CHAPTER I.

THE HORSE AND THE RIDER.

It wanted an hour or two of sunset on a lovely evening in the latter part of September, when a single horseman might have been seen making his way to the westward, across the high dry prairie land, which lies between the upper portion of the river Nueces and the Bravo del Norte.

He was a small, spare man, of no great personal power, but of a figure which gave promise of great agility and capability of enduring fatigue, the most remarkable feature of which was the extraordinary length of his arms.

His countenance, without being in the least degree handsome, was pleasing and expressive.

A short, heavy English rifle, carrying a ball of twelve to the pound, was slung by a black leather belt across his shoulder, the braided strap which supported his large buffalo-horn powder flask and bullet pouch of otter skin crossing it on his breast. From a leather girdle, which was buckled about his waist, he had hung a long, straight, two-edged sword in a steel scabbard with a silver basket hilt on the left side, which was counterbalanced by a long, broad-bladed hunting knife with a buck-horn hilt, resting upon his right hip. There were holsters at the bow of his large Mexican saddle, containing a pair of fine duelling pistols with ten inch barrels; and in addition to these, there was suspended from the pummel a formidable hatchet with a bright steel head and a spike at the back, like an Indian tomahawk, but in all respects a more ponderous and superior instrument.

On the croupe of his horse, and attached to the cantle of the saddle, he carried a small valise of untanned leather, with a superb Mexican blanket of blue and scarlet strapped upon it, and a large leathern bottle with a horn drinking-cup swinging from it on one side; while to the other was fastened a portion of the loin of a fat buck, which had fallen in the course of the morning by the rifle of the traveller.

The horse which carried this well-appointed rider was a dark-brown thorough-bred.

At length, when the sun was no longer above three times the width of his own disc from the level line of the lowest plain, he set his spurs to his horse, and put him from the high slashing trot which he had hitherto maintained, into a long slinging gallop, which carried him over the ground at the rate of some sixteen miles the hour.

After he had ridden at this rate for thirty or forty minutes, he reached the brow of one of the low rolling waves of earth, which constitute the surface of the prairie, and thence saw the land falling away in a long gentle slope for some six miles toward the west, at which distance it was bounded by a long continuous line of hills, whose range seemed interminable. At the base of this range appeared a dense line, looking sombre enough at that distance, but which the2 experienced eye of the horseman well knew indicated a heavy growth of timber—perhaps a deep forest, and, within its shadowy depths, a wide and never-failing stream.

A short half-hour brought them to the forest just as the sun was setting.

Through this wild paradise the mighty river rolled its pellucid waves, rapid, and deep, and strong, and as transparent as the purest crystal.

Galloping his horse joyously over the rich green turf, the traveller soon reached the river, at a spot where it was bordered by a little beach or margin of pure white sand, as firm, and almost as hard as marble; and springing into the cool clear water till it laved the heaving flanks of his charger he suffered it to drink long and deep of the pure beverage, which had not touched its thirsty lips since the early morning.

This duty done, he returned to the shore, and, selecting an oak tree about two feet in girth, around which the grass grew unusually tall and luxuriant, tied his companion to its stem by the lasso, or cord of plaited hide which was coiled at his saddle-bow.

Then, after polishing his accoutrements, as if for parade, he hung his rifle and his broad-sword from the fork of a stunted oak tree, collecting some dry leaves and branches, and, striking a light from the ready flint and steel, soon had a clear bright fire glancing and flashing in a sheltered nook surrounded on all sides but one, that where his horse was tethered, by a dense and impenetrable thicket of bays, prickly pear and holly.

Within a few minutes, half a dozen twigs, fixed in the ground about the blazing fire, supported as many steaks of fat venison, each with a biscuit under it imbibing the delicious gravy, and a second with salt and pepper, all of which unusual dainties were supplied from the small valise of the provident and epicurean frontiers-man.

While his supper was cooking thus, and sending forth rich and unwonted odours through the forest, our traveller had prepared his simple couch, spreading his handsome poncho on the deep herbage, with his saddle arranged for his pillow.

