CHAPTER VI.      EAGLEPASS is on one side of the Rio Grande river, PiedrasNegras upon the other. The names indicate the countries. Wherever there is an American there is always an eagle. Two thousand Mexican soldiers held Piedras Negras-followers of Jaurez-quaint of costume and piratical of aspect. They saw the head of Shelby's column debouching from the plateau above the river-they saw the artillery planted and commanding the town-they saw the trained soldiers form up rapidly to the right and left, and they wondered greatly thereat. No boats would come over. Not a skiff ventured beyond the shade of the Mexican shore, and not a sign of life, except the waving of a blanket at intervals, or the glitter of a sumbrero through the streets, and the low, squat adobes.    How to get over was the question. The river was high and rapid.    " Who can speak Spanish ?" asked Shelby.    Only one man answered-him of the senorita of Senora-a recruit who had joined at Corsicana, and who had neither name nor lineage.    " Can you swim?" asked Shelby.    " Well."    "Suppose you try for a skiff, that we may open negotiations with the town."    " I dare not. I am afraid to go over alone."    Shelby opened his eyes. For the first time in his life such answer had been made by a soldier. He scarcely knew what the mall was saying.    " Afraid!" This with a kind of half pity. "Then stand aside." This with a cold contempt. Afterwards his voice rang out with its old authority.     Volunteers for the venture-swimmers to the front." Fifty stalwart men dashed down to the water, dismounted-waiting. He chose but two-Dick Berry and George Winship-two dauntless young hearts fit for any forlorn hope beneath the sun. The stream was wide, but they plunged ill. No matter for the drowning.    They took their chances as they took the waves. It was only one more hazard of battle. Before starting, Shelby had spoken to Collins:    "Load with canister. If a hair of their heads is hurt, not one stone upon another shall be lift in Piedras Negras."    The current was strong and beat the men down, but they mastered it, and laid hands upon a skiff whose owner did not come to claim it. In an hour; a flag of truce was carried into the town, borne by Colonel Frank Gordon, having at his back twenty-five men with side arms alone.    Governor Biesca, of the State of Coahuila, half soldier and half civilian, was in command-a most polished and elegant man, who quoted his smiles and italicised his gestures. Surrounded by a glittering staff, he dashed into the Plaza and received Gordon with much of pomp and circumstance. Further on in the day Shelby came over, when a long and confidential interview was held between the American and the :Mexican-between the General and the Governor-one blunt, abrupt, a little haughty and suspicious-the other suave, voluble, gracious, in promises, and magnificent in offers and inducements.    Many good days before this interview-before the terrible tragedy at that Washington theatre where a President fell dying in the midst of his army and his capital-Abraham Lincoln had made an important revelation, indirectly, to some certain Confederate chieftains.    This came through General Frank P. Blair to Shelby, and was to this effect: The struggle will soon be over. Overwhelmed by the immense resources of the United States, the Southern government is on the eve of an utter collapse. There will be a million of men disbanded who have been inured to the license and the passions of war, and who may be troublesome if nothing more. An open road will be left through Texas for all who may wish to enter Mexico. The Confederates can take with them a portion or all of the arms and war munitions now held by them, and when the days of their enlistment are over, such Federal soldiers as may desire, shall also be permitted to join the Confederates across the Rio Grande, uniting afterwards in an effort to drive out the French and re-establish Juarez and the Republic. Such guarantees had Shelby received, and while on the march from Corsicana to Eagle Pass, a multitude of messages overtook him from Federal regiments and brigades, begging him to await the arrival-a period a dependent upon their disbandment. They wished above all things to take service with him, and to begin again a war upon imperialism after the war upon slavery.    Governor Biesca exhibited his authority as Governor of Coahuila, and as Commander-in Chief of Coahuila, Tamaulipas and New  Leon, and offered Shelby the military control of these three States, retaining to himself only the civil. He required of him but one thing, a full, free and energetic support of Benito Juarez. He suggested, also, that Shelby should remain for several months at Piedras Negras, recruiting his regiment up to a division, and that when he felt himself sufficiently strong to advance, he should move against Monterey, held by General Jeannlngros, of the Third French Zouaves, and some two thousand soldiers of the Foreign Legion.    The picture, as painted by this fervid .Mexican, was a most attractive one, and to a man like Shelby, so ambitious of military fame, and so filled with the romance and the adventure of his situation, it was doubly so. At least he was a devout Liberal. Having but little respect for Mexican promises or Mexican civilization, he yet knew that a corps of twenty thousand Americans could be easily recruited, and that after he once got a foothold in the country, he could preserve it for all time. His ideas were all of conquest. If he dreamed at all, his dreams were of Cortez. He saw the golden gates of Sonora rolled back at his approach, and in his visions, perhaps, there were glimpses of those wonderful mines guarded even now as the Persians guarded the sacred fire of their gods.    The destiny of the expedition was in this interview. Looking back now through the placid vista of the peace years, there are but few of all that rugged band who would speak out to-day as they did about the council board on the morrow after the American and the Mexican had shaken hands and went their separate ways.    The council was long, and earnest, and resolute, then made brief speeches, but they counted as so much gold in the scales that had the weighing of the future. If Shelby was more elaborate and more eloquent, that was his wont, be sure there were sights his fervid fancy saw that to others were unrevealed, and that  evolving itself from the darkness and the doubts of the struggle ahead, was the fair form of a new empire, made precious by knightly deeds, and gracious with romantic perils and achievements.    Shelby spoke thus to his followers, when silence had-fallen, and men were iace to face with the future:    " If you are all of my mind, boys, and will take your chances along with me, It is Juarez and the Republic from this on untill we die here, one by one, or win a kingdom. We have the nucleus of a fine army-we have cannon, muskets, ammunition, some good prospects for recruits, a way open to Sonora, and according to the faith that is in us will be the measure of our loss or victory. Determine for yourselves. You know Biesca's offer. What he fails to perform we will perform for ourselves, so that when the game is played out there will be scant laughter over any Americans trapped or slain by treachery."    There were other speeches made. briefer than this one by the leader, and some little of Whispering apart and in eagerness. At last Elliott stood up-the spokesman. He had been a fighting colonel of the Old Brigade, he had been wounded four times, he was very stern and very true, and so the lot fell to him to make answer.    " General, if you order it, we will follow you into the Pacific Ocean; but we are all Imperialists, and would prefer service under Maximllian."    " Is this your answer, men?" and Shelby's voice had come back to its old cheery tones. "    "It is."    "Final? "    " As the grave."    "Then it is mine, too. Henceforth we will fight under l\Iaximilian. To-morrow, at four o'clock in the afternoon, the march shall commence for l\Ionterey. Let no man repine. You have chosen the Empire, and, perhaps, it is well, but bad or good. your fate shall be my fate, and your fortune my fortune." The comrade spoke then. The soldier had spoken at Marshall, at Corsicana, at San Antonio, and in the long interview held with Biesca. Time has revealed many things since that meeting in June, 1865-anythings that might have been done and well done, had the frank speech of Elliott remained unspoken-had the keen feeling of sympathy between the French and the Confederates been less romantic. Shelby was wiser then than any man who followed him, and strong enough to have forced them in the pathway that lay before hi8 eyes so well revealed, but he would not for the richest province in Mexico. And as the conference closed, he said, in passing out:    "Poor, proud fellows -it is principle with them, and they had rather starve under the Empire than feast in a republic. Lucky, indeed, for many of them if to famine there is not added a fusillade." Governor Biesca's bland face blankly fell when Shelby announced to him the next morning the decision of the conference. He had slept upon the happiness of a coup d' etat; when he awoke it was a phantasy. No further arguments availed him, and he made none. When a Mexican runs his race, and comes face to face with the inevitable, he is the most indifferent man in the world. A muttered bueana, a folded cigarrito, a bow to the invisible, and he has made his peace with his conscience and his God, and lies or sighs in the-days that come after as the humor of the fancy takes him.    Biesca had all of his nation's nonchalance, and so, when for his master's service he could not get men, he tried for munitions of war. Negotiations for the purchase of the arms, the artillery and the ammunition were begun at once. A pre8tamo was levied. Familiarity with this custom had made him an adept. Beinga part of the national education, it was not expected that one so high in rank as a governor would be ignorant of its rudiments.    Between the Piedras Negras and Monterey the country was almost a wilderness. A kind of debatable ground-the J:obbers had raided it, the Liberals had plundered it, and the French had desolated it. As Shelby was to pass over it, he could not carry with him his teams, his wagons, his artillery and his supply trains. Besides he had no money to buy food, even if food was to be had, and as it had been decided to abandon Juarez, it was no longer necessary to retain the war material. Hence the prestamo. A list of the merchants was made; the amount assessed to each was placed opposite his name; an adjutant with a file of soldiers called upon the interested party; bowed to him; wished him happiness and high fortune; pointed to the ominous figures, and waited. Generally they did not wait long. As between the silver and the guard-house the merchant chose the former, paid his toll, cursed the Yankees, made the sign of the cross, and went to sleep.    By dint of much threatening, and much mild persuasiveness, such persuasiveness as bayonets give-sixteen thousand dollars were got together, and, for safety were deposited in the custom house. On the morrow they were to be paid out. The day was almost a tropical on~. No air blew about the streets, and a white glare came over the sands and settled as a cloud upon the houses and upon the water. The men scattered in every direction, careless of consequences, and indifferent as to results. The cafes were full. Wine and women abounded. Beside the bronzed faces of the soldiers were the tawny faces of the senoritas. In the passage of the drinking-horns the men kissed the women. Great American oaths came out from the tiendas, harsh at times, and resonant at times. Even in their wickedness they were national.    A tragedy was making head, however, in spite of the white glare of the sun, and the fervid kisses under the rose. The three men, soldiers of Lee's army ostensibly-men who had been fed and sheltered-were tempting Providence beyond the prudent point. Having the hearts of sheep, they were dealing with lions. To their trel1chery they were about to add bravado-to the magazine they were about to apply the torch.    There is a universal Mexican law which makes a brand a Bible. From its truth there is no appeal. Every horse in the country is branded, and every brand is entered of record, just as a deed or legal conveyance. Some of these brands are intricate, some oblique, 'Some as fantastic as a jester's cap, some a single letter of the alphabet, but all legal and lawful brands just the same, and good to pass muster anywhere so only there are alcaldes and sandalled soldiers about. Their logic is extremely simple, too. You prove the brand and take the horse, no matter who rides him, nor how great the need for whip and spur.    In Shelby's command there were a dozen magnificent horses, fit for a king's race, who wore a brand of an unusual fashion-many lined and intricate as a column of Arabesque. They had been obtained somewhere above San Antonio, and had been dealt with as properly as soldiers knew how to deal with horses. These the three men wanted. With their knowledge of Spanish, they had gone among the IIlexican soldiers, poisoning their minds with tales of American rapine and slaughter, depicting, with not a little of attractive rhetoric, the long and weary march they had made 'with these marauders that their beloved steeds might not be taken entirely away from them.    