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TWO
The Land of Broken Promises
■: == —By DANE COOLIDGE
A Stirring Story of the
Mexican Revolution
A story of border Mexico, vivid,
Intense, such » has never before
been written, le this one of Ameri
can adventurers Into the land of
manana. Teaan, mining engineer,
Bpanish eenor and aenorlta, peon,
Indian, crowd ita chapters with
clear-cut word pictures of busi
ness, adventure and love, against
a somber background of wretched
armlsa marching and counter
marching across a land racked by
revolution and without a savior.
I
(Continued from Yesterday.)
" The m(rued face of Dud Hooker,
which had been set In grim lines from
the first, relaxed as the tale proceeded
and hie honest eyes glowed with ad
miration as he heard the well-planned
scheme. As for De Lancey, he could
hardly restrain his enthusiasm, and,
drawn on by the contagion, Henry
Kruger made maps and answered ques-
until every detail was settled.
After the location had been marked,
and the lost tunnel charted from the
comer monuments, he badp them re
member It well and destroyed every
■vestige of paper. Then, as a final ad
monition, he said:
“Now go in there quietly, boys—
don't hurry. Proepect around a little
and the Mexicans will all come to you
and try to sell you lost mine*. Cruz
Mendes Is the man you're looking for
—he's honest, and he'll take you to the
Eagle Tall. After that you can use
your own Judgment. Bo good by"—he
took them by the hands—“and don’t
talk!"
He held up a warning finger as they
parted, and Bud nodded briefly In
reply. Btlenca was a habit with him,
desert-bred, and he nodded bli head
for two.
CHAPTER IV.
t »
l*Yoni the times of David end Jonn
than down to the present day the
world has been full of young men
sworn to friendship and seeking ad
venture In pairs. "Pardnere," they call
them In the west, and though the word
has aoS crept Into the dictionary yet.
It la as different from “partner" as n
friend Is from a business associate,
4 They travel together, these pardners
of the West, and whether they be cow
boys or “Cousin Jacks," the boss who
fire* one of them Ores both of them,
and they go share aud share In every
thing.
Bud Hooker and Thill p lie Lancey
had met by chance In K 1 Paao when
the revolution waa just beginning to
boll and the city was swarming with
adventurers. The agents of the rebelß
were everywhere, urging Americana to
Join their cause. Military preferment,
eash pay menu, and grants of kind
were the baiu they used, but Hooker
stood out from the first and took Do
Lancey with him. A Mexican promise
did not pass current where he was
born and they went to the mines In
stead.
Than the war broke out and. while
fuglt*es streamed out of stricken
Chihuahua, they finally struck out
against the tide, fighting their way to
* certain mine far back In the Sierra
Madres, where they could dig the gold
on shares.
Behind them the battle waged,
Camas Grandma was taken and retaken,
Soares, Ague Negra and Chihuahua
fell; Don Pwflrto, the Old Man of Mex
ico, wont out and Madero took his
place; and still they worked for their
•take. .
Then hew arms and ammunition
-lowed In from across the border;
Orosco and his rebel chiefs went out,
«nd the breath of war fanned higher
against the htlle At last the first
broken band es rebels came straggling
by, and. reading hate and envy
In their lawless eyes, the Americans
dug up their gold at sundown and rode
all the night for their Uvea.
And now. welded together by all that
toll and danger, they were pardners,
cherishing no delusions as to each
other's strength or weaknesses, but
jolted together for better or worse.
, It waa the last thing that either of
them expected, but three days after
they fled out of Mexico, and with all
their tnohay unspent, the hand of fate
•sited upon them and sent them back
to another adventure.
It waa early morning again, with
crowds along the street, and as they
•mhled slowly along toward the line
the men on the corners stared at them.
The bunch of cowboys gwsed at Hud,
■who sported a new pair of high-heeled
hoots, and knew him by the way be
rode, and the mining men looked
agairhlngly at De Lancey, as If to
gseaa the secret of his quest
A squad of mounted troopers, riding
Out on border patrol, gated after them
questioning ly. but Bud and Phil rode
on soberly, leading their pack, and
headed for Ague Negra across the line.
It was a grim place to look at this
border town of Agua Negra. for the
war had swept It twice. A broad waste
of level land lay between It and the
Bppgperom American city, and across
Made Maps and Answered Questiona
Until Every Detail Waa Settled.
