The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 7, 1905, Page 8

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY: CALT. “At the Meeting of the Poles.” the is by Wal- ze Btory for this week, tep-A. Beebe of Oakland. Mr. Beebe whe the author of a previous prize weifining story, “With the Aid of Fire.” A% with that story, so the present story_goes back for its material to a phise of early California life but slightly touched on as yet by those West. who write of the 1 te we day n’s elip of wool; his ride beneath a serene autu »ugh gbntéd pines, among the eternal hills, had, for the time, si d the imperi- ous.and disquieting c f a thou- s&nd abor And mnow, crowning joy, opportunity to be aloné with her. A sudden bend in the road had re- vealtd her, wal g a shor distance shead. A young girl i red go sOme 80 with fiounces and ings. Over Hér head and shoulders a ged bt tascl r was man- tilla-wise and the littie fee ling in d out from beneath her skirts, peérmitted an occasional glimpse of deinty red slippers. Heavy pendants in her ears, mnecklace, bracelets, to- géther with many ribboms, completed the charming picture. Pablo touched the flank of his bay with & spur and approached the mdiden at a furious gallop, the ends of the gy ribbon around his sombrero end thé wide sash about his waist streaming behind; and when he had reachéd her side made a slight move- arient of the dle rein. The steed plantéd his fore feet stiffly before him, plowed up the earth for a couple of féet and was motionless. The rider was onh the ground on the instant and with & low bow and a wide down- eweep of the sombrero in his hand, exclaimed “Eh! the Senorita Marcela! At first I thought it was onme of the blessed angels come to your papa's fiesta.” Only at first, Senor Pablo? Then & closér look must have shown you somethihg which is not angelic. I thank the Senor for the compliment.” The giorious black eyes sparkled mis- chiévously and she dropped him a mock courtsey “Surely,” rejoined theyother. *“The angels are so far away that mo man can hope to win one; but you- “Do you start in ‘any of the races?” asked M&rceia quickly. “In the chicken race, yes; just one. One récé for one horse. It is enough. Do you know who else will run?” “Only ¢re. Sam Barrett.” She shot swift glance, then looked with a little smile. A scov\ gathered upon Pablo’s dark, handsome features. “Diablo! Why do those gringo pigs crowd in when we, in whose veins runs blood of Spenish dons, meet to- r to honor our mother country? “Senor Barrett came because he was invited,” wae the retort. “It is said he is & fine cabellero and rides the best horse in the country.” Nevertheless, 1 shall beat him—or die,” muttered Pablo, grinding his teeth. “Tell me you hope I may win,” eagerly. “My papa hopes the best man and horse may win,” coyly. *But what do you hope “8h, it is not my fiesta.” “7 will make a bet with you.” “I mever bet.” “Allow me to teach you. I will bet my heart against yours that I win.” “You would cheat yourself, -Senor Pablo; for m}‘ friends all say that I have no heart.” “Then to vhém have you given it? “if you really wish to know”—she brought her face mear ear and whispéred confidentially the girl sprang away with a gay Scattering trees stood about them, the advance guerd of the'goodly pha- janx of noble white oaks known as Morenc's Grove,” from the gnarled beanches of which myriads of birG$ strained their little throats in 2 vait attempt to drown the din below— tie laughter, chatter. the shouts of & Mexico!” the strident notes of the string band. Arbund the edge of the grove at pres- ent wis 2 thick fringe of heterogeneous éonveyances. Saddie horses predomi- nited: there were farm wagons, buck- bbards, carts end an occasional demn- tated Luggy. There were sounds stalnping, sncrting, munching of hs), apd an occasiopal whinny from an atixjous mother appealing to her ven- turésome offspring. * Pzbio tied his steed to a tree at a dis- creet «distance from other equine heels, slapped the anima! on the thigh with an afiectionate word, removed his spurs apd chaparejos end Jit a sigarctte. Then he and his companion entered the ccol ehade of the wood, winding to avoid an occasional copse of un brush, and soon were mingling v.ith the crowd. ' They