Читать книгу The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista - Altsheler Joseph Alexander - Страница 1

A tall boy, dreaming dreams, was walking acrossthe Place d'Armes in New Orleans. It was abrilliant day in early spring, and a dazzlingsunlight fell over the city, gilding the wood or stone of thehouses, and turning the muddy current of the Mississippiinto shimmering gold. Under such a perfect blue sky, and bathed in such showers of shining beams, NewOrleans, a city of great and varied life, looked quaint, picturesque, and beautiful.

But the boy, at that moment, thought little of thehouses or people about him. His mind roamed into thevast Southwest, over mountains, plains, and deserts thathis feet had never trod, and he sought, almost with thepower of evocation, to produce regions that he had neverseen, but which he had often heard described. He hadforgotten no detail of the stories, but, despite them, thecloud of mystery and romance remained, calling to himall the more strongly because he had come upon aquest the most vital of his life, a quest that must leadhim into the great unknown land.

He was not a native of New Orleans or Louisiana.Any one could have told at a glance that the blue eyes, fair hair, and extreme whiteness of skin did not belongto the Gulf coast. His build was that of theAnglo-Saxon. The height, the breadth of shoulder and chest, and the whole figure, muscled very powerfully for one soyoung, indicated birth in a clime farther North-Kentuckyor Virginia, perhaps. His dress, neat and clean, showed that he was one who respected himself.

Phil Bedford passed out of the Place d'Armes, andpresently came to the levee which ran far along the greatriver, and which was seething with life. New Orleanswas then approaching the zenith of its glory. Many, notforeseeing the power of the railroad, thought that thecity, seated near the mouth of the longest river of theworld, into which scores of other navigable streamsdrained, was destined to become the first city of America.The whole valley of the Mississippi, unequalled in extentand richness, must find its market here, and beyond laythe vast domain, once Spain's, for which New Orleanswould be the port of entry.

Romance, too, had seized the place. The Alamo andSan Jacinto lay but a few years behind. All the statesresounded with the great story of the Texan struggle forliberty. Everybody talked of Houston and Crockett andBowie and the others, and from this city most of theexpeditions had gone. New Orleans was the chief fountainfrom which flowed fresh streams of men who steadilypushed the great Southwestern frontier farther andfarther into the Spanish lands.

It seemed to Phil, looking through his own fresh, young eyes, that it was a happy crowd along the levee.The basis of the city was France and Spain, with anAmerican superstructure, but all the materials had beenbound into a solid fabric by their great and united defenseagainst the British in 1815. Now other people came, too, called by the spirit of trade or adventure. Everynation of Europe was there, and the states, also, senttheir share. They came fast on the steamers whichtrailed their black smoke down the yellow river.

The strong youth had been sad, when he came thatmorning from the dingy little room in which he slept, andhe had been sad when he was walking across the Placed'Armes, but the scene was too bright and animated toleave one so young in such a state of mind. He boughta cup of hot coffee from one of the colored women whowas selling it from immense cans, drank it, exchanged acheerful word or two of badinage, and, as he turnedaway, he ran into a round man, short, rosy, and portly.Phil sprang back, exclaiming:

"Your pardon, sir! It was an accident! All my fault!"

"No harm done where none iss meant," replied thestranger, speaking excellent English, although with aGerman accent. It was obvious, even without theaccent, that he was of German birth. The Fatherlandwas written all over his rotund figure, but he was dressedin the fashion of the Southwest-light suit, light shoes, and a straw hat.

It was a time when chance meetings led to longfriendships. On the border, a stranger spoke to anotherstranger if he felt like it. One could ask questions if hechose. Partnerships were formed on the spur of themoment in the vast army that was made up of the childrenof adventure, formality was a commodity little indemand. The German looked rather inquiringly at theboy.

"From farther North, iss it not so?" he asked."Answer or be silent. Either iss your right."

Bill laughed. He liked the man's quaint mannerand friendly tone, and he replied promptly:

"I was born in Kentucky, my name is PhilipBedford, and I am alone in New Orleans."

