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THE CONVERSION OF DON ENRIQUE.

AN EPISODE OF MEXICAN RAILWAY LIFE. ” It is most wonderful! Nay, more, it is marvellous miraculous! Why, an hundred burros could not draw so great a load! No, not even an, hundred of the best horses of Las Delicias! Come, my friend, let us instantly depart. Uf truth, it is the work of the Evil One himself, and to remain longer would be Put to endanger the welfare of our souls. Let us never have railroads in our Mexico!” Don Enrique was a provincial Mexican gentleman who had journeyed in that good, old-fashioned conveyance, a rattletrap of a diligeneia. from hisfarraneho to the frontier town of Paso del Norte, where he had been persuaded, not a little against his will, to ace< m pany a friend -to El Paso, on the Texas side of the Bio Grande, there to view the wonders being wrought by the Americans. The first railroad to enter El Paso had just been completed, and he saw for the first lime in his life that wonderful machine, a steam locomotive. Its strange noises filled him with alarm; the foul smoke pouring from its stack almost strangled him; and, awe-stricken by its miraculous strength, he finally gave expression to his emotions, as shown above. He turned a deaf ear to the laughing remonstrances of his friend, meanwhile piously crossing himself, and insisted upon immediately return* ing to the Mexican side of the rivei; there, he felt, tffey would be safe from the malignant influence of the diabolical machine. And, upon arriving, in Paso del Norle, he lost no time in starting l>ack home, but it was with a heavy heait; he was oppressed with the fear that he had committed a heinous sin. A few months later he was informed that a concession for the construction of a railroad in Mexico had been granted an American company, wheieupon he HELD UP HIS HANDS IN SPEECH- , LESS HORROR.

Regaining use of his tongue, he denounced the impious government of his country in terms both vigorous and picturesque, but that accomplished nothing. And when the engineers who located the line of the road entered the bounds of Las Delieias he used all the diplomacy at his command to turn them aside, but to no effect, for the road was surveyed to pass within a mile of his house.

In due time the graders came, a motley crowd of rude, rough men who laughed in hia face, and with many an outburst of impotent rage he saw them tear an ugly trench across the breadth of Las Delicias. Then came the tracklayers, and he raved and stormed like one beside himself as the lines of glittering rails ciept up to and past his home; and he crossed himself in pious horror at sight of the telegraph wires. He was not in the least mollified when the railroad company paid him a good, lound sum for its right-of-way across his property, and rejected with a superb gesture of scorn the annual pass that was also tendered him. “ No, no, senor!” he exclaimed, indignantly; “ I wa;j powerless to prevent this DESECRATION OF MY BELOVED COUNTRY. but 1 did what 1 could. A.s yet the infamous government has not enacted laws compelling me to patronise your railroad, and until that be done neither I, nor my family, nor yet my servants, shall imperil their souls by-going near your trains Take back the pass to those who sent it, and tell them that I, Enrique del Toro, do ( xecrate it and them.” Hon Enrique’s opposition gave the officials of the road but little concern;

he was only one of many such eases, nevertheless it was decided to propitiate him by establishing a station convemeqt to his use, and a neat frame building was erected not far from his house, When the time arrived to select a man to have charge of this station, Bob Evans, a man who was a thorough railroader and with a reputation for coolness and " nerve,” but who was utterly lacking in respect for Mexicans, was chosen. He was not the man to make overtures of friendship to Don Enrique, most deeeidedly not—and Don Enrique would have repelled such overtures had they been made. Weeks passed, with each seeming to be insensible of the other’s existence; but there were agencies at Work that were destined soon to break down the barriers between them. Onemorninga vaquerogalloped madly to the hacienda, biiig.ng Don Enrique the terrifying news that a LARGE WAR PARTY OF APACHE INDIANS had swept down from the neighbouring mountains, killing and burning, and were making for the hacienda. Many yeais iiad passed since the Indians had raided that oountiy, and so Don Enrique was utterly unprepared to meet them. 11 God of my soul, what am I to dot'” he groaned. “We are too few to resist them. We must fly, but where? Oh, my wife, my daughter! Truly it is an evil day that has come upon us. We must fly from Las Delicias, but where can we find safety? There are no soldiers nearer than Chihuahua, and ol truth the Indians would overtake 'as before we could go so far,” And the poor man wmng his hands in despair. “ You forget the railway, Don Enrique,’’ the vaquero answered. “ Let us hurry to the station; » train may comeat any moment, and all the Apaches of the Siena Madre could not overtake that, it moves with such great swiftness;” The railway is a device of Satan for entrapping our souls,” Don Enrique sternly leplied. “ And are not the Apaches Satan’s own imps?” the vaquero rejoined, with respectful persistence. Don Enrique was loath to surrender his cherished policy of non-intercourse with the railroad, but his wife and daughter promptly championed the vaquero’s suggestion, and when two women beset one poor man, that man has hut one course to follow. Hu yielded, and immediately his household began its flight.

