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Updated: May 21, 2025
Far up the valley a funeral pall of smoke hung in the sky itself; that was where the Spaniards were burning the houses of those too slow in obeying the order of concentration. La Joya, however, was still tenanted when early in the evening its rightful owner arrived; the house and some of its outbuildings showed lights. Esteban concealed his men.
You will say to me: 'Why do not you apply to Jean Valjean? For a very simple reason; I know that he has stripped himself, and stripped himself in your favor, and I consider the combination ingenious; but he has no longer a son, he would show me his empty hands, and, since I am in need of some money for my trip to la Joya, I prefer you, you who have it all, to him who has nothing.
This struggle for independence was no patrician's war; the best stock of the island fought side by side with field-hands. At dawn of the morning following his talk with Rosa, when the members of his command assembled, Esteban was up and ready. He had made his preparations to destroy Pancho Cueto's fields, and since the road over the hills to La Joya was long he had summoned them early.
Let us cut it short. What do you want?" The man bowed lower at that harsh voice. "Monsieur le Baron, deign to listen to me. There is in America, in a district near Panama, a village called la Joya.
The deputy did, and he translated her talk by portions, at intervals holding up his hand to check the flow of her words. "She came to see you, Mr. Littlefield. Her name's Joya Trevinas. She wants to see you about well, she's mixed up with that Rafael Ortiz. She's his she's his girl. She says he's innocent. She says she made the money and got him to pass it. Don't you believe her, Mr. Littlefield.
Esteban's party made good time over the hills and into the San Juan, for Asensio knew the country well. Mid-afternoon found them in sight of La Joya. Cueto's cane was thick and high; it was ready for the knife or for the torch. Making a detour, the incendiaries approached it from the east in order to have the trade-winds at their backs.
The approach to La Joya was by way of a notable avenue, perhaps a half-mile in length, and bordered by tall, even rows of royal palms. These stately trees shaded the avenue by day and lent it a cavern-like gloom by night. Near the public causeway the road was cut through a bit of rising ground, and was walled by steep banks overgrown with vines.
Nancy Derwent was not so hardened. She was looking with sympathetic interest at Joya Trevinas and at Littlefield alternately. The deputy repeated the district attorney's words to the girl. She spoke a sentence or two in a low voice, pulled her shawl closely about her face, and left the room. "What did she say then?" asked the district attorney. "Nothing special," said the deputy.
"I don't know how you came to be in a cell in San Antonio de los Banos, two hundred miles from the place you were killed. That is still a mystery." "It is very simple, amigo. Let me see: I had finished telling you about the fight at La Joya. I was telling you how I fainted." "Exactly. Norine bound and gagged you at that point in the story."
Witnesses will swear to his passing the bad dollar which I have in my pocket at this moment as 'Exhibit A. There are no Mexicans on the jury, and it will vote Mr. Greaser guilty without leaving the box." The plover-shooting was fine that afternoon, and in the excitement of the sport the case of Rafael and the grief of Joya Trevinas was forgotten.
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