Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

South, West and North 39 of the cathedral glistened in the sunlight, and to right and left were handsome suburban residences and gardens, the morn- ing air sweet with the scent of flowers and oranges. Another mile, and they came to the huge arching span of the stone bridge, and went on past the tower to where the road nar- rowed between walls to the moat and gate, where barefoot soldiers, clad in dirty white, uniform caps of blue and red, sustained the dignity of the sovereign republic of New Granada. The gates were open and the soldiers more interested in dice than in en- trants, however, and no question was asked as the two friends passed through to th narrow streets of the city. : Here the tremendous influx of foreign ele- ments was at once evident. There seemed to be only a sprinkling of little brown men, most of them barefoot, and native women cloaked in rebosos; everywhere were foreign- ers, with Americans predominating. The majority of these were swaggering about, enjoying themselves and spending money in great style; but from comments he caught in passing, and a few emaciated skeletons whom he observed, Hampton concluded that the camp on the beach would tell a different story. Neither he nor Warlock saw any one whom they knew, and having first to find the Inn of the Golden Pome- granates, directed their inquiries to this end. The Street of the Brothers proved to be a tortuous and narrow lane behind the plaza, and not far from the ramparts where the brazen Spanish cannon glittered in the sun- light. Passing down this lane, the two men came presently to their objective—a small and unpromising fonda which was obviously given over to the peon trade, with numbers of Indians and mestizos sprawling about. Finding himself confronted by a wrinkled little old man, Hampton asked for Juan d’Aquila. “T am he, sefiores,”’ said the other, with a scrape, and a half-scowl. ‘‘We are from El] Hambre.” Instantly the demeanor of their host passed from suspicion into hurried affabili- ty. He conducted them to a door, which led into a passage, and so into a very clean room with pink-painted ceiling and enor- mous netted bed. Relieving them of their packs, d’Aquila set out chairs and bowed. ““Sefiores, my house is yours, and all in it. Shall I bring food and wine before talking?” It was by this time noon, and Hampton assented gladly. D’Aquila left, speedily to return with cakes, fruit and wine. Then, while they ate, he rolled cigaritos for them and talked. He was a little, gentle old Indian, full of wisdom. “You are from that nephew of mine, an therefore it is a matter for discretion,” he said smilingly. ‘I suppose he knows that the police are seeking him?” Hampton nodded. “Yes, but he is to meet us here at nine tonight. Can you sup- ply us with a room that will be private?” “This is my own room; it is yours.” “Good. We shall return here, and to- night two or three men may come asking for us, at nine o’clock. They will ask for me, Don Ricardo; admit them, for they are friends. That is all.” “Except,” said Warlock, “to tell us where there is a house in this street called the House of Yellow Tiles. Who lives there?” D’ Aquila shrugged: “Tt is an old house at the farther end of the street, sefores, and once belonged to the family of Guzman; now it is rented to no one knows whom—a family from down the coast, some say. They are rarely seen, and are not here often, though I heard today that the house was open.” Disappointed in this, Hampton rose, for he meant to waste no time getting in touch with some of the Beverly company men; so, bidding d’Aquila adios, he returned to the street with Job Warlock, and they began to make inquiries from the obvious Ameri- cans sauntering past. They discovered that their search must depend upon luck alone. The various companies reaching Panama tried to keep together, but it was impossible. ‘The hotels were crowded, rooms of aJl sorts were at a high premium, and hundreds of men were camped out along the beach, while those who could afford to do so had gone over to Tobago Island to get out of the Panama fever-zone. The two friends consulted, and decided to separate. ‘(We've no time to lose, and one of us will be sure to get results,” said Job Warlock. “Whichever one of us finds the crowd, tell ’em to be at the inn at nine—that right? Then, where will you and me meet up?” “At the inn, or failing that, at the se- fiora’s house at five.”’ Warlock grinned. Comicbooks.c© in