Evening star. [volume], June 28, 1936, Page 12, Image 84

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

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
l\
VIVA
EL BULLDOZER/
HE never used his sword. He
didn’t have to. But he did
produce his stewy old briar, loaded
it with El Terrifico tobacco — and
blew some the bull’s way. Curtain.
Even a bull can’t stand the
charge of a dirty pipe. But even a
baby enjoys the fragrance of a mild
tobacco like Sir Walter Raleigh
smoked in a respectably clean briar.
It’s an unusual mixture of gen
tle Kentucky Burleys — well-aged,
slow-burning, easy on the tongue.
It’s a kind tobacco; your kind. Try
a tin and see why Sir Walter has
become a national favorite. (Kept
fresh in heavy gold foil.)
A MAGAZINE
shopped through
like a
NEWSPAPER
❖
THIS WEEK
has the
sales power of
BOTH!
Carinegro’s shuffling step passed twice
up and down the hall, then entered
the room opposite. Tony could hear
him move a chair, shift the couch out
from the wall and settle down on it
with a weary sigh. Of course! Since
there were only three furnished bed
rooms. Paca would naturally take one.
her brother and Geromo another, leav
ing Kate imprisoned in the third.
Which would that be? From the direc
tion of the sound of her voice, it must
be the one he called his own.
An hour passed. Removing his boots,
he went to the door and listened. No
use fooling with the lock; he knew it
too well. He pressed his head against
the wood of the door. Silence — the
breathing silence that settles on a
sleeping household. What about Cari
negro? W’as he still awake? Presently
came unmistakable evidence — a
snore, faint but regular.
Feeling his way cautiously, Tony
went to the nearest window, opened
the stout shutters and tested the iron
grille. Nothing doing. He tested the
second, then the third and last; lack
ing a hacksaw there was no hope of
escape that way, A highboy stood
against the wall nearby.
lony snmeu 11 men uy men across
the slippery floor until it stood close to
the window. With one of the shutters
for a brace and using the grille as a
ladder, he climbed on top of it and
straightened till his head pressed into
the cloth ceiling. He took out his
pocket-knife, slit the muslin and,
the next moment, was seated on a
girder close to the roof.
With infinite caution he worked a
tile loose, terrified lest it slip from
his hands, slide to the patio and sound
a fatal alarm.
As he removed each half cylinder of
clay, he drew it in and placed it on a
neighboring beam. In due course he
looked up at the starlit sky through
an opening three feet square.
Now came the crucial test. Standing
upright on the girder, he raised one
stockinged foot and placed it as far
down the gentle slant as his leg would
reach. With his fingers resting on two
parallel courses of tiles he tipped his
weight forward, rose free of the hole
and eased gently to a crouching posi
tion on the roof. Cold sweat gathered
on his brow as he crept cautiously
downward and away from the high
front of the house toward the eaves.
A thudding came to his ears, like
somebody digging with a dull hoe, but
its regularity soon reassured him. That
would be Fuego, his stallion, pawing
in a rage that had turned sullen. No
other sound, no alarm.
He continued toward the patio,
working his way to the left until a
mass of Bougainvillea warned him he
had reached his goal. Hidden within
the black shadow of the vine, he
proceeded to open the roof as be
fore, removing tile after tile. Presently
he was groping around in the black pit
thus opened beneath him, seeking to
locate a girder. He found one, lowered
himself and sat there waiting for the
trembling which follows the accom
plishment of any hazardous feat to
cease. Minutes passed betore he dared
trust his voice.
Kate! he called soltiy.
"Oh. Tony!” she answered in a
shuddering whisper. "It is you — it’s
really you!”
“Careful!” he murmured. “Don’t
speak out loud. I’m going to cut the
cloth ceiling, hang from this rafter and
drop on the bed.”
“No. Open the ceiling, but don’t
drop. I’ll toss you the end of the
sheet.”
He tied one comer of the sheet
securely and slid down the resulting
rope. His toes touched. "Where am I?
I don’t want to take a tumble now.”
Her hands groped for his feet.
"You’re all right; you’re almost in the
middle.”
He let himself go and presently they
were seated side by side on the edge of
the bed.
"You’re wonderful,” Kathleen whis
pered. "How did you get out?”
