Trooper Tales — page 68: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

60 Toreador, the Game One. doorway and turned her face upward. Then she sang to the great, white beauty of the heavens—she sang of love’s enchantment, and every note was a rapture to the poor Porto Rican who watched. It seemed to him one mo- ment that his heart must burst, so big was it. Then Marie sang soft and low of slumber, and the tinkle of the tiny Corizel was hushed when the slumber song was ended. The aged mother of the dark-eyed maiden sat with drowsy eyes in the doorway, biding her time. Next Sunday Marie smiled upon Benito prettier than ever, for she saw that he had a faint look, and that his face was very wan and ashy for a Porto Rican’s. She did not know that he had been toiling from dawn to dark for six days, prodding weary oxen over the rocky trail between a big hacienda and Corizel, carrying tons of green coffee. She did not know that he had not eaten enough in those six days to satisfy the game one, nor that he had four bright silver pesos hidden away in his shabby shack. Marie did not know that-his four silver pesos and his starvation were for her. But somehow she smiled upon him very sweetly that Sunday. Perhaps it was be- cause she pitied his wan face. And, oh, how happy was Benito, the poor Porto Rican, that day. A week passed and there were four more silver pesos hidden away in the dingy shack, and Marie did not see Benito this Sunday. Strange things were going on in his hut. Toreador was trimmed for action, like the decks of great fighting ships are. The green and copper-hued feathers of Toreador’s neck were cut away. His wings Eomichoo S (S@)