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Show By FRANK H. SPEARMAN Franlc H. Spearman WKU So.-vxe Bowie was nettled. "Far from it. He needed an ambassador, as you call it, who could cut through half a dozen Indian tribes athirst for ambassadors' am-bassadors' scalps; who could negotiate negoti-ate a thousand miles of hell's deserts des-erts and climb half a dozen Sierra ranges and swim forty or fifty rivers riv-ers with a mule, just for exercise; who could get fat on lizards, frogs, bugs and leather belts, and drink blue sky for water." Dr. Doane listened without betraying betray-ing all he felt at Bowie's impatient outburst "You've seen service," blurted out Doane one day. He was examining exam-ining some scars on his patient's torso. "For a boy of nineteen you've been busy. Where did you do your fighting, son?" "Well, we've had several little brushes with the greasers. You've heard of our troubles along the Rio Grande. Santa Ana kept us on the run a while. But for every Texan he slaughtered at the Alamo, and for every Texan murdered at Goliad, Goli-ad, we've taken toll. I followed Sam ing their horses, walked them up the hill toward the Texans. From the appearance and apparel of the two, Bowie judged them to be master mas-ter and servant, the servant riding somewhat behind. "Buenas noches, amigos," said the leading horseman in salute. Bowie held up his hand deprecating- ly. "No habla espanol," he exclaimed, ex-claimed, rising and realizing at once that he had a gentleman to deal with. "Ah! Rusos?" asKed the Califor-nian Califor-nian pleasantly. Bowie understood that much. He shook his head. "No?" Questioned the horseman again. "Then Yanquis?" Again Bowie comprehended but denied more vigorously. "Que mas?" asked the puzzled stranger, though still politely. Still shaking his head, Bowie tried to explain. "Sorry, but I can't speak Spanish." "Ho! Americanos!" "Texans!" exclaimed Bowie with emphasis. "Not Yankees." "Ah, I understand!" "You speak English?" "A little, senor. I have heard ot your Texans. Brave fellows even though they do not get on with their Mexican brothers." Again Bowie dissented vigorously. vigorous-ly. "Not brothers, senor!" The don was not to be ruffled. "Neighbors, then, if you like," he suggested good-naturedly. "Neighbors, senor. But for Texans, Tex-ans, bad neighbors." The visitor shrugged his shoulders. shoul-ders. "Have it as you will, amigo. A Mexican, of course, might tell another story. But you are, besides Texans, travelers and evidently preparing pre-paring to spend the night al fresco. This gives me some concern because be-cause it is certain to rain before morning, and rain will find you much exposed. And when it rains here it 1 m i 1 "You've seen service." SYNOPSIS er 1":0'", ' n n Alfred"' wealthy, Spanish owner 18)0 southern California rancho. refuses H U 1,1 Lid several warninfis of a raid by a , & " a nt outlaws. Sierra Indians. One day b,3, he has Hnally decided to seek the Com. " ' Y.rtlon of the nearby mission for his Pr fd family, the Indians strike. Don ""tils , To is killed and his two young ' fhters are torn from the arms of the v. isu-u.- faithful maid, Monica, and are ,s H art'av to the hills. Padre Pas-" Pas-" missionary friend of the family. IT ' at the ruins of the ranch and J il !" ihe story of the raid from Monica. JJJI 'ft J trying and difficult trip across TSI inins and mountains from Texas to H.Vn iffnCa. youthful Henry Bowie, a Tex-4yj Tex-4yj 0 .dventurer. with his friends, Ben T( J ritaloe and Slinmie. an Indian scout, L, ihp oarty of Indians who have car-M car-M ' s1?h the two little girls. The three ?lns attack the war party of fifty-odd Tin i tons and through a clever ruse scat-'f11 scat-'f11 he savages to the hills. The girls SO i saved. The group makes Its way , ,i nf the hills and meets the distraught ? i the children's maid. The girls SBi:i Mn ,eft with Monica and the friendly padre at a mission. CO. : 2; CHAPTER V Continued t 5 "And a brief word to the mision-'"' mision-'"' 11 eros on the way, so that if you are '" sick you shall be cared for. If you vw-- arc hungry you shall be fed, and for your repose you shall have a place to sleep," continued the padre. 