470 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[July 5, 1888. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Pub, Co. 



THE GHOST OF THE 



RIO AZUL. 



NOW, there's my friend Dixon. You wouldn't take 

 him to be a superstitious man, or one likely to be 

 imposed upon by bis own imagination, would you? In 

 fact quite the opposite. Dixon is a cattleman. He lives 

 in New Mexico. He has spent all his life since boyhood 

 in a country where timid men die young, and has become 

 by long experience habituated to sceneB of doubt and 

 danger which would terrify a novice. Dixon is a long 

 sort of man. He dresses in range costume. He is handy 

 with a gun, but not the sort to UBe it till he has to, I 

 should think. His speech is picturesque at times. He is 

 quiet and practical in disposition. Depend upon it, if 

 Dixon saw a ghost on the Rio Azul it was a genuine 

 ghost, twenty dollars to the ounce, and a yard wide. 

 And this is what Dixon said about it when we last met, 

 a few months ago: 



'•Have you been out after antelope any lately? Say, I 

 was; and! expect we had a little the toughest time, now, 

 of anybody." 

 "Didn't you get any?'' I asked. 



"Oh, we got all theantelope we wanted, but that ain't it. 

 I don't want no more hunts like that. I think about one 

 more would do me up, what with the cold and the scare 

 and all. You know I'd been having a bad cough, any- 

 how, an' take it altogether we come pretty near leaving 

 yours truly out on the flats that trip. 



"It turned in awful cold, you see, and staid that way 

 for nigh on to a week, and then there came a reg'lar 

 blizzard of a storm. We was on the big plains in the 

 eastern part of New Mexico, away out from nowhere, not 

 so very far from the west end of the Neutral Strip, part 

 ef the time. We had two teams in the outfit, and was 

 running' wild, all over the country, wherever we thought 

 we'd find the best shootin'. We'd got about all the ante- 

 lope we wanted, for the cold weather seemed to make 

 'em kind o' tame. Or probably they knew the big storm 

 was coming and thought they'd just as well be shot as 

 freeze to death. 



"First there come a fine rain; then she begun to freeze, 

 and the way she come over those big flats was a reproach 

 to the kindliness of nature. Everything begun to get 

 dark overhead; then the lower edge of the sky all around 

 got a deep blue-black; then the whole sky took a hop, 

 skip and jump and began to close right in onus, an' ali 

 you could see was a narrowin' ring of black, an' a little 

 flat, cire'ler world in the middle of it, a gettin' whiter and 

 whiter, an' littler and littler every minute. Then the 

 wind spit on its hands, an' dad wrangle it all to climpity- 

 clarnp. say, didn't she come! Then the sleet let up, after 

 a little, an' the air filled up with that awful floury 

 poudre. You couldn't see nowhere then. You been 

 caught out on the flats that way? Well, then, you know 

 how it is. It's a kind o' terrible sort of feelin', ain't it? 



"Our heavy outfit was two miles away, when she shut 

 down on us. They begun pumpin' their Winchesters, 



corner in the canon we could find, an' they had sense 

 enough to stay there. 



"We staid down in the draw over night, an' the next 

 day, after noon, we pulled out up along it, keepin' to the 

 northwest all we could. It was colder than a soda foun- 

 tain, an' you may know we wei'e glad wdien we struck 

 the first cedars on a branch of the Rio Azul. Didn't we 

 make a fire? An' didn't I pretty near die that night ? 

 An' wasn't I glad when we run on to a little Mexican 

 placita the next day! We just drove right up to an 

 empty 'dobe and unhooked, not sayin' nothin' to nobody. 

 Tli ere wasn't but about twenty houses in the whole town; 

 but we was too cold to care who lived there or where it 

 was. Fact is, I don't really know to-day where that 

 plaeita is. There's lots of them little Mexican towns scat- 

 tered over the country that there don't nobody know any- 

 thing about. The Greasers live and die there, and don't 

 ever come into the white settlement from one end of the 

 year till the other. We s'posed this waB that sort of an 

 outfit and didn't worry no more about it, but just helped 

 ourselves, the way we usually do when we're dealin with 

 Greasers. 



