University of Virginia Library

25. CHAPTER XXV.
THE ATTACK AND RESCUE.

I NOW heard the shrieks of women, the shouts of men,
and the report of fire-arms, all united in one uproarious
din; and my heart bounded with emotions of hope and
fear, such as one in my forlorn situation could alone experience.
That the rancho was attacked, was beyond question;
and should the assailants, whoever they were, prove
victorious, I could reasonably expect life and liberty. It
was probable to my mind, that Morton and Walter had
fallen in with a scouting party and guided them to the
relief of their friends, and were now valiantly fighting for
our deliverance. This of course was mere conjecture;
but it was a natural one; and oh! how I chafed at the
thought, that I could not make one of their number, and
strike a blow against my enemies for the freedom of her I
loved.

For perhaps a quarter of an hour, the sounds of fierce
and sanguinary strife continued; and shrieks, groans,
shouts, curses, and the sharp crack of fire-arms, resounded

from every quarter of the stronghold of the freebooters.
At length the noise of bloody contention began to die
away, and soon after comparative quiet reigned. I now
fairly trembled with anxiety to learn which party had
triumphed. But I was not doomed to be long kept in suspense;
for presently I heard footsteps on the floor above
me, and a voice, which with joy inexpressible I recognized,
exclaim:

“Is it here, villain?”

There was a reply; and the next moment the trap-door
was raised, and I beheld Morton Harley, with a torch in
his hand, bending forward, and endeavoring to peer down
into the gulf of darkness which enveloped me.

“Harry!” he cried, in an anxious tone—“are you
here, alive?”

“Yes! Morton—yes!” I fairly shrieked, in an excess of
joy that almost deprived me of the power of motion; and
I reeled forward like a drunken man, under a very disagreeable
sensation of suffocation. “The ladder!” I
gasped: “the ladder!”

The ladder was instantly lowered; and grasping the
lower portion, I leaned heavily against it for a few moments,
too overcome with joy to attempt an ascent. Feeling
my strength revive, I placed my foot upon the lower
round, and the next thing I remember I was locked in the
embrace of my friend and weeping like a child. Having
thus given vent to emotions that were stifling me, I withdrew
my arms from the neck of Harley, and, looking
eagerly into his face, exclaimed:

“Clara! Clara! tell me she is safe!”

“Heavens!” he replied, with a start: “I have not seen
her! Where is she?” he demanded, turning quickly
round to where he supposed one of Warncliff's men was
standing. “Ha! the fellow has fled,” he continued.
“But no matter: I promised him quarter and liberty if he

would conduct me to you, and he has taken all further responsibility
from me by rashly venturing to try escape
without my aid. But Clara! we must find her if she is to
be found.”

“Yes! yes!” I rejoined, eagerly: “let us make active
search;” and as I spoke, we both rushed out into the area
or inner court.

Here I saw a number of men in a kind of undress uniform,
with arms in their hands, variously occupied, and the
ground strewed with dead bodies, bloody and ghastly
spectacles, over several of which we had to step to cross
to the building from within which I had heard Clara's
voice while on the roof. As we were about to enter,
Walter came rushing out of an adjoining building, and
seeing me, instantly grasped my hand, and said, hurriedly:

“Ah! Walton, thank Heaven you are safe! But my
father—my sister—know you aught of them?”

“Your father is in a vault of yonder building, (and I
pointed to one which adjoined the granary) and Clara we
are searching for—God send we may find her safe!”

At this moment we were all startled by the cry of fire;
and looking around, perceived a thick volume of smoke
issuing from a range of low buildings, on the opposite side
of the granary and adjoining the corral, in which a number
of horses, belonging to the freebooters, were now
kicking and plunging at a furious rate. Several of the
men, who had been engaged in plundering the houses,
came running out at the cry of fire; and seeing at once
the state of affairs, instantly set to work to liberate and
secure the animals. The females, too, whom I had previously
seen—who, during the melee, had been huddled
together in one small room, half frightened out of their
senses—now came pouring into the court, filling the air
with shrieks of terror. A single glance showed me that

Clara was not among them; and bidding Walter fly to
save his father, while I made search for his sister, I darted
into the main dwelling. At the very threshold I stumbled
over the dead body of a Mexican; and by the light of the
torch, which Harley bore in after me, I saw several others
strewed about, weltering in their blood, all apparently
dead, and some of them horribly mutilated.

