THE MEYERSDALE COMMERCIAL
AUTHO
THE LRA TRAIL® THE SPOILERS » SEELRT OF THE SIHSET ETT.
HT, 8 HARPER. AND BROTHERS.
ESTEBAN'S CONNECTION WITH: THE
BRINGS DISASTER UPON HIMSELF AND ROSA.
INSURRECTOS
Synopsis.—Don Esteban Varona, a Cuban planter, hides his wealth
—money, jewels and title deeds—in a well on his estate.
place is known only to Sebastian, a slave.
the birth of twins, Esteban and Rosa.
avaricious Donna Isabel, who tries unsuccessfully to wring the secret
of the hidden treasure from Sebastian.
urges Don Esteban to sell Evangelina, Sebastian’s daughter.
Esteban refuses, but in the course of a gambling orgie, he risks
Crazed by the loss of his daughter,
Sebastian kills Don Esteban and is himself killed.
and Donna Isabel is unable to tind the hidden treasure.
rich sugar merchant, seeks to marry Rosa, who has returned from
Johnnie O'Reilly, an American, who loves
Rosa, wins her promise to wait for him until he can return from New
Evangelina at cards and loses.
school in the United States.
York.
The hiding
Don Esteban’s wife dies at
Don Esteban marries the
Angered at his refusal, she
Don
Many years pass
Don Mario,
CHAPTER IV—Continued.
—
Seating himself on one of the old
stone benches, the young man lit a
cigarette and composed himself to
wait. He sat there for a long time,
grumbling inwardly, for the night was
damp and he was sleepy; but at last
a figure stole out of the gloom and
Joined him. The newcomer was a rag-
ged negro, dressed in the fashion of
the poorer country people.
“Well, Asensio, I thought you'd
never come. I'll get a fever from this!”
Esteban said irritably.
“It is a long way, Don Esteban, and
Evangelina made me wait until dark.
I tell you we have to be careful these
days.”
“What is the news?
hear?”
Asensio sighed gratefully as he seat-
ed himself. “One hears a great deal,
but one never knows what to believe.
There is fighting in Santa Clara, and
Maceo sweeps westward.”
Taking the unaddressed letter from
his pocket, Isteban said, “1 have an-
other message for (Colonel Lopez.”
“That Lopez! He’s here today and
there tomorrow; one can never {ind
him.”
“Well, you must find him, and im-
mediately, Asensio. This letter con-
tains important news—so important, in
‘fact”—Esteban laughed lightly—*"that
if you find yourself in danger from the
Spaniards I'd advise you to chew it up
and swallow it as quickly as you can.”
“I'll remember that,” said the negro,
“for there's danger enough. Still, 1
fear these Spaniards less than the
guerrilleros: they are everywhere.
They call themselves patriots, but they
are nothing more than robbers.
They—"
Asensio paused abruptly.
What did you
He seized
his companion by the arm and, lean- |
ik od
lS It:
El
=!
“What's That?” Gasped the Negro.
ing forward, stared across the level
garden into the shadows opposite.
Something was moving there, under
the trees; the men could see that it
was white and formless, and that it
pursued an erratic course.
“What's that?’ gasped the negro. He
began to tremble violently and his
breath became audible. Esteban was
compelled to hold him down by main
force. *It's old Don tisteban, your fa-
ther. They say he walks at midnight,
carrying his head in his two hands.”
Young Varona managed to whisper,
“Hush!
Wait! I don’t belidve 22 ghosts.” Nev-
srtheless, be was on the point of set-
fing Asensio an example of undignified
fight whem the mysterious object
froma the shadows into the
with some show of courage:
emerged
| death.
|
{ had abruptly swerved to her right. a
|
|
open moonlight; then he sighed with
relief: “Ah-h! Now I see! It is my
stepmother. She is asleep.”
For a moment or two they watched
the progress of the white-robed figure;
then Esteban stirred and rose from his
seat. “She's too close to that well.
