Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 127, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 May 1910 — The Gift and the Return [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Gift and the Return

Lean, brown Johnny Qraydon, soldier of fortune and general world knockaround, stood near the door of what purported to be Mb tent, and eyed the scene in front of him In open disgust Scattered In groups

■wand smoldering fires were about a pWndred men, ragged, brown, dirty. TPWj these men Gablio was attempting P relieve his rival, Casino, from the gardens of office In the little South American republic; and because of hls friendship for Gablio, because, too, of dw love of strife born In hls blood, he Ona there as their commander under GebUo. Suddenly hls attention was caught eeelng a group of men hurrying the Woody ’figure of a man toward a big too In the center of the camp. The others hurried toward them, and he ought the word for “spy,” repeated •gain and again, savagely and angrily. The nolse of tbe confuslon rose high «nd sharp. In spite of the fact that he And warned them to keep silent lest IWdno’s men might appear on the •eons and silence them forever beside their smoking camp-fires. But here ••other factor that meant trouble had ■••kpoctedly turned up. Hs strolled down toward them. "What hxfiuence he had over them was very Bttls; only so far as their fear of grim, black Gablio, hls friend, went did they obey or fear him. As he drew •oar he saw what was up. Somewhere the valley they had caught one of the outposts of Casino’s army; and they proposed to have some of their devilish fun with him. Cruel and vindictive by nature as he knew them to to, ud fired by the heat of hot factional strife, he realized that their fun with the battered figure In their midst Would be far from human. Wiser men Would have advised leaving the treachUMNu, undisciplined soldiers alone; but wisdom and fear were not In Graydon’s make-up; death had tagged him too closely In hls wandering through the southern countries, and life had become a game where the best man Wins If luck Is with him. He saw In a moment what they intended to do—throw the prisoner bound and helpless into the big fire in the center of the camp. Quietly •nd swiftly Graydoh stole down, hls revolver swinging easily in hls big brown hand. Just as they had gripped the gasping figure for the throw Johnny struck them; hand he tumbled the men holding the prisoner backward; with hls revolver poised •ad steady he held the others in their tracks. Cries of rage and anger hissed irom their dark, distorted lips, quavering with the lust for blood, but Johncool, gray eyes gripped them In tho potent spell of dauntless will. The bruised, bloody face of the prisoner looked up into Graydon’s face with •uch a look of gratitude as only a man can give who escapes a horrible death at the last moment. But it wag not all over; the heat and brute in their blood was nerving them to action and quick revenge, and that meant —kill. Johnny saw one of them sneak around; swiftly as he whirled he felt the soft swish of a rifle butt falling. But the blow did not fall, for sharply ringing with snap of ire •nd wrath came the crash of rifles; tattered forms spun and plied around him In screaming heaps—Cazlno’s men had come.

Up from among the shrubbery their white forms fluttered, dark-faced with rifles flashing. With his revolvers he eat a swath through the crowding forms, but too late. There was a wild medley of dancing faces, flashing rings of fire, cries of agony, and shouts of triumph, a far-away cheer like the sound of distant music; and to Graydon things grew still and peaceful as on a summer eve. He opened his eyes, conscious of a heavy pain in his side; slowly consciousness came, and the fog cleared from his brain. He saw that he was In a small hut, outride of which stood an armed sentry; and It was all very plain to him —captured and tied like an ox—ready for slaughter. ▲ groan

■waded near him; looking songs he saw another of his men. then others, sitting sad standing in -pt The sentry turned ss he beard him ■tt*- “Ha, saner,” he said, mockingly; “a good rest, ehf A better one, longer, oemlng.” Qraydon drew himself Into a sitting Posture, end the two looked at each other. The general told me to tell you he would be glad to meet you when you awoke," the sentry went on. Bmillng; his dark face twisted Into delightful wrinkles. Johnny smiled grimly. ‘"Tell your general I am glad to make his acquaintance,” he answered gravely; but under his breath he cursed him; too well he knew what lay beneath the sentry's mocking—a quiet little corner, a few shots, and a badly dug grave. ‘A beastly way to die,” he muttered in his own tongue; but the old restless, dauntless courage that had sent him through danger and 111 In days gone by rallied to his support. "Come,” the sentry looked in; “the general .is ready to receive you.” They led him to a little thatched shanty standing near the road, and the sentry showed him In. Seated on a pile of camping truck was Cazino; his small evil face brightened as He saw Qraydon. "So! you're that white dog, that friend of Qabllo, eh? Well, what do y*u think f’ he gritted between his few, dirty teeth. “Sine weather out, General,” Graydon replied. The fire bit through the small eyes; In alienee they eyed each other. Then the Are sank; and a snaky smoothness glided Into Cazlno’s face. "Sit down, senor; I want to talk a little with you. I can kill you where you are; but I’m not going to —not yet. You are a good fighter, you have fought well with Gablio. Now, senor, If you help me I'll set you free; If you don’t, you die. Which?—you can choose.”

