“We’ll find out when we hear it again, as we shall do in a few minutes.”

“Do you think it is Mendez?”

“Yes, but it won’t do to bank on it until we get further data; it’s the favorite signal of his to announce his coming, but no doubt others of his people use a similar call. If it is he he will come right to this spot—ah, you are right!”

So it proved. The gentle whistle sounded again and this time there could be no mistaking its source; it was about half way between the rock and the rivulet or spring.

“Don’t forget that it may be some one else; if so, leave him to me,” said the officer, stealthily drawing his revolver; “I’ve been disappointed so many times to-day that I am entitled to this chance—there he is!”

The outlines of an Apache warrior silently assumed shape in the dim moonlight, and another “disappointment” fell to the lot of Lieutenant Decker, who returned his weapon to its place as he recognized Mendez, when he uttered a single word of greeting.

It takes a great deal to rouse the emotions of an American Indian, but if ever there was an amazed warrior it was this White Mountain Apache. He had visited the camp of Maroz and Ceballos and the discovery he made was one that fairly carried him off his feet, and which, when related to Maurice Freeman and Lieutenant Decker, held them dumfounded with astonishment.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A SURPRISE INDEED.

Mendez, the White Mountain Apache and friend of the whites, possessed mental gifts above most of his race. More than once he had displayed a grasp of details and a comprehension of plans rarely shown by his people, and which were so unexpected to the officers on the reservation that they were filled with admiration. They trusted more to his skill and perception than they did to any other of the dusky scouts.

He had little to say, immediately after the outbreak of Maroz and Ceballos, but those who knew him were sure his active brain was at work, and that, sooner or later, he would surprise them by some exploit that proved an almost intuitive knowledge of the schemes of the hostiles.

The part he acted during the day of the revolt of Maroz and Ceballos has been told. Lieutenant Decker, who was his constant companion, afterward stated that from the moment he rode out from Fort Reno with him and the three cavalrymen, he did not utter twenty words, and those that fell from his lips were mostly in answer to inquiries, while the majority remained unanswered.

It is to be presumed that Mendez was satisfied with the steps taken to head off Maroz and his confederates, for, had it been otherwise, he would have protested. But the effort failed, and then the fellow found use for his tongue. He was freely consulted by the colonel, and the steps that were taken to subdue the outbreak were materially modified to meet the views of the sagacious Mendez.

No member of the hostiles knew more about the fastnesses of the Apache range than did he. He read in the display of the signal smoke and the actions of the band that had slain the family of Captain Murray an attempt to mislead the whites as to their true purpose. Instead of rendezvousing at the advanced point, where from their actions it would be supposed they had arranged to come together, they fixed upon a wild, precipitous gorge nearly two miles further in the mountains.

Locating there and keeping vigilant watch against surprise the leaders would send out their runners and bring in all the disaffected warriors that could be persuaded to take the risk of another revolt against the authorities. When they were fully assembled they would burst from the mountains like a cyclone and spread woe and death among the ranches and settlements over an area of hundreds of square miles.

To crush this rebellion in the bud was the work of the soldiers, and enough has been told to show that it was a task most difficult of accomplishment. How could the brave boys in blue hope to surprise the camp of the hostiles, when they were prepared for such an attempt and were certain to take every possible precaution against it?

Evidently there was but one way and even that offered scant probability of success. By taking the direct trail of the raiders and following it into the mountains every rod of advance would become known to the Apaches. They would form their ambush, empty many a saddle and scatter the survivors in dismay. It was for just such a campaign that the hostiles planned and which they believed was to be attempted against them.

It is not insisted that, but for Mendez, this course would have been adopted. The intelligent officers and soldiers of the Southwest learned fast, and speedily became adepts in the subtlety of Apache warfare. They learned how to ambuscade their dusky foes as well as to avoid the traps set for them, and the fight was often that of cunning against cunning, rather than bravery against bravery.

The colonel, however, willingly based his course of action on the belief of Mendez that the rendezvous of the hostiles had been fixed at a certain point among the foothills, which he described and located so clearly that the other White Mountain scouts recognized the spot, and were able to guide the troops unerringly to it, by a route which would allow them to use their horses for most of the distance.

