“This is something like that at home,” remarked Alano to me, as we moved on side by side. “That is, like it was,” he hastened to add.
“The fields will grow again, won’t they?” I asked.
“Oh, yes; but my father’s loss will be very great.”
“I suppose so. Did he have much sugar on hand?”
“The storehouses were full. You see, shipments have been at a standstill for a year or more.”
“It will take a long while, after the war is over, to get back to prosperity, I am afraid, Alano?”
"It will take years, and perhaps prosperity will never come. General Garcia is determined to fight to the bitter end, and so is General Gomez, and so long as both remain among the mountains and forests it will be impossible for the Spaniards to make them surrender. I heard father say we could lead the Spanish troops a dance from one spot to another for years, and in the meantime Spain will get no revenue from Cuba, while the expense of keeping the war up will foot up to millions of piasters—something that even Spain cannot stand."
“I wish it was all over, and that we were all safe,” I returned shortly. “I’ve seen all the war I want.”
“And yet you haven’t seen any regular battle,” laughed my Cuban chum. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t make much of a fighter, Mark, if Uncle Sam got into a muss.”
“Oh, that would be different!” I burst out. “I would fight for our country every time.”