Jasper County Democrat, Volume 14, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 May 1911 — Burton’s Fear [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Burton’s Fear

It Proved to Be More Imagi* ary Than Real

By Clarissa Mackie

The sun burned like a malignant eye over the Panama town. Sunday was the dullest day In the week for the corps of American engineers stationed here, and they were lined along the veranda, cool looking in white linen, feet on railing, smoking after luncheon cigars. A native Haitian servant went to and fro with a tray of Iced drinks. Now he paused before Lester, with a suggestive jingle of glasses. Lester shook his head negatively. “If one must die In this hole,” he told his companions, “I prefer not to take the cholera route, thank you.” “No use in trying to dodge trouble, I say,” drawled Burton. He rolled a cigarette and scratched a match along the railing. Lester watched Burton’s thin, dark face flame into color in the light of the flaring match cupped in his palm. He had known Burton for two years before they had both joined the force which was pushing the “big ditch" to completion. ’ He hitched his chair a little closer to Burton’s and laid a hand on his arm. “Well. Ralph." the other asked quickly as he flung aside the burnt match with a nervous gesture. Lester sank back in his chair “Oh, nothing," he said rather awkwardly. “I wanted to say something, that’s all, but I’ve changed my mind. Forget it" “Fire away," said the other recklessly. “I’ve been expecting you’d light on to me. but I think I can anticipate all you’d say. I know I’m going straight to ruin, that I’m drinking my-

self to death, that I’m an easy mars, for fever, that next pay day I’ll be dropped from the roll because of that Ortsago blunder, but, dash it all. Ralph. I can’t help it!” "Help what?” asked Lester bluntly. “Help being afraid.” “Afraid! Afraid of what?’ “Oh, I don’t know— Yes, Ido know, and I might as well make a clean breast of my cowardice. I’m afraid of the fever.” “You’ve lost your nerve, and you’ll suffer till you get it back again,” said Lester. “Can’t you get leave of absence and take a fishing trip out to sea?” “No leave of absence for me. I’m slated to be fired,” said the other gloomily. “Then be ready to make good in another direction when you are fired. Don’t let this job throw you down for good. Don’t be a quitter, that’s what I mean,” ended Ralph. “Oh, look—who’s here?” He stared at a strange figure that came down the length of the hot street, propelled into the air by • leaps and bounds, followed by an absurd hop. skip and jump. Trailing in his wake were the riffraff of the town. A flicker of interest ran through the group on the hotel veranda. They leaned forward, elbows on the railing, and waited for the approach of the man. Presently he paused before rhe veranda and addressed them in a wild, incoherent, incomprehensible speech. Ragged and unkempt, with matted black hair growing low on his forehead. he peered from rolling eyes at the white men. His speech became a passionate appeal for something which nobody understood. He waved away with swift impatience a large glass of whisky and soda which Stevens good naturedly sent down to him. He shook his mad locks angrily at the handful of cigarettes that followed. He bellowed with rage when food was proffered. Meantime the crowd laughed and jeered. Nobody appeared to understand his language; not a word could be translated of his rambling appeals. Lester held up a handful of money to the black servant “This for you, Luiz, If you can find out what the man wants,” he said in Spanish. The Haitian grinned and darted to the street, where he conferred with a stranger. A low mutter came up from them, and finally the stranger turned Impatiently away, while Luiz uttered a few words in the vernacular that scattered the crowd like chaff. Then he sauntered to the veranda and