Fort Reno, standing on the western bank of the Tonto, is fully twenty miles north of the Salt River, a principal tributary of the Gila. Instead of riding eastward toward the Sierra Ancha, which would have been the most direct route, the cavalry swept down the valley of the smaller stream, crossed the larger, and then headed eastward toward the Apache range, passing to the south of Grape Vine Spring, and fording Pinal Creek, which flows directly northward into the Salt River.

Under the guidance of the Indian scouts, this was carried out with perfect success, the cavalry entering the foothills from an unexpected point, and stealing their way toward the Apache camp without detection from the enemy.

But the ride was a tremendous one, covering as it did a distance of more than fifty miles. It was not begun until the afternoon was well along, and when daylight dawned much was still before them. They were forced to halt to rest their exhausted animals and to prepare for the more delicate and dangerous work before them.

Meantime Mendez and Lieutenant Decker were doing their part well. Accompanied by a squad of half a dozen cavalry, they crossed Salt River at a point where they were certain of being seen by the hostiles, riding here and there, apparently in a blind search for the trail. They were ordered to keep this up until night, and then recross at different points, come together on the northern bank and return to the fort.

It will be understood that the object of this diversion was to deceive the hostiles as to the real plan of campaign. It was sought to make them believe the pursuit and attack would come from the front, whereas, the cavalry were at that very time making all haste to reach the rear of their camp.

The members of the smaller party found their way in due time to the fort, with the exception of a couple—Mendez and Lieutenant Decker. They stayed behind and pushed matters on their own account.

Their purpose was altogether different from that of Captain Shindle and the others, for they could not hope to accomplish anything effective against the hostiles: they were aiming to help Maurice Freeman to recover his boy.

As the lieutenant had stated, Mendez knew and told him that the father would do precisely what he did do, and that, unless he was checked, he would fall a victim to Apache ferocity, without affording the slightest aid to his child. Freeman had made the natural mistake of believing the hostiles would rendezvous at a point much further in advance than they did. Some of their scouts would be there, on the watch for the approach of the whites, and the chance of the father’s circumventing them was as one in a million.

The lieutenant and the scout, having completed all they could do in the way of diverting the suspicion of the Apaches, now gave their whole energy to the help of the stricken parent.

The whole question narrowed down to that of the whereabouts of the captive, and whether it was possible to secure possession of him unharmed. Mendez suspected that Maroz and Ceballos, with probably one or two companions, were at the advanced position referred to, but whether they retained the immediate custody of the child, or had sent him further into the mountains with the main band, or had put him to death, were questions which could be answered only by personal investigation.

The natural conclusion was that the first proceeding of the leaders in the outbreak would be to send the child away from them, not only as a surer means against his recapture, but to leave his abductors untrammeled in their movements. Such, I say, was the natural theory, but the sagacious Mendez saw a reason for hoping that the reverse was the case; in other words, that matters were just as it was desired they should be.

Maroz was irrestrainable in his ferocity when aroused. No crueler savage ever lived. He carried off little Fulton Freeman, because he saw the chance of torturing his parents’ hearts with deeper grief by doing so than by driving a bullet through his brain. He helped to shoot down the children of Captain Murray, because their father and mother fell during the opening of the scrimmage, and, therefore, they could not be distressed further; but he recognized the son of Freeman and saw his opportunity.

To turn the little fellow over to the other Apaches back in the mountains would be to relinquish, for a time at least, control of his fate. There were turbulent spirits with the main band who were likely to insist on their own views as to what should be done with him. It was not improbable that these would conflict with the purposes of Maroz and cause him keen disappointment.

It cannot be denied that this was theorizing matters down to a fine point, but it was the theory upon which Mendez acted in his attempts to help Maurice Freeman in his extremity.

The correctness of his belief in the first instance was proven by his discovery of the white man near where he expected him to be. Not intending to be hampered by the movements of the anxious parent, his first step was to pilot him to a safe point, and leave him in the company of the lieutenant until such time as their services should be needed—a contingency that, as the Apache viewed it, was so remote as to be almost out of sight.

Parting from them, as has been described elsewhere, Mendez began one of the most difficult tasks of his life: it was that of locating not only Maroz and Ceballos, but the young captive. That had to be done before the still harder work of rescuing the little one should be attempted.

It is not worth while to follow the wonderful scout, step by step, in his approach to the camp of the hostiles. It may be described as the absolute perfection of woodcraft—noiseless, unerring, and as direct as that of the bloodhound on the trail of the fugitive. As the gloom closed him in, and the black eyes lost half their function, his advance showed hardly any diminution, for he was never at a loss as to the course to take.

