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PALGRAVE MACMILLAN ASIAN BUSINESS SERIES

Family Business in
China, Volume 2
Challenges and Opportunities

Ling Chen · Jian An Zhu · Hanqing Fang

Palgrave Macmillan Asian Business Series

Series Editor
Yingqi Wei, Business School, University of Leeds
Leeds, UK
The Palgrave Macmillan Asian Business Series publishes theoretical and
empirical studies that contribute forward-looking social perspectives on
the study of management issues not just in Asia, but by implication else-
where. The series specifically aims at the development of new frontiers in
the scope, themes and methods of business and management studies in
Asia, a region which is seen as key to studies of modern management,
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More information about this series at

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Ling Chen · Jian An Zhu · Hanqing Fang

Family Business
in China, Volume 2
Challenges and Opportunities
Ling Chen Jian An Zhu
Zhejiang University Zhejiang University City College
Hangzhou, Zhejiang, China Hangzhou, Zhejiang, China

Hanqing Fang
Business and Information Technology
Missouri University of Science and
Technology
Rolla, MO, USA

ISSN 2661-8435 ISSN 2661-8443 (electronic)

Palgrave Macmillan Asian Business Series
ISBN 978-3-030-51401-3 ISBN 978-3-030-51402-0 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-51402-0

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2021
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher,
whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting,
reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical
way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software,
or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt
from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this
book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the
authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained
herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with
regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland
AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
 Contents

1 Introduction 1
1.1 Family and Family Business in China 2
1.2 Challenges and Opportunities in Chinese Family
Business 5
1.3 What This Book Is About 6
References 7
2 Family Business in China: Present Status 9
2.1 Defining Family Business in China 10
2.2 Prevalence of Family Business in China 15
2.3 Employment in Chinese Family Business 15
2.4 Economic Scale in Family Businesses 19
2.5 Individual Characteristics of Chinese Family
Entrepreneurs 23
2.6 Differences Between Family and Non-Family
Businesses 26
References 32

v
vi Contents

3 Entrepreneurship and Family Business in China’s

Modernization 35
3.1 Why Family Business When Starting a Business? 35
3.2 Business Types in China 37
3.3 The Rise of Self-Employed Entrepreneurs 39
3.4 Economy of Arbitrage 42
3.5 Innovation and Entrepreneurship in the Modern
Age 44
3.6 Crossroad: Economy of Scale and Economy
of Focus 46
3.7 Tianlong Cylinder: A Story of Family Succession
and Trans-Generational Entrepreneurship 49
References 57
4 Succession Challenges 59
4.1 Current Succession Challenges in Chinese Family
Business: An Overview 59
4.2 Mismatching Between Two Generations? 62
4.3 De-Familization? 70
4.4 Ge’s Family and the Tianle Group: A Story
of Struggled Family Business Succession 77
Reference 87
5 Succession Planning in Chinese Family Business 89
5.1 Succession Planning: An Overview 89
5.2 Wonbly and Liu Family 92
5.3 Succession Planning in China 96
5.4 “Vague” Succession Planning 99
5.5 Non-Family “Veterans” in Succession Planning 105
5.6 Succession Planning for the Single-Child Family 110
References 114
6 Governance in Chinese Family Business 117
6.1 A Family Governance Case: Lee Kum Kee 119
6.2 Family Governance in Husband-and-Wife
Enterprises 128
 Contents vii

6.3 Family Governance in a Brother Consortium 133

References 135
7 Chinese Family Business in Southeast Asia 137
7.1 The Columbia Group in Indonesia 138
7.2 Chinese Family Businesses in Southeast Asia 145
7.3 Characteristics of Overseas Chinese Family
Businesses 147
7.4 Chinese Family Businesses in Hong Kong
and Taiwan 149
References 151
8 Conclusion 153
8.1 Economic Function and the Rise
of Socio-Psychological Function 155
8.2 Historical Heritage and Cultural Identity 159
8.3 Non-Family Management in Family Business 161
8.4 Rent-Seeking or Entrepreneurial? 163
References 167

Postface 169
Index 175
 List of Figures

Fig. 2.1 Age distribution of Chinese family entrepreneurs 24

Fig. 2.2 Birth years of family businesses 31
Fig. 4.1 Age distribution 63
Fig. 4.2 Succession intention across different age groups 64
Fig. 4.3 Succession intention across different educational levels 65
Fig. 4.4 Distribution of succession intention among the younger
generation 68
Fig. 4.5 Professional managers’ expectations on family business
succession 70
Fig. 5.1 Succession planning in Chinese family businesses 102
Fig. 5.2 Founder’s age and succession planning in Chinese family
businesses 103
Fig. 5.3 Firm age and succession planning in Chinese family
businesses 103
Fig. 5.4 Firm size and succession planning in Chinese family
businesses 104
Fig. 5.5 Triangle of success in successor-veteran relationship 108
Fig. 6.1 Lee family tree 120
Fig. 6.2 Governance of the Lee family 124
Fig. 6.3 Roles of family members 125

ix
x List of Figures

Fig. 6.4 Decision-making styles among entrepreneurs 131

Fig. 6.5 Proportion of entrepreneurs choosing individual
decision-making 132
Fig. 7.1 History of Columbia group 140
Fig. 7.2 Family tree of Leo family 143
 List of Tables

Table 2.1 Three categories to define family business in China 11

Table 2.2 Numbers of self-employed businesses 13
Table 2.3 Number and proportion of family business: Third
national economic census 16
Table 2.4 Family businesses and employment population 17
Table 2.5 Distribution of family business by annual sales 21
Table 2.6 Economic indicators of enterprises in 2018 22
Table 2.7 Size of family businesses 22
Table 2.8 Education of Chinese family entrepreneurs 24
Table 2.9 Working experiences of family and non-family
business owners 25
Table 2.10 Economic, social, and political status of family
business owners 26
Table 2.11 Corporate governance in family and non-family
businesses 28
Table 2.12 Decision-making in family- and non-family businesses 28
Table 2.13 Social performance in family and non-family
businesses 29
Table 4.1 Succession intention among family business founders 63
Table 4.2 Matrix of inter-generational (Mis)match 69

xi
 1
Introduction

The People’s Republic of China1 has been established for over 70 years,
but the history of its private enterprises goes back only a little more
than 40 years. Most of these private enterprises were established after
the launching of reforms and the opening up of the economy in 1978.
Forty years later, the entire society of China has become more dynamic
and creative due to the efforts of a large group of innovative, wealth-
creating entrepreneurs who created new combinations of the production
factors that have made China a powerhouse in the world economy.
In March 2011, The Economist magazine attributed the power that
has driven China’s economic take-off to “Bamboo Capitalism.” It is not
the state-owned enterprises that are changing China, but the private
enterprises whose average return on investment is 10% higher than
that of state-owned enterprises. Thanks to the gradual deregulation
of the economy, entrepreneurial activities have sprung up like after-
the-rain mushrooms. But entrepreneurial activities in China are not
“equally distributed geographically.” In general, the coast areas have more

