When Bert had somewhat recovered from his surprise, he rushed to the wall and pressed the spring to open the passage. A form in girl's clothes climbed quickly through, but it was the voice of Harry that whispered:
"Hustle, Bert, and close the passage. No telling when they may discover that the bird has flown. I must get under cover with these duds on."
He jumped into bed and drew the sheet up close around his neck.
"I'm quite ill, you know; sudden attack of malaria. Can't receive any callers."
"Has Miss Juanita gone to see the consul?" asked Bert.
"Not unless the consul has taken a trip to the mountains."
"What do you mean—why don't you let me in on your plot now that you seem to have carried it out successfully?"
"Can't be sure of success just yet, but I think it will work."
"And when do we get out?"
"I don't know; maybe we are in it tighter thanever. Sure to be if they find that we or rather I had anything to do with her escape, and I guess they must sooner or later."
"Where has she gone?"
"I hope by this time she is pretty well out of the town, headed for the open between here and the mountains. In the darkness she is all right and the deception will not be discovered. She makes a very good boy and as she is about the same heighth as I am my clothes fit her first rate. The pass will carry her through the lines all right and as she knows the country like a book, I hope she may make the mountains and the road to Cubitas before daylight. If she does she is safe, and I have a strong conviction that she will meet Captain Dynamite on the march before midday to-morrow. And gee, what a meeting that will be—I should like to be there and see the expression on big O'Connor's face when he sees her."
"Then your plan did not have anything to do with our release from this place?"
"Nope—only Miss Juanita's. She was in danger; we are not."
"We may be after this."
"Yes, but I think we can depend upon O'Connor. Mason and Washington should have reached him by this time."
"What can he do to help us?"
"I don't know, Bert, but I think he is the sort of man who will find something to do."
"What are you going to do for clothes?"
"That's another problem that will have to work itself out. Meanwhile I shall have to stick to Miss Juanita's dress. Didn't you think it fitted well? I shall have to have it let out around the waist a little, I think. I guess they don't serve any supper in this hotel, and as I got very little sleep last night, I think I will take a snooze while we wait for something to happen."
Harry was soon fast asleep, but Bert, though also very tired, was more anxious as to the outcome of their affairs and sat for a long time on the edge of his bed, thinking. The moon rose in a clear sky and cast two bright beams through the barred windows and across the prison floor. Bert's revery was disturbed by the sound of hurrying feet in the corridor and the clamor of loud voices approaching their cell.
"I guess something's going to happen," said Bert, nervously to himself. "Perhaps I better be asleep, too." He rolled over onto the bed and appeared to be deep in slumber when the door was thrown open roughly and three men entered the room. They were General Serano, who was scowling darkly; Consul Wyman and the ever-smiling interpreter.
"I wonder why he always mixes up in everything," thought Bert as he peeked at their visitors out of the corner of his eye.
Serano stopped just beyond the threshold and in surprise pointed to the two occupied beds. Then he said something in Spanish to Mr. Wyman, who replied calmly:
"I told you that neither of them had been at my house. You see for yourself that they are both here. There must be some mistake."
"But there can be no mistake about one of them having left this place within two hours," said the interpreter. "The jailer let him out."
"Then he must have let him in again, for there they both are soundly sleeping."
"But the jailor says that he did not, and it was the boy's long absence that caused the general to send me to your house to see if he was there. You have not seen him; some one unquestionably left the prison; no one has returned and yet they are both here—what does it mean?"
Mr. Wyman shrugged his shoulders and turned to the general.
"The boys indicated to me that they were ready to give the information that you desired. I made arrangements as you know, to have one of them come to my house and there tell his story.Neither of them came. Perhaps they changed their minds."
"Let us question them."
The interpreter stepped to Bert's bedside and as he did so the boy sat up and rubbed his eyes as if just awakened.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Good evening, Mr. Wyman. What can we do for you? Is it morning yet?"
"Did either of you leave the prison to-night?" asked the interpreter quickly, without preliminary. Bert, who was entirely ignorant of what course Harry intended to pursue, dared not answer, fearing that he might undo some of his companion's plans.
"Why, I've been asleep for some time and my friend has a bad attack of malaria," he answered yawning. "I see that is moonlight and not daybreak. Can't you call around in the morning on your way to breakfast? We'd ask you to take a bite with us, but I do not think you would like the bill of fare."
"Will you or not answer a plain question? The general waits."
"Tell the general not to let me detain him. Ask him to drop in in the morning, too, when he has more time."
The man turned to Serano and shook his head.
"They are impossible, sir."
Bert saw an amused smile creep around the corners of the consul's mouth.
"Let us try the other."
As he spoke the general touched Harry on the shoulder. The boy drew the sheet closer around his neck, and murmured:
"Please go 'way."
"We only want to know if you left the prison to-night to see Mr. Wyman. He is here with us."
"No, I haven't been out of your old prison since you put us here."
"But you intended to go."
"Yes, but I changed my mind. I'm very apt to do that. I'm sorry if it put you out any, but I do not see why you couldn't wait until morning for my apologies."
"But the jailor says he let one of you out to-night and that no one returned."
"Your jailor is very silly. If he let one of us out and didn't let him back how could we both be here now? I don't want to cast any reflections on General What's-His-Name's intellect, but I should think he might figure that out for himself. Come around in the morning and we will talk it over. But I should advise you to look around for another jailor. This one's imagination is too strong."
"Then if you did not leave the jail and you have changed your mind, you have no use for that pass that General Serano sent you," said the interpreter, with his genial smile. Bert looked at Harry in dismay. How was he to get out of this snarl?
"No, that's quite true. Bert, will you get the pass for the general out of the pocket of my coat on the chair there?"
"Your coat is not here, Hal," said Bert in apparent surprise as he stepped to the chair.
