As soon as I dared trust myself to speak, I said, in a tone of voice that I was conscious must betray my anxiety to hear my own opinion condemned,—

"This is an Apache's moccasin, isn't it?"

"'Tis, for sartin," said Tom. "No other red-skinned varmint but a devilish Apache, ever wore that moccasin."

"And what do you argue from that, Tom?" inquired I.

"Ther ain't nothin' to argue," sententiously answered Tom. "The gal's been took by the Apaches instead of the Comanches, and that's all there is of it; that moccasin tells the whole story. Ask Jerry. Me and him agreed on that pint, as soon as ever we see it."

"It's surer'n preachin', judge," said Jerry, as he came up to where we were standing; "and there ain't no help for it."

"Well, what can we do, Jerry?"

"Do! foller till we git 'em, if we foiler 'em to hell. We mustn't leave the trail now, till we know the gal's dead, for sartin. She'll be safe, ez long ez they're travellin'; but if they ever git to where they're going,—well judge, I'd rather see the pretty little critter layin' right here, dead, than to meet her, that's sartin."

I immediately sought the lieutenant, and informed him of the terrible facts I had just learned.

"I feared as much from the first," said he, "for during all the years I've been stationed on this frontier, I've never known the Comanches to venture so far 'up country' as this, but have frequently known the Mescalleros to pass through the Comanche country into Mexico. I fear we shall find this to be a band of Mescallero Apaches, but I shall follow them, as long as my men and animals hold out. I have ordered a halt now, because, twenty miles from here, in the direction that we are travelling, we shall come to an extensive deposit of pure, white sand, in which we shall be liable to lose the trail at night; and I want to reach there as near daybreak as possible, so as not to waste more time than is necessary in finding it. We shall rest here until midnight, so you'd better turn in and get what sleep you can."

Midnight found us once more in the saddle, and when, some hours later, we reached the deposit referred to, an examination showed, that, instead of crossing it, the trail skirted its southern edge for a couple of miles, and then took an easterly course towards the Sacramento Mountains, distant about twenty-five miles.

Our course lay in the vicinity of two or three little salinas, or salt lakes, but over an arid, barren plain, destitute of any vegetation, except mesquite chaparral; and about three o'clock in the afternoon, we reached the timber that skirted the base of the mountains.

As the guides, who were some distance in advance, reached the extreme end of a spur, around which the trail led, we saw them pause for a few moments, and then hasten towards us.

Upon reaching us, old Jerry, in a voice husky with emotion, said, "They're there for sartin;" pointing towards the end of the spur.

A retreat to the cover of the trees was instantly ordered, when the guides informed us, that upon reaching the point of rocks, they discovered several animals grazing in the meadow beyond, and that the Indians must be encamped in the immediate vicinity; but in order to make sure, would leave their horses with us, and return and make a reconnoissance.

They returned a couple of hours later, reporting that they had discovered the camp, but owing to its situation, could not get near enough to see into it, without running too much risk of discovery. There was one "wickey-up," [The name given by scouts to Apache huts.] however, made of brush, in which the girl was undoubtedly confined. From appearances they thought the Indians intended to remain there, long enough to recruit their stock, as the grass was very good; and that as soon as it should be dark, they would return and take a closer inspection of the camp. Nothing more remained for us to do therefore, but to "possess our souls with patience" until darkness came.

Now that we were so near the success or failure of the expedition for which we had endured so much fatigue and anxiety, it was impossible to remain quiet. Every moment seemed an hour. Ned was constantly on the move, apparantly unable to remain in one position an instant. He had anticipated accompanying us in the attack upon the Indian camp, but the lieutenant positively forbade it, saying, that he was not only too young, but too good a fellow to be shot by Apaches, that year.

This did not satisfy Ned, however, who came to me to intercede for him, saying, that he wanted so much to be the first one to greet Hal, and had come so far to do it, it was pretty hard to be disappointed then.

I spoke to the lieutenant in regard to the matter, but he was very decided in his refusal, saying that the boy must stay in camp, and if necessary, he should put him under guard.

Ned bore his disappointment with wonderful fortitude, I thought, for he made no remark, even when I spoke of the "guard" hinted at, except to say that "he wished it was all over;" a wish that I echoed from the bottom of my heart.

It was with a feeling of relief that I saw the guides start to once more reconnoitre the Indian camp.

Everything had been prepared in our own camp for an immediate movement— the guard had been detailed, horses saddled and bridled, ready for use, if needed, ammunition distributed, and every detail faithfully executed.

