Friday, June 21, 1940 SOUTHERN OREGON MINER Page 8 S IV ir Star Are Prize \\ innere By FRANK H. SPEARMAN SYNOPSIS Don Alfredo, wealthy. Spanish owner of a Southern California rancho, refuses to heed several warnings of a raid by a band of outlaw. Sierra Indians One day after be has Anally decided to seek the protection of the nearby mission for his wife and family, the Indians strike Don Alfredo is killed and his two young daughters are torn from the arms of the family's faithful maid. Monica and are carried away to the hills Padre PasquaU missionary friend of the fam­ ily. arrives at th« ruins of the ranch. CHAPTER II—( ontinud © Frani H. Spesrmsn to the presidio. And my dear mis­ tress. she is lost, lost. And my love­ ly, lovely children! My Carmelita lost forever!” “And Dona Juana, where is she now?” asked the padre patiently. “In the home of her sister. Dona Teresa, at the presidio. I walked all the way back here today to find, if possible, some garments for my unhappy mistress." “And had Don Alfredo no warn­ ing of this attack?” pursued the padre. Monica almost shrieked as she clasped her hands. "Warning upon warning, Don Alfredo had! For a week I warned him. The cook told me the attack would come. I begged my master to flee with the family to the presidio. He only laughed. Have I not had for a time the boy of the chief Sobriano here in my household?* he would say to me. 'Sobriano will control the young men. He will not allow them to at­ tack us. We are as safe as Los Alamos, Monica, as they are at the presidio.' "Only Sunday night the cook said to me: Tomorrow they come!' I told Don Alfredo. The Señora begged him to heed the warnings. He was impatient but he yielded. Tomorrow morning, then, we will go. querida mia.' he told her. And then—next morning when he went to get the horses they swept down on us. Woe to Los Alamos!” Diego asked a question—his first —in the Indian tongue. Monica an­ swered in Spanish. “It was that boy.” she cried, “that Indian flend, Yosco! Still my master would have escaped with his life but for him. When Don Alfredo and the two va­ queros saw the Indians come they fled to the house for firearms. Yos­ co, accursed boy, barred the front door against them! They could not get into the house; they were slaugh­ tered. all three, on the portico be­ fore the barred door—barred by this ’ young fiend. And this morning, back he came to steal the silver in the house. I caught him. It Is he that I was beating, and now be has escaped.” The three moved slowly on through the wheat toward the ranch house. WNU Servie. likely hiding from panthers. Don't waste ammunition. We've none to spare.” “AU right, Simmie," murmured Pardaloe, addressing the Creek by his nickname, “you stalk him.” Minute after minute passed, with Bowie and the scout anxiously wait­ ing. The mere prospect of food had so excited the dormant salivary glands of the hungry men that each minute after the first was almost torture. Yet both knew no more could be done than the Indian would do. If the scout Pardaloe tried to help the stalk he might only spoil things. They must wait and lick their hopeful chops. “What's keeping him half an hour like this?" grumbled Pardaloe. “Half an hour nothing. Ben. Pa­ tience," counseled Bowie. The words had barely left his lips when they heard the distant crack of a rifle. In a moment both men were run­ ning in the direction from which the report had come. It was some job to keep up with Pardaloe's long legs. He was as graceful as a camel, but the ground he could cover in an emergency was a caution. When, by dint of calling and answering, two hungry men found the Indian, he was ac­ tively cutting up the handsome buck. The scout needed no instructions. He put down his rifle* and began hunting chips for a fire. Bowie got his flint and tinder ready. "No, 1 don't feel like traveling to­ day. Been traveling for three weeks now. Today I put away for eatin'. What say. Injun?" Pardaloe spoke after the first hour of a repast that promised to last “Padre, first make sure bad In­ dians are gone. They might kill you." cautioned Diego. “No, no," exclaimed the padre, as near impatience as he ever allowed himself to stray. “That is nothing, nothing!" "They might kill me, Padre,” sug­ gested Diego darkly. As the wind, blowing in a gust, dies suddenly into calm, the mis­ sion veteran changed. "True, Di­ ego," he murmured, gently re­ proachful of himself. “You might be in danger. Remain here, hidden in the wheat. I will go forward and report if there is danger.” Both men were striving for their own ends: the padre to keep his devoted servant from harm, Diego to keep his infirm master from harm. "Tell me. Diego," said the padre, agitated, “can you see anyone?” "I see a woman and a boy. They are fighting. She holds him and beats him with a stick.” “It is Monica.” said Diego in his staccato accents. “Now the boy gets loose. He is running. She chases. He is running into the wheat to hide. Slower, Padre. Have care! You wiD fall!” Protests were lost on the aged man. With his bands outstretched in eager appeal as he stumbled on he sought to stay the angry Monica. She was already in the tall wheat, furiously pursuing her escaping vic­ tim. The two were running down the trail through the grain which must soon bring them into the pad­ re’s arms when his shout reached the ears of both pursued and pur­ suer. The Boy, seeing the advancing priest, halted, dumfounded. But only CHAPTER III for an instant—then, tearing into the tall grain with the swiftness of a Too cold and too hungry to sleep, rabbit, he could only be followed Bowie sat looking into his dying with the eye as the swaying wheat campfire, speculating on what still heads told of his Bight might be ahead of him and his com­ Monica dashed ahead. Even the panions. His thoughts reverted less sight of the padre did not check her willingly to what he had left be­ hysteria. "Diego!” she cried loudly hind: the acute agony of thirst, the to the padre's neophyte. “After steady gnawing of hunger, the fiend­ him! Do not let him go!” ish heat of the desert, the killing of Diego stared but made no move. the last pony for food. He looked at the rapid parting of But at least the horror of this was the grain heads that marked the behind him. The mountains could boy's race to escape; but most of not be worse; they might be better. I all he stared at the strange Monica The sky was overcast and the in front of him. Her scant gown night air. drifting silently down from was in rags. Her features were the higher Sierras, chilled him to distorted with grief and rage. Her the bone. On the other side of the “Monica, what is the meaning eyes, strained and tear stained, campfire embers, stretched asleep of this?” bulged in their sockets, and still she on the rocky ground, lay a lanky shouted at Diego in the Indian Missourian, the scout, Ben Parda- all day. "I'll ask you one question. tongue as she pointed after the flee­ loe, with his feet so close to tne Henry,” continued Pardaloe after getting no response from Simmie, ing boy. fire that it seemed as if they might "Woman!" exclaimed Padre Pas- blaze up any minute. His sleep was and speaking now to Bowie. “Be we quaL "Woman!” he repeated in fitful, like that of a famished man. or been't we in Califomy?” Bowie was disposing of a venison sterner command, for she scarcely unlike his normal sleep with which heeded him. “What are you do­ Bowie, after three weeks of hard shank. “Ben," he said reassuring­ ing? Who are you?” camp life, had grown too familiar. ly. “we 'be.' Where did you think The half-crazed creature suddenly Pardaloe, tall and gaunt, twisted you 'be'?” Pardaloe, gnawing at what was looked at him. The stick dropped and turned, drew up his legs and from her grasp. She clasped both thrust them desperately out again. left on the bone of his venison sad­ hands to her haggard face and with From his open mouth there issued dle, spoke at ease. “Well, up to a dreadful cry threw herself pros­ sighs and burbles. Even the famil­ about a hour ago I thought I was trate on the ground at the padre's iar snore was lacking; Ben was too in helL But I guess this must be Californy Things seem to be corn­ feet. weak to snore. “Who—who,” gasped the sorely The third man. Bob Simms, a in' our way since Simmie brought bewildered priest, “are you?” half-breed Creek Indian, lay sleep­ down this deer. Now. boys,” he “Padre.” said the stolid Diego col­ ing more quietly a little apart from added precatorily, “hang on to ev­ lectedly, "do you not know? It is the restless scout — not, perhaps, ery scrap of this meat—every scrap; Monica.” more inured to hunger and hard­ might not sight another for a week. “Impossible!" exclaimed the pad­ ship than his