Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

172 markedly intelligent in appearance, good humored, and vivacious. The Esperanza was old and rather rusty looking, but she had good lines. Pedro dragged the little anchor aboard, set the jib, hoisted the fore- sail, and the boat swung about to the breeze and glided out on the Pacific. The high range of mountains just back of San Jose obscured the rising sun, but its rays radiated in broad beams in the blue heaven, gilded the points and crests of the purple peaks, and intensified the sapphire blue of the water. The tide was out and the sea calm, save for little wavelets and the unending slow heave of the Pacific. A cool breeze from the land—the ferral as Juan Alegre called it—was ideal for the boat. Despite her looks, she was speedy, and Juan knew how to get the most out of her. As the day wore on there was nothing to do but gaze at the scenery as they cruised offshore. The /ferral died down; there was an hour’s interval of light, puffy breeze, and then when the tide started com- ing in the wind freshened. On the left as they beat southward was a never ending panorama of mountains, many of them sym- metrical, volcanic cones, with one or two further back in the hazy, purple distance giving off faint wisps of smoke; some of the taller cones wreathed about with masses of cloud near their summits, others standing stark and clear. The purple and mauve tints of distance and haze shaded into varying hues of green, ending at the water which slashed and seethed among the volcanic rocks of the shore, opaline and ivory, jade and emerald where it swirled and eddied along the shores. By noon the travelers were ravenously hunery. Pedro offered them a large tin cof- fee can filled half full of a brownish pow- der; he poured some in his hand and put the stuff in his mouth. Clay tasted dubi- ously, tentatively, then ecstatically. “What is it—bully taste!” he com- mented. “An Indian dish, senor,” advised Juan Alegre. ‘“ They call it ‘the strong fcod.’ It is made of maize—corn—parched brown and ground to a powder; then cacao beans, ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. roasted, ground fine and mixed with the meal and a bit of sugar ground up in it, and just a pinch of vanilla. Indians when they go on a journey carry a bag of it. One can live for weeks upon it, and grow fat.” ‘“ Best stuff Pve tried in a long time,” Watson declared. “Tt is good to drink, too,” continued Juan. “ Fix them a drink, Pedro?” The son took two heaping tablespoon- fuls, put it in a tin cup, poured in some water and stirred the mixture well. Prof- fering it to Clay the latter sipped, then drank avidly. ‘It’s better that way than dry,” he com- mented. ‘‘ Tastes like the chocolate milk one buys at soda fountains in the States— only better. Where’d you get it, Pedro?” ‘“Oh, the Indians bring it in and sell it. You can get plenty down about La Paz; mostly Indians live in that district. It is fine stuff.” A bag of tortillas, several loaves of bread, some bananas, avocados, pimas and man- goes made up the lunch, together with a bucket of black beans which had been boiled, mashed and then fried in little cakes, with a bit of onion added. The passengers dozed as best they could aiter eating, and when the sun was get- ting low they suggested to Juan that he run in somewhere and make camp. They were tired and cramped from being long hours in the boat. Twenty minutes later they sailed through the entrance of a little bay into calm - water. A stream came down at the side from the mountains, and there was a wide, dazzlingly white beach of clean sand. Out- side there was another stretch of beach, where the rollers crashed and thundered. On the little rocky ridge separating bay from ocean, the passengers began taking off their clothes; the sight of that surf was too great a temptation to resist. They were running down toward the water, when a shrill cry halted them as the foam curled about their *knees. Pedro was waving backward frantically for them to come out. They paused, non- plused, as he rushed toward them. “No, senors—if you love your lives, keep out of that surf! Look! Look!” (eo) DOOKS AMUCE (EO)