1 Family business, family firm, and family enterprise are interchangeably used in this book.
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1
Switzerland AG 2021
L. Chen et al., Family Business in China, Volume 2,
Palgrave Macmillan Asian Business Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-51402-0_1
2 L. Chen et al.

entrepreneurs as well as a greater degree of privately-owned enterprises

compared to inland, and the south has more than the north.
Most of China’s private enterprises start from scratch and scale up
gradually from small to large. They have made great contributions to
the smooth progress of economic reform by providing sustained, stable,
and healthy growth in the national economy. China’s private enter-
prises can be roughly divided into three categories: (1) those that were
allowed to start up after the reforms of 1978, (2) derivative enterprises
that were formerly state-owned, collectives, or township, communal, and
brigade enterprises, but were transformed into privately-owned firms,
and (3) foreign private enterprises that have been established and devel-
oped through foreign capital and Sino-foreign joint ventures. With
the passage of time, the differences between the three types of enter-
prises have gradually declined. They all face challenges that are similar
to those faced by Western enterprises, including survival and develop-
ment, succession issues (especially for family businesses), innovation, and
localization/internationalization.

1.1 Family and Family Business in China

Thousands of years of political, economic, and cultural factors have
stamped a deep “family stigma” on the current social and economic
organizations’ operating management. The great cornerstone of Chinese
culture always comes back to the concept of family, which plays an
important part in the cycle of self-cultivation, family harmony, country
governance, and peace of the world. The family unit, not the individual,
is the most basic cell in Chinese society.
In fact, one important reason why the State of Qin was able to unify
China in 221 BC was due to the launching of the Shang Yang Reform2
in its early stage. One of the core contents of the reform is to use family

2 Shang, Yang (390–338 BC) introduced several social, economic, and legal reforms that funda-
mentally strengthened the power of the State of Qin. These reforms included implementing a
legal system that treated all citizens equally, favoring agriculture over commerce, encouraging
the cultivation of unsettled lands, privatizing land to farmers, assigning free land to soldiers,
and rewarding farmers who exceeded quotas.
 1 Introduction 3

household as the unit to recruit soldiers. Also, in order to ensure suffi-

cient tax revenue, fathers, sons, and brothers were not allowed to live
together after adulthood. Such early legal requirements for family sepa-
ration led to the later miniaturization of Chinese families (“grown tree
gets branches, and grown adult gets independence”).
For the Chinese society, a regular nuclear family is often formed by
a husband and wife and minor children. Also, for an “ideal” family
in China, it is expected that all family members share love, trust, and
altruism. One substantial difference between Chinese and Western soci-
eties is that there is almost no dominant religious belief in China.
Instead, it is the worship of family ancestors that fulfills the function
of religious belief by regulating family members’ behaviors. People often
worship during a traditional predetermined period such as the anniver-
sary of the death of ancestors, the Spring Festival, Tomb-Sweeping Day,
or the Winter Solstice, among others. For Western society, under the
influence of the universality of Christianity, the idea that “everyone is
a child of God” weakens the ethical relationship between generations
within a family. If the long run of history counts, then the five thousand
years of family cultural heritage and ethical rules in China might have
more profoundly affected the development and inheritance of enterprises
than in any other country.
Among the private enterprises that have been born since the reforms
of 1978, the majority are owned and managed by entrepreneurs and their
families, although some of them do not claim to be family businesses, nor
do they express the hope that they can be inherited across generations.
This is partly due to the prevailing dislike of the term of “family business”
in China and also partly due to survival pressure that is created by market
competition. In fact, business operations are like sailing in the counter-
current, and Chinese entrepreneurs are so worried about their survival
that they dare not plan for the next ten or twenty years. As a result, most
of them have not formally thought about the relationship between the
family and the business. According to data from the State Administra-
tion for Industry and Commerce of China, 21.6 million new enterprises
were established in the five-year period from 2013 to 2017, so it seems
that China’s entrepreneurship is in full swing. However, the average life
4 L. Chen et al.

span of a private enterprise is only 3.7 years, and for entrepreneurs and
business owners in China, business survival is still the top priority.
Many successful entrepreneurs worry that the title “family business” is
not good for them because family private ownership may be seen as polit-
ically contrary to the economic system of a socialist country. For a long
time in China, family involvement in business has been synonymous
for “obsolete” and “outmoded.” The 40-year history of the development
of Chinese private enterprises has continuously influenced family busi-
nesses, and the sector has increasingly felt the need for traditional family
businesses to change in the direction of being more modern corporate
enterprises.
Although most family businesses cannot yet be called “modern” and
“high-level,” they should not be seen as “low efficiency” and “backward”
(e.g., Chandler, 1990). Indeed, the large numbers of family businesses
and their rapid growth show they must be doing something right. This
combination of family ownership and management, aligned with a long-
term focused orientation, gives family businesses a unique competitive
advantage demonstrating rapid decision-making, high accountability and
strong resilience. At the same time, when corporate leaders, succes-
sors, and important executives come from the same family system, a
closed family human resource pool may limit the development of enter-
prises, and complex family relationships can also hinder the growth of
enterprises.
In China, family businesses differ from other types of organizations
such as state-owned enterprises in terms of their goals and objectives,
strategic planning processes, ownership structures, and firm perfor-
mances. In order to grow their businesses, many entrepreneurs take the
initiative and choose the family governance model where the family
provides the entrepreneur with financial, human, social, and patient
capital. The family holds a high proportion of shares, and many family
members participate in operations to share the benefits of entrepreneur-
ship. Also, the relationship among family members can have a very
synergistic effect, reducing agency costs and improving organizational
performance.
 1 Introduction 5

At the same time, faced with the scale discrimination and ownership
discrimination from state-owned banks and other government institu-
tions, family businesses often choose to use a pyramid control structure
in order to hide the true identity of the family. Also it is common for
family businesses to develop political and social relations in order to miti-
gate the strong risk and uncertainty stemming from the discriminations
mentioned before. Controlling families may also encroach on the inter-
ests of small and medium shareholders, which might bring in additional
agency costs to the businesses.