The lieutenant and myself were lying on the ground, conversing together in low tones and waiting for the return of the guides, when suddenly the sharp, clear ring of a rifle from the other side of the spur, broke upon the evening air, followed by a confused noise and straggling discharge of firearms.

What did it mean?

The next instant, as though with one thought, every man, rifle in hand, was rushing pell-mell in the direction of the sound.

The Lieutenant and myself, among the first to reach the point of rocks, saw Jerry hurrying towards us, bearing in his arms a female form, clothed in white. Quicker than a flash, the soldiers, as though divining the situation by instinct, formed a line that completely shielded him from the weapons of Indians.

Seeing me, he rushed towards me and thrust the girl into my arms, saying, in an excited manner.

"Take keer o' her, while I go back and give the red devils, hell!"

Taking the girl in my arms, I found it to be indeed Juanita, alive, and Apparantly unharmed. I carried her to camp, when, finding she had fainted, I laid her on some blankets and hurried back to the assistance of the party.

Before I could reach it, the Indians, completely surprised, had fled; and the soldiers were in possession of the camp and a large portion of their stock.

While hastening towards it, I saw Hal and Ned, who, as soon as they discovered me, came running towards me, and the next moment, Hal was in my arms, sobbing as though his heart would break, while Ned, the tears running in a stream down his cheeks, could only jump up and down, like a little child, exclaiming,—

"Oh! I'm so glad! I'm so glad!"

As soon as Hal could speak he blubbered out,—

"Where's Juanita?"

I informed him she was safe in camp, and off the two started to find her; and when, a short time afterwards, I reached camp myself, I found she had recovered from her swoon, and was anxiously watching my return.

Her first question was for her father, and when I assured her that he was well, but extremely anxious on her account, she said,—

"Ah! but I never expected to see him again on this earth."

"But didn't I tell you you would?" inquired Hal.

"Yes," responded the girl, "you did; but I heard you and Anastacio—"

"By the way, where is Anastacio?" interrupted I. Poor fellow! He had been entirely forgotton by us; but, in a short time, the two guides appeared, escorting him between them.

There being no longer any reason why we should not enjoy the brightness and warmth of a camp-fire, we soon had one briskly burning, and by its ruddy light, I was enabled to see the faces of the rescued prisoners. I could scarcely believe that so great a change could have been made, in so short a time, as had been wrought in Juanita, during her captivity. Instead of the plump, rosy-cheeked, smiling seÑorita who entertained us so charmingly at Fort Davis, I saw a pale, wan-looking young lady, prematurely old, and so weak, as to be scarcely able to stand alone.

Hal, on the contrary, declared that he was "tougher than a knot," and "dirtier than any greaser," a statement, which we readily believed when he informed us "that he hadn't washed for ten days."

I ordered supper prepared at once. The Lieutenant came in soon after, and reported that three of the Indians had been killed, and two, badly wounded. Besides this, fifteen animals had been captured, and all the camp equipage of the savages.

Looking around for Ned, he soon discovered him, and said,—

"You young rascal, you! I told you to stay in camp, and the first one I saw over there, was you." Then, in a kinder tone, he inquired if he was much hurt?

Hurt! it was the first intimation I had that he had been hurt; and for a moment, my heart almost jumped into my throat, notwithstanding the boy insisted it was nothing.

An examination showed that an arrow had penetrated the fleshy part of his arm above the elbow, but without inflicting serious injury. The wound was soon dressed, supper eaten, Juanita made as comfortable as possible for the night, and then we gathered about the camp-fire to hear Tom Pope, relate the story of the capture, as follows:—

"Me'n Jerry, started from here, and crawled through the grass and underbrush, till we got pretty close to the varmints' camp. We seed ten or a dozen of 'em layin' about, some doin' one thing and some another. All of a suddent we seed the gal, there, crawl out of the 'wickey-up.' She looked round as though she wanted to see somebody, for she started and walked out a little ways. Jest then, a big buck Injun, got up and follered her, but she walked on, right towards us, till she was within a dozen feet of where me'n Jerry lay hid.

"The Injun told her in Spanish, to go back, and took her by the shoulder to make her do it. Quicker'n lightnin', Jerry made a spring, and, afore the Injun see him, he give him a blow with the butt of his rifle, that stunned him, and grabbed the gal and run.

"The Injun give a kind of grunt as he fell. One of the others started to see what was the matter, I s'pose, so I let Mertilda," patting his rifle, "talk to him, and he laid right down without speakin' a word."