r - - -1 ■ ■welled wfth Importance under the curious regard of the white men. “Well, what did you find out?’ demanded Lester, pouring the coins into the black’s ready palm! “The man says he came from the jungle yonder—it is half a day’s journey to his hut"—Luiz hesitated as if at a loss for words; then, clutching the money tightly in his hand, he added hurriedly: “The fever—the fever—his mother is dying of the fever, and he craves that one of the learned senors will return and cure with the bitter root" At a call from within the hotel the Mack man picked up his tray and departed. while the engineers stared at each other with uncertain eyes. Burton’s lean jaws bad snapped shut at the word “fever.” His dark eyes were fixed on the form of the wild Indian, now standing dejectedly in the hot sun. “He said fever.’ ” remarked Stevens, with a sickly smile. “1 shouldn’t think they would allow the fellow around, you know." “His mother’s dying," said Lester coldly. There was an uncomfortable pause. Suddenly Burton leaped to his feet and disappeared Inside. When his footsteps had ceased Stevens laughed his little cackling utterance of amusement. “By Jove, but Burton has certainly got ’em bad! I suppose he’ll try to drown that bad Impression with a quart or two.’’ As if by mutual consent the group of men dissolved, and only Lester was left He seemed to be waiting for some one, and while he waited he pulled out a little pocket medicine case, satisfied himself that there was plenty of quinine and other necessary remedies, went into the bar for a flask of whisky and waited.

All at once Burton appeared in the doorway, a straw covered bag in one hand. On bis bead was a pith helmet. His eyes met Lester’s straigbtly. confidently. “I’m going.’’ he said shortly. “I knew it.” nodded Lester. “I was waiting for you because I’m going too. I haven’t forgotten that time when, as I we were surveying in the Adirondacks and Leets broke his leg. you carried him for miles. Oh. well, if you object to reminiscences!" “It’s his mother, you know." explained Burton. “I understand.” said the other gently. “Shall we start?” “Ready. I’ve got a water bottle in my bag.” They went down into the road and signified to the Indian that they would accompany him. The look of joy that overspread his face moved the white men strangely. * As they followed his Impetuous lead the manager of the hotel ran down to intercept their journey and to say that he regretted that he could not accommodate them on their return from the fever district If he did he would lose all his patronage, and as they knew they were taking a risk—- “ Pack our things and hold in readiness for orders,” said Lester as they moved on. “As if the fever were not already among us." he added. The Indian moved ahead at a slow trot, and the Americans followed him at a moderate pace until at last the outer walls of the jungle closed behind them. Here they wound along a sinuous trail overhung with creepers that drooped from the tall trees. There was a rank, damp smell of tropical growth and the occasional flash of a bright hued parrakeet or the gorgeous raiment of a flower. Hours passed. They stopped for rest and a luncheon from Burton’s magic basket, but the Indian waved aside all food, but occasionally he drank from a water bottle that hung from bls waist Just as the sun was setting and the forest was all but steeped in twilight they came to its end. Before them stretched a white curve of shell strewn beach indented by a tiny bay. Near them was a small thatched hut. As they paused, looking at the lonely scene glorified by the gold and rose of the setting sun. the Indian dropped to his knees and made demonstrations of gratitude. Lester pointed to the hut, and the Indian led the way. It was empty, but the man smiled hopefully in their astonished faces and pulled from his ragged garments a bit of paper. The Americans scanned it carelessly and then with interest. There was a rough penciled map of the little bay and curving beach, and written tn English was a terse command: “In a straight line thirty feet southwest of the big mahogany, twelve feet north of the dead catalpa. Dig.” They did not stop to question the Indian where he had found the penciled map which he had intelligently taken to the white men for translation. He had understood the map and Its suggestion. They found shovels and large turtle shells, and the three dug with a will, and they found something in a small oaken keg sunk in the sand.' If it was pirate treasure there was no clew. There was enough for three, and the gold was evenly divided among them—sufficient to turn the Indian’s brain and to make the white men a comfortable nest egg. The next morning they tramped back across the trail burdened with treasure, but unburdened by fear. Burton tossed a gold piece in the air. “This is for Luiz, he Is such a, splendid liar.” he said carelessly. “How about the fear ?” asked Lester, •with his quiet smile. The other turned a clear face toward him. “Why, I forgot all about that. Funny, isn’t it?” “Great!” returned Lester, but his eyes expressed more than the simple word implied.

FOUND SOMETHING IN A SMALL OAKEN KE[?].