fellow adventurers Mountains is big around here, they re. “Monica whom I have known but certainly more stoical in endur­ sure are. The highest is behind us. And I say, now while our stomachs for so many years—whom I bap­ ance. tized! Aid her, Diego. Rise, my Hunger and the piercing night air is full, push on till we get down poor child. Rise! Speak!” presently roused Bowie from a trou­ where there's plenty of game. We’re “Monica!” he exclaimed as Diego bled sleep. He started off to find started downhill but we're too high yet by near a mile, and going down­ helped the sobbing woman to her kindling chips. uncertain feet. “Monica! What is Later, while he was stumbling hill a mile is a long way unless you the meaning of this? What is the along in the faint light of dawn, fall down.” meaning of this? Where are your feeling here and there as his feet Pardaloe stretched out on the master and mistress?" kicked into fragments of bark and ground. “If I had a pipe of tobacco Monica, falling again to her trem­ rotten branches fallen from trees, I’d call this a fair enough country. bling knees, lifted her face as she he became aware of an object dis­ But there’s too much snow on them caught at his right hand. “Woe is tantly silhouetted against the eastern high fellers—nights are too blamed me. Padre! My master cruelly slain! horizon. Noiselessly he sank flat to cold. Well, Henry”—so the scout ad­ My mistress shamed unto death. the ground to look and listen. He dressed Bowie—"if you say go, it's Carmelita, Terecita, stolen by the thought the thing might be alive. go; but give me one more hour at wicked Indians. Only Alfredito left Some moments passed before he this deer—then I’ll make a start. Woe to Los Alamos!” Lazily, but with a more hopeful could determine. Luckily he had it Stunned, the missioner and the ne­ between him and the light. Patience view of life, the little party of Tex­ ophyte listened to the horrible re­ and the rapidly growing dawn re­ ans made their way down the west­ cital of the murders of the day be­ warded his vision. He was able to ern slope of the Sierras. The dif­ fore. see the object more clearly. Nor ference between empty stomachs Padre Pasqual listened to the end. was he long in identifying with it a and full stomachs cheered them on He stood infirmly, leaning again on pair of antlers. Caution was nec­ their way, and the substantia) re­ his staff with heart and mind lifted essary. The adventurers were mains of their feast they carried in to heaven, poured out his grief in starved men. They had not tasted sacks, crudely skewered from the prayer to his Maker. meat for ten days nor food for more buck’s hide. The awesome spectacle of the ven­ than three days; that buck meant It was a rough and forbidding ter­ erable man, heart-broken but silent, relief from hunger pangs. rain they were following. “Ain’t seen in petition before his God steadied He crept stealthily back to camp, hide nor hair of a livin' critter all Monica. if such their halting place for the day,” Ben rambled on as the sun “At last,” she said, gasping with night might be called. Since sleep is sank in the west. “Well, we chewed emotion, “the soldiers came. Alfre­ the only substitute for food and dry leather three days after we fin­ dito brought them. The house is drink his companions were still ished your pony, Henry,” he said to burned; the quarters and the gran­ asleep. He shook the scout care­ Bowie. “Guess fresh deer hide will ary are burned. They rode away fully and with a cautioning “Hist!” keep us goin’. Why ain't this a good to pursue the savages; Alfredito The suppressed sound woke the In­ place to camp for the night, right rode with them. Oh, Padre, he is so dian also. Ben Pardaloe stirred. here? What say, Henry? Here's wa­ brave, the poor boy. He worshiped “Wake up, Ben,” whispered Bowie. ter handy.” his mother and his little sisters. “A buck. Wake up, Simmie,” he Bowie was willing to camp, and What—what will become of them? added to the Creek, "a buck.” the peaceful Simmie never inter­ The soldiers followed the trail far Not a word answered him; no fur­ posed objection on a minor point. into the hills, but in the mountains ther word was needed. The two men The spot they had reached was the Indians fought and wounded so were on their feet together. They close to the brink of a long ledge many soldiers with their