There is—” He started forward a
pace or two. “They say people who
walk at night go mad if they're awak-
ened too suddenly, and yet—"
When the somnambulist’s deliberate
progress toward the mouth of the well
continued he called her name softly.
“Donna Isabel!” Then he repeated it
louder. “Donna Isabel! Wake up.”
The woman seemed to hear and yet
not to hear. She turned her head to
listen, but continued to walk.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. reas-
suringly. “It is only Esteban—Donna
Isabel! Stop!” Esteban sprang for-
ward, shouting at the top of his voice,
for at the sound of her name Isabel
movement which brought her danger-
ously close to the lip of the well.
“Stop! Go back!” sespamed the
young man. :
Above his warning there came a
shriek, shrill and agonized—a wail of
such abysmal terror as to shock the
night birds and the insects into still-
Donna Isabel slipped, or stum-
bled, to her knees, she balanced briefly.
clutching at random while the earth
and crumbling cement gave way be-
neath her; then she slid forward and
disappeared, almost out from between
Esteban’s hands. There was a8 noisy
rattle of rock and pebble and a great
splash far below; a chuckle of little
stones striking the water, then a faint
bubbling. Nothing more. The stepson
stood in his tracks, sick, blind with
horror; he was swaying over the open-
ing when Asensio dragged him back.
Pancho ‘Cueto, being a heavy sleeper,
was the last to be roused by Esteban’s
outeries. When he had hurriedly
slipped into his clothes in response to
the pounding cn his door, the few serv-
ants that the establishment supported
had been thoroughly awakened. Cueto
thought they their
minds until he learned what had be-
fallen the mistress of the house. Then.
being a man of action, he too issued
swift orders, with the result that by
the time he and Esteban had run to
the well a rope and lantern were ready
for their use. Before Esteban could
form and fit a loop for his shoulders
there was sufficient help on hand to
lower him into the treacherous abyss.
That was a gruesome task which fell
to Esteban, for the well had been tong
unused, its sides were oozing slime, its
waters were stale and black. He was
on the point of fainting when he finally
climbed out, leaving the negroes to
hoist the dripping, inert weight which
he had found at the bottom.
Old Sebastian’s curse had come
true: Donna Isabel had met the fate
he had called down upon her that day
when he hung exhausted in his chains
Ness,
must be out of
ment to anyone. Anybody could see—"
“Stop!” Esteban was turning alter-
nately red and white. “You seem to
imply something outrageous.”
“Now let us be sensible. I under-
stand you perfectly, my boy. But an
officer of the Guardia Civil may arrive
at any moment and he will want to
know how you came to be with your
stepmother when she plunged into that
trap. So prepare yourself.”
Young’ Varona was watching his in-
quisitor now with a faintly speculative
frown. When Cueto had finished, Es-
teban said: 4
“You would like me to confess to
some black iniquity that would make
us better friends, eh? Well, it so hap-
pens that I was not alone tonight, but
that another person saw the poor wom-
an’s death and can bear me out in ev-
erything I say. No, Pancho, you over-
reach yourself. Now, then”—Esteban
was quick-tempered, and for years he
had struggled against an instinctive
distrust and dislike of the plantation
manager—“remember that I have be-
come the head of this house, and your
employer. You will do better to think
#,
\ ~
de
o>
ms >
“Your Accuser Is None Other Than
Pancho Cueto.”
of vour own affairs than of mine. I
intend to have a careful reckoning
with you. I think you know I have a
good head for figures.” Turning his
hack upon the elder man, he walked
away.
Now it did not occur to Cueto really
to doubt the boy’s innocence, though
the circumstances of Donna Isabel's
death were suspicious enough to raise
a question in any mind; bit in view
of Esteban’s threat he thought it wise
to protect himself by setting a back-
fire.
