ing were of
brilliant white stucco. Upon the former were hung several trophies of
weapons and antlers of deer. In the centre, at the right, in a kind of
ornamental shrine, was an ivory and ebony crucifix, which was itself a
priceless work of art. The long dining-table had no cloth to conceal the
fact that it was of the richest mahogany, dark with age and polished
like a mirror. On the table was an abundance of fine china ware, none of
it of modern manufacture, but all the more valuable for that reason. At
the end nearest Ned stood a massive silver coffee-urn, beautifully
molded, and it was not wonderful that he stood still a moment to stare
at it, for it had taken him altogether by surprise.

Almost instantly a change came over the dark, handsome features of
Senora Tassara. She smiled brightly, for Ned's undisguised admiration of
that mass of silver had touched her upon a tender spot, and she now
spoke to him with at least four times as much cordiality as she had
shown him in the hall.

"Ah, my young friend," she said, turning gracefully toward him, "so you
are pleased with my coffee-urn? No table in your city of New York can
show anything like it. It is of the oldest Seville workmanship, and
there are not many such remaining in all the world. It is an heirloom."

"Senor Carfora," at that moment interrupted Colonel Tassara, "I will
show you something else that is worth more than any kind of silver
ware. Take a good look at this!"

He stepped to a trophy of arms which hung upon the wall near him, and
took from it a long, heavy sword, with a worn-looking but deeply chased
gold hilt. He drew it from the sheath, gazing with evident pride at its
curving blade of dull blue steel.

"I think you have never before seen a sword like that," he said. "It may
have been made at Toledo, for all I know, but it is centuries old. It
was won from a Moor by an ancestor of mine, at the taking of Granada,
when the Moorish power was broken forever by the heroes of Spain. Who
can tell? It may have come down from the days of the Cid Campeador
himself."

Whoever that military gentleman may have been, Ned had no idea, but he
determined to find out some day, and just now he was glad to grasp the
golden hilt, and remember all that he had ever heard about the Moors. He
had not at all expected to hear of them again, just after escaping from
a norther in the Gulf of Mexico, but, without being aware of it, he was
learning a great deal about the