But there came a time when he was within a stone’s throw almost of the spot he had fixed upon as the right one that his phantom-like progress was checked. The slow, silent, gliding motion ceased and the dusky scout stood motionless.

At that moment he was among the stunted pines, where the moonlight was so faint that his keen vision could penetrate only a short distance in any direction, but the conviction was strong upon him that some person was near. He had not seen or heard anything to impart such knowledge, but that peculiar sense known by the name of intuition was as unmistakable as sight or hearing could have been.

Sure enough, while gazing to the right, he outlined the figure of an Apache warrior, standing as quiet as himself, in a spot where the dim illumination would have been secure protection against any eyes except those of Mendez. The figure remained stationary only a few seconds when it vanished among the trees in the direction of the camp of the hostiles.

As it moved off the friendly scout received a shock, caused by observing a resemblance to one whom he had known before, and who was the last person in the world he expected to see. The emotion, however, was transitory, and, waiting but a minute or two, he resumed his stealthy approach to the camp.

A few steps further and he caught the twinkle of a fire among the trees, and he had only to put forth the matchless caution he had displayed from the first to gain sight of that which he was so desirous of seeing.

There was a small fire of broken sticks kindled against the face of a boulder, and in front of it was an Apache warrior stretched on the ground in a lazy attitude, smoking his pipe and seemingly half asleep, as he gazed thoughtfully at the embers; but Mendez needed no one to tell him that every sense of the fellow was on the alert, and that the slightest misstep on the part of the scout would bring him to his feet like a flash.

It was Ceballos who lolled in this fashion, and he was the only Indian in sight. His companion or companions were absent, doubtless on the lookout for the approach of the soldiers, who had been observed hovering on the trail during the afternoon. Mendez scanned every portion of his field of vision, but Ceballos was alone.

That he had friends near, however, was proven the next minute when a call, similar to that used by the friendly scout, sounded among the trees. Instantly the Apache came to a sitting posture, with his head turned partly sideways, in the attitude of intense attention.

Then he answered the signal in the same guarded manner, and looked to the left, whence a second figure emerged, with the noiselessness of a shadow. As the firelight fell upon his face, Mendez recognized Maroz, the fierce Apache, who had led the revolt and whose hands were already stained with crime.

He bent down by the fire, lit his pipe, coolly seated himself beside his companion, and the two began talking together.

It was all important that a part at least of their words should be overheard, since they were sure to help materially in gaining the knowledge which the White Mountain Indian was seeking. Their voices were low, but it was rather in obedience to custom than through fear of any eavesdroppers. The stillness was profound, and the listener was able to catch enough of the words to hold the drift of conversation.

The result was a remarkable confirmation of his own wisdom, for it proved that the couple had placed themselves in this position, near the trail leading into the mountains, to detect the approach of the soldiers, and to give notice to the band, that they might fully prepare to receive them. Maroz and Ceballos speculated as to whether their pursuers had formed any suspicion of the truth, and were making their advance with such care that they would not reach the spot until midnight or later. Nothing, however, that was overheard showed that they suspected the cavalry would try to steal to the rear of their camp; they looked for them over the direct route, as it may be called.

But the great question, after all, remained unanswered. Where was the boy that these vagrants stole from the destroyed home of Captain Murray? Inasmuch as he was not in sight, it was fair to presume he was with the main band, further in the mountains. Mendez suspected this was the fact, but he was not prepared fully to believe it until proof was given. It need not be said, therefore, that he listened with the closest attention to the words of the couple.

But the minutes passed without affording a hint of the information he was after. Neither Maroz nor Ceballos referred to the lad, but talked about the soldiers, whom they were expecting, and who they were anxious should come. The two took turns in moving back over the trail, so as to prevent any possible surprise, and their presence together was intended for only a short time, and came about because they were quite sure their pursuers would wait until the night was further along.

All at once Mendez caught a reference to the child, but the usually stolid fellow was roused to the point of exasperation by the action of Maroz, who, at the moment he made the remark, shifted his position so as to turn his face directly away from him. Ceballos imitated the movement in order to accommodate him, so interfering with the sounds of their voices that Mendez could not identify a word, even though all were uttered in the same tone as before.

