The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1901-10-03
The Horror of
Three Sandals.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
1v Charles Fleming Embree.

stirs. Its movements are dream-nove.
ments, its snake-like convolutions are
harmless. 1t is merely the habit Of
the dead past, when Diaz was not yst
Power, which causes the beast to
heave its lethargic sighs and open up.
from time to time, q red orb devoid
Of meaning.
Up over the Cuernavaca railroad
comes now the military detachment
lately sent into Guerro. The little
company eats dinner by the Cuerna-
vaca station. Five lank soldiers in
sandals sit Mt a distance ON the
ground; and, whereas all the others
are gay, these five sit depressed with
gloom, recalling strange thing.
The heart of Guerrero, state Of
golden miracles, is not yet opened to
the world. Mountains and mysteries
shut it away from modern life. Away
down south, two hundred miles from
the railroad, is the town of Three
Sandals. Into it came, five years ago,
an American named Stirge. He bought
mine and worked it all alone, and
they said he stacked up gold in an
adobe house as high as the roof. He
was tall, with silken beard, feline
grace, mild, deep, unreal eyes Gold
turned his head; gold made his house
an empire. Three Sandals the center
of the universe. He dreamed Of sever
ing this southern land from Mexico,
and insane ideas of monarchy came
to him.
The chief Of police was fat and
fiabby, and often full of pulque. He
lived in large house on the plaza by
the palms. His sister was q beauty,
aged nineteen, named Otilia.
"Otilia, | call you failure" com
planned the chief, drinking three
quarts of pulque in the patio, while
she lounged lanquid under those enor-
nous yellow flowers called "cups-of-
gold" "Manjarrez killed himself for
you. Elias slew Negretc for you:
Olivares robbed the hacienda to buy
you a ruby, and was shot. The gov
ernor at Chilpancingo made fool of
himself for you. Bah! what good is
all this if you can not find out the
revolutionary schemes of that cursed
American, and save my reputation. l
want to kill him, and, alas!" with u
comic shrug, spilling pulquc-"there
Is no way"
Hang him by his sweet, sas. beard,
Pepe, my love-" said she. with u smile.
"But!-the shadow Of an excuse! l
know he plots, but never finger can
I lay on him. Make him fall in love
with you, witch; worm it out of him.
Our reputation is at stake"
She dreamed, lying there graceful,
beautiful, mischief in her languid eye.
II WILL" she said, and plucked cup
of-gold, and buried her flushed face
therein.
She was shrewd. She was not of
the dashing type. She was leisurely
reserved. She had watched Stirge for
months. She knew him slightly: she
had smiled at him. Into her deep
thinking came the knowledge that
there was something of the mystic in
his nature, that mystery might win
him where other means would fail.
Every evening at six she wrapped
herself in black rebozo SO that eyes
glowing and portions Of face arti-
ficially pale were seen beneath lus-
trous hair. Then, solemn, sad, a mov-
ing statue, she walked to and fro, to
and fro, before the Americans house.
When he stood in the door stroking his
silken beard and gazed on her. she
nodded slowly, as though unseeing,
and sighed heavy sigh. At dusk,
having walked to and fro for an hour,
she sighed more heavily still and went
away.
After one week of this mystery, the
form of Otilia began to haunt him.
She was very beautiful, said he. There
were lurking in her eyes vast dreams,
towering ambitions-ah!
like his own, like his own. He tossed
in the night, somehow drawn to her.
After all, was it good to be lonely?
With such mate to what grand
heights might any man not soar! So
from seeing her by chance, he came
to watch for her, and when she passed
his hand was frozen on his beard, or
burned with fire that ran in all of
his blood. Meanwhile plan to over
throw the towns authorities, to
gather men, to march on Chilpancin-
90, took form. Two officers nearest
the person of the chief were S.irge's
fellow-plotters.
On the eighth evening of this NOV
ing to and fro, wrapped in mystery,
she let her rebozo wave little wider
open. He was devouring her with his
eyes. He was like god. strong and
full of grace. Her sweet lips were
pinkish; her neck was white. She
sighed, but she looked on him with
quick flames bursting from her eyes.
The street was lonely. He stepped
out and layed his long slim fingers on
her arm. She paused, and they gazed
ut one another.
"Otilia, some dread thing haunts
you"
"Yes, senor." Her eyes were down.
"Otilia, great weight is on you.