Bemidji Daily Pioneer Newspaper, February 19, 1916, Page 6

THE BEMIDJI DAILY PIONEER EURTOR OF “RED [ uvinG OUSE.' Jvar: BUCKLE' ‘tTC - COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY WILLIAM HALIILTON QSBOrRNVE =« < ° SYNOPSIS. On the day of the eruption of Mount Pelee Capt. John Hardin of the steamer Princess rescues five-year-old Annette 1lington from an open boat, but.is forced to leave behind her father and his com- panions. Ilington is assaulted; by Her- nandez and Ponto in a vain :attempt-to getypapers which Ilington has managed to ;?]rt\d gboard the 1Prllll)cxesx:mwn(h hl; er, jpapers proving his; title to\ tell g the whereabouts obthe‘ lost hllgd of @innabar. Ilinglon’s injury causes hjs mind to hecome a blank. Thirteen ypfi elapse. rnandez, nOwW an opium:sm! gler, with; Ponto, Inez, a female accom- vuce and; the mindless brute that once : Ilington, come to Seaport, where the e 6w of [Captain Hardin is, jiw heryson Neal and Annette Ilingf on.: a&e lot: to steal the papers left te--Al y -her father. Neal tries for admi w the Naval academy, but througl treachery of Joey Welcher is defeated by Joey and .disgraced. Neal enlists in the navy. Inez sets a trap for«Joey and the conspirators get him in thelnwower An- nette discovers tl pplied to the mx reve‘ls the loc ,wc«the lost {?- In a struggje,forspassession of::the map Herpandez, Annette and Neal each sequre a iportion. Annette sails on the Corenadoyin search of her father. The mutiny, and are overcome by a bogrding :party from B Destroyer Jackson, Jed by Neal. In Martlnique An- ne:g and:Neal are captured, | égn— by a-sporige diver. Tnez" rorges iden- tification papers for herself as Annette. InMAn lnsutrrecdtion Niez:ll and'thAennette are again captured, carrie And i nene e ol agrin g SRS the sun god. They aremrescued by ma- rines from the Albany-dLanded in Torty- ga,, Annette and Neal-are; c: red gnd exposed to yellow fever infection by Her- nandez, but are rescued by sailors from the. Albany. Inez tries to rob Annette and escapes. On her way to Chantillo An- nette is captured. Neal is promoted and leads a party of transferred men toward Chantillo, but is caught in a train wreck on;the way. —r—— ELEVENTH INSTALLMENT THE DREADFUL PIT v CHAPTE * XLVIL, . ! Dangerbus Delay. The ire'of Hernandez was now thor- oughly aroused. A quicksilver mine on the Lost Isle of Cinnabar—proba- bly unworked for a century or more— meant millions, many miflions. Her- nandez realized the fact. He was play- ing for high stakes—very high. > “My ancestors,” he told Ponto, “had a coat -of ;’arms<+a ‘motto. ‘Ride through'—that was what it said, friend Ponto. I shall.follow.-it—that Injunction. I shall ride through.” They were lounging, breathless, panting, against a'tree trunk that had fallen athwart™one.-of the invisible trails of a Central’ American jungle. With them was Senorita Inez Castro. “What we want most of all,” he continued, “and what we must get— is the Lost Isle of Cinnabar. We have the evidences of ownership—all save the Spanish grant in the hands of the Fathers of the Santa Maria mission. Let us seek at ‘once the mission. Let us get all evidences of ownership. Then, as the crow flies, the four of us will seck Lost Island—yes and find it. Once {ound—possession may be nine- tenthis of the law—we’ll have posses- sion. DNut to us possession will be more than that. We know no law.” At Chantillo some few miles away, things were happening. Ensign Neal Hardin with his squad of fifty men from the c ser Albany across the neck, had arrived to board the battle- ship Missouri, waiting for them in the waters off Chantillo. These wers the fifty men who had so nearly lost their lives on the dirt cars of Mon- trada Annette was with them—and Neal was at her side. They were grouped on the wharf. Neal beckoned to the captain of the little coast stcamer that was tied up to the wharf. “Senor,” he said, “behind me is the long arm of the United States govern- ment. My government protects its citizens. Here is a citizen--Miss II- ington. Here is another—my mother. Here is a third—my friend