The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1894-08-31

I
] Indifference so peculiar to the race,
and I entered a room lighted by two
crude tallow dips stuck into the necks
Of bottles that rested on a small shelf.
A table and few chairs composed
the furniture, while the walls were
void of ornaments of any kind, with
the exception of a cheap, highly
colored print of the Madonna. and q
rudely carved crucifix hanging above
Grouped around were some twenty
men and women engaged in boisterous
conversation, while in a corner oppo-
site the door stood Mariquita, a girl
of about 10, tall and beautiful. and
possessing that languid grace which
belongs only to women of the South.
Her dress, a gown of soft material,
bright red in color, had become de-
ranged, and opening at the bosom ex-
posed white chemise that only partly
concealed her heaving breasts; a
wealth Of dark hair fell in disorder
far below her waist, and from face
oval in shape and of a rich, creamy
complexion, flashed eyes as black as
night Her lips, carmine tinted,
parted and showed little white teeth.
grinding together in anger, as she
stood, a child and yet q woman, re-
ceiving with silent scorn the storm
OF abuse which her mother poured
forth in a perfect torrent of language.
As reached the woman I asked if
she really intended to rattle her
daughter. for such, from the CONVEX
satiOn, judged to be her purpose.
Isl, senOr-why not? Do I not find
her husband she will go with that
diablo of an IndIo, and will lose her
forever. No man here has one hun
Ru%
her? Yes, why nots True, the priest
will not be at Baborgame for three
months, but what matter? She can
marry then; it will be all the same
In the meantime five of the miners
had managed to obtain twenty pesos
each, which they were anxious to
risk for the purchase of Mariquita,
and the money being handed over to
the widow the dice was produced, and
on the table that had been drawn
into the center of the room the throw
ing began
The first man to throw was Carlos
Mendoza, a tall, swarthy-looking
Mexican, who stood wrapped in a
serape of orange and purple. HIS inn
mense som brero, resting on the back
of his head, allowed a mop of coarse
black hair to, fall over his low fore
head into his eyes Raising the box.
he brushed the hair aside. and after
slowly rafting the dice threw in
silence-sixteen. Again the dice
rattled-thirteen; and again-seven-
teen; forty-six in all.
A murmur of applause from the
spectators and Mendoza turned to-
ward Mariquita. but some thing in her
look quailed him and with a low
laugh he turned to watch the throw
ing of his opponents The box passed
from one to another without avail and
was now in the hands of the last
thrower. Slowly he shook the dice
and then threw-seventeen: again
eighteen. The excitement was now
intense in the silence, broken only by
the heavy breathing Of the onlookers
and muttered curse from Mendoza
as he drew his sombrero down over
his eyes, the last throw was made;
the box was lifted-two tours and an
ace Mendoza won and with glad
cry he sprang toward Mariquita, but
before he could reach her there was
a rush through the door, an arm
passed around his neck and pressed
his body slowly back: a flash of steel
"a grOan-again a flash of steel and
the arm descended and Carlos Mendoza
was dead on the floor. And there,
with the knife still grasped in his
hand, Romulo, the Indian, stood like
a statue of bronze, naked but for
breechcloth; his limbs like polished
mahogany and his eyes flashed fire
from under his heavy dark hair that
fell to his shoulders
For one moment he stood; then
there was a flash, the report Of re-
volver and Romulo tottered and sank
to the floor, his back resting against
the wall.
With a low cry of anguish Mari
ouita threw herself on her knees be-
side him, and while the tears coursed
down her cheek she wiped away with
her dress the blood that flowed from
his lips and besought him TO speak to
her
''Romulol Romuloi Caro- MIC! Es-
posa Mol Speak to mel God in
heaven, tell me you are not hurt.
Romulol Speak just one little word
to MaricTuita- Oh, God of my soul!
Don't let him dier' And as RomuIo
looked into her eyes and tried to
speak a tremor passed over him and
the blood flowed again from his lips
The heart-rending cry and Mari
quita was on his breast with her arms
around his neck ''ROmulO! My life,
if thou must go, take me, too"
With superhuman effort the IN
dian raised himself, c1asped her close
with one arm, the other raised, and
the steel flashed for the third time,