Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 79, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 April 1915 — The Land of Broken Promises [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Land of Broken Promises

A Stirring Story of the Mex ican

By DANE COOLIDGE

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* CHAPTER XXV—Continued. "Who is that man?” asked Gracia, aa aha rained In at his side. "Do you knew him?" "Rare do!" responded Hooker jovially. “He's the best friend I sot la MazhiD? *” “Kai, Amigo!!' he hailed, as the Yaqui cams quartering down the hili, and. apparently oblivious of the on* coming pursuers, he rode out of the trail to meet him. They shook hands and Amigo flashed his familiar smile, glancing shyly over the horse’s back at the daughter of the Aragons. ‘1 knew the horse,” he explained, with a gentle caress for Copper Bottom. “My people—up there —kill Mexicans! Where you go?” “North—to the line,” answered Bud, pointing up the pass. “Muy malo!" frowned the Taqui, glancing once more at the woman behind. “Muchoa revoltosos!” “Where?” asked Bud. "Everywhere! ” replied Amigo with a comprehensive wave of the hand. “But no matter," he added simply. “I will go with you. Who are these horsemen behind?” “Rurales!” responded Hooker, and the Taqul’s black eyes dilated. "Yes," nodded Bud as he read the swift question in their glance. “He is there, too —Del Rey!” “Que bueno!” exclaimed the Indian, firing his eagle glance upon the riders. He showed his white teeth in a smile. In an Instant he saw his opportunity, he saw his enemy riding into a trap, and turned his face to the pass. What Amigo had waited for, the opportunity he had watched for, was at hand. Del Rey should pay the pries of that scar the Taqui carried. Not again would the bullet go astray, and his people should have one less Mexican to light after that day. The hatred of generations lay behind the thoughts of the Indian. He cared nothing for the grievance of the girl, and he would not kill Del Rey for that, but for his own reasons. “Come!" he said, laying hold of a latigo strap, and as Hooker loped on up the steady incline he ran along at bis stirrup. In his right hand he still carried the heavy Mauser, but his sandaled feet bore him forward with tireless strides and only the heaving of his mighty chest told the story of the pace.

"Let me take your gun,” suggested Hooker, as they set off on their race, bnt Amigo in his warrior's pride only shook his head and motioned him on and on. So at last they gained the ragged summit, where the granite ribs of the mountain crop up through the sands of the wash and the valley slopes away to the north. To the south was Del Rey, still riding after them, but Amigo beckoned Bud beyond the reef and looked out to the north. "Revoltosos!” he exclaimed, pointing a sun-blackened hand at a distant ridge. “Revoltosos! ” he said again, waving his hand to the east “Here.” waving toward the west “no!” “Do you know that country?” inquired Hooker, nodding at the great plain with its chains of parallel Sierras, but the Indian shook his head. “No,” he said; “but the best way is straight for that pass.” > He pointed at a distant wedge cut down between the blue of two ridges, and scanned the eastern hills intently. “Men!” he cried, suddenly indicating the sky-line of the topmost ridge. “I think they are revoltosos." he added gravely. “They will soon cross your trail.” “No difference,” answered Bud with a smile. “I am not afraid—not with you here. Amigo.” “No, but the woman!” suggested Amigo, who read no jest in his words. “It is better that you should ride on —oriri leave me here.” He smiled encouragingly, but a wild light was creeping into his eyes and Hooker knew what he meant He desired to be left alone, to deal with Del Rey after the sure manner of the Yaquis. And yet, why not? Hooker gtMui thoughtfully at the oncoming rurales and walked swiftly back to Gracia. “This Indian Is a friend of mine,” he said, “and I can trust him. He says it will be better for us to ride on—and he will take care of the ruralee.” “Take care?” questioned Gracia, turning pale at a peculiar matter-qf-fact tone in his voice. “Sure,” said Hooker; “he says there are revoltosos ahead. It will be better for you. he says, to ride on." “Madre de Dios!” breathed Gracia, clutching at her saddle; and then she nodded her bead weakly. “Ton better get down for a’minute.” suggested Hooker, helping her quickly to the ground. “Here, drink some water —you're kinder .fldnt. I'll be right hack— jest want to say good-by.” He strode over to where Amigo had posted himself behind a rock and laid a hand on hie arm. “Adloe, Amigo!” he said, but the Yaqul only glanced at him strangely. “Anything in my camp, you're welasme to it,” added Hooker, but Amigo did not respond. His black eyes, far-

before him, where Del Rey came galloping in the lead. “You go now!" he said, speaking with an effort, and Hooker understood. There was no love, no hate left in that mighty carcass —he was all warrior, all Yaqui, and he wanted Del Rey to himself. “Well be going,” Hopker said to Gracia, returning swiftly, and his subdued tones made her start. She felt as one feels at a funeral, the hovering wings of death, yet she vaulted into her saddle and left her thoughts unsaid. They rode on down the valley, spurring yet holding back, and then with a

