CHAPTER VII.

"ASSIST ME TO GET RID OF THEM, AND I WILL REWARD YOU WELL!"

"Duped! Made the plaything of a willful Spanish beauty!"

Such were Howard Sherwood's bitter words, as he left the vault, strode past Cara, the maid, and forth into the darkness of the tropical night.

His heart was like a lump of lead, while his brain seemed on fire. Estella's revelation had come to him like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky.

"She is to wed another! She knew this, and yet she let me go on. It was unmaidenly, extremely reprehensible!" He grated his teeth. "Well, that's my first experience in love, and I'll take care that it shall be my last! Henceforth I'll devote myself strictly to business."

With a kind of grim satisfaction he remembered that he had his letters once more. Now he could visit the various rebel leaders without delay, and learn what they might have to say for publication.

He strode on and on, not knowing in what direction, and caring still less. He was in no humor for retiring, and would doubtless have continued his pedestrianism all night had not an unexpected interruption occurred.

"Vayase Vms!" (Go away, you!)

The sharp cry, coming from the opposite side of the street Howard was traversing, caused the young war correspondent to come to a sudden halt. In the dim light he saw a tall, heavily bearded man in the grasp of two dirty rascals. One of them had the man by the throat, while the other was trying to steal his gold watch and chain.

"Vayase Vms!" cried the gentleman again, and he began to struggle desperately to free himself. But the footpads were strong, and deftly threw him upon his back.

"Hold on there!" exclaimed Howard, running up. "What are you up to here?"

The footpads, who could not understand English, stared at him sullenly, taken by surprise.

"They would rob me, señor," gasped the gentleman, speaking with the strongest Spanish accent. "Assist me to get rid of them, and I will reward you well!"

"I don't want any reward to help you beat off thieves," returned Howard, and, leaping closer, he struck one of the rascals a stinging blow in the face. "Begone, before I shoot you full of holes, you miserable curs!"

They did not understand the words, but the blow counted for much, and when his pistol came into sight, one spoke to the other, and both promptly took to their heels.

The Spanish gentleman had been fighting the pair for several minutes previous to the young war correspondent's arrival, and now it took him some time to get his breath and adjust his attire. While he was doing this, Howard noticed that he was a noble-looking man, well past middle age, and that on the breast of his coat was pinned the badge of the Royal Army Legion of Spain.

"I have much to thank you for, señor," said the Spanish gentleman, when he had recovered his breath. "The rascals would have robbed me of everything, even at the cost of my life!"

He held out his hand, and they shook warmly. Then the man looked at Howard, curiously.

"Do you not speak Spanish?" he asked in that tongue.

"Muy poco, señor," (Very little, sir), returned Howard, frankly.

"An Americano, then, I presume," went on the gentleman.

"Yes, and fresh from the States," and Howard smiled.

"You have done me a great service, señor--I shall not forget it. I should have come out better prepared for such ruffians. Dios! but this war is responsible for many things!"

"That's true. Can I be of further assistance to you, sir?"

"I fancy not, though I am out on a strange mission to-night. May I ask your name, señor?"

Howard told him. The Spanish gentleman was about to give his own in return, when, with a wild shout, half a dozen Cuban rebels appeared on the scene, closely followed by a detachment of Spanish soldiers. A dozen shots were exchanged, and in the tumult and excitement the young war correspondent and the man he had so gallantly helped became separated, and for the time being Howard was not aware of his identity. Had it been disclosed, Howard would have been much astonished.

The struggle of the handful of insurgents against so many soldiers made Howard forget for the moment the trying scenes through which he had passed, and by a sudden impulse he followed the leader of the rebels, when the man, a big, burly creole, was forced to retreat.

At a distance of half a dozen city blocks the big fellow turned into a dark lane and came to a halt, his bloody machete, or war-knife, held high in the air, ready to strike dead the first to follow.

"Quien va?" he shouted, asking to what party Howard belonged.

"Cuba!" was the young war correspondent's ready answer. Had he said Spain, the bloody machete would have split his skull in twain.

"What want?" growled the creole. "No cheat!"

"I am honest with you," said Howard. "I want you to do me a favor, for which I shall pay you well."

"What I do for you?"

"Take me to your nearest leader."

"So you can spy? No, not for all the gold in Cuba!" replied the creole, loyally.

"I do not want to spy. I am an American newspaper man, and I want reliable news. We cannot get it from the Spaniards, you know."

The creole swore a savage oath.

"That is right, señor--they tell all lies of us. Come with me, but remember, if you tell me a lie you die!"

He caught hold of Howard's arm, and led the way back into the darkness, around half a dozen squalid streets, and into a building which had once been used as a tobacco storehouse. Here they were stopped by a sentinel, but the creole gave the proper password, and in another moment Howard found himself in the presence of three well-dressed and intelligent-looking Cuban tradespeople. At the same time the door he had entered was closed and locked behind him.

At first the rebels were suspicious of him, but a perusal of the letters he carried convinced them that he was honest in pretensions, and then they willingly gave him such information as they desired circulated in the United States. Howard took down in short-hand all they had to say, and in less than an hour was ready to depart again.

"You will remain in Santiago?" asked Captain Miguel, the leader of the party.

"I will until I get a chance to steal away," said Howard. "The Spanish authorities have refused me the password."

"You might obtain that, Señor Sherwood, but it would do you no good. They allow no one to pass unless he is personally known to somebody in charge. But if you wish very much to leave, I will arrange it so you can go by boat across the bay. On a dark night there will be no danger of attack from any of the gun-boats, and it will be easier to pass the lines from over there than from here."

After a brief consultation Howard decided to accept Captain Miguel's offer, and promised to meet the captain on the following evening at nine o'clock. This arranged, Howard rewarded the creole with a gold piece, and was given directions to get to his hotel.

The work on hand drove from the young war correspondent's mind all thoughts of Estella. All night he labored on his letter to the press association, and the precious epistle was placed in safe hands for transmission on the first outgoing steamer.

The following day was a busy one for Howard. He had to procure the proper outfit in which to rough it on the road, and this was no easy matter. Finally, however, money used freely brought what was desired, and the proper time found him at the appointed place. Although he had looked about eagerly for Estella, he had seen nothing more of the girl he had so madly, and as he now thought, hopelessly loved.

It was a cloudy night, just proper for the perilous undertaking at hand. The boat was manned by four sturdy negroes, and pushed off silently from under one of the deserted docks. The negroes could not talk English, but Captain Miguel had assured Howard that they knew their business perfectly, and all the young war correspondent must do was to be silent until a landing was made.

In and out among the boats at anchor wound the row-boat, the quartet of negroes rowing swiftly and silently. In vain Howard tried to pierce the darkness ahead, and he wondered that the men did not lose their reckoning.

Howard well knew the tremendous risk he was running. Only three days before a party of six men had been killed on this same bay for attempting to cross without permission. Discovery would most likely bring to him a similar fate.

But he was not afraid. To tell the truth, the bitter parting with Estella had made him reckless.

"It won't matter much if I am killed," he thought, dismally. "To think of her married to some dark-skinned, homely spaniard----"

Swish! Bang!

A rocket had gone up, not over fifty feet to the leeward of them. The trail of fire was followed by a flood of light overhead that illumined the waters for several hundred feet around.

The negroes gave a shout of terror, and well they might. The boat was headed directly for a large gun-boat, one of the long guns of which was pointed directly at them!

"Surrender! or we'll blow you to pieces!" came in a loud tone of command, and as the light of the rocket died out a flash-light was thrown upon the scene.

Howard waited to hear no more. Softly and silently he slipped overboard into the water and dove out of sight.