George, on being noticed by the other ladies, who admired his graceful
manners and fine appearance, neglected Betty for them, after the manner
of very young gentlemen. The first dance was a _minuet de la cour_, the
most graceful and dignified of all dances. Mrs. Washington, dancing with
Admiral Vernon, took the head of the room, and motioned George and Betty
to take the place opposite to her. The minuet was formed, the fiddlers
gave an extra flourish, and the dance began, while the gentlemen bowed
so low to every lady that they swept the floor with their cocked hats.
Among them all no couple were more graceful and dignified than the boy
and girl. Betty danced with the utmost gravity, making her "bow, slip,
slide, and pirouette," in the most daintily careful manner. George's
noble figure and perfect grace were well adapted to this charming dance,
and many compliments were paid both of them, which made Betty smile
delightedly and George turn red with pleasure. When the stately minuet
was over, the fiddlers struck into Betty's favorite, the "Marquis of
Huntley's Rigadoon," which was as jolly and harum-scarum as the minuet
was serious and dignified. Betty in her heart liked the rigadoon best,
and whispered to George that "William was good enough for the rigadoon."
William therefore came forward, and the two had a wild romp to the music
of two energetic fiddlers. George was rather shy about asking the
ladies, all of whom were older than he, to dance; but having made the
plunge, he was accepted, and afterwards poor Betty had no one to depend
upon but William Fairfax, who was equally ill off for partners. No one
was gayer or more gallant than the gray-haired Admiral Vernon, and the
veteran sailor and the boy George divided between them the honors of the
evening.
The dance stopped early, as the next day was Christmas, and they were
sure to be roused betimes; and, besides, there was to be a grand ball
for all the gentry round about on Christmas night.
When George went up to his room he was very well inclined for bed from
his day's travel and his evening's amusement, and Billy was snoozing
comfortably before the fire, with Rattler asleep within reach. Before
George slept, however, he wrote two letters--one to his mother and
another to Lord Fairfax. Mount Vernon and its gayety, and the new faces
he had met, had not put out of his mind the two persons so loved and
admired by him. But as soon as his letters were written he tumbled into
bed, and was asleep in less time than it takes to tell it.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
CROSSING THE XUACAXÉLLA.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES A. CURTIS, U. S. A.
V.
The boy sergeants wandered about the town, made some purchases, and
found great amusement in watching a bevy of Mojave Indian girls ornament
their arms, necks, and faces with colored chalks in various fanciful
designs, display themselves briefly to their admiring friends, and then
plunge into and swim about a lagoon that backed up to the town from the
river. Emerging with no trace left of their recent adornment, they would
proceed to renew it in a different design, and take another swim.
"Quite like watering-place belles with extensive wardrobes," remarked
Frank.
"And takes about as long to put on the paint as to put on a fashionable
dress," said Henry, "but not so long to remove it."
Another thing that interested the boys was a balsa or raft, made by the
Mojaves of the cane-grass which grew in the river-bottoms to the height
of fifteen feet. A large bundle bound at the ends with withes would
sustain two men. The boys borrowed one of an Indian girl, who was
sitting in the shade of a cottonwood prinking herself artistically with
an original and intricate pigmentary pattern. Stepping on board, they
paddled about the quiet lagoon for some time.
Tiring at last of the sport, they separated, Frank saying that he was
going to look over his shot-gun, and, perhaps, go for some quail; and
Henry, that he meant to find Clary, and set some lines for catfish.
The younger sergeant failing to find the soldier, selected a line, and
procuring some bait, returned alone to the lagoon. On his way he met the
Indian girl walking along the sidewalk, an object of admiration and envy
to the men and women of her people. Her bronze flesh was ornamented with
a lacelike tracery in many tints.
"How exceedingly pretty!" said Henry, in Spanish, a language fairly well
understood by the aborigines of the Southwest.
"I, or my paint?" asked the girl.
"The paint is well put on; but I think you look prettiest just after a
swim."
"Thank you, señor."
"May I take the balsa again, Indita?"
"Si, señor; and you may keep it; but return the paddle."
"Thank you. I will leave the paddle on the shore."
With this exchange of civilities Henry walked down to the pool.
Selecting a lid of a packing-box, he shaped a rude paddle with his
pocket-knife. An idea had occurred to him. He wondered if he could not
float down the river to the racing-ground, and get a peep at Chiquita
and Sancho as they came in victors; for he felt sure no ponies in
Arizona could beat them. But the Lieutenant had told the escort not to
go to the race. True. But what harm could there be if he kept out of
sight; and there must be some bushes or hummocks on the river-bank where
he could conceal himself. He determined to try it. If there was no
shelter, he could float past, land below, abandon the balsa, and return
to town by a circuitous route.
