Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1914-10-08
Xxx.

In a country where witnesses to q
crime are imprisoned along with the
principals and kept more or less in
definitely in jail. a man thinks twice
before he reports to the police.
With four dead Mexicans to the
Yaqui's account, and Del Rey in
charge of the district, Hooker followed
his second thought-he said nothing,
and took his chances on being arrest
ed for murder. Until far into the night
Amigo busted himself along the hill
side. and when the sun rose not a sign
remained to tell the story Of the fight.
Men, horses, saddles and guns-all
had disappeared. And. after packing a
little food in a sack, Amigo disap-
peared also, with a grim smile in prom
Use of return.
The rose round and hot, the
same as usual; the south wind came
up and blew into a bellying mass of
clouds, which dashed back with the &C
customed rain; and when all the earth
was washed clean and fresh the last
trace Of the struggle was gone. Only
by the burns on his hands was Hooker
aware of the fight and of the t~reachery
which had reared its head against him
like a snake which has been warmed
and fed.
Nowhere but in Mexico, where the
low pelado classes have made such
deeds a subtlety, could the man be
found to dissimulate like that false
assassin-in-chief. To pause suddenly
In a ~protracted speech, swing yer and
pick up a gun, and halt his victim for
the shooting by the preparatory click
Of the lock-that indeed called for a
brand Of cunning rarely found in the
United States.
There was one thing about the affair
that vaguely haunted Hooker-why
was it that a man SO cunning as that
had failed to load his gun? Twice, and
with everything in his favor, he had
raised his rife to fire; and both times
it had snapped In his hands. Certainly
he must have been inept at arms-or
accustomed to single-shot guns.
The reputed magic of the swift-ir-
ing rifles evidently had been his undo
ing, but where had he got his new
gun? And who was he, anyway? With
those two battling questions Bud wres-
tied as he sat beside his door, and at
evening his answer came.
The sun was swinging low and he
was collecting wood down the gulch
for a fire when, with a sudden thud Of
hoofs, a horseman rounded the point
and came abruptly to a halt. 1t was
Aragon, and he was spying on the
camp.
For a full minute he scanned the
house, tent and mine with a look so
snaky and sinister that Bud could read
his heart like q book. Here was the
man who had sent the assassins, and
he had come to view their work!
Very slowly Buds hand crept
toward his six-shooter but, slight as
was the motion, Aragon caught it and
sat frozen in his place. Then, with an
inarticulate cry, he fell fat on his
horses neck and went squirting out
Of sight.
The answer to Buds questions was
very easy now. The Mexican who had
led the attempt on his life was n
Of Aragon's bad men, one Of the four
gunner whom Hooker had looked
wei SO carefully when they came to
drive him from the mine, and Aragon
had fitted him out with new arms to
make the result more sure. But with
that question answered there came up
another and another until, in a sud
den clarity Of vision, Bud saw through
the hellish plot and beheld himself
the master.
As mar to man, Aragon would not
dare to face him now, for he knew
that he merited death. BY his sly
approach, by the look in his eyes and
the dismay Of his frenzied retreat,
he had acknowledged more surely
than by words his guilty knowledge
Of the raid. Coming to a camp where
he expected to find all dead and still.
he had found himself face to face
with the very man he had sought to
kill. How, then, had the American
escaped destruction, and what had
occurred to his men?
Perhaps, in his ignorance, Aragon
was raging at his hirelinge because