The Complete Works of O. Henry

thronged the Alamo Plaza all night. Travellers, rancheros, family parties, gay gasconading rounders, sightseers and prowlers of polyglot, owlish San Antone mingled there at the centre of the city's fun and frolic. The popping of corks, pistols, and questions; the glitter of eyes, jewels and daggers; the ring of laughter and coin--these were the order of the night.

But now no longer. To some half-dozen tents, fires, and tables had dwindled the picturesque festival, and these had been relegated to an ancient disused plaza.

Often had Tansey strolled down to these stands at night to partake of the delectable chili-con- carne, a dish evolved by the genius of Mexico, composed of delicate meats minced with aromatic herbs and the poignant chili colorado--a compound full of singular flavour and a fiery zest delightful to the Southron's palate.

The titillating odour of this concoction came now, on the breeze, to the nostrils of Tansey, awakening in him hunger for it. As he turned in that direction he saw a carriage dash up to the Mexicans' tents out of the gloom of the Plaza. Some figures moved back and forward in the uncertain light of the lanterns, and then the carriage was driven swiftly away.

Tansey approached, and sat at one of the tables covered with gaudy oil-cloth. Traffic was dull at the moment. A few half-grown boys noisily fared at another table; the Mexicans hung listless and phlegmatic about their wares. And it was still. The night hum of the city crowded to the wall of dark buildings surrounding the Plaza, and subsided to an indefinite buzz through which sharply perforated the crackle of the languid fires and the rattle of fork and spoon. A sedative wind blew from the southeast. The starless firmament pressed down upon the earth like a leaden cover.

In all that quiet Tansey turned his head suddenly, and saw, without disquietude, a troop of spectral horsemen deploy into the Plaza and charge a luminous line of infantry that advanced to sustain the shock. He saw the fierce flame of cannon and small arms, but heard no sound. The careless victuallers lounged vacantly, not deigning to view the conflict. Tansey mildly wondered to what nations these mute combatants might belong; turned his back to them and ordered his chili and coffee from the Mexican woman who advanced to serve him. This woman was old and careworn; her face was lined like the rind of a cantaloupe. She fetched the viands from a vessel set by the smouldering fire, and then retired to a tent, dark within, that stood near by.

Presently Tansey heard a turmoil in the tent; a wailing, broken- hearted pleading in the harmonious Spanish tongue, and then two figures tumbled out into the light of the lanterns. One was the old woman; the other was a man clothed with a sumptuous and flashing splendour. The woman seemed to clutch and beseech from him something against his will. The man broke from her and struck her brutally back into the tent, where she lay, whimpering and invisible. Observing Tansey, he walked rapidly to the table where he sat. Tansey recognized him to be Ramon Torres, a Mexican, the proprietor of the stand he was patronizing.

Torres was a handsome, nearly full-blooded descendant of the Spanish, seemingly about thirty years of age, and of a haughty, but extremely courteous demeanour. To-night he was dressed with signal magnificence. His costume was that of a triumphant matador, made of purple velvet almost hidden by jeweled embroidery. Diamonds of enormous size flashed upon his garb and his hands. He reached for a chair, and, seating himself at the opposite side of the table, began to roll a finical cigarette.

'Ah, Meester Tanse,' he said, with a sultry fire in his silky, black eyes, 'I give myself pleasure to see you this evening. Meester Tansee, you have many times come to eat at my table. I theenk you a safe man-- a verree good friend. How much would it please you to leeve forever?'

'Not come back any more?' inquired Tansey.

'No; not leave--leeve; the not-to-die.'

'I would call that,' said Tansey, 'a snap.'

Torres leaned his elbows upon the table, swallowed a mouthful of smoke, and spake--each word being projected in a little puff of gray.

'How old do you theenk I am, Meester Tansee?'

'Oh, twenty-eight or thirty.'

'Thees day,' said the Mexican, 'ees my birthday. I am four hundred and three years of old to-day.'

'Another proof,' said Tansey, airily, 'of the healthfulness of our climate.'

'Eet is not the air. I am to relate to you a secret of verree fine value. Listen me, Meester Tansee. At the age of twenty-three I arrive in Mexico from Spain. When? In the year fifteen hundred nineteen, with the soldados of Hernando Cortez. I come to thees country seventeen fifteen. I saw your Alamo reduced. It was like yesterday to me. Three hundred ninety-six year ago I learn the secret always to leeve. Look at these clothes I war--at these diamantes. Do you theenk I buy them with the money I make with selling the chili-con-carne, Meester Tansee?'

'I should think not,' said Tansey, promptly. Torres laughed loudly.

'Valgame Dios! but I do. But it not the kind you eating now. I make a deeferent kind, the eating of which makes men to always leeve. What do you think! One thousand people I supply-- diez pesos each one pays me the month. You see! ten thousand pesos everee month! /Que diable/! how not I wear the fine /ropa/! You see that old woman try to hold me back a little while ago? That ees my wife. When I marry her she is young--seventeen year--bonita. Like the rest she ees become old and--what you say!--tough? I am the same--young all the time. To-night I resolve to dress myself and find another wife befitting my age. This old woman try to scr-r-ratch my face. Ha! ha! Meester Tansee --same way they do entre los Americanos.'

'And this health-food you spoke of?' said Tansey.

'Hear me,' said Torres, leaning over the table until he lay flat upon it; 'eet is the chili-con- carne made not from the beef or the chicken, but from the flesh of the senorita--young and tender. That ees the secret. Everee month you must eat of it, having care to do so before the moon is full, and you will not die any times. See how I trust you, friend Tansee! To-night I have bought one young ladee-- verree pretty--so fina, gorda, blandita! To- morrow the chili will be ready. Ahora si! One thousand dollars I pay for thees young ladee. From an Americano I have bought--a verree tip-top man-- el Capitan Peek--que es, Senor?'

For Tansey had sprung to his feet, upsetting the chair. The words of Katie reverberated in his ears: 'They're going to eat me, Sam.' This, then, was the monstrous fate to which she had been delivered by her unnatural