3 THE RED s 1
P v OVSTAVE AlMARp" I
11 -T R A.I L 3 1)
CHAPTER I.
Toward the end of June, 1854, a well
mounted traveler, carefully wrapped up
in tbe thick folds of a sarape, raised to
Ins eyes, was following one of the most
precipitous slopes of the Sierra of the
Wind river, at no great distance from the
source of the Green river, that great
western Colorado which pours iu waters
Into the Gulf of California.
It was about seven in tbe evening ; the
traveler roda along, shivering from the
effects of an icy. wind which whistled
mournfully through the canyons. All
around had assumed a saddening aspect
in the vacillating moonbeams. He rode
on without hearing the footfall of his
horse, as it fell on tbe winding sheet of
now that covered the landscape ; at times
tbe capricious windings of the track he
ws lonowiug compelled nun- to pass
through thickets, whose branches, bent
by the weight of snow, stood out before
him like gigantic skeletons, and struck
each other after he had passed with a
sullen suap.
The traveler continued bis journey,
looking anxiously on both sides of him.
His horse, fatigued by a long ride, stum
bled at every step, and in spite of tho
repeated encouragement of its rider seem
ed determined to stop short, when, after
turning an angle in the track, it suddenly
entered a large clearing, where the close
growing grass formed a circle about forty
yards in diameter and the verdure formed
a cheery contrast with the whiteness that
surrounded it.
"Heaven be praised !" the traveler ex
claimed in excellent French, "here Is a
pot where I can camp for to-night with
out any excessive inconvenience."
While thus speaking the traveler had
topped his horse and dismounted. His
Brat attention was paid to his horse, from
which he removed the saddle and bridle,
and which he covered with his sarape, ap
pearing to attach no importance to the
cold, which was, however, extremely Be
vcre In these elevated regions. So, soon
as it was free the animal, in spite of its
fatigue, began browsing heartily on the
frra&s, and thus reassured about his com
panion, the traveler began thinking about
making arrangements for the night.
It was no easy task to find dry firewood
at a spot almost denuded of trees, and
whose soil, covered with snow, except
In the clearing, allowed nothing to be
distinguished : but the traveler was pa
tient, he would not be beaten, and within
an hour he had collected sufficient wood
to feed through the night; two such fires
as he proposed kindling.
"Ah! ah," said the traveler, "the fire
will do, so now for supper."
Then fumbling in the double pockets,
which travelers always carry fastened to
the saddle, be took from them all the re
quisite elements of a frugal meal ; that Is
to Bay, pemmican and tassajo, or meat
dried in the sun. At the moment when,
after shutting up his alforgas, the trav
eler raised his head to lay his meat on
the embers to broil, he stopped motion
less, with widely opened mouth, and It
was. only througn a mighty strength of
will that he suppressed a cry of surprise
and possibly of terror. Although no sound
had revealed his presence, a man, leaning
on a long rifle, was standing motionless
before him and gazing at him with pro
found attention.
At once mastering the emotion he felt,
the traveler carefully laid the tassajo on
the embers, and then without removing his
eye from this strange visitor, he stretched
out his arm to grasp his rifle, while say
ing in a tone of the most perfect indif
ference :
"Whether friend or foe, you are wel
come, mate. 'Tis a bitter night, so if you
are cold, warm yourself, and if you are
hungry, eat. When your nerves have re
gained their elasticity and your body its
usual strength we will have a frank ex
planation, such as men of honor ought to
have."
The stranger remained silent for some
seconds ; then, after shaking bis head sev
eral times, said in a low and melancholy
Toice, as if speaking to himself: '
"Can any human being really exist in
-whose heart a feeling of pity still re
mains?" "Make the trial, mate," the traveler an
swered, "by accepting without hesitation
my hearty offer. Two men who meet in
the desert must be friends, unless private
reasons make them implacable enemies.
Sit down and eat."
This dialogue had been held in Spanish,
a language the stranger spoke with a
facility that proved his Mexican origin.
He seemed to reflect for a moment and
then Instantly made np his mind.
"I accept," he said, "for your voice Is
too sympathizing and your glance too
frank to deceive."
"That is the way to speak," the trav
eler said gaily. "Sit down and eat with
out further delay."