Ibis swath, where the Mausers and
machine guns bad twice mowed, lay
the huddle of low bouses which
marked the domain of Mexico.
Fussy little customs officials, lurk
ing like spiders In their cooped-up
guardhouses, rushed out as they
crossed the deep trench and demanded
their permit to bear arms. The mo
ment they crossed the line the air
seemed to be pervaded with I-atln ex
citability and Indian Jealousy, but De
Lancey replied In florid Spanish and
before hts polite assurances and ful
some compliments It was dissipated In
a moment.
"Good! Pass on, amigos,” cried the
beady-eyed little Jefe, pasting a label
on their pack. "Adlos, senor,” he
added, returning Phil’s salute with a
military flourish, and with a scornful
glance at Bud he observed that the
gentleman wus muy Caballero.
"Huhl” romarked Bud, as they rode
on through the town, "we’re In Mexico
all right, all right. Talk with both
hands and get busy with your eye
browa—and holy Joe, look at them
pelones!"
The pelones referred to were a
•quad of Mexican federal soldiers, so
called from their heads being shaved,
and they were marching doggedly to
and fro through tho thorny mesqult
bushes In response to shouted orders
from an officer. Being from Zacatecas,
where the breed Is short, they stood
about as high ns their guns; and their
crumpled linen suits and flapping san
dals detracted sadly from the soldierly
effect
Big and hulking, and swelling with
the pride of his kind, Hooker looked
them over slowly, and spoke hla hid
den thought.
"I wonder." he said, turning to Phil,
“how many of them I could lick with
one hand?”
"Well, they’re nothing but a lot ot
petty convicts, anyway," answered I)e
I-ancey, “but here’s some boys ahead
that I’ll bet could hold you, man for
man, you are, old fellow."
They were riding past a store, now
serving as an Improvised barracks,
and romping about In the streets were
a pair of tall Yaqul Indians, each deco
rated with a cartridge-belt about his
hips In token of his military service,
laughing and grabbing for bolds, they
frolicked like a couple of boys until
finally they closed In a grapple that re
vealed a sudden and pantherlike
strength.
And a group of others, sunning
themselves against the wall, looked up
at the Americans with eyes as fearless
as mountain eagles.
“Yea, that’s right,” admitted Bud.
returning their friendly greeting, “but
we’ll never have no trouble with
thorn." »
"Well, these N’acionales are not so
bad.” defended Phil, as they passed
the state soldiers of Bonora on the
street, "but they’re just as friendly as
tb« Yaquis.”
"Bure," Jeered Bud, “when they’re
sober! Hut you got a buneb of ’em
drunk and uak ’em what they think of
tho gringos! No, you got to show me
—l’ve soon too much of ’em.”
"You haven’t seen as much of ’em
as I have, yet,” retorted De Lancey
quickly. "l*ve been all over the repub
lic, except right here In Bonora, and I
■wear these Sonorans here look good
to me. There’s no use holding a
grouch against them, Bud they
haven’t done ue any dirt"
“No, they never had no chance,"
grumbled Bud, gaslug grimly to the
south. ’’But wait till the hot weather
comes and the revoltosos come Out ot
their holes; wait till them Chihuahua
greasers thaw out up In the Sierras
and come down to get some fresh
mounts. Well, I’ll tell ’em one thing,"
he ended, reaching down to pat his
hone, "they’ll never get old Copper
Bottom here—not unless they steal
him at night. It’s all right to be cheer
ful about this, and you keep right
Author of
"THE FIGHTING FOOL,” "HIDDEN WATERS,"
"THE TEXICAN,” Etc. *
Illustrations by DON J. LAVIN
•Copyright, 1014. by FrsnJt A. Munsey.)
bn being glad, but T got a low-down
hunch that we’re going to get In bad."
“Well, I’ve got Just ae good a hunch,”
came back De Lancey, “that we’re go
ing to make a killing.”
“Yes, and speaking about killings,”
said Bud, “you don't want to overlook
that”
He pointed at a group of disman
tled adobe buildings standing out on
the edge of the town and flanked by a
segment of whitewashed wall all spat
tered and breached with bullet-holes.
“There’s where these prize Mexicans
of yourn pulled off the biggest killing
In Bonora. I was over here yesterday
with that old prospector and he told
me that that wall Is the bull-ring.
