"Padre!" he cried, when Josè arrived, "it is _la plaga_! Ah, _Santísima Virgen_--I am dying!--dying!" He writhed in agony on the ground. The priest bent over him, his heart throbbing with apprehension. "Padre--" The lad strove to raise his head. "The innkeeper at Bodega Central--he told me I might sleep in an empty house back of the inn. _Dios mío!_ There was an old cot there--I slept on it two nights--_Caramba!_ Padre, they told me then--Ah, _Bendita Virgen_! Don't let me die, Padre! _Carísima Virgen_, don't let me die! _Ah, Dios--!_" His body twisted in convulsions. Josè lifted him and dragged him to the nearby shed where the lad had been living alone. A terror-stricken concourse gathered quickly about the doorway and peered in wide-eyed horror through the narrow window. "Feliz, what did they tell you?" cried Josè, laying the sufferer upon the bed and chafing his cold hands. The boy rallied. "They told me--a Turk, bound for Zaragoza on the Nechí river--had taken the wrong boat--in Maganguey. He had been sick--terribly sick there. _Ah, Dios!_ It is coming again, Padre--the pain! _Caramba!_ _Dios mío!_ Save me, Padre, save me!" "Jacinta! Rosa! I must have help!" cried Josè, turning to the stunned people. "Bring cloths--hot water--and send for Don Mario. Doña Lucia, prepare an _olla_ of your herb tea at once!" "Padre"--the boy had become quieter--"when the Turk learned that he was on the wrong boat--he asked to be put off at the next town--which was Bodega Central. The innkeeper put him in the empty house--and he--_Dios_! he died--on that bed where I slept!" "Well?" said Josè. "Padre, he died--the day before I arrived there--and--ah_, Santísima Virgen_! they said--he died--of--of--_la cólera_!" "Cholera!" cried the priest, starting up. At the mention of the disease a loud murmur arose from the people, and they fell back from the shed. "Padre!--_ah, Dios_, how I suffer! Give me the sacrament--I cannot live--! Padre--let me confess--now. Ah, Padre, shall I go--to heaven? Tell me--!" Josè's blood froze. He stood with eyes riveted in horror upon the tormented lad. "Padre"--the boy's voice grew weaker--"I fell sick that day--I started for Simití--I died a thousand times in the _caño_--_ah, caramba_! But, Padre--promise to get me out of purgatory--I have no money for Masses. _Caramba!_ I cannot stand it! Oh, _Dios_! Padre--quick--I have not been very wicked--but I stole--_Dios_, how I suffer!--I stole two pesos from the innkeeper at Bodega Central--he thought he lost them--but I took them out of the drawer--Padre, pay him for me--then I will not go to hell! _Dios!_" Rosendo at that moment entered the house. "Don't come in here!" cried Josè, turning upon him in wild apprehension. "Keep away, for God's sake, keep away!"