Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 178: what you’re looking at

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

960 I could not understand any more than I could move. In a moment more I expected to see that great tusk rip open the flving woman. But, look you, sezor, El Carnicero passed her by without another snort, and straight upon the paymaster he rushed. And this Barlow shot again, and by an- other marvel he missed again; and look you, sezor, I had seen him cut a chicken’s throat at fifty steps, his only target being the red of its comb behind the clump of bamboo root. And with that miss, he gave a great curse, and snatched the bolo from my belt, and rushed to meet El Carnicero. ‘“‘ By the holies,” he cried, “the gun’s bewitched. I'll kill the T’ll rip him up as he would rip me. Fight him with his own weapons, by Heaven!” And with a great leap the two met. Aye, it was terrible, that fight. Like a statue of stone I stood through it all. My arms were like stone, too, and I could not have raised my rifle had I thought of it. And perhaps it was well that I did not, for I was as likely to hit the paymaster as to kill El Carnicero. And through it all Chief Augustin sat there quietly on the earth, with the smoke from his cigarette drifting from his nostrils, watching, watching, watching, with that Strange glitter in his eyes. Aye, I can see now that what was in his eyes was the knowledge of triumph, and that he, with the aid of el buen Dios, was being avenged. Yet I did not understand then. <All his people now stood about, watching the man who was not a man, and the pig who was haif devil, in their great fight. And none showed fear. Then came a great curse, and I saw that paymaster fall to the ground, the red blood flowing from his leg, and with one hand pressing against his stomach, where I could see his shirt was ripped open, and quickly becoming red, too. And El] Carnicero was running in circles, with my great bamboo bolo that the pay- master had snatched from my belt, deep stuck in his neck. Aye, I tell you, senor, it was a sight to make men fear. Yet some- hov- I felt that it was well. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, Yet I wondered. I wondered why it was that the paymaster had missed his shots. I wondered why FE] Carnicero had passed the woman by, and rushed strafght upon him. A moment more and it was all over. EI Carnicero, blinded by blood, and squealing with pain and rage, stumbled over this paymaster, and stumbling, could not arise. And that paymaster, with a last curse, seized upon the handle of the bolo. And thus they died. Yes, sevor, they both died. And that El Carnicero had revenge, and that Barlow had his other tusk. But that did him no good. Yet I wondered. But that wonder ceased when the strug- gle was over, and I found I could move again. I glanced at Chief Augustin. And then I knew. For about his neck was a cord, and from the cord hung a great tusk that I thought, aye, I knew, I recognized. And I quickly ran to the body of that man of evil and took the leather case from his neck and tore it open. And instead of the broken tusk of El Carnicero being inside it, there was nothing but a piece of marra wood, carved to the same size. Aye, they are quick with their fingers, are those Negrits. I could see now how it was that the paymaster was awakened dur- ing the night. Quick they are, and more wild things of the bosque than men. But how El Carnicero knew that the change had been made, that, sevor, I can- not tell, for I do not know. I can just say what I said in the beginning: that this El Carnicero was a great one, great in body, and with the eye of a fiend, the memory of a@ money lender, and the cunning of a fox. And I know, now that I have finished, that you, too, will never again say that these creatures of the bosque go only by this what you call instinct, and that they have no such thing in them as hate and fear and courage and memory and a thirst for re- venge. For to say that would not be of the ‘truth, and it is of true happening, senor, I swear it again by the name of Jose Rizal, of the most true happening, that I speak. Ask them here in this Olongapo yard, and they will tell you I do not lie. 10 A COMmiclboo (C (©