As he sat on an old stone bench,
moodily repicturing the catastrophe as
Esteban had described it, his attention
fell upon an envelope at his feet. It
was sealed; it was unaddressed. Cue-
to idly broke it open and began to
read. Before he had gone far he start-
ed; then he cast a furtive glance
about. But the place was secluded ; he
was uncbserved. When he finished
reading he rose, smiling. He no longer
feared Esteban. On the contrary, he
rather pitied the young fool; for here
between his fingers was that which
not only promised to remove the boy
from his path forever, but to place in
his hands the entire Varona estates.
One afternoon, perhaps a week later,
Don Mario de Castano came puffing
and blowing up to the quinta, demand-
ing to see Rosa without a moment's
delay. With a directness unusual even
in him. Don Mario began:
‘Rosa, my dear. ou and Esteban
have heen discovered! I was at lunch
with the commandante when 1 learned
the truth. Through friendship I pre-
vailed upon him to give you an hour's
grace.”
“What do you
inquired the girl.
“Come, come!” the planter cried, im-
patiently. “Don’t you see you can
trust me? Heaven! The recklessness,
the folly of young people! Could you
not leave this insurrection to your
Or perhaps you thought it a
matter of no great importance, an
amusing thing—"
“Don Mario!” Rose interrupted. “I
don’t know what you are talking
about.”
“You don’t, eh?’ The caller's wet
checks grew redder; he blew like a
porpoise. “Then call Esteban quickly!
There is not a moment to lose.” When
the brother appeared De (Castano
mean, Don Mario?”
elders?
and when the flies tormented him.
The treasure for which the woman had
intrigued so tirelessly had been her
Furthermore, as if in grim-
| mest irony, she had been permitted at
|
}
1
|
|
{ had searched to
the very last to find it.
no purpose whatso-
ever; dying, she had almost grasped
it in her arms.
Once the first excitement had abated
and a messenger had been sent to
town, Cueto drew Esteban aside and
questioned him.
“A shocking tragedy and most pe-
culiar,” said the overseer. “Nothing
could amaze me more. Tell me, how
did you come to be there at such an
hour. eh?”
Esteban saw the malevolent curios-
ity in Cueto’s face and started. “I—
That is my affair. Surely you don’t
think—"
«Come, come! You can trust me.”
The overseer winked and smiled
“I had business tnat took me there,
stifly declared the younger man.
«Exactly! And & profitable busi-
ness it proved!” Cueto laughed openly
now. “Well, I don’t mind telling you
Donna Isabel’s death is no disappoint-
3
living, she |
blurted out at him accusingly: “Well,
sir! A fine fix you've put yourself in.
Perhaps you will be interested to learn
that Colonel Fernandez has issued or-
ders to arrest you and your sister as
agents of the insurrectos.”
“What?” Esteban drew back. Rosa
turned white as a lily and laid a flut-
rering hand upon her throat.
“You two will sleep tonight in San
Severino,” grimly announced the ro-
tund visitor. “You know what that
means.”
rosa uttered a smothered cry.
“Colonel Fernandez,” Don Mario
proceeded, impressively, “did me this
favor, knowing me to be a suitor for
Rosa’s hand. In spite of his duty and
the evidence he—"
“Ividence? What evidence?” Este-
ban asked sharply
“For one thing, your own letter to
Lopez, the rebel, warning him to be-
ware of the trap prepared for him: in
Santa Clara. and advicing him of the
rr
covernment force at Sabanilla. Oh.
don't try to deny it! I ad it with
my own eyes, and it means—death.”
Rosa said faintly: “Esteban! I
i
|
| warned you.”
Esteban was taken aback, but it was
plain that he was not in the least
frightened. “They haven't caught me
yet,” he laughed.
“You say they intend to arrest me
also?” Rosa eyed the caller anxiously.
“Exactly!”
“Who accuses her, and of what?”
Esteban demanded.
“That also I have discovered through
the courtesy of Colonel Fernandez.
Your accuser is none other than Pan-
cho Cueto.”
“Cueto!”
“Yes: he has denounced both of you
as rebels, and the letter is only part
of his proof, I believe. Now, then, you
can guess why I am here. I am not
without influence; I can save Rosa, but
for you, Esteban, I fear I can do noth-
ing. You must look out for yourself.