If, however, he had hoped to enjoy his coming meal and his night's repose without interruption, he had reckoned without his host; for, at the same instant in which his charger ceased from feeding, snuffed the air eagerly, and uttered a low whining; the traveller started to his feet and listened anxiously for a moment, although there were so sounds which could have been distinguished by any human ear unsharpened by the necessities and habits of a woodman's life.

Satisfied apparently that something was at hand which might mean mischief, he quietly took up his pistols and thrust them into his girdle, reached down his rifle from the branch on which it hung, loosened his wood-knife in its scabbard, and passed the handle of the hatchet through a loop in his sword-belt, so that the head rested in a sort of fold or pocket in the leather, evidently prepared for its reception, and the haft lay close on his left thigh.

These preparations made silently, promptly, yet deliberately, he stooped and laid his ear to the ground; nor did he raise himself to his full height for several minutes.

"Two, four, six, eight," he muttered to himself at intervals. "Yes, there are eight of them."

Again he laid his ear to the ground and listened.

"Yes, there are eight of them, sure enough," he again muttered; and then, after a pause, he added: "But two of them are mules, I think; and they are coming right down hitherward."

Then he looked to his rifle lock, and cocked his piece.

"Unless they turn aside when they reach the timber, they will be on me in five minutes; and if they know the forest, they will not turn, that's certain; for here's the only place where you can find hard bottom to ride in and out of the old Bravo, for ten miles up and down."

3

He paused from his soliloquy, listened again, and then a smile crept across his intelligent face.

"Bah!" he said, "I have been disquieting myself for nothing—they are dragoon horses; I can tell their managed pace; though, what the devil brings dragoons hither, the devil himself best knows."

Then he hung up his arms as before, again removed saddle and bridle from his horse, threw down his pistols and his hatchet on the grass, and, instead of concealing himself in ambush, unarmed, except his wood-knife, stepped quite at his ease forth from the cover of his thicket, and strode boldly forward to meet the new-comers.

He had not advanced above a hundred yards from the spot where his horse was tethered and his fire burning, before he discovered the little band of travellers just entering the belt of timber, at not above a hundred yards distance from the point where he himself had ridden into it from the open prairie.

That, however, which instantly caught the eye of the rover, was the form of a female—and a female, evidently, of the superior classes, forming one of the party, which, beside herself, consisted, as he saw at half a glance, of an officer and four privates of dragoons, or mounted riflemen.

"Precious lads, truly, these," he muttered through his teeth, "to be travelling the prairies, and not see my trail at a short hundred yards. By Jove! I believe they will cross it without notice. However, I'll give them a fright anyhow—so here goes," and with the words, he clapped his hand to his mouth, and uttered a long-drawn Indian yell, which made the arches of the forest echo and re-echo its cadences, till it died quavering in the far distance.

The rifles of the little party were cocked in an instant, and two or three were instinctively cast up, and levelled in the direction whence the sound proceeded.

But the woodman did not wait for any further demonstrations of hostility, but stepped calmly forth from his covert, calling out, as he did so, in a loud, clear voice:

"Whither, and whence, friends, so carelessly this bright evening?"

But ere his words were half out of his lips, he was interrupted by the sharp crack of a rifle, discharged at him within twenty paces, the ball of which sang past his head, perhaps at a foot's distance. But, entirely unmoved by the assault or by the peril he had run, he finished his sentence quietly, and then added:

"A miserably bad shot that, my lad; and a most unsoldierly act to fire a shot at all, without waiting orders. Do not you say so, lieutenant?"

"You are very much to blame yourself, fellow; first, for yelling in that wild fashion, for the purpose of creating an alarm, and then for approaching a command so rashly. Who are you, fellow, speak?"

"Fellow! fellow!" replied the other, half soliloquizing, "and a command, hey! command, truly; a couple of camaudus, or one of Jack Hays' men would make an end of such a command, before it had seen where to throw away one bullet."

"Well, sir, and who are you, then, I pray?"

"Pierre Delacroix, at your service."