No more trying situation can be imagined than that of the scout, who, on the threshold of information, found the door shut in his face. It was evident that the couple were uttering the very sentences he wished to hear, and it was equally evident that he could not hear them so long as the relative position of the parties remained the same.

Instead of waiting in the hope that they would make another move that would favor him, Mendez promptly took the only course that offered hope; he moved round to the other side of the camp, so as to place himself in front of his enemies.

This was a task of such extreme delicacy that he stealthily withdrew until beyond sight of the little blaze. With all his wonderful woodcraft he dared not attempt the circuit while so near to camp, nor, great as was his impatience, did he allow himself to be unduly hurried.

But he was expeditious, and striking the right point he again advanced, catching the glimmer of the fire before he had gone a dozen steps in a straight line.

It was a night of surprises, and the greatest of his life now came to him.

Maroz and Ceballos held the same position as before and were talking apparently about the captive, concerning whom the spy was anxious to secure information; but a third Indian was present. He must have come during the few minutes the scout was out of sight of camp. His coming was as skillful as that of Mendez himself, for he had heard and seen nothing of him. That singular intuition which revealed the presence of another, when invisible to the eye and inaudible to the ear, was not always with Mendez, or he would have discovered his approach.

The new arrival was standing erect, between the couple on the ground and the fire, with his back toward the latter. He was talking, and while holding his rifle in one hand gesticulated with the other. The same indefinable something in his appearance and manner told Mendez that he was the warrior whom he had seen a short time before.

But the face of the Apache was in shadow, and for several minutes he could not identify him. At the end of that time, however, he suddenly turned, so that the firelight fell upon his countenance. And then, as Mendez looked, he recognized him as Cemuri, his companion of years, whom he was certain was slain by Maroz within the preceding twenty-four hours.

CHAPTER XXVII.
CONCLUSION.

It must not be supposed, from what has been related about Mendez, the White Mountain scout, that he was superior to the weaknesses peculiar to his race. That he was brave, loyal to the whites, cunning, full of resources and a consummate master of woodcraft, was conceded by his bitterest enemies; but while he possessed these admirable traits, it must be stated that he shared the unfortunate fondness of his people for intoxicants. At times he indulged in this love for the frightful decoction, “tiswin,” which, as has been made known elsewhere, is the product of fermented corn, and is one of the most villainous forms of “fire-water” conceivable.

Had Mendez related the particulars of the outbreak of Maroz and Ceballos, he would have stated that he, Cemuri and they were indulging their weakness and that, humiliating as the confession must have been, he fell more under its influence than any one of them. In fact, he was so far gone that his recollection of the affray was always exceedingly misty. He recalled that, like the explosion of a bombshell, the party suddenly became engaged in a fierce conflict, in which he was the principal offender, and in some way he was slightly wounded and then left alone. The facts that afterward came to light were of an interesting character.

It is a physiological fact that intoxicants remove the sense of moral restraint in a person, or, as it has been expressed, a man, when under their influence, will do that which he would do when sober if he dared; in other words, while in that condition he acts out his natural self.

This was the case with Maroz and Ceballos, who, though less helpless than Mendez, became so reckless that they threw off the mask they had been wearing so long, and showed themselves the ferocious miscreants they had always been. They cast aside all restraint, and, being more sober than Mendez, would have slain him but for the interference of Cemuri, who had more self-command than even they. He was able to refrain when he had barely tasted the fiery stuff, and with a subtlety like that of Mendez, when he was his own master, he convinced Maroz and his companion that he was with them in sentiment and would eagerly join in the outbreak.

He professed to have a grievance against the colonel at the fort, and was only awaiting the chance to repay it. He would have preferred to wait still longer, but since the couple were determined upon taking the warpath without delay, he was ready to risk everything.

That he succeeded in convincing the two of his earnestness was proof that he was as sagacious in some respects as his comrade for many years. He would not permit the latter, however, to receive any serious injury, and thus it was that the courageous fellow, who was literally helpless, was allowed to wander off in the darkness, with little more than a scratch, received from Maroz himself, who had meant to destroy him without mercy. Cemuri joined the rebels, displaying an ardor that surpassed, if possible, their own, and so well counterfeited that they were wholly deceived.

