The Meyersdale commercial. (Meyersdale, Pa.) 1878-19??, July 04, 1918, Image 2

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THE MEYERSDALE COMMERCIAL
Rainbow’s End 4 nNover
By REX BEACH
Author of **The Iron Trzil,” “The
Spoilers,’ ‘Heart of the Sunset,” Ete.
(Copyright, by Harper and Brothers)
Rosa waved him a last fareweil as
he disappeared into the woods, then, to
occupy herself, she Lelped Evangelina
with what little housework there was
to do, later going with her to the gar-
den patch where the viandas grew.
Evangelina’s early devotion to her
mistress had not diminished with time;
if anything, it had deepened. When
emancipation came she would have re-
turned to the service of her beloved
twins had it not been for Donna Isa-
bel’s refusal to accept her. As it was,
she and Asensio had married, and by
means of Rosa’s surreptitious help
ALL WORN OUT
Déan’s, However, Restored Mr.
Roulston to Good Health.
Results Have Lasted.
«Mornings I was so stiff and sore
I could hardly get up,” sa A. C.
Roulston, prop. blacksmith shop, 2840°
Washington St., Ro: ] “The
sharp pains through my kidneys were
so bad I often thought I wouldn't be
able to get to work.
couldn’t rest comfortably
and turned and tossed
CUETO’S TREACHERY BRINGS NEW PERILS UPON
ESTEBAN AND ROSA.
Synopsis—Don Esteban Verona,
-—-money, jewels and title deeds—in
Evangelina at cards and loses.
Sebastian kills Don Esteban and is
and Donna Isabel is unable to find
tian gy smn e—
connection with the insurrectos is
x compelled to flee.
. ing of her peril and urging him to
returns to Cuba.
place is known only to Sabastian, a slave. Don Esteban’s wife dies at
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 te sell Evangelina, Sebastian's daughter. Don
Esteban refuses, but in the course of a gambling orgie, he risks
Crazed by the loss of his daughter,
rich sugar merchant, seeks to marry Rosa, who has returned from
school in the United States. Johnnie O'Reilly, an American, who loves
Rosa, wins her promise to wait for him until he can return from New
York. Donna Isabel falls to death while walking in her sleep. Esteban’s
In New York, O'Reilly gets a letter from Rosa tell-
a Cuban planter, hides his wealth
a well on his estate. The hiding
Don Esteban marries the
Angered at his refusal, she
himself killed. Many years pass
the hidden treasure. Don Mario,
discovered and he and Rosa are
rescue her. O'Reilly immediately
CHAPTER Vii—Continued.
eneBee
O'Reilly read the label.
ters,” said he.
“Bitters! And I asked for ‘yellow’ —
a glass of agwa with yellow.” Branch’s
voice shook. “I'm dying of a fever.
and this ivory-billed toucan brings me
a quart of poison. Bullets!” It was
impossible to describe the suggestion
of profanity with which the speaker
colored this innocuous expletive. “Weak
as I am, 1 shall gnaw his windpipe.”
He bared his teeth suggestively and
raised two talonlike hands.
The waiter was puzzled but not
alarmed. He embraced himself as his
customer had done, and shuddered :
then pointing at the bitters, he nodded
encouragingly.
O'Reilly forestalled an outburst by
translating his countryman’s wants.
*aygn vaso de agua con hielo,” said he,
and the attendant was all apologies.
“So you speak the lingo?” marveled
Mr. Branch, “Well, I can’t get the
hang of it. Don’t like it. Don’t like
anything Spanish. H—1 of a country,
isn't it?—where the ice is ‘yellow’ and
the butter is ‘meant to kill you,’ and
does.” {
O'Reilly laugled. “You've been
studying a guide book, ‘with domplete
glossary’ of Spanish phrases.’ r
i Mr. Branch nodded listlessly. “I'm
supposed to report this insurrection,
‘but the Spaniards won't let me. They
edit my stuff to suit themselves. I'm
getting tired of the farce.” *
“Going home?”
| “pon’t dare.” The speaker tapped
his concave chest. “Bum lungs. I
came down here to shuffle off, and I'm
waiting for it to happen. What brings
you to Cuba?”
«I'm here for my health, tod.” The
real invalid stared. “I have rheuma-
tism.”
“Going to sweat it out, eh? Well,
there's nothing to do but sweat”—
Branch was racked by a coughing
spasm that shook his reedy frame—
ugweat and cough. Bullets! No mis-
take about that hospital bark, is
there?’ When he had regained his
breath he said: “See here! I'm going
to take a chance with you, for 1 like
your looks. My newspaper work is a
bluff; I don’t send enough stuff to keep
me alive. 1 came here to cure my
lungs, and—I want you to help me
do it.”
| O'Reilly stared at the man in sur-
prise. “How can I help you?” he
asked.
