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 new-comer was a ragged 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? What did you hear?"
Asensio sighed gratefully as he seated 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, Esteban said, "I
have another message for Colonel Lopez."
"That Lopez! He's here to-day and there to-morrow; one can never
find him."
"Well, you must find him, and immediately, Asensio. This letter
contains 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, I fear these Spaniards less than the guerrilleros: they are
everywhere. They call themselves patriots, but they are nothing
more than robbers.
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