1.2 Challenges and Opportunities

in Chinese Family Business
At the moment, Chinese family business owners are focusing on both
business development issues (growing the business and prospering in
a highly competitive environment) and family succession issues (who
will be the next generation leader of the business). Transforming and
upgrading are necessary to address these two important issues and to
achieve long-term survival of the business.
Passing the business on from one generation to the next is the ulti-
mate goal because that will help to maintain the social and emotional
wealth of the family members. With increasing pressure from factors
such as financing difficulties and labor shortages, small and medium-
sized enterprises with thin profit margins cannot survive. They must
improve their competitive advantage by improving their technical and
market capabilities and engage in higher value-added economic activities.
As it happens, many second generations members of the owning
family have studied overseas or have work experience with broad interna-
tional exposure. This increases the chance that the two generations can
cooperate to solve inheritance issues and achieve transformation at the
same time. But assuring an effective transition is not easy. Some Western
studies suggest that the probability of success in passing the leadership
baton from the first to the second generation is only 30%, and from the
second to the third generation is only 10% (Lansberg, 1999). Such a
6 L. Chen et al.

“succession dilemma” may be more pronounced in China compared to

Western countries.
In fact, according to the “China Family Business Development Report
2011,” only about one-fifth of the first-generation entrepreneurs of the
family business surveyed were willing to hand over control to a next
generation that was actually willing to take control. About four-fifths of
families have a mismatch during succession attempts. In addition, inher-
itance is a process, not a single event on the day when the scepter is
handed over. Many business owners do not understand this, and most
Chinese families do not have a clear succession plan. One of the reasons
for this is that all private-owned enterprises were started after the 1978
reform, and they did not have experience related to trans-generational
family business succession. This contrasts with the experience of the “old
shops” that have run for hundreds of years in foreign countries, especially
Japan, the United States, Germany, and the UK.

1.3 What This Book Is About

In this book, we address several significant issues related to oppor-
tunities and challenges in Chinese family businesses since 1978.3 In
Chapter 2, we provide an overview of family business in contemporary
China—its prevalence, shared features, and contribution to economic
development. In Chapter 3, we discuss features and characteristics asso-
ciated with entrepreneurship and business ventures in China after the
1978 economic reforms. Chapter 4 focuses on the unique succession
challenges that face family businesses, such as de-familization. Chapter 5
examines succession planning in Chinese family businesses, including
“vague” and implicit planning, and planning for the one-child family
business. Chapter 6 draws attentions to the governance structures in
Chinese family businesses, while Chapter 7 discusses Chinese family

3 Family business in China before 1978 has been discussed in Family business in China, Volume
1: A historical perspective.
 1 Introduction 7

businesses in Southeast Asia. Chapter 8 provides a conclusion to summa-

rize the whole book.

References
Chandler, A. D. (1990). Scale and scope: The dynamics of industrial capitalism.
Belknap Press.
Lansberg, I. (1999). Succeeding generations: Realizing the dream of families in
business. Harvard Business Review Press.
 2
Family Business in China: Present Status

Before giving an overview of Chinese family businesses and their contri-

bution to the national economy, it is important to note that there is
official data on private enterprises that are frequently cited by writers.
The Chinese government uses “5, 6, 7, 8, 9” to summarize the economic
contribution of private enterprises.1 President Xi Jinping once noted that
the private economy has the characteristics of “5, 6, 7, 8, 9.” That is, it
contributes more than 50% of tax revenues, more than 60% of GDP,
more than 70% of technological innovation achievements, more than
80% of urban labor employment, and more than 90% of the number
of enterprises.2 , 3 He Lifeng, the director of the National Development

1 In a broad sense, the term “private enterprise” refers to all economic components except
state-owned and state-controlled enterprises. “Domestic-funded private enterprises” refers to the
broad private economy except the Sino-foreign joint ventures, enterprises with Sino-foreign
cooperation, wholly foreign-owned enterprises, and Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan-invested
enterprises. In a narrow sense, the private economy refers to the economies of private enterprises
and privately controlled corporates. We discuss the private economy in a narrow sense.
2 Xi, J. (2018, November 1). Private sector speech at the enterprise forum. Xinhua News Agency.
3 Press conference of the Second Session of the 13th National People’s Congress, March 6,
2019.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 9

Switzerland AG 2021
L. Chen et al., Family Business in China, Volume 2,
Palgrave Macmillan Asian Business Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-51402-0_2
10 L. Chen et al.

and Reform Commission, also noted that “5, 6, 7, 8, 9” does not refer
to strict statistical standards, but rather to the importance of the private
sector to the Chinese economy.
Family business is the most important part of private economy in
China. Nevertheless, there are limited empirical studies on their overall
status and their economic contribution. There are several reasons for this.
First, the history of family business research is relatively short. In fact,
China has only begun to pay attention to family businesses during the
last couple of decades. Concerning the statistical evidence, it is important
for researchers to consider how to define family business, yet the interna-
tional academic community has not yet reached a consensus on how to
clearly distinguish family businesses from non-family businesses. While
there are some family business studies in Germany (Klein, 2000), Sweden
(Morck & Yeung, 2003), and the United States (Astrachan & Shanker,
2003; Heck et al., 2001), the definition and scope of family businesses
and the judgment of what constitutes a family business often diverge.
Thus, a given definition might only be applicable to certain economies.
Second, apart from the information disclosure of publicly-listed
companies, few family businesses in China publicize and disclose their
financial and organizational information. Third, while the distinction
between family businesses and non-family businesses has long been
recognized in family business research, it is only in recent inquiries that
scholars have begun to recognize that family businesses are themselves
quite heterogeneous (Chrisman & colleagues, 2012), and family busi-
nesses can have a variety of different goals, resource endowments, and
governance structures. In the next section, we discuss the various defining
standards that were used in this study.