roar that made them jump the heavy Mauser spoke out —one shot! And no more. There was a hush, a long wait, and Amigo rose slowly from behind his rock. "God!” exclaimed Hooker, as he caught the pose, and his voice sounded a requiem for Manuel del Rey. Then, as Gracia crossed herself and fell to sobbing, he leaned forward in his saddle and they galloped away. CHAPTER XXVI. Though men may make a Jest of it in books, it 1b a solemn thing-to kill a man, even, to be near when one ,is killed. If Gracia had slain Del Rey herself in a passion her hot blood might have buoyed her up, but now her whole nature was convulsed with the horror of it and she wilted like a flower. An hour before she had burned with hatred of him, she had wished him dead and sought the man who would kill him. Now that his life had been snipped off between two heart-beats she remembered him with pity and muttered a prayer for his soul. For Hooker, for De Lancey she had no thought, but only for the dashing yoSng captain who had followed her to his death. Of this Bud had no knowledge. He realized only that she was growing weaker, and that he mußt call a halt, and at last, when the walls of their pass had widened and they rode out into the open plain, he turned aside from the trail and drew rein by a clump of mesquit. “Here, let me take you,” he said, as she swayed uncertainly in the saddle. She slid down into his arms and he laid her gently in the shade. “Poor girl.” he muttered, “it’s been too much for you. I’ll get some water, and pretty soon you can eat” He unslung the canteen from his saddle-flap, gave her a drink, and left her to herself, glancing swiftly along the horizon as he tied out their mounts to graze. But for her faintness he wduld have pushed on farther, for he had seen men off to the east; but hunger and excitement had told upon her even more than the day-and-night ride. For a'woman, and sitting a side-sad-dle, she had done better than he had hoped; and yet—well, it was a long way to the border and he doubted if she could make it She lay still in the shade of the mesquit, just as he had placed her, ‘and when he brought the sack of food she did not raise her head. “Better eat something,” he suggested, spreading out some bread and dried beef. “Here’s some oranges I got from Don Juan —I’ll just put them over here for you.” Gracia shuddered, sighing wearily. Then, as If his words had hurt her, she covered her face and wept “What did you tell that man?" she asked at last •‘W’j —what man?” inquired Hooker, astonished. “Ain't you going to eat?" “No!” she cried, gazing out at him through her tears, “not until I know what you said. Did you tall that Indian to—to kill him?" 7 .. She broke down suddenly in a lit of sobbing, and Hooker wiped bis brow.,

"W*y, no!* be protested. "Sura not! What made you think that?" -Why—you rode over and spoke to him—and he looked at mo—gad then—he —killed him!" She gave Way to a paroxysm of grief at this, and Bud looked around him, wondering. That aha was weak and hungyy he knew, hut what was this she was saying? -• “I reckon I don’t Understand what you’re driving at,” he said at last. "Wish you’d eat something—you’U feel better." “No, I won’t eat!” she declared, sitting up and frowning. "Mr. Hooker,” she went on very miserably, “what did you mean this morning when you—laughed! I said I bated ppor Manuel —and you said —well, what you did — and you laughed! Did you think —oh, you couldn’t have —that I really want* ed him killed?” "W’y, sure not!” cried Hooker heartily. “I knowed you was fooling! Didn’t I laugh at you? Say, what kind of a feller do you think I am, anyway? D’ye think I’d get an Indian to do my killing?" - “Oh, then didn’t you?” she cried, suddenly brightening up. "You know, you talk so rough sometimes —and I never do know what you mean! You said you guessed you’d have to kill him for me, you know, and —oh, it was too awful! I must be getting foolish, I’m bo tired out. but—what did you tell that Indian?” Bud glanced at her sharply for a moment and then decided to humor her. Perhaps, if he could get her quieted, she would stop talking and begin to eat. “He asked me who was after us,” he said, “and I told him it was Del Rey.” "Yes, and what did he say, then?" “He didn’t say nothing—jest lined out for the pass.” “And didn’t you say you wanted — him—killed?” “No!” burst out Bud, half angrily. "Haven’t I told you once? I did not! That Indian had reasons of his own, believe me—he’s got a scar along his ribs where Del Rey shot him with a six-shooter! And, furthermore,’’ he added, as her face cleared at this explanation of the mystery, “you’d better try to take me at my word for the rest of this trip! Looks to me like you’ve been associating with these Mexicans too much!” "Why, what do you mean?” she demanded curtly. “I mean this,” answered Hooker, "being as we’re on the subject again. Ever since I’ve knowed you you’ve been talking about brave men and all that; and more’n once you've hinted that I wasn’t brave because I wouldn’t

