ammunition, of Mausers, rifles, machetes, and saddles. To
protect the landing a box of shells was placed in readiness beside the
one-pounder.

"In two hours, if we have smooth water," shouted Lighthouse Harry, "we
ought to get all of this on shore. And then, all I ask," he cried
mightily, "is for some one to kindly show me a Spaniard!"

His heart's desire was instantly granted. He was shown not only one
Spaniard, but several Spaniards. They were on the deck of one of the
fastest gun-boats of the Spanish navy. Not a mile from _The Three
Friends_ she sprang from the cover of a narrow inlet. She did not
signal questions or extend courtesies. For her the name of the
ocean-going tug was sufficient introduction. Throwing ahead of her a
solid shell, she raced in pursuit, and as _The Three Friends_
leaped to full speed there came from the gun-boat the sharp dry crackle
of Mausers.

With an explosion of terrifying oaths Lighthouse Harry thrust a shell
into the breech of the quick-firing gun. Without waiting to aim it, he
tugged at the trigger. Nothing happened! He threw open the breech and
gazed impotently at the base of the shell. It was untouched. The ship
was ringing with cries of anger, of hate, with rat-like squeaks of fear.

Above the heads of the filibusters a shell screamed and within a hundred
feet splashed into a wave.

From his mat in the lee scupper David groaned miserably. He was far
removed from any of the greater emotions.

"It's no use!" he protested. "They can't do! It's not connected!"

"_What's_ not connected?" yelled Carr. He fell upon David. He
half-lifted, half-dragged him to his feet.

"If you know what's wrong with that gun, you fix it! Fix it," he
shouted, "or I'll----"

David was not concerned with the vengeance Carr threatened. For, on the
instant a miracle had taken place. With the swift insidiousness of
morphine, peace ran through his veins, soothed his racked body, his
jangled nerves. _The Three Friends_ had made the harbor, and was
gliding through water flat as a pond. But David did not know why the
change had come. He knew only that his soul and body were at rest, that
the sun was shining, that he had passed through the valley of the
shadow, and once more was a sane, sound young man.

With a savage thrust of the shoulder he sent Lighthouse Harry sprawling
from the gun. With swift, practised fingers he fell upon its mechanism.
He wrenched it apart. He lifted it, reset, readjusted it.