"Then," said the German, "you must be here forsome expedition. This iss where they start. It iss so.I can see it in your face. Come, my young friend, noharm iss done where none iss meant."

Phil had taken no offense. He had merely started alittle at the shrewd guess. He replied frankly:

"I'm thinking of the West, Texas and maybe NewMexico, or even beyond that-California."

"It iss a long journey to take alone," said theGerman, "two thousand, three thousand miles, and not onemile of safe road. Indians, Mexicans, buffaloes, bears, deserts, mountains, all things to keep you from gettingacross."

"But I mean to go," paid Phil firmly.

The German looked at him searchingly. His interestin Phil seemed to increase.

"Something calls you," he said.

Phil was silent.

"No harm iss done where none iss meant,"the German. "You have told me who you are, Mr. PhilipBedford, and where you come from. It iss rightthat I tell you as much about myself. My name iss HansArenberg, and I am a Texan."

Phil looked at him, his eyes full of unbelief, and theGerman laughed a little.

"It iss so," he said. "You do not think I look likea Texan, but I am one by way of Germany. I-I liveat New Braunfels."

Arenberg's voice broke suddenly, and then Philremembered vaguely-New Braunfels, a settlement ofGerman immigrants in Texas, raided by Comanches, the men killed, and the women carried off! It was oneof those terrible incidents of the border, so numerousthat the new fast crowded the old out of place.

"You come from New Braunfels! You are one of thesurvivors of the massacre!" he exclaimed.

"It iss so," said the German, his eyes growingsober, "and I, too, wish to go far into the West. I, too, seek something, young Mr. Philip Bedford, and my roadwould lie much where yours leads."

The two looked at each other with inquiry thatshaded into understanding. Arenberg was the first tospeak.

"Yes, we could go together," he said. "I trust you, and you trust me. But two are not strong enough. Thechances are a thousand to one that neither of us wouldfind what he iss seeking. The Mexicans wish revenge onthe Texans, the Comanches raid to the outskirts of SanAntonio. Pouf! Our lives would not be worth that! Itmust be a strong party of many men!"

"I believe you are right," said Phil, "but I wish togo. I wish to go very much."

"So do I," said Arenberg. "It iss the same withboth of us, but suppose we wait. Where do you live?"

Phil no longer hesitated to confide in this chanceacquaintance, and he replied that he was staying in ahouse near the Convent of the Ursuline Nuns, where alittle room sheltered him and his few belongings.

"Suppose," said Arenberg, "that I join you there, and we save our expenses. In union there iss strength.If you do not like my suggestion say so. No harm issdone where none iss meant."

"On the contrary, I do like it," said Phil heartily."It seems to me that we can help each other."

"Then come," said Arenberg. "We will go first tomy place, where I will pay my own bill, take away whatI have, and then we will join forces at yours, iss itnot so?"

Arenberg was staying at one of the inns that aboundedin New Orleans, and it took him only a half hour to packand move, carrying his baggage in his hand. Phil'sroom was in a large, rambling old house, built of cypresswood, with verandas all about it. There an Americanwidow kept boarders, and she had plenty of them, asNew Orleans was overflowing with strangers. The roomwas small and bare, but it was large enough, as Phil'sbaggage, too, was limited. A cot was put in forArenberg, and the two were at home.

The day was now drawing to a close, and the two atesupper with a strange company in the large dining-roomof the boarding house. Phil, a close observer, noted thatsix languages were spoken around that more or lesshospitable board. He understood only his own, and a littleFrench and Spanish, but the difference in sound andintonation enabled him to note the others. One of themen who sat opposite him was a big fellow withglistening gold rings in his ears, evidently a West Indian ofsomewhat doubtful color, but he was quiet, and atedextrously and skillfully with his knife. A sallow youngMexican with curling black mustaches complainedincessantly about his food, and a thin New Englander spoke attimes of the great opportunities for capital in the Southwest.