were approached by a tall, w built American, whose features had been tanned by the sun to almost i1ie swarthiness of those about him, and who wore a bardana for a neck scarf. Geod-mornin’. Miss Moreno. Kin I have the pleasure of this dance? it's jest commencin’,” and he “crow- winged” his arm invitingly. Pablo inwardly cursed his stupidity in not having foreseen and guarded against this contingency. “Meester Bar't, thees lady, she's leading me to her papa,” and he hoped Marcela would bear him out in his fib. “Oh, that’s all right, Estrada, I'll hire some feller fur to lead you—that is, if you haf to be led,” he added, as if as an afterthought. The hot blood reddened Pablo’s face. “To-day, Meester Bar't will foller where I lead,” cried fiercely. Marcela had been standing in evident he vacillation. But a furtive peep had shown her the thunder cloud on Pablo’s face, and her feminine soul laughed. Turning, she placed a light hand on Barrett's arm, an left alone He watched the pair step on the wooden dancing piatform laid between the trees and begin to whirl in time * to the music of the two violins and guitar. But It was torture to see the arm of Barrett encircling the slender waist of Mercela. He turned away with a muttered oath and walked to 2 large barrel which stood against a tree. Seizing a cup which hung in- vitingly near he dipped and quaffed a heroic portion of wine. A sound thump upon the back start- led him and he became aware that the host of the day, ‘Senor Moreno, Marcela’s father, was beaming down upon him. “Eh, Pablo, boy, that was to some senorita surely. Now fill again and drink to me. Do not spare it. If the barrel becomes empty there is another one or two where it came from. What a grand senor he is this day! I must see all the girls and tell them to look out for Pablo Estrada, the heart breaker.” “Senor Moreno,” blurted. the young man, “why are all these gringos here? Pablo was The pigs are not content with taking our country from us, but they must and take our— our celebraticas He had intended to say “‘senor- but, considering to whom he was speaking, judged it more politic to make the substitution. Instantly the old man drew himself up haughtily. “Senor Estrada, these Americanos are my guests. The guests of a Mo- reno are sacred. Who slights them in- sults ine.” “Then consider that I "have not spoken slightingly,” apologized Pablo, with the deference which young men usually pay their e!ders—who have marriageable daughters. “Yet I curse the day when the dirty gold was first picked from California’s streams (o attract the greedy foreigners,” The music ceased and the danecers came pouring into the crowd, laugh- ing and chattering. Sam Barrett and Marcela strolled past near to where Pablo was standing. The man leered at him in passing, but Marcela ap- peared not to see him, keeping her face turned the other way, except for a stolen glance. “If is a pity to treat him so0,” she s2id to herself, “but it is such a great compliment to see him so angry. And he must not think I am too cheap. as the popular author. It As one of “he objects of If a story carns publication it No story will be considered that is less than 2500 nor more than 3500 weords in length. The length of the story must be marked i in plain figures. In the selection of stories names will not count. The unknown writer will have the same standing to develop a new corps of Western writers, no stories under noms de plume will be considered. become gladden Pretty soon this man will overcenfident, then I shall Pablo and’ anger him.” Pablo’s soul was a seething volcano. Scarce knowing what he did he pres- ently turned and followed the couple, responding to the greetings of friends with grunts. But he lost his quarry in the wood and proceeded forward until he found himself at the “kitchen.” A long pit, some six feet deep, had been dug. In thic fires had been kindled and fed with many logs, until now the hole was half filled with glow- ing coals. Across the mouth of the pit iron rods were laid at short inter- vals and upon each was skewered a vast cut of meat. Chunks of beef al- ternating with quarters of sheep and goats, varied by an occasional fowl, sent forth a smoke which was an in- cense to the nostrils. Perspiring Mex- jcans