The Pulaskian., 1918-08-02
CHAPTER XVII.
HoSao

"Look!" jacket clutched at O'Reilly
and pointed a shaking finger. 'More
beggars! Christie! And those little
children The boy tried to laugh, but
his voice cracked nervously. "Are they
children, or gourds with legs under
them?"
O'Reilly looked, then turned his
eyes away. He and Jacket had reached
the heart of MatanZas and were facing
the public square, the Plaza de la Lib
ertad it was called. Matanzas ap-
peared poor and squalid, depressingly
wretched; its streets were foul and
the Plaza de la Libertad-grim mock
cry of q name-was crowded with q
throng such as 1t had never held In
O'Reilly's time. throng of people who
were, without exception, gaunt, list
less, ragged. There was no afternoon
parade of finery, no laughter, no noise;
the benches were full, but their occu-
pants were silent, too sick or too weak
to move. Nor were there any romping
children. There were, to beasure, vast
numbers of understood figures in the
square, but one needed to look twice
to realize that they were not pygmies
or wizened little old folks. 1t was not
strange that Jacket had compared
them to gourds with legs, for all were
naked, and most of them had bodies
swollen into the likeness of pods or
calabashes. They looked peculiarly
grotesque with their spidery legs and
thin faces.
O'Reilly passed damp hand across
his eyes. "Just Heavenl" he breathed.
"She-she's one of thesei"
The reconcentrados overran Matan-
Zas in an unclean swarm; streets and
plaZaS were congested with them, for
no attempt was made to confine them
to their quarters. Morning brought
them streaming down from the SUBJ
urban slopes where they lived, evening
sent them winding back; their days
were spent in an aimless search for
food. They snatched at crumbs and
combed the cutters for crusts. How
they managed to exist, whence came
the food that kept life in their miser-
able bodies, was a mystery even to
the citizens of the city; no organized
effort had been made to care for them
and there was insufficient surplus food
for half their number. Yet somehow
they lived and fingered on.
At the time of O'Reilly's arrival the
sight presented by these innocent vic
Tins of war was appalling; it reused
in him dull red rage at the power
which had wrought this crime and at
the men who permitted it to continue.
Spain was Christian nation, he re-
flected; she had set up more crosses
than any other, and yet beneath them
she had butchered more people than all
the nations of the earth combined
This monstrous, coldly calculating eff
fort to destroy the entire Cuban people
seemed to him the blacklist infamy of
all, and he wondered If 1t would be al.
lowed to succeed.
Fortunately for the two friends, Gen.
eral Betancourt's generosity served to
relieve them from any immediate dam
ger of starvation. After making a few
purchases and eating with the utmost
frugality, they began their search.
Later they stretched themselves out to
sleep on the stones beneath the portales
of the railroad station.
They spent horrid, narrowing night,
for now the general distress was
brought home to them more poignant
ly than ever. At dawn they learned
that these people were actually dying
of neglect. The faint light betrayed
the presence of new corpses lying
upon the station fagstones. From
those still living, groans. signs, sick
mutterings rose until O'Reilly finally
dragged his youthful companion out of
the place.
(TO BE CoNTINUED)