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Title: Brandon of the Engineers

Author: Harold Bindloss

Release Date: June 28, 2008 [eBook#25923]

Language: English

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BRANDON OFTHE ENGINEERS

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Alton of SomascoLorimer of the NorthwestThurston of Orchard ValleyWinston of the PrairieThe Gold TrailSydney Carteret, RancherA Prairie CourtshipVane of the TimberlandsThe Long PortageRanching for SylviaPrescott of SaskatchewanThe Dust of ConflictThe Greater PowerMasters of the WheatlandsDelilah of the SnowsBy Right of PurchaseThe Cattle Baron’s DaughterThrice ArmedFor Jacinta

The IntriguersThe League of the LeopardFor the Allison HonorThe Secret of the ReefHarding of AllenwoodThe Coast of AdventureJohnstons of the BorderBrandon of the Engineers

“‘YOU MUST COME. I CAN’T LET YOU LIVEAMONG THOSE PLOTTERS AND

GAMBLERS.’”—Page 224.

BRANDON ofthe ENGINEERSBY HAROLD BINDLOSS

Author of “Johnstone of the Border,” “Prescottof Saskatchewan,” “Winston of

the Prairie,” etc.

NEW YORKFREDERICK A. STOKES

COMPANYPUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY FREDERICK A.STOKES COMPANY

PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND UNDER THETITLE “HIS ONE TALENT”

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I A Promising Officer II Dick’s Troubles Begin

III The Punishment IV Adversity V The Concrete Truck

VI A Step Up

VII Dick Undertakes aResponsibility

VIII An Informal Court IX Jake Fuller X La Mignonne

XI Clare Gets a Shock XII Dick Keeps His Promise

XIII The Return from the Fiesta XIV Complications XV The Missing Coal

XVI Jake Gets into Difficulties XVII The Black-Funnel Boat

XVIII Dick Gets a Warning XIX Jake Explains Matters XX Don Sebastian

XXI Dick Makes a Bold Venture XXII The Official Mind

XXIII The Clamp XXIV The Altered Sailing List

XXV The Water-Pipe XXVI The Liner’s Fate

XXVII The Silver Clasp XXVIII Rough Water

XXIX Kenwardine Takes a Risk XXX The Last Encounter

XXXI Richter’s Message XXXII Ida Interferes

BRANDON OFTHE

ENGINEERS

CHAPTER I

A PROMISING OFFICER

The lengthening shadows lay blue andcool beneath the alders by the waterside,though the cornfields that rolled back upthe hill glowed a coppery yellow in thelight of the setting sun. It was hot and, forthe most part, strangely quiet in the bottomof the valley since the hammers hadstopped, but now and then an order wasfollowed by a tramp of feet and the rattleof chain-tackle. Along one bank of theriver the reflections of the trees quiveredin dark-green masses; the rest of the water

was dazzlingly bright.

A pontoon bridge, dotted with figures inkhaki, crossed a deep pool. At its head,where a white road ran down the hill, adetachment of engineers lounged in theshade. Their faces were grimed withsweat and dust, and some, with coatsunbuttoned, sprawled in the grass. Theyhad toiled hard through the heat of the day,and now were enjoying an “easy,” untilthey should be called to attention whentheir work was put to the test.

As Lieutenant Richard Brandon stoodwhere the curve was boldest at the middleof the bridge, he had no misgivings aboutthe result so far as the section for whichhe was responsible was concerned. Hewas young, but there was some ground for

his confidence; for he not only had studiedall that text-books could teach him but hehad the constructor’s eye, which sees half-instinctively where strength or weaknesslies. Brandon began his military career asa prize cadet and after getting hiscommission he was quickly promotedfrom subaltern rank. His advancement,however, caused no jealousy, for DickBrandon was liked. He was, perhaps, atrifle priggish about his work—cock-sure,his comrades called it—but about othermatters he was naïvely ingenuous. Indeed,acquaintances who knew him only whenhe was off duty thought him something of aboy.

In person, he was tall and strongly made,with a frank, sunburned face. His jaw was

square and when he was thoughtful hislips set firmly; his light-gray eyes wereclear and steady. He was genial with hiscomrades, but usually diffident in thecompany of women and older men.

Presently the Adjutant came up and,stopping near, glanced along the ripplingline that marked the curve of the bridge.

“These center pontoons look ratherprominent, as if they’d been pushedupstream a foot or two,” he remarked.“Was that done by Captain Maitland’sorder?”

“No, sir,” Dick answered with someawkwardness. “For one thing, I foundthey’d lie steadier out of the eddy.”

“They do, but I don’t know that it’s much

of an advantage. Had you any other reasonfor modifying the construction plans?”

Dick felt embarrassed. He gave theAdjutant a quick glance; but the man’sface was inscrutable. Captain Hallam wasa disciplinarian where discipline wasneeded, but he knew the value of what hecalled initiative.

“Well,” Dick tried to explain, “if younotice how the wash of the head-rapidsweeps down the middle of the pool——”

“I have noticed it,” said the Adjutantdryly. “That’s why the bridge makes aslight sweep. But go on.”

“We found a heavy drag on the center thatflattened the curve. Of course, if we couldhave pushed it up farther, we’d have got a

stronger form.”

“Why?”

“It’s obvious, sir. If we disregard themoorings, a straight bridge would tend tocurve downstream and open out under ashearing strain. As we get nearer the archform it naturally gets stiffer, because thestrain becomes compressive. After makingthe bridge strong enough for traffic, theproblem is to resist the pressure of thecurrent.”

“True,” the Adjutant agreed with a smile.“Well, we’ll let the pontoons stand. Thetraditions of the British Army are changingfast, but while we don’t demand the oldmechanical obedience, it might be betternot to introduce too marked innovations.Anyhow, it’s not desirable that they

should, so to speak, strike a commandingofficer in the eye. Some officers areconservative and don’t like that kind ofthing.”

He moved on and Dick wondered whetherhe had said too much. He was apt to forgethis rank and comparative unimportancewhen technical matters were discussed. Infact, it was sometimes difficult not toappear presumptuous; but when one knewthat one was right——

In the meantime, the Adjutant met theColonel, and they stopped together at thebridge-head.

“I think we have made a good job, but thebrigade’s transport is pretty heavy,” theColonel remarked.

“I’m satisfied with the bridge, sir; verycreditable work for beginners. If the otherbranches of the new armies are as good——”

“The men are in earnest. Things, ofcourse, are changing, and I suppose old-fashioned prejudices must go overboard.Personally, I liked the type we had beforethe war, but we’ll let that go. YoungBrandon strikes me as particularly keen.”

“Keen as mustard,” the Adjutant agreed.“In other ways, perhaps, he’s more of thekind you have been used to.”

“Now I wonder what you mean by that!You’re something of what they’re pleasedto call a progressive, aren’t you?However, I like the lad. His work isgood.”

“He knows, sir.”

“Ah,” said the Colonel, “I think Iunderstand. But what about the drawingsof the new pontoons? They must be sentto-night.”

“They’re ready. To tell the truth, I showedthem to Brandon and he made a goodsuggestion about the rounding of thewaterline.”

The Colonel looked thoughtful.

“Well, the idea of a combined pontoonand light boat that would carry troops isby no means new; but these are rather anunusual type and if it were known that wewere building them, it might give theenemy a hint. I suppose you told Brandonthe thing’s to be kept quiet.”

“Yes; I made it plain,” the Adjutant said,and they walked on.

Dick had been sitting on the bridge, but hejumped up as a rhythmic tramp of feetcame down the hillside. Dust rose amongthe cornfields and hung in a white streakalong the edge of a wood, and then with atwinkling flash of steel, small, ocher-colored figures swung out of the shadow.They came on in loose fours, in anunending line that wound down the steepslopes and reached the bridge-head. Thenorders rolled across the stream, the linenarrowed, and the measured trampchanged to a sharp uneven patter. Theleading platoon were breaking step as theycrossed the bridge. Dick frownedimpatiently. This was a needless

precaution. The engineers’ work wasgood; it would stand the percussive shockof marching feet.

He stood at attention, with a sparkle in hiseyes, as the hot and dusty men went by.They were, for the most part, young men,newly raised infantry, now being hardenedand tempered until they were fit to be usedas the army’s spear-head in somedesperate thrust for which engineers andartillery had cleared the way. It was sometime before the first battalion crossed, butthe long yellow line still ran back up thehillside to the spot at which it emergedfrom the deepening shade, and the nextplatoon took the bridge with unbrokenstep. It swayed and shook with a curiousregular tremble as the feet came down; but

there was no giving way of tie andstringer-beam, and Dick forgot the menwho were passing, and thought offastenings and stressed material.

He was young and the pomp of war had itseffect on him, but the human element beganto take second place. Although an officerof the new army, he was first of all anengineer; his business was to handle woodand iron rather than men. The throb of theplanks and the swing of the pontoons asthe load passed over them fascinated him;and his interest deepened when thetransport began to cross. Sweating,spume-flecked horses trod the quiveringtimber with iron-shod hoofs; grindingwheels jarred the structure as the wagonspassed. He could feel it yield and bend,

but it stood, and Dick was conscious of astrange, emotional thrill. This, in a sense,was his triumph; the first big task in whichhe had taken a man’s part; and his workhad passed the test. Taste, inclination, andinterest had suddenly deepened into anabsorbing love for his profession.

After a time, the Adjutant sent for him andheld out a large, sealed envelope.

“These are the plans I showed you,” hesaid. “Colonel Farquhar is driving toNewcastle, and will stop at StoretonGrange for supper at midnight. The plansmust be delivered to him there. You havea motorcycle, I think?”

“Yes.”

“Very well; it is not a long ride, but I’ll

release you from duty now. Don’t be lateat Storeton, take care of the papers, andget Colonel Farquhar’s receipt.”

There was a manufacturing town not faroff, and Dick decided to go there andspend the evening with a cousin of his.They might go to a theater, or if not, Lancewould find some means of amusing him.As a rule, Dick did not need amusing, buthe felt that he must celebrate the buildingof the bridge.

Lance Brandon was becoming known asan architect, and he had a good deal ofconstructive talent. The physical likenessbetween him and Dick was rather marked,but he was older and they differed in otherrespects. Lance knew how to handle menas well as material, and perhaps he owed

as much to this as to his artistic skill. Hisplans for a new church and the remodelingof some public buildings had gained himrecognition; but he already was popular atcountry houses in the neighborhood andwas courted by the leading inhabitants ofthe town.

Dick and he dined at the best hotel andLance listened sympathetically to thedescription of the bridge. He was notrobust enough for the army, but he hintedthat he envied Dick; and Dick feltflattered. He sometimes bantered Lanceabout his social gifts and ambitions, but hehad never resented the favors his fatherhad shown his cousin. Lance had been leftan orphan at an early age and the elderBrandon—a man of means and standing—

had brought him up with his son. They hadbeen good friends and Dick was pleasedwhen his father undertook to give Lance afair start at the profession he chose. Heimagined that now Lance was beginning tomake his mark, his allowance hadstopped, but this was not his business.Lance was a very good sort, although hewas clever in ways that Dick was not andindeed rather despised.

“What shall we do next?” Dick askedwhen they had lounged for a time in thesmoking-room.

Lance made a gesture of resignation as hestretched himself in a big chair. He wasdressed with quiet taste, his face washandsome but rather colorless, and hismovements were languid.

“You’re such an energetic beggar,” hecomplained. “The only theater where theyput on plays worth seeing is closed justnow, but there’s a new dancer at thenearest hall and we might look in. I hopemy churchwarden patrons won’tdisapprove if they hear of it, because theytalk about building an ornamental missionroom.”

Dick laughed.

“They wouldn’t find fault with you.Somehow, nobody does.”

“There’s some truth in that; the secret isthat I know when to stop. One can enjoylife without making the pace too hot.People aren’t really censorious, and eventhe narrow-minded sort allow you certainlimits; in fact, I imagine they rather admire

you if you can play with fire and not getsinged. Women do, anyhow; and, in asense, their judgment’s logical. The thingthat doesn’t hurt you can’t be injurious,and it shows moderation and self-controlif you don’t pass the danger line.”

“How do you know when you have cometo the line?”

“Well,” smiled Lance, “experience helps;but I think it’s an instinct. Of course, if youdo show signs of damage, you’re done for,because then the people who envied youthrow the biggest stones.”

“Let’s start,” said Dick. “I’m not much ofa philosopher. Building bridges anddigging saps is good enough for me.”

“They’re healthy occupations, so long as

you don’t get shot; but, consideringeverything, it’s strange that they stillmonopolize your interest.”

Dick colored. He knew what his cousinmeant. He had been attracted by a girl ofwhom his father approved and who waswell-bred, pretty, and rich. Dick imaginedthat his father’s views were agreeable toHelen’s relatives and that she was notignorant of this. Still, nothing had beenactually arranged, and although headmired Helen, it would be time enough tothink of marriage when he was a captain,for instance.

“Pontoons and excavations have theircharm for men with constructive tastes,”Lance went on; “but you may find laterthat they don’t satisfy all your needs.”

“Get your hat!” Dick returned with asmile, jumping up as he spoke.

The music-hall was badly filled. Theaudience seemed listless and theperformance dragged. Even the much-praised dancer was disappointing, andthere was an unusual number of shabbyloungers in the bar. Dick had comeprepared to enjoy himself after a day ofarduous work, and by way of doing so, heordered a drink or two that he did notreally want. As a rule, he was abstemious,but the hall was very hot. It struck him asglaring and tawdry after the quiet dalewhere the water sparkled among thestones; and the pallid loungers with theirstamp of indulgence differed unpleasantlyfrom the hard, brown-faced men he led.

“Let’s clear out,” he said at last. “Is thereanywhere else to go?”

“My rooms,” Lance suggested.

“Oh, I want something fresh to-night,”Dick replied with a smile.

Lance pondered.

“Well, I can show you some keen card-play and perhaps a clever game ofbilliards, besides a girl who’s a great dealprettier than the dancer. But it’s four milesout of town.”

Dick glanced at his watch.

“I can take you on the carrier,” he said.“I’ve plenty of time yet.”

They set off, and presently stopped at atall iron gate on the edge of a firwood. A

glimmer of lights indicated that a housestood at the end of the drive.

“Kenwardine will be glad to receive youas a friend of mine,” Lance said; “and youneedn’t play unless you like. He’s fond ofcompany and generally has a number ofyoung men about the place.”

“A private gambling club?”

“Oh, no. You’re very far from the mark.Kenwardine certainly likes a bet andsometimes runs a bank, but all he winswouldn’t do much to keep up a place likethis. However, you can see for yourself.”

Dick was not a gambler and did not playmany games, but he wanted a littleexcitement, and he looked forward to it ashe followed his cousin up the drive.

CHAPTER II

DICK’S TROUBLES BEGIN

It was with mixed feelings that ClareKenwardine got down from the stoppingtrain at a quiet station and waited for thetrap to take her home. The trap was not insight, but this did not surprise her, fornobody in her father’s household waspunctual. Clare sometimes wondered whythe elderly groom-gardener, whose wageswere very irregularly paid, stayed on,unless it was because his weakness forliquor prevented his getting a better post;but the servants liked her father, for he

seldom found fault with them. Kenwardinehad a curious charm, which his daughterfelt as strongly as anybody else, thoughshe was beginning to see his failings andhad, indeed, been somewhat shockedwhen she came home to live with him notlong before.

Now she knitted her level brows as shesat down and looked up the straight, whiteroad. It ran through pastures, and yellowcornfields where harvesters were at work,to a moor on which the ling glowed red inthe fading light. Near the station a darkfirwood stretched back among the fieldsand a row of beeches rose in densemasses of foliage beside the road. Therewas no sound except the soft splash of astream. Everything was peaceful; but

Clare was young, and tranquillity was notwhat she desired. She had, indeed, had toomuch of it in the sleepy cathedral town shehad left.

Her difficulty was that she felt drawn intwo different ways; for she had inheritedsomething of her father’s recklessness andlove of pleasure, though her mother, whodied when Clare was young, had been ashy Puritan. Clare was kept at schoolmuch longer than usual; and when sheinsisted on coming home she found herselfpuzzled by her father’s way of living.Young men, and particularly armyofficers, frequented the house; stylishwomen came down from town, oftenwithout their husbands; and there wasgenerally some exciting amusement going

on. This had its attraction for Clare; buther delicate refinement was sometimesoffended, and once she was even alarmed.One of the young men had shown hisadmiration for her in a way that jarred,and soon afterward there had been abrawl over a game of cards.

Kenwardine had then suggested that shemake a long visit to her aunts, in thecathedral town. They had received hergladly but she soon found her stay thereirksome. The aunts were austere, religiouswomen, who moved in a narrow grooveand ordered all their doings by a worn-outsocial code. Still, they were kind and gaveClare to understand that she was to staywith them always and have no more to dowith Kenwardine than duty demanded.

The girl rebelled. She shrank with innatedislike from license and dissipation, butthe life her aunts led was dreary, and shecould not give up her father. Thoughinexperienced, she was intelligent and shesaw that her path would not be altogethersmooth now that she was going home forgood. While she thought about it, the traparrived and the shabby groom drove herup the hill with confused apologies.

An hour or two after Clare reached home,Lance and Dick Brandon entered the houseand were met by Kenwardine in the hall.He wore a velvet jacket over his eveningclothes and Dick noticed a wine-stain onthe breast. He was thin, but his figure wasathletic, although his hair was turning grayand there were wrinkles about his eyes.

“Very glad to see your cousin,” he said toLance, and turned to Dick with a smile.“Soldiers have a particular claim on ourhospitality, but my house is open toanybody of cheerful frame of mind. Onemust relax now and then in times likethese.”

“That’s why I brought Dick,” Lancereplied. “He believes in tension. But Iwonder whether your notion of relaxing isgetting lax?”

“There’s a difference, though it’ssometimes rather fine,” Kenwardineanswered with a twinkle. “But come inand amuse yourselves as you like. If youwant a drink, you know where to find it.”

They played a game of billiards and thenwent into another room, where Dick lost a

sovereign to Kenwardine. After that, hesat in a corner, smoking and languidlylooking about, for he had been hard atwork since early morning. Two or threesubaltern officers from a neighboringcamp stood by the table, besides severalother men whose sunburned facesindicated a country life. The carpets andfurniture were getting shabby, but theroom was large and handsome, with well-molded cornices and paneled ceiling. Theplay was not high and the men were quiet,but the room was filled with cigar smokeand there was a smell of liquor. Dick didnot object to drink and gambling inmoderation, though it was seldom that heindulged in either. He found nosatisfaction in that sort of thing, and henow felt that some of Kenwardine’s

friends would do better to join the newarmies than to waste their time as theywere doing.

At last Kenwardine threw down the cards.

“I think we have had enough for a time,”he said. “Shall we go into the music-room,for a change?”

Dick followed the others, and looked upwith surprise when Clare came in. Lancehad spoken of a pretty girl, but she wasnot the type Dick had expected. She worea very plain white dress, with touches ofblue that emphasized her delicatecoloring. Her hair was a warm yellowwith deeper tones, her features wereregular and well-defined, and Dick likedthe level glance of her clear, blue eyes.He thought they rested on him curiously

for a moment. She had Kenwardine’sslender, well-balanced figure, and hermovements were graceful, but Dick’sstrongest impression was that she was outof place. Though perfectly at ease, she didnot fit into her environment: she had afreshness that did not harmonize withcigar smoke and the smell of drink.

Clare gave him a pleasant smile when hewas presented, and after speaking to oneor two of the others she went to the pianowhen Kenwardine asked her to sing. Dick,who was sitting nearest the instrument,stooped to take a bundle of music from acabinet she opened.

“No,” she said; “you may put those down.I’m afraid we have nothing quite so good,and perhaps it’s silly, but I’ve fallen back

on our own composers since the fourth ofAugust.”

Dick spread out the music, to display thetitles.

“These fellows have been dead sometime,” he argued humorously. “They’dprobably disown their descendants ifthey’d survived until now. But here’s aFrenchman’s work. They’re on our side,and his stuff is pretty good, isn’t it?”

Clare smiled.

“Yes,” she said, “it’s certainly good; butI’d rather sing something English to-night.”

She began a patriotic ballad Dick knewand liked. He was not much of a musician,but his taste was good. The song rang true;

it was poetry and not warlike jingle, buthe had not heard it sung so well before.Clare’s voice had been carefully trainedand she used it well, but he knew that shehad grasped the spirit of the song. One ortwo of the men who had been sitting gotup, two young subalterns stood very stiffand straight, but Dick noted thatKenwardine did not change his loungingattitude. He was smiling, and Lance,glancing at him, looked amused. Dickremembered this afterward, but he nowfelt that Lance was not quite showing hisusual good form.

When the song was finished, Dick turnedto Clare. He wanted to begin talking to herbefore anybody else came up.

“It was very fine. I don’t understand the

technique of music, but one felt that yougot the song just right. And then, the wayyou brought out the idea!”

“That is what the mechanical part is for,”she answered with a smile and a touch ofcolor. “As it happens, I saw an infantrybrigade on the march to-day, and watchedthe long line of men go by in the dust andsun. Perhaps that helps one to understand.”

“Did you see them cross the bridge?”Dick asked eagerly.

“No,” she answered; and he felt absurdlydisappointed. He would have liked tothink that his work had helped her to sing.

“Have you another like the first?” heasked.

“I never sing more than once,” she smiled.

Then as Lance and another man cametoward them, she added, glancing at anopen French window: “Besides, the roomis very hot. It would be cooler in thegarden.”

Dick was not a man of affairs, but he wasnot a fool. He knew that ClareKenwardine was not the girl to attempt hiscaptivation merely because he had shownhimself susceptible. She wanted him tokeep the others off, and he thought heunderstood this as he glanced at Lance’scompanion. The fellow had a coarse, redface and looked dissipated, and evenLance’s well-bred air was somehow notso marked as usual. Well, he was willingthat she should make any use of him thatshe liked.

They passed the others, and after stoppingto tell Kenwardine that she was going out,Clare drew back a curtain that coveredpart of the window. Dick stepped acrossthe ledge and, seeing that the stairs belowwere iron and rather slippery, held out hishand to Clare. The curtain swung back andcut off the light, and when they were nearthe bottom the girl tripped and clutchedhim. Her hand swept downward from hisshoulder across his chest and caught theoutside pocket of his coat, while hegrasped her waist to steady her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I was clumsy, butthe steps are awkward and my shoes aresmooth.”

Dick was glad it was dark, for he feltconfused. The girl had rested upon him for

a moment and it had given him a thrill.

They crossed the broad lawn. Half of itlay in shadow, for a wood that rolled up aneighboring hillside cut off the light of thelow, half moon. The air was still, it wastoo warm for dew, and there was a smellof flowers—stocks, Dick thought, and heremembered their pungent sweetnessafterward when he recalled that night.Clare kept in the moonlight, and he notedthe elusive glimmer of her white dress.She wore no hat or wrap, and the paleillumination emphasized the slendernessof her figure and lent her an etherealgrace.

They stopped at a bench beneath a copper-beech, where the shadow of the leavescheckered with dark blotches the girl’s

white draperies and Dick’s uniform. Someof the others had come out, for there werevoices in the gloom.

“Perhaps you wonder why I brought youhere,” Clare said frankly.

“No,” Dick answered. “If you had anyreason, I’m not curious. And I’d rather beoutside.”

“Well,” she said, “the light was ratherglaring and the room very hot.” Shepaused and added: “Mr. Brandon’s yourcousin?”

“He is, and a very good sort. He broughtme to-night, but I felt that it was, perhaps,something of an intrusion when you camein.”

“You didn’t feel that before?”

Dick knew that he was on dangerousground. He must not admit that hesuspected Kenwardine’s motive forreceiving promiscuous guests.

“Well, not to the same extent. You see,Lance knows everybody and everybodylikes him. I thought I might be welcomefor his sake.”

“It’s plain that you are fond of yourcousin. But why did you imagine that Ishould think your visit an intrusion?”

Dick was glad he sat in the shadow, forhis face was getting hot. He could not hintthat he had expected to find a rather daringcoquette—the kind of girl, in fact, onewould imagine a semi-professionalgambler’s daughter to be. It now seemedpossible that he had misjudged

Kenwardine; and he had certainlymisjudged Clare. The girl’s surroundingswere powerless to smirch her: Dick wassure of that.

“Oh, well,” he answered awkwardly,“although Lance obviously knows yourfather pretty well, it doesn’t follow thathe’s a friend of yours.”

“It does not,” she said in a curious tone.“But do you know the man he was with?”

“I never saw him before, and somehow Idon’t feel anxious to improve hisacquaintance.”

Clare laughed.

“That’s a quick decision, isn’t it? Are youa judge of character?” she asked.

“I have been badly mistaken,” Dickadmitted with a smile. “Still, I know thepeople I’m going to like. How is it Ihaven’t seen you about? We’re not veryfar off and most of the people in theneighborhood have driven over to ourcamp.”

“I only came home to-night, after beingaway for some time.”

Dick was relieved to learn this. He didnot like to think of her living atKenwardine’s house and meeting hisfriends. It was scarcely half an hour sincehe met Clare Kenwardine, but she had,quite unconsciously he thought, stronglyimpressed him. In fact, he felt rather guiltyabout it. Since he was, in a manner,expected to marry some one else, he had

no business to enjoy yielding to thisstranger’s charm and to thrill at her touch.

They sat in silence for a few moments, andthen Lance strolled up with hiscompanion.

“Don’t forget the time, Dick,” he remarkedas he passed. “You mustn’t let him keepyou too long, Miss Kenwardine. He has animportant errand to do for his colonel.”

“If you don’t mind, I won’t go just yet,”Dick said to Clare; and understood fromher silence that she did not want todismiss him.

For the first time since they were boys, hewas angry with his cousin. It looked as ifLance had meant to take him away whenMiss Kenwardine needed him. He was

flattered to think she preferred his societyto the red-faced man’s, and had used himto keep the other at a distance. Well, hewould stay to the last minute and protecther from the fellow, or from anybody else.

A little later Kenwardine joined them, andDick knew that he must go. Clare gave himher hand with a quick, grateful look thatmade his heart beat, and Lance met him ashe went into the house.

“You’re cutting it very fine,” he said.“Come along; here’s your cap.”

“In a moment! There’s an infantry man Iasked over to our camp.”

“You haven’t time to look for him,” Lanceanswered, and good-humoredly pushedDick into the hall. “Get off at once! A

fellow I know will give me a lift home.”

Dick ran down the drive and a fewmoments later his motorcycle washumming up the road. He sped through adark firwood, where the cool air wasfilled with resinous scent, and out across ahillside down which the stocked sheavesstood in silvery rows, but he noticednothing except that the white strip of roadwas clear in front. His thoughts were backin the garden with Clare Kenwardine, andhe could smell the clogging sweetness ofthe stocks. This was folly, and he changedthe gear on moderate hills and altered thecontrol when the engine did not need it, tooccupy his mind; but the picture of the girlhe carried away with him would not bebanished.

For all that, he reached Storeton Grange intime and, running up the drive, saw lightsin the windows and a car waiting at thedoor. Getting down and stating hisbusiness, he was shown into a roomwhere a stern-faced man in uniform sattalking to another in evening clothes.

“I understand you come from CaptainHallam,” said the Colonel.

“Yes, sir. He sent me with some papers.”

“You know what they are?”

“Plans of pontoons, sir.”

“Very well,” said the Colonel, taking out afountain pen. “Let me have them.”

Dick put his hand into his breastpocket,which was on the outside of his coat. The

pocket was unbuttoned, and the bigenvelope had gone. He hurriedly felt theother pockets, but they too were empty,and his face got red.

The Colonel looked hard at him, and thenmade a sign to the other man, who quietlywent out.

“You haven’t got the plans! Did you leavethem behind?”

“No, sir,” Dick said awkwardly. “I felt tosee if they were in my pocket when I leftthe camp.”

The Colonel’s face hardened.

“Did you come straight here?”

“No, sir. I had an hour or two’s leave.”

“And spent it with your friends? Had you

anything to drink?”

“Yes, sir.”

“As much as, or more than, usual?”

“Perhaps a little more,” Dick said inconfusion.

The Colonel studied him with searchingeyes; and then took some paper from acase on the table and began to write. Heput the note in an envelope and gave it toDick.

“It’s your Commanding Officer’s businessto investigate the matter and you’ll takehim this. Report yourself to him or to theAdjutant when you reach camp. I’lltelegraph to see if you have done so.”

He raised his hand in sign of dismissal

and Dick went out, crushed with shame,and feeling that he was already underarrest. If he were not in camp when thetelegram came, he would be treated as adeserter.

CHAPTER III

THE PUNISHMENT

On reaching camp and reporting himself,Dick was sent to his tent, where he sleptuntil he was aroused by the bustle atreveille. He had not expected to sleep; buthe was young and physically tired, and theshock of trouble had, as sometimeshappens, a numbing effect. He awokerefreshed and composed, though his heartwas heavy as he dressed, because hefeared it was the last time that he wouldwear his country’s uniform. The suspensewas trying as he waited until the morning

parade was over; then he was summonedto a tent where the Colonel and theAdjutant sat.

“I have a telegram asking if you havearrived,” the Colonel said in a curious,dry tone. “You must understand that youhave laid yourself open to gravesuspicion.”

“Yes,” Dick answered, wonderingwhether the Colonel meant that it mighthave been better if he had run away.

“Very well. You admitted having receivedthe plans. What did you do with them?”

“Buttoned them into the left pocket of mycoat. When I got to Storeton, the envelopewas gone.”

“How do you account for that?”

“I can’t account for it, sir.”

The Colonel was silent for a fewmoments, and then he looked fixedly atDick.

“Your statements were very unsatisfactorylast night, and now that you have had timeto think over the matter, I advise you to befrank. It’s plain that you have been guiltyof gross negligence, but that is not theworst. The drawings are of no direct useto the enemy, but if they fell into theirhands they might supply a valuable hint ofthe use to which we mean to put thepontoons. You see what this implies?”

“I don’t know how we mean to use them,sir, and I don’t want to hide anything.”

“That’s a wise resolve,” the Colonel

answered meaningly; and Dick colored.After all, there was something he meant tohide.

“You took the plans with you when youleft the camp, three or four hours beforeyou were due at Storeton,” said theAdjutant. “Where did you go?”

“To my cousin’s rooms in the town.”

“Mr. Lance Brandon’s,” said the Adjutantthoughtfully. “Did you stay there?”

“No; we dined at The George.”

“A well-conducted house,” the Adjutantremarked. “You took some wine atdinner?”

“Two glasses of light claret.”

“Then where did you go next?”

“To the new music-hall.”

“And ordered drinks in the bar! Whosuggested this?”

“I can’t remember,” Dick replied with anangry flush. “Of course, I see whereyou’re leading, but I was quite sober whenI left the hall.”

The Adjutant’s expression puzzled him.He had felt that the man was notunfriendly, and now he lookeddisappointed.

“I’m not sure your statement makes thingsbetter,” the Colonel observed with somedryness. “Did you go straight to Storetonfrom the hall?”

“No, sir. I spent an hour at a friend’shouse.”

“Whose house was it?”

Dick pondered for a few moments, andthen looked up resolutely.

“I must decline to answer, sir. I’ve lost theplans and must take the consequences; butI don’t see why my private friends, whohave nothing to do with it, should beinvolved in the trouble.”

The Adjutant leaned forward across thetable and said something quietly to theColonel, and neither of them spoke for thenext minute or two. Dick was sensible ofphysical as well as mental strain as hestood stiffly in the middle of the tent. Hisknees felt weak, little quivers ran throughhis limbs, and a ray of hot sunshine struckthrough the hooked-back flap into his face,but he dared not relax his rigid pose.

The two officers looked puzzled butgrave.

“Go back to your tent and stay there until Isend for you,” the Colonel said at last.

Dick saluted and went out, and when hesat down on his camp-bed he moodilylighted a cigarette and tried to think. Hismilitary career was ended and he wasruined; but this was not what occupiedhim most. He was wondering whetherClare Kenwardine had taken the plans. Ifso, it was his duty to accuse her; but,actuated by some mysterious impulse, hehad refused.

The longer he thought about it, the clearerher guilt became. He was a stranger andyet she had suggested a stroll through thegarden and had slipped and clutched him

as they went down the steps. Her hand hadrested on the pocket in which the envelopewas. She was the daughter of a man whokept a private gaming house; it was notsurprising that she was an adventuress andhad deceived him by her clever acting.For all that, he could not condemn her;there was a shadow of doubt; and even ifshe were guilty, she had yielded to somestrong pressure from her father. Hisfeelings, however, were puzzling. He hadspent less than an hour in her society andshe had ruined him, but he knew that hewould remember her as long as he lived.

Dick’s common sense led him to smilebitterly. He was behaving like asentimental fool. On the whole, it was arelief when the Adjutant came in.

“You must have known what the Colonel’sdecision would be,” he said with a hint ofregret. “You’re to be court-martialed. Ifyou take my advice, you’ll keep nothingback.”

The court-martial was over and Dickcould not question the justice of itssentence—he was dismissed from thearmy. Indeed, it was better than he hadexpected. Somewhat to his surprise, theAdjutant afterward saw him alone.

“I’m thankful our official duty’s done,” hesaid. “Of course, I’m taking an irregularline, and if you prefer not to talk—”

“You made me feel that you wanted to bemy friend,” Dick replied awkwardly.

“Then I may, perhaps, remark that you

made a bad defense. In the army, it’sbetter to tell a plausible tale and stick toit; we like an obvious explanation. Now ifyou had admitted being slightly drunk.”

“But I was sober!”

The Adjutant smiled impatiently.

“So much the worse for you! If you hadbeen drunk, you’d have been turned out allthe same, but the reason would have been,so to speak, satisfactory. Now you’retainted by a worse suspicion. Personally, Idon’t think the lost plans have any value,but if they had, it might have gone veryhard with you.” He paused and gave Dicka friendly glance. “Well, in parting, I’llgive you a bit of advice. Stick toengineering, which you have a talent for.”

He went out and not long afterward Dickleft the camp in civilian’s clothes, butstopped his motorcycle on the hill andstood looking back with a pain at hisheart. He saw the rows of tents stretchedacross the smooth pasture, the flag he hadbeen proud to serve languidly flapping onthe gentle breeze, and the water sparklingabout the bridge. Along the riverside,bare-armed men in shirts and trouserswere throwing up banks of soil withshovels that flashed in the strong light. Hecould see their cheerful brown faces and asmart young subaltern taking out ameasuring line. Dick liked the boy, whonow no doubt would pass him without alook, and he envied him with the keenestenvy he had ever felt. He had loved hisprofession; and he was turned out of it in

disgrace.

It was evening when he stood in thespacious library at home, glad that thelight was fading, as he confronted hisfather, who sat with grim face in a bigleather chair. Dick had no brothers andsisters, and his mother had died longbefore. He had not lived much at home,and had been on good, more thanaffectionate, terms with his father. Indeed,their relations were marked by mutualindulgence, for Dick had no interestoutside his profession, while Mr. Brandonoccupied himself with politics andenjoyed his prominent place in localsociety. He was conventional and hismanners were formal and dignified, butDick thought him very much like Lance,

although he had not Lance’s genial humor.

“Well,” he said when Dick had finished,“you have made a very bad mess of thingsand it is, of course, impossible that youshould remain here. In fact, you haverendered it difficult for me to meet myneighbors and take my usual part in publicaffairs.”

This was the line Dick had expected himto take. It was his father’s pride he hadwounded and not his heart. He did notknow what to say and, turning his head, helooked moodily out of the open window.The lawn outside was beautifully kept andthe flower-borders were a blaze oftastefully assorted colors, but there wassomething artificial and conventionalabout the garden that was as marked in the

house. Somehow Dick had never reallythought of the place as home.

“I mean to go away,” he said awkwardly.

“The puzzling thing is that you should denyhaving drunk too much,” Brandonresumed.

“But I hadn’t done so! You look at it as theothers did. Why should it make mattersbetter if I’d owned to being drunk?”

“Drunkenness,” his father answered, “isnow an offense against good taste, but notlong ago it was thought a rathergentlemanly vice, and a certain tolerationis still extended to the man who doeswrong in liquor. Perhaps this isn’t logical,but you must take the world as you find it.I had expected you to learn more in the

army than you seem to have picked up.Did you imagine that your promotiondepended altogether upon your planningtrenches and gun-pits well?”

“That kind of thing is going to count in thenew armies,” Dick replied. “Beingpopular on guest-night at the mess won’thelp a man to hold his trench or work hisgun under heavy fire.”

Brandon frowned.

“You won’t have an opportunity forshowing what you can do. I don’t knowwhere you got your utilitarian, radicalviews; but we’ll keep to the point. Wheredo you think of going?”

“To New York, to begin with.”

“Why not Montreal or Cape Town?”

“Well,” Dick said awkwardly, “after whathas happened, I’d rather not live onBritish soil.”

“Then why not try Hamburg?”

Dick flushed.

“You might have spared me that, sir! I lostthe plans; I didn’t sell them.”

“Very well. This interview is naturallypainful to us both and we’ll cut it short,but I have something to say. It will not beforgotten that you were turned out of thearmy, and if you succeeded me, the uglystory would be whispered when you tookany public post. I cannot have our nametainted and will therefore leave the houseand part of my property to your cousin.Whether you inherit the rest or not will

depend upon yourself. In the meantime, Iam prepared to make you an allowance,on the understanding that you stay abroaduntil you are sent for.”

Dick faced his father, standing verystraight, with knitted brows.

“Thank you, sir, but I will take nothing.”

“May I ask why?”

“If you’d looked at the thing differentlyand shown a little kindness, it would havecut me to the quick,” Dick said hoarsely.“I’m not a thief and a traitor, though I’vebeen a fool, and it hurts to know what youthink. I’m going away to-morrow and I’llget on, somehow, without your help. Idon’t know that I’ll come back if you dosend for me.”

“You don’t seem to understand yourposition, but you may come to realize itbefore very long,” Brandon replied.

He got up and Dick left the library; but hedid not sleep that night. It had been hard tomeet his father and what he said had left awound that would take long to heal. Nowhe must say good-by to Helen. This wouldneed courage, but Dick meant to see her. Itwas the girl’s right that she should hearhis story, and he would not steal away likea cur. He did not think Helen was reallyfond of him, though he imagined that shewould have acquiesced in her relatives’plans for them both had things beendifferent. Now, of course, that was donewith, but he must say good-by and shemight show some regret or sympathy. He

did not want her to suffer, but he did notthink she would feel the parting much; andshe would not treat him as his father haddone.

When he called the next morning at an oldcountry house, he was told that MissMassie was in the garden, and going there,he stopped abruptly at a gap in ashrubbery. Beyond the opening there wasa stretch of smooth grass, checkered bymoving shadow, and at one side a row ofgladioli glowed against the paler bloom ofyellow dahlias. Helen Massie held abunch of the tall crimson spikes, and Dickthought as he watched her with a beatingheart that she was like the flowers. Theywere splendid in form and color, but therewas nothing soft or delicate in their

aggressive beauty. Helen’s hair was darkand her color high, her black eyes werebright, and her yellow dress showed afinely outlined form. Dick knew that shewas proud, resolute, and self-confident.

Then she turned her head and saw him,and he knew that she had heard of hisdisgrace, for her color deepened and herglance was rather hard than sympathetic.The hand that held the flowers dropped toher side, but she waited until he came up.

“I see you know, and it doesn’t matterwho told you,” he said. “I felt I had tocome before I went away.”

“Yes,” she answered calmly, “I heard.You have courage, Dick; but perhaps anote would have been enough, and moreconsiderate.”

Dick wondered gloomily whether shemeant that he might have saved her pain bystaying away, or that he had involved herin his disgrace by coming, since his visitwould be talked about. He reflectedbitterly that the latter was more probable.

“Well,” he said, “we have been prettygood friends and I’m leaving the country. Idon’t suppose I shall come back again.”

“When do you go?”

“Now,” said Dick. “I must catch the trainat noon.”

Helen’s manner did not encourage anyindulgence in sentiment and he halfresented this, although it made thingseasier. He could not say he had come togive her up, because there had been no

formal engagement. Still he had expectedsome sign of pity or regret.

“You don’t defend yourself,” sheremarked thoughtfully. “Couldn’t you havefought it out?”

“There was nothing to fight for. I lost thepapers I was trusted with; one can’t getover that.”

“But people may imagine you didsomething worse.” She paused for amoment and added: “Don’t you care whatI might think?”

Dick looked at her steadily. “You ought toknow. Do you believe it’s possible I stoleand meant to sell the plans?”

“No,” she said with a touch of color. “ButI would have liked you, for your friends’

sake, to try to clear yourself. If you hadlost the papers, they would have beenfound and sent back; as they were not, itlooks as if you had been robbed.”

That she could reason this out calmlystruck Dick as curious, although he hadlong known that Helen was ruled by herbrain and not her heart.

“I’ve been careless and there’s nothing tobe done but take my punishment.”

She gave him a keen glance. “Are youhiding something, Dick? It’s your duty totell all that you suspect.”

Dick winced. Helen was right; it was hisduty, but he was not going to carry it out.He began to see what this meant, but hisresolution did not falter.

“If I knew I’d been robbed, it would bedifferent, but I don’t, and if I blamedpeople who were found to be innocent, I’donly make matters worse for myself.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed coldly.“However, you have made your choiceand it’s too late now. Where are yougoing, Dick?”

“To New York by the first boat fromLiverpool.”

He waited, watching her and wonderingwhether she would ask him to stop, butshe said quietly: “Well, I shall, no doubt,hear how you get on.”

“It’s unlikely,” he answered in a hardvoice. “I’ve lost my friends with mycharacter. The best thing I can do is to

leave them alone.”

Then he looked at his watch, and she gavehim her hand. “For all that, I wish yougood luck, Dick.”

She let him go, and as he went back to thegate he reflected that Helen had taken theproper and tactful line by dismissing himas if he were nothing more than anacquaintance. He could be nothing morenow, and to yield to sentiment would havebeen painful and foolish; but it hurt himthat she had realized this.

When he wheeled his bicycle away fromthe gate he saw a boy who helped hisfather’s gardener running along the road,and waited until he came up, hot andpanting. The boy held out a smallenvelope.

“It came after you left, Mr. Dick,” hegasped.

“Then you have been very quick.”

The lad smiled, for Dick was a favoritewith his father’s servants.

“I thought you’d like to have the note,” hea ns w e r e d , and added awkwardly:“Besides, I didn’t see you when youwent.”

It was the first hint of kindness Dick hadreceived since his disgrace and he tookthe lad’s hand before he gave him half acrown, though he knew that he mustpractise stern economy.

“Thank you and good-by, Jim. You musthave taken some trouble to catch me,” hesaid.

Then he opened the envelope and his looksoftened.

“I heard of your misfortune and am verysorry, but something tells me that you arenot to blame,” the note ran, and wassigned “Clare Kenwardine.”

For a moment or two Dick was sensible ofkeen relief and satisfaction; and then hismood changed. This was the girl who hadrobbed and ruined him; she must think hima fool! Tearing up the note, he mounted hisbicycle and rode off to the station in avery bitter frame of mind.

CHAPTER IV

ADVERSITY

When he had sold his motorcycle atLiverpool, Dick found it would be prudentto take a third-class passage, but regrettedthis as soon as the liner left the St.George’s channel. The food, though badlyserved, was good of its kind, and his berthwas comfortable enough for a man whohad lived under canvas, but when thehatches were closed on account of badweather the foul air of the steeragesickened him and the habits of hiscompanions left much to be desired. It

was difficult to take refuge in the open air,because the steerage deck was swept bybitter spray and often flooded as the bigship lurched across the Atlantic against awestern gale.

A spray-cloud veiled her forward whenthe bows plunged into a comber’s hollowside, and then as they swung up until herforefoot was clear, foam and green waterpoured aft in cataracts. Sometimes muchof her hull before the bridge sank into thecrest of a half-mile sea and lower decksand alleyways looked like rivers. Thegale held all the way across, and Dick feltjaded and gloomy when they steamed intoNew York, a day late. He had sometrouble with the immigration officers, whoasked awkward questions about his

occupation and his reason for giving it up,but he satisfied them at length and wasallowed to land.

The first few days he spent in New Yorkhelped him to realize the change in hisfortunes and the difficulties he must face.Until the night he lost the plans, he hadscarcely known a care; life had been madeeasy, and his future had looked safe. Hehad seldom denied himself anything; hehad started well on a career he liked, andall his thoughts were centered on fittinghimself for it. Extravagance was not afailing of his, but he had always had moremoney than would satisfy his somewhatsimple needs. Now, however, there wasan alarming difference.

To begin with, it was obvious that he

could only stay for a very limited time atthe cheap hotel he went to, and his effortsto find employment brought him sharprebuffs. Business men who neededassistance asked him curt questions abouthis training and experience, and when hecould not answer satisfactorily promptlygot rid of him. Then he tried manual laborand found employment almost as hard toget. The few dollars he earned at casualjobs did not pay his board at the hotelwhere he lived in squalid discomfort, butmatters got worse when he was forced toleave it and take refuge in a big tenementhouse, overcrowded with unsavoryforeigners from eastern Europe. NewYork was then sweltering under a heatwave, and he came home, tired by heavytoil or sickened by disappointment, to

pass nights of torment in a stifling, foul-smelling room.

He bore it for some weeks and then, whenhis small stock of money was melting fast,set off to try his fortune in themanufacturing towns of Pennsylvania andOhio. Here he found work was to be had,but the best paid kind was barred tountrained men by Trade-union rules, andthe rest was done by Poles andRuthenians, who led a squalid semi-communistic life in surroundings thatrevolted him. Still, he could not befastidious and took such work as he couldget, until one rainy evening when hewalked home dejectedly after severaldays of enforced idleness. A labor agent’swindow caught his eye and he stopped

amidst the crowd that jostled him on thewet sidewalk to read the noticesdisplayed.

One ticket stated that white men, andparticularly live mechanics, were wantedfor a job down South, but Dick hesitatedfor a few minutes, fingering a dollar in hispocket. Carefully spent, it would buy himhis supper and leave something towardshis meals next day, and he had beenwalking about since morning without food.If he went without his supper, the agent, inexchange for the dollar, would give himthe address of the man who wanted help,but Dick knew from experience that it didnot follow that he would be engaged. Still,one must risk something and the situationwas getting desperate. He entered the

office and a clerk handed him a card.

“It’s right across the town, but you’dbetter get there quick,” he said. “The job’sa snap and I’ve sent a lot of men along.”

Dick boarded a street-car that took himpart of the way, but he had to walk therest, and was tired and wet when hereached an office in a side street. A smartclerk took the card and gave him a criticalglance.

“It looks as if we were going to be full up,but I’ll put down your name and you cancome back in the morning,” he remarked.“What do you call yourself?”

“A civil engineer,” said Dick. “But whereis the job and what’s the pay?”

“I guess Central America is near enough;

mighty fine country, where rum’s good andcheap. Pay’ll pan out about two-fifty, orperhaps three dollars if you’re extrasmart.”

“You can get as much here,” Dickobjected, thinking it unwise to seem eager.

“Then why don’t you get it?” the clerkinquired. “Anyhow, you won’t be chargedfor board and all you’ll have to do is todrive breeds and niggers. It’s a soft thing,sure, but you can light out now and comeback if you feel it’s good enough for youto take your chance.”

Dick went away, and had reached thelanding when a man who wore loose, grayclothes and a big, soft hat, met him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I’ve been applying for the job in theSouth.”

The other gave him a searching glance andDick thought he noted his anxious look andwet and shabby clothes.

“What can you do?” he resumed.

“To begin with, I can measure cubicquantities, plan out excavating work, anduse the level. If this kind of thing’s notwanted, I can handle a spade.”

“Where have you done your digging?”

“In this city. Laying sewers for acontractor, who, the boys said, had tosqueeze us to make good the graft he putup to get the job.”

The other nodded. “That’s so; I know the

man. You can use a spade all right if yousatisfied him. But the sewer’s not finishedyet; why did you quit?”

“The foreman fired three or four of us tomake room for friends that a saloon-keeper who commands some votes sentalong.”

“Well,” said the other, smiling, “you seemto understand how our city bosses fixthese things. But my job will mean prettytough work. Are you sure you want it?”

“I can’t find another,” Dick answeredfrankly.

“Very well, I’ll put you on. Look round to-morrow and get your orders. I’ve a notionthat you’re up against it; here’s a dollar onaccount.”

Dick took the money. He rather liked theman, whose abruptness was disarmed byhis twinkling smile. For the first time,with one exception, during his search foremployment, he had been treated as ahuman being instead of an instrument fordoing a certain amount of work.

It was raining hard when he reached thestreet, and supper would be over beforehe arrived at his cheap hotel, where onemust eat at fixed times or wait for the nextmeal. There was, however, a smallrestaurant with an Italian name outside afew blocks further on, and going in he wasserved with well-cooked food andafterwards sat in a corner smoking andthinking hard. He now felt more cheerful;but the future was dark and he realized the

difficulties in his path.

American industry was highly organized.The man who hoped for advancement mustspecialize and make himself master ofsome particular branch. Dick hadspecialized in England, and thought heknew his subject, but could not use hisknowledge. The Americans to whom hetried to sell it would have none of him,and Dick owned that he could not blamethem; since it was natural to suppose thatthe man who was unfaithful to his countrywould not be loyal to his employer. Whenhe looked for other openings, he foundcapital and labor arrayed in hostilecamps. There was mechanical work hewas able to do, but this was not allowed,because the organized workers, who had

fought stubbornly for a certain standard ofcomfort, refused to let untrained outsidersshare the benefits they had won.

Business was left; but it needed money,and if he tried to enter it as a clerk, hemust first obtain smart clothes and findsomebody to certify his ability andcharacter, which was impossible. Itlooked as if he must be content withmanual labor. The wages it commandedwere not low and he was physicallystrong, but he shrank from the lives thelower ranks of toilers led when their workwas done. The crowded bunk-house andsqualid tenement revolted him. Still, hewas young and optimistic; his luck mightchange when he went South and chancegive him an opportunity of breaking

through the barriers that shut him in. Hesat in the corner, pondering, until it gotlate and the tired Italian politely turnedhim out.

Next morning he joined a group of waitingmen at the railroad station. They had adejected look as they sat upon theirbundles outside the agent’s office, exceptfor three or four who were cheerfullydrunk. Their clothes were shabby and ofdifferent kinds, for some wore cheapstore-suits and some work-stainedoveralls. It was obvious that adversity hadbrought them together, and Dick did notthink they would make amiablecompanions. About half appeared to beAmericans, but he could not determine thenationality of the rest, who grumbled in

uncouth English with different accents.

By and by the clerk whom Dick had metcame out of the office with a bundle oftickets, which he distributed, and soonafterwards the train rolled into the depot.Dick was not pleased to find that a car hadbeen reserved for the party, since hewould sooner have traveled with theordinary passengers. Indeed, when adispute began as the train moved slowlythrough the wet street, he left the car. Inpassing through the next, he met theconductor, who asked for his ticket, andafter tearing off a section of the longpaper, gave him a card, which he grufflyordered him to stick in his hat. Then he puthis hand on Dick’s shoulder, and pushedhim back through the vestibule.

“That’s your car behind and you’ll stopright there,” he said. “Next time you comeout we’ll put you off the train.”

Dick resigned himself, but stopped on thefront platform and looked back as the trainjolted across a rattling bridge. A wide,yellow river ran beneath it, and the tallfactories and rows of dingy houses werefading in the rain and smoke on the otherside. Dick watched them until they grewindistinct, and then his heart felt lighter.He had endured much in the grimy town;but all that was over. After confronting,with instinctive shrinking, industry’sgrimmest aspect, he was traveling towardthe light and glamour of the South.

Entering the smoking compartment, hefound the disturbance had subsided, and

presently fell into talk with a man on theopposite seat who asked for sometobacco. He told Dick he was alocomotive fireman, but had got intotrouble, the nature of which he did notdisclose. Dick never learned much moreabout his past than this, but theiracquaintance ripened and Kemp proved auseful friend.

It was getting dark when they reached anAtlantic port and were lined up on theterminal platform by a man who read out alist of their names. He expressed hisopinion of them with sarcastic vigor whenit was discovered that three of the partyhad left the train on the way; and thenpacked the rest into waiting automobiles,which conveyed them to the wharf as fast

as the machines would go.

“Guess you won’t quit this journey. Theman who jumps off will sure get hurt,” heremarked as they started.

In spite of his precautions, another of thegang was missing when they alighted, andKemp, the fireman, grinned at Dick.

“That fellow’s not so smart as he allows,”he said. “He’d have gone in the last car,where he could see in front, if he’d knownhis job.”

They were hustled up a steamer’sgangway and taken to the after end of thedeck, where their conductor turned hisback on them for a few minutes while hespoke to a mate.

“Now’s your time,” said Kemp, “if you

feel you want to quit.”

Dick looked about. The spar-deck, onwhich the boats were stowed, covered thespot where he stood, and the passagebeneath the stanchions was dark. Therewas nobody at the top of the gangwayunder the big cargo-lamp, and itsillumination did not carry far across thewharf. If he could reach the latter, hewould soon be lost in the gloom, and hewas sensible of a curious impulse thaturged him to flight. It almost amounted topanic, and he imagined that the othermen’s desertion must have daunted him.For a few moments he struggled with thefeeling and then conquered it.

“No,” he said firmly; “I’ll see the thingthrough.”

Kemp nodded. “Well, I guess it’s too latenow.”

Two seamen, sent by the mate, went to thetop of the gangway, and the fellow whohad brought the party from the stationstood on guard near. Dick afterwardrealized that much depended on the choicehe swiftly made and wondered whether itwas quite by chance he did so.

“You were pretty near going,” hiscompanion resumed.

“Yes,” said Dick, thoughtfully; “I believeI was. As a matter of fact, I don’t knowwhy I stopped.”

The other smiled. “I’ve felt like that aboutrisky jobs I took. Sometimes I lit out, andsometimes I didn’t, but found out

afterward I was right either way. If youfeel you have to go, the best thing you cando is to get a move on.”

Dick agreed with this. He did notunderstand it, but knew that while he hadstill had time to escape down the gangwayand felt strongly tempted to do so, it wasimpressed upon him that he must remain.

