But in the end, when the fire was towering
above the roof of the house, roaring and crackling, the Mexican suddenly
raised a long arm and called to the bucket line, "It is done. Senors, I
thank you."
Then he had folded his arms and repeated in a monotone, over and over
again: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo_!"
His wife came to him, frantic, wailing, and threw her arms around his
neck. He merely repeated with heavy monotony: "_Todo es perdo; todo es
perdo_!"
The phrase clung in the mind of the girl; and she rose at last and went
back to her bunk, repeating: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo! All is
lost; all is lost_!"
No tears were in her eyes; they were wide and solemn, looking up to the
shadows of the ceiling, and so she went to sleep with the solemn Spanish
phrase echoing through her whole being: "_Todo es perdo_!"
She woke with the smell of frying bacon pungent in her nostrils.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
BACON
The savour of roasting chicken, that first delicious burst of aroma when
the oven door is opened, would tempt an angel from heaven down to the
lowly earth.
Pages:
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320