The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1931-10-09
CHAPTER Continued

thrust. "Who is his majesty, Senor?"
/ asked.
"Adolfo de Fuentes, colonel in the
Spanish army under La Tore, who is
governor of Venezuela"
Then you CO." l asked, ito Vene-
zuela?"
Before he could answer my question
a huge muIatto at my elbow voiced a
warning below: DE Charlies-heah
dey comet" And a narrow-shouldered
pasty-faced wharf rat amplified it with
a shrin. Les gems d'armesI''
IF they should capture you, Senor?
Polite said
yet l have only offered a mans
defense"
True. but the least, Senior, will be
an awkward and infinite proces-verbal
time and trials and an unfortunate
wait, while the Senorita-"
| found his hand and gave il a warm
clasp. You will convey my regrets
to the Senorita?"
"Assuredly. Senior"
Then -adiOs"
"AdiOS. mOon-wraith," he whispered,
and | turned around and broke through
the curious crowd.
Two of the Charles barred my
path. One received a stiff-armed jab
in the chest that tumbled him over
and over like a performing parrakeat,
the other bent his body skilfully 10
evade a swinging fist. then be fired
pOint-blank at my face and missed.
which was nothing unusual at all. for
the gems d'armes OFTEN miss.
Now | put my feet to the pavement
and gave myself over 70 the business
of silent running while the chase
rOared behind me. | directed my steps
eastward, went north and east again
into Rue Royal. aid on and on, ever
deeper into the French quarter.
passed vine-blanketed walls which. |
knew, concealed quaint mansions and
beautiful cOurtyards. As ran kept
an eye searching for an adventitious
entrance tina: might lead TO one Of
these bowers of beauty. for the street
itself offered no refuge
| found. finally. grilled sate which,
opening TO my touch. led under a
graceful stone arch so low | had 70
bend my head to enter | waited in
the gloom of the areaway as sounds of
the battue went by.
Silent. crOuched in the shadows
long after the noises of the futile
chase had died away. and waiting,
had a chance TO view again the amaz-
ing events of this mad night In
fancy | heard again the music of the
wOmans laugh. and | saw the slim
hands that pressed upon her bosom;
that despairing cry of "'DOlfO milo"
beat into my consciousness. and a fit
of foolish trembling took possession
of me.
| started for the oval of light that
showed me the way to the street. but
stopped when figures. turning in from
the paved walk. blocked the passage
| heard the rasping scratch of key
in the lock Of the iron gate and re-
treated warily. seeking the friendly
shades as four men advanced upon me
along the gloomy passage.
came anon, to a tiny courtyard,
in the middle of which a table stood.
bearing glasses. silver and decanter
or two. over the table swung a huge
brass lamp. yet the light it furnished
was hardly brighter than that of the
brilliant moon. I knew, of course
that the house would afford me no
:,
narrow protecting apse in the brick
wall that made no two sides of the
courtyard. Standing straight and mo-
ti6nleSs. in grOtesCue mimicry of some
saint VIII, had doubtless occupied this
space in time long past. held my
breath as the four figures went by.
One was a swarthy, heavy-bodied
brute who seemed to have the look of
the sea about him; another had the
square shoulders ana the alert man.
ner of a soldier: while the third was
evidently a merchant and a man of
means. for his manner and the sleek
smoOthness of his well-nourished fig
ure held the cOmplacency of mental
and physical ease.
The fourth n an gained, and cOntin.
ued to hold my closest attention.
There was latent power in the poise of
his 1.-THE body. look of the eagle in
his eye. a rich resonance in the com
handing tones of his voice.
The suave host filled four glasses
with al amber fluid and, proffering one
to each of his guests with a light
laugh, said: This garden is ours.
Senores. where flowers of intrigue may
bloom in safety. Therefore, Francisco
milo" He bowed to him of the COM
manding pOise.
WhereupOn Francisco raised his
glass. ITO Simon Bolivar" be said,
his deep vibrant voice intoning a sort
of benediction, 1.-The Liberator Of our
peopleI"
They drank slowly, standing, and
after a reverent silence, murmured.
''Yiva, viva" and again, viva %
Simon Bolivar? had heard of
him: who hadn't. Already they were
calling him the George Washington of
South America this amazing soldier,
statesman anu patriot who, when only
g youth. had plumbed the depths of
despair in the loss of young and