Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1916-03-09

At last the rains came TO the valley
and FaZenda Flores. Gerry spent long
hours beside his sluicegate watching
for rise in the river, but it did not
come. The torrent OF rain was local
and he remembered that Lieber had
told him that the fioods-the great
fioods-came from hundreds of miles
up the river and generally under
brazen sky. Night black night, had
fallen with the rain and he was just
turning to seek shelter from the un-
broken downpour when voice raised
in song reached his ears. He waited.
The voice drew nearer In nasal
tone. which somehow sounded familiar
though it was unknown 10 him. it was
chanting a long string of doggerel end.
ing in an unvarying refrain. Finally
Gerry could make out the long-drawn
tail-end of the song comm down the
drawn"
English! American Cowboy mu-
sic! The impressions came in rapid
succession. Gerry strovc TO pierce
the darkness. He could hear the near.
by splash of careful mules. picking
their way through puddles with finick.
ing little steps. He felt a shadow in
the darkness and could Just see above
1t 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 choked off in mid
fight. The yellow blur came to a sud
den stop and the nasal voice rang out
in quick staccato, Speak again,
stranger. and speak quickr'
It's all right" Gerry laughed back.
where are you bound for?"
I'm headed down the drawn lookin'
for a chalk line where | en- dry my
feet. What do you know?"
Can you see the water in the ditch
at your rightY"
''Yasser, I can. en- see you. too"
WELL" shouted back Gerry. your
eyes beat mine Follow the ditch un-
til you come to a bridge. I'll meet you
there
Gerry found the little cavalcade
waiting for him. six pack-mules. a ma
tive driver and, towering above them,
great lanky figure in yellow oil
skin slicker topped by broad
brimmed Stetson. Gerry looked over
the outfit as carefully as the darkness
would allow and then said tentatively,
There's house down there in the
valley"
us the'?" drawled the stranger spit
ting deliberately into the ditch "Well"
be volunteered after a further pause.
my names Jake Kemp. The rest of
this outfit is six mules packin' orchids
and the greaser packin' the mules"
That's all right" said Gerry, 81
guess we can put you up
He led the way and the pack-train
splashed along after him. The mules
were soon relieved of their burdens
and turned into the pasture. Boni-
tacio took the native muleteer away
to his quarters and Gerry and the
stranger passed through the house to
the kitchen.
A patriarchaI hospitality came nat
urally to the inmates of Fazenda
Flores. 1t was a tradition not only on
that plantation but throughout a vast
hinterland, where life was rude and
death sudden. to be gentle to the
stranger, to feel him and his beast
and to speed him on in the early morn
Ing. There was but one rule to the
stranger: He must keep his eyes to
the front. Jake Kemp had evidently
learned the brief code. He ate raven
ously, poured down coffee with the
recklessness of a man that draws on
limitless power to sleep, and made
bis few remarks TO Gerry and to Ger
~ alone.