"As soon as the Injuns in camp heard Mertilda speak, eight or ten of 'em jumped up and started towards us. But yer see, Jerry'd got so fur, they couldn't stop him. The sojers was right on to 'em, and give 'em 'Hail Columby,' and no mistake.

"That's my report, Lieutenant. That youngster there," pointing to Ned, "is real grit. I seed the arrer strike him, and he a-pullin' of it out, runnin' towards 'em all the time. Jest as sure's yer live, yer can call Tom Pope a liar, if Jerry Vance didn't save that gal's life; 'cause, if we'd ever attacked the Injuns in camp, the first thing they'd 'a' done, would ha' been to killed the prisoners. I know the Apaches some, I reckon."

The Litter

A consultation was now held as to the best manner of getting Juanita to the fort comfortably, and it was decided to construct a "mountain-litter." This was done the next morning, by procuring two stout poles, about twenty feet in length, and lashing them firmly to two short pieces of wood about three feet long and six feet apart: we then stretched a blanket between the poles, so as to form a comfortable bed. Two steady mules were selected and harnessed between the poles, in the front and rear of the bed, thus making a comfortable carriage.

Breakfast over, Juanita was placed in the carriage, and we started for the fort, travelling slowly and making frequent halts. Ned scarcely mentioned his wound; and, during the four days consumed on the trip, we were all delighted to see that Juanita was daily recovering her bloom, and buoyancy of spirits.

Upon reaching Fillmore, I dispatched Anastacio at once to Fort Bliss, informing Colonel Magoffin, of the result of our expedition, and asking him to send an ambulance through to Chihuahua with Juanita, in charge of Anastacio.

Two days later, the colonel's own carriage, with four good road-mules, arrived, with an invitation, asking Juanita to accept his hospitality at Fort Bliss, and promising that Anastacio should accompany her, to her father's hacienda.

Juanita decided to leave on the following morning; and, during the afternoon, I was surprised to learn, that Hal had ridden up to Las Cruces, six miles above the fort; but, shortly after his return, I noticed upon Juanita's finger, a little gold ring, that I had not seen before, so I ventured pleasantly to refer to it, in the course of conversation that evening, and was informed, with many blushes, that it was-only a memento, of their trip through the Apache country.

In the morning, however, I almost had a pitched battle with Hal, to prevent him from accompanying Juanita to her home; and it was only through compromising, and permitting him to ride a few miles in the carriage with her, that I avoided it.

We all bade her good-by, with hearts filled to overflowing with thankfulness, for her release from the hands of her cruel captors; and, wishing her all manner of good luck, and a happy reunion with her father, the carriage drove off, but not until Hal had climbed in and taken the vacant seat by her side.

When he returned, a few hours later, his face radiant with happiness, I made up my mind that it would not be his fault, if he did not again see the young lady, before many months had elapsed.

During the evening I was aroused from the revery into which I had fallen, by an unusual disturbance in camp; and, on proceeding to ascertain the cause, found that Hal, had been endeavoring to thrash Patsey. On calling the delinquents before me, I was informed by Hal, that Patsey had spoken insultingly of Juanita, an offence that he had at once resented by attempting to chastise him.

Upon inquiring as to the words used, Patsey said,—

"Sure, sur, I only axed him did Juanita look as tickled as he did, and he come at me wid his phists, so he did; but he'll be aisy about sthriking me the nixt time. Dye'r moind that, noo, yer honor!"

"He'd no business to call her Juanita," angrily exclaimed Hal.

"Phat would I call her, thin?" asked Patsey.

"Call her by her proper name, the Senorita Ortiz," said Hal, with much dignity.

"And phat, would I be givin' her that jaw-crackin' name fur, when her name's Juanita?"

"But her name isn't Juanita to her inferiors, only to her intimate friends," explained Hal.

"Infariors, sure! Ain't an Irishman as good as a Mexican, any day? An', if yez think I'm your infarior, jest come out here and thry it, sure; that's all, Master Hal."

I stopped the controversy at once, by telling Hal that Patsey had no intention of offending, and there was no occasion for his attempt to chastise him.

"Oh, he won't thry it again, sur, niver fear," interrupted Patsey. "If he does," declared he in a tone intended only for Hal's ear, "I'll break ivery bone in his body, so I will."

After Patsey had gone, I did not reprimand Hal, only sent him to his tent; for, judging from his crestfallen air, he had suffered physically as well as mentally in the encounter.

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