The Argosy, April 1912 — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

THE BANDITS’ had heard about the Mexicans having been cannibals not many generations ago and that now, in the height of revolt and terror, they sometimes reverted to these animal in- stincts. However, Flume kept a cool head, real- izing that the only chance he had lay in his ability to play upon either their ignorance or their credulity. He knew them to be bloodthirsty, utterly hardened to human suf- fering. He also knew that they were as little children in their ability to be diverted, fascinated, amused, hoodwinked. Naturally his first thought was to devise some means of giving them a substitute for the excitement of taking his life. As a matter of fact, that would mean little ex- citement to them, especially if he made no resistance, for they had been taking human life now for several months and were pass- ing quickly through the varying phases of civilization which brings man from sav- agery up to the refinements of cruelty. They loved a bull-fight, he well knew, and he reflected sadly that he had _ pos- sessed two fighting bulls only a month pre- viously, but had sold them to the Plaza de Toros in Guanajuato. Then he thought of his fighting cock which was tied to a stake in his back yard. But there was no other with which to match it. Dawn came with no solution to the prob- lem of such vital moment to him. With the first ray of light Solis stirred. Instantly his men were up. Flume rose with them and offered, partly by gesture, partlyin English, to get coffee for them. The English missed them, but they understood the gestures and welcomed the coffee. To get the coffee-pot Flume found it necessary to go into the lean-to. Rum- maging around there in the darkness he stumbled against some bags in one corner. Rising, his head struck a wicker cage and immediately there proceeded from it a loud chirruping. With a suppressed shout Flume seized the cage. By accident he had found his great idea. With the cage in one hand and the coftee- pot in the other he reentered the hut and proceeded to boil the coffee. Meanwhile, with excessive care and with the formality of an important ceremony, he placed the cage near the fire, not too close, but near enough for the cricket which was impris- onedetheré to be awakened by the heat and to chirrup loudly. GAME. 121 The child - like Mexicans, primitive ig- norance vying with squalor in their coun- tenances, gathered quickly about the cage and peered in on this strange pet of the gringo. They chattered volubly among themselves and looked dumbly to Flume for an explanation. Finally Valdez, who spoke a little broken English, approached the coffee-maker, who apparently was oblivious of the sensation created by the cricket. Valdez wanted to have the thing explained. As soon as he could set the coffee before them Flume started his game. By dint of much repeating in words of one syllable, combined with copious gestures, he con- veyed to Valdez the story of the fighting crickets. They were the property of his Chinese cook who had gone the day before to Guana- juato for supplies. Did the Mexicans not understand that in China the cricket was the fighting animal, like the cock in Cuba, and the bull in Mexico? What! Could those tiny little insects fight? Certainly. Most terribly; most ex- citedly! .Well, then, where was the other one? In the lean-to, and Flume went to fetch it. While he was gone he heard the gut- tural voices babbling behind him. His heart was bounding now with hope, for he thought he saw his way of escape clearly before him. Presently he returned with a_ second wicker cage which held another cricket. In the heat and the light the second joined his morning chirrup to that of the first. Finally, with a beautiful gesture of gen- erosity, Flume presented the crickets; one to Solis, and one to Valdez. For a few moments the bandit chief and his lieutenant dwelt on their curious gifts with animated delight. Valdez was the first to speak, as oblivious of his ‘host as if he had been in the next State. What he asked for was very evident— that the life of Flume McCool, the cour- teous gringo, be spared because he had given these magnificent Jittle mementos to his friends, the distinguished rebels. Flume, listening intently, affected to hear nothing. Solis scowled in dissent; then a diabolic grin came over his face. He turned to Valdez, with his caged cricket in his hand. “Que va?” spoke the bandit in his lightest manner. “It is not well to let Gomicdoo S