"The same way I got in here —
through the roof.”
"Where are they all? What are they
doing?”
"Sleeping, thank heaven. Carinegro
is on the couch in the room opposite
the one in which he thought he had me
! locked. Paca and the others must be in
Catuca
Continued from pa go fivo
the two bedrooms in the comer be
yond the kitchen.”
“What are we going to do now?”
she asked, reassurance causing her to
raise her voice a little.
Instantly he put his arm around her
and brought her head close to his.
“Are you crazy?” he whispered in her
ear. “Don’t you know a murmur is
almost as bad as a shout? Somehow it
hits a low key and travels under doors
and through walls.”
“I’m sorry," she whispered. "I
won’t do it again.”
"Kate?”
“Yes, Tony.”
“Can you ride?”
“Anything on tour feet,” said Kate
with assurance. "Why?”
“My horse is still tied outside the
kitchen door. Can’t you hear him?”
“Is that what it is? I’ve been listen
ing to that pawing for a year — ever
since you sang and 1 answered."
‘ 'Anybody but a brute like Carinegro
would have watered and fed him or
turned him loose.”
“We’ll both nde him,” said Kath
leen.
“Not a hope.” whispered Tony.
“I’d rather be shot from a cannon
than try it. Listen. He's tied with a
halter rope. I’ll give you my knife.
Your only chance is to mount him
first, then lean over and cut the rope.
After that, hold on. You'll be riding
a rocket.”
“He’ll head for his stable, won’t
he?”
“Goodness knows. With a stallion
there’s no telling. All you can hope to
do is to stick on until he runs his heart
out; then look for telephone wires and
follow them to a house. After that
your own level little head must guide
you.”
“Beyond Bayomo — it they got
that far.”
“Where they turned is where they
probably went into the ditch," said
Nadito. “Where were they going to
turn?”
“At the finca entrance of the San
Jacinto de la Sierra plantation,” mur
mured Pepe.
“Hell!" rasped Nadito, giving the
car so much gas that it leaped be
neath them.
He dodged across the city at a pace
that more than once caused Trent's
heart to leap into his throat. They
made Matanzas in an hour and
stopped to service the car just as dawn
was breaking ahead of them. A hun
dred miles further came a flat, but
fortunately there was a spare — two
spares. They worked feverishly at the
substitution, Trent directing their in
expert efforts as well as helping. Then
came another flat and despair to Pepe,
fury to Nadito.
“I was a fool,” he cried. “Any jitney
with four good tires is faster than a
racing car on its uppers.”
Thus they limped into Camaguey
long after sunset and Trent, at the
breaking point, insisted on food and
drink before embarking on a search for
new tires. While the job of re-equip
ping all four wheels was in process,
Pepe had plenty of time to think —
foo much time. He picked up a wrench,
fingered it for a moment with head
down, then approached Nadito.
“Will you answer a question or
two?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“We’ve stopped a lot. Why haven’t
you asked once about Paca? Whether
she had passed? Who was with her?”
Nadito eyed him. then glanced down
at the wrench in his hand. “Why do
Drawn by George H. Mauie
"I'M SORRY. SIR. BUT MR. GILLIGAN AND MR. DINNWIDDIE
ARE IN CONFERENCES”
Then they were silent, each think
ing his own thoughts.
Nadito, with Trent beside him.
caught sight of Pepe’s figure as it
turned into the windblown reach of
the Malecon. He slowed down while
still well behind. Already the boy’s
steps were wavering though he had
all of five hundred miles to go. That
very thought must have struck through
his agony, for abruptly he faltered and
slowed to a shuffling trot. Two or three
belated cars passed him, and toward
each his head would turn in a despair
ing gesture. Nadito drew up beside
him.
‘‘Quick, Pepe. Jump in and tell us
the way. Sit in the middle.”
The boy clambered into the car.
‘‘The carrettra to the east,” he gasped,
“the road to Santiago.”
“ Was she going all the way?” asked
Nadito.
"No; not all the way," said the boy.
‘‘Perhaps. But they would have turned
off first.”
“Where?”
you ask such things? We've been
watching the ditches, haven’t we —
Trent on his side, I on mine?”
