TALES OF ADVENTURE

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 43, 20 February 1926, Page 27

TALES OF ADVENTURE

A RUN FOR MONEY.

(By OLIVER READ)

Oflice workers who crave excitement, should get a job in Mexico, where revolutions cause all sorts of trouble. In this story the Author describes what happened to him while endeavouring to Muuggle', spine thci"«n>- ■■- " p ■' '-its through the rebel zone to pay the employees of a big ranch.

"It's a case of 'money or your life , ," eaid the # manager. "We must have money to pay the ranch-hands and rub-ber-shrub gatherers. And if we don't get it mighty quick, there'll be the biggest row you ever saw right here on this hacienda. I give you three days to get to Torreon, collect all the cash you can, and get back here again. Don't ask v mc how you're going to do it! There's the car, but there's no gasolene. There are plenty of horses and ■mules, and there's corn to feed 'em. I leave it to you." Which explains why I, the manager's secretary, set out at dawn next morning in a buggy drawn by our fastest team of mules. I started from Cedros, the head station on our vast estate, and I was bound for Camacho, the nearest point on the Mexican National Railroad. Diego, our crack driver, kept his long latigo singing round the cars of the mules, and I counted off the kilometres at a record rate as the buggy rocked along the white ribbon of road that traversed the ranch from east to west. Aβ the sun climbed above the mountains, my way over the wild lands was brightened by the vivid reds and greens of the cactus, mingling oji the slopes, with broad patches of faint blue. Here grew the precious gum-laden guayule plant, the wild-rubber shrub which we employed hundreds of men to gather, press, bale, cart to the railroad station, and load on the trucks going north, to the rubber factory in the city of Torreon. All this meant a weekly pay-roll running into thousands of Mexican dolI lars. The rebellion in the north had cut

get the latest news from the capital. The train was a mixed one, trucks and coaches, all loaded with infantry sent to make a show of force in the discontented regions and to put some heart into the wavering garrison of Torreon. That train should take mc to the factory, I determined, unless it fell into a river or got blown up en route. Hope rose high when I thought I recognised in the capitan of the forces, an officer who had passed through our hacienda some days back and "borrowed" many remounts for his men, out off from the main body during a skirmish. With native politeness he accepted my greeting. Then I boldly told him of my mission—to get to Torreon and bring back money to pay our men, who were on the verge of swelling the ranks of the revolutionists. All my pallaver, however, failed to shake the captain. He simply smiled and twirled his moustache. "Orders were orders," he told mc, and the travelling of civilians by troop trains was prohibited. By this time I had trespassed so far as to enter the corridor of his coach, and finally, when the locomotive bell began to clang as a signal for the soldiers to swarm back into the train, I pulled out my automatic and begged the captain to accept it as a mark of my esteem. I had touched him on the right spot —his sense of humour. He promptly had mc arrested for bribery and detained where I stood. JCeedless to say, I raised no protest. I had got over the first obstacle, yet my triumph, looked like being shortlived ac the packed troop-train proceeded

us of! from all ordinary means of communication with the factory, and our funds were exhausted. The workers, living as they did from hand to mouth, wanted their pay—and they meant to have it. Unless we found money to pay them, they were likely to strike, declare themselves revolutionists, aud proceed to loot the hacienda. Employing so much unskiled labour, we could not pick and choose our men, but had to take all and any that offered their services, and we had some very "tough" customers among our people. My instructions from the manager were to get to Torreon, secure all the ready cash I could from the factory, and return with it to the hacienda within three days. Torreon, I should explain, is a flourishing town in the south of the border state of Coahuila, two hundred kilometres north from Camacho. Passenger traffic on the line had been interrupted or suspended for many days; but conditions in Mexico—like presidents —are as changeable as a chameleon, and I expected to find some means, of getting to the factory, even if I had to propel myself three on a hand-trolley. With a final "HVla!" and crack of the whip from Diego and an answering spurt from the mules, my buggy swung into the little station of Camacho. I climbed out, and crossed the track to Charlie's ■Chinese Eating Joint, where I washed the dust from my throat with a bottle of cerveza and sat down thankfully at the wooden board to wait for my eggs on beefsteak. Whatever fears I had, I hid, trying to look as if I were just out for my health. This part of the country was infested with agentes politicos spying on suspicious travellers, especially gringoes or Americans, who were supposed to be in sympathy with a change of president. One fellow-diner betrayed too much interest in my movements, but I put him off the track by inquiring whether any trains were running south to the capital. Obviously pleased to see mc stranded he answered no; the only trains running were for breakdown and repair and for movement of Federal troops towards the north. This suited mc well. Followed by the glances of the inquisitive one. I crossed the room to where Diego sat munching his beaus and tortillas and gave him the tip to hang around until he saw mc board a i train; then he was to hitch up and drive straight back to Cedros to give the manager the news that I was well on mv way to the factory.' ! Even while I spoke, we heard the comin<r of a train. Everybody tumbled pellmell out of Charlie's eating-house to be j the first to greet the engine-driver and

