The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1925-03-16

| a SWartny race, the race OF Gomez
the half-breed, was slowly protruded
Yes, it was Gomez, but no longer
Gomez Of the demure smile and the
mask-like expression. Here was a
face with flashing eyes and die
torted features, a face convulsed
with hatred and with the mad joy OF
gratified revenge.
Lord Roxtonr' he shouted. Lord
John Roxton!''
.''Well." said our companion. there
am"
A shrek of laughter came across
the abyss.
Yes, there you are, you Eng
fish dog, and there you will remain!
have waited and waited, and now
has come my chance. You found 1.
hard to get up; you will find it hard
to get dowr. You cursed fools. you
are trapped. every one of your
We were too astounded to speak.
We could only stand there staring
in amazement. A great broken
bough upon the grass showed
whence he had gained his lever
age to tilt over our bridge. The
face had vanished, but presently
1t was up again, more frantic than
before.
1--WE nearly killed you with a
stone at the cave he cried, "bu.
this Is better. 1t is slower and
more terrible. Your bones will
whiten up there, and none viii
know where you lie or come to cover
them. AS you lie dying, think of
Lopez, whom you shot five years
ago on the Putomayo River. I am
his brother, and. come what viii
will die happy now. for his memory
has been avenged"
The hallf-breed was descending on
the farther side of the pinnacle;
but before he could reach the
ground Lord John had run along
the edge of the plateau and gained
a point from which he could see
his man. There was a single crack
Of his rifle, and, though we saw
nothing, we heard the scream and
then the distant thud Of the falling
body. Roxton came back to us with
a face Of granite.
81 have been bind sippleton,"
said he, bitterly. Its my folly
that has brought you all into this
trouble. 1 should have remembered
that these people have long memoir
les for blood-feuds, and have been
more upon my guard"
What about the other one? It
took two Of them to lever that Tree
over the edge"
"I could have shot him, but /
let him go. He may have had no
part in 1t. Perhaps it would have
been better If I had killed him, for
he must, as you say, have lent a
hand"
Now that we had the clew to his
actions, each Of us could cast back
and remember some sinister act
upon the part of the half-breed-
his constant desire to know our
plans, his arrest outside our tent
when he was overhearing them, the
furtive looks of hatred which from
time to time one or other of us had
surprised. We were still discussing
it, endeavoring to adjust our minds
to these new conditions, when a sin
gular scene in the plain below ar
low arrested our attention.
A man in white clothes, who could
only be the surviving halfbreed, was
running as one does run when
Death Is the pacemaker. Behind
him, only few yards in his rear,
bounded the huge ebony figure of
Zambo, our devoted negro. Even as
we looked. he sprang upon the back
Of the fugitive and flung his arms
round his neck They rolled on the
ground together. An instant after.
ward Zambo rose, looked at the pros
trate man, aud then, waving his
in our direction. The white figure
lay motionless IN the middle of the
great plain.
Our two traitors had been de-
stroyed, but the mischief that they
had done lived after them. BY no
possible means could we get back
to the pinnacle. We had been ma
! tives of the world; now we were ma
ives of the plateau.
For the moment we could only
sit among the bushes in patience
and wait the coming of Zambo.
presently his honest black face
topped the rocks and his Herculean
figure emerged upon the top Of the
pinnacle.
What I do now?" he cried. You
tell me and / do it,"
1t was a question which it was
easier to ask than to answer. One
thing only was clear. He was our
one trusty link with the outside
world. on no account must he
leave us.
mo, nor he cgied. II not leave
you. Whatever come, you always
find me here. But no able to keep
Indians. Already they say too much
Curupuri live on this place, and they
go home. Now you leave them, me
no able to keep them"
CTo Be Continued
Copyright, 1912, by A. Conan DOYLE