The Winslow mail., 1899-09-07
Y, ssg,. ~ Q, SSL.se SNLssls W W
4 Cuban Beggar Girl I
By John r. Mcmahon.
COOD-BY was a tangle,haired mid

4 NOOD-D1 was Idngle~nalFeu md
II get, and came regularly every day
to our camp with a two-quart tomato
can in one hand and little bag slung
over her shoulder, wherewith to collect
the remnants of the soldiers mess. Her
eyer were brown, her cheeks just
plump enough, Der bare little legs and
arms well proportional; her face al
ways bore an expression of cheerful
seriousness, l guess she was about
eight years old.
At FIRST when Good-by came to camp
she was quite shy, and stood silently
near the refuse barrels with her imple-
ments of collection, when some of the
kinder-hearted men would scrape out
the leavings on their plate into the to-
mato-can and throw pieces of bread and
hardtack into the little girls bag. Aft
erwards she acquired confidence, and
seven days a week visited our tents at
noon mess call, starting at the head of
the company street. Some days there
would be such surplus of rations that
she would ill her can and bag before
she got halfway down the line, and
pose, notify her little companions, at
the child-beggars' rendezvous under
big tree outside of camp, that company
ID had a fine lot of dinner left.
Anita was Good-by's right name, but
everybody called her by the other, be-
cause-that was all the English she knew
at first, and because of the way she had
of walking into your tent and smilingly
saying "Goodoy!" as she held out her
little hand, She meant: "How do you
do?''
'Senorita Good-by," said to her one
day, what a terrible eater you are for
a small body! Here you've got two
quarts of ola podrida in your can
soup, meat, potatoes, and l know not
what else-besides that large bagful
of bread that you stagger under, Do
you eat it all? Surely you can't weigh
more than three times as much as your
booty"
''Oh, Seriento," cried the little crea-
ture, in distress, ''do not think it! I
only eat my share. There are five
Others"
You have family, then?''
well, 1t is my aunt's family" said
Good-by, clapsing her hands. NO hay
nj padre nj madre"-I have no father
or mother.
1t seemed that she was an orphan
from earliest remembrance. Her aunt
was Cuban soldiers widow, with four
young children. Good-by was the chief
support of the house.
Now, among my terminates was a
blonde-haired giant, rather reckless,
but warm-hearted, whose name was
George Boutelle. Before he enlisted in
the volunteer army to fight Spain (but
never got chance, for the extent of our
service was garrison duty in Cuba) his
business was that of railroad engineer.
bright, whole-souled fellow, but a
little reckless, as l said; a trifie too fond
of conviviality. He had been promoted
once to sergeantcy, but a glass too
much at the wrong time caused his re-
ductiOn to the ranks. He was always
jolly, performed the most disagreeable
duty with a joke, and was the best
liked man in our company.
The midget Good-by and the giant
Boutelle developed a strong friendship
for each other. Good-by, as she frankly
told me, infinitely admired the hand
some siX-foot private-that flower of
the splendid race of Americanos. "How
easy" she said, refectively, to me one
day, 1T would be for Senior Chorge to
crush me with one handI What big
man! L am sure there is no one in the
world could resist his strength. Holy
Mother! he is so good-looking, too"
Boutelle, on his side, grew very fond of
his small admirer, with whom, how
ever, he could converse only frag-
mentarily. Sometimes l would act as
interpreter for the two. :
One day some cases of yellow fever
broke out in the lowest quarter of the
town, and in consequence all Cubans
were quarantined from our camp. This
meant that the little beggar-children
also couldn't enter camp any more. We
were likewise ordered not to enter
Guanajay, and the officers drilled us
pretty severely, both to keep us occu-
pied and in the best condition to resist
the dreaded fever. There was no cpl
demic, however, and at the end of a
fortnight the quarantine was removed
except that for some reason no little ma
tive food-collectors were to be allowed
in camp. Thus we saw no more of Good
by in our tents, nor had seen her at all
IN the last two weeks.
Boutelle and | went to town together
few days after the lifting of the quar-
antine. We visited several stores
bought some things in the way of Span
ish relics, and finally brought up at a
restaurant. The bare-armed waiter
was setting the second course of lettuce
and fried fish before us, when Boutelle
spied Good-by with her tin can and lit
tie bag standing among the brigade of
beggar-children outside the lattice
work in front of the restaurant. She
had just arrived. and would have run
away when she saw us, but my com
panion called her to come in. She en-
tered shamefacedly.
"How are you, Goodbye said Bou-
telle, pleasantly, holding out his hand.
"Sit down and eat with u.s..
do, senorita.'' 1 REINFORCED. PUT
down your things and we will have a
little chat"
Poor Good-by! She almost cried
with pleasure, and yet hesitated great
ly about the propriety of accepting the
invitation of her exalted friends.