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RAINBOW’
By REX BEACH
Copyright, by Harper and Brothers)
> END A Novel
Author of “The Iron Trail,” “The
Spoilers,” “Heart of the Sunset,” Etc.
A 20000
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MHI YON
O'REILLY LEARNS OF ROSA’S PLIGHT AND RUSHES TO
THE RESCUE WITH
ALL POSSIBLE HASTE
the birth of twins,
Evangelina at cards and loses.
school in the United States.
pelled to flee.
Synopsis.—Don Esteban Varona, a Cuban planter, hides his wealth
—money, jewels and title deeds—in a well on his estate.
place is known only to Sebastian, a slave. Don Esteban’s wife dies at
Esteban and Rosa.
avaricious Donna Isabel, who tries unsuccessfully to wring the secret
of the hidden treasure from Sebastian.
urzes Don Esteban to sell Evangelina, Sebastian’s daughter.
Esteban refuses, but in the course of a gambling orgie, he risks
Crazed by the loss of his daughter,
Sebastian kills Don Esteban and is himself killed.
and Donna Isabel is unable to find the hidden treasure.
rich sugar merchant, seeks to marry Rosa, who has returned from
Johnnie O'Reilly, an American, who loves
Rosa, wins her promise to wait for him until he can return from New
York. Donna Isabel falls to death while walking in her sleep. Esteban’s
connection with the insurrectos is discovered and he and Rosa are com-
The hiding
|
|
|
|
Don Estaban marries the
Angered at his refusal, she |
Don |
i
Many years pass
Don Mario, |
|
CHAPTER V—Continued.
“Are you crazy, or am I?” he que-
ried.
“Yes, sir; delirious. It’s this way,
sir; I've changed my mind, too.”
“Oh—! You have?”
“I've met the dearest, sweetest”—
O'Reilly choked, then began again—
“the dearest, loveliest—"
“Never mind the bird-calls—don’t
coo! I get enough of that at home.
Humph! It turned out better than I
thought. Why, II was positively ter-
rified when you walked in.
be offended, and I am, but—
while I telephone Elsa.”
fing a long letter to Rosa Varona.
Other letters went forward by suc-
ceeding posts, and there was no doubt
now that O'Reilly's pen was tipped
with magic! He tingled when he re-
read what he had written. He bade
Rosa prepare for his return and their
immediate marriage.
O'Reilly’s love was unlimited; his
trust in the girl was absolute. He
knew, moreover, that she loved and
trusted him. This, to be sure, was a
miracle—a unique phenomenon which
never ceased to amaze him, He did
not dream that every man had felt the
same vague wonder.
And so the time passed rapidly. But, |
strange to say, there came no answer
to those letters. O'Reilly cursed the
revolution which had made communi- |
cation so uncertain; at length he
cabled, but still the days dragged on
with no result. Gradually his impa-
tience gave way to apprehension.
Great was his relief, therefore, when
one day a worn, stained envelope ad-
dressed in Rosa's hand was laid upon
his desk. The American stamp, the
Key West postmark, looked strange, |
but— Her first letter! O'Reilly won-
dered if his first letter to her could
possibly have moved her as this moved
him. He kissed the envelope where
her lips had caressed it in the sealing.
Then with eager fingers he broke it
open.
It was a generous epistle, long and
closely written, but as he read his keen
delight turned to dismay, and when
fe had turned the last thin page his |
brain was in wildest turmoil. He
-
bs 3 ©
te
Are You Crazy, or Am 17” He Que-
ried-
thought he must be dreaming. Could
it be that he had misunderstood any-
thing? He turned to the beginning apd
attempted to read, but his hands shook
so that he was obliged to lay the letter
flat upon his desk.
My Dear Beloved: It is with diffidence
and hesitation that I take my pen In
for I fear you may consider me
ly forward in writing ‘2 you with-
solicitation.