Phil and Arenberg, who sat side by side, said little, but both watched all the other guests with interestedeyes. The one who held Phil's gaze the longest was asmoothly shaven young man on the other side of thetable. It was the difference between him and the othersthat aroused Phil's curiosity. He sat very erect, withhis square shoulders thrown back, and he never spoke, except to accept or reject the food passed by colored girls.His eyes were blue, and his face, cut clear and strong, betokened perception and resolve. Phil believed that hecould like him, but his attention by and by wanderedelsewhere.

Philip Bedford had not felt so nearly content for manydays. The making of a new friend was a source ofstrength to the boy, and he felt that he had taken a stepforward in his great search. Fresh confidence flowed likegood wine into his veins. He had friendly feelingstoward all those around the table, and the room itselfbecame picturesque. He ate of strange dishes, French orSpanish, and liked them, careless what they were. Amild breeze came through the open windows, and theoutlines of buildings were softened in the dusk. Withinthe room itself six candles in tall candlesticks, placed atregular intervals on the table, cast a sufficient light.Two young colored women in red calico dresses, and withred turbans on their heads, kept off the flies andmosquitoes with gorgeous fans of peacock feathers, whichthey waved gently over the heads of the guests. Philbecame deeply conscious of the South, of its glow and itsromance.

The guests, having a sufficiency of food, left the tableone by one. The young man with the smooth face wasamong the first to go. Phil noticed him again andadmired his figure-tall, slender, and beautifully erect.He walked with ease and grace, and his dress of plainbrown was uncommonly neat and well fitting. "I shouldlike to know that man," was Phil's thought.

After dinner the boy and Arenberg sat on the verandain the dusk, and talked in low voices of their plans.They deemed it better to keep their intentions tothemselves. Many expeditions were fitting out in NewOrleans. Some were within the law, and some were not.Wise men talked little of what was nearest to their hearts.

"If we go into the West-and we are going," saidPhil, "we shall need weapons-rifles, pistols."

"Time enough for that," said Arenberg. "If wehave the money, we can arm ourselves in a day.Weapons are a chief article of commerce in New Orleans."

An hour later they went up to their room and to bed.Phil carried his money on his person, and most of hisother belongings were in a stout leather bag or valise, which was fastened with a brass lock. It was necessaryfor him to open the bag to obtain some clean linen, andas Arenberg's back was turned he took out, also, a smallpaper, yellow and worn. He opened it for the thousandthtime, choked a sigh, and put it back. As he relocked thebag and turned, he noticed that Arenberg also had beenlooking at something. It seemed to be a photograph, and the German, after returning it to his own bag, gazedabsently out of the window. His face, which at othertimes was obviously made for smiles and cheeriness, washeavy with grief. A flood of sympathy rushed overPhilip Bedford. "I wonder what it is he seeks outthere," the boy thought as he looked unconsciouslytoward the West. But he had too much delicacy of mindto say anything, and presently Arenberg was himselfagain, speaking hopefully of their plans as they preparedfor bed.

Phil slept soundly, except for one interval. Then hedreamed a dream, and it was uncommonly vivid. Hesaw Hans Arenberg rise from his cot, take from his bagthe small object which was undoubtedly a photograph, goto the window, where the moonlight fell, and look at itlong and earnestly. Presently his chest heaved, and tearsran down either cheek. Then his head fell forward, andhe dropped the photograph to his breast. He stood inthat stricken attitude for at least five minutes, then heput the photograph back in the bag, and returned to hiscot. In the morning Phil's recollection of the dream wasvery vivid, but Arenberg was cheery and bright.

The boy and the man ate breakfast together in thedining-room, a breakfast of oranges-Phil had never seenan orange until he came to New Orleans-cakes andbutter and coffee. Only a few of the diners of the eveningbefore were present when they went into the room, butamong them was the young man with the shaven face andthe firm chin. Phil liked him even better in the morninglight. His seemed the kindly face of a man with a strongand decided character. Their eyes met, and the strangersmiled and nodded. Phil smiled and nodded back.After breakfast Phil and Arenberg went out upon theveranda. The man was already there, smoking a cigarette.

"Fine morning," he observed easily. "One could notask anything better than these early spring days in NewOrleans. In the North we are still in the grasp of snowand ice."