A few minutes later their conductor leftthem with a sarcastic farewell, the ropeswere cast off, and the steamer swung outfrom the wharf. When, with enginesthrobbing steadily, she headed down thebay, Dick went to his berth, and on gettingup next morning found the American coasthad sunk to a low, gray streak tostarboard. A fresh southwest breeze wasblowing under a cloudy sky and the

vessel, rolling viciously, lurched acrossthe white-topped combers of the warmGulf Stream.

After breakfast, some of his companionsgathered into listless, grumbling groups,and some brought out packs of greasycards, but Dick sat by himself, wonderingwith more buoyant feelings what laybefore him. He had known trouble andsomehow weathered it, and now he wasbound to a country where the sun wasshining. It was pleasant to feel the soft airon his face and the swing of the spray-veiled bows. After all, good fortune mightawait him down South.

CHAPTER V

THE CONCRETE TRUCK

It was very hot in the deep hollow thatpierced the mountain range behind SantaBrigida on the Caribbean Sea. The blackpeaks cut against a glaring sky and thesteep slopes of red soil and volcaniccinders on one side of the ravine weredazzlingly bright. The other was steepedin blue shadow that scarcely seemed totemper the heat, and the dark-skinned menwho languidly packed the ballast amongthe ties of a narrow-gage railroad thatwound up the hill panted as they swung

their shovels. At its lower end, the ravineopened on to a valley that got greener as itran down to the glittering sea, on the edgeof which feathery palms clustered roundSanta Brigida.

The old city, dominated by its twin,cathedral towers, shone ethereally whitein the distance, with a narrow fringe offlashing surf between it and the vivid blueof the Caribbean. It was a thriving place,as the black dots of steamers in theroadstead showed, for of late yearsAmerican enterprise had broken in uponits lethargic calm. The population was, forthe most part, of Spanish stock that hadbeen weakened by infusions of Indian andnegro blood, but there were a number ofChinamen, and French Creoles. Besides

these, Americans, Britons, and Europeanadventurers had established themselves,and the town was a hotbed of commercialand political intrigue. The newcomerswere frankly there for what they could getand fought cunningly for trading andagricultural concessions. The leadingcitizens of comparatively pure Spanishstrain despised the grasping foreigners intheir hearts, but as a rule took their moneyand helped them in their plots. Moreover,they opened a handsome casino and lessreputable gambling houses with the objectof collecting further toll.

Such wealth as the country enjoyed waslargely derived from the fertile soil, butthe district about Santa Brigida was lessproductive than the rest and had been long

neglected. There was rain enough allround, but much of the moisture condensedon the opposite side of the range and leftthe slopes behind the town comparativelyarid. To remedy this an irrigation schemewas being carried out by Americancapitalists, and the narrow-gage railroadformed part of the undertaking.

A man dressed in rather baggy, grayclothes and a big, soft hat sat in theshadow of the rock. His thin face had beenrecently browned by the sun, for the palercolor where his hat shaded it showed thathe was used to a northern climate. Thoughhis pose was relaxed and he had a cigar inhis mouth, there was a hint of energy abouthim and he was following the curves ofthe railroad with keenly observant eyes. A

girl in white dress of fashionable cut satnear him, holding a green-lined sunshade,for although they were in the shadow thelight was strong. The likeness betweenthem indicated they were father anddaughter.

“I expect you’re feeling it pretty hot,”Fuller remarked.

“It is not oppressive and I rather like thebrightness,” the girl replied. “Besides, it’scool enough about the tent after the sungoes behind the range. Of course, you areused to the climate.”

“I was, but that was twenty-four years agoand before you were born. Got my first liftwith the ten thousand dollars I made in thenext state down this coast, besides theague and shivers that have never quite left

me. However, it’s pretty healthy up here,and I guess it ought to suit Jake all right.”

Ida Fuller looked thoughtful, and herpensive expression added to the charm ofher attractive face. She had her father’skeen eyes, but they were, like her hair, asoft dark-brown; and the molding ofbrows and nose and mouth was rather firmthan delicate. While her features hinted atdecision of character, there was nothingaggressive in her look, which, indeed,was marked by a gracious calm. Thoughshe was tall, her figure was slender.

“Yes,” she agreed, “if he would stay uphere!”

Fuller nodded. “I’d have to fix him upwith work enough to keep him busy, andask for a full-length report once a week.

That would show me what he was doingand he’d have to stick right to his job tofind out what was going on.”

“Unless he got somebody to tell him, orperhaps write the report. Jake, you know,is smart.”

“You’re fond of your brother, but Isometimes think you’re a bit hard on him. Iadmit I was badly riled when they turnedhim down from Yale, but it was aharmless fool-trick he played, and whenhe owned up squarely I had to let it go.”

“That’s Jake’s way. You can’t be angrywith him. Still, perhaps, it’s a dangerousgift. It might be better for him if he got hurtnow and then.”

Fuller, who did not answer, watched her,

as she pondered. Her mother had diedlong ago, and Fuller, who was largelyoccupied by his business, knew that Jakemight have got into worse trouble but forthe care Ida had exercised. He admittedthat his daughter, rather than himself, hadbrought up the lad, and her influence hadbeen wholly for good. By and by sheglanced at Santa Brigida.

“It’s the casino and other attractions downthere I’m afraid of. If you had some olderman you could trust to look after Jake, onewould feel more satisfied.”

“Well,” said Fuller with a twinkle,“there’s nobody I know who could fill thebill, and I’m not sure the older men aremuch steadier than the rest.”

He stopped as a puff of smoke rose at the

lower end of the ravine and moved up thehill. Then a flash of twinkling metal brokeout among the rocks, and Ida saw that asmall locomotive was climbing the steeptrack.

“She’s bringing up concrete blocks for thedam,” Fuller resumed. “We use them largein the lower courses, and I had the bogiecar they’re loaded on specially built forthe job; but I’m afraid we’ll have to putdown some pieces of the line again. Thegrade’s pretty stiff and the curves aresharp.”

Ida was not bored by these details. Sheliked her father to talk to her about hisbusiness, and her interest was quicklyroused. Fuller, who was proud of her keenintelligence, told her much, and she knew

the importance of the irrigation scheme hehad embarked upon. Land in the arid beltcould be obtained on favorable terms and,Fuller thought, be made as productive asthat watered by the natural rainfall. It was,however, mainly because he had talkedabout finding her scapegrace brotheremployment on the work that Ida had madehim take her South.

As she glanced at the track she noted thatroom for it had been dug out of thehillside, which was seamed by gullies thatthe rails twisted round. The loose soil,consisting largely of volcanic cinders,appeared to offer a very unsafe support. Ithad slipped away here and there, leavinggaps between the ties, which wereunevenly laid and at the sharper bends

overhung the steep slope below. In themeantime, the small locomotive camenearer, panting loudly and throwing upshowers of sparks, and Ida remarked howthe rails bent and then sprang up again asthe truck, which carried two ponderousblocks of stone, rolled over them. Theengine rocked, sparks flashed among thewheels as their flanges bit the curves, andshe wondered what the driver felt or if hehad got used to his rather dangerous work.

As a matter of fact, Dick Brandon, whodrove the engine, felt some nervous strain.He had applied for the post at Kemp’ssuggestion, after the latter had given him afew lessons in locomotive work, and hadsince been sorry that he had obtained it.Still he had now a room to himself at the

shed where the engine was kept, and ahalf-breed fireman to help him with theheavier part of his task. He preferred thisto living in a hot bunk-house and carryingbags of cement in the grinding mill, thoughhe knew there was a certain risk of hisplunging down the ravine with his engine.

The boiler primed when he started andwas not steaming well. The pistonsbanged alarmingly as they compressed thewater that spurted from the drain-cocks,and his progress was marked by violentjerks that jarred the couplings of the bogietruck. Though Dick only wore a greasyshirt and overall trousers, he felt theoppressive heat, and his eyes ached withthe glare as he gazed up the climbingtrack. The dust that rolled about the engine

dimmed the glasses, the footplate rattled,and it looked as if his fireman wasperforming a clumsy dance.

By and by he rather doubtfully opened thethrottle to its widest. If the boiler primedagain, he might knock out the cylinder-heads, but there was a steep pitch in frontthat was difficult to climb. The shortlocomotive rocked and hammered, thewheels skidded and gripped again, andDick took his hand from the lever to dashthe sweat from his eyes.

They were going up, and he would be pastthe worst if he could get his load round thecurve ahead. They were half way roundwhen there was a clang behind him andthe engine seemed to leap forward.Glancing over his shoulder as he shut off

steam, Dick saw the fireman gazing back,and a wide gap between the concreteblocks and his load of coal. The couplingshad snapped as they strained round thebend and the truck would run down theincline until it smashed through the shedsthat held the grinding and mixing plant atthe bottom. He saw that prompt action wasneeded, and reversing the machinery, gavethe fireman an order in uncouth Castilian.

The fellow looked at him stupidly, as ifhis nerve had failed, or he thought theorder too risky to obey. There was onlyone thing to be done, and since it must bedone at once, Dick must undertake ithimself. The engine was now runningdown the line after the truck, which hadnot gathered much speed yet, and he

climbed across the coal and dropped uponthe rear buffer-frame. Balancing himselfupon it, he waited until the gap betweenhim and the truck got narrower, and thenput his hand on top of the concrete andswung himself across. He got his footupon the side of the car and made his wayalong, holding the top of the block, whilethe dust rolled about him and he thought hewould be jolted off. Indeed, there wasonly an inch-wide ledge of smooth iron tosupport his foot, which slipped once ortwice; but he reached the brake-gear andscrewed it down. Then, crawling back, hehooked on the spare coupling andreturned, breathless and shaky, to hisengine. A minute or two later he brought itto a stop and had got down upon the linewhen somebody called him.

Looking round, he saw Fuller standingnear, and knew him as the man who hadgiven him the dollar in the Americantown. He had heard that his employer hadcome out to see what progress was beingmade, but had not yet encountered him. Hedid not notice Ida, who was sitting in theshadow of the rock.

“You were smart,” said Fuller. “There’dhave been an ugly smash if the blocks hadgot away down the grade. But why didn’tyou stick to the throttle and send yourfireman?”

“I don’t think he understood what he oughtto do, and there was no time to explain.”

Fuller nodded. “So you did it yourself!But why didn’t you push the car? Youcould have held her up better then.”

“I couldn’t get behind it. The loop-trackdown at the switches has caved in.”

“I see. But it’s a stiff grade and you didn’tseem to be hustling your engine much.”

“The boiler was priming and I was afraidof the cylinders.”

“Just so. You pumped up the water prettyhigh?”

“No; it was at the usual working level,”said Dick, who paused and resumedthoughtfully: “I can’t account for the thing.Why does a boiler prime?”

There are one or two obvious reasons fora boiler’s priming; that is to say, throwingwater as well as steam into the engine, butthis sometimes happens when no causecan be assigned, and Fuller saw that Dick

did not expect an answer to his question. Itwas rather an exclamation, prompted byhis failure to solve a fascinating problem,and as such indicated that his interest inhis task was not confined to the earning ofa living. Fuller recognized the mind of theengineer.

“Well,” he replied, “there’s a good dealwe don’t know yet about the action offluids under pressure. But do you find thegrade awkward when she’s steamingproperly?”

“I can get up. Still, I think it will soon costyou as much in extra fuel as it would torelay this bit of line. Two hundred cubicyards cut out at the bend would makethings much easier.”

“Two hundred yards?” said Fuller,

studying the spot.

“Two hundred and fifty at the outside,”Dick answered confidently, and then feltembarrassed as he saw Miss Fuller for thefirst time. His clothes were few and dirtyand he was awkwardly conscious that hishands and face were black. But hisemployer claimed his attention.

“What would you reckon the weight of thestuff?”

Dick told him after a short silence, andFuller asked: “Two-thousand-poundtons?”

“Yes; I turned it into American weight.”

“Well,” said Fuller, “you must get on withyour job now, but come up to my tent aftersupper.”

Dick started his locomotive, and when itpanted away up the incline Fuller lookedat his daughter with a smile.

“What do you think of that young man?”

“He has a nice face. Of course he’s not thetype one would expect to find driving alocomotive.”

“Pshaw!” said Fuller. “I’m not talkingabout his looks.”

“Nor am I, in the way you mean,” Idarejoined. “I thought he looked honest,though perhaps reliable is nearest what Ifelt. Then he was very professional.”

Fuller nodded. “That’s what I like. Theman who puts his job before what he getsfor it naturally makes the best work. Whatdo you think of his manner?”

“It was good; confident, but not assertive,with just the right note of deference,” Idaanswered, and then laughed. “It ratherbroke down after he saw me.”

“That’s not surprising, anyhow. I expecthe’s used to wearing different clothes andmore of them when he meets stylish youngwomen. It doesn’t follow that the youngfellow isn’t human because he’sprofessional. However, I want to see whatthe boys are doing farther on.”

CHAPTER VI

A STEP UP

Dusk was falling when Dick went to keephis appointment with his employer.Fireflies glimmered in the brush besidethe path, and the lights of Santa Brigidaflashed in a brilliant cluster on the edge ofthe shadowy sea. High above, ruggedpeaks cut black against the sky, and theland breeze that swept their lower slopesbrought with it instead of coolness awarm, spicy smell. There was morefoliage when Dick reached the foot of aprojecting spur, for a dark belt of forest

rolled down the hill; and by and by he sawa big tent, that gleamed with a softenedradiance like a paper lantern, among aclump of palms. It seemed to be welllighted inside, and Dick rememberedhaving heard orders for electric wires tobe connected with the power-house at thedam.

Fuller obviously meant to give hisdaughter all the civilized comfortpossible, and Dick was glad he had beenable to find a clean duck suit, though hewas not sure he had succeeded inremoving all the oily grime from his face.Nothing could be done with his hands. Theknuckles were scarred, the nails broken,and the black grease from the engine hadworked into his skin. Still, this did not

matter much, because he had graduallyovercome his fastidiousness and it wasnot likely that Miss Fuller would noticehim.

She was, however, sitting outside the tent,from which an awning extended so as toconvert its front into a covered veranda,and Dick was half surprised when shegave him a smile of recognition thatwarranted his taking off his hat. ThenFuller, beckoning him to come forward,switched on another lamp and the light fellon a table covered with plans. Dickstopped when he reached it and waited,not knowing how his employer meant toreceive him.

“Sit down,” said Fuller, indicating achair, and then gave him one of the plans,

some paper, and a fountain pen. “Studythat piece of digging and let me know theweight of stuff to be moved, the number ofmen you’d use, and what you think the jobwould cost.”

Dick set to work, and at once becameabsorbed. Twenty minutes passed and hedid not move or speak, nor did he see thesmile with which Ida answered Fuller’slook. In another ten minutes he put downthe pen and gave Fuller his calculations.

“I think that’s near it, sir. I’m reckoning onthe use of colored peons.”

Fuller nodded. “You haven’t left muchmargin for what we call contingencies.But they’re going to bring us some coffee.Will you take a cigar?”

A Chinaman brought out a silver coffee-pot on a tray, which he placed on a foldingtable in front of Ida, and since it was twoor three yards from the other, Dick got upwhen she filled the cups. She gave himtwo, which he carried back, but remainedwhere she was, within hearing but farenough away not to obtrude her societyupon the others. Dick, who lighted hiscigar, felt grateful to Fuller. It was sometime since he had met people of anyrefinement on friendly terms, and until hetook up his quarters in the locomotiveshed had been living in squalor and dirt.

There was not much furniture outside thetent, but the neat folding tables,comfortable canvas chairs, delicate china,and silver coffee-pot gave the place a

luxurious look, and though Miss Fullerwas, so to speak, outside the circle, thepresence of a well-dressed, attractive girlhad its charm. Indeed, Dick felt halfembarrassed by the pleasantness of hissurroundings. They were unusual andreminded him poignantly of the privilegeshe had enjoyed in England.

“Where did you learn to make thesecalculations?” Fuller asked after a time.

“In the British Army, Royal Engineers,”Dick answered with a flush.

“Were you an officer?”

Dick had dreaded the question. It lookedas if truthfulness would cost him much; buthe determined that his new friends shouldknow the worst.

“Yes.”

“Then why did you quit?”

Dick glanced at Ida, and imagined that shewas interested, though she did not look up.

“I was turned out, sir.”

“Ah!” said Fuller, without surprise. “MayI ask why? It’s not impertinent curiosity.”

“I was sent with some important papers,which I lost. This was bad enough, butthere was some ground for suspecting thatI had stolen them.”

“Do you know how they were lost?”

Dick was grateful for the way the questionwas put, since it hinted that Fuller did notdoubt his honesty.

“No,” he said. “That is, I have a notion,but I’m afraid I’ll never quite find out.”

Fuller did not reply for a minute or two,and Dick, whose face was rather hot,glanced back at Ida. Her eyes were nowfixed on him with quiet interest, andsomething in her expression indicatedapproval.

“Well,” said Fuller, “I’m going to giveyou a chance of making good, because ifyou had done anything crooked, youwouldn’t have told me that tale. You’llquit driving the locomotive andsuperintend on a section of the dam. I’mnot satisfied with the fellow who’s now incharge. He’s friendly with the dago sub-contractors and I suspect I’m beingrobbed.”

Dick’s eyes sparkled. His foot was on theladder that led to success; and he did notmean to stay at the bottom. Moreover, itcaused him an exhilarating thrill to feelthat he was trusted again.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” he said gratefully.

“Very well; you’ll begin to-morrow, andcan use the rooms behind the iron officeshack. But there’s something you haveforgotten.”

Dick looked at him with a puzzled air; andFuller laughed.

“You haven’t asked what I’m going to payyou yet.”

“No,” said Dick. “To tell the truth, itdidn’t seem to matter.”

“Profession comes first?” Fullersuggested. “Well, that’s right, but I’vehired professional men, engineering andmedical experts, who charged pretty high.Anyhow, here’s my offer—”

Dick was satisfied, as was Fuller. Thelatter was often generous and would nothave taken unfair advantage of Dick’snecessity, but he did not object toengaging a talented young man atsomething below the market rate.

“While I’m here you’ll come over twice aweek to report,” he resumed. “And now ifthere’s anything you’d like to ask.”

“First of all, I owe you a dollar,” Dickremarked, putting the money on the table.“The pay-clerk wouldn’t take it, becausehe said it would mix up his accounts. I’m

glad to pay you back, but this doesn’tcancel the debt.”

“It wasn’t a big risk. I thought you lookedplayed out.”

“I was played out and hungry. In fact, ittook me five minutes to make up my mindwhether I’d pay the agent who gave meyour address his fee, because it meantgoing without a meal.”

Fuller nodded. “Did you hesitate again,after you knew you’d got the job?”

“I did. When we were hustled on boardthe steamer, there was nobody at thegangway for a few moments and I felt Iwanted to run away. There didn’t seem tobe any reason for this, but I very nearlywent.”

“That kind of thing’s not quite unusual,”Fuller answered with a smile. “In myearly days, when every dollar was ofconsequence, I often had a bad time afterI’d made a risky deal. Used to think I’dbeen a fool, and I’d be glad to pay a smartfine if the other party would let me out.Yet if he’d made the proposition, Iwouldn’t have clinched with it.”

“Such vacillation doesn’t seem logical, ina man,” Ida interposed. “Don’t youpractical people rather pride yourselveson being free from our complexities? StillI suppose there is an explanation.”

“I’m not a philosopher,” Fuller replied.“If you have the constructive faculty, it’syour business to make things and notexamine your feelings; but my

explanation’s something like this—Whenyou take a big risk you have a kind ofunconscious judgment that tells you ifyou’re right, but human nature’s weak, andscares you really don’t believe in begin togrip. Then it depends on your nervewhether you make good or not.”

“Don’t they call it sub-conscious?” Idaasked. “And how does that judgmentcome?”

“I guess it’s built up on past experience,on things you’ve learned long since andstored away. In a sense, they’re done with,you don’t call them up and argue fromthem; but all the same, they’re the drivingforce when you set your teeth and goahead.”

Ida looked at Dick. “That can’t apply to

us, who have no long experience to fallback upon.”

“I’ve only made one venture of the kind,but I’ve just discovered that it turned outright.”

Fuller smiled. “That’s neat.” Then heturned to Ida. “But I wasn’t talking aboutwomen. They don’t need experience.”

“Sometimes you’re merely smart, andsometimes you’re rather deep, but I can’tdecide which you are just now,” Idarejoined. “However, I expect you’relonging to get back to the plans.”

“No,” said Fuller. “They have to bethought of, but life isn’t all a matter ofbuilding dams. Now I’m getting old, I’vefound that out.”

“And you? Have you any opinion on thesubject?” Ida asked Dick.

Dick hesitated, wondering whether shemeant to put him at his ease or wasamused by his seriousness.

“I don’t imagine my views are worth muchand they’re not very clear. In a way, ofcourse, it’s plain that Mr. Fuller’s right—”

“But after all, building dams and removingrocks may very well come first?”

Dick pondered this. So far, his professionhad certainly come first. He was not a prigor a recluse, but he found engineeringmore interesting than people. Now hecame to think of it, he had been proud ofHelen’s beauty, but she had not stirred him

much or occupied all his thoughts. Indeed,he had only once been overwhelminglyconscious of a woman’s charm, and thatwas in Kenwardine’s garden. He had losthis senses then, but did not mean to letanything of the kind happen again.

“Well,” he said diffidently, “so long asyou’re content with your occupation, itdoesn’t seem necessary to makeexperiments and look for adventures. Iexpect it saves you trouble to stick to whatyou like and know.”

He noted Ida’s smile, and was silentafterwards while she argued with herfather. He did not want to obtrude himself,and since they seemed to expect him tostay, it was pleasant enough to sit andlisten.

The air was getting cooler and the moonhad risen and cast a silver track across thesea. The distant rumble of the surf cameup the hillside in a faint, rhythmic beat,and the peaks above the camp had grownin distinctness. A smell of spice driftedout of the jungle, and Dick, who was tired,was sensible of a delightful languor. Thefuture had suddenly grown bright andbesides this, Ida’s gracious friendlinesshad given him back his confidence andself-respect. He was no longer an outcast;he had his chance of making good andregaining the amenities of life that he hadlearned to value by their loss. He wasvery grateful to the girl and Fuller, but atlength took his leave and returned to thelocomotive shed with a light heart and aspringy step.

Next morning he began his new work withkeen energy. It absorbed him, and as thedam slowly rose in a symmetrical curve ofmolded stone, its austere beautycommanded his attention. Hitherto he hadgiven utility the leading place, but achange had begun the night he sat beneaththe copper-beech with Clare Kenwardine.The design of the structure was good, butDick determined that the work should bebetter, and sometimes stopped in the midstof his eager activity to note the fine,sweeping lines and silvery-gray luster ofthe concrete blocks. There were soft lightsat dawn and when the sun sank in whichthe long embankment glimmered as ifcarved in mother-of-pearl.

In the meantime, he went to Fuller’s tent

twice a week and generally met Ida there.Once or twice, he pleaded with hisemployer for extra labor and cement toadd some grace of outline to the dam, and,although this was unproductiveexpenditure, Fuller agreed.

“I like a good job, but it’s going to costhigh if you mean to turn out a work of art,”he said. “However, if Bethune thinks thenotion all right, I suppose I’ll have toconsent.”

Dick colored, and wondered whether hehad been given a hint, for Bethune was hissuperior and a man of ability.

“He doesn’t object, sir.”

“That’s good,” Fuller replied with atwinkle. “Still, if you hustle him too much,

you’ll make him tired.”

Dick did not smile, because he did notknow how far it was wise to go, but hesuspected that Bethune had been tiredbefore he came to the dam. The latter wasgenerally marked by an air of languidindifference, and while his work was welldone he seldom exceeded his duty.

Next evening Dick went to see Bethuneand found him lying in a hammock hungbetween the posts of the veranda of hisgalvanized iron hut. A syphon and a tallglass filled with wine in which a lump ofice floated, stood on a table within hisreach, and an open book lay upside downupon the floor. He wore white ducktrousers, a green shirt of fine material, anda red sash very neatly wound round his

waist. His face was sunburned, but thefeatures were delicately cut and his hands,which hung over the edge of the hammock,were well cared for.

“Mix yourself a drink,” he said to Dick.“There’s a glass and some ice in thebureau inside. Anyhow my steward boyput some there.”

Dick, who went into the hut, came backwith a grin. “There’s a bit of wet blanket,but the ice has gone. It seems to have runinto your papers.”

“They’ll dry,” Bethune said tranquilly.“You had better put some of the gaseosain the wine; it’s sour Spanish tinto. Thenif you like to pick up the book, I’ll readyou some François Villon. There was redblood in that fellow and it’s a pity he’s

dead. You get into touch with him betterbeside the Spanish Main than you can inNew York.”

“I never heard of him, and perhaps I oughtto explain——”

“What you came for? Then go ahead andease your mind. It’s business first withyou.”

“It occurred to me that I had perhaps takentoo much upon myself now and then. Youare my chief, of course, and I don’t wantto look pushing.”

“That shows good taste,” Bethuneremarked. “But how are you going to getover the difficulty that you are what youcall pushing? Anyhow, I’m surprised itdid occur to you.”

“To tell the truth, it was something Fullersaid——”

“So I imagined! Well, when you go too farI’ll pull you up, but we needn’t botherabout it in the meantime. You wereobviously born a hustler, but you have aningenuousness that disarms resentment. Infact, you quite upset our views of theBritish character.”

“Then the feeling’s mutual,” Dick rejoinedwith a grin. “You don’t harmonize withwhat I’ve seen of Americans.”

“Ours is a big country and we’ve room fordifferent types; but I come from Georgiaand we haven’t all learned to hustle yet inthe South. That’s probably why I’m here,when I could have had a much better paidjob.”

Dick did not doubt this, because he hadseen something of the other’smathematical powers. He was not a foolat figures himself, but Bethune could solveby a flash of genius problems that cost himlaborious calculation. It was strange thatsuch a man should be content to make avery modest use of his talents.

“I suppose you have met Miss Fuller,”Bethune resumed.

“Yes,” said Dick. “She made thingspleasant for me when I first went to thetent. I like her very much.”

“Miss Fuller has most of the New Englandvirtues, including a stern sense of herresponsibility. I expect you don’t know ifshe shares her father’s good opinion ofyourself.”

“I don’t know what Fuller’s opinion is,”Dick replied awkwardly.

Bethune laughed. “Well, he’s given you agood job. But why I asked was this: ifMiss Fuller’s quite satisfied about you,she’ll probably put her maverick brotherin your charge. She came here not longago with the object of finding out if I wassuited for the post, and I imagined learnedsomething about me in a quiet way. It wasa relief when she obviously decided that Iwasn’t the proper man. The girl hasintelligence. If she had asked me, I couldhave recommended you.”

“Do you know much about her brother?”

“I’ve learned something. The lad’s abreakaway from the sober Fuller type; andI think his views of life rather agree with

mine. However, perhaps we had better letMiss Fuller tell you what she thinks fit.And now would you like some FrançoisVillon?”

“No,” said Dick firmly. “I want to see thatMoran turns out his gang at sunrise andmust get back.”

“Pick me up the book, anyhow,” Bethunereplied, and laughed good-humoredlywhen Dick left him.

CHAPTER VII

DICK UNDERTAKES ARESPONSIBILITY

The glare of the big arc-lights flooded thebroad, white plaza when Dick crossed iton his way to the Hotel Magellan. Theinhabitants of Santa Brigida had finishedtheir evening meal and, as was theircustom, were taking the air and listeningto the military band. They were of manyshades of color and different styles ofdress, for dark-skinned peons in plainwhite cotton, chattering negroes, and

grave, blue-clad Chinamen mingled withthe citizens who claimed to spring fromEuropean stock. These, however, for themost part, were by no means white, andthough some derived their sallow skinfrom Andalusian and Catalan ancestors,others showed traces of Carib origin.

The men were marked by Southern grace;the younger women had a dark, languorousbeauty, and although their dress was, as arule, an out of date copy of Parisianmodes, their color taste was good, and thecreamy white and soft yellow becamethem well. A number of the men worewhite duck, with black or red sashes andPanama hats, but some had Spanish cloaksand Mexican sombreros.

Flat-topped houses, colored white and

pink and lemon, with almost unbrokenfronts, ran round the square. A few hadgreen lattices and handsome iron gates tothe arched entrances that ran like a tunnelthrough the house, but many showed noopening except a narrow slit of barredwindow. Santa Brigida was old, and thepart near the plaza had been built fourhundred years ago.

Dick glanced carelessly at the crowd ashe crossed the square. He liked the music,and there was something interesting andexotic in the play of moving color, but hismind was on his work and he wonderedwhether he would find a man he wanted atthe hotel. One could enter it by a Moorisharch that harmonized with the Easternstyle of its front; but this had been added,

and he went in by the older tunnel andacross the patio to the open-frontedAmerican bar that occupied a spacebetween the balcony pillars.

He did not find his man, and after orderingsome wine, lighted a cigarette and lookedabout while he waited to see if the fellowwould come in. One or two steamshipofficers occupied a table close by, aFrenchman was talking excitedly to ahandsome Spanish half-breed, and a fat,red-faced German with spectacles satopposite a big glass of pale-colored beer.Dick was not interested in these, but hisglance grew keener as it rested on aSpaniard, who had a contract at theirrigation works, sitting with one ofFuller’s storekeepers at the other end of

the room. Though there was no reason theSpaniard should not meet the man in town,Dick wondered what they were talkingabout, particularly since they had chosen atable away from everybody else.

The man he wanted did not come, and byand by he determined to look for him inthe hotel. He went up an outside staircasefrom the patio, round which the buildingran, and had reached a balcony when hemet Ida Fuller coming down. She stoppedwith a smile.

“I am rather glad to see you,” she said.“My father, who went on board theAmerican boat, has not come back as hepromised, and the French lady he left mewith has gone.”

“I’m going off to a cargo vessel to ask

when they’ll land our cement, and wemight find out what is keeping Mr. Fuller,if you don’t mind walking to the mole.”

They left the hotel and shortly afterwardsreached the mole, which sheltered theshallow harbor where the cargo lighterswere unloaded. The long, smooth swellbroke in flashes of green and goldphosphorescence against the concretewall, and the moon threw a broad,glittering track across the sea. There wasa rattle of cranes and winches and a noisytug was towing a row of barges towardsthe land. The measured thud of her enginesbroke through the splash of water flung offthe lighters’ bows as they lurched acrossthe swell, and somebody on board wassinging a Spanish song. Farther out, a

mailboat’s gently swaying hull blazedwith electric light, and astern of her thereflection of a tramp steamer’s cargo lampquivered upon the sea. By and by, Dick,who ascertained that Fuller had notlanded, hailed a steam launch, which camepanting towards some steps.

“I can put you on board the Americanboat, and bring you back if Mr. Fullerisn’t there,” he said, and when Ida agreed,helped her into the launch.

Then he took the helm while the firemanstarted the engine, and the craft wentnoisily down the harbor. As they passedthe end of the mole, Dick changed hiscourse, and the white town rose clear toview in the moonlight behind the sparklingfringe of surf. The flat-topped houses rose

in tiers up a gentle slope, interspersedwith feathery tufts of green and drapedhere and there with masses of creepers.Narrow gaps of shadow opened betweenthem, and the slender square towers of thecathedral dominated all, but in places asteep, red roof struck a picturesque butforeign note.

“Santa Brigida has a romantic look atnight,” Dick remarked. “Somehow itreminds me of pictures of the East.”

“That is not very strange,” Ida answeredwith a smile. “The flat roof and straight,unbroken wall is the oldest type ofarchitecture. Man naturally adopted itwhen he gave up the tent and began tobuild.”

“Yes,” said Dick. “Two uprights and a

beam across! You couldn’t get anythingmuch simpler. But how did it come here?”

“The Arabs found it in Palestine and tookit to Northern Africa as the Moslemconquest spread. The cube, however, isn’tbeautiful, and the Moors elaborated it, asthe Greeks had done, but in a differentway. The latter broke the square from thecornices and pillars; the Moors with theSaracenic arch, minarets, and frettedstone, and then forced their model uponSpain. Still the primitive type surviveslongest and the Spaniards brought that tothe New World.”

“No doubt, it’s the explanation. But thehigh, red roofs yonder aren’t Moorish.The flat top would suit the dry East, butthese indicate a country where they need a

pitch that will shed the rain and snow. Infact one would imagine that the originalmodel came from Germany.”

“It really did. Spain was overrun by theVisigoths, who were Teutons.”

“Well,” said Dick, “this is interesting. I’mnot an architect, but construction’s mybusiness, as well as my hobby.”

“Then don’t you think you are a fortunateman?”

“In a sense, perhaps,” Dick answered.“Still, that’s no reason you should bebored for my entertainment.” He pausedand resumed: “I’m grateful because youmean to be kind, as you were the night Imet you first at the tent. Although you hadheard my story, I saw you wanted to make

me feel I was being given a fresh start.”

Ida studied him with a thoughtful calm thathe found embarrassing. “Perhaps I did, butsuppose we talk about something else.”

“Very well. If it’s not bad form, I wasn’tin the least astonished by your lectureabout the roofs, because one finds yourpeople have a breadth of knowledge that’sremarkable. I once showed an old abbeynear our place at home to some Americantourists, and soon saw they knew moreabout its history than I did. There was agirl of seventeen who corrected me onceor twice, and when I went to the library Ifound that she was right. The curious thingis that you’re, so to speak, ratherparochial with it all. One of my Americanemployers treated me pretty well until he

had to make some changes in his business.Took me to his house now and then, and Ifound his wife and daughters knew the oldFrench and Italian cities. Yet they thoughtthem far behind Marlin Bluff, which isreally a horribly ugly place.”

“I know it,” said Ida, laughing. “Still, thephysical attractiveness of a town isn’t it’sonly charm. Besides, are you sure youdon’t mean patriotic when you sayparochial? You ought to sympathize withthe former feeling.”

“I don’t know. Patriotism is difficult whenyour country has no use for you.”

Ida did not reply, and it was a few minuteslater when she said: “I’m glad I met youto-night, because we go home soon andthere’s a favor I want to ask. My brother

is coming out to take a post on theirrigation work and I want you to lookafter him.”

“But he mayn’t like being looked after,and it’s very possible he knows moreabout the work than I do. I’ve only had amilitary training.”

“Jake has had no training at all, and isthree or four years younger than I think youare.”

“Then, of course, I’ll be glad to teach himall I can.”

“That isn’t exactly what I mean, althoughwe want him to learn as much as possibleabout engineering.”

“I don’t see what else I could teach him.”

Ida smiled. “Then I must explain. Jake isrash and fond of excitement and gaysociety. He makes friends easily and truststhose he likes, but this has somedrawbacks because his confidence is oftenmisplaced. Now I don’t think you wouldfind it difficult to gain some influenceover him.”

“And what would you expect me to doafterwards?”

“You might begin by trying to make himsee how interesting his new occupationis.”

“That might be harder than you think,”Dick replied. “Molding concrete anddigging irrigation ditches have afascination for me, but I dare say it’s anunusual taste. Your brother mightn’t like

weighing cement in the hot mixing shedsor dragging a measuring chain about in thesun.”

“It’s very possible,” Ida agreed with ahint of dryness. “I want you to show himwhat it means; make him feel the sense ofpower over material. Jake’s rather boyish,and a boy loves to fire a gun becausesomething startling happens in obedienceto his will when he pulls the trigger. Isn’tit much the same when one gives theorders that shatter massive rocks andmove ponderous stones? However, that’snot all. I want you to keep him at the damand prevent his making undesirablefriends.”

“Though it’s not the thing I’m cut out for,I’ll try,” said Dick, with some hesitation.

“I’m surprised that you should put yourbrother in my charge, after what you knowabout me.”

“You were unfortunate, negligent,perhaps, for once.”

“The trouble is that my friends andrelations seemed to think me dishonest. Atleast, they believed that my getting intodisgrace was quite as bad.”

“I don’t,” said Ida calmly. “What I askwill need some tact, but if you’ll promiseto look after Jake, I shall feel satisfied.”

Dick was silent for the next few moments,watching the phosphorescent foam streamback from the launch’s bows. Then hesaid: “Thank you, Miss Fuller. In a way,it’s embarrassing to feel you trust me; but

I’ll do what I can to deserve it.”

Three or four minutes afterwards thelaunch steamed round the liner’s stern andran into the gloom beneath her tall side.There was a blaze of light above that fellupon the farthest off of the row of boats,past which the launch ran with her enginestopped, and the dark water broke into afiery sparkle as the swell lapped thesteamer’s plates. A man came down theladder when the launch jarred against itsfoot, and Ida, finding that Fuller was stillon board, went up while Dick steamedacross to the cargo-boat that lay withwinches hammering not far off. Aftertalking to her mate, he returned to theharbor, and when he landed, lighted acigarette and studied some alterations that

were being made at the landward end ofthe mole. He had noticed the work as hepassed with Ida, but was now able toexamine it. A number of concrete blocksand cement bags were lying about.

Beckoning a peon who seemed to be thewatchman, Dick gave him a cigarette andasked: “How far are they going to re-facethe mole?”

“As far as the post yonder, señor.”

It was obvious that a large quantity ofcement would be required and Dickresumed: “Who is doing the work?”

“Don Ramon Oliva.”

Dick hid his interest. Ramon Oliva wasthe man he had seen talking to Fuller’sstorekeeper at the hotel.

“Where does one buy cement in thistown?”

“Señor Vaz, the merchant, sells it now andthen.”

Dick let the peon go, and leaving the mole,found Vaz in a café. Sitting down at histable he asked: “Do you keep cement inyour warehouse?”

“Sometimes,” said the other; “when workit is required for is going on. But I sold thelast I had two or three months ago.”

“I believe we run short now and then, butwe have a big lot being landed now. Asour sheds will be pretty full, I could letyou have a quantity if you like.”

“Thanks, but no,” said the merchant. “I donot think anybody would buy it from me

for some time, and it is bad to keep whenone’s store is damp.”

Dick, who drank a glass of wine with him,went away in a thoughtful mood. Hewondered where Don Ramon got hiscement, and meant to find out, though hesaw that caution would be needed. Heowed much to Fuller and had made hismaster’s business his. Now it looked as ifFuller were being robbed and although hehad, no doubt, cunning rogues to dealwith, Dick determined that the thing mustbe stopped. When he returned to the damhe went to Bethune’s hut and found himlying in his hammock.

“Whose duty is it to check thestorekeeper’s lists?” he asked. “I supposeyou strike a balance between the goods

delivered him and the stuff he hands outfor use on the works.”

“It’s done, of course,” said Bethune. “Ihaven’t examined the books myself;François, the Creole clerk, is responsible.However, one would imagine you hadduties enough without taking up another,but if you mean to do so, you had betterbegin soon. Your energy won’t stand thisclimate long.”

“I don’t know what I may do yet,” Dickreplied. “Still, it struck me that our storesmight be sold in the town.”

“I expect they are, to some extent,”Bethune carelessly agreed. “That kind ofthing is hard to stop anywhere, and thesefolks are very smart at petty pilfering.Anyway, you might get yourself into

trouble by interfering and any small theftyou stopped probably wouldn’t pay for thetime you’d have to spend on the job.Leave it alone, and take matters as youfind them, is my advice.”

Dick talked about something else, butwhen he went back to his shack he knewwhat he meant to do.

CHAPTER VIII

AN INFORMAL COURT

One morning, soon after Fuller and hisdaughter had gone home, Dick stood at atable in the testing house behind themixing sheds. The small, galvanized ironbuilding shook with the throb of enginesand rattle of machinery, and now and thena shower of cinders pattered upon theroof; for the big mill that ground up theconcrete was working across the road.The lattice shutters were closed, for thesake of privacy, and kept out the glare,though they could not keep out the heat,

which soaked through the thin, iron walls,and Dick’s face was wet with perspirationas he arranged a number of small concreteblocks. Some of these were broken, andsome partly crushed. Delicate scales andglass measures occupied a neighboringshelf, and a big steel apparatus that lookedrather like a lever weighing machine stoodin the shadow.

Where the draught that came through thelattices flowed across the room, Bethunelounged in a canvas chair, and anotherman, with a quiet, sunburned face, satbehind him. This was Stuyvesant, whoseauthority was only second to Fuller’s.

“Brandon seems to have taken a good dealof trouble, but this kind of investigationneeds the strictest accuracy, and we

haven’t the best of testing apparatus,”Bethune remarked. “I expect he’ll allowthat the results he has got may be to someextent misleading, and I doubt if it’s worthwhile to go on with the matter. Are yousure you have made no mistakes, Dick?”

Dick pondered for a few moments. If hewere right, as he thought he was, thestatements he had to make would lead tothe discharge of the sub-contractor.Remembering his own disgrace, he shrankfrom condemning another. He knew whathe had suffered, and the man might beinnocent although his guilt seemed plain. Itwas a hateful situation, but his duty was toprotect his master’s interests and he couldnot see him robbed.

“You can check my calculations,” he

answered quietly.

“That’s so,” agreed Stuyvesant, whoadded with a dry smile as he notedBethune’s disapproving look: “We candecide about going on with the thing whenwe have heard Brandon.”

“Very well,” said Dick, giving him somepapers, and then indicated two differentrows of the small concrete blocks. “Thesemarked A were made from cement in ourstore; the lot B from some I took fromOliva’s stock on the mole. They weresubjected to the same compressive,shearing, and absorbent tests, and you’llsee that there’s very little difference in theresults. The quality of standard makes ofcement is, no doubt, much alike, but youwouldn’t expect to find that of two

different brands identical. My contentionis that the blocks were made from thesame stuff.”

Stuyvesant crossed the floor and measuredthe blocks with a micrometer gage, afterwhich he filled two of the graduated glassmeasures and then weighed the water.

“Well?” he said to Bethune, who hadpicked up Dick’s calculations.

“The figures are right; he’s only out in asmall decimal.”

Stuyvesant took the papers and comparedthem with a printed form he producedfrom his pocket.

“They correspond with the tests the makerclaims his stuff will stand, and we cantake it that they’re accurate. Still, this

doesn’t prove that Oliva stole the cementfrom us. The particular make is popular onthis coast, and he may have bought aquantity from somebody else. Did youexamine the bags on the mole, Brandon?”

“No,” said Dick, “I had to get my samplesin the dark. If Oliva bought the cement, hemust have kept it for some time, becausethe only man in the town who stocks itsold the last he had three months ago. Thenext thing is our storekeeper’s tallyshowing the number of bags delivered tohim. I sat up half the night trying tobalance this against what he handed outand could make nothing of the entries.”

“Let me see,” said Bethune, and lighted acigarette when Dick handed him a book,and a bundle of small, numbered forms.

“You can talk, if you like,” he added as hesharpened a pencil.

Dick moved restlessly up and down thefloor, examining the testing apparatus, buthe said nothing, and Stuyvesant did notspeak. He was a reserved and thoughtfulman. After a time, Bethune threw thepapers on the table.

“François isn’t much of a bookkeeper,” heremarked. “One or two of the deliveryslips have been entered twice, and at firstI suspected he might have conspired withOliva. Still, that’s against my notion of hischaracter, and I find he’s missed bookingstuff that had been given out, which, ofcourse, wouldn’t have suited the other’splans.”

“You can generally count on a

Frenchman’s honesty,” Stuyvesantobserved. “But do you make the deliveriesex-store tally with what went in?”

“I don’t,” said Bethune dryly. “Here’s thebalance I struck. It shows the storekeeperis a good many bags short.”

He passed the paper across, and Dickexamined it with surprise.

“You have worked this out already fromthe muddled and blotted entries! Do youthink you’ve got it right?”

“I’m sure,” said Bethune, smiling. “I’llprove it if you like. We know how muchcement went into stock. How manymolded blocks of the top course have weput down at the dam?”

Dick told him, and after a few minutes’

calculation Bethune looked up. “Then hereyou are! Our concrete’s a standarddensity; we know the weight of water andsand and what to allow for evaporation.You see my figures agree very closelywith the total delivery ex-store.”

They did so, and Dick no longerwondered how Bethune, whoostentatiously declined to let his workinterfere with his comfort, held his post.The man thought in numbers, using thefigures, as one used words, to express hisknowledge rather than as a means ofobtaining it by calculation. Dick imaginedthis was genius.

“Well,” said Stuyvesant, “I guess we hadbetter send for the storekeeper next.”

“Get it over,” agreed Bethune. “It’s an

unpleasant job.”

Dick sent a half-naked peon to look for theman, and was sensible of some nervousstrain as he waited for his return. He hatedthe task he had undertaken, but it must becarried out. Bethune, who had at first triedto discourage him, now looked interested,and Dick saw that Stuyvesant wasresolute. In the meanwhile, the shed hadgrown suffocatingly hot, his face andhands were wet with perspiration, and therumble of machinery made his head ache.He lighted a cigarette, but the tobaccotasted bitter and he threw it away. Thenthere were footsteps outside andStuyvesant turned to him.

“We leave you to put the thing through.You’re prosecutor.”

Dick braced himself as a man came in andstood by the table, looking at the otherssuspiciously. He was an American, but hisface was heavy and rather sullen, and hiswhite clothes were smeared with dust.

“We have been examining your stock-book,” said Dick. “It’s badly kept.”

The fellow gave him a quick glance. “Mr.Fuller knows I’m not smart at figuring, andif you want the books neat, you’ll have toget me a better clerk. Anyhow, I’ve myown tally and allow I can tell you whatstuff I get and where it goes.”

“That is satisfactory. Look at this list andtell me where the cement you’re short ofhas gone.”

“Into the mixing shed, I guess,” said the

other with a half-defiant frown.

“Then it didn’t come out. We haven’t gotthe concrete at the dam. Are there any fullbags not accounted for in the shed?”

“No, sir. You ought to know the bags areskipped right into the tank as the millgrinds up the mush.”

“Very well. Perhaps you’d better consultyour private tally and see if it throws anylight upon the matter.”

The man took out a note-book and whilehe studied it Bethune asked, “Will you letme have the book?”

“I guess not,” said the other, who shut thebook with a snap, and then turned andconfronted Dick.

“I want to know why you’re getting afterme!”

“It’s fairly plain. You’re responsible forthe stores and can’t tell us what hasbecome of a quantity of the goods.”

“Suppose I own up that my tally’s gotmixed?”

“Then you’d show yourself unfit for yourjob; but that is not the worst. If you hadmade a mistake the bags wouldn’t vanish.You had the cement, it isn’t in the storeand hasn’t reached us in the form ofconcrete. It must have gone somewhere.”

“Where do you reckon it went, if it wasn’tinto the mixing shed?”

“To the Santa Brigida mole,” Dickanswered quietly, and noting the man’s

abrupt movement, went on: “What wereyou talking to Ramon Oliva about at theHotel Magellan?”

The storekeeper did not reply, but theanger and confusion in his face wereplain, and Dick turned to the others.

“I think we’ll send for Oliva,” saidStuyvesant. “Keep this fellow here untilhe comes.”

Oliva entered tranquilly, though his blackeyes got very keen when he glanced at hissullen accomplice. He was picturesquelydressed, with a black silk sash round hiswaist and a big Mexican sombrero.Taking out a cigarette, he remarked that itwas unusually hot.

“You are doing some work on the town

mole,” Dick said to him. “Where did youget the cement?”

“I bought it,” Oliva answered, with asurprised look.

“From whom?”

“A merchant at Anagas, down the coast.But, señores, my contract on the mole is amatter for the port officials. I do not seethe object of these questions.”

“You had better answer them,” Stuyvesantremarked, and signed Dick to go on.

Dick paused for a moment or two,remembering how he had confronted hisjudges in a tent in an English valley. Thescene came back with poignantdistinctness.

He could hear the river brawling amongthe stones, and feel his Colonel’s stern,condemning gaze fixed upon his face. Forall that, his tone was resolute as he asked:“What was the brand of the cement youbought?”

“The Tenax, señor,” Oliva answered witha defiant smile.

Then Dick turned to the others with agesture which implied that there was nomore to be said, and quietly sat down.Tenax was not the brand that Fuller used,and its different properties would haveappeared in the tests. The sub-contractorhad betrayed himself by the lie, and hisaccomplice looked at him with disgust.

“You’ve given the thing away,” hegrowled. “Think they don’t know what

cement is? Now they have you fixed!”

There was silence for the next minutewhile Stuyvesant studied some figures inhis pocket-book. Then he wrote upon aleaf, which he tore out and told Dick togive it to Oliva.

“Here’s a rough statement of your accountup to the end of last month, Don Ramon,”he said. “You can check it and afterwardshand the pay-clerk a formal bill, broughtup to date, but you’ll notice I have chargedyou with a quantity of cement that’smissing from our store. Your engagementwith Mr. Fuller ends to-day.”

Oliva spread out his hands with adramatic gesture. “Señores, this is ascandal, a grand injustice! You understandit will ruin me? It is impossible that I

submit.”

“Very well. We’ll put the matter into thehands of the Justicia.”

“It is equal,” Oliva declared with passion.“You have me marked as a thief. The portofficials give me no more work and myfriends talk. At the Justicia all the worldhears my defense.”

“As you like,” said Stuyvesant, but thestorekeeper turned to Oliva with acontemptuous grin.

“I allow you’re not such a blamed fool,”he remarked. “Take the chance they’vegiven you and get from under before theroof falls in.”

Oliva pondered for a few moments, hiseyes fixed on Stuyvesant’s unmoved face,

and then shrugged with an air of injuredresignation.

“It is a grand scandal, but I make my bill.”

He moved slowly to the door, but pausedas he reached it, and gave Dick a quick,malignant glance. Then he went out andthe storekeeper asked Stuyvesant: “Whatare you going to do with me?”

“Fire you right now. Go along to the pay-clerk and give him your time. I don’t knowif that’s all we ought to do; but we’ll besatisfied if you and your partner get offthis camp.”

“I’ll quit,” said the storekeeper, whoturned to Dick. “You’re a smart kid, butwe’d have bluffed you all right if the foolhad allowed he used the same cement.”

Then he followed Oliva, and Stuyvesantgot up.

“That was Oliva’s mistake,” he remarked.“I saw where you were leading him andyou put the questions well. Now,however, you’ll have to take on his dutiesuntil we get another man.”

They left the testing-house, and as Bethuneand Dick walked up the valley the formersaid: “It’s my opinion that you wereimprudent in one respect. You showed thefellows that it was you who found themout. It might have been better if you had,so to speak, divided the responsibility.”

“They’ve gone, and that’s the mostimportant thing,” Dick rejoined.

“From the works. It doesn’t follow that

they’ll quit Santa Brigida. Payne, thestorekeeper, is of course an Americantough, but I don’t think he’ll make trouble.He’d have robbed us cheerfully, but Iexpect he’ll take his being found out as arisk of the game; besides, Stuyvesant willhave to ship him home if he asks for hispassage. But I didn’t like the look Olivagave you. These dago half-breeds are arevengeful lot.”

“I’m not in the town often and I’ll becareful if I go there after dark. To tell thetruth, I didn’t want to interfere, but Icouldn’t let the rogues go on with theirstealing.”

“I suppose not,” Bethune agreed. “Thetrouble about doing your duty is that itoften costs you something.”

CHAPTER IX

JAKE FULLER

A month after Fuller sailed his son arrivedat Santa Brigida, and Dick, who met himon the mole, got something of a surprisewhen a handsome youth landed and camestraight towards him. Jake Fuller wasobviously very young, but had an ease ofmanner and a calm self-confidence thatwould have done credit to an elderly manof the world. His clothes showed nicetaste, and there was nothing about him toindicate the reckless scapegrace Dick hadexpected.

“You’re Brandon, of course,” he said ashe shook hands. “Glad to meet you. Knewyou a quarter of a mile off.”

“How’s that?” Dick asked. “You haven’tseen me before.”

“For one thing, you’re stamped Britisher;then you had a kind of determined look, asif you’d come down to yank me right off tothe irrigation ditches before I’d time to runloose in the city. Matter of duty to you,and you were going to put it through.”

Dick said nothing, and Jake laughed.“Well, that’s all right; I guess we’ll hit it!And now we’ll put out when you like. Ilaid in a pretty good breakfast on the boat;I like smart service and a well-chosenmenu, and don’t suppose you have eitherat the camp.”

“They might be better,” Dick agreed,feeling that he had promised Miss Fullermore than he might be able to perform.Then he told a peon to take Jake’s luggageand led the way to a mule carriage at theend of the mole.

“I didn’t expect to ride in a transfer-wagon,” Jake remarked. “Haven’t you anyautos yet? If not, I’ll indent for one whenthe next stock order goes home.”

“Perhaps you had better wait until you seethe roads.”

“You’re surely British,” Jake replied. “Ifyou’d been an American, you’d get the carfirst and make the roads fit in. However,you might tell the ancient dago to get amove on.”

Dick was silent for the next few minutes.On the whole, he thought he would likeFuller, and made some allowance for theexcitement he, no doubt, felt at beginninghis career in a foreign country, but nonefor any wish to impress his companion. Itwas unlikely that the self-possessed ladwould care what Dick thought of him,although it looked as if he meant to befriendly. Then as the sweating mulesslowly climbed the rutted track out of thetown Dick began to point out the changinglevel of the land, the ravines, orbarrancos, that formed natural drainagechannels from the high watershed, and theinfluence of drought and moisture on thecultivation. Jake showed a polite interest,but inquired what amusements were to behad in Santa Brigida, about which Dick

gave him as little information as possible.If he had understood Miss Fuller’s hints,the Spanish city was no place for herbrother.

Jake spent the day following Dick aboutthe works and made no complaint aboutthe heat and dust, though he frowned whena shower of cement or a splash of oil fellupon his clothes. It was obvious that heknew nothing about engineering, but thequestions he asked indicated keenintelligence and Dick was satisfied. Aroom adjoining the latter’s quarters hadbeen prepared for the newcomer, and theysat, smoking, on the veranda after theevening meal.

“Do you think you’ll like your work?”Dick asked.

“I’ve got to like it, and it might be worse.Since I’m not allowed to draw or modelthings, I can make them, and I guess that’sanother form of the same talent, though it’sconsiderably less interesting than thefirst.”

“But perhaps more useful,” Dicksuggested.

“Well, I don’t know. Our taste is prettybarbarous, as a rule, and you can’t claimthat yours is more advanced, but I allowthat the Spaniards who built Santa Brigidahad an eye for line and color. These dagoshave a gift we lack; you can see it in theway they wear their clothes. My notion isthat it’s some use to teach yourcountrymen to admire beauty and grace.We’re great at making things, but there’s

no particular need to make them ugly.”

“Then you’re a bit of an artist?”