25j Bowie felt overcome. "It is too r" in much," was all he could urge. 0rt" fi: "Far from enough for what you have done. Since you have done it (or these, His little ones, my son, you have done it for Hirn. What ;a religion have you?" '" "Padre, I started right. But how 7"" could I have any left after living all my life on the frontier, far from all religion? As a boy I slept on the W plains and fought Indians and rode igf with cattle . . ." vw- He did not finish he felt he might j say too much. "You leave me most grateful, "let pa(jre," he added, "yet with but anon i3 na & i, one sore need. riTiiy. "What is VnatV' UliJi: "Powder and ball. Padre. We , a, f. need some protection from savages and wild animals." jE "You shall have both. But you will take no human life except in Ilegb defense of your own do you prom- w:ii ise me that?" "I promise." y,,. "Padre," added Bowie gravely, . "I'd like to ask one question." o. "What is that, my son?" "May I ask your name?" itm. "Padre Vicente Pasqual." " "Are there many men in California Califor-nia like you?" "Not so many as there used to ybe. There are now but few Franciscan Fran-ciscan padres in Alta California." rAn r Bowie looked sheepish. "I didn't !S. fir. mean exactly that, Padre. I meant, are there many men who would do ic triMi idjjtpn for a stranger what you are doing 'belpte f0r me? If there are' 1 d like t0 jar onp meet more of them. Or better, be c '! fixed myself to do something for Mr. Sb' them, if olm!' or. !!' i' open i- The streets of Monterey were alive with strange-looking men men from every quarter of the globe f . -when Bowie, followed by his star- j jjj ing scouts, soug ht the office of Thomas 0. Larkir, respected citizen ... of Monterey, enient -: Frontiersmen, removed from their J, habitat of desert, valley and mountain moun-tain and thrown into city streets, are jjJ as confused as children. The Tex-ans Tex-ans themselves were objects of curi-' curi-' osity to other men of the capital. ikiC'l Their garb, in part Californian, thanks to the kindness of the mis-iil' mis-iil' s'onerS and m Part reflecting the f Jff hardships of the desert trail; their long-barreled and carefully carried ajj rifles and powder horns; and the JIM long deep-sheathed knives suspend-ed suspend-ed from their belts were a novelty to the naval officers, the seafaring Yankees, the Mexican supernumer-aries supernumer-aries and the rancheros who, ever averse to walking, rode richly ca- tah Parisoned horses up and down the narrow streets. inW Bowie himself, though more so-ai,b' so-ai,b' Phisticated than his scouts, found jjjfr much to gaze at. His eye swept as ; the beautiful harbor. Within it lay d( ' 8 coasting vessel from San Bias, a Lower California port. A shrewd-5 shrewd-5 '' looking Yankee trader with sails innocently in-nocently furled, trim and fast sail- ing, doubtless hailed from Boston. A Clipper-built ship from Hong Kong and the Sandwich Islands lay under fte bluff, and, most interesting of y' a" to the young Texan, a United ) States sloP of . war, rocked by a gentle swell, surveyed the harbor A scene from a dignified distance. rVil Ttle coaster brought soldiers, ?;-.,VJ freight and dispatches from Mexico, ;?.; 1 8nt! Passengers from San Diego, San a edro and Santa Barbara. The Yan-' Yan-' - ' ee trader brought merchandise for :?:?i3 tS yle to merchants of Monterey and . rba Buena, for barter with Cali-,Ia Cali-,Ia ranoheros and the missions iSf r Santa Clara, San Francisco de rr;i y and San Jose. The Yankee 'S4 ,'Pper brought from the Orient the 3,; en stuffs of Cathay for the fur-r fur-r adornment of women already nolable in beauty, dignity and arm that they dazzled the im-gination im-gination of every traveler who vis- California and attempted to de-,, de-,, nbe its women. The sloop of war I if , Jas there for a purpose; but a pur-P"se pur-P"se unknown to any not in the coun-,. coun-,. cf very elect. ' rt'6 f0Und Larkin at his home ,11 " Was received in the darkened ; j3 or- Perhaps the Spanish-speak- jfH0 ? women of California had an in- l ""ed fear of sunshine, for even '' ,n ' c r a Century of expatriation from mm flnd Mexico thev still fear it in their California living rooms. Or perhaps the aversion was born of sad experience with Yankee-dyed fabrics, their colors too perishable for the honest sunshine of the Pacific slope. When Larkin entered the room Bowie introduced himself and his companions. "Mr. Larkin, you know General Sam Houston?" suggested the Texan. "By reputation, yes. Do you come from him?" "I come from him. Mr. Larkin, we've broken away from the greasers greas-ers down our way. We're flying our own flag in Texas. I'm here just to learn what I can and report back to the man that sent me." Larkin studied his visitor closely. "What are your credentials, Mr. Bowie?" he asked. "All In my head. I was directed to speak to you and make no move without your sanction. Had I brought any writing with me and been caught by the greasers it would have gone hard. By pulling together, Mr. Larkin, Texans and Californians can establish an empire that will reach from the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of California. That's what some of our people have got in their heads. That's the reason I'm in California." He waited for Larkin's response. The latter hesitated some moments. mo-ments. When