"The weather begun to moderate that night, but we 

 concluded to stay at the placita till it got warm. So we 

 helped ourselves to wood, built a big fire in the warmest 

 room of the 'dobe, and arranged to stay a year or so if 

 need be. We could see smoke comin' up out of the houses 

 higher up the arroyo, but there didn't nobody show up 

 all day long. The cold weather was too much for the 

 Greasers. I don't s'pose they saw such a storm once in a 

 century. 



"There was the usual little church in the plac ita— the 

 Greasers is mighty pious, especially in the halls by them- 

 selves that way. Along in the evenin' we saw lights a 

 shinin' in the windows of the church, and pretty soon we 

 heard the little bell begin to jingle to call the folks to- 

 gether. We thought this was mighty funny, for it was 

 n't Sunday, and it wasn't any feast-day that we could 

 locate, and it was the wrong time o' year for any big re- 

 ligious festival that we knew of. Still, we didn't bother 

 our heads much about it, but piled on the wood in the 

 little fireplace, an' pretty soon we got ready to turn in. 



"As I was sayin', there was two rooms in the 'dobe. 

 There wasn't anything but bare walls to either one, and 

 the place seemed as if it had been deserted for quite a 

 while. The room we had taken up for ourselves didn't 

 have any outside door to it, and only one window. In 

 the vacant room there was an outside door and window. 

 The window didn't have no sash in it, and was only about 

 a foot and a half square: the door was old, but it wasn't 

 a bad fit, an' shut all right enough. There was a good 

 door between the two rooms, too, 



"Now you may think I'm a good ways off'n antelope 

 huntin/ and so I am; but I ain't talking about no antelope 

 huntin' now. I'm a goin' to tell you about the ghost on 

 the Rio Azul, for that was the name of the placita we had 

 struck, as we afterward found; it was called so from the 

 little creek it was on. Them Mexicans calls anything a 

 'rio' [or river] that's got two banks to it. Yes sir, I'm a 

 goin' to tell you about the ghost that come to us that 

 night in that little old 'dobe. I don't s'pose you believe 

 I didn't used to, but my dear Horatio, there's 



-Shake- 



and we turned ours loose reg'lar; so after a while we got 

 together. Then we tied their horses to the hind end of 

 our backboard, and got out the compasses, an' laid a 

 course for the northwest, intendin' to go if we could, till 

 we struck some stream or arroyo, or if we couldn't, to get 

 as close to the settlements as we could before we made 

 out last' camp, so's our families would find out in the 

 spring what had become of us, and not think we'd 

 skipped the country with some Maverick senorita or 

 other. We tied a Winchester in the front end of the 

 backboard, and another in the front end of the other rig; 

 then the fellow with the compass had to sit in the back 

 end o' the hind rig, an' line up by those two sights ahead. 

 Once in 'a. while he'd holler out to shoot off that front 

 gun, so's he could see where it was. We bundled up the 

 best we could, with our slickers and buffalos, but Lord! 

 do you suppose the stuff was ever made 'd keep that pow- 

 der out? It'd blow plum through four inches of plate 

 glass, straight. An' so we pulled on, an' every once in a 

 while I'd fetch a cough that sounded like it come from 

 over the range. I thought of my little wife at home; an' 

 I just said to myself, 'You poor, low down fool you, if 

 you ever get out of this, you never'll go huntin' again 

 long 's you live, now will you?' An' I didn't, neither; 

 not till we went out for blacktail, up in the mountains, 

 quite a while after that. 



