ed nowadays! Why, a
shell like this has not been used in any navy for ages!"

He had been too excited at the moment of picking up the spluttering
shell to note its shape or size, but now he saw at a glance that the one
he held in his hand was obsolete and out of date. It was well enough for
the old-fashioned smooth-bore guns, but those of modern make had no use
for them.

As he puzzled over the mystery surrounding the projectile he suddenly
heard a whistle from the other side of the embankment. He recognized it
as the signal from the insurgent courier, and at once was alive to the
importance of carrying out the instructions that had been given him.

He hastily dropped the shell upon the ground and sprang up and over the
ridge of earth.

He gave an answering whistle and soon a form cautiously appeared from
among some bushes not far away.

"Alto quien va?" called Clif before the newcomer had advanced a step.

This was the challenge, meaning, "Who goes there?"

The response came promptly:

"Cuba!"

This is the countersign of the insurgents, and Clif knew that it was the
courier who had reached the appointed rendezvous.

He called out to him to advance, and in the moonlight appeared the
figure of an insurgent soldier, a mambis, as he is called in that
country, a figure with which American tars were to become more familiar
as the war progressed.

His equipment was typical of the insurgent soldier. Beside a pair of
linen trousers and a knitted woolen shirt, he wore a short blouse,
called mambisa. This was a small shirt-like vest, with pockets front and
back, opening at the belt, a handy way of carrying their cartridges
devised by them through necessity during the previous ten-years war. A
panama hat turned up in front and fastened with a silver star, completed
his attire; for as to his feet, they were innocent of a covering.

"Rather a summery outfit," thought Clif as he took it in with a glance.

But he knew that it was sufficient for the needs of the insurgents in
that climate, and that brave hearts beat under the unpretentious
mambisa, and brave deeds were done by the poorly equipped soldiers of
the army of liberation.

The newcomer was effusive in his greeting.

"I bring you greeting from our brave general, Gomez," he exclaimed in
Spanish. "Greetings to our noble friends and allies."

Clif received him cordially, but lost little time in preliminaries. Much
more time had already been consumed than he ha