After the flret big fight they gathered
up three hundred and fifty men, more
or less, and throwed ’em In a trench
along by the wall—then they blowed It
over on ’em with a few sticks of dyna
mite and let ’em pass for burled. No
crosses or nothing. Excuse me, If they
ever break loose like that—we might
get planted with the rest!”
"By Jove, old top,” exclaimed De
Lancey, laughing teasingly, "you’ve
certainly got the blues today. Here,
take something out of this bottle and
see If It won’t help."
He brought out a quart bottle from
his saddle-bags and Bud drank, and
shuddered at the hit* of It
"All right” he said, as he passed It
back, "and while we're talking, what’a
the matter with cutting it out on booze
for this trip?”
"What are you going to drink,
then?” cried De Lancey in feigned
alarm, “water?”
"Well, something like that," admit
ted Bud. "Come on—what do you
say? We might get lit up and tell
something."
"Now lookee here, Bud,” clamored
Phil, who had had a few drinks al
ready, "you don’t mean to Insinuate,
do you? Next thing I know you’ll be
asking mo to cut It out on the hay—
might talk In my sleep, you know, and
give the whole snap away!”
"No, you’re a good boy when you’re
asleep, Phil,” responded Hud, "but
when you get about half shot It’s dif
ferent. Come on, now—l’ll quit If you
will. That’s fair, ain’t it?”
"What? No little toots around
town? No serenading the senoritas and
giving the rurales the hotfoot? Well,
what’s the use of living, Bud, If you
can’t have a little fun? Drinking don’t
make any difference, as long as we
stick together. What’s the use of
swearing off—going on reoord In ad
vance? We may find some fellow that
we can’t work any other way—we may
have to go on a drunk jrith him In or
der to get his goat! But will you
stick? That’s the point!”
Bud glanced at hlrn and grunted, and
for a long time he rode on In Bllence.
Before them lay a rolling plain, dip
ping by blood gulches and dwindling
ridges to the lower levels of Old Mex
ico, and on the skyline, thin and bluet
stood the knifelike edges of the For
tunas miles away.
With desert-t rained eyes he noted
tho landmarks, San Juan mountain to
the right. Old Nlggerhead to the left,
and the feather-edge of mountains far
below; and as he looked he stored It
away In his mind In case he should
come back on the run some night.
It was not a foreboding, but the
training of his kind, to note the lay of
the ground, and he planned Just where
he would ride to keep under cover If
he ever made a dash for the line. But
all the time big pardner was talking of
friendship and of the necessity of their
sticking together.
“I'll tell you. Bud,” he said at last,
hla voice trembling with sentiment,
"whether we win or lose, I won’t have
a single regret as long as I know we’ve
been true to one another. You may
know Texas and Arizona. Bud, but I
know Old Mexloo, the land of manana
and broken promises. I know the coun
try, Bud—and the climate—and the
women 1
"They play the devil with the best
of us. Bud. these dark-eyed senorltast
That’s what makes all the trouble
dowu here between man and man, It’a
these women and their ways. They're
not satiefled to win a man’s heart—
they want him to kill somebody to
■how that he really loves them. By
Jove, they’re a fickle lot, and nothing
pleases ’em more than setting man
against man, one pardner agalnet an
other."
“We never had any trouble yet,” ob
served Bud sententlously.
"No, but we’re likely to,” protested
De Lancey. “These Indian women up
In the Sierras wouldn't turn anybody's
head, but we're going down into the
hot country now, where the girls are
pretty, ta-ra, ta-ra, and wo talk through
the windows at midnight"
"Well, If you'll cut out the boore."
said Hooker shortly, "you can bar*
'em all. for all of ms.”
"Bur*, that’s what you say. but wait
till you see them! Oh, la, la, la”—he
kissed his fingers ecstatically—"lll be
glad to see 'em myself! But listen.
Bud. here’s the proposition, let's take
an oath right now, while we're start
ing out, that whatever comes up well
always be true to each other. If one
of ue Is wounded, tbe other stays with
tUoi. U he's la prison, he get# him out;
THE AUGUSTA HERALD, AUGUSTA, GA.
If he’a killed, Ee avenges his —’’
"Say,” broke In Bud, Jostling him
rudely as he reached Into the saddle
bags, "let me carry that bottle for a
while."
He took a big drink out of It to pre
vent De JLancey from getting It all and
shoved it Inside his overalls,
"All right, pardner,” he continued,
with a mocking smile, "anything you
say. 1 never übo oaths myself much,
but anything to oblige.”