PELL-MELL. SHRIEKING AND GESTICULATING, they poured into the station, surprising Evans into speech lessness ; and Dun Enrique, his simple mind agitated no less by his fear of the clicking telegraph instruments than by his apprehension of the blood-curdling horrors of an Apache raid, attempted to explain the cause of Uuir coming, lie spoke Spanish, the only language he knew, and his excitement caused his words to pom out in an unbroken stream that was wholly unintelligible to Eva ns,who could undersand Spanish only when it was spoken slowly and'with careful enunciation. Mexicans always amused Evans—when they did not disgust him. Their theatrical display of emotion, their effusiveness, startling gesticulation, and comical grimaces, when excited, were to him all that the antics of a cage of monkeys are to the small boy. In puzzled amusement he sat staring at Don Enrique. letting him talk away until exhausted; and tiien coolly informed him that he had failed to catch his meaning. Don Enrique gasped with despair; what could he do to arouse this thickheaded, American, he wondered. A happy thought occurred to him; grasping Evans by the arm, he dragged him to the windpw. “ Mira, senor,” he cried, pointing to the west, where a number of slender columns of smoke were rising, '* fndios! Apaches! Muchos, muchoe!” Evans was a frontiersman, and his mind instantly took in the situation. With a bound ho reached his telegraph instrument and began calling Chihuahua, while Don Enrique drew back from the devilish machinery as far as he could. The Chihuahua office was prompt to r spend, and the next moment

AN URGENT CALL FOR SOLDIERS went leaping along the wire. There was immediate excitement in Chihuahua; the fussy switch-engine that was standing for the moment idly beside the telegraph office awoke with a snort, and darted tc the far end of the yard where it began hastily, sorting out coaches. In hot haste a messenger was despatched to the barracks: breathless he rushed into the office of the commaudante, and the next minute there arose an angry snarling of drums and a loud, excited calling of bugies. Then came a pattering of many sandaled feet and the rattle and jingle of arms, a hasty calling of rolls andeounting of fours, followed by sharp, quick-spoken words of command, and a column of swarthy, uniformed men emerged from the barracks. Again a sharp command, and they sprang upward at the double-quick, lacing to the railroad, station, where a train was now in readiness for them. Having seen the soldiers safely aboard, the conductor went into the telegraph office, where he remained a few moments: when he came out again he' carrit d in his hand a crumpled bit of paper, up n which ap peared the words, “ Run regardless.” His hand shot upward in a signal to the waiting engineer, and, with clanging bell and the hiss of escaping steam, the train moved out.

Anxiously the refugees at Las Delicias scanned the western horizon, in that direction an almost level plain stretched, away mile upon mile to where it mat a range of mountains that were velvety and blue with distance. Midway in this plain a clou t of dust arose, grew larger with eve.y moment, and drew rapidly nearer. Now a dense roll of black smoke appeared, and ascended straight upward to lose itself in the blue of the sky. and an angry glare of dame leaped upward beneath it. The Apaches were coming in

A WHIRLWIND OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION,

A Dios, they are but little more than three leagues away!” groaned Don Enrique. “ What shall we do r 1” *• No need for worry, senor,” returned Evans, who was silling with one tar over his telegraph instruments; and witii exasperating coolness he struck a match and lit his pipe. “No need for worry!” gasped Don Enriuue. *‘ Great God, man, thou art. crazed with fear!”

But Evens did not leply, did not bear; he was entirely absorbed by what the telegraph was saying. Presently a look of satisfaction shone in his face, and he made a hasty mental calculation: ' 4 Indians ten miles away, an’ coming ten miles an hour: soldiers sixty miles away, an’ ‘ Cussin’ Jimmy Johnson apullin’em; result, some Indians to bury in ’bout an hour if Jimmy stays on th’ rails—hot times for us if he don’t.” The cloud of dust kept rolling nearer, and a group of tiny black specks came into view at its base—specks that increased in number with even moment, and that grew larger, took form, and became galloping Apaches. Nearer, nearer they came, and the sobbing, praying liYSlerical Mexicans lelinquislied all hope of mortal aid; lut not

