he
o'T
By FRANK H. SPEARMAN
Frank H. Sp?erm?n WNU Servic#
CHAPTER XV?Continued
?16?
Carmen, whose chamber was clos
fst to the living room, was awak
ened from her sleep by a piercing
tcreem; then followed silence,
rhrowinj, on a wrapper, the Sfno
rita opened her door and hastened
Into the bjg room. Monica, trem
bling, stood looking at a portrait.
"Monica!" cried Carmen. "Was
tt you who screamed so?"
"Yes. little one?yes. I am sorry
. . . Yes, I did scream."
"What on earth is wrong, Mon
ica? Are you ill?"
The Indian woman was breathing
hard. "Senorita," she quavered
In a high-pitched voicc. pointing to
the painting, "who is that man?"
"That is Senor Bowie. He was
our rnnrho manager here."
Monica threw all her little
strength into her cracked voice. She
was trembling with emotion and
again, as she spoke, she pointed.
"My little Carmen! That is the man
who brought you back to me from
the Indians."
"Monica! Dear!" Carmen stared
nt her blankly. "Surely you are
mistaken?your eyes ..."
The Indian woman calmed down a
little. "No! No! I am not mistak
en."
"Remember, Monica," persisted
Carmen, her own senses reeling,
"you do not see as well as you once
did."
"I see well enough to know that
face, little one. If I were blind, my
little one, those eyes would stare at
me. You know, dear one, for years
I was forbidden to speak of that
terrible day. You were ill for years
afterward, and no one was allowed
to speak even a word of what had
happened. But I tell you, that is the
man who left you with me. I have
seen his eyes a thousand times. Oh,
where is he, that we may know
what happened after you and Tere
cita were stolen so horribly?"
"Calm yourself, Monica," urged
Carmen, shaking like a leaf. "Was
the man alone?"
"No, sonorita. Two men were
with him."
"I don't think you can be right,"
declared Carmen, breathing swiftly,
"He has never spoken of such a
thing. I don't . .
Monica shook her head wearily.
"I know only one thing. Whoever he
is, that is the man."
"Until I am as sure as you are,"
said Carmen, "promise me you will
not say one word to a living soul
about this. I can find out. It will
take a little time. Until then, not a
word, Monica."
"No, my senorita, not a word. But
find out yourself."
The almost distracted girl re
turned to her room to fall on her
kr.ees. Again and again she re
called every word of Monica's.
Again and again she weighed them,
doubting, fearing, overwhelmed
with uncertainty and yet succumb
ing at times to the strange cer
tainty that Monica must be right.
Dismay seized her with that con
viction. The stern rule made by
Don Ramon, after the breakdown
resulting from her terrifying experi
ence, that no word should ever be
spoken of it in the family would
account for a great deal. But what
ever the mystery, the key to all of
it must be in Bowie's hands; the
thought left her prostrated.
She felt an impulse to send at
once for him, to learn everything;
but the sequel might be dreadfully
embarrassing. Then the happier
thought occurred that grizzly old
Ben Pardaloe might know some
thing, perhaps everything.
The longer she pondered, the more
she felt sure that to him she must
turn. Whatever there was of fact in
Monica's story might be learned
from him. Fired by her shock and
uncertainty, unable to sleep that
night, so distrait next day that Dona
Maria chided her, yet tortured by
her conviction that Monica was
right and determined to resolve her
doubts, Carmen made an excuse the
second day to take Pedro and Maria
and go to Monterey to waylay the
old stage driver. Asking in Monte
rey at the stage barn, she learned
that Pardaloe would be in late in
the afternoon. She lunched with her
Aunt Ysabel, pleading shopping to
account for her trip, and in good
time met the stage. Pardaloe was
overjoyed to see her. She told him
she wanted very much to see him.
"I'm alaying over here tonight, se
norita. What do you want to see
about, hm?"
"It's some information 1 want, se
nor. I think you can give it to me."
' If I kin, senorita. it's yourn,
right off."
"Senor Ben," she began low and
seriously, "I need some help. I know
you came into California about ten
or eleven years ago over the moun
tains from Texas with Senor Bowie
?is it not so?"
Pardaloe nodded. " 'Bout that
lung ago. I guess, senorita. what
about it?"
"Now I'll tell you what I know.