"No, but I mean It, Bud!” cried De
Lancey. "Here’s the proposition now.
Whatever happens,, we stay with each
other till this deal Is finished; on all
scratch cases we match money to see
who’a It; and If we tangle over some
girl the best man wins and the other
one stays away. We leave It to the
girl which one wins. Will you shake
hands on that?”
"Don’t need to,” responded Bud;
"I’ll do It anyway.”
"Well, shake on It, then!” Insisted
De Lancey, holding out his hand.
"Oh, Sally!” burst out Bud, banging
his head In embarrassment, "what’s
the use of getting mushy?”
But a moment later he leaned over
In bis saddle and locked hands with a
viselike grip.
"My old man told me not to make
no such promises,” he muttered, "but
I'll do It, being’s It's you.”
CHAPTER V.
"
The journey to Fortuna la a ecant
fifty miles by measure, but within
these eight kilometers there is a lapse
of centuries In standards. As Bud and
De Lancey rode out of battle-scarred
Agua Negra they traveled a good road,
well worn by the Mexican wood-wag
ons that hauled In mesqult from the
hills. Then, as they left the town and
the wood roads scattered, the highway
changed by degrees to a broad trail,
dug deep by the feet of pack-animals
and marked but lightly with wheels. It
followed along the railroad, cutting
over hills and down through gulches,
and by evening they were In the heart
of Old Mexico.
Here were men in sandals and wom
en barefoot; chickens tied up by the
legs outside of brush jacales; long
nosed hogs, grunting fiercely as they
skirmished for food; and half-naked
children, staring like startled rabbits
at the strangers.
The smell of garlic and fresh-roast
ing coffee was in the air as they drew
Into town for the night, and their
room wne an adobe chamber with tils
floor and Iron bars across the win
dows. Riding south the next day they
met vaqueros, mounted on wiry mus
tangs, who saluted them gravely, tak
ing no shame for their primitive wood
en saddle-trees and pommels as broad
as soup-plates. •
As they left the broad plain and
clambered up over the hack of a moun
tain they passed Indian houses, brush
built and thatched with long, coarav
grasses, and by the fires the women
ground corn on stone metates as their
ancestors had done before the fall.
For In Mexico there are two peoples,
the Spaniards and the natives, and the
Indians still remember the days when
they were free.
It was through suoh a land that Phil
and Hooker rode on their gallant
ponies, leading a pack-animal well
loaded with supplies from the north,
and as the people gazed from their
miserable hovels and saw their outfit
they wondered at tbelr wealth.
But If they were moved to envy, the
bulk of a heavy pistol, showtng through
the swell of each coat, discouraged
them from going farther; and the ooid,
searching look of the tall oowboy as
be ambled past stayed In their mem
ory long after the pleasant “Adloa!”
of De Lanoey had been forgotten.
Americans were scarce In those
days, and what few oairs by ware rid
ing to the north. How bold, then, must
this big man be who rode in front —
and certalnjy he had some great re
ward before him to risk such a horse
among the revoltosos! So reasoned
the simple-minded natives of the moun
tains, gazing In admiration at Cooper
Bottom, and for that look In their eyes
Bud returned hie forbidding stare.
There is something about a good
horse that fascinates the average Mex
ican—perhaps because they breed the
finest themselves and are In a position
to judge—but Hooker had developed a
romantic attachment for his trim little
chestnut mount and he resented tbelr
wide-eyed gaplngs as a lover resents
glances at his lady. This, and a frontier
education, rendered him short-spoken
and gruff with the pal Banos and It was
left to the cavalier De Lancey to do
the courtesies of the rood.
(As the second day wore on they
down into a rocky canyon, with
huge cliffs of red and yellow sandstone
glowing In the slanting sun, and so£n
they broke out Into a narrow vaUey,
well wooded with sycamores and mes
qult* and giant hack berry trees.
Ths shrill toots of s dummy engine
came suddenly from down below and
a mantle of black amoke rose majes
tically er-'inst the sky—then, at s turn
of the trail, they topped the last hill
and Fortuna lay before them.
In that ons moment they were set
*xala »Heq—clear buck,
across The line—for Fortuna was
American, from tbs power-bouse on
the creek bank to the mammoth con
centrator on the bill
AU the building* were of stone,
square and uniform. First a central
plass, flanked with offices and ware
houses ; then behind them barracks
and lodging houses and trim cottages
In orderly rows; and over across the
canyon loomed the huge bulk of the mill
and the concentrator with Its aerial
tramway and endless row of gliding
buckets.