Alas We are refugees, Esteban and I
—tugitives, outcaste, ving in the mani-
{day?
| gets herself!”
| gone, too! I am a hunted creature,
1 !
I guage a | with the death of Donna Isabel and to
et out | give him a succinct account of all that
} . [had followed. O'Reilly read the story,
O'Reilly spent that evening in writ-
|
|
| those I fear there are too many to please
| vou, my Juan, for men do not like tears.
Therefore
TY THAT
him thither. When he-had finished his
tale Mr. Enriquez inquired :
“But how do you expect me to help
you?”
“I want your advice more than your
help, although you might tell me where
I can find Colonel Lopez.”
Enriquez eyed his caller keenly.
“That information would be very well
worth having,” said he. “But, you un-
derstand, we know little about what is
going on in Cuba—far less than the
Spaniards themselves. I'm afraid I
can’t help you.”
“You don’t take me for a spy, do
you?” Johnnie asked, with his friendly
grin,
“Ah! You don’t look like one, but
we never know whom to trust. This
young lady in whom you are -inter-
ested, who is she?”
“Her name is Varona; Miss Rosa |
Varona.” .
“S07? Enriquez raised his brows.
“
| famous Varona treasure?”
| gua with Asensio and Evangelina, former |
slaves of our father. Such poverty, such |
indescribable circumstances! But they |
were cur only friends and they took us |
in when we were homeless, so we love |
them.
If this letter reaches y
it with a prayer—what tt} I dare not
think too long of that, for the hearts of
men are not like the hearts of women.
What will you say when you learn that
the Rosa Varona whom you favored with
your admiration is not the Rosa of to-
I hear you murmur, “The girl for-
But, oh, the standards of
are gone and my reserve is
—and I send
yesterday
Rosa had compelled herself to start
fascinated.
That is how we came to live with Asensio
and his wife. Imagine it! A bohio, hid-
den away far up the Yumuri, and so in-
significant as to escape attention. We are
no longer people of consequence or au-
thority; our safety depends upon our in-
conspicuousness.
The whole country is in chaos.
There
is no work—nothing but suspicion, hatred, |
| and violence. Oh, what desolation this |
war has wrought! Esteban has already |
| become a guerrillero. He has stolen a |
| cow, and so we have milk for our coffee; |
| but there is only a handful of coffee left, |
and little hope of more. Marauding bands
| of Spaniards are everywhere, and the
| country people tell atrocious tales about
| them. How will it end?
{ fore they will discover us and the worst |
| will happen? |
If only you were here— Oh, my dear-
est Juan! If only you were here—to take
| me in your arms and banish this ever
| constant terror at my heart. If only you
were here to tell me that you love me |
still in spite of my misfortune. See! The |
tears are falling as I write. You will re- |
turn, will you not? I could not write like |
this if I were sure that you would read |
these lines. My nightly prayer— But Ii
will not tell you of my prayers, for fate
may guide this letter to you, after all,
and the hearts of men do change. In
those dark hours when my doubts arise
I try to tell myself that you will surely
| come and search me out. !
When you return to Cuba—see, my faith }
is strong again—avold Matanzas, for your
own sake and mine. Don Mario wanted
to marry me to save me this exile. But |
I refused; I told him I was pledged to |
vou, and he was furious. He is power-
ful: he would balk you, and there is al-
ways room for one more in San Severino.
If I could come to you, 1 would, but I
am marked. So if you still desire me you
must search me out. You will? I pin my
faith to that as to the Cross. To doubt
would be to perish. If we should have to
find another hiding-place, and that is al- |
ways likely, you can learn of our where-
abouts from Colonel Lopez.
