The Argosy, Vol. 61, No. 4 — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

DONE BROWN. would go against the grain of almost any man. I believed, after I had gone over the matter in my own mind several times, that even our own good padre, whose name I had not learned, would object to this, and say he could not find such a man. And again, as the first excitement died away, I began to feel a little ashamed of myself for thinking of what could’ only be looked upon as an imposition on good nature. For the good padre, notwith- standing his education in America, seemed to be a simple-minded soul, and it was unmanly for me to make a request that would in any way lead to his danger or - disgrace. So, after hours of study, back and forth over the same lines of thought, I resolved to limit the sphere of the padre’s usefulness simply to the carrying of mes- sages, and—-silence. The rest of the business I would do myself—somehow—lI had not yet thought of a way. When my supper was brought to me, IT was again huddled in a heap of misery. I could not eat. When the keeper, or whatever he was called, told me to eat, I merely groaned. He left the tray of stufi—nobody could tell what it was—and went away. I felt I ought to eat something, for, not know- ing what might be before me, I felt that I must reserve my strength. Yet, if I ate the meal that had been left there, it would at once be su$pected that I was shamming illness. All night I sat in a corner, braced in the angle, and got a few hours of sleep. In the morning I was half-famished. For the light stuff eaten in warm countries soon digests, and leaves little strength to overcome hunger. Still, when my breakfast arrived I pre- tended again to be ill, and the tray was removed from my cell. Late that afternoon the padre came, and making sure that the guard who opened the door had gone, respecting the padre’s mission, he handed me a note. It was on_a page torn from what must have been one of the ledgers of the West Coast Company, and was from Wakler. ‘Read it quickly, and give it back to me,” said the padre. It ran as follows: 595 Forp—The tub floats. There is a slight leak on the port side, but I’ve stuffed it so that little water enters. The boilers and engine seem to be all right. What next? WAKLER. I could have howled for joy, for his note shot an inspiration into my head. ‘I am more grateful to you than I can tell you, padre,’ I said. ‘‘ Now there is something I want to know. When I was put in here everything was taken from me. I had some money. If I had a lit- tle that I could use, I might be able to get somethigg fit to eat. I can’t eat the stuff they bring me, and I am half famished. Wakler has some money. Can you arrange to get some for me?”’ 7 ‘““T will endeavor to do so. Still, as for the food, I think I can fix that.” “You? Have you the power to order better food for prisoners? ” “No, unfortunately not. Had I that power every prisoner would be well fed. But you know they do not shoot a pris- oner while he is very ill. Léave that to me. Do you still want money?” “Yes, bring me the money. I may be able to use it.” - “JT doubt it. They have only those who can be trusted on guard here, and they are no friends of anybody con- nected with your company. They are creatures of Magnuz and Fonseca.” ‘Then, never mind the money. I will thank you for the food.” “ And is there any other message I can send for you?” I studied a moment. Every hour counted now, for if I was to get good food I would soon be well enough to be shot when Innors reached the same fortu- nate condition. “Yes, padre,’ I said, “‘ there is. Have it understood that Quinchincha is to have a boat somewhere along the river, and there wait till I come, no matter how long. And have Wakler send me direc- tions how to reach the spot.” “That I will do.” _ He was as good as his word. When my supper was brought that night, it consist- ed, instead of the usual nasty mess, of a tray of roast fowl, cassava, and a bowl of good coffee. How I blessed that padre, and how glad I was that he had been educated in the United States. COMICLO@O© (©