The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

154 the party comes upon a gateway—an arch—the wall of a forgotten temple. A moment these rude men of a later age gaze in stupid wonder at the frag- ment, carven with undecipherable and intricate designs, a valance of lace wrought from the obdurate stone itself. There is a yell of astonishment and fear. For behind the gateway a curious sailor, pressing eagerly before the rest, has stumbled upon that which means more to them than the monuments of a vanished race. Here—here it is! Look! This circle of blackened rocks, this trench filled with charred ashes, these human thigh-bones, cracked like the marrow bones of a stalled ox. The paradise has become a hell. To the rear, you men that have muskets, while the mate, with the cap- tain’s shotgun, moves in front. Draw your knives, you that are with- out firearms; pick up a club, a heavy stone knotted into a neckerchief if nothing better offers. Steadily now, back to the boats—and pray they be found as they were left! Was that a human form which moved, glimpsed for an instant, and then lost behind the broad, spiked leaves of the giant cactus? Or was it fancy? Have the relics of that cannibal feast made them fear their own shadows? No, by Heaven! Close up, here! Back to back! A huddle of shrieking men, trans- fixed by encompassing arrow-flights, ex- ultant yells, the rush of lithe, naked bodies, the thud of clubs, and then a weird, monotonous song of triumph which dies away upon the higher slopes. In vain the dingy whale ship stands off and on. In vain the captain scans with his glass the deserted beach and the spiral of fat black smoke which as- cends from the interior. In vain the distant thud of the signal sun smites the sunny peaks. It is heard only by the gorged watchers among the rocks. Another tragedy has been added to the innumerable tragedies of the Gulf. As the maroons of Jamaica defied Jngland for more than a century, these THE ARGOSY. cannibals have defied Mexico, and even stronger powers which have sought to break them. They remain to this day a blot upon our boasted civilization—an Buparacr able anachronism. % + % * But had the Juarez party—had Roth and Wessel met such a fate as has been described ? It was a question the cousins asked themselves as Island Diablo rose from the long swell of the Gulf upon the bow of the pearling schooner they had chartered. The coast Indian, Antonio, crooked his lean forefinger at it with a grunt long before their eyes, impover- ished by the tax which civilization levies upon the sense of sight, could de- scrv the speck. They had found Antonio at (Gruaymas. A pearl fisher, he knew the Gulf as few knew it. The influence of the priest, backed by a sufficient bribe and a prom- ise that he would not be asked to leave the vessel, had finally enlisted his ser- vices. The expedition consisted of a round dozen of men, counting Fielding and Plasted. They were armed with high power magazine rifles and a Colt machine gun. The schooner was equipped with a rapid fire Nordenfeldt, capable of throwing a one pound shell three miles with accu- racy. It was in charge of an ex-gunner of the Olympia. At Guaymas they had received news of the flight of Spurzheim and the shooting of the Reddington man, who was reported dead. Amelia Hoff and the Oakland house- hold had also vanished. The police of the country were look- ing high and low for the fugitives and their victim, Ethel Fanshaw. It may seem strange, in view of Fielding’s interest in Miss Fanshaw, that he should have elected to leave the city in which news of her fate might be first expected, for an expedition that would cut him off from communication with the world for an indefinite time. But in San Francisco he could do nothing but wait, and inactivity was death to him. COL LOOOLK had — (COL