Phil and Arenberg also sat down, as the way was nowopened for conversation.

"Then you are from the North, I suppose," said Phil.

"Yes," replied the stranger, "from the State of NewYork, but I am traveling now, as you see. My name isMiddleton, George Middleton."

He paused, meditatively blew a whiff of smoke fromthe little Spanish cigarrito, and added:

"I'm not for long in New Orleans. I'm thinking ofa journey in the West."

"Nobody goes there unless he has a very good reasonfor going. Iss it not so? No harm iss done where noneiss meant," said Arenberg, in a tone half of apology andhalf of inquiry.

Middleton laughed and took another puff at his cigarrito.

"Certainly no harm has been done," he replied."You are right, also, in saying that no one goes into theWest unless he has an excellent reason. I have such areason. I want to look for something there."

Phil and the German exchanged glances. They, too, wished to look for something there. So! Here was athird man seeking to embark upon the great journey.But it was no business of theirs what he sought, howevercurious they might feel about it. Phil took another lookat Middleton. Surely his was a good face, a face toinspire trust and courage.

"We wish to go across Texas and New Mexico, also,"he said, "but we've been delaying until we could form aparty."

"You've two at least," said Middleton, "and younow have the chance to make it three. Why not do so?"

"We will," said Arenberg. "It iss a case wherethree are company, and two are not so much. Our firmis now Middleton, Bedford, Arenberg & Co."

"Do not put me first," said Middleton. "We mustall be on exactly the same plane. But I hope, friends, that you trust me as much as I trust you. I think Iknow truth and honesty when I see them."

"We do!" said Phil and Arenberg together and emphatically.

The three shook hands, and that single act boundthem into a solemn compact to stand by one anotherthrough all things. They did not waste words. Thenthe three went into the town, walking about among theinns and on the levee to hear the gossip of New Orleans, and to learn what chance there was of a large party goinginto the West. On the way Middleton told them of somethings that he had learned. He was not sure, but a largewagon train might start soon for Santa Fé, in the farMexican land of New Mexico. It was to be a tradingexpedition, carrying much cloth, metal goods, and otherarticles of value to this, the greatest of Mexico's outlyingposts.

"It will be a numerous train," said Middleton,"perhaps too numerous, as it may arouse the suspicion ofthe Mexicans. The relations of the States and Mexicoare none too good. There is trouble over Texas, and whocan tell what will happen a thousand miles in the depthsof the wilderness?"

"Nobody," said Arenberg. "Who should know better than I?"

He spoke with such sudden emphasis that Middletonopened his mouth as if he would ask a question, butchanged his mind and was silent.

"Then it is your opinion, Mr. Middleton," said Phil,"that we should join this train?"

"If nothing better offers. All such expeditions areloosely organized. If we should wish to leave it we cando so."

"It iss well to keep it in mind," said Arenberg."No harm can be done where none iss meant."

They entered a large inn kept by a Frenchman. Manymen were sitting about drinking or smoking. Middletonordered lemonade for the three, and they sat at a smalltable in the corner, observing the life of the place. Phil'sattention was presently attracted to another small tablenear them, at which a single man sat. His gaze wouldnot have lingered there, had it not been for this man'speculiar appearance. His age might have been thirty-five, more or less, and his figure was powerful. Hisface was burned almost black by a sun that could nothave been anything but ardent, but his features and hisblue eyes showed him to be American of a fair race. Hisclothes were poor, and he looked depressed. Yet thestranger was not without a certain distinction, an air asof one who did not belong there in an inn. Somethingin the blue eyes told of wild freedom and great spaces.He interested Phil more than anybody else in the room.He felt that here was another man whom he could like.

The talk about them drifted quite naturally upon thesubject of the West, what Texas was going to do, whatMexico was going to do, the great trail toward the Pacific, and the prospect of trouble between the United States andMexico. The shabby man raised his head and showedinterest. His eyes began to glow. He was not morethan three feet away, and Phil, prompted by a sort ofinstinct, spoke to him.

"It seems that all eyes turn toward the West now,"he said.

"Yes," replied the stranger, "and they're right. It'sout there that the great things lie."