Alas! If you had asked me to go with |
vou that day! T would have followed you, |
| for my heart beat then as it beats today, !
for you alone. oa
The candle is burning low and it will |
soon be daylight, and then this letter must
begin its long, uncertain journey. I trust
the many blots upon the paper will not
give you a wrong impression of my writ-
ing, for I am neat, and I write nicely;
only now the ink is poor and there is very
little of it. There is little of anything, |
here at Asensio’s house, except tears. of
|
|
I try to smile as I sign myself, *
Your loving and your faithful
ROS
O God! Come quickly, if you love me.
CHAPTER VIL.
The Quest Begins.
When O'Reilly had finished his sec-
ond reading of the letter there were
fresh blots upon the pitifully untidy
pages. “I write nicely, only the ink is
poor—" “There is little of anything
here at Asensio’s house—" “It is cold
before the dawn—" . . . Poor little
Rosa! He had always thought of her
as so proud, so high-spirited, so play-
ful, but another Rosa had written this
letter. Her appeal stirred every
chord of tenderness, every impulse of
chivalry in his impressionable Irish na-
ture. “O God! Come quickly, if you
love me.” He leaped to his feet; he
dashed the tears from his eyes.
Johnnie's preparations were con-
ducted with vigor and promptitude;
within two hours his belongings were
packed. He seized his hat and has-
tened downtown to the office of the Cu-
ban junta.
A businesslike young man inquired
his errand. Johnnie made known a
part of it, and then asked to see some-
one in authority. In consequence, per-
haps, of his Irish smile or of that per-
suasiveness which he could render al-
most irresistible when he willed, it was
not long before he ghined admittance
to the presence of Mr. Enriquez, a dis-
tinguished, scholarly Cuban of middle
0 boldly
into the
O'Reilly plunged
wegri of the matter wh’ -h nad brought
How long be- | J
jown ways.
“Txactly l—if there is such a thing. !
I want you to be- |
Reverently he laid Rosa's |
“I'm |
not in the habit of showing my letters!
to strangers, but—I guess that'll con-|
Here! Read this.
lieve me.”
letter before her countryman.
vince you I'm not a spy.”
He sat silently while the letter was
being read ; nor was he disappointed in
the result. Mr. Enriquez raised dark,
compassionate eyes to his, saying:
“This is a touching letter, sir.
thank you for allowing me to see it.
No, I don’t doubt you now. Poor Cuba!
Her sons must be brave, her daughters
patient.”
“well! You understand why I must
go quickly, and why I can’t chance de-
Not by any chance the heiress to that |
>
I
0
)
He Sat Silently While the Letter Was
Being Read.
lay by going either to Matanzas or to
Havana. I want to land somewhere
| farther east, and I want you to help
| me to find Colonel Lopez.”
Mr. Enriquez frowned thoughtfully.
“What I just told you is literally true,”
he said at last. “We work in the dark
up here, and we don’t know the where-
abouts of our troops. But—I have a
thought.” He excused himself and left
the room. When he returned he ex-
plained: “I don’t have to tell you that
we are watched all the time, and that
for us to assist you openly would be
liable to defeat your purpose, But I
have just telephoned to a man I can
| trust, and I have told him your story.
He has relatives in Cuba and he agrees
to help you if he can. His name is
Alvarado.” Writing an address upon
Aa ecard, he handed it to O'Reilly. “Go
to him, tell him what you have told me,
and do as he directs. Another thing,
don’t return here unless it is neces-
sary ; otherwise when you land in Cuba
you may have cause to regret it.”
Doctor Alvarado, a high type of the
Cuban professional man, was expect-
ing O'Reilly. He listened patiently to
his caller’s somewhat breathless re-
cital.
“You do well to avoid the cities
where you are known,” he agreed. “But
just how to reach the insurrectos—"
“If you'd merely give me a letter
saying I'm a friend—"
The doctor promptly negatived this |
“Surely you don’t think it]
can be done as easily as that?” he in- |
“In the first place, wherever
suggestion.
quired.
you land, you will be watched and
probably searched. Such a letter, if
discovered, would not only end your
chances, but it would bring certain dis-
aster upon those to whom it was writ-
ten.
necio, reside in Cuba, and we all work
for the cause of independence in our
I am fortunately situated,
but they are surrounded by dangers,
nd I must ask you to be extremely
=a] communicating with them,
My two brothers, Tomas and Ig-|
for I am placing their lives in your
hands and—I love them dearly.”
