Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1916-02-07
CHATTER XNIII.

At LAST the ins came to the valley
a and FazcnGl Flores. Gerry spent
long hours bes!d- his sluicc-gate watch
come. The torrent OF rain was local and he
remembered that Lc r had told him that
the fioods-the great "Oods-came from
hundreds of miles up the river and gener-
ally under brazen sky Night, black
night, had fallen with the rain and he
was Just turning to seek shelter from the
unbroken downpour when n voice raised
in song reached his ears. He waited. The
voice drew net r. In n nasal tone, which
somehow sounded IN. iilar though It was
unknown to him, It W, chanting a long
string of doggerel ending in an unvarying
refrain. Finally Gerry could make out
the long-drawn tail.end of the song:
'-comin do N thl d-awr."
English! Americanl Cowboy .lGsic! /!
The Impressions came in rapid success
sion. Gerry strove to pierce the darkness
He could hear the nearby splash of care
full mules, picking their way through pud-
dies with flnc-,y little steps. He felt
shadow in the darkness and could just
see above 1t a blur of Yellow. Behind It,
more shadows. On an impulse he did not
stop to measure, he shouted in English,
Halo, there"
The doggerel was choke off in mid
fight.
The yellow blur came to n sudden stop,
and the nasal voice rang out in quick
staccato, Speak again, stranger, and
speak quick!"
TITS all right" Gerry laughed back.
where are you bound for?"
I'm headed down the drawr lookin' for
chalk line where | en- dry my feet.
What do you know?"
"Can you see the water in the ditch
at your right?'
"Yasser, can. I en- see you, too"
Well" shouted back Gerry. your
eyes beat mine. Follow the ditch until
you come to a bridge. I'll meet you
there"
Gerry found the little cavalcade wait
ing for him, six pack-mules, n native
driver and, towering above them. a
great lanky figure in a yellow oilskin
sicker topped by broad-brmmed hat.
Gerry looked over the OUTFIT as carefully
as the darkness would allow and then
said tentatively There's a house down
there in the valley.
rs the'?" drawled the stranger spit
ing deliberately into the ditch. Well"
he volunteered after n further pause
my names Jake Kemp. The rest of
this outfit is six mules packin' orchids
and the greaser packln the mules"
That's all right" said Gerry, II guess
we can put you up"
A patriarchal hospitality came natur-
ally to the inmates of FaZenda Flores
tation but throughout a vast hinterland,
where life was rude and death sudden,
to be gentle to the stranger. to feed him
and his beast and to speed him on in
the early morning. There was but one
rule to the stranger: He must keep his
eyes to the front. Jake Kemp had evil
IDENTIFY learned the brief code. He ate
ravenously.
Gerry was feeling strange elation that
he strove in vain to account for. This
was an American but beyond that they
had nothing in common. New York and
Texas are connected only by fiction. Per-
haps 1t was just curiosity. Curiosity in
vaded him. What was a Texas cowboy
doing on the road past Fa2enda Flores
with a mule-train of orchids? AS an
opener he declared himself. my names
Gerry Lansing" he said. i've settled
down here"
"So?" said Kemp, as he drew from his
vest pockets the makings of a cigarette.
Gerry had seen the yellow papers and
the little bags of fiaked tobacco. They
struck convincingly the note Of the West.
Kemp himself was gotten up in the
same key. Broad -brimmed hat shirt
sleeves, unbuttoned vest collarless shirt.
high-heeled boots and the yellow slicker
tossed on the floor, all were In strict keep
ing with type. "Reckon you're I'm the
States" drawled Kemp as he accom-
plished the cigarette.
CONTINUED TOMORROW