p
on the bamboo floor in the hut of a Tagalo family whose acquaintance
she had readily formed, recollections of the place which she had
passed during the afternoon where she had previously robbed the old
couple immediately after she was released upon oath by the Americans,
suggested to her the thought that she was violating her oath; that she
was now out in a country where she might be betrayed at any moment by
her own people, or else be captured by a squad of American infantry
or cavalry; therefore, she decided that on the following day she
would destroy her identity.

Upon retiring the previous night Marie coiled up for a pillow her head
of long black hair. "I hate to give it up," thought she, "but what
will the Americans do to me if they capture me another time? Oh! well,
after the war is over it will soon grow out again."

The next morning, after a scanty breakfast of bananas and rice, and
a pineapple which Marie salted heavily before she ate it, she went to
a native barber and had her long hair cut close to the scalp, except
for a little tuft on top which she had him brush up for a pompadour.

Before cutting off her hair the barber tied a piece of hemp very
tightly around it, just back of her neck. After he had detached it,
he held it in front of Marie and asked her what she wished done with
it. She took it in her own hands.

The barber kept on trimming her shortened hair. Marie stopped talking
and seemed to be in deep meditation.

Presently the barber said. "That's all."

Marie arose from the rough mahogany slab on which she had been sitting,
handed him a puesta (twenty cents, Mexican), looked out of the window
and said, "I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll trade you my hair for
that quilas (two-wheeled cart) standing there."

"All right"; said the barber, "My pony is dead, and the war has so
devasted the country, and money has become so scarce, that I can't
afford to buy another one."

"The harness hanging on it goes with the cart," said Marie.

"Oh no!" exclaimed the barber, "my wife borrowed that, and I must
return it."

"It doesn't make any difference to whom it belongs," said Marie,
emphatically, "you traded me the cart, and everything that was in it
goes with the trade. How do you suppose I could hitch my pony into
the cart without a harness?"

Just then she pulled a bolo out from under her apron. The barber said
no more.

Marie hitched her pony into the cart and started on toward Baler.

That