Life — October 28, 1915 — page 19: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a ES SHORT Stony @ The contest closed on October 4th. So many thousands of manuscripts have been receiv invited to exercise ail due patience. d, each one necessitating a careful reading, that our friends are We shall continue to publish the stories accepted each week in this department until all the manuscripts have been passed upon; and as soon thereafter as possible the pi s will be awarded. A Mexican Vivandiére By H.C. IGHT had fallen on the third day at Vera Cruz, and from navy head- quarters. the commanding officer, his orders snapping like wireless, was direct- ing the clean-up of snipers. “Lawrence,” he said, “you'll find six machine-guns—buried in boxes—back yard of No. 17 Avenida Cortés.” As Licutenant Lawrence left headquar- ters with his squad Ensign McHenry came in and reported. “McHenry, you're next. This is Gonzales, who knows where you can round up Fernando Diaz. Get Diaz to- night.” McHenry started at once with Gonzales, listening to his flood of directions. The Mexican smiled in spite of himself at the American's burst of speed, but kept up with him easily. They turned corners into filthy by-streets leading to the market space. At the entrance to a dark alley Gon- zales stepped aside. “After you, sefior.” When the white uniform entered the shadow of an awning “Gonzales” whipped out his revolver and fired pointblank into the officer's back. Flinging away his weapon, he ran to No, 17 Calle de Zamora and whistled. “Pava, Pava, ven acd! I have shot an American officer! The marines are hunting for our machine-guns. I said “Avenida Cortés,’ but that dog, Vicente, who betrayed us, will lead the Americans here.” “Let them come,” said La Pav bolted the door as he stepped in. name did you give?” “Emilio Gonzales.” “Listen, Fernando. Don't stay a minute, Let me think, What if I cut your head, a very little, so?" He winced under the knife, and she kissed him. “See, it bleeds enough on this bandage, which will hide your face. Quick! To the Military Hospital! Sleep there, safe among hundreds of our wounded. Go!” Meanwhile Vicente, the informer, had followed Diaz. Hearing the shot and She What Washburn finding McHenry wounded, he scurried to headquarters. The news went to Law rence, who took his squad “on the double” to Calle de Zamora. Rifle butts shattered the door, and Lawrence, auto- matic in hand, led the, men in with fixed bayonets. La Pava, the beautiful Azteca, stood facing the bright steel, a thin wisp of smoke drifting from her cigarette. “ Buenas noches, seiior.” “You have six machine-guns, Where are they?" Lawrence looked at his wrist-watch. “TI give you three minutes to answer.” La Pava had faced death before. A crack shot, riding in advance of Villa's army, she had drawn the enemy’s fire, had stolen plans, food, money. She had sold herself to the opposing general and learned his strategy. She was a scout, a spy, a harlot—a patriot. Now she gazed innocently, admiringly, at the young lieu- tenant. His men, fascinated, uncon- sciously lowered their rifles. “ Seior,” she pleaded, “ you will do me a great wrong if you shoot, for I have no guns. Some one has lied, Search and you will see.” The marines turned the place inside out. When Lawrence asked La Pava to'take him into the courtyard she showed no hesitation, and his flashlight told him the ground had not been disturbed. Stooping over, he caught the gleam of a knife, and in the same breath twisted it out of her fingers. “You are quick, sefior. But some day I will get you—you who would not take my word.” The sergeant returned and reported, “T can find nothing, sir.” Then, seeing the knife, he added, “ Put her in irons, sir? Lawrence knew her breed; she would be flattered by handcuffs and would con- sider him a weakling. “No, sergeant. The lady will walk with me.” Through the streets to prison, wafting a powerful scent of perfumed powder, @: iI she walked at Lawrence's side, using her eyes with that dazzling effect known only to women of the tropics. He would confront her with Vicente, Lawrence thought, but as the battlements of Ulloa Castle came in sight, the “ Place of Executions” suggested another idea. “ Halt! He formed a firing platoon and blindfolded the prisoner, Thinking of Vicente’s story of the guns, he as- serted, as if he meant it, “ With my own eyes, during the fighting, T saw your gun boxes taken from the arsenal. Where are they now?” La Pava gave no answer. She folded her arms and held her head proudly. “Ready!'. . . Aim! . . ." Lawrence raised the muzzle of the sergeant’s gun; the men, following this lead, aimed high “ Squad. ” It was too much even for La Pava She dropped to her knees. “Wait, sefior! 1 will tell all, on one so small condition—that you spare the life of Emilio Gonzales. If not—you can kill me. On your word as an officer, save him, and let me sce him, and by the Blessed Virgin [ will tell you the truth.” “Where is this man?” “He is in the Military Hospital.” “T will do all [ can for Gonzales— Til take you to him, Now, where are the guns?” “ They are buried in the patio—in front of my house.” Even then she smiled. “Remember,” he warned, removing the blindfold, “if you have lied, you will be shot. Sergeant, look for them; report to me at the hospital.” As the men marched off Vicente, the ubiquitous, who had trailed La Pava, emerged from the shadow of a doorway. La Pava, whom nothing seemed to startle, sneered at him. Lawrence gripped his automatic, recognized Vicente, and thereupon wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Senor,” whined the beast, “her lover's name is not Gonzales, but Diaz. the traitor.” La Pava glared at him murderously, “It was Diaz,” Vicente added with unction, “who shot the offi- cer in the back.” “You gave me your word——" began, turning to Lawrence. “To save ‘Emilio Gonzales,’" he re- minded her. “True, my captain, alas!" Her black lashes drooped over a message of love. “But you will set me free?” “When I see the guns.” Furious, she sprang at Vicente, who © So she comicbooks.com