"Not there? What nonsense. Tell the general that I shall hold his jailor responsible for my clothes. How under the sun am I to go about in my underclothes. It is not the value of the suit at all. It is pretty well used up now, but it's the principle of the thing."
As Harry talked he thrashed about under the bed-clothing as if in anger.
"And then there was nothing of importance in the pockets—no papers that could be of any possible value to any one. It is an outrage—tell General What-You-May-Call-Him that I consider it an outrage on a helpless prisoner to have his clothing sneaked away in the middle of the night, either for the profit of the jailor or the possible information of his captors. Mr. Wyman, is there nothing that can be done in this matter?"
General Serano spoke a few words to the interpreter, who promptly repeated them with evident glee.
"The general says you are to get out of bed."
"It's all up now," thought Bert, and his face turned a shade paler.
"The general is inconsiderate; however, since he insists I will take the chances of another chill."
As Harry spoke he drew his legs up from under the sheet and stood down on the floor clad only in his underclothing. He had somehow managed to slip out of the girl's dress while he protested against the disappearance of his clothing. Bert drew a breath of relief; but the respite was brief. General Serano, either thoughtlessly or by design, threw back the sheet from Harry's bed as soon as he touched the floor and disclosed the dress from which he had with difficulty extricated himself.
"Whose is this?" demanded the general, pouncing on the garment and holding it out for inspection.
"Whose is this?" repeated the interpreter like a parrot.
"How should I know," answered Harry.
"Probably belongs to one of your former tenants."
"It's a woman's dress."
"Yes, it looks like it. Better look up your register and see who had this room last."
At this moment there was a sound of hurrying footsteps in the corridor accompanied by a volleyof Spanish expletives uttered in a frightened voice.
"I wonder what's going to happen now," whispered Harry to Bert. "These people are so full of life it makes me tired to watch them."
The turnkey burst into the room with hands uplifted and eyes bulging. He spoke a few panting words to General Serano who seized him by the neck in anger.
"She is gone, fool? How can she be gone unless you let her out?"
Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he dropped his hold on the man and turning to Mr. Wyman, held out Juanita's dress excitedly.
"See, she is gone."
"Who is gone?" asked the consul, calmly.
"She—she in the next cell. This dress is here; the boy's clothes are gone and some one left this room to-night."
"You mean to infer that the boys contrived the escape of the woman in the next cell?" asked Mr. Wyman.
"Yes, yes, what other inference is there?"
"But can you explain how they could have communicated with her, how they could have exchanged clothes and how she could have left this cell?"
"No, no, I cannot explain that, but here is the evidence—here and there;" and he pointed excitedly to the wall of the next cell.
"The irascible old general seems to be wise on the passage," said Harry, under his breath.
"How can that be evidence if you cannot explain it, general?" asked the consul, gravely.
"No, he's not on, after all," whispered Bert.
"They shall explain," said the general, sternly pointing to the boys.
"We're in it again," said Bert. "I wish he wouldn't do that. It makes me nervous."
The general seemed to be working himself into a fury. He raised his voice as he delivered what was apparently an ultimatum to the consul.
"No, no, not that," cried Mr. Wyman, in frightened protest.
Without a word in reply General Serano turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
"What did the angry gentleman say, Mr. Wyman?" asked Harry.
"He said that if you did not explain the disappearance of Miss Juanita within forty-eight hours you would be taken out into the jail yard and shot as spies."
"Ah, Miss Juanita, eh. Then they know her," said the genial interpreter as he slunk from the room. "I must tell General Serano."
Before the eyes of the boys there rose with vivid distinctness the picture of the jail yard at dawn.
While these events had been transpiring in the Spanish town, Captain Dynamite had not been idle. As the last man of the little Cuban army filed down the mountain-side, he rose from his chair, and tightening his belt stretched his big body as was his custom when any action was imminent.
"Well, my lad, I must be off. There is no time to spare if we hope to be of use. You will remain at Cubitas and when it is all over I will send Washington and a squad to pick you up."
"Oh, no you won't, Cap. When it's all over I shall be right where you are."
O'Connor could not repress a laugh. Mason bristled with indignation at the thought of being left behind.
"There may be a good bit of fighting, my lad," said O'Connor.
"Well, I'm not spoiling for a scrap, but I can't stay behind when I may be of some use to the fellows. Better let me go along with you, Cap, for I shall be close on your trail if you don't."
"Suppose I have you locked up for safe keeping?"
"Now you wouldn't do that, Cap, would you? You can't expect a fellow to sit still and chew his thumbs in safety while his chums are in danger. You wouldn't do it, would you?"
"All right, youngster, come along. I don't blame you for wanting to have a hand in it. And you may be of some use after all."
"I hope you will give me a try, Cap," said the Midget, straightening up his small form boldly.
"Do you think you can stand the tramp? You haven't had much sleep and you may not get any more for twenty-four hours."
"That little nap I got on the bench was as good as a night's rest. Besides, this country is so strenuous one doesn't need much sleep anyway. I think if I lived here long I should give up sleeping as a useless accomplishment."
They started on down the mountain and before daybreak had overtaken the men camped on the bank of the narrow stream where they were preparing breakfast. O'Connor and Mason joined Gomez and his staff. They ate a light meal and were ready for the march again. The men all seemed to know O'Connor and the officers saluted him respectfully as he passed among them. After a conference with the general the latter called one of the officers to him, and said:
"Captain Dynamite is in command. You willtake your orders from him. With your company he will take the lead in the advance."
The man saluted and then turned to O'Connor for instructions.
"Report to me when you are ready to move."
"I am ready now, sir."
"Very well, detach your company and cross the ford. We will keep about half a mile in advance of the main body until I give you other instructions. Deploy your men in twos and advance as rapidly as you can. You know the rendezvous and understand the necessity for caution. That is all."
