his imagination which would have been more cruel. The letter press
accompanying these photographs explained that this guerrilla leader,
Benito Cerreros, had found six unarmed pacificos working in a field
near Sagua, and had murdered them and then brought their bodies in a
cart to that town, and had paid the local photographer to take a
picture of them and of himself and his body guard. He claimed that he
had killed the Cubans in open battle, but was so stupid as to forget to
first remove the ropes with which he had bound them before he shot
them. The photographs told the story without any aid from the letter
press, and it must have told it to a great many people, judging from
the number who spoke of it. It seemed as if, for the first time,
something definite regarding the reported Spanish atrocities had been
placed before the people of the United States, which they could see for
themselves. I had this photograph in my mind when I came to Sagua, and
on the night that I arrived there, by a coincidence, the townspeople
were giving Cerreros a dinner to celebrate a fresh victory of his over
two insurgents, a naturalized American and a native Cuban.

The American was visiting the Cuban in the field, and they were lying
in hiding outside of the town in a hut. The Cuban, who was a colonel in
the insurgent army, had captured a Spanish spy, but had given him his
liberty on the condition that he would go into Sagua and bring back
some medicines. The colonel was dying of consumption, but he hoped
that, with proper medicine, he might remain alive a few months longer.
The spy, instead of keeping his word, betrayed the hiding place of the
Cuban and the American to Cerreros, who rode out by night to surprise
them. He took with him thirty-two guerrillas, and, lest that might not
be enough to protect him from two men, added twelve of the Guarda
Civile to their number, making forty-four men in all. They surrounded
the hut in which the Cuban and the American were concealed, and shot