The Young Engineers in Mexico - Or, Fighting the Mine Swindlers

H. Irving (Harrie Irving) Hancock

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• Publié par: basud
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 47
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Young
Engineers in Mexico, by H. Irving Hancock
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Title: The Young Engineers in Mexico
Author: H. Irving Hancock
Release Date: June 29, 2004 [eBook #12778]
Language: English
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG
EBOOK THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO***
E-text prepared by Jim Ludwig
THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO
or, Fighting the Mine Swindlersby
H. IRVING HANCOCK
CONTENTS
CHAPTERS
I. The Land of Golden Eggs
II. The Wolf Who Showed His Teeth
III. Gato Strikes the Up Trail
IV. Tom Does Some Sampling
V. The Mine That Did and Didn't
VI. Watching the Midnight Lights
VII. Don Luis's Engineering Problem
VIII. Dangling the Golden Bait
IX. Don Luis Shows His Claws
X. The Spirit of a True Engineer
XI. A Piece of Lead in the Air
XII. Nicolas Does an Errand
XIII. Pining for the Good Old U.S.A.
XIV. Next to the Telegraph Key XV. The Job of Being an Hidalgo
XVI. Two Victims of Rosy Thoughts
XVII. The Stranger in the Tent
XVIII. Craft—Or Surrender?
XIX. The Hidalgo Plans Gratitude
XX. Two Real Signatures
XXI. The Final Touch of Tragedy
XXII. Mr. Haynes Asks a Few Questions
XXIII. The Engineer Turns
XXIV. ConclusionCHAPTER I
THE LAND OF GOLDEN EGGS
Luis Montez, mine owner, stood on the broad
veranda in front of his handsome home, looking
out over the country sweeping away to the
eastward.
"Gentlemen, you are in a land of golden promise,"
began Senor
Montez, with a smile and a bow. "I should call it
more than promise.
Why not? My beloved country, Mexico, has been
shipping gold
to the world ever since the days of Montezuma."
"Yes; in a mineral sense Mexico has truly a golden
history," nodded
Tom Reade, one of the engineers to whom Montez
was speaking.
"And a golden history in every sense," added
Senor Montez, with a quick rush of patriotism.
"Mexico is the finest country on earth. And, though
we are neither as numerous in population, or as
progressive as your own great country, still Mexico
has greater possibilities than the United States."
Tom was too polite to argue that point. And Harry
Hazelton, whom a seventy-mile ride in anautomobile over dusty roads, that day, had
rendered very drowsy, didn't consider an argument
worth while.
"Mexico has almost incredible natural wealth,"
Montez went on, his voice soft and purring, his
eyes glowing with something that might have
passed for pride. "Yet, through all the centuries
that white men have been here, I am confident that
not one per cent. of the country's natural resources
has yet been taken from the ground. Enough
wealth lies at man's beck and call to change the
balance of power between the nations of the world.
I have been in your great city, New York. It is a
place of tremendous wealth. Yet, within ten years,
gold enough can be taken from the ground within a
radius of twenty miles of here to buy the whole
great city of New York at any sane valuation."
"That purchase would require billions of dollars,"
broke in the practical Hazelton.
"But the wealth is here," insisted Senor Montez,
still smiling. "Truly, caballeros, as I have told you,
this is the land of golden—"
Again the Mexican paused, eloquently.
"The land of golden eggs?" suggested Harry.
For an instant there was a flash in the Mexican's
eyes. Then the friendly smile reappeared.
"Of course, you jest, senor," he replied, pleasantly."Not at all, Senor Montez," Hazelton assured him.
"When gold is so plentiful that it can be picked up
everywhere, there must be a goose at hand that
lays golden eggs. Eggs are among the most
common things that we have. When gold nuggets
are as large and as abundant as eggs then we
may properly call them golden eggs."
