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Show 3he Vale CM Acsgoi By Fred McLatighliiv 64u.thor of Dh.e blade of "Picardy lA.Mtf CopyriyAt hi, Botis -M frill Co. S E fZU C E. of thf Spanish furcfs In Venezuela. I went Into t!ie store, traded five sil- j vcr pieces for clothes and the privacy ' of a rocjni where I might change, and came out again garbed in the coarse, I brown, two-piece suit and the blue, ! turban-like cap affected by many of the French sailors of the islands. j The road I had taken led to the j Plaza San Jacinto, where I turned j south and asLed my way to the home of Tomas Carrasco, which proved to j be a red and brown, rock and adobe structure of considerable size. I Tomas was non-committal ; his dark j eyes starveyej me with grave concern, and after assuring himself of my j "strangeness," he announced sorrow- i fully b;;t with unmistakable firmness that he had no quarters that might be offered to travelers. Expressing my disappointment in halting Spanish, T offered niv hnnd In nnrtinnr Rtilnt-p Spain In Venezuela you will come to us, though you will need a vast amount of luck to get into Caracas Cara-cas and safely out again." ''And these few patriots who sometimes some-times gather In the menage of Carrizal Car-rizal how shall I know them?" He extended his right hand, third finger folded Into-the palm. "That, in shaking hands, Is the sign used by members of the Sociedad Patriotlco, an organization founded by Simon Bolivar and Miranda nearly ten years ago." He pressed my hand In a warm firm grip. "I think I shall not see you again. Too many forces are against you." But he erred, for I was destined to fight, side by side, with Captain Mona-han Mona-han through a bitter campaign against the Spanish. I was yet to meet the moving spirits of that famous and miscalled British legion, which did so much to win from Ferdinand VII Independence In-dependence for Venezuela and half of South America as well ; hardy souls, veterans, most of them, of the Napoleonic Napole-onic wars, who, after the fall of the Corslcan, could not go back to the peaceful pursuits of man, but, chained to the chariot of Mars, must needs follow the lure of the sword. CHAPTER IV A Wedding Disarranged As I set out that morning on the road to Caracas, and on the road to adventures beyond my wildest dreams, the cool blue dome of the sky was unmarked un-marked by a cloud. The sun swung overhead and went swiftly down the western path as I trod the smooth stones that formed the road. The As he grasped it, vastly relieved, I I folded my third finger into the palm. He gasped, his swarthy face went an ashen gray, and his sharp eyes searched my face. He turned my hand and studied It. "There Is a comfortable room for you, Senor, and food. A chiva, lately baked, frijoles, golden-brown tortillas, the sauce of papaya ; fruit luscious peaches from my own garden, oranges and melons from Coro, wine from Madeira, and rum from Cumana . . . and a house of safety, Senor. If there is anything you might require " "You are very kind, Tomas," I said. A dozen listless loiterers sat at tables or leaned against the bar as I entered and made my way toward Car-rizal, Car-rizal, who stood behind the bar. He considered me with the calculating calcu-lating eye of a man who anticipates a sale. I gave the subject of my order or-der careful thought. I did not dare to ask for American whisky, and wine was still considered a European drink. While I pondered thus a familiar voice came to me: "There is no rum in all the world, Senor, like rum from Cumana." "I'll take some Cumana rum," I said to Carrizal, as another voice agreed with the connoisseur of rum. The connoisseur, whose back was turned to me, turned . at the sound of my voice, turned swiftly, the mug of rum poised between the bar and his face. He opened a wide mouth that still showed traces of the bruises from my fist and let out a great laugh that fairly rattled the windows. "Senor Loco," he cried, "the sea has given up its dead !" I stared, aghast, for Manuel stood before me ; Manuel, who twice had stopped my fist with parts of his face, and who could, therefore, have had no love for me. My thoughts were racing wildly. Manuel belonged to Bolivar, yet the Spanish Captain Alvarez, according to the Senorita Dulce, had called him a good sailor . . . and Dulce had said he was stupid. Name of G d ! And here was Manuel in Caracas, drinking and visiting boldly in a saloon less than a square from the plaza ; free in the city, as unconcerned as though he were strolling along the levee in the safe city of New Orleans "Are you not mistaken, Senor?" I ventured. "Is there anything about me that should make you call me crazy?" Now he went off into another convulsion con-vulsion of merriment. "Did the sea water dye thy whiskers," he roared, "and that yellow thatch of thine? Speak up, Senor Loco, and tell us how you came here and why." I had made an unpropitious entry into the stronghold of Spain, I had failed ere I had begun, and I had failed by a grotesque twist of fate because of the misplaced enmity of those who should have been my friends. Ah, well ... I could, at least, show them the American indifference indif-ference toward 'death. "It is Manuel," I said, "no? Manuel, the sailor, who does not like the flavor of my fist." I smiled, extending my hand. He, too, found my third finger folded fold-ed ifito the palm. His mug of rum clattered to the floor, the grin disappeared disap-peared from his face, and the evil light that had been in his eyes faded ; he drew in a harsh, hissing breath and spat out a Spanish oath. "Manuel," I cried, "has this fine Cumana rum touched your brain, or do you merely jest with a poor French sailor stranded at La Guaira, and seeking employment in Caracas?" Manuel's left eyelid dropped, and raised quickly again, and his face was blank. "I think I should offer apology to you, Senor; I must have been in error, for you cannot be the Senor Loco whom I saw fall from the