2.1 Defining Family Business in China

Family Business Definition: Alternative Standards

The academic debate about the definition of family business has been
ongoing for years. For a long time, any family-controlled business was
Another random document with
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around the speck. The footing must have been slippery, for the
speck climbed less than a hundred feet in an hour, and then, as a
wind-gust swept a swirling eddy of sleet across the precipice, it fell—
fell straight to the eternal snows five hundred feet beneath it, and
disappeared. Even with the glasses Blanche could see no hole in the
drift, and besides the wind would fill it full again almost at once.
Gray-lipped, she sought out Matthews. “Billy,” she asked him,
“how far would a man sink in that snow up there if he fell off the top
of the peak?”
“My God, what questions,” said Billy. “How do I know? He’d stay a
thousand years, anyway.”
 THE JEWELS OF BENDITA
By Gibert Cunyngham Terry
Old Bendito was digging when he found them—“the jewels of
Bendita.” He had been ordered by Don Francisco to make a new
border around the “Little Lake of the Emperor” (as it is called even to
these days), and, grumbling mightily, the old man set lazily to work.
Stopping only occasionally to refresh himself with a corn-husk
cigarette, Bendito dug away for as much as two hours, when he was
joined by his comrade, Andrés, who proceeded to pass the time of
day.
“What makest thou, friend? Wherefore dost toil so strenuously
with no friend to assist thee, and in the heat of the day?”
“Oh, lazybones! According to that fool, Don Francisco—may the
devil fly away with him—I am making a new bordering for the little
lake. For why? Only God knows. But these strangers—la Virgen
bear witness that—lacking other work, they make a hole in the
ground, in order that a poor devil may have to straightway fill it up
again!”
Overwhelmed by his own eloquence, old Bendito groaned,
emitted a fiery Indian oath, and set to spading. “To that mango tree,
and no further, I will dig today!” he muttered. “To the devil with Don
Francisco.”
Andrés, sprawling in the sunshine, offered sarcastic comments
and encouragements. “Have a care, comrade. Knowest thou not that
there is wealth concealed in this same garden of the emperor? Oh,
yes! I overheard Padre Diego say so to the Obispo. Be careful lest
thou dig it up, little brother.”
In cynical disbelief, Bendito dug away. “Thinkest thou that if riches
were here, Padre Diego and the Obispo would leave them
untouched? Nonsense. They-of-the-church never allow the paring of
a nail to remain, much less treasure. Compose thyself, little Andrés.
Once there may have been buried treasure of the emperor. But the
nose of the church is sharp, and it smells gold while yet far off.”
At this juncture, Bendito’s spade interrupted conversation with a
loud and startling “clink, clank,” and crossing themselves, their faces
gray with superstitious terror, both peons fled with all haste from the
spot. Their first thought was that a coffin had been uncovered, and
only witches and unblessed heretics would be buried here in this
unhallowed ground. But, as they ran, another idea occurred to them.
They stopped abruptly, and low talk ensued. Then they stole
cautiously back to the mango tree, where the spade still stood
upright. And while old Bendito dug away, in fear and trembling, but
with more energy than he had displayed since the big earthquake
(wherein part of his roof came down upon his head), Andrés watched
to see that no one caught them. Who knew what might be
uncovered? It was well to be cautious.
Firmly embedded in the earth, the men found a large wooden box.
Rotting from damp, with its copper bands oxidized, there still showed
intact an insignia that caused the Indians to tremble with excitement.
And no wonder. They had stumbled upon the buried treasure of an
emperor.
They hurried with the wonderful box to a small ruined pavilion at
one end of the great melancholy garden. No one ever visited this
little rustic building, which the superstitious vowed was haunted by
the unhappy emperor. But, forgetful of spirits or other evils, Bendito
and Andrés pushed back the door, and, in the half gloom, wrenched
open the rotting box.
Out upon Bendito’s faded tilma, spread beneath the box, dropped
things that made even those ignorant Indians gasp in greedy terror.
How they sparkled and shone—these ornaments that great queens
and empresses had worn—the chains of brilliant white stones,
necklaces of rubies and emeralds, exquisite ear ornaments, the
diamond-studded portraits of royalties, and other fabulously valuable
things. There were not more than a dozen articles in all, and yet
worth much money, as these men knew. For they had both traveled
to the great, rich capital city, on the Paseo, where the wealthy dames
wore these same sparkling stones. The two replaced the jewels,
their fingers trembling and eyes burning with greed, and begun to
discuss the division. And the sun sank low while they argued and
disagreed.
Andrés, having no home or family wherewith to bless himself, was
not missed that night. But old Juana, the wife of Bendito, being of a
suspicious and jealous temperament, at last pricked forth in search
of her missing lord. As it was late, there went with her their daughter,
Bendita, a flat, squat maiden of sixteen. A good girl she was, but as
homely as could well be.
Bendito was not to be found in his usual haunts. Neither the
“Caballitos” nor the “Haven of Peaceful Men” cantine knew him, and
he was not listening to the music in the plaza. These things being so,
the baleful eye of his spouse lit up fiercely.
“The disgraceful old devil,” she muttered to Bendita, “is, without
doubt, in the great garden, which is sufficiently retired and
convenient for flirtations. We will find him there, doubtless, with the
wife of Pepe.”
And there they found him, very dead, but not with the wife of
Pepe! Instead, his companion was the equally dead Andrés. They
had evidently quarreled over the treasure, and then fought with
machetes. Between the two was the wooden box, with copper
bands. It was blood-covered, and the women of old Bendito wailed
and crossed themselves as they looked upon it and the two men
who had fought over it to the death. They hastily flung Bendito’s
blanket over him, and, crossing themselves, started to flee.
Bendita, lingering to caress the old man, again noted the box. “It
may be that it contains money,” she whispered, and picked it up,
though her mother protested.
With rebosos closely drawn, the women scurried homeward,
leaving the dead men alone where they had fallen. Heartless of
them? Well, no, for in the tropics law and order sometimes mean
little, and these women knew well that, if they gave the alarm, they
would probably be suspected and convicted of the murder.
Stealthily opened, at midnight, the box proved to contain what old
Juana and her daughter mistook for mere white, red, and green
glass—no gold and no silver! The old woman, in a transport of rage,
sorrow, and disappointment, spit upon the jewels. “Accursed things
of mere glass,” she screamed, “to think that my poor Bendito died for
such valueless things as you.”
There was great lamentation next morning when old Bendito was
found and brought home to his alarmed family. They wept and wailed
so that people were very sorry for them, and Padre Diego
volunteered, in the goodness of his heart, to say fifty masses, “at a
merely nominal price,” for the soul of the departed peon. Andrés, no
one seemed to regret, and no masses were ever said over him, at
bargain prices or otherwise. And so Andrés and Bendito passed
away, by no means the first men to die for the sake of greed and
riches.
While the widow and daughter of Bendito considered the “glass
jewels” of no value, for all the world wore gold and silver trinkets,
they were nevertheless afraid to speak or even hint of them, lest they
