This monstrous, coldly calculating effort to
destroy the entire Cuban people seemed to him the blackest infamy
of all, and he wondered if it would be allowed to succeed.
Fortunately for the two friends, General Betancourt's generosity
served to relieve them from any immediate danger of starvation.
After making a few purchases and eating with the utmost frugality,
they began their search. Later, they stretched themselves out to
sleep on the stones beneath the portales of the railroad station.
They spent a horrid, harrowing night, for now the general distress
was brought home to them more poignantly than ever. At dawn they
learned that these people were actually dying of neglect. The
faint light betrayed the presence of new corpses lying upon the
station flagstones. From those still living, groans, sighs, sick
mutterings rose until O'Reilly finally dragged his youthful
companion out of the place.
"I can't stand that," he confessed. "I can't sleep when people are
starving to death alongside of me. This money burns my pocket. I--
I--"
Jacket read his purpose and laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
"It will save OUR lives, too," he said, simply.
"Bah! We are men. There are women and children yonder--"
But Jacket's sensibilities were calloused, it seemed. "Of what use
would your few pesetas be among so many?" he inquired.
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