Judsonia weekly advance., 1918-08-14
(copyrisht, by Harper and Brothers)

warrant plundering, and Rosas dis guise concealed what charms remained to her. But once they had entered the city, what an awakening What suf- | fering, what poverty, what rags they saw The three of them grew weak with dismay at the horror of it all; but there was no retreat
 Asensio built makeshift shelter ! close under La Cumbre-from it the ruins of the Quinta de Esteban were visible--and there they settled down to live. They had hoped to lose them | selves among the other prisoners. and In this they were successful, for none of their miserable neighbors were in | any condition to notice them, and there was nothing sufficiently con spicuous about two tattered blacks and their hunchbacked daughter to draw attention from the soldiers. Asensio foraged zealousIy, and at | first he managed somehow to secure enough food for his little family. One | day the soldiers seized him and put him to work on the Qualifications along with a gang of other men who ap- | peared strong enough to stand hard | labor. Asensio was not paid for this, | but he was allowed one meal day, and he succeeded in bringing home | each night a share of his allotment. | It is surprising how little nourlsh- | ment will sustain life. Rosa and her two friends had long felt the pinch of hunger, but now they plumbed new depths of privation, for there were days when Asensio and his fellow con- | scripts received nothing at all After time Evangelina began making bas- kets and weaving palm-leaf hats, which she sold at six cents each She taught Rosa the craft, and they worked from dawn until dark. striving with nimble
 tireless fingers to supplement Asensio's | rations and postpone starvation. But | it was a hopeless task Other nlmble | fingers worked as tirelessly as theirs. and the demand for hats was limited.
 Their hut overlooked the road to l San SeverinO, that Via DOlorosa on
 which condemned prisoners were marched out to execution, and in time
 the women learned to recognize the peculiar blaring notes of certain cor
 net, which signified that another Gu
 ban cock was about to crow" When
 in the damp of dewy mornings they
 heard that bugle they ceased their
 weaving long enough to cross them selves and whisper a prayer for the souls of those who were on their way
 to die. But this was the only respite they allowed themselves.
 Rosa meditated much upon the con- trast between her present and her for mer condition. Matanzas was the city of her birth, and time was when she
 had trod its streets in arrogance and pride, when she had possessed friends by the score among it's residents. But
 of all these there was not one to whom
 she dared appeal in this. her hour of
 need. But even had she felt assured
 of meeting sympathy, her pride was pure Castilian, and it would never down. She, Varona, whose name was
 one to conjure with, whose lineage was
 of the highest She to beg? The
 thing was quite impossible. One crumb,
 so taken, would have choked her.
 Rosa preferred to suffer proudly and
 await the hour when hunger or disease would at last blot out her memories
 of happy days and end this nightmare misery.
 | Then, too, she dreaded any risk of discovery by Mario de Castano, who was hard, vindictive man. His part l ing words had shown her that he would never forgive the slight she had put upon him; and she did not wish to put his threats to the test. Once Rosa saw him, on her way to buy few centavos' worth of sweet potatoes; he was huddled in his victoria, huge bladder of flesh, and he rode the streets deaf to the plaints of starving | children, blind to the misery of be- seeching mothers. Rosa shrank into a doorway and drew her tattered shawl closer over her face for fear Don Ma rio might recognize in this misshapen body and in these pinched, discolored | features the beauteous blossom he had craved.
 Nor did she forget Colonel Cobo. The mans memory haunted her, asleep and awake; of him she was most desperate ly afraid. When for the first time she saw him riding at the head of his cut throats she was like to swOon in her tracks, and for whole day thereafter she covered in the hut, trembling at every sound.
 In these dark hours she recalled the stories of the old Varona treasure and Estebans interesting theory of its whereabouts. but she could not bring herself to put much faith in either. Of