anxiously watched and turned, removing each niece when it had be- come barbecued to a turn. At a table men worked energetically cutting fresh chunks. stabbing each piece re- peatedly and inserting bits of garlic in the gashes. At one end of the pit rested a huge caldron, in which ta- males were kept hot in boiling water. Near at hand stood wagon loads of eatables, among which much promi- nence was given to tortillas, enchila- das, chile con carne, megas, salsa and other dainties dear to the Mexicap palate; for was not this the sixteenth of Seotember, the Mexican Fourth of July? At this moment a crv, “The races! The chicken race!” and a movement of the crowd toward the open warned Pablo that he had no time to lose. He hurried to his horse and as he joined his five combnetitors Sam Barrett held aloft a coin and cried: . “This here twenty says I win!” “An’ thees says no, senor,” rang Pablo’s voice defiantly, and the wager was formally placed. | The horsemen, blissfully conscious that all, especially feminine, eyes were upon them, outdid theselves in feats of trick riding, responding meantime to the good natured chaf- fing of friends in the crowd. Betting was brisk, Estrada being the favorite with the Mexicans, while the Ameri- cans ‘generally backed Barrett. Pinally the sextet cantered away to the starting point and after the usual preliminaries, “They are off,”” ‘and a buzz of suppressed excitement arose from the spectators, Clouds of dust and the thunder of hflr-es' hoofs. Then the racers burst into view, the riders leaning far for- ward, their spurs working unceasing- ly. Two were running neck and neck well in the lead, and they. were greet- ed with a babel of encouragement. “Estrada wins! He leads!” ‘‘Bar- rett! Barrett! Go it, Barrett!” “Five dollars on Estrada!” The onlookers shouted, jumped and threw their sombreros in the air in an ecstacy of delightful excitement—all except a half dozen roosters, which, buried to their necks in little mounds of loose earth on the ground along either side of the rack track, viewad the @pproaching cavalcade with un- concealeq alarm. Pablo was well in the lead by now. Suddenly le seized his horse's mane with his right hand, his right foot left the stirrun, he leaned far down, snatched at a cock’s head in passing, and Jlerked it from Its prison, to the eternal discomfiture of that unfortu- nate fowl. His horse, accustomed to such maneuvers, mistakenly followed the tactics of ‘a casual trick gallop, by making superequine efforts to stop. Barrett, thundering behind, instantly twitched his bridle rein. His powerful charger swerved and Pablo’s lighter racing steed was carried nearly off his feet in the resulting collision. Pablo felt his right leg lcse its grip upon the saddle, but with .the agility of a cat still holding the chicken in his left hand, he threw that arm over his horse’s neck as his legs dropoed! his body swung far forward and as his feet touched the ground he made a mighty lean which landed him square- ly in the saddle. It was a thing of, the past before the crowd found its voice. Then pan- demenium broke loose, in the midst of which Pablo swent up to the finish and_threw the still fluttering rooster at Marcela, who, as judge, occupied the seat of a farm wagon, which served as a grand stand, thus being the first to fulfill the conditions of the race. As he passed by, to the din of the muiltitude was added his own ex- ultant yells of victory and of triumph over his adversary. . For a few minutes Pablo was the center of a hero-worshining crgwd, while a few disconsolates gathered about Barrett to hear by what streak of ill-luck he failed to win. By means of go-betweens the two held a dia- logue: "They s no denyin’ but what my hgss butted into hisn: but o' course it wasn't done o' purpose.” “Tha’s ver’ dam lie! Hees hoss he come on my hoss, an’ he make him go that way.” “If that feller says I lie, there’ll be one greaser less before night.” “J'u tale heem that no Estrada ever geet scared to meet any man.” The subsequent events, such as plain and fancy riding, throwing the riata (the fictional -name which is lar- iat), etc., held no interest for Pablo. He longed to see Marcela and reccive her congratulations; but it was not until the long rows of rough plank