The Argosy, November 1908 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

BY BULLET PERSUASION, é Oh! ? : ““My name is Consuelo Bonilla,” she said. ‘‘ My father owns a ranch near Vallecita. He is a Mexican of pure Spanish blood. My mother is an American lady.” “And this other chap—the one that wants to marry you. What’s his posi- tion and nomenclature?” “His name, do you mean?”’ “Ves. What's his name?” ‘“ Hernandez—Henrico Hernandez.”’ “Sounds like a blue-blooded don, too. Well, we'll give Sefor Hernandez a tun for his money, anyway. You really don’t want to marry him?”’ “Oh, marry Aim/ I would rather die. I don’t want to marry any one, Any- way, not a Mexican.” ‘We'll attend to that.” Suddenly it seemed to me that Bones was doing a good deal of sniffing as he loped alongside my burro, and I sug- gested that we ride faster. There was no further conversation till we turned in through my gate in the osage hedge. Sam Tamarko and his wife were standing in the doorway of my adobe house. They looked up amazed when they saw the girl with me. “Quick,” I said. “Sam, take the saddle off this pony and turn him loose with the burros. Namona, take the senorita and hide her where the devil himself can’t find her, She is in dan- ger. Quick!” I had leaped from my burro and helped the girl to alight, although she seemed well able to do it alone. The black eyes of Namona glistened, for she loved an adventure. “Come, sefvrita,’ she said. hide you.” They disappeared. I knew that the Indian girl, for she was little more than a girl, knew more about the region than I did. And if anybody could hide Miss Bonilla she could. Sam led the pony away, and soon re- turned with the saddle, which he shoved under his own bed. “Tet ’em come,” he said grimly. “I guess I get my gun ready, too.” He got his weapon, a repeating rifle like my own, and made sure the maga- zine was filled. “T will 579 | ‘Where she come?” he asked. “ Mex’co?” “Ves.” ‘Huh! Kill ’em all!” And he grinned as he sighted his gun at an imaginary foe. CHAPTER II. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR, ’ ‘“ THEY come,” said Sam. We could hear the galloping of horses. Sam and I had remained on guard for two hours or more, and Namona had not returned. JI wondered where she had taken the girl, but knew that I could depend on her loyalty and sagacity. And now they were coming. I had expected Hernandez, and Bo- nilla, the father of my refugee, and per- haps a man or two to help. But I was not prepared for the small cavalcade that stopped at my osage gateway. One man rode in through the hedge. He was of medium height, and, I judged, twice my age, although it is dif- ficult to tell the age of a dark-skinned Mexican after a certain number of years have rolled over him. He was swarthy, and yet not bad look- ing. He was dressed in the gay colors so well liked by Mexican horsemen, and he carried a rifle. His followers, to the number of about a dozen, remained on the highway, which was really little more than a trail. “I bid you good morning, semor,” be- gan the leader. “1 would ask if you have seen a young girl ride by here to- day?” “IT have seen several.” “Don’t parley with me. I know there are not many young girls of the kind I mean around here. This is on the road to Vallecita, and I have ridden here many times. I see that you and your man are armed, as though waiting for some one. Is it not so? I fancy, then, that I am the person you would give a greeting with your gun.” ‘Do you want one?” I asked. I didn’t like the fellow’s manner. From his apparent age, I supposed of course I was talking to Bonilla, the father of the girl. “You are insolent, like all Ameri- comicloooks.corn