Across Texas. Ellis Edward Sylvester

keep her from harm. I b’lieve you’ve a little sister, Nick, that you think a good deal of?”

      “I have, God bless her!” replied Nick, as the moisture crept in his eyes; “there is nothing I would not do to save her from suffering and pain.”

      Again, Lattin seemed to be looking at the countenance of the honest youth, but in reality his eyes were on the tarantula, and his right hand was moving slowly down his side toward his revolver in the belt at his waist.

      “That bein’ so, you can understand how much Jennings thought of his little gal Mabel. Wal, he was in the middle of a nap, when he jumped to his feet as if he had seen a rattler crawling over the floor toward him. The reason why he jumped up so quick was ’cause he heard his little gal scream. He went out the door as if shot from the mouth of a cannon.

      “The sight that met the ranchman was enough to set any father wild. Two of Geronimo’s Apaches, each on a pony, was galloping off on a dead run. One of them held Mabel in his arms, and the little gal, at sight of her father, reached out her arms and called to him to come and take her away from the bad Injun. Don’t you think that was enough to turn a father’s brain?”

      “There can be no doubt of that,” replied Nick, shuddering at the mental picture of his sister Nellie in such an awful situation.

      During the momentary pause, Lattin placed his hand on the butt of his revolver. The tarantula had not stirred more than an inch since he was seen, but that was in the direction of the Texan’s face, and his peril was becoming more imminent than before.

      “Be careful, boys,” said Strubell in his ordinary tones, “the creature is getting nervous. He is now looking at me, and is coming a little closer to my face. Don’t try to brush or knock him off: maybe he’ll hunt for some other pasture, but the chances are against it.”

      “All right, Ard,” replied Lattin with assumed cheerfulness; “we see your fix and are prayin’ for you. As I was sayin’, the sight that met Jennings’ eyes, when he jumped out of his door, was enough to set any man frantic. He was back into the house again, and out once more like a flash. He had his Winchester with him this time, and brought it to his shoulder, but the Apache that had his little gal was on the watch and held her up in front, so that the father couldn’t fire without killing his own child. So Jennings just give one groan and staggered back into the house and almost fell on to the floor.

      “The poor fellow was in a bad fix. The nearest fort was a hundred miles off, and it was almost as far to San Pedro. The two Apaches had rode to the ranch on one pony, but, when they went away, the one that didn’t have the little gal was on the back of Jennings’ horse, and, since his wife and escort was absent, there wasn’t a single critter on the place.

      “The first Apache had got so far off that he was beyond rifle-shot before Jennings was outdoors. He come out a few minutes later, and, shading his eyes, looked off across the dusty plain, where his child had disappeared. He thought the horses which he seen were growing plainer. They were coming toward him, and he didn’t know what it meant.

      “For a while he didn’t stir, but kept looking closely. Bimeby, he seen there was but one horseman and he was Sam Ruggles, one of them that had acted as the escort of Mrs. Jennings when she went away. He was mounted on his own horse, and leading that of Mrs. Jennings, who he said would start home the next day.

      “‘The country is so open,’ said Sam, ‘that she thought I had better start at once, so as to give you what help I could with the cattle – what’s the matter, George?’ he asked, observing the white face of his friend.

      “‘Where did you get my horse?’ asked Jennings, striving hard to control himself.

      “‘Up near the ford,’ said Sam; ‘just as I stopped to let my pony drink, someone fired at me from the bush, and I dropped out the saddle to the ground. I wasn’t hurt a bit; it was a dodge of mine to trick the redskin. The next instant, there was a whoop, and an Apache galloped out of the bush toward me, sure of another scalp. Wal,’ added Sam, with a grin, ‘an Apache can mistake, the same as other folks, and I needn’t give you the partic’lars. Your horse seemed to think he was at liberty to travel home, and he went so fast that I didn’t overhaul him till about a mile out. I was worried thinkin’ something had happened, and was glad enough to see that everything was right.’ Now that was a big mistake of Sam, wasn’t it?”

      Nick and Herbert turned toward the speaker, as both answered his odd question, and observed that he now held his revolver in hand.

      “Boys,” called poor Strubell, “the tarantula is creeping toward my face; I guess he means to bite; don’t stir, and if he gets much closer I’ll make a sweep at him.”

      CHAPTER VI.

      TWO GOOD SHOTS

      “WAL, then, Jennings tells Sam everything that had took place. It was wonderful the control the ranchman showed over himself. His face was as white as death, but he didn’t tremble, and talked as if he was speaking about the cattle. Sam thought that the Apache, having the extra load of the child and dead warrior, would not be able to travel fast, and there was a chance of fetching him off his pony, but Jennings feared there was a party of the varmints near by, and that he would jine them.

      “Howsumever, you may be sure they didn’t lose any time talking, but jumping into their saddles, was off across the plain like a couple of whirlwinds. The trail showed that the Apache, with the gal and dead warrior, had kept close to the bushes that grew along the stream, which was not very broad, and runs into the Gila.

      “A mile from the ford the two were surprised to come upon the body of the Apache that had been tumbled from the horse by Sam’s Winchester. The other must have got tired of carrying him, or was afraid his load would get him into trouble.

      “‘At any rate,’ said the father, ‘Mabel is alive, though there’s no sayin’ how long she will stay so.’

      “Just then both catched sight of the very Apache they was after. He was coming from the bush on a swift gallop, and still holding the crying child in front of him.

      “Now, that Apache showed less cunning than is generally showed by his people, for, by thus hanging back, he gave the pursuers the very chance they wanted to come up with him. Even then he had so little fear that Jennings and Sam believed there was a party near at hand, though, as it turned out, it wasn’t so.

      “As he come out of the bush, he struck across the open plain, with his pony on a sharp gallop, while little Mabel, seeing her father, stretched out her arms agin toward him and begged him to take her home.

      “‘Leave him to me,” said Jennings, bringing his Winchester to his shoulder. The redskin raised the child again, but he was just a second too late, for he rolled off his horse with a hole bored through his skull, as dead as dead could be.

      “Mabel was bruised by her fall, but the Apache was killed so quick that he hadn’t a chance to put her out of the way, as he would have done had he knowed what was comin’. She was soon in her father’s arms, and all come out right as it does in the stories.”

      Despite the interest in the incidents related by the Texan, the eyes of all three were fixed on the dreaded tarantula, which had been comparatively motionless for some minutes. It now began creeping toward the face of Strubell, who said in the same unwavering voice:

      “He’s coming this time sure! He means to bite, boys, and it’s all up with me – ”

      At that instant, the oppressive stillness was broken by the sharp report of Lattin’s revolver, which he had extracted from his belt a few seconds before. He levelled and fired the weapon with such marvellous quickness that his friends hardly caught the movement.

      But the aim was perfect. The tarantula that was straddling across the chest of the prostrate Texan, surcharged with virus and about to inflict its fatal bite, vanished as though it had never been. There was a faint whiz, and it was gone into nothingness.

      Arden Strubell did not stir, but remained with his hands clasped behind his head and every muscle motionless. Then, as his comrade pronounced his name, his elbows fell and the head partly rolled to one side.

      “By