thout a word being spoken
by any one of them until they said good-night. But since his return
from Curacao, Roddy had been too occupied with coming events to
remember old friends.

The note read:

"DEAR MR. FORRESTER: My husband and I have not seen you for
ages, and the children cry for 'Uncle Roddy.' Will you and
Mr. De Peyster take tea with us day after to-morrow? The
only other friend who is coming _will give you this note_."

The Broughtons had been stationed at Porto Cabello for five years,
and, as Roddy now saw, it was most natural that in the limited social
life of Porto Cabello the two American girls should be friends. That
he had not already thought of the possibility of this filled him with
rage, and, at the same time, the promise held forth by the note
thrilled him with pleasure. He leaped to his feet and danced
jubilantly upon the gravel walk. Tearing the note into scraps he
hurled them into the air.

"Mary Broughton!" he exclaimed ecstatically, "you're a brick!"

Such was his feeling of gratitude to the lady, that he at once sought
out a confectioner's and sent her many pounds of the candied fruits
that have made Venezuela famous, and that, on this occasion, for
several days made the Broughton children extremely ill.

That night the attack on the barricade to the tunnel was made with a
vigor no cement nor rusty iron could resist. Inspired by the thought
that on the morrow he would see Inez, and that she herself wished to
see him, and anxious to give her a good report of the work of rescue,
Roddy toiled like a coal-passer. His energy moved McKildrick and Peter
to endeavors equally strenuous, and by nine o'clock the great stone
slabs were wedged apart, and on the warm-scented night air and upon
the sweating bodies of the men there struck a cold, foul breath that
told them one end of the tunnel lay open.

VII

Roddy was for at once dashing down the stone steps and exploring the
tunnel, but McKildrick held him back.

"You couldn't live for a moment," he protested, "and it may be days
before we can enter." In proof of what he said, he lit one wax match
after another, and as he passed each over the mouth of the tunnel
Roddy saw the flame sicken and die.

"That has been a tomb for half a century," McKildrick reminded him.
"Even if a strong, young idiot like you could breathe that air, Rojas
couldn't."

"All the same, I am going down," said Roddy.

"And I tell you, you a