The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1914-06-17

AtA
he's around here now-his name was
Mendez."
Jose Maria Mendez?" inquired Don
Juan. who was a living directory OF
the place. Ricardo? Pancho? CRUZ"
"Cruz!" cried De Lancey; that was
it,"
"He lives down the rive- a couple of
miles," said Don Juan; down at Old
Fortuna"
"Old Fortuna!" repeated Phil. 81
didn't know there was such a place"
why, my gracious!" exclaimed Don
Juan de Dios, e%candalized by such
Ignorance. do you mean to say you
have been here three days and never
heard about Fortuna Vieja? Why,
this isn't Fortuna! This is an Ameri-
can mining campfire old town Is
down below.
That's where this man Arage the
big Mexican of the country, has his
ranch and store. Spanish? Him? No,
indeed-mitad! He is half Spanish and
half Yaqui Indian, but his wife Is a
pure Spaniard-one Of the few in the
country. Her father was from Madrid
and she is a Villanueva-a very beau
tiful woman in her day, with golden
hair and the presence Of a queen!
mo, lot Irish! My goodness, you
Americans think that everybody with
red hair is Irish! Why, the most beau
tiful women in Madrid have chestnut
hair as soft as the fur of a dormouse.
1t is the old Castilian hair, and they
are proud of it. The Sonora Aragon
married beneath her station-it was
in the City of Mexico, and she did not
know that he was an Indian-but she
Is a very nice lady for all that and
never omits to bow to me when she
comes up to take the train. l remem
Der one time"
Does Cruz Mendez work for hlm?"
interjected De Lancey desperately.
mo, indeed" answered Don Juan
patiently; "he packs in wood from the
hills-but as l was saying" and
from that he went on to tell of the un-
failing courtesy of the Sonora Aragon
to a gentleman whom, whatever his
present station might be, she recog-
nized as a member Of one Of the oldest
families in CASTLE.
De Lancey did not press his In
quiries any further, but the next morn
ing, instead Of riding back into the
hills, he and Bud turned their faces
down the canyon to seek out the elusive
Mendez. They had, Of course, been
acting o part for Don Juan, since Kru-
ger had described Old Fortuna and the
Senior Aragon with great minuteness.
And now, in the guise Of innocent
strangers, they rode on down the river,
past the concentration with it's multiple
tanks, res gliding tramway and noun
tains of tailings,, through the village of
Indian houses stuck like dugouts
against the barren hill-then along a
river bed that oozed with Stockings IN
til they came in sight Of the town.
La Fortuna was an old town, yet not
as old as it's name, since two Fortunas
before it had been washed away by
cloudbursts and replaced by newer
dwellings,. The settlement itself was
some four hundred years old, dating
back to the days Of the Spanish con-
q%uistadores, when it yielded up many
muleloads Of gold.
The present town was built a HttleI
up from the river In the lee OF q great
ridge of rocks thrust down from the
hill and well calculated to turn aside
a glut of waters. 1t was a comfortable
huddle Of whitewashed adobe build
ings set on both sides Of a narrow and
irregular road-the great trail that led
down to the hot country and was worn
deep by the pack-trains of. centuries.
. On the lower side was the ample
store and cantina Of Don Cipriano,
where the thirsty arrteros could get a
drink and buy a panoche of sugar
without getting down from their
mounts. Behind the store were the
pole corrals and adobe warehouses
and the quarters Of the poems. and
across the road vas the mescal still,
where, in huge copper retort and
worm, the fiery liquor was distilled
from the sugar-laden heads OF Yuccas.
This was the town, but the most i'm
portant building-set back In the
shade of mighty cottonwoods and
pleasantly aloof from the road-was
the residence of Senior Aragon. 1t was
this. in fact, which held the undivided
attention Of De Lancey as they rode
quietly through the village. for he
had become accustomed from a long
experience in the tropics to look for
something elusive. graceful and femi'
nine In houses set back in a garden.
Nothing stirred, however, and having
good reason to avoid Don Cipriano,
they logged steadily on their way.
Some housed" observed Phil, with
a last hopeful look over his shoulder.
"Uh," assented Bud, as they came
to a. fork in the road. Say" he con-
tinued, lets urn off on this trail.
Lot of burro tracks going out-expect
it's our friend, Mr.. Mendez."
"All right" said De Lancey ab-
sently: wonder where old Aragon
keeps that beautiful daughter of his
the one Don Joo-an was telling about
Have to stop on the way back and
eamnle the old mans mescal."