Poor
Hercules roared and crushed the dishes with his fingers, drowning his
grief and his rage by committing all sorts of barbarities.
"The governor, a generous sort, invited the Galician and me to his
residence, and there, in a garden of cedars and palms, we would draw
up the program of the performances, and amuse ourselves at target-
practice while we smoked the finest tobacco and drank glass after
glass of rum. We paid court to Rosita and she'd laugh like a madwoman,
and dance the tango, the _cachucha_ and the _vito_, and she'd fail the
Englishman an awful number of times. One day the governor, who treated
me as a friend, said to me: 'That secretary of yours is robbing you.'
'I think he is,' I answered. 'Tonight you'll have the proof.'
"We finished the performance; I went off home, had supper and was
about to go to bed when a little negro servant comes in and tells me
to follow him; all right; I follow; we both leave; we draw near the
circus house, and in a nearby saloon I see the governor and the town
chief of police. It was a very beautiful moonlit night, and there was
no light in the saloon; we wait and wait, and soon a figure appears,
and steals in through a window of the schoolhouse. '_Forwer_'
whispered the governor. That means Forward," interpreted Don Alonso.
"The three of us followed and entered noiselessly through the same
window; on tiptoe we reached the entrance to the former school, which
served as the circus vestibule and contained the ticket-office.
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