“I shall do exactly as you say.”
“Yery well, then! Go to Neuvitas,
where Tomas lives—there is a steamer
leaving in three or four days, and you
can arrange passage on her. He is a
dentist. Meet him, somehow, and
make yourself know by repeating this
sentence: ‘I come from Felipe. He told
me how you whipped him to keep him
from going to the Ten Years’ war!
That will be enough; he will ask you
who you are and what you want. You
won't need to say anything more. No
living soul, except Tomas and I, knows
that he thrashed me, but it is true. He
will understand from the message that
I trust you, and he will help you to
reach the rebels, if such a thing is
possible. Come and see me when you
get back, and bring me news of Tomas.
Now, adios, compadre.”
“Adios, senor! I am deeply grate-
ful I”
O'Reilly had no difficulty in securing
passage direct to Neuvitas on the Eng-
lish steamer Dunham Castle, and a few
days later he saw the Atlantic high-
lands dissolve into the mists of a win-
ter afternoon as the ship headed out-
ward into a nasty running sea.
| Cuba, when it came fairly into sight,
| lay bathed in golden sunshine, all
warmth and welcome, like a bride
| upon an azure couch. The moist breath
{ from her fragrant shores swept over
| the steamer’s decks and Johnnie
| O'Reilly sniffed it joyfully. ;
| Although there were but a few pas-
sengers on the Dunham Castle, they
were subjected to a long delay, during
| which suspicious customs men searched
their baggage and questioned them.
Finally, however, O'Reilly found him-
| self free to go ashore.
| El Gran Hotel Europea, Neuvitas’
leading hostelry, belied its name. It
was far from large, and certainly it
| was anything but European, except,
| perhaps, in its proprietor’s extravagant
and un-American desire to please, at
any cost. But it was the best hotel
the place afforded, and Senor Carbajal
was the most attentive of hosts.
He evinced an unusual interest in
the affairs of his American guest, an
soon developed a habit o popping into
the latter’s room at unexpected mo-
ments, ostensibly to see that all was
as it should be. When, for the third
time, he appeared without knocking,
| O'Reilly suspected something.
“You have everything, eh?” Mr. Car-
| bajal teetered upon the balls of his
feet while his small black eyes roved
inquisitively.
“Everything in abundance.”
“You are a pleasure traveler? You
see the sights, is that it? Well, Cuba
is beautiful.”
“I’m not a tourist.
health,” said O'Reilly.
“You— Health—!” Carbajal’s
frame began to heave; his bulging ab-
domen oscillated as if shaken by some
hidden hand. “Good! Ha! There's
another joke for you.”
“I'm a sick man,” O'Reilly insisted,
hollowly.
“You don’t look sick,” mumbled Car-
bajal. “Not like the other American.”
“What other American?”
“A peculiar fellow. He went on to
Puerto Principe. What a cough! And
he was as thin as a wire. He bled at
the mouth, too, all the time, when he
was not reviling my hotel. You'll see
him if you go there, provided he hasn’t
come apart with his coughing. I be-
lieve he writes for newspapers. Well,
it is my pleasure to serve you. Com-
mand me at any hour.” Mr. Carbajal
rose reluctantly and went wheezing
downstairs to his grimy tables and the
flies.
|
I travel for my
CHAPTER VIL
The Man Who Would Know Life.
