Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1914-09-09
& CHAPTER XVI ntlnued.

8AIu6E6U III Inc Valley 10y SO0s : AAAs
IL Amigo comes back I'm going to go
ahead on that mine. I2$want to keep
him around here, and we might AZ
well get out some ore, II It's only for
aEgrub stake Come on---what do you
say 4 Wen open her up-there's moth
Ing to hide now. Well, Ill do 1t my
self, then-this setting around 10 get
ting on my nerves" 5s.. II IS .~.I .55..,5
His far-seeing eyes, trained from his
I boyhood to search the hills for cattle,
scanned the tops Of the ridges as he
spoke; and while he sat and pondered
they noted every rock. a 4 II ...i.
Then at last he rose up slowly and
gazed at |, a certain spot. He waved
y his arm, reckoning the distant point
sof blackness to come In, and soon
from around q point II the canyon the
sYaqui appeared, bearing q heavy Maui
{ ser srifle on his arm. rs s5.s Z & 1!
Across his broad breast hung the
came familiar cartridge-belt, two more
encircled his hips, and he walked
j with his head held high. like the war
rior that he was. NJ s Ill
4 Evidently his flight had led to the
place where his arms had been hid. for
4 he wore the regulation knife-bayonet
at his hip and around his hat was the
\ red ribbon Of his, people, but Bud was
too polite to ask him about his jour
ney. Since his coming the Yaqui had
always maintained a certain mystery,
and now, though his eyes were big
xrrith n,,< a., a y x 49, n a. 90 III = Socf
about his gun. he simply waved his
hand to- the south and east and muir
INJURED: "a u II ~
..Muchos revoltosos!" %7 4. .sE., i. 3sl!%
SECURE; I" 4 answered Bud jokingly;
& hut have you killed any r.
Not yet! I" returned the Indian. and
he did not smile at that. Il a 4 ~. 81
81 wonder what that Indian is wait
Ing around here for e remarked Phil in
English. 2"He must have his eye on
somebody. Ne ggtt III Al VIA
Yeah, bet" agreed Bud, regard
ing his savage friend with specula-
tive interest. Most OF them Yaqui
soldiers was farmhands in this icoun-
try before they rounded them up.
reckon he's looking for the man that
had him deported. n $
s5 Il 2'" Tired. Amigo ~ he inquired in
Spanish, and 1gnacio gravely acknowl-
edged that he was. . little. XIX
Then drink plenty coffee" went on
Hooker. EAT ots-tomorrow we go
to work in the mine a ;s:, "a I. a
tomorrow g repeated the Indian.
as i II considering his other engage
sments; good * He nodded a@smiling
assent. SKI \ 4. :St $.;if
After month and more Of idleness
Bud and Amigo performed prodigies
of labor in the cut, rolling down
5boulders, lifting them up on the tram.
and clearing away the face OF the cliff.
Their tram was ramshackle, their
track the abandoned rails from older,
and their tools little more
than their hands. but by noon the last
broken fragments were heaved aside
and the shattered ledge revealed.
NJ "A low cry Of wonder escaped the
Yaqui as he gazed at the rich vein Of
ore. and as he saw the grim smile on
Buds rugged countenance he showed
his white teeth in sympathy. 4
"Que bueno!" he murmured. How
good" gathering the precious frag-
ments in his handkerchief. z
Al the camp they crushed the
picked ore in q mortar and panned 1t
in the creek. and for the moment De
Lancey dropped his air of preoccu-
pancy as he stared at the streak OF
pure gold. Like yellow film it lay
along the edge of the last fine tailings,
and when skilful washing had left it
bare, it cleaned like a jewel in the
pan. NJ.
"By Jove, Bud!" he cried. that's the
real stuff-and it goes a dollar to the
pan easy!"'s i@,
"sure thing!" assented Bud "Lets
pound lot Of 1t and wash 1t as we go
then Wen have some getaway money
when things break loose here!"
J TN go you'll" answered Phil, and
Buds heart warmed toward him as he
watched him pound up piece Of ore
and 60 to swirling the dirt in the
pan. - IT. a. te,,- a,.2s&
But alas for the fond hopes he cher
fshed! Even as he washed out the
gold Phils mind wandered far away,
back to the hotel where Gracia Ara
gon sat watching by the window.
Her hair was the color Of gold, spun
fine and refined again; yes. It was
worth more than this golden dross
that he caught in the bottom Of his
pan. And what was gold If he could
not have her?
He paused in his labor and dreamy
smile parted his lips-then he broke
into song:
Sweet honey bee. be sweet to me.
My heart Is free. but here's the key;
Lock up the garden gate: honey. you
Il know I'll wait, F2s.
Under the rambler rose tree-ee.