Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

626 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. And he took occasion to put certain se- crets in the ears of the proprietors. CHAPTER XXXVII. ‘THE CRISIS. URMURS of the gathering storm passed through the heavens that night, and murmurs of another na- ture passed among the peons of La Blanca. Overhead, the thunder rolled and chattered, and now and again long lightnings leaped _ across the sky, splitting it like an ax into two jagged sections. In the Mexican quar- ter of La Blanca, underneath, human voices continued until dawn. Here and there groups gathered on door- steps. Now and again there was some house bursting with illumination where hid- den hoards of tequila had been brought to the light, and pulque, mysteriously pro- duced from nowhere in particular, washed down. the more fiery liquor as chasers. And always the talk went fast and quick- ly about the board. The name of El Oro was often on the tongue; and likewise they named Garth, the big boss. For him, they made their teeth glint like suddenly bared knives. So the morning came. At dawn the sky was thick and heavy, and occasional gusts of rain had drenched the houses and sprinkled the dusty streets of La Blanca; yet it was not to the sky eabove them that the inhabitants turned their eyes. . They stared to the north, for the tops of the mountains were obscured by a mist, - low-hanging, streaked with deepest black, that moved continually nearer. And all men knew that the rain was descending in sudden torrents through the upper valley of the Chiluah. Be it understood that rain fell seldom even in the mountains, but when it did come there it rushed down like a cloud- burst; and the older inhabitants gathered here and there to tell of storms of the past, and how they had seen walls of water plunging down a valley—a sheer rise of three to eight feet sweeping along with a sound like thunder and gutting away the banks on either side. In a raincoat Margaret Tyson hurried through the first scattering drops of the downpour. She was going to the office of Garth, from which she could watch when the first strong torrent of water struck the dam and backed up. However, the rain did not follow her all the way to the office; it turned into a thin mist whose falling was barely perceptible; but far up the valley the clouds gathered more and more thickly and the long lightnings lunged close to the horizon, flickerings of light. When she reached the little office build- ing Garth was not there. His secretary brought her in and seated her; Garth had gone to the dam, said the secretary, and might be back at once—urgent business had kept him from filling his engagement ‘to meet her at his office at this hour. And having said this, the secretary fairly turned his back upon her and stood at the window. “Look!” said Margaret suddenly to him. ‘‘ There’s some trouble out there!” The entire vicinity of the dam was black with men, but along the surface of the works there was not a crane in motion, and hardly a column of smoke arose from the donkey engines. Those men, who were darkening all the slope, stood idle, or mix- ‘ing blindly, one group with another. Not a hand was lifted in useful work. _ “ Perhaps they’re waiting, like us, for the coming of the water,” suggested Margaret. The secretary cried out beneath his breath, stood for another instant transfixed at the window, and then rushed to the door. As he threw it open they heard the deep voice of Garth saying: “ Stand off! I’m. not a dead man yet, as they'll learn before — I’m done with ’em.” And Garth himself stood at the door. Blood. streaked one side of his face, which was set and grim. He strode across the room without the slightest heed of the two men and seated himself at his desk. A cloud of other men appeared at the door. “ Delaney!” bellowed Garth, and an old Irishman stepped in. His eyes were fixed upon Garth as upon a miracle. “Do you know the man who fired that shot?” . “Ay, sir. Rodriguez.” — ‘The foreman in the cement-house? I thought I recognized his black face.”