Evening star. [volume], April 05, 1936, Page 10, Image 92

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
The General Makes a Match
Continued from pogo four
“What’s all the hurry about any
way?” asked Bill.
“The General's orders were very
definite, and he has no way of coun
termanding them.”
“What do you mean?”
"Here's the outpost,” said Lieu
tenant Rojas, by way of answer.
The car lurched around a curve, up
a steep, rocky incline, and bounced
to a stop in a small clearing filled with
thatched huts surrounded by a low
wall of logs and stone. The place was
swarming with soldiers, each carrying
a rifle with a fixed bayonet. Another
car was parked in the road, but it was
empty, the doors swinging open care
lessly.
Bill had hardly stepped out into the
hot dust when he heard a desperate,
high-pitched, feminine scream. He
whirled around. Across the clearing
was running a slender, pretty girl in a
blue silk dress, her light jacket flying
out behind and her arms stretched
appealingly toward him.
"Bill!” screamed Clara Bike. “Bill!
Thpv’rp aninif tn chmt him*
him!”
“Who?”
"Uncle Remick. Save him. Bill! I
know you don’t like him, but you
must save him.”
She threw her arms around his neck
and clung tightly, lor a moment.
“Where is he?” demanded Bill.
"Around that corner."
Together they ran toward a corner
of the log wall around the huts.
Lieutenant Rojas followed a few steps
behind. Just as they arrived, they
heard a shouted order and saw six
soldiers raise their rifles and point
them toward the wall, where Uncle
Remick was standing weakly, a white
handkerchief across his eyes, his face
as white as the cloth.
Clara gave a final piercing scream.
“Stop!” shouted Bill.
”Baslatranslated Lieutenant
Rojas.
The soldiers lowered their rifles.
Uncle Remick reached up and took
the handkerchief away from his eyes.
He looked considerably shaken, but
the moment he saw Bill the color
surged angrily back into his cheeks.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
he shouted.
That’s no way to talk to Bill.’
said Clara reproachfully. "He saved
your life. He’s a friend of General
Espina.”
“Nonsense. He framed it. Nobody
in this one-horse country would dare
shoot me.”
“You didn't think so a minute ago,”
cried Clara hotly. “You were scared
to death.”
Bill said nothing. He was rather
unnerved himself, and his heart was
beating hard. But he merely smiled
triumphantly as he took Clara by the
arm and led her back to his car.
"So long, Mr. Pike,” he shouted
back over his shoulder. “See you at
the General’s office.’’
Lieutenant Rojas was about to get
into the back seat beside them, but
Bill held up a pleading hand.
"Say, Lieutenant,” he begged. “Be
a good scout and ride with the old
man. I want to talk to my girl in
private.”
The trip back was much too short
for Bill and Clara. They had a lot to
talk about. So they were paying no
attention to anything but themselves
when the car came to a sudden stop in
front of the hacienda. They looked
up. By the side of the road stood
General Bias Espina, smiling broadly
and surrounded by a knot of in
terested officers. He bowed politely,
first to Clara, then to Bill.
“You seem on excellent terms, my
young friends,” he said politely. "Has
everything been arranged?”
Clara eyed him distrustfully and
drew away, but Bill sprang out of the
car and shook his hand.
“Everything’s 0. K.,” he cried
gratefully; “we’re going to get mar
ried as soon as we can find a preacher.
You’re a real pal. General.”
“There are some very efficient
preachers in the port,” suggested the
General. "I advise you to go there at
once, without waiting for Mr. Pike.
He will follow eventually. I promise
that no harm will come to him, my
friend.”
BUI sprang back into the car. Clara
held out a nervous, slender hand,
which the General kissed gallantly.
The car started ofl and disappeared
at once behind a cloud of dust.
The General watched it for a mo
ment. Then he turned in the other
direction and smiled when he saw
another car approaching down the
long lane between the walls of grey
green cane. The officers smiled also
and laughed a little, as if anticipating
some amusing scene to follow. The
car came to a stop. The rear door flew
open, and Mr. Remick Pike jumped
out. Mis face was red with rage, and
his lips were hot with sputtering
profanity.
“You old pirate — ” he began.
“Speak Spanish, my friend,” sug
gested the General, “so that my
officers can follow your opinions.”
Mr. Remick Pike shifted quickly to
Spanish — just as fluent and violent.
“You robber! You wouldn't dare
biunn me:
“Of course not,” agreed the Gen
eral mildly. “It would make a bad
impression in Washington.”
“Then why did you pretend to shoot
me — and make me look like a fool
in front of my niece and that young
idiot?”
The General smiled disarmingly. He
waved an eloquent hand.
“He is an attractive boy. Your
niece is very attractive too. I thought
they would make a charming couple.
So I arranged a little scene. I hope it
didn’t alarm you too much.”
"Nonsense!” cried the American.
“You didn't go to all that trouble for
them. You didn't meddle in my per
sonal affairs just for the fun of it.”
The General smiled for a moment.
"Of course not,” he said at last. “I
had a difficult problem to solve. This
country is at war. It is not safe for a
young American girl. And it would
make a very bad impression if I were
to keep her here in this hacienda.
Think of what the American news
papers would say. In short I wanted
to get rid of her. and the young man
from Fort Wayne provided the best
possible escort back to the States.”