The man saluted and in five minutes his men were fording the stream with O'Connor and Mason close in their rear. Across the open valley they made rapid progress, the men marching in regular order, but when they reached the wooded country at the foot of the next mountain the officer in command gave an order in Spanish and the men deployed in twos and disappeared like shadows into the brush. In a moment not a man was to be seen, and as O'Connor and Mason entered the woods there was not even a sound to be heard that would indicate that fifty men were making their way through the thick bushes ahead of them.
The route O'Connor followed was not so precipitous as that taken by Washington and they reached the summit of the mountain by noon. Still O'Connor pushed on, stopping only to drink from a mountain stream and to dash the cool water over his head and face, an example that Mason quickly followed. They had scarcely spoken since leaving the ford, O'Connor saving breath for the work in hand. Once or twice he had turned to the Midget who toiled manfully on at his side and asked him if he felt tired. Satisfied with the boy's ready answer that he was "all right," he would plod on again.
They had made their way about a mile down the mountain side when an officer stepped out of the bushes in front of them and saluted O'Connor.
"Well, what is it?" asked the captain in Spanish.
"A scout has brought in a prisoner."
"Who is he?"
"A boy. He is apparently faint from exhaustion."
"A boy?" said O'Connor, wonderingly. "I wonder if they can have escaped?" He repeated the man's words to Mason who despite his own fatigue, leaped and capered wildly.
"It's Hal Hamilton, I'll bet," he said joyfully. "They must have escaped. Trust Hal to fool the Dons."
"He knows the countersign and your name, sir, and he keeps repeating them in a dazed way. That's why the captain thought you might want to see him."
"I guess it's one of the boys all right, but I wonder where the other is. If I know them as I think I do one would not leave without the other. Where is he?" he asked turning again to the man.
"About a mile below, sir. We found him lying in a little clearing."
"All right, I will go to him."
"Ask him how he was dressed," said Mason as they hastened on.
The man described the boy's suit as well as he could.
"That's Hal, sure," said Mason when the reply had been translated to him. "Bert can't be far away."
"Did he have light hair?"
The man shook his head.
"Black," he answered.
"Pshaw, he's made a mistake. It must be Hal."
As they entered the clearing the prisoner sat with his back against a tree. His head was turned almost away from them, but Mason recognized the clothing and rushed forward with a glad cry.
"Cheer up, Hal, old man," he shouted as he bounded across the clearing and dropped on hisknees at the boy's side. He was on his feet in a moment, his face scared and white.
"It's not Hal, Cap," he whispered as O'Connor approached at a more dignified pace. "But he's got Hal's clothes on."
"What mystery is this?" said the big man as he strode around so that he could see the face of the prisoner. The next moment he turned as white as marble, but his eyes gleamed with joy as he sank down and took the almost inanimate form in his arms.
"Juanita," he gasped. "Thank God, you are safe. Quick boy, some water."
"Thunder, it's a girl," said Mason as he stooped and looked into the face that was now resting on Captain Dynamite's shoulder. He brought some water in his cap and O'Connor bathed the girl's head and chafed her hands until she began to show some signs of returning vitality. She raised her head and looked around in a dazed manner. Then her eyes fell on O'Connor.
"Michael," she whispered, and her head sank again on his shoulder with a sigh of relief.
The men knew well the story of O'Connor's love and they silently withdrew from the glade leaving only Mason and an orderly with the strangely reunited couple. Finally Juanita was strong enough to sit up and leaning back against the treeagain, she smiled into O'Connor's anxious eyes.
"I could go no further, Michael," she whispered, "but I thought you would find me here."
"How did you escape, Juanita?" asked O'Connor, softly.
"Ah, yes, the brave American boys saved me. Oh, I fear they will suffer much for it. I tried not to go for they are suspected already of being Cuban spies and this will make it worse for them; but the one they call Hal would listen to no reason, no argument. They had a friend in the American consul, he said, who would look out for them and I—I was already doomed."
"Doomed," repeated O'Connor, starting forward, his eyes snapping.
"Yes, it was to have been this morning at dawn."
O'Connor choked back something suspiciously like a sob and for a few minutes neither spoke. The man was thinking with a chill at his heart how near to death she had been. Then he beckoned to Mason.
"Come here, youngster, and hear what your brave comrades have been doing. This is the young woman we set out from theMariellato save. Your friends have done that nobly for us; now we must return the compliment with proper interest."
The Midget bowed gravely and sat down on the ground beside O'Connor.
"They are resourceful youngsters, Juanita, as I have reason to know, but how under the sun did they manage it? I see you are wearing the suit of one of them."
"Their cell was next to mine. Night before last they heard me crying at my window. They could not see me but they spoke and asked me what they could do to help me. There was nothing to be done, so we talked and they tried to cheer me up and in some way they learned who I was and they—they told me you were safe and then I didn't mind so much. Then the guard came and we had to go away from the windows. As one of them jumped down from the table on which they had been standing, he touched the spring of an old secret passage between the cells. The next day, I don't know how, they got a pass from General Serano to visit the American consul. The pass was good anywhere within the lines. That night, just after dark, they touched the secret spring and rolled back the rock between the cells and one of them insisted that I should put on his suit and take the pass and escape. As I have told you he would listen to no form of argument and in the darkness of the cell I put on his clothes and he took my dress. I felt so strangely that I was sure the deceit must be discovered at once, but no one questioned mefrom the time I left the prison until I passed safely through the lines."
"Hooray for Hal Hamilton," shouted Mason, enthusiastically. He had listened breathlessly to the girl's story of her escape and the part his chums had played in it.
"But your escape must have been discovered in the morning if not before. What were the boys to do then? How was Hamilton to account for the absence of his clothes?"
"They would not explain that or anything."
"And why are they suspected of being Cuban spies?"
"Because they will not explain their presence on the island for fear of endangering you."
