The Green Forest tribune., 1909-10-15
By WILL LEXINGTON COMFORT
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Copyright, by J. B. Lippincott Co.)

Let us be commonplace for min ute and begin with a spring night and college campus, garnished with moonlight, ple-buds-and man and maiden standing closely to- gether.
 "But, Nettie. if you don't think Pm worth waiting for, Pm sure I don't know just what to do about it." the man said dismally.
 You are worth waiting for, Jim, D was the soft answer q believe in you and like you-better than any body I ever knew; but, Jim, you know you are slow"
 "Yes, there seems to be general agreement on that; but you wait two years, Nettie, and I'll go out into the southwest and make bunch of Inon- ey and come back and marry you. In two years"
 "But how are you going to make this bunch of money?" she asked, with sweet skepticism.
 "Oh, the southwest, you know. They're rushers out there. I'll hustle"
 Nettie was silent for moment. It is possible that she was trying to conjure to her brain picture of big Jim Quest in the act of hustling.
 "Yes, dear" whispered Jim; "Tll think of you always out there while I'm banging about. piling up dollars" /"
 And so it came about that Jim grit ted his teeth at the southwest, vow ing to manhandle the same out of a competence for two.
 After many days he strolled over into Mexico and discovered Corazel, which was concealed like yellow brown chameleon on the yellow-brown sand. The day was shaking down her shadows when Jim Quest came and the little people were awake. Be cause he was a-hungered and very hot him-brought him milk and choice <; portions of goats, fragrant bouquets of red wine and coffee black.
 One lithe-fngered. marvel-eyed maid- en rolled cigarettes for him, as you would imagine Mother Nature would make roses if she set about doing a half-dozen blossoms a minute. And | another girl-so wondrous that Jim | thought she must be mirage at the edge of the sunset, until he heard her voice-swung a hammock for him at the window of the house.
 "I knew it-I sure knew it." mur- mured Jim "If you keep on going, you're bound to find something to do. I think am going to like this.'' It transpired that he was in the house of Quesada, to whom all Cora gel bowed A very old Spaniard was the senor, with some riches, caprices. venoms and affections When the last century was in it's high noon, Quesada had come over from Spain into Mex ico. He had found silver, and it was a stately tradition in Corazel and the province that the old man had a pa per which pointed out the mouth of the Lost Lode, tooth of almost solid silver, known to be somewhere among the Diablo peaks, though lost for dec. ades. Senor Quesada also possessed l two daughters: Magdalena who swung Jim's hammock, and whose beauty would have startled Madrid; and Jua- nita, the little sister, who loved to roll Jim's cigarettes and serve in the shadows.
 Quesada and his family treated the | American with great deference, until Jim began to believe that he WAS a Messiah long expected. Without stir. ring from his hammock, he could learn | Spanish There was infinite peace in the prospect of the wilderness of mountains to the south and east Plainly Corazel was his destiny; for. as he had proved. there were no for 1 tunes to be made behind.
 Jim filled some great need and had not the heart to depart. Weeks elapsed and his Spanish permitted him to learn the manner of his ser vice. Senor Quesada, dim of mind and dismantled of body, bent over the young mans hammock one morning and bade him follow. They mounted horses in silence and rode out into the tinted mountains together, where the old Spaniard showed him his SC. cret silver mine filled with wealth un- ] told.
 Now, just here the plot bears down. Jose Costa coveted not only the pos. 1 sessions of Quesada. including the map to the Lost Lode, but he had looked upon the elder daughter, Mag dalena, and ridden away with star in his eyes, In the failing brain of the old Spaniard, the length and breadth and thickness of our Jim were ad. | justed to a design. He was to act as a moral force to the existing de lenders of Corazel in the event of a raid; and also. by his considerable | presence. he was to act as pre- ventive against any extreme measures on the part of Jose Costa.
 But, alas, days and weeks of un. varying sunlight and eternal stars faded the realism into vague mythical story. The morning ride to the Lost Lode, the ardor of the toll of defense, and even the existence oi Jose Costa, partook at last of the | hush of dream-stuff. But the wines of Quesada were not dream-stuff, nor the eyes of Magdalena, nor the memory of Nettie in the blowing campus-Net tie, to whom he surely must write presently-nor the smiles of Jua anita from the shadows, as she poured his wines and toyed with her miracles oi cigarettes. The serenity drew on and on. Then came the morning that