A Court Martial

General Gómez and several officers of his staff were taking their after dinner nap - '"siesta" is the Spanish word for it - when there was a commotion in the thick chaparral between them aud the narrow, rugged road which ran all the way froni the rnountains to the western coast of Cuba. The thorny underbrush was pulled and tossed about until the billowy surface seemed to be swept and lashed by a storm. Pedro, the watohful sentinel who was gnarding the sleeping general and his companions, clutched bis rifle with a flrmer grip. He knew that a struggle was going on in those tangled bushes and vines, and the men who were headed in his direction might be either friends or foes. "Quien sabe?" was Pedro's low voiced comment, after bis keen eyes had taken in the situation. The noise of the scnffle or skirmish in the chaparral suddenly died away, and the senfcinei beard only an ocoasional oath, but the moving tops of the bushes warned him that the strangers were approaching him. "They swear like the pions defenders of our holy cause, " said Pedro, "but that is no sign. There are Spanish devils who eau outswear the Cubans, and even the pig dog Yankees have learned the trick. Carrajo is a word which will soon belong to all languages. " Perhaps it would be well to awaken the general. Gómez was with a small scouting party, and after their hurried dash into theenemy'sterritory the tired troopers were enjoying their first nap in a week. While the soldier was considering the matter his commander solved the problem for him. The rebel general has a way of sleeping with one eye open, and his little catnaps are easily disturbed. "What isit, Pedro?" The vigilant guard quietly told his wakeful general about the movements and suspioious noises in the chaparral. By this time all of the officers and soldiers, some 30 or more, were wide awake and ready with their weapons to resist an attack or make a dash into the forest. "Captain Vando and his men are to meet us here, " said Gomez, "and it is about time. The only Spaniards in this vicinity are dead ones. Their friends did not even bury them when they left last week. You may rest assured that Vando is the man who has broken our siesta." With a rush and a swish a dozen men plunged out of the bushes into the comparatively open space occupied by the general and his followers. Their faces and their unif orms were unmistakably Cuban, and Captain Vando and his commander lost no time in embracing each other in the most affectionate fashion. The newcomers had with them a fettered prisoner - a tall man with a dark, etern face, who wore the uniform of a Spanish captain. Gomez looked at him curiously as he listened to a whispered report from Vando. Then he frowned and his eyes flashed fire. "Carrajo!" he hissed between his teeth. "A goodday's work, Vando. I'll not forget it. " The Spaniard in the captain's uniform said nothing, but looked about him with a haughty stare. "What can we do for Captain Lopez?" asked General Gomez, with a pleasant smile. "Belease me, restore my weapons and my horse, " said the prisoner. "I was on a peaoeful mission, visiting a sick friend, wheu your msn ambushed me on the road. They have treated me with great indignity, but let that pass. Give me my liberty and I promise to say nothing of your movements in this district. ' ' "It gives me great pain to refuse your request, " replied Gomez courteously, "but we have giveu your case our oareful consideratiou for the past six months, and the main object of our recent soouting expedí tions was to capturo you. You see, captain, you are not an ordinary guerrilla. You nave a gang of the worst cutthroats and robbers in all Cuba. You have never met us in a UU fight. All of your work is done in the dark You destroy the homes of peaceful farmers, runrder and rob wounded prisoners, assault helpless women, and Captain Vando reporta that when you were oaptured yon had on your person the watch and the handkerchief of a Red Cross nuráb, a young woman who was ontraged and murdered by you and your ruffians two nights ago." "Itisa lie," shouted the Spaoiard. "I found the handkerchief in the road - the watch I bought f rom a soldier. " "Mistakes will occur in wartimes, " answered Gómez calmly, "and I may be mistaken now, but I am willing to swear to the truthf ulness of Vando's report." "I must go with you, then, and be tried by oourt martial, I suppose?" said Lopez. "You will be tried by cou-rt martial, " responded the general smilingly. "Your trial is in progress now. This is a court martial, and it is formal and orderly enough considering the fact that we are in the enemy's country, liable to be killed at any moment by your ambushed robbers. Yes, captain, this is a court martial, and from what I know of your record, together with Vando's report, the only thing to be done is to pronounce and execute the sentence of the court. Bind him to that treel" Two stalwart Cubans dragged the Spaniard to a tree and quickly bound him so that he conld not move. "This is murder, " said the prisoner, "and you will suffer for it" "War is a bad thing," remarked the general softly, with a sad look in nis big black eyes, "and murder is a part of it. I lie awake nights mourning over the terrible things we find it necessary to do, but they have to be done all the same. Any messages, captain?" "No, curse you. I would not trust a message to you!" was the excited answer. "Hear him!" said Gomez, turning to his conirades. "This man is evidently not a gentleman. He is unpardonably rude. Would you like to pray, captain?" The prisoner pulled at his bonds and broke out with a torrent of profanity. "Rope or bullet?" snapped the Cuban grimly. "Bullet, curse you!" " Very well, just to please you ; but you deeerve the rope," said the other. "My body!" interrupted Lopez. "Will you see that it is sent to Havana?" "I beg your pardon, "said Gomez, "but you are asking too much. We must leavethis spot at once. Time's up. Adios!" The general stepped aside with a wave of his hand. The Spanish captain held his head erect, facing his fate, scowling and defiant. The firing squad which had been detailed for the work stepped forward, and when their rifles rang out the prisoner's head feil back. Every bullet had pierced his heart. The Cubans brought their horses from the surrounding bushes and mounted in some haste. "Shall we bury him?" asked Vando. "Did he bury the murdered Red Cross nurse?" was the question asked in return by the commander. "No, general. He left her body to the vultures. " "What a devil I" the other mnttered. "Forward, men! Here we gol" and the raiders rode off through the forest, leaving the corpse of the guerrilla tied to the tree waiting for the vultures! - Wallace P. Reed in Atlanta Constitution.