"What! he who is commonly known as Pierre—"

"The Partisan, lieutenant," interrupted the other, quietly. "Yes, I am the man, and my horse, Emperor, of whom you have heard, since you have heard of me, is down in the brake yonder; and, what is the better thing just now, there is a good fire burning, and some venison steaks ready by this time, if they be not over done, and a flask of good sherry wine and some cool water; and if you and your fair lady will share the supper of the Partisan, I shall be happy to think that I am pardoned for the slight alarm I gave you; and after supper, we will hear what has brought you hither, and what I can do to serve you. Is it a bargain?"

"Surely it is; and very thankful shall we be for your hospitality, and yet4 more for your advice. This is the famous soldier, Julia," he continued turning to the lady who accompanied him, "of whom you have heard so much, and whom we had hoped to meet at San Antonio."

No more words were spoken until they reached the spot which Delacroix had selected for his bivouac; but, as they did so, an exclamation of pleasure burst from Julia's lips at the romantic beauty of the scene.

The travellers immediately dismounted.

Now, as Julia stood erect before the Partisan, with the clear light of the blazing wood-fire falling full on her face, and revealing all the charms of a figure, tall as the tallest of her sex, voluptuous and fully rounded, yet slight withal, and delicate and slender as the fairest ideal of a poet's dream, he thought that he had never looked upon anything so perfectly and femininely lovely.

For some moments he stood gazing at her, mute, and positively breathless with admiration; then, suddenly recollecting himself, he called to the nearest of the dragoons, bidding him lead the lady's horse down to the river, and water him; and then conducted her respectfully to the place where he had spread his poncho on the grass, and with the aid of that and his large saddle, arranged for her an extemporaneous arm-chair near the fire, which the fresh coolness of the woods rendered not wholly needless, even at that season; while the thin smoke that rose from the wood embers, kept the mosquitoes at a distance.

Meanwhile, some of the dragoons applied themselves to clean the horses and accoutrements, while others unloaded the pack mules, and unbuckling the bags and cases which they carried, produced camp-kettles and canteens, and a small India-rubber tent and camp-bed, which was speedily set up and prepared in the methodical manner of the old soldier, and promised better accommodation for the lady.

"My cooking is ready, lady, such as it is," said the Partisan, "and I fancy you have the Spartan sauce, which even makes the black broth palatable."

Julia started a little at the classical allusion, and cast a quick glance toward her young husband, whose attention had been fixed on another portion of the roving soldier's speech, and said quickly, repeating the Partisan's word:

"Lady! Indeed I have been strangely remiss and discourteous, Major Delacroix. In the first hurry of our introduction, I forgot to name ourselves to you, though Yankee like; yet, I assure you, I am not a Yankee; I by no means forgot to exhort from you all that I wished to know. I should have imagined, Jule, that you would have found tongue enough by this time to make yourself known to Major Delacroix, but since it seems you have not done so, better late than never. Allow me, Major Delacroix, to present you to Mrs. Arthur Gordon, six weeks ago Miss Julia Forester, of New Orleans; and that done, to call your attention to my very humble and unworthy self, Arthur Gordon, First Lieutenant of the Second Dragoons."

When Arthur Gordon pronounced the words, Julia Forester, he started forward, and exclaimed:

"What—what! it cannot be—the daughter of my best and oldest friend, Colonel John Forester? I recollect his wife's name, whom I never saw, was Julia."

Julia Gordon blushed crimson as he spoke, and then in an instant turned as pale as ashes.

"My mother!" she gasped out, with a great exertion of the will compelling herself to speak at all. "My poor mother, I never saw her either, at least not within my recollection. Yes, Major Delacroix, I am Colonel John Forester's wild and wilful daughter. God bless him," she continued, a big tear swelling to her eye, "as he deserves a better child."

"Not so, not so, young lady. I am certain that it is not so. A brighter or more beautiful, he could not have, and it will be hard to convince me he could have a better, Lieutenant Gordon, allow me to shake your hand, and congratulate you; your father-in-law, and your sweet lady's father, was, I may say, to5 me more than a father; for, when Nature robbed me of both my parents, he supplied both their places. God bless John Forester, and all who love and honour him."

So thoroughly was the Partisan engrossed by his own warm and generous feelings, that he did not perceive at all, what would at any other time have been sufficiently apparent to a man of his keen and intuitive sagacity, that there was something of evident discomposure in the manner of the young officer as he spoke to him of his father-in-law.

