Movie Pictorial (October 1, 1914)

24 THE MOVIE PICTORIAL October 1 , 191f rest, death. The salt mines take their toll Infallibly. The authorities know how long a man or a woman will last. “Well—that’s bad,” said Dick. “But—is there no way of persuading him that he can’t do any good by staying?” There was not—for it would not have been true. In the queerly twisted brain of old Juan one precious secret was locked up. He was poor, but it was only because he would not touch a store of wealth almost boundless. In the region there was a legend, that told of the discovery, in the days of Spanish rule, by a lord of Mescalite, of the buried treasure of the Aztecs, hidden since the days of Cortez. This treasure Juan’s ancestor—for in those days the Agramontes ruled in Mescalite—had found, as a matter of fact, as well as of legend. He had brought it north, in secret, to his own estates, waiting for a chance to smuggle it out of the country, for in those times the crown would have confiscated the gold had he told of it. And then he had changed his mind, and decided that the secret of his hoard should be handed down, from generation to generation, so that, in time of dire need, it might be available. Juan Agramonte’s need had been dire enough. And yet he had not used the treasure. For he was wise enough to realize that his ruin had been definitely decreed, by powers too great for him to challenge. He had seen that the only thing that would tempt them to leave him alone, in some sort of peace, and with a chance to care for his daughter, was to make them think that he was utterly crushed. So he had sub- mitted to everything, knowing they would never let him fly the country with his gold, and had waited. This, however, when he heard that the decree of banishment for the peons was settled, was, he felt, the time for which he had been waiting. Late at night he went to his store; he got enough gold to pay the taxes. Upon the peons to whom he gave it he enjoined secrecy. But it was not in them ro be secret. The gold in itself aroused suspicion; it took little to make the peons reveal its source. And then Juan was dragged before Don Miguel, resplen- dant now, in a new uniform, for he had used his influence to have himself proclaimed gen- eral and governor of the district, with the com- mand of the federal troops within it. “Where did you get this gold? It is old gold —strange gold!” said the governor. He gripped Juan by the throat and shook him, as he spoke. But Juan was silent. Threats were of no avail. "It is the treasure the legend tells of—the treasure your hound of an ancestor stole!” howled the governor. “It belongs to the government. Give up the secret and you shall have half—.” But still Juan was silent. The governor, however, knew a way to make him speak, or thought he did. Outside, in the patio, was a tree. To this he caused Juan to be tied. His servant, with a stout whip, stood over the old man, who was held up by his roped hands. “Strike — once or twice,” said the gov- ernor. The servant struck, and the blood started out as the whip left its marks. “Now will you tell?” asked the gov- ernor. “No!” gasped old Juan. “Then—beat h i m till he tells—or until he dies,” said the governor, and turned away. But the governor had gone too far. The peons were poor folk, without much spirit. But Dick Henshaw, aided by the fact that Juan had saved them from exile, was able to rouse them. They rose. They drove Don Miguel from his house and killed a few of his servants. The troops were all far away. And they rescued what had been Juan Agramonte. The old man was dead when they cut him down. But he had not told. Don Miguel escaped. And he returned, in two days, at the head of troops enough to overawe the peons. First he hung a score of them, to satisfy his vengeance. Then he looked for old Juan. “You killed him?” he shrieked at his servant. “Bah! You fool! Then his secret died with him? Could you not have let him live until he had given that up?” For an hour he raged. But then he remem- bered that the dead man had a daughter. An officer reminded him of it. This officer, it chanced, knew Dick as an insurrecto. He knew, too, that Dick had been coming to see Dolores. “The daughter—yes!” said Miguel, his eye lighting. “Let her be brought.” It was easy enough to find her. He received her alone. But, if she knew the secret of the treasure, she would not tell him. And the gov- ernor, indeed, forbore to press her. Looking at her, memories of his evil youth rose in him. And when the time was past he wanted her more than he did the treasure. He made her an offer—an offer too shameful to be set down, but fair enough, as he looked at such things. She struck him in the face. And for that she was taken away, a prisoner. And then, because she could not warn him, they caught Dick. He sought her; two soldiers were waiting. Miguel had need of him. He had a plan. And his evil old eyes twinkled merrily as he thought of it. Dick was brought before him. He was scorn- ful until he saw Dolores. He struggled to be free; across the guns of the guard she tried to reach him. “So,” said Miguel. He looked at the girl. “Not long since I made you an offer. I invited you to come here to stay—to be well treated so long as I did not tire of you. I promised, even, to find a lover for you when I was tired. Now— come, and your lover shall go free. Refuse— and he shall be shot, at once.” Despite the guards Dick freed himself for one long moment—a moment long enough for him to send his fist crashing into the governor’s face. Then, indeed, Miguel saw red. “I will have you!” he shrieked at Dolores. “And he shall die, as well! I will be merciful no longer! Take him out—shoot him!” The soldiers promptly obeyed his order. - “Let her see him die!” commanded Miguel, with a fierce oath. There was no delay. Five minutes later saw the firing squad ready. An officer stood, holding his handkerchief. Its fall would be the signal to fire. And then, suddenly, Dolores broke away and flung herself before Dick. "If you shoot him you will kill me!” she cried. There was a sudden stir among the soldiers. The rifles dropped. “Fire!” screamed the officer. But—this girl, after all, had been kind to them. And there was another thing. These were the soldiers Don Miguel had quartered on his peons. They had known the women of the peons. They had heard many things. One of them must have spoken first. What he said no one could remember, afterward. But in a moment, whatever it was, there had been a mutiny. “Viva el insureccion!” they cried. They stormed toward Dick and freed him. “Be our captain!” they pleaded. “Lead us to Villa!” “First—let us catch Don Miguel,” said Dick. “After him, my men!” They scattered. And he took Dolores with him, away from the fighting that followed. Some of the officers rallied other soldiers; they could hear shouts and shots, yelling, and the tumult of the fight. “They will win,” said Dolores. “The men who saved you!” They re about ten to one—so they certainly ought to,” said Dick. “Hello!” They were in the gardens, behind the great house. And suddenly they saw the governor, running feebly. As he neared them he threw up his hands. A bullet had reached its mark in him. "And all about that gold—and even now no one knows where it is!” said Dick. That was a week later, and he had established order, in the name of the rebel government. His wife was by his side. “I know where it is,” she said. "I did not come to you empty handed, after all!” Fugitive Flickers T HE movie operator evidently believes that one good turn deserves another. What has become of the old-fashioned movie exhibitor who used a megaphone to call in his audiences? Limburger figures prominently in the war dis- patches and would doubtless make strong atmos- phere in filmland. One rift of sun- shine in the present war clouds is the fact that no one has announced exclusive rights to film Laura Jean Libbey’s novels. To the best of our knowledge and be- lief there will be no tenor drums con- nected with movie orchestras in heaven. All currency that he manages to get hold of is emergency currency to the photoplay author. Now that the war has well started we confidently look for- ward soon to many Belgian hairbreadth escapes on the mo- tion picture screen. The Shortcut Film Company wishes to announce that the Siege of Liege • will be released just as soon as the stage carpenters can build a first-class rumored armistice as de- scribed in dispatches. “ Then Beat Him TiU He Tells—or Until He Dies.”