The Mexicans listened, not from generosity, but from greed, and swore a great oath by the Virgin that the gringos should deliver up every branded horse across the Rio Grande. Ike and Dick Berry rode each a branded horse, and so did Armistead, Kirtley, Winship, Henry Chiles, John Rudd, Yowell and two-score more, perhaps, equally fearless, and equally ignorant of any other law besides the law of possession.    The afternoon drill was over. The hot glare was still upon the earth and the sky. If anything, the noise from the cafes came louder and merrier. Where the musical voices were the sweetest, were the places where the women abounded with-disheveled hair and eyes of tropical dusk.    Ike Berry had ridden one of these branded horses into the street running by regimental headquarters, and sat with one leg crossed upon the saddle, lazily smoking. He was a low, squat Hercules, free of speech and frank of nature. In battle he always laughed; only when eating was he serious. What reverence he had came from the llppetite. The crumbs that fell from his long, yellow beard were his benediction.    Other branded horses were hitched about, easy of access and unnoted of owner. The three men came into the street, behind them a young Mexican captain handsome as Adonis. This captain led thirty-five soldiers, with eyes to the front and guns at a trail.    Jim Wood lounged to the door of a cafe and remarked them as they filed by. As he returned, he spoke to :Martin Kritzer, toying with an Indian girl, beaded and beautiful.    "They are in skirmishing order. Old Joe has delivered the arms; it may be we shall take them back again."    One of the men went straight up to Ike Berry, as he sat cross-legged upon his horse, and laid his hand upon the horse's bridle. Ike knew him and spoke to him cheerily:    "How now, comrade?"    Short answer, and curt: "This is my horse; he wears my brand; I have followed him to Mexico. Dismount!"    A long white wreath of smoke curled up from Ike's meerschaum in surprise. Even the pipe entered a protest. The old battle-smile came back to his face, and those who were nearest and knew him best, knew that a dead maln would soon lay upon the street. He knocked the ashes from his pipe musingly; he put the disengaged foot back gently in the stirrup: he rose up all of a sudden the very incarnation of murder: there was a white gleam in the air; a heavy saber that lifted itself up and circled, and when it fell a stalwart arm was shredded away, as a girl might sever a silken chain or the tendrils of a vine. The ghastly stump, not over foul' inches from the shoulder, spouted blood at every heart throb. The man fell as one paralyzed. A shout arose. The :Mexicans spread out like a fan, and when the fan closed it had surrounded Berry, and Williams, and Kirtley, and Collins, and Armistead, and Langhorne, and Henry Childs, and Jim Wood, and Rudd, and Moreland, and Boswell, and McDougall, and the brothers Kritzer.       Yowell alone broke through the cordon and rushed to Shelby.    Shelby was sitting in a saloon discussing cognac and catalan with the Englishman. On the face of the last there was a look of sorrow. Could it have been possible that the sombre shadows of the Salinas were already beginning to gather about his brow?    A glance convinced Shelby that Yowell was in trouble.    " What is it? " he asked.    "They are after the horses."    "What horses?"    "The branded horses; those obtained from the Rosser ranche."    " All-and after we have delivered the arms, too, Mexican like____ Mexican like."  He arose as he spoke and looked out upon the street. Some revolvers were being fired. These, in the white heat of the afternoon, sounded as the tapping of woodpeckers. Afterward a steady roar of rifles told how the battle went.    "The rallyl the" rally!-sound the rally!" Shelby cried to his bugler, as he rushed down to where the Mexicans were swarming about Berry and the few men nearest to him. "We have eaten of their salt, and they have betrayed us; we have come to them as friends, and they would strip us like barbarians. It is war again, war to the knife!."    At this moment the wild, piercing notes of an American bugle were heard-clear. penetrating, defiant-no test hat told of sore stress among comrades, and pressing need of succor.    The laughter died in the cafes as a night wind when the morning comes. The bugle sobered all who were drunk with drink or dalliance. Its voice told of danger near and imminence of a field needing harvesters who knew how to die.    The men swarmed out of every door-way-poured from under every portal-flushed, furious, ravenous for blood.. They saw the :Mexicans in the square, the peril of Berry and those nearest to him, and they asked no further questions. A sudden crash of revolvers came first. close and deadly; a yell, a shout, and then a fierce, hot charge. Ras. Woods, with a short .Enfield rifle in his hand, stood fair in the street looking up at the young Mexican Captain with his cold gray eyes that had in them never a light of pity.  The press gathered about him, the rifle crept straight to the front and relaxed there a moment, fixed as fate. It looked as if he was aiming at a flower-the dark olive beauty of the Spaniard was so superb. "Spare him!" shouted a dozen reckless soldiers in a breath, he is too young and too handsome to die." In vain! A sharp, sudden ring was the response; the Captain tossed his arms high in the air, leaped up suddenly as if to catch something above his head. and fell forward upon his face, a corpse. A wail of women arose upon the sultry evening-such as may have been heard in David's household when back from the tangled brushwood they brought the beautiful Absalom. The life upon his yellow hair. But not within his eyes."    The work that followed was quick enough and deadly enough to appeal the stoutest. Seventeen Mexicans were killed, including the Captain, together with the two Americans who had caused the encounter. The third. strange to say, recovered from his ghastly wound, and can tell to this day, if he still lives, of the terrible prowess of that American soldier who shredded his arm away as a scythe blade might a handful of summer wheat.    A dreadful commotion fell upon Piedras Negras after the battle in the street had been finished. The long roll was beaten, and the Mexican garrison rushed to arms. Shelby's men were infuriated beyond all immediate control, and mounted their horses without orders for a further battle. One detachment, led by Williams, swept down to where the artillery and ammunition wagons were packed and dispersed the guard after a rattling broadside. Langhorne laid hands upon the Custom-house and huddled its sentinels in a room as so many boys that needed ·punishment. Separate parties under Fell, Winship, Henry Chiles, Kirtley, Jim Wood and l\1artin Kirtzer seized upon the skiffs and the boats at the wharf.    They meant to pillage and sack the town, and burn it afterward. Women went wailing through the streets; the church bells rang furiously; windows were darkened lind barricaded; and over all the din and turmoil-the galloping of horses, and the clanking of steel -arose the harsh, gathering cry of the Mexican long roll-sullen, hoarse, discordant. Shelby stormed at his men, and threatened.    For the first and the last time in his career, they had passed beyond his keeping. At a critical juncture Governor Biesea marched down into the square, pale, his hat off, pleading in impassioned Spanish, apologizing in all the soft vowels known to that soft and sounding language. Shelby would bow to him in great gravity, understanding not one word, Conversing in English when the tide of Spanish had run itself out:     It's mostly Greek to me, Governor, but the devil is in the boys, for all that."    Discipline triumphed at last, however, and one by one the men came back to their duty and their obedience. They formed a solid, ominous looking column in front of headquarters, dragging with them the cannon that had been sold, and the cannon they had captured from the enemy.    " We want to sleep to-night," they said, in their grim soldier humor, and for fellr of Vesuvius, we have brought the crater with us."    As the night deepened, a sudden calm fell upon the city. Biesea had sent his own troops to barracks, and had sworn by every saint in the calendar that for the hair of every American hurt he would sacrifice a hecatomb of Mexicans. He feared, and not without cause, the now thoroughly aroused and desperate men who were inflamed by drink, and who had good reason for much ill-will and hatred. To Shelby's assurances of safety he offered a multitude of bows, each one more profound and more lowly than the other, until at last, from the game of war, the two chiefs had become to play a game of diplomacy. Biesca wanted his cannon back, and Shelby wanted his money for them. In the end, both were satisfied.    The men had gone to quarters, and supper was being cooked.    To the feeling of revenge had been added at last one of forgiveness. Laughter and songs issued again from the wine-shops. At this moment a yell was heard-a yell that was a cross between an Indian war-whoop and a Mexican cattle-call. A crowd of soldiers gathered hastily in the street. Again the yell was repeated, this time nearer, clearer, shriller than before. .Much wonderment ensued.    The day had been one of surprises. To a fusilade there was to be added a frolic. Up the street leading from the river, two men approached slowly, having a third man between them. When near enough, the two first were recognized as the soldiers, Joseph Moreland and William Fell. The other man, despite the swarthy hue of his countenince, was ghastly pale. He had to be dragged rather than led along. Fell had his sabre drawn, Moreland his revolver.    The first was fierce enough to perform amputation; the last suave enough to administer chloroform. When 'Moreland reached the edge of the crowd he shouted:    "Make way, Missourians, and therefore barbarians, for the only living and animated specimen of the genus Polyglott now upon the North American continent. Look at him, you heathens, and uncover yourselves. Draw nigh to him, you savages, and fall upon your knees. Touch him, you blood-drinkels, and make the sign of the crows." .    "What did you call him?" asked Armistead.    A Polyglott, you Feji Islander; a living dictionary; a human mausoleum with the bones of fifty languages; a natural in a land of garlic, stilettos and straw hats." The man himself was indeed a curiosity. Born of Creole parents in New Orleans, he had been everywhere and had seen everything. 'When captured he was a clerk in the custom house, French, Spanish, English, Italian, German, modern Greek, Gumbo French, Arabic, Indian dialects without number, and two score or so of patois rolled off from his tongue in harsh or hurried accents accordingly as the vowels or the consonants were uppermost. He charmed Shelby from the beginning. When he felt that he was free his blood began to circulate again like quicksilver. Invited to supper, he remained late over his wine, singing songs in all manner of languages, and boasting in all manner of tongues. When he bowed himself out his voice had in it the benediction that follows prayer.    That night he stole $2,000.    The money for the arms and the ammunition had been stored in the custom house and he had the key. The next morning a sack was missing. Biesca swore, Shelby seemed incredulous, the Polyglott only smiled. Between the oath and the smile there was this difference: the first came from empty pockets, the last from more money than the pockets could hold. Master of many languages, he ended by being master of the situation.    In the full flow of the Polyglott's eloquence, however, Shelby forgot his loss, and yielded himself again to the invincible charms of his conversation. When they parted for the last time Shelby had actually given him a splendid pistol, ivory handled, and wrought about the barrel with gold and figure work. So much for erudition. Even in the desert there are date and palm trees.    The formal terms of the transfer were concluded at last. Biesca received his arms, paid his money, buried the dead soldiers, and blessed all who came into Piedras Negras and went out from it. His last blessings were his best. They came from his heart and from the happy consciousness that the Americans were about to depart forever from the midst of his post of honor and his possessions. Marching southward from the town, the column had reached the rising ground that overlooked the bold sweep of the rapid river, the green shores of Texas beyond, the fort on the hill, from which a battered Confederate flag yet hung, and a halt was called. Rear and van the men were silent. All eyes were turned behind them. Some memories of home and kindred may have come then as dreams come in the night; some placid past may have outlined itself as a mirage against the clear sky of the distant north; some voice may have spoken even then to ears that heard lind heeded, but the men made no sign. The bronzed faces never softened. As the ranks closed up,    Waiting, a swift horseman galloped up from the town-a messenger. He sought the leader and found him by instinct.    "Amigo," he said, giving his hand to Shelby.    "Friend, yes. It is a good name. Would you go with us?"    'No."    "What will you have? "    "One last word at parting. Once upon a time in Texas an American was kind to me. Maybe he saved my life. I would believe so, because I want a reason for what is done between us.."    "Speak out fairly, man. If you need help, tell me."    "No help, Senor, no money, no horses, no friendship-none of these. Only a few last words." .   " What are they?"    " Beware of the Salina,!"

