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Show By FRANK H. SPEARMAN Vranl H. Spearman WNU Sarvic. blood-soaked bandage on Bowie's right arm. "You are hurt! You are wounded! Madre de Dios! You will die!" Bowie laughed as he held her. "I will, but not yet, querida. Not yet" Despite his assurances, she was atremble. "Come into the house, quick, querido. You do not know how bad you are hurt Come." As the couple entered the living room the excitement began all over again. The next moment the seno-rita seno-rita and the senora, breathless with fear, had the serving women running, run-ning, hot water splashing, sheets torn up and enough bandages ready to equip a small hospital. The rough bandages were soaked off. Carmen calmed herself until she saw the ragged wound of the slug in the arm as it was bared. Whereupon, without even apologizing, the excited excit-ed girl fainted again. When Dr. Doane took charge he, too, laughed at Carmen's fears. "All CHAPTER XIX 19 Bowie, leaping his horse Into the jungle as he crouched in the saddle, knew he had one more pistol slug to face; and knew that only his ' knife was left him for a hand-to- hand fight. Yet such was his tradition tradi-tion and his training that, of all weapons available to him, the bowie knife would be his choice In a short arm struggle. He plunged into the jungle without qualm and headed his horse through the thicket by the sounds of the struggling horse ahead. Then came a silence as Bowie, with his shattered arm, pressed forward. for-ward. A pistol shot from the squatter squat-ter rang and echoed through the jungle.. The slug whistled past Bowie's head. His only answer to It was a cry, a plainsman's cry. Blood spurred to the right, close to a huge sycamore. Bowie's horse was struggling up to its knees in mud and slime with every leap- like to be Its last. Suddenly there "Perhaps tomorrow if you behave yourself. Do you realize, bad Texan, Tex-an, how I've already cast to the winds the rigid etiquette of centuries? centu-ries? I'm sure if Don Ramon knew how bad I've been and all through associating with you he would disown dis-own me. You ought to be ashamed of yourself to Impose so on the weakness of a poor girl like me. And I don't believe you are a bit ashamed. What sort of people live in Texas? And you did say something, some-thing, if I remember rightly, about marrying me not?" "If I have so Imposed on your lovely nature, qutrida, I want of course, to make amends." Then Carmen spoke, "In the motn-ing, motn-ing, Henry, I want you to take me over to the valley of the strawberries. strawber-ries. Will you? I want to go to that redwood tree where we sat Do you think you could find It? There were two close together." "I could find It, Carmen, !f there were two thousand close together." came a whirring, clashing sound ahead, and a terrible .cry choked short Through the tangle of vines and branches before him Bowie caught a glimpse of a riderless horse, lying ly-ing bogged. What did it mean? Slowing up, the Texan peered through the screen of leaves ahead. He worked bis way closer to the giant sycamore, when his horse shied violently. Half submerged, face downward In the marshy water, lying so close that Bowie's horse almost trampled tram-pled It, he saw the sprawling figure of a man. Clutching his knife in bis left hand, the Texan slipped from hi saddle, plunged through the slime and, watching narrowly for trick, lifted the man's head by the hair out of the ooze. As he took the head in his hands It turned, disjointed dis-jointed at the neck; the squatter was "Leave the horses here, Henry. I want to walk the rest of the way up the hill just with you." "This is the tree, Carmen. Tell me now, from your beating heart, what you told me that day, my Carmen." "And tomorrow, Henry," said Carmen Car-men a week before the wedding day, "we must go to Monterey to en-gage en-gage the musicians. I want a violin vio-lin and a flute and a guitar. They will ride with us In the procession to the mission and play on the way won't that be nice? And Henry, we will take the horses from Don Ramon's Ra-mon's caballerla of blacks they are such beauties. You and I will ride together, then Don Ramon and Dona Maria, then the music, and then everybody else!" "How many?" "Oh, a hundred or so." "Myl Carmen, this business of quite dead. With one arm disabled, Bowie could do no more than partly drag the trunk of the body closer to the roots of the big tree. He stood for a moment In bewilderment and confusion, con-fusion, stunned by the gruesome sight. Almost at his side lay the squatter's pony, only its heaving flanks showing life. The Texan stood hatless beside his panting horse, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead and trying to decide what to do. The instinct to hurry away from the tragedy must be denied. If he left the body it would be virtually Impossible to find it again, and It ' would almost certainly be mangled by coyotes before It could be recovered, re-covered, Nor could Bowie, partly disabled, get It on his horse the In your honor and mine-that mine-that I wonder at," he said insincerely, insin-cerely, "is that you would send for me to attend to a little thing like this. Bowie, my