"We'd been goin' on quite a spell, runnin' entirely 

 blind, except for the two Winchesters and the compass, 

 when all at once we began to hear a low, rumblin', 

 mournful sort of noise, about as strange and sad as ever 

 you did hear. It got nearer, and seemed to be all around 

 lis in that blindin' white darkness, a deep, pitiful groan- 

 m soi l of a sound. We all knew what that was. It was 

 the empty-in' of the range. The cattle had bunched and 

 was driftin'. Pretty soon we were right in the middle of 

 'em, and they crowded all around us, a-walkin' with their 

 heads down, an' their eyes a-freezin' shut, an' lookin' all 

 white and ghostly as they walked on down before the 

 wind, a- walking to their death an' knowin' it an' mourn- 

 in' at it, an' protestin' against bein' left out on the range 

 without no protection against a day like that. I tell you 

 that's a sight there can't no feller forget; it'll stay by 

 him. I can shut my eyes an' see them white things yet, 

 a-driftin', driftin' on down across the range; an' it seems 

 like I can hear that big, mournful, pitiful, helpless moan 

 of them a-walkin', walkin' slow, till the cold got bad 

 enough to put 'em past then sufferin'. 



"Well, now, I may remark that was a close squeak for 

 us fellows, an' Ave got out only by a scratch. We drove 

 on till the horses came to a standstill and turned tail in 

 spite of us. Then we let them go that way for a spell, 

 not knowin' what else to do an' feelin' as if w r e must be 

 movin' ; an' all at once the head team almost went head 

 first into a big draw. We piled out, unhitched the hind 

 team, and then we drove down into that draw a flyin'. 

 How we did it I don't know, but somehow we g^ot to the 

 bottom and found that the wind was broke, and it seemed 

 almost warm. We yanked off the wagon bed from the 

 big wagon, scraped away the snow, pulled out our 

 blankets and noon had a sort of camp fixed. It's aston- 

 ishin' how much room there is under a wagon box. We 

 could have took in three or four more besides ourselves 

 eaBy. As for the horses, we took them into the best 



critters on the range that you and me ain't onto 

 speare! 



"Well, we turned in and went to sleep. It was the 

 first time we'd been warm for four days, and it felt good. 

 My cough bothered me a little and I didn't sleep as well 

 as the rest. About an hour or so after we had turned in 

 I heard a noise in the other room. It sounded like the 

 rattlin' of a chain; then there was a sort of serapin 

 noise, an' all at once there came an awful groan. 



"I was feelin' kind o' nervous and run down, any way, 

 and I declare, when I heard that, I was plum scared! It 

 came so sudden like, and sounded so awful. Still, in a 

 minute or so I got over that, an I allowed it was a dog- 

 had got into the other room. I didn't say nothin', but 

 just slipped out o' my blankets quietly and gathered up 

 a chunk of wood, and slipped up to the door and jerked 

 it open, intendin' to bust that infernal Greaser dog plum 

 wide open for givin' me such a turn. I pulled the door 

 open and into the room. The light from the fire showed 

 up every corner of it. An' I hope I may die if it wasn't 

 empty! There wasn't a thing in it! Not even a mouse- 

 empty from corner to corner! 



"Well, that knocked my eye completely out. I didn't 

 know What to think. Fact is, I was too surprised to 

 think at all. At last I concluded that the dog must have 

 jumped out through th' little window"} though how he 

 could jump so high and so straight was a wonder. The 

 door was tight shut and latched on the inside, As I 

 didn't dare to think anything else, I had to think the dog- 

 had jumped out through the window. 



"I went back and lay down again. I was wide awake 

 now. and couldn't go to sleep to save me. The other f el 

 lows was all snorin' away hard as they could go. 



"In less than five minutes I heard that same serapin' 

 sound again, and the same clankin' of the chain. I woke 

 up my pardner, Al Maxwell, and poked him till he under- 

 stood enough to know something was wrong. Then he 

 was wide awake like a flash, with his hand on his six- 

 shooter. He thought the Greasers was raidin' us. I 

 whispered to him to keep still, and told him what had 

 happened to me. We listened. The sounds came again. 

 There was the unmistakable clank of a heavy chain. 

