Newsgatherers were humbly attentive, last week at Mexico City, when a "perfect story," pristine, dramatic, significant, was told in staccato sentences by a tall, exhausted, emaciated U. S. citizen.
Story: ". . . Four bandits were guarding me. Their rifles lay across their knees. It was night. I pretended to be asleep. They began to doze. I waited until they were sound asleep. Then I got up with a piece of steel rod in one hand and a broken bottle in the other. I brained the first man near me, slashed the throat of...
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