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She did not speak, but her mistress knew the meaning of the act. The Comanche had placed his foot on the upper round of the ladder and was about to descend to the lower apartments, where they were awaiting him. "Leave him to me," whispered Mrs. Shirril; "don't stir or do anything."

"The varmints don't know much about pity, but that's too rough a thing even for a Comanche to repeat. I've a s'picion that Lone Wolf had a hand in that, and I'm going for him. Come along." And the indignant Sut strode out of camp, followed by his friends. He was not the man to submit to such a loss, and they saw that he was in deadly earnest.

We mounted guard at night, each man standing in his turn; and no one ever slept without drawing his rifle close to his side or folding it with him in his blanket. One morning our vigilance was stimulated by our finding traces of a large Comanche encampment. Fortunately for us, however, it had been abandoned nearly a week.

The youth looked keenly round in the gloom, but saw only the level plain, similar to that over which they had ridden since leaving the cabin. A dark object on the ground caused him to force his pony toward it. "That must be one of our cattle," he said inquiringly. "It's what is left of him; that's the steer that the Comanche brought down when he took a shot at you."

Of course thar wouldn't have been any show for me if I hadn't had a streak of luck. I know that country like a book, and I war purty sartin of the trail them thieves meant to take, so I started to cut across and head 'em off. I hadn't gone far when I come upon the camp of a Comanche war-party, numberin' a hundred.

True, that among the Comanche Indians bearded men are occasionally met with mestizos, the descendants of renegade whites. But none paraded as he, who now appeared stalking around the ruined caravan.

"It's used for dancing, they tell me." "But it's a church it's consecrated!" she gasped. "I reckon it's worn off by this time," he comforted. "It was a church a long, long time ago for Comanche. The saloon man across from it told me its history. He considered locating in it, he said, but they wanted too much rent.

His foe had his rifle within easy reach, and, if he turned too soon, he could pick off his young assailant before he should arrive within striking distance, but each moment raised the hopes of the lad. A veteran Comanche warrior could not have advanced with greater skill than did young Munson approach the unconscious Apache.

Every one at the fort had made a pet of Captain Dudley's daughter, the harum-scarum little Ginger, who would rather dash across the prairies on her pony, like a wild Comanche Indian, than play with the finest doll ever imported from Paris. There was a suit in her wardrobe, short skirt, jacket, leggins, and moccasins, all made and beaded by the squaws. It was the gift of the colonel's wife. Mrs.

She glanced at his horse, on the saddle of which hung, cowboy fashion, a bag of grub which also contained a frying-pan and coffeepot, she knew, from having seen many outfits like it in the stores at Comanche. A blanket was rolled behind the high cantle. As for the horse, it seemed as fresh and likely as if it had come three miles instead of thirty.