Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 374: what you’re looking at

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

A GOLDEN VENGEANCE. BY EVERETT MCNEIL. A story of New Mexico, concerning one known as Black Pedro, a strange youth of sober countenance, and Don Alva de Vargas, a grandee whose god is gold. I. THE quaint old town of Santa Fé heaved an almost audible sigh of relief as the western mountains inter- posed their grim and giant forms be- tween it and the flery sun. The day had been unusually hot, and man and beast welcomed joyfully the shadows and the cool breeze which heralded the coming of night. In a few minutes the broad plaza, which had been nearly deserted during the heat of the dav, presented a pictur- esque scene. Tall, greasy looking Mexicans, swarthy Indians, and dark eyed Spaniards swarmed from out the low surrounding adobe buildings and were soon lounging about in every conceivable position that laziness and a love of ease could induce their limbs to occupy. A troop of sturdy little donkeys, al- most hidden under immense loads of firewood, cut from the neighboring foothills and strapped upon their backs, crossed the plaza and passed in through the wide entrance to the old adobe building known as the “ palace.” The golden haze of a southern even- ing hung in the air, and the charm of an almost measureless antiquity cast its glamour over the ugly, flat roofed structures and dirty streets. “ Los Americanos!” “ Los carros!” “ La entrada de la caravana!” shouted a number of men, who from the house tops had caught sight of a long line of wagons slowly winding their way over the rough trail toward the city. Instantly all was bustle and excite- ment. Men, women and _ children rushed helter skelter in the direction whence the caravan was approaching ; and soon the plaza was deserted by — all save a few decrepit old men and women, who were too feeble to join in the rush. The men of the caravan cheered loudly and fired off volleys from their rifles as they drew near. To them the sight of Santa Fé was as joyous an event as was the first glimpse of the walls of Jerusalem to the longing eyes . of the Crusaders. Above the weather stained cover of the van wagon floated the Stars and Stripes. The wagoners were © all dressed out in their best attire in honor of the occasion; and, as they drove through the streets of the city and on into the plaza publica, each tried to out- vie the others in the loudness of the cracks of his whip. At their head rode a man well known in Santa Fé, Don Alva de Vargas, though he had now been absent from the city for over two years. Just at the moment the caravan drove into the plaza a young man en- tered from the opposite side and, rest- ing the butt of his long rifle upon the ground, paused to look upon this mot- ley scene. At first he glanced about carelessly, with the indifference of one long ac- customed to such sights; but the in- stant he saw Don Alva de Vargas his tall form straightened up with a jerk, ‘his black eyes flamed, his thin lips twitched, and his long sinewy fingers gripped the barrel of his rifle as though they would crush the solid metal. Then, as suddenly, his agitation van- ished; and when Don Alva’s eves rest- COMIC OOO <S CO