be suspected of complicity in the murder. Therefore, the box was
kept hidden in a secret place, and for a while the widow kept her
mouth closed, though she dearly loved to gossip. But the custody of
the box, and the consequent secrecy entailed upon her, were entirely
too much for poor Juana. She sickened and began to pine for her
country, as the Indians so quaintly call their birthplaces.
Wherefore, their belongings were disposed of, and the two women
proceeded to their old home, many leagues distant. With them was
carried the crumbling box of jewels. Not long after reaching her
birthplace, Juana proceeded to die. Toward the last, she grew
exceedingly nervous over the “glass jewels,” speculating much as to
their value, and declaring that at the worst they might be pawned for
a peso or two. And, still babbling of them, the old woman died, and
was, in Biblical fashion, “buried with her fathers.”
While not of a superstitious disposition, Bendita began to
experience some of her mother’s qualms about the box and its
contents. Finally, for its safety, she secretly removed several tiles
from the floor of her room, and concealed the jewels therein. Then,
satisfied that no one would find them there, she gave no more
thought to the matter, for of what avail were the baubles? “One can
not eat or drink them,” she mused. “But for their sake my poor father
died.”
 At this time, Ponciana, the pretty daughter of Pancho, the
cargador, returned from Mission school to her proud family. After her
there trailed, later, her sweetheart, Amado. And after Amado, in turn,
came the deluge. For untoward things began to occur. First was the
falling in love of poor homely Bendita. This, of course, was all right;
any woman can fall in love with any man, if she so elects. But
ordinary decency demands that she at least restrain her passion
when the betrothed of another woman is concerned. And it was
Amado, Ponciana’s novio, upon whom Bendita needs must cast
eyes. Of course, it was absurd. For Bendita was square, fat, and flat
(if you can figure to yourself such a combination), while Ponciana
was exceedingly sweet and pretty. Besides, she had been taught in
Mission school, knew some English and much quaint slang, and was
a fascinating little Indian maiden.
“La Ponciana, she knows much,” had been Amado’s glowing
description to that potent personage, his mother. “She plays the
piano and guitar well, and sings, aye, as do the birds! And she
dances in a manner entirely exquisite—and sews and embroiders.”
Despite all this eloquence, however, Amado, after due temptation,
heartlessly jilted Ponciana for the unattractive and homely Bendita. It
happened thus: Unable to make any impression on the handsome
Amado, despite her sighs and eye-rolling, Bendita at length decided
to take, as it were, a back seat, and merely view from afar her
beloved, who nightly paraded in the plaza with his beloved. And here
it was, one evening, that a brilliant thought came to Bendita.
It was an ideal night, “one borrowed from Paradise,” as the
poetical Amado had murmured to his Ponciana. Great bright stars
blazed in a velvety-blue sky, while silvery moonlight cast a radiance
over the beautiful tropical plaza, wherein fountains trickled musically,
and glowing flowers of the tropics heavily perfumed the soft, languid
air. From the remote band-stand came sweet, faint strains of the
exquisite “Angel de Amor,” while the lowered voices of many gay
loungers murmured in musical harmony therewith.
Every one seemed so happy that it was no wonder that tears
came to Bendita’s eyes, as she sat, alone and neglected, in her
solitary corner. “I have so much homeliness,” she thought, drearily;
“no one will ever wish me for a novia—ay de mi!”
 Again Amado and Ponciana passed by, Ponciana smiling and
dimpling. She wore a white mantilla, while on her finger there was a
genuine ring of gold, set with a white stone that sparkled in the
moonlight. It was the ring of betrothal, that day given. Amado, being
poor, had secured it cheaply from a pawnshop. But Ponciana did not
know.
As she gayly flitted by, Bendita noted the sparkle of the ring. “It is
like the little glass jewels,” she pondered. “How Amado seems to like
it! I might—I might wear those at home. They sparkle, too.”
Behold Bendita, therefore, the next night, arrayed even more
magnificently than Solomon in all his glory. For Solomon, whatever
he may have gotten himself up in, surely never wore such huge
diamond ornaments in the ears, such diamonds and rubies in the
hair, such magnificent bracelets. All this was topped off by a long
string of diamonds and pearls, while outside her mantilla, at the
neck, Bendita displayed, in all humility, a necklace of pear-shaped
black and white pearls.
Amado, who had served for three years as a pawnbroker’s clerk,
alone of the crowd in the plaza knew that the girl’s jewels were real
—fabulously rich. “Carrambas,” he thought, excitedly; “she, in those
jewels, is rich as a princess. El Señor Vega, alone, would give fifty
thousand pesos for them!”
Others, noting the new finery of the homely girl, said smilingly:
“What pretty playthings of glass has our good Bendita found?”
A week’s time saw the feckless Amado off with the old love and on
with the new. Quick work, it is true, but—consider the extenuating
circumstances. To do him justice, he had a plan for securing the
jewels (with Bendita, if it had to be), and later, making matters up
with his own pretty first love. Two things prevented this, however:
first, Bendita rarely wore, touched, or mentioned the jewels, and he
was fearful of exciting her suspicions; second, the jilted Ponciana
had vanished from the ken of even her own family. No one seemed
to know where she was. Old Madre Piedad, in San Geronimo town
near by, knew. The latter dame, thought to be a witch, was the girl’s
near relative. To her Ponciana had stated merely that some one had
injured her; and asked if Madre Maria would keep her quietly hidden,
and teach her how to avenge herself. Madre Piedad promised, and
the two, with the aid of an ugly, squat, herb-stuffed doll, a brazero of
hot coals, and some long pins, set the ball of vengeance in motion.
Meanwhile, instead of preparing for marriage, Bendita fell
grievously ill. She lost flesh rapidly, could not eat, drink, or rest, and
complained of agonizing pains that shot through her body. A doctor
was consulted, but could not relieve her. Then various old women
congregated and muttered together—they could do nothing! Of a
truth, it could be nothing less than the mal del ojo (evil eye), and with
that only old Madre Piedad, of San Geronimo, could cope.
Wherefore Madre Piedad was sent for, and entreated.
At dusk she arrived—a bundled-up old dame, her halting steps
aided by crutches, and her face shrouded in many tapalos. A large
bundle came with her—“medicines,” she gruffly explained. The other
women, secretly in deadly terror of her, gladly withdrew at her
commands. “If you wish me to make a cure, you must get out and
leave me alone with the patient,” she ordered. And not until the
premises were clear did she begin operations.
“Arise!” she commanded the suffering Bendita, “arise, and search
out the glass trinkets which spirits tell me you have hidden away!
Place the trinkets, all of them, in this earthen bowl of water, and let
them remain so for eight hours. In the morning drink the water, after
removing the glass jewels. You will then be entirely cured, I promise
you.”
Dazed and sick, poor Bendita arose from her bed and stumbled
about, obeying the old woman’s mandates. All of the jewels were
deposited in an earthen bowl, which, half filled with holy water, was
placed in the exact centre of the room. Then, swallowing a colorless
liquid that Madre Piedad gave her, Bendita was soon fast asleep.
The old witch smiled to herself as she listened to the sick girl’s deep,
regular breathing. “Well may she sleep,” she muttered, who had