O'Connor leaped to his feet excitedly.
"May Providence guard them until I get there. Juanita, our paths diverge here again for a little time. My duty lies where those boys are imprisoned. You will go on with an escort to theMariella. She lies safely in the old place and your mother awaits you there."
"Oh, Michael, how can I thank you?"
O'Connor called the orderly.
"Tell Captain Fernandez to send me a guard of ten men, all of whom know the route to the lagoon, and tell him that one of them must speak English." Then turning to Mason he said: "I am going toask a favor of you. I cannot take Miss Juanita on with me, nor can I leave her here. Will you take command of the guard and escort her safely to theMariella?"
"Cap, I had hoped to get closer into the mix-up, but I see you are embarrassed by the presence of this young lady and I assure you, Miss and you, sir, that as a gentleman I am pleased to serve you both."
"I hold, sir, that there has been no connection shown between the escape of the woman prisoner and the presence of this dress in the cell of these boys, and I therefore ask that the charge against them be dismissed."
It was Consul Wyman who spoke, addressing General Serano who again sat in judgment on Harry and Bert in the Hall of Justice. It was two days after the discovery of the escape of Miss Juanita and following the dire threat of the general to have the boys shot as spies if they did not make a full and complete confession. There had been little sleep for them after the night visit to their cell, and the next day no one had visited them save the jailor with food. The following morning, however, after their breakfast had been served, they had been summarily hauled before the still fuming commander, heavy-eyed and pale, Harry wearing an old Spanish uniform which the jailor had given to him.
Again they had been subjected to a severe cross-examination, and again they had firmly refused to answer any question that in any way endangered the safety of Captain Dynamite.
Mr. Wyman, who fully appreciated the serious position in which the boys were placed, also showed the effects of loss of sleep. He was an able man and beneath his little exterior conceit about his powers of diplomacy, there beat an honest and fearless heart. He had come to the conclusion that the existence of the secret passage was unknown to the present authorities, and without this knowledge no case could be made out, legally, against the boys. He also knew that the legal rights of prisoners were not always considered by General Serano, and for this reason he had determined, as a last resort, to fall back on his official prerogatives and demand the release of the boys in the name of the United States, or, failing in this, a hearing before a higher authority in Havana.
"Admitting that your contention in regard to the presence of the dress of the escaped prisoner in the room of the accused to be well taken, how can you account for the fact that the pass which was given to them in order that they might communicate with you was used by another?"
General Serano smiled grimly as he put this question to the consul. Mr. Wyman staggered. He had forgotten the pass. For a moment he did not reply, and then, pulling himself together, he said:
"We do not admit that fact, sir."
"Very well. Let the captain of the guard step forward."
A man with a sword clanking at his side stepped up and saluted.
"What was your duty night before last?" asked the general.
"I was in command of the picket line three miles outside of the city," replied the man.
"Did any one pass through the lines from the city while you were in command?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who?"
"A boy."
"A boy—are you sure of that?"
"A person wearing boy's clothes, sir."
"Very well; why did you let the person wearing boy's clothes pass through your lines?"
"He—the person wearing boy's clothes showed a pass from you, sir."
"At what hour was this?" continued General Serano, looking triumphantly at the consul, who bit his lip and thought hard.
"About two hours after sundown."
"That will do. Now, Mr. Wyman, can you explain this for the benefit of the prisoners?"
"All this does not prove that the pass presented by a boy to this officer was the same pass that was given to the prisoners."
"I issued but one pass that day."
"There is nothing to show that that was the one."
"Captain of the guard, what date did the pass bear?"
"It was of even date."
"Now, Mr. Wyman."
The consul hesitated a moment and then stepped closer to the desk of General Serano. Lifting his arm impressively, and looking the general steadily in the eye, he said:
"I still hold, sir, that there is not a scintilla of legal evidence against the prisoners. We might admit for the sake of argument, that the dress found in their room was that of the escaped woman prisoner; we might also admit, that the pass used by the boy in passing through the lines last night was the one issued by you to the prisoners, but what evidence is there to show that the one using the pass obtained it from these prisoners, or that it was the escaped prisoner?"
"The evidence is absolutely circumstantial."
"That is just it. It is purely circumstantial; there is no direct evidence connecting these boys in any way with the escape of the woman."
"Let me inform you, Mr. Wyman," said General Serano, scowling savagely, "that I shall assume that the person who passed through the lines last night was the prisoner and further," here he leaned toward the consul, "I shall assume that the clothes she wore was the boy's missing suit."
"Very well, then," said Mr. Wyman, calmly, "let us admit that the person was the woman, and the clothes she wore were the boy's, do not all the known facts point to a plot conceived and executed by those outside rather than inside a prison cell? Those inside had absolutely no means of communication; those outside had easy access to both cells. Unless some method can be shown by which these prisoners could have communicated with the prisoner in the next cell there can be no legal construction of the present evidence that will connect either of the boys with the escape of the woman. You know the strength of your locks and the thickness of your jail walls. How could these two boys here have contrived to release this woman through stone and iron? By way of the barred windows, ten feet apart? Even if the exchange of clothing could have been accomplished by this means, which I contend is impossible, who liberated her, General Serano? There was only one means of escape and that was through the door of her cell. If these boys,themselves, confined by locks, walls, and bars, could have unlocked the door of her prison-house, then they are possessed of supernatural powers that should enable them to walk out of your jail themselves. No, General Serano, unless you can establish the fact of physical communication between these prisoners and the escaped woman they can in no way be held responsible for her disappearance, and I ask that the unfounded charge against them be dismissed."
Mr. Wyman bowed to the general and stepped back. He had made a good fight and fired his last shot in the boys' behalf. General Serano, impressed by the wisdom of his argument, was silent for a time, as if thinking. Then he leaned forward to the consul and said in a low tone:
"There is one thing more, Mr. Wyman. After the discovery of the escape of the woman prisoner her name was not spoken in your presence nor in the presence of the other prisoners, and yet when I had left the cell you referred to her by her given name. Will you tell me how this was?"
