The latter was choking; his cheeks, too,
were wet. "A reconcentrado! In Matanzas! Well, that's good. We
have friends there--they'll not let her starve. This makes a new
man of me. See! I'm strong again. I'll go to her."
"YOU'LL go?" quickly cried Miss Evans. "YOU'LL go! You're not
strong enough. It would be suicide. You, with a price upon your
head! Everybody knows you there. Matanzas is virtually a walled
city. There's sickness, too--yellow fever, typhus--"
"Exactly. And hunger, also. Suppose no one has taken Rosa in?
Those concentration camps aren't nice places for a girl."
"But wait! I have friends in Washington. They're influential. They
will cable the American consul to look after her. Anyhow, you
mustn't think of returning to Matanzas," Norine faltered; her
voice caught unexpectedly and she turned her face away.
O'Reilly nodded shortly. "You're a sick man," he agreed. "There's
no need for both of us to go."
Esteban looked up. "Then you--"
"I leave at once. The Old Man has given me a commission to General
Betancourt, and I'll be on my way in an hour. The moon is young; I
must cross the trocha before--"
"That trocha!" Esteban was up on his elbow again. "Be careful
there, O'Reilly. They keep a sharp lookout, and it's guarded with
barbed wire. Be sure you cut every strand. Yes, and muffle your
horse's hoofs, too, in crossing the railroad track.
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