"What in hell’s the idea?"
With a graceful gesture the General
motioned toward the hacienda house,
very cool and charming beneath its
burden of flowers and shade.
“This hacienda, my friend,” he ex
plained. “has the only comfortable
house for at least fifty miles. 1 am
happy to make my headquarters
here. But the place has one disad
vantage. It is very conspicuous from
the air. I have no anti-aircraft guns,
and unfortunately I have just learned
that President Gordo is about to
acquire six new planes. They are
being flown down from the States.”
Mr. Remick Pike seemed somewhat
taken aback.
"Who told you that ?” he demanded.
"I have friends in the capital," said
the General. “They keep me informed.
They have told me also that you. my
friend, are the man who paid for those
six airplanes."
Mr. Kemick Pike was speechless.
The General smiled charmingly.
"I)o not be alarmed, my friend," he
said. "You will be comfortable here,
and quite safe as well. I have already
sent word to President Gordo, lie
knows that you will be living here for
some time. He will not allow those
airplanes to bomb my headquarters!”
The End
Beauty from Hell
Continued from pay* two
A few years ago there was trouble
aplenty in Mindanao. The warring
Mahometan Moros could not under
stand why the American authorities
should interfere with their ancient
custom of chopping up their enemies,
and in Lanao a group of Moro sultans
refused to surrender their arms. The
constabulary went after them.
It was just at this time that Harry
C. Briggs, an old-timer at the orchid
hunting game, and I happened to be in
Lanao, searching for a particularly
rare species found in the nearby hills.
We had been forbidden by the con
stabulary officers to continue until
things had quieted down. I knew the
seriousness of the situation, and was
willing to comply. But not so Harry
C. Briggs.
Just as I expected, he disappeared.
Knowing him so well, I felt no especial
alarm until the fourth day had passed.
Then I confided my fears to Captain
Greenstead, and it was decided that a
patrol should go in search of him on
the following day. Meanwhile I hired
a motor launch to scout along the
shores of the lake.
I had been out about two hours
when suddenly, around a promontory,
I saw an upturned boat with a man
on top of it. It was Harry all right —
and he had the orchids.
He had succeeded in reaching the
back country and had made friends
with a Moro and his family. After he
had secured the flowers he wanted,
Harry heard that an outlaw band was
alter him. He got to the boat, loaded
it to the gunwales with orchids and
set out for the opposite shore. But the
boat leaked and soon Briggs’ orchids
were floating about the lake. He res
cued them, stacked them atop the
overturned boat, climbed up alongside
and waited. When I found him he had
been drifting for six hours.
On another occasion, which almost
ended tragically, Harry and I found
ourselves in Bontoc, the largest vil
lage of the Bontoc Igorotes, who were
still head-hunters. It was there we met
“Dog-Teeth-Around-Her-Arm.”
Now the Igorotes are another tribe
with sacred groves in which spirits
are supposed to dwell. Mortal man
must not disturb their peace; if he
does so he must pay by sacrificing a
chicken, a pig or, in extreme cases, a
carabao (water buffalo).
Briggs and I had been hearing of a
certain grove covered with the beau
tiful Pkaljcnopsis, but though we had
used our strongest arguments and
promises, we were getting nowhere.
This particular grove was inviolable.
Finally Briggs went to see “Dog
Tecth-Around-ller-Arm," who was a
witch, and of considerable importance
to her tribe.
So I waited hopefully. A few nights
later, Briggs walked into my room and
announced that “Dog-Teeth-Around
Her-Arm” was ready to lead us to the
grove. Some beads and a red flannel
shirt she had seen in the village store
had turned the trick.
It was a long hike and the intense
darkness favored us; but one of the
I gorotes must have spied us.
It was high noon when we finally
reached the spot. The sight was
breath-taking in its beauty. Mag
nificent. snow-white orchids covered
the entire grove!
We worked feverishly, carefully
cutting down the plants and mounting
them on wooden stumps, securing
them with vines and strings. Then we
hung them on a long pole. There were
far too many plants to take back on
a single trip; nevertheless we took
down every one, feeling that we could
hide them until we could return.
All went well until late in the after
noon. Then suddenly I heard a weird
cry. The blood turned cold in my
veins. I turned about and saw that
we were hemmed in by forty or fifty
naked warriors armed with spears and
head-axes. Things looked very black. ,
Pretending to be calm and collected,
1 attempted to arbitrate. No sale. All
spears were pointed toward the ground
— always a bad sign. There was only
one thing to do. I mustered up my
courage and walked boldly up to the
chief and asked to know his price for
the sacrilege.
He refused to discuss the matter,
merely shaking his head violently at
all my best suggestions. Apparently
no price, no sacrifice would be great
enough in this particular instance. His'
men were out for blood.
"I give you one carabao,'’ I said.
A cold, calculating stare was his
only answer.
"I give you one carabao and a pig.”
Still no response.
Suddenly I remembered that an
other chief had once greatly admired
my silver watch. Maybe this one
would too. I f not, we were done for.
My eyes sought “Dog-Teeth
Around-Her-Arm." She, being a
witch, might have some influence with
the chief. But she had disappeared.
(Continued on pago IS)
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