Mr. Wyman's face flushed, and he drew himself up defiantly, as he replied:
"It is immaterial to this case how I came by that knowledge."
"It is material so far as it influences my decision."
Mr. Wyman bowed without speaking. Nothing could be gained by dwelling upon this unfortunate occurrence. At this point an aged and decrepit man was led into the room by two soldiers. He was so weak that he had to be supported on either side. General Serano looked up and scowled at him as an intruder, and turned to an aide for an explanation, when the smiling interpreter glided to his side and whispered in his ear. He started back in eager surprise, and then cast another glance of triumph at the consul as he said:
"Bring him forward."
All eyes were now turned on the tottering old man as he was slowly led to a chair which was placed in front of General Serano's desk.
"You have some information in regard to this case which you wish to impart to me?" asked the general.
"What case?"
The old man's dim eyes turned in the direction of the speaker like those of one who is almost blind. He seemed dazed and frightened.
"Well, never mind the case. Were you ever the warden of the jail here?"
"Oh, yes sir, but that was many, many years ago."
"Yes, I know," said the general, coaxingly, "but what do you know about the jail?"
"Nothing much now, sir, not for many, many years."
"No, no, what do you know that no other man now living knows?"
"Much, sir, much, for they have all gone on before."
"Do you know any secret of the jail?"
"Secret? Oh, yes, a secret. No man knows but me, no man knows."
The old man shook his head stupidly, and rubbed his gnarled hands.
"What is the secret?" General Serano leaned forward to catch the answer.
"I have forgotten."
"No, no, you knew it ten minutes ago—think."
"No man knows—they've all gone before," muttered the old man.
Mr. Wyman uttered a sigh of relief. The old jailer evidently knew of the existence of the secret passage, but his mind was so far gone that the consul was hopeful that General Serano's examination might fail.
"Do you know of any secret passage?" asked the general in an insinuating tone.
"Passage—who said passage," said the old man bristling up and looking around the room with unseeing eyes. "There is no passage; it's a lie. No one knows—no one knows but the old jailer."
The interpreter stepped up to the old man and whispered something in his ear. The wrinkled face cracked into a hideous grin that showed his almost toothless gums.
"Money," he chortled, "yes, give me money—gold." He reached out his gnarled hands and grasped at the air. The interpreter at a sign from General Serano, placed a peseta in one of his outstretched palms. He felt it for a moment, and then held it close to his nearly sightless eyes.
"No, no, you can't fool the old jailer," he whined. "That's silver. Gold, give me gold. The secret's worth it. 'Sh. You can go at night. Just touch the spring and slowly—slowly the stone will roll back. And then the rack. Ha, ha, the rack—that makes 'em talk."
Mr. Wyman shuddered when he thought of the scenes of horror the old jailer might have witnessed.
"Here is gold; will you show us the passage, now?"
"Yes, come."
The man started to his feet, and the interpreter, taking the place of one of the soldiers, guided his steps toward the door. General Serano rose from his seat and followed.
"Mr. Wyman, will you accompany us? The oldman's mysterious secret passage may interest you."
"The old man is imbecile. His evidence is valueless."
"But his secret passage cannot be imbecile too."
"He is dreaming."
"Let us see. Bring the prisoners." He motioned to an officer, who detailed two men to accompany the boys. Harry and Bert were ignorant of what had been going on, all having spoken in Spanish, and as they followed the old man to the jail, Mr. Wyman explained to them briefly what had taken place. Harry's first thought was of the girl.
"Then Miss Juanita has gotten away safely," he said with satisfaction.
"Yes," replied Mr. Wyman, "I think there is no doubt she is all right, but think of the price."
"We haven't paid it yet, Mr. Wyman."
When they reached the jail the old man was led directly into the boys' cell. He was weary from his exertion, and sank into a chair and his head fell on his breast. In a moment he was fast asleep. The interpreter, who seemed to be general factotum to Serano, shook him roughly by the shoulder.
"Come, come, you have your gold, now show us the passage."
The man roused himself and looked stupidly around the room. By chance his eyes rested upon the big slab in the wall, but he could not see it. Still he raised his bony finger either by intuition or luck, and pointed directly at it.
"It is there," he said, and his head dropped again.
Mr. Wyman shuddered. The scene was a gruesome one, and the possibility that the man might disclose the passage was so imminent that his nerves were at their greatest tension. All hope of clearing the boys of the charge of being Cuban spies it seemed would be lost if the old man's mind should clear sufficiently for him to indicate the secret spring.
"Yes, yes, it is there, old man, but where is the spring?"
Again he raised his head and looked blankly at the wall, and then once more his head drooped.
"I cannot remember," he murmured. Mr. Wyman drew a long breath. It was at least another respite. There was a sound of clanking chains in the jail corridor. The old man trembled and raised his head feebly.
"What's that?" he whispered. "Chains?"
Again the sound was heard.
"Yes, yes, they're coming. Quick, we'll chain him down—chain him hand and foot. Quick—open the passage."
He struggled to his feet and tottered to the wall. For a moment he groped in blindness, while the boys held their breath and then, with a low chuckle he placed his finger unerringly on the little diamond-shaped stone. The creaking and grinding noise began, and the stone slowly revolved before the astonished eyes of General Serano. When the passage was fully open the general stepped to the wall and inspected it curiously. Then he turned to Mr. Wyman and said:
"The case against the accused is complete. You may inform them that the sentence imposed will be carried out unless they make a full confession before sundown to-night."
"And I, General Serano, knowing that they are innocent of any connection with the cause of the insurgents, warn you in the name of their Government that you will commit an outrage for which you must pay dearly. I shall communicate with General Weyler at once."
