Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

3T2 hesitation, ‘‘ What has become of Senorita _ Rosita—she that was to marry this human skunk?” “J cannot say positively of her, senor, but news has been whispered forth from the hacienda, by way of her maid, that Senorita Perenzo remains locked in her room, weeping as with a broken heart. Doubtless she mourns the death of her lover, this thrice-damned Don Enrique,” and the vaquero grinned meaningly. “'That’s most likely what the senorita is weeping over,” Rusty agreed gravely. * But there’s one thing I can’t understand, amigo. If Don Perenzo really loves this beautiful daughter of his, why was he will- ing to shackle her forever to that pole-cat.”’ “A puzzle, indeed, senor. But Mendez was a shrewd devil, who did as he wished with Don Perenzo. Some, have thought that Don Eugenio feared him, perhaps be- cause of a guilty secret the two caballeros shared in common. Me—I do not think so. I believe that Don Perenzo was merely captivated by the other, willfully blind to his many faults, and emphasizing his vir- tues—if so be he possessed any.”’ “You don’t seem to think Mendez yourself, amigo.” The vaquero swore savagely. “You have said it, senor. I have at one time a sister, who is comely and pleasing to the eye. Don Enrique seen her in an evil day. It is not an agreeable story, senor. He had a way with women, this Don En- rique. Often have I told myself that some- time I would kill him, though the good padre commanded me I should not. I think you have saved my soul from the stain of murder, senor, and for that I am grateful to you.” “ Humph!” Rusty grunted. ‘ Killing off riff-raff like that ain’t exactly my idea of murder.” For a time he pondered the affair, shrewd- ly sizing up the young Mexican before him, speculating on the kind of material he had to deal with. “You work for Don Perenzo, is it not s0, amigo?” he presently queried. The other nodded. ** He’s a good boss, I expect. pretty fair wages, don’t he?” much of Pays you ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The vaquero laughed mirthlessly. “Yes, senor; if- you count thirty pesos a month good pay. For my part, I hardly consider it a princely reward for my toil.” ‘““How’d you like five thousand Ameri- can dollars—not pesos—in your hand all at once?” The Mexican’s eyes glowed covetously. “That would be wealth untold, sefor. But why talk about things which cannot happen?”’ | “Get me a gun—a forty-five that’ll fit this belt of shells I still got; have a horse handy after dark to-night. It’s worth five thousand.” The swarthy face of the vaquero turned pale. “Por Dios, senor! That would be a madness. Don Perenzo would have me drawn asunder by wild bulls if I were guilty of such treachery.” ‘Naturally you wouldn’t hang around and give him a chance to get nasty. De- liver the goods—and then fade out of the picture pronto.” ‘ But the five thousand American dollars, senor—” “Oh, yes,” said Rusty. “ You’ve heard of Dan Towers, who owns the Crossed Arrows ranch northeast of here, ’way up over the line?” : ‘Of a certainty! Who has not heard of Senor Towers? He is far richer even than Don Perenzo, my employer.”’ | “He is my father,” said Rusty. The vaquero smiled craftily, “No doubt, sehor! I myself am nephew to the president of Mexico.” Rusty grinned good-naturedly. So far as he could now see, his sole hope lay in this Mexican, and things were far too des- perate to warrant any display of temper. Decidedly it was a time for a very fine type of diplomacy. i “I don’t blame you for not believing me, amigo,” he Said. ‘“ But it is the truth.” “Why should the son of Sefor Towers be wandering alone in Mexico?” the va- quero objected. “A fair question, and I’ll give you a fair answer. My father’s ranch has several times been raided by a band headed by a masked outlaw, whose black hair had a ~ EOPMNICLOOOKS s 7 (E@)