Placing an empty box on the raft for a seat, he took Vic on board, and
began paddling out of the lagoon. Speed could not be got out of such a
craft. It was simply a convenience for crossing or journeying down the
river. The Mojaves, whose village was five miles above La Paz, came down
on freshly made balsas every day, but walked home, carrying their
paddles.
Snatched by the rippling and undulating current of the murky river, the
boy and dog were swept along at a swift rate. By using his paddle
vigorously he kept near the shore, until, sweeping around a bend, he saw
the steamer _Cocopah_ tied up to the bank, and realized that if he did
not quickly work out a piece his sheaf of cane-grass would be carried
under her bow. It proved a desperate struggle, and he cleared the
steamboat with no space to spare.
He floated swiftly on, and saw half a mile down the shore a crowd of
men, mounted and on foot, intently watching something inland. He was
approaching the race-course. He made a landing on a sand spit that
struck off from an outward curve of the bank, and dragged the balsa out
of the water.
The shore rose abruptly from the bar to a height two feet above his
head. He lifted and boosted Vic up, and seizing the long tufts of
overhanging grass, and thrusting his feet into the loops of willow
roots, drew himself to the higher level, and crept into a screen of low
bushes.
Peering through the branches Henry saw a straightaway course, parallel
to the river, bordered for three hundred yards with the motley crowd of
a mining and Indian country. At the northern end of the track was a
group of ten ponies.
Eager to obtain an unobstructed view of the race, the boy dashed for a
gnarled cottonwood on his left, ordered Vic to lie down at its foot, and
swung himself into its branches. Climbing into the top, he found no
difficulty in picking out two ponies, a black and a cream-color, and
recognizing the property of his brother and himself. In his opinion they
were the handsomest animals in the group.
At the fourth signal--a pistol-shot--the ten ponies got away. Down the
three-hundred-yard track they sped, and over the last fourth the black
and cream-color led by a length, crossing the goal with Sancho half a
neck in advance. Of course the little sergeant knew they would beat, and
in spite of his sorrow at the loss of the ponies--intensified by this
stolen sight of them--he could not refrain from swinging his cap, and
uttering a subdued, "Bravo, Sancho! bravita, Chiquita!"
The cheer was promptly answered by a succession of barks at the foot of
the tree, and Vic, interpreting the boy's words to mean that she was set
free, dashed off at the top of her speed for the race-course, and down
its length to where the victors were now held by their dismounted
riders. She bounded wildly about them for a few moments, and then,
standing still, Henry saw each horse in turn place its nose to the dog's
nose. One of the men struck the dog sharply with the loop of his
bridle-rein, and as she fled back in the direction of the boy's outlook,
he saw them separate from the crowd, and, after a brief consultation,
follow her.
Henry, perceiving he was discovered, let himself down from the tree.
Texas Dick and Jumping Jack approached.
"Ven acá, muchacho," said the Mexican.
Henry did not stir, and Dick said, in Spanish:
"He does not understand your lingo. I'll try him in English. Come here,
boy."
Henry had not disregarded Juan's summons, for any reason, but the remark
of Dick gave him an idea. By pretending to be ignorant of Spanish he
might learn something that would prove of advantage to him. Accordingly
he came promptly forward when Dick spoke.
"From Fort Whipple, ain't yer, youngster?"
"I am."
"D'ye know these critters?"
"The black is my brother's; the light is mine."
"Yer lookin' on 'em up, I s'pect?"
"We shall take them, if we can."
"You see, I was right," continued Dick in Spanish to his companion.
"They are here to take these horses."
"Then we'd better collect the prize and our stakes, and leave," replied
Juan.
"Where shall we go?" asked Dick. "Arizona is getting uncomfortable for
me, and your people across the Mexican line don't love you."
"Valgame Dios, no! Let's cross the river and go to San Diego or Los
Angeles."
"Estar bueno. Come with us, youngster," he added, in English; "and, mind
ye, keep a still tongue in yer head, or it'll go hard with yer."
Henry followed the men to the head of the race-course, where they
received their prizes and the winnings, and withdrew to the river-bank.
There they divided the money and held a conference.