He moved his hand with a slight but significantgesture toward the setting sun.

"I've been there once," he said, "and I want to go back."

"A man takes his life in his hands when he travelsthat way," said Phil.

"I know," replied the stranger, "but I'm willing torisk it. I must go back there. I want to look forsomething, something very particular."

Phil started. Here was a fourth who sought somedarling wish of his heart in that far mysterious West.He felt a strange influence. It seemed to him a sign, orrather a command that must be obeyed. He glanced atMiddleton and Arenberg, who had been listening, and, understanding him perfectly, they nodded.

"We three are going into the West, also, on errandsof our own," said Phil. "Why not join us? Three aregood, but four are better."

"It iss a fair proposition," added Arenberg. "Noharm iss done where none iss meant."

"We make the offer," said Middleton, "because onsuch a journey one needs friends. If you do not thinkyou can trust us, as our acquaintance is so short, say so."

The man examined them keenly, one by one. Phil, looking with equal keenness at him, saw that, despiteshabbiness of dress and despondency of manner, he wasnot a common man. In truth, as he looked, thedepression seemed to be passing away. The stranger raisedhis head, threw back his shoulders, and the blue eyesbegan to glow.

"You look all right to me," he said. "A man hasgot to make friends, and if you trust me I don't see whyI can't trust you. Besides, I'm terribly anxious to goback out there, and my reason is mighty good."

"Then shall we consider it a bargain?" said Middleton.

"You may count me one of the band as long as youwill have me," said the stranger with hearty emphasis,"and I suppose I oughtn't to come in as an unknown.My name is Breakstone, William Breakstone, though Iam always called Bill Breakstone by those who know me.Bill Breakstone seems to run off smoother."

He smiled in the most ingratiating manner. Thesudden acquisition of friends seemed to have clothed himabout with sunlight. All the others felt that they hadmade no mistake.

"I'm a rover," said Bill Breakstone in round, cheerfultones. "I've been roaming all my life, though I'mbound to say it hasn't been to much purpose. As yousee me now, I haven't got nearly enough to buy either arifle or a horse for this big trip on which you're askingme to go, and on which I'm wanting to go terrible bad."

"Never mind, Mr. Breakstone-" began Middleton, but he was interrupted.

"I'm Breakstone or Bill to those that feed with me,"said the new man, "and I'm Mr. Breakstone to thosethat don't like me or suspect me."

"All right," said Middleton with a laugh, "it'sBreakstone for the present. By and by we may call youBill. I was going to tell you, Breakstone, that we fourgo in together. We furnish you what you need, andlater on you pay us back if you can. It's the usual thingin the West."

"You're right, my lord," said Bill Breakstone, "andI accept. It gives me pleasure to be enrolled in yourmost gallant company, and, by my troth, I will serve youright well."

Middleton looked at him in amazement, and BillBreakstone broke into a mellow, infectious laugh.

"I don't talk that way all the time," he said. "Itmerely bursts out in spots. You may not believe it, when you look at me, but I studied for the stage once, and I've been an actor. Now and then the old scrapscome to the end of my tongue. All's well that end'swell, and may that be the fate of our expedition."

"Come," said Middleton, after telling his own nameand that of his friends to Breakstone, "we'll go to ourquarters and make a place for you. Phil and Arenbergare in a room together, and you shall share mine."

"Lead on!" said Bill Breakstone.

The four left the inn. Bill Breakstone was as poor ashe described himself to be. He owned only the worn suitof clothes in which he stood, a pistol, and a pair ofsaddle bags, seeming to contain some linen, of which hetook good care.

"Prithee, young sir," he said to Phil, "I would fainguard well the little that I have, because if I lose thelittle that I have, then what I have shall be nothing. Do Iargue well, Sir Ivanhoe?"

"It's conclusive," said Phil. He took greatly to thisman who had become in an hour the life of their littleband, a constant source of cheerful patter that invigoratedthem all. Middleton bought him a new suit of clothes, gave him some money, which he promised earnestly toreturn a hundredfold, and then they went forth toinquire further into the matter of the trading expeditionfor Santa Fé. But their attention was diverted by thearrival of a large steamboat that had come all the wayfrom Pittsburgh loaded with passengers. A particulargroup among the arrivals soon became the center of theirinterest.

