Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 54, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 March 1915 — Page 2

The Land of Broken Promises

A Stirring Story /ceporanon

SYNOPSIS. Bud Hooker and Phil Do Lancey are <orced. owing to a revolution In Mexico. <o give up their mining claim and return t» the United State*. In the border town •f Gadsden Bud meets Henry Kruger, a wealthy miner, who makes htm a proposition to return to Mexico to acquire title to a very rich mine which Kruger had blown up when he found he had been cheated out of the title by one Aragon. The Mexican subsequently spent a large num In an unsuccessful attempt to relocate the vein and then allowed the land <o revert for taxes. Hooker and De Lan«cey arrive at Fortuna near where the nine, known as the Eagle Tall. Is located. They engage the services of Crux Mendes, who has been friendly to Kruger, to acquire the title for them, and get g. permit to do preliminary work. Aragon protests and accuses them of jumping his claim. Bud discovers that matrimonial entanglements prevent Mendes from perfecting a valid title. Phil, who has been paying attention to Aragon’s daughter, Gracia, decides to turn Mexican and get <ha title In hts own name. Bud objects to Phil's attentions to Gracia. Aragon falls In hts attempt to drive them off the < laim. Rebels are reported tn the vicinity. Stories of rapine and bloodshed are brought In. Bud and Phil begin work In earnest on their claim.

CHAPTER Xlll—Continued. It was slow work; glower than they had thought, and the gang of Mexicans that they had hired for muckers were marvels of ineptitude. Left to themselves, they accomplished nothing, since each problem they encountered seemed to present to them some element of Insuperable difficulty, to solve which they either went into caucus or waited tor the boee. To the Mexicans of Sonora Bernardo Bravo was the personification of all the malevolent qualities—he being a bandit chief who had turned first general and then rebel under Madero — ' *nd the fact that he had at last been driven out of Chihuahua and therefore over into Sonora, made his malevolence all the more imminent. Undoubtedly, somewhere over to the east, where the Sierras towered like a blue wall. Bernardo and his outlaw followers were gathering for a raid, *nd the raid would bring death to Sonora.

He was a bad man, this Bernardo Bravo, and if half of the current stories were true, he killed men whenever they failed to give him money, and was never too hurried to take a fair daughter of the country up behind him, provided she took his fancy. Yes, surely he was a bad man —but that did not clear away the rock. For the first week Phil took charge of the gang, urging, directing and cajoling them, and the work went merrily on, though rather slowly. The Merloni liked to work for Don Felipe, he was so polite and spoke such good Spanish; but at the end of the week It developed that Bud could get more results out of them. Every time Phil started to explain anything to one Mexican all the others stopped to listen to him, and that took time. But Bud's favorite way of directing a man was by grunts and signs and bending his own back to the task. Also, he refused to understand Spanish, and cut off all longwinded explanations and suggestions by an impatient motion to go to work, which the trabajadores obeyed with shrugs and grins. ? So Don Felipe turned powder-man and blacksmith, sharpening up the drills at the little forge they had fashioned and loading the holes with dynamite when'it became necessary to break a rock, while Bud bossed the unwilling Mexicans. In an old tunnel behind their tent they set a heavy gate, and behind it they stored their precious powder. Then came the portable forge and the blacksmith shop, just inside the mouth of the cave, and the tent backed up ggwlnst it for protection. For if there Is any one thing, next to horses, that the rebels are wont to steal, it is giant powder to blow up culverts with, or to lay on the counters of timorous country merchants and frighten them Intn making contributions. As tor their horses. Bud kept them belled and hobbled, close to the house, and no oner ever saw him without his gun. In the morning, when he got up, he took it from under his pillow and hung it on his belt, and there it stayed until bedtime. He also kept a sharp watch on the trail, above and below, and what few. men did pass through were conscious of his eye. Therefore it was all the more surprising when, one day, looking up suddenly from heaving at a great rock, he saw the big Yaqui soldier, Amigo, gazing down at him from the cut bank. Yea, it was the same man, but with a difference —his rifle and cartridgebelts were absent and bls clothes were torn by the brush. But the same good-natured, competent smile was there, and after a few words with Bud he leaped nimbly down the bank and laid hold upon the rock. They pulled together, and the boulder that had balked Bud’s gang of Mexicans moved easily for the two of them. Then Amigo seized a crowbar and •Upped It Into a cranny and showed them a few things about moving rocks. For half ah hour or more he worked along, seemingly bent on displaying his skill, then he sat down on the. bsnk and watched the Mexicans with toisrant half-amused eyes-

