Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, May 30, 1914, Page 2

A Stirring Story of the Mexican Revolution AAAAAAAAAA A story of border Mexico, vivld, Intense, such as has never before been written, is this one of Ameri- can adventurers into the land of manana. Texan, mining engineer, Spanish senor and senorita, peon, Indian, crowd its chapters with clear-cut word pictures of busi- ness, adventure and love, against a somber background of wretched armies marching and counter- marching across a land racked by revolution and without a savior. MAAAAAAAAAA CHAPTER |I. The slow-rolilng winter's sun rose coldly, far to the seouth, riding up from behind the saw-toothed Sierras of Mexico to throw a silvery halo on Gadsden, the border city. A hundred miles of desert lay in its path—a waste of broken ridges, dry arroyos, and sandy plains—and then suddenly, as if by magic, the city rose gleaming in the sun. It was a big city, for the West, and swarming with traffic and men. Its broad main street, lined with brick buildings and throbbing with automo- biles, ran from the railroad straight to the south until, at a line, it stopped short and was lost in the desert. That line which marked the sudden end of growth and progress was the border of the United States; the desert was Mexico. And the difference was not in the land, but in the government. As the morning air grew warm and the hoar frost dripped down from the roofs the idlers of the town crept forth, leaving chill lodgings and stale saloons for the street corners and the sun. Against the dead wall of a big store the Mexicans gathered in shivering groups, their blankets wrapped around their necks and their brown ankles bare to the wind. On another corner a bunch of cowboys stood clannishly aloof, eying the passing crowd for oth- ers of their kind. In this dun stream which flowed under the morning sun there were min- ing men, with high-laced boots and bulging pockets; graybeards, with the gossip of the town in their cheeks; hoboes, still wearing their eastern caps and still rustling for a quarter to eat on; somber-eyed refugees and sol- diers of fortune from Mexico—but idlers all, and each seeking his class and kind. If any women passed that way they walked fast, looking neither to the right nor to the left; for they, too, be- ing so few, missed their class and kind. ' Gadsden had become a city of men, hugelimbed and powerful and with a questing look in their eyes; a city of adventurers gathered from the ends of the world. A common calamity had driven them from their mines and ranches and glutted the town with men, for the war was on in Mexico and from the farthermost corners of Sonora they still came, hot from some new scene of murder and pillage, to add to the general discontent. As the day wore on the crowd on the bank corner, where the refugees ! made their stand, changed its com- plexion, grew big, and stretched far up ! the street. Men stood in shifting groups, talking, arguing, gazing mood- ily at those who passed. Here were hawk-eyed Texas cattle- men, thinking of their scattered herds at Mababi or El Tigre; mining men, with idle prospects and deserted mines as far south as the Rio Yaqui; mill- men, ranchers and men of trades; all driven in from below the line and all chafing at the leash. While a hundred petty chiefs stood out against Madero and Itved by ransom and loot, they must cool their heels in Gadsden and wait for the end to come. Into this seething mass of the dis- possessed, many of whom had lost a fortune by the war, there came two more, with their faces still drawn and red from hard riding through the cold. They stepped forth from the marble entrance of the big hotel and swung off down the street to see the town. They walked slowly, gazing into the strange faces in the vague hope of finding some friend; and Gadsden, not 2o be outdone, looked them over curi- ously and wondered whence they had come. The bunch of cowboys, &till loitering | on the cormer, glanced scornfully at the smaller man, who sported a pair of puttees—and then at the big man's | feet. Finding them encased in pros- | .pector’s shoes they stared dumbly at | 'his wind-burned among themselves He was tall, and broad across the face and muttered | ghoulders, with fareeeing blue eyes | and a mop of light hair; and he walked on his toes, stiff-legged, swaying from his hips like a man on horseback. The rumble of comment rose he racked past and then a cowboy volce observed: #1"11 bet ye he's a cow-punch!” up again as | THE EVENING TELEGRAM LAK ELAND, FLA., MAY 30, 1914. can tell another puncher at a glance, but they are not alone in this—there are other crafts that leave their mark and other men as shrewd. A group of mining men took one look at the smaller man, noting the candle-grease on his corduroys and the intelligence in his eyes; and to them the big man was no more than a laborer—or a shift-boss at most—and the little man was one of their kind. Every line in his mobile face spoke of intellect and decision, and as they walked it was he who did the talking while the big man only nodded and smiled. They took a turn or two