 Maxwell's face turned gray, and it scared me to look at 

 him. Then there come a serapin' on the partition wall; 

 then a bump, like as if a heavy body had fell against the 

 door. Then a moment later a scream came up— we could 

 hear every word— 'O, sangre de Christo! 0. Jem!} and 

 the rest was an awful wailing yell. 



"Now, I ain't tryin' to tell no sensational ghost story, 

 nor I ain't workin' you for a tenderfoot. But, as I hope 

 for a square deal hereafter, these things did happen just 

 as I'm tellin' you. If I wanted to lie to you I could: but 

 I'm givin' it to you straight, on my honor, an' 111 shoot 

 you or any other man full of holes that says I ain't. I'm 

 serious. 



"When that bump come against the door, me an' Max- 

 well jumped up with our six-shooters, and made a run 

 for the door and kicked it open. There wasn't a thing- 

 there! Now. that's the truth, mind. I'm serious. The 

 room was entirely empty. On the floor there was a little 

 sort of place scratched, or dug up a little, in the dirt. 

 You know all those 'dobes have hard dirt floors. The door 

 was fast shut. There wasn't a sign of any sort about, 

 except that little scratched place on the floor. The dog 

 theorv was busted. What was it, then, and what Avere 



we to do? What would become of us, cooped up in that 

 little hut? 



"We went back into the other room. The rest of the 

 fellows were all up, and scared as bad as we was, for 

 they had heard the yell and heard us run out. We sat 

 up in our blankets an' — well, we waited. I don't think I 

 ever did such hard tbinkin' in my life. I thought whatj 

 a poor, miser'ble cuss I had been in my time, anyhow. I 9 

 thought of the time I draAved three aces and a pair of 

 kings on a tenderfoot that only had two little pairs, and 

 reflected how unnecessary that was of me. I thought of 

 all the heifers I ever branded out on the range. 1 M 

 thought of all sorts of things. Do you know what I ■ 

 believe? 1 believe ghosts is sent for the identical purpose 

 of makin' fellers like me reflect. Well, I reflected. An' J 

 if I do say it, I've lived a dif'erent life since then. T " 

 come away from the Rio Azul a better man. 



"We all sat up and waited and thought. An' presen'lyj 

 there came the same old clank! clank! and the same 

 thump on the door, and the same awful scream. Half 

 delirious as we was, we all run out. We found the room m 

 empty, as before. We opened the door and looked out,^ 

 and there Avasn't nothin' to be seen, an' everything was 

 quiet except a coyote a-howlin' out on the flats; and fronifl 

 up to the little church, Avhich was the nearest building to 

 us, there came a wild sort of half heathen chorus that 

 them infernal Greasers was a-singin'. It was awful, I tell 

 you. to have such a mystery as that to take right hold of 

 you. I've laughed at such things before now, and I don'fcB 

 believe I'm such an awful coward myself, but here waft ■ 

 all of us done up by the same thing, and what it was 

 there wasn't none of us could tell. 



"We went back again and sat down, and nobody spoke 

 for a while. Our whole crowd was whipped, right there. 

 At last Maxwell said: 



Fellows, it's plain enough that we've got into a reg'lar 

 haunted house. There's been a murder here, and that's 

 why the house is left deserted. The feller must of been 

 killed for his money, an' like as not the money's hid 

 where that scratchin' Avas made on the floor. The chureb- 

 goin' on up there must have set the ghost a Avalkin' to-*" 

 night, or else we did, comin' in here. Maybe we was W 

 little too free just a-unhookin' and movin' right in the 

 way Ave did. As for me I think we'd ought to get out ciS 

 here as soon as possible. ' 



"We all had to agree to this first and last, but we didn't 

 dare to move till mornin', Early that mornin' a prett™ 

 decent sort of Greaser come doAvn to our camp, an' Ave 

 had a talk with him, and learned Avhere we was, and told 

 him Avho we was. and sent him up after some Chili eolo- ; 

 row for us. We asked him if anything wrong ever hap- 

 pened around that house, and he looked solemn and said, . 

