Pleasantville weekly press., 1898-08-10


Gil and paper. For Panchita was his
own cousin, aud every one loved the
gay, pretty girl, with her artless, inno-
cent ways that had lured two men on to
death.
Poor little Panchital Five minutes
after the death sentence had been pro-
nounoed she knew Of it. and, her door
locked, was lying face downward on
the cold stone floor, moaning and ory-
ing to the Virgin for help. 1t had all
been her fault, as she knew-through
her two men would go to purgatory,
and how would she answer for themp
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, Panchita, 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 sudden clatter without,
and Panchita, going to window, saw
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 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--interoeded for her
At o'clock that evening the soldier
sn guard before Santiago's door admit
ted without question the thin, stopped
Srm 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 priest who is
counting his rosary beads.
The cell door opened and closed 81.
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, 1t was SO quiet.
Not even a murmur could be heard, and
finally the men agreed that the padre
was praying silently, with Santiago
eursing 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 disoon-
solately about him and fingers still
telling his beads. He had been there for
an hour, and surely Santiago was either
talked down or dead by this time.
"Shall we go and seer" asked guard.
"No, hombre. Let the poor brute
alone" said another.
To the men who watched all night
for fear that the prisoner might escape
it seemed a century before midnight
gave way to the darkness that comes
before dawn, though to the prisoner
quien sabe? Such waiting is hard even
on the men who are not to die, and
there was sound of relief when at last
the first bugle sounded. 1t was time to
get the prisoner and march. Because
soldier is allowed two privileges-to be
executed before dawn and to be shot in
his uniform-there was no need to
change the clothes of Private Santiago
Moreno So far as costume was concern
ed be was ready.
In front of the prison, stif1y drawn
up into line in the darkness, stood the
squad of the Twenty y-third Private Mo-
reno's own regiment) which was to at
tend to the claw of fire, (" and in the
corridor waited impatiently the two
guards who were detailed to walk on
either side of him. The prisoner, how.
ever, was not ready, and deep disgust
and scorn were shown on every face
when the warder appeared and stated
grimly that the prisoner was weeping
como un nino and had begged one mo-
ment's grace. Weeping indeed A pret-
ty way for soldier Of the Twenty
to diel And men who had thought pri-
yately that they would aim low in the
ley de fuga hardened their hearts. A
coward did not deserve such treatment.
That the prisoner, barely visible in
the gray dawn, was perfectly calm and
composed when he did appear made no
difference to them. Perhaps he had
mustered up some courage after his
weeping, but he had played the coward
for all that, and a towards death was
no loss.
Out on the bare, swampy plains of
San Geronimo. just where Mount Ajus-
co rises up, bleak and rock covered, was
the place of execution. The walk was
not long for the men, to the sound of
the muffied marcha, but very dreary.
There was hardly light enough to see
each others faces, and the trees and
cactus shrubs loomed up gray and ghost |
ly along the side of the rocky trail. AS
for the condemned man, though he
might have played the part of a coward
In the prison, there was no sign of fear
now. With quick, light steps, almost
outdistancing the regular pace Of the
others, he walked out brayely, as
though going to another decoration by
el presidente instead of to the death of
Q murderer at the hands of the very
men with whom he had fought at Ma
tanzas and Huella and other places, arm
to arm, back to back.
Here was the spot, and, with his
bo oh to iucco his foor ripk;po into tho