About that time the Indians raided
our rancho in the South, Los Ala
mos. They killed my father; my
mother died from shock. My little
sister Terecita and I were carried
off by the savages into the moun
tains. Stnor Ben. my sister and I
were so nearly insane with fright
that we could recall nothing of
what happened except I seem to re
member something about a fight.
Beyond that, all memory leaves me.
All I know, and this only because I
was told so, is that we were brought
back to the rancho?where every
thing had been burned?by a white
man. Senor Ben, can you tell me,
do you know, anything about that
part of the story?"
Then the grizzled scout began to
talk in his slow and deliberate man
ner. He retold the story of how he,
Bowie and the Indian, Simmie, had
rescued two tiny frightened girls
from a fierce Indian band and had
left them with a missionary some
where along the Southern California
coast.
Carmen pressed him for every de
tail and in the end she was prac
tically convinced that Bowie was
hero of her greatest childhood ad
venture.
In somewhat of a daze she
thanked Pardaloe for all his infor
m it ion and the next morning she
returned to the rancho.
Guadalupe did not seem quite the |
same to Carmen when she got home.
There was too little in its present to
interest her; too much in its past
to think about. And despite her ef
forts to busy herself in things around
her, Carmen faded in health and
spirits. Not until Pedro came to her,
hat in hand, one day in the spring
with brief news did she revive. "Se
norita," he said, "Sanchez and I,
we were over at the valley of the
pines yesterday, lookin' for cattle.
Senorita, the strawberries are red."
She was sewing in the patio, her
thought far from her fingers. She
sprang to her feet. "Muchas gra
cias, Pedro, muchas gracias. We
will have some. Saddle my pony."
Without an hour's delay?less than
an hour?spent in a wild gallop into
the hills. Carmen returned to her
room and addressed a note to Senor
Henry Bowie at New Helvetia.
"Strawberries are ripe."
And with a strange thrill she
signed it "Carmen." She dispatched
it by Sanchez. He was to take
horse and deliver it only to Senor
Bowie; this upon his life.
When Bowie took the dainty note
in hand he was surprised. Once
opened, he could read it at a glance.
But what did it imply? He thrilled
at the signature. Certainly Carmen
could not be engaged to marry the
bald Spaniard. If she were she
would never write him any sort of a
message, much less one so cryptic
as this.
The thrill of the woman who had
sealed it tingled now in the veins
of the man who read and reread it
over and over.
'Sanchez," exclaimed Bowie sud
denly, "say only this to Senorita
Carmen. Be careful?say it when
she is alone. Say: I hunger for
strawberries."
Sanchez stared. The message was
the strangest. But the shining gold
coin laid in his hand was quite com
prehensible. He repeated his lesson
until Bowie was satisfied he had it
straight and dismissed him. "Put
up your horse and go get some sup
per. Start tomorrow morning at
two o'clock. Ride fast or I shall
overtake you. Tell Senorita X said
this. But do you understand? Be
careful no one hears you."
Late that night, long after the
house was quiet. Carmen lay dream
ing when she thought she heard a
low voice without her window hum
ming her Spanish air, "Go Ask the
High Stars Gleaming." A delicious
feeling crept over her as she lay
and listened. She scrupled even to
listen ? it seemed lik? forbidden
fruit; but, like forbidden fruit, very
sweet.
It was Henry Bowie, she knew
for certain. None but a madman
would have ess-iyed that song on
the raneho at midnight. He had
ridden hard all day to sing late at
night.
She sat up in bed and thought.
Some acknowledgment she must
make. She tiptoed stealthily to her
dresser, found a candle, lighted it,
and crept toward her window. All
that Bowie saw was a white arm
slowly extended and n lighted can
dle set cautiously within the pane.
The singer no longer bespoke the
favor of the high stars: a grea'.er
light quickened his heartbeats in
that flame of the candle. And as
he reached the end of a dim strain
in his song the white arm once
more reached forward, and the can
dle was put out to signify his dis
missal.
There were surprises at Guada
lupe next morning. Senor Bowi* ap
peared, an unbidden guest, for
breakfast. There was much laugh
ter and joyous welcome at seeing
him from all except Carmen. She
was becomingly reserved. But she
could not altogether control the col
or in h?r so
early.
"I just thought I'd drop down and
see how things were running at
"If I kin it's yourn right off."
Guadalupe," said Bowie to Don Ra
mon, laughing, of course.