Well? What do you say?’
When Esteban saw how pale his sis-
ter had grown, he took her in his arms,
saying gently : “I’m sorry, dear. It’s all
my fault.” Then to the merchant:
“It’s very good of you to warn us.”
“Ha!” Don Mario fanned himself.
“I'm glad you appreciate my efforts.
It's a good thing to have the right kind
of a friend. I'll marry Rosa within an
hour, and I fancy my name will be a
sufficient shield—"
Rosa turned to her elderly suitor
and made a deep courtesy. “I am un-
worthy of the honor,” said she. “You
see, I—I do not love you, Don Mario.”
“Love!” exploded the visitor. “God
bless you! What has love to do with
the matter? Xsteban will have to ride
for his life in ten minutes and your
property will be seized. So you had
better make yourself ready to go with
me.”
But Rosa shook her head.
“Eh? What ails you? What do you
expect to do?”
“T shall go with Esteban,” said the
girl.
This calm announcement seemed to
stupefy De Castano. He sat down
heavily in the nearest chair, and with
his wet handkerchief pojsed in one
pudgy hand he stared fixedly at the
speaker. His eyes were round and
bulging, the sweat streamed unheeded
from his temples. He resembled some
queer bloated marine monster just
emerged from the sea and momentarily
dazzled by the light.
“You— You're mad,” he finally
gasped. “Esteban, tell her what it
means.”
But this Esteban could not do, for
he himself had not the faintest no-
tion of what was in store for him. War
seemed to him a glorious thing; he had
been told that the hills were peopled
with patriots. He was very young, his
heart was ablaze with hatred for the
Spaniards and for Pancho Cueto. He
longed to risk his life for a free Cuba.
Therefore he said: “Rosa shall do as
she pleases. If we must be exiles we
shall share each other’s hardships. At
will not be for long.”
“Idiot!” stormed the fat man. “Bet-
ter that you gave her to the sharks
helow San Severino. There is no law,
no safety for women outside of the
cities. The island is in anarchy. These
patriots you talk about are the blacks,
the mulattoes, the—lowest, laziest sav-
ages in Cuba.”
“Please! Don Mario!” the girl
pleaded. “I cannot marry you, for—I
love another.”
“Eh?”
“I love another. I'm betrothed to
O'Reilly, the American—and he’s com-
ing back to marry me.”
De Castano twisted himself labori-
ously out of his chair and waddled
toward the door. He was purple with
rage and mortification. On the thresh-
old he paused to wheeze: “Very well,
then. Go! I'm done with both of you.
I would have lent you a hand with this
rascal Cueto, but now he will fall heir
to your entire property. Well, it is
a time for bandits! I-—I—" Unable to
think of a parting speech sufficiently
bitter to match his disappointment,
Don Mario plunged out into the sun-
light, muttering and stammering to
himself.
Within an hour the twins were on
their way up the Yumuri, toward the
home of Asensio and Evangelina; for
it was thither that they naturally
turned. It was well that they had
made haste, for as they rode down into
the valley, up the other side of the hill
from Matanzas came a squad of the
Guardia Civil, and at its head rode
Pancho Cueto.
CHAPTER V.
A Cry From the Wilderness.
New York seemed almost like a for-
eign city to Johnnie O'Reilly when he
stepped out into it on the morning
after his arrival. For one thing it was
bleak and cold: the north wind, hail-
ins direct from Baffin’s bay, had teeth,
and it bit so cruelly that he was glad
when he found shelter in the building
which housed the offices of the Carter
Importing company. The truth is
O'Reilly was not only cold but fright-
ened.
It was not the effect of his report
concerning the firm's unprofitable Cu-
ban connections which he feared—
Samuel Carter could take calmly the
most disturbing financial reverse—it
was the blow to his pride at learning
that anybody could prefer another girl
to his daughter. Johnnie shook his
shoulders and stamped his feet, but
the chill in his bones refused to go.