Tbe stranger smiled sadly. The two
men then attacked .with no ordinary vigor
the provisions placed before them. Tbe
general appearance of the stranger was
moat wretched and his ragged clothes
carce covered bis bony, fleshless body;
while his pale and sickly' features were
rendered more sad and gloomy by a thick,
disordered beard that fell on bis chest
Bis eyes, Inflamed by fever and sur
rounded by black circles, glistened with a
ombre fire. His weapons were In as bad
condition as hi clothes, yet there was
In him something grand and sympathetic
which aroosed not only pity bat also
asspist Urn torture so proudly hidden and J
so nobly endured. This mmi
ere he fell so low. must hnv. Wn
either in virtue or in vice ; but assuredly
"-ie was notning common about him
and a mighty heart beat In hii hnsnm
There was a rather long silence, during
which the two men indulged in thought.
Hie wind howled fiercely over their heads,
the eddying snow was piling up around
mem ana me ecboes of the canyons seem
eu to utter notes of complaint. It was a
horrible night. Beyond the circle of
light produced by the flickering flame of
the watch fire all was buried in dense
gloom.
"Now that the ice Is broken between
us, the traveler said In a friendly voice,
for we have been sitting at the same
fire and have eaten together the moment
has arrived, I fancy, for us to become
uiorougniy acquainted."
The stranger nodded his head silently.
it was a gesture that could be Inter
preted affirmatively or negatively, at
pleasure.
"For twenty years I have been trav
ersing the prairies and great savannahs
in every direction, and I shall probably
continue to do so till an Indian bullet
conies from some thicket to stop my wan
derings forever. Towns are hateful to
me. And now, mate, you know me as
wen as I do myself. I will merely add,
in conclusion, that my name among the
white men, my countrymen, Is Valentine
txuillois, and among the redskins, my
aaopcea latuers, Koutenepi."
The speech, which the hunter had
menced in that clear voice and with that
careless accent habitual to him, terminat
ed involuntarily, under the pressure of the
nooa ot saddened memories that rose from
his heart, and when he concluded he let
his head fall sadly on his chest with a
sign that resembled a sob. The stranger
regnraea mm tor a moment with an ex
pression of gentle commiseration.
xou have suffered," he said; "suf
fered in your love, suffered in your friend.
ship. Your history is that of all men in
this world; who of us but at a given
hour has felt his courage vield benenth
the weight of grief? You are alone.
friendless, abandoned by all. a.voluntnrv
exile, far from the men who only inspire
you with hatred and contempt ; you prefer
the. society of wild beasts less ferocious
than they, but at any rate you live, while
i am a dead man !
ihe hunter started and looked in
amazement at the sneaker.
"I suppose you think me mad?" he con
tinued with a melancholy smile; "reas
sure yourself, it is not so. I am in full
possession of my senses, and mv thoughts
are clear and lucid. For all that, though.
I repeat to you, I am dead, dead in the
sight of my relations and friends, dead to
tne whole world in fine. Mine is
strange story, and one that you would
recognize through one word, were you a
Mexican or had traveled in certain re
gions of Mexico."
Did I not tell you that for twenty
years I have been traveling over every
pan ot America;' tne traveler replied,
"What is the word? Can you tell it me?"
"Why not? I am alluding to the name
I bore while I was still a living man."
"What is that name?"
"It had acquired a certain celebrity,
but I doubt whether It has remained in
your memory.
"Who knows? Perhaps you are mis
taken."
"Well, since you Insist, learn, then,
that I was called Martial el Tigrero."
"You?" the astonished hunter exclaim
ed. ."Why, that is impossible!"
"Of course so. since I am dead." the
stronger answered, bitterly.
CHAPTER II.
The Tigrero had let his head fall on
his chest again, and seemed encaged with
gloomy thoughts. The hunter, somewhat
embarrassed by the turn the conversation
had taken, and anxious to continue it,
mechanically stirred up tbe fire.
"Stay," be said, presently, as he thrust
back with his foot a few embers that had
rolled out ; "pardon me, sir,, any Insult
which my exclamation may seem to have
contained. You have mistaken my mean
ing, although we have never met, we are
not such strangers as you suppose. I
bave known you for a long time."
The Tigrero raised his head and looked
at the hunter incredulously.
"You?" be muttered.
'Yes, I, and it will not be difficult to
prove It to you."
"What good will it do?" he murmured ;
"what interest can I have in tbe fact of
your knowing me?"
