Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1918-08-01

20 live. They hdd hoped TO lose them.
selves among the other prisoners, and
in this they were successful, for none
Of their miserable neighbors were I'M
any condition to. notice them, and
there was nothing sufficiently con-;
spicuous about two tattered blacks
and their hunchbacked daughter tol
draw attention from the soldiers.'
Asensio foraged xealcusly, and atI
FIRST he managed somehow to securel
enough food for his little family. One
day the soldiers seized him and put
him to work on the Qualifications along
with 4 gang Of other men who APP
peared strong enough to stand hard
labor. ,Asensio was not paid for this.
but he was allowed one meal a day,
and he, succeeded N bringing home
each night share Of hiS allotment.
$ It Is surprising how little nourish-
inert viii 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 Asenslo and his fellow con-
scripts received nothing ut III 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 ffom
dawn until dark. striving with nimhle,
tireless fingers to supplement Asensio's
rati0ns and postpone starvation. But
Il was q hopeless task. Other nimble
fingers worked as hrelessly as theirs,
and the demand for hats was limited
Their hut overlooked the road to
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 Z certain cor
net, which signifled that another ecu
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.
trastj between her present and her for
mer coalition. Matansas 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 its 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
dowd. She. varona. whose name was
one to conjure with, whose lineage was
Of the highest! NShe to beg7 The
thing was quite impossible. One crumb,
SO taken, would have choked her.
Rosa pzeferred to suffer proudly and
await the hour when hunger or disease
would at last blot ont 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
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 plants of starving
children. blind to the misery of be-
seeching mothers. Rosa shrank into
Z doorway and drew her tattered shawl
closer over her face for fear Don Ma
no 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
" 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
Esteban's interesting theory Of its
whereabouts. but she could not bring
herself to put much faith In either. OF
course 1t was barely possible that there
was indeed q treasure, and even that
Esteban's surmise had been correct.
But it was little more than remote
possibility Distance lends a rosy
color to reality to our most absurd
imasinings. but, like the haze that tints
Q far-of landscape, It dissolves upon
approach. Now that Rosa was here, in
sight Of the ruined QuintaL itself, her.
hopes and half-beliefs faded.
More than once she was tempted to
confide insEyangelina and Asensio, but