northwards. At every station there was a halt, to let the terrorised population take a look at tho cattle-trucks and horse-boxes full of real live soldiers, and to permit a few of these latter to stretch their legs and see that the road was clear. Whenever we came to a bridge the engine-driver waited while a detachment got out to march across and examine the tho ground for any dynamite left lying about by rebels. Towards evening we speeded up to about twenty miles an hour. Night had fallen on the cotton fields when at long last the train crawled into Torreon. In the darkness and confusion my friend the captain "forgot" his prisoner. With a whispered "Adios!" I leaped down to the platform and was lost in the idle throngs of onlookers. Our factory-is on. the outskirts of the town. A royal welcome is given by the staff to friends from the distant hacienda, and when I arrived I soon forgot the first etage of my hazardous journey and began to plan my return. Money— as much as I could carry in small bills —was delivered to mc done up in handy flat wads, which I stowed away round my slim person in a belt. The question that worried mc now was, how was 1 to get back over the hundred miles to the hacienda, richer by several thousand dollars? Horseback? Too slow! Motor car? Too conspicuous and almost certain to be held up the open country being over-run by bands of so-called revolucionarios who were really bandits. Ao, i must try my luck once more at boarding a train travelling in the right direction. Vietoriano, as my servant was called, had the simplest face I have ever seen. Providence put him in my way. _ There was a feeling of trouble m the air as I walked back through the town to the railway station. I was quite dad to have the company of the simple fellow following at my heels, and I began to talk with him- "Victor," I said, 'I want you to keep mc always in sight, but doVt speak unless I speak to you. Sabe" "Si, senor." When we reached the station I saw, to my surprise, that the trainload of troops was still drawn up at the platform, and the soldiers were passing in and out of the refreshment cantinas. There was no sign of their officers, though I kept a wary eye open for the captain. Presently I.spied him in the stationmaster's room, seated with another man, drinking and talking. The other man, who was doing most of the talking, wore' shiny black gaiters. I had to laugh, for his round fat legs resembled the black sausage hung in