Valentine reflected for a moment, and
then went on as follows :
"Some months ago, In consequence of
circumstances unnecessary to remind you
of, but which you doubtless bear In mind,
you met at the colony of Guetzallt a
Frenchman and a Canadian hunter, with
whom you eventually stood on most inti
mate terms."
"It Is true," the Tigrero replied, "the
Frenchman to whom yon allude is tbe
Count de Prebois Crance. Ohl I shall
never be able to discharge tbe debt of
gratitude I bave contracted with him."
A sad smile curled the hunter's Up.
"Yon no longer owe him anything," he
aid.
"What do you mean?" the Tigrero ex
claimed eagerly; "surely the count can
not be dead I
"He la dead, eaballero. He was as
sassinated on the shores of Qnayamas.
His murderers laid him la his tomb, and
his blood, so treacherously shed, cries foi
vengeance."
The hunter hurriedly wiped away th
tears he had been unable to repress whi!
speaking of the count, nnd went on 1
a voice choked by the internal emotio
which he strove in vain to conquer:
"But let us, for the present, leave thi
fad reminiscence to slumber in our heart
The count was my friend, my deares
friend, more than a brother to me; h
often spoke about you to me, and severs
times told me your gloomy history, whicl
terminated in a frightful catastrophe."
The Tigrero, in a few moments, begat
his narra.ive as follows:
"My friends must have fancied mi
dead. You are aware that I was at
tacked by Black Bear just as I believe!
I had saved friends. We fought on tin
edge of a pit and I was juBt about ti
finish him when the Comanche war cri
was heard. Startled, I let the Indian go
he rushed at Dona Anita, a member. o:
the party, who, however, repulsed him
He fell backward In the direction of tin
pit, clutching me, and down we went to
gether."
"Go on," the hunter said, "I am listen
ing to you with the greatest attention."
"The Indian was desperately wounded
and it was a corpse that dragged mi
down. The chief was the first to read
the bottom, and I fell upon his body
which deadened my fall. I cannot sa?
how long I remained in this state, but )
fancy my faint must have lasted twe
hours. When I opened my eyes again, 1
found myself in utter darkness. That
did not trouble me greatly, as I had abou'
me everything necessary to light a fire
Within a few moments I had a light, am
was enabled to look about me. I wa
iving at the bottom of a species of tun
nel, for the pit grew narrower in its de
scent. When I reached the floor of th.
cavern, I lay for more than half an houi
on the sand, exhausted, panting, Unabh
to make the slightest movement. Fortu
nately for me this terrible condition die'
not last long, for the refreshing air fron
without, reaching me through the passage
of the cavern, recovered me. The grouni'
around me was covered with dead bodies
and there had, doubtless, been a terrlbli
struggle. I sought In vain for the corpses
of Dona Anita and her father. . I breath
ed again, and hope re-entered my heart
Those for whom I had given my rife were
saved. This thought restored my courage
and I felt quite a different man. I rosi
without any excessive difficulty, and, sup
porting myself on my rifle, went toward
the mouth of the cavern, after removini
my stock of provision, and taking tw
powder horns from stores I had previous
ly cached. No words can describe thi
emotion I felt when, after a painful wall;
through the grotto, I at length reached
the river bank, and saw the sun oner
more.
"An hour later, mounted on my good
horse, I bent my steps toward houses.
My journey was a long one, and whcE
I reached Sonora the news I heard al
most drove me mad. Don Sylva dc
Torres had been killed in the fight witi
me. Apaones, as was probably his daugh
tor. For a month I hovered between life
and death. When hardly convalescent, I
dragged myself to the house of the onl
man competent of giving me precise in
formation. This man refused to recog
nize me, althobgh I had been intimati
with him for many years. When I told
him my name he laughed in my face, ami
when I insisted, he had me expelled by
his peons, telling me that I was mad.
that Don Martial was dead, and I an im
postor. I went away with rags and de
spair in my heart. After this all ffij
friends to whom I presented myself re
fused to recognize me, so thoroughly wn
the report of my death believed. All thr
efforts I attempted to dissipate tbit
alarming mistake and prove tbe falsehood
of the rumor were in vain, for too manj
persons were interested in it being true,
on account of my large estates ; and also.
I suppose, through a fear of Injuring thf
man to whom I first applied the on I)
living relation of the Torres family. What
more need I tell you? DiRgusted in eve-
way.sheartbroken with grief, and recogniz
ing the inutility of the efforts I had made
I left the town, and, mounting my horse
returned to the desert, seeking tjie mast
unknown spots and the most desolate re
gions in which to hide myself."