Welcher. Dire things nave happened, senor. Look. Somewhere in that jungle hide three desperadoes and a woman. They have many methods—but one in par- ticular. At night they will come to you and offer money to be taken d.” He tossed a stern glance at aboard. the captain and tapped him on the arm. “Senor,” he continued, ‘“cast your eye over the Missouri there—my ship. Think of the long arm of my government. Take these desperadoes aboard at your peril—at your peril, senor. I have warned you. The rest is up to you.” The little captain shivered a bit. “Si, senor,” he returned, swiftly, with a bow, “it shall be as you say.” Meantime the third member of An- nette’s party, Mr. Jaseph Welcher, had strolled behind a convenient shed to find & restlng place for his weary bones and to smoke his fiftieth ciga- rette that day. He struck a match— started ‘to’ light his cigarette!’ Then something bappened. The'match went put—the cigarette was knocked un- ceremoniously from his lips. ) “What the—,” he began." Then he stopped. A stone was Iying at his feet. It was this stone that had knocked the cigarette from between hislips—and had almost knocked a tooth or two as well. But there was something else to wonder .at. A bit of crumpled paper had fluttered to the ground. ‘Welcher picked the paper up and * fle; glanced warily about him. Suddenly, he saw— ’I‘he jungle’s edge- came! down nearly to the water. ‘Someéthing was stirrlng in; this thlcke Joe utared " And snddenly the face ot a woman—Inez Castro; peered ouf from behirid the hlige 1eat’dt a tropic plant. “Read.” flaghed from the ieyes of ez ‘Castrd: to’‘the brain of Joo Welcher Joe read, 4 fiyy o H ‘THe note was brlet and to tha point: We do not board this steamer. But we must reach santa ~Maria - first. it is b td you and-you | Bohe, 6 ‘create ‘all possible delays. Do not fail us now. That night at dusk, Joe Welcher lounging om “thé ‘déck of ithe small’ stenm%r as it -1enme\'l northalong‘the Coast:-shambléd over toward a ‘séat- d peered down to see what he could see. ,Wht ‘e did ade was-md-" chinery—the vessel's macHitrery,; work: ing smoothly, well oiled, well cared’ for—for a mboat _engineer,. is .8, BtGatiboat engineer the world over.' ‘What he saw was that for the moment, DO. ONE. WAS-- in--eharge—monventarily! the engineer had stepped outside. This; was the instapt:that Joe WelCher had been ‘waiting for ‘Furtively -he drew: from his breast pocket a small bar o! steel. For one instafit he hpld: ’n sus-i pended over the maclinery? 'Then he let it drop ‘and” noiselessly” tiptoed ‘away. ? Almost immediately there was a ter- rific grinding ngise below, followed by a ‘terrific’ jolt! 'Then the engines stopped—and the steamer followed suit, Passengers and’ creéw rushed to the captain—Annette included. “What has happened,” she demand- ed. “Something dropped into the ma- chiniery 'and a connecting rod is bro- ken, senorita. It will take tfimé—hours to repair.” At midnight the brenk had not yet been: repaired. At midnight, nnother small steamer, also bound north' along the 'coast, passed silently along upon her way. She wasg~within hailing distance, but vhe gave no sign. CHAPTER XLIX. False Impersonation. In the interior of the chart room on board the battleship Missouri, Neal Hardin—ensign—was discussing with his brother officers the possibilities of the Allemanian war. B A senior officer was poring over translated wireless messages. Against the wall was a modern Mercator's map of the world. Finally he rose. “A new coaling station—that’s the trick,” he said. “and we've got to see somebody in authority at Los Angeles—unless they meet us en route. The state depart- ment's got to dicker for a coaling sta- tion.” He adjusted his glasses and exam- ined the map. “H'm,” he said, “Alle- mania—here’'s Allemania.” He pon- dered the map carefully—sizing up all possibilities — measuring distances. Finally he placed his finger tip upon a spot in the Pacific ocean. “There,” he said, “is the spot—some- vhere about there.” “What’s the latitude,” queried an- other officer, getting out a section ot another map. His