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If he was hungry he showed it only by the cigarettes he smoked, and Hooker, studying up the chances he would take by hiring a deserter, let him wait until he came to a decision. "Dyes, Ami go," he hailed at last, and, rubbing his hand around on his stomach, he smiled questioningly, whereat the Yaqui nodded his head avidly. “Stawano!" said Hooker, "ven.” And he left his Mexicans to dawdle as they would while he led the Indian to camp. There he showed him the coffee-pot and the kettle of beans by the fire, set out a slab of Dutch-oven bread and a sack of jerked beef, some stewed fruit and a can of sirup, and left him to do his worst In the course of half an hour or so he came back and found the Yaqui sopping up sirup with the last of the bread and humming a little tune. So they sat down and smoked a cigarette and came to the business at hand. "Where you go?" inquired Bud; but Amigo only shrugged enigmatically. "You like to work?” continued Bud, and the Indian broke into a smile of assent “Muy bien," said Hooker with finality; “I give Mexicans two dollars a day—l give you four. Is that enough?" "Si," nodded the Yaqui, and without more words he followed Bud back to the cut There, in half a day, he accomplished more than all the Mexicans put together, leaping boldly up the bank to dislodge hanging boulders, boosting them by main strength up onto the ramshackle tram they had constructed, and trundling them out to the dump with the shove of a mighty hand.

He was a willing worker, using his head every minute; but though he was such a hustler and made their puny efforts seem so ineffectual by comparison, he managed in some mysterious way to gain the immediate approval of the Mexicans. Perhaps it was his all-pervasive good nature, or the respect Inspired by his hardihood; perhaps tiie qualities of natural leadership which had made him a picked man among his brother Yaquis. But when, late In the afternoon, Bud came back from a trip to the tent he found Amigo in charge of the gang, heaving and struggling and making motions with his head. “Good enough!” he muttered, after watching him for a minute in silence, and leaving the new boss in command, he went back and started supper. That was the beginning of a new day at the Eagle Tail, and when De Lancey came back from town-—whlth-

Bud Was Doing the Blacksmithing.

er he went whenever he could conjure up an errand —he found that, for once, he had not been missed. Bud was doing the blacksmithing, Amigo was directing the gang, and a fresh mess of beans was on the fire, the first kettleful having gone to reinforce the Yaqui’s backbone. But they were beans well spent, and Bud did not regret the raid on his grub-pile. If he could get half as much work for what he fed the Mexicans he could well rest content. ♦

“But how did this Indian happen to find you?” demanded Phil, when his pardner had explained his acquisition. "Say, he must have deserted from his company when they brought them back from Moctezuma!” "More’ll likely," assented Bud. "He ain’t talking much, but I notice be keeps his eye out —they’d shoot him for a deserter if they could ketch blip. I’d hate to see him fco that way.” "Well, if he’s as good as this, let’s take care of him!” cried Phil with enthusiasm. ‘Til tell you. Bud, there’s something big coming off pretty soon and I’d like to stay around towp a little more if I could. I want to keep track of things.” "F’r instance?" suggested Hooker dryly. It had struck him that Phil was spending a* good deal of time in town already. "Well, there’s this revolution. Sure as shooting they’re going to pull one soon. There’s two thousand Mexican

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

miners working at Fortuna, and they say every one of 'em has got a rifle buried. Now they're beginning to quit and drift out into the hills, and we're likely to hear from them any time.” "All the more reason for staying in camp, then," remarked Bud. "11l tell you, Phil, I need you here. That dogged ledge H lost, good and plenty, and I need you to say where to dig. We ain’t doing much better than old Aragon did—just rooting around in that rock-pile—let’s do a little timbering, and sink." "You can’t timber that rock,” answered De Lancey decidedly. "And besides, it’s cheaper to make a cut twenty feet deep than it is to tunnel or sink a shaft. Wait till we get to that porphyry contact then we’ll know where we’re at” "All right,” grumbled Bud; “but seems like we’re a long time getting there. What’s the news downtown?"