“I meant to be a whole one and might havemade good, although the old man has notmuch use for art. Unfortunately, however,I felt I had to kick against theconventionality of the life I led and theprotest I put up was a little too vigorous. Itmade trouble, and in consequence, myfolks decided I’d better be an engineer. Icouldn’t follow their arguments, but had toacquiesce.”

“It’s curious how you artists claim to beexempt from the usual rules, as if youwere different from the rest of us.”

“We are different,” Jake rejoined with atwinkle. “It’s our business to see the truth

of things, while you try to make it fit yourformulas about what you think is mostuseful to yourself or society. A formula’slike bad spectacles; it distorts the sight,and yours is plainly out of focus. Forexample, I guess you’re satisfied with thewhite clothes you’re wearing.”

“I don’t know that it’s important, butwhat’s the matter with them?”

“Well,” said Jake, with a critical glance,“they’re all wrong. Now you’ve got goodshoulders, your figure’s well balanced,and I like the way you hold your head, butyour tailor has spoiled every prominentline. I’ll show you some time when Imodel you in clay.” He paused andgrinned. “I guess the Roman sentinel posewould suit you best, as I noted it when you

stood on the mole waiting for me,determined to do your duty at any cost.Besides, there is something of the soldierabout you.”

“I wish you’d stop rotting,” said Dickwith a touch of awkwardness, though hesaw that Jake knew nothing about hisleaving the army. “Was it your father’snotion that you should be an engineer?”

“He thinks so,” Jake answered, grinning.“My opinion is that you have to thank mysister Ida for the job of looking after me.She made this her business until I went toYale, when, of course, she lost control.Ida has a weakness for managing people,for their good, but you ought to take it as adelicate compliment that she passed me onto you.”

“After all, Miss Fuller’s age must benearly the same as mine,” Dick remarked.

“I see what you mean, but in somerespects she’s much older. In fact, I guessI could give you a year or two myself. Butit seems to me you’ve kind of wilted sincewe began to talk. You’ve gone slack andyour eyes look heavy. Say, I’m sorry ifI’ve made you tired.”

“I don’t think you had much to do with it,”said Dick. “My head aches and I’ve ashivery feeling that came on about thistime last night. A touch of malarial fever,perhaps; they get it now and then in thetown, though we ought to be free from iton the hill. Anyhow, if you don’t mind, I’llget off to bed.”

He went away, and Jake looked about the

veranda and the room that opened on to it.There was a canvas chair or two, afolding table, a large drawing board on atrestle frame, and two cheap, tin lamps. Itwas obvious that Dick thought of nothingmuch except his work and had a Spartandisregard for comfort.

“A good sort, but it’s concrete first andlast with him,” Jake remarked. “GuessI’ve got to start by making this shack fitfor a white man to live in.”

Dick passed a restless night, but felt betterwhen he began his work on the dam nextmorning, though he did not touch the smallhard roll and black coffee his coloredsteward had put ready for him. The airwas fresh, the jungle that rolled down thehill glittered with dew, and the rays of the

red sun had, so far, only a pleasantwarmth. Cranes were rattling,locomotives snorted as they moved theponderous concrete blocks and hauledaway loads of earth, and a crowd ofpicturesque figures were busy about thedam. Some wore dirty white cotton andragged crimson sashes; the dark limbs ofothers projected from garments of vividcolor. Dick drove the men as hard as hewas able. They worked well, chatteringand laughing, in the early morning, andthere was much to be done, becauseOliva’s dismissal had made a difference.

The men flagged, as the sun got higher,and at length Dick sat down in the thinshade of a tree. The light was now intense,the curving dam gleamed a dazzling

pearly-gray through a quivering radiance,and the water that had gathered behind itshone like molten silver. One couldimagine that the pools reflected heat aswell as light. Dick’s eyes ached, and for afew minutes he let them rest upon theglossy, green jungle, and the belts ofcultivation down the hill.

Then he roused himself, because he mustwatch what was going on. The greatblocks must be properly fitted into place,and one could not trust the dusky laborersto use the care that was needed; besides,they were getting slack, and the freshblocks the locomotives brought wouldsoon begin to accumulate. Since thiswould mean extra handling andconsequent expense, the track must be kept

clear. Still, Dick wished noon wouldcome, for his head ached badly and he feltthe heat as he had not felt it before.

It was hard to force himself to begin againafter the short mid-day rest, but he becamea little more vigorous as the sun sank andthe shadow of the black cordilleralengthened across the valley. After dinner,when he lounged on the veranda, theheadache and lassitude returned, and helistened to Jake’s talk vacantly and soonwent to bed. He knew he was not well, butwhile malarial fever was not unusual inthe neighborhood people seldom took it ina virulent form, and as there was a gooddoctor at Santa Brigida he determined toconsult him when he had occasion to visitthe town. As it happened, a crane broke

next day, and when evening came he setoff to inquire if new castings could bemade for it in the Spanish foundry. Whilehe waited for an engine to take him downthe line, Jake announced his intention ofcoming.

“I’ve never been round a Spanish town,”he said.

“You’re not going round a Spanish townnow, if I can prevent it,” Dick rejoined.“However, I suppose I can’t order you offyour father’s locomotive.”

Jake smiled. “You can resent my takingthe line you hint at when I’ve done so, butI guess one must make allowances. You’regetting the fever badly, partner.”

“It’s the heat,” Dick answered in an

apologetic tone. “Anyhow, SantaBrigida’s a dirty, uninteresting place.”

“I expect your ideas of what’s interestingare different from mine. Concrete’s allright in the daytime, though you can havetoo much of it then, but you want to pleaseyour eye and relax your brain at night.”

“I was afraid of something of the kind. Buthere’s the locomotive. Get up, if you’recoming.”

Dick was silent as the engine jolted downthe track, for he was feverish and hiscompanion’s talk irritated him. Besides,he had promised Ida Fuller to take care ofthe lad and knew something of the licensethat ruled in the city. Jake seemed to claimthe supposititious privileges of the artistictemperament, and there were wine-shops,

gamblers, pretty Creole girls with easymanners, and ragged desperados whocarried knives, in Santa Brigida. In fact, itoffered too many opportunities forromantic adventures. In consequence,Dick went to the Hotel Magellan, whichthey reached after walking from the end ofthe line, and took Jake into the bar.

“You had better stop here; I won’t belonger than I can help,” he said. “They’llmake you a rather nice iced drink ofCanary tinto.”

“Just so,” Jake replied. “Tinto’s a thin,sour claret, isn’t it? In New York not longago you could get iced buttermilk. Can’tsay I was fond of it, but I reckon it’s asexhilarating as the other stuff.”

Dick left him with some misgivings and

went about his business. It was eighto’clock in the evening and the foundrywould be closed, but he knew where themanager lived and went to his house,which was situated in the older part of thecity. He had not taken Jake because he hadto pass some of the less reputable cafésand gambling dens and thought itundesirable that the lad should knowwhere they were. The foundry managerwas not at home, but a languishing youngwoman with a thickly powdered face, whocalled her mother before she conferredwith Dick, told him where Don Tomas hadgone, and Dick set off again in search ofthe café she named.

A half moon hung low in the clear sky,but, for the most part, its light only

reached a short distance down the whiteand yellow fronts of the flat-toppedhouses. These got light and air from thecentral courtyard, or patio, and the outerwalls were only pierced by one or twovery narrow windows at some height fromthe ground. The openings were markedhere and there by a faint glow from within,which was often broken by a shadowyfemale form leaning against the bars andspeaking softly to another figure on thepavement below.

There were few street lamps, and inplaces the houses crowded in upon thenarrow strip of gloom through which Dickpicked his way with echoing steps. Mostof the citizens were in the plaza, and thestreets were quiet except for the measured

beat of the surf and the distant music of theband. A smell of rancid oil and garlic,mingled with the strong perfumes Spanishwomen use, hung about the buildings, butnow and then a puff of cooler air flowedthrough a dark opening and brought with itthe keen freshness of the sea. Once themelancholy note of a guitar came downfrom a roof and somebody began to sing ina voice that quivered with fantastictremolos.

Dick went carefully, keeping as far aspossible away from the walls. In SantaBrigida, all white men were supposed tobe rich, and the honesty of the darker partof its mixed population was open to doubt.Besides, he had learned that the fair-skinned Northerners were disliked. They

brought money, which was needed, intothe country, but they also broughtmachines and business methods thatthreatened to disturb the tranquillity theLatin half-breed enjoyed. The latter mustbe beaten in industrial strife and,exchanging independence for higherwages, become subject to a morevigorous, mercantile race. The half-breedsseemed to know this, and regarded theforeigners with jealous eyes. For all that,Dick carried no weapons. A pistol largeenough to be of use was an awkward thingto hide, and he agreed with Bethune that towear it ostentatiously was more likely toprovoke than avoid attack.

Once he thought he was followed, butwhen he stopped to look round, the

shadowy figure behind turned into a sidestreet, and he presently found the man hewas in search of in a quiet café. He spentsome time explaining the drawings of thepatterns that would be required beforeDon Tomas undertook to make thecastings, and then languidly leaned back inhis chair. His head had begun to acheagain and he felt strangely limp and tired.The fever was returning, as it did at night,but he roused himself by and by and set offto visit the doctor.

On his way he passed the casino and, tohis surprise, saw Jake coming down thesteps. Dick frowned when they met.

“How did you get in?” he asked. “It’s therule for somebody to put your name downon your first visit.”

“So it seemed,” said Jake. “There are,however, ways of getting over suchdifficulties, and a dollar goes somedistance in this country; much farther, infact, than it does in ours.”

“It’s some consolation to think you’ve hadto pay for your amusement,” Dickanswered sourly.

Jake smiled. “On the contrary, I found itprofitable. You make a mistake that’scommon with serious folks, by taking itfor granted that a cheerful character marksa fool.” He put his hand in his pocket andbrought it out filled with silver coin. “Say,what do you think of this?”

“Put the money back,” Dick said sharply,for there was a second-rate wine-shop notfar off and a group of untidy half-breeds

lounged about its front. Jake, however,took out another handful of silver.

“My luck was pretty good; I reckon it sayssomething for me that I knew when tostop.”

He jingled the money as he passed thewine-shop, and Dick, looking back,thought one of the men inside got up, butnobody seemed to be following themwhen they turned into another street. Thiswas the nearest way to the doctor’s, but itwas dark and narrow, and Dick did notlike its look.

“Keep in the middle,” he warned Jake.

They were near the end of the street whentwo men came out of an arch and waitedfor them.

“Have you a match, señor?” one who helda cigarette in his hand asked.

“No,” said Dick suspiciously. “Keepback!”

“But it is only a match we want,” said theother, and Jake stopped.

“What’s the matter with giving him one?Wait till I get my box.”

He gave it to the fellow, who struck amatch, and after lighting his cigarette heldit so that the faint illumination touchedDick’s face.

“Thanks, señor,” said the half-breed, whoturned to his companion as he added softlyin Castilian: “The other.”

Dick understood. It was not Jake but

himself who was threatened; and hethought he knew why.

“Look out for that fellow, Jake!” he cried.“Get back to the wall!”

Jake, to Dick’s relief, did as he was told,but next moment another man ran out of thearch, and somebody in the darkness calledout in Castilian. Dick thought he knew thevoice; but the men were behind him now,and he turned to face them. The nearesthad his hand at his ragged sash, and Dicksaw that he must act before the longSpanish knife came out. He struck hard,leaning forward as he did so, and the manreeled back; but the other two closed withhim, and although his knuckles jarred as asecond blow got home, he felt a stingingpain high up in his side. His breathing

suddenly got difficult, but as he staggeredtowards the wall he saw Jake dash his softhat in the face of another antagonist andspring upon the fellow. There seemed tobe four men round them and one was likeOliva, the contractor; but Dick’s sight wasgoing and he had a fit of coughing that washorribly painful.

He heard Jake shout and footsteps fartherup the street, and tried to lean against thehouse for support, but slipped and fellupon the pavement. He could neither seenor hear well, but made out that hisassailants had slunk away and men wererunning towards Jake, who stood, callingfor help, in the middle of the street.Shortly afterwards a group of dark figuresgathered round and he heard confused

voices. He thought Jake knelt down andtried to lift him, but this brought on a stabof burning pain and he knew nothing more.

CHAPTER X

LA MIGNONNE

A cool sea breeze blew through the half-opened lattice, and a ray of sunshinequivered upon the ocher-colored wall,when Dick awoke from a refreshing sleep.He felt helplessly weak, and his side,which was covered by a stiff bandage,hurt him when he moved, but his head wasclear at last and he languidly lookedabout. The room was spacious, but ratherbare. There was no carpet, but a rug madea blotch of cool green on the smooth, darkfloor. Two or three religious pictures hung

upon the wall and he noted how the softblue of the virgin’s dress harmonized withthe yellow background. An arch at one endwas covered by a leather curtain likethose in old Spanish churches, but it hadbeen partly drawn back to let the aircirculate. Outside the hooked-back latticehe saw the rails of a balcony, and acrossthe narrow patio a purple creeper spreadabout a dazzling white wall.

All this was vaguely familiar, because itwas some days since Dick had recoveredpartial consciousness, though he had beentoo feeble to notice his surroundings muchor find out where he was. Now he studiedthe room with languid interest as he triedto remember what had led to his beingbrought there. The scanty furniture was

dark and old; and he knew the wrinkled,brown-faced woman in black who sat byt he window with a dark shawl woundround her head. She had a place in hisconfused memories; as had anotherwoman with a curious lifeless face and anunusual dress, who had once or twicelifted him and done something to hisbandages. Still, it was not of her Dick wasthinking. There had been somebody else,brighter and fresher than either, who satbeside him when he lay in fevered painand sometimes stole in and vanished aftera pitiful glance.

A bunch of flowers stood upon the table;and their scent mingled with the faintsmell of decay that hung about the room.Lying still, Dick heard the leather curtain

rustle softly in the draught, muffled soundsof traffic, and the drowsy murmur of thesurf. Its rhythmic beat was soothing and hethought he could smell the sea. By and byhe made an abrupt move that hurt him as avoice floated into the room. It wassingularly clear and sweet, and he thoughthe knew it, as he seemed to know thesong, but could not catch the words andthe singing stopped. Then light footstepspassed the arch and there was silenceagain.

“Who’s that?” he asked with an energy hehad not been capable of until then.

“La mignonne,” said the old woman witha smile that showed her thick, red lips andfirm white teeth.

“And who’s Mignonne?”

“La, la!” said the woman soothingly.“C’est ma mignonne. But you jess go tosleep again.”

“How can I go to sleep when I’m notsleepy and you won’t tell me what I wantto know?” Dick grumbled, but the womanraised her hand and began to sing an oldplantation song.

“I’m not a child,” he protested weakly.“But that’s rather nice.”

Closing his eyes, he tried to think. Hisnurse was not a Spanish mulatto, as herdark dress suggested. It was more likelythat she came from Louisiana, where theold French stock had not died out; butDick felt puzzled. She had spoken,obviously with affection, of ma mignonne;but he was sure the singer was no child of

hers. There was no Creole accent in thatclear voice, and the steps he heard werelight. The feet that had passed his doorwere small and arched; not flat like anegro’s. He had seen feet of the formerkind slip on an iron staircase and brush, inpretty satin shoes, across a lawn on whichthe moonlight fell. Besides, a girl whoseskin was fair and whose movements werestrangely graceful had flitted about hisroom. While he puzzled over this he wentto sleep and on waking saw with a start ofpleasure Jake sitting near his bed. Hisnurse had gone.

“Hullo!” he said. “I’m glad you’ve come.There are a lot of things I want to know.”

“The trouble is I’ve been ordered not totell you much. It’s a comfort to see you

looking brighter.”

“I feel pretty well. But can you tell mewhere I am and how I got there?”

“Certainly. We’ll take the last questionfirst. Somebody tore off a shutter and wecarried you on it. I guess you know yougot a dago’s knife between your ribs.”

“I seem to remember something like that,”said Dick; who added with awkwardgratitude: “I believe the brutes wouldhave killed me if you hadn’t been there.”

“It was a pretty near thing. Does it strikey o u as curious that while you madeyourself responsible for me I had to takecare of you?”

“You did so, anyhow,” Dick remarkedwith feeling. “But go on.”

“Somebody brought a Spanish doctor,who said you couldn’t be moved much andmust be taken into the nearest house, sowe brought you here.”

“Where is ‘here’? That’s what I want toknow?”

“My orders are not to let you talk. We’vechanged our positions now; you’ve got tolisten. For all that, you ought to be thankfulyou’re not in the Santa Brigida hospital,which was too far away. It’s threehundred years old and smells older. Feltas if you could bake bricks in it, and noair gets in.”

“But what were you doing at thehospital?”

“I went to see a fellow who told me he’d

been fired out of our camp. He came upjust after the dago knifed you, and knockedout the man I was grappling with, but gotan ugly stab from one of the gang. Wedidn’t find this out until we had disposedof you. However, he’s nearly all right andthey’ll let him out soon.”

“Ah!” said Dick. “That must be Payne, thestorekeeper. But, you see, I fired him.Why did he interfere?”

“I don’t know. He said something aboutyour being a white man and it was three toone.”

Dick pondered this and then his thoughtsresumed their former groove.

“Who’s the mulatto woman in black?”

“She’s called Lucille. A nice old thing,

and seems to have looked after you well.When I came in she was singing you tosleep. Voice all gone, of course, but I’dlike to write down the song. It soundedlike the genuine article.”

“What do you mean by the ‘genuinearticle’?”

“Well, I think it was one of the plantationlullabies they used to sing before the war;not the imitation trash fourth-ratecomposers turned out in floods some yearsago. That, of course, has no meaning, butthe other expressed the spirit of the race.Words quaint coon-English with a touchof real feeling; air something after thestyle of a camp-meeting hymn, and yetsomehow African. In fact, it’s uniquemusic, but it’s good.”

“Hadn’t I another nurse?” Dick asked.

Jake laughed. “I ought to haveremembered that you’re not musical.There was a nursing sister of somereligious order.”

“I don’t mean a nun,” Dick persisted. “Agirl came in now and then.”

“It’s quite possible. Some of them aresympathetic and some are curious. Nodoubt, you were an interesting patient;anyhow, you gave the Spanish doctorplenty trouble. He was rather anxious fora time; the fever you had before the dagostabbed you complicated things.” Jakepaused and looked at his watch. “NowI’ve got to quit. I had orders not to staylong, but I’ll come back soon to see howyou’re getting on.”

Dick let him go and lay still, thinkingdrowsily. Jake had apparently not meantto answer his questions. He wanted toknow where he was and had not been told.It looked as if his comrade had beenwarned not to enlighten him; but there wasno reason for this. Above all, he wanted toknow who was the girl with the sweetvoice and light step. Jake, who hadadmitted that she might have been in hisroom, had, no doubt, seen her, and Dickcould not understand why he should refuseto speak of her. While he puzzled about ithe went to sleep again.

It was dark when he awoke, and perhapshe was feverish or his brain wasweakened by illness, for it reproducedpast scenes that were mysteriously

connected with the present. He was in astrange house in Santa Brigida, for heremarked the shadowy creeper on the walland a pool of moonlight on the dark floorof his room. Yet the cornfields in anEnglish valley, through which he drove hismotor bicycle, seemed more real, and hecould see the rows of stocked sheavesstretch back from the hedgerows he spedpast. Something sinister and threateningawaited him at the end of the journey, buthe could not tell what it was. Then thecornfields vanished and he was crossing aquiet, walled garden with a girl at hisside. He remembered how the moonlightshone through the branches of a tree andfell in silver, splashes on her white dress.Her face was in the shadow, but he knewit well.

After a time he felt thirsty, and moving hishead looked feebly about the room. Aslender, white figure sat near the wall, andhe started, because this must be the girl hehad heard singing.

“I wonder if you could get me somethingto drink?” he said.

The girl rose and he watched her intentlyas she came towards him with a glass.When she entered the moonlight his heartgave a sudden throb.

“Clare, Miss Kenwardine!” he said, andawkwardly raised himself on his arm.

“Yes,” she said, “I am Clare Kenwardine.But drink this; then I’ll put the pillowsstraight and you must keep still.”

Dick drained the glass and lay down

again, for he was weaker than he thought.

“Thanks! Don’t go back into the dark. Youhave been here all the time? I mean, sinceI came.”

“As you were seldom quite consciousuntil this morning, how did you know?”

“I didn’t know, in a way, and yet I did.There was somebody about who made methink of England, and then, you see, Iheard you sing.”

“Still,” she said, smiling, “I don’t quiteunderstand.”

“Don’t you?” said Dick, who felt he mustmake things plain. “Well, you stole in andout and sat here sometimes when Lucillewas tired. I didn’t exactly notice you—perhaps I was too ill—but I felt you were

there, and that was comforting.”

“And yet you are surprised to see menow!”

“I can’t have explained it properly. Ididn’t know you were Miss Kenwardine;but I felt I knew you and kept trying toremember, but I was feverish and my mindwouldn’t take your image in. For all that,something told me it was really therealready, and I’d be able to recognize it if Iwaited. It was like a photograph thatwasn’t developed.”

“You’re feverish now,” Clare answeredquietly. “I mustn’t let you talk so much.”

“You’re as bad as Jake; he wouldn’tanswer my questions,” Dick grumbled.“Then, you see, I want to talk.”

Clare laughed, as if she found it a relief todo so. “That doesn’t matter if it will doyou harm.”

“I’ll be very quiet,” Dick pleaded. “I’llonly speak a word or two now and then.But don’t go away!”

Clare sat down, and after a few minutesDick resumed: “You passed my door to-day, and it’s curious that I knew your step,though, if you can understand, withoutactually recognizing it. It was as if I wasdreaming something that was real. Theworst of being ill is that your brain getsworking independently, bringing things upon its own account, without your telling it.Anyhow, I remembered the iron steps withthe glow of the window through thecurtain, and how you slipped—you wore

little white shoes, and the moonlight shonethrough the branches on your dress.”

He broke off and frowned, for a vague,unpleasant memory obtruded itself.Something that had had disastrousconsequences had happened in the quietgarden, but he could not remember what itwas.

“Why did Lucille call you ma mignonne?”he asked. “Doesn’t it mean a pettedchild?”

“Not always. She was my nurse when Iwas young.”

“Then you have lived here before?”

“Not here, but in a country where there arepeople like Lucille, though it’s long ago.But you mustn’t speak another word. Go to

sleep at once!”

“Then stay where I can see you and I’lltry,” Dick answered; and although he didnot mean to do so, presently closed hiseyes.

Clare waited until his quiet breathingshowed that he was asleep, and thencrossed the floor softly and stood lookingdown on him. There was light enough tosee his face and it was worn and thin. Hisweakness moved her to pity, but there wassomething else. He had remembered thatnight in England, he knew her step andvoice, and his rambling talk had causedher a thrill, for she remembered the nightin England well. Brandon had shieldedher from a man whom she had goodground for wishing to avoid. He had, no

doubt, not quite understood the situation,but had seen that she needed help andchivalrously offered it. She knew he couldbe trusted and had without much hesitationmade her unconventional request. He hadthen been marked by strong vitality andcheerful confidence, but he was ill andhelpless now, and his weakness appealedto her as his vigor had not done. He was,in a way, dependent on her, and Clare feltglad this was so. She blushed as shesmoothed the coverlet across hisshoulders and then quietly stole away.

There was no sea breeze next morning andthe sun shone through a yellow haze thatseemed to intensify the heat. The whitewalls reflected a curious subdued lightthat was more trying to the eyes than the

usual glare, and the beat of the surf wasslow and languid. The air was still andheavy, and Dick’s fever, which had beenabating, recovered force. He was hot andirritable, and his restlessness did notvanish until Clare came in at noon.

“I’ve been watching for you sincedaybreak, and you might have comebefore,” he said. “Lucille means well, butshe’s clumsy. She doesn’t help one to bequiet as you do.”

“You’re not quiet,” Clare answered in areproving tone. “Lucille is a very goodnurse; better than I am.”

“Well,” said Dick in a thoughtful tone,“perhaps she is, in a way. She neverupsets the medicine on my pillow, as youdid the last time. The nasty stuff got into

my hair——”

Clare raised her hand in remonstrance.“You really mustn’t talk.”

“I’m going to talk,” Dick answereddefiantly. “It’s bad for me to keep puzzlingover things, and I mean to get themstraight. Lucille’s very patient, but sheisn’t soothing as you are. It rests one’seyes to look at you, but that’s notaltogether why I like you about. I expectit’s because you knew I hadn’t stolenthose plans when everybody else thought Ihad. But then why did I tear your letterup?”

Clare made an abrupt movement. Sheknew he must be kept quiet and his brainwas not working normally, but hisstatement was disturbing.

“You tore it up?” she asked, with somecolor in her face.

“Yes,” said Dick in a puzzled voice, “Itore it all to bits. There was a reason,though I can’t remember it. In fact, I can’tremember anything to-day. But don’t gooff if I shut my eyes for a minute: itwouldn’t be fair.”

Clare turned her head, but except for thisshe did not move, and it was a relief whenafter a few disjointed remarks his voicedied away. She was moved to pity, but fora few moments she had quivered in thegrasp of another emotion. It was obviousthat Dick did not altogether know what hewas saying, but he had shown her plainlythe place she had in his mind, and sheknew she would not like to lose it.

Half an hour later Lucille came in quietlyand Clare went away.

CHAPTER XI

CLARE GETS A SHOCK

For a week the stagnant heat brooded overSanta Brigida, sucking up the citizens’energy and leaving limp depression.Steaming showers that broke at intervalsfilled the air with an enervating damp, andthe nights were worse than the days. Nodraught crept through the slits of windowsinto the darkened houses, and the mustysmell that characterizes old Spanish citiesgathered in the patios and swelteringrooms.

This reacted upon Dick, who had a badrelapse, and for some days caused hisnurses grave anxiety. There was sicknessin the town and the doctor could spare butlittle time to him, the nursing sister wasoccupied, and Dick was, for the most part,left to Clare and Lucille. They did whatthey could; the girl with pitiful tenderness,the mulatto woman with patience andsome skill, but Dick did not know untilafterwards that, in a measure, he owed hislife to them. Youth, however, was on hisside, the delirium left him, and after lyingfor a day or two in half-conscious stupor,he came back to his senses, weak but withunclouded mind. He knew he was gettingbetter and his recovery would not be long,but his satisfaction was marred by keenbitterness. Clare had stolen his papers and

ruined him.

Point by point he recalled his visit toKenwardine’s house, trying to findsomething that could be urged in the girl’sdefense and when he failed seekingexcuses for her; but her guilt was obvious.He hated to own it, but the proof wasoverwhelming. She knew the power of herbeauty and had treated him as a confidingfool. He was not revengeful and had beena fool, but it hurt him badly to realize thatshe was not what he had thought. Hehardly spoke to Lucille, who came in nowand then, and did not ask for Clare, as hehad hitherto done. The girl did not knowthis because she was taking the rest sheneeded after a week of strain.

Jake was his first visitor next morning and

Dick asked for a cigarette.

“I’m well enough to do what I like again,”he said. “I expect you came here now andthen.”

“I did, but they would only let me see youonce. I suppose you know you were veryill?”

“Yes; I feel like that. But I dare say yousaw Kenwardine. It looks as if this is hishouse.”

“It is. We brought you here because it’snear the street where you got stabbed.”

Dick said nothing for a minute, and thenasked: “What’s Kenwardine doing inSanta Brigida?”

“It’s hard to say. Like other foreigners in

the town, he’s probably here for what hecan get; looking for concessions or atrading monopoly of some kind.”

“Ah!” said Dick. “I’m not sure. But do youlike him?”

“Yes. He strikes me as a bit of anadventurer, but so are the rest of them, andhe’s none the worse for that. Trying to getahead of dago politicians is a risky job.”

“Is he running this place as a gamblinghouse?”

“No,” said Jake warmly; “that’s much toostrong. There is some card play evenings,and I’ve lost a few dollars myself, but thestakes are moderate and anything he makeson the bank wouldn’t be worth while. Heenjoys a game, that’s all. So do other

people; we’re not all like you.”

“Did you see Miss Kenwardine when youcame for a game?”

“I did, but I want to point out that I cameto see you. She walked through the patio,where we generally sat, and spoke to uspleasantly, but seldom stopped more thana minute. A matter of politeness, Iimagine, and no doubt she’d sooner havestayed away.”

“Kenwardine ought to keep her away. Onewonders why he brought the girl to a placelike this.”

Jake frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps yourremark is justified, in a sense, but youmustn’t carry the idea too far. He’s notusing his daughter as an attraction; it’s

unthinkable.”

“That is so,” agreed Dick.

“Well,” said Jake, “I allow that ourtalking about it is in pretty bad taste, butmy view is this: Somehow, I don’t thinkKenwardine has much money and he mayfeel he has to give the girl a chance.”

“To marry some gambling rake?”

“No,” said Jake sharply. “It doesn’tfollow that a man is trash because hestakes a dollar or two now and then, andthere are some pretty straight fellows inSanta Brigida.” Then he paused andgrinned. “Take yourself, for example;you’ve talent enough to carry you someway, and I’m open to allow you’re aboutas sober as a man could be.”

“As it happens, I’m not eligible,” Dickrejoined with a touch of grimness.“Kenwardine wouldn’t think me worthpowder and shot, and I’ve a disadvantageyou don’t know of yet.”

“Anyhow, it strikes me you’re taking arather strange line. Kenwardine let usbring you here when you were badly hurt,and Miss Kenwardine has given herself agood deal of trouble about you. In fact, Iguess you owe it to her that you’rerecovering.”

“That’s true, I think,” said Dick. “I can’tremember much about my illness, but I’vea notion that she took very good care ofme. Still, there’s no reason I should giveher further trouble when I’m getting better,and I want you to make arrangements for

carrying me back to the dam. Perhaps ahammock would be the best plan.”

“You’re not fit to be moved yet.”

“I’m going, anyhow,” Dick replied withquiet resolution.

After trying in vain to persuade him, Jakewent away, and soon afterwardsKenwardine came in. The light was strongand Dick noted the touches of gray in hisshort, dark hair, but except for this helooked young and athletic. His figure wasgraceful, his dress picturesque, for hewore white duck with a colored silk shirtand red sash, and he had an easy, good-humored manner. Sitting down close by,he gave Dick a friendly smile.

“I’m glad to find you looking better, but

am surprised to hear you think of leavingus,” he said.

“My work must be falling behind andStuyvesant has nobody to put in myplace.”

“He sent word that they were getting onall right,” Kenwardine remarked.

“I’m afraid he was overstating it with agood motive. Then, you see, I have givenyou and Miss Kenwardine a good deal oftrouble and can’t take advantage of yourkindness any longer. It would be an unfairadvantage, because I’m getting well. Ofcourse I’m very grateful, particularly as Ihave no claim on you.”

“That is a point you can hardly urge. Youare a countryman, and your cousin is a

friend of mine. I think on that ground weare justified in regarding you as anacquaintance.”

Dick was silent for a few moments. Hefelt that had things been different he wouldhave liked Kenwardine. The man hadcharm and had placed him under a heavyobligation. Dick admitted this frankly, butcould not stay any longer in his house. Hehad, however, a better reason for goingthan his dislike to accepting Kenwardine’shospitality. Clare had robbed him and hemust get away before he thought of her toomuch. It was an awkward situation and hefeared he had not tact enough to deal withit.

“The truth is, I’ve no wish to renew myacquaintance with people I met in

England, and I went to America in orderto avoid doing so,” he said. “You knowwhat happened before I left.”

“Yes; but I think you are exaggerating itsimportance. After all, you’re not the onlyman who has, through nothing worse thancarelessness, had a black mark put againsthis name. You may have a chance yet ofshowing that the thing was a mistake.”

“Then I must wait until the chance comes,”Dick answered firmly.

“Very well,” said Kenwardine. “Sincethis means you’re determined to go, wemust try to make it as easy as possible foryou. I’ll see the doctor and Mr. Fuller.”

He went out, and by and by Clare came inand noted a difference in Dick. He had

generally greeted her as eagerly as hisweakness allowed, and showed hisdependence on her, but now his face washard and resolute. The change waspuzzling and disturbing.

“My father tells me you want to go away,”she remarked.

“I don’t want to, but I must,” Dickanswered with a candor he had not meantto show. “You see, things I ought to belooking after will all go wrong at thedam.”

“Isn’t that rather egotistical?” Clare askedwith a forced smile. “I have seen Mr.Bethune, who doesn’t look overworkedand probably doesn’t mind the extra duty.In fact, he said so.”

“People sometimes say such things, butwhen they have to do a good deal morethan usual they mind very much. Anyhow,it isn’t fair to ask them, and that’s onereason for my going away.”

Clare colored and her eyes began tosparkle. “Do you think we mind?”

“I don’t,” Dick answered awkwardly,feeling that he was not getting on verywell. “I know how kind you are and thatyou wouldn’t shirk any trouble. But still——”

“Suppose we don’t think it a trouble?”

Dick knitted his brows. It was hard tobelieve that the girl who sat watching himwith a puzzled look was an adventuress.He had made her blush, and had come

near to making her angry, while anadventuress would not have shown herfeelings so easily. The light that shonethrough the window touched her face, andhe noted its delicate modeling, the purityof her skin, and the softness of her eyes.The sparkle had gone, and they werepitiful. Clare had forgiven his ingratitudebecause he was ill.

“Well,” he said, “what you think doesn’talter the fact that I have given you troubleand kept you awake looking after me atnight. I wasn’t always quite sensible, but Iremember how often you sat here andbrought me cool things to drink. Indeed, Iexpect you helped to save my life.” Hepaused and resumed in a voice thatthrilled with feeling: “This wasn’t all you

did. When I was having a very bad timebefore I left England and everybodybelieved the worst, you sent me a lettersaying that you knew I was innocent.”

“You told me you tore up the letter,” Clareremarked quietly.

Dick’s face got red. He had not taken theline he meant to take and was obviouslymaking a mess of things.

“Are you sure I wasn’t delirious?”

“I don’t think so. Did you tear up theletter?”

He gave her a steady look, for he saw thathe must nerve himself to face the situation.It was unfortunate that he was too ill todeal with it properly, but he must do thebest he could.

“I’ll answer that if you’ll tell me how youknew I was innocent.”

Clare looked puzzled, as if his manner hadjarred; and Dick saw that she was notacting. Her surprise was real. He couldnot understand this, but felt ashamed ofhimself.

“In a sense, of course, I didn’t know,” sheanswered with a touch of embarrassment.“Still, I felt you didn’t steal the plans. Itseemed impossible.”

“Thank you,” said Dick, who was silentfor the next few moments. He thoughtcandor was needed and had meant to befrank, but he could not wound the girl whohad taken care of him.

“Anyhow, I lost the papers and that was

almost as bad,” he resumed feebly. “Whenyou get into trouble people don’t caremuch whether you’re a rogue or a fool.You’re in disgrace and that’s all thatmatters. However, I mustn’t bore you withmy grumbling. I’m getting better and theywant me at the dam.”

“Then I suppose you must go as soon asyou are able,” Clare agreed, and began totalk about something else.

She left him soon and Dick lay still,frowning. It had been a trying interviewand he doubted if he had come through itwell, but hoped Clare would makeallowances for his being ill. He did notwant her to think him ungrateful, and hadcertainly no wish to punish her for whathad happened in the past. But she had

stolen his papers and he must get away.

He was taken away next morning, with theconsent of the doctor, who agreed that theair would be more invigorating on the hill.Clare did not come down to see him offand Dick felt strangely disappointed,although she had wished him a quickrecovery on the previous evening.Kenwardine, however, helped him into hishammock and after the carriers startedwent back to the room where Clare sat.He noted that although the sun was hot theshutter was not drawn across the window,which commanded the street.

“Well,” he said, “Mr. Brandon has goneand on the whole that’s a relief.”

“Do you know why he went so soon?”Clare asked.

Kenwardine sat down and looked at herthoughtfully. He was fond of Clare, thoughhe found her something of anembarrassment now and then. He was notrich and ran certain risks that made hisability to provide for her doubtful, whileshe had no marked talents to fall backupon if things went against him. Therewas, however, the possibility that herbeauty might enable her to make a goodmarriage, and although Kenwardine couldnot do much at present to forward thisplan he must try to prevent anyundesirable entanglement. Brandon, forexample, was not to be thought of, but hesuspected Clare of some liking for theyoung man.

“Yes,” he said, “I know and sympathize

with him. In fact, I quite see why he foundit difficult to stay. The situation was onlytolerable while he was very ill.”

“Why?”

Kenwardine meant to tell her. It wasbetter that she should smart a little nowthan suffer worse afterwards.

“As soon as he began to get betterBrandon remembered that we were thecause of his misfortunes. You can see howthis complicated things.”

“But we had nothing to do with them,”Clare said sharply. “What made him thinkwe had?”

“It’s not an illogical conclusion when heimagines that he lost his papers in ourhouse.”

Clare got up with a red flush in her faceand her eyes sparkling. “It’s absurd!” sheexclaimed. “He must have been deliriouswhen he said so.”

“He didn’t say so in as many words;Brandon has some taste. But he wasperfectly sensible and intended me to seewhat he meant.”

The girl stood still, trembling with angerand confusion, and Kenwardine felt sorryfor her. She was worse hurt than he hadexpected, but she would rally.

“But he couldn’t have been robbed whilehe was with us,” she said with an effort,trying to understand Dick’s point of view.“He hadn’t an overcoat, so the plans musthave been in the pocket of his uniform,and nobody except myself was near him.”

She stopped with a gasp as sheremembered how she had slipped andseized Dick. In doing so her hand hadcaught his pocket. Everything was plainnow, and for a few moments she feltoverwhelmed. Her face blanched, but hereyes were hard and very bright.

Kenwardine left her, feeling that Brandonwould have cause to regret his rashness ifhe ever attempted to renew heracquaintance, and Clare sat down andtried to conquer her anger. This wasdifficult, because she had received anintolerable insult. Brandon thought her athief! It was plain that he did so, becausethe change in his manner bore out all herfather had said, and there was no otherexplanation. Then she blushed with shame

as she realized that from his point of viewher unconventional behavior warrantedhis suspicions. She had asked him to comeinto the garden and had written him a note!This was horribly foolish and she mustpay for it, but she had been mistaken abouthis character.

She had, as a rule, avoided the men shemet at her father’s house and had shrunkwith frank repugnance from one or two,but Brandon had seemed different. Thenhe had watched for her when he was illand she had seen his heavy eyes getbrighter when she came into the room.Now, however, she understood him better.She had some beauty and he had beensatisfied with her physical attractiveness,although he thought her a thief. This was

worse than the coarse admiration of themen she had feared. It was unthinkablyhumiliating, but her anger helped her tobear the blow. After all, she was fortunatein finding out what Brandon was, since itmight have been worse had the knowledgecome later. There was a sting in this thatrankled, but she could banish him from herthoughts now.

CHAPTER XII

DICK KEEPS HIS PROMISE

Twinkling points of light that pierced thedarkness lower down the hill marked thecolored laborers’ camp, and voices cameup faintly through the still air. The rangecut off the land breeze, though now andthen a wandering draught flickered downthe hollow spanned by the dam, and asmell of hot earth and damp jungle hungabout the veranda of Dick’s iron shack.He sat near a lamp, with a drawing-boardon his knee, while Jake lounged in acanvas chair, smoking and occasionally

glancing at the sheet of figures in his hand.His expression was gloomily resigned.

“I suppose you’ll have things ready for usin the morning,” Dick said presently.

“François’ accounts are checked and I’msurprised to find them right, but I imaginethe other calculations will not be finished.Anyhow, it won’t make much differencewhether they are or not. I guess you knowthat!”

“Well, of course, if you can’t manage todo the lot——”

“I don’t say it’s impossible,” Jakerejoined. “But beginning work beforebreakfast is bad enough, without going onafter dinner. Understand that I don’tquestion your authority to find me a job at

night; it’s your object that makes me kick.”

“We want the calculations made beforewe set the boys to dig.”

“Then why didn’t you give me them whenI was doing nothing this afternoon?” Jakeinquired.

“I hadn’t got the plans ready.”

“Just so. You haven’t had things ready forme until after dinner all this week. Asyou’re a methodical fellow that’s ratherstrange. Still, if you really want the jobfinished, I’ll have to do my best, but I’mgoing out first for a quarter of an hour.”

“You needn’t,” Dick said dryly. “If youmean to tell the engineer not to wait, he’sgone. I sent him off some time since.”

“Of course you had a right to send himoff,” Jake replied in an injured tone. “ButI don’t quite think——”

“You know what your father pays for coal.Have you reckoned what it costs to keep alocomotive two or three hours for thepurpose of taking you to Santa Brigida andback?”

“I haven’t, but I expect the old manwouldn’t stand for my running a privatecar,” Jake admitted. “However, it’s theonly way of getting into town.”

“You were there three nights last week.What’s more, you tried to draw your nextmonth’s wages. That struck me assignificant, though I’d fortunatelyprovided against it.”

“So I found out. I suppose I ought to begrateful for your thoughtfulness but can’tsay I am. I wanted the money because Ihad a run of wretched luck.”

“At the casino?”

“No,” said Jake, shortly.

“Then you were at Kenwardine’s; I’ll ownthat’s what I wanted to prevent. He’s adangerous man and his house is no placefor you.”

“One would hardly expect you to speakagainst him. Considering everything, it’sperhaps not quite in good taste.”

Dick put down the drawing-board andlooked at him steadily. “It’s very badtaste. In fact, I find myself in a veryawkward situation. Your father gave me a

fresh start when I needed it badly, andagreed when your sister put you in mycharge.”

“Ida’s sometimes a bit officious,” Jakeremarked.

“Well,” Dick continued, “I promised tolook after you, and although I didn’t knowwhat I was undertaking, the promise mustbe kept. It’s true that Kenwardineafterwards did me a great service; but hisplacing me under an obligation doesn’trelieve me from the other, which I’dincurred first.”

Somewhat to his surprise, Jake noddedagreement. “No, not from your point ofview. But what makes you thinkKenwardine is dangerous?”

“I can’t answer. You had better take it forgranted that I know what I’m talking about,and keep away from him.”

“As a matter of fact, it was MissKenwardine to whom you owed most,”Jake said meaningly. “Do you suggest thatshe’s dangerous, too?”

Dick frowned and his face got red, but hesaid nothing, and Jake resumed: “There’sa mystery about the matter and you knowmore than you intend to tell; but if youblame the girl for anything, you’reabsolutely wrong. If you’ll wait a minute,I’ll show you what I mean.”

He went into the shack and came backwith a drawing-block which he stoodupon the table under the lamp, and Dicksaw that it was a water-color portrait of

Clare Kenwardine. He did not know muchabout pictures, but it was obvious thatJake had talent. The girl stood in the patio,with a pale-yellow wall behind her, overwhich a vivid purple creeper trailed. Herlilac dress showed the graceful lines ofher slender figure against the harmoniousbackground, and matched the soft blue ofher eyes and the delicate white and pink ofher skin. The patio was flooded withstrong sunlight, but the girl lookedstrangely fresh and cool.

“I didn’t mean to show you this, but it’sthe best way of explaining what I think,”Jake said with some diffidence. “I’mweak in technique, because I haven’t beentaught, but I imagine I’ve got sensibility.It’s plain that when you paint a portrait

you must study form and color, but there’ssomething else that you can only feel. Idon’t mean the character that’s expressedby the mouth and eyes; it’s somethingvague and elusive that psychologists giveyou a hint of when they talk about theaura. Of course you can’t paint it, butunless it, so to speak, glimmers throughthe work, your portrait’s dead.”

“I don’t quite understand; but sometimesthings do give you an impression you can’tanalyze,” Dick replied.

“Well, allowing for poor workmanship,all you see here’s harmonious. The bluesand purples and yellows tone, and yet, ifI’ve got the hot glare of the sun right, youfeel that the figure’s exotic and doesn’tbelong to the scene. The latter really

needs an olive-skinned daughter of thepassionate South; but the girl I’ve paintedought to walk in the moonlight throughcool forest glades.”

Dick studied the picture silently, for heremembered with disturbing emotion thathe had felt what Jake suggested when hefirst met Clare Kenwardine. She wasfrank, but somehow remote and aloof;marked by a strange refinement he couldfind no name for. He was glad that Jakedid not seem to expect him to speak, butafter a few moments the latter wrapped upthe portrait and took it away. When hecame back he lighted a cigarette.

“Now,” he said, “do you think it’ssensible to distrust a girl like that?Admitting that her father makes a few

dollars by gambling, can you believe thatliving with him throws any taint on her?”

Dick hesitated. Clare had stolen hispapers. This seemed impossible, but itwas true. Yet when he looked up heanswered as his heart urged him:

“No. It sounds absurd.”

“It is absurd,” Jake said firmly.

Neither spoke for the next minute, and thenDick frowned at a disturbing thought.Could the lad understand Clare so wellunless he loved her?

“That picture must have taken some timeto paint. Did Miss Kenwardine often posefor you?”

“No,” said Jake, rather dryly; “in fact, she

didn’t really pose at all. I had trouble toget permission to make one or two quicksketches, and worked up the rest frommemory.”

“Yet she let you sketch her. It wassomething of a privilege.”

Jake smiled in a curious way. “I think Isee what you mean. Miss Kenwardinelikes me, but although I’ve some artistictaste, I’m frankly flesh and blood; andthat’s not quite her style. She finds me alittle more in harmony with her than therest, but this is all. Still, it’s something tome. Now you understand matters, perhapsyou won’t take so much trouble to keep meout of Santa Brigida.”

“I’ll do my best to keep you away fromKenwardine,” Dick declared.

“Very well,” Jake answered with a grin.“You’re quite a good sort, though you’renot always very smart, and I can’t blameyou for doing what you think is your duty.”

Then he set to work on his calculationsand there was silence on the veranda.

Dick kept him occupied for the next week,and then prudently decided not to press thelad too hard by finding him work thatobviously need not be done. If he was topreserve his power, it must be used withcaution. The first evening Jake was free hestarted for Santa Brigida, though as therewas no longer a locomotive available, hegot two laborers to take him down the lineon a hand-car. After that he had somedistance to walk and arrived atKenwardine’s powdered with dust. It was

a hot night and he found Kenwardine andthree or four others in the patio.

A small, shaded lamp stood upon the tablethey had gathered round, and the lightsparkled on delicate green glasses and acarafe of wine. It touched the men’s whiteclothes, and then, cut off by the shade, lefttheir faces in shadow and fell upon thetiles. A colored paper lantern, however,hung from a wire near an outside staircaseand Jake saw Clare a short distance away.It looked as if she had stopped in crossingthe patio, but as he came forwardKenwardine got up.

“It’s some time since we have seen you,”he remarked.

“Yes,” said Jake. “I meant to come before,but couldn’t get away.”

“Then you have begun to take yourbusiness seriously?”

“My guardian does.”

“Ah!” said Kenwardine, speaking ratherlouder, “if you mean Mr. Brandon, Icertainly thought him a serious person. Butwhat has this to do with your cominghere?”

“He found me work that kept me busyevenings.”

“With the object of keeping you out ofmischief?”

“I imagine he meant something of thekind,” Jake admitted with a chuckle. Heglanced round, and felt he had been toofrank, as his eyes rested on Clare. Hecould not see her face, but thought she was

listening.

“Then it looks as if he believed we weredangerous people for you to associatewith,” Kenwardine remarked, with asmile. “Well, I suppose we’re notremarkable for the conventional virtues.”

Jake, remembering Dick had insisted thatKenwardine was dangerous, feltembarrassed as he noted that Clare wasnow looking at him. To make thingsworse, he thought Kenwardine had meanther to hear.

“I expect he really was afraid of my goingto the casino,” he answered as carelesslyas he could.

“Though he would not be much relieved tofind you had come to my house instead?

Well, I suppose one must makeallowances for the Puritan character.”

“Brandon isn’t much of a Puritan, and he’scertainly not a prig,” Jake objected.

Kenwardine laughed. “I’m not sure thisexplanation makes things much better, butwe’ll let it go. We were talking about thenew water supply. It’s a harmless subjectand you ought to be interested.”

Jake sat down and stole a glance at Clareas he drank a glass of wine. There wasnothing to be learned from her face, but hewas vexed with Kenwardine, who hadintentionally involved him in an awkwardsituation. Jake admitted that he had notdealt with it very well. For all that, hebegan to talk about the irrigation worksand the plans for bringing water to the

town, and was relieved to see that Clarehad gone when he next looked round.

As a matter of fact, Clare had quietlystolen away and was sitting on a balconyin the dark, tingling with anger andhumiliation. She imagined that she hadbanished Brandon from her thoughts andwas alarmed to find that he had stillpower to wound her. It had been a shockto learn he believed that she had stolen hispapers; but he had now warned hiscompanion against her father and no doubtherself. Jake’s manner when questionedhad seemed to indicate this.

By and by she tried, not to make excusesfor Brandon, but to understand his point ofview, and was forced to admit that it wasnot unreasonable. Her father now and then

allowed, or perhaps encouraged, hisguests to play for high stakes, and she hadhated to see the evening gatherings ofextravagant young men at their house inEngland. Indeed, she had eagerlywelcomed the change when he had offeredto take her abroad because businessnecessitated his leaving the country.Things had been better at Santa Brigida,but after a time the card playing had begunagain. The men who now came to theirhouse were, however, of a different typefrom the rather dissipated youths she hadpreviously met. They were quieter andmore reserved; men of experience whohad known adventure. Still, she dislikedtheir coming and had sometimes felt shemust escape from a life that filled her withrepugnance. The trouble was that she did

not know where to find a refuge and couldnot force herself to leave her father, whohad treated her with good-humoredindulgence.

Then she began to wonder what was thebusiness that had brought him to SantaBrigida. He did not talk about it, but shewas sure it was not gambling, as Brandonthought. No doubt he won some moneyfrom his friends, but it could not be muchand he must lose at times. She must lookfor another explanation and it was hard tofind. Men who did not play cards came tothe house in the daytime and occasionallylate at night, and Kenwardine, who wrotea good many letters, now and then wentaway down the coast. There was amystery about his occupation that puzzled

and vaguely alarmed her, and she couldturn to nobody for advice. She had refusedher aunt’s offer of a home and knew itwould not be renewed. They had cast heroff and done with her. Getting up presentlywith a troubled sigh, she went to herroom.

In the meantime, Jake stayed in the patiowith the others. A thin, dark Spaniard,who spoke English well, and twoAmericans occupied the other side of thetable; a fat German sat nearly opposite theSpaniard and next to Jake. The heat madethem languid and nobody wanted to playcards, although there was a pack on thetable. This happened oftener than Brandonthought.

“It’s a depressing night and an enervating

country,” Kenwardine remarked. “Iwonder why we stay here as we do, sincewe’re apt to leave it as poor as when wecame. The people are an unstable lot, andwhen you’ve spent your time and energydeveloping what you hope is a profitablescheme, some change of policy or leaderssuddenly cuts it short.”

“I guess that explains why we are here,”one of the Americans replied. “The Southis the home of the dramatic surprise andthis appeals to us. In the North, they act byrule and one knows, more or less, whatwill happen; but this gives one no chancesto bet upon.”

The fat German nodded. “It is thegambler’s point of view. You people takewith pleasure steep chances, as they say,

but mine act not so. The system is better.One calculates beforehand what mayhappen and it is provided for. If things donot go as one expects, one labors tochange them, and when this is not possibleadopts an alternative plan.”

“But there always is a plan, SeñorRichter!” the Spaniard remarked.

Richter smiled. “With us, I think that istrue. Luck is more fickle than a womanand we like not the surprise. But our effortis to be prepared for it.”

“You’re a pretty hard crowd to run upagainst,” said the other American.

Jake, who had taken no part in the recenttalk, and leaned languidly back in hischair, turned his head as he heard

footsteps in the patio. They were quickand decided, as if somebody was comingstraight towards the table, but theystopped suddenly. This seemed strangeand Jake, who had caught a glimpse of aman in white clothes, looked round to seeif Kenwardine had made him a sign. Thelatter, however, was lighting his pipe, butthe Spaniard leaned forward a little, as iftrying to see across the patio. Jake thoughthe would find this difficult with the lightof the lamp in his eyes, but Richter, whosat opposite, got up and reached acrossthe table.

“With excuses, Don Sebastian, but thewine is on your side,” he said, and filledhis glass from the decanter before he satdown.

In the meantime the man who had come inwas waiting, but seemed to have moved,because Jake could only see an indistinctfigure in the gloom.

“Is that you, Enrique?” Kenwardine askedwhen he had lighted his pipe.

“Sí, señor,” a voice answered, andKenwardine made a sign of dismissal.

“Bueno! You can tell me about it to-morrow. I am engaged now.”

The footsteps began again and when theydied away Kenwardine picked up thecards.

“Shall we play for half an hour?” heasked.

The others agreed, but the stakes were

moderate and nobody took much interestin the game; and Jake presently left thehouse without seeing anything more ofClare. He felt he had wasted the evening,but as he walked back to the line hethought about the man whom Kenwardinehad sent away. He did not think the fellowwas one of the servants, and it seemedstrange that Richter should have got upand stood in front of Don Sebastian whenthe latter was trying to see across thepatio. Still, there was no apparent reasonwhy the Spaniard should want to see whohad come in, and Jake dismissed thematter.

CHAPTER XIII

THE RETURN FROM THEFIESTA

The sure-footed mules, braced hardagainst the weight of the carriage, sliddown a steep descent across slipperystones when Clare, who wondered whatwould happen if the worn-out harnessbroke, rode into Adexe. Gleaming whitehouses rose one above another amongfeathery palms, with a broad streak ofdarker green in their midst to mark theshady alameda. Behind, the dark range

towered against the sky; in front lay afoam-fringed beach and the vast bluesweep of dazzling sea. Music came upthrough the languid murmur of the surf, andthe steep streets were filled with peoplewhose clothes made patches of brilliantcolor. The carriage jolted safely down thehill, and Clare looked about with interestas they turned into the central plaza, wherethe driver stopped.

“It’s a picturesque little town and I’m gladyou brought me,” she said. “But what doesthe fiesta they’re holding celebrate?”

“I don’t know; the first landing of theSpaniards, perhaps,” Kenwardine replied.“Anyhow, it’s a popular function, and aseverybody in the neighborhood takes partin it, I came with the object of meeting

some people I do business with. In fact, Imay have to leave you for a time with thewife of a Spaniard whom I know.”