Only on the lower hills, where the
rough country rock cropped up and
nature was at Its worst, only there did
the real Mexico creep In auu assert It
self In a crude huddle of half-Indlsn
huts; the dwellings of the care-free nar
tlves.
"Well, by Jove!” exclaimed De Lan
cey, surveying the scene with an ap
praising eye, "this doesn’t look very
much like Mexico —or a revolution,
either!”
"No, it don’t,” admitted Bud; “every
thing running full blast, too. Look at
“Which Way Are You Boys Travel
ing?”
that ore train coming around the
hill!”
"Gee, what a burg!’’ raved Phil;
“say, there’s some class to this —what?
It I mistake not, we’ll be able to find a
few congenial spirits here to help us
spend our money. Talk about a com
pany town! I’ll bet you their barroom
la full of Americans. There’s the cor
ral down below—let’s ride by and
leave our horses and see whafa tha
price of drinks. They can't feeze me,
whatever It is—we doubled our money
at the line.”
Financially considered, they had
done Just that —for, for every Ameri
can dollar In their pockets they could
get two that were Just as good, ex
cept for the picture on the side. This
in Itself was a great Inducement for a
ready spender and, finding good com
pany at the Fortuna hotel bar, Phil
bought five dollars’ worth of drinks,
threw down, a flve-dollar bill, and got
back five dollars—Mex.
The proprietor, a large and jovial
bonifaoe, pulled off his fiscal miracle
with the greatest good humor and
then, having Invited them to partake
of a very exquisite mixture of his own
Invention, propped himself upon his
elbows across the bar and inquired
with an ingenuous smile:
“Well, which away are yon boys
traveling, if I may ask?”
"Oh, down below a ways," answered
De Lancey, who always constituted
blmself tbe board of strategy. "Just
rambling around a little—how's the
country around here now?”
"Oh, quiet, quiet!” assured their
host "These Mexicans don’t like the
cold weather much—they,would freeze
you know, IX It was not for that sarape
which they wind about them so!”
He made a motion as of a native
wrapping bis entire wardrobe about
hla neck and smiled, and De Lancey
knew that he was no Mexican. And
yet that soft "which away” of his be
trayed a Spanish tongue.
' Ah, excuse me," he said, taking
quick advantage of his guess, “but
from the way you pronounce that word
‘sarape* 1 take It that you speak Span
ish.”
"No one better," replied the host,
smiling pleasantly at being taken at
his true srorth, “since I was born In
the city of Burgos, where they speak
the true Castilian. It Is a different
language, believe me, from this bas
tard Mexioan tongue. And do you
speak Spanish also?” he Inquired,
falling back Into the staooato of Oaa
ttle.
"No Indeed!” protested De Lancey in
a very creditable Imitation; "nothing
but a little Mexican, to get along with
the natives. My friend and I are min
ing men, passing through the country,
and we speak tbe best we can. How
Is this district here for work along our
line?”
“None better!” cried tbe Spaniard,
shaking his finger emphatically. “It
Is of tbe best, and, believe nis, my
friend, we should be glad to have you
stop with us. The country down be
low Is a little dangerous—not now,
perhaps, but later, when the warm
weather comes on.
"But In Fortune—no! Here we are
on the railroad; the camp Is controlled
by Americans; and because so many
have left the country the Mexicans
will sell their prospects cheap.
"Then again. If you develop a mine
near by, It will be very easy to sell It
—and If you wish to work It, that Is
easy, too. lam only the proprietor of
the hotel, but If you can use my poor
aerrlces In any way I shall he very
i happy to sjmmo jou. A room ? Ope
of Ihe best! And If you stay a weet
or more I will give you the lowest
rate.”
They passed up the winding stairs
and down a long, corridor, at the end
of which the proprietor showed them
Into a room, throwing open the outer
dpors and shutters to let them see the
view from the window.
"Here Is a little balcony,” he said,
stepping ontslde, "where you can sit
and look down on the plaza. We have
the band and music when the weather
Is fine, and you can watch the pretty
girls from here. But you have been In
Mexico—you know all that!” And he
gave Phil a roguish dig.