"Brother,1. Valentine said, gently, "yor
have forgotten to tell me the name of that
influential person who had you turned om
of his house, and treated you as an in)
postor.
"That is true," Don Martial answered
"His name is Don Sebastian Guerrer-j
and he. Is military governor of tbe prov
ince of Sonora."
"Don Martial," cried the hunter, "yoi
may thank heaven for decreeing that wi
should meet In the desert, In order that
the punishment of this man should b
complete."
(To be continued.)
Didn't Willi to Interrupt.
-A husband was being arraiimed ir
court in a suit brought by bis wlft
for cruelty.
"I understand, sir." said the iudee.
addressing tbe husband, "that one a
the indignities you have showered upoi
your wife Is that you bave not spokei
to her for three years. Is that so?"
"It Is, your honor," quickly answeret
the husband.
"Well, sir." thundered the lndo-e
"why didn't you speak to her, may 1
askr
"SlmDlv." renlled the husband. '.
cause I didn't want to Interrupt her.'-
Old Adafe Comes I7p.
Creditor (angrily) 8ay, when art
yon going to pay the ISO you owe me'
Debtor (calmly) That query r
mlnda me of the old adage.
Creditor What old adage?
Debtor The one about a fool's abii
lty to ask questions that a wis man u
unable to answer.
Yncso o-i ,n-
The New Farmer.
The President's address last month
at the Michigan State Agricultural Col
lege Is so clear an expression of the
conditions of modern farm life that
a future historian may turn to It to
read our times. All national leaders
have told us that the farmer is the
backbone of the nation. Washington
and Jefferson were farmers, aud good
ones. The Illinois that bred Lincoln
was one vast farm Chicago was then
only a small town. Tbe PreslUeut of
to-day, not bred in farm life, although
he bus been a practical ranchman, is
the first to express the unity between
farm labor aud all other kinds. The
farmer to him Is an expert mechanic
aud busluess man, whose problems are
precisely those of the workman in the
town, who depends for success on In
dustrial and social co-operation. He
must be an educated, aggressivepar
ticipant in the work of life, competing
with the farmer of Europe, inviting
to his workshop of niuny acres the
most skilful young men, learning from
technical students and the practical ex
perience of bis neighbors the best that
Is known about his business. City
workers, meeting in the' friction of
crowded life, have always learned their
craft from one another. Xhe farm
er has until recently been In social
and business Isolation. Now be is a
citizen of the world, often closer In
point of time, to the nearest city than
his grandfather was to tbe farmers of
the adjacent town. The difference be
tween the townsman and the country
man In educational aud Intellectual
opjwrtunltles and In Industrial respon
sibility is rapidly diminishing. That
means the diminishing of the old reul
or fancied disadvantage of farm life
which drove ambition and initiative to
the city for opportunity to show them
selves. The advantage remains and
Increases, for no matter how near to
gether modern Instruments of unity,
the trolley and telephone, bring city
and country, broad acres still remain
broad, and produce the conditions of
free and Independent life. Youth's
Companion.
.Weed Cotter and Gatherer.
Weeds are a constant source of
trouble to the gardener, cropping up
quicker than he can cut them down,
and spoiling tbe
appearance of the
lawn. A Massa
chusetts man has
Invented an Imple
ment Intended to
help him solve tho
problem and light
en the labor of
stopping and dig
ging up tbe roots.
new weed cutter, It is a combined
weed cutter and gatherer, as shown In
the accompanying Illustration. Tho
cutter Is adjustable, and is operated by
a lever which terminates close to the
handle of the Implement Tbe gatherer
Is placed In the rear of tbe cutter. In
front of the cutter are a pair of small,
light wheels. It will be seen that after
bringing the Implement close, to the
weed a pull on the lever Is all that Is
required to operate the cutter. As the
Implement Is pushed on to the next
spot, tbe weed Is gathered up by tbe
rake and carried on.
The Best Hog; to Italic.
It Is not tbe large hog that pays, but
the one that makes the largest quan
lty of pork In tbe shortest time and
on the smallest amount of food. If a
pig comes In during April be has
nearly nine months during which to
grow by the end of tbe year. If he
Is well bred, and from a good stock
of hogs, he should easily be made to
weigh 250 pounds during the nine
months of his life.
