The Argosy, November 1908 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

580 cans,” he said. ‘‘ Know you, then, that I am Henrico Hernandez, powerful in Mexico, and you do well not to make me your enemy.” ‘““T am not inviting you here,” I an- swered. “If you don’t like your recep- tion, clear out. Get away. ‘Take your gang and skiddoo. That means, in the elegant language of the East, disap- pear.”’ He began to look ugly. I heard a peculiar sound from Sam. I glanced at him. He was glaring at the horsemen of Hernandez, some of whom were now riding inside my en- closure. ‘Yaquis!’’ muttered Sam. Now, although I have never seen the fact commented on in print, there ex- isted a long feud and bitterness between ‘the Yaquis of Mexico and the more peaceful Moquis of Arizona. And the handful of Moquis to which Namona belonged, and to which Sam half be- longed, shared the hatred the tribe felt for the warlike, thieving, uncontrollable Yaquis. “Vou will do well to tell the truth,” said Hernandez: ‘Yours is the first American farm this side the border. The girl ran away from her father’s home last-night, and probably rode all night. She is doubtless asleep in your hut now.” “Vou are at liberty to come in and look,’’ I said, ‘‘ but be careful how you speak of my house. An American re- gards his house as his castle, be it made of adobe or marble.” A slight sneer crossed his face, but without further talk he dismounted. “Perhaps you would require my rifle "before I enter your hospitable abode?” he suggested. ‘“No, keep your gun,” I said. “I gave you permission to search my house for the missing girl. That’s all. Cut up any other shindy and I'll shoot you like a jack-rabbit.” He started, and gave me a keen, pen- etrating, and unfriendly look. ‘“Vou are hiding something,” he said. “Tf the girl is not here you know where she is.” ‘“T do not know where she is.” With something like a curse rolling in a muttered voice from his throat he THE ARGOSY. entered the house. I left Sam in the doorway and accompanied my unwel- come guest. He looked in every room and peered in every spot where a girl could be hid- den. : ‘““Where are the women of the house?” he asked abruptly. “There is only one, an Indian woman who does the cooking.” ““So.. Where is she?” “Her tribe is up near the San Ja- cintos. I presume she has taken a horse and -gone to visit them.” “So. You give her much freedom, then.” “Certainly. She is not a slave.” I could see that I had him guessing. His dark face wrinkled as he stood, after his inspection, not knowing what to do next. Suddenly there was the sound of gal- loping hoofs outside, and the dark face of one of his Yaquis peered in through a glassless window. “ Seftor! Master! horse is here!” “ Ah!” exclaimed Hernandez. you lied to me.” ‘“T have not told a lie. And, further- more, I don’t allow people like you to call me a liar. Get out of my house or I'll kick you out!” He glared at me in a perfect rage. “Get out of my house!’’ I command- ed. ‘Find what you can!” “You have hidden her!” he cried, shaking with fury. ‘‘ Or you have given her a fresh horse and sent her with your Indian woman to the hills.” “Get out of my house!” I saw him fingering his rifle nervously, and brought mine into position. “None of that,” I said. ‘‘ You are in my house. Nobody wants you here, and I have ordered you out. I am within my legal rights if I shoot you. If you shoot me it will be murder.” “Bah! I know your sheriff.” “And so do I.” | Still, while he was speaking so defi- antly he was moving toward the door. “T will find her,” he said, as he stepped outside. “I will search all California.” “That’s nothing to me. Indians away from here.” The senorita’s “ Then Take your comicloooks.conrn