Serano shrugged his shoulders.
"General Weyler has the utmost confidence in my judgment."
"Will you suspend sentence until I can communicate with my Government?"
"No. Your Government has nothing to do with the matter. All that can be settled afterward."
"One last request, General Serano—give me forty-eight hours to communicate with General Weyler."
"Oh, as it will be the same in the end, you may have the forty-eight hours."
He turned to the jailer, who had watched the opening of the wall in wonder. "Take the prisoners to another cell where they cannot find a secret passage."
As the boys were being led from the cell they passed the interpreter, who smiled genially at them. Harry could scarcely refrain from showing him how much he despised him.
Consul Wyman sat in his study in deep thought. His heart was heavy and in his mind plan after plan to save the boys from their threatened fate was formed, only to be abandoned as not feasible. His wife sat with him aiding now and then by a suggestion. She, too, was deeply interested in the fate of the American boys, of whose adventures and self-sacrifice her husband had told her.
"Everything falls to the ground, Annie," he said finally. "There is only one hope and that is an appeal to the government."
"But you know the red tape and delay that means, John," said his wife.
"We have forty-eight hours from dawn to-morrow."
"Far too short a time to reach Washington through Spanish sources, I fear."
"I believe you are right."
"And you cannot stir Serano?"
"He is adamant."
"Then I can see nothing but an appeal to Weyler."
"There is scarcely time for that."
"There can be no delay."
"But the courier. I know of no one whom I can trust and who would act in the boys' interests. It is a diplomatic mission. There must be neither pleading nor threatening."
"Then you must go, John."
"That is what I have been thinking, my dear. I am glad you see it in the same way."
"When will you start?"
"Within an hour. If you will leave me now, I will prepare a brief to present to General Weyler."
Mrs. Wyman left the room and the consul drew his chair closer to his desk where a student lamp burned. The room was large, opening by a casement window upon a garden filled with luxuriantly growing plants and shrubs. The night was warm and the window stood open, admitting the heavy perfume of flowers. The lamp, which was the only light in the room, cast a bright circle on the desk. All the rest of the apartment was in deep shadow.
Mr. Wyman had been writing about half an hour when he turned to the window behind him as if he had heard an unusual sound. Then he returned to his writing. Again he swung around in his chair and listened. Then he rose and walked quickly to the window.
"Annie, is that you?" he called.
There was no reply.
"I am sure I heard a sound in the garden," he said to himself.
"Probably you are right, consul, although I tried to make as little noise as possible."
Mr. Wyman started back involuntarily. The words which were spoken in a whisper, seemed to come from a clump of bushes at the right of the window. Mr. Wyman peered into the darkness but could see no one.
"Who are you?" he asked loudly, "who comes stealing into my garden under the cover of darkness?"
"Are you alone?" was the only reply.
"And of what concern is that to you?"
"Sure, and if you were me you would concern yourself a good bit about it."
"Well, I am alone; now who are you and what is your business here at this time of night?"
For answer a dark form crept stealthily out from the shadow of the bush, leaped lightly in the window, and as quickly drew the hanging curtain across it, shutting out all view from the outside. Although the night was warm, the man wore a coat with the broad collar turned up so as to conceal his face, and a broad sombrero slouched down over his eyes. He kept close within the shadows in the corner of the room.
"Pardon me, Mr. Wyman, for entering your house in this unceremonious manner, but there was no other way that offered just at present. My mission is of the utmost importance, but it would not be well for either of us if I were discovered here. Can we depend upon being undisturbed?"
"How do you know that I wish to be undisturbed? You seem to know me, but refuse to disclose your identity. I cannot consent to this one-sided interview. Who are you?"
"If I tell you that I am a friend of the American boys, is that enough?"
"Quite. You need have no fear; we shall be undisturbed here."
The man, reassured, stepped forward and threw off his coat and hat. Mr. Wyman looked him over curiously for a moment and then pointed to a chair.
"Be seated, Captain Dynamite," he said, quietly.
O'Connor started back in some dismay.
"You know me?" he said. "How?"
"The boys described you to me very accurately. You have a pair of very staunch friends in those youngsters, sir."
"Yes, yes, I know," said O'Connor, eagerly. "Tell me of them—they are safe?"
"They are alive and well, but they are not safe."
"What do you mean?"
"In the first place tell me if Miss Juanita reached you in safety?"
"Yes, thank God, and she has told me much of what the boys have risked for her and me. That is why I am here."
"Yes, and there is not another man with a price upon his head who would place it in the lion's mouth as you are doing. Why did you come here alone? You can do no good single handed."
O'Connor leaned forward and whispered:
"But I am not alone. There are twelve picked men with me."
"Where are they?"
"Pardon me the liberty, but they are out there in your garden."
"How did you get here?"
"By methods known only to Indians and Cubans."
"Humph," said Mr. Wyman, somewhat annoyed, "I may not get clear of this affair without getting shot myself. But what can twelve men do?"
"Twelve such men as those can do much. But tell me, please, so that I may act with proper dispatch, just what the situation is in regard to the boys."
The men drew their chairs closer together and in a low tone Mr. Wyman began to tell in sequence the events that had transpired since he had been involved in the affair.
"So," said O'Connor, when Mr. Wyman had finished, "then I am not much too soon. Now, let us consider what is the best way to proceed. I shall probably have to ask you for a trifle of aid."
"But I must be off to Weyler. I have not a minute to waste if I wish to reach him in time."
"In time for what?" asked O'Connor, in surprise.
"In time to secure a reprieve."
"Nonsense, man."
"May I ask what is nonsense, Captain Dynamite?" said Mr. Wyman, whose dignity was injured.