The green carpet of the meadow was spread with their simple fair, and the Partisan did the honours of his camp with a singular blending of the frontiers-man's bluntness, and the easy manners of the gentleman and soldier.

There was, however, an inexplicable gloom hanging over the little party, and scarcely was the frugal meal ended before, on the pretext of weariness, the lady retired to her tent, and the husband went away for a few minutes, as he said, to inspect his sentries, while Pierre Delacroix filled his Indian pipe with kinnikinnick, and, stretching himself at full length on his blanket, in the warmth of the fire, rested his head on his elbow, and mused more deeply than he had done for many a year, rolling out all the time great volumes of the odoriferous smoke of that Indian mixture, which he had learned to prefer to the Havana.

CHAPTER II.

THE LIEUTENANT'S STORY.

The Partisan had not sat long alone, ere the young officer returned and joined him; yet, in that brief space, almost all the actions and adventures of a not uneventful life had passed through his mind; so strongly had his imagination been excited by the occurrences of the evening.

"Come, Mr. Gordon," said the Partisan, "I fancy that by this time you have got your men settled for the night. Had you not better take your pipe, and sit down with me, that we may talk matters over. By something you let fall a while ago, it seems that you have been expecting to meet me at San Antonio, although I knew it not, nor have been there these two months. Now, you must have had some end in seeking me; and, until I know what end that is, I am at a loss to see how I can aid you."

"To make you understand that, Major Delacroix—"

"Pardon me, sir," replied the Partisan, hastily, "I have no great respect for titles of any kind, least of all for military titles, when not backed by military rank and command. So, if you please, you will call me Pierre, or Delacroix, or Partisan."

"Very well," replied Gordon. "It is on you that we have counted all along for taking us safely to our journey's end."

"Well, we have gained something at least. Now where may that very definite place, which you call your journey's end, be? And, as the next question, what made you count upon me?"

"Our journey's end—Taylor's camp, of course—where else should it be?"

"Anywhere else, I should think, considering the means you have of getting thither, and the company you have with you. You do not really mean to say that you contemplate carrying that beautiful and delicate young woman with you to head-quarters?—the thing is utter madness."

"And yet my destination is headquarters; and she has no home, save my tent."

"Julia Forester—John Forester's daughter no home!" cried the Partisan, in far louder tones than he was wont to use, and starting to his feet, half indignant and half astonished. "Did I understand you aright, young sir? Did you say Julia Forester has no home save in the tent of a second lieutenant of dragoons?"

"I did say precisely that, Pierre Delacroix," answered the soldier, nettled a little by the manner of the questioner, and shaking off his momentary embarrassment the instant he was put upon his mettle.

6

"When I knew Colonel John Forester, he was reputed to be worth a million of dollars," said Pierre.

"When I knew him," replied Arthur Gordon, "he was reputed to be worth two, at the lowest figure."

"And has he become a bankrupt since then, or a beggar?" asked the other, sharply.

"Neither, that I ever heard. Au contraire, he is, all but one or two, the richest man they say in Louisiana."

"And why the devil, then, did he give you his daughter for a wife, and not give you the means to sustain her."

"I never said that he did give her to me," said the other, steadily.

"You said she was your wife."

"I did say so, and do. But I will substitute a short story for a long debate."

"Pray let us do so."

"It is six years since I first visited New Orleans; and being the bearer of letters to Colonel Forester was received hospitably and entertained in his house, where he then lived nominally alone, with the exception of his only daughter, Julia, at that time a beautiful girl of fourteen. Being very young myself, we were thrown much together, a sort of childish affection, half-liking and half love, grew up between us—not altogether childish either; for it constantly increased during the three years which I spent in the city, until it became a powerful passion. When I entered the army, on the first raising of the second dragoon regiment, and before leaving the city for the north-west, I had an explanation with the colonel; and it was understood, and agreed, that at some future period, which was left undecided, Julia should be my wife. We were permitted to correspond, and I mounted my horse and rode away with my regiment, as light-hearted and as happy a soldier as ever set jack boot in steel stirrup. I received

letters from my betrothed, of which I shall only say that they were all that the most sanguine lover could desire.