“The Rangers gave no quarter,” observed Harley.

“Are our friends the Texas Rangers, of whom Walter
spoke?” inquired I.

“Yes! and commanded by that dare-devil Walker,
whose very appellation is a word of terror to his enemies.”

I was too anxious concerning Clara to put further
questions at that moment, and I instantly shouted her
name.

“Who calls?” answered a faint voice above me.

“Ha! she lives!” cried I, in ecstacy; and looking up,
I perceived a trap door in the ceiling, but no means of
reaching it.

The truth flashed upon me at once. This had been her
place of confinement; and by removing the ladder, Warncliff
had both secured her against escape and intrusion.
For this ladder I now looked eagerly, but could not find it.

“Here! take the torch,” cried Harley, “and these
weapons, and remain here till I fetch the ladder from your
dungeon.”

He was absent but a brief time; during which I learned
from Clara that she was so secured by cords as not to be
able to make herself visible to me.

On the ladder being placed against the wall, I mounted
in haste, torch in hand, and soon its ruddy gleams fell
upon the object of my search. She was standing in the
middle of the apartment, neatly attired—her savage
costume having been exchanged for one of a more civilized
appearance—and as I rushed up to her, she sunk into my

arms, with a cry of joy, and fainted. She was still as
lovely as ever; but I could perceive the traces which
grief, fear and anxiety had made upon her pale features.
A strong cord was around her waist, with the other end
made fast to a ring in the floor, by which she had been
confined to a circuit of so many feet. To cut this was the
work of an instant; and lifting her gently, I bore her to
the top of the ladder, where Harley met and assisted me
to lower her to the ground.

There was now a scene of wild confusion in the open
court—men, women and horses all seemingly mixed up
together—while from the low structures, whence the smoke
had first issued, burst broad, lurid sheets of flame. I saw
at a glance that, with the headway the fire now had, it
would be impossible to save any of the buildings, and
consequently that there could be no place of safety within
the walls of the rancho. My first care, therefore, was to
bear the unconscious Clara through the great gate, which
stood wide open in the rear of the building we were in.
Harley accompanied me with the torch; and it was well
he did; for my half Indian costume, unshaved, begrimed,
weather-tanned face, and squalid appearance generally, led
some of the Rangers, who were hurrying out and in, to
mistake me for a Mexican; and more than once, but for
the timely interposition of my friend, I think they would
have done me a serious injury.

Scarcely had I got beyond the walls with my fair burden,
when I was startled by the heavy tramp of a body of
horse, and the next minute some thirty mounted men drew
up in front of the rancho, and the loud blast of a trumpet
rung out above the din.

“What means this?” asked I of Harley, in some
dismay.

“The Rangers,” he replied—“their leader is sounding
a recall.'

“I do not understand you: I took those to be the
Rangers we saw inside.”

“So they are, but only a part of the whole body. The
attack was made by one division, which scaled the walls,
and this is the other division, which remained without to
cut off the fugitives. They have just returned from pursuing
them.”

At this moment a young man, of small stature, came up
to us, and abruptly demanded:

“What's this?”

“Ha! Captain, glad to see you safe,” answered Harley,
“This is my friend, and the fair lady we came to liberate.
Mr. Walton, Captain Walker.”

From having heard much, at different times, of the
redoubtable feats of Walker, whose name was truly a word
of terror to his foes, I had naturally formed the idea that
he was a large, brawny, heavy-bearded, fierce-looking
fellow; and consequently the reader can judge of my
surprise, on being introduced to him so unexpectedly, and
finding him a small, slenderly made man, with a smooth
almost boyish face, short brown hair and blue eyes, and
nothing about him either remarkable or striking.

He slightly nodded to me, as Harley mentioned my
name; and pointing to Clara, whom I was supporting on
one arm, said:

“Is she wounded?”

“No, Captain, only fainted;” and as I spoke, Clara
drew a long breath and opened her eyes.