he spoke his attitude was not unfriendly but plainly it was not enthusiastic. "Things are very different with us here in California from what they were in Texas when you started start-ed your fight. Most of our white men are not greasers, as you call them. They are of Spanish blood, just as white as you and I. These big land grants near here anyway, in several cases that I know of come direct from the king of Spain. When you talk about changing the flag you've got to deal with Califor-nianos Califor-nianos of that kind of blood and let me tell you, they hate the Yankees like poison. They are the kindest-hearted, kindest-hearted, most generous people in the world, but they don't want to get mixed up with .Russians or English or Yankees. They are proud, and they are gentlemen, and they are very independent. So you see what little there is in any situation here, just at present, to interest General Houston. "At the same time you will see, if you stay a while, as I strongly advise you to do, that things are kind of well, say unsettled here, just as they are down your way. There's no denying that. What's going go-ing to come out of it no man can tell much better than you can. Bowie offered a few of his own thoughts. "I'm beginning to like this country. I'm going to stay a while, anyway. I'd like to live among the kind of people you describe. But I'll admit right off, I'm death on greasers and Indians." "Well, boys, we're here," remarked re-marked Bowie that evening to his two scouts. "There's nothing to take us back to Texas till we look around. And inasmuch as the sovereign sov-ereign republic of Texas has not supplied its ambassaJors with any funds, we'll have to forge along, best we can. We've got our rifles and, thanks to old Padre Pasqual, a little powder. You can see for yourselves, your-selves, boys, there's plenty of game in this country for everybody; I reckon nobody will object to our taking tak-ing our share." Bowie's wound in his shoulder, long neglected, called urgently for a surgeon's care. The American frontiersman fron-tiersman never gave a wound much attention; he had, without asking, the best of remedial agents at hand: the pure air of the plains and mountains moun-tains and the hardiest of constitutions. constitu-tions. Neglect, not care, was the rule for any wound not completely disabling. But Bowie had for once relied too much on nature unaided and at Monterey Mon-terey was obliged to seek a surgeon. sur-geon. Fortunately for him a good one was at hand; Larkin introduced Bowie to him. Dr. Doane was an Irishman and justly proud of it, and he took an Irishman's fancy to Bowie. The doctor was a good prober,, both physically and mentally. He had been a world traveler and was a man of parts. "I suppose I ought to say. Doctor Doc-tor " began Bowie, "that I haven't, just at present, got a cent in the world." "Did I say anything about money?" mon-ey?" demanded Doane sharply. "Take off your shirt," After some weeks Bowie complained com-plained that the doctor's treatment was taking a good deal of his (Doane's) time. "Young man, you ought to be thanking God you haven't lost an arm instead of talking about the tirne it has taken to save it, napped Doane. "You Texans hear, are a quick-trigger lot But some things take time. How do you like California? What brought you out here? Why do you talk about going back to Texas?" The doctor asked questions in hunches Bowie was slow in giving Ws confidence, but he finally did so. Doane was immensely interested, but he took Larkin's view of Hous-ton's Hous-ton's dream. And why did he send you out here as ambassador? Are you , in the general's cabinet?" asked the doctor. is likely to rain what do they say in Texas? pitchforks." While the Californian spoke he sat his horse with the ease of one seasoned sea-soned to the high-peaked Spanish saddle. His trappings were elaborate; elabo-rate; the eyes of the two scouts were glued on them. Saddle and bridle were richly chased in silver. Bowie, without overlooking these things of interest, paid closer attention at-tention to the horseman himself. He was young and dandified it was just his unaffected good nature that checked in the rough-and-ready Bowie any feeling of resentment at his highly particular rig. His hat, with its low crown and broad, straight, severe brim, seemed in keeping with the dignity of the wearer. His aspect was dark, but his mustachios, the most commanding com-manding of his rather small features, fea-tures, were of contrasting lighter color and lent something agreeable to the frank, open expression of his eyes. His voice, as he chatted, was pleasant. The youth wore a short dark bolero bo-lero jacket heavily embroidered in silver and knee breeches edged below be-low with silver