senior told him. “And the longitude,” he asked. His senior told him that. “Eigteen degrees north,” mused the junior, “and 123 degrees west.” He pored over his sectional map. He shook his Lead. “Rut,” he protested, “there’s no land there—there's no island to be seen.” Neal almost jumped out of his skin. “There is an island there, uncharted and unmapped,” said Neal, “but it’s there. It’s the Isle of Cinnabar—wae call it the Lost Isle.” “Who calls it the Lost Isle?” Neal told them Annette's story, from start to finish. The commander smiled. “We get our coaling stations by making trea ties,” he said, “I've never heard of making a treaty with a girl, but I sup pose it can be done. We’ll have tc wireless Washington about that. And I know pretty much what our orders will be now—suppose you guess.” Neal smiled. “Follow the girl,” he said. So they followed Annette. But oth: ers had preceded her. Even while An- nette’s journey was but half way through something was happening at the Santa Maria mission in Lower Cal. ifornia. - Brother Anselmo -was seated at his table, facing Hernandez and his party. ‘Inez' Castro 'leaned 'a well-rounded army apon the table and glanced inno- cexmy'inta the eyes of Brother An- selmo. " “I'am Annette Ilington,” shesaid. The brother nodded.” “I am sending for the papers, child,” he said. “So you are his daughter?”’ he said at length—and there seemed a note of disappointment in _his voice — “the daughter 0f my old friend lington. Hs was my young friend then.” You— his daughter. And’you say my Old friend Ilington is dead?” That was the message. The chin of Senorita. Castraayly ered. “Dead,” she falterei E She dropped her mce into her ht.n erchief; #When did. he dio, my daughter?”" hn asked soothingly. ~*Jn-1962:#=imterposed “Herndidez, 1 * wll with him—he was destroyed at the eruption ¢ ount Pelee. We were hig fiends, Pontb hére .and Ii-his rs. ! «,W tol ¢ hi&, lt dhe! ‘He was® chghited - H died—a horrible death.” “She was a small child then,” said B priest. \{Yeu " sald Hernandez. #:Does—does she remember her fa- ther—Ilington?” ’ “Hardly,” said Hernandez, “we've trled to make her remember—but no— &-mm “does? | Af “face of Inez Castro was still buried in her:kerchief. . The priest watched attentively the heavo of her shoulders; r> {375 ~‘Brother Anselino sighed. “Ah, griet Ius a lqng, strong “arm—it reaches ovét ‘dechdes! And‘the loss of a fa- ther—ah me .- . ;> Here,” he ex- claiined; Q"here are theipapers. Let us have a look. Inez straightened up. Hernandez and-Paonto, moved-forward. So did the Briite,\_THe lsuddén movement seemed to startle the priest. He looked up hastily. He caught sight of the blank face of the Brute. He rose. “#Wio—what 1" ” he dematided, pointihg towar Brutol b@nk countgnance. ., A ‘Servant,” returned Hemnndez, “picked up from a shipwreck some three years ago. He had been a long- shoreman. He is demented—always 80, they told us. He_ is devoted to us &M=particularly to Annette.” The priest stared at the Bmte a.nd the Brute.returned:the-stare..- “The eyes,” said the priest, “I never forget eyes. I've seen those eyes somewhere before.” He tapped his forehead. “Let ‘me think—when— how—" " Pinally he shook his head. “It will come to me later,” ke exclaimed. The priest shook out an old and faded parchment. “This,” he ex- claimed, “is the grant—the original grant.” Hernandez in his eagerness, seized a corner of the grant. The priest brushed his hand away. “Patience, son,” ke said, “there can be no delivery until I am satisfied. This' chafge has been handed down to me?? o Inez pojnted: toward a :paper on the table. “There!” she exclaimed, “is my photograph—and the letter from the governor of Martinique.” Brother Anselmo picked it up and looked it over. It' was Annette's let- ter—and it had been vised by the governor of Martinique;:and- originally will haye none.. :Without the grant— without all the evidence, we will not be believed. With it we will be taken cin. “ Liét us leave her without proot— - she will be help' 'ss then.” Hernandez kicked Ponto with his foot. ' Ponto sat up rubbing