"We'd better cross the river to-night and camp at El Rincon until
morning, and then strike for Dos Palmas and the coast," said Dick.
"Shall we leave our monte and other stuff in town?" asked Juan.
"No; you stay here and watch the boy, and I'll go back and sell out.
Anastacio Barella will buy. Look sharp that the young soldier does not
send a message by his dog. I have heard strange stories of her. I will
bring down something for our supper."
Dick galloped away, leaving the Mexican and Henry to await his return.
As the darkness deepened in the river-bottom the boy's thoughts grew
more and more despondent. When he heard the men forming their plans of
escape he had thought of sending a message to the Lieutenant by Vic, and
his hopes had risen with the prospect of causing the arrest of Dick in
town, and the pursuit and capture of Juan at the race-course. But Dick's
last caution to his comrade had shattered all. He realized that by his
disobedience of what he knew to be the Lieutenant's wishes he had
brought disgrace upon himself, and ruined every chance of recovering the
ponies.
It was night when Dick returned and reported to his fellow thief that he
had made an advantageous sale of their gambling property.
"Now, kid, yer kin slope," said he, addressing the disheartened lad.
"Tell th' Liftinint that he can look for us at Hermosilla, on th' other
side ther bound'ry. Good-by."
Henry hurried away toward La Paz, with Vic close at his heels. There was
no occasion for haste, for he felt that nothing in the town could
overtake the lost Sancho and Chiquita. Still he hurried and stumbled
along in the darkness.
"Oh, Vicky," said the boy, in his misery, stooping to pat her head, "I
ought to be reduced to the ranks, and dishonorably discharged from the
service for this. I have done very wrong. I've lost the ponies for
good."
The dog licked his hand sympathetically, and then suddenly bounded away,
barking, and Henry heard Frank's voice say,
"Why, Tom, here's Vic!"
"Thin Sargint Hinery must be near," said the soldier.
"Yes, I'm here, Frank--and oh, Frank, I'm in such trouble!" And in a
curiously jumbled and half-incoherent manner Henry related his
afternoon's adventures.
At the conclusion of the recital the three held a consultation as to
what was best to be done. Time was precious, and the town was two miles
distant.
"Sargints," said Private Tom, "I belave we can do bist by oursilves. You
say the grass-boat is close by, Hinery?
"Not far from here, Tom."
"And the thaves are going to camp and cook their supper on the other
side?"
"So they said."
"Thin lit's interfere with their arringemints. I think the Liftinint
will overlook an 'absince without lave' if we bring in the raskils and
the ponies."
The soldier and boys turned, and, bidding Vic keep close to them,
hurried to the bar where Henry had left the gift of the Mojave belle. As
they were lifting the elastic raft into the water they heard the voices
of men on the river, and knew that the horse-thieves were fording the
stream.
The Colorado was shoal, having an average summer depth of four feet at
La Paz. Clary secured two poles from the river débris lodged on the bar,
one for Frank and one for himself. Henry sat on the box in the middle,
holding his companions' guns across his lap with one hand, and grasping
Vic's collar with the other. The well-filled game-bags were between his
feet.
The balsa moved slowly towards the opposite shore and rapidly down
stream, the stalwart Irish soldier's feet settling into the loosely
bound stems as he poled. Becoming alarmed when he found the water
standing above his ankles, he called, in a subdued undertone:
[Illustration: "SARGINT FRANK, I BELAVE I SHALL GO THROUGH THIS L'AKY
GONDOLA BEFORE WE GET ACRASS."]
"Sargint Frank, I belave I shall go through this l'aky gondola before we
get acrass."
"Take Henry's paddle, Tom. It lies on the right side of the box. Lay it
across the reeds and stand on it."
"Ah, sure, that's betther! Kape yer ind a little more up-strame,
sargint. We'll steer by the avening-star."
The distance to the western side slowly lessened. A landing could not be
selected where all was dark; that must be left to chance. But chance
proved kindly, and the balsa lodged against the shore in the still water
of a little cove. The three climbed the bank, and soon began to move
upstream. They knew that the ponies, having waded most of the way, had
not been carried down much by the current, and must have landed far
above them. Vic was cautioned to "watch out," for the pursuers depended
upon her scent to show them where the ponies left the water.
They had made their way for nearly an hour over a rough and miry
river-bottom when the setter paused. She began sniffing the ground to
the right and left for a few moments, and then settled to a course,
going west for half a mile, and then north, parallel to the river.
"She must be on the trail, Tom," said Frank; "but I do not see why the
men went upstream."