“By taking me with you.”
“With me? Where?”
“To the insurrectos, of course.”
' The men eyed each other fixedly.
“What makes you think—"" O'Reilly
began. .
“Oh, don’t say it! I've got a hunch!
I don’t know what your game is—
probably dynamite: there’s a story
that the rebels have sent for some
American experts to teach them how
to use the stuff, and God knows they
need instruction! Anyhow, I can’t
swallow that rheumatism talk. 1
thought you might give me a lift. Take
me along, will you?”
“And how would that benefit your
cough?” Johnnie inquired curiously.
Mr. Branch hesitated. “Well, I'll tell
you,” he said, after a moment. “I'm
afraid to die this way, by inches, and
hours. I'm scared to death.” It seemed
impossible that the sick man’s cheeks
could further blanch, but they became
fairly livid, while a beading of mois-
ture appeared upon his upper lip.
“Heaven! You've no idea how it gets
on a fellows nerves to see himself
slipping—slipping. I'd like to end it
suddenly, like that!” He voiced the
last sentence abruptly and snapped his
fingers. “Then, too, I'd like to have a
thrill before I cash in—taste ‘the salt
of life,’ as somebody expressed it.
‘That's war. It’s the biggest game in
the world. What do you think of the
dea?’
“Not much,” O'Reilly said Honestly.
“Difference in temperament. I sup-
pose it is a sick fancy, but I've got it.
I'm a rotten coward, but I'll fight if
the Cubans will take me.”
«Where are the Cubans?”
“It’s bit-
| would come a day of reckoning.
ny quarters, and I'll show you a map,
if you're interested.”
“I am,” said O'Reilly, and, rising, he
followed his new acquaintance.
CHAPTER VIIL
The Spanish Doubloon.
On the whole, Pancho Cueto’s plans
had worked smoothly. After denounc:
ing the Varona twins as traitors he had
managed to have himself appointed
trustee for the crown, for all their
properties, consummation for which he
had worked from the moment he read
that letter of Esteban’s on the morn-
ing after Donna Isabel's death. That
there was a treasure Cueto had never
doubted, and, once the place was hid
to do with as he chose, he began his
search.
Commencing at the lower edge of the
grounds, he ripped them up with a se-
ries of deep trenches and cross-cuts.
It was a task that required the labor
of many men for several weeks, and
when it was finished there was scarce-
ly a growing thing left upon -the place.
Only a few of the larger trees re-
mained. Cueto was disappointed at
finding nothing, but he was not dis-
couraged. Next he tore down the old
slave barracoons and the outbuildings.
after whichihe ¢ompletely wrecked the
residence itself. He pulled it apart bit
by bit, brick by brick. He even dug up
its foundations, but without the reward
of so much as a single peseta. Fi-
nally, when the villa was but a heap
of rubbish and the grounds a scar
upon the slope of La Cumbre, he de-
sisted, baffled, incredulous, while all
Matanzas laughed at him. Having sac-
rificed hid choicest residence, he re-
tired in chagrin to the plantation of
La Joya.
But Cueto was now a man with a
grievance. He burned with rage, and
his contempt for the boy and girl he
had wronged soured .into hatred. In
time he began to realize also that so
long as they lived they would jeop-
ardize his tenure of their property.
Public feeling, at present, was high;
there was intense bitterness against all
rebels; but the war would end some
day. What then? Cueto asked him-
self. Sympathy was ever on the side
of the weak and oppressed. There
As If to swell his discomfiture and
strengthen his fears, out from the hills
at the head of the Yumuri issued ru-
mors of a little band of guerrilleros,
under the leadership of a beardless
boy—a band of blacks who were mak-
ing the upper valley unsafe for Span-
ish scouting parties.
Cursing the name of Varona, Pancho
Cueto armed himself. He did not ven-
ture far alone, and, like Donna Isabel
before him, he began to have bad
dreams at night.
One day a field of Cueto’s cane was
burned, and his laborers reported see-
ing Esteban and some negroes riding
into the wood. The overseer took
horse within the hour and rode pell-
mell to Matanzas. In the city at this
time was a certain Colonel Cobo, in
command of Spanish volunteers, those
execrable convict troops from the Isle
of Pines whose atrocities had already
marked them as wolves rather than
men, and to him Pancho went with
his story.