"Bien, my Men’, I am glad to meet
you-—” He held out his hand In wel
come and De Lancey gave his In re
turn. "My name,” he continued, “Is
Juan de Dios Brachamonte y Escalon;
but with these Americans that does
not go, as you say, so in general they
call me Don Juan.
"There Is something about that
name—-I do not know—that makes the
college boys laugh. Perhaps It Is that
poet, Byron, who wrote so scandalous
ly about ue Spaniards, but certainly
he knew nothing of our language, for
he rhymes Don Juan with ‘new one’ and
‘true one!’ Still, 1 read part of that
poem and it Is, in places, very Interest
ing—yes, very interesting—but ‘Don
Joo-an!’ Hah!”
He threw up his hand in despair and
De Lancey broke into a Jollying laugh.
“Well, Don Juan,” he cried, "I’m glad
to meet you. My name is Philip De
Lancey and my pardner here Is Mr.
Hooker. Shake hands with him, Don
Juan de Dios! But certainly a man so
devoutly named could never descend
to reading much of Don Joo-an! ”
“Ah, no,” protested Don Juan, roll
ing his dark eyes and smiling rakishly,
“not moch—only the moßt ln-tereetlng
passages!”
He saluted and disappeared in a roar
of laughter, and De Lancey turned
triumphantly on his companion, a self
satisfied smile upon his llp3.
"Aha!” he said; “you see? That's
what five dollars’ worth of booze will
do In opening up the way. Here’s our
old friend Don Juan willing, nay, anx
ious, to help ns all he can—he sees I’m
a live wire and wants to keep me
around. Pretty soon we’ll get him
feeling good and he’ll tell us all he
knows. Don’t you never try to make
me sign the pledge again, brother—
a few shots Just gets my intellect
to working right and I’m crafty as
a fox.
"Did you notice that coup I made
—asking him If he was a Spaniard?
There’s nothing in the world makes a
Spaniard so mad as to take him for a
Mexican —on the other hand, nothing
makes him your friend for life like
recognizing him for a blue-blooded
Castilian. Now maybe our old friend
Don Juan has got a few drops of Moor
ish blood In his veins—to put It po
litely, but —” he raised his tenor voice
and improvised—
“ Jest because my hair Is curly
Dat’s no reason to call me ‘shine!’"
“No,” agreed Bud, feeling cautiously
of the walls, “and jest because you’re
happy is no reason for singing so
loud, neither. Theee here partitions
are made of inch boards, covered with
paper—do you get that? Well, then,
considering who’s probably listening,
It strikes me that Mr. Brachamonte Is
the real thing In Spanish gentleman;
and I’ve heard that all gennwlne Span
iards have their hair curly, jest like
a—huh?”
But De Lancey, made suddenly
aware of his Indiscretion, was making
all kinds of exaggerated signs for si
lence, and Bud stopped with a alow,
good-natured smile.
"S-s-st!” hissed De Lancey, touching
his finger to his lips; "don't say It —
somebody might bear you!”
"All right” agreed Bnd; "and don’t
you say It either. I bate to knock,
Phil,” he added, "but sometimes I
think the old man was right whan he
said you talk too much.”
‘‘Psst!’’ chided Da Lancey, shaking
bis finger like a Mexican. Tiptoeing
Feeling Cautiously of the Walla
softly over to Bud, he whispered In his
ear; "8-s-st, I can hear the feller lu
the next room—shaving himself 1”
Laughing heartly at this joke, they
went down stairs for supper.
CHAPTER VI.
If the Eagle Tall mine had been lo
cated In Arizona —or even farther
down In Old Mexico—the method of
jumping tha claim would have been
delightfully simple.
The title had lapsed, and tbe land
had reverted to the government —all
SUNDAY, JUNE 14.
It needed in Arizona was a new set ot
monuments, a location notice at the
discovery shaft, a pick and shovel
thrown Into the hole, and a few legal
formalities.
But In Mexico It Is different. Not
that the legal formalities are lacking
—far from It—but the whole theory of
mines and mining is different In Mex
ico a mining title is. In a way, a lease,
a concession from the general gov
ernment giving the concesslonnalre
the right to work a certain piece of
ground and to hold It as long as he
pays a mining tax of three dollars an
acre pear year.
But no final papers or patents are
ever Issued, the possession of the sur
face of the ground does not go with
the right to mine benath it and In cer
tain parts of Mexico no foreigner can
bold title to either mines or land.
