The Milk White Doe

The sound was so faint that only the ears of the skilied huntsman might hear it. It came from hundreds of tiny hoofs, mnffled by túe grass in the inonntain park. "Antelope!" Together we lay face downward, I and my Indian guide, with onr long rifles at easy rest, and awaited the coming of the band. It dashed over a hogsback and iuto fnll view, a wildly leapiug, struggling, undu lating mass of reddish brown, white tufted bodies stretched to the fullest speed. Nervous? Yes, for in a moment more the band would pass ns within easy range. We lay with foreflngers on the triggers as the timid animáis, wild with fear, skimmed along as if waf ted by the spirit of the wind. Now they are directly opposite. We will never have such auother shot. Onward they dash and pass so closely by that it seems we can hear their heartbeats. Their great, liquid eyes are wild with teiTor. Auother moment and the herd has swept by us ; only the hindmost are in view. Ñow they are out of hearing and presently are lost to sight. Absolute silence, save for the rustle of the brown grass as the cooling autumn wind stirs it. Not a shot was fired. My finger was upon the trigger, my arm certain, but I lacked the power even for the gentle pressure necessary to send a bullet straight into the herd. I was under a spell. I looked at Pablo. His dark face seemed almost pale ; his eyes betrayed excitement, not the excitement of anger or fear, but of a tender sympathy. The same power that had staid my finger when it would have pressed tho trigger had a like effect upou him. "Senor, " he said, "it is the mi Ik white doe that none may slay. " It was overpowerhig curiosity that had rendered my forefinger inflexible, for at the head of the band was the most beautiful animal Ihad ever seen - a milk white doe. She seerued fleeter, more timid and of more graceful contour than any of the herd. She was the perfection of animal grace and beauty. I fancied I heard a soft, sad moan as she passed bef ore the muzzle of my rifle. I was lost briefly in pathetic conteinplation, and the herd was gone. '"Qome, Pablo, it is almost dusk, but we must foilow. Come, stir yourself, you unenthusiastic son of Montezuma, and let us be gone. ' ' "Senor," said Pablo, in his calm and imperturbable marnier, vet with a solerun iinpressiveness, "it is death to all who foilow the milk white doe. ' ' "Nonsense; I must have her. Let us foilow quick. " "Have patience, senor, and tonight when we sinoke by the campfire I wiil teil you the legend of the milk white doe. " And this is the legend he told me : Bef ore the white man knew there was a western continent, before the Spaniards came, even before the reign of the ancient Quetzalcoatl, lord of the Seven Caves of Navatlaques and king of the Seven Nations, out of which arose the splendor of the Montezuman empire, the powerful tribes lived iuthenorth. They were as the sands of the shore washed by the great ocean of the rising sun, and the numbers of their arrows were greater than the twigs in the forest. Their queen was Maxtella. Her skin was as white as the snow on youder mountain peak, her lips were as scarlet as the flaming loco blossom, her eyes were as blue as the chalchuites in the Minas de las Perdidas, and from their liquid depths beamed truth and purity of souL She was a virgin queen. Her courtiers wooed her in vain. The richest of them all laid his wealth of chalchuites and beautiful shells at her feet. The mightiest hunter brought her trophies of the chasa To all she spoke words of wisdom and beauty, but her love was for uo one man ; it was for all her people. Her virtue and her beauty were the marvels of those days. Her counselors were wise beyond their generation. Many things they knew that were unknown to the subjects of Qneen Maxtella. They knew of the eastern ocean, of a great country beyond to which their ancestors had gone years before. The northern hordes were at peace. So powerful were they that the tribes in the south did not dare to make war with them, nor would the queen suffer her subjects to make war upon those weaker hordes who dwelt in rocks and caves, high up in the cliffs that bordered on tin; green canyons. There was a vassal chief, Azul, of lowly birth and evil wttyg. He saw the beautiful Maxtella, and the sight of her touched his black heart. He loved Maxtella not for her virtue nor her wisdom. He loved Ler that he might