The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1914-08-12

things to all people-as a good hotel
keeper SHOULDN'T now he altered his
opinion a little, for the letters were
from Phil. He read them over In the
crowded plaza, into which the first
refugees were just beginning to pour,
and frowned as he skinned through
the last
OF Gracia and vain protestations of
devotion there vas enough and to
spare, but nothing about the mine.
Only in the first one, written on the
very day he had deserted. did be 80
much as attempt an Reuse for so pre-
cipitately abandoning their claim and
his Mexican citizenship. Phil wrote:
My mail was being sent through head
quarters and looked over by Del Rey, so
l knew I would never receive the papers.
ever II they came. I hope you don't feel
hard about it, pardner. Kruger says to
come out right away. I would have
stayed with it. but It wasn't any use.
And now, Bud. I want to ask you some
thing. When you come out, bring Gracla
with you. Don't leave her at the mercy
of Del Rey. I would come myself II II
wasn't sure death. Be quick about H.
Bud; I count or you.
The other letters were all like that,
but nothing about the mine. And yet
it was the mine that Bud was fighting
for-that they had fought for from the
first. The railroad was torn up now,
and a, flight with Gracia was hopeless,
but it was just as well, for he never
would abandon the Eagle Tail
In two months, or three, when the
rebels were whipped of. his papers
might come. Then he could pay his
taxes and transfer his title and con-
slider the stealing of Gracia- But since
he had seen her and touched her hand
something held him back-a grudg1ng
reluctance-and he was glad that his
duty lay elsewhere. If she was his
girl now he would come down and get
her anyway.
But she was not his girl and, gazing
back grimly at the seething plaza and
the hotel that hid her from sight, he
rode somberly down the road. After
all, there vas nothing to get excited
about-eyery revoltoso in the country
was lined up around Aqua Negra and.
with four hundred soldiers to oppose
them and artillery to shell their ad-
vance, 1t would be many a long day be-
fore they took that town.
Twice already Aqua Negra had
fallen before such attacks, but now 1t
was protected by riie-pits and ma
chine guns set high on mud roofs. And
then there were the Yaquis, still faith
full to Madero. They alone could hold
the town, If they made up their minds
to fight. So reasoned Hooker, mulling
over the news that he had heard. But
he watched the ridges warily, for the
| weather was good for raiders.
A day passed, and then another, and
the big whistle blew only for the
shifts: the loneliness Of the hills op-
pressed him as he gazed out at the
ouiyering heat And then, like a toad
after a shower, Amigo came padding
into camp on the heels OF a thunder
storm, his sandals hung on his hip and
his big feet squelching through the
mud.
Across his shoulders he wore a gay
serape, woven by some patient woman
of his tribe; and in the belt beside
Buds pistol he carried a heavy knife.
| blacksmithed from a ten-inch file by
some Yaqui hillman. All In all, he
was a fine barbarian, but he looked
good to the lonely Bud.
lola, Amigo!" he hailed, stepping
out from the adobe house where he
had moved to avoid the rains; and
Amigo answered with his honest smile
which carried no hint Of savagery or
deceit. O..
Try as he would, Bud. could not
bring himself to think OF his Yaqui as
d~angerous; and even when he bal,
anced the Indians murderous bowie
! knife in his hands he regarded 1t with
a grin. It was a heavy weapon, broad
across the back. keen on n edge,
and drawn to a point that was both
| sharp and strong. The haft was
wrapped with rawhide to hold the
clutch of the hand.
What do you do with this?" queried
| Hooker. Chop wood? Skin deer?"
Eyes, chop wood" answered Amigo,
but he replaced 1t carefully in his belt.
! (To BE coNTINUED.)
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