Pepe's desperately questioning eyes
wavered and fell; the wrench slipped
from his lax fingers to thud on the
dusty floor just as word came the car
was ready. He slipped back to his
place between Nadito and Trent and
sat with hands locked and head fallen
forward. His heart was heavy within
him, heavy with questions his aching
brain could not answer. What was the
truth? Where was Paca at this
moment? Why this doubt, this per
sisting feeling he had been tricked into
being a traitor? If Nadito had done
that —
The late moon was sinking fast be
hind them; soon it no longer cast a
shadow. The headlights streamed
straight ahead as the car tore along
on the endless level reach toward
Holquin. What chance was there to
watch the ditches at that speed? None.
Pepe's eyes stole to the left and then
to the right. Trent wasn’t making even
a pretense of watching; he was draws
ing, perhaps fast-asleep. As for Nadito,
hands clamped tight on the wheel, his
eyes were glued to the road. Then the
truth struck Pepe. a crushing blow
straight between the eyes. His hand
shot out. turned oil the ignition,
snatched out the key and hurled it intc
the night.
"But Kate,” continued Tony's whis
per, breaking the long silence, “you
can’t ride in this dress.”
“Why not?”
"You ought to know. Your knee
would be torn half way to the bone ii
the first mile. Stay where you are. wil
you? I am going to risk lighting i
match.”
He got up, felt his way around th
bed. opened a large wardrobe an<
struck a match within its gloomy in
tenor. I Ic extracted a pair of jodhpurs
a sports shirt and an old belt and
while the match still burned, hel<
them up so Kathleen would undei
stand what was expected of hei
Glancing at her he beheld a startlin
vision. The tiny flame would hav
shown him nothing unaided by th
darkness beyond, hut against tha
shadowy foil her blondeness became it
own lamp and her beauty a burnini
bush. The unforgettable momen
passed and in darkness he crept bad
to her side.
“Here you are, Kate; give them i
try.
He heard Kathleen kick off he
shoes, rise, bend over, pull her frocl
over her head, toss it aside and read
back gropingly for the jodhpurs. H
heard her draw a long breath, and say
"I'm ready.”
“Wait a minute.” He felt his way t<
a desk, fumbled in a drawer and re
turned.
“What is it, Tony? What were yoi
doing?”
“Getting the key to the door bac
of the kitchen. I keep it in here.”
“Give it to me,” she demanded.
"What for?”
“Give it to me and I’ll tell you.” II
yielded and she thrust it to the bottor
of a deep pocket. “Can’t you see it’
a lot safer for me to have it, Tony?”
"Why?”
"You're going to let me down firsi
aren't you?”
“That’s right. You’ve certainly go
a head, Kate. I f anything slips you ca
make a run for it. Are you sure yo
know which is the kitchen?”
“Yes; where you went to make th
ton ** !
“That’s it; when you reach the en
ot this side of the patio, the very fin
room on your left. It’s the one door i
the house that can't be locked, than
heaven. Here goes."
He climbed up the sheet to th
girder, straddled it and hauled Kat)
leen to his side. Whispering exact ii
structions, he helped her through tf
hole and out on the roof. Steadyir
herself, she crept downward to tf
eaves. Anthony shifted the shee
knotting it to a rafter, dropped tf
rest of it over the edge and leant
over, striving to see how near it can
to the ground. He shook his hea<
drew it up again and started to pa
the loose end around Kathleen b
neath the arms.
“Oh, Tony," she breathed.
“Scared?” They were sitting clo
together, their legs hanging over tl
eaves, and he could feel her nod hi
head. “I don’t blame you, Kate; 1’
good and scared myself. Rut we’ll |
through with it just the same. Wati
us.” l
“Tony?"
“What?”
“They’ll hear me ride away, wor
they?" |
“Probably, but that can’t i
helped.”
“But what will happen to you?”
“There’s a foolish question! Wb
happens to me doesn't matter in t
least.” She shivered and he wrapp;
his arm around her, holding her clo;
“You’re always thinking ahead, areq
you?” |
“Not always.” i
“Well, that’s what you've made t
do — think ahead. Say everythi
turns out perfect; where will I be?”
“That’s what was worrying me
she breathed against his cheek.
“You drop out of nowhere into n'
arms.” He held her closer. “Thai
(Continued on page 15) '