b9bd780c9c95

Daughter of the Sun, by Jackson

Gregory

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Daughter of the Sun, by Jackson Gregory

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Title: Daughter of the Sun A Tale of Adventure

Author: Jackson Gregory

Release Date: July 27, 2006 [eBook #18916]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAUGHTER

OF THE SUN***

E-text prepared by Al Haines

Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. See 18916-h.htm or 18916-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/8/9/1/18916/18916-h/18916-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/8/9/1/18916/18916-h.zip) DAUGHTER OF THE SUN

A Tale of Adventure

by

JACKSON GREGORY

(Quién Sabe)

Author of Timber Wolf, The Everlasting Whisper, Desert Valley, Etc.

[Frontispiece: Zoraida Castelmar, daughter of the Montezumas]

Grosset & Dunlap Publishers -------- New York Copyright, 1921, by Charles Scribner's Sons Copyright as "The Treasure of the Hills," 1920, 1921, by Street & Smith

TO

ZINGARA

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I.

IN WHICH A YOUNG AMERICAN KNOWN AS "HEADLONG"

PLAYS AT DICE WITH ONE IN MAN'S CLOTHING WHO IS NOT

A MAN

II. IN WHICH A SPELL IS WORKED AND AN EXPEDITION IS

BEGUN

III. OF THE NEW MOON, A TALE OF AZTEC TREASURE AND A

MYSTERY

IV. INDICATING THAT THAT WHICH APPEARS THE EARTHLY

PARADISE MAY PROVE QUITE ANOTHER SORT OF PLACE

V. HOW ONE NOT ACCUSTOMED TO TAKING ANOTHER

MAN'S ORDERS RECEIVES THE COMMAND OF THE QUEEN

LADY

VI. CONCERNING THAT WHICH LAY IN THE EYES OF

ZORAIDA

VII. OF A GIRL HELD FOR RANSOM AND OF A TOAST DRUNK

BY ONE INFATUATED

VIII. HOW A MAN MAY CARRY A MESSAGE AND NOT KNOW

HIMSELF TO BE A MESSENGER

IX. WHICH BEGINS WITH A LITTLE SONG AND ENDS WITH

TROUBLE BETWEEN FRIENDS

X. IN WHICH A MAN KEEPS HIS WORD AND ZORAIDA DARES

AND LAUGHS

XI. IN WHICH THERE IS MORE THAN ONE LIE TOLD AND THE

TRUTH IS GLIMPSED

XII. IN WHICH AN OVERTURE IS MADE, AN ANSWER IS

POSTPONED AND A DOOR IS LOCKED

XIII. CONCERNING WOMAN'S WILES AND WITCHERY

XIV. CONCERNING A DIFFICULT SITUATION, RECKLESSLY

INVITED

XV. OF THE ANCIENT GARDENS OF THE GOLDEN TEZCUCAN

XVI. HOW TWO, IN THE LABYRINTH OF MIRRORS, WATCHED

DISTANT HAPPENINGS

XVII. HOW ONE WHO HAS EVER COMMANDED MUST LEARN

TO OBEY

XVIII. OF FLIGHT, PURSUIT AND A LAIR IN THE CLIFFS

XIX. HOW ONE WHO HIDES AND WATCHES MAY BE

WATCHED BY ONE HIDDEN

XX. IN WHICH A ROCK MOVES, A DISCOVERY IS MADE AND

MORE THAN ONE AVENUE IS OPENED

XXI. HOW ONE RETURNS UNWILLINGLY WHITHER HE

WOULD WILLINGLY ENTER BY ANOTHER DOOR

XXII. REGARDING A NECKLACE OF PEARLS AND CERTAIN

PLANS OF TWO WHO WERE MEANT TO BE ONE

DAUGHTER OF THE SUN

CHAPTER I

IN WHICH A YOUNG AMERICAN KNOWN AS "HEADLONG"

PLAYS AT DICE WITH ONE IN MAN'S CLOTHING WHO IS NOT

A MAN

Jim Kendric had arrived and the border town knew it well. All who knew the man foresaw that he would come with a rush, tarry briefly for a bit of wild joy and leave with a rush for the Lord knew where and the Lord knew why. For such was ever the way of Jim Kendric.