lace. His soft buckskin buck-skin leggings were highly but pleasingly pleas-ingly stamped with the fanciful df-vices df-vices of a Mexican artisan. From head to foot he presented a picture of distinction and detail, yet he was quite simple in manner. "I see," said the Californian presently. pres-ently. "You are hunters." "That's why we are heading for the hills," explained Bowie, "to bring in some game and," he added jokingly, "among other things, to h-uy some salt." "I love to hunt," returned the don. "And nothing I like better than the hunter's supper out in the open, like this. In fact, I confess it was envy that turned me up this way when I saw the fire and the party, though I was far from being in hunter's rig myself." "Where," asked Bowie, "did you learn so much English?" "I have a sister married to a Boston Bos-ton man, a ship-owner. I had two years at Georgetown University." "Georgetown! I had one year there myself," said Bowie. "May ask your name?" "Francisco Estradillo; and yours, senor?" "Henry Bowie. I'm a long way from Texas. This is Ben Pardaloe, and this is Simmie." Francisco nodded. "My uncle, Don Ramon Estrada, lives not far from here about ten miles. I am visiting him. You are on his rancho. You tell me you are hunting. Day after tomorrow we are to have a hunt at the rancho. You should join us. Come! Why sleep out tonight? Come with me to Don Ramon's." The Estrada rancho, a royal grant, embraced a tract eleven leagues by eleven leagues. The two-story two-story ranch house crowned the brow of a gentle rise in the fertile Santa Clara Valley and looked toward the distant heights of Santa YsabeL To the north of the ranch house a group of buildings sheltered the Indian In-dian servants and the vaqueros. Don Francisco did not escape a wetting. It was raining hard when he rode with his three Texans up to the ranch house and. first of all, despite de-spite the downpour, looked up quarters quar-ters for his guests. Pardaioe ana Simmie he lodged with the vaqueros : Bowie he took with him to his own room in the ranch house, i (TO DF. CW.Vn.Vi. EUJ Houston through. He gave me a captain's furbelow." "But there's no peace down there now, is there?" Bowie smiled. "Not so you could notice it. It's guerilla fighting a good deal of the time along the border. bor-der. The greasers are busy in bunches all the time, and our rangers rang-ers cut up once in a while. But no other man in California knows that much about me. So forget, it please." CHAPTER VI Bowie disappeared from California Califor-nia as silently as he had come to it; but he did not forget the Irish doctor. In fact, eight years later Bowie appeared once more at the door of Doane's office with as little ceremony as if he had left it the day before. There was laughing and greeting; then something close to a fight. Bowie, about to take his leave after a happy hour of talk, threw a bag of coin on the table. The doctor's ear was alert to the clink. "What's this, son?" "Souvenirs of the Rio Grande, Doctor." "Hold on. Keep your souvenirs, son." "They are to cicatrize that old Indian In-dian wound, Doctor." "That old wound is outlawed. So is the fee. I never want to hear of either again. I mean it." "So do I mean it, Doctor." The words grew warm. Both were inflexible. It was finally agreed to leave the Spanish doubloons in the doctor's safe in suspense, and after a bottle of wine and a lunch at Da Guerre's the old cordiality which had never really been impaired-reasserted impaired-reasserted itself. "So you've come back," mused the doctor. "Glad you had that much sense. Henry, this is the garden gar-den spot of the world. What are you going to do?" "I don't know yet I've heard talk of a man up the river who built a little fort up there and is dealing deal-ing in furs. I've got the same scouts with me. They're trappers and want to look the thing over. The man up there is a Swiss and I hear him well spoken of." The following day Bowie traded in the travel-worn horses of the long trail for fresh stock. In the afternoon, with his two scouts, Pardaloe Par-daloe and Simmie, Bowie headed north for Sutter's place up the river. riv-er. They traveled light meaning to depend on their rifles for food in a country rich in game. They campei early in the evening on a hillside near a clump of live oaks, and while Pardaloe skinned a rabbit one of a brace he had brought in for the evening meal, Simmie cut up the other and Bowie built a fire. A stone's throw below where they had camped, a well-marked well-marked trail wound around the brow of the hill, and while they broiled their meat impaled over the fire on pointed sticks, two horsemen appeared ap-peared on the trail below In the dusk of the evening these mm saw ; the clow of the small fire and, turn- |