d the
total of known dead to 176. There were numerous prisoners, among them
the famous chieftain, Chu-Chu." It was a swift and merciless affair,
but, as Stuart's father had commented, no one who knew and understood
Haitian conditions denied that it had been well and wisely done.

Stuart had seen some of the fighting, and his father had pointed out to
him that Port-au-Prince is not the whole of Haiti, nor does one repulse
quell a revolt. The boy knew, and the Cuban, watching him, knew that for
every man the Marines had slain, two had joined the Cacos and had sworn
the blood-oath before the High Priest and the High Priestess (papaloi
and mamaloi) of Voodoo.

Revolt against the American Occupation, therefore, was an ever-present
danger. Stuart wondered whether the negro who had been sent to him by
Manuel were a Cacos, and, if so, whether his father were a prisoner
among the Cacos. Manuel, for his part, wondered who this boy might be,
who had darkened his skin in disguise. One thing the Cuban had
determined and that was that he would not let the boy know that his
disguise had been penetrated. None the less, he must find out, if
possible, how the lad had come to know about the meeting-place of the
conspirators.

Finishing his drink, the Cuban rose, and, motioning to Stuart to precede
him, walked to the sparsely settled section between the commercial
center of the town and the Marine encampment. When the shouts of the
toiling workers had grown faint in the distance, the Cuban stopped.

"Boy!" he called.

Stuart braced himself. He knew that the moment of his test had come. His
heart thumped at his ribs, but he kept his expression from betraying
fear. He turned and faced the Cuban.

"In my right-hand pocket," said Manuel, in his soft and languorous
voice, "is a revolver. My finger is on the trigger. If you tell one
lie--why, that is the end of you! Why did you mention the Citadel of the
Black Emperor?"

Stuart's heart gave a bound of relief. He judged, from Manuel's manner,
that his disguise had not been guessed. Elated with this supposed
success, he commenced to tell glibly the tale he had prepared and
studied out the day before.

"I wanted to give you a warning," he said.

The Cuban's gaze deepened.

"Warning? What kind of a warning? From whom?"

"Cesar Leborge," answered Stuart. He had judged from his father's papers
that the two were engaged in a conspiracy, and thought that he could do
nothing better than to