A letter at the postoffice had been the means of advising the entire community of the coming of Kendric. The letter was from Bruce West, down in Lower California, and scrawled across the flap were instructions to the postmaster to hold it for Jim Kendric who would arrive within a couple of weeks. Furthermore the word URGENT was not to be overlooked.

Among the men drawn together in hourly expectation of the arrival of Kendric, one remarked thoughtfully:

"Jim's Mex friend is in town."

"Ruiz Rios?" someone asked, a man from the outside.

"Been here three days. Just sticking around and doing nothing but smoke cigarettes. Looks like he was waiting."

"What for?"

"Waiting for Jim, maybe?" was suggested.

Two or three laughed at that. In their estimation Ruiz Rios might be the man to knife his way out of a hole, but not one to go out of his way to cross the trail made wide and recklessly by Jim Kendric.

"A half hour ago," came the supplementary information from another quarter, "a big automobile going to beat the band pulls up in front of the hotel. The Mex is watching and when a woman climbs down he grabs her traps and steers her into the hotel."

Immediately this news bringer was the man of the moment. But he had had scant time to admit that he hadn't seen her face, that she had worn a thick black veil, that somehow she just
seemed
young and that he'd bet she was too darn pretty to be wasting herself on Rios, when Jim Kendric himself landed in their midst.

He was powdered with alkali dust from the soles of his boots to the crown of his black hat and he looked unusually tall because he was unusually gaunt. He had ridden far and hard. But the eyes were the same old eyes of the same old headlong Jim Kendric, on fire on the instant, dancing with the joy of striking hands with the old-timers, shining with the man's supreme joy of life.

"I'm no drinking man and you know it," he shouted at them, his voice booming out and down the quiet blistering street. "And I'm no gambling man. I'm steady and sober and I'm a regular fool for conservative investments! But there's a time when a glass in the hand is as pat as eggs in a hen's nest and a man wants to spend his money free!

Come on, you bunch of devil-hounds; lead me to it."

It was the rollicking arrival which they had counted on since this was the only way Jim Kendric knew of getting back among old friends and old surroundings. There was nothing subtle about him; in all things he was open and forthright and tempestuous. In a man's hardened and buffeted body he had kept the heart of a harum-scarum boy.

"It's only a step across the line into Old Town," he reminded them.

"And the Mexico gents over there haven't got started reforming yet.

Blaze the trail, Benny. Shut up your damned old store and postoffice, Homer, and trot along. It's close to sunset any way; I'll finance the pilgrimage until sunup."

When he mentioned the "postoffice" Homer Day was recalled to his official duties as postmaster. He gave Kendric the letter from Bruce West. Kendric ripped open the envelope, glanced at the contents, skimming the lines impatiently. Then he jammed the letter into his pocket.

"Just as I supposed," he announced. "Bruce has a sure thing in the way of the best cattle range you ever saw; he'll make money hand over fist.

But," and he chuckled his enjoyment, "he's just a trifle too busy scaring off Mexican bandits and close-herding his stock to get any sleep of nights. Drop him a postcard, Homer; tell him I can't come. Let's step over to Old Town."

"Ruiz Rios is in town, Jim," he was informed.

"I know," he retorted lightly. "But I'm not shooting trouble nowadays.

Getting older, you know."

"How'd
you
know?" asked Homer.

"Bruce said so in his letter; Rios is a neighbor down in Lower California. Now, forget Ruiz Rios. Let's start something."

There were six Americans in the little party by the time they had walked the brief distance to the border and across into Old Town.

Before they reached the swing doors of the Casa Grande the red ball of the sun went down.

"Fat Ortega knows you're coming, Jim," Kendric was advised. "I guess everybody in town knows by now."

