‘But Rosita may tell,’ said Maraquita, shrinking from the idea.
Jessica shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.
‘Rosita not tell—what good her telling? but if missy ’fraid, gib her ten dollars ’stead of five! den I swear she not tell.’
‘And what else did you hear, Jessica?’
‘Sambo say de Governor would hab hung all de mutineers dis morning, same like dogs, only de Colonel ob de forces tell him dat berry bad plan, and make big fight, and he better have proper martials. So dat am fixed for to-morrow, and den dey will be hung at sunset fire—dat what Sambo says.’
‘And—and—what more, Jessica?’
‘Dat’s pretty well all, missy, only de corpses hab been cleared away, and will be buried dis evening. And Missy Latreille berry bad in hospital, and both de Missy Burns dead, and dere fader hab sworn if Governor don’t hang de rebels, he will.’
‘Oh, it is terrible!’ sighed Maraquita. ‘I shall never have the courage to visit the cells. I am so afraid of being found out.’
‘Den missy better not go.’
‘But, Jessica, he will die without my seeing him, and I shall never forgive myself. I don’t know what to do.’