shamelessly given a nostrum that would induce eight hours’ sleep.
And now the old body set busily to work. First she deftly
manufactured, out of her mysterious bundle, a dummy figure that
exactly resembled her own. This she seated prominently before the
doorway, so that chance visitors seeing it would, in their fear of her,
retire without entering. Quickly she slipped out of her many tapalos
and other disguises, and stood forth, straight, young, and lovely—no
less a being than the jilted Ponciana! Hastily she removed the jewels
from their watery resting-place, transferring them to a stout bag,
which she tied about her waist, under a reboso. The bowl she left in
its original position, save that into it she cast a small, ragged, rudely
made doll, into which had been plunged many pins. This done, she
was ready for flight. “Adios, Bendita,” she chuckled, with a wicked
smile on her pretty face. “You can have my lover—for I have your
rich jewels!”
Various neighbors came next morning to inquire for the sick girl,
but were frightened away by the supposed figure of the witch.
Bendita herself, waking up entirely cured after ten hours’ sleep, first
discovered the trick, and cast forth the dummy figure, with much
wailing and gnashing of teeth. But all was not lost, even if the jewels
were gone for aye. Because, drolly enough, Amado was so sorry for
the bereft one that he married her, and they have been happy ever
after.
And Ponciana? Did you ever happen to see the exquisite Señora
de la Villa y Garcia, “of Mexico and Paris,” with her wrinkled old
husband, and her beautiful toilettes and jewels? Well, that is
Ponciana.
 THE MAN-DOG
By Nathan C. Kouns
My first knowledge of the singular being called “Du Chien, the
Man-Dog,” began when we were on duty down in the Peché country,
a short time after General Taylor’s celebrated “Run on the Banks,” in
the vicinity of Mansfield. The cavalry had really very little to do
except “to feed,” and await orders. As a result of this idleness many
of the officers and men formed pleasant acquaintances with the
hospitable planters in whose neighborhood we were located.
One of the planters whom I found to be most congenial was
Captain Martas, a French creole, whose father had come from
Languedoc. He was himself native-born. He was a man of forty-eight
or fifty years of age, and had two sons by his first marriage, who
were in the army of Virginia, and a boy two years of age, by his
second wife, who was a young and beautiful lady. The housekeeper
was a mulatto girl, who was in every physical development almost a
perfect being—even her small hands looking like consummate wax-
work. She had been taught, petted, and indulged as much, perhaps,
or more than any slave should have been, especially by Captain
Martas, who uniformly spoke to her more in the tone of a father
addressing his daughter, than in that of a master commanding a
slave. She was always gentle and obedient. The family seemed to
prize her very greatly, and the little boy especially preferred her to his
own beautiful mother. I suppose it would be hard for the later
generation, who remember little or nothing of the “domestic
institution,” to understand how such a pleasant and beautiful
confidence and friendship could exist between a slave and her
owners, but it was no uncommon thing in the South before the war.
The family was so attractive that I visited it often; but one evening,
on my arrival at the house, I found that its peace and quiet had been
disturbed by one of those painful occurrences which so often marred
the happiness of Southern families, and which really constituted the
curse of “the peculiar institution.”
The day before, the beautiful and accomplished wife of Captain
Martas had, for some unexplained reason, got into a frenzy of rage
with Celia, the mulattress, and had ordered the overseer to give her
a severe whipping. The girl had run off into the Black Swamp during
the night, and Captain Martas, who imparted this information to me,
was in a state of terrible distress by reason of her absence. He did
not seem to understand the cause of the trouble, but he could not
justify his slave without condemning his wife, whom he seemed to
regard with a most tender and dutiful devotion. The only emotion
which seemed to master him was a heart-breaking and hopeless
grief. I volunteered to hunt for the runaway, and while asking for such
information as I thought to be necessary about the neighboring
plantations, and of the almost boundless and impracticable
wilderness known as the Black Swamp, I saw Celia slowly and
quietly coming up the broad walk which led from the portico to the
big gate.
She carried in her hand a branch of the magnolia tree, from which
depended a splendid blossom of that most glorious of all flowers.
She bowed slightly as she came near the portico, and, passing
around the corner of the house, entered it by a side door. Mrs.
Martas was most passionately devoted to the magnolia, and, from
her exclamations of delight, which were soon heard in the hall, we
knew that Celia had brought the beautiful flower as a peace-offering
to her mistress, and that it had been accepted as such. Very soon
the two women came nearer, and from our seats on the veranda we
could hear their conversation. A terrible weight seemed to have been
lifted from the heart of Captain Martas by the girl’s return, and by the
apparent renewal of friendly relations between his beautiful wife and
his even more beautiful slave—a relief which showed itself in his
face and form, but not in his speech.
“Yes,” said Celia to Mrs. Martas, “it is an old, wide-spreading tree
on the very edge of the water, and is glorious with just such splendid
blossoms as these. There must be more than three hundred
clusters, some that I could not reach being much larger and finer
than this one.”
 “And you say,” answered Mrs. Martas, “that the air is still, and that
the perfume broods all around the tree? Oh, how sweet!”
“Yes,” said Celia, “it is so strong that you can taste as well as
smell the wonderful perfume. Few people could bear to stand
immediately beneath the shade; it is so sweet as to be almost
overpowering.”
“Oh, how I wish I could see it! How far is it, Celia?”
“Only four miles. You can go. It is deep in the swamp: but the pony
can follow the ridge all the way. You can go, and get home before
dusk. I would like you to see it before a rain makes the road too bad,
or the winds come and scatter the delicious perfume that now hangs
as heavy as dew all around the glorious tree for yards and yards
away.”
“I will go,” she cried. “Tell Toby to bring out Selim, and you can
take a horse. Let us go at once. It is getting late.”
“I would rather walk,” said Celia, “so as to be sure that I will not
miss the route in going back, although I watched so carefully that I
know I can find it on foot.”
Very soon a boy led up Mrs. Martas’s pony, and she went out to
the steps and mounted, followed by Celia on foot. The girl held the
stirrup for her mistress, and as she did so looked back at Captain
Martas with eyes in which shone strange love, pity, and tenderness;
but the voice of her mistress called her away, and, even in turning
her black and lustrous eyes toward Captain Martas, their expression
totally changed, and showed for a fleeting instant the murderous
glitter that gleamed from the eyes of a panther when ready for a fatal
spring.
I was startled and troubled, and half moved forward to tell the lady
not to go; but a moment’s reflection showed me how foolish such an
unnecessary and silly interference would seem. A strange mistrust
flitted across my mind, but there was nothing on which to base it. I
could not give a reason for it, except to say that I had seen the light
of a gladiator’s eye, the twitch and spasm of an assassin’s lip, in the
eye and mouth of that now smiling and dutiful young slave girl. The
thing was too foolish to think of, and I held my peace.
 The women passed out of the gate, and went on quietly in the