“Well, the fireworks have begun again over tn Chihuahua —Orozco and Salazar and that bunch —but it seems there was something to this Moctezuma scare, after all. I was talking to an American mining man from down that way and he told me that the federate marched out to where the rebels were and then sat down and watched them cross the river without firing on them —some kind of an understanding between Bernardo Bravo and these blackleg federate. “The only fighting there was was when a bunch of twenty Yaquis got away from their officers in the rough country and went after Bernardo Bravo by their lonesome. That threw a big scare into him, too, but he managed to fight them off—and if I was making a guess I’d bet that your Yaqui friend was one of that fighting twenty.”

“I reckon,” assented Bud; "but don’t you say nothing. I need that hombre in my business. Come on, let’s go up and look at that cut —I come across an old board today, down in the muck, and 1 bet you it’s a piece that Kruger left Funny we don’t come across some of his tools, though, or the hole where the powder went off.” “When we do that," observed Phil, “we’ll be where we’re going. Nothing to do then but lay off the men and wait till I get my papers. That's why I say don’t hurry so hard —we haven’t got our title to this claim, pardner, and we won’t'get it, either—not for some time yet Suppose you’d hit this ledge—” “Well, if I hit it,” remarked Bud, "I’ll stay with it —you can trust me for that Hello, what’s the Yaqui found ?” As they came up the cut Amigo quit work and, while the Mexicans followed suit and gathered expectantly behind him, he picked up three rusty drills and an iron drill-spoon and presented them to Bud. Evidently he had learned the object of their search from the Mexicans, but if he looked for any demonstrations of delight at eight of these much-sought-for tools he was doomed to disappointment, for both Bud and Phil had schooled themselves to keep their faces straight.

“Um-m,” said Bud, “old drills, eh? Where you find them?” The Yaqui led the way to the face of the cut and showed the spot, a hole beneath the pile of riven rock; and a Mexican, not to be outdone, grabbed up a handful of porphyry and Indicated where the dynamite bad pulverized it

"Bien," said Phil, pawing solemnly around in the bottom of the hole; and then, filling his handkerchief with fine dirt, he carried It down to the creek. There,' in a miner's pan, he washed it out carefully, slopping the waste over the edge and swirling the water around until at last only a little dirt was left in the bottom of the pan. Then, while all the Mexicans looked on, he tailed this toward the edge, scanning the last remnant for gold—and quit without a color. “Nada!” he cried, throwing down the pan, and in some way the Mexicans sensed the fact that the mine had turned out a failure. Three times he went back to the cut and scooped up the barren dust, and then he told the men they could quit

“No more work!” he said, affecting a dejected bitterness; “no hay nada—there is nothing!" And with tills sad, but by no means unusual, ending to their labors, the Mexicans went sway to their camp, speculating among themselves as to whether they could get their pay. But when yie last of them had gone Phil beckoned Bud into the tent and showed him a piees of quartz. “Juzt take a look at that!” he said, and a single glance told Hooker that it was full of fine particles of gold. "I picked that up when they weren’t looking,” whispered De Lancey, his eyes dancing with triumph. "It’s the same rock—the same as Kruger’s!" "Well, put ’er there, then.pardner!” cried Bud, grabbing at De Lancey’s hand'; “we’ve struck it!” And with a broad grin on their deceitful. faces they danced silqptly around the tent, after which they paid off the Mexicans and hade them “adlos!" >,

CHAPTER XIV. It is a great sensation —striking it rich —one of the greatest in thq world. Some men punch a burro over the desert all their lives in the hope of achieving it once; Bud and Phil had taken a chance, and the prize now lay within their grasp. Only a little while now—a month, maybe, if the officiate were slow —and the title would be theirs. The Mexican miners, blinded by their ignorance, went their way. well contented to get their money. Nobody knew. There was nothing to do bat

to wait But to wait, as some people know, is the hardest work in the world. For the first few days they lingered about the mine, gloating over it in secret, laughing back and forth, singing gay songs—then, as the ecstasy passed and the weariness of waiting set in, they went two ways. Some fascination, unexplained to Bud, drew De Lancey to the town,, He left in the morning and came back at night, but Hooker stayed at the mine. ‘ Day and night, week-days and Sundays, he watched it jealously, lest someone should slip In and surprise their secret—-and for company he had his pet horse. Copper Bottom, and the Xaqui Indian, Amigo.