Senor Montez, flipped away the cigar that he had
finished, and reached for another. This he carefully
cut at the end, lighting it with graceful, elegant
deliberation. The Mexican was a distinguished-
looking man above medium height. A little past
forty years of age, he possessed all the agility of a
boy of twenty. Frequently his sudden, agile
movements indicated the possession of unusual
strength. Dark, like most of his countrymen,
constant exposure to the tropical sun had made his
face almost the color of mahogany. His carriage
was erect, every movement instinctive with grace.
Clad in a white linen suit, with white shoes, he wore
on his head a Panama hat of fine texture and
weave.
The house of which the broad veranda was a part,
was a low, two-story affair in stone, painted white.
Through the middle of the house extended the
drive-way leading into a large court in which a
fountain played. Around the upper story of the
house a balcony encircled the court and around the
windows there were also small balconies.
Many servants, most of them male, ministered to
the wants of those in the house. There weregardeners, hostlers, drivers, chauffeurs and other
employs, making a veritable colony of help that
was housed in small, low white houses well to the
rear.
Some thirty acres of grounds had been rendered
beautiful by the work of engineers, architects and
gardeners. Nature, on this estate, had been
forced, for the natural soil was stony and sterile, in
keeping with the mountains and the shallow valleys
in this part of the little and seldom-heard-of state of
Bonista.
To the eastward lay, at a distance of some two
miles, one of the sources of Senor Montez's wealth
El Sombrero Mine, producing some silver and
much more gold. At least so the owner claimed.
It was Senor Luis Montez himself who had gone to
the nearest railway station, seventy miles distant,
and there had made himself known, that forenoon,
to the two young engineers from the United States.
Tom and Harry had come to El Sombrero at the
invitation of Montez. After many careful inquiries as
to their reputation and standing in their home
country, Montez had engaged the young men as
engineers to help him develop his great mine. Nor
had he hesitated to pay the terms they had named
—one thousand dollars, gold, per month, for each,
and all expenses paid.
Over mountain trails, through the day, much of the
way had of necessity been made slowly. Wherever
the dusty, irregular roads had permitted greaterthe dusty, irregular roads had permitted greater
speed, the swarthy Mexican who had served Senor
Montez as chauffeur on the trip had opened wide
on the speed. At the end of their long automobile
ride Tom and Harry fairly ached from the jolting
they had received.
"There are other beautiful features of this gr-r-rand
country of mine," the Mexican mine owner
continued, lighting his second cigar. "I am a noble,
you know, Senor Tomaso. In my veins flows the
noble blood of the hidalgos of good old Spain. My
ancestors came here two hundred and fifty years
ago, and ever since, ours has been truly a Mexican
family that has preserved all of the most worthy
traditions of the old Spanish nobles. We are a
proud race, a conquering one. In this part of
Bonista, I, like my ancestors, rule like a war lord."
"You don't have much occupation at that game, do
you, senor?"
Tom asked, with an innocent smile.
"That—that—game?" repeated Senor Montez, with
a puzzled look at his young guest.
"The game of war lord," Reade explained. "Mexico
is not often at war, is she?"
"Not since she was forced to fight your country,
Senor Tomaso, as you help to remind me,"
pursued Montez, without a trace of offense.
"Though I was educated in your country, I confess
that, at times, your language still baffles me. What
I meant to say was not 'war lord,' but—but—""Over lord?" suggested Reade, politely.
"Ah, yes! Perhaps that better expresses what I
mean. In Mexico we have laws, senor, to be sure.
But they are not for caballeros like myself—not for
men who can boast of the blood of Spanish
hidalgos. I am master over these people for many
miles around. Absolute master! Think you any
judge would dare sign a process against me, and
send peon officers of the law to interfere with me?
No! As I tell you, I, Luis Montez, am the sole
master here among the mountains. We have laws
for the peons (working class), but I—I make my
own laws."
"Does it take much of your time, may I ask?"
"Does what take much of my time?" repeated
Senor Montez, again looking puzzled.
"Law making," explained Tom Reade.
Montez shot a swift look at the young engineer. He
wondered if the American were making fun of him.
But Reade's face looked so simple and kindly, his
eyes so full of interest, that the Mexican dismi