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Show By FRANK H. SPEARMAN F,anl H . nk H. Sparma WNU Service Bowie was nonplused. But Carme-lita Carme-lita gave him no time to decide what he ought to do. She wriggled with all her strength and this was surprising for her size almost out of his arms and, when she failed to free herself, looked up at him with such a mute pleading in her burning eyes that he felt sure it must be all right. Half laughing, he eased her down Into Monica's arms. At this the smaller sister set up such a commotion that Pardaloe released re-leased her likewise and with her short fat legs, not noticeably stiffened stiff-ened by her long ride, she dashed to Monica. "Seems like they knowed her," observed Pardaloe as the three men watched the animated scene. Bowie sat perplexed. "If we could understand their lingo," he said. "This woman certainly does know them, and they know her. And she's an Indian. She must be their Spanish owner IK' rancho. refuses "'mls of a raid by Indians. One day strrJ.S to seek the mtssin for hi. i Indians strike. 1 Tind his two young . the arms ot the I tor"1 Monica, and are )- Padre Pas-"wend Pas-"wend of the family. STal the ranch and 'raid from Mon-1 Mon-1 and difficult trip 1 mountains from I I wuthful Henry Bow-I Bow-I 'rVr with his friends, I ""fsmle. an Indian 9 Ja ndlans who 1 V!w two little girla. I if'snd accurate ttm-I ttm-I sttack the war Jindians and through a Jd savages to the ft vi but are .till t jvConlinued Thp rig- ica walking fast, the party rode south for more than two hours. Night had now fallen. There was no moon, but the stars were out The horses, as well as Monica, seemed to know the trail and at length brought within sight a group of buildings, one of which was surmounted sur-mounted by a cross. Bowie understood under-stood this, at least, and when the horsemen drew up Monica pounded for some time on the gate of the stockade that enclosed the place, but without results. She then bethought herself of a high bellhandle at the side of the gate, at which she tugged vigorously. vigorous-ly. A man appeared and, opening a peephole, asked questions. Monica Moni-ca seemed known, for when she had explained her presence and argued long and convincingly the big gate was swung reluctantly open and the party rode in. The gate was closed and the man disappeared. After fur- Bowie caught the Implication. "Then as a Spaniard you, too, have felt the tyranny of the Mexican government. gov-ernment. May I give you a confidence?" confi-dence?" "It Involves no crime or wrongdoing?" wrong-doing?" "Certainly not." "What is your name?" "I am from the East, Padre. We are Tejanos." "Granted." "So we are worse than Americanos. American-os. And we are now helpless. We used our slender stock of ammunition ammuni-tion in that fight with the Indians." "But you say, worse than Americanoshow Ameri-canoshow so?" "Padre, do you remember the Alamo?" Al-amo?" The priest knit his brow in momentary mo-mentary perplexity. "I do remember remem-ber it." "Then well may Texans!" said Bowie gravely. "My scout, Ben Par- nurse Deiongs xo tneir family, any-way. any-way. Talk to her, Simmie." But Simmie's efforts to make the woman understand his Creek or Seminole were as fruitless as the ef- i ,asma8"."- - - -' sd expression of the ..brightened instantly erstanding. The suspi-i suspi-i ftened. This gesture J ,M the could compre- -aid smile gradually er face. understands," said ;imtoputthe cup to st lightly but grateful-i grateful-i it him wonderingly :m Her thirst was ?en she spoke to her a supposed her to be. ,jj stiffened arm she i-er to her. The little . ravenously, finished lie ran to the stream and the two girls .-ad cupful. They tast-; tast-; the venison, but they srward the two pitiful e with the formidably ans down the long ( foothill slopes, davs of riding they ther waiting a light appeared at a window within the residence of the padres, and presently one of them opened a door. Handing the girls to Monica, Bowie Bow-ie and Pardaloe dismounted, Simmie Sim-mie taking the horses. The two men followed Monica and her charges as the padre led them along a dark passageway. pas-sageway. On one side of it he paused at an open door and bowed the visitors vis-itors into a commodious room mea-gerly mea-gerly furnished and lighted by two candles standing on a small oval table in the middle of the room. Motioning his callers to seats, the padre, dark featured, tall and spare, looked to Monica for explanation. With expressive gestures and in a few words Monica told her story, pointing at times to Bowie and indicating indi-cating again the little girls who clung to her as if afraid she might escape them. The padre listened gravely, following fol-lowing with his eyes the recital of the Indian woman. When she had daloe, lost his uncle in that damnable damna-ble massacre by Santa Ana's .Mexicans. .Mexi-cans. Few are the Texans who cannot can-not count a friend or relative murdered mur-dered there." "That," argued the priest pacifically, pacifi-cally, "was some time ago. There is peace now." His visitor nodded. '"Not for long, I fear, Padre. There will be more fighting," predicted Bowie almost casually. "What brings you to