Then, while the rest stood by with uncovered heads, murmuring silent prayers, two of the pacificos covered the still form over.
There was no time to bury the Spanish slain.
Indeed, the Cubans, embittered by more than three years of suffering under the infamous war methods of Spain, were in little mood to do anything decent by the remains of the slain foe.
“The buzzards shall get them,” cried Juan, disdainfully. “The buzzards alone, in Cuba, do not go hungry!”
As Hal’s little command and considerable train moved forward, our hero heard the story of the pacificos.
Some fourteen months before they had broken away from Havana. Since then they had lived in hiding in the woods, subsisting mainly on roots and fruit.
Once in a while they had received morsels of meat from passing bodies of Cuban soldiers.
But the law of the Republic of Cuba forbade them to join the army without weapons and ammunition, which was the only reason they had remained pacificos.
That very morning they had been surprised and surrounded while sleeping.
Incapable of resistance for lack of arms, they had been forced to surrender.