Evening star., 1935-03-24
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
BLACK DEATH.

three prisoners machete,
went on Juan-Silva. Tell
them Ell Keed will meet them in the
dark of the room.
Thrust them in to him. Feed
them to this puma-this mountain
lion. Tell them that if he dies they
shall not be prisoners; they shall be
guards"
In dark room-armed With
heavy machete only-to encounter
three blood thirsty poems who hao
been raised to the use of that weapon
to struggle with three men who had
something better than life to fight for.
The Kid turned little toward
old Juan-Silva. not to appeal, but to
curse the unquenchable bloodthirst
Of the tiger.
But Juan-Silva was already reclin-
ing on his mat, thrusting his legs out
into the terrible heat of the sun and
groaning with pleasure. He had
closed his eyes. Already, perhaps, he
had forgotten his last commands.
CurSing and pleading alike would
mean nothing to him.
So it was in silence that Montana
moved away. surrounded By his guards.
The captain of them moved with
a short gait almost minclng his way
like a dancing boy, and as he went
he sang huskily.
He kept on singing the song to the
end, but a great laughter began TO
interrupt him and choke away his
voice. The rest of the guards joined
in the mirth. but softly, with sound
l;,o Tho J,ur,n1inp 0f a hive
They brought up three men from
the fields.
Big Montana, in the meantime, was
stripped and given a pair OF the
unbleached cotton shorts. He was
given a machete, too, the heavy knife
widening toward the point to make
its stroke more effective IN moving
down cane or rushes.
He gripped it and weighted 1t.
Among the natives, he knew, the
science of machete play had been
cultivated almost to the point OF
small-sword fencing. And he. for the
first time in his life, was holding the
weapon!
He looked over the three. They
we're all big. Vidal, Leon, Garclas-
they were named to him by the cap
tain of the guard, who chuckled as
he spoke their names.
They we're big. and the brute was
written all over them. Not for minor
offenses had they been sent to the
Valley of the Dead. And they had
remained long enough in the place
to have in their eyes contempt for
death compared with their horror of
the life they had been enduring.
The marks of the chains were on
their necks and ankles. now for the
moment made free from weight. The
bitter labor had rubbed away from
their bodies all spare flesh. And each
man knew machete play. Each had
In his eyes a light brighter than that
which f1ickered over the keen edges
of the knives. while they measured the
Kid as a butcher measures a beef.
In full daylight, any one of the
three, he knew. would have been
more than a match for him at this
game.
But Juan-Silva preferred hugger-
mugger frightfulneSs in the dark. He
would lie yonder on his mat and
smile and taste his own cruelty in the
back of his throat.
The gray-headed captain was say
ing: You three get in there. El Keed
first. When the three of you are
done for, Ell Keed will rap on the wall
and we'll come in to see what's hap
pened. Or if the three of you finish
him, shout, and you're free from the
chains. No more of the sleep house,
you hear me? No more of the spoiled
beans and cabbage, but meat that a
man can eat. Do you hear me tell
you?"
Hear him? They grinned on one
another, open-mouthed, and suddenly
they joined hands, nodding. The
Kid understood that gesture. They
would remain linked together by the
hands so that none of them might
fall foul of another by mistake, in
the darkness. They would have more
than united defense-they would have
the strength of companionship in the
thick blackness