The members of the group were Mexicans, and theywere evidently people of distinction, or, at least, position.The first among them was middle-aged, fat, and yellow, and dressed in garments much brighter in color thanAmericans wear. Indeed, as a wind somewhat chillswept over the river, he threw around his shoulders a redserape with a magnificent border of gold fringe. But ayoung man who walked by his side made no acknowledgmentto the wind. It was he whom Phil watched most.Some people inspire us at once with hostility, and Philhad this feeling about the stranger, who bore himself ina manner that had more than a tinge of sneering arrogance.

The young man was obviously of the Spanish race, although his blood might run back to Northern Spain, ashe was tall and very strongly built, and his complexioninclined to fairness, but Phil believed him to be ofMexican birth, as he showed the shade of change that the NewWorld always made in the old. He wore the uniform ofa captain in the Mexican army. Mexican uniforms werenot popular in the States, but he bore himself as if hepreferred the hostility of the crowd to its friendship.His insolent gaze met Phil's for an instant, and the boygave it back with interest. For a few moments these twowho had never met before, who did not know the namesof each other, and who might never meet again, staredwith immediate hostility. Eye plumbed the depths ofeye, but it was the Mexican who looked away first, although he let his lips curl slightly into a gesture withwhich he meant to convey contempt.

Middleton had observed this silent drama of a fewmoments, and he said quietly:

"You do not know, Philip, who these men are?"

"No," replied the boy, "but I should like to know."

"The stout, elderly man is Don August Xavier HernandoZucorra y Palite, who is at the head of a specialMexican embassy that has been at Washington to treatwith our government about the boundary of Texas-youknow there has been trouble between the States andMexico over the Texan boundary-and the younger is Pedrode Armijo, his nephew, and the nephew, also, of Armijo, the governor of New Mexico, where we are planningto go."

"I fancied from his manner," said Bill Breakstone,"that young Armijo was the President of Old Mexico andNew Mexico both. I have called you Sir Knight, andMy Lord Phil, but our young Mexican is both His Graceand His Royal Highness. By my halidome, we areindeed proud and far above that vile herd, the populace."

"Well, he will not bother us," said Arenberg. "Ifyou run after trouble you will find it coming to meetyou."

Middleton watched the Mexicans with uncommon interestuntil they passed out of sight. Arenberg, a shrewdand penetrating man himself, said:

"You are interested in them, Mr. Middleton?"

"I am," replied Middleton frankly, "and I know, too, that the errand of Zucorra to Washington has been afailure. The relations of the United States and Mexicoare no better."

"But that won't keep us from going across to thePacific, will it, Cap?" said Bill Breakstone briskly."You don't mind if I call you Cap, do you, Mr. Middleton?You are, in a way, our leader, because you aremost fit, and the title seems to suit you."

"Call me Cap if you wish," replied Middleton, "butwe are all on equal terms. Now, as we have seen theMexicans, and, as there is nothing more here to attract us,we might go on up the levee."

"Prithee, we will suit the deed to the word," said BillBreakstone, "but do not run into that drunken Indianthere, Phil. I would not have thy garments soiled bycontact with this degraded specimen of a race once proudand noble."

Phil turned a little to one side to avoid the Indian ofwhom Breakstone spoke. The levee was littered withfreight, and the red man huddled against a hogshead oftobacco from far Kentucky. His dress was partly savageand partly civilized, and he was sodden with dirt anddrink. But, as Breakstone spoke, he raised his head andflashed him a look from fiery, glowing eyes. Then hishead sank back, but the single glance made Breakstoneshiver.

"I felt as if I had received a bullet," he said. "Nowwhat did the noble savage mean by giving me such a look?He must have understood what I said. Ah, well, itmattereth not. He looked like a Comanche. It has beenwisely said, let the cobbler stick to his last, and there isno last in New Orleans for Mr. Cobbler Comanche."