direction of the Black Swamp. Martas and I resumed our
conversation. Hour after hour passed away, and the sun grew large
and low in the West; still Mrs. Martas did not return. The sun was
setting—set; but she had not come. Then Captain Martas called
Toby and had him ride to the edge of the wood and see if he could
learn anything of his mistress; but Toby soon came back, saying that
he saw nothing except the pony’s tracks leading into the swamp, and
the pony himself leisurely coming home without a rider. Then
Captain Martas mounted, and I followed him. He took the plantation
conch-shell, and we rode on into the dark forest as long as we could
trace any footsteps of the pony, or find any open way, and again and
again Captain Martas blew resonant blasts upon his shell that rolled
far away over the swamp, seeking to apprise his wife that we were
there, and waiting for her; but nothing came of it.
“They could hear the shell,” he said, “upon a still night like this
three or four miles,” and it seemed to him impossible that they could
have gone beyond the reach of the sound. But no answer came, and
the moonless night came down over the great Black Swamp, and the
darkness grew almost visible, so thoroughly did it shut off all vision
like a vast black wall.
Then Martas sent Toby back to the plantation for fire and blankets,
and more men, and soon a roaring blaze mounted skyward, and
every few minutes the conch-shell was blown. Nothing more could
be done. I remained with the now sorely troubled husband through
the night. At the first peep of dawn he had breakfast brought from the
plantation, and as soon as it became light enough to see in the great
forest, we searched for and found the pony’s track, and we carefully
followed the traces left in the soft soil. The chase led, with marvelous
turns and twists, right along the little ridge of firmer land which led
irregularly on between the boundless morasses stretched on either
side, trending now this way, now that, but always penetrating deeper
and deeper into the almost unknown bosom of the swamp. The pony
had followed his own trail in coming out of the swamp, and this made
it easier for us to trace his way. At last we came to the dark,
sluggish, sullen water. It was a point of solid ground, of less than an
acre in extent, a foot or two above the water, almost circular in
outline, and nearly surrounded by the lagoon. It was comparatively
clear of timber, and near the centre rose a grand magnolia tree, such
as Celia had described to Mrs. Martas on the evening before. At the
root of this tree, bathed with the rich, overpowering perfume of the
wonderful bloom above her, lay the dead body of the beautiful
woman, her clothes disordered, her hair disheveled, a coarse, dirty
handkerchief stuffed into her mouth, and all the surroundings giving
evidence of a despairing struggle and a desperate crime. Captain
Martas was overcome with anguish, and after one agonized look
around, as if to assure himself that Celia was not also somewhere in
sight, he sat down beside the body and gazed upon his murdered
wife in silent, helpless agony of spirit.
I desired all the men to remain where they were, except Toby,
whom I ordered to follow me; and then, beginning at the little ridge of
land between the waters by which we had reached the circular space
before described, we followed the edge of the ground completely
round to the starting point, seeking in the soft mud along the shore
for a footprint, or the mark made by a canoe or skiff, for some
evidence of the route by which the murderer had reached the little
peninsula, or by which Celia had left it.
We found perfect tracks of all animal life existing in the swamps,
even to the minute lines left by the feet of the smallest birds, but no
trace of a human foot, although a snail could not have passed into or
out of the water without leaving his mark upon the yielding mud,
much less a footstep or a canoe.
The thing was inexplicable. Where was Celia? How had she gone
without leaving a trace of her departure? Had she been there at all?
Who had murdered Mrs. Martas? Surely some man or devil had
perpetrated that crime. How had the villain escaped from the scene
of his crime, leaving not the slightest clew by which it was possible to
tell which way he had gone?
I reported to Captain Martas the exact condition of the affair, and
told him I knew not what to do, unless we could get bloodhounds and
put them on the trail. He said there were no hounds within sixty
miles; that all of the planters he knew preferred to lose a runaway
rather than to follow them with the dogs. Rumors of the loss of Mrs.
Martas had spread from plantation to camp, and two or three
soldiers had immediately ridden out to the plantation, and then had
followed us to the scene of the crime. One of them said: “If there are
no hounds, send to camp for old Du Chien. He is better than any
dog.”
The remark was so singular that I asked: “What do you mean by
saying ‘He is better than any dog’?”
“I mean that he can follow the trail by the scent better than any
hound I ever saw, and I have seen hundreds of them.”
“Is that a mere camp story,” said I, “or do you know it of your own
knowledge?”
“I know it myself, sir,” said the soldier. “I have seen him smell a
man or his clothes, and then go blindfold into a whole regiment and
pick out that man by his scent. I have seen him pull a lock of wool off
a sheep, smell it good, and then go blindfold into the pen and pick
out that identical sheep from fifty others. I have known him to smell
the blanket a nigger slept in, and follow that darky four or five miles
by the scent of him through cotton, corn, and woods. He is better
than a dog.”
The man looked to be honest and intelligent; and while I could
hardly credit such an astounding and abnormal development of the
nasal power in a human being, there was nothing else to do; so I told
him to take my horse and his own, ride as quickly as possible to
camp, and bring old Du Chien with him.
Then we made a litter, and slowly and reverently we bore the
corpse of the murdered lady along the difficult road until we reached
a point to which it was possible to bring a carriage, in which we
placed her in charge of the horrified neighbors, who had by this time
collected at the plantation.
Captain Martas insisted on remaining with me and awaiting the
coming of Du Chien.
More than two hours elapsed before the soldier whom I had sent
for Du Chien, the Man-Dog, returned with that strange creature. He
surely deserved his name. He must have been six feet high, but was
so lank, loose, flabby, and jumbled-up that it was hard to even guess
at his stature. His legs were long and lank, and his hands hung down
to his knees. A bristly shock of red hair grew nearly down to his
eyebrows, and his head slanted back to a point, sugar-loaf fashion.
His chin seemed to have slid back into his lank, flabby neck, and his
face looked as if it stopped at the round, red, slobbering mouth. His
nose was not remarkably large, but the sloping away of all the facial
lines from it, as from a central point, gave his nasal organ an
expression of peculiar prominence and significance. When he
walked, every bone and muscle about him drooped forward, as if he
were about to fall face foremost and travel with his hands and feet.
Briefly I explained what had happened, and thereupon Du Chien,
who seemed to be a man of few words, said: “Stay where you are,
all of you, for a minute.” Then he started off at his singular dog-trot
pace, and followed the edge of the water all the way around, just as I
had done, lightly, but with wonderful celerity. Then he came back to
us, looking much puzzled. I handed him the coarse, dirty
handkerchief which I had taken from the dead woman’s mouth, and
Du Chien immediately buried that wonderful nose of his in it, and
snuffed at it long and vigorously. Having apparently satisfied himself,