Graydon smiled hls slow Yankee smile. "Gablio Is a friend of mine,” he said simply. Cazlno looked at him and cursed him in his soft, sibilant language. “Then die you will with Gabllo’s other—friends in an hour.” Johnny was led out and back the hut. The others sat In the stupid silence es brutes, all hope and life gone, for they knew that death was near, the strange mystery whose coming blots out something in men and leaves them mere heaps of dirt. Swiftly the brain that had never failed him was plotting a way to freedom. But it was all hopeless; the walls were strong; at the door was silently standing, keen-eyed and ready, a sentry with rifle poised for a moment’s aim. It was simply a case of die. It comes to each man somewhere, some time. It had come to him.

He sat down nad folded his hands. To die—rather a queer thing, he thought to himself; he had seen a good many men die; and it had always seemed queer to him. The sunlight, the air, the trees, the music—then darkness—then He jumped up and walked to the door.

Men were passing and repassing, getting the camp stuff ready for removal; some of It was blood-stained—why, he knew, too. Strangely to his ears came the many sounds of the life outside; somewhere a light-hearted .soldier was singing a love ballad; and the laughter of a few men playing a practical joke on another stung through Into his consciousness with bitter reiteration. Outside was life and sunshine, Inside was death and gloom. He wondered how many men had looked out apd felt as he felt In the long years since man had fought with man.

Swiftly like a faded panorama sped before him visions of hls early life—boyhood, the younger manhood, the wild tossing years that had followed, the following of many roads that ended here. With the recollection came a flood of memories a man tries to forget and never can. He turned away. “Bah!” he muttered. “I’ll die like a woman if I keep this up.” As he seated himself he heard a mail speak at the door. They had come, four of them —the death squad. Easily as one would go to kill pigs they came In, kicked the stupefied men Into life, snaked them out by the collar, and jerked them, pleading and praying, to their feet.

Graydsn, wkh hands bound, walking berffle the first soldier, asked him for a cigarette. The man stared at him a moment, and handed him hls lighted one. Down by the river, where this shadows are long and thick, they lined them up side by side. Graydon watched them as they lined up before them and coolly and unconcernedly loaded [their rifles; one was telling another of .a sweetheart he had left in a village behind.

He wondered if they were going to bandage their eyes—the shade was dark and heavy enough to render this unnecessary, but they did. The chap In command came up. Graydon took ope long look at the world he was to leave so soon. He leaned a little forward so that he could fall on his face —the fließ get at a man's face If he lies on his back. He hoped they would make it sure; he wondered what the shock would be when the bullet struck —a great blow and then - He heard the rattle of equipment as they came ts attention —so near that there could be no missing. “’Tention!" "Aim!" Ah! now! '"Fire!” V Something struck him In the chest with the concussion of the rifles, the darkness reeled; he felt himself fall across soft forms, something moist and wet spread over his faca—yet—he was

—allVe? With quick Instinctive action he kicked feebly and lay still. Some one prodded him with a foot. "They're done for,” the commander remarked; and the sound of footsteps passed away. ' The figure beneath him stirred convulsively; but he lay silent. Still and unmoving he lay, knowing that through some strange miracle he was alive; In a little while the figures etopped their convulsive movements and lay quiet. Fearful lest somerone should come, he lay like one of the shadows that grew deeper and darker till evening had come, and all around' him he could see only Indistinct masses of gloom. He lifted his head —silence was everywhere save for the noise of the myriads of night Insects; he got up slowly, then withered Into an unmoving mass, one with the darkness; a light burned and flared Into his face. He saw a gleaming rifle barrel; behind It a dark, distorted face. He drew his muscles beneath him for a springlife had come too wonderfully to lose It now; but a voice spoke, a voice he did not recognize, but In it was a note that all men can understand—the note of kindness. “Si, senor, be not afraid; It Is I.” Under the dull torchlight he recognized the face of the. man. "Come quickly this way,” the voice said.

The man led him into the heavy brush, stuck the torch into a crotch, and swiftly and tenderly he bound up Graydon’s wounds; then taking him to the edge of the brush he pointed across the night draped valley where the lights of Gablio’s campfires were softly shining;—-^ “There you will be safe, and here is the way. You gave me life by saving me from your men; I return the gift. My friend who was to shoot you used a blank cartridge. Bueno, senor." Graydon held out his hand In silence, the brown hand and the white clasped In a close warm grip, and Graydon slipped away Into the night—San Francisco Argonaut.