Title: The Haunted Sentry Box of Porto Rico
Author: Miller, Lewis
Language: English
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[Illustration: HAUNTED SENTRY BOX, SAN CRISTOBAL, SAN JUAN]



                                  THE
                           HAUNTED SENTRY BOX
                                   OF
                               PORTO RICO


                                   BY
                              LEWIS MILLER


                        The Knickerbocker Press
                                NEW YORK
                                  1916


                            Copyright, 1916
                                   BY
                              LEWIS MILLER



The Haunted Sentry Box of Porto Rico

By

Lewis Miller


Directly below the old fort of San Cristobal, in San Juan, Porto Rico,
projecting out over the sea from a corner of the sea wall, is a sentry
box. Years ago a sentry, placed on duty at this lonely post, utterly
disappeared, leaving behind only his musket and side-arms. His
disappearance was so mysterious that it was attributed to sea-devils,
and the sentry box has ever since been given a wide berth by all
superstitious natives.

The same night of this strange incident, a priest, the best liked and
most admired of his sect in the city, disappeared. The only clue
discovered in regard to his disappearance was the small gold cross,
which constantly hung suspended from a chain around his neck, found
before the door of the corner sentry box.

I heard many stories in regard to the disappearance of these two, but
all were too preposterous to allow any thought of truth. At last,
however, good luck brought me into the presence of a man who knew, and
it is the story as I heard it from him which I am undertaking to
recount.

                   *       *       *       *       *

The proprietor of one of the "tiendas" in Mayaguez, Juan Cordo by name,
was a large, jovial old man full of stories of wild adventure, with
which every Saturday night he entertained a gathering composed chiefly
of the working men, who, their work over for the week, were ready to
listen to any tale which would entertain them--and the old storekeeper
was a good talker. It was at one of these gatherings, to which I was
frequently drawn by a desire to hear the old man's ramblings, that I
heard the story of the haunted sentry box.

As usual, the old fellow, who loved to be urged, could for sometime
think of nothing to tell about, but he finally decided on his subject
and settling back in his chair, began. I noticed, however, that he
carefully scrutinized the faces of his audience, that is, of all except
one. But this one was really of little importance as he was a late
arrival in town and scarcely known to any one. As I have said, his face
was free from the scrutinizing eye of old Juan Cordo, for, coming in
late, he had quietly seated himself behind the story-teller without
attracting his attention.

"My story begins back in the early seventies," began the old man in a
thoughtful and his usual hesitating tone. "The capital was the scene of
crimes, of immorality and of all sorts of disorders. There were good
men, of course, but even these were often corrupted. An instance of this
was young Pedro Delvarez, a soldier, who had enlisted in the army when
he was but seventeen. He had had chances which most of his associates
had not--fine parents, an education, money; but he proved unworthy of
them all. He turned to gambling and fast living, finally marrying a
young girl, far below him in social rank, who married him merely for his
money. His love for this girl, however, partly cured him of his wild
life and helped him to be a better fellow.

"Although he might have had an officer's rank through his father's
influence, he had enlisted as a mere common soldier due to some fool
book-notion of working his way up. But his habits retarded his progress
and at the end of six years of service he found himself still in the
ranks. He made many enemies among his rough associates and chief among
them was a great, strong, dastardly fellow named Torcas."

There was a stir behind the old storekeeper as the stranger leaned
forward with a gleam of interest in his eyes, but I thought with a
twitching of anger around his mouth. The old man apparently did not hear
him for he continued without looking around.

"How this enmity began I do not know, but it increased daily and finally
reached the boiling point when Torcas ran off with the flighty young
wife of his enemy. Young Delvarez was heart-broken and attempted
suicide, but was luckily saved from such an untimely death through the
intervention of good Padre Suarez. This priest had for some reason or
other taken a great liking to the young soldier and had endeavoured in
every way to help him. It was due to the efforts of his clerical friend
that Delvarez was led back into the straight road and it was the kindly
advice of this same person which kept him from a search for, and
probably the murder of, his enemy.