boy, you'll be swinging swing-ing a reata next week." He successfully success-fully concealed his anxiety lest Bowie should suffer a stiff forearm from the shattered bone. Carmen's confidence in Dr. Doane was very great, but her solicitude for Bowie was unabashed. She tried, for the most part unsuccessfully, to keep the Texan in bed; and failing this, to keep him In the house. getting married in California seems to be Important" "Important, Henry?" "Why, for a week now, every servant, serv-ant, every vaquero, everyone in the household, has been getting ready for our marriage." "Ah! But, Enriquito, it's not all for you and me that the fatlings have been killed, the game brought in. Not all the champagne, the wines, the cordials and the sweet potatoes and cocoanuts and Chinese ginger and Island sugar and the strong cigars have been brought in just for you and me. No, no, Guadalupe Guad-alupe will be host to a hundred guests every ranchero in the valley, val-ley, with his wife and sons and daughters and his guests, will be here every day for a week. So will all the De la Guerras from Santa Barbara." "A week!" "Yes, and they will laugh and dance and sing and play and get very hungry, Enriquito. They will dance every night and all night for a week, in your honor and mine." "Then all our Monterey cousins and friends and our San Diego cousins cous-ins and friends " "Heaven protect us, pobrecita!" "You may well say that I hope we shall have a little time to ourselves our-selves after two or three days don't look for it before that" "But where will all these people sleep?" "Oh, nobody sleeps while the celebration cele-bration lasts! Only perhaps an hour or so after sunrise. They sleep where they can. Then in the morning morn-ing come the meriendas like yours and mine," she whispered. "Don't you remember?" "I remember nothing else, querida mia only that day and you." THE END "Cease protesting," she would say decisively. "This is my hour, Enriquito. En-riquito. I have been waiting for it God sent me once a protector; it was no credit to you, big man, that he chose you" "No credit to me, pobrecita, but It is the only thing in my life that I count" "He sent me a protector why shouldn't I persecute him? Why shouldn't I persecute him?" "You're too young to be cruel," he retorted. "I don't carel He's mine. I've had too many tragedies in my life not to value a protector. -Had only you been there that dreadful day at Los Alamos!" "Querida! My right arm is getting get-ting quite strong again. But Dr. Doane says it must be exercised regularly reg-ularly so it won't be stiff. How about exercising it a little now?" "My darling, you must take no chances! You might strain it you know." "Tomorrow then?" squatter was a large man to carry it out of the swamp. Nor had he a pistol In hand to load for a shot But he had still a stentorian voice. He knew Pardaloe and Simmie would trail him to the Melena. He sent out a slow high cry and listened. lis-tened. No response greeted his ear. After a long wait, for even breath was precious in his predicament, he tried a second call and sat down to figure out what had befallen Blood. Soon he heard in the distance a pistol shot He knew it was a signal. sig-nal. Again he gave the plainsman's shrill plaintive cry, and there came at last an answering call. It was frontier wireless long before be-fore the day of wires. Patience and calling and answering brought Pardaloe Par-daloe and Simmie. swearing their way into the heart of the Melena to where Bowie stood leaning with his left hand on the sycamore tree. "Henry, you been hit! Where? Dog it, man, you've lost aplenty blood. Set down. Where's Blood, Henry?" Pardaloe was concerned. His questions came fast Bowie pointed to the fallen squatter. Simmie pulled at his beard reflectively the only sign he ever gave of excitement excite-ment Pardaloe stared a moment pulled the body around, but he saw no blood. "Henry," he asked, peering, "where'd you hit him?" "I had no pistol. We were going go-ing fast I was within ten yards of him when we got here. He Jumped his horse past the tree without seeing see-ing this pool The horse went down." Bowie pointed upward. "See that old ' grapevine hanging across from the trunk to the branch? That's what did it" Late that morning Carmen, after searching the horizon since daybreak day-break with straining eyes, perceived a little party of horsemen riding slowly toward the ranch house. Most of all she searched among them for the caballero to whom she had given her life In promise. Her acute agony of suspense ended when she made out his broad hat and tall figure in the saddle. Carmen had promised herself she would be very collected when he returned. re-turned. All night and all the morning morn-ing her prayers had been poured up to heaven for his safety, and with her prayers answered and her lover, out of the saddle, clasping her close, everything went black before her. She disgraced herself by fainting lit Bowie's one good arm. "I s.w the flames in the night along the river," she sobbed when she came to. "Oh, Henry, if you ever ride into danger again, I ride with you. I must Never again can I stand such a night. What's this?" she exclaimed, catching sight of the |