When coming down the hillside Clare hadnoticed a sugar mill and an ugly coalingwharf that ran out into the bay. Twosteamers lay not far off, rolling gently onthe glittering swell, and several lighterswere moored against the wharf. Since shehad never heard him speak of coal, sheimagined her father’s business was withthe sugar mill, but he seldom talked to herabout such matters and she did not ask. Hetook her to an old, yellow house, withtarnished brass rails barring its lowerwindows and a marble fountain in thepatio, where brilliant creepers hung fromthe balconies. The soft splash of falling

water was soothing and the spray cooledthe air.

“It is very pretty,” Clare said while theywaited. “I wish we could make our patiolike this.”

“We may be able to do so when Brandonand his friends bring us the water,”Kenwardine replied with a quick glance atthe girl. “Have you seen him recently?”

“Not for three or four weeks,” said Clare.

There was nothing to be learned from herface, but Kenwardine noted a hint ofcoldness in her voice. Next moment,however, a stout lady in a black dress, anda thin, brown-faced Spaniard came downto meet them. Kenwardine presentedClare, and for a time they sat on a

balcony, talking in a mixture of French andCastilian. Then a man came up the outsidestaircase and took off his hat as he turnedto Kenwardine. He had a swarthy skin, butClare carelessly remarked that thehollows about his eyes were darker thanthe rest of his face, as if they had beenoverlooked in a hurried wash, and hisbare feet were covered with fine, blackdust.

“Don Martin waits you, señor,” he said.

Kenwardine excused himself to hishostess, and after promising to returnbefore long went away with the man.

“Who is Don Martin, and does he own thecoaling wharf?” Clare asked.

“No,” said the Spaniard. “What makes you

imagine so?”

“There was some coal-dust on hismessenger.”

The Spaniard laughed. “Your eyes are askeen as they are bright, señorita, but yourfather spoke of business and he does notdeal in coal. They use it for the engine atthe sugar mill.”

“Could I follow him to the mill? I wouldlike to see how they extract the sugar fromthe cane.”

“It is not a good day for that; themachinery will not be running,” said theSpaniard, who looked at his wife.

“I meant to take you to the cathedral.Everybody goes on the fiesta,” the ladybroke in.

Clare agreed. She suspected that her fatherhad not gone to the sugar mill, but this didnot matter, and she presently left the housewith her hostess. The small and ratherdark cathedral was crowded, and Clare,who understood very little of what wenton, was impressed by the close rows ofkneeling figures, while the candlesglimmering through the incense, and themusic, had their effect. She came out in athoughtful mood, partly dazzled by thechange of light, and it was with somethingof a shock she stopped to avoid collisionwith a man at the bottom of the steps. Itwas Brandon, and she noted that he lookedwell again, but although they were face toface and he waited with his eyes fixed onher, she turned away and spoke to hercompanion. Dick crossed the street with

his hand clenched and his face hot, but feltthat he had deserved his rebuff. He couldnot expect Miss Kenwardine to meet himas a friend.

An hour or two later, Kenwardinereturned to the house with Richter, theGerman, and said he found he must driveto a village some distance off to meet anofficial whom he had expected to see inthe town. He doubted if he could get backthat night, but a sailing barquillo wouldtake passengers to Santa Brigida, andClare could go home by her. The girlmade no objection when she heard thattwo French ladies, whom she knew, werereturning by the boat, and stayed with herhostess when Kenwardine and Richterleft. Towards evening the Spaniard came

in and stated that the barquillo had sailedearlier than had been announced, but asteam launch was going to Santa Brigidawith some friends of his on board and hecould get Clare a passage if she wouldsooner go. Señor Kenwardine, he added,might drive home by another road withoutcalling there again.

Half an hour later Clare went with him tothe coaling wharf, where a launch lay atsome steps. A few people were alreadyon board, and her host left after putting herin charge of a Spanish lady. The girlimagined that he was glad to get rid of her,and thought there was somethingmysterious about her father’s movements.Something he had not expected must havehappened, because he would not have

brought her if he had known he could nottake her home. It was, however, not a longrun to Santa Brigida, by sea, and thelaunch, which had a powerful engine,looked fast.

In another few minutes a man came downthe steps and threw off a rope before hejumped on board. Taking off his hat to thepassengers, he started the engine and satdown at the helm. Clare did not see hisface until the launch was gliding awayfrom the wharf, and then hid herannoyance and surprise, for it wasBrandon. His eyes rested on her for amoment as he glanced about the boat, butshe saw he did not expect recognition.Perhaps she had been wrong when shepassed him outside the cathedral, but it

was now too late to change her attitude.

The water was smooth, the sun had sunkbehind the range, and a warm breeze thatruffled the shining surface with silkyripples blew off the shore. The rumble ofthe surf came in a deep undertone throughthe throb of the engine, and the launchsped on with a frothy wave curling at herbows. Now and then Clare glancedquickly at the helmsman, who sat with hisarm thrown round the tiller. She thought helooked disturbed, and felt sorry, thoughshe told herself that she had done theproper thing.

After a time the launch swung in towardsthe beach and stopped at a rude landingbehind a reef. Houses showed among thetrees not far off and Clare thought this was

the pueblo of Arenas. Then she wasdisturbed to see that all her companionswere going to land. When the Spanish ladysaid good-by she got up, with the idea offollowing the rest, but Dick stopped her.

“Do you expect Mr. Kenwardine to meetyou?” he asked.

“No. I was told the launch was going toSanta Brigida, but didn’t know that shewas yours.”

Dick eyes twinkled. “I am going to SantaBrigida and the boat is one we use, but mycolored fireman refused to leave thefiesta. Now you can’t stay at Arenas, and Idoubt if you can get a mule to take youhome, because they’ll all have gone toAdexe. But, if you like, we’ll go ashoreand try.”

“You don’t think I could find a carriage?”Clare asked irresolutely, seeing that if shenow showed herself determined to avoidhim, it would be humiliating to be forcedto fall back upon his help.

“I don’t. Besides, it’s some distance toSanta Brigida over a rough, steep roadthat you’d find very awkward in the dark,while as I can land you in an hour, itseems unnecessary for you to leave theboat here.”

“Yes,” said Clare, “perhaps it is.”

Dick threw some coal into the furnace,and restarted the launch. The throb of theengine was quicker than before, and whena jet of steam blew away from the escape-pipe Clare imagined that he meant to loseno time. She glanced at him as he sat at the

helm with a moody face; and then away atthe black hills that slid past. The silencewas embarrassing and she wonderedwhether he would break it. On the whole,she wanted him to do so, but would givehim no help.

“Of course,” he said at length, “youneedn’t talk if you’d sooner not. But yougave me the cut direct in Adexe, andalthough I may have deserved it, it hurt.”

“I don’t see why it should hurt,” Clareanswered coldly.

“Don’t you?” he asked. “Well, you havethe right to choose your acquaintances; butI once thought we were pretty goodfriends and I mightn’t have got better ifyou hadn’t taken care of me. That ought tocount for something.”

Clare blushed, but her eyes sparkled andher glance was steady. “If we are to havean explanation, it must be complete andwithout reserve. Very well! Why did youchange when you were getting better? Andwhy did you hint that I must know youhadn’t stolen the plans?”

Dick studied her with some surprise. Hehad thought her gentle and trustful, but sawthat she burned with imperious anger. Itcertainly was not acting and contradictedthe supposition of her guilt.

“If I did hint anything of the kind, I musthave been a bit light-headed,” heanswered awkwardly. “You get morbidfancies when you have fever.”

“The fever had nearly gone. You werebraver then than you seem to be now.”

“I suppose that’s true. Sometimes a shockgives you pluck and I got a nasty one as Ibegan to remember things.”

Both were silent for the next fewmoments. Clare’s pose was tense and herlook strained, but her anger had vanished.Dick thought she was calmer than himself,but after all, she was, so to speak, on herdefense and her part was easier than his.He had forgiven her for robbing him;Kenwardine had forced her to do so, andDick regretted he had not hidden hisknowledge of the deed she must havehated. It was bodily weakness that had ledhim to show his suspicion, but he knewthat if they were to be friends again noreserve was possible. As Clare had said,the explanation must be complete. It was

strange, after what had happened, that heshould want her friendship, but he didwant it, more than anything else. Yet shemust be told plainly what he had thoughther. He shrank from the task.

“What did you remember?” Clare asked,forcing herself to look at him.

“That I had the plans in the left, top pocketof my uniform when I reached your house;I felt to see if they were there as I came upthe drive,” he answered doggedly. “Soonafterward, you slipped as we went downthe steps into the garden and in clutchingme your hand caught and pulled the pocketopen. It was a deep pocket and the paperscould not have fallen out.”

“So you concluded that I had stolen them!”Clare said in a cold, strained voice,

though her face flushed crimson.

“What else could I think?”

Then, though she tried to hide thebreakdown, Clare’s nerve gave way. Shehad forced the crisis in order to clearherself, but saw that she could not do so.Dick’s statement was convincing; thepapers had been stolen while he was intheir house, and she had a horriblesuspicion that her father was the thief. Itcame with a shock, though she had alreadybeen tormented by a vague fear of the truththat she had resolutely refused to face. Sheremembered the men who were at thehouse on the eventful night. They weresomewhat dissipated young sportsmen andnot remarkable for intelligence. None ofthem was likely to take part in such a plot.

“You must understand what a serious thingyou are saying,” she faltered, trying todoubt him and finding that she could not.

“I do,” he said, regarding her with gravelypitiful eyes. “Still, you rather forced it outof me. Perhaps this is a weak excuse,because I had meant to forget the matter.”

“But didn’t you want to clear yourself andget taken back?”

“No; I knew it was too late. I’d shown Icouldn’t be trusted with an important job;and I’d made a fresh start here.”

His answer touched the girl, and after aquick half-ashamed glance, she thoughtshe had misjudged him. It was not herphysical charm that had made him willingto condone her offense, for he showed

none of the bold admiration she hadshrunk from in other men. Instead, he wascompassionate and, she imagined, anxiousto save her pain.

She did not answer and turning her head,vacantly watched the shore slide past. Themountains were growing blacker, trails ofmist that looked like gauze gathered in theravines, and specks of light began topierce the gloom ahead. They markedSanta Brigida, and something must still besaid before the launch reached port. It waspainful that Brandon should take her guiltfor granted, but she feared to declare herinnocence.

“You were hurt when I passed you atAdexe,” she remarked, without looking athim. “You must, however, see that

friendship between us is impossible whileyou think me a thief.”

“I must try to explain,” Dick said slowly.“When I recovered my senses at yourhouse after being ill, I felt I must get awayas soon as possible, though I ought to haveremembered only that you had taken careof me. Still, you see, my mind was weakjust then. Afterwards I realized howungratefully I had behaved. The plansdidn’t matter; they weren’t really of muchimportance, and I knew if you had takenthem, it was because you were forced.That made all the difference; in a way, youwere not to blame. I’m afraid,” heconcluded lamely, “I haven’t made it veryclear.”

Clare was moved by his naïve honesty,

which seemed to be guarded by somethingfiner than common sense. After all, he hadmade things clear. He owned that hebelieved she had taken the plans, and yethe did not think her a thief. On the surface,this was rather involved, but she saw whathe meant. Still, it did not carry them veryfar.

“It is not long since you warned Mr.Fuller against us,” she resumed.

“Not against you; that would have beenabsurd. However, Jake’s something of agambler and your father’s friends play forhigh stakes. The lad was put in my handsby people who trusted me to look afterhim. I had to justify their confidence.”

“Of course. But you must understand thatmy father and I stand together. What

touches him, touches me.”

Dick glanced ahead. The lights of SantaBrigida had drawn out in a broken line,and those near the beach were large andbright. A hundred yards away, twotwinkling, yellow tracks stretched acrossthe water from the shadowy bulk of a bigcargo boat. Farther on, he could see theblack end of the mole washed by frothysurf. There was little time for further talkand no excuse for stopping the launch.

“That’s true in a sense,” he agreed withforced quietness. “I’ve done you aninjustice, Miss Kenwardine; so much isobvious, but I can’t understand the restjust yet. I suppose I mustn’t ask you toforget the line I took?”

“We can’t be friends as if nothing had

happened.”

Dick made a gesture of moodyacquiescence. “Well, perhaps somethingwill clear up the matter by and by. I mustwait, because while it’s difficult now, Ifeel it will come right.”

A minute or two later he ran the launchalongside a flight of steps on the mole, andhelping Clare to land went with her to herhouse. They said nothing on the way, butshe gave him her hand when he left her atthe door.

CHAPTER XIV

COMPLICATIONS

It was dark outside the feeble lamplight,and very hot, when Dick sat on hisveranda after a day of keen activity in theburning sun. He felt slack and jaded, forhe had had difficult work to do and hisdusky laborers had flagged under theunusual heat. There was now no touch ofcoolness in the stagnant air, and althoughthe camp down the valley was very quiet aconfused hum of insects came out of thejungle. It rose and fell with a monotonousregularity that jarred upon Dick’s nerves

as he forced himself to think.

He was in danger of falling in love withClare Kenwardine; indeed, he suspectedthat it would be better to face the truth andadmit that he had already done so. Theprudent course would be to fight againstand overcome his infatuation; but supposehe found this impossible, as he feared? Itseemed certain that she had stolen hispapers; but after all he did not hold heraccountable. Some day he would learnmore about the matter and find that shewas blameless. He had been a fool tothink harshly of her, but he knew now thathis first judgment was right. Clare, whocould not have done anything base andtreacherous, was much too good for him.This, however, was not the subject with

which he meant to occupy himself,because if he admitted that he hoped tomarry Clare, there were serious obstaclesin his way.

To begin with, he had made it difficult, ifnot impossible, for the girl to treat himwith the friendliness she had previouslyshown; besides which, Kenwardinewould, no doubt, try to prevent hismeeting her, and his opposition would betroublesome. Then it was plainlydesirable that she should be separatedfrom her father, who might involve her inhis intrigues, because there was groundfor believing that he was a dangerous man.In the next place, Dick was far from beingable to support a wife accustomed to theextravagance that Kenwardine practised.

It might be long before he could offer herthe lowest standard of comfort necessaryfor an Englishwoman in a hot, foreigncountry.

He felt daunted, but not altogetherhopeless, and while he pondered thematter Bethune came in. On the whole,Dick found his visit a relief.

“I expect you’ll be glad to hear we cankeep the machinery running,” Bethune saidas he sat down.

Dick nodded. Their fuel was nearlyexhausted, for owing to strikes andshortage of shipping Fuller had beenunable to keep them supplied.

“Then you have got some coal? As there’snone at Santa Brigida just now, where’s it

coming from?”

“Adexe. Four big lighter loads. Stuyvesanthas given orders to have them towedround.”

“I understood the Adexe people didn’tkeep a big stock. The wharf is small.”

“So did I, but it seems that Kenwardinecame to Stuyvesant and offered him asmuch as he wanted.”

“Kenwardine!” Dick exclaimed.

Bethune lighted his pipe. “Yes,Kenwardine. As the wharf’s supposed tobe owned by Spaniards, I don’t see whathe has to do with it, unless he’s recentlybought them out. Anyhow, it’s high-gradenavigation coal.”

“Better stuff than we need, but thedifference in price won’t matter if we cankeep the concrete mill going,” Dickremarked thoughtfully. “Still, it’s puzzling.If Kenwardine has bought the wharf,why’s he sending the coal away, insteadof using it in the regular bunkering trade?”

“There’s a hint of mystery about thematter. I expect you heard about thecollier tramp that was consigned to theFrench company at Arucas? Owing tosome dispute, they wouldn’t take the cargoand the shippers put it on the market.Fuller tried to buy some, but found thatanother party had got the lot. Well,Stuyvesant believes it was the German,Richter, who bought it up.”

“Jake tells me that Richter’s a friend of

Kenwardine’s.”

“I didn’t know about that,” said Bethune.“They may have bought the cargo for someparticular purpose, for which theyafterwards found it wouldn’t be required,and now want to sell some off.”

“Then Kenwardine must have more moneythan I thought.”

“The money may be Richter’s,” Bethunereplied. “However, since we’ll now havecoal enough to last until Fuller sends someout, I don’t know that we have any furtherinterest in the matter.”

He glanced keenly at Dick’s thoughtfulface; and then, as the latter did not answer,talked about something else until he got upto go. After he had gone, Dick leaned back

in his chair with a puzzled frown. He hadmet Richter and rather liked him, but thefellow was a German, and it was strangethat he should choose an English partnerfor his speculations, as he seemed to havedone. But while Kenwardine was English,Dick’s papers had been stolen at hishouse, and his distrust of the man grewstronger. There was something suspiciousabout this coal deal, but he could not tellexactly what his suspicions pointed to,and by and by he took up the plan of aculvert they were to begin next morning.

A few days later, Jake and he sat, onenight, in the stern of the launch, which layhead to sea about half a mile from theAdexe wharf. The promised coal had notarrived, and, as fuel was running very

short at the concrete mill, Dick had goneto see that a supply was sent. It was latewhen he reached Adexe, and foundnobody in authority about, but threeloaded lighters were moored at the wharf,and a gang of peons were trimming thecoal that was being thrown on boardanother. Ahead of the craft lay a small tugwith steam up. As the half-breed foremandeclared that he did not know whether thecoal was going to Santa Brigida or not,Dick boarded the tug and found herSpanish captain drinking caña with hisengineer. Dick thought one looked at theother meaningly as he entered the small,hot cabin.

“I suppose it’s Señor Fuller’s coal in thebarges, and we’re badly in want of it,” he

said. “As you have steam up, you’ll startsoon.”

“We start, yes,” answered the skipper,who spoke some English, and then pausedand shrugged. “I do not know if we get toSanta Brigida to-night.”

“Why?” Dick asked. “There’s not verymuch wind, and it’s partly off the land.”

The half-breed engineer described inuncouth Castilian the difficulties he hadhad with a defective pump and leakingglands, and Dick, who did not understandmuch of it, went back to his launch.Stopping the craft a short distance fromthe harbor, he said to Jake: “We’ll waituntil they start. Somehow I don’t think theymeant to leave to-night if I hadn’t turnedthem out.”

Jake looked to windward. There was amoon in the sky, which was, however,partly obscured by driving clouds. Thebreeze was strong, but, blowing obliquelyoff the land did not ruffle the sea muchnear the beach. A long swell, however,worked in, and farther out the white topsof the combers glistened in the moonlight.Now and then a fresher gust swept off theshadowy coast and the water frothed inangry ripples about the launch.

“They ought to make Santa Brigida, thoughthey’ll find some sea running when theyreach off-shore to go round the Tajadareef,” he remarked.

“There’s water enough through the insidechannel.”

“That’s so,” Jake agreed. “Still, it’s

narrow and bad to find in the dark, and Iexpect the skipper would sooner gooutside.” Then he glanced astern and said,“They’re coming out.”

Two white lights, one close above theother, with a pale red glimmer below,moved away from the wharf. Behind themthree or four more twinkling red spotsappeared, and Dick told the fireman tostart the engine half-speed. Steering forthe beach, he followed the fringe of surf,but kept abreast of the tug, which held to acourse that would take her round the endof the reef.

When the moon shone through he couldsee her plunge over the steep swell andthe white wash at the lighters’ bows asthey followed in her wake; then as a cloud

drove past, their dark hulls faded and leftnothing but a row of tossing lights. By andby the launch reached a bend in thecoastline and the breeze freshened anddrew more ahead. The swell began tobreak and showers of spray blew onboard, while the sea got white off-shore.

“We’ll get it worse when we open up theArenas bight,” said Jake as he glanced atthe lurching tug. “It looks as if the skippermeant to give the reef a wide berth. He’sswinging off to starboard. Watch hissmoke.”

“You have done some yachting, then?”

“I have,” said Jake. “I used to sail ashoal-draught sloop on Long Island Sound.Anyway, if I’d been towing those coal-scows, I’d have edged in near the beach,

for the sake of smoother water, andwouldn’t have headed out until I saw thereef. It will be pretty wet on board thescows now, and they’ll have had to put aman on each to steer.”

Dick nodded agreement and signed thefireman to turn on more steam as hefollowed the tug outshore. The swell gotsteadily higher and broke in angry surges.The launch plunged, and rattled as sheswung her screw out of the sea, but Dickkept his course abreast of the tug, whichhe could only distinguish at intervalsbetween the clouds of spray. Hermasthead lights reeled wildly to and fro,but the low red gleam from the barges washidden and he began to wonder why hercaptain was steering out so far. It was

prudent not to skirt the reef, but the fellowseemed to be giving it unnecessary room.The lighters would tow badly through thewhite, curling sea, and there was a risk ofthe hawsers breaking. Besides, theengineer had complained that hismachinery was not running well.

A quarter of an hour later, a belt of foambetween them and the land marked thereef, and the wind brought off the roar ofbreaking surf. Soon afterwards, the whitesurge faded, and only the tug’s lights wereleft as a long cloud-bank drove across themoon. Jake stood up, shielding his eyesfrom the spray.

“He’s broken his rope; the coal’s adrift!”he cried.

Dick saw the tug’s lights vanish, which

meant that she had turned with her sterntowards the launch; and then two or threetwinkling specks some distance off.

“He’d tow the first craft with a doublerope, a bridle from his quarters,” he said.“It’s strange that both parts broke, and, sofar as I can make out, the tail barge hasparted her hawser, too.”

A whistle rang out, and Dick called forfull-speed as the tug’s green light showed.

“We’ll help him to pick up the barges,” heremarked.

The moon shone out as they approachedthe nearest, and a bright beam sweptacross the sea until it touched the lurchingcraft. Her wet side glistened about a footabove the water and then vanished as a

white surge lapped over it and washedacross her deck. A rope trailed from herbow and her long tiller jerked to and fro.It was obvious that she was adrift withnobody on board, and Dick cautiouslysteered the launch towards her.

“That’s curious, but perhaps the rest drovefoul of her and the helmsman lost hisnerve and jumped,” he said. “I’ll putMaccario on board to give us the hawser.”

“Then I’ll go with him,” Jake offered. “Hecan’t handle the big rope alone.”

Dick hesitated. It was important that theyshould not lose the coal, but he did notwant to give the lad a dangerous task. Thebarge was rolling wildly and he durst notrun alongside, while some risk wouldattend a jump across the three or four feet

of water between the craft.

“I think you’d better stop here,” heobjected.

“I don’t,” Jake answered with a laugh.“Guess you’ve got to be logical. You wantthe coal, and it will take us both to saveit.”

He followed the fireman, who stood,balancing himself for a spring, on theforward deck, while Dick let the launchswing in as close as he thought safe. Theman leapt and Dick watched Jake withkeen anxiety as the launch rose with thenext comber, but the lad sprang off as thebows went up, and came down with asplash in the water that flowed across thelighter’s deck. Then Dick caught the linethrown him and with some trouble

dragged the end of the hawser on board.He was surprised to find that it was notbroken, but he waved his hand to theothers as he drove the launch ahead,steering for the beach, near which heexpected to find a passage through thereef.

Before he had gone far the tug steamedtowards him with the other barges in tow,apparently bound for Adexe.

“It is not possible to go on,” the skipperhailed. “Give me a rope; we take thelighter.”

“You shan’t take her to Adexe,” Dickshouted. “We want the coal.”

Though there was danger in getting tooclose, the captain let the tug drift nearer.

“We bring you the lot when the winddrops.”

“No,” said Dick, “I’ll stick to what I’vegot.”

He could not catch the captain’s reply asthe tug forged past, but it sounded like anexclamation of anger or surprise, and helooked anxiously for the foam upon thereef. It was some time before hedistinguished a glimmer in the dark, forthe moon was hidden and his progresswas slow. The lighter was big and heavilyladen, and every now and then her weight,putting a sudden strain on the hawser,jerked the launch to a standstill. It wasworse when, lifting with the swell, shesheered off at an angle to her course, andDick was forced to maneuver with helm

and engine to bring her in line again, atsome risk of fouling the hawser with thescrew. He knew little about towing, but hehad handled small sailing boats before helearned to use the launch. The coal wasbadly needed and must be taken to SantaBrigida, though an error of judgment mightlead to the loss of the barge and perhapsof his comrade’s life.

The phosphorescent gleam of the surf gotplainer and the water smoother, for thereef was now to windward and broke thesea, but the moon was still covered, andDick felt some tension as he skirted thebarrier. He did not know if he could findthe opening or tow the lighter through thenarrow channel. The surf, however, wasof help, for it flashed into sheets of

spangled radiance as it washed across thereef, leaving dark patches among thelambent foam. The patches had a solidlook, and Dick knew that they were rocks.

At length he saw a wider break in the beltof foam, and the sharper plunging of thelaunch showed that the swell workedthrough. This was the mouth of thechannel, and there was water enough tofloat the craft if he could keep off therocks. Snatching the engine-lamp from itssocket, he waved it and blew the whistle.A shout reached him and showed that theothers understood.

Dick felt his nerves tingle when he put thehelm over and the hawser tightened as thelighter began to swing. If she took toowide a sweep, he might be unable to

check her before she struck the reef, andthere seemed to be a current flowingthrough the gap. Glancing astern for amoment, he saw her dark hull swingthrough a wide curve while the strain onthe hawser dragged the launch’s sterndown, but she came round and the tensionslackened as he steered up the channel.

For a time he had less trouble than heexpected; but the channel turned at itsouter end and wind and swell wouldstrike at him at an awkward angle, whenhe took the bend. As he entered it, themoon shone out, and he saw the black topof a rock dangerously close to leeward.He waved the lantern, but the lighter, withsea and current on her weather bow,forged almost straight ahead, and the

straining hawser dragged the launch back.Reaching forward, Dick opened thethrottle valve to its limit, and then sat grimand still while the throb of the screwshook the trembling hull. Something wouldhappen in the next half minute unless hecould get the lighter round. Glancing back,he saw her low, wet side shine in themoonlight. Two dark figures stood aft bythe tiller, and he thought the foam aboutthe rock was only a fathom or two away.

The launch was hove down on her side.Though the screw thudded furiously, sheseemed to gain no ground, and then thestrain on the hawser suddenly slackened.Dick wondered whether it had broken, buthe would know in the next few seconds;there was a sharp jerk, the launch was

dragged to leeward, but recovered andforged ahead. She plunged her bows into abroken swell and the spray filled Dick’seyes, but when he could see again thefoam was sliding past and a gap widenedbetween the lighter’s hull and the whitewash on the rock.

The water was deep ahead, and since hecould skirt the beach and the wind camestrongly off the land, the worst of hisdifficulties seemed to be past. Still, itwould be a long tow to Santa Brigida, andbracing himself for the work, he lit hispipe.

CHAPTER XV

THE MISSING COAL

Early next morning Dick stood in front ofthe Hotel Magellan, where he had sleptfor a few hours after his return, and wassomewhat surprised to see that Jake hadgot up before him and was talking to apretty, dark-skinned girl. She carried alarge bunch of flowers and a basket offruit stood close by, while Jake seemed tobe persuading her to part with some.

Dick stopped and watched them, for theglow of color held his eye. Jake’s white

duck caught the strong sunlight, while thegirl’s dark hair and eyes were relieved bythe brilliant lemon-tinted wall and themass of crimson bloom. Her attitude wascoquettish, and Jake regarded her with aningratiating smile. After a few moments,however, Dick went down the street andpresently heard his comrade followinghim. When the lad came up, he saw that hehad a basket of dark green fruit and abunch of the red flowers.

“I thought you were asleep. Early rising isnot a weakness of yours,” he said.

“As it happens, I didn’t sleep at all,” Jakereplied. “Steering that unhandy coal-scowrather got upon my nerves and when shetook the awkward sheer as we camethrough the reef the tiller knocked

Maccario down and nearly broke my ribs.I had to stop the helm going the wrongway somehow.”

Dick nodded. It was obvious that the ladhad been quick and cool at a critical time,but his twinkling smile showed that hewas now in a different mood.

“You seem to have recovered. But whycouldn’t you leave the girl alone?”

“I’m not sure she’d have liked that,” Jakereplied. “It’s a pity you have no artistictaste, or you might have seen what apicture she made.”

“As a matter of fact, I did see it, but shehas, no doubt, a half-breed lover who’dseriously misunderstand your admiration,which might lead to your getting stabbed

some night. Anyhow, why did you buy theflowers?”

“For one thing, she was taking them to theMagellan, and I couldn’t stand for seeingthat blaze of color wasted on the guzzlingcrowd you generally find in a hoteldining-room.”

“That doesn’t apply to the fruit. You can’teat those things. They preserve them.”

“Eat them!” Jake exclaimed with a pityinglook. “Well, I suppose it’s the only useyou have for fruit.” He took a stalk fringedwith rich red bloom and laid it across thedark green fruit, which was packed amongglossy leaves. “Now, perhaps, you’ll seewhy I bought it. I rather think it makes adainty offering.”

“Ah!” said Dick. “To whom do youpropose to offer it?”

“Miss Kenwardine,” Jake replied with atwinkle; “though of course her propercolor’s Madonna blue.”

Dick said nothing, but walked on, andwhen Jake asked where he was going,answered shortly: “To the telephone.”

“Well,” said Jake, “knowing you as I do, Isuspected something of the kind. With theromance of the South all round you, youcan’t rise above concrete and coal.”

He followed Dick to the public telephoneoffice and sat down in the box with theflowers in his hands. A line had recentlybeen run along the coast, and although theservice was bad, Dick, after some trouble,

got connected with a port official atArenas.

“Did a tug and three coal barges put intoyour harbor last night?” he asked.

“No, señor,” was the answer, and Dickasked for the coal wharf at Adexe.

“Why didn’t you call them first?” Jakeinquired.

“I had a reason. The tug was standing toleeward when she left us, but if herskipper meant to come back to SantaBrigida, he’d have to put into Arenas,where he’d find shelter.”

“Then you’re not sure he meant to comeback?”

“I’ve some doubts,” Dick answered dryly,

and was told that he was connected withthe Adexe wharf.

“What about the coal for the Fullerirrigation works?” he asked.

“The tug and four lighters left last night,”somebody answered in Castilian, andDick imagined from the harshness of thevoice that one of the wharf-hands wasspeaking.

“That is so,” he said. “Has she returnedyet?”

“No, señor,” said the man. “The tug——”

He broke off, and there was silence forsome moments, after which a differentvoice took up the conversation in English.

“Sorry it may be a day or two before we

can send more of your coal. The tug’sengines——”

“Has she got back?” Dick demandedsharply.

“Speak louder; I cannot hear.”

Dick did so, but the other did not seem tounderstand.

“In two or three days. You have onelighter.”

“We have. I want to know if the tug——”

“The damage is not serious,” the otherbroke in.

“Then I’m to understand she’s back inport?”

A broken murmur answered, but by and by

Dick caught the words, “Not longer thantwo days.”

Then he rang off, and pushing Jake’s chairout of the way, shut the door.

“It’s plain that they don’t mean to tell mewhat I want to know,” he remarked. “Thefirst man might have told the truth, if theyhad let him, but somebody pulled himaway. My opinion is that the tug’s not atAdexe and didn’t go there.”

They went back to the hotel, and Dick satdown on a bench in the patio and lightedhis pipe.

“There’s something very curious about thematter,” he said.

“When the tug left us she seemed to beheading farther off shore than was

necessary,” Jake agreed. “Still, the brokenwater wouldn’t matter so much when shehad the wind astern.”

“Her skipper wouldn’t run off his courseand lengthen the distance because thewind was fair.”

“No, I don’t suppose he would.”

“Well,” said Dick, “my impression is thathe didn’t mean to start at all, and wouldn’thave done so if I hadn’t turned him out.”

Jake laughed. “After all, there’s no use inmaking a mystery out of nothing. Thepeople offered us the coal, and you don’tsuspect a dark plot to stop the works.What would they gain by that?”

“Nothing that I can see. I don’t think theymeant to stop the works; but they wanted

the coal. It’s not at Adexe, and there’s noother port the tug could reach. Where hasit gone?”

“It doesn’t seem to matter, so long as weget a supply before our stock runs out.”

“Try to look at the thing as I do,” Dickinsisted with a frown. “I forced theskipper to go to sea, and as soon as he hada good excuse his tow-rope parted,besides which the last barge went adriftfrom the rest. Her hawser, however,wasn’t broken. It was slipped from thecraft she was made fast to. Then, thoughthe tug’s engines were out of order, shesteamed to leeward very fast and, I firmlybelieve, hasn’t gone back to Adexe.”

“I expect there’s a very simpleexplanation,” Jake replied. “The truth is

you have a rather senseless suspicion ofKenwardine.”

“I’ll own I don’t trust him,” Dickanswered quietly.

Jake made an impatient gesture. “Let’s seeif we can get breakfast, because I’m goingto his house afterwards.”

“They won’t have got up yet.”

“It’s curious that you don’t know moreabout their habits after living there. MissKenwardine goes out with Lucille beforethe sun gets hot, and her father’s about asearly as you are.”

“What does he do in the morning?”

“I haven’t inquired, but I’ve found him inthe room he calls his office. You’re

misled by the idea that his occupation isgambling.”

Dick did not reply, and was silent duringbreakfast. He understood Jake’s liking forKenwardine because there was no doubtthe man had charm. His careless, genialair set one at one’s ease; he had a pleasantsmile, and a surface frankness thatinspired confidence. Dick admitted that ifhe had not lost the plans at his house, hewould have found it difficult to suspecthim. But Jake was right on one point;Kenwardine might play for high stakes,but gambling was not his main occupation.He had some more important business.The theft of the plans, however, offered noclue to this. Kenwardine was anadventurer and might have thought he

could sell the drawings, but since he hadleft England shortly afterwards, it wasevident that he was not a regular foreignspy. It was some relief to think so, andalthough there was a mystery about thecoal, which Dick meant to fathom if hecould, nothing indicated thatKenwardine’s trickery had any politicalaim.

Dick dismissed the matter andremembered with half-jealous uneasinessthat Jake seemed to know a good dealabout Kenwardine’s household. The lad,of course, had gone to make inquirieswhen he was ill, and had probably beenwell received. He was very little youngerthan Clare, and Fuller was known to berich. It would suit Kenwardine if Jake fell

in love with the girl, and if not, hisextravagance might be exploited. For allthat, Dick determined that his comradeshould not be victimized.

When breakfast was over they left thehotel and presently met Clare, who wasfollowed by Lucille carrying a basket. Shelooked very fresh and cool in her whitedress. On the whole, Dick would soonerhave avoided the meeting, but Jakestopped and Clare included Dick in hersmile of greeting.

“I have been to the market with Lucille,”she said. “The fruit and the curious thingsthey have upon the stalls are worth seeing.But you seem to have been there, though Idid not notice you.”

“No,” said Jake, indicating the flowers

and fruit he carried. “I got these at thehotel. The colors matched so well that Ifelt I couldn’t let them go, and then itstruck me that you might like them. Dickwarned me that the things are not eatablein their present state, which is a prettygood example of his utilitarian point ofview.”

Clare laughed as she thanked him, and heresumed: “Lucille has enough to carry,and I’d better bring the basket along.”

“Very well,” said Clare. “My father wasgetting up when I left.”

Dick said nothing, and stood a yard or twoaway. The girl had met him withoutembarrassment, but it was Jake she hadaddressed. He felt that he was, so tospeak, being left out.

“Then I’ll come and talk to him for awhile,” said Jake. “I don’t know a nicerplace on a hot morning than your patio.”

“But what about your work? Are you notneeded at the dam?”

“My work can wait. I find fromexperience that it will keep for quite along time without shriveling away, thoughoften it gets very stale. Anyhow, afterbeing engaged on the company’s businessfor the most part of last night, I’m entitledto a rest. My partner, of course, doesn’tlook at things like that. He’s going back asfast as he can.”

Dick hid his annoyance at the hint. It wasimpossible to prevent the lad from goingto Kenwardine’s when Clare was there tohear his objections, and he had no doubt

that Jake enjoyed his embarrassment.Turning away, he tried to forget the matterby thinking about the coal. SinceKenwardine was at home, it wasimprobable that he had been at Adexeduring the night. If Clare had a part in herfather’s plots, she might, of course, havemade the statement about his getting upwith an object, but Dick would not admitthis. She had helped the man once, but thiswas an exception, and she must haveyielded to some very strong pressure. Forall that, Dick hoped his comrade wouldnot tell Kenwardine much about their tripin the launch.

As a matter of fact, Jake handled thesubject with some judgment whenKenwardine, who had just finished his

breakfast, gave him coffee in the patio.They sat beneath the purple creeper whilethe sunshine crept down the opposite wall.The air was fresh and the murmur of thesurf came languidly across the flat roofs.

“Aren’t you in town unusually early?”Kenwardine asked.

“Well,” said Jake with a twinkle, “you seewe got here late.”

“Then Brandon was with you. This makesit obvious that you spent a perfectly sobernight.”

Jake laughed. He liked Kenwardine andmeant to stick to him, but although rashand extravagant, he was sometimesshrewd, and admitted that there mightperhaps be some ground for Dick’s

suspicions. He was entitled to lose hisown money, but he must run no risk ofinjuring his father’s business. However,since Kenwardine had a share in thecoaling wharf, he would learn that theyhad been to Adexe, and to try to hide thiswould show that they distrusted him.

“Our occupation was innocent but ratherarduous,” he said. “We went to Adexe inthe launch to see when our coal wascoming.”

“Did you get it? The manager told mesomething about the tug’s engines needingrepairs.”

“We got one scow that broke adrift off theTajada reef. They had to turn back withthe others.”

“Then perhaps I’d better telephone to findout what they mean to do,” Kenwardinesuggested.

Jake wondered whether he wished tolearn if they had already made inquiries,and thought frankness was best.

“Brandon called up the wharf as soon asthe office was open, but didn’t get muchinformation. Something seemed to bewrong with the wire.”

“I suppose he wanted to know when thecoal would leave?”

“Yes,” said Jake. “But he began by askingif the tug had come back safe, and got nofurther, because the other fellow couldn’thear.”

“Why was he anxious about the tug?”

Kenwardine’s manner was careless, butJake imagined he felt more interest than heshowed.

“It was blowing pretty fresh when she leftus, and if the scows had broken adriftagain, there’d have been some risk oflosing them. This would delay thedelivery of the coal, and we’re gettingvery short of fuel.”

“I see,” said Kenwardine. “Well, ifanything of the kind had happened, Iwould have heard of it. You needn’t beafraid of not getting a supply.”

Jake waited. He thought it might looksignificant if he showed any eagerness tochange the subject, but when Kenwardinebegan to talk about something else hefollowed his lead. Half an hour later he

left the house, feeling that he had usedcommendable tact, but determined not totell Brandon about the interview. Dick hada habit of exaggerating the importance ofthings, and since he already distrustedKenwardine, Jake thought it better not togive him fresh ground for suspicion. Therewas no use in supplying his comrade withanother reason for preventing his going tothe house.

CHAPTER XVI

JAKE GETS INTODIFFICULTIES

Day was breaking, though it was still darkat the foot of the range, when Dickreturned wearily to his iron shack after anight’s work at the dam. There had been alocal subsidence of the foundations on theprevious afternoon, and he could not leavethe spot until precautions had been takento prevent the danger spreading. Bethunecame with him to look at some plans, andon entering the veranda they were

surprised to find the house well lightedand smears of mud and water upon thefloor.

“Looks as if a bathing party had beenwalking round the shack, and your boy hadtried to clean up when he was half-asleep,” Bethune said.

Dick called his colored servant and askedhim: “Why are all the lights burning, andwhat’s this mess?”

“Señor Fuller say he no could see thechairs.”

“Why did he want to see them?”

“He fall on one, señor; t’row it wit’mucha force and fall on it again. Saydozenas of malditos sillas. If he fall othertime, he kill my head.”

“Ah!” said Dick sharply. “Where is henow?”

“He go in your bed, señor.”

“What has happened is pretty obvious,”Bethune remarked. “Fuller came homewith a big jag on and scared this fellow.We’d better see if he’s all right.”

Dick took him into his bedroom and thenegro followed. The room was very hotand filled with a rank smell of kerosene,for the lamp was smoking and the negroexplained that Jake had threatened himwith violence if he turned it down. Thelad lay with a flushed face on Dick’s bed;his muddy boots sticking out from underthe crumpled coverlet. He seemed to befully dressed and his wet clothes weresmeared with foul green slime. There was

a big red lump on his forehead.

“Why didn’t you put him into his ownbed?” Dick asked the negro.

“He go in, señor, and come out quick. Sayno possible he stop. Maldito bed isdamp.”

Bethune smiled. “There’ll be a bigwashbasket for the lavenderas to-morrow,but we must take his wet clothes off.” Heshook Jake. “You’ve got to wake up!”

After a time Jake opened his eyes andblinked at Bethune. “All right! You’re notas fat as Salvador, and you can catch thatchair. The fool thing follows me andkeeps getting in my way.”

“Come out,” Bethune ordered him, andturned to the negro. “Where’s his

pyjamas?”

Salvador brought a suit, and Dick, whodragged Jake out of bed, asked: “How didyou get into this mess?”

“Fell into pond behind the dam; not safethat pond. Put a shingle up to-morrow,‘Keep off the grass.’ No, that’sh not right.Let’sh try again. ‘Twenty dollars fine ifyou spit on the sidewalk.’”

Bethune grinned at Dick. “It’s not anunusual notice in some of our smallertowns, and one must admit it’s necessary.However, we want to get him into dryclothes.”

Jake gave them some trouble, but they puthim in a re-made bed and went back to theverandah, where Bethune sat down.

“Fuller has his good points, but I guessyou find him something of aresponsibility,” he remarked.

“I do,” said Dick, with feeling. “Still, thisis the first time he has come home theworse for liquor. I’m rather worried aboutit, because it’s a new trouble.”

“And you had enough already?” Bethunesuggested. “Well, though you’re not veryold yet, I think Miss Fuller did well tomake you his guardian, and perhaps I’m toblame for his relapse, because I sent himto Santa Brigida. François was busy andthere were a number of bills to pay forstores we bought in the town. I hopeFuller hasn’t lost the money!”

Dick felt disturbed, but he said, “I don’tthink so. Jake’s erratic, but he’s surprised

me by his prudence now and then.”

Bethune left soon afterwards, and Dickwent to bed, but got up again after an houror two and began his work without seeingJake. They did not meet during the day,and Dick went home to his evening mealuncertain what line to take. He had no realauthority, and finding Jake languid andsilent, decided to say nothing about hisescapade. When the meal was finished,they left the hot room, as usual, for theverandah, and Jake dropped listlessly intoa canvas chair.

“I allow you’re more tactful than Ithought,” he remarked with a feeble smile.“Guess I was pretty drunk last night.”

“It looked rather like it from your clothesand the upset in the house,” Dick agreed.

Jake looked thoughtful. “Well,” he saidingenuously, “I have been on a jag before,but I really don’t often indulge in that kindof thing, and don’t remember drinkingenough to knock me out. You see,Kenwardine’s a fastidious fellow andsticks to wine. The sort he keeps is light.”

“Then you got drunk at his house? I’dsooner have heard you were at the casino,where the Spaniards would have turnedyou out.”

“You don’t know the worst yet,” Jakereplied hesitatingly. “As I’m in a verytight place, I’d better ’fess up. Françoisdoesn’t seem to have told you that I triedto draw my pay for some months ahead.”

“Ah!” said Dick, remembering withuneasiness what he had learned from

Bethune. “That sounds ominous. Did you——”

“Let me get it over,” Jake interrupted.“Richter was there, besides a Spanishfellow, and a man called Black. We’dbeen playing cards, and I’d won a smallpile when my luck began to turn. It wasn’tlong before I was cleaned out and heavilyin debt. Kenwardine said I’d had enoughand had better quit. I sometimes think youdon’t quite do the fellow justice.”

“Never mind that,” said Dick. “I supposeyou didn’t stop?”

“No; I took a drink that braced me up andsoon afterwards thought I saw my chance.The cards looked pretty good, and I put upa big bluff and piled on all I had.”

“But you had nothing; you’d lost what youbegan with.”

Jake colored. “Bethune had given me acheck to bearer.”

“I was afraid of that,” Dick said gravely.“But go on.”

“I thought I’d bluff them, but Black and theSpaniard told me to play, thoughKenwardine held back at first. Said theydidn’t want to take advantage of myrashness and I couldn’t make good. Well, Isaw how I could put it over, and it lookedas if they couldn’t stop me, until Blackbrought out a trump I didn’t think he oughtto have. After that I don’t remember much,but imagine I turned on the fellow andmade some trouble.”

“Can you remember how the cards went?”

“No,” said Dick awkwardly, “not now,and I may have been mistaken about thething. I believe I fell over the table andthey put me on a couch. After a time, I sawthere was nobody in the room, and thoughtI’d better get out.” He paused and addedwith a flush: “I was afraid MissKenwardine might find me in themorning.”

“You can’t pay back the money you lost?”

“I can’t. The check will show in theworks’ accounts and there’ll sure betrouble if the old man hears of it.”

Dick was silent for a few moments. It wascurious that Jake had tried to defendKenwardine; but this did not matter. The

lad’s anxiety and distress were plain.

“If you’ll leave the thing entirely in myhands, I’ll see what can be done,” he said.“I’ll have to tell Bethune.”

“I’ll do whatever you want, if you’ll helpme out,” Jake answered eagerly, and afterasking some questions about his losses,Dick went to Bethune’s shack.

Bethune listened thoughtfully to what hehad to say, and then remarked: “We’ll takeit for granted that you mean to see himthrough. Have you enough money?”

“No; that’s why I came.”

“You must get the check back, anyhow,”said Bethune, who opened a drawer andtook out a roll of paper currency. “Here’smy pile, and it’s at your service, but it

won’t go far enough.”

“I think it will, with what I can add,” saidDick, after counting the bills. “You see, Idon’t mean to pay the full amount.”

Bethune looked at him and smiled. “Well,that’s rather unusual, but if they made himdrunk and the game was not quite straight!Have you got his promise not to playagain?”

“I haven’t. What I’m going to do willmake it awkward, if not impossible.Besides, he’ll have no money. I’ll stopwhat he owes out of his pay.”

“A good plan! However, I won’t lend youthe money; I’ll lend it Jake, which makeshim responsible. But your pay’s less thanmine, and you’ll have to economize for the

next few months.”

“That won’t matter,” Dick answeredquietly. “I owe Fuller something, and Ilike the lad.”

He went back to his shack and said toJake, “We’ll be able to clear off the debt,but you must ask no questions and agree toany arrangement I think it best to make.”

“You’re a good sort,” Jake said withfeeling; but Dick cut short his thanks andwent off to bed.

Next morning he started for Santa Brigida,and when he reached Kenwardine’s housemet Clare on a balcony at the top of theoutside stairs. Somewhat to his surprise,she stopped him with a sign, and thenstood silent for a moment, looking

disturbed.

“Mr. Brandon,” she said hesitatingly, “Iresented your trying to prevent Mr. Fullercoming here, but I now think it better thathe should keep away. He’s young andextravagant, and perhaps——”

“Yes,” said Dick, who felt sympathetic,knowing what her admission must havecost. “I’m afraid he’s also ratherunsteady.”

Clare looked at him with some color inher face. “I must be frank. Somethinghappened recently that showed me heoughtn’t to come. I don’t think I realizedthis before.”

“Then you know what happened?”

“Not altogether,” Clare replied. “But I

learned enough to alarm and surprise me.You must understand that I didn’t suspect——” She paused with signs of confusionand then resumed: “Of course, people ofdifferent kinds visit my father on business,and sometimes stay an hour or twoafterwards, and he really can’t be heldresponsible for them. The customs of thecountry force him to be friendly; you knowin Santa Brigida one’s office is somethinglike an English club. Well, a man whodoesn’t come often began a game of cardsand when Mr. Fuller——”

“Just so,” said Dick as quietly as hecould. “Jake’s rash and not to be trustedwhen there are cards about; indeed, Iexpect he’s a good deal to blame, but I’mnow going to ask your father not to

encourage his visits. I’ve no doubt he’llsee the reason for this.”

“I’m sure he’ll help you when heunderstands,” Clare replied, and aftergiving Dick a grateful look moved away.

Dick went along the balcony, thinkinghard. It was obvious that Clare had foundthe interview painful, though he had triedto make it easier for her. She had beenalarmed, but he wondered whether shehad given him the warning out oftenderness for Jake. It was probable thatshe really thought Kenwardine was not toblame, but it must have been hard toacknowledge that his house was adangerous place for an extravagant lad.Still, a girl might venture much whenfighting for her lover. Dick frowned as he

admitted this. Jake was a good fellow inspite of certain faults, but it wasdisturbing to think that Clare might be inlove with him.

It was something of a relief whenKenwardine met him at the door of hisroom and took him in. Dick felt that tactwas not so needful now, because thehospitality shown him wascounterbalanced by the theft of the plans,and he held Kenwardine, not Clare,accountable for this. Kenwardineindicated a chair, and then sat down.

“As you haven’t been here since you gotbetter, I imagine there’s some particularreason for this call,” he said, with a smile.

“That is so,” Dick agreed. “I’ve come onFuller’s behalf. He gave you a check the

other night. Have you cashed it yet?”

“No. I imagined he might want to redeemit.”

“He does; but, to begin with, I’d like toknow how much he lost before he stakedthe check. I understand he increased theoriginal stakes during the game.”

“I dare say I could tell you, but I don’t seeyour object.”

“I’ll explain it soon. We can’t get on untilI know the sum.”

Kenwardine took a small, card-scoringbook from a drawer, and after a fewmoments stated the amount Jake had lost.

“Thank you,” said Dick. “I’ll pay you themoney now in exchange for the check.”

“But he lost the check as well.”

Dick hesitated. He had a repugnant part toplay, since he must accuse the man whohad taken him into his house when he waswounded of conspiring to rob a drunkenlad. For all that, his benefactor’s sonshould not be ruined, and he meant toseparate him from Kenwardine.

“I think not,” he answered coolly. “Butsuppose we let that go? The check isworthless, because payment can bestopped, but I’m willing to give you whatFuller had already lost.”

Kenwardine raised his eyebrows inironical surprise. “This is a somewhatextraordinary course. Is Mr. Fuller in thehabit of disowning his debts? You knowthe rule about a loss at cards.”

“Fuller has left the thing in my hands, andyou must hold me responsible. I mean tostick to the line I’ve taken.”

“Then perhaps you won’t mind explainingon what grounds you take it.”

“Since you insist! Fuller was drunk whenhe made the bet. As you were his host, itwas your duty to stop the game.”

“The exact point when an excited youngman ceases to be sober is remarkably hardto fix,” Kenwardine answered dryly. “Itwould be awkward for the host if he fixedit too soon, and insulting to the guest.”

“That’s a risk you should have taken. Foranother thing, Fuller states that a trumpwas played by a man who ought not tohave had it.”

Kenwardine smiled. “Doesn’t it strike youthat you’re urging conflicting reasons?First you declare that Fuller was drunk,and then that he was able to detect cleverplayers at cheating. Your argumentcontradicts itself and is plainly absurd.”

“Anyhow, I mean to urge it,” Dick saiddoggedly.

“Well,” said Kenwardine with a steadylook, “I’ve no doubt you see what thisimplies. You charge me with a plot tointoxicate your friend and take a meanadvantage of his condition.”

“No; I don’t go so far. I think you shouldhave stopped the game, but Fuller accusesa man called Black of playing the wrongcard. In fact, I admit that you don’t meanto harm him, by taking it for granted that

you’ll let me have the check, because ifyou kept it, you’d have some hold onhim.”

“A firm hold,” Kenwardine remarked.

Dick had partly expected this, and had hisanswer ready. “Not so firm as you think. Ifthere was no other way, it would force meto stop payment and inform my employer.It would be much better that Jake shouldhave to deal with his father than with yourfriends.”

“You seem to have thought over the mattercarefully,” Kenwardine rejoined. “Well,personally, I’m willing to accept youroffer and give up the check; but I mustconsult the others, since their loss is asmuch as mine. Will you wait while I go tothe telephone?”

Dick waited for some time, after whichKenwardine came back and gave him thecheck. As soon as he got it Dick left thehouse, satisfied because he had done whathe had meant to do, and yet feelingdoubtful. Kenwardine had given way tooeasily. It looked as if he was notconvinced that he must leave Fuller alone.

On reaching the dam Dick gave Jake thecheck and told him how he had got it. Thelad flushed angrily, but was silent for amoment, and then gave Dick a curiouslook.

“I can’t deny your generosity, and I’ll payyou back; but you see the kind of fellowyou make me out.”

“I told Kenwardine you left me to dealwith the matter, and the plan was mine,”

said Dick.

Jake signified by a gesture that the subjectmust be dropped. “As I did agree to leaveit to you, I can’t object. After all, I expectyou meant well.”

CHAPTER XVII

THE BLACK-FUNNEL BOAT

The breeze had fallen and the shining seawas smooth as glass when the launchpassed Adexe. Dick, who lounged at thehelm, was not going there. Somealterations to a mole along the coast hadjust been finished, and Stuyvesant had senthim to engage the contractor who had donethe concrete work. Jake, who occasionallyfound his duties irksome, had insisted oncoming.

As they crossed the mouth of the inlet,

Dick glanced shorewards through hisglasses. The whitewashed coal-shedsglistened dazzlingly, and a fringe of snowysurf marked the curve of beach, butoutside this a belt of cool, blue waterextended to the wharf. The swell surged toand fro among the piles, checkered withpurple shadows and laced with threads offoam, but it was the signs of humanactivity that occupied Dick’s attention. Henoticed the cloud of dust that rolled aboutthe mounds of coal upon the wharf andblurred the figures of the toiling peons,and the way the tubs swung up and downfrom the hatches of an American collieruntil the rattle of her winches suddenlybroke off.

“They seem to be doing a big business,”

he remarked. “It looks as if that boat hadstopped discharging, but she must havelanded a large quantity of coal.”

“There’s pretty good shelter at Adexe,”Jake replied. “In ordinary weather,steamers can come up to the wharf,instead of lying a quarter of a mile off, asthey do at Santa Brigida. However,there’s not much cargo shipped, and acaptain who wanted his bunkers filledwould have to make a special call withlittle chance of picking up any freight.That must tell against the place.”

They were not steaming fast, and justbefore a projecting point shut in the inletthe deep blast of a whistle rang across thewater and the collier’s dark hull swungout from the wharf. A streak of foam, cut

sharply between her black side and theshadowed blue of the sea, marked herload-line, and she floated high, but not asif she were empty.

