Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1903-11-05
! GOOD ENEMIES ;
Observation-Disclosures
BY AGNES LOUISE PROVOST. ,

A S THE shadows deepened across
n the twisting trail which Marsden
followed and no sign of human habita-
ton had yet appeared, he began to
realize that he had been a trife too
impetuous in setting out alone over
strange roads, when the day was al
ready far advanced.
This is what l get for knowing
mor than anybody else," he reflected,
philosophically, peeripg into the
tangled vegetation ahead of him for
some token that the end of his jour-
ney was near, but finding only more
shadows, and an increasingly difficult
path. Il believe these hills and val
leys were especially designed for I'M
suspecting strangers to get lost in.
Now | may have the pleasure of camp
ing out in this tropical wilderness all
night, on IN empty stomach, and catch
ing the deuce knows how many fevers,
providing that mythical brigand
doesn't catch me. If he comes l shall
try to make it pleasant for him."
He pushed ahead rapidly, seeking a
more promising spot for his lonely
camp. Instinctively his hand went to
his revolyers as he remembered the
good American gold in his belt.
The bushes at the side of the path
rustled ~ominously, and, as his horse
SHE'D, Marsden's revolver flashed up
and cleaned darkly out of the shad-
ows, but there was another sound over
his shoulder, the swish of something
driving swiftly through the air, and
Marsden dropped like a log, under a
crushing blow on his head.
The report of his revolver echoed
through the hills, and an impatient
Spanish curse answered it, as a man
stepped out from the bushes and seized
the frightened horse, for Senior Con
zales, a half-breed by birth and brigand
by profession, was a gentleman who
eschewed loud noises, preferring to do
his work quietly, like some low-fying
night-bird in search of prey. Then,
with ungentle hands, he jerked Mars
den up into the saddle, binding him
there as he lurched forward, and to-
gether they picked their way through
the dark woods, the watchful brigand
keeping eye and ear alert for danger,
and the still shivering horse, with the
limp, dead weight strapped down on
his back.
When consciousness at last came
back to Marsden he lay dazed and I'M
compromising for some minutes, in
the corner where he had been thrown,
trying to fit himself back to his own
identity, and his identity to the sur
roundings in which he found himself.
The blow on his head had left it be-
wildered and dizzy, with an al%l-pervad-
ing ache, but as the light of reasoning
consciousness filtered back into his
mind, a dull resentment took hold of
him. His right shoulder was wrenched
and horribly sore from his fall, and
his captor had bound him with a dis
tinct disregard for his physical COM
fort.
1t was dark in the corner where he
lay, but slowly he made out the walls
Of a hut, and then, as the sound of
deep-drawn breaths came to his ears,
he followed it to a rough bed, vaguely
outlined in the far corner. A woman,
entering quietly, had thrown herself
face downward across it, and the sound
Of her smothered sobs came painfully
to Marsden across the little room.l
1t needed but this strange touch to
put all his faculties on the alert, and
not a movement betrayed his return to
consciousness as the woman presently
arose and went outside.
Through the open door his eyes fol-
lowed her, and saw his captor stand
ing by a small fire. The Pickering
light danced on the mans face and
struck out cleaning lights from a sim
~ister-looking machete laid across his
arm, but his attention was centered in
Marsden's revolvers. which he was ex-
amining with infinite satisfaction.
M~arsden's wrath rose to boiling point,
and he ground his teeth impotently as
he watched.
The woman came forward and began
mechanical preparations for a meal,
and Marsden saw that the face which
beat over the fire was young and
comely, although disfigured by recent
tears. Presently she stopped and stood
close to the man.
"You will do it, Pedro? You will
promise me this much?"
Marsden's Spanish was lame and
hating at best, but he strained his ears
to catch and understand her words
wondering what this could mean. Hell
youthfully round face worked painfully
as she looked up at Pedro, her hands
on his chest and her eyes burning in
sistently into his. He did not move
nor repulse her, but the cultural rum
BILE of his answer conveyed nc intelli-
gence to the listening prisoner. Her
voice, although low, was clearer, and
Marsden's veins tingled with a sense
of impending tragedy as she stepped