his eyes. “Ponto,” sa.id Hernandez, “the puty lus arrive | “Théy will go # the mission and’ dpoil it all,” said Ponto. i “No;” returned Hernandeg, “thank dur lucky stars the mission is 8 good two miles out of the vflllte. They will first put up at the hotél—later they will start out for the mission. It is thefh, on the way there, we must ihtercept them—you must, Ponto. You dnd the Brute. . This time he, will.do His duty—or I'll flay his hide. ' Wake Him up. You havéno time to lose.” 1 Hernlandez was q(\ite fight! Annette Tington, even mpre eagér than had Been Her enemies, could hardly - wait the moment when she might stand be- tbre tfie fathers of the ‘Santa Maria mission and claim her own. 1 Ponéo woke the Brute with a vicious ‘pplic‘uon of.:the ;whip-lash. i “Spdre him-mot, nande4,” if he i this time, cut his hide into stri give you leave.” { At a half run Ponto and the Brute started across the desert, dodging lere and there behind little hillocks of sand. Finally the village was cut off from their, sight./’ + ° “Now weiean run,” Ponto cflod, ‘jmakd hast No aooner had he spoken than his foot slipped—he sank into the grotnd up to his waist: “Help,” he: cried, help.”: The Brute pulled him back to terra firma. But it was not a quicksand, as Ponto-soon-found out. It was-a trap —a trap for jaguars. Ponto shivered. Then he replaced the dried brush and grass and earth. Nimbly he climbed into one of the overhanging trees. Then he slid down, nodding to himself with satisfaction. “She must pass within a hundred yards of this place to reach the mis- sion,” he exclaimed, “Beast, we wait here until she comes.” Down in the village, at the little old hotel,- Annette ordered out two horses. “I-can’t wait,” she told her foster mother, Mrs. Hardin. “There’s no use talking to me:: I've got to go.” “a qu!ckannd— Annette started for the mission, Half way there two figures darted out from behind & hillock, and one of them seized : her bridle and brought her steed to a standstill. Terror- stricken, Annette ‘saw that the two were Ponta and the Brute—two of the band of desperadoes whom she feared. “Drag her off her horse,” command ed Ponto of the Brute. The Brute obeyed. Ponto gave the horse a cul “This,” He Exclaimed, “Is the Grant —the Jriginai Grant.” It had been attached to the photograph of Annette Ilington. Now, however, genuine as the letter was—genuine as was the guaranty of the governor of Martinique—yet the photograph was the counterfeit presentment of Inez Castro. . “Ah, yes,” he said, comparing the picture with the face of Inez and tak- ing advantage of the opportunity to search her very soul, “ah, yes. The identification would seem to be com- plete.” “Then,” said Inez, “I may have the grant?” The priest folded up the papers and returned them to the iron box that had contained them. He rose and smiled. “Nothing in my life have [ ever done,” he said, “without prayer and sleep. This is an important matter. It requires prayimg over—sleeping over. Come on the morrow, daughter, and I shall then make delivery. Until then—adios.” CHAPTER L. Hidden Peril. “Look,” said Hernandez, catching Inez by the wrist, “the party has as- rived.” He handed his binoculars to Inez Castro. _ She looked. “They are just landing,” she said, “it'is all up. They will ‘go to the father of the mission and will make their claim.” “What difference does the grant make,” she exclaimed, “why take the risk of getting it? Already that old priest suspects something. What I do not know. But he ‘suspects. Why not take the bit in our teeth and make for Lost Island—get there at once? Why not?” Heornandez shook his head. “We need every advantage,” he said, “if we ‘ have evidence within our hands, shq with the whip und the horse ambled off toward town. At his command the Brute carried Annette across the desert, totally ob- livious to her struggles and outcries. Ponto led the way, stopping from time to time to make pleasant remarks to Annette. By this time they had reached the small, damp, dank oasis with its shad- ing palms and its little pool of water. Ponto led the way into the very depths of this inviting green shelter. Then he struck the Brute on the shoulder. “Now set her down,” he commanded. The Brute obeyed. Annette gasped with surprise. She was not bound— she was free, untrammeled. “What are you going to do with me?” queried Annette. “Nothing, senorita,” returned Ponto, bowing low. Annette, wary, fearful, looked be- hind her as though she expected an attack from the rear. But there was no one to be seen. Beyond was the desert—there seemed to be no hiding places. Ponto merely bowed.again. “Seno- rita,” he said, with a leer, “beauty in distress—-ah me!