"You didn't suppose he understood you," saidArenberg, "and no harm iss done where none iss meant."

Phil looked back at the Comanche, but there wasnothing heroic about him. He was huddled lower thanever against the tobacco hogshead. Certainly there wasno suggestion of the dauntless warrior, of the wildhorseman. Phil felt a curious little thrill of disappointment.

He looked in the same place the next day for theComanche, but he did not see him, and then, in theexcitement of great preparations, he forgot the Indian.The New Mexico expedition was about to become a fact, and the little band of four were promptly received asmembers. On all such perilous trips strong andwell-armed men were welcome.

The outfit would embrace about sixty wagons and twohundred men, and the goods they carried would be ofgreat value. Phil and his comrades paid for the right toput their extra supplies in one of the wagons, and thenthey equipped themselves with great care. They boughtfour good horses, four fine rifles, made by the famousDickson, of Louisville, four double-barreled pistols oflong range, knives and hatchets, a large quantity ofammunition, an extra suit apiece of stout deerskin, foursmall pocket compasses, and many other things which seemtrifles in a town, but which are important in the wilderness.

It took them but a few days to make their purchases, but it was at least three weeks before the train started.The Mexicans, meanwhile, had stayed about a week at thechief hotel, and then had left on a steamer for their owncountry. Phil heard that there had been much talkabout the high-handed manner of young Armijo, andthat he had been extremely disagreeable to all about him.The older man, Zucorra, who was milder and morediplomatic, had sought to restrain him, but with nosuccess. It was a relief when they were gone.

The boy, still curious about the Comanche, looked forhim once more on the levee. More hogsheads of tobaccoand sugar were there, but the Indian was not leaningagainst any of them. At last he found him in one of theinns or taverns frequented by sailors and roustabouts, arough place at any time, and crowded then with menfrom the ships and boats. The Indian was sitting in acorner, huddled down in a chair, in much the sameattitude of sloth and indifference that he had shown whenleaning against the hogshead. Phil saw that when hestood up he would be a tall man, and his figure, if itwere not flabby, would be powerful.

Phil was intensely interested. The Indian had alwaysappealed to his romantic imagination, and, now that hesaw one of the race close at hand, he wished to learnmore. He sat down near the man, and, not knowingwhat else to say, remarked that it was a fine day. TheComanche raised his head a little, and bent upon Phil alook like that he had given to Breakstone. It was apiercing glance, full of anger and hatred. Then theglowing eyes were veiled, and his head dropped back onhis arms. He did not utter a word in reply.

The innkeeper, who had noticed the brief incident, laughed.

"Don't you try to get up a conversation with BlackPanther, my boy," he said. "He ain't what you wouldcall a pow'ful talker."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't talk anybody to death,"said Phil. "What is he?"

"He's a tame Comanche, an' he's been loafing aroundNew Orleans for two or three months-learnin' the whiteman's vices, 'specially the drinkin' of fire water, whichhe keeps first on the list. You can see what it's done forhim-taken all the pith right out of him, same as youwould take it out of a length of elder to make a pop gun.I reckon New Orleans ain't no place for an Indian.Hello, what's the matter with Black Panther?"

The Indian uttered a short, savage exclamation thatstartled every one in the place, and sprang to his feet.His long coal black hair was thrown back from his face, and he seemed to be alive in every fiber. The eyes werelike two points of fire.

"Black Panther was a great warrior and a chief," hesaid. "He has been a dog in the white man's town, andhe has burned his brain with fire water until it is likethat of a little child. But he will be a great warrior anda chief again. Now, I go."

He gathered a tattered old blanket around his shoulders, and, holding himself erect, stalked in savage dignityout of the place.

"Now, what in thunder did he mean?" exclaimed theastonished innkeeper.

"I think he meant just what he said," replied Phil."He is going away from New Orleans. He certainlylooked it."

So far as he knew, the assertion was true, because, aslong as he remained in the city, he neither saw nor heardanything further of the Comanche. But the time for hisown departure was soon at hand, and in the excitementof it he forgot all about the Comanche.