The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

DROPPING INTO MEXICO. the front room and Robinson guarding the door in the rear. III. THE sun, creeping above the eastern horizon, revealed the distant mountain range, the stretches of green fields and the waste of desert. The first faint light re- flected on the white walls of the cluster of buildings and on the wreck of the aero- plane, around which clustered a little group of cursing Villistas. Six of their number lay dead; three, des- perately wounded, lay upon the grass, making their peace with God. They did not understand it, but the hated, despised gringoes, who had de- scended from the clouds, had proved to be devils who had held out successfully against a score of the choicest fighting men of Villa’s band. In the room over the veranda the blind of a window had been opened. Weak from loss of blood and the shock of his wound, Jones, aviator, leaned against the sash and looked down upon the now deserted space before the door. Below, in the hall, the re- porter, heavy-eyed, but with every nerve alert, maintained his guard. The sun crept higher, lighting up the plain. Jones turned his gaze anxiously to- ward the south, from which the expected aid must come from the Galeana garrison. If it did not come within a few hours he knew their case was hopeless; they might hold out during the day, for the bandits would not venture an attack until dark- ness would again cover their movements, but he understood another night must see the ending of the defense, especially should the Villistas receive reinforcements. But no one appeared upon the desert toward the south. The boy, Francisco, en- tered the room silently with hot coffee, which, under the senorita’s orders, a fright- ened Mexican woman had prepared. Jones drank the steaming beverage, set down the cup and returned to his vigil. Where was Jose? Had he got through to Galeana? Would the garrison respond to his call for aid? 99 Then suddenly action sprang out of des- olation; from somewhere a cry went up, piercing the keen morning air. And after the shout a shot, a long way off—another shot, a dozen, echoing across the plain. Forgetting danger, and that a sniper might be lurking in the shadow of an out- building, the leutenant leaned across the sill. He could see toward the north now, from which direction the shots seemed to come. He could look across the fields to the stranded aeroplane, around which clus- tered the group of bandits. And he could see beyond—and the sight which he saw almost stopped the beating of his heart. A crowd of horsemen, riding in a cloud of dust, were approaching rapidly; the foremost were not so far off but he could distinguish that they were Mexicans. Now and then a little puff of smoke spurted out from among the riders—they were firing from the saddle—at something behind. And, as he looked, the bandits around the aeroplane separated, watching the on- coming horsemen. The van was almost upon them, there were shouts, a tumult of cries and the Villistas on foot began to run toward the outbuildings. They, too, were shouting frantically, and now Jones could catch the words: “The gringoes — the gringoes are coming!” Like a pack of frightened sheep the Mexicans fled across the field; and close behind, the desperate riders, urging their horses toward the south. Again reports rang out across the plain. There were two riderless mounts and two dark figures stretched on the grass. The Villistas on foot scattered behind the outbuilding and disappeared, striving desperately to reach their steeds, which were picketed there. And the frenzied horsemen tore past the sheds, a hundred yards away, no longer turning in their sad- dies to fire, but each bending low as if to avoid a threatening blow. 3 But Jones no longer noticed them as diz- zily he clung to the sill, leaning far out and looking toward the north. His gaze was riveted on a sight he could not compre- hend. Go NOOK (C@)