“Ah, yes! That Varona boy. I've
heard of him,” Cobo remarked, when
his caller had finished his account. “He
has reason to hate you, I dare say, for
you robbed him.” The colonel smiled
disagreeably.
effect that the law had placed him in
his position as trustee for the crown,
was but one law in the land, the law
of force.
cho declared. “He should
stroyed.”
“Bah! The country is overrun with
desperadoes of his kind, and worse.
Burning crops is nothing new. I'd
make an end of him soon enough, but
pearly all of my men are in Cardenas.
Cueto murmured something to the
and should therefore protect him; but
Colonel Cobo’s respect for the law, it
seemed, was slight. In his view there
“Why do you come to me?” he asked.
«That fellow is a desperado,” Pan-
be de-
“I'd make it worth while, if you could
put an end to him,” Pancho said, hes-
itatingly. Then, recalling some of
those stories about Colonel Cobo, he
added, “There are two of them, you
know, a boy and a girl.’*
“Ah, yes! I remember.”
“I .can direct you to the house of
Asensio, where they live.”
“Um-m!” Cobo was thoughtful. “A
girl. How old is she?”
“Eighteen.” é
“Ugly as an alligator, I'll warrant.”
“Ha! The most ravishing creature
in all Matanzas. All the men were
mad over her.”
Colonel Cobo, the guerrilla, licked
his full, red lips and ran a strong,
square hand over his curly, short-
cropped hair. “You say you know
where she—where they are living?”
“Ah, perfectly! It's less than a
night's ride. There's no one except
the boy to reckon with.”
“How much is he worth to you?”
bluntly inquired the soldier, and Cueto
sat down to make the best terms pos-
sible.
* * ® " * * *
“Do you think he received my let-
ter?” Rosa asked of her brother one
evening as they sat on the board bench
by Asensio’'s door. It was a familiar
question to Esteban; he had answered
it many times. ed
“Oh, yes!” he declared. “Lopez’ mes-
senger got through to Key West.”
“Then why doesn't he come?”
“But, my dear, you must be patient.
Think of his difficulties.”
This subject always distressed young
Varona; therefore he changed it.
“Come! You haven't heard of my good
fortune. I captured another fine snake
today, a big, sleepy fellow. Believe me,
he'll wake up when I set fire to his
tail. He'll go like the wind, and with
every foot he goes away will go more
of Pancho Cueto’s profits.”
“You intend to burn more of his
fields?” absently inquired the girl. “It
seems terrible to destroy our own
property.”
Esteban broke out excitedly; he
could not discuss Pancho Cueto with-
Esteban Whispered, “In the Well.”
out losing control of himself. “Would
you permit that traitor to fatten upen
the profits of our plantations? I shall
ruin him, as he ruined us.”
Rosa shook her dark head sadly.
«And we are indeed ruined. Think of
our beautiful house; all our beautiful
things, too! We used to consider our-
selves poor, but—how little we knew
of real poverty. There are so many
things I want. Have we nothing left?”
«1 thought it best to buy those rifles,”
the brother murmured, dropping his
eyes. “It was one chance in a mil-
lion.”
“No doubt it was. It seems those
Spaniards will sell their souls.”
“Exactly. We can dig food from the
earth and pluck it from the trees, but
bush. Besides, of what use would
money be to us when we have no place
to spend it?”
“True!” After a moment Rosa
mused aloud : “I wonder if Cueto found
the treasure? If only we had that—"
“He didn’t find it,” Esteban declared,
positively. “I”’—he hesitated—*I think
I know why he didn’t. I think I know
where it is.”
“Where is it?" breathlessly inquired
the girl
After a furtive look over his shoul-
der Esteban whispered, “ln the well.”
“You're joking!” \
“No, no! Think for yourself. It
was old Sebastian who dug that
well—”
“Yes.”
«And he alone shared father’s confi-
dence. That sunken garden was all
Sebastian’s work. No one else was al-
if that treasure had been above ground
her sharp nose would have smelled it
out, and now Cueto has moved the very
good Mausers- don’t grow on every
earth.”
Rosa sat back disappointed. “So
that’s your theory?”
“It's more than a theory,” the boy
insisted. “Look at this!” From the
pocket of his cotton trousers he pro-
duced an odd-looking coin, which he
placed in Rosa’s hand.
“Why, it’s gold! It's a Spanish
doubloon,” she said. “It’s the first one
1 ever saw. Where did you find it?”
“You'll think I'm crazy when I tell
you—sometimes I think so myself. I
found it in Isabel’s hand when I took
her from the well!”
Rosa was stricken speechless.