deck of the Santa Lucrecia. No man could have lived in that raging sea. Yet I have seen you somewhere, or perhaps the rum has put a fancy in my head.'' (TO BE CONTINUED.) P. ft . THE STORY At nlk'htfnll. In tha city of Nw Orltian.i, in 1821, Loren (Jarde, re-'ontly re-'ontly an otllcer uniior General JackHon, In surprised by the ap-iciirance ap-iciirance cf th roe Aku res, In an-cltin an-cltin t H pit n hi h costume, two men and a woman whose beauty en-fhanta en-fhanta hlrn. KesentinK the arro-K-'tnce of the elder of the two men, (Jarda fights a duel with him with Bwords, and wounds him. Ha loarna his opponent is Adolfo da KuontaH, colonel in the Spanish Span-ish army in Venezuela. Garde, fleeing from gens de'armes, overhears over-hears a plot to overthrow Spanish Span-ish rule In Venezuela. Discovered and threatened, lie flghtsj but is overpowered. Garde finds himself a prisoner on the Santa Lucrecia, a whip beari ntf contraband arms and ammunition for the Venezuelans. Vene-zuelans. On board are the conspirators, con-spirators, the lady of his love, her brother Polito, and De Fu-entes. Fu-entes. An attompt to seize the ship falls. From the frlrl, Garde learns her mime is Dulce Lamar-tina. Lamar-tina. He loves her, but does not reveal his love. The vessel is wrecked and Garde reaches the Venezuelan shore, alone. Making his way inland, he encounters a stranger awaiting the arrival of the Santa Lucrecia. He tells him of the wreck, and sees Dulce, with De Fuentes and Polito. CHAPTER III Continued 6 He pulled at his pipe, his broad i shoulders shaking with laughter. "I am Monahan," he said at length, "Captain in the British legion under Gen. Simon Bolivar. The Liberator will he deeply interested when I tell him about the American Senor Garde, who loves the Intended of Colonel de Fuentes and who rides the wings of the storm alone when his ship comes to grief. Bolivar can use such men, my friend." . There was a frank friendliness about this transplanted patriot, something some-thing that called for confidence, so I began with the Cabildo and completed my account with Tucayan, skipping only those portions which dealt with the Senorita Laniartina, and falling utterly in my deletions, for, when I had done, he said : "So the blond Loren will hie himself to Caracas, whither the dark beauty, his ladylove, lady-love, is bound, and he will find there all the power of Spain in Venezuela against him." "It Is worth a try, at least," I said. "Of course, but you go, not to a love tryst, but to fight a battle with death." "I hive fought such battles before, as you have also, no doubt; I have been too close to death in the past to fear it now." He ch;,'kled. "That yellow thatch of yours will sink you, for it cries your Identity to all and sundry." I touched my chin, which bore about a week's growth of corn-colored whisker. whis-ker. "I fear you are right; if you might suggest ?" He picked up a stone and hurled it into the foliage of a near-by tree, and half a dozen objects resembling our huge green walnuts thudded to the ground. He crushed one under the heavy sole of a grenadier boot. "The juice of this pulp is an excellent dye," he explained ; "it will make your hair and beard a very dark . brown, and it will give to your too fair skin the deep bronze of a man who has spent his life with ships. As the pigment pig-ment will last some weeks, you need have no fear -of it fading before the Spaniards are prepared to hang you." So, using a broad fiat rock as a mortar, we crushed from the thick pulpy covering of a number of the half-ripe nuts a quantity of pale liquid, which, on drying, left my skin a reddish red-dish brown and my hair and beard nearly black. "You have funds?" he questioned. "None; the leathern wallet containing contain-ing a small quantity of money and a few papers of purely personal value was taken from the pocket of my jacket while I lay unconscious on hoard the Santa Lucrecia. The good Francisco probably did it." "Then," said Monahan, laughing, "as a friend of Francisco I would proffer such financial aid as you may require." He placed ten silver pieces the size of bur American dollar into my hand. "This will buy you a hat and clothes that shall be less Identifying, and pay for food and quarters in Caracas for at least a fortnight." He sighed. "I think your need of food and quarters will hardly last so long." Then abruptly ab-ruptly : "I I cannot dissuade you from this mad mission?" I shook my head, and he went on : "If Caracas Is your goal I might tell you that, in the humble home of Senor Tomas Carrasco, which lies less than two hundred meters south of San Jacinto plaza, you Will find safe lodgment, lodg-ment, and in the Cantina Merida, presided pre-sided over by the faithful Carrizal, a few patriots sometimes gather. I am sure that when you have had further opportunity to study the methods of "I'll Take Some Cumana Rum," I Said to Carrizal. short twilight came and went, and a golden moon pushed above the timbered tim-bered range that lay beyond Caracas. In the moonlight, I bent my steps toward the city, where I hoped to find the lady in white, the gracious lady who had come into my arms to find protection from the storm. The city of Caracas, stronghold of Spain in Venezuela, and the key to its control, lies in a vast, fertile basin called the Vale of Aragon, the north rim of which forms a barrier between the city and the sea. As I came in sight of the city a morning sun, emerging emerg-ing from the mists of the east, touched the red-tiled roofs with gold. It was a city of beauty, a city of dreams; it held, for me, the present as well as the future. My mad worship would not permit me to consider the dangers that might beset me; I saw only the face of her whose life, I hoped, was to be bound up with mine for ever. I had reached a tiny roadside store on the outskirts of the city before I realized that no plan had been made, no thought of what I might do after I had entered this, the headquarters |