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.
"How much time do I get on that
one?” demanded Jimmy.
• • •
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WNU—13
25-40
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