"There's an excillint rayson for that, sargint," said Clary. "One of the
routes to the coast is from La Paz, and the ford and landing is nearly
opposite the town. The thaves have gone to El Rincon, as the landing is
called."
The boys and soldier continued to struggle through tangling grass,
intertwining bushes, and over uneven ground, until they reached an open
space, and saw a light ahead. Bidding Vic drop behind and remain silent,
they moved cautiously in its direction, until they came out upon a hard,
level, and grassless plat, the river end of the California trail.
Across the level, near a clump of cottonwoods, was a fire where Texas
Dick and Jumping Jack were plainly visible cooking their supper. On the
side of their fire opposite the river were two saddles, upon which
rested their rifles and revolvers. Still farther west the two ponies
were picketed and grazing.
Frank told Henry to go to the ponies and remain there with Vic, while he
and Clary moved towards the fire. Screening themselves behind tufts and
swells, and lastly behind the saddles, they worked across the level, the
sound of their movements being covered by the booming and rushing of the
great river. When within twenty yards of the fire, and five from the
saddles, Private Tom Clary sprang to his feet, aimed his
double-barrelled shot-gun at the thieves, and shouted:
"Throw up your arrums!"
At the same moment Frank made a flying leap for the saddles, and seized
the rifles and revolvers. Henry was told to come forward and assist his
brother in keeping Dick and Juan under the muzzles of their own rifles,
while Clary securely bound them. This accomplished, the boys went back
for a moment to renew their acquaintance with their little horses. Yes,
the chase was over, and their favorites were again in their possession,
and it cannot appear strange that the young soldiers went into boyish
ecstasies of delight at their good-fortune, embracing, patting, and
talking to the ponies, as if they understood all that was said to them.
At last they rejoined Clary at the fire, and the three fell into a
discussion of how they were to return to La Paz. Each one felt that it
would be impossible to ford the river and yet retain possession of the
prisoners. Either of the boys must go on one of the horses or Vic be
sent. It was decided to send the setter. A message was written, and
after much persuasion Vic was made to understand that she was to swim
the Colorado, and struck across for the other shore.
* * * * *
While the boy sergeants were going through these adventures I had
remained in La Paz. At retreat roll-call Corporal Duffey had reported
"Private Clary absent and unaccounted for," and at Mr. Gray's table the
boys were absent from supper.
At first I did not give myself any uneasiness over the absentees,
thinking they had miscalculated a distance in their rambles and would
soon appear. The Captain and Director of the steamer _Cocopah_ were
present, closing the transportation business. When finished, the Captain
left to prepare his boat for an early start.
Becoming alarmed at the boys' continued absence, at midnight I began a
search for them, and soon learned that Frank and Clary had gone
quail-shooting, and that Henry had been seen to paddle out of the lagoon
on a Mojave balsa, accompanied by Vic. I did not feel especially anxious
concerning the older boy; he and Clary were probably astray, and would
turn up safe.
I led the men in a long search beside the river without finding a clew,
and returning to Mr. Gray's, sat a long time on the veranda alone, sadly
reflecting upon the probable fate of Henry and the absence of Vic. I
thought if the boy was simply in trouble, he would have sent our
never-failing messenger to me. The fact that he had not done so made me
fear the worst. Perhaps the faithful Vic was now watching his stranded
body on the shores of the great river.
In the midst of these reflections there scrambled up the steps a wet and
bedraggled dog, who dropped at my feet a chip. Carrying her in my arms
to my room, I examined her collar, and found a few leaves of a
memorandum-book covered with Frank's handwriting.
The news of Vic's arrival with a message spread quickly, and the whole
household was gathered in my room when the wet leaves were unfolded and
the boys' exploit learned.
"Good! good!" exclaimed the Director. "Come with me to the _Cocopah_.
We'll steam across, and get the whole party--boys, soldier, ponies, and
scamps. Such boys must have the best transportation on the river."
* * * * *
On the west side of the Colorado Private Tom Clary and the boy sergeants
sat by the fire broiling quail, which they seasoned from the supplies of
Texas Dick and Juan Brincos, and accompanied by slices of toasted bread
from the same source. In the midst of their enjoyment of "quail on
toast" a loud "whoof! whoof! whoof!" came across the river.
"Hullo," said Henry, "the old _Cocopah_ is starting for the Gulf mighty
early. I should think the pilot would find it difficult to keep off the
shores when it is so dark."
