The Argosy, November 1908 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

612 Men lay on the ground dead or dying. Bonilla was still fighting, but Hernan- dez was crouching behind a rock. I saw old Billy Barefoot, and held up my hand. He understood, and the battle ceased. ‘““And now you go,” I heard Hernan- dez say, and, in spite of his promise, he aimed his rifle. I stood on the ledge and shot him through the head. He fell at the feet of Bonilla, dead. There is little more to be told of the remarkable story of how I won my wife by the persuasive power of bullets. With Hernandez dead, Bonilla had no longer any reason to talk of Consuelo’s marriage to him, and he did keep his word. All was plain sailing. He had signed a partnership contract THE THE ARGOSY. with Hernandez, which he had in his pocket. He was now the owner of the- ruby-mine. With him reconciled to our marriage, we rode back to his hacienda, where the unfinished ceremony was _ performed. And then, with his blessing and a goodly wedding-gift, we rode back over the bor- der to the San Diego farm. Sam was improved, and the reunion of him and his wife was a happy one. As for the six Moquis who had gone and come with me, their return was so wel- come that the tribe succeeded in getting some white man’s fire-water and cele- brated in royal style. We are building a larger house now, and, thanks so the ruby-mine, it doesn’t make much difference whether the figs grow or not. END. MONEY TO BURN. By WALTER DURANTY. A terrific experience on a trestle, and the more heart-rending discovery that followed on its heels. N the little South American repub- lic of Rio Blanco every citizen who is not a revolutionist aims at becoming a member of the government. But Senor Ulysse Gaspado, chief secretary to the minister of finance, looks anxious” and bewildered this hot August morning as he sits on his wide veranda overlooking the market square. Evidently an official position is not a bed of roses, after all. And yet the de- partment of which he has charge is the most flourishing in the state. The money affairs of the country are being adminis- tered with unparalleled skill and success, and interest has actually been paid on the national debt, for Rio Blanco has a finance minister whose boast it is that he is a poorer man to-day than when he entered office. What is it, then, that troubles Ulysse Gaspado and puckers his forehead into this frown of perplexity? Perhaps he feels the strain of his work in the hot weather, or realizes that he is not man enough to do it properly? a Not so; the Finance Department runs like clockwork, and Gaspado knows well his own merits. Wise as the foot of a mule they call him in Rio Blanco—no light compliment in this land of precipice and mountain. The incongruous black mustache he has inherited from his Spanish father bristles up to meet the fair eyebrows and sleek flaxen hair that tell of a Flemish mother, and his chubby Dutch face lengthens in perturbation. Senor Ulysse Gaspado is worrying about a lady. For many a long day he has wooed with flowery gifts and speeches the lovely widow, Christina Dacosta, and last night at the presidency ball she blushingly con- sented to smile upon his suit. But it is not right for an accepted lover to be gloomy and troubled. What, then, is the matter? Is Gaspado jealous, or has he quarreled with his lady? No; it is simply this: she is unwilling to marry him at once and leave Rio Blan- comicloooks.corn