He went to meet his employer as a
man marches to execution.
His heart sank further at the wel-
come he received, for the importer
gave him a veritable embrace; he pat-
ted him on the back and inquired three
times as to his health. O’Reilly was
anything but cold now ; he was perspir-
ing profusely. and he felt his collar
! ter this old man’s
growing limp. To shat
ager hopes would be like kicking a
hild in the fae Carter had never
been SO cuilius
tive; there was something almost the-
atrical in his greeting.
“Well, my boy, you made a fizzle of
it, didn’t you?’ The tone was almost
complimentary.
“Yes, sir, I'm a bright and shining
failure.”
“Now, don’t ‘yes, sir’ me. We're
friends, aren’t we? Good! Under-
stand, I don’t blame you in the least—
it’s that idiotic revolution that spoiled
our business. You did splendidly, un-
der the circumstances.”
“They have reason enough to re-
volt—oppression, tyranny, corruption.”
O'Reilly mumbled the familiar words
in a numb paralysis at Mr. Carter’s jo-
vial familiarity.
“All Latin countries are corrupt,”
announced the importer—*“always have
been and always will be. They thrive
under oppression. However, I dare say
this uprising won't last long.”
Johnnie wondered why the old man
didn’t get down to cases. “It's more
than an uprising, sir,” he said. “The
rebels have overrun the east end of
the island, and when I left Maceo and
Gomez were sweeping west.”
“Bah! It takes money to run a war.”
“They have money,” desperately ar-
gued O'Reilly. “Marti raised more
than a million dollars, and every Cu-
ban cigar maker in the United States
gives a part of his wages every week
to the cause. The best blood of Cuba
is in the fight. Spain is about busted;
she can’t stand the strain.”
“I predict they'll quit fighting as
soon as they get hungry. The govern-
ment is starving them out. However,
they've wound up our affairs for the
time being, and—"” Mr. Carter care-
fully shifted the position of an inkwell,
a calendar and a paper knife—‘that
brings us to a consideration of your
and my affairs, doesn’t it? Ahem!
You remember our bargain? I was to
give you a chance and you were to
make good before you—er—planned
any—er—matrimonial foolishness with
my daughter.”
“Yes, sir.” O'Reilly felt that the
moment had come for his carefully re-
hearsed speech, but, unhappily, he
could not remember how the swan-
song started. Mr. Carter, too, was un-
accountably silent. Another moment
dragged past, then they chorused.
“I have an unpleasant—"
Each broke off at the echo of his
own words.
“What's that?”
porter.
“No-nothing. You were saying—"
“I was thinking how lucky it is that
vou and Elsa waited. Hm-m! Very
fortunate.” Again Mr. Carter rear-
ranged his desk fittings. “We some-
times differ, Elsa and I, but when she
sets her heart on a thing I see that
she gets it, even if I think she oughtn’t
to have it. What's the use of having
children if you can’t spoil ’em, eh?”
He looked up with a sort of resentful
challenge, and when his listener ap-
peared to agree with him he sighed
with satisfaction. “Early marriages
are silly—but she seems to think other-
wise. Maybe she’s right. Anyhow
she’s licked me. I'm done. She wants
to be married right away, before we
go west. That's why I waited to see
you at once. You won't object, will
you? We men have to take our medi~
cine.”
“It’s quite out of the question,”
stammered the unhappy O'Reilly.
“Come, come! It’s tough on you, I
know, but—" Johnnie had a horrified
vision of himself being dragged unwil-
lingly to the altar. “Elsa is going to
have what she wants, if T have to break
something. If you'll be sehsible I'll
stand behind you like a father and
teach you the business. I'm getting
old, and Ethelbert could never learn
it. Otherwise—" The old man’s jaw
set; his eyes began to gleam angrily.
“Who is—Ethelbert?’ faintly in-
quired O'Reilly.
“Why, dammit! He's the fellow I've
been telling you about. He's not so
bad as he sounds; he’s really a nice
boy—
“Elsa is in love with another man?