Later that day O'Reilly set out to
reconnoiter the city of Neuvitas. He
was followed, of course—he had ex-
pected as much, and the circumstances
amused rather than alarmed him. But
when he returned to his hotel and
found that his room had been visited
during his absence he felt a hint of
uneasiness. Evidently, as Doctor Al-
varado had forecast, the authorities
were interested in him; and he had
further evidence of the fact when he
learned that the room next him was
occupied by the very man who had
shadowed him on the street. Inasmuch
as the intervening wall was no more
than a thin partition, through which
his very breathing could be heard,
while his every movement could doubt-
less be spied upon, O'Reilly saw the
need of caution.
During breakfast, and afterward
throughout an aimless morning stroll,
O'Reilly felt watchful eyes upon him.
When he returned to his hotel he
found Mr. Carbajal in the cafe con-
cocting refrescos for some military offi-
cers, who scanned the American with
bold, hostile glances. O'Reilly com-
plained to the proprietor of a tooth-
ache. He declared that something had
| name
i dentist.
{ Mr. Carbajal named several, among
{ them Dr. Tomas Alvarado, whereupon
| his guest hurried away, followed at
la respectful distunce by the secret
, &gent. :
| to be done at once, and inquired the |
and address of the best local |
Finding Doctor Alvarado’s office was
JUDGE DECIDES
closed, as he had anticipated, O'Reilly |
proceeded to the doctor's residence. |
There was some delay when he rang
the bell, but eventually the dentist]
himself appeared. O'Reilly recognized |
him from his resemblance to his
brother. He addressed him in English.
«I come from Felipe,” he began. “He
well remembers the day you whipped
him to keep him from going to the
Ten Years’ war.”
The languor of Doctor Alvarado’s
siesta vanished. He started, his eyes
widened.
“Who are you?” he muttered.
“My name is O'Reilly. I am an Amer:
ican, a friend, so don’t be alarmed
The man you see approaching is fol-
lowing me, but he thinks I have come
to you with a toothache.”
“What do you want?"
“TI want your help in joining the in-
surrectos.”
By this time the detective had come
within earshot. Making an effort at |
self-possession, the dentist said: “Very |
well. I will meet you at my office in |
a half-hour and see what can be done.”
Then he bowed.
O'Reilly raised his hat and turned |
away.
Doctor Alvarado’s dentist’s chair
faced a full-length wincow, one of sev-
eral which, after the Cuban fashion,
opened directly upon the sidewalk, ren-
dering both the waiting room and the
office almost as public as the street |
itself. Every one of these windows
was wide open when Johnnie arrived;
but it seemed that the dentist knew
what he was about, for when his pa-
tient had taken his seat and he had
begun an examination of the trouble-
some tooth, he sald, under his breath:
“I, too, am watched. Talk to me in
English. When I press, thus, upon
vour gum, you will know that someone
is passing. Now, then, what is the
meaning of your amazing message
from Felipe?”
While Doctor Alvarado pretended ta
treat a perfectly sound molar, Johnnie
managed, despite frequent interrup-
tions, to make known the reason and
circumstances of his presence.
“But there ‘are no rebels around
here,” Alvarado told hin. “You could
escape to the country, perhaps, but
what then? Where would you go!
How would they know who you are?”
“That’s what I want to find out.”
The Cuban pondered. “You'll have
to go to Puerto Principe,” he said at
length. “Our men are operating in
that neighborhood, and my brother Ig-
nacio will know how to reach them.
I'll give you a message to him, similar
to the one you brought me from Fe-
lipe.” Then he smiled. “I’ve just
thought of the very thing. Years ago
I lent him a book which I particularly
prized, and one of his children dam-
aged it. I was furious. I declared 1
would never lend him another, and 1
never have. Now, then, I'll give you
that very volume; hand it to him and
say that I asked you to return it to
him.”
O'Reilly thanked him, promising tae
use every precaution in delivering the
message. The next morning he paid
Carbajal’s. score and took the train
to the interior. In his bag was Tomas
Alvarado’s precious volume, and in the
same coach with him rode the secret
service man.