“She recovers,” he added. “Here, Hanson, (turning
to one of his men) bring hither your horse, and be quick.”
And as the one addressed disappeared, he continued to us:
“Let the lady mount as soon as she is able, for we must
away.”

“My father and Walter, where are they?” now cried
Clara.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed I, horror-struck at the idea:
“God send they have not perished in the flames!” and I
was about to dart into the rancho in search of them, when
both at the instant came rushing through the gate.

“Father! dear, dear father!” cried Clara.

“My child! my daughter!” returned the Colonel; and
the next moment they were locked in each other's embrace.

Walter's turn came next; and as he pressed his lips to
his sister's, tears of joy dimmed the eyes of both—nor was
I unmoved at the scene.

“Ah! Colonel Moreland, glad to see you unhurt,” said
Walker, offering his hand, for the two had met before.

“Captain Walker,” responded the Colonel, seizing the
proffered hand and shaking it warmly, “I am not a man
of many words—but depend upon it I shall not forget what
you have done for me and mine. You have made rough
work here, and I hope you have exterminated the accursed
band.”

“Some have escaped,” answered the Captain, quietly;
“but I think they will remember us.”

“Have you lost any of your brave fellows?”

“Some half-a-dozen, I fear. Well, Sergeant, (to one of
his men who now came up) how many are missing?”

“There'll be seven vacant saddles, Captain.”

“Are the bodies found?”

“Four of them.”

“How many wounded?”

“None unfit for duty.”

“We must bury the dead, and then depart.”

It was a picturesque, but gloomy scene, as, by the light
of the burning rancho, the Rangers made a hasty burial
of their fallen comrades. While this was taking place,
having resigned Clara to the care of her father, I held a

hurried conversation with Harley, and this is the substance
of what I gathered.

On my separating from my friends to spy out the
inmates of the rancho, they had listened in anxious suspense
till the shouts of the freebooters too clearly proclaimed
that I had been taken prisoner. Knowing themselves
powerless to do any thing for me, and remembering
what I had made them promise, they immediately set off,
in the hope that, providentially, they might fall in with
succor. They took a southerly direction, and soon reached
the bank of a large stream, which they concluded must be
the Rio Grande. This they began to descend, keeping
the water in sight, and had advanced some five or six
miles, alternately through glade and chapparal, when they
heard a body of horse approaching from below. Concealing
themselves, they waited till the horsemen were abreast
of them, when, thinking it more than likely they were
Americans, they hailed.

Fortunately the horsemen proved to be the Texas Rangers,
who were on a scouting expedition in quest of the
notorious Romano Falcon; and on hearing the story of
Walter and Morton, Walker decided on making an immediate
attack on the rancho, thinking it not improbable
that Falcon and his band might be within. They accordingly
approached the stronghold quietly, and while one
party scaled the walls and made a sudden onset inside, the
other remained without to cut off all who might seek escape
by flight. Whether Warncliff was among the living or
dead, Harley did not know.

While on his way back to the rancho, Harley had
learned our geographical locality, with other matters of
great interest to us, who had been so long without news
of any kind. We were about a mile and a half from the
Rio Grande, and about fifteen miles above Matamoras,
opposite which place General Taylor was now encamped

with the main body of his little army, engaged in throwing
up the redoubt since known as Fort Brown, and each
moment expecting an attack from the enemy, who, with
treble his numbers, was watching him from the other side
of the river. Some skirmishing had already taken place
between small detachments of Americans and Mexicans;
but as yet there had been no pitched battle between the
two armies. The notorious Romano Falcon had drawn
the first blood, by fiendishly beating in the skull of the
gallant Colonel Cross, who had unfortunately been taken
prisoner by some of his cut-throat band. For this murderous
deed a price had been set on his head, and vengeance,
summary and terrible, sworn against him.

By the time Harley had communicated this much,
horses were brought to us, and we were requested to
mount. On looking around, I perceived, by the lurid light
of the burning rancho, that most of the Rangers were in
their saddles. The exceptions were Walker and some of
his subordinate officers, who were conversing with the fair
Mexican senoritas. These latter stood grouped together
near the gate, looking very much distressed and disconsolate—as
in fact they had good reason to be—all their
friends having fled or been killed, leaving them to the
mercy of their country's foes. Presently an order was
given, and some twenty of the horses, which had belonged
to the bandits, were brought up to the group. On the
bare backs of these beasts the girls were mounted; and
while the end of a halter was allowed each to steady herself
by and keep her position, a Ranger rode by her side
and had full control over the animal that carried her.

