Their invariably starved appearance showed them to be reconcentrados—people from the interior who had been driven in by General Weyler’s infamous order, and then left to starve.
There was little, if any, acute terror in their fates. They had suffered so much, had witnessed so many atrocities, that they were indifferent to what was yet to come.
Paris, during the Reign of Terror, was not such a city of horrors as Havana has lately been!
Captain Tamiva, Hal’s chief captor, still bearing the letter “found” in the boy’s trunk, disappeared into one of the numerous offices opening upon the corridor.
He soon came back, ordering the soldiers to take their prisoner in.
Hal found himself arraigned before a stern-looking, elderly Spaniard. Before the latter, on his desk, lay the accusing letter.
He looked up quickly, this official, shot a penetrating look into the boy’s face, and snarled out:
“So you are another of the Yankee pigs who root with our Cuban sucklings!”
“I am an American citizen, certainly,” replied Hal.
“And a sympathizer, as I said.”