“Going on somewhere else to finish, Iguess,” said Jake. “How much do youreckon she has discharged?”

“Fifteen hundred tons, if she was fullwhen she came in, and I imagine theyhadn’t much room in the sheds before. Iwonder where Kenwardine gets themoney, unless his friend, Richter, is rich.”

“Richter has nothing to do with thebusiness,” Jake replied. “He was to havehad a share, but they couldn’t come to asatisfactory agreement.”

Dick looked at him sharply. “How do you

know?”

“I really don’t know much. Kenwardinesaid something about it one night when Iwas at his house.”

“Did somebody ask him?”

“No,” said Jake, “I don’t think so. Thesubject, so to speak, cropped up and heoffered us the information.”

Then he talked of something else and soonafterwards the coast receded as theycrossed a wide bay. It was about fouro’clock in the afternoon when theyreached the farthest point from land. Therewas no wind, and in the foreground thesea ran in long undulations whose backsblazed with light. Farther off, the gentleswell was smoothed out and became an

oily expanse that faded into the glitter onthe horizon, but at one point the latter wasfaintly blurred. A passing vessel, Dickthought, and occupied himself with theengine, for he had not brought the fireman.Looking round some time afterwards, hesaw that the ship had got more distinct andpicked up his glasses.

She was a two-masted steamer and, cut offby the play of reflected light, floated like amirage between sky and sea. Afterstudying her for a minute, Dick gave Jakethe glasses.

“It’s a curious effect, but not uncommonon a day like this,” he said. “She’s like thebig Spanish boats and has their tall blackfunnel.”

“She’s very like them,” Jake agreed.

“There’s no smoke, and no wash abouther. It looks as if they’d had some troublein the engine-room and she’d stopped.”

Dick nodded and glanced across thedazzling water towards the high, bluecoast. He did not think the steamer couldbe seen from the land, and the launchwould, no doubt, be invisible from herdeck, but this was not important and hebegan to calculate how long it would takethem to reach a point ahead. Some timelater, he looked round again. The steamerwas fading in the distance, but no smoketrailed behind her and he did not think shehad started yet. His attention, however,was occupied by the headland he wassteering for, because he thought it markedthe neighborhood of their port.

He spent an hour in the place before hefinished his business and started home,and when they were about half-way acrossthe bay the light began to fade. The sunhad sunk and the high land cut, harshlyblue, against a saffron glow; the sea wasshadowy and colorless in the east.Presently Jake, who sat facing aft, calledout:

“There’s a steamer’s masthead lightcoming up astern of us. Now I see her sidelights, and by the distance between themshe’s a big boat.”

Dick changed his course, because thesteamer’s three lights would not have beenvisible unless she was directly followinghim and the launch’s small yellow funneland dingy white topsides would be hard to

distinguish. When he had shut out one ofthe colored side lights and knew he wassafe, he stopped the engine to wait untilthe vessel passed. There was no reasonwhy he should do so, but somehow he feltinterested in the ship. Lighting his pipe, hestudied her through the glasses, which hegave to Jake.

“She’s the boat we saw before,” he said.

“That’s so,” Jake agreed. “Her enginesare all right now because she’s steamingfast.”

Dick nodded, for he had marked the massof foam that curled and broke awaybeneath the vessel’s bow, but Jakeresumed: “It looks as if her dynamo hadstopped. There’s nothing to be seen buther navigation lights and she’s certainly a

passenger boat. They generally glitter likea gin-saloon.”

The ship was getting close now and Dick,who asked for the glasses, examined hercarefully as she came up, foreshortened,on their quarter. Her dark bow lookedvery tall and her funnel loomed, huge andshadowy, against the sky. Above its topthe masthead light shed a yellow glimmer,and far below, the sea leapt and frothedabout the line of hull. This drew out andlengthened as she came abreast of them,but now he could see the tiers ofpassenger decks, one above the other,there was something mysterious in thegloom that reigned on board. No ring oflight pierced her long dark side and thegangways behind the rails and rows of

stanchions looked like shadowy caves. Inthe open spaces, forward and aft,however, bodies of men were gathered,their clothes showing faintly white, butthey stood still in a compact mass until awhistle blew and the indistinct figuresscattered across the deck.

“A big crew,” Jake remarked. “Guessthey’ve been putting them through a boator fire drill.”

Dick did not answer, but when the vesselfaded into a hazy mass ahead he startedthe engine and steered into her eddyingwake, which ran far back into the dark.Then after a glance at the compass, hebeckoned Jake. “Look how she’sheading.”

Jake told him and he nodded. “I made it

half a point more to port, but this compassswivels rather wildly. Where do you thinkshe’s bound?”

“To Santa Brigida; but, as you can see, notdirect. I expect her skipper wants to take abearing from the Adexe lights. You aregoing there and her course is the same asours.”

“No,” said Dick; “I’m edging in towardsthe land rather short of Adexe. As wehave the current on our bow, I want to gethold of the beach as soon as I can, for thesake of slacker water. Anyway, a big boatwould keep well clear of the shore untilshe passed the Tajada reef.”

“Then she may be going into Adexe forcoal.”

“That vessel wouldn’t float alongside thewharf, and her skipper would sooner fillhis bunkers where he’d get passengers andfreight.”

“Well, I expect we’ll find her at SantaBrigida when we arrive.”

They looked round, but the sea was nowdark and empty and they let the matterdrop. When they crossed the Adexe bightno steamer was anchored near, but acluster of lights on the dusky beachmarked the coaling wharf.

“They’re working late,” Dick said. “Canyou see the tug?”

“You’d have to run close in before youcould do so,” Jake replied. “I expectthey’re trimming the coal the collier

landed into the sheds.”

“It’s possible,” Dick agreed, and afterhesitating for a few moments held on hiscourse. He remembered that one can heara launch’s engines and the splash of torn-up water for some distance on a calmnight.

After a time, the lights of Santa Brigidatwinkled ahead, and when they steamed upto the harbor both looked about. TheAmerican collier and a big cargo-boat laywith the reflections of their anchor-lightsquivering on the swell, but there was nopassenger liner to be seen. A man came tomoor the launch when they landed, andJake asked if the vessel he described hadcalled.

“No, señor,” said the man. “The only

boats I know like that are the Cadiz liners,and the next is not due for a fortnight.”

“Her model’s a pretty common one for bigpassenger craft,” Jake remarked to Dickas they went up the mole. “Still, thething’s curious. She wasn’t at Adexe andshe hasn’t been here. She certainly passedus, steering for the land, and I don’t seewhere she could have gone.”

Dick began to talk about something else,but next morning asked Stuyvesant for aday’s leave. Stuyvesant granted it andDick resumed: “Do you mind giving me ablank order form? I’m going to Adexe, andthe storekeeper wants a few things wecan’t get in Santa Brigida.”

Stuyvesant signed the form. “There it is.The new coaling people seem an

enterprising crowd, and you can orderanything they can supply.”

Dick hired a mule and took the steepinland road; but on reaching Adexe wentfirst to the sugar mill and spent an hourwith the American engineer, whoseacquaintance he had made. Then, having,as he thought, accounted for his visit, hewent to the wharf and carefully lookedabout as he made his way to the manager’soffice.

A few grimy peons were brushing coal-dust off the planks, their thinly-clad formssilhouetted against the shining sea. Theirmovements were languid, and Dickwondered whether this was due to the heator if it was accounted for by forcedactivity on the previous night. A neatly

built stack of coal stood beside thewhitewashed sheds, but nothing suggestedthat it had been recently broken into.Passing it carelessly Dick glanced into thenearest shed, which was almost full,though its proximity to deep waterindicated that supplies would be drawnfrom it before the other. Feeling ratherpuzzled, he stopped in front of the nextshed and noted that there was much lesscoal in this. Moreover, a large number ofempty bags lay near the entrance, as if theyhad been used recently and thestorekeeper had not had time to put themaway.

Two men were folding up the bags, but, bycontrast with the glitter outside, the shedwas dark, and Dick’s eyes were not

accustomed to the gloom. Still he thoughtone of the men was Oliva, the contractorwhom Stuyvesant had dismissed. Nextmoment the fellow turned and threw afolded bag aside, after which he walkedtowards the other end of the shed. Hismovements were leisurely, but he kept hisback to Dick and the latter thought thissignificant, although he was not sure theman had seen him.

As he did not want to be seen loiteringabout the sheds, he walked on, feelingpuzzled. Since he did not know what stockthe company had held, it was difficult totell if coal had recently been shipped, buthe imagined that some must have left thewharf after the collier had unloaded. Hewas used to calculating weights and cubic

quantities, and the sheds were not large.Taking it for granted that the vessel hadlanded one thousand five hundred tons, hethought there ought to be more about thanhe could see. Still, if some had beenshipped, he could not understand why ithad been taken, at a greater cost for labor,from the last shed, where one wouldexpect the company to keep their reservesupply. He might, perhaps, find outsomething from the manager, but thiswould need tact.

Entering the small, hot office, he found asuave Spanish gentleman whom he hadalready met. The latter greeted himpolitely and gave him a cigar.

“It is not often you leave the works, but achange is good,” he said.

“We’re not quite so busy and I promisedto pay Allen at the sugar mill a visit,”Dick replied. “Besides, I had an excusefor the trip. We’re short of some enginestores that I dare say you can let us have.”

He gave the manager a list, and theSpaniard nodded as he marked the items.

“We can send you most of the things. Itpays us to stock goods that the engineersof the ships we coal often want; but thereare some we have not got.”

“Very well,” said Dick. “I’ll fill up ourform for what you have and you can putthe things on board the tug the first timeshe goes to Santa Brigida.”

“She will go in three or four days.”

Dick decided that as the launch had

probably been seen, he had better mentionhis voyage.

“That will be soon enough. If ourstorekeeper had told me earlier, I wouldhave called here yesterday. I passed closeby on my way to Orava.”

“One of the peons saw your boat. It issome distance to Orava.”

“The sea was very smooth,” said Dick. “Iwent to engage a contractor who had beenat work upon the mole.”

So far, conversation had been easy, and hehad satisfactorily accounted for hispassing the wharf, without, he hoped,appearing anxious to do so; but he hadlearned nothing yet, although he thoughtthe Spaniard was more interested in his

doings than he looked.

“The collier was leaving as we went by,”he resumed. “Trade must be good,because she seemed to have unloaded alarge quantity of coal.”

“Sixteen hundred tons,” said the manager.“In war time, when freights advance, it iswise to keep a good stock.”

As this was very nearly the quantity Dickhad guessed, he noted the man’s frankness,but somehow imagined it was meant tohide something.

“So long as you can sell the stock,” heagreed. “War, however, interferes withtrade, and the French line have reducedtheir sailings, while I expect the smallBritish tramps won’t be so numerous.”

“They have nothing to fear in thesewaters.”

“I suppose they haven’t, and vesselsbelonging to neutral countries ought to besafe,” said Dick. “Still, the Spanishcompany seem to have changed theirsailings, because I thought I saw one oftheir boats yesterday; but she was a longway off on the horizon.”

He thought the other gave him a keenglance, but as the shutters were partlyclosed the light was not good, and the mananswered carelessly:

“They do not deal with us. Adexe is offtheir course and no boats so large cancome up to the wharf.”

“Well,” said Dick, who believed he had

admitted enough to disarm any suspicionthe other might have entertained, “doesn’tcoal that’s kept exposed to the air losesome of its heating properties?”

“It does not suffer much damage. But wewill drink a glass of wine, and then I willshow you how we keep our coal.”

“Thanks. These things interest me, but Ilooked into the sheds as I passed,” Dickanswered as he drank his wine.

They went out and when they entered thefirst shed the Spaniard called a peon andgave him an order Dick did not catch.Then he showed Dick the cranes, and thetrucks that ran along the wharf on rails,and how they weighed the bags of coal.After a time they went into a shed that wasnearly empty and Dick carefully looked

about. Several peons were at work uponthe bags, but Oliva was not there. Dickwondered whether he had been warned tokeep out of sight.

As they went back to the office, hiscompanion looked over the edge of thewharf and spoke to a seaman on the tugbelow. Her fires were out and thehammering that came up through the openskylights indicated that work was beingdone in her engine-room. Then one of theworkmen seemed to object to somethinganother said, for Dick heard “No; it mustbe tightened. It knocked last night.”

He knew enough Castilian to feel sure hehad not been mistaken, and the meaning ofwhat he had heard was plain. A shaft-journal knocks when the bearings it

revolves in have worn or shaken loose,and the machinery must have been runningwhen the engineer heard the noise. Dickthought it better to light a cigarette, andwas occupied shielding the match with hishands when the manager turned round. Afew minutes later he stated that as it was along way to Santa Brigida he must startsoon and after some Spanish complimentsthe other let him go.

He followed the hill road slowly in athoughtful mood. The manager had beenfrank, but Dick suspected him of trying toshow that he had nothing to hide. Then heimagined that a quantity of coal had beenshipped since the previous day, and if thetug had been at sea at night, she must havebeen used for towing lighters. The large

vessel he had seen was obviously apassenger boat, but fast liners could beconverted into auxiliary cruisers. Therewere, however, so far as he knew, noenemy cruisers in the neighborhood;indeed, it was supposed that they had beenchased off the seas. Still, there wassomething mysterious about the matter,and he meant to watch the coalingcompany and Kenwardine.

CHAPTER XVIII

DICK GETS A WARNING

On the evening of one pay-day, Dick tooka short cut through the half-breed quarterof Santa Brigida. As not infrequentlyhappens in old Spanish cities, thisunsavory neighborhood surrounded thecathedral and corresponded in characterwith the localities known in westernAmerica as “across the track.” Indeed, aCastilian proverb bluntly plays upon thejuxtaposition of vice and bells.

Ancient houses rose above the dark and

narrow street. Flakes of plaster had fallenfrom their blank walls, the archways thatpierced them were foul and strewn withrefuse, and a sour smell of decay andgarbage tainted the stagnant air. Here andthere a grossly fat, slatternly womanleaned upon the rails of an outsidebalcony; negroes, Chinamen, and half-breeds passed along the brokenpavements; and the dirty, open-frontedwine-shops, where swarms of flieshovered about the tables, were filled withloungers of different shades of color.

By and by Dick noticed a man in cleanwhite duck on the opposite side of thestreet. He was a short distance in front,but his carriage and the fit of his clothesindicated that he was a white man and

probably an American, and Dickslackened his pace. He imagined that theother would sooner not be found in thatneighborhood if he happened to be anacquaintance. The fellow, however,presently crossed the street, and when hestopped and looked about, Dick, meetinghim face to face, saw with some surprisethat it was Kemp, the fireman, who hadshown him an opportunity of escapingfrom the steamer that took them South.

Kemp had turned out a steady, sober man,and Dick, who had got him promoted,wondered what he was doing there, thoughhe reflected that his own presence in thedisreputable locality was liable to bemisunderstood. Kemp, however, looked athim with a twinkle.

“I guess you’re making for the harbor, Mr.Brandon?”

Dick said he was, and Kemp studied thesurrounding houses.

“Well,” he resumed, “I’m certainly upagainst it now. I don’t know muchSpanish, and these fool dagos can’t talkAmerican, while they’re packed so tight intheir blamed tenements that it’s curiousthey don’t fall out of the windows. It’s atough proposition to locate a man here.”

“Then you’re looking for somebody?”

“Yes. I’ve tracked Payne to this calle, butI guess there’s some trailing down to bedone yet.”

“Ah!” said Dick; for Payne was thedismissed storekeeper. “Why do you want

him?”

“I met him a while back and he’d struckbad luck, hurt his arm, for one thing. He’dbeen working among the breeds on themole and living in their tenements, andcouldn’t strike another job. I reckoned hemight want a few dollars, and I don’tspend all my pay.”

Dick nodded, because he understood theunfortunate position of the white man wholoses caste in a tropical country. AnEnglishman or American may engage inmanual labor where skill is required andthe pay is high, but he must live up to thestandards of his countrymen. If forced towork with natives and adopt their mode oflife, he risks being distrusted and avoidedby men of his color. Remembering that

Payne had interfered when he wasstabbed, Dick had made some inquiriesabout him, but getting no informationdecided that he had left the town.

“Then he’s lodging in this street,” he said.

“That’s what they told me at the wine-shop. He had to quit the last place becausehe couldn’t pay.”

“Wasn’t he with Oliva?” Dick inquired.

“He was, but Oliva turned him down. Iallow it was all right to fire him, but he’ssurely up against it now.”

Dick put his hand in his pocket. “If youfind him, you might let me know. In themeantime, here’s five dollars——”

“Hold on!” said Kemp. “Don’t take out

your wallet here. I’ll fix the thing, and askfor the money when I get back.”

Dick left him, and when he had transactedhis business returned to the dam. An houror two later Kemp arrived and stated thathe had not succeeded in finding Payne.The man had left the squalid room heoccupied and nobody knew where he hadgone.

During the next week Dick had againoccasion to visit the harbor, and while hewaited on the mole for a boat watched agang of peons unloading some fertilizerfrom a barge. It was hard and unpleasantwork, for the stuff, which had a ranksmell, escaped from the bags and coveredthe perspiring men. The dust stuck to theirhot faces, almost hiding their color; but

one, though equally dirty, looked differentfrom the rest, and Dick, noting that he onlyused his left arm, drew nearer. As he didso, the man walked up the steep plankfrom the lighter with a bag upon his backand staggering across the mole dropped itwith a gasp. His heaving chest and setface showed what the effort had cost, andthe smell of the fertilizer hung about hisragged clothes. Dick saw that it wasPayne and that the fellow knew him.

“You have got a rough job,” he remarked.“Can’t you find something better?”

“Nope,” said the man grimly. “Do youreckon I’d pack dirt with a crowd like thisif I could help it?”

Dick, who glanced at the lighter, wherehalf-naked negroes and mulattos were at

work amid a cloud of nauseating dust,understood the social degradation theother felt.

“What’s the matter with your arm?” heasked.

Payne pulled up his torn sleeve andshowed an inflamed and half-healedwound.

“That! Got it nipped in a crane-wheel andit doesn’t get much better. Guess this dirtis poisonous. Anyway, it keeps me here.I’ve been trying to make enough to buy aticket to Jamaica, but can’t work steady.As soon as I’ve put up two or threedollars, I have to quit.”

Dick could understand this. The manlooked gaunt and ill and must have been

heavily handicapped by his injured arm.He did not seem anxious to excite Dick’spity, though the latter did not think hecherished much resentment.

“I tried to find you when I got better afterbeing stabbed,” he said. “I don’t quite seewhy you came to my help.”

Payne grinned sourly. “You certainlyhadn’t much of a claim; but you were awhite man and that dago meant to kill.Now if I’d held my job with Fuller andyou hadn’t dropped on to Oliva’s game,I’d have made my little pile; but I allowyou had to fire us when something put youwise.”

“I see,” said Dick, with a smile at thefellow’s candor. “Well, I couldn’t trustyou with the cement again, but we’re short

of a man to superintend a peon gang andI’ll talk to Mr. Stuyvesant about it if you’lltell me your address.”

Payne gave him a fixed, eager look. “Youget me the job and take me out of this andyou won’t be sorry. I’ll make it good toyou—and I reckon I can.”

Dick, who thought the other’s anxiety toescape from his degrading occupation hadprompted his last statement, turned away,saying he would see what could be done,and in the evening visited Stuyvesant.Bethune was already with him, and Dicktold them how he had found Payne.

“You felt you had to promise the fellow ajob because he butted in when the dagosgot after you?” Stuyvesant suggested.

“No,” said Dick with someembarrassment, “it wasn’t altogether that.He certainly did help me, but I can’t passmy obligations on to my employer. If youthink he can’t be trusted, I’ll pay hispassage to another port.”

“Well, I don’t know that if I had the optionI’d take the fellow out of jail, so long ashe was shut up decently out of sight; butthis is worse, in a way. What do you think,Bethune?”

Bethune smiled. “You ought to know. I’ma bit of a philosopher, but when you stirmy racial feelings I’m an American first.The mean white’s a troublesomeproposition at home, but we can’t affordto exhibit him to the dagos here.” Heturned to Dick. “That’s our attitude,

Brandon, and though you were not long inour country, you seem to sympathize withit. I don’t claim it’s quite logical, but thereit is! We’re white and different.”“Do you want me to hire the man?”Stuyvesant asked with an impatientgesture.

“Yes,” said Dick.

“Then put him on. If he steals anything, I’llhold you responsible and ship him out onthe next cement boat, whether he wants togo or not.”

Next morning Dick sent word to Payne,who arrived at the dam soon afterwardsand did his work satisfactorily. On theevening of the first pay-day he went toSanta Brigida, but Dick, who watched him

in the morning, noted somewhat to hissurprise, that he showed no signs ofdissipation. When work stopped at noonhe heard a few pistol shots, but was toldon inquiring that it was only one or two ofthe men shooting at a mark. A few daysafterwards he found it necessary to visitSanta Brigida. Since Bethune confined histalents to constructional problems andlanguidly protested that he had no aptitudef o r commerce, much of the company’sminor business gradually fell into Dick’shands. As a rule, he went to the town inthe evening, after he had finished at thedam. While a hand-car was being gotready to take him down the line, Paynecame up to the veranda, where Dick satwith Jake.

“You’re going down town, Mr. Brandon,”he said. “Have you got a gun?”

“I have not,” said Dick.

Payne pulled out an automatic pistol.“Then you’d better take mine. I bought her,second-hand, with my first pay, but she’spretty good. I reckon you can shoot?”

“A little,” said Dick, who had practisedwith the British army revolver. “Still Idon’t carry a pistol.”

“You ought,” Payne answered meaningly,and walking to the other end of theveranda stuck a scrap of white paper on apost. “Say, suppose you try her? I want tosee you put a pill through that.”

Dick was surprised by the fellow’spersistence, but there is a fascination in

shooting at a target, and when Jake urgedhim he took the pistol. Steadying it withstiffened wrist and forearm, he fired buthit the post a foot below the paper.

“You haven’t allowed for the pull-off, andyou’re slow,” Payne remarked. “You wantto sight high, with a squeeze on the trigger,and then catch her on the drop.”

He took the pistol and fixed his eyes onthe paper before he moved. Then his armwent up suddenly and the glistening barrelpointed above the mark. There was a flashas his wrist dropped and a black spotappeared near the middle of the paper.

“Use her like that! You’d want a mightysteady hand to hold her dead on the markwhile you pull off.”

“Sit down and tell us why you think Mr.Brandon ought to have the pistol,” Jakeremarked. “I go to Santa Brigida now andthen, but you haven’t offered to lend itme.”

Payne sat down on the steps and looked athim with a smile. “You’re all right, Mr.Fuller. They’re not after you.”

“Then you reckon it wasn’t me theywanted the night my partner was stabbed?I had the money.”

“Nope,” said Payne firmly. “I allowthey’d have corralled the dollars if theycould, but it was Mr. Brandon they meantto knock out.” He paused and added in asignificant tone: “They’re after him yet.”

“Hadn’t you better tell us whom you mean

by ‘they’?” Dick asked.

“Oliva’s gang. There are toughs in the citywho’d kill you for fifty cents.”

“Does that account for your buying thepistol when you came here?”

“It does,” Payne admitted dryly. “I didn’tmean to take any chances when it lookedas if I was going back on my dagopartner.”

“He turned you down first, and I don’t seehow you could harm him by working forus.”

Payne did not answer, and Dick, whothought he was pondering something,resumed: “These half-breeds are arevengeful lot, but after all, Olivawouldn’t run a serious risk without a

stronger motive than he seems to have.”

“Well,” said Payne, “if I talked Spanish, Icould tell you more; but I was taking mysiesta one day in a dark wine-shop whentwo or three hard-looking peons came in.They mayn’t have seen me, because therewere some casks in the way, and anyhow,they’d reckon I couldn’t understand them. Ididn’t very well, but I heard your nameand caught a word or two. Their patronhad given them some orders and onecalled him Don Ramon. You were to bewatched, because mirar came in; but Ididn’t get the rest and they went out soon.I lay as if I was asleep, but I’d know thecrowd again.” Payne got up as heconcluded: “Anyway, you take my gun,and keep in the main calles, where the

lights are.”

When he had gone Jake remarked: “I guesshis advice is good and I’m coming along.”

“No,” said Dick, smiling as he put thepistol in his pocket. “The trouble is that ifI took you down there I mightn’t get youback. Besides, there are some calculationsI want you to make.”

Lighting his pipe, he took his seat on thehand-car and knitted his brows as twocolored laborers drove him down the hill.Below, the lights of Santa Brigidagleamed in a cluster against the dusky sea,and he knew something of the intriguesthat went on in the town. Commercial andpolitical jealousies were very keen, andcitizens of all ranks fought and schemedagainst their neighbors. The place was

rank with plots, but it was hard to see howhe could be involved. Yet it certainlybegan to look as if he had been stabbed byOliva’s order, and Oliva was nowemployed at the Adexe coaling wharf.

This seemed to throw a light upon thematter. Something mysterious was goingon at Adexe, and perhaps he had beenincautious and had shown his suspicions;the Spaniards were subtle. The managermight have imagined he knew more thanhe did; but if it was worth defending bythe means Payne had hinted at, the secretmust be very important, and the plotterswould hesitate about betraying themselvesby another attempt upon his life so long asthere was any possibility of failure.Besides, it was dangerous to attack a

foreigner, since if he were killed, therepresentative of his country woulddemand an exhaustive inquiry.

While Dick pondered the matter the hand-car stopped and he alighted and walkedbriskly to Santa Brigida, keeping in themiddle of the road. When he reached thetown, he chose the wide, well-lightedstreets but saw nothing suspicious. Aftertransacting his business he ventured, byway of experiment, across a small darksquare and returned to the main street by anarrow lane, but although he kept a keenwatch nothing indicated that he wasfollowed. Reaching the hand-car withoutbeing molested, he determined to becautious in future, though it was possiblethat Payne had been deceived.

CHAPTER XIX

JAKE EXPLAINS MATTERS

The sun had sunk behind the range whenClare Kenwardine stood, musing, on abalcony of the house. Voices and footstepsreached her across the roofs, for SantaBrigida was wakening from its afternoonsleep and the traffic had begun again in thecooling streets. The girl listened vacantly,as she grappled with questions that hadgrown more troublesome of late.

The life she led often jarred, and yet shecould find no escape. She hoped she was

not unnecessarily censorious and tried toargue that after all there was no great harmin gambling, but rarely succeeded inconvincing herself. Then she haddeliberately thrown in her lot with herfather’s. When she first insisted on joininghim in England, he had, for her sake, asshe now realized, discouraged the plan,but had since come to depend upon her inmany ways, and she could not leave him.Besides, it was too late. She had made herchoice and must stick to it.

Yet she rebelled against the feeling thatshe had brought a taint or stigma uponherself. She had no women friends exceptthe wives of one or two Spanish officialswhose reputation for honesty was not ofthe best; the English and American women

left her alone. Most of the men she met shefrankly disliked, and imagined that theformal respect they showed her was dueto her father’s hints. Kenwardine’s moralcode was not severe, but he saw that hisguests preserved their manners. Clare hadheard the Spaniards call him muycaballero, and they knew the outwardpoints of a gentleman. While shepondered, he came out on the balcony.

“Brooding?” he said with a smile. “Well,it has been very dull lately and we needcheering up. Suppose you send Mr. Fullera note and ask him to dinner to-morrow?He’s sometimes amusing and I think youlike him.”

Clare braced herself for a struggle, for itwas seldom she refused her father’s

request.

“Yes,” she said, “I like him, but it wouldbe better if he didn’t come.”

Kenwardine gave her a keen glance, butalthough he felt some surprise did not tryto hide his understanding of what shemeant.

“It looks as if you knew something aboutwhat happened on his last visit.”

“I do,” Clare answered. “It was rather ashock.”

“One mustn’t exaggerate the importance ofthese things,” Kenwardine remarked in anindulgent tone. “It’s difficult to avoidgetting a jar now and then, though I’vetried to shield you as much as possible.Fuller’s young and high-spirited, and you

really mustn’t judge his youthfulextravagance too severely.”

“But don’t you see you are admitting thathe shouldn’t come?” Clare asked, withsome color in her face. “He is young andinexperienced, and your friends are menof the world. What is safe for them may bedangerous for him.”

Kenwardine pondered. Fuller was anattractive lad, and he would not have beendispleased to think that Clare’s wish toprotect him might spring from sentimentaltenderness. But if this were so, she wouldhardly have been so frank and haveadmitted that he was weak. Moreover, ifshe found his society congenial, she wouldnot insist on keeping him away.

“You are afraid some of the others might

take advantage of his rashness?” hesuggested. “Can’t you trust me to see thisdoesn’t happen?”

“It did happen, not long ago. And youcan’t go very far; one can’t be rude toone’s guests.”

“Well,” said Kenwardine, smiling, “it’skind of you to make an excuse for me. Onthe whole, of course, I like you to befastidious in your choice of friends, butone should temper severity with sense. Idon’t want you to get as exacting asBrandon, for example.”

“I’m afraid he was right when he tried tokeep Fuller away.”

“Right in thinking my house was unsafe forthe lad, and in warning him that you and I

were unfit for him to associate with?”

Kenwardine studied the girl. She lookeddistressed, and he thought this significant,but after a moment or two she answeredsteadily:

“After all, Brandon had some grounds forthinking so. I would much sooner youdidn’t urge me to ask Jake Fuller.”

“Very well,” said Kenwardine. “I don’twant you to do anything that’s repugnant;but, of course, if he comes to see me, Ican’t send him off. It isn’t a matter ofmuch importance, anyhow.”

He left her, but she was not deceived byhis careless tone. She thought he meant tobring Fuller back and did not see how shecould prevent this, although she had

refused to help. Then she thought about theplans that Brandon had lost at their housein England. They had certainly beenstolen, for she could not doubt what hehad told her, but it was painful to admitthat her father had taken them. She feltdejected and lonely, and while shestruggled against the depression Lucillecame to say that Jake was waiting below.

“Tell him I am not at home,” Clarereplied.

Lucille went away and Clare left thebalcony, but a few minutes later, when shethought Jake had gone, she went down thestairs and met him coming up. He stoppedwith a twinkle of amusement.

“I sent word that I was not at home,” shesaid haughtily.

“You did,” Jake agreed in an apologetictone. “It’s your privilege, but although Ifelt rather hurt, I don’t see why that shouldprevent my asking if your father was in.”

Clare’s indignation vanished. She likedJake and was moved by his reproachfullook. She determined to try an appeal.

“Mr. Fuller,” she said, “I would sooneryou didn’t come to see us. It would bebetter, in several ways.”

He gave her a curious, intent look, inwhich she read sympathy. “I can’t pretendI don’t understand, and you’re very brave.Still, I’m not sure you’re quite just, to meamong others. I’m a bit of a fool, but I’mnot so rash as some people think. Anyhow,if I were, I’d still be safe enough in yourhouse. Sorry, but I can’t promise to stop

away.”

“It would really be much better,” Clareinsisted.

“Would it make things any easier foryou?”

“No,” said Clare. “In a sense, it couldmake no difference to me.”

“Very well. I intend to call on your fathernow and then. Of course, you needn’t seeme unless you like, though since I amcoming, your keeping out of the waywouldn’t do much good.”

Clare made a gesture of helpless protest.“Why won’t you be warned? Can’t youunderstand? Do you think it is easy for meto try——”

“I don’t,” said Jake. “I know it’s veryhard. I think you’re mistaken about thenecessity for interfering; that’s all.” Thenhe paused and resumed in a different tone:“You see, I imagine that you must feellonely at times, and that you might need afriend. I dare say you’d find me better thannone, and I’d like to know that I’ll have anopportunity of being around if I’mwanted.”

He gave her a quiet, respectful glance, andClare knew she had never liked him somuch. He looked trustworthy, and it was arelief to note that there was no hint ofanything but sympathy in his eyes andvoice. He asked nothing but permission toprotect her if there was need. Moreover,since they had been forced to tread on

dangerous ground, he had handled thesituation with courage. She might requirea friend, and his honest sympathy wasrefreshing by contrast with the attitude ofher father’s companions. Some were hardand cynical and some were dissipated, butall were stamped by a repugnantgreediness . They sought something:money, the gratification of base desires,success in dark intrigue. Jake with hischivalrous generosity stood far apart fromthem; but he must be saved from becominglike them.

“If I knew how I could keep you away, Iwould do so, but I can, at least, see you asseldom as possible,” she said and lefthim.

Jake knitted his brows as he went on to

Kenwardine’s room. He understoodClare’s motive, and admitted that shemeant well, but he was not going to stopaway because she thought this better forhim. There was, however, another matterthat demanded his attention and he feltawkward when Kenwardine opened thedoor.

“It’s some time since you have been to seeus,” the latter remarked.

“It is,” said Jake. “Perhaps you canunderstand that I felt rather shy aboutcoming after the way my partner arrangedthe matter of the check.”

“He arranged it to your advantage, andyou ought to be satisfied. Mr. Brandon isobviously a business man.”

Jack resented the polished sneer. “He’s avery good sort and I’m grateful to him; butit doesn’t follow that I adopt his point ofview.”

“You mean his views about the payment ofone’s debts?”

“Yes,” said Jake. “I don’t consider thedebt wiped out; in fact, that’s why I came.I want to make good, but it will take time.If you will ask your friends to wait——”

Kenwardine looked at him with anironical smile. “Isn’t this a change ofattitude? I understood you claimed thatyou were under a disadvantage throughbeing drunk and suspected that the gamewas not quite straight.”

“I was drunk and still suspect Black of

crooked play.”

“It’s rather a grave statement.”

“I quite see that,” said Jake. “However, Ideserved to lose for being drunk when Iwas betting high, and don’t hold youaccountable for Black. You’d take steepchances if you guaranteed all guests.”

Kenwardine laughed. “You’re remarkablyfrank; but there’s some truth in what yousay, although the convention is that I doguarantee them and their honor’s mine.”

“We’ll keep to business,” Jake replied.“Will you tell your friends I’ll pay themout in full as soon as I can?”

“Certainly. Since they thought the matterclosed, it will be a pleasant surprise, butwe’ll let that go. Mr. Brandon obviously

didn’t consult your wishes, but have youany idea what his object was in taking hisvery unusual line?”

“Yes,” said Jake; “if you press me, Ihave.”

“He thought he would make it awkwardfor you to come here, in fact?”

“Something like that.”

“Then you mean to run the risk?”

“I’m coming, if you’ll allow it,” Jakeanswered with a twinkle. “The risk isn’tvery great, because if I lose any moremoney in the next few months, the winnerswill not get paid. The old man certainlywon’t stand for it if I get into debt.”

Kenwardine pushed a box of cigarettes

across. “I congratulate you on your way ofmaking things clear, and now weunderstand each other you can come whenyou like. Have a smoke.”

Jake took a cigarette, but left soonafterwards to do an errand of Bethune’sthat had given him an excuse for visitingthe town. Then he went back to the dam,and after dinner sat outside Dick’s shack,pondering what Clare had said. She had,of course, had some ground for warninghim, but he did not believe yet thatKenwardine meant to exploit hisrecklessness. It would not be worth while,for one thing, since he had never had muchmoney to lose and now had none. Besides,Kenwardine was not the man to take amean advantage of his guest, though Jake

could not say as much for some of hisfriends. Anyhow, he meant to go to thehouse because he felt that Clare mightneed his help. He did not see how thatmight be, but he had a half-formedsuspicion that she might have to suffer onher father’s account, and if anything of thekind happened, he meant to be about.

Yet he was not in love with her. Sheattracted him strongly, and he admittedthat it would be remarkably easy tobecome infatuated, but did not mean to letthis happen. Though often rash, he hadmore sense and self-control than hisfriends believed, and realized that Clarewas not for him. He could not tell how hehad arrived at this conclusion, but there itwas, and he knew he was not mistaken.

Sometimes he wondered with a twinge ofjealousy what she thought of Brandon.

By and by he roused himself from hisreflections and looked about. There wasno moon and a thin mist that had stolen outof the jungle drifted past the shack. Acoffee-pot and two cups stood upon atable near his chair, and one cup was halfempty, as Dick had left it when he wasunexpectedly summoned to the dam, wherework was going on. The veranda lamp hadbeen put out, because Jake did not want toread and a bright light would haveattracted moths and beetles, but Dick hadleft a lamp burning in his room, and a faintillumination came through the curtain onthe open window. Everything was veryquiet except when the ringing of hammers

and the rattle of a crane rose from thedam.

Looking farther round, Jake thought hedistinguished the blurred outline of ahuman figure in the mist, but was notsurprised. Some ironwork that made acomfortable seat lay near the shack andthe figure had been there before. For allthat, he imagined the man was wasting histime and keeping an unnecessary watch.Then his thoughts again centered on Clareand Kenwardine and some time hadpassed when he looked up. Something haddisturbed him, but he could not tell what itwas, and on glancing at the spot where hehad seen the figure he found it had gone.

Next moment a board in the house creakedsoftly, as if it had been trodden on; but the

boards often did so after a change oftemperature, and Jake sat still. Theircolored servant had asked leave to godown to the camp and was perhaps nowcoming back. One had to be careful not togive one’s imagination too much rein inthese hot countries. Payne seemed to havedone so and had got an attack of nerves,which was curious, because indulgence innative caña generally led to that kind ofthing, and Payne was sober. Moreover, hewas of the type that is commonly calledhard.

Jake took out a cigarette and was lightingit when he heard a swift, stealthy stepclose behind him. He dropped the matchas he swung round, pushing back hiscanvas chair, and found his eyes dazzled

by the sudden darkness. Still he thought hesaw a shadow flit across the veranda andvanish into the mist. Next moment therewere heavier footsteps, and a crash as aman fell over the projecting legs of thechair. The fellow rolled down the shallowstairs, dropping a pistol and then hurriedlygot up.

“Stop right there, Pepe!” he shouted.“What were you doing in that room?”

Nobody answered and Jake turned to theman, who was rubbing his leg.

“What’s the trouble, Payne?” he asked.

“He’s lit out, but I reckon I’d have got himif you’d been more careful how youpushed your chair around.”

“Whom did you expect to get?”

“Well,” said Payne, “it wasn’t Pepe.”

“Then why did you call him?”

“I wanted the fellow I was after to thinkI’d made a mistake.”

Jake could understand this, though the restwas dark. Pepe was an Indian boy whobrought water and domestic stores to theshack, but would have no excuse forentering it at night.

“I allow he meant to dope the coffee,”Payne resumed.

This was alarming, and Jake abruptlyglanced at the table. The intruder musthave been close to it and behind him whenhe heard the step, and might haveaccomplished his purpose and stolenaway had he not struck the match.

“He hadn’t time,” he answered. “We hadbetter see what he was doing in thehouse.”

Payne put away his pistol and they enteredDick’s room. Nothing seemed to havebeen touched, until Jake placed the lampon a writing-table where Dick sometimesworked at night. The drawers beneath itwere locked, but Payne indicated a greasyfinger-print on the writing-pad.

“I guess that’s a dago’s mark. Mr.Brandon would wash his hands before hebegan to write.”

Jake agreed, and picking up the padthought the top sheet had been hurriedlyremoved, because a torn fragmentprojected from the leather clip. The sheetleft was covered with faint impressions,

but it rather looked as if these had beenmade by the ink running through than bydirect contact. Jake wrote a few words ona scrap of paper and pressing it on the padnoted the difference.

“This is strange,” he said. “I don’t get thedrift of it.”

Payne looked at him with a dry smile. “Ifyou’ll come out and let me talk, I’ll try toput you wise.”

Jake nodded and they went back to theveranda.

CHAPTER XX

DON SEBASTIAN

When they returned to the veranda Paynesat down on the steps. Jake picked up hischair and looked at him thoughtfully.

“Now,” he said, “I want to know why youhave been prowling about the shack atnight. You had better begin at thebeginning.”

“Very well. I guess you know I was putoff this camp soon before you came?”

“I heard something about it,” Jake

admitted.

Payne grinned as if he appreciated histact, and then resumed: “In the settlementwhere I was raised, the old fellow whokept the store had a cheat-ledger. Whensomebody traded stale eggs and garden-truck for good groceries, and thestorekeeper saw he couldn’t make troubleabout it without losing a customer, he saidnothing but scored it down against theman. Sometimes he had to wait a longwhile, but sooner or later he squared theaccount. Now that’s my plan with DonRamon Oliva.”

“I see,” said Jake. “What have you againsthim?”

“To begin with, he got me fired. It was athing I took my chances of and wouldn’t

have blamed him for; but I reckon nowyour father’s cement wasn’t all he wasafter. He wanted a pull on me.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t got that quite clear, but I’m anAmerican and could do things he couldn’t,without being suspected.”

“Go on,” said Jake, in a thoughtful tone.

“Well, for a clever man, he made a verypoor defense when your partner spottedhis game; seemed to say if they reckonedhe’d been stealing, he’d let it go at that.Then, when he’d got me and found Iwasn’t the man he wanted, he turned medown. Left me to live with breeds andniggers!”

“What do you mean by your not being the

man he wanted?”

Payne smiled in a deprecatory way. “Iallow that I was willing to make a fewdollars on the cement, but working againstwhite men in a dago plot is a differentthing.”

“Then there is a plot?”

“Well,” said Payne quietly, “I don’t knowmuch about it, but something’s going on.”

Jake lighted a cigarette while hepondered. He was not surprised thatPayne should talk to him with confidentialfamiliarity, because the situationwarranted it, and the American workmanis not, as a rule, deferential to hisemployer. The fellow might be mistaken,but he believed that Oliva had schemed to

get him into his power and work upon hiswish for revenge. Jake could understandOliva’s error. Payne’s moral code wasrudimentary, but he had some racial prideand would not act like a treacherousrenegade.

“I begin to see how your account againstOliva stands,” he remarked. “But is thatthe only entry in your book?”

“I guess not,” Payne replied. “Mr.Brandon’s name is there, but the entry isagainst myself. It was a straight fight whenhe had me fired, and he took me backwhen he found I was down and out.”

Jake nodded. “You have already warnedBrandon that he might be in some dangerin the town.”

“That’s so. Since then, I reckoned that theywere getting after him here, but we weremore likely to hold them up if they didn’tknow we knew. That’s why I called out toshow I thought it was Pepe who was in theshack.”

“Very well,” said Jake. “There’s nothingmore to be done in the meantime, butyou’d better tell me if you find outanything else.”

Payne went away and when Dick came inJake took him into his room and indicatedthe blotter.

“Have you torn off the top sheet in the lastfew days?”

“I don’t remember doing so, but now Icome to look, it has been torn off.”

“What have you been writing lately?”

“Orders for small supplies, specificationsof material, and such things.”

“Concrete, in short?” Jake remarked.“Well, it’s not an interesting subject tooutsiders and sometimes gets very stale tothose who have to handle it. Are you quitesure you haven’t been writing aboutanything else?”

“I am sure. Why do you ask?”

“Because, as you see, somebody thought itworth while to steal the top sheet of yourblotter,” Jake replied. “Now perhaps I’dbetter tell you something I’ve justlearned.”

He related what Payne had told him andconcluded: “I’m puzzled about Oliva’s

motive. After all, it could hardly berevenge.”

“No,” said Dick, with a thoughtful frown,“I don’t imagine it is.”

“Then what does he expect to gain?”

Dick was silent for a few moments withknitted brows, and then asked: “You havea Monroe Doctrine, haven’t you?”

“We certainly have,” Jake agreed,smiling. “We reaffirmed it not long ago.”

“Roughly speaking, the Doctrine statesthat no European power can be allowed toset up a naval base or make warlikepreparations in any part of America. Infact, you warn all foreigners to keep theirhands off?”

“That’s its general purport; but while Isupport it patriotically, I can’t tell youexactly what it says. Anyhow, I don’t seewhat this has to do with the matter.”

“Nor do I, but it seems to promise a clue,”Dick answered dryly. He frowned at theblotter and then added: “We’ll leave it atthat. I’ve some vague suspicions, butnothing to act upon. If the thing gets anyplainer, I’ll let you know.”

“But what about Payne? Is he to hangaround here nights with his gun?”

“No,” said Dick, “it isn’t necessary. Butthere’d be no harm in our taking a fewprecautions.”

He stretched his arms wearily when Jakeleft him, for he had had a tiring day and

had now been given ground for anxiousthought. He had not troubled much aboutOliva while he imagined that the fellowwas actuated by a personal grudge, but hisantagonism began to look more dangerous.Suppose the Adexe coaling station wasintended to be something of the nature of anaval base? Munitions and othercontraband of war might be quietly sentoff with fuel to fighting ships. Richter, theGerman, had certainly been associatedwith Kenwardine, who had made anopportunity for telling Jake that they haddisagreed. Then suppose the owners of thestation had learned that they were beingspied upon? Dick admitted that he mightnot have been as tactful as he thought; andhe was employed by an influentialAmerican. The Americans might be

disposed to insist upon a strict observanceof the Monroe Doctrine. Granting all this,if he was to be dealt with, it would besafer to make use of a half-breed who wasknown to have some ground for hatinghim.

Dick, however, reflected that he wastaking much for granted and hissuppositions might well be wrong. It wasunwise to attach too much importance to aplausible theory. Then he could notexpose Kenwardine without involvingClare, and saw no means of separatingthem. Besides, Kenwardine’s positionwas strong. The officials were given tograft, and he had, no doubt, made a skilfuluse of bribes. Warnings about him wouldnot be listened to, particularly as he was

carrying on a thriving business and payinglarge sums in wages in a country thatdepended on foreign capital.

Then Dick got up with a frown. His headached and he was tired after workingsince sunrise in enervating heat. Thepuzzle could not be solved now, and hemust wait until he found out somethingmore.

For the next two or three evenings he waskept busy at the dam, where work wascarried on after dark, and Jake, takingadvantage of this, went to Santa Brigidaone night when he knew the locomotivewould be coming back up the line.Nothing of importance happened atKenwardine’s, where he did not seeClare, and on his return he took a short cut

through a badly-lighted part of the town.There was perhaps some risk in this, butJake seldom avoided an adventure.Nothing unusual happened as he made hisway through the narrow streets, until hereached a corner where a noisy grouphung about the end house. As the men didnot look sober, he took the other side ofthe street, where the light of a lamp fellupon him.

His close-fitting white clothesdistinguished him from the picturesqueuntidiness of the rest, and when somebodyshouted, “Un Gringo!” one or two movedacross as if to stop him. Jake walked onquickly, looking straight in front withoutseeming to notice the others, in the hope ofgetting past before they got in his way, but

a man dressed like a respectable citizencame round the corner and the peons ranoff. Since the appearance of a singlestranger did not seem to account for this,Jake wondered what had alarmed them,until he saw a rural guard in white uniformbehind the other. When the man came upthe rurale stopped and raised his hand asif he meant to salute, but let it fall again,and Jake imagined that the first had givenhim a warning glance. He knew the thin,dark-faced Spaniard, whom he had met atKenwardine’s.

The man touched Jake’s shoulder anddrew him away, and the lad thought itstrange that the rurale went on withoutasking a question.

“I don’t know that the peons meant to

make trouble, but I’m glad you camealong, Don Sebastian,” he said.

“It is an honor to have been of someservice, but it looks as if you were as rashin other matters as you are at cards,” theSpaniard answered. “These dark callesare unsafe for foreigners.”

“So it seems, but I’m afraid it will be along time before I’m worth robbing,” Jakereplied, and then remembered withembarrassment that the other was one ofthe party whose winnings he had not yetpaid.

Don Sebastian smiled, but said suavely:“For all that, you should not take anunnecessary risk. You have been attackedonce already, I think?”

“Yes, but it was my partner who got hurt.”

“That is one of the ironies of luck. SeñorBrandon is sober and cautious, but he getsinjured when he comes to protect you,who are rash.”

“He’s what you say, but I didn’t know youhad met him,” Jake replied.

“I have heard of him; you foreigners aretalked about in the cafés. They talk muchin Santa Brigida; many have nothing elseto do. But have you and Señor Brandononly been molested once?”

Jake hesitated for a moment. He liked theman and on the whole thought he could betrusted, while he imagined that he was notprompted by idle curiosity but knewsomething. Besides, Jake was often

impulsive and ready, as he said, to backhis judgment.

“We were only once actually attacked, butsomething rather curious happened notlong ago.”

“Ah!” said Don Sebastian, “this isinteresting, and as I know something of theintrigues that go on in the city it might beto your advantage to tell me about it.There is a quiet wine-shop not far off.”

“Would it be safe to go in?” Jake asked.

“I think so,” his companion answered,smiling.

Jake presently followed him into a small,dimly lighted room, and noted that thelandlord came to wait on them withobsequious attention. Two peons were

drinking in a corner, but they went outwhen the landlord made a sign. Jakethought this curious, but Don Sebastianfilled his glass and gave him a cigarette.

“Now,” he said, “we have the place toourselves and you can tell your story.”

Jake related how a stranger had stolen intotheir shack a few days ago, and DonSebastian listened attentively.

“You do not think it was one of the peonsemployed at the dam?” he suggested.

“No,” said Jake. “Anyhow, Payne seemedsatisfied it wasn’t.”

“He would probably know them betterthan you. Do you keep money in thehouse?”

“Very little. We lock up the money forwages in the pay-office safe. Anyhow, I’mnot sure the fellow came to steal.”

“If he did so, one would not imagine thathe would be satisfied with blotting-paper,” Don Sebastian agreed. “You saidthere was some coffee on the table.”

“There was. Payne reckoned the fellowmeant to dope it. What do you think?”

“It is possible, if he had ground for beingrevengeful. Some of the Indians from themountains are expert poisoners. But whyshould anybody wish to injure yourcomrade?”

“I didn’t suggest that he wished to injureBrandon. He might have meant to dopeme.”

Don Sebastian smiled. “That is so, but onthe whole I do not think it probable. Doyou know of anybody whom your friendhas harmed?”

Jake decided to tell him about Oliva. Hewas now convinced that Don Sebastianknew more than he admitted and that hisinterest was not unfriendly. Besides, therewas somehow a hint of authority in thefellow’s thin, dark face. He showed politeattention as Jake narrated the events thathad led to Oliva’s dismissal, but the ladimagined that he was telling him nothinghe had not already heard.

“The motive may have been revenge, butas Señor Brandon was stabbed that oughtto satisfy his enemy. Besides, these peopleare unstable; they do not even indulge in

hatred long. Do you know if your comradehas taken any part in political intrigue?”

“It’s most unlikely; he would make a verypoor conspirator,” Jake replied.

“Then have you heard of any señorita, orperhaps a half-breed girl who has takenhis fancy?”

“No,” said Jake. “Dick is not that kind.”

He thought Don Sebastian had beenclearing the ground, eliminatingpossibilities to which he did not attachmuch weight, and waited with interest forhis remarks.

“Well,” said the Spaniard, “I think youand the man, Payne, should watch overyour friend, but it might be better if youdid not tell him you are doing so or ask

him any questions, and I would sooner youdid not mention this interview. If,however, anything suspicious happensagain, it might be an advantage if you letme know. You can send word to me at thehotel.”

“Not at Kenwardine’s?”

Don Sebastian gave him a quiet glance,but Jake thought it was keenly observantand remembered how, one night when amessenger entered Kenwardine’s patio,Richter, the German, had stood where heobstructed the Spaniard’s view.

“No,” he said, “I should prefer the hotel.Will you promise?”

“I will,” Jake answered impulsively.“However, you seem to suggest that I

should leave my partner to grapple withthis thing himself and I don’t like that. Ifhe’s up against any danger, I want to buttin. Dick’s no fool, but there are respectsin which he’s not very keen. His mind’sfixed on concrete, and when he gets off ithis imagination’s sometimes rather weak——”

He stopped, feeling that he must not seemto censure his friend, and Don Sebastiannodded with a twinkle of amusement.

“I think I understand. There are, however,men of simple character and no cunningwho are capable of going far andsometimes surprise the friends who do notknow them very well. I cannot tell ifSeñor Brandon is one of these, but it is notimpossible. After all, it is often the clever

man who makes the worst mistakes; andon the whole I imagine it would be wiserto leave your comrade alone.”

He got up and laid his hand on Jake’s armwith a friendly gesture. “Now I will putyou on your way, and if you feel puzzledor alarmed in future, you can come to me.”

CHAPTER XXI

DICK MAKES A BOLDVENTURE

Some delicate and important work wasbeing done, and Stuyvesant had had hislunch sent up to the dam. Bethune andDick joined him afterwards, and sat in theshade of a big traveling crane. Stuyvesantand Dick were hot and dirty, for it was nottheir custom to be content with givingorders when urgent work was going on.Bethune looked languid and immaculatelyneat. His speciality was mathematics, and

he said he did not see why the man withmental talents should dissipate his energyby using his hands.

“It’s curious about that French liner,”Stuyvesant presently remarked. “Iunderstand her passengers have beenwaiting since yesterday and she hasn’tarrived.”

“The last boat cut out Santa Brigidawithout notice,” Bethune replied. “Myopinion of the French is that they’re apretty casual lot.”

“On the surface. They smile and shrugwhere we set our teeth, but when you getdown to bed-rock you don’t find muchdifference. I thought as you do, until I wentover there and saw a people that run usclose for steady, intensive industry. Their

small cultivators are simply great. I’d liketo put them on our poorer land in theMiddle West, where we’re content withsixteen bushels of wheat that’s most fit forchicken feed to the acre. Then what theydon’t know about civil engineering isn’tworth learning.”

Bethune made a gesture of agreement.“They’re certainly fine engineers andthey’re putting up a pretty good fight justnow, but these Latins puzzle me. Take theIberian branch of the race, for example.We have Spanish peons here who’ll standfor as much work and hardship as anyAnglo-Saxon I’ve met. Then an educatedSpaniard’s hard to beat for intellectualsubtlety. Chess is a game that’s suited tomy turn of mind, but I’ve been badly

whipped in Santa Brigida. They’ve brainsand application, and yet they don’tprogress. What’s the matter with them,anyway?”

“I expect they can’t formulate a continuouspolicy and stick to it, and they keep brainsand labor too far apart; the two shouldcoordinate. But I wonder what’s holdingup the mail boat.”

“Do they know when she left the lastport?” Dick, who had listened impatiently,asked with concealed interest.

“They do. It’s a short run and she ought tohave arrived yesterday morning.”

“The Germans can’t have got her. Theyhave no commerce-destroyers in thesewaters,” Bethune remarked, with a glance

at Dick. “Your navy corralled the lot, Ithink.”