rule the land, and that from his blood and hers might come a race of savage kings, and that the erii hordes might make war tipon tho tribes of the sonth and dcspoil thein of thir treasure. Azul knew the black magie art. Ho brought his richest treasure to Maxtella's court. He u. ed his black art that he night appear pleasing in her sight. His arras and throat were bare. On his head was a snowy white helmct, and his dress was of green feathers. His breastplate of feather work gleamed like jewels when the suu shoue npon it. Tall and straight was this vassal chief and rnighty was his stride. Gfreat blue blood red stones shoue in the middle of his sword. But the counselors were wise men. Tbey conld see his black heart and read his evil mind, and they spurned him with scoru. They would have driven him from the court. The vassal chief held in his hand a wand, sharp poiuted like a knife, by which he worked his magie art. When the queen appeared, he looked at her and turned palé. Azul 's eyes pierced her, bnt his magie was not strong enough to make her love hirn. Until then sbe knew not fear, but now the evil spell was upon her. All of Azul's power was exerted to subdue her gentle heart. When she went to walk, a wolf sprang np in her jjath, sharp stones cut through the doerskin and wounded her feet. Keur by was a spring of healing water, but when Maxtella went to drink of it a foul odor of poisonous gases aróse. She sought her coueh, but Azul had driven sleep away. When she was alone, the black hearted vassal chief would suddenly appear and with thongs of the deer would beat her white body until his savage lashes drew drops of blood. All thingscould he make Maxtella do but love him. False words she spoke to her counselors and did unholy deeds that made her courtiers bow their heads in Lharnf No more was Maxtella just or tnerciful. Craelty, pitiless cruelty, turned her love of her subjects to hate. Of her atteudants who remained faithful none was more so than a little page, a boy of not more than a score of years. These Uvo sat one eve within the palace. The dusky shadows were gathering without, but the night could only bring added wretchedhess to Maxtella. The boy sang to her, and as hissongdied away a black shape entered the room It was Azul. "Thy song is sad, " he said to the page. "Why do yon not weep, Maxtella?" The rivers of Maxtella 's eyes were driod up. ' ' Now I will teach you how to weep, ' ' and he struck her with his cruel thong. Maxtella turned upon him her timid, pleading eyes. With a mighty bound the youth leaped toward the chief and seized the magie wand. lts possession gave him the strength of many men. He struck the wretch a blow and pinnod him to the floor. Azul writhed in pain, and the blood dyed his dress of feathers erimson. None but a wizard might ever loose him. With the blow the spell he had wrought on Maxtella was broken, and all her gentleness and pnrity returned. It was this that caused her to pity the bleeding wretch, squirming in agony. yet furious with rage. She reacheddowu her delicate hand to withdraw the wand if it were possible, when Azul seized her by the arm and buried his sharp, gleamiiig teeth into the hand extended in ruercy. Maxtella, unable to release herself, shriekéd in páin, for the bite of the soroèrer was as deadly as the poisou of the snake with the castanets in his tail. "Now is thy blood mingled with mine," hissed Azul, "and of thy own free will 1 Now are we one forever. By niy living hate and the mingling of our blood I bavesupremest power over thee. Coward thou hast ever been ; coward thou shalt ever be. Thy spirit shall pass from thee in the form of the creature thou most resemblest - a doe, timid of heart, fleet of foot and spotlessly white. None may slay thee, yet thou wilt ever long for the dart that would release the peil. Thy speed shall shame the fleetest of the herd, and thy matchless beauty shall ever lure the hunter to his death. " And with these words a mi Ik white doe darted from the palace walls, trembling with fright. It hides in brakea and canyons and flees when no hunter is nigh. Hundreds have seen it, and many have been lared to pursue it. The fallen rocks from canyon walls hide the course of many a hunter who sought to slay the milk white doe. None has ever returned to teil the story of those chases. And those who escaped the canyon's dangers - their bones lie bleachinsr in