Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

FOR COUNTRY. portal there should be a scroll crying aloud in letters of blood: ‘ All hope abandon ye who enter here!’ ” “Tell me about it.” “‘ There is scarcely time now; there is so much to tell. But I will go through the castle with you if you like.” She paused in some perplexity of recol- lection. ‘“ Didn’t I see the Mexican flag flying over Ulua yesterday?” “Yes. But a company of marines took possession of the place in the afternoon. There are still a number of prisoners, al- though the Federal general released and armed most of them before he evacuated the city.” A group of officers and refugee ac- quaintances swooped down on Patria and Nelson, “Come on, everybody,” they demanded. “We're going to La Playa for a swim. Steve Nelson’s had you to himself long enough, and it’s our turn now,” An open electric tramcar quickly landed the party at the beach. As far away as the corner where they descended from the car the shouts of merrymakers already splashing in the bathing inclosure sounded clearly. The morning sun had mounted until the beach was oppressively warm, and the water, clear and cool, extended alluring in- vitation. The bathing beach, about a hundred yards in length by fifty wide, was inclosed within a palisade of bamboo and wood, through which the water might pass freely, but not the tiger sharks that prowled hun- grily about the waters encompassing the place. A broad footbridge of sufficient height to permit bathers to swim beneath it spanned the pool from the entrance to a yellow-brown pavilion on the seaward side. The pavilion was surrounded by broad ve- randas, and boasted a small restaurant, a bar, lounging rooms, and an air of hos- pitality. Inviting armchairs of hurt-proof materials offered welcome to bathers in suits wet or dry. In accordance with the country’s custom, Patria daringly appeared in a dainty striped 891 suit, the skirt of which reached almost up to her knees, and without stockings. A jaunty cap was pulled well down over her lustrous hair. She tentatively dabbled a white foot in the water as Nelson hurried up. “Come on,” he called. “ We’re the first ones ready.” He took her hand and led her into the water. Bathing is bathing; but on so scorching a morning it was sheer bliss to bask in the cool undulations that, broken by the shark barrier, rolled in diminished force from the breakers beating against the exterior. There was a babel of voices, calling, shouting, gurgling, from bathers as well as from those who lined the veranda and watched the natatorial performances below them. Patria and Nelson were like two chil- dren. Cares seemed to have slipped away from the girl as she lowered her shoul- ders into the water after a splashing from her companion. She turned on her side and struck out. Stephen Nelson shot into a graceful water-leap and drew alongside of her. “You swim like a mermaid,” he said; “but I might have known it. Whatever you do, you do well, Isn’t this great?” “It is—glorious! Please, why does one have to have cares and wor— Heavens above! What on earth is that?” A brittle popping that crescendoed into a droning clatter arose from the near-by beach outside the palisade. It was as if great machine guns were being operated. Patria was frightened and clutched Nel- son’s arm. He reassured her. “ It’s only a flying boat getting ready to make an ascension. Don’t think there has ever been one in Mexico before. Want to watch it?” | They hurried to the bridge, all dripping as they were, in time to see the weird- looking air monster under guidance of a naval pilot slowly gain headway, make a run down the sloping sand with increasing velocity, and take the water, the spray fly- ing from beneath the bluff bows of the pontoons and tossed up as well by the air pressure from the whirling propeller blades. Gomichbooks (E)