Ignacio was the Indian’s real name, for the Yaquis are all good Catholics and named uniformly after the sc Inta; but Bud had started to call him Amigo, or friend, and Ignacio had conferred the same name on him. Poor Ignacio! His four-dollar-a-day job had gone glimmering in half a day, but when the Mexican laborers departed he lingered around the camp, doing odd jobs, until he won a place for himself. . At night he slept up in the rocks, where no treachery could. \take him unaware, but at the first peep of dawn it was always Amigo who arose and lit the fire.

Then, if no one got up, he cooked a breakfast after .his own ideas, boiling the coffee until it was ae strong as lye, broiling meat on sticks, and went to turn out the horses. With the memory of many envious glances cast at Copper Bottom, Hooker had built a stout corral, where he kept the horses up at night, allowing them to graze dose-hobbled in the daytime. A Mexican insurrecto on foot is a contradiction of terms, if there are any horses or mules in the country, and several bands of ex-miners from Fortuna had gone through their camp tn that condition, with new rifles in their hands. But if they had any designs on the Eagle Tail live stock they speedily gave them up; for, while he would feed them and even listen to their false tales of patriotism. Bud had no respect for numbers when it came to admiring his horse.

Even with the Yaqui, much as he trusted him, he had reservations about Copper Bottom; and once, when he found him petting him and stroking his nose, he shook his head forbiddingly. And from that day on, though he watered Copper Bottom and cared for his wants, Amigo was careful never to caress him. But in all other matters, even to lending him his gun. Bud trusted the Yaqui absolutely. It was about a week after he came td camp that Amigo sighted a deer, and when Bud loaned him his rifle he killed it w|th a single shot

Soon afterward he came loping back from a scouting trip and made signs for the gun again, and this time he brought in a young peccary, which he roasted in a pit, Indian style. After that when the meat was low. Bud sent him out to hunt, and each time he brought back a wild hog or a deer for every cartridge.

The one cross under which the Yaqui suffered was the apparent failure of the mine, and, after slipping up into the cut a few times, he finally caiqe back radiant. , “Mira!" he said, holding out a piece of rock; and when Hooker gazed at the- chunk of quartz he pointed to the specks of gold and grunted, "Oro!” “Seguro!” answered Bud, and going down into his pocket, he produced another like it. At this the Yaqui cocked his head to one side and regarded him .strangely. “Why you no dig gold?” he asked 'at teyt, and then Bud told him the story. "We have an enemy,” he said, “who might steal it from us. So now we wait for papers. When we get them, we dig!” “Ah!” breathed Amigo, his face suddenly clearing up; “and can I work for you then?” “81,” answered Bud, “for four dollars a day. But now you help me watch, so nobody comes.” "Stawano!” exclaimed the Indian, well satisfied, and'after that he spent hours on the hilltop, his black head thrust out over the crest like a chucka walla lizard as he conned the land below.

So the days went by until three weeks had passed, and still no papers came As hte anxiety increased Phil fell into the habit of staying in town overnight, and finally he was gone for two days. The third day was drawing to a close, and Bud was getting restless, when suddenly he beheld the Yaqui bounding down the hill in great leaps and making signs down the canyon. "Two men!” he called, dashing up to tha tent; “one of them a rural!” “Why a rural?” asked Bud, mystified. “To take me!” cried Amigo, striking himself violently on the breast. "Lend me your rifle!” d “No,” answered Bud, after a pause; “you might get into trouble. Run and hide in. the roeks—l .will signal you when to come back." “Muy bien,” said the Yaqui obediently, and. turning, he went up over rocks like a mountain-sheep. bounding from boulder to boulder until he disappeared among the hilltops. Then, as Bud brought in his horse and shut him hastily inside hte corral, the two riders came around the point—a rural and Aragon! Now, in Mexico a rural, as Bud well knew, means trouble—end Aragon meant more trouble, trouble for him. Certainly, so busy a man a* Don Cipriano would not come clear to hte camp to help capture a Yaqui deserter. Bed sensed it from the start that this was another attempt to get possession es

