If kings desire to breakfast more
royally, I make them my compliment. For free Cubans, bread and chocolate
is a feast. Feast, then, Manuela mine. Eat, and be happy!"

Bread--or rather, delicate biscuits, and chocolate, were indeed a feast
to the two hungry girls. They nibbled and crunched, and Manuela's
spirits rose with every bite. Rita's had no need to rise. She was
having a real adventure; her dreams were coming true; she was a
bona-fide heroine, in a bona-fide "situation." "What have we in the bag,
best of Manuelas?" she asked. "I told you in a general way; I even added
some trifles, for Carlos's comfort; poor dear Carlos! But tell me what
you put in, my best one!"

Manuela cast a rueful glance at the plump valise.

"The white silk blouse," she said; "the white peignoir with swansdown."

"In case of sickness!" cried Rita, interrupting. "You would not have me
ill, far from my home, and bereft of every slightest comfort, Manuela?
surely you would not; I know your kind heart too well. Besides, the
peignoir weighs nothing; a feather, a puff of vapour. Go on! what else?"

"Changes of linen, of course," said Manuela. "The gold-mounted
toilet-set; two bottles of eau de Cologne; cigarettes for the Senorito
Don Carlos; bonbons; the ivory writing-case; the feather fan; three
pairs of shoes--"

"Enough! enough!" cried Rita. "We shall do well, Manuela. You have been
an angel of thoughtfulness. You did not bring any jewels? no? I thought
perhaps the Etruscan gold set, so simple, yet so rich, might suit my
altered life well enough; but no matter. After all, what have I to do
with jewels now? The next question is, how are we to find Carlos?"

"To find Don Carlos?" echoed Manuela. "You know where he is, senorita?"

"But, assuredly!" said Rita, and she looked about her confidently. "He
is--here!"

"Here!" repeated Manuela.

"In the mountains!" said Rita, waving her hand vaguely in the direction
of the horizon. "It is a search; we must look for him, without doubt;
but he is--here--somewhere. Come, Manuela, do not look so despairing. I
tell you, we shall meet friends, it may be at any turn. The mountains
are full of the soldiers of Cuba; the first ones we meet will take us to
Carlos."

"Yes," said Manuela. "But what if we met the others, senorita? what if
we met the Spanish soldiers first? Hark! what was that?"

A sound was heard close behind them; a rustling, sliding sound, as if
something or somebody were making his wa