A RELIC OF OTHER DAYS.

I MUST not omit to say that during the days occupied in the long ride toward the northwest, our friends saw Indians more than once. They were generally straggling parties, who viewed the three horsemen with as much curiosity as our friends studied them. They were either Comanches or Kioways, though the hunting grounds of the latter were far to the eastward. Close to the New Mexican boundary they observed a half dozen warriors, who the Texans said were Apaches. They followed the whites for one afternoon, discharging their guns from a distance, and more than once seemed on the point of attacking them; but a shot from Lattin wounded a dusky raider badly, after which all drew off and were seen no more.

The sight of a white man riding toward them, with the evident purpose of a meeting, centred the interest of the three on him. He was mounted on a wiry “plug,” and as he drew near was seen to be one of those individuals occasionally met in the wildest parts of the great West a generation ago. He belonged to the trappers and hunters, who, leaving the confines of civilization at the close of the summer season, spent the severe winters in trapping beavers, otters, and other fur-bearing animals. They faced the perils of vengeful red men, wild beasts, and the rigorous winters for the sake of the pittance paid at the frontier posts and towns for the scant peltries carried thither.

The man who rode up had but the single animal, his worldly possessions being strapped in place behind him, while his long, old-fashioned rifle rested across the saddle in front. His dress may be described as a cross between that of a cowboy and an Indian. His hat was of the sombrero order, but he wore a skin hunting shirt, leggings and moccasins, and possessed a massive frame which must have been the repository of immense strength.

His face was a study. His hair was long, and, like the beard that covered his face, plentifully sprinkled with gray. His small eyes were light in color, restless, bright, and twinkling; his nose large and Roman in form, and his voice a mellow bass.

The trapper was yet several rods distant when Lattin exclaimed in a surprised undertone:

“Why, that’s old Eph, as sure as I live!”

“So it is,” added Strubell; “I haven’t seen him for years.”

The hunter recognized the Texan at the same moment, and the movement of his heavy beard showed he was smiling, though it was impossible to see his mouth. He uttered a hearty salutation as he came forward, and grasped each hand in turn, being introduced by Strubell to Herbert, who noticed the searching look he fixed for a moment on his face.

“I’m glad to know you, younker,” he said, almost crushing his hand; “but I’m s’prised to meet you so soon after seeing another; I aint used to running agin boys in this part of the world; but things seem to be gettin’ endways the last few years, and I’ve made up my mind thar’s powerful little in the trappin’ bus’ness any longer.”

Eph Bozeman, as Strubell announced him, proved by the words just uttered that he had seen Nick Ribsam, and therefore must have news to impart. Since he had come directly over the trail of the horse thieves, the Texans had suspected the other fact before he made it known.

After the exchange of a few questions and answers, during which Bozeman stated that he was on his way to Austin to hunt up an old friend, who had been engaged for a number of years in buying and selling mustangs, Strubell explained the business that had brought him and his companions over the border into New Mexico.

“How far are we behind Rickard and the others?”

The trapper turned in his saddle and looked to the rear for a few seconds without speaking. His forehead was wrinkled with thought, but it did not take him long to answer the question.

“You are thirty-five miles or tharabouts from the Pecos, and Bell and Harman will cross the stream about noon, which is two hours off, so you may say thar is thirty miles atween you.”

“There wasn’t more than a dozen when we started,” was the remark of the disgusted Lattin, “so we have been losing ground for more than a week that we’ve been chasing ‘em.”

“Thar can’t be any doubt of that ‘cordin’ to your own words,” replied the trapper; “but if you keep on you’ll be up with ‘em by the end of two days.”

“How do you make that out?” asked Strubell.

“‘Cause they’re goin’ to stop at the ranch layin’ just beyond.”

Strubell and Lattin exchanged glances, and Herbert, who was watching them, was satisfied that the news did not surprise them. They had expected it from the first or they would not have persevered thus far.

“I met ‘em yesterday,” continued Bozeman, “not fur back; they had halted to cook a young antelope that Harman shot, and I jined in on the chorus.”

“What did they say to you?”

“Nothin’ in partic’lar; I told ‘em whar I was goin’, and asked ‘em what they war doin’ in this part of the world. They said they war on thar way to look at that ranch I spoke about on t’other side of the Pecos, and it might be they would spend some time thar.”

“Did they say anything about the boy with them?” asked Herbert, whose curiosity was at the highest point.

“Yas—consid’rable. I asked who he was and whar he come from; Bell told me he was a younker as wanted to take a trip through Texas fur his health—though he’s the healthiest younker I’ve looked on for many a day—and tharfur they war takin’ him along.”

“Did you have anything to say to Nick?”

“Who’s Nick?” asked the trapper, with another movement of the beard around his mouth that showed he was smiling.

“He’s the boy—my friend that we’re looking after.”

“I shook hands with him, give him some good advice that he thanked me for, and that was all.”

“I suppose he was afraid to say anything more.”

“It must have been that; Bell and Harman watched him powerful close, and though he looked as if he would like to add something, he didn’t. I tell you,” continued the trapper, addressing Strubell and the others, “I s’pected something was wrong, though I didn’t say nothin’, ‘cause thar warn’t any show for me doin’ anything. I’m s’prised to hear what you say, and, boys, if you want me to give you any help, I’m yours to command.”

This was said with a heartiness that left no doubt of its sincerity. His friends were delighted with the offer, and Herbert especially was sure that no better thing could happen. He assured old Eph he should be well paid for his trouble. The trapper did not refuse, though his proposal was made without any idea of the kind; but, as he confessed, matters had gone ill with him for a long time, and he was in need of all he could honestly earn.

He had known Rickard and Slidham for ten years, and was aware of the crooked business in which they were engaged; but, inasmuch as they did not cross his path, there was no cause to quarrel with them. He had spent more than one night in their company, and would not hesitate to do so again, without misgiving; but when he learned of their high-handed outrage, his sturdy nature was filled with wrath, and he declared himself eager not only to help rescue the boy, but to punish them for their crime.

This decision was reached within ten minutes after the handshaking, and the trapper wheeled his pony around and joined in the pursuit without further delay.

Since it was clear that the others could not be overtaken until they made their final halt, the pursuers let down in their pace, and allowed their animals to follow at a leisurely rate.

It struck Herbert as very strange that the destination of the enemies and friends of Nick Ribsam should be the same. Though the former could not have caught sight of their pursuers, they must have known of it, and were now about to stop and give them time to come up, and make battle, if they chose, for the possession of the young man, who, without any fault of his own, had become the bone of contention.

There was something about the business that he could not understand; but by listening to the stealthy conversation of his friends he gained an inkling of the truth. He learned, too, that they were less hopeful of success than he. The almost endless pursuit, however, was drawing to a close, and the end, whatever it might be, was at hand.