The Argosy, April 1912 — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

120 Flume picked up his rifle from a corner and covered the man on horseback, con- cluding that he was the leader, and hoping, by killing him first, to drive the others off. But there were six of them. Flume hesi- tated. Was there not some surer way of escaping this fate which had come suddenly upon him in the night? The man nearest to him had-by this time turned and the moonlight revealed his coun- tenance. Flume felt the swift joy of relief surge over him as he recognized one of his Mexican neighbors, Valdez, a good-na- turned, amiable fellow who had been a bandit only for a week past. Several fimes, during the first few months of his life in Tepic, he had spent the night in the home of Valdez, and he reflected that to a Mexican the laws of hospitality are su- preme over all other laws, either of God or man. A Mexican who would feast and bed you in his house with the intention of kill- ing you afterward would never sully the in- tegrity of his hospitality by committing the crime within the lintel; he would wait ‘until you had passed down the road a piece. Nor would he kill you in your own house were he your guest. A third bullet came. This missed Flume’s head by only a foot. ,Without further hesitation he threw his rifle in the corner and threw open the door. “ Amigos” he called pleasantly. The five dismounted bandits advanced surlily, dragging their rifles, while the sixth still sat on his horse while he covered the door, cheek to barrel. Flume stepped out now fearlessly and grasped the hand of the foremost in vigor- ous American fashion. “Valdez,” he said, and was about to speak on in the mongrel Spanish called Mexican and which he had _ recently learned, when he suddenly reflected that it would be well not to let his insistent visitors know that he was familiar with their tongue. Consequently he decided to stick to English and heartily regretted that he had used even the word “ friend ” in any tongue but his own. Thus, to the guttural flow of greeting which Valdez poured out on him, he turned a bland and smiling face, with no answer- ing spark of intelligence. Valdez was ask- ing him if there was any one at the sugar mill, how to get there, and when the peons were paid off. Flume chose to understand that his quon- THE ARGOSY. dam “friend” was asking fer a place to sleep for himself and his comrades. He lit an old kerosene lamp and pointed to a roll of blankets in the corner, offered his own cot, with eloquent gestures of hospitality, and took in the entire floor with one broad sweep of his arm. This offering of all he had was truly Mexican. As he spoke, the man who had been on horseback entered the room. It was Solis. He took in the situation at a glance and spoke to his followers, telling them, in Mexican, that it would be best, perhaps, if they spent the night there. His words served as a command. The five immediately disposed them- selves about the floor, some seizing Flume’s blankets, others wrapping themselves in their serapes. Solis, with the magnificent air of a conqueror, took Flume’s cot and pulled the quilt snugly about his shoulders. Determined to prove his apparently en- tire trustfulness in them, well knowing that in thus doing lay his sole hope of life, Flume lay down in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the desperadoes. Had he even sought a place in the corner where lay his rifle he knew that the chances were in favor of his getting a knife in his back before morning. Naturally, he did not sleep, though he pretended to do so. After an hour or so he heard two of the bandits whispering. Evidently they thought him asleep, or were confident that if he did hear he did not understand the language. “How stupid of Valdez!” exclaimed one. “Never mind. We will wait till he goes out in the morning. Then Valdez cannot complain. It will not be in the house.” “Who will kill him?” “TJ will. You had the last.” “What will you do with hime” “Cut his heart out and take it to my old woman.” “To your old woman? What for?” “She will cook it. Vhe Americano heart is good—if well-cooked—like the heart of the young bull.” “Bah!” exclaimed the other in disgust with this hint of civilization. “Are you a peon that you must have your meat cooked —eat it raw!” After listening to this conversation there was no danger that Flume would fall asleep. He knew that it was not idle chatter he CoOmicloool.