ou may be sure of that."

"One can't ever say," answered the boy. "I must be ready for the
morning," and, with a word of farewell, he sauntered into the village of
Millot, to find some kind of stabling and food for the horses, and, if
possible, some shelter for himself.

Morning found Stuart outside the door of the general's "mansion," a
straw-thatched building, comprising three rooms and a narrow brick-paved
verandah. From what the soldiers had said the night before, the boy had
not the slightest expectation of the Cuban's success.

He had not waited long, however, before Manuel came out through the
door, obsequiously followed by a coal-black general daubed with gold
lace--most of which was unsewn and hanging in tatters, and all of which
was tarnished. He was strongly, even violently, urging upon Manuel the
need of an escort. The Cuban not only disdained the question, but, most
evidently, disdained and disregarded the man.

This extraordinary scene was closed by the General, the commandant of
the entire commune, holding out his hand for a tip. Manuel put a
five-gourdes bill (two dollars and a half) into the outstretched palm,
and mounted his horse to an accompaniment of a profusion of thanks.

A short distance out of Millot, the two riders came to the ruins of
Christophe's palace of "Without Worry" (Sans Souci). It was once a
veritable palace, situated on the top of a small hill overlooking a deep
ravine. Great flights of stone steps led up to it, while terrace upon
terrace of what once were exquisitely kept gardens, filled with the
finest statuary, stepped to the depths below.

Now, the gardens are waste, the statuary broken and the terraces are
washed into gullies by the rains. The palace itself is not less
lamentable. The walls are crumbling. Everything movable from the
interior has been looted. Trees grow outward from the upper windows,
and, in the cracks of masonry and marble floors, a tropic vegetation has
sprung up. Moss covers the mosaics, and the carved woodwork has become
the prey of the worm.

A little further on, at a hut which the General had described, Manuel
and Stuart left their horses, and then began the steep climb up La
Ferriere. From the steaming heat of the plain below, the climbers passed
into the region of cold. The remains of a road were there, but the track
was so indistinct as to render it difficult to follow.

"Where the dense forest begins," Manuel explained, "we shall find a
warder