he removed the dirty rag from his face and said: “Nigger.”
“No,” said I, thinking of Celia, and looking Du Chien in his little,
round, deep-set eyes; “a mulatto.”
“No,” he answered, with quiet assurance; “not mulatto; nigger;
black, wool-headed, and old—a buck nigger.”
“What can you do?” said I.
“Wait a minute,” said Du Chien. Then he started off again to make
the circuit of the peninsula, but more slowly and deliberately than at
first. He threw his head from side to side, like a hound, and smelled
at every tree and shrub. He had got about half way around when he
reached a mighty tree that grew on the edge of the swamp, leaning
out over the water where it was narrowest and deepest, and seemed
to mingle its branches with the branches of another tree of a similar
gigantic growth that grew upon the other side. He walked up to this
tree, saying: “Nigger went up here!” and at once began to climb. The
inclination of the great trunk and the lowness of the branches made
the task an easy one. Almost instantly, Captain Martas, I, and two or
three soldiers followed Du Chien up the tree. Du Chien had gone up
some thirty feet into the dense foliage, when all at once he left the
body of the tree, and began to slide along a great limb that extended
out over the water, holding to the branches around and above him
until he got into the lateral branches of the tree on the opposite side,
and thence to the trunk of that tree, down which he glided, and stood
upon the opposite bank waiting for us to follow. We did so as
speedily as possible, and as soon as we were safely landed by his
side, Du Chien said: “Single file, all!” and started off, smelling the
trees and bushes as he went.
The spot at which we had descended seemed to be a hummock
similar to that on the other side, but less regular in its outline; and
soon the way by which Du Chien led us became more and more
difficult and impassable. Often it seemed that the next step would
take us right into the dark and sluggish water, but Du Chien, almost
without pausing at all, would smell at the leaves and branches and
hurry on, now planting his foot upon a clod just rising out of the
water, now stepping upon a fallen and half-rotted log, now treading a
fringe of more solid ground skirting the dreary lagoon, but going
every moment deeper and deeper into the most pathless and
inaccessible portions of the swamp.
For nearly two hours this strange man followed the trail, and we
followed him. At last we came to a considerable elevation of ground
under which opened a little V-shaped valley made by the water of a
branch which drained the high land into the swamp. This valley was
rather more than two acres in extent, and seemed to be a clearing.
But there was a thick-set growth of sweet gum, holly, and magnolia
across the opening toward the swamp, beyond which we could not
see.
With quickened steps, and with many of the same signs of
excitement manifested by a hound when the trail grows hot, Du
Chien followed along this hedge-like line of underbrush, and at its
farther end stopped. There, within three feet of where the steep bank
ran into the water, which seemed to be of great depth, was an
opening in the hedge. He slipped cautiously through it, and we
followed him in silence. It was a little garden in the heart of the
swamp, lying between the hills and the water. At the apex of the V-
shaped valley was a miserable cabin with some fruit trees growing
round about it. We gazed upon the scene with profound
astonishment.
 “Do you know anything of this place, Captain Martas?” said I, in a
low tone.
“No,” said he; “several years ago one of my fieldhands, a gigantic
Abyssinian, was whipped and ran away to the swamp; I never
followed him, and have never seen him since, although every now
and then I heard of him by the report of the negroes on the
plantation; I suppose he has been living somewhere in the swamp
ever since, and, unless this is his home, I can not imagine how such
a place came to be here.”
“The nigger is there,” said Du Chien. “If there are a dozen of them
I can tell the right one by the smell,” and again he put the old
handkerchief to his nose.
“If it is old Todo,” said Captain Martas, “he is a powerful and
desperate man, and we had better be cautious.”
We formed a line, and slowly and cautiously approached. We had
got within ten or twelve feet of his door, when we saw a gigantic,
half-clad negro spring from the floor, gaze out at us an instant with
fierce, startled eyes, and then, with a yell like that of some wild beast
roused up in its lair, he seized an axe which stood just at the door,
and, whirling it around his head with savage fury, darted straight at
Captain Martas. It seemed to me that the huge, black form was
actually in the air, springing toward the object of its hatred and fear,
when one of the soldiers sent a ball from his revolver crushing
through old Todo’s skull. With a savage, beastly cry, the huge bulk
fell headlong to the earth.
“It is a pity,” said Martas; “I wished to burn the black devil alive.”
At that instant Du Chien cried out: “Look there!” And extending his
arm toward the top of the ridge, he started off at full speed. We all
looked up and saw Celia flying for dear life toward the forest of the
high ground behind the cabin, and we joined in the chase. It was
perhaps forty yards up the slope to the highest part, and about the
same distance down the other side to the water’s edge. Just as we
got to the crest, Celia, who had already reached the water’s edge,
leaped lightly into a small canoe and began to ply the paddle
vigorously, and with a stroke or two sent the frail bark gliding swiftly
away from the shore, while she looked back at us with a wicked
smile. In a moment more she would be beyond our reach, and the
soldier who had shot Todo leveled his fatal revolver at her head. But
Captain Martas knocked the weapon up, saying, in a voice choked
with emotion: “No, no! let the girl go! She is my daughter.”
Swiftly and silently the slight canoe swept away over the dark
waters of the great, black swamp, now hidden in the shadow, now a
moment glancing through some little patch of sunlight, always
receding farther and farther, seen less often, seen less distinctly
every moment, and then seen no more.
 THE AMATEUR REVOLUTIONIST
By John Fleming Wilson
If you should see bronzed men or men with soldierly bearing
frequenting a certain office in a small street in San Francisco, and if
you knew who the men were or what they represented, you could
predict to a nicety the next Central American revolution, its leaders,
and its outcome. That is because San Francisco is the place where
everything commences, and many have their end in the way of
troubles in the “sister republics.”
Three years ago the present government of Guatemala missed
overthrow by just a hair. As the man who had been financing the
insurrection said bitterly when the bottom fell out: “If it weren’t for
women there’d be no revolutions, and if it weren’t for a woman every
revolution would be successful.” He said this to the man who knows
more about troubles political where there’s money and fighting than
any other man in the world. This man nodded his head with a smile
not often seen on his spare face. The financier didn’t like the look,
and he growled some more: “They might at least have let me hold
the government up for my expenses before calling the whole
business off. I could have got everything back and interest on my
venture.”
The other man kept on smiling. “That’s the way you fellows look at
it. If you can’t win, sell out at a good price. But that don’t win in the
long run. One woman can spoil the scheme.”
Two years before this a young woman landed from the Pacific
Mail steamer City of Para, and registered at the Palace as from
Mazatlan. She had a little maid who giggled and talked Mexican,
some luggage with Vienna and Paris hotel labels over it, and the
manner of a deposed queen. She signed herself as “Srta Maria
Rivas.”