their mine, and he swatted their e» lag grimly. ! “ '8 tardea.'* he said In reply to the rural’s abrupt salute, and then he stood silent before his tent, looking them over shrewdly. The rural wee a hard-looking citizen, as many of them are, but on thia occasion he seemed a trifle embarrassed, glancing inquiringly at Aragon. As for Aragon, he wae gazing at a long line of jerked meat which Amigo had hung out to dry, and his drooped eye opened up suddenly as he turned his cold regard upon Hooker. "Senor,” he said, speaking with an accusing harshness, “we are looking for the men who are stealing my cattle, and I see we have not far to go. Where did you get that meat?" “I got it from a deer,” returned Bud; “there is his hide on the fence; you can see it if you'll look.” The rural, glad to create a diversion, rode over and examined the hide and came back satisfied, but Aragon was not so easily appeased. * “By what right,” he demanded truo ulently, “do you, an American, kill

"Two Men, One of Them a Rurale!"

deer in our country? Have you the special permit which is required?” “No, senor,” answered Hooker soberly; “the deer was killed by a Mexican I have working for me!” “Ka!” sneered Aragon, and then he paused, balked. “Where is this Mexican?” Inquired the rural, his professional Instincts aroused, and while Bud was explaining that he was out in the hills somewhere, Aragon spurred his horse up closer and peered curiously Into his tent.

"What are you looking for?” demanded Hooker sharply, and then Aragon showed his hand. “I am looking for the drills and drillspoon,” he said; “the ones you stole when you took my mine!” “Then get back out of there 1” cried Bud, seizing his horse by the bit and throwing him back on his haunches; “and stay out!" he added, as he dropped his hand to his gun. "But If the rural wishes to search," he said, turning to that astounded official, “he is welcome to do so.”

“Muchas gracias, no!” returned the rural, shaking a finger in front of his face, and then he strode over to where Aragon was muttering and spoke in a low tone. "No!” dissented Aragon, shaking his head violently; "no—no! I want this man arrested!" he cried, turning vindictively upon Bud. "He has stolen my tools —my mine—my land! He has no business here —no title! This land is mine, and I tell him to go. Pronto! he shouted, menacing Hooker with his riding-whip, but Bud only shifted his feet and stopped listening to his excited Spanish. “No, senor,” he said, when it was all over, “this claim belongs to my pardner. De Lancey. You have no —” “Ha! De Lancey!” jeered Aragon, suddenly indulging himself in a sardonic laugh. “De Lancey! Ha, ha!" "What's the matter?” cried Hooker, as the rural joined in with a derisive smirk. “Say, speak up, hombre!" he threatened, stepping closer as his eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “And let me tell you now,” he added, “that if any man touches a hair of his head ni kill him like a dog!” The rural backed his horse away, as if suddenly discovering that the American was dangerous, and then, saluting respectfully as he took his leave, he said: “The Senor De Lancey is in jail!

They whirled their horses at that and galloped off down the canyon, and as Bud gazed after them he burst into a frenzy of curses. Then, with the one thought bf seating Phil free, he ran out to the corral and hurled the saddle on-his horse. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Even More Deserving. Beggar —Mister, I ain't had nothin to eat for two days. , Gentleman —You told pie that very same story a week ago. - , r. Beggar—Oh! Then surely boss, you’ll help a pore man who ain’t had nothin* to eat for nine days.—Boston Evening Transcript. Not In Politics. After all these statesmen have gone on the stand and told how they run their parties, every citizen will know the ins and outs of politics.” “Yes," said the Practical Person, “but in politics you don’t get anythtag hr know

BURGLAR BEN BOOSTS

By WALTER J. DELANEY.