 'Quien sabef which meant that he didn't know and 

 wouldn't tell if he did know. It was Avarmin' up a little 

 noAV, and we pulled out and got into the X Y ranch a! 

 little after dark that day, and the next day by a hard 

 drive we made it home to my ranch, and I was comfort- 

 ably sick for a month with a cough that nearly sized my/ 

 pile, I tell you. 



"My wife knew something was wrong, and after a»'; 

 while I told her the whole story, and told her I was a 

 changed man. I gave my Avife a pair of diamond ear- 

 rings and a seal skin coat, an' she said she hoped I'd see ; ; 

 a ghost every month. It didn't seem to worry her, somdjj 

 way, the way it did me. 



"But it did Avorry me, an' it does yet. Of course, I 

 know how you'll look at it. You'll say it could all 



explained if we just knew all the facts; but haven't I 

 given you all the facts? And I tell you on the dead square] 

 that I have told you the truth. Now that's all I know," I 

 Mr. Dixon then left me after we had made arrange- 1 

 ments for a hunt, during the followiug season. I was a i 

 good deal puzzled by Avhat he had said, for I knew by 

 his manner that he was in earnest. Of course, I could ij 

 offer no explanation of the strange events narrated. - 

 But that came later on, and from Dixon himself. 



I don't like to spoil a good story. I have a notion not 

 to say a word further about the ghost of the Rio Azul, ■ 

 because, as it would then stand, this would be a first-class .i 

 ghost story— indeed, one very hard to surpass. That one 

 feature of the clanking chain would mark it as of a su- 

 perior sort. There are all kinds of ghost stories, with aflj 

 sorts of attractions to them, but the story with the clank- 

 ing chain Avill always be held to possess superior ele* 

 ments of fascination. But perhaps, after all. it is ones 

 duty to follow a ghost story to its denouement, and to 

 give all the facts in his possession; therefore I must ap- 

 pend the following letter, recently received from Wfr 

 Dixon: 



"Seven Rivers, N. M., , '87.— Dear Friend: Yoii$ 



of last month at hand, and in reply would say antelope 

 reported plenty and hope you will be on hand at dsjS 

 set. Bring the* old rifle and" four canteens. 



"I feel I must tell you some more about that Rio A£m 

 business, though I hope you will keep it quiet. There's i 

 Mexican on ChiswelPs ranch down here who looked- 

 natural to me. and at last I placed him. He was the ffl 

 low that came into our camp the next morning after Sffl 

 heard the noises. I talked to him about that, and sav 

 something in his eye that made me suspect something} 

 Then I crowded him and made him tell me the wbol$ 

 thing. You see, the Greasers were having a penit&tfjt 

 there in the church that evening— though how it hap 



going they Avhip each other Avith cactus and qun 

 that sort of things, and jab knives into themselves, 

 otherwise have a good time. On account of their cruelt:' I 

 these penitentes are forbidden by law, as deaths ottei I 

 occur from the punishment. But the Greasers are Bffl 

 of attached to it, and so they hold them on the qmetl 

 They don't allow any white man to see the Avhole pe*l 

 formance. When we drove up and went into camp, thfiO 

 didn't know what to do. They didn't want us around, mf 

 they didn'thave sand enough to try to drive us out. Sottpl 

 fellow, Jose Aquila, acting by orders of the priest, rua j| 

 game on us. He got a long-pole and tied a piece of log chai' l 

 to it. and stood outside and poked the thing through t»l 

 little windoAv, and scratched around and thumped Wl 

 door with it and howled, and made a lot of infernal foo/ 1 

 all out of us fellows. When he heard us coming fit 

 yanked the pole back out of the window and lay dowl 

 close by the house; and when we came out the door J4I 

 ran around the house, got into the arroyo and ran oi w 

 The reason he came down so early the next morning wat| 

 he wanted to make some new footprints, so we would* I 

 get on to his game, I never knew a Greaser had sa» I 