"In the first place, it is nonsense to expect any aid from Weyler, who always staunchly supports his lieutenants, whether right or wrong, and in the second place, we do not want a reprieve. We've got to get them clean away from here before they will be safe—clean off the blooming island. I'll take them back to the oldMariella—that's the safest place for them. I wish to goodness they had never left her."
"But how, my good sir—how under the sun are you going to get them to theMariellawhen they are locked up in a Spanish jail?"
"No jail is impregnable."
"But you cannot storm it in the face of a garrison of men with a handful of twelve."
"There are more than fifty times twelve almost within gunshot, but I still think the twelve will be sufficient for my purpose."
"Do you mean that the city is threatened by insurgents?" Mr. Wyman looked worried. "I must get my wife away, sir."
"Don't worry, consul. If it comes to that the American flag is sacred to the insurgents; but if there is any fighting it will be on the picket line only, I fancy."
"But what is your plan?"
"To take the boys out of that jail first."
"How?"
"Is it strongly guarded?"
"Inside and out. It is a military prison."
"How many men?"
"Four outside and four within, in charge of an officer."
"Oh, that's easy."
"But the first sound of a conflict would arouse the garrison, which is directly in the rear of the prison."
"There will be no sound of conflict after we get to work, Mr. Wyman."
"How can I aid you?"
"By securing permission to visit the boys in their cell. Can you do it?"
"I am not sure. General Serano's mood is not the best in the world just now. The boys have tantalized him beyond measure. He cannot seem to beat them, and aside from his official pride, his personal dignity has suffered. My position as defender of the youngsters has gained for me his ill-will. But I will try. What am I to do?"
"Simply leave the jail at a time that I shall fix. We will do the rest. You will not be involved in any way, except that you may be seemingly handled a little roughly, but that will only be done to divert suspicion from yourself. Do not resist."
"There will not be too much violence, I hope?"
"No more than is needed, sir. I do not like violence myself. There may be a broken head or two, but they are soon mended. It it now nine o'clock. What time does the watch change?"
"At midnight."
"Very well. Now, if you will permit me, I will call one of my men."
"Make what use you please of me and my house. I wish to aid you in any way I can."
O'Connor stepped to the window and drewaside the curtain. As he did so, a dark form darted into the shadow of a bush. O'Connor saw it and paused.
"There is someone in your garden beside my men," he whispered to the consul.
"Impossible. The servants have gone to bed."
"Someone was listening at this window."
"Whom can it be?"
"Someone who suspects you. Can you think whom it would be?"
"No." The consul shook his head nervously.
"Very well, we'll see."
O'Connor turned and darted out of the window. In a moment he returned holding General Serano's official spy by the scruff of the neck. The interpreter's genial smile had given place to a look of terror and he trembled with fear. O'Connor swung him around so that he faced the consul.
"Do you know him?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Mr. Wyman, as he looked the man over with an expression of disgust, "he is General Serano's man Friday." Then to the man he said sternly: "What are you doing here, in my garden, at this time of night?"
"Preoccupation, Mr. Wyman, preoccupation of the mind. I must have strayed in by mistake. I hope you will pardon me."
"Well, we will think that over, my man,"interrupted O'Connor. "How long had you been listening at the window?"
"Listening! O, sir, far be it from me to listen at the window of our esteemed consul."
"You weren't very far from it just now."
"I had just discovered my error, sir, and was about to retrace my steps——"
"Having heard all that you wished," O'Connor broke in.
"I hope the gentleman is jesting. I should be grieved indeed if he held so evil an opinion of me."
"Please consider yourself grieved. Now, Mr. Wyman, I should like to still further impose on your hospitality. This gentleman, I believe, is very anxious to serve me—is that not true, Mr. Friday?"
"Oh, quite true, sir; it shall be my pleasure; but the name, sir, is not Friday—it is Villamonte."
"Mr. Wyman, can I trouble you for a short piece of rope?"
The consul left the room and returned with a piece of clothes-line about three feet long which he handed to O'Connor.
"Now Mr. Monte, I shall have to ask you to extend your hands behind you."
"Surely your excellency will not bind me?"
"My excellency sure will. Stick 'em out and be quick about it."
"I protest. General Serano shall hear of this outrage."
"I am quite confident of that, but I am not ready to lose your company yet, Monte."
O'Connor turned the man around much as he might have done a child, and bound his hands behind him. Then he led him to a chair into which he thrust him and lashed his hands tightly to the back, Villamonte jabbering vehemently in Spanish the while.
"Now, Mr. Wyman," said O'Connor, when he finished, "this gentleman's providential preoccupation of mind will relieve you from the necessity of visiting General Serano. I think he will be very glad to carry out any instructions I may give him." As O'Connor spoke, he carelessly removed a pistol from his belt, and as he examined it he held the muzzle so that it covered the trembling Villamonte, who cowered back in the chair.
"Won't you, Mr. Monte?"
"Whatever his excellency wishes shall be my pleasure," stammered the interpreter.
"Good; now we understand each other, Monte."
The new cell in which the boys had been placed when the escape of Miss Juanita was discovered, looked out through its barred windows onto the main street of the little straggling town. In the distance, although the house was concealed from view by intervening buildings, they could see the American flag floating over the consulate. This outlook had afforded them some occupation during the day, and even when night fell they stood together gazing silently out into the deserted street, lighted only by the brilliant moon. They began now to feel that their position was critical, and Bert, who more easily yielded to the depressing effects of circumstances, bemoaned his fate and all the series of events that had led up to their present unenviable plight. He was inclined to blame Harry for the initial step.
"If you only hadn't taken it into your Quixotic head to try to aid Captain Dynamite, who is able to take care of himself, we might now be safe on theMariella," he growled, "instead of waiting patiently for some one to take us out and shoot us."
"Why, Bert, old man, we've got two more days before we step out and play targets. Many things may happen in that time."
"Nothing to help us out of this scrape that I can see."