In its general features Puerto Prin.
cipe differed little from the other Cu-
ban cities O'Reilly knew. It was com-
pactly built, it was very old and it
looked its centuries. Its streets were
articularly narrow and crooked, hav-
ing been purposely laid out in laby-
rinthine mazes, so the story goes, in
order to fool the pirates.
As he sat in a cafe, sipping an or-
angeade, he heard someone speaking
an atrocious Spanish, and looked up to
see that another American had en-
tered. The stranger was a tall, fune-
real young man, with pallid cheeks and
holiow, burning eyes. O'Reilly stepped
over to the table and introduced him-
self. “The hotel keeper in Neuvitas
told me I'd find you here,” he said.
“Your name is—"
“Branch; Leslie Branch. So Carba-
jal said you’d find me here, eh? Oh,
the greasy little liar. He didn’t believe
it. He thought his cooking would have
killed me, long ago, and it nearly did.”
This time Mr. Branch’s bony frame
underwent a genuine shudder and his
face was convulsed with loathing.
“Carbajal’s in the secret service. Nice
fat little spy.”
“So I suspected.”
Mr. Branch’s beverage appeared at
this moment. With a flourish the
waiter placed a small glass and a
bottle of dark liquid before him.
Branch stared at it, then rolled a
flercely smoldering eye upward.
“What's that?” he inquired.
Esteban and Rosa feel secure
in their hiding place unaware
that Cueto’s treachery is bring-
ing upon them a new and more
terrible danger. Don’t miss this
development, which is disclosed
in the next installment.
~
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
emer” - -
STOMACH REMEDY
A GREAT SUCCESS
Commissioner of Mediation and Concil-
iation Board Tries EATONIC, the
Wonderful Stomach Remedy,
and Endorses It.
Judge William L. Cham-
bers, who uses EATONIC as
a remedy for loss of appe-
i tite and indigestion, is a
4 Commissioner of the U. 8.
Board of Mediation and
Conciliation. It is natural
Writing from Washington,
D. O., to the Eatonic Rem»
3 edy Co., he says.
“EATONIQ promotes appetite and
aids digestion. I have used it with
| > eneficial results.”
Office workers and others who sit much ase
martyrs to dyspepsia, belching, bad beeath,
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WHY WE MUST WIN THE WAR
If Conflict Ends With Conditions as at
Present Germany Will Domi-
nate, Writer Says.
“Mittel-Europa is in existence to-
day,” says Frederick Naumama, a
prominent member of the reichstag.
He is right. Germany stands pos-
sessed of all she hoped te gain when
she forced the war. She has redueed
her allies to military and economic de-
pendence. She dominates Belgium,
northern France, Poland, Russia, Ser-
bia, Montenegro and Roumania. Mere
than 200,000,000 people are under the
dictation of Prussia.
It the war ends with conditions as
they are at present Germany's brutal
policy of force will dominate the world.
, Italy, France and Great Britain have
a combined population of 118,000,000.
They are much smaller in area than
the Mittel-Europa empire would be,
are detached from each other and con-
fined within narrow limits on the
south and west of Furope. Neees-
sarily they would become second-class
powers.
The United States, practically alone,
would be left to face the aggression
of a power with about twice the pepu-
lation, directed by autocratic rulers
toward further conquest.
The only way to make ourselves
safe is to win the war.
Unnecessary Fears.
Of course the eloping couple’s rell-
er-skate of a car had no chance
against the old man’s high-pewered
roadster. He soon came up with
them.
“Do not take her back,” pleaded the
young man with tears in his eyes.
“Take her back?’ echoed the .stern
parent. “Why, I have come to bring
her knitting outfit and chewing gum
so she would never have an excuse #0
come back.”
Greater New York has about 6,500
motorcyclists. There are almost 25,-
000 in the whole state.
Conservation means’
the use of foods re-
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ess fuel, and the
minimum of wheat.
Grape:Nut
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NO FUEL, less milk
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