ink, waist deep in the curling
vines. As he gazed upon the scarecrow figure in the stern of the dory
a sprightly interest beamed upon his mobile face.

Months of wageless and thankless service had dimmed the admiral's
splendour. His red trousers were patched and ragged. Most of the
bright buttons and yellow braid were gone from his jacket. The visor
of his cap was torn, and depended almost to his eyes. The admiral's
feet were bare.

"Dear admiral," cried the large man, and his voice was like a blast
from a horn, "I kiss your hands. I knew we could build upon your
fidelity. You had our despatch--from General Martinez. A little
nearer with your boat, dear Admiral. Upon these devils of shifting
vines we stand with the smallest security."

Felipe regarded him with a stolid face.

"Provisions and beef for the barracks at Alforan," he quoted.

"No fault of the butchers, _Almirante mio_, that the beef awaits you
not. But you are come in time to save the cattle. Get us aboard your
vessel, senor, at once. You first, _caballeros--a priesa!_ Come back
for me. The boat is too small."

The dory conveyed the two officers to the sloop, and returned for the
large man.

"Have you so gross a thing as food, good admiral?" he cried, when
aboard. "And, perhaps, coffee? Beef and provisions! _Nombre de Dios!_
a little longer and we could have eaten one of those mules that you,
Colonel Rafael, saluted so feelingly with your sword scabbard at
parting. Let us have food; and then we will sail--for the barracks at
Alforan--no?"

The Caribs prepared a meal, to which the three passengers of _El
Nacional_ set themselves with famished delight. About sunset, as was
its custom, the breeze veered and swept back from the mountains, cool
and steady, bringing a taste of the stagnant lagoons and mangrove
swamps that guttered the lowlands. The mainsail of the sloop was
hoisted and swelled to it, and at that moment they heard shouts and a
waxing clamour from the bosky profundities of the shore.

"The butchers, my dear admiral," said the large man, smiling, "too
late for the slaughter."

Further than his orders to his crew, the admiral was saying nothing.
The topsail and jib were spread, and the sloop glided out of the
estuary. The large man and his companions had bestowed themselves
with what comfort they could about the bare deck. Belike, the thing
big in their minds had been their departure from that critical shore;
and now that the hazard was