El Paso herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1901-1931, 1911-06-08
The Herald's
Daily Shert Stsry
The Revenge OF St. Joseph

amidst the kneeling, praying people
of Zaldivar.
Up the worn and rutty path little
procession came slowly. At its head
marched two boys Of the village swing
ing censers from which the fume swung
in lazy clouds. Behind them came
handcart, drawn by four stalwarts Of
the village, and on the cart there
swayed the figure of ST. Joseph. Be-
hind these came a fifth man bearing
a banner of silk, a, sacred relic that
had not been out of the church within
the memory of living man.
The kneeling peasants prayed with
a feryor that was unearthly. and for
a moment it drowned the roar of the
angry waters beenath. Hoarse sobs
burst now and again from the crowd.
The image was brought slowly to
the edge of the cliff dominating the
flock. It was set with its face to the
waters, and father Damien's voice peal
ed forth as never it had done in the
little church down in the valley.
'Sanctus Josephus. miserere mel"
The odor Of the incense hung heavy
around. There was no breeze to move
It
The smell of it choked Pedro, the
muleteer. His blood was coursing in
his veins again. A mad, wild anger
at the fate that had thus robbed him
Of his dear desire surged through him.
In the midst of the prayers his mad
laugh burst, He strobe through the
kneeling ranks of the peasants, thrust
ing himself between father Damien
and the cart wherein the image Of the
saint gazed out over the waters.
Fools, Fools. Foolsl" he shrieked.
and he tore at the collar Of his shirt as
In
you be blind? What has this vaunted
saint done to protect you? San Joseph
despises you. He is a charlatan.
Judas, Away with him!'
The crowd looked up amazed. The
miracle that they had hoped for had
not occurred San Joseph had not
subdued the waters. The flood still
Numbered and roared through the
streets of the village beneath.
Pedro. the muleteer. sprang on to
the cart beside the image. est
Father Damien essayed to climb up
to the cart and check him. Pedro Be-
ruete swung the image up in his arms
and jumped down
I'VE are going to settle this score"
he painted His eyes were wild and
bloodshot. The veins stood out on his
forehead. He held the image as a man
would hold a truss Of hay.
.'Since this San Joseph cannot stop
the waters. let him drink up the
flood"
the peasantry in the front rank
shrank back. The crow1 watched him.
stupefied. barely realizing what he
did
With strength he bore the image to
the edge Of the cliff and held It high
above his head.
Sink or swim. as you like but into
the flood you gol" he yelled and hurl-
ed the figure Of the saint from him.
1t turned twice in the air as 1t fell.
A woman shrieked Father Damien
his hands before his face. sank to his
knees beside the empty handcart: and
still the incense poured forth In heavy
clouds from the censers.
Pedro, the muleteer. laughed madly
as the image struck the water, peering
eagerly after it. He swung round on
his heel, triumph in his glance.
And then clutched wildly at the air;
the earth was slipping from under him.
Slowly the edge Of the cliff gave way
and with a rumbling noise the land
slid down to the waters.
Pedro Beruete vanished from the
sight of the kneeling crowd. and the
waters of the flood splashed and thun-
dered as before carrying away with
them the figure of the saint and the
body of the muleteer.
The peasantry on the hillside muir
INJURED: "Sanctus Josephus. T-,serere
mel"
And the rain finally subsidized.