fight. * “I’d just like to tell you, to put your mind at rest, that my father was a Bergeant in the Texas rangers and no hundred Mexicans was ever able to make him crawl. He served for ten years on the Texas border and never turned his back to no man —let alone a Mex. I was Brought up by him to be peaceable and quiet, but don’t you never think, because I run away from Manuel del Rey, that I was afraid to face him.” He paused and regarded her intently, and her eyes fell before his. “You must excuse me,” she said, looking wistfully away, “I did not —I did not understand. And so the poor Yaqui was-only avenging an injury?” she went on, reaching out one slender hand toward the food. “Ah, I can understand it now —he looked so savage and fierce. But” —she paused again, set back by a sudden thought—“didn’t you know he would kill him?” “Yes, ma’am,” answered Hooker quietly, “I did.” “Then —then why didn’t you—” “That was between them two,” ho replied doggedly. “Del Rey shot him once when he was wounded and left him for dead. He must have killed some of his people, too; his wife mebbe, for all I know. He never would talk about it, but he come back to get his revenge. I don’t shoot no man from cover myself, but that ain’t it — it was between them two.” “And you?” she suggested. "If you had fought Del Rey.?*’ “I would have met him in the open,” said Hooker. “And yet—” “I didn’t, want to,” he ended bluntly. “Didn't want to fight him and didn’t want to kill him. Had no call to. And then —well, there was you.” “Ah!” she breathed, and a flush mounted her pale cheeks. She smiled as she reached out once more for the food and Hooker resolved to do hla best at gallantry, it seemed to make her so happy. “So you were thinking of me,” she challenged sweetly, “all the while? I thought perhaps I was a nuisance and in the way. I thought perhaps you did not like me because^well, because I’m a Mex.. as you say.” “No, ma’hm,” denied Hooker gazing upon her admiringly. “Nothing like that! When I say Mex I mean these low, pelado Mexicans—Don Juan tells me you’re pure Spanish.” #*wath perhaps a little Yaqui.” she suggested shyly. “Well, mqbhe he did say that, too,” {Confessed Bud. “But it’s jeet as good aa Spanish—they say all the big men In Sonora have got some Yaqui blood —Morral, that was vice-president; the Tomes brothers, governors—” “And Aragon!” she added playfully, but at a look in his eyes she stopped. Bud could not look pleasant and think of Aragon. “Ah, yes,” she rattled on. “I know. Yon like the Yaqnia better than the Spanish—l saw you shaking hands with Indian. And what waa it you called film—Amigo?” “That’s right.” smiled Hooker; "him .and me have been friends for months now out at the mine. Td do anything for that feller." ■ -

“Oh, now yon make me Jealous,” she pouted. "If I were only a Yaqui—and big and black —” “Never mind,” defended Bud. "He was a true friend, ail right, and true friends, believe me, are scarce.” There waa a shade of bitterness in his voice that did not escape her. and she was careful not to allude to Phil. His name, like the name of her father, always drove this shy man to silence, and she wanted to make him talk. "Then you ought to be friends with me,” she chided, after a silence. “I have always wanted to be your friend —why will you never allow It? No. but really! Haven’t I always shown it? I remember now the first time that I saw you—l was looking through my hole among the passion-flowers and you saw me with your keen eyes. Phil did not—but he was there. And you just looked at me once —and looked away. Why did you never respond when I came there to look for you? You would just ride by and look at me once, and even Phil never knew. “No,” agreed Bud, smiling quietly. "He was crazy to see you, but he rode right by, looking at the window* and such.” “The first time I met him,” mused Gracia, “I asked about you. Did he ever tell you?” Bud hung his head and grinned sheepishly. It was not difficult to make out a case against him. And so Gracia had not wanted Del Rey killed as he thought she did. She was not the vicious woman he had thought her for a time. She was just the gentle, noble girl he had sworn to protect and conduct across the border to her fiance. Again came the desire to claim her, but there was not only Phil to be thought of but the fitness of himself to be the mate of this woman.

“Is It something I have done?” she asked at last. “Is that why you never liked me? Now, Mr. Hooker, please speak to me! And why do you always sit so far away—are you afraid of me? But look.” —she moved closer to him “here we are alone, and I am not afraid of you!” “Of course not,” answered Bud, looking across at her boldly. “Why should you be —you ain’t afraid of 'nothing! ” “Is that a compliment?” she demanded eagerly. “Oh, then I’m so happy — it’s the first you ever paid me! But have I been brave,” she beamed, “so far? Have I been brave, like a man?” “Sure have!" remarked Hooker impersonally, “but we ain’t there yet Only thing I don’t like about you is you don’t eat enough. Say, don’t pick up them crumbs —let me pare off some more of this jerked beef for you. Can’t nobody be brave when they’re hungry, you know, and I want to bring you in safe.”