shop windows. At that moment he turned his puffy face and fixed his reddish eyes on mc, giving ime a decidedly disagreeable sensation. He muttered a few words to the captain, got up, and came to the door. Dignity would not let mc retreat, and all I could think of to say was: "Are you the stationniaster?" The stranger laughed unpleasantly and turned to the captain, who strolled over to us. Was he going to re-arrest mc ? I wondered. But he merely nodded to mc with lazy good humour, and, turning to his companion, said: "What is it, Don Miguel 1" "I want to get a train back to Camacho," I explained. "Here comes the stationmaster, my young friend," said Don Miguel, very amiably, as a uniformed official appeared. "Jefe, this young gentleman wants to get to Camacho. Can you provide him with a special train 1" This insolence made mc want to knock the red-eyed man off his fat legs, but I wisely waited a better opportunity. Following the stationmaster into his office, I stated my need. He made a grimace. "Impossible, senor!" he cried. "Over that line the service is reserved for the movement of the troops." He turned to a wall map, and as I pointed out my objective, the hacienda, another plan occurred to mc. If I could get a train on the line running eastward to Monterrey, I might return to the ranch that way. But the stationmaster screwed up his face once more, and drew his lonjr finger nail over the ground I should have to traverse. "The revolutionists, senqr, swarm around here. At your own risk, however, you can take the train to Monterrey." After studying the time-table for what it was worth, I sought a bed in the nearby hotel and resigned myself to rest for the night, so as to be ready for the first train in the morning. Before turning in, I gave the silent Victor his orders and some pocket money! then I had a pow-wow with the night clerk. Like most hotel clerks, his knowledge was vast and lie was ready to share it—if treated with consideration-. In a fierce whisper he confided that the town would not hold out another eight day's against the rebels. Every train running anywhere near the Texas border was besieged with refugees. If I was wise, I should post my servant at the station in the early morning, with orders to bring mc word at the hotel as soon as there was talk of a train on the line to Monterrey. My well-earned sleep was rudely disturbed long before morning. It started with a tapping at my door, which continued till I was forced to get up, switch on the light, and unlock the door. There was not a sign of anybody in the corridor, but a slight sound of movement in the next room, occupied—so I thought—by Victor, attracted mc. "He's not losing any sleep," I thought, when I got no reply; and I went back to bed. Puzzling over that mysterious tapping, however, kept mc awake. I am not one of those people who fancy they hear noises, and I was certain someone had knocked at my door. I had several thousand dollars belted round my body under my pyjamas, and I was taking no risks. After a while, I rolled out of bed again and opened the French windows leading to the balcony overlooking the patio. The night air was delicious. I moved along the balcony to "Victor's room. His windows were closed and in darkness. All was peaceful. Feeling easier, I stepped back to my room. I had not time to shut the windows when rap-rap-rap! came the mysterious summons at my door again. I rushed across, turned the . key, and flung the door wide open. . There was nobody there —but once more I heard the movement in the next room. Dashing out into the corridor I : seized the handle of my servant's bedroom door and shook it violently. At that instant my own door closed with a bang. I took no notice, thinking the ■ wind from the open balcony window had i blown it shut. What alarmed mc was : that I could get no answer from Victoriano. Wild notions flashed through my brain. Had he been murdered in his sleep in mistake for mc? I scurried downstairs and shook up the night clerk, nodding in his retreat. "My servant!" I panted. "Assassinated! Who knows? Room number five. Bring your key!" The clerk gaped. "Come!" I cried. "We'll force the door!" I had dragged him up the stairs to the landing before he found his wits. "No, senor," he explained at last. "Room five—l gave it to another gentleman and his servant. It was late. He wanted that room. Your servant, senor, did not object. And so " An idea flashed into my bewildered brain. I urged the shaking clerk against the door of number five. "Have the kindness to, wake that gentleman, whoever he is," I commanded. The door of number five opened a few inches, an end of nightshirt fluttered out, and a raucous voice demanded: "What is it, man? My senor will make a complaint in the morning!" "Nothing! Nothing!" apologised the unhappy clerk. As the door was shut in our faces, I stepped to my own. Imagine my rage to find it locked—locked from the inside! 1 The clerk fled, to return in a moment with a master key. I hauled him inside and switched on the light. . What a scene! During my brief absence . the room had been turned topsy-turvy, as - if invaded by a dozen Mexican detectives. ; To the clerk's amazement I began to r laugh. Mattress, bedding and stripped - pillows all piled on the floor struck mc i as most comical—especially when I ' patted the wads of dollars snugly tucked I away under my pyjamas! i While the clerk put the room sliipl shape, I scared him into confessing that > the gentleman in number five wore black 1 gaiters and had bribed him to give him * the room next to mine and put Victor 1 elsewhere. Don Miguel's trick was now I pretty clear to mc. He and his so-called ■ "servant" had got mc out of my bedI room by their mysterious rappings. One ' of them had then entered by the balcony, • locked my door on the inside, and made » a frantic search for the funds I was • suspected to be carrying. The faithful Victor passed the rest of c the night on the floor inside my unlocked i door, with orders to open quickly and c grab any person who started rapping, c Before I could rest, I had to make mati ters more clear in my mind. Don Miguel, I I decided, must be a corrupt agent of the ■7 tottering Government; the type of crea- •• ture who will sell anything, including his country, for his own gain. Kb doubt he had wormed out of the Captain the fact % that I was probably the bearer of a * large sum of money. He meant to have •- that money! With this comforting v reflection I fell asleep. ■>• Sounds of strife awakened mc. There 5> was Victor battling with a man in the c corridor! It was the "boots!" My c faithful mozo (servant) had been lying h awake since dawn listening for the c merest noise at our door, and had cape tured this innocent offender! I A bath, hot chocolate and rolls; then fs Victor repacked my pyjamas and tooth n brush and off I sped for the station