The boys could see by the boat's changing lights that her bow was
swinging out into the stream, and expected shortly to see her starboard
lights as she headed downward. But she seemed to pause with her furnace
fires and pilot-lanterns pointing towards them. "Whoof! whoof!
whoof!--patter, patter, patter,"--the noise of the steamboat grew louder
and louder, until the boys rose from their seats and stared in surprise
at the rapidly growing lights.
"I really believe she is coming here," said Frank.
"She is, or she nades a dale of space to turn in," observed Tom Clary.
Presently two tall smoke-stacks separated themselves from the
surrounding darkness and appeared high above the campers' heads.
"Ahoy there, boys!" shouted the Captain's voice from the pilot-house.
"Ay, ay, sir!" answered Frank.
"Get ready to come on board! Below, there--ready with the gang-plank!
Lower away!"
Down came the plank, and a joyous group of friends walked down to the
shore to greet the boys and the soldier.
A little time afterwards the boy sergeants led their ponies on board,
and Private Tom Clary escorted the prisoners. The Cocopah cleared away
and paddled back to the La Paz side, where Texas Dick and Juan Brincos
were turned over to the civil authorities, and Sancho and Chiquita to
the escort in Mr. Gray's corral.
Three days later the boys and I took leave of Mr. Baldwin, who was now
in charge of the government store-house, and accompanied by Mr. Gray,
started for Fort Whipple. Hanging under the hind axle of the ambulance
was a ten-gallon keg, and inside was another. We left La Paz at six in
the evening and reached Tyson's Wells at ten. Remaining there until four
o'clock the next afternoon, we filled the kegs with water, and drove all
night, arriving at Hole-in-the-Plain at sunrise. Remaining all day, the
animals grazing without water, we made a second night's drive to Black
Tanks; and then a third to Date Creek, where we resumed travelling by
daylight. It is an old army custom to make night drives in warm weather
over long distances between water. The nights of the far West being
invariably cool, the strain is less on man and beast.
Two days after our arrival at Whipple the mail brought an order from the
Department Commander relieving me from duty in Arizona that I might
comply with an order from the War Department detailing me as Military
Professor at Oldenu Military Academy. The same mail brought a letter
from Colonel Burton, directing that his sons accompany me to San
Francisco.
As rapidly as possible preparations were made for our departure. It
chanced that Tom Clary's term of enlistment terminated a week before we
were to start, and we were glad enough to give so worthy and useful a
man free transportation in our ambulance to the coast, and by steamer to
San Francisco.
In those days there were no overland railroads. After a two weeks'
holiday at the Presidio, the boys, Clary, Vic, and I took the steamer
for Panama and New York, Colonel Burton paying Tom's passage in the
steerage. More than that; through my influence Clary was appointed to a
vacant janitorship in the academy, and when Manuel Perea and Sapoya and
the four ponies arrived the following spring he had the care of the
animals.
THE END.
THE WAR IN CUBA.
BY T. R. DAWLEY, JUN.
We all know how Columbus thought the world was round, and that by
sailing west he could reach Cipango or India, from whence the Europeans
formerly received their spices, silks, and other luxuries.
Fired by dreams of stately cities, gold-roofed temples, and spice-laden
groves, with kings and princes surrounded by Oriental splendor, Columbus
sailed across the Atlantic Ocean. After many days he came to land, which
was one of the Bahama Islands, and then he sailed south, and came to
another island, so beautiful with birds and flowers and trees and rivers
that he said one could live there forever, as "it is the most beautiful
island eyes ever beheld." In the fragrance of the woods and
sweet-smelling flowers he thought he had reached the spice-perfumed
groves of the East India islands, but its strangely painted people of
cinnamon hue puzzled him greatly.
This beautiful land was the island of Cuba. After its discovery by
Columbus the Spaniards came and took possession of it. They found the
people of a simple nature, with strange notions about God and the
creation of the universe. As they knew nothing about Christ, they were
not Christians, and consequently the Spaniards soon began to look upon
them as little better than wild animals. Then we must remember that the
Spaniards who came flocking to the islands discovered by Columbus were
not only adventurers seeking their fortunes, but were often the
criminals from overcrowded jails, and others who could not make an
honest living at home. As these people had no idea of working
themselves, they made the simple inhabitants work for them. And as there
were many of these inhabitants, the Spaniards counted their lives of no
value, and not only overworked them, treating them with great cruelty,
but killed them out of pure wantonness, just as some boys delight in
stoning dogs and killing birds.