"It was awful of me to do what
I did, senor," confessed Carmen
when they were out in the sunshine
together after breakfast and she
was trying hard to control herself.
"I just thought you'd like a meri
enda again. And this year I must
be hostess for Guadalupe, and it's
to run for several days."
"Isn't it lucky for me I'm here to
help?if I may."
"It was awfully nice of you to
protect me at breakfast, senor. It
was a perfectly shameful thing for
me to do?flying in the face of every
thing. No matter 1 Don Ramon and
Dona Maria <3on't suspect the straw
berries. Only faithful Sanchez has
the secret."
Our secret."
I didn't say that. I am going to
take Pedro and ride over to inspect
the strawberries. Do you suppose I
might find you over that v/ay after a
while?"
"Before you get there."
"You and I got terribly scolded
that time I rode out with you early
in the morning. We poor senoritas
have to be so careful!" she said
demurely.
"Look for me when you near the
valley."
The Texan was as good as his
word. When Carmen rode up to
where he had halted, a look passed
between them that only they under
stood.
The three rode together. As they
approached the river Carmen point
ed. "Do you see those two cabins
across the Melena?"
Bowie looked. "I do see then*
What are they?"
"Two uninvited neighbors of ours
?Americanos, who have settled
there."
"But that is on the rancho."
"They seem to think our rancho
1? theirs. They are what you call
?quatters."
"They should be driven off. Does
i Don Ramon know?"
"He has been across there to see
them. One of them is your old
friend. Captain Blood. He pointed a
rifle at Don Ramon and told him to
get off his property or he would
shoot him. And said, incidentally,
there were too many greasers in
this country, anyway."
Carmen spoke in the calm tone
most calculated to arouse the anger
of an honest man.
Bowie exploded. He swore sav
agely in English.
"I don't understand." said Car
men innocently, though she had a
pritty correct idea of his language.
"If Don Ramon allowed that . . .
blurted out Bowie.
"He was unarmed. And he didn't
want to get killed."
"But somebody'? got to do some
thing. These scoundrels will gob
ble the whole rancho piecemeal."
Carmen sighed. "Discouraging for
the poor Spaniards," she said re
signedly. "But the good God will
do something for us. We are go
ing too far, scnor; let's turn this way
to the valley. Does Guadalupe look
very different to you from what It
used to?"
At dinner the talk turned on the
squatter problem already seriously
agitating the owners of the ranchos
about the bay region. The scum
of camp followers, always ready to
move and emboldened by Fremont's
invasion, had spread over the land
like noxious insects, devouring all
in their path.
But Carmen's heart was set on
the merienda, for the success of
which she was accountable, and
next morning she had a long list of
things to be done in. making ready
for the picnic. Bowie was called on
to such an extent that a more so
phisticated man might have suspect
ed she had sent for him chiefly to
help her. The Texan, however, en
joyed his work hugely and. having
wrung from Don Ramon the privi
lege of supplying the wine, m Rde
a trip to Monterey for some import
ed vintages and for those delicacies
procurable only along the shipping
front.
Carmen was startled next day
when two carretas were unloaded at
the ranch house. "Certainly," she
said as she stood with Dona Maria
and Bowie, watching the servants
carry in supplies, "you Americanos
are wonderful."
"But please remember, senorita,
I am not an Americano. I am a
Tejano. You said the merienda
would last three days. And there
will be some good eaters among our
guests. There won't be much of all
these things left to carry home."
It is sometimes more fun to get
ready for a trip than to make the
trip. Carmen, with her assistants,
had a capital time getting ready for
her picnic. The weather favored
her, and the party set out from the
rancho in high spirits; indeed, with
the family, the servants and the
vaqueros loaded with hampers, and
the two carretas, the string of
horses and riders looked like a cav
alcade. It was led by Senorita Car
men. attended this time bv Bowie.
As was befitting, they were early
on the ground?among the first?
and a busy morning went to mak
ing all ready and greeting new ar
rivals. Following the annual cus
tom, the first dinner late in the day
was a gala affair before settling
down, ostensibly at least, to the
work of gathering strawberries.
Don Ramon presided at the first
table with his Dona and Senorita
as hostesses. Henry Bowie and a
few special guests sat with them.
The dinner was featured by game
provided by Guadalupe vaqueros. |
Bowie complimented the hostess on
its variety.