—it touches my, heart always. See. The mission lies yonder—behind you. - Your path lies there. You are free.” Annette turned. Keeping her glance over. her ‘shoulder, to be ready for, treachery, she slowly proceeded on' her way. Suddenly, without warning, she sank into the pit. . . . : Ponto laughed in glee. “The stakes —they are like knives,” he cried—they: are deadly—they are for jaguars—and' little wildcat heiresses—oh, yes—" With .a cry, Annette found herself falling helplessly into the Lnknown terror underneath. “Help—help—help,” she cried. J onto;satd-Her="* with'a bound the Brute was upon, her. He darted to the very edge of: the pit, and with the surefootedness of an animal crouched there, -throwing his entire body forward and catching her by the shoulders just as she:dis- appeared from sight. He drew: her back to terra firma. No sooner had he done so, however, than Ponto .was upon them both, knife in hand, his teeth literally gnashing with rage. He hurled a savage knife-thrust at the Brute—and missed. Then he threw himself upon Annette and half tore her in his frenzyifrom the Brute’s grasp, cutting and’ slashing at them both ‘with his wicked knife. “I've got you now, you little wild- cat,” he panted in guttural Spanish, “down you' go.” He thrust her savagély- into the pit. Once more the Brute caught her—and in so doing swung the three of them around, so that their positions were reversed.. Ponto, throwing caution to the winds, kept lunging at the two with his sharp weapon. “I'll get you both,” he yelled, “I'll get you both.” A moment:later he was clawing at the air—but it was too late. Making frantic struggle to preserve. his bal- ance, he tottered over backward. There was the crash of a heavy body falling—a tearing, thudding sound—a ghastly, hideous scream —then: si- lence. CHAPTER LI The Jaguar’'s Mate. A lieutenant from the battleship Missouri clapped Neal on the shoul- der. “Well,” he said, “ensign, we're still following your girl. Pleasant occu- pation for you, eh.” “Looks as if I'd do it all my life,” said Neal, “but some day I kope to catch up to her.” he oificers were in charge of a small squad of men who had landed at Santa Maria in Lower California, under orders from Washington, and under advices from the United States district attorney in California. They were on the track of a coaling station —the United States wanted to make a treaty with a girl. The girl was here—somewhere. ‘Heilo,” said Neal, “look. There's a horse—a riderless horse. Go on, boys——get it, double quick.” Thres of the squad caught the norse and brought it to Neal. “A woman's saddle,” said Neal. His heart was in his throat. “Look.”” He drew from the pommel an object that had caught there—one of a pair of woman’s gloves. “Annette’s,” he cried, has happened.” “Forward, double quick,” command- cd the lieutenant. We'll see.” At the hotel they found Mrs. Har- in and Joe, gazing anxiously off to- ward the mission. Neal caught his mother by the arm. “Annette,” he cried, “we caught her horse. Where is she?” They told the story of her starting out. “Not a moment to lose,” exclaimed Neal, “come on boys—hurry all you can.” Meantime at the mission, Hernan- dez and Inez—with full confidence in Ponto’s ability to delay the advent of Annette—had once more presented themselves before Brother Anselmo. “We have been patient, father,” said Hernandez, “and -we’' trust that prayer—and sleep—have given - you wisdom and enlightenment, and satis- fied you of the justice of our