up the street, now drifting into some clamor- ous saloon, now standing at gaze on the sidewalk; and as the drinks began to work, the little man became more and more animated, the big man more and more amiable in his assent and silence. Then they passed the crowd of refu- gees they stopped and listened, com- menting on the various opinions by an exchange of knowing smiles. An old prospector, white-haired and tanned to a tropic brown, finally turned upon a presumptuous optimist and the little man nodded approvingly as he heard him express his views. “You can say what you please,” the prospector ended, “but I'm going to keep out of that country. I've knowed them Mexicans for thirty years now and I'm telling you they're gitting trgacherous. It don't do no good to have your gun with you-—they'll shoot you from behind a rock—and if they can't git you that way, they'll knife you in your sleep. “I've noticed a big change in them paisanos since this war come on. Be- fore Madero made his break they used to be scared of Americans—thought if they killed one of us the rest would cross the border and eat 'em up. What few times they did tackle a white man he generally give a good account of himself, too, and I've traveled them trails for years without hardly know- ing what it was to be afraid of any- body; but I tell you it's entirely dif- ferent over there now.” “Sure! That's right!” spoke up tae little man, with spirit. “You're talk- ing more sense than any man on the street. I guess I ought to know—I've been down there and through it all— and it's got s0 now that you can't trust any of 'em. My pardner and I came clear from the Sierra Madres, riding nights, and we come pretty near know- ing—hey, Bud?” “That's right,” observed Bud, the big man, with a reminiscent grin, “I begin to think them fellers would get us, for a while!” “Mining men?” prospector politely. “Working on a lease,” said the little man briefly. “Owner got scared out and let us in on shares. But no more for muh—this will hold me for quite a while, I can tell you!” “Here, too,” agreed the big man, turning to go. “Arizona is good enough for me—come on, Phil!” “Where to?” The little man dl'ewI back half resentfully, and then he: changed his mind. “All right,” he said, , falling into step, “a gin fizz for mine!” | “Not on an empty stomach,” nd-} monished his pardner; “you might get . lit up and tell somebody all you know. 1 How about something to eat?” “Good! But where 're you going?” The big man was leading off down a side street, and once more they came to a halt. “Jim's place—it's a lunch-counter,” he explained laconically. “The hotel's all right, and maybe that was a break- | fast we got, but I get hungry waiting | that way. Gimme a lunch-counter, where 1 can wrop my legs around a stool and watch the cook turn 'em over. Come on—I been there before.” An expression of pitying tolerance , came over the little man's face as he | listened to this rhapsody on the quick lunch, but he drew away reluctantly. “Aw, come on, Bud,” he pleaded. “Have a little class! What's the use of winning a stake if you've got to eat at a dog-joint? And besides—say, that was a peach of a girl that waited on us this morning! Did you notice her hair? She was a pippin!” The big man waggled his hand re- signedly and started on his way. “All right, pardner,” he observed; “if that's the deal she's prnbably look- ing for you. I'll meet you'in the room.” inquired the old “Aw, come on!” urged the other, but | his heart was not in it, and he turned gally away up the main street. (Copyright, 1914, by Frank A. Munsey.) The Land of Broken\ Promises By DANE COOLIDGE Author of “THE FIGHTING FOOL,” “HIDDEN WATERS," “THE TEXICAN," Etc. Dlustrations by DON J. LAVIN “Here,” called Bud, coming to an in- stant conclusion, “give 'im his sand- wich; I'll pay for it!"” “All right,” anwered the waiter, who ! was nq other than Sunny Jim, the pro- prietor, and, whisking up a sandwich from the sideboard, he set it before the old man, who glanced at him in silence. For a fraction of a second he regarded the sandwich apathetically; then, with the aid of his coffee, he made away with it and slipped down off his stool. “Say,” observed the proprietor, as Bud was paying his bill, “do yoa know who that old-timer was?” “What old-timer?” inquired Bud, who had forgotten his brusk benefac- tion. “Why, that old feller that you treat- ed to the sandwich.” “Oh—him! Some old drunk around town?” hazarded Bud. “Well, he's that, too,” conceded Sunny Jim, with a smile. “But lemme tell you, pardner, if you had half the rocks that old boy’'s got you wouldn't need to punch any more cows. That's Henry Kruger, the man that just sold the Cross-Cut mine for fifty thousand cash, and he's got more besides.” “Huh!” grunted Bud, “he sure don’t look it! Say, why didn’t you put me wise? Now I've got to hunt him up and apologize.” “Oh, that's all right,” assured the proprietor; “he won't take any offense. That's just like old Henry—he's kinder queer that way.” “Well, I'll go and see him, anyway,” said Bud. “He might think I was butting in.” 5 And then, going about his duty with philosophical