The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-11-21
Dreams Afire
 BY LORING BRENT

is good. eh? You clench your little fists. and none of you str1ke.''
 ''The time may come for f1sts," re- piled Armstrong. "I hope 1t comes soon!"
 Your talk Is that of child, senor. Go back to your play! When the game ends, you will go home. our valley is not a healthy place for little children who threaten with their fists. My mill demands my presence now. senor You will pardon me, am sure"
 Armstrong waited on the veranoa, studying the broad shoulders until they were swallowed by the darkened doorway of the miM, then climbed into the automobile and drove leisure ly to the base of Solano hill. He had as yet no definite plan, and his nina continued to be diverted by the mem ory of Amador's grating voice and the expression of cupidity which seemed to have taken entire posses sion of his countenance.
 Seating himself on the rock which ever-hung the slope, he gazed dream fly over the tree tops to the blue and white of Guantara harbor. He count ed ten mills in the lower valley and nine in the section above La Pintura. While he watched a train of sugar
  road behind a small rusted engine which puffed Iaboriously.
 The track extended from the un- cleared jungle at the edge of the Wis tedas plantation to the pier at Guam tara. The train. as it crawled up the gentle slope. suggested to Arm strong a chain of insects, and some how that thought drew his attention to the galvanized red mill of Rom ingueZ Amador.
 On the opposite side of the valley, across the tracks, was the cross-road which marked the Estancia del Ara1o. His gaze continued to wander aronE the Legarra plantation until 1t was suddenly arrested at a point where, less than a half mile from the mill, stood a c1ump of oil we'll derricks. He snapped his fingers and stood up, running his eye down the valley to the group of pastel-tinted buiId- ings in the center of which arose the power plant. He sat down on the rock again, frowning slightly, resting
 his chin in his hand. Then the road
 seemed to attract him. as 1t curvea in and out between plantations like a thin black ribbon, disappearing down hill toward Guantara.
 Restless. Armstrong left the rocK and dropped to the ground under & low palm tree whose curling fronds cast a wide round shadow. and lay | upon his back with his hands folded behind his head. His imagination l was at work; and it built with ra- pidity.
 For Tnnutes he lay motionless with i his languid brown eyes staring into 1 the fronds. A gentle breeze disturbed | his hair. A pair of parrakeets talked | noisily in a low bush near by. But 1 he was conscious of nothing external | He assorted ideas. arranged and d1s- | carded them, and his dream gained form an substance.
 The sun s1oped until 1t shone | squarely in his uplifted face. After a | while he sighed and closed his eyes, as if the structure were now under ging the acid test.
 Finally he snapped his fingers, grinned wistfully, sprangr lightly to l his feet, and descended the hill, occa- l sionally glancing in the direction of | the Estancia del Arajo. However, unconscious she may have been of l taking any part. it was the gentry l spoken, friendly advice of Miss Caa- | lahan that had crystallized his vis- | ions.