claim.” “Ah, you speak truth, son,” said Brother: Anselmo. - He rose and left the room, returning immediately with the iron box containing the documents in question. He set it down upon the table.” There was a hubbub outside in the conrtyard.. In the midst of it a door was thrust open, and the Brute strode in, carrying Annette in his arms—An- nette, - still. only -semiconscious—still suffering from the shock of that writh- ing figure at the ‘bottom of the jaguar trap back there in the desert. Some instinct had led the Brute back to his master. . He laid the figure of Annette upon the table with the air of one who bas done his duty well. “something “Brothers,” cried Brother Anselmo, seeing Annette’'s plight, “quick—re- storatives—succor for this young girl” Hernandez took advantage of confusion—though he himself was tused beyond all peradventure. “Lis ten,” he said to Inez, “leave.wer with the Brute—go at once. "Il do the rest.” p i Unnoticed, Inez: and the .Brute obeyed. They left the room, hurried across the courtyard and disappeared. Hernandez watched them go. His coolness:returned. Swiftly,. with -one bound, he was upon Brother Anselmo and had seized:the iron box in Ms lrnn gl'lsk [ lian hmtant he was across the room: But: Brother Anselmo had done something more than pray and sleep in his quiet existence. He was an ae- tive, well trained individual. With-a loud:: cry he:-leaped -across the inter- vening space; :and:bounded upon uu shoulders.of Hernandez.n: - “Help, lielp, bromers," he commaml- ed. There was help nplenty Hernande~ fought like a madman, but the brof ers clung to him like<leeches. S]owly, however, he worked his way toward the .nearest exit—and then with a mighty wrench, hethrew off all his as- sailants' including-. Brother Anselmo, and darted, with a mighty leap out through the doorway. He bounded into the arms of Neal Hardin and his squad. Neal saw at a glance what had hap- pened. He seized Hernandez' wrist— the wrist of the hand and arm that held the iron box, and twisted it sud- denly, painfully Hernandez dropped the bex—but jerk sp an" to a the steady ps — the at eats up the long miles in less time than it takes to tell it. s “Damn them,” said Hernandez, “T&™ beat them to it yet.’ Behind him the footsteps stopped. There was a rcport—a ping. Hernan- dez had react oasis. He scr was as though a red hot iron had him. Ie had been hit in the 41} “Damn you,” “T'll beat you to it, vet.” With almost unseeing eyes he tore across the small green space—and then he stumbled, and slid, slid, slid— iato what seemed a bottomless pit. He just escaped a stake—a bloody one. And he fell—or rather slumped— upon something soft and yielding. With another oath he rose to his feet and peered about him. Then he drew back in terror. There lay Ponto—his mate—dagg, he screamed in pain, distorted. . . . s Hernandez screamed in terror—he was only human. This thing was hor- rible A shadow startled him. He looked upward. The Brute was peering down—he was doing more—he slowly slid down into the pit and caught Her- nandez in his grasp. Then, somehow, using his broad shoulders and his arms and knees he worked his way back again to terra firma, and drew Hernandez—groaning with the pain of his wound—up after him. Then with the nimbleness of a deer, the Brute— after slinging Hernandez upon his back—trotted off into the safety of the beyond. Back at the monastery, Annette I ington opened her eyes and looked in- to the face of Brother Anselmo. “I am Annette Ilington,” she ex- claimed, “I am the heiress of the Lost isle of Cinnabar.” Brother Apselmo tumed to Ensign Neal Hardin. “Does she speak truth?" he queried. “She does,” said Neal, “and my gov- ernment will back her to the limit. She is what she says she is. We all will vouch for that.” “Ah,” mused Brother Anselmo,® “what' a wonderful thing is prayer— what a wonderful thing is sleep—~" " He stopped. “I have prayed,” he went on, slowly, puzzled, “but not yet have I solved the mystery of the eyes of ‘that big man—the eyes—" He stopped-again. —For the- eyes-of - Annette Ilington were riveted upom . i