arrows, picked up their cold rifles. "Wh ch that broke away below them into an the soldiers had to come back. They way?" snorted Pardaloe, peering open flat A mountain brook gur­ buried the poor vaqueros on the hill about. gled hard by. They built a Are, and carried the body of Don Alfredo 'To the east in the chaparral, laved, drank, and opened their re- Hl.Phillipr | serves of raw venison. As they sat WNU peacefully around their frugal fire they mourned for the tobacco they MOVIES-IN-TIIE-SI.OT had squandered in more prosperous Are the hiovie* going "bark where days. they cume from”: the nickelodian, Deprived of this, their only con­ the nicolet and the peepshow? • • • solation, the three indulged in a Barmecide feast of the longed-for News from Hollywood so indi­ weed. The scout descanted on the cates. Dozens of promoters arc get­ beauties of well-cured Kentucky leaf ting in on a gold rush they think crushed in the pipe; Simmie spoke will come with the introduction of up modestly for willow Killickinnic; movie* by «lot machine* In tavern*, Bowie thought just one cigar—only barroom*, luncheonette*, Ice-cream one—would make him perfectly hap­ parlor* and poolroom* nil over the py. It was while this futile discus­ country. • • • sion was going on that Simmie. ly­ ing. like his companions, on his You drop a nickel in the slot und back, pricked up his ears. Next he get a movie show with music. Th* sat up and began to look around. idea is to flood the country with “What’s a matter, Injun?" asked “movie cabinets" through which a Pardaloe indolently. customer may get a movie with his “What’s that noise?” asked the beer, cake, strawberry sundae, half-breed in turn. three-decker sandwich or hotdag. • • • “You tell." retorted the scout. Bowie, lost in thought, only heard Tyrone Power and Deanna Dur­ the questions and listened for bin will be presented with a short sounds. Neither of the whites heard ale and an onion. Mac West, Eddie anything, but as the Indian walked Cantor and E. G. Robinson may be quietly toward the edge of the long obtainable with a cup of java and a ledge both men sat up. Simmie, plate of beans. Errol Flynn and behind a pine tree, looked down the Kay Francis through the mere de- great canyon and into the west. His posit of a nickel will become insep­ instinct was not at fault He beck­ arable from a cocktail and a hand oned cautiously to his companions. of rummy. • • • When they joined him. he whispered You may even get Raymond Mas­ to Pardaloe to scatter the embers of the fire, come back and lie down. sey in a new Lincoln drama at the Peering together from this partial Seaside Gfill. cover, the Texan could make out at The new device brings Radio City a considerable distance below a straggling procession of men on po­ to Hogan's Elite Cafe, transfers nies. winding their way up the long Roxy's to Finnegan's Bar and makes canyon grade. Reaching a wide- open space after some further trav­ V el the procession broke and its horsemen made ready for a halt. For a long time the hidden men watched the scene with rapt atten­ tion. speaking in whispers. "Injuns," said Pardaloe at length. After a further pause Bowie turned Greta Garbo, bock beer. Mickey to crawl back from the brink of the Rooney, Gary Cooper, and a gume ledge, signaling to his men to fol­ of Kelly pool aUied products. low. Reaching a point where they could speak more freely, the talk It isn't hard to imagine a fellow began. Bowie spoke first. rolling into a tavern, pulling out a “Indians, sure enough.” handful of change and demanding “And a bunch of ’em,” added the “The Garden of Allah.” a sardine scout. sandwich, a rye highball and a cou­ “What do you make of 'em, Sim­ ple of short newsreels with ginger­ mie?