looking, I hoped, as inconspicuous as a commercial traveller. Barely had I set foot on the platform when, "Buenos dias, senior," purred an oily voice in my ear. It was Don Miguel! "Were you molested last night?" he went on, soft as butter. "Thieves got into the hotel. No?" My safest game, I decided, was to play the "simple innocent" and not let this brigand see that I feared him, trusting to my wits to free mc from any further traps the scoundrel might set for mc. So I accepted a cigarette and listened to his lies until we parted. When I found myself speeding out of Torreon on the Monterry line, in a comfortable express, it seemed that I had magnified the difficulties and that my swift and safe return was a certainty. All at once, however, among the passengers I spied the sinister Don Miguel. He left mc severely alone, but I felt an intense irritation, as if his beady eyes were boring into mc like gimlets. San Juan station was reached and passed, and I felt as happy as if Saltillo was already in sight. I retired for another cold douche and clean-up. Suddenly there was a grinding of brakes, the train trembled from, the shock, and we slid to a standstill. As I ran out into the corridor all my i hopes of security were dispelled by bursts of firing from the front end of the train and shouts of "Viva! Viva la libertad!" In a second, the corridor was swarming with panic-stricken travellers. I kept my head sufficently to step back into the lavatory and shoot the bolt. We had been held up by the "liberators." They would, I knew, lose no time in liberating the passengers, foreigners in particular, from their valuables—"for the good of the cause!" Good-bye to my belt of money! No doubt the rebels would give mc a polite receipt, duly signed by their self-made "General." For a moment I had a. desperate idea of finding Victor and trusting the belt to him. Then came inspiration! I whipped off the belt, had the good sense to extract one wad, and then thrust the remainder down the wash-basin hole. When the jam in the corridor grew less, I forced my way out, and presently found myself with a long procession of terrified passengers lined up beside the six-foot way. While one squad of rebels paraded up and down between us and the raided train, going through our pockets, another party attended to the baggage. We must have looked a miserable lot with our hands stuck up! My face was as green as the rest, though my chief concern was for the safety of the money-belt lying between the rails beneath the train, hidden and unsuspected—as long as the train did not move on! Not far from mc stood Don Miguel. He was shouting "viva's" as loudly as any of the "liberators," but to my secret joy they made him stick up his hands, and deprived him of all money and papers, not to mention his black gaiters! His papers appeared to cause a commotion. Perhaps they implicated him as a Government spy. He looked so unhappy that I felt sorry for the wretch, until he spoke to one of the rebel officers and pointed mc out. To gain favour with the enemy the traitor had evidently disclosed that I was carrying a large sum of money! They searched mc at once, very carefully. I carried no arms (since my present to the Captain), which was in my favour. I made a show of protesting, as a British subject, and tried to ook very dejected when the searchers ppropriated my wad of two-hundrcd-.nd-fifty pesos. My servant Vic-' oriano was next seized and searched. Rom his pointed shoes to the crown of lis sugar-loaf hat. His total wealtli ras ninety-five centavos! The expect.nt officer scowled blackly at the bewildered Don Miguel, and the last I saw if him he was being marched away in ustody, a ridiculous figure in breeches md socks! Towards nightfall, loaded with the poils of their victory, the rebels withdrew. Released from the guards, there ollowed a general rush on the pa*rt of he passengers to get back into the ;rain. Unheeded except by Victor, who ollowed mc, I crossed the track to the vrong side of the train and walked ilong by the line until I came to the ittle broken window. This tallied with )ther signs I had made good note of to nark the hiding-place of my treasure. Murmuring a prayer that the train might not start too soon, I dropped to my knees, crawled over the rail, and groped about under the train for the precious belt of money. Ah! my fingers closed on it! As I twisted round on my stomach to wriggle .my way back to safety, a cry of horror reached mc from the watchful Victor. The train was beginning to move! I made a frog-like jump or dive between the slowly revolving wheels and landed on my face at my servant's feet. Spitting out the sand as I ran, I recrosscd the metals the moment the rear carriage glided past mc, and then raced after it to gain the footboard. Anyone who has attempted to board a moving train from the track will sympathise with Victor. Though <I encouraged him with shouts while I clung to my precarious foothold, he was left behind. However, the money was the main thing, and that was still witli inc. Soon after sundown we made Saltillo. where 1 joyfully quitted the plundered train and parted from my downcast wailing fellow-passengers. My nerves were now beginning to get jumpy, and I felt I could not rest while my errand remained unfinished. Money will most things, and it got mc a small car and an honest-looking chauffeur to drive mc straight away through the darkness of the little town of Mazapil, a run of one hundred miles. In Mazapil, where I was known, I could borrow a horse. One hour's ride over the rough mountain road would bring mc to the north-east corner of our hacienda; two hours more, through the loneliest part of the estate, would land mc right at headquarters. Except for missing the road in the dark and tipping one side of the car over the edge of a ravine, my driver set mc down without mishap in Mazapil at sunrise. Here 1 knocked up one Gonzales, a store-keeper, and, as I expected, he insisted on my taking rest and refreshment before attempting the last stage of my journey on the only horse the rebels had left to him. Half an hour later I dashed into the plaza at headquarters, slid out of the saddle, and rushed into the manager's office. "In time?" I asked, planking the belt of money down on his desk. "Everything looks peaceful." "Thank' goodness!" he cried, as he eagerly pulled out the wads of dollars. "No, they haven't struck yet." Very soon the glad news went round the station and, singing and rejoicing, the workers began to assemble to receive their pay. The danger was over! In spite of'mv success I was very uneasy for a week or two until I received word from the factory that the faith- . ful Victoriano, whom I had left behind A on the railway, had safely found his JBt way back to the bosom of his fannljr. jm A