Imperial Valley press., 1937-01-24

NANNY WALES has several points OF inter-
u est for romancer: year ago he was
newspaper man. mostly without funds an
efficient, improvident young man, something
over six feet and lean. Well, thin, in certain
lights E. when he wandered down row of
tables in a night club, or bent across polished
bar; he rather twisted over the bar, smiling
nicely at the keeper of imported bottles, MUIR
muring in mild southern accent, What sort of
Scotch is it 2" His taste has risen with his bank
account, which is the queer thing about Danny
The five million more he deposited last
month in his bank lhe might well own IT'D
came in copper bound boxes. Ancient gold coins,
pounds of them jewels, pearls, emeralds,
jade. We thought he'd rubbed Alladin's Lamp.
but this was mistaken notion. Danny Wales
had had dream.
Over a table he'll tell about it, If you know
him well enough, and If the hour is sufficiently
late and his mood holds Being Celtic,
Welshman, Danny is addicted to brooding
thoughts which must have something to do with
the twirling glass in his strong hand.
"I never believed in ghosts of course. Don't
now except that night. I'd been going
to bed for weeks with one idea to remember
something. Where the loot was hidden. Oh, I'd
been told, I'd gotten the tale from dying peon
of big Mexican rancho just outside Of Mexico
City. The whole blessed thing was strange.
held the fellows head for him while he died.
and listened to him whisper the location of the
fabulous treasure in my ear
FANNY had been in Mexico for two years or
- So serving dozen Texas newspapers. send
ing in color stories more or less regularly. He
spoke Spanish fairly well, and made friends
readily. Among them, his dying peon an In
dian of no Importance except that he'd taken
a fancy to Danny. Mailing out stories on Mexico,
Danny had become fascinated by the dramatic
exploits of Cortez and his captains =. particu-
larly their renowned retreat from Mexico City
the fatal night when Spanish-made bridges gave
way . and some hundred thousand natives
drove out handful of fighting invaders. Cortez's
men were loaded with gold and Montezuma's
treasure. The stuff weighed them down doz
ems perished But one of the crossbowmen man
aged to fight free, and kept his gold. Velasquez
De Leon. He buried it nearby, close to the tree
where fernando Cortez wept for the first and
last time in his life after the disaster. Later,
when Mexico City was recaptured in the most
amazing seige in history, De Leon was killd.
Briefly, that was the background.
"The old man told me- dribbling his words
softly as his breath ran out. But there was some
thing odd about it. remembered what he'd said
a day or more, thinking he was crazy or lying
or something. Then forgot about it; the direc-
tions were complicated.
Then got to dreaming about Cortez and his
conquests :. I'd read so much about him, the
whole affair might have happened yesterday. In
my long dreams (when was sober enough to
dream), saw Cortez and his weary men crawl
ing, fighting hacking their way with swords
across that fallen causeway. followed the
wounded to the tree where the conqueror cried
like spoiled child. Saw De Leon. too. How did
know? Because he was digging hole for his
treasured"
FANNY WALES poured himself two fingers,
u added soda, and grinned sheepishly Some
one in my blurred dreams, was trying to show
me where that gold was hidden. But couldn't
ever make out the exact spot. A group Of men
always stood around De Leon, Cortez among
them ;. Cortez with his back to me- And, If
Cortez had moved away few yards I'd
have seen into the middle of the crowd, seen De
Leon dropping broken sacks into the primitive
safe-depost box. God wept tears myself,
shouting in my sleep Move bit, Cortez
+. :. let me seep But for weeks he wouldn't change
his position.
"At last, one night he turned around and
stared at me >. sort of CLEAN In his eye.
saw De Leon burying his gold. Then woke up.
I'D been lying on my back-the best way to
dream, they say. looked toward the foot Of my
bed. And on my honor, ii men still swear by It
these days Cortez stood there. grinning down
at me.
He'd moved out of the group all right. Moved
right into my bedrooml Didn't say anything, not
a word He disappeared after awhile Sec
ond. minute? What does time mean? never
had that dream again. and guess he returned
to his tree"
The rest was simple, Danny explained. He
just went back to Mexico and proved that q
great mans shadow had been in his way. /. 3.
Danny Wales is still newspaper man. but today
he owns one.
Yees Soft eyes looked into his tired ones fast