(Copyright, I*ls. by W. G. ChapmanJ "Going to bury yourself in a dead country village?” asked Benjamin Rudd, alias Burglar Ben. “It's a shame, Mr Wilton! I’m of a discredited sort, but I’m your friend for what you’ve done for me, and 1 say It’s a shame i to see a man of your talent throw up the chance of a lifetime. ” “Why, I’ve demonstrated some ability as a lawyer, haven’t I?” challenged Adrian Wilton in his smiling, contented way. “I should say so!” cried his client enthusiastically. "The papers have been full of it. •Rising young criminal lawyer of the day!’ All you’ve got to do is to take a big office here in the city and the clients will flock to you. That’s your line. Didn’t you clear me, with five of the best attorneys in the city on the other side?” “That was because you were innocent, Ben,” reminded Adrian. “For once—by accident!” retorted the ex-burglar with a chuckle. “Anyhow, it gave me a scare and I’ve reformed square and straight.” At all events Adrian bade good-by to his grateful and would-be helpful client and returned to Fordham. Yes, the town had heard of his splendid record in the city, Nellie Wade especially, who had shown the newspaper clippings to all her friends. The town, however, had half a score of veteran attorneys, lock-rooted in the estimation of the people.

One morning Fordham awoke to the sensation of a half century. A skillful burglar had broken into the local bank at midnight. Bills of a large denomination representing $40,000 had been taken. There was no definite clue to the robber or the money. At the end of a week, however, the county sheriff received a mysterious tip by telegraph. It told him that the telltale handkerchief bearing the initial “R” and a false beard found in the bank belonged to a certain Benjamin Rudd and named his residence. It further stated that a Fordham restaurant keeper, if confronted with the burglar, would recognize him as a stranger with a mysterious satchel whom he had seen the evening of .the burglary. Adrian Wilton lost a good deal of his faith in the reformatory process as appertaining to Burglar Ben, when the next morning he was sent for by Rudd. The latter grinned at him behind strong iron bars. “Why, Ben,” spokp the young lawyer, “you have fallen from grace, it seems.” “Not the man!” declared Rudd positively. “I hire you to defend me. Get to work and make a record for yourself.”

Burglar Ben practically directed the case. He dictated the policy to pursue. Adrian was amazed at his clear and forcible outline of evidence. When the case came on, both his wife and child, a golden-haired little cherub of eight years, were in the court room. Adrian made good use of the evidence at his command. He proved that the false beard, worn by anybody, would so obscure the natural features that later positive identification would he difficult. He showed that the initialed handkerchief might have come accidentally into the possession of some of Ben’s former criminal associates. Then little Sura was placed on the stand. The date at which the bank robbery was committed was her birthday. Her father was at home, 200 miles away, when the crime was committed. For all this, the hard-faced fanners on the jury looked grim and prejudiced. It was then that Adrian came out in full force. He depicted the former life, the reformation of his client. He described his changed family life. He pointed to the weeping wife, to the innocent little child. Oratory, eloquence, sentiment —he swayed the audience with a master hand. Women were weeping, strong men looked grave and sympathetic. The thrilling appeal moved every heart After five minutes deliberation the jury returned its verdict — “Not guilty!” That evening, at the town hotel, Burglar Ben appeared at Adrian’s room.

“Can I ever be tried again for this burglary?" he asked. “No,” -- answered Adrian. “Then send for the president of the bank and the judge," he directed. “Why—” began Adrian, wonderingly. * - ,"i)o as I say. Gentlemen,” spoke Ben, as the -persons in question were summoned, “I have a confession to make. I did not rob the bank, but I directed the robbery.” “Ha!” glared the banker. . "Yes. I did it to put on his feet my best friend, Mr. Wilton. I did it to force an acknowledgment here of his great ability. I got an old pal to do the job, but—there’s the money, just as it left the bank,” and he handed over a package to the astonished bank officer. .7 The latter was so delighted at getting back his lost money that he laughed gleefully as a child. “A bright joke!” he cried. “You must be a loyal friend to Mr. Wilton to take the risk you did," r<marked the judge gravely. “It was worth it, though, I guess, for he’s a made man in this community." And then Adrian hurried to Nellie to plan for the future-marriage, a good -law practice, happiness, all, through loyal Burglar B«OggJX“7?# ‘