Dick wondered why Bethune looked athim, but he answered carelessly: “So oneunderstands. But it’s strange the Frenchcompany cut out the last call. There was abig quantity of freight on the mole.”

“It looks as if the agent had suspectedsomething,” Stuyvesant replied.“However, that’s not our affair, and youwant to get busy and have yourspecifications and cost-sheets straightwhen Fuller comes.”

“Then Fuller is coming back!” Dickexclaimed.

“He’ll be here to-morrow night. Iimagined Bethune had told you about the

cablegram he sent.”

“He didn’t; I expect he thought his gettinga scratch lunch more important,” Dickreplied, looking at his watch. “Well, Imust see everything’s ready before theboys make a start.”

He went away with swift, decided stepsthrough the scorching heat, and Stuyvesantsmiled.

“There you have a specimen of the usefulAnglo-Saxon type. I don’t claim that he’sa smart man all round, but he canconcentrate on his work and put over whathe takes in hand. You wouldn’t go to himfor a brilliant plan, but give him anawkward job and he’ll make good. Iexpect he’ll get a lift up when Fuller hastaken a look round.”

“He deserves it,” Bethune agreed.

Though the heat was intense and the glarefrom the white dam dazzling, Dick foundwork something of a relief. It was hishabit to fix his mind upon the task inwhich he was engaged; but of late histhoughts had been occupied by Clare andconjectures about the Adexe coalingstation and the strange black-funnel boat.The delay in the French liner’s arrival hadmade the matter look more urgent, but hehad now an excuse for putting off itsconsideration. His duty to his employercame first. There were detailed plans thatmust be worked out before Fuller cameand things he would want to know, andDick sat up late at night in order to havethe answers ready.

Fuller arrived, and after spending a fewdays at the works came to Dick’s shackone evening. For an hour he examineddrawings and calculations, asking Jake asharp question now and then, andafterwards sent him away.

“You can put up the papers now,” he said.“We’ll go out on the veranda. It’s coolerthere.”

He dropped into a canvas chair, for the airwas stagnant and enervating, and lookeddown at the clustering lights beside thesea for a time. Then he said abruptly:“Jake seems to know his business. Youhave taught him well.”

“He learned most himself,” Dickanswered modestly.

“Well,” said Fuller with some dryness,“that’s the best plan, but you put him onthe right track and kept him there; I guess Iknow my son. Has he made trouble for youin other ways?”

“None worth mentioning.”

Fuller gave him a keen glance and thenindicated the lights of the town.

“That’s the danger-spot. Does he go downthere often?”

“No. I make it as difficult as possible, butcan’t stop him altogether.”

Fuller nodded. “I guess you used sometact, because he likes you and you’dcertainly have had trouble if you’dsnubbed him up too hard. Anyway, I’mglad to acknowledge that you have put me

in your debt. You can see how I wasfixed. Bethune’s not the man to guide aheadstrong lad, and Stuyvesant’s his boss.If he’d used any official pressure, Jakewould have kicked. That’s why I wanted asteady partner for him who had no actualauthority.”

“In a sense, you ran some risk in choosingme.”

“I don’t know that I chose you, to beginwith,” Fuller answered with a twinkle. “Iimagine my daughter made me think as Idid, but I’m willing to state that herjudgment was good. We’ll let that go. Youhave seen Jake at his work; do you thinkhe’ll make an engineer?”

“Yes,” said Dick, and then recognizingfriendship’s claim, added bluntly: “But

he’ll make a better artist. He has the gift.”

“Well,” said Fuller, in a thoughtful tone,“we’ll talk of it again. In the meantime,he’s learning how big jobs are done anddollars are earned, and that’s a liberaleducation. However, I’ve a propositionhere I’d like your opinion of.”

Dick’s heart beat as he read the documenthis employer handed him. It was a formalagreement by which he engaged hisservices to Fuller until the irrigation workwas completed, in return for a salary thathe thought remarkably good.

“It’s much more than I had any reason toexpect,” he said with some awkwardness.“In fact, although I don’t know that I havebeen of much help to Jake, I’d sooner youdidn’t take this way of repaying me. One

would prefer not to mix friendship withbusiness.”

“Yours is not a very common view,”Fuller replied, smiling. “However, I’mmerely offering to buy your professionalskill, and want to know if you’re satisfiedwith my terms.”

“They’re generous,” said Dick withemotion, for he saw what the change in hisposition might enable him to do. “There’sonly one thing: the agreement is to standuntil the completion of the dam. What willhappen afterwards?”

“Then if I have no more use for you here, Ithink I can promise to find you as good orbetter job. Is that enough?”

Dick gave him a grateful look. “It’s

difficult to tell you how I feel about it, butI’ll do my best to make good and showthat you have not been mistaken.”

“That’s all right,” said Fuller, getting up.“Sign the document when you can get awitness and let me have it.”

He went away and Dick sat down andstudied the agreement with a beating heart.He found his work engrossing, he liked themen he was associated with, and saw hisway to making his mark in his profession,but there was another cause for thetriumphant thrill he felt. Clare must beseparated from Kenwardine before shewas entangled in his dangerous plots, andhe had brooded over his inability to cometo her rescue. Now, however, oneobstacle was removed. He could offer her

some degree of comfort if she could bepersuaded to marry him. It was obviousthat she must be taken out of her father’shands as soon as possible, and hedetermined to try to gain her consent nextmorning, though he was very doubtful ofhis success.

When he reached the house, Clare wassitting at a table in the patio with somework in her hand. Close by, the purplecreeper spread across the wall, and thegirl’s blue eyes and thin lilac dressharmonized with its deeper color. Herface and half-covered arms showed purewhite against the background, but thedelicate pink that had once relieved theformer was now less distinct. The hot,humid climate had begun to set its mark on

her, and Dick thought she looked anxiousand perplexed.

She glanced up when she heard his step,and moving quietly forward he stopped onthe opposite side of the table with hishand on a chair. He knew there was muchagainst him and feared a rebuff, but delaymight be dangerous and he could not wait.Standing quietly resolute, he fixed his eyeson the girl’s face.

“Is your father at home, MissKenwardine?” he asked.

“No,” said Clare. “He went out some timeago, and I cannot tell when he will comeback. Do you want to see him?”

“I don’t know yet. It depends.”

He thought she was surprised and curious,

but she said nothing, and nerving himselffor the plunge, he resumed: “I came to seeyou in the first place. I’m afraid you’ll beastonished, Clare, but I want to know ifyou will marry me.”

She moved abruptly, turned her head for amoment, and then looked up at him whilethe color gathered in her face. Herexpression puzzled Dick, but he imaginedthat she was angry.

“I am astonished. Isn’t it a ratherextraordinary request, after what you saidon board the launch?”

“No,” said Dick, “it’s very natural frommy point of view. You see, I fell in lovewith you the first time we met; but I gotinto disgrace soon afterwards and havehad a bad time since. This made it

impossible for me to tell you what I felt;but things are beginning to improve——”

He stopped, seeing no encouragement inher expression, for Clare was fighting ahard battle. His blunt simplicity made astrong appeal. She had liked and trustedhim when he had with callow but honestchivalry offered her his protection onenight in England and he had developedfast since then. Hardship had strengthenedand in a sense refined him. He lookedresolute and soldierlike as he waited.Still, for his sake as well as hers, she mustrefuse.

“Then you must be easily moved,” shesaid. “You knew nothing about me.”

“I’d seen you; that was quite enough,”Dick declared and stopped. Her look was

gentler and he might do better if he couldlessen the distance between them and takeher hand; he feared he had been painfullymatter-of-fact. Perhaps he was right, butthe table stood in the way, and if hemoved round it, she would take alarm. Itwas exasperating to be baulked by a pieceof furniture.

“Besides,” he resumed, “when everybodydoubted me, you showed your confidence.You wrote and said——”

“But you told me you tore up the letter,”Clare interrupted.

Dick got confused. “I did; I was a fool, butthe way things had been going was toomuch for me. You ought to understand andtry to make allowances.”

“I cannot understand why you want tomarry a girl you think a thief.”

Pulling himself together, Dick gave her asteady look. “I can’t let that pass, though ifI begin to argue I’m lost. In a way, I’m atyour mercy, because my defense can onlymake matters worse. But I tried to explainon board the launch.”

“The explanation wasn’t veryconvincing,” Clare remarked, turning herhead. “Do you still believe I took yourpapers?”

“The plans were in my pocket when Ireached your house,” said Dick, who sawhe must be frank. “I don’t know that youtook them, and if you did, I wouldn’t holdyou responsible; but they were taken.”

“You mean that you blame my father fortheir loss?”

Dick hesitated. He felt that she was givinghim a last opportunity, but he could notseize it.

“If I pretended I didn’t blame him, youwould find me out and it would standbetween us. I wish I could say I’ddropped the papers somewhere or findsome other way; but the truth is best.”

Clare turned to him with a hot flush and anangry sparkle in her eyes.

“Then it’s unthinkable that you shouldmarry the daughter of the man whom youbelieve ruined you. Don’t you see that youcan’t separate me from my father? Wemust stand together.”

“No,” said Dick doggedly, knowing thathe was beaten, “I don’t see that. I wantyou; I want to take you away fromsurroundings and associations that mustjar. Perhaps it was foolish to think youwould come, but you helped to save mylife when I was ill, and I believe I wasthen something more to you than a patient.Why have you changed?”

She looked at him with a forced and ratherbitter smile. “Need you ask? Can’t you, orwon’t you, understand? Could I marry myvictim, which is what you are if yoursuspicions are justified? If they are not,you have offered me an insult I cannotforgive. It is unbearable to be thought thedaughter of a thief.”

Dick nerved himself for a last effort.

“What does your father’s charactermatter? I want you. You will be safe fromeverything that could hurt you if you cometo me.” He hesitated and then went on in ahoarse, determined voice: “You mustcome. I can’t let you live among thoseplotters and gamblers. It’s impossible.Clare, when I was ill and you thought measleep, I watched you sitting in themoonlight. Your face was wonderfullygentle and I thought——”

She rose and stopped him with a gesture.“There is no more to be said, Mr.Brandon. I cannot marry you, and if youare generous, you will go.”

Dick, who had been gripping the chairhard, let his hand fall slackly and turnedaway. Clare watched him cross the patio,

and stood tensely still, fighting against animpulse to call him back as he neared thedoor. Then as he vanished into the shadowof the arch she sat down with suddenlimpness and buried her hot face in herhands.

CHAPTER XXII

THE OFFICIAL MIND

On the evening after Clare’s refusal, Dickentered the principal café at SantaBrigida. The large, open-fronted roomwas crowded, for, owing to the duty,newspapers were not generally bought bythe citizens, who preferred to read them atthe cafés, and the Diario had just come in.The eagerness to secure a copy indicatedthat something important had happened,and after listening to the readers’ remarks,Dick gathered that the French liner hadsunk and a number of her passengers were

drowned. This, however, did not seem toaccount for the angry excitement some ofthe men showed, and Dick waited until apolite half-breed handed him thenewspaper.

A ship’s lifeboat, filled with exhaustedpassengers, had reached a bay somedistance along the coast, and it appearedfrom their stories that the liner wassteaming across a smooth sea in the darkwhen a large vessel, which carried nolights, emerged from a belt of haze andcame towards her. The French captainsteered for the land, hoping to reachterritorial waters, where he would besafe, but the stranger was faster andopened fire with a heavy gun. The linerheld on, although she was twice hit, but

after a time there was an explosion belowand her colored firemen ran up on deck.Then the ship stopped, boats were hoistedout, and it was believed that several gotsafely away, though only one had so farreached the coast. This boat was forced topass the attacking vessel rather close, andan officer declared that she looked likeone of the Spanish liners and her funnelwas black.

Dick gave the newspaper to the next manand sat still with knitted brows, for hissuspicions were suddenly confirmed. Theraider had a black funnel, and was nodoubt the ship he had seen steering forAdexe. An enemy commerce-destroyerwas lurking about the coast, and she couldnot be allowed to continue her deadly

work, which her resemblance to theSpanish vessels would make easier. Forall that, Dick saw that anything he mightdo would cost him much, since Clare hadsaid that she and Kenwardine must standtogether. This was true, in a sense,because if Kenwardine got into trouble,she would share his disgrace and perhapshis punishment. Moreover, she might thinkhe had been unjustly treated and blameDick for helping to persecute him. Thingswere getting badly entangled, and Dick,leaning back in his chair, vacantly lookedabout.

The men had gathered in groups round thetables, their dark faces showing keenexcitement as they argued with dramaticgestures about international law. For the

most part, they looked indignant, but Dickunderstood that they did not expect muchfrom their Government. One said theEnglish would send a cruiser andsomething might be done by theAmericans; another explained the MonroeDoctrine in a high-pitched voice. Dick,however, tried not to listen, becausedifficulties he had for some time seenapproaching must now be faced.

He had been forced to leave England indisgrace, and his offense would beremembered if he returned. Indeed, he hadcome to regard America as his home, butpatriotic feelings he had thought dead hadawakened and would not be denied. Hemight still be able to serve his country andmeant to do so, though it was plain that

this would demand a sacrifice. Love andduty clashed, but he must do his best andleave the rest to luck. Getting up withsudden resolution, he left the café andwent to the British consulate.

When he stopped outside the building, towhich the royal arms were fixed, heremarked that two peons were loungingnear, but, without troubling about them,knocked at the door. There was only aVice-Consul at Santa Brigida, and thepost, as sometimes happens, was held by amerchant, who had, so a clerk stated,already gone home. Dick, however, knewwhere he lived and determined to seekhim at his house. He looked round once ortwice on his way there, without seeinganybody who seemed to be following him,

but when he reached the iron gate hethought a dark figure stopped in the gloomacross the street. Still, it might only be acitizen going into his house, and Dick rangthe bell.

He was shown on to a balcony where theVice-Consul sat with his Spanish wife anddaughter at a table laid with wine andfruit. He did not look pleased at beingdisturbed, but told Dick to sit down whenthe ladies withdrew.

“Now,” he said, “you can state yourbusiness, but I have an appointment in aquarter of an hour.”

Dick related his suspicions about thecoaling company, and described what hehad seen at Adexe and the visit of theblack-funnel boat, but before he had gone

far, realized that he was wasting his time.The Vice-Consul’s attitude was politelyindulgent.

“This is a rather extraordinary tale,” heremarked when Dick stopped.

“I have told you what I saw and what Ithink it implies,” Dick answered withsome heat.

“Just so. I do not doubt your honesty, but itis difficult to follow your arguments.”

“It oughtn’t to be difficult. You have heardthat the French liner was sunk by a black-funnel boat.”

“Black funnels are common. Why do youimagine the vessel you saw was anauxiliary cruiser?”

“Because her crew looked like navy men.They were unusually numerous and werebusy at drill.”

“Boat or fire drill probably. They oftenexercise them at it on board passengerships. Besides, I think you stated that itwas dark.”

Dick pondered for a few moments. He hadheard that Government officials were hardto move, and knew that, in hot countries,Englishmen who marry native wivessometimes grow apathetic and succumb tothe climatic lethargy. But this was not all:he had to contend against the officialdislike of anything informal and unusual.Had he been in the navy, his warningwould have received attention, but as hewas a humble civilian he had, so to speak,

no business to know anything about suchmatters.

“Well,” he said, “you can make inquiriesand see if my conclusions are right.”

The Vice-Consul smiled. “That is not so.You can pry into the coaling company’saffairs and, if you are caught, it would belooked upon as an individualimpertinence. If I did anything of the kind,it would reflect upon the Foreign Officeand compromise our relations with afriendly state. The Adexe wharf isregistered according to the laws of thiscountry as being owned by a nativecompany.”

“Then go to the authorities and tell themwhat you know.”

“The difficulty is that I know nothingexcept that you have told me a somewhatimprobable tale.”

“But you surely don’t mean to let theraider do what she likes? Her next victimmay be a British vessel.”

“I imagine the British admiralty willattend to that, and I have already sent acablegram announcing the loss of theFrench boat.”

Dick saw that he was doubted and fearedthat argument would be useless, but hewould not give in.

“A raider must have coal and it’s not easyto get upon this coast,” he resumed. “Youcould render her harmless by cutting offsupplies.”

“Do you know much about internationallaw and how far it prohibits a neutralcountry from selling coal to abelligerent?”

“I don’t know anything about it; but if ourForeign Office is any good, they ought tobe able to stop the thing,” Dick answereddoggedly.

“Then let me try to show you how mattersstand. We will suppose that yoursuspicions were correct and I thought fit tomake representations to the Government ofthis country. What do you think wouldhappen?”

“They’d be forced to investigate yourstatements.”

“Exactly. The head of a department would

b e asked to report. You probably knowthat every official whose business bringshim into touch with it is in the coalingcompany’s pay; I imagine there is not aforeign trader here who does not get smallfavors in return for bribes. Bearing this inmind, it is easy to understand what thereport would be. I should have shown thatwe suspected the good faith of a friendlycountry, and there would be nothinggained.”

“Still, you can’t let the matter drop,” Dickinsisted.

“Although you have given me no proof ofyour statements, which seem to be foundedon conjectures, I have not said that I intendto let it drop. In the meantime I am entitledto ask for some information about

yourself. You look like an Englishman andhave not been here long. Did you leavehome after the war broke out?”

“Yes,” said Dick, who saw where he wasleading, “very shortly afterwards.”

“Why? Men like you are needed for thearmy.”

Dick colored, but looked his questionersteadily in the face.

“I was in the army. They turned me out.”

The Vice-Consul made a gesture. “I havenothing to do with the reason for this; butyou can see my difficulty. You urge me tomeddle with things that require verydelicate handling and with which myinterference would have to be justified.No doubt, you can imagine the feelings of

my superiors when I admitted that I actedupon hints given me by a stranger in theemploy of Americans, who owned tohaving been dismissed from the Britisharmy.”

Dick got up, with his face firmly set.

“Very well. There’s no more to be said. Iwon’t trouble you again.”

Leaving the house, he walked moodilyback to the end of the line. The Vice-Consul was a merchant and thought first ofhis business, which might suffer if hegained the ill-will of corrupt officials. Hewould, no doubt, move if he were forced,but he would demand incontestable proof,which Dick feared he could not find.Well, he had done his best and beenrebuffed, and now the temptation to let the

matter drop was strong. To go on wouldbring him into conflict with Kenwardine,and perhaps end in his losing Clare, but hemust go on. For all that, he would leavethe Vice-Consul alone and trust to gettingsome help from his employer’scountrymen. If it could be shown that theenemy was establishing a secret base fornaval operations at Adexe, he thought theAmericans would protest. The Vice-Consul, however, had been of someservice by teaching him the weakness ofhis position. He must strengthen it bycarefully watching what went on, and notinterfere until he could do so with effect.Finding the locomotive waiting, hereturned to his shack and with an effortfixed his mind upon the plans of somework that he must superintend in the

morning.

For the next few days he was busilyoccupied. A drum of the traveling cranebroke and as it could not be replaced for atime, Dick put up an iron derrick ofBethune’s design to lower the concreteblocks into place. They were forced to usesuch material as they could find, and thegang of peons who handled the chain-tackle made a poor substitute for a steamengine. In consequence, the workprogressed slowly and Stuyvesant orderedit to be carried on into the night. Jake andBethune grumbled, but Dick found thelonger hours and extra strain something ofa relief. He had now no leisure to indulgein painful thoughts; besides, while he wasbusy at the dam he could not watch

Kenwardine, and his duty to his employerjustified his putting off an unpleasant task.

One hot night he stood, soaked withperspiration and dressed in soiled duckclothes, some distance beneath the top ofthe dam, which broke down to a lowerlevel at the spot. There was no moon, buta row of blast-lamps that grew dimmer asthey receded picked out the tallembankment with jets of pulsating flame.Glimmering silvery gray in the light, it cutagainst the gloom in long sweeping lines,with a molded rib that added a touch ofgrace where the slope got steeper towardsits top. This was Dick’s innovation. Hehad fought hard for it and when Jakesupported him Stuyvesant had written toFuller, who sanctioned the extra cost. The

rib marked the fine contour of the structureand fixed its bold curve upon the eye.

Where the upper surface broke off, twogangs of men stood beside the tackles thattrailed away from the foot of the derrick.The flame that leaped with a roar from alamp on a tripod picked out some of thefigures with harsh distinctness, but left therest dim and blurred. Dick stood eight ornine feet below, with the end of the line,along which the blocks were brought,directly above his head. A piece of railhad been clamped across the metals toprevent the truck running over the edge.Jake stood close by on the downwardslope of the dam. Everything was readyfor the lowering of the next block, but theyhad a few minutes to wait.

“That rib’s a great idea,” Jake remarked.“Tones up the whole work; it’s curiouswhat you can do with a flowing line, but itmust be run just right. Make it the least tooflat and you get harshness, too full and theeffect’s vulgarly pretty or voluptuous.Beauty’s severely chaste and I allow, asfar as form goes, this dam’s a looker.” Hepaused and indicated the indigo sky,flaring lights, and sweep of pearly stone.“Then if you want color, you can revel insilver, orange, and blue.”

Dick, who nodded, shared Jake’sadmiration. He had helped to build thedam and, in a sense, had come to love it.Any defacement or injury to it would hurthim. Just then a bright, blinking spotemerged from the dark at the other end of

the line and increased in radiance as itcame forward, flickering along the slopeof stone. It was the head-lamp of thelocomotive that pushed the massiveconcrete block they waited for. The blockcut off the light immediately in front of andbelow it, and when the engine, snortingharshly, approached the edge of the gapsomebody shouted and steam was cut off.The truck stopped just short of the railfastened across the line, and Dick lookedup.

The blast-lamp flung its glare upon theengine and the rays of the powerful head-light drove horizontally into the dark, butthe space beyond the broken end of thedam was kept in shadow by the block, andthe glitter above dazzled his eyes.

“Swing the derrick-boom and tell theengineer to come on a yard or two,” hesaid.

There was a patter of feet, a rattle ofchains, and somebody called: “Adelantelocomotura!”The engine snorted, the wheels groundthrough the fragments of concrete scatteredabout the line, and the big dark massrolled slowly forward. It seemed to Dickto be going farther than it ought, but he hadascertained that the guard-rail wassecurely fastened. As he watched the frontof the truck, Jake, who stood a few feet toone side, leaned out and seized hisshoulder.

“Jump!” he cried, pulling him forward.

Dick made an awkward leap, andalighting on the steep front of the dam, fellheavily on his side. As he clutched thestones to save himself from sliding down,a black mass plunged from the line aboveand there was a deafening crash as itstruck the spot he had left. Then a showerof fragments fell upon him and he chokedamidst a cloud of dust. Hoarse shoutsbroke out above, and he heard menrunning about the dam as he got up, halfdazed.

“Are you all right, Jake?” he asked.

“Not a scratch,” was the answer; andDick, scrambling up the bank, called for alamp.

It was brought by a big mulatto, and Dickheld up the light. The last-fitted block of

the ribbed course was split in two, and theone that had fallen was scattered about inmassive broken lumps. Amidst these laythe guard-rail, and the front wheels of thetruck hung across the gap above. Therewas other damage, and Dick frowned ashe looked about.

“We’ll be lucky if we get the brokenmolding out in a day, and I expect we’llhave to replace two of the lower blocks,”he said. “It’s going to be an awkward andexpensive job now that the cement hasset.”

“Is that all?” Jake asked with a forcedgrin.

“It’s enough,” said Dick. “However, we’llbe better able to judge in the daylight.”

Then he turned to the engineer, who wasstanding beside the truck, surrounded byexcited peons. “How did it happen?”

“I had my hand on the throttle when I gotthe order to go ahead, and let her make astroke or two, reckoning the guard-railwould snub up the car. I heard the wheelsclip and slammed the link-gear over,because it looked as if she wasn’t going tostop. When she reversed, the couplingsheld the car and the block slipped off.”

“Are you sure you didn’t give her toomuch steam?”

“No, sir. I’ve been doing this job quite awhile, and know just how smart a pushshe wants. It was the guard-rail slippingthat made the trouble.”

“I can’t understand why it did slip. Thefastening clamps were firm when I lookedat them.”

“Well,” remarked the engineer, “theguard’s certainly in the pit, and I felt hergive as soon as the car-wheels bit.”

Dick looked hard at him and thought hespoke the truth. He was a steady fellowand a good driver.

“Put your engine in the house and takedown the feed-pump you werecomplaining about. We won’t want her to-morrow,” he said, and dismissing the men,returned to his shack, where he sat downrather limply on the veranda.

“I don’t understand the thing,” he said toJake. “The guard-rail’s heavy and I

watched the smith make the clamps wefixed it with. One claw went over the rail,the other under the flange of the metal thatformed the track, and sudden pressurewould jamb the guard down. Then, notlong before the accident, I hardened up theclamp.”

“You hit it on the back?”

“Of course. I’d have loosened the thing byhitting the front.”

“That’s so,” Jake agreed, somewhat dryly.“We’ll look for the clamps in the morning.But you didn’t seem very anxious to getout of the way.”

“I expect I forgot to thank you for warningme. Anyhow, you know——”

“Yes, I know,” said Jake. “You didn’t

think about it; your mind was on your job.Still, I suppose you see that if you’d beena moment later you’d have been smashedpretty flat?”

Dick gave him a quick glance. There wassomething curious about Jake’s tone, butDick knew he did not mean to emphasizethe value of his warning. It was plain thathe had had a very narrow escape, butsince one must be prepared for accidentsin heavy engineering work, he did not seewhy this should jar his nerves. Yet theywere jarred. The danger he had scarcelyheeded had now a disturbing effect. Hecould imagine what would have happenedhad he delayed his leap. However, he wastired, and perhaps rather highly strung, andhe got up.

“It’s late, and we had better go to bed,” hesaid.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CLAMP

When work began next morning, Jakeasked Dick if he should order the peons tosearch for the clamps that had held theguard-rail.

“I think not,” said Dick. “It would bebetter if you looked for the thingsyourself.”

“Very well. Perhaps you’re right.”

Dick wondered how much Jake suspected,particularly as he did not appear to be

searching for anything when he moved upand down among the broken concrete.Half an hour later, when none of the peonswere immediately about, he came up withhis hand in his pocket and indicated acorner beside a block where there was alittle shade and they were not likely to beoverlooked.

“I’ve got one,” he remarked.

When they sat down Jake took out a pieceof thick iron about six inches long, forgedinto something like the shape of a U,though the curve was different and onearm was shorter than the other. Muchdepended on the curve, for the thing wasmade on the model of an old-fashioned butefficient clamp that carpenters sometimesuse for fastening work to a bench. A blow

or pressure on one part wedged it fast, buta sharp tap on the other enabled it to belifted off. This was convenient, because asthe work progressed, the track along thedam had to be lengthened and the guardfixed across a fresh pair of rails.

Taking the object from Jake, Dickexamined it carefully. He thought herecognized the dint where he had struckthe iron, and then, turning it over, notedanother mark. This had been maderecently, because the surface of the ironwas bright where the hammer had fallen,and a blow there would loosen the clamp.He glanced at Jake, who nodded.

“It looks very suspicious, but that’s all.You can’t tell how long the mark wouldtake to get dull. Besides, we have moved

the guard two or three times in the last fewdays.”

“That’s true,” said Dick. “Still, I wedgedthe thing up shortly before the accident. Ithas stood a number of shocks; in fact, itcan’t be loosened by pressure on the back.When do you think the last blow wasstruck?”

“After yours,” Jake answered meaningly.

“Then the probability is that somebodywanted the truck to fall into the hole andsmash the block.”

“Yes,” said Jake, who paused and lookedhard at Dick. “But I’m not sure that wasall he wanted. You were standing rightunder the block, and if I hadn’t been alittle to one side, where the lights didn’t

dazzle me, the smashing of a lot ofconcrete wouldn’t have been the worstdamage.”

Dick said nothing, but his face set hard ashe braced himself against the unnervingfeeling that had troubled him on theprevious night. The great block had notfallen by accident; it looked as ifsomebody had meant to take his life. Thecunning of the attempt daunted him. Theblow had been struck in a manner that lefthim a very slight chance of escape; and hissubtle antagonist might strike again.

“What are you going to do about it?” Jakeresumed.

“Nothing,” said Dick.

Jake looked at him in surprise. “Don’t you

see what you’re up against?”

“It’s pretty obvious; but if I ask questions,I’ll find out nothing and show that I’msuspicious. If we let the thing go as anaccident, we may catch the fellow off hisguard.”

“My notion is that you know more thanyou mean to tell. Now you began by takingcare of me, but it looks as if the matterwould end in my taking care of you.Seems to me you need it and I don’t like tosee you playing a lone hand.”

Dick gave him a grateful smile. “If I seehow you can help, I’ll let you know. In themeantime, you’ll say nothing to imply thatI’m on the watch.”

“Well,” said Jake, grinning, “if you can

bluff Stuyvesant, you’ll be smarter than Ithought. You’re a rather obvious personand he’s not a fool.”

He went away, but Dick lighted a cigaretteand sat still in the shade. He was franklydaunted, but did not mean to stop, for hesaw that he was following the right clue.His reason for visiting the Adexe wharfhad been guessed. He had been watchedwhen he went to the Vice-Consul, and itwas plain that his enemies thought heknew enough to be dangerous. Thedifficulty was that he did not know whothey were. He hated to think thatKenwardine was a party to the plot, butthis, while possible, was by no meanscertain. At Santa Brigida, a man’s life wasnot thought of much account, and it would,

no doubt, have been enough if Kenwardinehad intimated that Dick might causetrouble; but then Kenwardine must haveknown what was likely to follow his hint.

After all, however, this was not veryimportant. He must be careful, but donothing to suggest that he understood therisk he ran. If his antagonists thought himstupid, so much the better. He saw thedifficulty of playing what Jake called alone hand against men skilled in theintricate game; but he could not ask forhelp until he was sure of his ground.Besides, he must find a way of stoppingKenwardine without involving Clare. Inthe meantime he had a duty to Fuller, andthrowing away his cigarette, resumed hiswork.

Two or three days later he metKenwardine in a café where he waswaiting for a man who supplied somestores to the camp. When Kenwardine sawDick he crossed the floor and sat down athis table. His Spanish dress became him,he looked polished and well-bred, and itwas hard to think him a confederate ofhalf-breed ruffians who would not hesitateabout murder. But Dick wondered whetherClare had told him about his proposal.

“I suppose I may congratulate you on yourrecent promotion? You certainly deserveit,” Kenwardine remarked with an ironicalsmile. “I imagine your conscientiousnessand energy are unusual, but perhaps attimes rather inconvenient.”

“Thanks!” said Dick. “How did you hear

about the matter?”

“In Santa Brigida, one hears everythingthat goes on. We have nothing much to dobut talk about our neighbors’ affairs.”

Dick wondered whether Kenwardinemeant to hint that as his time was largelyunoccupied he had only a small part inmanaging the coaling business, but hesaid: “We are hardly your neighbors at thecamp.”

“I suppose that’s true. We certainly don’tsee you often.”

This seemed to indicate that Kenwardinedid not know about Dick’s recent visit. Hecould have no reason for hiding hisknowledge, and it looked as if Clare didnot tell her father everything.

“You have succeeded in keeping youryoung friend out of our way,” Kenwardineresumed. “Still, as he hasn’t your love ofwork and sober character, there’s somerisk of a reaction if you hold him in toohard. Jake’s at an age when it’s difficult tobe satisfied with cement.”

Dick laughed. “I really did try to keephim, but was helped by luck. We havebeen unusually busy at the dam andalthough I don’t know that his love forcement is strong he doesn’t often leave ahalf-finished job.”

“If you work upon his feelings in that way,I expect you’ll beat me; but after all, I’mnot scheming to entangle the lad. He’s abright and amusing youngster, but therewouldn’t be much profit in exploiting him.

However, you have had some accidents atthe dam, haven’t you?”

Dick was immediately on his guard, but heanswered carelessly: “We broke a crane-drum, which delayed us.”

“And didn’t a truck fall down theembankment and do some damage?”

“It did,” said Dick. “We had a big moldedblock, which cost a good deal to make,smashed to pieces, and some others split. Ihad something of an escape, too, because Iwas standing under the block.”

He was watching Kenwardine and thoughthis expression changed and his easy posestiffened. His self-control was good, butDick imagined he was keenly interestedand surprised.

“Then you ran a risk of being killed?”

“Yes. Jake, however, saw the danger andwarned me just before the block fell.”

“That was lucky. But you have a curioustemperament. When we began to talk ofthe accidents, you remembered the damageto Fuller’s property before the risk to yourlife.”

“Well,” said Dick, “you see I wasn’t hurt,but the damage still keeps us back.”

“How did the truck run off the line? Ishould have thought you’d have takenprecautions against anything of the kind.”

Dick pondered. He believed Kenwardinereally was surprised to hear he had nearlybeen crushed by the block; but the fellowwas clever and had begun to talk about the

accidents. He must do nothing to rouse hissuspicions, and began a painstakingaccount of the matter, explaining that theguard-rail had got loose, but sayingnothing about the clamps being tamperedwith. Indeed, the trouble he took about theexplanation was in harmony with hischaracter and his interest in his work, andpresently Kenwardine looked bored.

“I quite understand the thing,” he said, andgot up as the man Dick was waiting forcame towards the table.

The merchant did not keep Dick long, andhe left the café feeling satisfied.Kenwardine had probably had himwatched and had had something to do withthe theft of the sheet from his blotting pad,but knew nothing about the attempt upon

his life. After hearing about it, heunderstood why the accident happened,but had no cause to think that Dick knew,and some of his fellow conspirators wereresponsible for this part of the plot. Dickwondered whether he would try to checkthem now he did know, because if theytried again, they would do so withKenwardine’s tacit consent.

A few days later, he was sitting withBethune and Jake one evening whenStuyvesant came in and threw a card,printed with the flag of a British steamshipcompany, on the table.

“I’m not going, but you might like to doso,” he said.

Dick, who was nearest, picked up thecard. It was an invitation to a dinner given

to celebrate the first call of a large newsteamship at Santa Brigida, and heimagined it had been sent to the leadingcitizens and merchants who importedgoods by the company’s vessels. Afterglancing at it, he passed it on.

“I’ll go,” Bethune remarked. “After theSpartan simplicity we practise at thecamp, it will be a refreshing change to eata well-served dinner in a mailboat’ssaloon, though I’ve no great admiration forBritish cookery.”

“It can’t be worse than the dago kindwe’re used to,” Jake broke in. “What’s thematter with it, anyhow?”

“It’s like the British character, heavy andunchanging,” Bethune replied. “A Londonhotel menu, with English beer and whisky,

in the tropics! Only people withoutimagination would offer it to their guests;and then they’ve printed a list of the portsshe’s going to at the bottom. Would anyother folk except perhaps the Germans,couple an invitation with a hint that theywere ready to trade? If a Spaniard comesto see you on business, he talks for half anhour about politics or your health, andapologizes for mentioning such a thing ascommerce when he comes to the point.”

“The British plan has advantages,” saidStuyvesant. “You know what you’re doingwhen you deal with them.”

“That’s so. We know, for example, whenthis boat will arrive at any particularplace and when she’ll sail; while you canreckon on a French liner’s being three or

four days late and on the probability of aSpaniard’s not turning up at all. Butwhether you have revolutions, wars, ortidal waves, the Britisher sails onschedule.”

“There’s some risk in that just now,”Stuyvesant observed.

Bethune turned to Jake. “You had bettercome. The card states there’ll be music,and the agent will hire Vallejo’s band,which is pretty good. Guitars, mandolins,and fiddles on the poop, and señoritas ingauzy dresses flitting through gracefuldances in the after well! The entertainmentought to appeal to your artistic taste.”

“I’m going,” Jake replied.

“So am I,” said Dick.

Jake grinned. “That’s rather sudden, isn’tit? However, you may be needed to lookafter Bethune.”

An evening or two later, they boarded thelaunch at the town mole. The sea wassmooth and glimmered withphosphorescence in the shadow of theland, for the moon had not risen far abovethe mountains. Outside the harbor mouth,the liner’s long, black hull cut against thedusky blue, the flowing curve of her sheerpicked out by a row of lights. Over thisrose three white tiers of passenger decks,pierced by innumerable bright points, withlarger lights in constellations outside,while masts and funnels ran up, faintlyindicated, into the gloom above. Shescarcely moved to the lift of the languid

swell, but as the undulations passed therewas a pale-green shimmer about herwaterline that magnified the height to hertopmost deck. She looked unsubstantial,rather like a floating fairy palace than aship, and as the noisy launch drew nearerJake gave his imagination rein.

“She was made, just right, by magic; aship of dreams,” he said. “Look how sheglimmers, splashed with cadmiumradiance, on velvety blue; and herformlessness outside the lights wraps herin mystery. Yet you get a hint ofswiftness.”

“You know she has power and speed,”Bethune interrupted.

“No,” said Jake firmly, “it’s not a matterof knowledge; she appeals to your

imagination. You feel that airy fabric musttravel like the wind.” Then he turned toDick, who was steering. “There’s a boatahead with a freight of señoritas in whitea n d orange gossamer; they knowsomething about grace of line in thiscountry. Are you going to rush past them,like a dull barbarian, in this kicking,snorting launch?”

“I’ll make for the other side of the ship, ifyou like.”

“You needn’t go so far,” Jake answeredwith a chuckle. “But you might muzzleyour rackety engine.”

Dick, who had seen the boat, gave herroom enough, but let the engine run. Heimagined that Jake’s motive for slowingdown might be misunderstood by the

señoritas’ guardian, since a touch ofMoorish influence still colors theSpaniard’s care of his women. As thelaunch swung to starboard her red lightshone into the boat, and Dick recognizedDon Sebastian sitting next a stout lady in ablack dress. There were three or four girlsbeside them, and then Dick’s grasp on thetiller stiffened, for the ruby beam pickedout Clare’s face. He thought it wore atired look, but she turned her head, as ifdazzled, and the light passed on, andDick’s heart beat as the boat droppedback into the gloom. Since Kenwardinehad sent Clare with Don Sebastian, hecould not be going, and Dick might find anopportunity for speaking to her alone. Hemeant to do so, although the interviewwould not be free from embarrassment.

Then he avoided another boat, andstopping the engine, steered for thesteamer’s ladder.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE ALTERED SAILINGLIST

When dinner was over, Dick sat byhimself in a quiet spot on the liner’squarter-deck. There was a tall, ironbulwark beside him, but close by this wasreplaced by netted rails, through which hecaught the pale shimmer of the sea. Thewarm land-breeze had freshened andripples splashed against the vessel’s side,while every now and then a languid gurglerose from about her waterline and the

foam her plates threw off was filled withphosphorescent flame. A string band wasplaying on the poop, and passengers andguests moved through the intricate figuresof a Spanish dance on the broad deckbelow. Their poses were graceful andtheir dress was picturesque, but Dickwatched them listlessly.

He was not in a mood for dancing, for hehad been working hard at the dam and histhoughts were disturbed. Clare hadrefused him, and although he did notaccept her decision as final, he could seeno way of taking her out of her father’shands, while he had made no progresstowards unraveling the latter’s plots.Kenwardine was not on board, but Dickhad only seen Clare at some distance off

across the table in the saloon. Moreover,he thought she must have taken sometrouble to avoid meeting him.

Then he remembered the speeches madeby the visitors at dinner, and the steamshipofficers’ replies. The former, colored byFrench and Spanish politeness andAmerican wit, eulogized the power of theBritish navy and the courage of hermerchant captains. There was war, theysaid, but British commerce went onwithout a check; goods shipped beneaththe red ensign would be delivered safe inspite of storm and strife; Britannia, withtrident poised, guarded the seas. For thisthe boldly-announced sailing list servedas text, but Dick, who made allowancesfor exuberant Latin sentiment, noted the

captain’s response with some surprise.

His speech was flamboyant, and did notharmonize with the character of the man,who had called at the port before incommand of another ship. He was gray-haired and generally reserved. Dick hadnot expected him to indulge in cheappatriotism, but he called the British ensignthe meteor flag, defied its enemies, anddeclared that no hostile fleets couldprevent his employers carrying theirengagements out. Since the man wasobviously sober, Dick supposed he wastouting for business and wanted to assurethe merchants that the sailings of thecompany’s steamers could be relied upon.Still, this kind of thing was not goodBritish form.

By and by Don Sebastian came down aladder from the saloon deck with Clarebehind him. Dick felt tempted to retire butconquered the impulse and the Spaniardcame up.

“I have some business with the purser,who is waiting for me, but cannot find myseñora,” he explained, and Dick, knowingthat local conventions forbade his leavingClare alone, understood it as a request thathe should take care of her until the other’sreturn.

“I should be glad to stay with MissKenwardine,” he answered with a bow,and when Don Sebastian went off openeda deck-chair and turned to the girl.

“You see how I was situated!” he saidawkwardly.

Clare smiled as she sat down. “Yes; youare not to blame. Indeed, I do not see whyyou should apologize.”

“Well,” said Dick, “I hoped that I mightmeet you, though I feared you wouldsooner I did not. When I saw you on theladder, I felt I ought to steal away, butmust confess that I was glad when I foundit was too late. Somehow, things seem tobring us into opposition. They have doneso from the beginning.”

“You’re unnecessarily frank,” Clareanswered with a blush. “Since youcouldn’t steal away, wouldn’t it have beenbetter not to hint that I was anxious toavoid you? After all, I could have done soif I had really wanted.”

“I expect that’s true. Of course what

happened when we last met couldn’ttrouble you as it troubled me.”

“Are you trying to be tactful now?” Clareasked, smiling.

“No; it’s my misfortune that I haven’tmuch tact. If I had, I might be able tostraighten matters out.”

“Don’t you understand that they can’t bestraightened out?”

“I don’t,” Dick answered stubbornly. “Forall that, I won’t trouble you again until Ifind a way out of the tangle.”

Clare gave him a quick, disturbed look. “Itwould be much better if you took it forgranted that we must, to some extent, beenemies.”

“No. I’m afraid your father and I areenemies, but that’s not the same.”

“It is; you can see that it must be,” Clareinsisted; and then, as if anxious to changethe subject, went on: “He was too busy tobring me to-night so I came with DonSebastian and his wife. It is not very gayin Santa Brigida and one gets tired ofbeing alone.”

Her voice fell a little as she concluded,and Dick, who understood something ofher isolation from friends of her race,longed to take her in his arms and comforther. Indeed, had the quarter-deck beendeserted he might have tried, for he feltthat her refusal had sprung from woundedpride and a sense of duty. There wassomething in her manner that hinted that it

had not been easy to send him away. Yethe saw she could be firm and thought itwise to follow her lead.

“Then your father has been occupiedlately,” he remarked.

“Yes; he is often away. He goes to Adexeand is generally busy in the evenings.People come to see him and keep himtalking in his room. Our friends no longerspend the evening in the patio.”

Dick understood her. She wanted toconvince him that Kenwardine was abusiness man and only gambled when hehad nothing else to do. Indeed, her motivewas rather pitifully obvious, and Dickknew that he had not been mistaken abouther character. Clare had, no doubt, onceyielded to her father’s influence, but it

was impossible that she took any part inhis plots. She was transparently honest; heknew this as he watched her color comeand go.

“After all, I don’t think you liked many ofthe people who came,” he said.

“I liked Jake,” she answered and stoppedwith a blush, while Dick felt halfashamed, because he had deprived her ofthe one companion she could trust.

“Well,” he said, “it isn’t altogether myfault that Jake doesn’t come to see you.We have had some accidents that delayedthe work and he has not been able to leavethe dam.”

He was silent for the next few minutes.Since Clare was eager to defend

Kenwardine, she might be led to tellsomething about his doings from which auseful hint could be gathered, and Dickgreatly wished to know who visited hishouse on business. Still, it was impossiblethat he should make the girl betray herfather. The fight was between him andKenwardine, and Clare must be keptoutside it. With this resolve, he began totalk about the dancing, and soon afterwardJake came up and asked Clare for the nextwaltz. She smiled and gave Dick achallenging glance.

“Certainly,” he said with a bow, and thenturned to Jake. “As Miss Kenwardine hasbeen put in my charge, you must bring herback.”

Jake grinned as he promised and remarked

as they went away: “Makes a good dueña,doesn’t he? You can trust Dick to guardanything he’s told to take care of. In fact,if I’d a sister I wanted to leave in safehands——” He paused and laughed. “Butthat’s the trouble. It was my sister whotold him to take care of me.”

Dick did not hear Clare’s reply, butwatched her dance until Don Sebastian’swife came up. After that he went away,and presently strolled along the highestdeck. This was narrower than the others,but was extended as far as the side of theship by beams on which the boats werestowed. There were no rails, forpassengers were not allowed up there; butDick, who was preoccupied and moody,wanted to be alone. The moon had now

risen above the mountains and the seaglittered between the shore and the ship.Looking down, he saw a row of boats riseand fall with the languid swell near hertall side, and the flash of the surf thatwashed the end of the mole. Then, takingout a cigarette, he strolled towards thecaptain’s room, which stood behind thebridge, and stopped near it in the shadowof a big lifeboat.

The room was lighted, and the door andwindows were half open because the nightwas hot. Carelessly glancing in, Dick sawDon Sebastian sitting at the table with thecaptain and engineer. This somewhatsurprised him, for the purser transactedthe ship’s business and, so far as he knew,none of the other guests had been taken to

the captain’s room. He felt puzzled aboutDon Sebastian, whom he had met once ortwice. The fellow had an air of authorityand the smaller officials treated him withrespect.

Something in the men’s attitude indicatedthat they were talking confidentially, andDick thought he had better go awaywithout attracting their attention; but justthen the captain turned in his chair andlooked out. Dick decided to wait until helooked round again, and next moment DonSebastian asked: “Have you plenty coal?”

“I think so,” the engineer replied. “Theafter-bunkers are full, but I’d have taken afew extra barge-loads here only I didn’twant any of the shore peons to see howmuch I’d already got.”

Dick did not understand this, because coalwas somewhat cheaper and the facilitiesfor shipping it were better at the boat’snext port of call, to which it was only atwo-days’ run. Then the captain, whoturned to Don Sebastian, remarked:

“Making the sailing list prominent was ahappy thought, and it was lucky yourfriends backed us up well by theirspeeches. You saw how I took advantageof the lead they gave me, but I hope wehaven’t overdone the thing.”

“No,” said Don Sebastian thoughtfully; “Iimagine nobody suspects anything yet.”

“Perhaps you had better clear the shipsoon, sir,” said the engineer. “Steam’snearly up and it takes some coal——”

The room door slipped off its hook andswung wide open as the vessel rolled, andDick, who could not withdraw unnoticed,decided to light his cigarette in order thatthe others might see that they were notalone. As he struck the match the captaingot up.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“One of the foreign passengers, I expect;the mates can’t keep them off this deck,”the engineer replied. “I don’t suppose thefellow knows English, but shall I send himdown?”

“I think not. It might look as if we wereafraid of being overheard.”

Dick held the match to his cigarette for amoment or two before he threw it away,

and as he walked past noted that DonSebastian had come out on deck. Indeed,he thought the man had seen his face andwas satisfied, because he turned back intothe room. Dick went down a ladder to thedeck below, where he stopped and thoughtover what he had heard. It was plain thatsome precautions had been taken againstthe risk of capture, but he could notunderstand why Don Sebastian had beentold about them.

By and by he thought he would speak tothe purser, whom he knew, and went downthe alleyway that led to his office. Thedoor was hooked back, but the passagewas narrow and a fat Spanish ladyblocked the entrance. She was talking tothe purser and Dick saw that he must wait

until she had finished. A man stood a fewyards behind her, unscrewing a flute, andas a folded paper that looked like musicstuck out of his pocket he appeared tobelong to the band.

“But it is Tuesday you arrive at Palomas!”the lady exclaimed.

“About then,” the purser answered inawkward Castilian. “We may be a littlelate.”

“But how much late?”

“I cannot tell. Perhaps a day or two.”

“At dinner the captain said——”

“Just so. But he was speaking generallywithout knowing all the arrangements.”

Dick could not see into the office, but

heard the purser open a drawer andshuffle some papers, as if he wanted to getrid of his questioner.

“It is necessary that I know when wearrive,” the lady resumed. “If it is notTuesday, I must send a telegram.”

The purser shut the drawer noisily, butjust then a bell rang overhead and thewhistle blew to warn the visitors that theymust go ashore.

“Then you must be quick,” said the purser.“Write your message here and give it tome. You need not be disturbed. We willland you at Palomas.”

The lady entered the office, but Dickthought her telegram would not be sent,and a moment later the captain’s plan

dawned on him. The ship would call at theports named, but not in the order stated,and this was why she needed so muchcoal. She would probably steam first tothe port farthest off and then workbackward, and the sailing list was meantto put the raider off the track. The latter’scommander, warned by spies who wouldsend him the list, would think he knewwhere to find the vessel at any particulardate, when, however, she would besomewhere else. Then Dick wonderedwhy the musician was hanging about, andwent up to him.

“The sobrecargo’s busy,” he said inEnglish. “You’ll be taken to sea unlessyou get up on deck.”

“I no wanta el sobrecargo,” the man

replied in a thick, stupid voice. “Themusic is thirsty; I wanta drink.”

The second-class bar was farther downthe alleyway, and Dick, indicating it,turned back and made his way to the poopas fast as he could, for he did not think theman was as drunk as he looked. He foundthe musicians collecting their stands, andwent up to the bandmaster.

“There’s one of your men below who hasbeen drinking too much caña,” he said.“You had better look after him.”

“But they are all here,” the bandmasteranswered, glancing round the poop.

“The man had a flute.”

“But we have no flute-player.”

“Then he must have been a passenger,”said Dick, who hurried to the gangway.

After hailing his fireman to bring thelaunch alongside, he threw a quick glanceabout. The shore boatmen were pushingtheir craft abreast of the ladder andshouting as they got in each other’s way,but one boat had already left the ship andwas pulling fast towards the harbor. Thereseemed to be only one man on boardbesides her crew, and Dick had no doubtthat he was the flute-player. He must befollowed, since it was important to findout whom he met and if, as Dicksuspected, he meant to send off a telegram.But the liner’s captain must be warned,and Dick turned hastily around. Thewindlass was rattling and the bridge, on

which he could see the captain’s burlyfigure, was some distance off, while thepassage between the gangway anddeckhouse was blocked by the departingguests.

The anchor would probably be up beforehe could push his way through the crowd,and if he was not carried off to sea, hewould certainly lose sight of the spy.Writing a line or two on the leaf of hispocket-book, he tore it out and held it neara Creole steward boy.

“Take that to the sobrecargo at once,” hecried, and seeing the boy stoop to pick upthe note, which fell to the deck, ran downthe ladder.

He had, however, to wait a minute whilethe fireman brought the launch alongside

between the other boats, and when theypushed off Don Sebastian, scramblingacross one of the craft, jumped on board.He smiled when Dick looked at him withannoyed surprise.

“I think my business is yours, but there isno time for explanations,” he said. “Tellyour man to go full speed.”

The launch quivered and leaped aheadwith the foam curling at her bows, andDick did not look round when he heard anexpostulating shout. Jake and Bethunemust get ashore as they could; his errandwas too important to stop for them,particularly as he could no longer see theboat in front. She had crossed theglittering belt of moonlight and vanishedinto the shadow near the mole. Her

occupant had had some minutes’ start andhad probably landed, but it might bepossible to find out where he had gone.

“Screw the valve wide open,” Dick toldthe fireman.

The rattle of the engine quickened a little,the launch lifted her bows, and her sternsank into the hollow of a following wave.When she steamed up the harbor a boat laynear some steps, and as the launchslackened speed Dick asked her crewwhich way their passenger had gone.

“Up the mole, señor,” one answeredbreathlessly.

“It is all you will learn from them,” DonSebastian remarked. “I think we will trythe telegrafia first.”

There was no time for questions and Dickjumped out as the launch ran alongside thesteps. Don Sebastian stopped him when hereached the top.

“In Santa Brigida, nobody runs unlessthere is an earthquake or a revolution. Wedo not want people to follow us.”

Dick saw the force of this and started forthe telegraph office, walking as fast aspossible. When he looked round, hiscompanion had vanished, but he rejoinedhim on the steps of the building. Theywent in together and found nobody excepta languid clerk leaning on a table. DonSebastian turned to Dick and said inEnglish, “It will be better if you leave thismatter to me.”

Dick noted that the clerk suddenly became

alert when he saw his companion, but hewaited at a few yards’ distance and DonSebastian said: “A man came in not longsince with a telegram. He was short andvery dark and probably signed the formVinoles.”

“He did, señor,” said the clerk.

“Very well. I want to see the messagebefore it is sent.”

“It has gone, señor, three or four minutesago.”

Don Sebastian made a gesture ofresignation, spreading out his hands.“Then bring me the form.”

Dick thought it significant that the clerk atonce obeyed, but Don Sebastian, whostood still for a moment, turned to him.

“It is as I thought,” he said in English, andordered the clerk: “Take us into themanager’s room.”

The other did so, and after shutting thedoor withdrew. Don Sebastian threw theform on the table.

“It seems we are too late,” he said.

CHAPTER XXV

THE WATER-PIPE

Dick sat down and knitted his brows as hestudied his companion. Don Sebastianwas a Peninsular Spaniard and inconsequence of a finer type than themajority of the inhabitants of SantaBrigida. Dick, who thought he couldconfide in him, needed help, but the matterwas delicate. In the meantime, the otherwaited with a smile that implied that heguessed his thoughts, until Dick, leaningforward with sudden resolution, picked upthe telegram, which was written in cipher.

“This is probably a warning to somebodythat the vessel will not call at the ports inthe advertised order,” he said.

“I imagine so. You guessed the captain’splan from what you heard outside theroom?”

“Not altogether, but it gave me a hint. Itlooks as if you recognized me when I wasstanding near the lifeboat.”

“I did,” said Don Sebastian meaningly. “Ithink I showed my confidence in you.”

Dick nodded, because it was plain that theother had enabled him to go away withoutbeing questioned.

“Very well; I’ll tell you what I know,” hesaid, and related how he had found theman with the flute loitering about the

purser’s door. As he finished, DonSebastian got up.

“You made one mistake; you should havegiven your note to an Englishman and not ayoung Creole lad. However, we must seeif the steamer can be stopped.”