A prohibited or frontier zone, eighty
kilometers in width, lies along the In
ternational boundary line, and in that
neutral zone no foreigner can de
nounce & mining claim and no foreign
corporation can acquire a title to one.
The Eagle Tall was Just inside the
zone.
But—there is always a "but” when
you go to a good lawyer—while for
purposes of war and national safety
foreigners are not allowed to hold land
along the line, they are at perfect lib
erty to hold stock In Mexican corpora
tions owning property within the pro
hibited zone; and—here is wherd the
graft comes in—they may even hold
title In their own name If they first
obtain express permission from the
chief executive of the republic.
Not having any drag with the chief
executive, and not caring to risk their
title to the whims of succeeding ad
ministrations, Hooker and De Lancey,
upon the advice of a mining lawyer in
Gadsden, had organized themselves
Into the Eagle Tail Mining company,
under the laws of the republic of Mex
ico, with headquarters at Agua Negra.
It was their plan to get some Mexican
to locate the mine for them and then,
for a consideration, transfer it to tho
company.
The one weak spot in this schema
was the Mexican. By trusting Aragon,
Henry Kruger had not only lost title
to his mine, but he had been outlawed
from the republic. And now he had
bestowed upon Hooker and De Lancey
the task of finding an honest Mexican,
and keeping him honest until he made
the transfer.
While the papers were being made
out there might be a great many
temptations placed before that Mexi
can—either to keep the property for
himself or to hold out for a bigger re
ward than had been specified. After
his experience with the aristocratio
Don Cipriano Aragon y Tree Palacios,
Kruger was In favor of taking a chance
on the lower classes. He had therefore
recommended to them one Cr,uz Men
dez, a wood vender whom he had
known and befriended, as the man to
play the part.
Cruz Mendez, according to Kruger,
was hard-working, sober and honest—
for a Mexican. He was also simple
minded and easy to handle, and was
the particular man who had sent word
that the* Eagle Tall had at last been
abandoned. And also he was easy to
pick out, being a little, one-eyed man
and going by the name of “El Tuerto.’’
So, In pursuance of their policy of
playing a waiting game. Hooker and
De Lancy hung around the hotel for
several days, listening to the gossip
of Don Juan de Dios and watching for
one-eyed men with prospects to sell.
In Sonora he Is a poor and unimag
inative man Indeed who has not at
least one lost mine or “prospecto” to
sell; and prosperous-looking strangers,
riding through the country, are often
beckoned aside by balf-nalied paisanos
eager to show them the gold mines of
the Spanish padres for a hundred dol
lars Mex.
It was only a matter of time, they
thought, until Cruz Mendez would hunt
them up and try to sell them the Eagle
Tall; and It was their intention re
luctantly to close the bargain with
him, for a specified sum, and then
stake him to the denouncement fees
and gain possession of the mine.
As this was a commonplace In the
district—no Mexican having capital
enough to work a claim and no Ameri
can having the right to locate one—it
was a very natural and inconspicuous
way of jumping Senor Aragon y Tres
Palacios’ abandoned claim. If they
discovered the lead Immediately after
ward It would pass for a case of fool's
luck, or at least so they hoped, and,
riding out a little each day and sitting
on the hotel porch with Don Juan the
rest of the time, they waited nntll pa
tience seemed no longer a virtue.
“Don Juan,” said De Lancey, taking
up the probe at last, “I had a Mexican
working for me when we were over In
the Sierras—one of your real, old
time worken that had never been
■polled by an education —and be was
always talking about ‘La Fortuna.’ I
guess this was the place be meant, but
It doesn't look like It —according to
him it was a Mexican town. Maybs
he's around here now—his name was
Meades.”
"Jose Maria Mendez?" Inquired Don
Juan, who was a living directory of
the place. “Ricardo? Pancbo? Crus?”
“Crus!” cried De Lancey; "that was
It!”
"He Mvea down the river a couple of
miles,” said Don Juan; “down at Old
Fortuna."
"Old Fortuna!" repeated Phil. “I
didn’t know there was such a place.”
"Why, my gracious!” exclaimed Don
Juan de Dios, scandalised by such
Ignorance. "Do you mean to say you
have been here three days and never
beard about Fortune Vleja? Why,
this Isn’t Fortuna! This la an Ameri
can mining camp—the old town Is
down below.
iTo Be Cjutinued Tomorrow.)