at least, tell me where it would be best to
place my men."

"The trails toward Sibanicu."

"Trails? Sibanicu? Why, there's no travel in that quarter. The
robberies have happened between here and Minas."

"Exactly. So many have happened that the brigands must abandon it
henceforth. They know they are watched, and I'll warrant your coming
here, and the object of it, are already common talk among them."

"Humph!"

"People who are bound for the coast are beginning to go around already,
so as to avoid the Minas road. If our scamps are as clever as you
think, they will not be long in following."

"There is something in that, and I thank you for the hint. We will
meet again shortly. Meanwhile, pray study the situation."

"You are not going?"

"I cannot stop with you, senor, greatly as I should be pleased to do
so, for I have agreed to meet my lieutenants at the other end of the
town. Good-night."

"Good-night, then, if you will not stay. Tell me early what success
you have in the chase of our good citizens of Puerto Principe."

The captain left the house with a light and jaunty step, yet he looked
about him thoughtfully. He had not gone far when the night stillness
was broken by the crack of a fire-arm not ten paces away. A bullet cut
his hat. He turned quickly. Nobody was in sight. The air was thick
with mist, and nobody was stirring. "Scoundrel!" cried the officer,
shaking his fist at the darkness. "You shall pay dear for that--you
and your people. Do you hear?"

There was no answer. He walked on at a faster pace.

Before the sun was up next morning the captain and his men had
withdrawn from Puerto Principe. Few in the town knew that he had been
there. None knew whither he had gone.

It was nine o'clock on the night following the interview. A fitful
wind stirred the trees that densely shadowed the Minas road. From
a chink in the walls of a dilapidated house that stood back from
the highway a light shone faintly, but except for the sough of the
leaves and the whirring and lisping that betoken the wakefulness of
insect life there was no sound. None? What was that? Down the road,
from Nuevitas way, came a blowing and stamping of horses laboring
through mud. The crack of light still shone, and nothing moved along
the wayside. As the horses came nearer a lantern could be seen hanging
from the sheep-neck of the older one, and two voices could be heard in
talk,--such village gossip as farmers might exchange when th