Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

624 ate guns which announced the approach of the storm, and far-off thunder growled in the hills. La Cabeza had put on a sullen hood of vapor. Little water had fallen, but enough to spot the streets and send up a sharp alkali scent. It was almost as if the dead earth were crying aloud for drink! But Tyson noted these details with an anxious eye, and then pushed straight for the quarter of the town whcre Rodriguez lived. When he reached the street he commenced walking with downward head, as. one who broods over a great sorrow. As he had expected, Rodeguer sat in his doorway with his guitar across his kness. He rose with a gay shout at the sight of Tyson. | “ Sefior El Oro!” he called, and then, after he had shaken hands: “ What is wrong? Where is your sunshine gone? Why are you so changed, senor?” ‘““T—” began Tyson; then hastily: must not speak!” “1 “So?” and the heavy eyebrows of Rod- ~ riguez lifted. “But I must be on,’”’ murmured Tyson, and turned away. “‘ Senor!’ cried Rodriguez. Oro! What is your sorrow?” Tyson turned slowly back. “TI grieve,” he said sadly, ‘“‘ that so many men should be damned for a sin of which they do not know.” Rodriguez caught his breath. ‘What men—damned?”’ ‘“¢ You—I—all of us who work here!” “Senor El The Mexican crossed himself; his eyes. were starting from his head. “Senor!” he gasped. “‘ Adios, Rodriguez.” ‘But the sin? What sin, sewor?” ‘Tf I should speak it might cause great trouble. I cannot speak.” . “The sin, the sin! Ah, Senor El Oro, open my eyes to my wrong, and I shall go to the good father—’”’ “ Rodriguez,” answered Tyson sternly, as one who sees a divine thing tampered with, “can you undo with prayer daily a sin which you daily work at with your hands?”’ “Merciful Virgin!” breathed the big - ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. man, and drew a noisy beeath through his expanded nostrils. ‘“‘ But I have talked too much,” muttered Tyson. ‘‘ Once more, adios, senor!” But Rodriguez was before him, blocking the way. “You are my friend, senor,” he pleaded. ‘“‘T have seen it many times in your eyes that you are the friend of poor Rodriguez! Tell me all!” “I tell you,” cried Tyson impatiently, “if I should say what I know it might work a great harm. Yet,” he mused, “ you are a good man, Rodriguez. I am sorry for you.” “T have five children. come of them?” “I truly grieve for van, poor Rodri- guez! ” * “In pity, senor!” Tyson bowed his head in a long silence in which he seemed to be struggling with himself. “Then to you, only, Rodriguez, for it tears my heart to think of your damnation. It is the thought of your five children that moves me, my friend.” , “The saints will save thee,” said the Mexican, in a voice that trembled with solemn emotion. ‘‘ Speak, and I shall not breathe a word of it to a man, a woman, or a child.” “Saving your own?” “My own. Yes, yes; saving my own senor.” Tyson drew close. There was a strong scent of strange liqu¢rs and of onions on the breath of Rodriguez, but Tyson con- trolled his shudder and approached his lips to the very ear of the big foreman. “Up the valley of the Chiluah,” he whispered, “there is a holy place.” ‘San Vicente!”” muttered Rodriguez hoarsely. “And the dam,” ‘continued Tyson hur- riedly, ¢ will back the waters high up the valley—will cover San Vicente to the bell- tower. The work of God will be destroyed by the work of man—and on the soul of every worker on the dam there will rest a weight heavier than lead, dragging his eternal spirit down—down—to the fires of hell—to burn forever!” What would TA ehoo