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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.)