calm, he ambled off, stiff- legged, down the street. CHAPTER II. It was not difficult to find Henry Kruger in Gadsden. The barkeepers, those efficlent purveyors of informa- tion and drinks, knew him as they knew their thumbs, and a casual round of the saloons soon located him in the back room of the Waldorf. “Say,” began Bud, walking blufly up to him, “the proprietor of that res- taurant back there tells me I made a “We All of Us Make Our Mistakes.” mistake when I insisted on paying for your meal. I jest wanted to let you know—" “Oh, that's all right, young man,” returned Old Henry, looking up with a humorous smile; “we all of us make our mistakes. I knowed you didn't mean no offense and so I never took none. Fact is, I liked you all the bet- ter for it. This country is getting set- tled up with a class of people that never give a nickel to nobody. You pald for that meal like it was nothing, anc never so much as looked at me. | Sit down, sit down—I want to talk to you!” They sat down by the stove and fell into a friendly conversation in which nothing more was said of the late in- advertence, but when Bud rose to go the old man beckoned him back. “Hold on,” he protested; “don't go y off mad. I want to have a talk with you on business. You seem to be a pretty good young fellow—maybe we | can make some dicker. What are you Left to himself, the big man went on to his lunch-counter, where he ordered oysters, “A dozen in the milk.” Then he ordered a beefsteak, to make up for several he had missed, and asked the cook to fry it rare. He was just negotiating for an of pears that had caught his in and took the stool beside him, pick- ing up the menu with trembling hand. “Give me a cup of coffee,” he said to the waiter, “and”—he gazed at the bill of fare carefully—“and a roast-beef sandwich. The big man looked back at them | corrected, and at that Bud gave him a mockingly out of the corner of his eye and went on without a word. llookA He was a small man, shabbily dressed and with scraggy whiskers, It is the boast of cowboys that they and his nose was very red. ve when an old man came | No, just the coffee!”’ he | lonking for in these parts?” | “Well,” responded Bud, “some kind of a leasing proposition, I reckon. Me and my pardner jest come in from Mexico, over near the Chihuahua line, and we don't hardly know what we do want vet.” I've noticed that pardner of rked Henry Kruger d t talker. I was listeni boys out on the street there, nothing else to do much, and kinder on the lookofit for a man, | anyway and it struck me I liked your | line of talk best.” “You're easy satisfied, served Bud, with a grin. a word hardly.” then,” ob- “I never said “That's it,” returned Kruger signifi- cantly; “this job I've got calls for & man like that.” “Well, Phil's all right,” spoke up | Bud, with sudden warmth. “We been pardners for two years now and he never give nothing away yet! He talks, but he don’t forget himself. And the way he can palaver them Mexicans is a wonder.” “Very likely, very likely,” agreed Kruger, and then he sat a while in silence. “We got a few thousand dollars with us, too,” volunteered Bud at last. “I'm a good worker, if that's what you want —and Phil, he’s a mining engineer.” “Um-m,” grunted Kruger, tugging at his beard, but he did not come out with his proposal. “I tell you,” he said at last. “I'm not doing much talking about this proposition of mine. It's a big thing, and somebody might beat me to it. You know what I am, I guess. I've pulled off some of the biggest deals in this country for a poor man, and I don’t make many mistakes—not about mineral, anyway. And when I tell you man that knows.” He fixed his shrewd, blue eyes on the young man’s open countenance and waited for him to speak. “That'’s right,” he continued, as Bud finally nodded non-committally; “she's sure rich. I've had an eye on this propositicn for years—just waiting for the right time to come. And now it's come! All I need is the man. It ain’t a dangerous undertaking—least- wise I don’t think it is—but I got to have somebody I can trust. I'm willing to pay you good wages, or I'll let you in on the deal—but you'll have to go down into Mexico.” “Nothin’ doing!” responded Bud with instant decision. “If it's in Ari- zona I'll talk to you, but no more Mex- ico for me. I've got something pretty good down there myself, as far as that 8oes.” “What's the matter?” inquired Kru- ger, set back by the abrupt refusal; “scared?” “Yes, I'm scared,” admitted Bud, and he challenged the old man with : his eyes. “Must have had a little trouble, then?” “Well, you might call it that,” agreed Bud. “We been on the dodge for a month, A bunch of revoltosos tried to get our treasure, and when we skipped out on 'em they tried to get us.” “Well,” continued Kruger, “this proposition of mine is different. You was over in the Sierra Madres, where the natives are bad. These Sonora Mexicans ain’t like them Chihuahua fellers—they're Americanized. I'll tell you, if it wasn't that the people would know me I'd go down after this mine myself., The country’s perfectly quiet. There’s lots of Americans down there yet, and they