Adventure Magazine Cover — page 173: what you’re looking at

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

The Mahogany Garden habiliments of haciendados, were ascending the stair, and four others, evidently serv- ants, were leading away the horses and mules. As nearly as he could make out in the dim light the party had been on a hard ride, and before they entered the house the three men thrashed their clothing to get off the dust. One of these was squat, mas- sive and wore a heavy square black beard; the others were younger and slighter men —evidently the master of the house and his sons. Haskell noted that they were well armed, bearing pistols on hip and leaving three carbines leaning against the stone newel at the right of the foot of the stair. Rapidly he dressed and, when silence had fallen over the place, he stepped from the room and reconnoitered. No one was in sight save the porter squatted by the gate asleep. Acting on impulse the engineer stepped quickly down to the carbines, threw the bolts and drew out the firing-pins; then he returned to his room and waited. Soon the songs of the peons on their way to the henequen fields rose and died away, the household servants began to appear and the two daughters came forth on the gallery from a door on the other side of the court. Next Encarnacion came to his door bringing a bowl of fruit and pieces of bread browned through and through, and a mug of milk and coffee. “Don Felipe is home, I see,’”’ remarked Haskell as he ate. “Si, sefor,’ was the Indian’s" sole re- sponse, and, try as he would, the engineer could not draw him into conversation. When the Maya had gone Haskell lighted a cigar and began to ponder his best course in the face of the baffling strangeness of all that had happened. The question was whether to take the bull by the horns at once or to pursue the policy he had begun the night before when he had pretended not to be aware of the knife-blows. He decided to let circumstances guide him and, leaving the middle buttons of his jacket unloosed so that he could draw with proper speed if matters came to a sudden climax, he strolled forth on the gallery. CHAPTER III MORE WARNINGS UST around the pillars of the corner he beheld a pretty sight. Holding a parrot on one forefinger, Sefiorita Ortegas y 737 Escalendon stood leaning against the par- apet, feeding the creature berries from the other hand. Her hair was bound in heavy braids about her little head, and her simple clinging tunic revealed the exquisite lines | of her body sufficiently to complete a pose of the utmost grace. In her creamy cheeks shone a faint color, and her eyes were dan- cing as she teased the bird. At the sound of his step she turned, and Haskell meant that she should read the admiration in his eyes. Her lowered lids and heightened color signified that his wish was granted. “Buenos dias, senorita,” he said cheerily. “Good morning, sefior; we hope that you rested well in our house last night.” Haskell said that he had and spoke of the beauty of the morning. Then, with his eyes on her face to catch its most vagrant expres- sion, he asked whether the master of the house was among the men who had arrived at dawn. Her lower lip quivered a trifle, her eyes grew shadowed and after a quick glance at him she said, as if addressing the bird: ‘Don Felipe is now in the house.” ‘And may I see him soon to take up my business with him?” She put her hand on his arm witha quick, detaining, protesting gesture, and as quickly withdrew it. ‘Oh, sefior, you must go away! Iam so sorry that you came!” ‘Since I have found you here, sefiorita, I am very, very glad I came,” he answered, putting a purposeful earnestness in his tone. “‘T came here in all innocence and honesty, supposedly at the wish of Don Felipe and all concerned, and I do not see why I should go away until my business is finished. You surprise me by what you say. What do you mean, child?” She shuddered and turned away without answer. Within one of the rooms on the family side there was a peremptory hand-clap, a call in a brutal tone for a servant, followed by a savage, ill-natured oath. The girl shrank as from an imaginary blow and half pointed to the door of the room from which the sounds came. Encarnacion appeared on winged feet to answer the summons. “Is that Don Felipe?” asked Haskell in a hardened tone. “That is the master. I beg you, I implore you to go!” she whispered, trembling and COMMICLOOCKS. EO