with a grin.

"Booh! booh!" said he; "who them scare? The rats in the sand ?"

:

We all burst into a hearty laugh at this; while the Mexicans, seeing their sputter was "no go," came crowding in among us with obstreperous expressions of delight. Even the Achillean anger of Antone and Davis was appeased at last; changing by slow and dignified degrees, from a scowl to a grin. They were soon launched-each for himself-into a formal oration in which they congratulated Castro upon the lucky escape he had made in giving the explanation just in time to save himself and party from being overwhelmed by the hot-headed impetuosity of their veterans. They shook before his eyes the lances which had been taken from the rash and unlucky Comanches, and showed how they had been bent like reeds before the tempesttrack of the wrath they had provoked. They were then winding up by impressing upon him, in reiterations, the high sense of gratitude he ought to entertain and express towards the "Blessed Virgin," for her mercy in permitting him to come under the shadow of their formidable power as allies; not leaving him and his nation exposed, as the wretched and out

cast Comanches were, to the tornadoes of Mexican ire! This rather capped the climax of any display I had yet witnessed of the surprising powers of Master Antone. Just picture to yourself the tall, erect and martial figure of the Indian warrior; and then, a few paces in front of him, the shriveled figure of Antone, standing in his stirrups, leaning forward, in his eagerness, over the horse's neck; his hat off, his lean, yellow face upturned, his chin and long sharp nose pointing to the zenith, his little black eyes glowing, his wide mouth clattering like a millclapper, every sentence

"A bombast circumstance, Horribly stuffed with epithets of war," enforced by as rapid gesticulation; changing the lance from one hand to the other; now making it sing again, as he whirled it in the air; now striking it fiercely against the saddle. He even forgot his old enemy, the Texan, so intensely was he absorbed in bearing down poor Castro to the very earth by the torrent of his eloquence; when, suddenly, a lance from that same merciless hand, was so sharply thrust into his posteriors, that-biting a word in two-the pain caused him to make a convulsive spring which carried him over his horse's head, and landed him most ignominiously on his nose, in the burrow of a sand rat, amidst a simultaneous roar of laughter, in which even the stoical warriors joined. Davis retreated very suddenly; and as the chopfallen knave gathered himself, sputtering the blood and sand from his mouth, and slunk off to the water to repair damages, he was followed by reiterated peals. I thought Texas would go into actual convulsions: he slid from his horse and rolled upon the grass in a perfect spasm of merriment; and the Colonel, I think, approached nearer to the verge of a genuine laugh than I ever saw him before or afterward. The Indians enjoyed it highly, though laughing is not a national amusement with them; but they entered into the whole spirit of the thing; for they were brave, shrewd men, and felt, perhaps, a more unmitigated contempt for the Mexicans than even we did.

The hubbub of merriment subsided, we yielded to the solicitations of Castro and dismounted. Buffalo-rugs were spread on the ground, and we were very promptly seated, in comfort and feasting with these men we had been so near a fatal