- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty Six
The story that was told by Walter Young was a fascinating one. Al Mackey listened intently to every word.
“We weren’t much more than kids,” Young began. “Al Mackey, John Kirkland and myself were in the Marines together, and we were great friends. We were part of that bunch who was chasing the revolutionists all over the country. I won’t bother telling you any part of that as your father has probably done that already. Your father, John Kirkland, and I were on patrol way out in the jungle just before Sandino was lured into the city and executed.
It was one hell of a night and one I will never forget. I was bitten on the leg, just above the knee, by that deadly Bushmaster snake. I was sure I was going to die.
Your father and John Kirkland saved my life. They killed the snake, and cut off my leg in a matter of a few seconds.
So you see, from that time on, I was out of the action. I spent a lot of my time in the hospital.
Then the revolution ended. The marines were sent home; that is, most of them. Many of them made this country their home after being discharged, and I was one of them.
Al Mackey and John Kirkland did the same. They went into business, something about importing and exporting, but they got mixed up in politics. I guess they made a lot of money.
Several years went by, and I didn’t see much of them. A one-legged guy sure couldn’t keep up with that pair.
Like lots of successful people, they weren’t satisfied. They wanted more, and both were highly ambitious, extremely ambitious. So, they decided to take over the Government. If their plan worked, they would be able to do it without firing a shot.”
Walter Young pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
Al Mackey drew a deep breath. “Good Lord!” He muttered. “My father, a revolutionist!”
“Then came the night they had planned to take action. There was a big party at the Presidential palace. They had bribed the guards. They would make their move at midnight.
There had been a leak somewhere; their plan had been exposed. Consequently, they had walked into a trap!
Someone had tipped off the government. Just before midnight the band was playing, so most were dancing. Your father and Kirkland each had a beautiful girl in their arms. They danced right out through the doorway and ran like hell, taking the girls with them. There were high-powered cars waiting for them. I guess they had made plans on what to do in case something went wrong.
They made their escape, and went up north. There was a big reward for those two men. They were wanted, and not dead or alive. They were wanted DEAD.
Your father married the woman he took with him. The same was true for John Kirkland. I don’t know who the women were. I was in pretty bad shape at the time. Newspapers here don’t tell everything like they do in the United States.”
Walter stopped talking and once more wiped his damp brow.
“I never saw your father again. He and Kirkland moved somewhere far into the jungle. They had run into some good placer gold while looking for the bandit Sandino years earlier, who they hoped they wouldn’t find. I guess they were there for several years. Then, one day I got a letter from your father. He was in Prescott, Arizona.
However, Kirkland is still up there somewhere. About twice a year, he comes to the city and looks me up. We talk over old times and write your father a letter. I guess that’s all I know. Any questions?”
Al nodded, “Do you know where I can find John Kirkland?”
Young shook his head. “No. Being crippled the way I am, I haven’t been able to get around very much. I have never been to where he lives.”
“I must find him. Where do you suggest I start looking?”
Young scratched his head. “I have received a few letters from him with the post mark of Quilali on them. He probably isn’t too far from there. I think I know just the man for you. His name is Pio. He will make an excellent guide. I will have him get in touch with you.”
“Thanks, Mr. Young. You have been a great help. I will sure give it my best efforts!”