The Press., 1898-08-04
IN THE PLAGUE.

but surely. First it took poor old Pepe,
the blind beggar, who lived all alone
in his little jaoal down near the Plaza
Mayor. He died. Then it made it's way
straight up the Gale Alfonso. All the
'unwashed" got it and even the better
people, and finally the governors fami-
ly, in their villa close to the Presa, and
after that-well, it became impossible
to keep track of the spread of the dis
ease. On Tuesday perhaps six families
had the fever. The next Sunday the
whole great town was stricken, and
every house in the place, from the low
est little peon hut up to the great mar
BILE fronted house of the jefe politioo,
was In mourning.
The medicos did their best Working
day and night, with no rest, no sleep,
doing the doctoring and the nursing,
too, they battled to stamp out the fever.
OF course many of the people could
leave and did. The governor and his
family fed to their hacienda home over
near Dolores Hidalgo The jefe politico
also departed in haste and some of the
foreigners. Many of the latter, however,
had gone away to the states or the terra
fria at the approach of the warm wealth
er and the threatening plague. A few
"white men, in the bank and out at
the mines had to remain in the city
and did SO with good grace, thanking
Providence that the wives and children
were at home and out of the accursed
hole
Hastings was one of the few men who
stuck to it, for two reasons-to begin
with, he was not coward, and he knew
that if he left the business of the Ola
Minera Unida de Londres to take care
of itself the deuce would be to pay for
another thing, there was his pretty,
silly, helpless wife in England. She
had gone home in March, just when the
weather was getting sultry and sugges-
tive of what was to follow, with many
expressions of grief at leaving Harry be-
hind to work alone during the hot sum-
mer. But then, as she put it, they
couldn't both afford to go. .
Hastings never thought of her as be-
ing selfish. 1t was miserable hole for
a woman to live in anyway, even at the
best, and she could not be blamed. So
he Loyalty defended her in his thoughts
and sent every cent Of his pay to her
outside of the actual gastos, or expenses.
The latter did not amount to much, for
mine food is simple and inexpensive.
But it is clean anyway, without super
fluffy of germs such as you get during
plague times in Mexico, and if he could
have always got mine food it might
have been all right.
But the cook-old Juana-fell ill. In
two days she was dead. Next the Mexi-
can foreman died, several of the arrieroS
followed, a few of the miners, and a
dozen or SO of the barreteros. at which,
in very bad state of fright, the re-
manning mine men struck and departed
in haste to Providencia, little pueblo
higher up, where the disease might not
follow.
Left alone, Hastings shrugged his
shoulders and said naughty word.
Then he cabled to London, explaining
matters, and adding that he would hold
on, that the plague would have to run
its course, after which he hoped to get
the mill going again. But they might
prepare for its stoppage at least during
three weeks more.
After which there was nothing to do
He could not go out to the adjacent
mines for fear of carrying the infection
with him. In town James of the Banco
de Inglaterra and Hardy of the cable
company had died during the time Of
his own struggle with the Cia Unida
employees. So he was the only white
man left.
In the town there remained only one
small unolean meson operated by an in
different Chinaman. Here Hastings had
his meals, coming down town for them
through the deserted, silent streets,
where few starving dogs lay in the
sunshine, gazing wistfully at the white
man as he passed and bowling miserably
for food. There were few ragged look
ing burros and some meager pigs that
ran wild in the middle of the streets,
and old Pepe's green parrot futtered
about in the little space in front of his
jaoal, calling: "PepeI Pepitol Chooo.
late para el loror' But there was no
Pepe to hear.
One hot, heavy day, Hastings walked
down to the little meson for his dinner.
He did not feel we'll, and his head was
dizzy and burning. He knew very we'll
that the tito always started out that
way, and 80 that morning he had sent
off check for full months pay and a
statement of his life insurance policies
to his wife. Then feeling somewhat bet
ter, he decided that he would stop in at
the botica as he came from lunch to get
something from M. Fabian, the old
French apotheoary. But the old man
was not there, and the place was desert
ed. Inquiring of the Chinaman, that
worthy stated that M. Fabian had
"deaded" and there was no one in tho
shop; that the senior possibly might get
some drugs in the PADRES house; but,
no, that was impossible, for the padre
died this morning. At which Hastings
shrugged his shoulders again and said,
"No importa +" 1t did not matter.
Unable to eat the hot, unwholesalG
food, and with his head throbbing un-
mercifully, he made his way back to.
ward the Presa and the mine. Down
the Gale Fernando a long row of peo-
pie were coming. When he got nearer,
he made out that they were the poems
wrapped in carbolized sheets, carrying
out the dead. They shouted at him, be.
cause it is deadly to approach a tifO
corpse, and he turned into side street
which was quiet and deserted, with the
shot weather" grass and foliage almost
choking it. As he went along it grew
more familiar to his benumbed senses,
until finally he got to house-a small,
flower thatched casita that he happened
to remember very we'll indeed. 1t was
deserted now, and few birds twittered
about in the ''Aztec flower" bushes and
lemon trees. No other sound could be
heard. 1t looked cool in the yard and
tiny patio, with its fountain long ago
gone dry, and Hastings stumbled
through the shrub ohoked entrance and
sat down dizzily in the shady patio.
His head was rapidly growing worse
burning, dizzy, with queer, binding