ent the cunning villain might
leap at them.

But the sergeant, though wavering, still shook his head.

"The men will tell," he objected.

"Here is another hundred for them!" gasped Ignacio. "It is all I have.
Por dios, what more?"

There was at least half a minute of agony after that while the man upon
whom everything depended wrestled with that temptation. It was a great
one, and Clif felt a cold perspiration breaking out all over him as he
sat and watched.

But the stolid sergeant was apparently too much of a coward to take the
risk. He said no, and Clif gave a gasp.

"Wait and see Blanco," he said. "I do not dare to let you do it."

And though Ignacio blustered and swore and pranced about like a mad man,
the soldier was obdurate.

"The risk is too great," he reiterated. "I dare not."

And so Ignacio once more slunk back into a dark corner of the car and
fell snarling to himself.

"But I'll have him yet!" Clif heard him hiss. "I'll have him yet. Just
wait till we get to Havana."

CHAPTER XIV.

BESSIE STUART.

The event to which Ignacio was looking forward with so much pleasure was
not long in taking place.

The trip by the railroad lasted about half an hour only.

Ignacio would hardly have had more than time to carry out his dastardly
purpose before the train arrived. The car came slowly to a stop and the
sergeant got up and opened the door.

"Here we are," said he. "And I am glad."

Ignacio was apparently glad, too, since he had failed in his first plan.
He sprang up eagerly and watched the removal of the prisoners.

The sergeant untied the Americans' feet and gruffly ordered them to
march. With the soldiers before and behind they were led rapidly through
the streets of Havana.

If the arrival of those prisoners in a small town created excitement,
one may well imagine that the big capital turned out a crowd to watch
them; but there was almost no demonstration against them, for the party
hurried along rapidly. And Ignacio did not try any of his tricks; he
knew that his chance would soon come, and he waited patiently.

Clif gazed about him as he walked. He was listless and hopeless, but he
could not help feeling an interest in the city he had heard so much of
and which he had been so busily helping to blockade.

But he had little chance to look about. He was marching down a long
street crowded with Spaniards of all sizes and shades. And then suddenly
before a dark, heavy-looking buil