tables among the trees were being loaded with good things, and the peo- ple were seating themselves upon the nanking benches. that she became visible. “Eh, Marcela, it i3 time for you to pay your debts. You lost your, bet on the chicken race.” { “What bet, Senor Pablo?" “Your heart. Am I to have it?” / “Try,” she said scftly, and revealed her white teeth in a smile which trans- THIS CONTEST CLOSES ON JUNE 4. ’ ! the Sundny Call is wnnbeweuwonh SHORT STORY turn postage. address legibly Always inclose return postage. scripts will be returned unless accompanied by re- Werite on one side of paper only; put name and on last page, SUNDAY EDITOR OF THE CALL, SAN FRANCISQO CAL. ~ ported the swain from hell to heaven. “Now, Pablo, if you are good you may do something for me. I am to serve the Americans with my own hands and you may help me.” “If serving them serves Marcela, I am their slave. But why do you have them? On this day of gladness, you see, they sit beneath the trees and tell ¢ne another how much they made on their wheat and how they intend to get more land for the winter's sow- ing. One would think they gre plot- ting to take all our homeas fro: “What sort o' vegeta is\ that?” asked John Harkens, a comparative stranger, eying curiously a tamale with which Pablo had served him from the lvad he was staggeriog under. “'Pears to be.some sort o' fat rela- tion to—now—an ear o' corn.” “W'y,” answered Tom Cardison, “them things is what the greasers kneel afore an’ worship, as vou might say. You got to go to work an' git into it this a-way,” giving an illus- tration of the method of distublny a tamale of its corn husk. “Miss Marcela,” sald Barrett, “they was a wishbone come wrapped in a:y chicken. Won’t you pull it with me?” “Excuse me, Meester Bar't; I'm ver’ , . when ye git thtoulh7 come “But I have told to Meester Estrada 1 dance with heem when .I geet through.” Pablo’s mind instantly harked back to the fib he himself had uttered that morning for her sake, and his heart bounded exultantly. The eyes of Latin and Angle-Saxon met for an instant, and in that instant there flashed . be- m v Stories not ucceptedw:nbemnmednonce. Those selected wllbepubh:hedoneeal:h.week. An author may subnut as many maruscripts as he desires, but no one writer will be permitted to win more than three prizes during the contest. vi No manu- vit and address to the LES tween them the burning hate of race for incompatible race—the flerce fire at the meeting point of two oppositely electrified poles. Senor Moreno, his wife on his arm, walked from table to table, greeting everybody, slighting none; even the ba- bies were tossed in the air. He jested, joked and made pretense of siyly steal- ing the food off his guests’ plates, which never failed to “bring downga house.” 1f a guest showed signs of faltering the old man was upon him or her in- stantly, the plate was refilled and pro- testations were simply ignored. It was not until two hours had elapsed that the crowds deserted the tables, to pass the remainder of the delightful day as fancy suggested. Black bottles passed back and forti dice and card games sprang up: hea ed arguments arose in which gesticula- tion played at least as important a part'as words. What if the fun grew boisterous, uproarious, even? Eat, drink, laugh to-day, for to-morrow— quien sabe? The afterncon was drawing to a close when Pablo and Marceia made the ascent of the pine covered hill which stabbed into the valley just be- yond the grove. Pablo had been al- ternating between heaven and hell all the afterncon and was at present in the abode of bliss. As he looked at the girl, glowing with the animation of physical exercise, a mighty wave of passionate longing swept away his timidity and he cried: “Oh, Marcela! Marcela!" Two pink spots appeared om Mar cela’'s cheeks. She sard nervousiy: ee. the sun sets behind Santa Lucia and bids farewell to Mexico day. “But tell me, dearest, does my sun set, or is it to rise and shine while life lasts?" “1 did not know Pablo owned a sun,” betrayed surprise. “Marcela, you know what it is in my mind and heart I wish to say.” “How could I know except by magic and the padre says magic is from the Senor Devil.” “Marcela, I plucky this bunch of Christmas berries; I give them to you. If you pin them to your bosom I shall know that the love I offer is returned.” “Ah, you offer me your leve?”’ quer- fed the maiden, with a great show of ingenuousness. Then her face became grave and she adged seriously: *“T must think, Pablo,¥think. Leave me now—leave+me alone, and when I have that the and her Senor voice decided I shall let you know.