"Mr. Wyman will surely do all that lies in his power to aid us."
"Yes, but you know yourself that since Serano suspects his connection with the escape of Miss Juanita his power has been very much curtailed."
"Well, there's Captain Dynamite yet to be counted on."
"Humph, where is he and what could he do if he were here?"
"I don't know, Bert, but you can't make me believe that he would abandon us completely to our fate. It's not like him, I tell you."
"If all the hope we have is centred in Dynamite or Wyman I think it is time we began to think of doing something for ourselves."
"Sure," answered Harry in surprise, "but what under the sun can we do, Bert?"
"We might——" Bert hesitated and glanced nervously at his companion; "we might effect some compromise with Serano."
"How?" asked Harry, coldly.
"We might agree to tell him what he wants to know about how we got to the island when wecan be assured that it will injure no one."
"There are two reasons why that plan would be useless. In the first place how are we going to tell when Captain Dynamite is safe, and in the second place the affair has gone so far now that I do not think Serano would be satisfied with simply that information. He is pretty well convinced that in some way we are connected with the Cuban cause."
"Oh, gee, I wish I had never gone sailing."
"That's going back a long way to make a connection between cause and effect, Bert," said Harry, who could not help smiling at his companion's hopeless view of the situation.
They were silent again for a time. Not a sound broke the stillness of the night save the regular steps of the sentinel below them. Some light clouds scurried across the moon, shutting off for a time the flood of silver light and throwing a gray shadow over the street.
"Look," said Harry, suddenly. "Didn't you see a man creeping along there?"
"Where?" asked Bert, eagerly.
"In the deep shadow close in by the wall of that house."
"I can see no one," said Bert, after straining his eyes in an effort to penetrate the darkness.
"Watch," whispered Harry. "I know I sawsome one creeping along as if he did not want to be seen."
"Even if you did, what does it signify?"
"Captain Dynamite would come that way," answered Harry, confidently.
Suddenly the clouds swept on and again the street was flooded with a radiance that made the shadows cast by the walls of the houses as black as the darkest night in contrast.
"Then did you see?" asked Harry, excitedly.
Bert nodded quickly in the affirmative.
As the moon flashed out they had both seen a man dart closer into the protection of the deep shadow of the wall.
"There's another," whispered Bert, pointing out through the bars in his eagerness, to a point about ten feet beyond where the first man had appeared. "What if the guard should see them too?"
"The sentinels are on the same level and cannot see as well as we can up here. I wonder who they are. See, there is another."
"Who can they be?"
"I'll bet you a dinner when we get home that Captain Dynamite is in town."
"O, Hal, do you think we will ever get home?"
"I'm beginning to feel very sure of it. See, there are other men in the distance and all are coming toward the jail."
The prison stood in a narrow plaza or square facing the main street. Toward the dark shadow of a building that formed a corner of the square the indistinct forms of the men seemed to be making their way. The boys counted nearly a dozen, closely hugging the walls of the low houses, slip one by one into the wider shadow of the corner building. Still the regular steps of the guard below told that the mysterious gathering had not been discovered.
Presently four men emerged boldly from the shadow, and arm in arm, and with unsteady gait approached the prison. In hiccoughing tones they sang a Spanish drinking song. In the bright glare of the moonlight the boys could see that they wore the uniform of Spain.
"Pshaw," said Harry, in a disgusted tone. "They are only a lot of drunken Spanish soldiers after all, making their way back to the barracks."
Harry was keenly disappointed. He had been confident that the strange movements of the men indicated that some action was on foot which he imagined Captain Dynamite was directing.
"But where are the others?" whispered Bert. "There are more in the shadow."
"Probably waiting a chance to slip into the barracks without attracting too much attention from their officers."
The four men reeled on. The regular pacing of the sentinel ceased and he hailed the approaching quartet in a jocular way. They answered with thick tongues and coarse laughter. Presently they passed out of view of the boys, having come close within the shadow of the wall below them.
Then suddenly there was a muffled sound as of one trying to cry out with a heavy pressure on his throat, the hard breathing of men desperately struggling, and then silence.
The boys looked at one another in wonderment. What could it mean? Possibly a drunken squabble between the men and the guard. Now the slow pacing of the sentinel was resumed. Apparently the difficulty had been adjusted.
"I think we might as well get to bed," said Harry, after they had waited for ten minutes without any further developments. "There is nothing doing to-night, I guess."
As he spoke, the cry of a night bird sounded on the still air, but, strangely enough, it seemed to come from directly below their window, instead of from the air above. Almost immediately an answering call was heard in the distance, and then all was still again.
"I am not so sure, after all, that those men were Spaniards," said Harry, as he turned eagerly to the window again.
"Why?"
"Did you hear those signals?"
"I heard a bird."
"I don't think it was a bird."
"Listen; if they were birds we shall hear them again."
The boys listened patiently for several minutes, but the sound was not repeated.
"I believe they were signals, and—look—look! Isn't that Captain Dynamite himself coming out of the shadow further up the street?"
"It certainly looks like him," gasped Bert, "but who is that with him and how does he dare to walk openly in the streets?"
"It's the Spanish interpreter," whispered Harry, after a minute's inspection; "and—and Captain Dynamite, sure. Hooray."
"Don't hooray yet," said Bert, wagging his head disconsolately. "Remember there are more Spaniards in the shadow there."
"Yes, if they are Spaniards."
"And see how closely the interpreter walks. Can Captain Dynamite be a prisoner?"
"Not of that little man," sniffed Harry. "Look at the size of him beside O'Connor."
The two men whom the boys had seen in the distance were indeed O'Connor and Villamonte. They came on through the bright moonlightapparently as unconcerned as if there were not a price on the head of one. And they walked as close together as bosom friends, but a pistol in the coat pocket of Captain Dynamite pressed closely against the side of his companion.