don’t even know there is a revolution. It ain’t far from the rail- road, you see, and that makes a lot of difference.” He lowered his voice to a confi- dential whisper as he revealed the ap- proximate locality of his bonanza, but Bud remained unimpressed. “Yes,” he said, “we was near a rail- road—the western—and seemed like them rec s did nothing else but burn bric and ditch supply trains. When t 1ally whipped 'em off the whole bu That's whe “Well,” ied Kruger, “this rail- road of ours is all right, and they run a train over it every day. The con- centrator at F na"—he lowered his voice again sn't been shut down a day, and you'll be within fifteen miles of that town. No,” he whispered; “I could get a hundred Americans to go in on this tomorrow, as far's the revo- lution’s concerned. It ain’t dangerous, but I want somebody I can trust.” “Nope,” pronounced Bud, rising pon- jderously to his feet; “if it was this side the line I'd stay with you till the hair slipped, on anything, but—" “Well, let's talk it over again some time,” urged Kruger, following him along out. “It ain't often I get took with a young feller the way I was with you, and I believe we can make it yet ‘Where are you staying in town?" “Up at the Cochise,” said Bud. “Come on with me—I told my pardner I'd meet him there.” They turned up the broad main street and passed in through the pol- took to the hills, ain,” re we got it ¢ richly appointed in its furnishings that a New Yorker, waking up there, might easily imagine himself on Fifth ave- nue. It was hardly a place to be looked for in the West, and as Bud led the way across the echoing lobby to a pair B N h ol a ne ing of being in church. d-glass windows above the windi irways let in a soft light, and on the tower- | ing pillars of marble were embMzoned prickly-pears as an emblem of the West. £anl e feel- curiously as they entered, and in the broad lobby below were gathered the prosperous citizens of the land. (To Be Continued.) that this i rich—you're talking witha , ished stone portals of the Cochise, a! hotel so spacious in its interior and so | From the darkened b:dconlesj above, half-seen women looked down ! work. we'll send the machine. 5 E}ach coniord nugnhlr;r i 2 is sitown un or cuecks Please send us an American Ad- @ ing before the addition | qing Machine for ten days’ frge A is made. trial. ',I‘he btmachlned wl{l :15 add, subtract and mul- . 2 tiply, With very slight | Name........covvevnniin. oo, 2 @ Uractic'e an}';' oded%an s i compute a hundred fig- & M Gree h° Minute. And | Street Address ...........iii. b & the machine never @ e makes mistakes. (61} T e % Coun'tless offices, R i 3: lal’;‘?'fi mgd sn??ll. are ) @ retting from these ma- & @ RO 8 Othe hizhest | State ceceeeccinns Binear Gralatn % & class of service. e S g b Manufactured and Guaranteed by # 3; AMERICAN CAN COMPANY. CHICAGO & SOLD BY COLE & HULL, JEWELERS . @ v OPHBDHPP D PPESHIPSSPERPPHUP TS PPPIIPDRE By The American Adding Machine The Latest Adder Costs But $35 See Our Exhibit—Ask for 10 days’ trial Here is a new price on a competent Adder. On & ma- chine that is rapid, fullsize and infallible. The verylatest machine Ad- der. to be placed on one's desk, close to one’s books and papers. To take th, place of the cen- tral machine requiring skilled Jperators, | It is also intended for offices and stores where costly ma- chimes are a luxury. 248§ B> o ooefio o B B B BoeBr B § B o BB Now We make this offer so that offices everywhere may learn what this machine means to them. Ten Days’ Test We will eladly nlace in any office. one American Adder for ten days’ test. Thera will be no oblicating & and charges will be prenraiq. I . Compare it with any non- ¢ lister. Let any ore use it. See ¢ if any machine can serve bet- ¢ ter than this. Just send us this coupon and 35 PR BB PRPPPPEPPRPPP PP B BB PPPEPBPEPERPEFPI0SSHHIFPIPPEEFEPPPRPEPSRIED s 3 The price is due to utter sim- plicity, and to_our enormous output. Seven keys do all the Every typeface strikes the exact printing center The 1.6 St & B Ball Bearing, Long Wearing Typewriter Typewriter for the Rural Business Man Whether you are a small town merchant or a farmer, you can't afford to be without a typewriter. Typewritten letters and bills save your time and give you a business standing you can get in no other way. . The L. C. Smith & Bros. typewriter is especially adapted to this work because it will stand more wear and does not require an expert operator. Anyone can learn to operate it in a short time. It is ball bearing throughout, simple, compact, complete. Mail this coupon today. L. C. SMITH & BROS. TY Syracuse, N. Y Please send me your free book. uld like to learn about e it for a new one. T am using a typewri your special offer Name Lakeland Club Cigars? If the best cigars grew en t havg no more Havana tot Club 10c cigars. The Five cent Club is a mil flavor and aroma of the best ; bushes in Cuba they would bacco in them than the Lakelan d blend, having the delicats grades of Havana tobacco. f1 " 3 fion of a home product of such good qualits nereasing The appre is shown by ou ’I”IH re 3 brand sold in the city thar