™” “But tell me first vou are mnot in doubt as between myself and that gringo.” A gay smile broke over her fea- tures. “What fools men are! Now sAs Pablo slowly descended the hill he heard the sounds of voices ahead of him and looking up saw Sam Barrett and a companion approaching. Evi- dently they had been down to the spot where a gringo from Salinas had been coining meoney all day dealing “stud horse” poker. Pablo wanted no trouble at present, as his fate might be decided at any moment, and he did not wish to meet Barsett without having trouble, so he stepped behind a bush. Then he heard an exclamation from his rival: By jings, thar’s my gal, a-top that’ *ar hill. You jest mosey om, Bill; I'll see you later.” “Sure it's your gal, eh? I "low Pablo Estrada is pretty solid thar.” “Now mark my words, Bill. If that ’ar greaser tries to git im an’ spile rmy sport there'll be cne good Injun In t parts purty suddint.” “Well, s'long. Invite me to the wed= din’.” “Air’t goin’ to be no weddin’,” was the reply, followed by a wink. His companion walked off and Barrett took a few steps toward the hill, when suddenly he was confronted by a devil incarnate. “No more. J'u one walk more make to thees lady an’ I feex you.” “Helendamnation! You sneakin’ In- jun! TI'll settle you plenty right now."™ The American aimed a DI with his fist, which was dodged. Pabdlo’s right arm swung out. There was a flash of steel and the nextwinstant his enemy was prostrate at his feet. For a moment he gazed at the supine form with only an animal feeling of satisfaction over gratified revenge. Then &a sudden realization of the gravity of his act struck him like blow. From the picnic grounds the sounds of song and laughter reached his ears, and he felt that those people, #0 lately his brothers and sisters, were 80 no longer. From this time on, while life lasted. he would have no fellowship with them. He was as one apart, separated from his kind by a sinister crimson gulf. And what if they should lay hands upon him? He would be haled before a gringo judge and jury, and what mercy would those people show to a greaser slayer of thelr owa countryman? A bush rustled. He looked up and across the prostrate form, and saw Marcela descending the hill. A proud happy light was in her eyes, a smile was on her face, and upon her bosom lay the cluster of scarlet berries he had given her. For one brief, delirious moment his soul sang and shouted: “She is mine— mine! She confesses her love for me!™ Made oblivious to all else by the splen- dor of this supreme instant of human life he made a step toward her. His foot struck an obstruction: he looked down; and as he looked a pitiless destiny éropped an opaque curtain between him and the spiendor of what might have been, and catechised his recoiling soul. Would not the gentle, humane Mar- cela with loathing tear away those ber- ries when she found that the hnnfl which had given them was red they? Red with a stain which wu\fld cause this long-wished-for day to be abhorred in the remembrance? Red ‘with bl the life blood of the sacrsd guest of a’ Moreno? ‘Then his soul cried in flerce rebel- lion: “She is mine! | Our lave shall tri- umph! All else is as 1" Again he made as if tc advance, w! again he was checked by the relentiess in- quisitor. ~ Suppose he had the power, had he the right to take Marcela now? Would his honor permit him to bring to, that pure, Innocent girl the shame, tHe dis-~ grace of being the wife of a murderer and a fugitive, or, worse fate, the widow of an executed felon?" Scant time remarred.for decision of the momentous problem. for* Marcela was picking her daintv wa~ down the path quite neay him. One moment of vacillation. then Es- tradg threw out his arms with a ges- ture of unspeakable misery, turned swiftly, and h.tll;e clatter of his horse’s hoof beats 10-: since died distance before s 000 000000000000000000000¢ L2 0icd over the nmu.'..." =