The Press., 1898-07-21
A SACRIFICE.

It was very quiet, very tranquil, in
the barracks that day, and from the de-
serted grounds. where only a solitary
sentry or two paced up and down, none
of the usual barrack room talk, laugh
ser or singing could be heard, for
every soldier, bandman and officer had
been called to the officers police quar-
tiers, where fellow soldier was being
tried for his life by the court martial.
No women were present in the grim.
eortresslike quarters the soldiers
stood in silent, stern rows around
the room On the dais sat the colonel,
the mayor and some lesser officers;
fronting them, straight and erect, with
shoulders thrown back, stood the pris-
oner, Santiago Morena. He was good
looking fellow, and the star on his uni
form lapel showed that he had received
credit ''for valor in the field'' Not q
flicker Of an eyelid, not a movement,
showed what he felt. There was not
even tremor when the colonel, after
long and grave discussion, at the last
stood up, with the other officers grouped
about him, and pronounced the sentence
Of death-"that 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 fuga to DEATH" That was all. The
prisoner drew himself up and saluted,
his face no more 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 sorrow,
some unconcern and others anger, for
the Staying of his companion in arms
by Private Moreno had been very cold
blooded and more than usually wicked
deed, even in country where wicked
deeds are common. For with deliberate
intention Moreno had waited for the
other, after parting with his sweetheart,
Panchita, and coolly and methodically
bored a dagger straight to his heart
For it he had offered no excuse or de-
Tense. stating merely that the murdered
soldier had annoyed Panchita; that
"oaballero cannot allow such thing as
the molesting of his novia."
In his small stone cell Private More
no walked about, whistling gay Mex
ican danza, hunting the while for writ
ing materials. He wanted to write adios
to his sweetheart, he stated lightly to
the warder, who was eying him warily.
one hand On his pistol. Though Moreno
might not be armed he was a man to be
watched. But at the prisoners wish to
write a note to Panchita the warder's
face relaxed and he offered to find pen
Gil and paper. For Panchita was his
own cousin, and every one loved the
gay, pretty girl, with her artless, inno-
cent ways that had lured two men on to
death.
Poor little PanohitaI Five minutes
after the death sentence had been pro.
nounced she knew of it, and, her door
locked, was lying face downward on
the cold stone floor, moaning and cry
ing to the Virgin for help. It had all
been her fault, as she knew-through
her two men would go to purgatory,
and how would she answer for them?
On the shrine before her, decked out
in blue and white, was tiny, yellowed
image of the Christ, with blood stained
body and hands. Underneath him hung
the holy pictured face of the Virgin,
and to the two, Panohita, weak and
faint from long fasting and crying, was
pouring out heart and soul. Only that
Santiago-her Santiago-might be saved
somehow-in some way. Too weak to
pray aloud, she had crawled before the
shrine and with burning, tear covered
face was whispering her petitions.
There was a sudden clatter without
To
the good Padre Francisco on his pacing
mare, turn the corner and go rapidly
down the street. Panchita thought duly
that some one at the pulque hacienda
OF San Juan must be very i'll and want
ed the padre for confession. 1t would
be long ride for the good old man, be-
cause San Juan was many miles away.
He would be absent for over a day.
Perhaps, if she asked her father, he
would allow her to take the cloak that
had belonged to her uncle, priest of
the same order as Padse Francisco. And
the hood that the padre wore, covering
his head and nearly all his face-was
ever anything seen like it?
The next moment she was weeping
her heart out, pressing passionate kisses
on the cold feet of the ivory Christ. He
had heard her, after ALL and the Virgin
had helped her-interceded for her
At o'clock that evening the soldier
on guard before Santiago's door admit
ted without question the thin, stopped
form Of Padre Francisco. cloaked and
hooded in his usual manner and carry.
ing prayer books and rosary. The good
father was silently telling his beads,
and the soldier bowed humbly and
crossed himself as he opened the door,
speaking no word. For no Catholic is
privileged to address a priest who is
counting his rosary beads
The cell door opened and closed ST.
lently after the padre, and the watchers
outside heard smothered, impatient
ejaculation from Private Moreno, who
was smoking cigarette and trying hard
TO write that adios to Panchita. Then
the door was locked, for the padre was
going to confess the prisoner, and the
guards retired, laughing at the idea of
confession for Santiago-the wickedest
dog in the army of Mexico
Lounging in the doorway, the soldiers
speculated lazily as to what was going
on in the condemned cell, it was so quiet.
Not even a murmur could be heard, and
finally the men agreed that the padre
was praying silently, with Santiago
cursing in the other corner of the room.
It was dark-quite dark-when Padre
Francisco came out, with head bowed
lower than ever, cloak wrapped discon-
solately about him and fingers still
telling bis beads. He had been there for