Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

PRIDE OF - TYSON. On the platform on the further side of the warehouse thousands of sacks of ce- ment had recently been dumped, and these were being carted with hand-trucks from _ the outside pile to the interior of the build- ing. The white dust filled the place like a thick fog, and turned the laborers into ghostly figures, powdered from head to foot. The endless chain of feke turned stead- ily between the pile and the neat stacks of sacks inside; they could make out that in the weighted inward journey the men were silent—the breath jolted from their lungs, but as they turned back each man struck into the song of the moment. Garth re- garded the scene with a somber eye. ‘What does it mean?’’ asked Harris, white of face. ‘Mutiny inside of twenty-four hours,” responded Garth curtly. ‘ These brown devils are never. happy except when they’re planning mischief. Go find Rodriguez and ask him what he means by letting this run on unreported? No, Ill go with you!” Rodriguez, a redoubtable half-breed fa- mous for his grim temper and his skill with the knife, they found perched on a stack of empty sacks, his black hair powdered white with dust, his dark face similarly discolored, and raised in a minstrel ecstasy while he boomed out the ‘strains of La Paloma—‘ The Dove!”’ Across his knees he held a banjo with two strings missing, and kept some sort of accompaniment upon this instrument. The large hand of Garth fell upon the dusty shoulder of his over- seer. But to the astonishment of the big boss, Rodriguez turned his ugly face, still sing- ing, and still singing he slowly swung him- self down from the stack of sacks. not till that round of the song ended that he permitted himself to speak, or to be spoken to. “What does it mean?” asked Garth, too astonished to show his anger at once. ‘‘ Te- quila? And you, too, Rodriguez?” But the eye of Rodriguez was not dulled by the familiar, deadly film of tequila. He stared blankly on his chief. ‘All this damned singing,” went on Garth, -with rising wrath, and his voice bad? See!” It was. 73 thundered over the wailing song. - ‘‘ What does it mean, Rodriguez? Are you all drunk? Is it tequila again?” ‘ Tequila?” laughed Rodriguez, shaking his head. ‘“ Ah, no, senor. ‘The golden one?” growled Garth, “What the devil does he mean by that, Harris?”’ Then he turned again and bent a grim eye upon Rodriguez to make sure that there was no mockery in the man. The Mexican, be it known, loves a jest, but he is only too apt to point his jokes with a knife. ‘Are you angry, Sefior Garth?” said Rodriguez anxiously. ‘Is the singing And he gestured toward the line of truckmen. “Is it ever before known that they worked so fast?” The laborers, indeed, were swinging along at a rapid pace. “Too fast,” rumbled Garth. ‘“ Too damned fast. Looks like tequila. And if it is——-you’ll sweat for it, Rodriguez.” “Tequila?” The eloquent shoulders of Rodriguez went up. “Liars have brought tales of me to the Sefior Garth. No, it is not tequila. It is El Oro.” He pointed to a figure that passed sing- ing, in a wraith of cement dust, trundling his hand-truck along. CHAPTER XIII. EL ORO. L ORO!” announced the foreman to - Garth. “El Oro—the Golden One,” translated ~ Garth for the benefit of Harris, and he stepped forward with the younger man at his side. The name El Oro evidently came from the color of the man’s _ hair, through the cement dust it showed a bright yellow, shining where an occasional ray of sun slid between a crack in the roof of gal- vanized iron, and splashed upon the work- ers here and there. It was Henry Tyson, and Garth cursed once, briefly, and with _ profound emotion. Tyson had an appearance of wild gaiety, viewed from a distance, with his head tilt- ing back as he sang, but as he came oppe- cComiclboooks It is E] Oro!” © for even (©