“She clutched it tightly,” Esteban
hurried on, “but as I made the rope
fast her hand relaxed and I saw it in
the lantern light. It was as if—well,
as if she gave it to me. I was too
badly frightened to think much about
it, as you may imagine. It was a hor-
rible place, all slime and foul water;
the rocks were slippery. But that coin
was in her fingers!”
Rosa managed to say: “Impossible!
Then she must have had it when she
fell.” .
“No, no! I saw her hands up-
stretched, her fingers open, in the
moonlight.”
“It's uncanny. Perhaps—"
“Yes. Perhaps some unseen hand
led her to the place so that we should
at last come into our own. Who knows?
There's no doubt that father hid his
money. He turned his slaves into gold,
he bought jewels, precious metal, any-
thing he could hide. Well, perhaps
there were old coins in the lot. The
water in the well is shallow; Isabel
must have groped this piece from the
bottom. Some day I shall explore the
hole and—we shall see.”
Rosa flung her arms rapturously
about her brother's neck and kissed
him. “Wouldn't it be glorious?” she
cried. “Wouldn't it be wonderful, to
be rich, and to want for nothing; to
have fine clothes and good things to
eat once more? Good things to eat!”
Her lip quivered. “Oh—I'm so hun-
gry.”
“Poor little girl!”
“Wait till O'Reilly hears about this.”
Rosa was all excitement once more.
“He'll be glad he came and got me,
if he does come.”
Esteban caressed her. “He'll come,
never fear. I know it. Every time I
leave you my heart is in my throat for
fear of what may happen in my ab-
sence—and yet I can’t always be at
your side.”
“There! You acknowledge that I
handicap you. Except for me you would
he making a glorious name for your-
self.”
“Nothing of the sort. More probably
I'd be getting myself killed. No! It's
better this way. We must be brave
and patient and—think of what is wait-
ing for us at the bottom of that well.”
It was indeed a great piece of luck
which had enabled Esteban Varona to
buy a half-dozen Mausers from a Span-
ish soldier. Through Asensio’s ac-
quaintance he had profited by the dis-
honesty of an enemy, and, although it
had taken all his money to effect the
purchase, Esteban considered the sac-
rifice well worth while. The fire of
patriotism burned fiercely in him, as
did his hatred of Pancho Cueto, and
the four trusty young negroes to whom
he had given rifles made, with Asensio
and himself, an armed party large
enough to be reckoned with. These
blacks were excitable fellows, and
wretched marksmen, but, on the other
hand, each and every one had been
raised with a machete at his hip and
knew how to use it. After a few pre-
liminary forays under Esteban’s lead-
ership they had absorbed a bit of dis-
cipline and were beginning to feel a
military ardor.
In the Cuban field forces there were
many negroes, and few of their fel-
low patriots fought better, or endured
the hardships of guerrilla warfare
more cheerfully than they. General
Antonio Maceo was of mixed blood,
and yet his leadérship was character-
ized not only by rare judgment and
ability, but also by an exalted abandon
of personal bravery. His several
brothers rendered Cuba services scarce-
ly less distinguished, and they were
but of a few of many dark-skinned he-
roes. This struggle for independence
was no patrician’s war; the best stock
of the island fought side by side with
field hands. :
At dawn of the morning following
his talk with Rosa, when the members
of his command assembled, Esteban
was up and ready. He had made his
preparations to destroy Pancho Cueto’s
fields, and since the road over the hills
to La Joya was long he had summoned
them early.
“Be careful!” Rosa implored him. “I
shall die of suspense.”
“It is for you to be careful,” he
laughed. . “Keep a good watch, and
conceal yourself at the first alarm.
However, I think we have taught these
bandits a lesson. As for Cueto, he
would run to the jungle if he saw us.
lowed to tend it. Why?
«Oh, they're out yonder in the hills.
nos Come over to
1
111 about ‘em.
We have work enough to do.”
the water. Isabel sedrched for years;
I'll tell you. |
They feared to let anyone else draw |
they had managed to buy this little
piece of land. Rosa had practiced self-
denial to make the purchase possible,
and her self-sacrifice had borne fruit:
that act of childish beneficence had
created a refuge for Esteban and her-
self and had ripened the negro wom-
an’s affection into idolatry.
Evangelina’s joy at having the girl
to herself, where she could daily see
her, touch her, serve her, was tem-
pered only by the knowledge of Rosa's
unhappiness. She scolded and tyran-
nized, she mothered and adored the
girl to her heart's content; she
watched over her like a hawk; she
deemed no labor in her service too ex-
acting. It would have gone ill with
anyone who offered harm to Rosa, for
Evangelina was strong and capable;
she had the arms and the hands of
from one side to the oth- d
er, with a dull, dragging
backache. There were
puffy spots under my eyes
and I felt worn out all
the time. The kidney se-
cretions passed too often
and were otherwise un- pi. Rogisten
natural. Four or five
boxes of Doan’s Kidney Pills cured
me. 1 can honestly recommend Doan’s
for they have surely done me a world
of good.