Every thing now being in readiness for departure, Walker
sprung upon the back of his own high-mettled beast, the
bugle was sounded, the Rangers fell into position, and
we set off at a steady trot, shaping our course for the Rio
Grande at the nearest point.

For some distance the light of the burning rancho enabled
us to see in every direction; and for a long time
after, its lurid gleams were visible on the azure vault
above us. We left it alone, to do its work of purification,
and cleanse the earth of a spot foul with crime.

On reaching the bank of the river, the Mexican girls
dismounted; and bringing from concealment some three
or four small boats, they waved the Rangers a grateful
adios for their gallantry, and were soon rowing over the
water to their homes on the other side. Many of the
latter, doubtless, regretted such speedy parting from their
fair companions—but the word of their leader was a law
which none dared disobey.

Walker now rode up to us, and said:

“Gentlemen, I should be glad to escort you myself to
Taylor's camp—but the business I am on will not permit.
From yonder females I have learned it was reported at
the rancho, that Romano Falcon and his assassin band,
leagued with one Count D'Estang and a few followers, are
above here, and I am eager to fall in with the cut-throats
and do them justice. Therefore I have selected ten
trusty fellows, who will take down the captured horses, and
I trust give you a safe escort.”

The Colonel replied, warmly thanking him for all he
had done, and expressing himself satisfied with this
arrangement—adding, that but for his daughter, he, for
one, would gladly accompany him.

“As for Romano Falcon,” he continued, “I know
nothing about him; but this so-called Count D'Estang, is
a villain of the worst stamp, whom you have touched in a
vital part already.”

“I do not understand you,” said Walker.

“The cut-throats you have just attacked, killed, or put
to rout, were under his command.”

“Ha! indeed? Then while assisting you, `I have done

the State some service.' But time presses. Adieu, Colonel
and gentlemen.”

With this the gallant Captain closed conversation with
our party, gave a few rapid orders to his men, and instantly
dashed away.

Our escort of ten had some thirty horses to manage,
besides those which they rode; but the animals were not
refractory, and gave them very little trouble. We continued
down the bank of the river, conversing among ourselves,
in low tones, each congratulating the other on his
Providential escape, and all secretly returning thanks for
the wonderful manner in which we had been preserved and
brought together.

“Dear Clara,” said I, in a very low tone, riding close
to her side, “I feel an inexpressible happiness in knowing
that I had something to do with your rescue from an
awful doom.”

She seemed to shudder; and then extending a hand,
which I eagerly seized, said, tremulously:

“Ah! say no more to me now—my emotions are too
deep for utterance. I would be alone in thought, to thank
God for the wonderful deliverance of myself and those I
love.”

For some six or eight miles we continued down the bank
of the Rio Grande, without accident or incident, and were
in the act of crossing an open plot of ground, surrounded
by dense chaparral, when suddenly armed horsemen burst
in upon us on every side, to the number of a hundred or
more. Instantly the Rangers let go their captured horses;
and drawing their revolvers, with which all were armed,
made a bold, determined dash upon the closing circle of
Mexicans, calling on us to follow. Had there been no
lady in our party, we should have done so, and doubtless
some of us would have escaped; but as it was, each seemed

to think more of the safety of Clara than his own; and
instinctively, as it were, we formed a close circle around
her, to protect her from any chance shot.

The Rangers were now having a desperate struggle
with their enemies, as we could tell by yells and groans,
the quick report of fire-arms, and the clash of steel.
During the melee, Harley uttered a sharp cry of pain, and
his bridle-arm fell dangling by his side, broken by a chance
ball. While we were endeavoring to render him some
assistance, a party dashed up to us, the leader shouting in
Spanish that we must instantly yield ourselves prisoners
or be cut to pieces.

The Colonel understood enough of Spanish to reply
that we had made and should make no resistance.