The Argosy, November 1908 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

BY BULLET Indian met me with eyes that were inter- rogation points. “Well,” he said, “ you did learn?” ‘“T learned,” I answered, “ that we’ve got considerable more of a proposition than I had any idea of. They have gone.” “Gone? Yes. ‘They were gone, any- way.” “Yes, they were gone from my place in San Diego County,” I explained ; ‘but now they have gene from Bonilla’s heme.” ““Namona? ” ‘Yes; Namona was taken along as the servant of Miss Bonilla.” “ Miss Bonilla? ” The tone, the accent, the facial expres- sion of the old fellow as he said this cannot be described. JI knew what he meant. “Well,” I said, “ Mrs. Denny, if you like that better.” “Yes, I like better. Yes.” “We won't go into that. Now, this mine is somewhere in the Sierra de Los Cucaras. The senora says that Hernan- dez has really discovered rubies there, but she does not know where.” 46 if do.”’ I looked at the old man in amaze- ment. ‘Do you mean to tell me,” I asked, “that. you know where a ruby mine is located among the strongholds of the Yaquis?” “No mine,” he grunted. “ The Yaquis had the rubies before Hernandez saw the place. They do not mine them. They pick them up.” ‘Then Hernandez is simply using his supposed knowledge to enforee his agree- ment with Bonilla to marry Bonilla’s daughter?” “Not Bonilla’s daughter now, wife.” : “Well, both,” I said. “Come. We waste time talking. Lit- tle Elk, he waits too long; he grow sulky. Run Fast Jim, he never waits so long. We go.” And go we did, without further parley. When Billy Barefoot gave an order it was obeyed with an alacrity that showed how the five Moquis he had with him felt about hurrying on with the expedition. How you like? Your PERSUASION, O97 It did not seem to matter that seven of us had the entire tribe of Yaquis of the Sierras against us. From the gorge in which they had camped while I was on my visit to Mrs. Bonilla we deployed into a trail that had been well used for many years. On this we made good time. Now it was Billy Barefoot that led the way. Ona small mustang, colored like a crazy-quilt, he went soberly, and even sullenly, in advance of his small com- pany, saying nothing. The trail led through a country almost unpopulated save fer small farms that were far apart, or great expanses of grazing land that did belong to some- body, but were net under any sort of pro- tection so far as I could see. After a ride of an hour or more the road grew wilder, and we began an ascent into the nearest hills, the outposts of the Sierras. Here Billy Barefoot grew even more sullen, but his little black eyes were con- stantly watching on either side of the trail for an ambush. Suddenly he halted. “Some way beyond,” he said, “is a big town of Yaquis. Not like the Moqui settlement in the San Jacinto, but big, and only huts. But we do not fear these Yaquis.” He waved his hands at the Moquis be- hind him, and they grinned an approval of his words. I was puzzled. Whether the hatred that the Moquis felt for the Yaquis had made them so eager to fight that they knew no fear, or there was some real reason why these Yaquis were not to be feared, I did not know. We continued to ascend; and the way continued to grow rougher. I do not know how long we kept on in that way, nobody saying much, for the Moquis, though eloquent enough when there is something really to say, were evi- dently deep in thought concerning the ex- pedition. But suddenly old Billy Bare- foot halted his horse again. We were on a little pinnacle, not near- ly so high as the mountains beyond, but high enough to enable us to have a view of the surrounding country, and the old Indian stretched out his arm in a melo- dramatic way. comicloooks.corn