California, my son?" "That is not my personal secret, or I would willingly tell you. But I am treading here on delicate ground. I cannot risk going to San Diego. I had an American friend who was starved to death in prison there not so long ago by a Mexican Mexi-can wretch, the governor." "You mean Echeandia?" Bowie nodded. "Even if I were inclined to trust him I would not go. There might be fighting. Some- finished he asked a few questions and turned his gaze across the sputtering sput-tering candles to Bowie. "No habla espanol?" he asked, adding in very difficult English, "You do speak nothing Spanish. I speak poco English. I understand a few. Monica tell me how you come to Los Alamos with these her-manas. her-manas. Where from you come? How you have the children? Who you are?" He spoke very slowly. Bowie responded re-sponded with more energy. The padre, pad-re, with a smile, raised his hand. "Please! Slow!" Bowie nodded. "We are Tejanos, Padre cannot speak Spanish. We took these girls from Indians a war party in the Sierras. Do you know these youngsters?" The padre nodded fast. "I know them much, much." Haltingly and brokenly he related to Bowie and his companions the story of the raiding of Los Alamos and the burning of the rancho. With little difficulty the Texan followed and comprehended just how he and his men had chanced on the fleeing : thing that gave them rilled up their horses sled way under their y marked trail that right angles to the di-:.ch di-:.ch they were riding. i winding along the desert and over hills, :e unknown to them, of the king, linking, : the stretches of the ;;:ons that had brought authentic Christianity, ed as to which way Sim-north or south. ?stion only to be another: an-other: Where were i the three had the Bowie knew he want-'jcterey want-'jcterey that was alL ! cultivated fields lay so for the south they iifall they found them-ihing them-ihing something like a quickened their pace, Mrs of smoke curled i what might be a : surprise and disap-s disap-s cruel when, reaching arise, they saw in the that the smoke rose a of a habitation.-charges, habitation.-charges, carried by ; long-legged Pardaloe, 4 to the heat and fa-tog fa-tog day's ride, and sp on the breasts of ' Between the adven-s adven-s lay a river. Along st dry, a slender through margins of "Jshes. The horses Jt Invitation to 6lake Chaparral fringed the d the stream, and :set there came a sud- elder girl. She raised iiin a cry, almost a iom the undergrowth, ie's arms cried out "I believe she understands," said Bowie. forts to make the girls understand English had been. He tried his sign language. It was a passport with any tribe east of the Sierras, but not here. With all three chattering at the same time, Monica took the children chil-dren down to thl river, washed their faces vigorously with only sand for soap, talking excitedly while this went on. The men had dismounted, hobbled the horses and turned them out on the grass that bordered the banks, and made ready to camp. Simmie opened the reserves of venison. When Monica saw there was no salt she ran all the way to the half-burned ranch house and returned re-turned with a supply. It was mixed with ashes, but to the travelers it was more welcome than gold. She brought, too, earthenware cups and two loaves of badly scorched bread for the strange men. It was ravenously dug into and ravenously rav-enously devoured by men who had tasted no bread for weeks. It was a happy supper for three ragged, bearded and bronzed frontiersmen, fron-tiersmen, one keen-visaged and bustling bus-tling Indian woman, and two delicately deli-cately shy promises for California's future womanhood. Monica seemed to know even the horses. She talked volubly to the children while she patted on the neck the horse Bowie rode. Inspecting the saddle and mo-chila, mo-chila, her voice broke. Her eyes filled, but she covertly brushed the warriors and robbed them at leas of their human victims. It was not the first time, the padre saic sadly, that Spanish girls and worn en had been carried away by bad Indians raiding the ranchos. And rarely had rescue parties, however expeditious or well equipped, been able to recover the unhappy captives cap-tives if the raiders could reach the high mountains first. And, he added, these thrice-unhappy victims of their savagery had been made creatures to the chiefs so it had been learned from neophytes. The southern Indians, In-dians, he added, were even more warlike and ferocious than the tribes about the northern missions. These wretches were Quemayas or Yu-mas. Yu-mas. Both had been scourges of their missions and settlers for sixty years or more. i J r NLa i b-d i "I appreciate all you say, Padre." one might be killed, for we would not submit to detention. My business I on the coast demands speed. Ex-, Ex-, cuse us from that venture." ( "Then what is your wish?" "Padre, we were forced to kill , our horses when we were starving. These horses we ride were captured , from the savages. No doubt they belong to the ranchero who was murdered. They should be returned to his family the trappings are val- ' uable. But we shall be left horseless. horse-less. I have no money what shall we do?" "What do you want to