so with Evans. Leaning (nr oat of his window, be was watching Hie track, and, presently, far away where the two hues of gleaming rails seemed to unite in one, he caught’ sight of another speck—a speck that was sending aloft A PLUME OP INKY-BLACK SMOKE. Fireman’s woikin’ like the devil,” he mused, "an’ Jimmys got her wide open, cornin’ down a one-per-cent, grade, too. Ain’t he a bird ?” Now he looked at the Indians, and a look of concern stole into his face. They were getting dangerously near. Going to his desk, he took out and cocked his tevol * it. It held • six loads, one for each of the women if the worst should come—far l etter death for them than capture by the Apaches, he thought. Glancing at these poor creatures, who were huddling together in a corner of the room, ho noticed for the first time that one of them, a young woman whom he look to boDonEnrique’s daughter, was possessed of more than average beauty, and ho trembled with the thought that his might be the hand that must end her life.

Tile Apaches were within rifle-range cl the station, and the rapid pounding of their horses’ hoofs was distinctly heard, when therails began to vibrate and hum beneath swiftly turning wheels. The next minute, with a deafening roar of escaping steam, and with every wheel sliding and sending showers of sparks from the rails, the train bearing the soldiers swept up to the station and came to a stop. Stentorian commands rang out, followed instantly by a rattling and crackling of locks, and a thunderous volley crashed from the car windows. The surpiise of the Apaches was com’ several of their number reeled and almost fell from their ponies. A whoop and a wave of their leader’s hand sent them Hying back toward the mountains, and the soldiers, quickly pouring from the Gain, started in hopeless pursuit of them. Don Enrique was AS ONE WHO SEES A VISION,

so sudden a transition from dumb despair to a sense of safety stupi fled him. With round, wide-open eyes, he staie I a few minutes at the fleeing Indians, at the dusty soldiers above whose' heads fluttered the flag of his country, and then, in a sudden transport of joy,lushed to Evans and clasped him in his arms. “ My friend, rny very dear friend!’ 1 he cried, kissing the surprised American, first on one check, then the other. ‘“Nay, thou art more than friend—saviour—saviour of my property—of my family—of all that 1 hold dear! Thou hast ” “ Oh, hello! Say, drop it! Turn mo loose, you old fool! D n you, quit kissin' me,’’ sputtered Evans, speaking English, as was natural under such circumstances. “ performed a mine le. thou and thy railroad, and thy Ulegrapb!’ Don Enrique went on, not noticing this interruption, and holding tight to Evans, who was struggling with all his strength to get away. Evans gave up, and, to escape farther osculation, pushed forward his head on the Mexican’s shouldtr; his face was flushed with shame, and his eyes were rolling ludicrously from side to side, fairly speaking the disgust he felt, “Ay de mi! I did oppose the building of thy railroad. I thought it the work of the devil, and I denounced the government for permitting it. But 1 was wrong—l, Enrique del Toro, do admit that I was wrong, and henceforth I am the friend of railroads—of the telegraph, also. It has been the means of saving our lives, and therefore can not be harmful to our souls. lam the friend of thy railroad. I repeat, and I will now accept the pass I once did refuse. Come to my house, my friend, it is thine;

ALL THAT I POSSESS IS'THINE at thy pleasure. He was trying to kiss Evans again, when a voice that shook with laughter called from the window: “ hay, Evans, what’s the matter with the good lookin’ daughter ? I’d rather kiss her than the old man—l’ll take her if you’ll let me get into the game.” “ D—n you an’ th’ daughter, too!” Evans returned, wrath fully, glancing at the grimy face of a “ Cussin ” Jimmy, which was framed in the window, and with a mighty etfort wrenching himself free he ran out of the room.

A year passed, and one day Evans hailed the engineer of a train that was slowing into Las Uelicias: “ Say Jimuly,” he called, “ do you lemember. th' little Mexican girl you saw out here last year —th’ tinn you pulled th* extra, bringin’ soldiers.” “ The one that was lookin’ so lonesome while you were huggin’ the old man ?” answered Jimmy. “ Why, yes; what’s become of her t'”

“ She doesn’t get lonesome that way any more,” Evans replied, gi inning sheepishly. *' Slijj on your best clothea an’ dead-head out here to-morrow, air’ you’ll see her become Mrs. Evans.”— Bourdon Wilson in the “ Argonaut.”

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/PGAMA19020415.2.31

Bibliographic details

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 13, Issue 28, 15 April 1902, Page 7

Word Count
2,591

THE CONVERSION OF DON ENRIQUE. Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 13, Issue 28, 15 April 1902, Page 7

THE CONVERSION OF DON ENRIQUE. Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 13, Issue 28, 15 April 1902, Page 7