Arkansas State press., 1943-11-26
CHAPTER XII

haho 10 touch the knob" He reflect
ed for a moment upon this state
ment. then asked: did something
IN that final movement stir panic
In Pedro; did his Imagination leap
to the question which Lombardo was
sure to ask the next instant, and find
himself unequal to answering it,"
Its possible"
still" Rogers reminded me,
Reed was not the third or fourth
among US to put on the sombrero
and take the whip; he was the first,
and Pedro's timing for his own es-
cape necessarily bore no immediate
relation to the fact that 1t was Reed.
] doubt very much. Barry. that we
can argue beyond the point we've al.
ready reached-that Pedro can iden-
tfy the slayer Of Chesebro. His
running away does not indicate def
nitely that 1t was Reed Barton, any
more than 1t does Sam Chatfield or
Dwight Nichols. And remember
that. while Chesebro died Of a stab
wound. the weapon has not been
found"
But why the sombrero, which I'm.
doubleday was Rumble's?"
Its nice little puzzle so far,
Barry" observed Rogers. We'll
not solve 1t tonight-probably not to-
morrow. 1t can very quickly be
solved If Lombardo and his man
Friday will catch up with Pedro.
Suppose we sleep on it,
We did sleep on it, rocking gen.
dy in our stateroom on board the
Orizaba anchored in the harbor. In
the light of new day, after a lei
surely breakfast with Margaret and
Dwight, at which time we spoke
softly and with respect for the now
murdered James Chesebro, we wait
ed for the launch to take us ashore.
Suddenly Dwight's body stiffened.
Look! Did you see that?" he cried
Look"
Before our eyes some hundreds of
yards away huge fish leaped clear
OF the water and then fell back with
q great splash.
There's your marlin, darling"
said Margaret sweetly, come to
play with YOU"
Lets 60 fishing now" Dwights
voice was excited. Come on. fel-
lows"
Sorry" said Rogers. "I'd
planned some other things-about
Chesebro's slayer" I
We'll. 60 on. then; the launch Is
waiting for you. As soon As it's
back I'm going after that fellow.
Hunting me up, is he? Wanting to
play with mel" said Dwight as Rog.
ers and l went down the ladder.
We landed at the wharf. found one
Of those ancient two-wheeled aranas
like the one Elsa had ridden in that
first day, climbed in and set off.
From his manner Rogers that morn
ing was not very hopeful.
tits probably like hunting for the
needle in the haystack, Barry" he
remarked, after an extended con-
versation with the driver which ex-
plored the fellows acquaintance
among the pulque sellers At first
the driver, a sleepy-eyed fellow with
a bushy mustache, had not been able
to comprehend why we should
search for a pulque seller when liq-
uor Of many kinds was easily OBJ
tainable almost anywhere. When he
realized, however, that we were
looking for a particular dealer in
pulque. he believed that he knew
several Pedros. And so we started
out.
We stopped at one matched hut
which our driver said was the home
Of Pedro, the pulque seller But
the man who answered Rogers sum.
mons was fat and small, with a
smile that was well nigh irresistible.
Did We wish to buy pulque7 He In
dicated 4 nearby contrivance which
was Just Z frame on wheels with
holes for the brown clay jars. No.
ws did not We sought Pedro, the
pulque seller. who was q thin man
With small eyes. He knew such q
man farther down the street, and
counted the houses for u and babe
VI . courteous good morning. But
the second Pedro was not our pulqus
man, either.
Al last our dispirited horse pulled
UP with a sigh before a matched
hut near the end of the street.
Brown children Of all ages played
around the place; they swarmed out
to US when they noted our arrival,
climbed upon the wheels, stared at
us with large dark eyes.
A small shy woman came TO the
door when Rogers knocked Over.
head, clutching the thatch with
gnarled, crooked feet, was a small
green parrot with yellow head. He
leaned far over as II to inquire into
our business, a wicked CLEAN in his
reddish eye.
Docs Pedro, the pulque seller,
live here, senora?" Rogers inquired
in Spanish.
Eyes, sir" the woman replied hes
itantly, frightened look In her
deep, dark eyes.
rs he Pedro, the pulque seller,
who last evening went to deliver
A. H. .aaaLu - C...- ~