He led the way up a staircase to the flatroof, where Dick ran to the parapet.Looking across the town, he saw in thedistance a dim white light and a longsmear of smoke that trailed across theglittering sea. He frowned as he watchedit, for the ship was English and he felthimself responsible for the safety of all onboard her. He had done his best, whenthere was no time to pause and think, butperhaps he had blundered. Suppose theCreole boy had lost his note or sent it to

somebody ashore?

“We are too late again,” Don Sebastianremarked as he sat down on the parapet.“Well, one must be philosophical. Thingsdo not always go as one would wish.”

“Why didn’t you warn the captain that hisplan was found out, instead of jumpinginto the launch?” Dick asked angrily.

Don Sebastian smiled. “Because I did notknow. I saw a man steal down the ladderand thought he might be a spy, but couldnot tell how much he had learned. If hehad learned nothing, it would have beendangerous for the captain to change hisplan again and keep to the sailing list.”

“That’s true,” Dick agreed shortly. Hischin was thrust forward and his head

slightly tilted back. He looked veryEnglish and aggressive as he resumed:“But I want to know what your interest inthe matter is.”

“Then I must tell you. To begin with, I amemployed by the Government and am inthe President’s confidence. The country ispoor and depends for its development onforeign capital, while it is important thatwe should have the support and friendshipof Great Britain and the United States.Perhaps you know the latter’s jealousyabout European interference in Americanaffairs?”

Dick nodded. “You feel you have to becareful. But how far can a country go inharboring a belligerent’s agents andsupplying her fighting ships, without

losing its neutrality?”

“That is a difficult question,” DonSebastian replied. “I imagine the answerdepends upon the temper of the interestedcountry’s diplomatic representatives; butthe President means to run no risks. Wecannot, for example, have it claimed thatwe allowed a foreign power to buy acoaling station and use it as a base forraids on merchant ships.”

“Have the Germans bought the Adexewharf?”

Don Sebastian shrugged. “Quién sabe?The principal has not a German name.”

“Isn’t Richter German?”

“Richter has gone. It is possible that hehas done his work. His friend, however, is

the head of the coaling company.”

“Do you think Kenwardine was hispartner? If so, it’s hard to understand whyhe let you come to his house. He’s not afool.”

The Spaniard’s dark eyes twinkled.“Señor Kenwardine is a clever man, andit is not always safer to keep yourantagonist in the dark when you play anintricate game. Señor Kenwardine knew itwould have been a mistake to show hethought I suspected him and that he hadsomething to conceal. We were both veryfrank, to a point, and now and then talkedabout the complications that might springfrom the coaling business. Because wevalue our trade with England and wish toattract British capital, he knew we would

not interfere with him unless we hadurgent grounds, and wished to learn howfar we would let him go. It must be ownedthat in this country official suspicion canoften be disarmed.”

“By a bribe? I don’t think Kenwardine isrich,” Dick objected.

“Then it is curious that he is able to spendso much at Adexe.”

Dick frowned, for he saw what the otherimplied. If Kenwardine had to be suppliedwith money, where did it come from? Itwas not his business to defend the manand he must do what he could to protectBritish shipping, but Kenwardine wasClare’s father, and he was not going toexpose him until he was sure of his guilt.

“But if he was plotting anything that wouldget your President into trouble, he musthave known he would be found out.”

“Certainly. But suppose he imagined hemight not be found out until he had donewhat he came to do? It would not matterthen.”

Dick said nothing. He knew he was nomatch for the Spaniard in subtlety, but hewould not be forced into helping him. Heset his lips, and Don Sebastian watchedhim with amusement.

“Well,” said the latter, “you have mysympathy. The señorita’s eyes are bright.”

“I cannot have Miss Kenwardinementioned,” Dick rejoined. “She hasnothing to do with the matter.”

“That is agreed,” Don Sebastiananswered, and leaned forward as headded in a meaning tone: “You areEnglish and your life has been threatenedby men who plot against your country. Imight urge that they may try again and Icould protect you; but you must see whattheir thinking you dangerous means. Now Iwant your help.”

Dick’s face was very resolute as helooked at him. “If any harm comes to theliner, I’ll do all I can. But I’ll do nothinguntil I know. In the meantime, can youwarn the captain?”

Don Sebastian bowed. “I must be satisfiedwith your promise. We may find the key tothe telegram, and must try to get intocommunication with the steamer.”

They went down stairs together, but theSpaniard did not leave the office withDick, who went out alone and foundBethune and Jake waiting at the end of theline. They bantered him about his leavingthem on board the ship, but although hethought Jake looked at him curiously, hetold them nothing.

When work stopped on the Saturdayevening, Jake and Dick went to dine withBethune. It was getting dark when theyreached a break in the dam, where a gaphad been left open while a sluice wasbeing built. A half-finished tower rose onthe other side and a rope ladder hungdown for the convenience of anybody whowished to cross. A large iron pipe thatcarried water to a turbine, however,

spanned the chasm, and the sure-footedpeons often used it as a bridge. Thisrequired some agility and nerve, but itsaved an awkward scramble across thesluice and up the concrete.

“There’s just light enough,” Jakeremarked, and balancing himself carefully,walked out upon the pipe.

Dick followed and getting across safely,stopped at the foot of the tower andlooked down at the rough blocks andunfinished ironwork in the bottom of thegap.

“The men have been told to use the ladder,but as they seldom do so, it would besafer to run a wire across for a hand-rail,”he said. “Anybody who slipped would geta dangerous fall.”

They went on to Bethune’s iron shack,where Stuyvesant joined them, and afterdinner sat outside, talking and smoking. Acarafe of Spanish wine and some glassesstood on a table close by.

“I’ve fired Jose’s and Pancho’s gangs;they’ve been asking for it for some time,”Stuyvesant remarked. “In fact, I’d clearout most of the shovel boys if I couldreplace them. They’ve been saving moneyand are getting slack.”

The others agreed that it might beadvisable. The half-breeds from the hills,attracted by good wages, worked wellwhen first engaged, but generally foundsteady labor irksome and got discontentedwhen they had earned a sum that wouldenable them to enjoy a change.

“I don’t think you’d get boys enough inthis neighborhood,” Bethune said.

“That’s so. Anyhow, I’d rather hire a lesssophisticated crowd; the half-civilizedMeztiso is worse than the other sort, but Idon’t see why we shouldn’t look for somefurther along the coast. Do you feel liketaking the launch, Brandon, and tryingwhat you can do?”

“I’d enjoy the trip,” Dick answered withsome hesitation. “But I’d probably have togo beyond Coronal, and it might take aweek.”

“That won’t matter; stay as long as it’snecessary,” Stuyvesant said, for he hadnoticed a slackness in Dick’s movementsand his tired look. “Things are goingpretty well just now, and you have stuck

close to your work. The change will braceyou up. Anyhow, I want fresh boys andBethune’s needed here, but you can takeJake along if you want company.”

Jake declared that he would go, but Dickagreed with reluctance. He felt jaded anddepressed, for the double strain he hadborne was beginning to tell. His work,carried on in scorching heat, demandedcontinuous effort, and when it stopped atnight he had private troubles to grapplewith. Though he had been half-preparedfor Clare’s refusal, it had hit him hard,and he could find no means of exposingKenwardine’s plots without involving herin his ruin. It would be a relief to getaway, but he might be needed at SantaBrigida.

Bethune began to talk about the alterationsa contractor wished to make, and by andby there was a patter of feet and a hum ofvoices in the dark. The voices grewlouder and sounded angry as the stepsapproached the house, and Stuyvesantpushed back his chair.

“It’s Jose’s or Pancho’s breeds come toclaim that their time is wrong. I supposeone couldn’t expect that kind of crowd tounderstand figures, but although François’accounts are seldom very plain, he’s not agrafter.”

Then a native servant entered hurriedly.

“They all come, señor,” he announced.“Pig tief say Fransoy rob him and he gocasser office window.” He turned andwaved his hand threateningly as a big man

in ragged white clothes came into thelight. “Fuera, puerco ladron!”The man took off a large palm-leaf hat andflourished it with ironical courtesy.

“Here is gran escandolo, señores. Labelle chose, verdad! Me I have trent’dollar; the grand tief me pay——”

Stuyvesant signed to the servant. “Takethem round to the back corral; we can’thave them on the veranda.” Then he turnedto Dick. “You and Bethune must convincethem that the time-sheets are right; youknow more about the thing than I do.Haven’t you been helping François,Fuller?”

“I’m not a linguist,” Jake answered with agrin. “When they talk French and Spanish

at once it knocks me right off my height, asFrançois sometimes declares.”

They all went round to the back of thehouse, where Bethune and Dick arguedwith the men. The latter had beendismissed and while ready to go wanted agrievance, though some honestly failed tounderstand the deductions from theirwages. They had drawn small sums inadvance, taken goods out of store, and laidoff now and then on an unusually hot day,but the amount charged against them waslarger than they thought. For all that,Bethune using patience and firmnesspacified them, and after a time they wentaway satisfied while the others returned tothe veranda.

“Arguing in languages you don’t know

well is thirsty work, and we’d better havea drink,” Bethune remarked.

He pushed the carafe across the table, butDick picked up his glass, which he hadleft about half full. He was hot and it wasa light Spanish wine that one could drinkfreely, but when he had tasted it heemptied what was left over the verandarails.

Bethune looked surprised, but laughed.“The wine isn’t very good, but the othersseem able to stand for it. I once laid out amine ditch in a neighborhood where you’dhave wanted some courage to throw awaya drink the boys had given you.”

“It was very bad manners,” Dickanswered awkwardly. “Still, I didn’t likethe taste——”

He stopped, noticing that Jake gave him akeen glance, but Stuyvesant filled his glassand drank.

“What’s the matter with the wine?” heasked.

Dick hesitated. He wanted to let the matterdrop, but he had treated Bethune rudelyand saw that the others were curious.

“It didn’t taste as it did when I left it. Ofcourse this may have been imagination.”

“But you don’t think so?” Stuyvesantrejoined. “In fact, you suspect the winewas doped after we went out?”

“No,” said Dick with a puzzled frown; “Iimagine any doping stuff would make itsour. The curious thing is that it tastedbetter than usual but stronger.”

Stuyvesant picked up the glass and smeltit, for a little of the liquor remained in thebottom.

“It’s a pity you threw it out, becausethere’s a scent mine hasn’t got. Like badbrandy or what the Spaniards call madrede vino and use for bringing light wine upto strength.”

Then Bethune took the glass from him anddrained the last drops. “I think it is madrede vino. Pretty heady stuff and that glasswould hold a lot.”

Stuyvesant nodded, for it was not awineglass but a small tumbler.

“Doping’s not an unusual trick, but I can’tsee why anybody should want to makeBrandon drunk.”

“It isn’t very plain and I may have made afuss about nothing,” Dick replied, andbegan to talk about something else withJake’s support.

The others indulged them, and after a timethe party broke up. The moon had risenwhen Dick and Jake walked back alongthe dam, but the latter stopped when theyreached the gap.

“We’ll climb down and cross by thesluice instead of the pipe,” he said.

“Why?” Dick asked. “The light is betterthan when we came.”

Jake gave him a curious look. “Yournerve’s pretty good, but do you want todefy your enemies and show them youhave found out their trick?”

“But I haven’t found it out; that is, I don’tknow the object of it yet.”

“Well,” said Jake rather grimly, “what doyou think would happen if a drunken mantried to walk along that pipe?”

Then a light dawned on Dick and he satdown, feeling limp. He was abstemious,and a large dose of strong spirit would, nodoubt, have unsteadied him. Hiscompanions would notice this, but withthe obstinacy that often marks a half-drunkman he would probably have insisted ontrying to cross the pipe. Then a slip orhesitation would have precipitated himupon the unfinished ironwork below, andsince an obvious explanation of his fallhad been supplied, nobody’s suspicionswould have been aroused. The subtlety of

the plot was unnerving. Somebody whoknew all about him had chosen the momentwell.

“It’s so devilishly clever!” he said withhoarse anger after a moment or two.

Jake nodded. “They’re smart. They knewthe boys were coming to make a row andStuyvesant wouldn’t have them on theveranda. Then the wine was on the table,and anybody who’d noticed where we satcould tell your glass. It would have beeneasy to creep up to the shack before themoon rose.”

“Who are they?”

“If I knew, I could tell you what to doabout it, but I don’t. It’s possible therewas only one man, but if so, he’s

dangerous. Anyhow, it’s obvious thatKenwardine has no part in the matter.”

“He’s not in this,” Dick agreed. “Haveyou a cigarette? I think I’d like a smoke. Itdoesn’t follow that I’d have been killed, ifI had fallen.”

“Then you’d certainly have got hurtenough to keep you quiet for some time,which would probably satisfy the otherfellow. But I don’t think we’ll stop heretalking; there may be somebody about.”

They climbed down by the foot of thetower and crossing the sluice went up theladder. When they reached their shackDick sat down and lighted the cigaretteJake had given him, but he said nothingand his face was sternly set. Soonafterwards he went to bed.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE LINER’S FATE

Next morning Dick reviewed the situationas he ate his breakfast in the freshcoolness before the sun got up. He had gota shock, but he was young and soonrecovered. His anger against the unknownplotter remained fierce, but this was, in asense, a private grievance, by which hemust not be unduly influenced. It was plainthat he was thought dangerous, whichshowed that he was following the rightclue, and he had determined that theraiding of ships belonging to Britain or

her allies must be stopped. Since he hadgone to the representative of Britishauthority and had been rebuffed, he meantto get Fuller to see if American suspicionscould be easier aroused, but he must firstmake sure of his ground. In the meantime,Don Sebastian had asked his help and hehad given a conditional promise.

Dick decided that he had taken the propercourse. Don Sebastian held Kenwardineaccountable and meant to expose him.This was painful to contemplate forClare’s sake, but Dick admitted that hecould not shield Kenwardine at hiscountry’s expense. Still, the matter washorribly complicated. If Kenwardine wasruined or imprisoned, a serious obstaclein Dick’s way would be removed, but it

was unthinkable that this should beallowed to count when Clare must suffer.Besides, she might come to hate him if shelearned that he was responsible for herfather’s troubles. But he would make theliner’s fate a test. If the vessel arrivedsafe, Kenwardine should go free until hisguilt was certain; if she were sunk orchased, he would help Don Sebastian inevery way he could.

For three or four days he heard nothingabout her, and then, one hot morning, whenStuyvesant and Bethune stood at the footof the tower by the sluice examining someplans, Jake crossed the pipe with anewspaper in his hand.

“The Diario has just arrived,” he said. “Ihaven’t tried to read it yet, but the liner

has been attacked.”

Dick, who was superintending thebuilding of the sluice, hastily scrambledup the bank, and Stuyvesant, taking thenewspaper, sat down in the shade of thetower. He knew more Castilian than theothers, who gathered round him as hetranslated.

The liner, the account stated, had the coastin sight shortly before dark and wassteaming along it when a large, blackfunnel steamer appeared from behind apoint. The captain at once swung hisvessel round and the stranger fired a shot,of which he took no notice. It was blowingfresh, the light would soon fade, and therewas a group of reefs, which he knew well,not far away. The raider gained a little

during the next hour and fired severalshots. Two of the shells burst on board,killing a seaman and wounding somepassengers, but the captain held on. Whenit was getting dark the reefs lay closeahead, with the sea breaking heavily ontheir outer edge, but he steamed boldly foran intricate, unmarked channel betweenthem and the land. In altering his course,he exposed the vessel’s broadside to theenemy and a shot smashed the pilot-house,but they steered her in with the hand-gear.The pursuer then sheered off, but it gotvery dark and the vessel grounded in aposition where the reef gave some shelter.

Nothing could be done until morning, butas day broke the raider reappeared andhad fired a shot across the reef when a

gunboat belonging to the state in whoseterritorial waters the steamer lay cameupon the scene. She steamed towards theraider, which made off at full speed. Thenthe gunboat took the liner’s passengers onboard, and it was hoped that the vesselcould be re-floated.

“A clear story, told by a French orSpanish sailor who’d taken a passage onthe ship,” Bethune remarked. “It certainlydidn’t come from one of the British crew.”

“Why?” Jake asked.

Bethune smiled. “A seaman who tells thetruth about anything startling that happenson board a passenger boat gets fired. Theconvention is to wrap the thing in mystery,if it can’t be denied. Besides, the ability totake what you might call a quick, bird’s-

eye view isn’t a British gift; anEnglishman would have concentrated onsome particular point. Anyhow, I can’t seehow the boat came to be where she was atthe time mentioned.” He turned to Dickand asked: “Do you know, Brandon?”

“No,” said Dick, shortly, “not altogether.”

“Well,” resumed Bethune, “I’ve seen theantiquated gunboat that came to the rescue,and it’s amusing to think of her steamingup to the big auxiliary cruiser. It’sdoubtful if they’ve got ammunition thatwould go off in their footy little guns,though I expect the gang of half-breed cut-throats would put up a good fight. Theyhave pluck enough, and the country theybelong to can stand upon her dignity.”

“She knows where to look for support,”

Stuyvesant remarked. “If the other partygoes much farther, she’ll get a sharp snubup. What’s your idea of the situation?”

“Something like yours. We can’t allow theblack eagle to find an eyrie in this part ofthe world, but just now our Western bird’stalons are blunt. She hasn’t been rendingthe innocents like the other, but one or twoof our former leaders are anxious to puther into fighting trim, and I dare saysomething of the kind will be done.However, Brandon hasn’t taken much partin this conversation. I guess he’s thinkingabout his work!”

Dick, who had been sitting quiet with athoughtful face, got up.

“I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes,Stuyvesant.”

“Very well,” said the other, who turned toBethune and Jake. “I don’t want to playthe domineering boss, but we’re not paidto sit here and fix up internationalpolitics.”

They went away and Stuyvesant looked atDick who said, “I ought to start in thelaunch to-morrow to get the laborers youwant, but I can’t go.”

“Why?”

Dick hesitated. “The fact is I’ve somethingelse to do.”

“Ah!” said Stuyvesant. “I think theunderstanding was that Fuller bought allyour time.”

“He did. I’m sorry, but——”

“But if I insist on your going down thecoast, you’ll break your agreement.”

“Yes,” said Dick with embarrassment. “Itcomes to that.”

Stuyvesant looked hard at him. “You mustrecognize that this is a pretty good job,and you’re not likely to get anotherwithout Fuller’s recommendation. Then Iunderstand you were up against it badlywhen he first got hold of you. You’reyoung and ought to be ambitious, and youhave your chance to make your mark righthere.”

“It’s all true,” Dick answered doggedly.“Still, I can’t go.”

“Then it must be something very importantthat makes you willing to throw up your

job.”

Dick did not answer and, to his surprise,Stuyvesant smiled as he resumed: “It’sEngland first, with you?”

“How did you guess? How much do youknow?” Dick asked sharply.

“I don’t know very much. Your throwingout the wine gave me a hint, because itwas obvious that somebody had beengetting after you before, and there wereother matters. But you’re rather young andI suspect you’re up against a big thing.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you about it yet, ifthat is what you mean.”

“Very well. Stay here, as usual, if youlike, or if you want a week off, take it. I’llfind a suitable reason for not sending you

in the launch.”

“Thanks!” said Dick, with keen gratitude,and Stuyvesant, who nodded pleasantly,went away.

Dick sent a note to Don Sebastian by amessenger he could trust, and soon afterdark met him, as he appointed, at a wine-shop on the outskirts of the town, wherethey were shown into a small back room.

“I imagine you are now satisfied,” theSpaniard said. “The liner has been chasedand people on board her have beenkilled.”

“I’m ready to do anything that will preventanother raid. To some extent, perhaps, I’mresponsible for what has happened; Imight have stopped and seen the mate or

captain, but then I’d have lost the man Iwas after. What do you think became ofmy note?”

Don Sebastian looked thoughtful. “Theboy may have lost it or shown it to hiscomrades; they carry a few Spanishstewards for the sake of the foreignpassengers, and we both carelessly tooktoo much for granted. We followed the spywe saw without reflecting that there mightbe another on board. However, this is notimportant now.”

“It isn’t. But what do you mean to do withKenwardine?”

“You have no cause for troubling yourselfon his account.”

“That’s true, in a way,” Dick answered,

coloring, though his tone was resolute.“He once did me a serious injury, but Idon’t want him hurt. I mean to stop hisplotting if I can, but I’m going no further,whether it’s my duty or not.”

The Spaniard made a sign ofcomprehension. “Then we need notquarrel about Kenwardine. In fact, thePresident does not want to arrest him; ourpolicy is to avoid complications and itwould satisfy us if he could be forced toleave the country and give up the coalingstation.”

“How will you force him?”

“He has been getting letters fromKingston; ordinary, friendly letters from agentleman whose business seems to becoaling ships. For all that, there is more in

them than meets the uninstructed eye.”

“Have you read his replies?”

Don Sebastian shrugged. “What do youexpect? They do not tell us much, but itlooks as if Señor Kenwardine means tovisit Kingston soon.”

“But it’s in Jamaica; British territory.”

“Just so,” said the Spaniard, smiling.“Señor Kenwardine is a bold and cleverman. His going to Kingston would havethrown us off the scent if we had notknown as much as we do; but it wouldhave been dangerous had he tried to hideit and we had found it out. You see howluck favors us?”

“What is your plan?”

“We will follow Kenwardine. He will bemore or less at our mercy on British soil,and, if it seems needful, there is a chargeyou can bring against him. He stole somearmy papers.”

Dick started. “How did you hear of that?”

“Clever men are sometimes incautious,and he once spoke about it to hisdaughter,” Don Sebastian answered with ashrug. “Our antagonists are not the onlypeople who have capable spies.”

The intrigue and trickery he had becomeentangled in inspired Dick with disgust,but he admitted that one could not befastidious in a fight with a man like hisantagonist.

“Very well,” he said, frowning, “I’ll go;

but it must be understood that when he’sbeaten you won’t decide what’s to bedone with the man without consulting me.”

Don Sebastian bowed. “It is agreed. Onecan trust you to do nothing that wouldinjure your country. But we have somearrangements to make.”

Shortly afterwards Dick left the wine-shop, and returning to the camp went tosee Stuyvesant.

“I want to go away in a few days, perhapsfor a fortnight, but I’d like it understoodthat I’d been sent down the coast in thelaunch,” he said. “As a matter of fact, Imean to start in her.”

“Certainly. Arrange the thing as you like,”Stuyvesant agreed. Then he looked at Dick

with a twinkle. “You deserve a lay-offand I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

Dick thanked him and went back to hisshack, where he found Jake on theverandah.

“I may go with the launch, after all, but notto Coronal,” he remarked.

“Ah!” said Jake, with some dryness.“Then you had better take me; anyhow,I’m coming.”

“I’d much sooner you didn’t.”

“That doesn’t count,” Jake replied.“You’re getting after somebody, and if youleave me behind, I’ll give the plot away.It’s easy to send a rumor round the camp.”

Dick reflected. He saw that Jake meant to

come and knew he could be obstinate.Besides, the lad was something of aseaman and would be useful on board thelaunch, because Dick did not mean to jointhe steamer Kenwardine traveled by, butto catch another at a port some distanceoff.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I must givein.”

“You’ve got to,” Jake rejoined, and addedin a meaning tone: “You may need awitness if you’re after Kenwardine, and Iwant to be about to see fair play.”

“Then you trust the fellow yet?”

“I don’t know,” Jake answeredthoughtfully. “At first, I thoughtKenwardine great, and I like him now. He

certainly has charm and you can’t believemuch against him when he’s with you; butit’s somehow different at a distance. Still,he knew nothing about the attacks on you. Isaw that when I told him about them.”

“You told him!” Dick exclaimed.

“I did. Perhaps it might have been wise——”

Jake stopped, for he heard a faint rustle,as if a bush had been shaken, and Dicklooked up. The moon had not yet risen,thin mist drifted out of the jungle, and itwas very dark. There was some brush infront of the building and a belt of tall grassand reeds grew farther back. Withoutmoving the upper part of his body, he puthis foot under the table at which they satand kicked Jake’s leg.

“What was that about Adexe?” he asked ina clear voice, and listened hard.

He heard nothing then, for Jake took thehint and began to talk about the coalingstation, but when the lad stopped therewas another rustle, very faint but nearer.

Next moment a pistol shot rang out and apuff of acrid smoke drifted into theveranda. Then the brushwood crackled, asif a man had violently plunged through it,and Jake sprang to his feet.

“Come on and bring the lamp!” heshouted, running down the steps.

Dick followed, but left the lamp alone. Hedid not know who had fired the shot and itmight be imprudent to make himselfconspicuous. Jake, who was a few yards

in front, boldly took a narrow path throughthe brush, which rose to their shoulders.The darkness was thickened by the mist,but after a moment or two they heardsomebody coming to meet them. It couldhardly be an enemy, because the man woreboots and his tread was quick and firm.Dick noted this with some relief, butthought it wise to take precautions.

“Hold on, Jake,” he said and raised hisvoice: “Who’s that?”

“Payne,” answered the other, and theywaited until he came up.

“Now,” said Jake rather sharply, “whatwas the shooting about?”

“There was a breed hanging round in thebushes and when he tried to creep up to

the veranda I plugged him.”

“Then where is he?”

“That’s what I don’t know,” Payneanswered apologetically. “I hit him sure,but it looks as if he’d got away.”

“It looks as if you’d missed. Where didyou shoot from?”

Payne beckoned them to follow andpresently stopped beside the heap ofironwork a little to one side of the shack.The lighted veranda was in full view ofthe spot, but there was tall brushwoodclose by and behind this the grass.

“I was here,” Payne explained. “Heardsomething move once or twice, and at lastthe fellow showed between me and thelight. When I saw he was making for the

veranda I put up my gun. Knew I had thebead on him when I pulled her off.”

“Then show us where he was.”

Payne led them forward until they reacheda spot where the brush was broken andbent, and Jake, stooping down, struck amatch.

“I guess he’s right. Look at this,” he saidwith shrinking in his voice.

The others saw a red stain on the back ofhis hand and crimson splashes on thegrass. Then Dick took the match and put itout.

“The fellow must be found. I’ll get two orthree of the boys I think we can trust andwe’ll begin the search at once.”

He left them and returned presently withthe men and two lanterns, but before theyset off he asked Payne: “Could you hearwhat we said on the veranda?”

“No. I could tell you were talking, but thatwas all. Once you kind of raised yourvoice and I guess the fellow in front heardsomething, for it was then he got up andtried to crawl close in.”

“Just so,” Dick agreed and looked at Jakeas one of the men lighted a lantern. “Hewas nearer us than Payne. I thought Adexewould draw him.”

They searched the belt of grass and theedge of the jungle, since, as there werevenomous snakes about, it did not seemlikely that the fugitive would venture farinto the thick, steamy gloom. Then they

made a circuit of the camp, stoppingwherever a mound of rubbish offered ahiding-place, but the search proveduseless until they reached the head of thetrack. Then an explanation of the man’sescape was supplied, for the hand-car,which had stood there an hour ago, hadgone. A few strokes of the crank wouldstart it, after which it would run down theincline.

“I guess that’s how he went,” said Payne.

Dick nodded. The car would travelsmoothly if its speed was controlled, but itwould make some noise and he could notremember having heard anything. Thepeons, however, frequently used the carwhen they visited their comrades at themixing sheds, and he supposed the rattle

of wheels had grown so familiar that hehad not noticed it.

“Send the boys away; there’s nothing moreto be done,” he said.

They turned back towards the shack, andafter a few minutes Jake remarked: “Itwill be a relief when this business is over.My nerves are getting ragged.”

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SILVER CLASP

It was about eleven o’clock on a hotmorning and Kenwardine, who hadadopted native customs, was leisurelygetting his breakfast in the patio. Two orthree letters lay among the fruit and wine,but he did not mean to open them yet. Hewas something of a sybarite and the lettersmight blunt his enjoyment of the well-served meal. Clare, who had not eatenmuch, sat opposite, watching him. Hispose as he leaned back with a wineglassin his hand was negligently graceful, and

his white clothes, drawn in at the waist bya black silk sash, showed his well-knitfigure. There were touches of gray in hishair and wrinkles round his eyes, but inspite of this he had a look of carelessyouth. Clare, however, thought she noticeda hint of preoccupation that she knew anddisliked.

Presently Kenwardine picked out anenvelope with a British stamp from amongthe rest and turned it over before insertinga knife behind the flap, which yieldedeasily, as if the gum had lost its strength.Then he took out the letter and smiled withironical amusement. If it had been read byany unauthorized person before it reachedhim, the reader would have been muchmisled, but it told him what he wanted to

know. There was one word an Englishmanor American would not have used, thougha Teuton might have done so, butKenwardine thought a Spaniard would notnotice this, even if he knew English well.The other letters were not important, andhe glanced at his daughter.

Clare was not wearing well. She had losther color and got thin. The climate wasenervating, and Englishwomen who stayedin the country long felt it more than men,but this did not quite account for her jadedlook.

“I am afraid you are feeling the hotweather, and perhaps you have beenindoors too much,” he said. “I must try totake you about more when I come back.”

“Then you are going away! Where to?”

Kenwardine would have preferred to hidehis destination, but since this would bedifficult it seemed safer not to try andthere was no reason why his householdshould not know.

“To Jamaica. I have some business inKingston, but it won’t keep me long.”

“Can you take me?”

“I think not,” said Kenwardine, who knewhis visit would be attended by some risk.“For one thing, I’ll be occupied all thetime, and as I must get back as soon aspossible, may have to travel byuncomfortable boats. You will be safewith Lucille.”

“Oh, yes,” Clare agreed with languidresignation. “Still, I would have liked a

change.”

Kenwardine showed no sign of yieldingand she said nothing more. She had chosento live with him, and although she had notknown all that the choice implied, mustobey his wishes. For all that, she longedto get away. It had cost her more than shethought to refuse Dick, and she felt thatsomething mysterious and disturbing wasgoing on. Kenwardine’s carelessness hadnot deceived her; she had watched himwhen he was off his guard and knew thathe was anxious.

“You don’t like Santa Brigida?” hesuggested. “Well, if things go as I hope, Imay soon be able to sell out my businessinterests and leave the country. Would thatplease you?”

Clare’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction.Now there was a prospect of its ending,she could allow herself to admit howrepugnant the life she led had grown. Shehad hated the gambling, and although thishad stopped, the mystery and hiddenintrigue that followed it were worse. Ifher father gave it all up, they need nolonger be outcasts, and she could live asan English girl ought to do. Besides, itwould be easier to forget Dick Brandonwhen she went away.

“Would we go back to England?” sheasked eagerly.

“I hardly think that would be possible,”Kenwardine replied. “We might,however, fix upon one of the quieter citiesnear the Atlantic coast of America. I know

two or three that are not too big and arerather old-fashioned, with something ofthe charm of the Colonial days, where Ithink you might find friends that would suityour fastidious taste.”

Clare tried to look content. Of late, shehad longed for the peaceful, well-orderedlife of the English country towns, but itseemed there was some reason they couldnot go home.

“Any place would be better than SantaBrigida,” she said. “But I must leave youto your letters. I am going out to buy somethings.”

The sun was hot when she left the patio,but there was a strip of shade on one sideof the street and she kept close to the wall,until turning a corner, she entered a blaze

of light. The glare from the pavement andwhite houses was dazzling and shestopped awkwardly, just in time to avoidcollision with a man. He stood still andshe looked down as she saw that it wasDick and noted the satisfaction in his eyes.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t keeping a very goodlookout,” he said.

“You seemed to be in a hurry,” Clarerejoined, half hoping he would go on; butas he did not, she resumed: “However,you generally give one the impression ofhaving something important to do.”

Dick laughed. “That’s wrong just now,because I’m killing time. I’ve an hour towait before the launch is ready to go tosea.”

“Then you are sailing somewhere alongthe coast,” said Clare, who movedforward, and Dick taking her permissionfor granted, turned and walked by herside.

“Yes. I left Jake at the mole, puttingprovisions on board.”

“It looks as if you would be away sometime,” Clare remarked carelessly.

Dick thought she was not interested andfelt relieved. It had been announced at theirrigation camp that he was going toCoronal to engage workmen, in order thatthe report might reach Kenwardine. Hehad now an opportunity of sending thelatter misleading news, but he could notmake use of Clare in this way.

“I expect so, but can’t tell yet when wewill be back,” he said.

“Well,” said Clare, “I shall feel that I amleft alone. My father is going to Kingstonand doesn’t know when he will return.Then you and Mr. Fuller——”

She stopped with a touch ofembarrassment, wondering whether shehad said too much, but Dick looked at hergravely.

“Then you will miss us?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a blush. “Isuppose I shall, in a sense. After all, Ireally know nobody in Santa Brigida; thatis, nobody I like. Of course, we haven’tseen either of you often, but then——”

“You liked to feel we were within call if

we were wanted? Well, I wish I could putoff our trip, but I’m afraid it’s impossiblenow.”

“That would be absurd,” Clare answered,smiling, and they went on in silence forthe next few minutes.

She felt that she had shown her feelingswith raw candor, and the worst was thatDick was right. Though he thought she hadrobbed him, and was somehow herfather’s enemy, she did like to know hewas near. Then there had been somethingcurious in his tone and he had asked hernothing about her father’s voyage. Indeed,it looked as if he meant to avoid thesubject, although politeness demandedsome remark.

“I am going shopping at the Almacen

Morales,” she said by and by, giving himan excuse to leave her if he wished.

“Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll come too. Itwill be out of this blazing sun, and thereare a few things Jake told me to get.”

It was a relief to enter the big, cool,general store, but when Clare went to thedry-goods counter Dick turned aside tomake his purchases. After this, he strolledabout, examining specimens of nativefeather-work, and was presently seized byan inspiration as he stopped beside someSpanish lace. Clare ought to wear finelace. The intricate, gauzy web wouldharmonize with her delicate beauty, butthe trouble was that he was no judge of thematerial. A little farther on, a case ofsilver filigree caught his eye and he turned

over some of the articles. This was workhe knew more about, and it was almost aslight and fine as the lace. The design wasgood and marked by a fantastic Easterngrace, for it had come from the Canariesand the Moors had taught the Spaniardshow to make it long ago. After somedeliberation, Dick chose a belt-clasp in abox by itself, and the girl who had beenwaiting on him called a clerk.

“You have a good eye, señor,” the manremarked. “The clasp was meant for asample and not for sale.”

“Making things is my business and I knowwhen they’re made well,” Dick answeredmodestly. “Anyhow, I want the clasp.”

The clerk said they would let him have itbecause he sometimes bought supplies for

the camp, and Dick put the case in hispocket. Then he waited until Clare wasready and left the store with her. He hadbought the clasp on an impulse, but nowfeared that she might not accept his gift.After a time, he took it out.

“This caught my eye and I thought youmight wear it,” he said with diffidence.

Clare took the open case, for at first thebeauty of the pattern seized her attention.Then she hesitated and turned to him withsome color in her face.

“It is very pretty, but why do you want togive it to me?”

“To begin with, the thing has an airylightness that ought to suit you. Then youtook care of me and we were very good

friends when I was ill. I’d like to feel I’dgiven you something that might remind youof this. Besides, you see, I’m going away——”

“But you are coming back.”

“Yes; but things might happen in themeantime.”

“What kind of things?” Clare asked invague alarm.

“I don’t know,” Dick said awkwardly.“Still, disturbing things do happen.Anyhow won’t you take the clasp?”

Clare stood irresolute with the case in herhand. It was strange, and to some extentembarrassing that Dick should insist uponmaking her the present. He had humiliatedher and it was impossible that she could

marry him, but there was an appeal in hiseyes that was hard to deny. Besides, theclasp was beautiful and he had shown nicetaste in choosing it for her.

“Very well,” she said gently. “I will keepit and wear it now and then.”

Dick made a sign of gratitude and theywent on, but Clare stopped at the nextcorner and held out her hand.

“I must not take you any farther,” she saidfirmly. “I wish you a good voyage.”

She went into a shop and Dick turned backto the harbor where he boarded the launch.The boat was loaded deep with coal, thefireman was busy, and soon after theprovisions Dick had bought arrived, steamwas up. He took the helm, the engine

began to throb, and they glided through thecool shadow along the mole. When theymet the smooth swell at the harbor mouththe sea blazed with reflected light, andDick was glad to fix his eyes upon thelittle compass in the shade of the awningastern. The boat lurched away across thelong undulations, with the foam curling upabout her bow and rising aft in a whitefollowing wave.

“I thought of leaving the last few bags ofcoal,” Jake remarked. “There’s not muchlife in her and we take some chances ofbeing washed off if she meets a breakingsea.”

“It’s a long run and we’ll soon burn downthe coal, particularly as we’ll have todrive her hard to catch the Danish boat,”

Dick replied. “If we can do that, we’ll getKenwardine’s steamer at her last port ofcall. It’s lucky she isn’t going direct toKingston.”

“You have cut things rather fine, but Isuppose you worked it out from the sailinglists. The worst is that following the coastlike this takes us off our course.”

Dick nodded. After making somecalculations with Don Sebastian’s help, hehad found it would be possible to catch asmall Danish steamer that would take themto a port at which Kenwardine’s boatwould arrive shortly afterwards. But sinceit had been given out that he was going toCoronal, he must keep near the coast untilhe passed Adexe. This was necessary,because Kenwardine would not risk a

visit to Jamaica, which was Britishterritory, if he thought he was beingfollowed.

“We’ll make it all right if the weatherkeeps fine,” he answered.

They passed Adexe in the afternoon andboldly turned seawards across a widebay. At sunset the coast showed faintly inthe distance, obscured by the evening mist,and the land breeze began to blow. It washot and filled with strange, sour and spicysmells, and stirred the sea into short,white ripples that rapidly got larger. Theywashed across the boat’s half-immersedstern and now and then splashed on boardat her waist; but Dick kept the enginegoing full speed and sat at the tiller withhis eyes fixed upon the compass. It was

not easy to steer by, because the lurchingboat was short and the card span in erraticjerks when she began to yaw about,swerving off her course as she rose withthe seas.

The night got very dark, for the land-breeze brought off a haze, but the enginelamp and glow from the furnace doorthrew an elusive glimmer about the craft.White sea-crests chased and caught herup, and rolling forward broke between thefunnel and the bows. Water splashed onboard, the engine hissed as the spray fellon it, and the floorings got wet. One couldsee the foam on deck wash about theheadledge forward as the bows went upwith a sluggishness that was theconsequence of carrying an extra load of

coal.

The fireman could not steer by compass,and after a time Jake took the helm fromhis tired companion. Dick lay down underthe side deck, from which showers ofbrine poured close beside his head, butdid not go to sleep. He was thinking ofClare and what he must do when he mether father. It was important that theyshould catch Kenwardine’s boat, since hemust not be allowed to land and finish hisbusiness before they arrived. In themeanwhile, he listened to the measuredclank of the engine, which quickenedwhen the top blade of the screw swungout. So long as she did not lift the othersshe would travel well, but by and by heheard a splash in the crank-pit and called

to the fireman, who started the pump.

Day broke in a blaze of fiery splendor,and the dripping launch dried. The coastwas near, the sea got smooth, and the tiredmen were glad of the heat of the red sun.By and by the breeze died away, and thelong swell heaved in a glassy calm,glittering with silver and vivid blue. Whentheir clothes were dry they loosed andspread the awning, and a pungent smell ofolive oil and coffee floated about the boatas the fireman cooked breakfast. Afterthey had eaten, Dick moved a bag or twoof coal to trim the craft and sounded thetank, because a high-pressure engine usesa large quantity of fresh water. Then heunrolled a chart and measured the distanceto their port while Jake looked over his

shoulder.

“We ought to be in time,” he said. “Theadvertisement merely stated that the boatwould sail to-day, but as she didn’t leavethe last port until yesterday and she’d havesome cargo to ship, it’s unlikely that she’llclear before noon.”

“It might have been safer to telegraph,booking two berths. These little boatsdon’t often miss a chance of picking up afew dollars, and the skipper would havewaited.”

“I thought about that; but the telegramwould have shown what we were after ifKenwardine has bribed somebody in theoffice, which is possible.”

“You seem convinced he has had an

important part in these attacks on merchantships,” Jake said thoughtfully.

“It’s hard to doubt.”

“The man’s by way of being a friend ofmine and took you into his house when youwere in some danger of bleeding to death.I’m not sure that he’s guilty, and now I’vecome with you, am going to see he getsfair play; but if you can prove your charge,you may do what you like with him. I thinkwe’ll let it go at that.”

Dick nodded. “In the first place, we mustmake our port, and it’s lucky we’ll havesmooth water until the sea breeze gets up.”

Telling the fireman he could go to sleep,he moved about the engine with an oilcanand afterwards cleaned the fire. Then he

lay on the counter with his hand on thehelm while the launch sped across theglassy sea, leaving a long wake astern.The high coast ahead got clearer, but aftera time dark-blue lines began to streak theglistening water and puffs of wind fannedthe men’s faces. The puffs were gratefullyfresh and the heat felt intolerable whenthey passed, but by and by they settled intoa steady draught and the dark lines joined,until the sea was all a glowingultramarine. Then small ripples splashedabout the launch and Dick glanced ahead.

“She’s steaming well,” he said as helistened to the steady snort of the exhaustand humming of the cranks. “It’s lucky,because there’s some weight in the wind.”

Some hours later, when the sea was

flecked with white, they closed with astrip of gray-green forest that seemed torun out into the water. The launch rolledand lurched as the foam-tipped combershove her up and the awning flappedsavagely in the whistling breeze. Away onthe horizon, there was a dingy trail ofsmoke. Presently Jake stood up on deck,and watched the masts that rose above thefringe of trees.

“There’s a black-top funnel like theDanish boat’s, and a flag with red andwhite on it, but it’s hanging limp. Theydon’t feel the breeze inside.”

He jumped down as Dick changed hiscourse, and they passed a spit of surf-washed sand, rounded the last clump oftrees, and opened up the harbor mouth.

The sunshine fell upon a glaring white andyellow town, and oily water glitteredbetween the wharf and the dark hulls ofanchored vessels, but Dick suddenly sethis lips. He knew the Danish boat, and shewas not there.

“She’s gone,” said Jake with a hint ofrelief in his voice. “That was her smokeon the skyline.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

ROUGH WATER

As soon as they entered port, Dick andJake went to the office of a Spanishshipbroker, who offered them his politesympathy.

“We had very little cargo here, and whenhe heard there was some dyewood at SanIgnacio the captain steamed off again,” heexplained.

“What sort of a port is San Ignacio, andhow far is it?” Dick asked.

“It is an aldea on the shore of a lagoon,with a wharf that small boats can reach,about forty miles from here.”

“Then they take the dyewood off in boats?If there is much of the stuff, it would be along job.”

“That is so, señor. The boats can onlyreach the wharf when the tide is high. Atother times, the cargo must be carrieddown through the mud.”

“Have you a large chart of this coast?”

The broker brought a chart and Dickstudied it for some minutes, making notesin his pocket-book. Then he looked up.

“Where can I get fresh water?”

The broker asked how much he wanted

and after taking some paper money gavehim a ticket.

“There is a pipe on the wharf and whenthe peon sees the receipt he will fill yourtanks.”

Dick thanked him and going out with Jakefound their fireman asleep in a wine-shop.They had some trouble in wakening theman and after sending him off to get thewater, ordered some wine. The room wasdirty and filled with flies, but the latticeshutters kept out the heat and they foundthe shadow pleasant after the glareoutside. Jake dropped into a cane chairwith a sigh of content. He felt crampedand stiff after the long journey in thenarrow cockpit of the plunging launch, andwas sensible of an enjoyable lassitude. It

would be delightful to lounge about in theshade after refreshing himself with two orthree cool drinks, but he had misgivingsthat this was not what Dick meant to do.When he had drained a large glass of light,sweet wine, he felt peacefully at ease, andresting his head on the chair-back closedhis eyes. After this he was conscious ofnothing until Dick said: “It’s not worthwhile to go to sleep.”

“Not worth while?” Jake grumbleddrowsily. “I was awake all last night. It’squiet and cool here and I can’t stand forbeing broiled outside.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to. We start assoon as Maccario has filled the tank.”

Jake roused himself with a jerk. Dickleaned forward wearily with his elbow on

the table, but he looked resolute.

“Then you haven’t let up yet? You’regoing on to the lagoon?”

“Certainly,” said Dick. “The Danish boathas an hour’s start, but she only steamseight or nine knots and it will take sometime to load her cargo.”

“But we can’t drive the launch hard. Thebreeze is knocking up the sea.”

“We’ll try,” Dick answered, and Jakegrowled in protest. His dream of rest andsleep, and perhaps some mildly excitingadventure when the citizens came out inthe cool of the evening, had been rudelybanished. Moreover, he had had anotherreason for being philosophical when hethought his comrade baulked.

“It’s a fool trick. She won’t make it if thesea gets bad.”

Dick smiled dryly. “We can turn back ifwe find her getting swamped. It looks as ifyou were not very anxious to overtakeKenwardine.”

“I’m not,” Jake admitted. “If you’redetermined to go, I’m coming, but I’d beglad of a good excuse for letting the matterdrop.”

Somewhat to his surprise, Dick gave hima sympathetic nod. “I know; I’ve felt likethat, but the thing can’t be dropped. It’s ahateful job, but it must be finished now.”

“Very well,” Jake answered, getting up.“If we must go, the sooner we start thebetter.”

The launch looked very small and dirtywhen they looked down on her from thewharf, and Jake noted how the surf brokeupon the end of the sheltering point. Itsdeep throbbing roar warned him what theymight expect when they reached openwater, but he went down the steps andhelped Dick to tighten some bearingbrasses, after which a peon threw downtheir ropes and the screw began to rattle.With a few puffs of steam from her funnelthe launch moved away and presently metthe broken swell at the harbor mouth. Thenher easy motion changed to a drunkenlurch and Jake gazed with misgivings atthe white-topped seas ahead.

She went through the first comber’s crestwith her forefoot in the air and the foam

washing deep along the tilted deck, whilethe counter vanished in a white upheaval.Then it swung up in turn, and frames andplanking shook as the engine ran away.This happened at short intervals as shefought her way to windward in erraticjerks, while showers of spray and cindersblew aft into the face of her crew.

Dick drove her out until the sea got longerand more regular, when he turned andfollowed the coast, but the flashing blueand white rollers were now on her beamand flung her to lee as they passed.Sometimes one washed across her lowcounter, and sometimes her forward halfwas buried in a tumultuous rush of foam.The pump was soon started and they keptit going, but the water gathered in the

crank-pit, where it was churned intolather, and Jake and Maccario relievedeach other at helping the pump with abucket. They were drenched and halfblinded by the spray, but it was obviousthat their labor was needed and theypersevered.

Stopping for breath now and then, with hisback to the wind, Jake glanced at the coastas the boat swung up with a sea. It made ahazy blur against the brilliant sky, but hiseyes were smarting and dazzled. Therewas a confusing glitter all around him, andeven the blue hollows they plunged intowere filled with a luminous glow. Still hethought they made progress, though thelaunch was drifting to leeward fast, and hetold Dick, who headed her out a point or

two.

“This is not the usual sea breeze; it’sblowing really fresh,” he said. “Do youthink it will drop at sundown?”

“I’m not sure,” Dick replied, shading hiseyes as he glanced at the windwardhorizon.

“Then suppose it doesn’t drop?”

“If the sea gets dangerous, we’ll put thehelm up and run for shelter.”

“Where do you expect to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Dick admitted. “There arereefs and shoals along the coast that wemight get in behind.”

Jake laughed. “Well, I guess this is apretty rash adventure. You won’t turn back

while you can see, and there are saferthings than running for a shoal you don’tknow, in the dark. However, there’s apoint one might get a bearing from abeamand I’ll try to fix our position. It might beuseful later.”

Stooping beside the compass, he gazed atthe hazy land across its card, and thencrept under the narrow foredeck with achart. He felt the bows sweep upwards,pause for a moment, and suddenly lurchdown, but now the sea was long andregular, the motion was rhythmic. Besides,the thud and gurgle of water outside theboat’s thin planks were soothing andharmonized with the measured beat of thescrew. Jake got drowsy and although hehad meant to take another bearing when he

thought he could double the angle,presently fell asleep.

It was getting dark when he awoke andcrept into the cockpit. There was a changein the motion, for the launch did not roll somuch and the combers no longer broke inshowers of spray against her side. Sheswung up with a swift but easy lift, thefoam boiling high about her rail, and thengently slid down into the trough. It wasplain that she was running before thewind, but Jake felt that he must pullhimself together when he looked aft, forthere is something strangely daunting in abig following sea. A high, white-toppedridge rolled up behind the craft, roaring asit chased her, while a stream of sprayblew from its curling crest. It hid the

rollers that came behind; there wasnothing to be seen but a hill of water, andJake found it a relief to fix his eyes ahead.The backs of the seas were smoother andless disturbing to watch as they faded intothe gathering dark. When the comberpassed, he turned to Dick, who stood,alert and highly strung, at the helm.

“You’re heading for the land,” he said.“What are you steering by?”

“I got the bearing of a point I thought Irecognized on the chart before I lost sightof the coast. There’s a long reef outshoreof it, with a break near the point. If we canget through, we might find shelter.”

“Suppose there’s something wrong withyour bearing, or you can’t make good yourcourse?”

“Then there’ll be trouble,” Dick answeredgrimly. “We’ll have the reef to lee and shewon’t steam out again.”

Jake put a kettle on the cylinder-top andtook some provisions from a locker. Hewas hungry and thought he might need allthe strength he had, while he did not wantto look at the sea. The pump was clankinghard, but he could hear the water washabout under the floorings, and the launchwas very wet. Darkness fell as heprepared a meal with the fireman’s help,and they ate by the dim light of the engine-lamp, while Dick, to whom they handedportions, crouched at the helm, gazingclose into the illuminated compass.Sometimes he missed the food they heldout and it dropped and was washed into

the pump-well, but he ate what he couldwithout moving his eyes.

Since he must find the opening in the reef,much depended on his steering an accuratecourse, but this was difficult, because hehad to bear away before the largestcombers. Moreover, the erratic motion ofa short boat in broken water keeps thecompass-card rocking to and fro, and longpractise is needed to hit the mean of itsoscillations. As a matter of fact, Dickknew he was leaving much to luck.

After a time, they heard a hoarse roar.Since the sound would not carry far towindward, they knew the reef was closeahead, but where the opening lay wasanother matter. Dick had no guide exceptthe compass, and as the launch would

probably swamp if he tried to bring herround head to sea, he must run on and takethe risk. By and by, Jake, straining hiseyes to pierce the gloom, called out as hesaw a ghostly white glimmer to starboard.This was the surf spouting on the reef andif it marked the edge of the channel, theywould be safe in going to port; if not, thelaunch would very shortly be hurled uponthe barrier.

Dick stood up and gazed ahead. The whitepatch was getting plainer, but he could seenothing else. There was, however, adifference in the motion, and the sea wasconfused. He ordered the engine to beslowed, and they ran on until the belt offoam bore abeam. They must be almostupon the reef now, or else in the channel,

and for the next minute or two nobodyspoke. If they had missed the gap, the firstwarning would be a shock, and then thecombers that rolled up behind them woulddestroy the stranded craft.

She did not strike; the surf was level withher quarter, and Jake, thrusting down along boathook, found no bottom. In anotherminute or two the water suddenly gotsmooth, and he threw down the boathook.

“We’re through,” he said in a strainedvoice. “The reef’s astern.”

“Try the hand-lead,” Dick ordered him, ashe changed his course, since he wasapparently heading for the beach.

Jake got four fathoms and soon afterwardseighteen feet, when Dick stopped the

engine and the launch rolled upon thebroken swell. A dark streak that lookedlike forest indicated the land, and a line offoam that glimmered with phosphorescentlight ran outshore of them. Now they wereto lee of the reef, the hoarse clamor of thesurf rang about the boat. Unfolding thechart, they studied it by the engine-lamp. Itwas on too small a scale to give manydetails, but they saw that the reef ranroughly level with the coast and ended ina nest of shoals near a point.

“We could ride out a gale here,” Jakeremarked.

“We could, if we wanted,” Dick replied.

Jake looked at him rather hard and thenmade a sign of resignation. “Well, I guessI’ve had enough, but if you’re going on

—— How do you reckon you’ll getthrough the shoals ahead?”

“I imagine some of them are mangroveislands, and if so, there’ll be a channel ofa sort between them. In fact, the chart thebroker showed me indicated something ofthe kind. With good luck we may find it.”

“Very well,” said Jake. “I’m glad to thinkit will be a soft bottom if we runaground.”

They went on, keeping, so far as theycould judge, midway between reef andbeach, but after a time the lead showedshoaling water and Jake used the boathookinstead. Then the sky cleared and a half-moon came out, and they saw haze and theloom of trees outshore of them. Slowingthe engine, they moved on cautiously

while the water gradually got shallower,until glistening banks of mud began tobreak the surface. Then they stopped theengine, but found the launch still movedforward.

“I imagine it’s about four hours’ flood,”Dick remarked. “That means the waterwill rise for some time yet, and althoughthe current’s with us now I think we can’tbe far off the meeting of the tides.”

Jake nodded. In places of the kind, thestream often runs in from both ends until itjoins and flows in one direction from theshoalest spot.

“Then we ought to find a channel leadingout on the other side.”

They let the engine run for a few minutes

until the boat touched bottom and stuckfast in the mud. The wind seemed to befalling and the roar of the surf had gotfainter. Thin haze dimmed the moonlightand there were strange splashings in thewater that gently lapped about the belts ofmud. The stream stopped running, butseeing no passage they waited andsmoked.

“If we can get out on the other side, weoughtn’t to be very far from the lagoon,”Jake suggested.

Presently there was a faint rippling againstthe bows and the launch began to swinground.

“The tide’s coming through from the otherend,” said Dick. “We may find a channelif we can push her across the mud.”

For half an hour they laboriously poledher with a long oar and the boathookbetween the banks of mire. Sometimes shetouched and stuck until the rising waterfloated her off, and sometimes she scrapedalong the bottom, but still made progress.They were breathless and soaked withperspiration, while the foul scum that ranoff the oar stained their damp clothes.Then Jake’s boathook sank a foot or twodeeper and finding the depth as good aftera few vigorous pushes, they started theengine.

Sour exhalations rose from the wake of thechurning screw and there was a curiousdragging feel in the boat’s motion, as ifshe were pulling a body of water after her,but this was less marked when Jake found

three or four feet, and by and by he threwdown the pole and they went half-speedahead. After a time, the mangrovesoutshore got farther off, the air smeltfresher, and small ripples broke thesurface of the widening channel. Theywent full-speed, the trees faded, and aswell that set her rocking met the boat,although there still seemed to be a barrierof sand or mud between her and open sea.