Mr. Roulston gave the above state-
ment in 1915 and in March, 1917, he
said: “My cure is still lasting. 1
Doan’s occasionally, however, to keep
my kidneys in good working order.
One can depend upon Doan’s to eure
kidney ills.”
Get Doan’s at Any Store, 60c a Bom
DOAN’S Saher
PILLS
FOSTER-MILBURN CO., BUFFALO, N.Y.
a man, and she possessed the smolder-
ing black temper of Sebastian, her
father. :
Even in peaceful times few people |
came to this clearing in the woods,
far off from the main-traveled roads
of the Yumuri, and the day, as usual,
passed uneventfully. Evangelina
worked, with one eye upon her Rosa,
the other watchfully alert for dan-
ger. When evening came she pre
pared their scanty meal, upbraiding
Rosa, meanwhile, for her attempts
to assist her. Then they sat for an
hour or two on the bench outside the |
door, talking about Juan O'Rail-ye
and the probable hour of his coming.
When Rosa fretted about her broth-
er, the negress reassured her. “Don’t
be frightened, little dove; he has the
makings of a great soldier. Now,
then, it is growing cool and the night
carries fevers. , Creep into your bed
and dream about that handsome lover
of yours.” .
Rosa obeyed, “although reluctantly,
“I'll sleep for a while,” she compro-
mised, “then I'll come out and take
my turn.”
Dawn was still a long way oft
when, true to her promise, Rosa
emerged from the hut with an apol-
ogy for having slept so long. Evan-
gelina protested, though her eyes
were heavy and she had been yawn-
ing prodigiously for hours. But for
once the girl was firm.
nally prevailed in her determination,
she seated herself in the warm place
Evangelina had vacated, and, curling
her small feet under her, she settled
herself, chin in hand, to think of
O'Reilly. It was a good time to think,
for the jungle was very still and the
night like a velvet curtain.
Having fi- |
* * * . * - *
here.” Pancho Cueto hesitatingly ad-
dressed the dim blur which he knew
to be Colonel Cobo. The colonel of
volunteers was in a vile temper, what
with the long night ride and an error
of Cueto’s which had considerably
lengthened the journey.
“Where is the house?’ growled the
officer. '
“Not far. But the path, is rocky
.and the horses’ feet—"
“Yes, yes!” There was a creak of
saddle leathers and a groan as the
colonel dismounted. “Now, my good
Cueto,” he threatened, “another of
your mistakes and I'll give you some-
thing to remember.me by.”
A curt order brought his men out
of their saddles. One of their num-
ber was detailed to guard the ani-
mals, while the rest fell in behind
Cueto and followed him up the trail
by the starglow.
Esteban and his followers ar
rive on the scene in the nick of
time. What happened when
they encountered Colonel Cobo
and his men is told in the next
installment.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
etre ane ———
Many Will Claim Spitzbergen.
More than 300 years ago, in 1614,
James I of England, formally claimed
Spitzbergen. The Muscovy company,
a British concern, was ordered “to up-
hold the king's right to Spitzbergen”
by an order in council. That claim
was allowed to lapse in the same man-
per in which the Russian claim lapsed,
the Britons interested in the country
say.
With the end of the war old data
will be dug up, with records of com-
paratively recent times, to bolster the
contentions of the various claimants,
as Spitzbergen is sure to occupy a
prominent place in north European af-
fairs. Uncle Sam is happily out of the
matter because of the sale by the Arc-
tic Coal company, although judg-
ing by precedent it never was likely
that this country would go so far as
to desire to exercise suzerainty over
the land. Such a course was urged
in America in 1912 and 1913.
Brought War into Home.
The beginning of hostilities between
Italy and Austria was the cause of sim-
ilar activity in the household of An-
thony Sokelic, says his wife, formerly
Baroness Blanca Alessi, in her divorce
complaint, filed at New York.
«He is a Croatian,” she alleges,
He has the heart of a mouse” He | “and 1 am an Ttalian baroness. He |
kissed his sister affectionately and | has been a raving maniac since our
then rode off at the head of his tat- | respective countries got into war. I'm
| tered band.
through.”
“We had better leave the horses |
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“Will you love me always?”
“What do you mean by ‘always?
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4
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Magic! Just drop a little Freemsone
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A wireless station has been recently
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