El Paso herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1901-1931, 1911-06-08
BY Horace Ferraby.


er cease?"
NJ There will soon be no more
land! Mother of Heaven. The river
rises day by day and hour by hour.
I'VE shall all be washed away.
The words rose as moan from the
peasantry gathered on the hillside
above the flooded village.
They stood there pasiyely, letting
the drenching downpour soak their
clothes With the fatalism of the
Spanish peasant, they took the deluge
as a visitation that no mortal efforts
could counterfeit. And they knew that
beforet he altar of the little church old
father Damien knelt. praying for them.
disregarding the many inches of water
that swirled around him.
Il have burned two candles to the
Pusissima." moaned an old woman,
and my sheep pens are washed away
my sheep are all drowned"
She covered her eyes with a shawl
and rocked from side to side in her
grief The huddled peasants near her
regarded her with awe.
Two candles to the virgin. Two
whole candles-and yet the sheep were
drowned.
The men and women of Zaldivar,
driven from their homes by the flood,
ruin, starvation, death staring them in
the face, left the rocklike foundation
Of their faith quiverl
Two whole cand1esi
Pedro Beruete the muleteer who
drove the team between Zal6ivar and
contemptuously.
What will you?' he demanded Of the
world at large. What is candle but
a candle? And fire cannot stay wa
ter"
Andres Nejera, the schoolmaster. who
was a Radical and an anticlerical, nod
ded eagerly.
TT is very true" he said. very true
indeedl Water is the enemy Of fire
and always it conquers."
A woman near to him turned on him
fiercely.
'Blasphemerw she screamed. at is
for you that we suffer this, for YOU
that the good Heaven has sent this
punishment upon our village. 1t is a
Judgment that we have suffered you
so long among us, to teach our chill
dren evil thoughts"
The woman burst into a hymn at
the close of her TRADE, and they all
Joined in-all except Pedro Beruete, the
muleteer. and Andrea Najera, the
schoolmaster.
Beneath them lay the swamped vii
lage. where the floods from the over
burdened river washed suddenly
through their streets. The stern, hard
mountains shut them in on every hand !;
the way out was through passes rem
dered heavy with downpour. Besides,
what did they know of the beyond?
Few of them save Pedro Beruete. the
muleteer. and Andres Najera, the
hod ne
the valley of Zaldivar. Born there.
they died there most Of them. and Of
those who went away. few ever re-
turned. so that for all who went upon
that Journey the pious offered prayer.
believing firmly that Satan held their
souls in bondage
While they chanted the hymn, fer
vently. religiously desperately, there
came a crash.
In a moment silence fell. such a
silence as comes when a sentence OF
death is passed. when men hold their
breath and fear the dread announce
ment All eyes turned to the village
below, and all knew at a glance that
the new house at the end was gone,
the new house that Pedro, the. mule
teer, had built with his savings to be
a home for Juanita when he married
her. The house had been all but fin
ished; another month should have seen
the roof completed.
low cry sobbed from the crowd;
but Pedro, the muleteer. did not mourn
with the others. He only gazed and
gazed wide-eyed. overcome.
Up the hillside toiled little figure
in a black cassock. with white hair
around the tonsure forming a halo.
Father Damien was bareheaded as
part Of his cassock dripping wet from
his long kneeling in the flooded
church.
ITO your knees, oh, childreni" he
cried as he approached them. ITO
your knees. Pray to st. Joseph, our
patron saint, for his intercession in
our grevious hour"
with folded arms and bent heads.
peasantry sank obediently to their
knees. Even the radical schoolmas-
ter Joined them in the face of this
last disaster. But Pedro, the muleteer,
stood upright, sill wide-eyed. gazing at
the empty spot where his new home
had been. where now the pitfless flood
swept along uninterrupted
s'Sanctus Josephus. miserere mei"'
The cry welled up from the crowd
to the leaden, threatening heavens.
Father Damien stood on the edge of
the cliff overlooking the flood, his
arms raised on high. supplication in
every muscle of his body. These. his
children, who had trusted him, for
whose faith he was answerable, need
ed him in that hour of agony as never
before.
''Sanctus Josephus. miserere meiF
Pedro, the muleteer, heard the pray
err but he did not heed 1t or join 1t.
What was San Joseph to him but a
gaudy image in the church? His house
was gone. and with it many score OF
pesetas that he had earned on the
toilsomestrail between Zaldivar and
Saragossa. San Joseph was their pa
iron saint in the village. But what
a patron, To let a mans house be
swept from him thus; to Illustrate thus
at blow all a mans hopes Of happi-
ness and of future in this world. For
the next world Pedro took no count at
that time Juanita embodied for him
all the happiness. all the Joy. all the
glory that any soul could know.
And the house he had built for her
was swept away gore like dream in
the night. He stood here, silent