And plainly everybody was interested. When the six men, going in two by two, snapped back the swinging doors there were a score of men in the place. Behind the long bar running along one side of the big room two men were busy setting forth bottles and glasses. The air was hazy with cigarette smoke. There was a business air, an air of readiness and expectancy about the gaming tables though no one at this early hour had suggested playing. Ortega himself, fat and greasy and pompous, leaned against his bar and twisted a stogie between his puffy, pendulous lips. He merely batted his eyes at Kendric, who noticed him not at all.

A golden twenty dollar coin spun and winked upon the bar impelled by Jim's big fingers and Kendric's voice called heartily:

"I'd be happy to have every man here drink with me."

The invitation was naturally accepted. The men ranged along the bar, elbow to elbow; the bartenders served and, with a nod toward the man who stood treat, poured their own red wine. Even Ortega, though he made no attempt toward a civil response, drank. The more liquor poured into a man's stomach here, the more money in Ortega's pocket and he was avaricious. He'd drink in his own shop with his worst enemy provided that enemy paid the score.

Kendric's friends were men who were always glad to drink and play a game of cards, but tonight they were gladder for the chance to talk with

"Old Headlong." When he had bought the house a couple of rounds of drinks, Kendric withdrew to a corner table with a dozen of his old-time acquaintances and for upward of an hour they sat and found much to talk of. He had his own experiences to recount and sketched them swiftly, telling of a venture in a new silver mining country and a certain profit made; of a "misunderstanding," as he mirthfully explained it, now and then, with the children of the South; of horse swapping and a taste of the pearl fisheries of La Paz; of no end of adventures such as men of his class and nationality find every day in troublous Mexico.

Twisty Barlow, an old-time friend with whom once he had gone adventuring in Peru, a man who had been deep sea sailor and near pirate, real estate juggler, miner, trapper and mule skinner, sat at his elbow, put many an incisive question, had many a yarn of his own to spin.

"Headlong, old mate," said Twisty Barlow once, laying his knotty hand on Kendric's arm, "by the livin' Gawd that made us, I'd like to go a-journeyin' with the likes of you again. And I know the land that's waitin' for the pair of us. Into San Diego we go and there we take a certain warped and battered old stem-twister the owner calls a schooner.

And we beat it out into the Pacific and turn south until we come to a certain land maybe you can remember having heard me tell about. And there---- It's there, Headlong, old mate!"

Kendric's eyes shone while Barlow spoke, but then they always shone when a man hinted of such things as he knew lay in the sailorman's mind. But at the end he shook his head.

"You're talking about tomorrow or next day, Twisty," he laughed, filling his deep lungs contentedly. "I've had a bellyful of mañana-talk here of late. All I'm interested in is tonight." He rattled some loose coins in his pocket. "I've got money in my pocket, man!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "Come ahead. I stake every man jack of you to ten dollars and any man who wins treats the house."

Meanwhile Ortega's place had been doing an increasing business. Now there was desultory playing at several tables where men were placing their bets at poker, at seven-and-a-half and at roulette; the faro layout would be offering its invitation in a moment; there was a game of dice in progress.

Kendric's companions moved about from table to table laughing, making small bets or merely watching. But presently as half dollars were won and lost the insidious charm of hazard touched them. Monte stuck fast to the faro table for fifteen minutes, at the end of which time he rose with a sigh, tempted to go back to Kendric for a "real stake"

and cut in for a man's play. But he thought better of it and strolled away, rolling a cigarette and watching the others. Jerry bought a ten dollar stack of chips and assayed his fortune with roulette, playing his usual luck and his usual system; with every hazard lost he lost his temper and doubled his bet. He was the first man to join Monte.

For upward of an hour of play Kendric was content with looking on and had not hazarded a cent beyond the money flung down on the table to be played by his friends. But now at last he looked about the room eagerly, his head up, his eyes blazing with the up-surge of the spirit riding him. About his middle was a money belt, safely brought back across the border; in his wild heart was the imperative desire to play.

Play high and quick and hard. It was then that for the first time he noted Ruiz Rios. Evidently the Mexican had just now entered from the rear.

At the far end of the room where the kerosene lamp light was none too good Rios was standing with a solitary slim-bodied companion. The companion, to call for all due consideration later, barely caught Jim's roving eye now; he saw Rios and he told himself that the gamblers'