The old fellow, exasperated beyond endurance, gave frantic chase to
the urchins; a group of idlers and news-vendors jostled against him as
if by accident, and the pursuer, perspiring freely and wiping his face
with his handkerchief, went off in search of an officer.
"Fakir, froggie, beggar!" shouted the Orphan derisively at him.
Then, laughing at their prank, they returned to the barracks and took
place at the end of a line composed of poverty-stricken folk and
tramps who were waiting for a meal. An old woman who had already eaten
lent them a tin in which to place their food.
They ate and then, in company of other tattered youngsters climbed the
sandy slopes of San Blas hill to get a view from that spot of the
soldiers on Atocha avenue.
Manuel stretched out lazily in the sun, filled with the joy of finding
himself absolutely free of worriment, of gazing upon the azure sky
which extended into the infinite. Such blissful comfort induced in him
a deep sleep.
When he awoke it was already mid-afternoon and the wind was chasing
dark clouds across the heavens. Manuel sat up; there was a knot of
gamins close by, but the Orphan was nowhere to be seen.
A dense black cloud came up and blotted out the sun; shortly afterward
it began to rain.
"Shall we go to Cojo's cave?" asked one of the boys.
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