CHAPTER VII.      THE Salinas was a river, and why should one beware of it? Its water was cool, the shade of its trees grateful, its pasturage abundant, and why then should the command not rest some happy days upon its further banks, sleeping and dreaming? Because of the ambush.    Where the stream crossed the high, hard road leading down to Monterey, it presented on either side rough edges of rock, slippery and uncertain. To the left some falls appeared. In the mad vortex of water, ragged pinnacles reared themselves up, hoary with the white spray of the breakers-grim cut-throats in ambush in mid river.    Below these falls there were yet other crossings, and above them only two. Beyond the fords no living thing could make a passage sure. Quicksands and precipices abounded, and even in its solitude the river had fortified itself., Tower and moat and citadel all were there, and when the flood-time came the Salinas was no longer a river-it was a barrier that was impassable.    All the country round about was desolate. What the French had spared the guerrillas had finished. To be sure that no human habitation was left, a powerful war party of Lipan Indians came after the guerrillas, spearing the cattle and demolishing the farming implements. These Lipans were a cruel and ferocious tribe, dwelling in the mountains of Sonora, and descending to the plains to slaughter. Fleetly mounted, brave at an advantage, shooting golden bullets oftener than leaden ones, crafty as all Indians are, superior to all Mexicans, served by women whom they had captured and enslaved, they were crouched in ambush upon the further side of the Salinas, four hundred strong. The weaker robber when in presence of the stronger is always the most blood-thirsty. The lion will strike down, but the jackal devours. The Lipans butchered and scalped, but the Mexicans mutilated the dead and tortured the living.    With the Lipans, therefore, there were three hundred native Mexicans, skilled in all the intricacies of the chapparal-keen upon all the scents that told of human prey or plunder. As ghastly skirmishers upon the outposts of the ambushment, these had come a day's march from the river to where a little village was at peace and undefended. As Shelby marched through there was such handiwork visible of tiger prowess, that he turned to Elliott, that grim Saul who never smiled, and said to him, curtly:    "Should the worst come to the worst, keep one pistol ball for yourself, Colonel. Better suicide than a fate like this."    The spectacle was horrible beyond comparison. Men hung suspended from door facings - literally flayed alive. Huge strips of skin dangled from them as tattered garments might hang. Under some a slow fire had been kindled, until strangulation came as a tardy mercy for relief. There were the bodies of some children among the slain, and one beautiful woman, not yet attacked by the elements, seemed only asleep. The men hushed their rough voices as they rode by her, and more than one face lit up with a strange pity that had in the light of a terrible vengeance. The village with its dead was left behind, and a deep silence fell upon the column, rear and van. The mood of the stranger Englishman grew sterner and sadder, and when the night and the camp carne he looked more keenly to his arms than was his wont, and seemed to take a deeper interest in his horse. Gen. l\Iagruder rode that day with the men-the third of July.    "To·morrow will be the Fourth, boys," he said, when dismounting, and perhaps we shall have fire-works."    Two deserters~two Austrians from the Foreign Legion under Jeanningros at Monterey-straggled into the picket lines before tattoo and were brought directly to Shelby. They believed death to be certain and so they told the truth.    "Where do you go?" asked Shelby.    "To Texas."    "And why to Texas?"    "For a home; for any life other than a dog's life; for freedom, for a country."    "You are soldiers, and yet you desert?"    "We were soldiers, and yet they made robbers of us. We do not hate the Mexicans. They -never harmed Austria, our country."    "Where did you cross the Salinas?"    "At the ford upon the main road."    "Who were there and what saw you?"    "No living thing, General. Nothing but trees and rocks and water."    They spoke simple truth. Safer back from an Indian jungle might these men have come, than from a passage over the Salinas with a Lipan and Mexican ambushment near at hand. It was earlyin the afternoon of the Fourth of July, 1865, when the column approached the Salinas river.       The march had been long, hot and dusty. The men were in a vicious-humor, and in excellent fighting condition. They knew nothing of the ambushment, and had congratulated themselves upon plentiful grass and refreshing water.    Shelby called a halt and ordered forward twenty men under command of Williams to reconnoitre. As they were being told off for the duty, the commander spoke to his surbordinate:    " It may be child's play or warrior's work, but whatever it is, let me know quickly." Williams' blue eyes flashed. He had caught some glimpses of the truth, and he knew there was danger ahead.    " Any further orders, General?" he asked as he galloped away.    "None. Try the ford and penetrate the brush beyond. If you find one rifle barrel among the trees, be sure there are five hundred close at hand. Murderers love to mass themselves."    Williams had ridden forward with his detachment some five minutes' space, when the column was again put in motion. From the halt to the river's bank was an hour's ride. Before commencing the ride, however, Shelby had grouped together llis officers, and thus addressed them;    "You know as well as I do what is waiting for us at the river, which knowledge is simply nothing at all.    This side Piedras Negras a friendly Mexican spoke some words at parting, full of warning, and doubtless sincere. He at least believed (n danger, and so do I.    Williams has gone forward to flush the game, if game there be, and here before separating I wish to make the rest plain to you. Listen, all. Above and below the main road, the road we are now upon, there are fords where men might. cross at ease and horses find safe and certain footing. I shall try none of them. When the battle opens, and the bugle call is heard, you will form your men in fours and follow me. The question is to gain the further bank, and after that we shall see," Here something of the old battle ardor came back to his face, and his eyes caught the eyes of the officers. Like his own they were full of fire and high resolve.    "One thing more," he said, "before we march. Come here, Elliott."    The scarred man came, quiet as the great horse he rode.    "You will lead the forlorn hope. It will take ten men to form it. That is enough to give up of my precious ones. Call for volunteers-for men to take the water first, and draw the first merciless fire. After that we will all be in at the death."    Ten were called for, two hundred responded. They had but scant knowledge of what was needed, and scantier care. In the ranks of the ten, however, there.were those who were fit to fight for a kingdom. They were :Maurice, Langhorne, James Wood, George Winship, William Fell, Ras. Woods, James Kirtley, McDougall, James Rudd, James Chiles and James Cundiff.    Cundiff is staid, and happy, and an editor today in St. Joseph. He will remember, amid all the multifarious work of his hands-his locals, his editorials, his type·set ting, his ledger. his long nights of toil and worry-and to his last day, that terrible charge across the Salinas, water to the saddle girths, and seven hundred muskets pouring forth an unseen and infernal fire. The march went on, and there was no news of ·Williams. It was three o'clock in the afternoon. 'l'he sun's rays seemed to penetrate the very flesh. Great clouds of dust arose, and as there was no wind to carry it away, it settled about the men and the horses as a garment that was oppressive. Elliott kept right onward, peering straight to the front, watching.    Between the advance and the column some two hundred paces intervened.    When the ambush was struck this distance had decreased to one hundred paces-when the work was over the two bodies had become one. Elliott was wounded and under his dead horse, Cundiff was wounded, Langhorne was wounded, Winship was wounded, and Wood, and McDougall, and Fell. Some of the dead were never seen again. The falls below the ford received them and the falls buried them. Until the judgment day, perhaps, will they keep their precious sepulchres.    Over beyond the yellow dust a long green line arose against the horizon. This was the further edge of the Salinas, dense with trees, and cool in the distance. The column had reached its shadow at last. Then a short, sharp volley came from the front, and then a weat stillness. One bugle note followed the volley.   The column, moved by a viewless and spontaneous impulse, formed into fours and galloped on to the river-Elliott leading, and keeping his distance well.    The volley which came from the front had been poured suddenly into the face of Williams. It halted him. His orders were to uncover the ambush, not to attack it, and the trained soldier knew as well the number waiting beyond the river by the ringing of their muskets as most men would have known after the crouching forms had been seen and counted.    He retreated beyond range and waited. Elliott passed on beyond and formed his little band-the ten dauntless volunteers who were anxious to go first and who were not afraid to die. Shelby halted the main.. column still further beyond rifle range and galloped straight up to Williams.    " You found them, it seems."    '-Yes, General."    "How many?"    " Eight hundred at the least."    "How armed" With muskets."    " Good enough. Take your place in the front ranks. I shall lead the column." Turning to Elliott, he continued: "Advance instantly, Colonel. The sooner over the sooner to sleep. Take the water as you find it, and ride straight forward.    Williams says there are eight hundred, and Williams is rarely mistaken. Forward I" Elliott placed hlmself at the head of his forlorn hope and drew his saber. With those who knew him, this meant grim work somewhere.    Cundiff spoke to Langhorne upon his right:    " Have you said your prayers, Captain?"    "Too late now. Those who pray best pray first."    From a walk the horses moved into a trot. Elliott threw his eyes backward over his men and cried out:    "Keep your pistols dry. It will be hot work on the other side:"    As they struck the water some Indian skirmishers In front of the ambush opened, fire. The bullets threw the white foam up in front of the leading files, but did no damage. By and by the stray shots deepened into a volley.    Elliott spoke again, and no more after until the battle was finished: "Steady men!"    Vain warning! The rocks were not surer and firmer. In the rear the column, four deep and well in hand, thundered after the, advance. Struggling through the deep water, Elliott gained the bank unscathed. Then the fight grew desperate. The skirmishers were driven in pell-mell, the ten men pressing on silently. As yet  no American had fired a. pistol. A yell arose from the woods, long, wild, piercing-a yell that had exultation and murder in it. Wildly shrill and defiant, Shelby's bugle answered it. Then the woods In a. moment started into infernal life. Seven hundred muskets flashed out fron1 the gloom. A powder pall enveloped the advance, and when the smoke lifted Elliott was under his dead horse, badly wounded; Cundiff's left arm was dripping blood; Langhorne, and Winship, and McDougall were down and bleeding; Fell, shot through the thigh, still kept his seat, and Wood, his left wrist disabled, pressed on with the bridle in his teeth, and his right arm using his unerring revolver. Kirtley and Rudd and Chiles and Ras. Woods alone of the ten were untouched, and they stood over their fallen comrades, fighting desperately. The terrible volley had reached the column in the river, and a dozen saddles were emptied. The dead the falls received; the wounded were caught up by their comrades and saved from death by drowning. Shelby pressed right onward. At intervals the stern notes of the bugles rang out, and at intervals a great hearty cheer came from the ranks of the Americans. Some horses fell in the stream never to rise again, for the bullets plowed up the column and made stark work on every side. None faltered. Pouring up from the river as a great tide the men galloped into line on the right and left of the road and waited under fire until the last man had made his landing sure. The Englishman rode by Shelby's side, a battle light on his fair face-a face that was, alas! tno soon to be wan and gray and drawn with agony. The attack was a hurricane. Thereafter no man knew how the killing went on. The battle was a massacre. The Mexicans first broke, and after them the Indians. No quarter was shown.    "Kill," kill," resounded from the woods, and the roar of the revolver volleys told how the Americans were at work. The Englishman's horse was killed. He seized another and mounted it. Fighting on the right of the road, he went ahead even of his commander.    