Giving Jake the helm, Dick crawled underthe foredeck, where the floorings weredrier than anywhere else, and lay smokingand thinking until day broke. The light,which grew brighter rapidly, showed aglistening line of surf to seaward andmangrove forest on a point ahead. Beyondthis there seemed to be an inlet, and then

the shore curved out again. As they passedthe point Dick stood up on deck andpresently saw two tall spars rise abovethe mist. A few minutes later, the top of afunnel appeared, and then a sharp metallicrattle rang through the haze.

“We’re in the lagoon,” he said. “That’sthe Danish boat and she hasn’t finishedheaving cargo on board.”

CHAPTER XXIX

KENWARDINE TAKES ARISK

Shortly after the launch entered the lagoon,the Danish boat hove her anchor andsteamed out to sea. Dick, who hadengaged a half-breed pilot to take thelaunch home, lounged in a canvas chairunder the poop awning. His eyes werehalf closed, for the white boats anddeckhouses flashed dazzlingly in thestrong light as the steamer lurched acrossthe vivid swell of the Caribbean. The

cigarette he languidly held had gone out,and his pose was slack.

He was physically tired and his brain wasdull, but he was conscious of lethargicsatisfaction. For a long time he had beentorn between his love for Clare and hisduty to his country. His difficulties werefurther complicated by doubts ofKenwardine’s guilt, but recent events hadcleared these up. It was, on the whole, arelief to feel that he must now go forwardand there need be no more hesitation andbalancing of probabilities. The time forthat had gone and his course was plain. Hemust confront Kenwardine with a concisestatement of his share in the plot and forcefrom him an undertaking that he wouldabandon his traitorous work.

This might be difficult, but Dick did notthink he would fail. Don Sebastian, whoperhaps knew more than he did, was tomeet him at a Cuban port, and theSpaniard could be trusted to handle thematter with skill. There was no directcommunication between Santa Brigida andKingston, but steamers touched at thelatter place when making a round of otherports, which would enable Dick and hisally to join Kenwardine’s boat at her lastcall. If either of them had gone on board atSanta Brigida, Kenwardine would haveleft the ship at the next port.

Since he had sailed on an English steamer,bound for British territory, he would besubject to British law when they met, andthey could, if needful, have him arrested.

Dick admitted that this ought to be done tobegin with, but had not decided about ityet. He would wait and be guided byevents. The British officials might doubthis story and decline to interfere, butKenwardine could not count on that,because Don Sebastian was armed withcredentials from the President of afriendly state.

Dick, however, dismissed the matter. Hewas tired in mind and body, and did notmean to think of anything important untilhe met Kenwardine. By and by his headgrew heavy, and resting it on the back ofhis chair, he closed his eyes. When Jakecame up, followed by a steward carryingtwo tall glasses of frothing liquor, he sawthat his comrade was fast asleep.

“You can put them down,” he told thesteward. “I’m thirsty enough to emptyboth, but you can bring some more alongwhen my partner wakes.”

After this he took a black seaman, whowas making some noise as he swept thepoop, by the arm and firmly led him to theother side of the deck. Then he drained theglasses with a sigh of satisfaction, andlighting a cigarette, sat down near Dick’sfeet. He did not mean to sleep, but whenhe got up with a jerk as the lunch bell ranghe saw Dick smiling.

“Have I been sitting there all this time?”he asked.

“No,” said Dick. “You were lying flat ondeck when I woke up an hour ago.” Thenhe indicated the two glasses, which had

rolled into the scupper channel. “Ishouldn’t be surprised if those accountedfor it.”

“Perhaps they did,” Jake owned, grinning.“Anyhow, we’ll have some more, with alump of ice in it, before we go down tolunch.”

The Danish boat met fine weather as sheleisurely made her way across theCaribbean, and after an uneventful voyage,Dick and Jake landed at a port in Cuba.The British steamer from Santa Brigidahad not arrived, but the agent expected herin the evening, and they found DonSebastian waiting them at a hotel he hadnamed. When it was getting dark theywalked to the end of the harbor mole andsat down to watch for the vessel.

Rows of the lights began to twinkle, onebehind the other, at the head of the bay,and music drifted across the water. Abright glow marked the plaza, where aband was playing, but the harbor was darkexcept for the glimmer of anchor-lights onthe oily swell. The occasional rattle of awinch, jarring harshly on the music, toldthat the Danish boat was working cargo. Afaint, warm breeze blew off the land, andthere was a flicker of green and bluephosphorescence as the sea washed aboutthe end of the mole.

“I wonder how you’ll feel if Kenwardined o e s n’ t come,” Jake said presently,looking at Dick, who did not answer.

“He will come,” Don Sebastian rejoinedwith quiet confidence.

“Well, I guess he must know he’s doing adangerous thing.”

“Señor Kenwardine does know, but heplays for high stakes and takes the risks ofthe game. If it had not been necessary, hewould not have ventured on British soil,but since he was forced to go, he thoughtthe boldest plan the safest. This is whatone would expect, because the man isbrave. He could not tell how far mysuspicions went and how much SeñorBrandon knew, but saw that he waswatched and if he tried to hide hismovements he would betray himself. Itwas wiser to act as if he had nothing tofear.”

“As he was forced to go, his businessmust be important,” Dick said

thoughtfully. “This means he must be dealtwith before he lands at Kingston. If weallowed him to meet his confederatesthere, the mischief would be done, and itmight be too late afterwards to stop themcarrying out their plans.”

Don Sebastian gave him a quiet smile.“One might learn who his confederates areif he met them. It looks as if you wouldsooner deal with our friend on board.”

“I would,” Dick said steadily. “Hisplotting must be stopped, but I’m inclinedto think I’d be content with that.”

“And you?” the Spaniard asked, turning toJake.

“I don’t know that Kenwardine is in theworst of the plot. He was a friend of mine

and it’s your business to prove him guilty.I mean to reserve my opinion until youmake your charges good.”

“Very well,” said Don Sebastian. “We’llbe guided by what happens when we seehim.”

They let the matter drop, and half an hourlater a white light and a green light creptout of the dark to seawards, and a faintthrobbing grew into the measured beat of asteamer’s screw. Then a low, shadowyhull, outlined by a glimmer ofphosphorescence, came on towards theharbor mouth, and a rocket swept up in afiery curve and burst, dropping coloredlights. A harsh rattle of running chainbroke out, the screw splashed noisily for afew moments and stopped, and a launch

came swiftly down the harbor.

“The port doctor!” said Dick. “There’ssome cargo ready, and she won’t sail forthree or four hours. We had better waituntil near the last moment before we go onboard. If our man saw us, he’d take alarmand land.”

Don Sebastian agreed, and they went backto the hotel, and stayed there until wordwas sent that the last boat was ready toleave the mole. They took their placeswith one or two more passengers, and asthey drew near the steamer Dick lookedcarefully about. Several shore boats werehanging on to the warp alongside and acargo barge lay beside her quarter. It wasobvious that she would not sailimmediately, and if Kenwardine saw them

come on board, he would have no troublein leaving the vessel. If he landed, hewould be in neutral territory, and theirhold on him would be gone. To makethings worse, a big electric lamp had beenhung over the gangway so as to light theladder.

Dick could not see Kenwardine among thepassengers on deck, and getting on boardas quietly as possible, they went down thenearest companion stairs and along analleyway to the purser’s office. A numberof rooms opened on to the passage, andDick had an uncomfortable feeling thatchance might bring him face to face withKenwardine. Nobody met them, however,and they found the purser disengaged.

“If you have a passenger list handy, you

might let me see it,” Dick said as he tookthe tickets.

The purser gave him a list, and he notedKenwardine’s name near the bottom.

“We may as well be comfortable, althoughwe’re not going far,” he resumed. “Whatberths have you left?”

“You can pick your place,” said thepurser. “We haven’t many passengers thistrip, and there’s nobody on the starboardalleyway. However, if you want a hot bathin the morning, you had better sleep toport. They’ve broken a pipe on the otherside.”

A bath is a luxury in the Caribbean, butwhite men who have lived any time in thetropics prefer it warm, and Dick saw why

the passengers had chosen the portalleyway. He decided to take the other,since Kenwardine would then be on theopposite side of the ship.

“We’ll have the starboard rooms,” hesaid. “One can go without a bath for once,and you’ll no doubt reach Kingston to-morrow night.”

“I expect so,” agreed the purser. “Still, wemayn’t be allowed to steam in until thenext morning. They’re taking rathertroublesome precautions in the Britishports since the commerce-raider got towork.”

Dick signed to the others and crossed theafter well towards the poop in a curiouslygrim mood. He hated the subterfuge he hadpractised, and there was something very

repugnant in this stealthy tracking down ofhis man, but the chase was nearly over andhe meant to finish it. Defenseless merchantseamen could not be allowed to suffer forhis squeamishness.

“Don Sebastian and I will wait in thesecond-class smoking-room until shestarts,” he said to Jake. “I want you tolounge about the poop deck and watch thegangway. Let us know at once if you seeKenwardine and it looks as if he means togo ashore.”

He disappeared with his companion, andJake went up a ladder and sat down on thepoop, where he was some distance fromthe saloon passengers. Kenwardine wasless likely to be alarmed at seeing him, buthe did not like his part. The man had

welcomed him to his house, and althoughhe had lost some money there, Jake did notbelieve his host had meant to plunder him.After all, Dick and Don Sebastian mightbe mistaken, and he felt mean as hewatched the gangway. A hint from himwould enable Kenwardine to escape, andit was galling to feel that it must not begiven. Indeed, as time went on, Jake beganto wish that Kenwardine would learn thatthey were on board and take alarm. Hewas not sure he would warn Dick if thefellow tried to steal away.

In the meanwhile, the pumps on board awater-boat had stopped clanking and shewas towed towards the harbor. Thesteamer’s winches rattled as they hove upcargo from the barge, but Jake had seen

that there was not much left and she wouldsail as soon as the last load was hoistedin. Lighting a cigarette, he ran his eyealong the saloon-deck. A few passengersin white clothes walked up and down, andhe studied their faces as they passed thelights, but Kenwardine was not amongthem. A group leaned upon the rails in theshadow of a boat, and Jake felt angrybecause he could not see them well. Thesuspense was getting keen, and he wishedKenwardine would steal down the ladderand jump into a boat before he could givethe alarm.

There was, however, no suspiciousmovement on the saloon-deck, and Jake,walking to the rail, saw the peons puttingthe last of the barge’s cargo into the sling.

It came up with a rattle of chain, and thebarge sheered off. Somebody gave anorder, and there was a bustle on deck. Inanother few minutes Kenwardine’s lastchance of escape would be gone, becausea British ship is British territory, and hercaptain can enforce his country’s laws.

Jake threw away his cigarette and took outanother when the whistle blew and thewindlass began to clank. Although theanchor was coming up, two boats hung onto the foot of the ladder, and he could notbe expected to see what was going onwhile he lighted his cigarette. Kenwardinewas clever, and might have waited untilthe last moment before making his escape,with the object of leaving his pursuers onboard, but if he did not go now it would

be too late. The clank of the windlassstopped, and Jake, dropping the matchwhen the flame touched his fingers, lookedup. A group of dark figures were busy onthe forecastle, and he saw the captain onthe bridge.

“All clear forward, sir!” a hoarse voicecried, and somebody shouted: “Cast offthe boats!”

Then there was a rattle of blocks as theladder was hoisted in, and the deckquivered as the engines began to throb.Jake heard the screw slowly flounderround and the wash beneath the poop asthe steamer moved out to sea, but therewas nobody except their colored crews onboard the boats that dropped astern.Kenwardine had had his chance and lost

it. He had been too bold and now mustconfront his enemies.

Jake went down the ladder and found Dickwaiting at the door of the second-classsaloon.

“He’s on board,” he said. “I’m sorry he is.In fact, I’m not sure I’d have told you ifhe’d tried to light out at the last moment.”

Dick gave him a dry smile. “I suspect thatDon Sebastian didn’t trust you altogether.He left me, and I shouldn’t be surprised tolearn that he had found a place where hecould watch the gangway without beingseen.”

A few minutes later, the Spaniard crossedthe after well. “Now,” he said, “we mustdecide when we ought to have our

interview with Señor Kenwardine, and Ithink we should put it off until just beforewe land.”

“Why?” Jake asked. “It would be muchpleasanter to get it over and have donewith it.”

“I think not,” Don Sebastian answeredquietly. “We do not know how SeñorKenwardine will meet the situation. He isa bold man, and it is possible that he willdefy us.”

“How can he defy you when he knows youcan hand him over to the Britishauthorities?”

“That might be necessary; but I am notsure it is the British authorities he fearsthe most.”

“Then who is he afraid of?”

“His employers, I imagine,” DonSebastian answered with a curious smile.“It is understood that they trust nobody andare not very gentle to those who do notserve them well. Señor Kenwardineknows enough about their plans to bedangerous, and it looks as if he might failto carry their orders out. If we give himtoo long a warning, he may escape us afterall.”

“I don’t see how he could escape. Youhave him corralled when he’s under theBritish flag.”

Don Sebastian shrugged as he indicatedthe steamer’s low iron rail and theglimmer of foam in the dark below.

“There is one way! If he takes it, we shalllearn no more than we know now.”

He left them, and Jake looked at Dick.“It’s unthinkable! I can’t stand for it!”

“No,” said Dick very quietly; “he mustn’tbe pushed too far. For all that, his friendscan’t be allowed to go on sinking Britishships.”

CHAPTER XXX

THE LAST ENCOUNTER

Dick awoke next morning with a feeling ofnervous strain that got worse as the daywore on. By going down to the saloonimmediately the breakfast-bell rang andmaking a hurried meal, he and hiscompanions avoided meeting Kenwardine,and, after bribing a steward, were givenlunch with the second-class passengers.Two difficulties were thus got over, butthe time passed heavily while they keptout of sight in quiet corners of the afterwell, and Dick found it a relief when a

friendly engineer invited him below. Herehe spent some hours, smoking andwatching the machinery, while the fingersof the clock on the bulkhead crawled withpainful slowness round the dial.

When he went up on deck the bold ridgeof the Blue Mountains rose above thedazzling sea, but the lower slopes wereveiled in haze and he could not tell howfar the land was off. A mate informed himthat they would have the coast closeaboard at dusk, but did not think anybodywould be allowed to land until themorning. Struck by a thought, Dick askedif any passenger boats were likely to be inport, and the mate replied that a Spanishliner would leave for Brazil soon afterthey arrived, but he knew of no vessel

going north for the next few days. Then,after giving Dick some advice about thechoice of a hotel, he went away.

Towards sunset the sea-breeze droppedand the mist gathered thicker about thehills. Faint puffs of hot wind began toblow off the land, which faded suddenlyas darkness rolled down. A thin hazedrifted out across the water and the speedslackened as the vessel closed with theshore. Then dim lights blinked out ahead,the engines stopped, and a detonatingrocket burst high up in the sky. Soonafterwards a steam launch came off, andthe purser stopped near Dick on his wayto his room.

“We are going in, but will have to waituntil the agent gets formal permission from

the guardship’s commander, who must seeour papers first,” he said. “As this maytake some time, perhaps you had betterdine on board.”

When the bell rang Dick and hiscompanions went to the saloon. Therewere not many passengers, and the roomwas nearly empty, but as they enteredDick saw Kenwardine at the bottom of atable. He glanced up as he heard theirfootsteps, and with an abrupt movementturned his revolving chair partly round.Next moment, however, he looked at Dickcoolly, and after a nod of recognition wenton with his dinner. Don Sebastianindicated a table between Kenwardineand the door, and they sat down.

Jake played with his food, and Dick had

not much appetite, although he partook ofthe dishes set before him, because hewanted an excuse for occupying the tableuntil Kenwardine had finished. The lattershowed no anxiety to get away and nowand then kept the steward waiting while hestudied the menu. Dick, who envied hiscoolness, thought it indicated one of twothings: Kenwardine knew he was beatenand was philosophically resigned, or hadsome plan by which he hoped to baffle hispursuers. Now and then Dick looked atDon Sebastian inquiringly, but theSpaniard answered with an enigmaticsmile.

In the meantime, the passengers wentaway to pack or get ready for a runashore, and at last the saloon was empty

except for Dick’s party and Kenwardine.Then Don Sebastian crossed the floor andbowed to the latter.

“It would be a favor if you will take aglass of wine with us,” he said.

“Certainly,” said Kenwardine, getting up,and Don Sebastian, who gave an order toa steward, led the way to a corner tablewhere they would not be disturbed.

“You were, perhaps, surprised to see us,señor,” he resumed, when the othersjoined them.

“I was,” Kenwardine admitted. “Still, Isuppose I ought to have been prepared forsomething of the kind.”

Don Sebastian bowed. “One mayunderstand that as a compliment?”

“Perhaps it is, in a sense. But I certainlydid not expect to meet Mr. Fuller. We aretold that his people mean to preserve astrict neutrality.”

Jake colored. “I’d have stood out if youhad kept your dago friends off my partner.That’s what brought me in; but I’m stilltrying to be as neutral as I can.”

“Señor Fuller has informed us that hemeans to see you get fair play,” DonSebastian interposed.

“Well, he has my thanks for that, and mysympathy, which I think he needs,”Kenwardine rejoined with a twinkle.“There’s no doubt that he owes Mr.Brandon something, and I flatter myselfthat he rather liked me. It must have beenembarrassing to find that he couldn’t be

friends with both. However, you hadbetter tell me what you want. My clothesare not packed, and I must land as soon aspossible, because I have some business totransact to-night.”

“I am afraid you will be unable to do so,”Don Sebastian said politely.

“Why?”

“The explanation is rather long, but, tobegin with, you no doubt know I wasordered to watch you.”

“I must admit that I suspected somethingvery like it.”

“The President imagined you mightbecome dangerous to the neutrality of theState, and I learned enough to show that hewas right.”

“What did you learn?”

Don Sebastian smiled. “I will be frankand put down my cards. I would not do so,señor, if I thought you could beat them.”

He began a concise account of thediscoveries he had made; showingKenwardine’s association with theGerman, Richter, and giving particularsabout the purchase of the Adexe coalingwharf. Jake leaned forward with hiselbows on the table, listening eagerly,while Dick sat motionless. Part of what heheard was new to him, but the Spaniard’sstatements could not be doubted, and heenvied Kenwardine’s nerve. The latter’sface was, for the most part, inscrutable,but now and then he made a sign oflanguid agreement, as if to admit that his

antagonist had scored a point.

“Well,” he said when the other finished,“it is a story that might do me harm, andthere are parts I cannot deny; but it is notcomplete. One finds awkward breaks in it.For example, you do not show how theraider got coal and information from theAdexe Company.”

“I think Señor Brandon can do so,” saidDon Sebastian, who turned to Dick.

Taking his cue from the Spaniard, Dickrelated what he had noted at the coalingwharf and learned about the movements ofthe tug when the auxiliary cruiser was inthe neighborhood. His account to someextent filled the gaps that Don Sebastian’snarrative had left, but now he came to putthe different points together and consider

them as a whole, their significanceseemed less. He began to see how ahostile critic would look at the thing.Much of his evidence was based uponconjecture that might be denied. Yet,while it was not convincing, it carriedweight.

There was a pause when he finished, andJake was conscious of a strong revulsionof feeling as he studied his companions. Ina way, the thin, dark-faced Spaniard andtranquil Englishman were alike. Bothwore the stamp of breeding and weregenerally marked by an easy good humorand polished wit that won men’sconfidence and made them pleasantcompanions. But this was on the surface;beneath lay a character as hard and cold

as a diamond. They were cunning,unscrupulous intriguers, who would stickat nothing that promised to serve theirends. Jake knew Kenwardine now, andfelt angry as he remembered theinfa tua ti on that had prevented hisunderstanding the man.

Then he glanced at Dick, who sat waitingwith a quietly resolute look. Dick wasdifferent from the others; he rang true. Onecould not doubt his rather naïve honesty,but in spite of this there was somethingabout him that made him a match for hisscheming opponent. Kenwardine, ofcourse, had courage, but Dick was armedwith a stern tenacity that made himcareless of the hurt he received. Now,though he had nothing to gain and much to

lose, he would hold on because dutydemanded it. The contrast between themthrew a lurid light upon Kenwardine’streachery.

Then the latter said: “You have statedthings clearly, Brandon, but, after all,what you offer is rather plausibleargument than proof. In fact, you must seethat your evidence isn’t strong enough.”

“It’s enough to justify our handing you tothe military officers in Kingston, whowould, no doubt, detain you while theymade inquiries.”

“Which you don’t want to do?”

“No,” said Dick shortly. “But I may beforced.”

“Very well. This brings us back to the

point we started from,” Kenwardinereplied and turned to Don Sebastian.“What is it you want?”

“To know where Richter is, and whosupplied him with the money he paid forthe coaling business.”

“Then I’m sorry I cannot tell you, and youcertainly wouldn’t get the information byhaving me locked up, but perhaps I canmeet you in another way. Now it’sobvious that you know enough to make itawkward for me to carry on the Adexewharf, and my help is necessary for thepart of the business you object to. If Iretire from it altogether, you ought to besatisfied.”

The Spaniard did not answer, and whilehe pondered, the beat of a launch’s engine

came in through the open ports.Kenwardine lighted a cigarette, spendingsome time over it, and as he finished thelaunch ran alongside. There werefootsteps on deck, and a few momentslater a steward entered the saloon.

“We are going in,” he announced. “Willyou have your luggage put on deck?”

“You can take ours up,” said DonSebastian, who indicated Kenwardine.“Leave this gentleman’s for the present.”

Kenwardine did not object, but Jake, whowas watching him, thought he saw, for thefirst time, a hint of uneasiness in his look.Then Don Sebastian got up.

“I must think over Señor Kenwardine’ssuggestion, and you may want to talk to

him,” he said, and went out.

When he had gone, Kenwardine turned toDick. “There’s a matter I would like toclear up; I had nothing to do with theattempts that seem to have been madeupon your life. In fact, I suspected nothingof the kind until you told me about theaccident at the dam, but Fuller afterwardsshowed me that it was time to interfere.”

“That’s true,” said Jake. “Anyhow, I gavehim a plain hint, but as he didn’t seemable to stop the accidents, I put DonSebastian on the track.”

“You can’t with any fairness make meaccountable for the actions of half-breedswho hold life very cheap and meant tokeep a paying job,” Kenwardine resumed,addressing Dick. “You knew what kind of

men you had to deal with and took therisk.”

“It’s hard to see how a white man couldmake use of such poisonous coloredtrash,” Jake remarked. “But I expect youdon’t want me, and I’ll see what DonSebastian is doing.”

He left them, and there was silence for afew moments until the screw began tothrob and they heard the wash of wateralong the steamer’s side. ThenKenwardine said quietly, “Fuller has tact.There’s a matter that concerns us both thathas not been mentioned yet. I’ll clear theground by stating that although our Spanishfriend has not decided what he means todo, I shall not go back to Santa Brigida. Iimagine this will remove an obstacle from

your way.”

“Thanks for the lead,” Dick answered. “Iresolved, some time ago, to marry Clare ifshe would have me, though I saw that itwould mean separating her from you.”

“And yet you believed she stole yourpapers!”

“I thought she did,” Dick answereddoggedly. “Still, I didn’t blame her.”

“You blamed me? But you ought to besatisfied, in one respect, because Clareand I are separated, and I’ll own that I’manxious about her future. Had things gonewell, I would have tried to keep her awayfrom you; in fact, I did try, because Ifrankly think she might have made a bettermarriage. For all that, if you are

determined and she is willing, you havemy consent. You will probably never bevery rich, but I could trust Clare to you.”

“I am determined.”

“Very well. I can tell you something youmay be glad to hear. Clare did not robyou, nor did I.”

Dick looked at him with keen relief.“Then who took the plans?”

“Your cousin. The pocket they were inwas unbuttoned when he took hold of youand hurried you out of the house. Hebrought them to me afterwards, but I sawthey were not valuable and destroyedthem.”

It was impossible to doubt the statement,and Dick flushed with shame and anger as

he realized that his absurd and unjustsuspicion of Clare had prevented hisseeing who the real culprit was. Clare hadaccidentally torn his pocket loose, thebulky envelope must have been stickingout, and Lance had noticed it as he hustledhim across the hall.

“Yes; Lance took the plans!” he exclaimedhoarsely. “But why?”

“It looks as if you hadn’t heard fromhome. Your cousin has stepped into yourplace. I imagine he had always envied it,and didn’t hesitate when he saw anopportunity of getting rid of you.”

Dick was silent for a few moments and hisface was very hard. He heard the crewhurrying about the deck, and a winch rattleas the hatches were lifted. The vessel

would soon be in port, and Kenwardine’sfate must be decided before they wentashore; but the man looked very cool as heleaned back in his chair, languidlywaiting.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”Dick asked sternly.

“I should have thought my object wasplain enough,” Kenwardine replied. “Ididn’t want Clare to marry a badly paidengineer. Things are different now and Iadmit that you have stood a rather severetest. I’ll give you two letters; one to Clare,advising her to marry you, and the otherstating how your cousin stole the plans,which you can use in any way you like.Before writing them, I’d like to see Fullerfor a minute or two. You needn’t hesitate

about it, because I don’t mean to victimizehim in any way. In fact, I want to tell himsomething to his advantage.”

Dick went out, and when he had sent Jakedown, leaned upon the steamer’s rail lostin thought. It had been a shock to learn ofhis cousin’s treachery, but this wasbalanced by the relief of knowing thatClare was innocent. Indeed, he grew hotwith shame as he wondered how he hadsuspected her. He felt angry withKenwardine for keeping him in the dark solong, but his indignation was tempered bya touch of grim amusement. Since thefellow was ambitious for Clare, he musthave regretted having destroyed the planswhen he learned that Dick’s father wasrich, but after conniving at the theft he

could not put matters right. Now, when hiscareer was ended, he was willing, for hisdaughter’s sake, to clear Dick’s name andhelp him to regain the station he had lost.But Dick was not sure he wished to regainit just yet. He had been turned out of thearmy; his father, who had never shownmuch love for him, had been quick tobelieve the worst; and he was bound for atime to a man who had befriended him.

Presently he looked about. Lights wereopening out in twinkling lines as thesteamer moved shoreward, and a splash ofoars came out of the gloom. Dick vacantlynoted that several boats wereapproaching, and then a winch rattled andDon Sebastian, who had come up quietly,touched his arm. A chain sling swung past

beneath a moving derrick, and as theycrossed the deck to get out of the way hesaw a steamer close by. Her windlass wasclanking as she shortened her cable and hesupposed she was the Spanish boat themate had spoken of, but he followed hiscompanion and listened to what he had tosay. Then as the anchor was let go hethought Jake ought to have come back andwent to look for him. He found the ladleaning against the deckhouse, smoking acigarette.

“Where’s Kenwardine?” he asked.

“I left him in the saloon. He gave me twoletters for you and a useful hint aboutsome debts of mine.”

“Never mind that! How long is it sinceyou left him?”

“Quite five minutes,” Jake answeredcoolly.

Struck by something in his tone, Dick ranbelow and found no luggage inKenwardine’s room. None of the stewardswhom he asked had seen him for sometime, and a hasty search showed that hewas not on deck. Dick went back to Jake.

“Do you know where the fellow is?” heasked sharply as Don Sebastian came up.

“If you insist, I imagine he’s on board theSpanish boat,” Jake answered with achuckle. “As she seems to have her anchorup, I guess it’s too late for us to interfere.”

A sharp rattle of chain that had rungacross the water suddenly stopped andDick saw one of the steamer’s colored

side-lights slowly move. It was plain thatshe was going to sea.

“Since we had been passed by the doctor,there was nothing to prevent the shoreboats coming alongside, and I believe oneor two did so before we quite stopped,”Jake resumed. “They were, no doubt,looking for a job, and the ladder wasalready lowered.”

“Then you knew Kenwardine meant tosteal away?”

“I didn’t know, but thought it likely,” Jakereplied with some dryness. “On thewhole, it was perhaps the best thing hecould do. What’s your opinion, DonSebastian?”

The Spaniard smiled. “I think the

President will be satisfied that it was thesimplest way out of the difficulty.”

“Well,” said Jake, “here are your letters,Dick. Perhaps we had better see aboutgetting ashore.”

They moved towards the gangway, pastthe hatch where some heavy cases werebeing hoisted up, and Dick carefully putthe letters in his pocket. This distractedhis attention from what was going on, andwhen he heard a warning shout he steppedback a moment too late. A big case swungforward beneath a derrick-boom andstruck his shoulder. Staggering with theblow, he lost his balance and plungeddown the hatch. He was conscious of aheavy shock, a sudden, stinging pain, andthen remembered nothing more.

CHAPTER XXXI

RICHTER’S MESSAGE

It was a hot evening and Clare sat at atable in the patio, trying to read. The lightwas bad, for buzzing insects hoveredabout the lamp, but the house had notcooled down yet and she wanted todistract her troubled thoughts. Footstepsand voices rose from the street outside,where the citizens were passing on theirway to the plaza, but the sounds were faintand muffled by the high walls. The househad been built in times when women werejealously guarded and a dwelling was

something of a fort. Now, with the irongate in the narrow, arched entrancebarred, the girl was securely cut off fromthe exotic life of the city.

This isolation was sometimes a comfort,but it sometimes jarred. Clare was young,and fond of cheerful society, and the irongate had its counterpart in another barrier,invisible but strong, that shut her out frommuch she would have enjoyed. She oftenstood, so to speak, gazing wistfullybetween the bars at innocent pleasures inwhich she could not join. Kenwardine, inspite of his polished manners, wastactfully avoided by English andAmericans of the better class, and theirwives and daughters openly showed theirdisapproval.

At length Clare gave up the attempt toread. She felt lonely and depressed.Nobody had been to the house sinceKenwardine left, and Dick and Jake wereaway. She did not see Dick often and hewas, of course, nothing to her; for onething, he was in some mysterious way herfather’s enemy. Still, she missed him; hewas honest, and perhaps, if things hadbeen different——

Then she turned her head sharply as sheheard the click of a bolt. This was strange,because Lucille had locked the gate. Shecould not see it in the gloom of the arch,but it had certainly opened. Then as shewaited with somewhat excited curiosity adark figure appeared on the edge of thelight, and she put down her book as

Richter came forward. He made very littlenoise and stopped near the table.

“How did you get in?” she asked.

Richter smiled. “You have forgotten thatHerr Kenwardine gave me a key.”

“I didn’t know he had,” Clare answered.“But won’t you sit down?”

He moved a chair to a spot where hiswhite clothes were less conspicuous,though Clare noted that he did socarelessly and not as if he wished to hidehimself. Then he put a small linen bag onthe table.

“This is some money that belongs to HerrKenwardine; you may find it useful. It isnot good to be without money in a foreigntown.”

Clare looked at him with alarm. He wasfat and generally placid, but hisphilosophical good humor was not somarked as usual.

“Then you have heard from my father?”

“Yes. I have a cablegram. It was sent in aroundabout way through other people’shands and took some time to reach me.Herr Kenwardine left Kingston last night.”

“But there is no boat yet.”

Richter nodded. “He is not coming toSanta Brigida. I do not think that he willcome back at all.”

For a moment or two Clare felt unnerved,but she pulled herself together. Sherealized now that she had long had avague fear that something of this kind

would happen.

“Then where has he gone? Why didn’t hewrite to me?” she asked.

“He has gone to Brazil and will, no doubt,write when he arrives. In the meantime,you must wait and tell people he is awayon business. This is important. You havesome money, and the house is yours for amonth or two.”

“But why has he gone? Will you show methe cablegram?”

“You could not understand it, and it mightbe better that you should not know,”Richter answered. Then he paused and hismanner, which had been friendly andsympathetic, changed. His short hairseemed to bristle and his eyes sparkled

under his shaggy brows as he resumed:“Herr Kenwardine was forced to go at themoment he was needed most. Your father,fräulein, is a bold and clever man, but hewas beaten by a blundering fool. We hadconfidence in him, but the luck was withhis enemies.”

“Who are his enemies?”

“The Englishman, Brandon, is the worst,”Richter answered with keen bitterness.“We knew he was against us, but thoughtthis something of a joke. Well, it seemswe were mistaken. These English areobstinate; often without imagination orforethought, they blunder on, and chance,that favors simpletons, is sometimes withthem. But remember, that if your fathermeets with misfortunes, you have Brandon

to thank.”

The color left Clare’s face, but she triedto brace herself.

“What misfortunes has my father to fear?”

Richter hesitated, and then saiddeprecatingly: “I cannot be as frank as Iwish. Herr Kenwardine’s work was mostimportant, but he failed in it. I know thiswas not his fault and would trust himagain, but there are others, of higher rank,who may take a different view. Besides, itwill be remembered that he is anEnglishman. If he stays in Brazil, I think hewill be left alone, but he will get nomoney and some he has earned will not besent. Indeed, if it were known, fräulein, Imight be blamed for paying you this smallsum, but I expect you will need it.”

He got up, as if to go, but Clare stoppedhim.

“You will come back as soon as you knowsomething more and tell me what to do.”

Richter made an apologetic gesture. “Thatwill be impossible. I ran some risk incoming now and leave Santa Brigida to-night in a fishing boat. You will stay inthis house, as if you expect your fatherback, until you hear from him. He willsend you instructions when he lands.”

Then the kitchen door across the patioopened and a bucket clinked. Richterstepped back into the shadow and Clarelooked round as an indistinct figurecrossed the tiles. When she looked backRichter had gone and she heard the splashof water. She sat still until the servant

went away and then sank down limply inher chair. She was left alone andunprotected except for old Lucille, in aforeign town where morals were lax andlicense was the rule. The few English andAmericans whose help she might haveasked regarded her with suspicion, and itlooked as if her father would be unable tosend for her.

This was daunting but it was not theworst. Richter had vaguely hinted atKenwardine’s business, which wasobviously mysterious. She saw where hishints led, but she would not follow up theclue. Her father had been ruined byBrandon, and her heart was filled withanger, in which she found it some relief toindulge. Dick had long been their enemy

and thought her a thief, while thepossibility that he was justified in the linehe had taken made matters worse. If shewas the daughter of a man dishonored bysome treason against his country, shecould not marry Dick. She had alreadyrefused to do so, but she did not want tobe logical. It was simpler to hate him asthe cause of her father’s downfall. Thelatter had always indulged her, and nowshe understood that he would land inBrazil penniless, or at least impoverished.Since he was accustomed to extravagance,it was painful to think of what he mightsuffer.

Then she began to speculate aboutRichter’s visit. He had come at some riskand seemed sorry for her, but he had urged

her to stay in the house, as if she expectedher father to return. This could be of noadvantage to the latter, and she wonderedwhether the man had meant to make use ofher to divert suspicion from himself andhis friends. It seemed uncharitable to thinkso, but she was very bitter and could trustnobody.

After a time she got calm, andremembering that she had her ownsituation to consider, counted the money inthe bag. It was not a large sum, but witheconomy might last for a few weeks, afterwhich she must make some plans. She wasincapable of grappling with any freshdifficulty yet, but she must brace hercourage and not break down, and gettingup with a resolute movement she went into

the house.

On the morning after his fall, Dick came tohis senses in a shaded room. He heard ashutter rattle as the warm breeze flowedin, and noted a flickering patch of light onthe wall, but found with some annoyancethat he could not see it well. His head wasthrobbing and a bandage covered part ofhis face. His side was painful too, and hegroaned when he tried to move.

“Where am I?” he asked a strange man,who appeared beside his bed, and addedin an injured tone: “It looks as if I’d gotinto trouble again.”

“You had a narrow escape,” the otheranswered soothingly. “You cut your headbadly and broke two of your ribs whenyou fell down the steamer’s hold. Now

you’re in hospital, but you’re not to talk.”

“I’ll get worse if you keep me quiet,”Dick grumbled. “How can you find outthings that bother you, unless you talk?”

“Don’t bother about them,” said thedoctor. “Have a drink instead.”

Dick looked at the glass with dullsuspicion. “I don’t know, though I’mthirsty. You see, I’ve been in a doctor’shands before. In fact, I seem to have a giftfor getting hurt.”

“It’s cool and tastes nice,” the other urged.“You didn’t rest much last night and if yougo to sleep now we’ll try to satisfy yourcuriosity afterwards.”

Dick hesitated, but took the glass and wentto sleep soon after he drained it. When he

awoke the light had vanished from thewall and the room was shadowy, but hesaw Jake sitting by the bed. A nurse, whoput a thermometer in his mouth and felt hispulse, nodded to the lad as if satisfiedbefore she went away. Dick’s head wasclearer, and although the movement hurthim he resolutely fixed his uncovered eyeon his companion.

“Now,” he said, “don’t tell me not to talk.Do you know why they’ve fixed thisbandage so that it half blinds me?”

Jake looked embarrassed. “There’s apretty deep cut on your forehead.”

“Do you suppose I can’t feel it? But I wantto know why they’re not satisfied withtying my forehead up? You may as welltell me, because I’m not going to sleep

again. It looks as if I’d slept all day.”

“The cut runs through your eyelid and thedoctor thinks it wiser to be careful.”

“About my eye?”

“It’s just a precaution,” Jake declared.“There’s really nothing the matter, but hethought it would be better to keep out thestrong light.”

“Ah!” said Dick, who was not deceived,and was silent for the next few moments.Then he resumed in a rather strainedvoice: “Well, let’s talk about somethingelse. Where’s Don Sebastian?”

“I haven’t seen him since lunch, but hespent the morning interviewing the Britishauthorities.”

“Do you think he told them to send afterKenwardine?”

“No,” said Jake with a twinkle, “I ratherthink he’s put them off the track, andalthough he had to give them a hint out ofpoliteness, doesn’t want them to know toomuch. Then there’s only an old-fashionedcruiser here and I understand she has tostop for a guardship. In fact, DonSebastian seems to imagine thatKenwardine is safe so long as he keepsoff British soil. However, an officialgentleman with a refined taste in clothesand charming manners called at our hoteland is coming to see you as soon as thedoctor will let him.”

Next morning Dick saw the gentleman,who stated his rank and then asked a

number of questions, which Dick did notanswer clearly. He was glad that hisbandaged head gave him an excuse forseeming stupid. He had done his part, andnow Kenwardine could do no furtherharm, it would be better for everybody ifhe got away. After a time, his visitorobserved:

“Well, you seem to have rendered yourcountry a service, and I expect you willfind things made smooth for you at homeafter our report upon the matter has beenreceived.”

“Ah!” said Dick. “It looks as if you knewwhy I left.”

The gentleman made a sign of assent.“Your Spanish friend was discreet, but hetold us something. Besides, there are army

lists and London Gazettes in Kingston.”

Dick was silent for a few moments, andthen said: “As a matter of fact, I am notanxious to go home just yet.”

“Are you not?” the other asked with a hintof polite surprise. “I do not think therewould be much difficulty about a newcommission, and officers are wanted.”

“They’re not likely to want a man withone eye, and I expect it will come to that,”Dick said grimly.

His visitor was sympathetic, but left soonafterwards, and Dick thought he was notmuch wiser about Kenwardine’s escapethan when he came. Two or three weekslater he was allowed to get up, althoughhe was tightly strapped with bandages and

made to wear a shade over his eyes. Whenhe lay in the open air one morning, Jakejoined him.

“We must get back to Santa Brigida assoon as we can,” he said. “They’replanning an extension of the irrigationscheme, and the old man and Ida arecoming out. The doctor seems to think youmight go by the next boat if we take careof you. But I’d better give youKenwardine’s letters. We took them out ofyour pocket the night you got hurt, and I’vebeen wondering why you haven’t askedfor them.”

“Thanks,” Dick answered dully. “I don’tknow that I’ll use them now. I’ll be glad toget back and dare say I can do my workwith one eye.”

“You’ll soon have both,” Jake declared.

“It’s doubtful,” said Dick. “I don’t thinkthe doctor’s very sanguine.”

On the whole, he was relieved when Jakeleft, because he found it an effort to talk,but the thoughts he afterwards indulged inwere gloomy. His broken ribs did nottrouble him much, but there was some riskof his losing his eye. He had helped toexpose and banish Kenwardine, and couldnot ask Clare to marry him after that, evenif he were not half blind and disfigured.Besides, it was doubtful if he would beable to resume his profession or do anyuseful work again. The sight of theuninjured eye might go. As a matter offact, the strain he had borne for some timehad told upon his health and the shock of

the accident had made things worse. Hehad sunk into a dejected, lethargic mood,from which he had not the vigor to rousehimself.

A week later he was helped on board asmall French boat and sailed for SantaBrigida. He did not improve with the seaair, as Jake had hoped, and for the mostpart avoided the few passengers and satalone in the darkest corner he could find.Now and then he moodily readKenwardine’s letters. He had at firstexpected much from them. They mighthave removed the stain upon his name andthe greatest obstacle between himself andClare; but he no longer cared much aboutthe former and the letters were uselessnow. For all that, he put them carefully

away in a leather case which he carried inan inside pocket.

CHAPTER XXXII

IDA INTERFERES

On his return to Santa Brigida, Dick wentto see a Spanish oculist, who took a morehopeful view than the Kingston doctor,although he admitted that there was somedanger of the injury proving permanent.Dick felt slightly comforted when helearned that the oculist was a clever manwho had been well known in Barcelonauntil he was forced to leave the city aftertaking part in some revolutionary plot. Hewas, however, unable to resume his work,and while he brooded over his

misfortunes a touch of the malaria he hadalready suffered from hindered hisrecovery. One of the effects of malaria isa feeling of black depression. He wasfeebly struggling against the weakness anddespondence when Fuller arrived andsoon afterwards came to see him. Dick,who was sitting in the darkest corner ofthe veranda, had got rid of his bandage;but an ugly, livid mark crossed hisforehead to the shade above his eyes andhis face looked worn. Fuller talked aboutthe dam for a time, and then stopped andlooked hard at his silent companion.

“I imagined all this would interest you, butyou don’t say much.”

“No,” said Dick. “You see, it’s galling tolisten to plans you can’t take part in. In

fact, I feel I ought to resign.”

“Why?”

“It looks as if it may be a long time beforeI can get to work and I may never be ofmuch use again.”

“Well, I suppose it’s natural that youshould feel badly humped, but you don’tknow that you’ll lose your eye, and if youdid, you’d do your work all right with theother. However, since you started thesubject, I’ve something to say about ourcontract. If the new scheme we’renegotiating goes through, as I think it will,I’ll have to increase my staff. Should I doso, you’ll get a move up and, of course,better pay for a more important job.”

Dick, who was touched by this mark of

confidence, thanked him awkwardly, andalthough he felt bound to object that hemight be unable to fill the new post, Fullerstopped him.

“All you have to do is to lie off and take iteasy until you get well. I know a usefulman when I see him and it won’t pay me tolet you go. When I’ve fixed things with thePresident I’ll make you an offer. NowStuyvesant’s waiting for me and Iunderstand my daughter is coming to seeyou.”

He went away and soon afterwards IdaFuller came in. Dick rather awkwardly gother a chair, for his shade, which wasclosely pulled down, embarrassed him,but she noticed this, and his clumsinessmade a strong appeal. She liked Dick and

had some ground for being grateful to him.For half an hour she talked in a cheerfulstrain and Dick did his best to respond,but she saw what the effort cost and wentaway in a thoughtful mood.

Ida Fuller had both sympathy and self-confidence, and when things went wrongwith her friends seldom felt diffidentabout trying to put them right. Inconsequence, she took Jake away from theothers, whom her father had asked todinner that evening.

“What’s the matter with Dick Brandon?”she asked.

“It’s pretty obvious. His trouble beganwith broken ribs and may end with theloss of his eye; but if you want a list of hissymptoms——”

“I don’t,” said Ida. “Does his trouble endwith the injury to his eye?”

Jake gave her a sharp glance. “If you insiston knowing, I admit that I have my doubts.But you must remember that Dick has atouch of malaria, which makes onemorbid.”

“But this doesn’t account for everything?”

“No,” said Jake, who lighted a cigarette,“I don’t think it does. In fact, as I knowyour capabilities and begin to see whatyou’re getting after, there’s not much usein my trying to put you off the track.”

Ida sat down in a canvas chair andpondered for a minute or two.

“You know Miss Kenwardine; if Irecollect, you were rather enthusiastic

about her. What is she like?”

Jake’s eyes twinkled. “You mean—is shegood enough for Dick? He’ll be a luckyman if he gets her, and I don’t mindconfessing that I thought of marrying hermyself only she made it clear that she hadno use for me. She was quite right; I’dhave made a very poor match for a girllike that.”

Ida was not deceived by his half-humorous manner, for she remarkedsomething that it was meant to hide. Still,Jake had had numerous love affairs thatseldom lasted long.

“Have you been to see her since you cameback?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Jake. “After helping to drive

her father out of the country, I knew itwould be an awkward meeting, but I felt Iought to go because she might be indifficulties, and I went twice. On thewhole, it was a relief when I was told shewas not at home.”

“I wonder whether she would see me?”

“You’re pretty smart, but I suspect this istoo delicate a matter for you to meddlewith.”

“I’ll be better able to judge if you tell mewhat you know about it.”

Jake did so with some hesitation. He knewhis sister’s talents and that her object wasgood, but he shrank from betraying hiscomrade’s secrets.

“I think I’ve put you wise, but I feel rather

mean,” he concluded.

“What you feel is not important. But youreally think he hasn’t sent herKenwardine’s letter?”

Jake made a sign of agreement and Idaresumed:

“The other letter stating that his cousinstole the plans is equally valuable and hismaking no use of it is significant. Yourpartner’s a white man, Jake, but he’sfoolish and needs the help of a judiciousfriend. I want both letters.”

“I’ve warned you that it’s a dangerousgame. You may muss up things.”

“Then I’ll be responsible. Can you get theletters?”

“I think so,” Jake replied with anembarrassed grin. “In a way, it’s a shabbytrick, but if he will keep papers in hispocket after getting one lot stolen, he musttake the consequences.”

“Very well,” said Ida calmly. “Now wehad better go in before the others wonderwhy we left them.”

Next morning Clare sat in the patio in verylow spirits. No word had come fromKenwardine, and her money was nearlyexhausted. She had heard of Dick’s return,but not that he was injured, and he hadkept away. This was not surprising andshe did not want to meet him; but it wasstrange that he had not come to see her andmake some excuse for what he had done.He could, of course, make none that would

appease her, but he ought to have tried,and it looked as if he did not care whatshe thought of his treachery.

Then she glanced up as Ida came in. Clarehad seen Ida in the street and knew whoshe was, but she studied her with keencuriosity as she advanced. Her dress wastasteful, she was pretty, and had a certainstamp of refinement and composure thatClare knew came from social training; butshe felt antagonistic. For all that, sheindicated a chair and waited until hervisitor sat down. Then she asked with alevel glance: “Why have you come to seeme?”

“I expect you mean—why did I comewithout getting your servant to announceme?” Ida rejoined with a disarming smile.

“Well, the gate was open, and I wanted tosee you very much, but was half afraid youwouldn’t let me in. I owe you someapology, but understand that my brother isa friend of yours.”

“He was,” Clare said coldly.

“Then he has lost your friendship bytaking Dick Brandon’s part?”

Clare colored, but her voice was firm asshe answered:

“To some extent that is true. Mr. Brandonhas cruelly injured us.”

“He was forced. Dick Brandon is not theman to shirk his duty because it waspainful and clashed with his wishes.”

“Was it his duty to ruin my father?”

“He must have thought so; but we aregetting on dangerous ground. I don’t knowmuch about the matter. Do you?”

Clare lowered her eyes. Since Richter’svisit, she had had disturbing doubts aboutthe nature of Kenwardine’s business; butafter a few moments she asked in a hard,suspicious voice: “How do you know somuch about Mr. Brandon?”

“Well,” said Ida calmly, “it’s plain thatI’m not in love with him, because if Iwere, I should not have tried to make hispeace with you. As a matter of fact, I’mgoing to marry somebody else before verylong. However, now I think I’ve clearedaway a possible mistake, I’ll own that Ilike Dick Brandon very much and amgrateful to him for the care he has taken of

my brother.”

“He stopped Jake from coming here,”Clare rejoined with a blush.

“That is so,” Ida agreed. “He has done anumber of other things that got him intodifficulties, because he thought it right.That’s the kind of man he is. Then Iunderstand he was out of work and feelingdesperate when my father engaged him, hegot promotion in his employment, and Iasked him to see that Jake came to noharm. I don’t know if he kept his promisetoo conscientiously, and you can judgebetter than me. But I think you ought toread the letters your father gave him.”

She first put down Kenwardine’sstatement about the theft of the plans, andClare was conscious of overwhelming

relief as she read it. Dick knew now thatshe was not the thief. Then Ida said: “Ifyou will read the next, you will see thatyour father doesn’t feel much of agrievance against Brandon.”

The note was short, but Kenwardine statedclearly that if Clare wished to marryBrandon he would be satisfied andadvised her to do so. The girl’s faceflushed as she read and her handstrembled. Kenwardine certainly seemed tobear Dick no ill will. But since the latterhad his formal consent, why had he notused it?

“Did Mr. Brandon send you with theseletters?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“No, I brought them without telling him,because it seemed the best thing to do.”

“You knew what they said?”

“I did,” Ida admitted. “They were open.”

Clare noted her confession; but she mustdeal with matters of much greaterimportance.

“Then do you know why he kept the lettersback?”

Ida hesitated. If Clare were not the girlshe thought, she might, by appealing to hercompassion, supply her with a reason forgiving Dick up, but if this happened, itwould be to his advantage in the end. Stillshe did not think she was mistaken and shemust take the risk.

“Yes,” she said. “I feel that you ought tounderstand his reasons; that is really why Icame. It looks as if you had not heard that

shortly after he met your father Dick felldown the steamer’s hold.”

Clare made an abrupt movement and herface got anxious. “Was he hurt?”

“Very badly. He broke two ribs and thefever he got soon afterwards stopped hisgetting better; but that is not the worst.One of his eyes was injured, and there issome danger that he may lose his sight.”

It was plain that Clare had got a shock, forshe sat in a tense attitude and the color lefther face; but Ida saw that she had read hercharacter right and taken the propercourse. Indeed, she wondered whether shehad not unnecessarily harrowed the girl’sfeelings.

“Now,” she resumed, “you understand

why Dick Brandon kept back the letters. Itis obvious that he loves you, but he isdisfigured and may have to give up hisprofession——”

She stopped, for Clare’s face changed andher eyes shone with a gentle light.

“But what does that matter?” sheexclaimed. “He can’t think it would dauntme.”

Ida rose, for she saw that she had saidenough. “Then perhaps you had bettershow him that you are not afraid. If youwill dine with us this evening at the dam,you will see him. Jake will come for youand bring you back.”

When she left a few minutes later she hadarranged for the visit, and Clare sat still,

overwhelmed with compassionategentleness and relief. Her father did notblame Dick and there was no reason sheshould harden her heart against him. Heknew that she was innocent, but he wastied by honorable scruples. Well, since hewould not come to her, she must go to him,but she would do so with pride and notfalse shame. It was clear that he loved herunselfishly. By and by, however, sheroused herself. As she was going to him,there were matters to think about, andentering the house she spent some timestudying her wardrobe and wonderingwhat she would wear.

That evening Dick sat on the veranda ofhis shack, with a shaded lamp, which hehad turned low, on the table close by. His

comrades were dining at Fuller’s tent andhe had been asked, but had made excusesalthough he was well enough to go. Forone thing, it hurt him to sit in a stronglight, though the oculist, whom he had seenin the morning, spoke encouragingly abouthis eye. Indeed, Dick had begun to thinkthat there was now no real danger of itshaving received a permanent injury. Forall that, he was listless and depressed,because he had not got rid of the fever andmalaria is generally worse at night. Hehad been cautioned not to read and hiscigarette had a bitter taste. There wasnothing to do but wait until Jake camehome. Now he thought of it, Jake hadaccepted his excuses rather easily.

By and by, he heard the lad’s voice and

footsteps on the path. Jake was returningearly and there was somebody with him,but Dick wished they had left him alone.He rose, however, as Ida came up thesteps and into the light, which did notcarry far. Dick imagined there wasanother person as well as Jake in theshadow behind.

“Jake brought me over to see his lastsketches and I’m going in to criticizethem,” she said. “As you couldn’t come tous, I’ve brought you a visitor, whom youknow.”

Dick felt his heart beat as he saw Clare.She was dressed in white, and the silverclasp gleamed against a lavender band ather waist. It was significant that she woreit, but he could not see her face clearly.

Then Ida beckoned Jake.

“Come along; I want to look at thedrawings.”

They went into the house, and Dick madean effort to preserve his self-control.Clare moved into the light and he saw hercolor rise, though her eyes were very soft.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”she asked with gentle reproach.

He hesitated, trying to strengthen hisresolution, which he knew was breakingdown, and Clare resumed:

“Besides, I don’t think you should havekept that letter back.”

Dick instinctively pulled out the leathercase, and started as he saw there was

nothing inside.

“It’s gone. You have seen it?” hestammered.

“I’ve seen them both,” Clare answeredwith a smile. “Doesn’t this remind you ofsomething? I’m afraid you’re careless,Dick.”

The color rushed into his face. “If youhave seen those letters, you know what asuspicious fool I’ve been.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’re convinced atlast?” Clare rejoined with a hint of pride.

“In a sense, I always was convinced. If I’dseen you take the wretched plans, Iwouldn’t have held you accountable.Because you took them, it couldn’t havebeen wrong.”

Clare blushed, but looked at him withshining eyes. “I wanted to hear you say itagain. But it wasn’t that letter—I mean theone about the plans—that brought me.”

Then the last of Dick’s self-controlvanished and with a half consciousmovement he held out his hands. Clarecame forward and next moment she was inhis arms.

Some time later he felt he must bepractical and said in a deprecatory tone:“But you must try to understand what youare doing, dear, and the sacrifices youmust make. Things aren’t quite as bad asthey looked, but I can’t go home just yetand may always be a poor engineer.” Heindicated the galvanized-iron shack. “Youwill have to live in a place like this, and

though I think my eye will get better,there’s the scar on my face——”

Clare gave him a quiet smiling glance.“That doesn’t matter, Dick, and I neverreally had a home.” She paused and addedgently: “But I shall have one now.”

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