Adventure Magazine Cover — page 126: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

precisely in two was a thin trickle of water that bubbled up at one end and sank out of sight at the other. 3 The pony whinnied his joy and telescoped his spotted neck to drink. In my own way I was glad to stretch my cramped limbs and to wet in the blackish rill my tongue and the handkerchief about my head. But, regaining my feet, I was sharply mortified at almost falling = the ground with the brittle feeling of my egs. To conceal such evident show of equestrian amateurishness from the eyes of the oncoming bucks, who seemed more-at home on horseback than on foot, I leaned against the pinto and made ado to refold the blanket over his bony ridge. Then the sleepiness staraped out of my legs and the pony lifting his narrow head and dribbling water with prodigal satiety from thick lips, I cinched up the girth a notch or two and turned inquiringly to the high priest. “Is this where we are to meet up with Ichcapilli and his scouts?” I asked. “No, sefior,” he shook his mud curls. “We have the great Salina, that vast dazzling field of salt to cross, ere we come to the mesquite sm of rendezvous which is far larger than I approached the girl, who had recovered her composure. “Let us ride on, you and I, Mariquita,” I urged, “‘as I am most eager to hear the con- clusion of your tragic story.” I had noticed that Metztli was eying us oddly, but I did not think aught of it until now when, addressing him, Mariquita re- quested permission to ride ahead without wait- ing for the bucks, two by two, to come up and water their horses. “What is the sharp hurry, la Caballera del Sol?” he returned suspiciously, looking from the girl to me and back again. I thought for a trice he suspected us of plotting together some treachery or desertion. But no; he knew as well as we that, not only were Mariquita and I just two against a hun- dred, but more, even had we contemplated such a thing the desert of sand was too open to allow of running away. What then could be actuating him, sharpening his black eyes with cold calculating light, fluttering his mind with suspicions? Was it mere jealousy of his own authority? I took a chance on this last. “Of course, sezior don sacerdote,’ I said with: polite humility, “if you purpose remaining here for a while, fearing the Japanese may sight us should we draw closer in the sunlight to their encampment, I would not think of going ahead, nor of doing anything else that might hurt or upset your plans.” He shot me a narrow glance. “We are still too far off,” he snapped, “‘for the yellow men to see us. It is not that, Adventure e Aas sevior. But why should you two be so desirous ~ of riding on before the rest of us? Is it because — you and Mariquita have found some interest — = 2 co a in common more engrossing than this crusade a of the Guiacuras?” What it was all about dawned on me then. The high priest was simply the victim of jealousy. But not jealousy of his own au-— Es: thority. He was suffering all the cold envy of a rejected suitor watching the apparent suc- — ‘a os cesses of another. Mariquita and I were getting on too famously for his peace of mind. I might have chuckled outright at the idea, but just then on the very heels of it, came a thought that sobered me surprizingly. Ill ‘Sg ae admit Metztli was by no means a dashing look- ing suitor as he stood there glowering with envy in breech-clout and red, blue and yellow . balbriggan underwear, his hair done out in baked mud curls; but he was the leader of these Indians, and it struck me that maybe behind Mariquita’s refusal of his well-intentioned and no doubt altogether respectful proffer of mar- x riage, was something more compelling than any sense of the ridiculous. ing, perhaps, and irrefragable; for instance, the immutable fact that she was married already to the Mexican lieutenant, Serafin Dicenta! I looked at the girl in dismay that startled me with its profundity. She was shaking her sombreroed head in mild reproof of the priest. “Oh, Metztli,” she said, a trifle provoked but still good-natured, “it is only that the senor is interested in what is now a twice-told tale to you—the story of my tragic days in the homeland of Mexico. If you will but lead the . way, O Reflector of the Sun, we:shall be glad to follow in your tracks. But there is hardly any need, do you think, for us:to wait until all the hombres have watered their beasts.” Thus, through Mariquita’s diplomacy, it was arranged and once more to the crunch of hoof- ploughed sand, the slight creaking of her leather saddle, the girl went on with the recital: SSG 3@eem8: bowl-crowned, round-brimmed felt hat Dy as and long sable cassock, trudged up to the Valley of the Eagles, that lowering Spring afternoon, he came prepared to perform the sacred ceremony of marriage; but his first duty he found was to sprinkle holy water and read a last litany over the rude pine box that held all the earthly remains of El Cenizo. Then the crude coffin was placed in the - cement family vault up the valley alongside the rich cabinets of Mariquita’s mother and grand- father; and the priest walked back to the gray, stone casa with the girl. “My heart sobs for you my child,” he said, “vet my lips stumble at utterance. But mz alma, what use are words, anyhow, to lighten the weight of a cross!” COMICLMOOOkKS It was something bind- _ WHEN Father Pio Abogado, in black — eye * . ae, com og Sy 4 s ms mad ae pee + Pot Fm