“ The question was addressed ale. to the Creek. • • • “I'd have to get closer to make Jimmy Roosevelt is getting some things out. Looks to me like a raid­ of the blame. He was among the ing party, maybe heading for their first to leap into the new idra with mountain hide-out." both feet. Since that time scores “What makes you think it's a of movie figures are aboard and It raiding party?” asked Bowie. is reported that some of the major “Most of 'em don’t know bow to producers have money in it handle their ponies "* Looks as if they’ve been run off, eh, Ben? And Tremendous returns are predict­ I no squaws as far as I can see. Some ed, especially if Will Hay* doesn’t of them are carrying loot," he add­ stop such screen revivals as “Fun ed. “You can see them unloading in a Turkish Bath,” “The Bathing stuff. And there was some mix-up at Beauties’ Bali," “The Boudoir Bur­ the front when they halted.” glar" and "Parisian Nights.” “All right, what we going to do?” asked Pardaloe, appealing to Bowie. The whole idea will cheapen pic­ “Looks as if they’re heading for tures, topple the movie industry us. doesn't it?" returned Bowie. "If from the penthouse level to the un­ they keep on up the canyon they're derground rathskeller and probably I bound to run foul of us. If we turn throw another rock at the legitimate back we’ve got a good ten miles of a picture houses. But It’s coming. climb to get away from them. We • • • never could do it—they’ve got horses The pictures are to be limited to . . . I’D tell you, Simmie; get in three minutes, which is the only close and make sure what they're good thing that can be said In their doing." Simmie was gone a long time, so long that the white men began to wonder Then they heard his careful footsteps. 'Thought they’d caught you, Sim­ favor. Maybe "Gone With the Wind” mie.” said Bowie. “What did you Is to blame. It may be just a nor­ find out?” mal reaction against four-hour films. “Not much more than I knew be­ • e • fore. It's a war party on their way An armored bullet-proof baby home — not a squaw anywhere carriage is now being manufac­ around. Some of those ponies have tured. And we call man higher Spanish saddles. They've raided a than the animals! rancho.” e • • “Any sign of wounded?” RECIPE Simmie shook his head. “If they Early to bed. had any wounded they must have Early to rise, died on the way up—no sign of any Leaving more to your heirs now. They’ve been chased—that’s Than you would otherwise. sure. Some of those ponies are in • • • bad shape—they’ve been run to SECRETARY LA GUARDIA death.” Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia of New “Horses!” boomed Pardaloe. but York has been mentioned as an as­ cautiously. He licked his chops. sistant secretary of war or for some “We’ve got to get a chance at other place in Mr. Roosevelt’s emer­ them.” He peered at Bowie. “What gency cabinet. The very idea is we going to do. Henry?” staggering. Fiorello might or might Bowie turned to Simmie. “How not keep us out of this war, but many of them are there?” he would start so many others that “Near as I could count, fifty or we would forget all about the pres­ fifty-five.” ent crisis. We can see him now, 'The question is, how to keep out assistant secretary of the navy, at­ of their way." said Bowie, reflect­ tired in fire helmet, rubber boots ing. “If they come up this way in and naval blouse, carrying a fire the morning we'll have to mix with hose in one hand and a pair of them whether we want to or not binoculars in the other, ready for Shall we turn back or try to dodge all comers. past ’em tonight?” Mayor LaGuardia is the only man “Injuns got good ears," ob­ in America who could plan a naval served Pardaloe grimly. “But no guns,” retorted Bowie, battle, dedicate a viaduct, open a still thinking “I believe." he went new school, issue an ultimatum to on, “we can get around them to­ Germany, deliver a talk on kitchen economics, put through an aviation night without losing any hair. "They’ve got what looks to me program, throw out a first base­ like a couple of prisoners,” re­ ball, denounce the press and lead a tank attack, all in one afternoon. marked Simmie casually. • • • “Prisoners?” echoed Bowie. “Why didn't you say so before?” “I might be all wrong.” continued the impassive Creek. “I wanted to get closer to make sure, but I thought I was down there too long.” Bowie acted as if an electric shock had galvanized him. “Hell!” he snapped testily. “That’s a horse of another color. I've heard these Cal­ ifornia Indians are close to canni­ bals. They may have camped to make a meal of their prisoners. We’ve got to look into this—coma along.” (TO DE CONTINUED) QUIZ LAUGH “What general who headed the American forces in 177fl, crossed the Delaware in an open boat and chopped down the cherry tree is the George Washington bridge named after?” the quiz man asked Jimmy Durante in a recent radio burlesque of the question and answer craze. 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