"I was lucky," she confessed to
him in an aside. "Sanchez brought
in practically all of it?the venison
and elk and the quail and pigeons?
all in two days. Sanchez is the best
hunter on the rancho."
Carmen was walking on air. Her
face reSectcd every emotion a hap
py hour could awaken: lov/ bubbling
laughter; natural color deepened by
pleasure and excitement; quips and
retorts rolling from a ready tongue;
teeth and eyes that flashed together.
And when the wines were served,
her guests at the tables under the
trees sang with extraordinary fervor
drinking song punctuated by the
popping of corks and the clinking
of glasses. In fact, Bowie's wines
proved equal to inspiring more than
one drinking song. And as the din
ner progressed, the senoritas raised
their glasses with the caballeros to
augment the choruses.
In the midst of this hilarity and
the final moments of the parting day
a clatter of hoofs was heard among
the more distant pines. At least, it
was heard by the ears of a fron
tiersman trained by roan? surprises
to catch unusual sounds.
In the fewest possible moments a
horseman, galloping up to the near
est table, threw himself from the
saddle. The drooping head of the
pony, his desperate panting, the
froth that flecked his chest and
dropped from his muzzle, the nerv
ous champing at-the bit, all told the
story of a grueling ride. The dis
mounted rider lifted his hat and
looked, dismayed and inquiringly,
among the revelers as if searching
for someone. Bowie rose from his
seat at the table.
"Pedro!" he called, raising his
hand.
"Senor Bowie!" exclaimed the va
quero with relief. "Please! Will
you speak with me?" The vaquero
walked rapidly beyond earshot ai
the tables, the Texan following hiiu.
"What is it, Pedro?" asked Bow
ie. "What has happened?"
"Senor Bowie?Sanchez!"
"What about him?"
"He has been murdered."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
e?n?n at ttm ??win M
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WNU Service.
WATER HEATERS
AaUnaUfl Electric Water Healer 30 Gal.
Finest quality $30. Buy direct from fac
tory. save half. Valuable information free
Whit* Predict* Cerp., Lmb?Ib|, .Yuh.
?Ask Me Another
A i?eneral Quiz
The Question*
1. What is the rule of noblesse
oblige? *
2. What is the opposite of prolix?
3. What workman used a cant
hook?
4. A horsepower is equal to how
many watts?
5. How many deadly sins aro
listed?
6. What is the tallest living ani
mal?
7. How much does a presidential
Inauguration cost?
The Answera
1. Rank imposes obligation.
2. Concise.
3. A lumberman (for turning
logs).
4. One horsepower equals 744
watts.
5. Seven: Pride, covetousness,
lust, anger, gluttony, envy and
sloth.
6. The giraffe (the males some
times attain a height of 18 feet).
7. The cost has varied from
time to time. Congress appropri
ated $35,000 for 1941 inaugural ex
penses?about $7,000 less than was
expended in 1937.
WORLD'S'
LARGEST,
SELLER
AT 10*;
SUOSEPBl
ASPIRIN
Shadows of Mind
The shadows of the mind are like
those of the body. In the morning
of life they lie behind us; at noon,
we trample them under foot; and
in the evening they stretch long,
broad and deepening behind us.?
Longfellow.
1836 Map Heirloom
P. A. Norton of Elyria, Ohio, has
a copy of Mitchell's map of Ohio,
Indiana, Illinois and Michigan which
was published in Philadelphia in
1836. It is a folding map that was
owned by his grandfather who came
,to Ohio when this country was still
largely inhabited by Indians.
WWU-7 5-41
With Friends
They are never alone that are
accompanied with noble thoughts.
?Sir Philip Sidney.
Maj Warn of Disordered
Kidney Action
Modern life with !ta hurry and worry.
Irregular habit?, improper eating ami
drinking?itn risk of exposure and Infec
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of the kidney*. They are apt to become
over-taxed mnd fail to filter exceaa acid
and other impuritiee from the life-giring
blood.
You may auffer nagging backache,
headache, dir.*in?***, getting up night",
leg paina, swelling?feel constantly
tired, nervoua, all worn out. Other signs
of kidney or bladder diaord^r are some
tlmea burning, scanty or too frequent
urination.
Try Doan'a Pilla. Doon's help the
ktdneya to paaa off harmful exceaa body
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At k your neighbor!