Mendez spent the night in sodden slumber, but became himself on the morrow. Brushing the cobwebs from his brain, and recalling the grotesque incidents of the night before, he found himself mystified to understand how it was he was alive and substantially unharmed.

It was a part of Cemuri’s far-reaching scheme to make it seem he was dead. By this means his opportunities for befriending the whites were increased. When, therefore, Mendez heard from others that his former companion had been slain and his body flung into the bush he doubted the truth of the statement no more than he doubted that Maroz and Ceballos were leading the formidable revolt. He leaped upon his pony and dashed to Fort Reno in all haste with the tidings. He was considerably mixed as to details, but his story was accepted with little questioning; and the measures were set on foot that have been made clear elsewhere.

Although Maroz and Ceballos had burned their bridges behind them, they were not sufficiently recovered from the effects of their debauch to undertake offensive movements before the morrow.

Enough has been told to give an idea of the emotions of the scout, when he recognized Cemuri in the camp of the hostiles, and saw him in friendly converse with them. Even his stolid nature was too startled to permit him to form a satisfactory explanation, until he had listened awhile to their conversation, and had managed to recall a little more clearly the events of the preceding evening. But it was not long ere he grasped the whole plot of his friend, whose peculiar mental qualities were better known to him than to any one else.

The first natural question was as to why Cemuri, if aiming to give the whites his individual aid, had deferred action until this late hour. There must have been many opportunities for striking an effective blow before this. It may have been, however, that he contemplated a grand coup d’etat when matters should approach a crisis.

These and similar thoughts passed through the brain of Mendez, while standing too far back in the gloom to be detected, watching the party and listening to their conversation.

The words were disappointing to Mendez, for they gave him no knowledge not possessed before. They referred to the expected pursuit by the soldiers and the plan for ambuscading them, whenever they should penetrate far enough into the mountains to render the success of the Apaches beyond question. He heard nothing about the stolen child, and was, therefore, in as much ignorance of his fate or whereabouts as before.

The one indispensable step remained for Mendez to establish communication with his friend; that accomplished, and the prospects would become the brightest. But as matters stood, the task was beyond the skill of the wonderful scout. The most guarded signal that he could make was certain to be heard by the hostiles, at the same instant it reached Cemuri; and, instead of proving a help, must overthrow everything.

His only possible hope was that the party would break up by and by and leave Cemuri to himself. If that should take place, the object could be readily attained. The belief that something of the kind would occur held Mendez like a statue, during nearly all the long period he was absent from Lieutenant Decker and Mr. Freeman. He showed the patience of the Esquimau waiting by the air hole, in the ice for the appearance of the nose of the seal.

The experience of the scout was another illustration of the truth that everything comes to him who waits. After awhile Maroz stole away in the gloom, leaving the couple alone. By and by he returned and Ceballos took a hand. They reported that the soldiers were not yet near, and were likely to push their pursuit until the night was further along. All this time not the first reference, so far as Mendez could learn, was made to the little captive.

Then, when the scout was looking for Cemuri to start off on his reconnaissance, a fourth Apache suddenly appeared in camp. He was from the main body, further back in the mountains, and he remained a half hour, discussing business with the others, and making sure that no possible miscarriage could occur in the plan laid for the overthrow of their pursuers.

But the messenger finally left, and then Cemuri set out to look after matters, disappearing in the wood in the shadowy manner that his predecessors had done.

The opportunity had come at last, and it need not be told how Mendez improved it. He and his former friend met within a hundred yards of the camp, and that which has been told at the beginning of this chapter was made clear to the scout, confirming the suspicions he had formed while playing the part of eavesdropper.

All the information the latter sought was speedily given to him, and, parting from his companion for a time, he made his way to his other friends and told them the amazing story.

Maurice Freeman was so overcome that he was forced to sit down until he could regain mastery of himself. Even Lieutenant Decker lost his facetiousness for the time, and stood with open mouth and staring eyes, unable at first to ask the questions that rapidly took form in his brain.

Mendez was a little foggy, as before, in describing the occurrences of the preceding night, but the officer suspected the truth, which, if fully told, would have humiliated the brave fellow. He forbore to question him on the point, for it was of little importance.

Cemuri was not present at this interview, but was only a short way off, awaiting the return of his companion. Telling his friends that the two would soon be with them, Mendez withdrew, and they were again left to themselves.