The mania of battle seemed to have taken possession of his brain. A musket ball shattered his left leg from the ankle to the knee. He turned deadly pale, but he did not halt. Fifty paces further, and another ball, striking him fair in the breast, knocked him clear from the saddle. This time he did not rise. The blood that stained all his garments crimson was his life's blood. He saw death creeping slowly towards him with outstretched skeleton hands, and he faced him with a smile. The rough, bearded men took him up tenderly and bore him backward to the river's edge. His wounds were dressed and a soft bed of blankets made for him. In vain. Beyond human care or skill, he lay in the full glory of the summer sunset, waiting for something he had tried long and anxiously to gain.    The sounds of the strife died away. While pursuit was worth victims, the pursuit went on-merciless, vengeful, unrelenting. The dead were neither counted nor buried. Over two hundred fell in the chapparal and died there. The impenetrable nature of the undergrowth alone saved the remainder of the fugitives.   Hundreds abandoned their horses and threw away their guns. Not a prisoner remained to tell of the ambush or the number of the foe. The victory was dearly bought, however. Thirty-seven wounded on the part of Shelby needed care; nineteen of his dead were buried before the sun went down; and eight the waters of the river closed over until the judgment day.    An hour before sunset the Englishman was still alive.    " Would you have a priest?" Shelby asked him, as he bent low over the wounded man, great marks of pain on his fair, stern face.    " None. No word nor prayer can avail me now. I shall die as I have lived."    "Is there any message you would leave behind? Any token to those who may watch and wait long for your coming? Any farewell to those beyond the sea, who know and love you?"    His eyes softened just a little, and the old hunted look died out from llis features.    "Who among you speaks French?" he asked.    " Governor Reynolds," was the reply.    "Send him to me, please."    It was done. Governor Reynolds came to the man's bedside, and with him a crowd of soldiers. He motioned them away. His last words on earth were for the ears of one man alone, and this is his confession, a free translation of which was given the author by Governor Reynolds, the original being placed in the hands of the British :i\1inister in Mexico, Sir James Scarlett:    "I was the youngest son of an English Baron, born, perhaps, to bad luck, and certainly to ideas of life that were crude and unsatisfactory. The army was opened to me, and I entered it. A lieutenant at twenty·two in the Fourth Royals, I had but one ambition, that to rise in my profession and take rank among the great soldiers of the nation. I studied hard, and soon mastered the intricacies of the art, but promotion was not easy, and there was no war.    "In barracks the life is an idle one with the officers, and at times they grow impatient and fit for much that is reprehensible and unsoldierly. We were quartered at Tyrone, in Ireland, where a young girl lived who was faultlessly fair and beautiful. She was the toast of the regiment. Other officers older and colder than myself admired her and flattered her; I praised her and worshiped her. Perhaps it was an infatuation; to me at least it was immortality and religion.    One day,I remember it yet, for men are apt to remember those thing which change the whole current of the blood, I sought her out and told her ot my love. Whether at my vehemence or my desperation, I know not, but she turned pale and would have left me without an answer. The suspense was unbearable, and I pressed the poor thing harder and harder: At last she turned at bay, wild, tremulous, and declared through her tears that she did not and could not love me. The rest was plain. A young cornet in the same regiment, taller by a head than I, and blonde and boyish, had baffled us all, and had taken from me, what in my bitter selfishness, I could not see that In ever had.    Maybe my brain has not been always clear. Sometimes I have thought that a cloud would come between the past and present and that I could not see plainly what had taken place in all the desolate days o{my valueless life. Sometimes I have prayed, too. I believe even the devils pray no matter how impious or useless such prayer may be.     I need not detail all the ways a baffled lover has to overthrow the lover who is successful. I pursued the cornet with insults and bitter words, and yet 1e avoided me. One day I struck him, and such was the indignation exhibited by his comrades, that he no longer considered. A challenge followed the blow, and then a meeting. Good people say that the devil helps his own. Caring very little for God or devil, I fought him at daylight and killed him.    Since then I have been an outcast and a wanderer. Tried by a military commission lind disgraced from all rank. I went first to India and sought desperate service wherever it was to be found. Wounded often and scorched by fever, I could not die. In the Crimea the old, hard fortune followed me, and it was the same struggle with bullets that always ga.ve pain without pain's antidote.    No rest anywhere. Perhaps I lived the life that was in me. Who knows? Let him who is guiltless cast the first stone. There is much blood upon my hands, and here and there a good deed that will atone a little, it may be, in the end. Of my life in America it is needless to talk. Aimless, objectless, miserable, I am here dying today as a man dies who has neither fear nor hope. I thank you very much for your patience, and for all these good men would have done for, me, but the hour has come. Good.bye."    He lifted himself up and turned his face fair to the west. Some beams of the setting sun, like a benediction, rested upon the long blonde hair, and upon the. white set lips, drawn now and gray with agony. No man spoke in all the rugged band, flushed with victory, and weary with killing. In the trees a little breeze lingered, and home birds flitted and sang, though far apart.    For a few moments the Englishman lay as one asleep. Suddenly he roused himself and spoke: "It is so dreary to die in the night. One likes to have the sun light for this." Governor Reynolds stooped low as if to listen, drew back and whispered a prayer. The man was dead.

CHAPTER VIII.      EVIL tidings have wings and fly as a bird. Through some process, no matter what, and over some roads, no matter where, the news was carried to General Jeanningros, holding outermost watch at Monterey, that Shelby had sold all his cannon and muskets, all his ammunition and war supplies, to Governor Biesca, a loyal follower of Benito Juarez. Straightway the Frenchman flew into a passion and made some vows.    "Let me but get my hands upon these Americans," he said, "these canaille, and after that we can see." He did get his hands upon them, but in lieu of the sword they bore the olive branch. .    The march into the interior from the Salinas river was slow and toilsome. Very weak and sore, the wounded had to be waited for and tenderly carried along. To leave them would have been to murder them, for all the country was up in arms, seeking for some advantage which never came to gain the mastery over the Americans.    At night and from afar, the outlying guerrillas would make great show of attack, discharging platoons of musketry at intervals, and charging upon the picquets at intervals, but never coming seriously to blows. This kind of warfare, however, while it was not dangerous, was annoying. It interfered with the sleep of the soldiers and kept them constantly on the alert. They grew sullen in some instances and threatened reprisals. Shelby's unceasing vigilance detected the plot before it had culminated, and one morning before reaching Lampasas, he ordered the column under arms that he might talk to the men.    There are some signs among you of bad discipline," he said, " and I have called you out that you may be told of it. What have you to complain about? Those who follow on your track to kill you? Very well, complain of them if you choose, and fight them to your heart's content, but lift not a single hand against the Mexicans who are at home and the non-combatants. We are invaders, it is true but we are not murderers. Those who follow me are incapable of this; those who are not shall not follow me. From this moment forward I regard you all as soldiers, and if I am mistaken in my estimate, and if amid the ranks of those who have obeyed me for four years some marauders have crept in, I order now that upon these a soldier's work be done. Watch them well. He who robs, he who insults women, he who oppresses the unarmed and the aged, is an outcast to all the good fellowship of this command and shall be driven forth as an enemy to us all. I:creafter be as you have ever been, brave true and honorable,"    There was no longer any more mutiny. The less disciplined felt the moral pressure of their comrades. The more unscrupulous set the Mexicans on one side and the Americans on the other, and elected to keep company in the ranks which alone could shelter and protect them. The marches became shorter and the bivouacs less pleasant. Although it was not yet time for the rainy season, rain fell in the more elevated mountain ranges, and some storms made travel impossible. Now and then some days of camping, too, were requisite-days in which arms were inspected  jealously. The American horses were undergoing acclimatization, and in the inevitable fear which develops like the affectionate cavalryman sits by his horse until the crisis is passed. Well nursed, this fever is not dangerous. At the crisis, however, woe to the steed who loses his blanket, and woe to the rider who sleeps while the cold night air is driving in death through every pore. Accordingly as the respiration is checked or encouraged is the balance for or against the life of the horse. There horses were gold, and hence the almost paternal solicitude.    Dr. John S. Tisdale, the lord of many patients and pillboxes today in Platte, was the veterinary surgeon, and from the healer of men he had become to be the healer of horses. Shaggy-headed and wide of forehead in the regions of ideality, he had a new name for every disease, and a new remedy for every symptom. An excellent appetite had given him a hearty laugh. During all the long night watches he moved about as a Samaritan, his kindly face set in its frame-work of gray-his fifty years resting as lightly upon him as the night air upon the mountains of San Juan de Aguilar.    He prayeth well who smoketh well, and the good Doctor's supplications went up all true and rugged many a time from his ancient pipe when the bare frosts fell and deep sleep came down upon the camp as a silent angel to scatter sweet dreams of home and native land. Good nursing triumphed. The crisis of the climate passed away, and from the last tedious camp the column moved rapidly on toward Lampasas. Dangers thickened. Content to keep the guerrillas at bay, Shelby had permitted no scouting parties and forbidden all pursuit.    "Let them alone," he would say to those eager for adventure,  and husband your strength. In a land of probable giants we have no need to hunt possible chimeras."    These guerrillas, however, became emboldened. On the trail of a timid or wounded thing they are veritable wolves. Their long gallop can never tire. In the night they are superb. Upon the flanks, in the front or rear, it is one eternal ambush-one incessant rattle of musketry which harms nothing, but which yet annoys like the singing of mosquitoes. At last they brought about a swift reasoning-one of those sudden things which leave little behind save a trail of blood and a moment of savage killing. The column had reached to within two day's journey of Lampasas. Some spurs of the mountain ran down to the road, and some clusters of palm trees grouped themselves at intervals by the wayside. The palm is a pensive tree, having a voice in the wind that is sadder than the pine-a sober, solemn voice, a voice like the sound of ruined cerements when the corpse is given to the coffin.    Even in the sunlight they are dark; even in the tropics no vine clings to them, no blossom is born to .them, no bird is housed by them, and no flutter of wings makes music for them. Strange and shapely, and coldly chaste, they seem like human and desolate things, standing all alone in the midst of luxurious nature, unblessed of the soil, and unloved of the dew and the sunshine.      