Buckwheat Is a profitable crop and
thrives on sandy soil. It Is what may
ie termed a summer grain crop, as the
teed may be broadcasted In June and
he crop harvested before frost It Is
rrown as a green manurlal crop, or for
be grain. It provides an abundant
'orage for bees when In blossom,
bough some do not claim the honey
herefrom to be of the highest quality,
ielng of rapid growth, buckwheat
rowds tbe weeds and prevents them
oin growing, and as It shades tbe soli
Is regsrded as one of tbe best crops
ist can be grown for that purpose.
Li
To Destroy Iniecta.
The grayish black squash bug is
difficult to manage. Gathering the eggs
and the old bugs early in the spring
Is laborious but sure, If thoroughly
done. The bugs will crawl upon a
piece of board laid among the vines,
and may be gathered and caught. The
use of poisons will do no good In the
case of the bugs, as they do not ent
the leaves, but pass their beaks
through the outside of the leaf to
suck the Juices, and will not consume
any of the poison. In a series of ex
periments in the method of prevent
ing the attacks of tbe squash vine bor
er the preventatives employed were
paris green at the rate of half a tea
8oonful to two gallons of water, corn
cobs dipped In coal tar, and the kero
sene emulsion; the application of the
parls green and the kerosene was re
peated after every hard rain uutil
September; the cobs were dipped la
coal tar again once In three weeks.
AH three of the applications seemed to
be beneficial, with perhaps a little
something In favor of the corncobs
as being cheapest and most convenient
Tbe odor of the tar has no effect on
the Insects, but sometimes repels the
moth, causing her to lay her eggs elsewhere.
via BATH,
i
minute. Nevertheless
To Give rim a Bath.
The unfortunate pig has always had
the reputation of being the most un
cleanly animal In existence. This la
not entirely the
fault of the pig,
as his environ
ment Is generally
accountable for
h I s cleanliness.
Pig raisers sel
dom attempt to
give the pigs a
bath, as It Is al
most Impossible
to catch and hold
them, even for a
a Missouri
stockman tackled the problem and suc
ceeded In planning an apparatus by
which the pigs are given a good wash
ing before they are slaughtered. It
should also prove equally as useful at
other times. The construction and op
eration of the dipping tank, as It U
called, will be plainly evident by a
glance at the acocmpnnylng Illustra
tion. Resting on the ground Is the wa
ter tank, which Is connected to an In
clined Inlet and outlet. On the In
cline of the outlet are tiny stairs to
assist the pig In aseerdlng. In prep
aration for his "annual" the pig la
forced down the Incline Into the water,
and If his common sense does not di
rect him on the Incline, he is prodded
from behind with a bar. In fact, In
time this device may become very
fashionable with pigs, and It would
not be surprising to hear of them tak
ing their dally "dip" hereafter.
Testing- Dairy Cows,
The Illinois station publishes a cir
cular which emphasizes the Import,
ance of studying the production of In
dividual cows, and contains records for
one year of eighteen dairy herds In
Illinois, Including 221 cows.
Tbe average year production was
5,019.09 pounds of milk; and 220.03
pounds of butterfat
The best herd averaged 850.17
pounds of butterfat and the poorest
142.05 pounds.
Tbe best ten cows averaged 888.73
pounds of butterfat and the poorest
ten 109.42 pounds.
It Is believed that at least one-third
of the cows In the ordinary herds are
practically unprofitable.
A marked Improvement was ob
served In herds where grading had
been practiced.
It was found possible to remove five
cows from a herd of ten nnd thereby
Increase the profit $7.02 per head.
Care ot the Hedge.
When the hedge plants begin to die
out the cause may sometimes be traced
to lack of plant food. There Is con
siderable wood removed from hedge
plants every year when the hedges are
trimmed, and this annual loss cannot
be sustained by the plants unless they
are assisted. Apply wood ashes freely
every fall. ,
i
wild sim."
Among the peculiar products of Man
churia, which are becoming better
known to the outside world since the
opening of that country, Is "wild silk,"
produced by an Insect named Antheroea
pernyl, which lives upon the Mongoll
an oak leaves In southeastern Manchu
ria. The annual production for a few
years past is estimated at 15,000,000 co
coons. In Shantung this silk Is manu.
factured Into pongee.
The Belgians as poteto eaters far
outatrlp th Irish.