Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

II2 promise of regaining the royal favor if she conducted herself well. At which I was forced to smile; for he was a gross beast, and the maid, as I have said, was fair; and I knew that he was but seeking to save his face before he should take her. But she, so far from behaving herself, made endeavor to effect the escape of her man, who was not to be forgiven so easily— as why should he? For there was but little work to be done just then with the balata gatherers. . She was, of course, caught in her attempt—the other women gave in- formation against her, it seems—for she was young as well as fair. And then—the tale was not very clear; for the man who told me had omitted to ask unimportant details—somehow or other the woman died. No, she was not beaten. She Just sickened and died. I have thought since that some of the other women could possibly explain how. So that ended that complication. The way for the forgiveness of Joselito and for his return to work was now clear. It required but a little period yet for him to forget his infatuation and his anger against his chief. Gabriel, in fact, even condoled with him through the bars of the door and - assured him that he personally bore no ill will against him; but that his offense against the law in the killing of the two men neces- sitated yet a little while of incarceration. So that presently, as he hoped, all would be peaceful again and a good worker re- turned to labor. Often have I laughed to myself in imagi- ning the unction of the man as he spoke his magnanimity. But this Joselito seemed to be incapable of appreciating his chief’s “spirit of forgiveness. He contrived some- how his own escape one evening and burst suddenly in upon the Zambo as he sat at his meal attended only by his women. Weaponless he leaped upon his enemy with his bare hands to fight him as the white men fight. And the tale of that fight was good hearing. Would that I had been there to see it. Calling him a black half breed and a hairy monkey of the woods, he buffeted the fat Zambo about the face with his fists and elbows and tore much hair from his head and finally kicked him in the stomach, so that he groaned like a stricken ox and nearly died. He would indeed have torn the throat out of the man as he lay; but that the shrieking of the Adventure women brought men running; and they threw themselves upon him five at a time and dragged him off and thrust him once again in the calabougo. When Gabriel the Angel recovered under the ministrations of his women he was still a very sick man; but his first speech, thickly through his swollen throat, was that on the morrow the boy would surely die at the beating post; and that in the mean while, as an earnest of what was coming to him, his tongue was to be cut out for the things he had said during the fight. Yet in the same moment he changed his order, saying, no, let the tongue stay, for he desired to hear him scream for mercy under the whip. Let it be an ear, and let it be suspended round his neck by a thong. A fellow by the name of Gorgio, a brother of one of his women, whom he had raised to a deputy administratorship, took seven others and went and did this thing. And when he reported the doing to Gabriel, that one laughed like a wolf and fell to coughing blood by reason of the soreness of his throat. Yet he laughed still at the thought of the morrow’s enjoyment. But Joselito Davis did not wait for the morrow. In the night he escaped again; it turned out that he had gnawed a window bar with his teeth; for the calabougo was but a homemade affair with hardwood fittings instead of iron; and in the general confusion of the night the thing had been overlooked. So he got away and swam the river to take refuge in the jungles of the northern shore, Gabriel’s fury was no more than was to be expected. But what could he do? The men who were responsible for the guard- ing of the prisoner, Indians of the Orejones, of course, when they found that he was gone, ran away to hide in the farthest confines of their tribe. So presently, when the fury was exhausted, Gabriel laughed again. “TY would have enjoyed his punishment myself,’’ he said. ‘But the Chima of the deep jungles know things about killing that even I can not hope to emulate. Send them a garment of his to smell, and promise them a whole pound of fish hooks for his head when they are through with it.” ei SO THAT was the end of that iu matter. I was sorry when I heard of it, for the lad had proved himself to be a man. On my way down from the head waters I told the tale to the chiefs of CoMmiclbook Yh) (© =