Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1918-06-04

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and found himself in the center of the
floor, undecided whether he had been
hurled from his bed or whether he had
leaped thither. Still ia daze, he heard
shout from the direction of Cobo's
room, then din of other voices, fol-
slant his door was flung back and he
saw, by the light of high-held torches,
Esteban Varona and a ragged rabble
of black men. Cueto knew that he
faced death. He lodged a blow from
Esteban's dubbed rifle only to behold
the flash of a machete. Crying out
again. he tried to guard himself from
the descending h;ade, but 100 late: the
sound of his hoarse terror died in his
throat, half born.
Quick! Soak the bed with oil and
fire It," Esteban directed; then he ran
out into the hall to investigate that
other shouting. He found the chamber
whence 1t issued and tried to smash
the door; but at the second blow he
heard gunshot from within and the
wood splintered outward almost into
his face. simultaneously, from some
where outside the house. arose the
notes of Spanish bugle-call.
Young Varona waited to hear no
more. Nor did his men; realizing the
peril into which they had been led,
they bolted from the house as fast as
they could go. There was no need for
questions; from the direction of the
sugar mill came beloved orders and
the sound of men shouting to their
horses. Evidently those were troops
and trained troops, too, for they took
no time to saddle; they were up and
mounted almost before the marauders
had gained the backs of their own ami
mails.
Instantly there began q blind battle
In desperately cramped quarters.
Riders fought stirrup to stirrup with
dubbed rifles and machetes; saddles
were emptied and the terrified horses
bolted. Some of them lunged up the
banks, only to tumble down again,
their threshing limbs and sharp-shod
hoofs working more havoc than blows
from old-time battle-hammerS.
OF course, after the first moment of
conflict, Esteban had not been able to
exert the least control over his men
in fact, he could not make himself
heard. Nor could he spare the breath
to shout; he was too desperately en-
gagged. His rifle was empty, he had its
hot barre! in his hands; he dimly dis
tinguished Asensio welding his mach
etc. Then he found himself down
and half stunned. Something smote
him heavily, at last-whether hoof
or a gun-stock he could not teil-and
next he was on all-fours, trying to drag
himself out of this rat-pit. But his
limbs were Queerly rebellious, and he
was sick; he had never experienced
anything quite like this and he thought
he must be wounded. 1t greatly sur
prised him to find that he could Strug-
gle upward through the brambles, even
though it was hard work. Men were
fighting all around and below him,
meanwhile, and he wondered vaguely
what made them kill one another when
he and his negroes were all dead or
dying. 1t seemed very strange-of a
piece with the general unreality of
things-and it troubled him not a lit
tie. One of his arms was useless, he
discovered, and he realized with a curl
Gus shock that it was broken. He was
bleeding, too, from more than one
wound, but he could walk, after
fashion.
He was inclined to stay and finish
the fight, but he recollected that Rosa
would be waiting for him and that he
must go to her, and so he set out
across the fields, staggering through
the charred cane stubble. The night
was not so black as it had been, and
this puzzled him until he saw that the
plantation house was ablaze. Flames
were belching from its windows, cast
ing abroad lurid radiance; and re-
membering Pancho Cueto, Esteban
laughed.
BY and by, after he was well away,
his numbness passed and he began to
suffer eXcruciating pain. The pain had
been there all the time, so it seemed !;
he was simply gaining the capacity to
feel it. He was ready to die now, he
was so Ill; moreover, his left arm
dangled and got in his way. Only that
subconscious realization of the neces-
sity to keep going for Rosa's sake sus-
tanned him.
Daylight came at last to show him
his way. More than once he paused,
alarmed, at voices in the woods, only
to find that the sounds issued from his
own throat.
1t had grown very hot now, so hot
that heat-waves obscured his vision
and caused the most absurd forms to
take shape. He began to hunt aimless-
ly for water, but there was none Evil
IDENTIFY this heat had parched the land,
dried up the streams, and set the
stones afire. 1t was incredible, but
true.
Esteban reasoned that he must be
near home by this time, for he had
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