The Texan Star | Page 7

"Are you ill, Ned?" he asked. "Is this imprisonment beginning to tell
upon you? I had thought that you were standing it well. Can't you eat?"
"I don't believe I'm hungry," replied the boy, "but there is nothing else
the matter with me. I'll be all right, Uncle Steve. Don't you bother about
me."
He ate a little breakfast, about one half of the usual amount, and then,
asking to be excused, went to the window, where he again stared out at
the tiled roofs, the green foliage in the valley of Mexico and the ranges
and peaks beyond. He was taking his resolution, and he was carrying it
out, but it was hard, very hard. He foresaw that he would have to
strengthen his will many, many times. Mr. Austin took no further worry
on Ned's account, thinking that he would be all right again in a day or
two.
But at the dinner which was brought to them in the middle of the day
Ned showed a marked failure of appetite, and Mr. Austin felt real
concern. The boy, however, was sure that he would be all right before
the day was over.
"It must be the lack of fresh air and exercise," said Mr. Austin. "You
can really take exercise in here, Ned. Besides, you said that you were
going to escape. If you fall ill you will have no chance at all."
He spoke half in jest, but Ned took him seriously.
"I am not ill, Uncle Steve," he said. "I really feel very well, but I have
lost my appetite. Maybe I am getting tired of these Mexican dishes."
"Take exercise! take exercise!" said Mr. Austin with emphasis.

"I think I will," said Ned.
Physical exercise, after all, fitted in with his ideas, and that afternoon
he worked hard at all the gymnastic feats possible within the three
rooms to which they were confined. De Zavala came in and expressed
his astonishment at the athletic feats, which Ned continued with
unabated zeal despite his presence.
"Why do you do these things?" he asked in wonder.
"To keep myself strong and healthy. I ought to have begun them sooner.
The Mexican air is depressing, and I find that I am losing my appetite."
De Zavala's eyes opened wide while Ned deftly turned a handspring.
Then the young American sat down panting, his face flushed with as
healthy a color as one could find anywhere.
"You'll have an appetite to-night," said Mr. Austin. But to his great
amazement Ned again played with his food, eating only half the usual
amount.
"You're surely ill," said Mr. Austin. "I've no doubt de Zavala would
allow us to have a physician, and I shall ask him for one."
"Don't do it, Uncle Steve," begged Ned. "There's nothing at all the
matter with me, and anyhow I wouldn't want a Mexican doctor fussing
over me. I've probably been eating too much."
Mr. Austin was forced to accede. The boy certainly did not look ill, and
his appetite was bound to become normal again in a few days. But it
did not. As far as Mr. Austin could measure it, Ned was eating less and
less. It was obvious that he was thinner. He was also growing much
paler, except for a red flush on the cheek bones. Mr. Austin became
alarmed, but Ned obstinately refused any help, always asserting with
emphasis that he had no ailment of any kind. But the man could see
that he had become much lighter, and he wondered at the boy's physical
failure. De Zavala, also, expressed his sorrow in sonorous Spanish, but
Ned, while thanking them, steadily disclaimed any need of sympathy.

The boy found the days hard, but the nights were harder. For the first
time in his life he could not sleep well. He would lie for hours so wide
awake that his eyes grew used to the dark, and he could see everything
in his room. He was troubled, too, by bad dreams and in many of these
dreams he was a living skeleton, wandering about and condemned to
live forever without food. More than once he bitterly regretted the
resolution he had taken, but having taken it, he would never alter it. His
silent, concentrated nature would not let him. Yet he endured
undoubted torture day by day. Torture was the only name for it.
"I shall send an application to President Santa Anna to have you
allowed a measure of liberty," said Mr. Austin finally. "You are simply
pining away here, Edward, my lad. You cannot eat, that is, you eat only
a little. I have passed the most tempting and delicate things to you and
you always refuse. No boy of your age would do so unless something
were very much