he'll be able to tell me whatever became of those
drafts for ten thousand pounds that I took from old Don Pablo."

His companions laughed.

"Still thinking about that, are you?" said Donald. "Why of course
you'll never hear of them again. The bank is simply in that
much."

"Maybe so," admitted Billie, "but I'll get something official."

And he did.

It was several days later, though, after the regulars had taken
possession of the city and the navy forces had withdrawn to their
ships. The boys were sitting in Lieutenant Grant's quarters, to
whom they had offered their services as soon after his landing as
they were able, and were laughing over their adventures on the
border.

"It was certainly a close call you boys had," the lieutenant was
saying. "I'm not sure but our neutrality was mighty near a
breaking point. What do you think, Billie?"

"Possibly so; Americans will be Americans. But say, Lieutenant,
whatever was done about those drafts I took from Don Pablo? I've
never been called upon to tell my story, nor have they ever come
back to me."

"That's because you were out of the United States," replied
Lieutenant Grant. "It was less than a month ago that I was asked
if I knew your whereabouts. Uncle Sam has decided that he has no
claim to the drafts and they were returned to me. I have them in
my army chest. If they are any good to you, I shall be pleased to
hand them over."

"I guess they are not much use to any one," sighed Billie
mournfully. "My father says no bank would cash them without Don
Pablo's signature, and no one can get that."

"I'm glad you take it so philosophically," laughed the
lieutenant. "I hope you'll have better luck next time."

The boys arose to leave.

"Which way?" asked the lieutenant.

"No place in particular. We thought we'd go home."

"You mean to the United States?"

"Not to-night," laughed Adrian. "Just to the house where we are
living. It belongs to old Santiago."

"Who is he?"

Briefly the boys narrated what they knew about him on the Rio
Grande, how they had met him here, and why they were staying at
his house.

"Has he no other name?"

"Why, yes, I suppose so," replied Billie. "We always call him
Prince to his face, and his daughter as the Princess Lucia. Of
course, it is all make-believe, but it is one way of keeping him
quiet."

He called to one of Santiago's servants, whom Lucia had lent them
to look after their horses.

"Oh, Chomo!" he said. "Do you