In a grove of these the column halted for the night. Beyond them was a pass guarded by crosses. In that treacherous land these are a growth indigenous to the soil. They flourish no where else in such abundance. Wherever a deed of violence is done, a cross is planted; wherever a traveler is left upon his face in a pool of blood, a cross is reared: wherever a grave is made wherein lies the murdered one, there is seen a cross. No matter who does the deed whether Indian, or don, or commandante, a cross must mark the spot, and as the pious wayfarer journeys by he lays all reverently a stone at the feet of the sacred symbol, breathing a pious prayer and telling a bead or two for the soul's salvation. On the left a wooded bluff ran down abruptly to a stream. Beyond the stream and near the palms, a grassy bottom spread itself out, soft and grateful. Here the blankets were spread, and here the horses grazed their fill. A young moon, clear and white, hung low in the west, not sullen nor red, but a tender moon full of the beams that lovers seek, and full of the voiceless imagery which gives passion to the songs of the night, and pathos to deserted and dejected swains.    As the moon set the horses were gathered together and tethered in amid the palms. Then a deep silence fell upon the camp, for the sentinels were beyond its confines, and all within side slept the sleep of the tired and healthy.    It may have been midnight: it certainly was cold and dark. The fires had gone out, and there was a white mist like a shroud creeping up the stream and settling upon the faces of the sleepers. On the far right a single pistol shot arose, clear and resonant. Shelby. who slumbered like a night bird, lifted himself up from his blankets and spoke in an undertone to Thrailkill:    " Who has the post at the mouth of the pass?"    "Jo. Macey."    "Then something is stirring. Macey never fired at a shadow in his life."    The two men listened. One a grim guerrilla himself, with the physique of a Cossack end the hearing of a Comanche. The other having in his hands the lives of all the silent and inert sleepers lying still and grotesque under the white shroud of the mountain mist.    Nothing was heard for an hour. The two men went to sleep again, but not to dream. Of a sudden and unseen the mist was lifted, and in its place a sheet of flame so near to the faces of the men that it might have scorched them. Two hundred Mexicans had crept down the mountain, and to the edge of the stream, and had fired point blank into the camp. It seemed a miracle, but not a man was touched. Lying flat upon the ground and wrapped up in their blankets, the whole volley, meant to be murderous, had swept over them. Shelby was the first upon his feet. His voice rang out clear and faultless, and without a tremor:  " Give them the revolver. Charge!" Men awakened from deep sleep grapple with spectres slowly. These Mexicans were spectres. Beyond the stream and in amid the sombre shadows of the palms, they were invisible. Only the powder pall was on the water where the mist had been.    Unclad, barefooted, heavy with sleep, the men went straight for the mountain, a revolver in each hand, Shelby leading. From spectres the Mexicans had become to be bandits. No quarter was given or asked. The rush lasted until the game was flushed, the pursuit until the top of the mountain was gained. Over ragged rock and cactus and dagger-trees' the hurricane poured. The roar of the revolvers was deafening. Men died and made no moan, and the wounded were recognized only by their voices. When it was over the Americans had lost in killed eleven and in wounded seventeen, most of the latter slightly, thanks to the darkness and the impetuosity of the attack. In crawling upon the camp the Mexicans had tethered their horses upon the further side of the mountain. The most of these fell into Shelby's hands, together with the bodies of the two leaders, Juan Anselmo, a renegade priest, and Antonio Flores, a young Cuban who had sold his sister to a wealthy haciendaro and turned robber, and sixty·nine of their followers. It was noon the next day before the march was resumed-noon with the sun shining upon the fresh graves of eleven dauntless    Americans sleeping their last sleep, amid the palms and the crosses, until the resurrection day. There was a grand fandango at Lampasas when the column reached the city. The bronzed, foreign faces of the strangers attracted much of curiosity and more of comment; but no notes in the music jarred, no halt in the flying feet of the dancers could be discovered. Shelby camped just beyond the suburbs, unwilling to trust his men to the blandishments of so much beauty, and to the perils of so much nakedness.    Stern camp guards soon sentinelled the soldiers, but as the night deepened their devices increased, until a good company had escaped all vigilance and made a refuge sure with the sweet and swarthy senoritas singing:  "0 yen! amal Eresalma. Soy corazon."    There were three men who stole out together in mere wantonness and exuberance of life-obedient, soldierly men-who were to bring back with them a tragedy without a counterpart in all their history. None saw Boswell, Walker and Crockett depart untIl whole command saw them return again, Boswell slashed from chin to waist, Walker almost dumb from a bullet through cheeks and tongue, and Crockett, sober and unhurt, yet having over him the somber light of as wild a deed as any that stands out from all the lawless past of that' lawless land.    These men, when reaching Lampases, floated into the flood tide of the fandango, and danced until the red lights shone with an unnatural brilliancy-until the fiery catalan consumed what little of discretion the dancing had left. They sallied out late at night, flushed with drink, and having over them the glamour of enchanting women. They walked on apace in the direction of the camp, singing snatches of Bacchanal songs, and laughing boisterously under the moonlight which flooded all the streets with gold. In the doorway of a house a young :M:exican girl stood, her dark face looking out coquettishly from her fringe of dark hair. The men spoke to her, and she, in her simple, girlish fashion, spoke to the men. In Mexico this meant nothing. They halted, however, and Crockett advanced from the rest and laid his hand upon the girl's shoulder. Around her head and shoulders she wore a boa. This garment answers at the same time for bonnet and bodice. 'When removed the head is uncovered and the bosom is exposed. Crockett meant no real harm, although he asked her for a kiss. Before she had replied to him, he attempted to take it.    The hot Southern blood flared up all of a sudden at this, and her dark eyes grew furious in a moment. As she drew back from him in proud scorn, the rebosa came off, leaving all her bosom bare, the long, luxuriant hair falling down upon and over it as a cloud that would hide its purity and innocence. Then she uttered a low, feminine cry as a signal, followed instantly by a rush of men who drew knives and pistols as they came on. The Americans had no weapons. Not dreaming of danger, and being within sight almost of camp, they had left their revolvers behind. Boswell was stabbed three times, though not seriously, for he was a powerful man, and fought his assailants off. Walker was shot through his tongue and both cheeks, and Crockett, the cause of the whole melee, escaped unhurt. No pursuit was attempted after the first swift work was over. Wary of reprisals. the Mexicans hid themselves as suddenly as they had sallied out. There was a young man, however, who walked close to Crockett-a young :Mexican who spoke no word, and who yet kept pace with the American step by step.      At first he was not noticed. Before the camp guards were reached Crockett, now completely sobered, turned upon him and asked:    "Why do you follow me?"    "That you may lead me to your General."    "What do you wish with my General?"    "Satisfaction."    At the firing in the city a patrol guard had been thrown out who arrested the whole party and carried it straight to Shelby. He was encamped upon a wide margin of bottom land, having a river upon one side, and some low mountain ridges upon the other. The ground where the blankets were spread was velvety with grass. There was a bright moon; the air blowing from the grape gardens and the apricot orchards of Lampasa was fragrant and delicious, and the soldiers were not sleeping.    Under the solace of such surroundings Shelby had relaxed a little of that grim severity he always manifested toward those guilty of unsoldierly conduct, and spoke not harshly to the three men. When made acquainted with their hurts, he dismissed them instantly to the care of Dr. Tisdale.    Crockett and the MIexican still lingered, and a crowd of some fifty or sixty had gathered around. The first told his story of the melee, and told it truthfully. The man was too brave to lie. As an Indian listening to the approaching footsteps of one whom he intends to scalp, the young Mexican listened as a granite pillar vitalized to the whole recital. When it was finished he went up close to Shelby, and said to him, pointing his finger at Crockett:    "That man has outraged my sister. I could have killed him, but I did not. You Americans are brave, I know; will you be generous as well, and give me satisfaction?" Shelby looked at Crockett, whose bronzed face, made sterner in the moonlight, had upon it a look of curiosity. He at least did not understand what was coming.    "Does the Mexican speak truth, Crockett?" was the question asked by the commander of his soldier.    "Partly; but I meant no harm to the woman. I am incapable of that. Drunk I know I was, and reckless, but not willfully guilty, General."    Shelby regarded him coldly. His voice was so stern when he spoke again that the brave soldier hung his head:    "What business had you to lay your hands upon her at all? How often must I repeat to you that the man who does these things is no follower of mine? Will you give her brother satisfaction?"    He drew his revolver almost joyfully and stood proudly up, facing his accuser.    "Nol no! not the pistol!" cried the :Mexican;" I do not understand the pistol. The knife, Senor General; is the American afraid of the knife?"    He displayed, as he spoke, a keen, glittering knife and held it up in the moonlight. It was white, and lithe. and shone in contrast with the dusky hand which grasped it.    Not a muscle of Crockett's face moved. He spoke almost gently as he turned to his General:      "The knife, ahh well, so be it. Will some of you give me a knife?    A knife wits handed him and a ring was made. About four hundred soldiers formed the outside circle of this ring. These, bearing torches in their hands. cast a red glare of light upon the arena. The ground under foot was as velvet. The moon, not yet full, and the sky without a cloud, rose over all. calm and peaceful in the summer night. A hush, as of expectancy, fell upon the camp.    Those who were asleep, slept on; those who were awake seemed as under the influence of an intangible dream.    Shelby did not forbid the fight. He knew it was a duel to the death, and some of the desperate spirit of the combatants passed into his own. He merely spoke to an aide:    " Go for Tisdale. 'When the steel has finished the surgeon may begin." Both men stepped fearlessly into the arena. A third form was there unseen. invisible, and even in hi8 presence the traits of the two nations were uppermost. The Mexican made the sign of the cross, the American tightened his sabre belt. Both may have prayed, neither, however, audibly.    They had no seconds; perhaps none were needed. The :Mexican took his stand about midway the arena and waited. Crockett grasped his knife firmly and advanced upon him. Of the two, he was the taller by a head and physically the strongest. Constant familiarity with danger for four years had given him a confidence the Mexican may not have felt. He had been wounded three times. one of which wounds was scarcely healed. This took none of his manhood from him, however. Neither spoke. The torches flared a little in the night wind, now beginning to rise, and the long grass rustled curtly under foot.    Afterward its green had become crimson.    Between them some twelve inches of space now intervened. The men had fallen back upon the right and the left for their commander to see, and he stood looking fixedly at the two as he would upon a line of battle. Never before had he gazed' upon so strange a sight.    That great circle of bronzed faces, eager and fierce in the flare of torches, had something monstrous yet grotesque about it. The civilization of the century had been rolled back, and they were in a Roman circus, looking down upon the arena, crowded with gladiators and jubilant with that strangest of war·cries: Morituri tealutant!    The attack was the lightning's flash. The Mexican lowered his head, set his teeth hard, and struck fairly at Crockett's breast. The American made a half face to the right, threw his left arm forward as a shield, gathered the deadly steel in his shoulder to the hilt and struck home. A great stream of blood spurted in his face. The tense form of the Mexican bent as a willow wand in the wind, swayed helplessly, and fell backward lifeless, the knife rising up as a terrible protest above the corpse. The man's heart was found.    Cover him up from sight. No need of Dr. Tisdale here.    There was a wail of women on the still night air, a shudder of regret among the soldiers, a dead man on the grass, a sister broken· hearted and alone for evermore, and a freed spirit some where out in eternity with the unknown and the infinite.

