Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1898-09-07

, 5SR NJ \ RBIIE3l NOMu, uOuO VI
Ess&sSASSYZNHI the usual bar
singing could be heard. For every
soldier, band-man, and officer had
been called to tue officers: police quar-
ters, where q fellow-soldier was being
tried for his life by court-martial. 1t
was during the revolutionary days,
when power was vested in the hands
ofthe military. They had the right
to say whether or not Private Santi-
ago Moreno was guilty of manslaugh-
ter, and whether, in payment thereof,
lie should die.
No women were present in the grim,
fortress-like quarters; only the SOL
diers who stood in silent, stern rows
around the room. On the dais sat
The colonel, the major, and some
lesser officers; fronting them, straight
and erect, with shoulders thrown
back, stood the prisoner, Santiago
Moreno. He was good-looking fell
low, and the star on his uniform lapel
showed that he had received credit
tsfor valor in the field" Not o flicker
of an eyelid, not o movement, showed
what be felt; there was not even q
tremor when the colonel. after long
and grave discussion, at the last stood
up, with the other officers grouped
about him, and pronaunoed-tlaA--eeA-s
tence OF death-'tthat on the morning
of the following day, Private Santiago
Moreno would be escorted to the
plains Of San Geronimo, and there be
put by the ley de fugs to death. !"
THAT was ell. The prisoner drew him
self up, and saluted, his face no moro
concerned than that Of the men about
him, and was taken to his cell.
The soldiers melted away, group by
group, some of them displaying sor-
row, some unconcern, and others an
ger. For the Staying Of his compan-
ion-in-arms by Private Moreno had
been C very cold-blooded and more
than usually wicked deed, even in o
country where wicked deeds are COM
mon. For with deliberate intention
Moreno had waited for the other, af-
ter parting with his sweetheart, Pan
Cha, and coolly and methodically bored
o dagger straight to his heart. For it
he had offered no excuse or defense,
stating merely that the murdered SOL
dier had annoyed Panchita; that o
cavalier can not allow such q thing as
the molesting OF his sweetheart"
Z In his small stone cell Private Mo-
reno walked about, whistling o gay
Spanish dauza, hunting the while for
writing materials. He wanted to write
adios to his sweetheart, he. stated
lightly to the warder, who was cycling
him warily, one hand on his pistol.
Though Moreno might not be armed,
he was man to be watched. But OF
the prisoners wish to write note to
Panchita, the warder's face relaxed,
and he offered to find pencil and
paper. For Pauchita was his own
cousin, and every one loved the gay,
pretty girl, with her artless, innocent
ways that had lured two men on to
death.
Poor little Panchita! Five minutes
after the death sentence had been
pronounced, she knew Of it, and, her
door locked, was lying face downward
on the cold stone floor, moaning and
crying for help. It had all been her
fault, as she knew.
= On the shrine before her, decked
out in blue and white, Panchita, weak
md faint from longfasting and crying,
was pouring out heart aud soul. Only
that Santiago-her. Santiago-might
be saved somehow-in some way.
Take hec lite-only let Santiago es-
cape! Too weak to pray aloud, she
had crawled before the shrine, and
with burning, tear.covered face was
family whispering her petitions.
The girl drew herself numbly on
her knees, sobs that came from her
very soul still shaking her slender
body. A sound outside startled her,
until she remembered that Santiago's
mother had come to weep and lament
with her own mother. Out there, in
the patio, they were lamepting and
wailing with loud cries. How could
they do it like wailing and
shrieking so that the neighbors could
hear9 How angry Santiago would be
if.he could hear them making such q
noise over himl No, there was no
help. She stood up, tottering, and
moved over to the window. There
was no one in sight; the hot sunshine
poured down on the yellow sand street
and the gray adobe walls. Out in the
middle of the calleion some dogs and
small children rolled and tumbled in
the dust together in high glee. A
burro, with melancholy face and long,
dropping ears, munched alfalfa, while
his owner drank pulque in the pulque-
shop near by. 1t was all SO ordinary,
SO everyday; and yet Santiago was to
be shot tomorrow! That is, unless
she could think OF q plan to save him.
There was sudden clattcr, and the
children scattered rapidly, with many
duekings and bobbings Of their small,