going to smoke some here?'

Lest the Indian should be no smoker himself and dislike the odour of
tobacco, I tell him that if he objects, I will postpone my harmless
whiff until after captivity.

He does object; but after contemplating my scanty supply of cigarettes
as I restore them to my pocket, he observes with a sigh:

'I was once an inveterate smoker!'

'Till you very wisely gave up the vice,' I add.

'No!' says he, 'I did not give it up. It was my accursed captors who
withheld it from me. I have not smoked for many long months, and I would
often give ten years of my life for one little cigarette!'

'Try one of mine,' I suggest, extracting the packet again which alas!
contains my last four.

'Gracias; no,' he replies, 'I shall be depriving you, and you will find
cigarettes scarce in these quarters!'

'If you are a true Cuban,' I observe, 'you will remember that it is next
to an insult to refuse a man's tobacco. Besides, if you object to my
indulging in the luxury upon the plea that the delicious perfume is
unendurable in another, both of us will be deprived of the pleasure!'

'You are right,' says the Indian, 'then I will take just one.'

So saying, he accepts the little paper squib which I offer, and
carefully divides the contents into two equal parts; explaining, as he
does so, how he intends to reserve one half of the tobacco for another
occasion.

While thus engaged I am reminded of the awful fact that I have no means
of igniting our cigarettes. When I mention this unfortunate circumstance
to my companion, he smiles triumphantly, and after placing his ear to
the door in melodramatic fashion, proceeds to raise a particular brick
in the floor of our apartment under which at least half a dozen matches
are concealed.

'These matches,' he remarks, 'have been treasured in that hole ever
since I came to lodge in this jail.'

'Have you resided here long?' I inquire.

'It has appeared long to me,' he answers, 'eighteen months, more or
less; but I have no record of the date.'

'You must have found the hours hang heavily on you,' I remark, 'or,
maybe, you have a hobby like the political prisoners one reads of. You
have a favorite flower somewhere? Or, perhaps, you are partial to
spiders?'

'There are plenty of gigantic spiders here,' he replies, 'together with
centipedes and scorpions; but whenever one of those reptiles crosses my
path--I kill it!'

When my fellow-captive learns my nationality, his