CHAPTER IX.      GENERAL Jeanningros held Monterey with a garrison of five thousand French and Mexican soldiers. Among them was the Foreign Legion-composed of Americans, English, Irish, Arabs, Turks, Germans and Negroes-and the Third French Zouaves, a regiment unsurpassed for courage and discipline in any army in any nation on earth. This regiment afterward literally passed away from service at Gravelotte. Like the old Guard at Waterloo, it was destroyed.    Jeanningros was a soldier who spoke English, who had gray hair, who drank absinthe, who had been in the army thirty years, who had been wounded thirteen times, and who was only a general of brigade; His discipline was all iron. Those who transgressed, those who were found guilty at night were shot in the morning.    He never spared what the court martial had condemned. There was a ghastly dead wall in Monterey, isolated, lonesome, forbidding terrible, which had seen many a stalwart form shudder and fall, many a young, fresh, dauntless face go down stricken in the hush of the morning. The face of this wall, covered all over with warts, with excrescences, with scars, had about it a horrible small-pox.     Where the bullets had plowed it up were the traces of the pustules. The splashes of blood left by the slaughter dried there. In the sunlight these shone as sinister blushes upon the countenance of that stony and inanimate thing, peering out from an inexorable ambush waiting.    Speaking no word for the American, and setting down naught to the credit side of his necessities or his surroundings, those who had brought news to Jeannlngros of Shelby's operations at Piedras Negras had told him as well of the cannon sold as of the arms and ammunition. Jeanningros pad waited patiently and had replied to them:    "Wait a while. We must catch them before we hang them."    While he was waiting to lay hands upon them, Shelby had marched tl) within a mile of the French outposts at Monteray. He came as a soldier, and he meant to do a soldier's work. Pickets were thrown forward, the horses were fed, and Governor Reynolds put in most excellent French this manner of a note:    GENERAL .TEANNINGROS, Commander at Monterey.-General: I have the honor to report that I am within one mile of your fortifications with my command. Preferring exile to surrender, I have left my own country to seek service in that held by His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor Maximilian. Shall it be peace or war between us? If the former, and with your permission, I shall enter your lines at once, claiming at your hands that courtesy due from one soldier to another. If the latter. I propose to attack Immediately. Very respectfully. yours, Jo. O. SHELBY.    Improvising a flag of truce, two fearless soldiers, John Thrailikill and Rainy McKinney, bore it boldly into the public square at Monterey.    This flag was an apparition. The long roll was beaten, the garrison stood to their arms, mounted orderlies galloped hither and thither, and Jeanningros himself, used all his life to surprises, was attracted by the soldierly daring of the deed. He received the message and answered it favorably, remarking to Thrailkill, as he handed him the reply:    "Tell your general to march in immediately. He is the only soldier that has yet come out of Yankeedom." Jeanningros' reception was as frank and open as his speech.    That night, after assigning quarters to the men, he gave a banquet to the officers. Among those present were General Magruder, Ex-Senator Trusten Polk, Ex-Governor Thomas C. Reynolds, General T. C. Hindman, General E. Kirby Smith, General John B. Clark, General Shelby, and many others fond of talk, wine and adventure.    Jeanningros was a superb host. His conversation never tired of the ·Crimea, of Napoleon IlI's coup d'etat, of the Italian campaign, of ·the march to Pekin, of Algeria, of all the great soldiers he had .known, and of all the great campaigns he had participated in. The civil war In America was discussed In all of its vivid and somber lIights, and no little discussion carried on as to the probable effect peace would have upon Maximilian's occupation of Mexico. Jeanningros was emphatic in all of his declarations. In reply to a question asked by Shelby concerning the statesmanship of the Mexican Emperor, the French General replied:    "Ah, the Austrian; you should see him to understand him."    More of a scholar than a king, good at botany, a poet on occasions, a traveler who gathers curiosities and writes books, a saint over his wine and a sinner among his cigars, in love with his wife, believing more in manifest destiny than drilled battalions, good Spaniard in all but deceit and treachery, honest, earnest, tender-hearted and sincere, his faith is too strong in the liars who surround him, and his soul is too pure for the deeds that must be done. He cannot kill as we Frenchmen do. He knows nothing of diplomacy. In a nation of thieves and cutthroats, he goes devoutly to mass, endows hospitals, laughs a good man's laugh at the praises of the blanketed rabble, says his prayers and sleeps the sleep of the gentleman and the prince. But his days are numbered; nor can all the power of France keep his crown upon his head, if, indeed, it can keep that head upon his shoulders."    The blunt soldier checked himself suddenly. The man had spoken over his wine; the courtier never speaks.     Has he the confidence of Bazaine?" asked General Clark. Jeanningros gave one of those untranslatable shrugs which are a volume, and drained his goblet before replying.    "The Marshal, you mean. Oh! the Marshal keeps his own secrets. Besides I have not seen the :Marshal since coming northward. Do you go further, General Clark?"    The diplomatist had met the diplomatist. Both smiled; neither referred to the subject again. Daylight shone in through the closed shutters before the party separated-the Americans to sleep, the Frenchman to sign a death warrant.     A young lieutenant of the Foreign Legion, crazed by that most damnable of drinks, absinthe, had deserted from outpost duty in a moment of temporary insanity. For three days he wandered about, taking no note of men or things, helpless and imbecile. On the morning of the fourth day his reason was given back to him. None knew better than himself the nature of the precipice upon which he stood. Before him lay the Rio Grande. the succor beyond an asylum, safety; behind him the court martial, the sentence, the horrible wall, splashed breast high with blood, the platoon, the leveled muskets-death. He never faltered. Returning to the outpost at which he had been stationed, he saluted its officer and said:    "Here l am."    "Indeed. And who are you?"    "A deserter."    " AhI but Jeanningros shoots deserters. Why did you not keep on, since you had started?"    "No matter. I am a Frenchman and I know how to die."    They brought him in while Jeanningros was drinking his generous wine, and holding high revelry with his guests. When the morning came he was tried. No matter for anything the poor young soldier could say, and he said but little. At sunrise upon the next morning he was to die. When Jeanningros awoke late in the afternoon there was a note for him. Its contents, in substance, was as follows:    "I do not ask for my life-only for the means of disposing of it.    I have an old mother in France who gave me to the country, and who blessed me as she said good-bye. Under the law, General, if I am shot, my property goes to the State; if I shoot myself my mother gets it. It is a little thing a soldier asks of his General, who has medals, and honors, and, maybe, a mother, too-but for the sake of the uniform I wore at Soverino, is it asking more than you can grant when I ask for a revolver and a bottle of brandy?"    Through his sleepy, half·shut eyes Jeanningros read the message to the end. When he had finished he called an aide.    "Take to the commandant of the prison this order."    The order was for the pistol and the brandy.    That afternoon and night the young Lieutenant wrote, and drank, and made his peace with all the world. What laid beyond he knew not, nor any man born of woman. There was a little light in the east and a little brandy in the bottle. But the letters had all been written, and the poor woman in France would get her just due after all.    Turn out the guard! For what end? No need of soldiers there-rather the coffin, the prayer of the priest, the grave that God blessed though by man decreed unhallowed. French to the last, the Lieutenant had waited for the daylight, had finished his bottle, and had scattered his brains over the cold walls of his desolate prison. Jeannlngros heard the particulars duly related, and had dismissed the Adjutant with an epigram:    "Clever fellow. He was entitled to two bottles Instead of one."    Such Is French discipline. All crimes but one may be condoned-desertion never. Preceding Shelby's arrival In Monterey, there had come also Col. Francois Achille Dupin, a Frenchman who was known as .. The Tiger of the Tropics." What he did would fill a volume. Recorded here, no reader would believe It-no Christian would Imagine such warfare possible. He was past sixty, tall as Tecumseh, straight as a rapier, with a seat in the saddle like an English guardsman, and a waist like a woman. For deeds of desperate daring he had received more decorations than could be displayed upon the right breast of his uniform. His 'hair and beard, snowy white, contrasted strangely with a stern, set face that had been bronzed by the sun and the wind of fifty campaigns.    In the Chinese expedition this man had led the assault upon the Emperor's palace, wherein no defender escaped the bayonet and no woman the grasp of the brutal soldiery. Sack and pillage and murder and crimes without a name all were there, and when the fierce carnage was done, Dupin, staggering under the weight of rubies and pearls and diamonds, was a disgraced man. The inexorable jaws of a French court martial closed down upon him, and he was dismissed from service. It was on the trial that he parodied the speech of Warren Hastings and declared:    "When I saw mountains of gold and precious stones piled up around me, and when I think of the paltry handfuls taken away, by G-d, Mr. President, I am astonished at my own moderation."    As they stripped his decorations and his ribbons from his breast he drew himself up with a touching and graceful air, and said to the officer, saluting: "They. have left me nothing but my scars."    Such a man, however, tiger and butcher as he was, had need of the army and the army had need of him. The Emperor gave him back his rank, his orders, his decorations, and gave him as well his exile Into Mexlco, Maximilinn refused him; Bazaine found work for his sword. Even then that fatal quarrel was in its beginning which, later, was to leave a kingdom defenseless, and an Emperor without an arsenal or a siege-gun. Dupin was ordered to recruit a regiment of Centre Guerillas, that is to say a regiment of Free Companions who were to be superbly armed and mounted, and who were to follow the Mexican guerrillas through copse and chapparal, through lowland and lagoon, sparing no man upon whom hands were laid, fighting all men who had arms in their hands, and who could be found or brought to bay.    Murder with Dupin was a fine art. Mistress or maid he had none. That cold, brown face, classic a little in its outlines, and retaining yet a little of its fierce southern beauty, never grew soft save when the battle was wild and the wreck of the carnage ghastly and thick. On the eve of conflict he had been known to smile.    "When he laughed or sang his men made the sign of the cross. They knew death was ready at arm's length, and that in an hour he would put his sickle in amid the rows and reap savagely a fresh harvest of simple yet offending Mexicans. Of all things left to him from the sack of that Pekin palace, one thing alone remained, typical of the tiger thirst that old age, nor disgrace, nor wounds, nor rough foreign service, nor anything human, had power potent enough to quench or assuage. Victor Hugo, in his" Toilers of the Sea," has woven it into the story after this fashion, looking straight, perhaps, into the eyes of the cruel soldier who, in all his life, has never listened to prayer or priest:    " A piece of silk stolen during the last war from the palace of the Emperor of China represented a shark eating a crocodile, who is eating a serpent, who is devouring an eagle, who is preying on a swallow, who is in his turn eating a caterpillar. All nature which is under our observation is thus alternately devouring and devoured. They prey, prey on each other."    Dupin preyed upon his species. He rarely killed outright. He had a theory, often put into practice, which was diabolical.    "When you kill a Mexican," he would say, II that is the end of him. When you cut off an arm or a leg, that throws him upon the charity of his friends, and then two or three must support him. Those who make corn can not make soldiers It is economy to amputate."    Hundreds thus passed under the hands of his surgeons. His maimed and mutilated were in every town from Bier to Monterey. On occasions when the march had been pleasant and the wine generous, he would permit chloroform for the operation. Otherwise not. It distressed him for a victim to die beneath the knife.    "You bunglers endanger my theory," he would cry out to his surgeons. "Why can't you cut without killing?"    The "Tiger of the Tropics" also had his playful moods. He would stretch himself in the sun. overpower one with gentleness and attention, say soft things in whispers, quote poetry on occasions, make of himself an elegant host, serve the wine, laugh low and lightsomely, wake up all of a sudden a demon, and kill.    One instance of this is yet a terrible memory in Monterey.    An extremely wealthy and influential Mexican, Don Vincente Ibarra, was at home upon his hacienda one day about noon as Dupin marched by.  Perhaps this man was a Liberal; certainly he sympathized with Juarez and had done much for the cause in the shape of recruiting and resistance to the predatory bands of Imperialists.    As yet, however, he had taken up no arms, and had paid his proportion of the taxes levied upon him by Jeanningros.    Dupin was at dinner when his scouts brought Ibarra into camp In front of the tent was a large tree in full leaf, whose spreading branches made an extensive and most agreeable shade. Under this the Frenchman had a camp stool placed for the comfort of the Mexican. "Be seated," he said to him in a voice no harsher than the wind among the leaves overhead. "And, waiter, lay another plate for my friend."    The meal was a delightful one. Dupin talked as a subject who had a prince for his guest, and a.s a lover who had a woman for his listener. In the intervals of the conversation he served the wine. Ibarra was delighted. His suspicious Spanish heart relaxed the tension of its grim defense, and he even stroked the tiger's velvet skin, who closed his sleepy eyes and purred under the caress. When the wine was at its full cigars were handed. Behind the white cloud of the smoke, Dupin's face darkened. Suddenly he spoke to Ibarra, pointing up to the tree:    "What a fine shade it makes, Senor? Do such trees ever bear fruit?"    "Never, Colonel. What a question."    "Never? All things are possible with God, why not with a Frenchman?"    "Because a Frenchman believes so little in God, perhaps."    The face grew darker and darker.    "Are your affairs prosperous, Senor?"    "As much so as these times will permit."    "Very good. You have just five minutes in which to make them better. At the end of that time I will hang you on that tree as sure as you are a Mexican. Captain Jacan, turn out the guard!" Ibarra's deep olive face grew ghastly white, and he fell upon his knees. No prayers, no agonizing entreaty, no despairing supplication wrung from a strong man in his agony availed him aught.    At the appointed time his rigid frame swung between heaven and earth, another victim to the mood of one who never knew an hour of penitence or mercy. The tree had borne fruit. And so this manner of a man-this white-haired Dupin-decorated, known to two continents as the" Tiger of the Tropics," who kept four picked Chasseurs to stand guard about and over him night and day, this old-young soldier, with a voice like a school girl and a heart like glacier, came to Monterey and recruited a regiment of Contre-Guerrillas, a regiment that feared neither God, man, the Mexicans nor the devil. Under him as a captain was Charles Ney, the grandson of that other Ney who cried out to D'Erlon at 'Waterloo, "Come and see how a marshal of France dies on the field of battle."    In Captain Ney's company there were two squadrons-a French squadron and an American squadron, the last having for its commander Capt. Frank Moore, of Alabama. Under Moore were one hundred splendid Confederate soldiers who, refusing to surrender, had sought exile, and had stranded upon that inevitable lee shore called necessity. Between the Scylla of short rations and the Charybdis of empty pockets, the only channel possible was the open sea. So into it sailed John C. Moore, Armistead, Williams and the rest of that American squadron which was to become famous from Matamoras to Matehuala.    This much by the way of preface has been deemed necessary in order that an accurate narrative may be made of the murder of Gen. M. M.. Parsons, of Jefferson City, his brother-in-law, Colonel Standish, of the same place, the Hon. A. H. Conrow, of Caldwell county, and three gallant young Irishmen, James Mooney, Patrick Langdon, and MichaeI Monarthy. Ruthlessly butchered in a foreign country, they yet had avengers. When the tale was told to Colonel Dupin, by John Moore, he listened as an Indian in ambush might to the heavy tread of some unwary and approaching trapper. After the story had been finished he asked, abruptly:    "'What would you Americans have."    " Permission," said Moore, to gather up what is left of our comrades and bury what is left."    "And strike a good, fair blow in return? "    "Maybe so, Colonel."    "Then march at daylight with your squadron. Let me hear when you return that not one stone upon another of the robber's rendezvous has been left."    Gen. M. M. Parsons had commanded a division of Missouri infantry with great credit to himself, and with great honor to the State. He was a soldier of remarkable personal beauty, of great dash in battle, of unsurpassed horsemanship, and of that graceful and natural suavity of manner which endeared him to his brother officers and to the men over whom he was placed in command. His brother-in-law, Colonel Standish, was his chief of staff, and a frank, fearless young officer, whom the Missourians knew and admired. Capt. Aaron H. Conrow had, before the war, represented Caldwell county in the Legislature, and had, during the war, been elected to the Confederate Congress. With these three men were three brave and faithful young Irish soldiers, James Mooney, Patrick Langdon and Michael Monarthy-six in all, who, for the crime of being Americans, had to die.    Following in the rear of Shelby's expedition in the vain hope of overtaking it, they reached the neighborhood of Pedras Negras too late to cross the Rio Grande there. A strong body of guerrillas had moved up into the town and occupied it immediately after Shelby's withdrawal. Crossing the river, however, lower down, they had entered Mexico in safety, and· had won their perilous way to Monterey without serious loss or molestation. Not content to go further at that time, and wishing to return to Camargo for purposes of communication with Texas, they availed themselves of the protection of a train of supply wagons sent by Jeanningros, heavily guarded by Imperial Mexican soldiers, to Matamoras. Jeanningros gave them safe conduct as far as possible, and some good advice as well, which advice simply warned them against trusting anything whatever to Mexican courage or Mexican faith.    The wagon train and its escort advanced well on their way to Matamoras-well enough at least to be beyond the range of French succor should the worst come to the worst. But on the evening of the fourth day, in a narrow defile at the crossing of an exceedingly rapid and dangerous stream, the escort was furiously assailed by a large body of Juaristas, checked at once, and finally driven back. General Parsons and his party retreated with the rest until the night's camp was reached, when a little council of war was called by the Americans.    Conrow and Standish were in favor of abandoning the trip for the present, especially as the whole country was aroused and in waiting for the train, and more especially as the guerrillas, attracted by the scent of plunder, were swarming upon the roads and in ambush by every pass and beside the fords of every stream. General Parsons overruled them, and determined to make the venture as soon as the moon arose, in the direction of Camargo.    None took issue with him further. Accustomed to exact obedience, much of the old soldierly spirit was still in existence, and so they followed him blindly and with alacrity. At daylight the next morning the entire party was captured. Believing, however, that the Americans, were but the advance of a larger and more formidable party, the Mexicans neither dismounted nor disarmed them. While at breakfast, and at the word of command from General Parsons, the whole six galloped on under a fierce lire of musketry, unhurt, baffling all pursuit, and gaining some good hours' advantage' over their captors. It availed them nothing, however. About noon of the second day they were again captured, this time falling into the hands of Figueroa, a robber chief as notorious among the Mexicans. as Dupin was among the French.    Short shrift came afterward. Colonel Standish was shot first. When told of the fate intended for him, he bade good-bye to his, comrades, knelt a few moments in silent prayer, and then stood up. firmly, facing his murderers. At the discharge of the musketry platoon, he was dead before he touched the ground. Two bullets, pierced his generous and dauntless heart.     Capt. Aaron H. Conrow died next. He expected no mercy and he made no plea for life. A request to be permitted to write a, a few lines to his wife was denied him, Figueroa savagely ordering the execution to proceed. The firing party shortened the distance between it and their victim, placing him but three feet away from, the muzzles of their muskets. Like Standish he refused to have his eyes bandaged. Knowing but few words of Spanish, he called out in his brave, quick fashion, and in his own language, "Fire!'" and the death he got was certain and instantaneous. He fell within a few paces of his' comrade, dead like him before he touched the, ground.    The last moments of the three young Irish soldiers had now come.  They had seen the stern killing of Standish and Conrow, and they neither trembled nor turned pale. It can do no good to ask what, thoughts were theirs, or if from over the waves of the wide Atlantic some visions came that were strangely and sadly out of place in front. of the chapparal and the sandaled Mexicans. Monarthy asked for a. priest and received one. He was a kind-hearted, ignorant Indian, who would have saved them if he could, but safe from the bloody hands of Figueroa no foreigner had ever yet come. The three men confessed and received such consolation as the living could give to men as good as dead. Then they joined hands and spoke some earnest words together for the brief space permitted them. Langdon the youngest, was only twenty-two. A resident of Mobile when the war commenced, he had volunteered in a battery, had been captured at Vicksburg, and had, later, joined Pindall's battalion of sharp shooters in Parsons' Division. He had a face like a young girl's, it was so fair and fresh. All who knew him loved him. In all the Confederate army there was neither braver nor better soldier. Mooney was a man of fifty-five, with an iron frame and with a gaunt scarred, rugged face that was yet kindly and attractive. He took Langdon in his arms and kissed him twice, once on each cheek, shook hands with Monarthy, and opened his breast. The close, deadly fire was received standing and with eyes wide open. Langdon died without a struggle, Mooney groaned, twice and tried to speak. Death finished the sentence ere it was commenced. Monarthy required the coup de grace. A soldier went close to him, rested the muzzle of his musket against his head and fired. He was very quiet then; the murder was done; five horrible corpses lay in a pool of blood; the shadows deepened; and the cruel eyes of Figueroa roamed, as the eyes of a tiger, from the ghastly faces of the dead to the stern, set face of the living. General Parsons felt that for him, too, the supreme moment had come at last.    Left in that terrible period alone, none this side eternity will ere know what he suffered and endured. Waiting patiently for his sentence, a respite was granted. Some visions of ransom must have crossed Figueroa's mind. Clad in the showy and attraclive uniform of a Confederate major-general, having the golden stars of his rank upon his collar, magnificently mounted, and being withal a remarkably handsome and commanding looking soldier himself, it was for a time at least thought best to hold him a prisoner. His horse even was given back to him, and for some miles further toward Matamoras he was permitted to ride with those who had captured him.    The Captain of the guard immediately in charge of his person had also a very fine horse, whose speed he was continually boasting of. Fortunately this officer spoke English, thus permitting General Parsons to converse with him. Much bantering was had concerning the speed of the two horses. A race was at length proposed. The two men started off at a furious gallop, the American steadily gaining upon the Mexican. Finding himself in danger of being distanced, the Captain drew up and ordered his competitor in the race to halt. Unheeding the command, General Parsons dashed on with the utmost speed. escaping the shots from the revolver of the Mexican, and eluding entirely Figueroa and his command.    Although in a country filled with treacherous and blood-thirsty savages, and ignorant of the roads and the language, General Parsons might have reduced the chances against him in the proportion of ten to one, had he concealed himself in some neighboring chapparal and waited until the night fell. He did not do this, but continued his flight rapidly down the broad highway which ran directly from Monterey to Matamoras. There could be but one result. A large scouting party of Figueroa's forces returning to the headquarters of their chief met him before he had ridden ten miles. again took him prisoner, and again delivered him into the hands of the ferocious bandit.    Death followed almost instantly. None who witnessed the deed have ever told how he died, but three days afterward his body was found stripped by the wayside, literally shot to pieces. Some Mexicans then buried it, marking the unhallowed spot with a cross.    Afterward Figueroa. dressed in the full uniform of General Parsons, was in occupation of Camingo, while the same Colonel Johnson, who had followed Shelby southwardly from Sal: Antonio, held the opposite shore of the Rio Grande on the American side. Figueroa, gloating over the savageness of the deed, and imagining, in his stolid Indian cunning, that the Federal officers would pay handsomely for the spoils of the murdered Confederate, proffered to deliver to him General Parsons' coat, pistols and private papers for a certain specified sum, detailing, at the same time, with revolting accuracy, the merciless particulars of the butchery. Horrified at the cool rapacity of the robber, and thinking only of General Parsons as an American and a brother, Colonel Johnson tried for weeks to entice Figueroa across the river, interiding to do a righteous vengeance upon him. Too wily and too cowardly to be caught, he moved back suddenly into the interior, sending a message afterward to Colonel Johnson full of taunting and defiance.    Who so sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his own blood be shed. Dupin's avengers were on the track: imbued with Dupin's spirit, and having over them the stern memory of Dupin's laconic orders. Leave not one stone upon another. And why should there be habitations when the inhabitants were scattered or killed.    Las Flores was a flower· town, beautiful in name, and beautiful in the blue of the skies which bent over it: in the blue of the mountains which caught the morning and wove for it a gossamer robe of amethyst and pearl; in the song and flow of running water, where women sat and sang, and combed their dusky hair; and in the olden, immemorill, groves, filled with birds that had gold for plumage, and sweet seed and sunshine for mating and wooing songs.    Hlther would come Figueroain the lull of the long marches, and in the relaxation of the nights of ambush, and the days of watching and starving. Booty and beauty, and singing maidens all were there. There red gold would buy right royal kisses, and there feasting and minstrelsy told of the pillage done, and the rapine and slaughter beyond the sweep of the mountains that had cut the sky line. God help all of them who tarried till the American squadron charged into the town, one hundred rank and file, Frank :Moore leading-all who had beard upon their faces or guns within their hands.    A trusty guide had made the morning a surprise. It was not yet daylight. Some white mist, like a corpse abandoning a bier, was creeping up from the lowlands. The music and the lights had died out in the streets. The east, not yet awakened, had on its face the placid pallor of sleep. What birds flew were weary of wing and voiceless in the sober hush of dreamless nature.    Leave not one stone upon another. And the faces of the Americans were set as a flint and the massacre began. Never were six men so terribly avenged. It need not be told what flames were there, what harsh and gutteral oaths, what tawny faces blanched and grew white, what cries and vollies and shrieks and deaths that made no moan arose on the morning, and scared the mist from the water, the paradise birds from their bowers amid the limes and the orange trees. It was over at last. Call the roll and gather up the corpses. Fifteen Americans dead, eleven wounded, and so many Mexicans that you could not count them. Las Flores, the City of the Flowers, had become to be Las Cruces, the City of the Crosses. When the tale was told to Dupin, he rubbed his brown bare hands and lent his arm on his subaltern's shoulder.    "Tell me about it again," he ordered.    The tale was told.    "Oh! brave Americans!" he shouted, "Americans after my own heart. You shall be saluted with slopIng standards and uncovered heads."    The bugles rang out to horse," the regiment got under arms, the American squadron passed in review along the ranks, the flags were lowered and inclined, officers and men uncovered as the files marched down the lines; there were greetings and rejoicings, and ·from the already lengthened life of the white-haired commander five good years of toil and exposure had been taken. For a week thereafter he was seen to smile and to be glad. After that the old wild work commenced again.