do, my son?" "To leave your hospitable roof before be-fore daybreak to continue our journey jour-ney north." "Where to?" The Texan smiled again. "Padre, ousnes across the a woman stood time to inspect ,ctges called again 11 a frenzy of joy. lica!" , a strange-looking fr aunt face was reams of dis-on dis-on her shoul-,J1 shoul-,J1 !own covered her jft But when she Plaintive cry from ne quivered. Her ZvT up and ai she screamed, The hurried ! ere not under-y under-y surprised Te-l6 Te-l6 tole gin broke responses her J1 She spoke so UuShed as he lis- PTER V ?Lmen?" askel the suspiciously ; . Piped the little us away from Monica. Many and father'' " ..,asKed hysterically. sobbed the i0 water al- rde lnt0 i, ra fari down to :Ca0rmgjris' "yin ''msfranticaUy tears away lest the gins see mem. After the repast Bowie engaged Monica in a sign conversation forged of sheer necessity. She slowly succeeded suc-ceeded in getting him and his companions com-panions to comprehend that these ruins ru-ins to which she pointed with excessive exces-sive grief had been her home and the home of these girls, whence they had been stolen. In improvised mummery Bowie asked what he should do with the children. Monica made many gestures, ges-tures, uttered and repeated one word. "San Diego! San Diego!" Bowie shook his head in dissent. "No, no, San Diego." "But yes," urged Monica, adding, "that is where their mother is." Bowie understood "San Diego, but the rest was Greek, and he refused re-fused positively to go to San Diego. "That," said he to Monica though she understood not at all "is where they like to lock up Tejanos and starve them to death! No San Diego." Di-ego." His refusal she at last grasped. Then with abundance of signs she suggested a place nearer. "Mision!" she exclaimed. "Mis-ion!" "Mis-ion!" And pointed with much energy en-ergy and with a vigorous finger again and again to the south. Bowie watched her closely. About all he could grasp was her emphatic earnestness. Her big hollow eyes Hashed, and appeal filled her voice. He talked with his men; neither could imagine the meaning of 'Mis-ion!" 'Mis-ion!" The situation was baffling, and after some delay Bowie agreed to accompany her to learn exactly what she meant The girls, needing much reassurance reassur-ance from Monica, were taken up again by the Texans. and. with Mon- "And now," he asked in conclusion, conclu-sion, raising his hands as he regarded re-garded the orphans with a world of pity, "what shall be done? Monica," he said in Spanish, "you know the quarters for the unmarried women. Take the children and find lodging for them and for yourself for the night. In the morning we shall see." When the three had left the room the padre explained to Bowie that he could not speak freely before the innocent victims of the savages or disclose that these had murdered their father. He added that the mother was at San Diego at the home of a relative and that her son. brother to the little ones, was with her He suggested that the Tejanos, supplied with a guard of soldiers from the mission, take the rescued cirls to San Diego in the morning to receive the thanks and gratitude of their mother and relatives. Where, he doubted not, a generous reward would in part recompense them for the dangers they bad incurred in-curred in battling the savages and for the hardships incurred in restoring re-storing the precious ones to their despairing family. Bowie listened carefully. He liked the padre; he felt instinctively that Je could trust him; yet he felt. too. ie need of caution in all his movements move-ments and contacts in California I appreciate all you say. Padre. But there are difficulties. Such as what, my son?" Let me ask a question: are you Mexican or Spanish?" The Pre 'ked Sulzz'ca"y JX; he spoke with a twinkle to Ss eye. "My son. Spanish priests lire not now supposed to be in Can-fornia Can-fornia missions." I have not given you my name, .excuse .ex-cuse that I say only, I am bound north." "As far as Mission San Francisco de Asis?" "Probably." "Then I can help you." "But why should you help me, Padre?" "Because," he went on in broken English, "you have done an inestimable inesti-mable charity to my dearest friends. None but a humane, an honorable, man would have endangered his life to rescue the helpless prisoners of these unhappy savages and now depart de-part without asking or expecting recompense." Bowie laughed. "Padre, you forget for-get Indians mean Indians wherever wher-ever and however found, are poison to Texans." The priest spoke on. "1 forget nothing, my son; I take nothing back. It is true," he added sadly, "the Philistines have despoiled us, as they have all the missions. They leave us nothing they can sell for money or put to their uses. A few horses remain to us in our poverty. These I place at your disposal." "I will pay well for them. Padre when I have the means." "You will pay nothing for them. I have made a poor face, true. Bu1 that is only to explain. Our best horses are gone, but we still have a few homely, hardy beasts that wil carry you safely even these may be pillaged from us tomorrow. And 1 will give you a silent trustworthy Indian for a guide." "That would be wonderful." an rf. cnTiL ED) |