“It is the most wonderful thing I ever knew,” remarked Mr. Freeman, in an awed tone; “in all my calculations and surmises, I never deemed this among the possibilities.”

“It would have been still more remarkable had you done so,” replied the lieutenant; “it begins to look as if you will recover your little boy.”

“I hardly dare believe it,” said the parent, with a shiver of anxious hope, “and yet why not?”

“I think I understand the motif of those fellows in taking the extraordinary course they did. Maroz and Ceballos, I needn’t tell you, are among the worst Apaches that ever lived, and that is a tremendous statement. They saw that if they allowed the child to pass into the hands of the principal band, they must surrender control of him. In the complications likely to follow, it is not impossible that the others would agree to give him up, in order to save their own necks. That would be wise, but at the same time it would rob Maroz and Ceballos of their pet scheme of enjoyment.”

“It seems incredible that even an Apache should be so cruel.”

“There is nothing which human ingenuity can conceive that is too cruel for an Apache to do. This being so, they did not handicap themselves by keeping your child near them. They were liable to lose him, in the event of a sudden attack, before they could remove him, after the fashion that has been popular among the aborigines, ever since the Miss MacCrea episode, more than a hundred years ago.”

“How readily they might have ended the difficulty by putting him out of the way at once!” exclaimed the parent with a shudder.

“But for their cruelty of disposition, they would have done that. Such a course, however, must have robbed them of the exquisite happiness they are now feasting upon in imagination. So they carried the sleeping fellow, as tenderly as you could have done, to the place among the rocks, within a hundred feet of their camp. There they secured him against molestation from any prowling wild beast, believing he would sleep until morning, though it mattered little whether he did or not, since there is no way by which he could help himself.”

“If I only knew the place,” added the parent, half rising to his feet in his excitement, “I would go thither at once.”

“That is the reason Mendez gave us no hint of its location. I’m afraid, Freeman, he doesn’t rank you as being among the champion scouts of the country.”

“I never laid claim to that honor,” replied the man, with an earnestness that he would not have shown under other circumstances, “but it is so hard to wait—wait, when there’s no saying what obstacles may arise.”

“You must content your soul with patience as best you can, for Mendez is running this administration, and no one can do it better.”

The suspense was briefer than the lieutenant anticipated, though it seemed ten times its real length to the distressed parent. A gentle rustling, evidently made intentionally, caused both to turn their head.

There stood Mendez and Cemuri, and the former held in his dusky palm the dimpled hand of a little boy.

“Oh papa, is that you? Why did you leave me so long?”

“God be thanked!” was the fervent ejaculation of the delighted father, as he seized his child in his arms, pressed him to his breast and kissed him over and over again.

Fulton was sleeping soundly when released from his prison among the rocks, and Mendez started to carry him, but the disturbance awoke the child, and, seeing that he was feverish and frightened, his rescuer allowed him to walk at his side as he wished, while he led him to his father.

When a few minutes later the party was about to start northward, in the direction of the river, with the intention of picking up their ponies on the way, and seeing Maurice Freeman safe home again with his loved boy, Lieutenant Decker remarked:

“It seems to me we’re forgetting that we are not yet out of the woods; are we not in danger, Mendez, of being followed by Maroz and Ceballos?”

“No!”

While the little party were silently threading their way northward to the desolate home which, in due time, was illuminated with perfect joy by the return of the child that had been mourned as dead, Captain Shindle and his cavalry were pressing matters from a different direction. The severe ride deferred their assault on the Apache stronghold until later than was desired, but the diversion, described elsewhere, produced the best effects. Under the guidance of the other White Mountain scouts, the hostiles were so effectually entrapped that their overthrow was complete.

In the conflict that followed, half of them were destroyed by the cavalry, who knew it was mercy to the innocent that such heroic measures should be adopted. Those who were not exterminated were captured and taken back as prisoners to the fort.

The disastrous results of the outbreak speedily became known to all the hostiles on the reservation, Maroz and Ceballos, the leaders, being among the first victims to the vengeance they had invoked. The lesson was of the most salutary nature. Others were on the point of joining the hostiles, and, had a temporary advantage come to the band in the mountains, one of the most formidable outbreaks known in the history of the southwestern frontier would have followed, carrying in its train unutterable woe and suffering.

But the prompt measures of the cavalry, and especially the actions of Mendez and Cemuri, nipped it in the bud.

THE END.