CHAPTER X.      IN Monterey, at the time of Shelby's arrival, there was one man who had figured somewhat extensively in a role new to most Americans. This man was the Hon. William M. Gwin, ex-United States Senator and ex-Governor of California. He had been to France and just returned. Accomplished in all of the social graces;  an aristocrat born and a bit of an Imperialist as well; full of wise words and sage reflections; graceful in his conversation and charming over his wine; having the political history of his country as near as a young Catholic does his catechism; fond of the pomp and the paraphernalia of royalty; nothing of a soldier, but much of a diplomatist; a stranger to reverence and a cosmopolitan in religion, he was a right proper man to hold court in Sonora, the Mexican province whose affairs he was to administer upon as a Duke. Napoleon had granted him letters patent for this, and for this he had ennobled him. It is nowhere recorded that he took possession of his province. Granted an audience by Maximilian he laid his plans before him and asked for a prompt installment into the administration of the dukedom. It was refused peremptorily. At the mercy of Bazaine, and having no soldiers worthy the name other than French soldiers, the Mexican Emperor had weighty reasons besides private ones for such refusal. It was not time for the coquetries of empire before that empire had an army, a bank account, and a clean bill of health. Gwin became indignant, Millzaine became amused, and Maximilian became disgusted. In the end the Duke left the country and the guerrillas seized upon the dukedom. When Shelby reached Monterey, ex-Governor Gwin was outward bound for Matamoras, reaching the United States later only to be imprisoned in Fort Jackson, below New Orleans, for several long and weary months. The royal sufferer had most excellent company-although Democratic, and therefore unsympathetic; General John B. Clark, returning about the same time, was pounced upon and duly incarcerated. Gwin attempted to convert him to imperialism, but it ended by Clark bringing Gwin back to Democracy.    And a noble Missourian was "Old" General Clark, as the soldiers loved to call him. Lame from a wound received while leading his brigade gallantly into action at Wilson's Creek, penniless in a land for whose sake he had given up gladly a magnificent fortune, proscribed of the Government, a prisoner without a country, an exile who was not permitted to return in peace, dogmatic and defiant to the last, he went into Fort Jackson a rebel, remained a rebel there, came away a rebel, and a rebel he will continue to be as long as life permits him to use the rough Anglo Saxon oaths which go to make up his rebel vocabulary. On the march into Mexico he had renewed his youth. In the night watches he told tales of his boyhood, and by the camp fires he replenished anew the fires of his memory. Hence all the anecdotes that amused-all the reminiscences which delighted. At the crossing of the Salinas river he fell in beside General Shelby, a musket in his hand, and the old ardor of battle upon his stern and weather-beaten face.    "Where would you go?" asked Shelby.    "As far as you go, my young man."    "Not this day, my oId friend, if I can help it. There are younger and less valuable men who shall take this risk alone. Get out of the ranks, General. The column can not advance unless you do." Forced against his will to retire, he was mad for a week, and only recovered his amiability after being permitted to engage in the night encounter at the Pass of the Palms.    Before marching northward from Monterey, Shelby sought one last interview with General Jeanningros. It was courteously accorded. General Preston, who had gone forward from Texas to open negotiations with Maximilian, and who had reached Mexico City in safety, had not yet reported the condition of his surroundings. It was Shelby's desire to take military service in the Empire since his men had refused to become' the followers of Juarez at Piedns Negras. Knowing that a corps of fifty thousand Americans could be recruited in a few months after a base of operations had once been established, he sought the advice of General Jeanningros to this end, meaning to deal frankly with him, and to discuss fully his plans and purposes.    Jeanningros had grown gray in the service. He acknowledged but one standard of perfection-success. Never mind the means, so only the end was glory and France. The camps had made him cruel; the barracks had given to this cruelty a kind of fascinating rhetoric. Sometimes he dealt in parables. One of these told more of the paymaster than the Zouave, more of Minister Rouber than Marshal McMahon. He would say:    "Napoleon and Maximilian have formed a partnership. To get it well agoing much money has been spent. Some bargains have been bad, and some vessels have been lost. There is a crisis at hand. More capital is needed to save what has already been invested, and 'for one, rather than lose the millions swallowed up yesterday, I would put in as many more millions to-day. It is economy to hold on." Shelby went straight at his work: ' I do not know what you think of things here, General, nor the outcome the future has in store for the Empire, but one thing is certain, I shall tell you the plain truth. The Federal Government has no love for your French occupation of Mexico. If diplomacy can't get you out, infantry divisions will. I left a large army concentrating upon the banks of the Rio Grande. and all the faces of all the men were looking straight forward into Mexico. Will France fight? For one, I hope so; but it seems to me that if your Emperor had meant to be serious in this thing. his plan should have been to have formed an alliance long ago, offensive and defensive with Jefferson Davis. This, in the event of success, would have guaranteed you the whole country, and obliged you as well to have opened the ports of Charleston, Savannah and New Orleans. Better battles could have been fought on the Potomac than on the Rio Grande; surer results would have followed from a French landing at Mobile than at Tampico or Vera Cruz. You have waited too long. Flushed with a triumphant termination of the war, American diplomacy now means the Monroe doctrine, pure and simple, with a little of Yankee brutality and braggadocio thrown in. Give me a port as a basis of operations, and I can organize an American force capable of keeping Maxmilian upon his throne. If left discretionary with me, that port shall be either Guaymas or Mazatlan. The Californians love adventure, and many leaders among them have already sent messengers to me with overtures. My agent at the capital has not yet reported, and, consequently, I am uninformed as to the wishes of the Emperor: but one thing is certain, the French can not remain, and he can not rule over Mexicans with Mexicans. Without foreign aid he is lost. You know Bazaine better than I do, and so what would Bazaine say to all this?"    Jeanningros heard him patiently to the end, answering Shelby as frankly as he had been addressed: "There will be no war between France and the United States, and of this you may rest assured. I can not answer for Marshal Bazaine, nor for his wishes and intentions. There is scant love, however, between his Excellency and Maximilian, because one is a scholar and the other is a soldier: but I do not think the Marshal would be averse to the employment of American soldiers in the service of the Empire. You have my full permission to march to the Pacific, and to take such other steps as will seem best to you-in the matter of which you have just spoken. The day is not far distant when every French. soldier in Mexico will be withdrawn, although this would not necessarily destroy the Empire. Who will take their places? Mexicans. Bah! beggars ruling over beggars, cut·throats lying in wait for cut·throats, traitors on the inside making signs for traitors on the outside to come in. Not thus are governments upheld and administered. Healthy blood must be poured through every effete and corrupted vein of this effete and corrupted nation ere the Austrian can sleep a good man's sleep in his palace of Chepultepec."    The interview ended, and Shelby marched northward to Saltillo. The first camp beyond was upon the battle field of Buena Vista. It was sunset when the column reached the memorable and historic field. A gentle rain in the morning had washed the grass until it shone, had washed the trees until the leaves glistened and smelt of perfume. After the bivouac was made, silence and twilight, as twin ghosts, crept up the glade together. Nest spoke unto nest in the gloaming, and bade good·night as the moon arose. It was an harvest moon, white and splendid and large as a tent-leafed palm. Away over to the left a mountain arose, where the mist gathered and hung dependent as the locks of a giant. The left of the American army had rested there. In its shadows had McKee fallen, and there had Hardin died, and there had the lance's point found Yell's dauntless heart, and there had the young Clay yielded up his precious life in its stainless and its spotless prime. The great ravine still cut the level plain asunder. Rank mesquite grew all along the crest of the deadly hill where the Mississippians formed, and where, black-lipped and waiting, Bragg's battery crouched in ambush at its feet. Shining as a satin band, the broad highway lay; white under the moonlight toward Saltillo-the highway to gain which SantAnna dashed his desperate army in vain -the highway which held the rear and the life and the fame of the Northern handful.    General Hindman, a soldier in the regiment of Col. Jefferson Davis, explored the field under the moon and the stars, having at his back a regiment of younger Americans who, although the actor in a direr and more dreadful war, yet clung on to their earliest superstitions and their spring time faith in the glory and the carnage of Buena Vista. He made the camp a long to be remembered one. Here a squadron charged: there a Lancer regiment, gaily caparisoned in scarlet and gold, crept onward and onward until the battery's dun smoke broke as a wave over pennant and plume; here the grim Northern lines reeled and rallied: there the sandaled Mexicans, rent into fragments, swarmed into the jaws of the ravine, crouching low as the hot tempest of grape and canister rushed over and beyond them; yonder, where the rank grass is greenest and freshest, the uncoffined dead were buried; and everywhere upon the right and the left, the little mounds arose, guarding for evermore the sacred dust of the stranger slain.    The midnight came, and the harvest moon, as a spectral boat, was floating away to the west in a tide of silver and gold. The battlefield lay under the great, calm face of the sky-a sepulchre.    Looking out from his bivouac who knows what visions came to the musing soldier, as grave after grave gave up its dead, and as spirit after spirit put on its uniform and its martial array. Pale squadrons galloped again through the gloom of the powder-pall: again the deep roar of the artillery lent its mighty voice to swell the thunder of the gathering battle; again the rival flags rose and fell in the hot, lit foreground of the fight; again the Lancers charged; piercing and sweet and wildly shrill, the bugles again called out for victory; and again from out the jaws of the cavernous ravine a tawny tide emerged, clutching fiercely at the priceless road, and faIling there in giant windrows as the summer hay when the scythe of the reapers takes the grass that is rankest.    The moon went down. The mirage disappeared, and only the silent and deserted battle-field layout under the stars, its low trees waving in the night wind, and its droning katydids sighing in the grasses above the graves.

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