Is that what you mean?”
“Good Lord, yes! Don’t you under-
stand English? I didn’t think you'd
take it so hard—I was going to make
a place for you here in the office, but
of course if— Say! What the deuce
ails you?”
Samuel Carter stared with amaze-
ment, for the injured victim of his
daughter’s fickleness had leaped to his
feet and was shaking his hand vigor-
ously, meanwhile uttering unintelli-
gible sounds that seemed to signify
relief, pleasure, delight—anything ex-
cept what the old man expected.
inquired the im-
O’Reilly, in New York, learns
of Rosa’s plight. The next in-
staliment tells what happened
then.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
First American Multimillionaire.
The first American multimillionaire
to attain international fame on ac-
count of his vast wealth was Stephen
Girard. Of the financial dynasties of
today only the Astors and Vanderbilts
were represented in Girard’s time, and
the fortune of the distinguished Phila-
delphian exceeded that of Commodore
Cornelius Vanderbilt or the first John
Jacob Astor. Girard was worth $9,000,-
000 at the time of his death. Much of
this money he left to the city of Phila-
delphia for public purposes, and
$2,000,000 were applied to the building
of a college for orphans. This institu-
tion has supported and educated tens
of thousands of orphans and fitted
them for their battles with the world
Girard was a free thinker.
In New South Wales there i8 a
mountain from which rock yielding 80
astic, so dewonstra- | than half a century.
per cent alum has been mined for more
even the casual looker-on with
THE MAKING OF
A FAMOUS
~ MEDICINE
How Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound
Is Prepared For
Woman's Use.
A visit to the laboratory where this
successful remedy is made impresses
e reli-
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which attends the making of this great
medicine for womean’sills.
Over 350,000 pounds of various herbs
are used hid i and all have to be
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The most successful solvents are used
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Every utensil and tank that comes in
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the medicine is pasteurized and sealed
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It is the wonderful combination of
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The letters from women who have
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UP TO AMERICA TO WIN WAR
Collapse of Russia Places the Burden
of Eliminating the Hun on Shoul-
ders of the Yanks.
Daily it grows more certain that the
world war is to be fought till one side
or the other is prostrate. The war
would have been over months ago if
Russia had not collapsed; but with
treason in the czar’'s cabinet and lun-
acy and stupidity pervading the Rus-
sia proletariat, that mighty empire of
the north became an inert and impo-
tent mass at the mercy of Germany.
And as for Russia, her fate will be
determined by the world congress that
will write the peace when the war is
over. It will be about the mightiest
job human statecraft ever undertook
and an impossible job unless Germany
or the entente is then as helpless as
Russia is now.
With the western front reinforced
by the millions of veterans Germany
had in Russia, the German people have
become as confident of victory as they
were when the first gun was fired. At
this moment Germany, rulers and peo-
ple alike, feel assured as to the out-
come. There is a determination to
annex all of Belgium, all of France
now held by the German armies and
all of the possessions of Belgium and
France in Africa. Discussion is now
going on in the German press as to
the amount of the money indemnity
the enemy shall pay. Already Russia
is carved by the German sword. And
if Germany shall succeed in her pres-
ent intentions she will be as complete
mistress of the world as it now 1s
known as the Rome of Julius Caesar
was mistress of the world as it was
known on the eve of the Christian era.
Receive German Paper Cloth.
The first sample of German paper
cloth has reached St. Paul in the form
of a paper wrapper for a German
helmet sent to Sergt. Maj. A. S. Kirk-
wood of the British recruiting mission
as a trophy of war. The ‘cloth resem-
bles rather fine burlap in appearance,
but on cutting the wrapper it was dis-
covered the strands were of rolled
paper. Some of these contain print,
indicating the “cloth” was made from
ordinary newspaper. It is said much
of this is being worn by Germany's
civilian population. — St. Paul Dis
patch.
Ee
Better Off
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TRY IT FOR EVERY
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th