“Why?” she inquired, as she accepted the handful of meat. “Is is on Phil’s account?” she ventured, as he sat gazing stoically at the horses. “You were such friends, weren’t you?” she went on innocently. “Oh, that is why I admire the Americans so much —they are so true to each otherl” “Yes,” observed Hooker, rolling his eyes on her, “we’re fine that way!” “Well, I mean it!” she insisted, as she read the irony in his glance. “Sure! So do I!” answered Hooker, and Gracia continued her meal in alienee. “My!” she said at last; “this meat is good! Tell me, how did you happen to

have It on your saddle? We left so suddenly, you know!” She gazed up at him demurely, curious to see how he would evade this evidence that he had prepared in advance for their ride. But once more, as he had always done, Hooker eluded the cunningly laid snare. *3 was figuring on pulling out myself,"he replied ingenuously. “What? And not take me?” she cried. "Oh, I thought—but dear me, what is the use?” She sighed and dropped her head wearily. “I am so tired!” she murmured despondently; “shall we be going on soon?" •‘Sot unless somebody Jumps us,” returned Bud. “Here, let me make you a bed in the shade. There now” —as he spread out the saddle-blankets temptingly—“you lay down and get some sleep and I’ll kinder keep a watch.” “Ah. you are so kind,” the breathed, as she sank down on the bed. “Don’t you know,” she added, looking up at him with sleepy eyes that half concealed a smile, “I believo you like me, after all.” 'V- £§ “Sure,” confessed Bud, returning I

her amlle as honestly; ‘Hoot jos wsr rj none about me —I like you fine." He slipped away at this, grinning to htwiaelf, and sat down to watch the plain All about Urn lay the waving grass land, tracked up by the hoofs of cattle that had vanished in the track of war. In the distance he could see the line of a fence and the ruins of a house. The trail which he had followed led on and on to the north. But all the landscape was vacant, except for his grazing horses. Above the, mountains the midday til under-caps were beginning to form-; the air was very soft and warm, and — He woke up suddenly to find his head on his knees. “Ump-um-m,” he muttered, rising up and shaking himself resolutely, “this Won’t do —that sun is making me sleepy.” He paced back and forth, smoking fiercely at brown-paper cigarettes, and still the sleep came back. The thun-der-clouds over the mountains rose higher and turned to black; they let down skirts and fringes and sudden stabß of lightning, while the wind sucked in* from the south. And then, with a slash of rain, the shower was upon them. At the first big drops Gracia stirred uneasily in her sleep. She started up as the storm burst over them; then, as Bud picked up the saddle-blankets and spread them over her, she drew him down beside her and they sat out the storm together. But it was more to them than a sharing of cover, a patient enduring of the elements, and the sweep of wind and rain. When they rose up there was a bond between them and they thrust and parried no more. They were friends, there in the rush of falling water and the crash of lightning overhead. When the storm" was over and the sun came out they smiled at each other contentedly without fear of what such smiles may mean.

CHAPTER XXVII. As the sun, after a passing stoim, comes forth all the more gloriously, so the joy of their new-found friendship changed the world for Bud and Gracia. The rainbow tfikt glowed agfclnst the retreating clouds held forth more than a promise of sunshine for them, and they conversed only of pleasant things as they rode on up the trail. The dangers that still lay between them and the border seemed remote now, and neither gave them a thought. There was no one in all the wide world but just these two, this man and woman who had found themselves.

Twenty miles ahead lay the northern pass, and from there it was ten more to Gadsden, but they spoke neither of the pass nor of Gadsden nor of who would be awaiting them there. Their talk was like that of children, inconsequential and happy. They told of the times when they had seen each other, and what they had thought; of the days of their childhood, before they had met at Fortuna; of hopes and fears and thwarted ambitions and all the young dreams of life. Bud told of his battle-scarred father and their ranch in Arizona; of his mother and horse-breaking brothers, and his wanderings through the West; Gracia of her mother, with nothing of her father, and how she had flirted in order to be sent to school where she could gaze upon the ups(tanding Americans. Only Bud thought of the trail and scanned the horizon for rebel*, but he seemed more to seek her eyes than to watch for enemies and death. They rode on until the* sun sank low and strange tracks struck their trail from the east. Bud observed that the horses were shod, and more tracks, of mounted men came in beyond. He turned Sharply toward the west and followed a rocky ledge to the hills, without leaying a hoof-print, to mark the way of their retreat Those hoof prints brought Bud back from the land 'of dreams in which he had been wandering to a realization of the dangers that lurked about them. But a little way ahead was Jhe pass they must cross, and he suddenly realized that they could not safely do so in the broad light of day. j He must not take such chancel of losing his new found happiness.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

The Heavy Mauser Spoke Out —One Shot!

They Thrust and Parried No More.