"Life became a mere dream to the young fellow, who went to his soldier's
duties, morose, bitter against the world, and shunning his companions
who he thought detested him. He continued in this way for several months
till one night a crisis was reached. He had been stationed on duty at
the old sentry box with the accusation of 'murder' ringing in his ears.
A few minutes before, in a quarrel, his antagonist had accused him of
it; the murder of the young, fickle wife, who, the preceding morning,
had been found dead in her bed. He was innocent, but he had no friends
to take his side in case the law was against him, and he had no proofs
of innocence. While he stood looking out over the sea, contemplating his
troubles, he felt a hand placed on his shoulder and turning quickly
could just discern in the darkness the face of the kindly padre.

"It was a wild night and the noise of the sea and wind made hearing
difficult, so that he could scarcely understand the priest as he leaned
forward and shouted in his ear: 'I feel sure you're innocent' said the
priest, 'but the others don't seem to think so. So slip over the wall
here and get away; it's your only chance because they're coming for you
soon. Go to some other place, live a clean, decent life, but remember,
if you ever come up against that fellow Torcas don't do anything, for
God will take vengeance on him.'"

Again there was a stir behind the story-teller as the stranger leaned
forward with the interest in his eyes gleaming brighter than before,
while the twitching of anger around his mouth seemed to have changed to
a slight smile. Again the old man, unconscious of the interest he was
arousing, continued:

"The good fellow had just finished speaking when a pistol shot rang out
and a bullet burned a furrow across Delvarez's breast to bury itself in
his friend's. Delvarez sank to the ground, but the rain quickly revived
him and he got up, the wound on his breast, which was to trouble him
through life, burning and throbbing. At first he thought he was again
alone, but his foot encountered something, and stooping over he found
the body of the dead priest. Suddenly he recalled his friend's advice
and determined to flee.

"Feverishly he undressed himself and exchanged clothing with the dead
man. Next he laid his firearms on the little bench which ran around the
sentry box, threw the body over the wall, and lowered himself down
carefully after it. There was a spade at the foot of the wall, the
presence of which at that time he did not stop to analyze; but later,
when thinking over the events of that night, he determined it had been
brought there to be used on him as he used it on the dead priest. With
it he dug a deep hole where he laid the body of his only friend. Then he
fled away into the night.

"It was quite late when he reached the little house which he had bought
when he married, and he was tired, but he thought he would now probably
be accused of two murders, so he must get away. He changed quickly into
his most ragged clothes and started off towards another city. How he
fared for the next few years I shall not attempt to relate, but under an
assumed name, and with the power of his early home-training and
education, he slowly forged to the front. He heard the stories of the
haunted sentry box and was pleased that his disappearance had been so
explained.

"Although to all outward appearance he was poor, his new life brought
him money and in the solitude of his little home he lived in comfort. He
likewise deceived the world as to his feelings; to his friends he seemed
a jovial, care-free fellow, but at home he sank back into bitterness and
thoughts of his wrongs. His thoughts often turned to Torcas, but he just
as frequently turned them aside through a desire to follow the last
words of his murdered friend.

"It was not until years later when the world had nearly banished all
thought of the sentry box episode that Delvarez, now an old man, again
saw his bitter enemy. Torcas, to his delight, did not recognize him and
Delvarez immediately started to plan the death of his tormentor. He
waited and waited, but the right time never seemed to come and finally
the last words of the long-dead friend again began to take effect.
Delvarez became calmer; he looked at the unrecognizing man with pure
disdain and a great confidence arose in him that his friend's words
would come true, that God----"

The story was interrupted by the stranger behind the old story-teller.
With a gurgling cry of wrath he had sprung to his feet, his right hand,
tightly clenched about the handle of a gleaming knife, shot upward,
while his left hand tore the shirt from the storekeeper's shoulders,
thus uncovering the old man's chest, which had a dark red scar across
it. The knife started downward with terrific force toward Cordo's bared
body, but not into it, for he, with a quick, instinctive, upward throw
of his arm, so changed the course of the blade that it buried itself to
the hilt in its owner's breast.

The priest had spoken the truth: God had taken vengeance.





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