m, and he immediately ran towards the place.

In a moment he was in the hut.

"A friend of mine, Dan Daly," said Young Glory.

"The top of the mornin' to ye, senor," cried Dan, taking off his cap,
gravely. "It's meself's plased to meet you."

"You're an American?"

"Yes."

"Curse you!"

"Our friend's not polite, Dan," said Young Glory. "I've found that out
already. But, to business."

"Business!"

"Yes, Dan. We've much to do. Take this man, gag him, and tie him up
securely."

Dan rushed at the fellow without another word.

"Quiet! or I'll shoot you," said Young Glory, seeing the man about to
resist.

The sight of the pistol effectually settled the matter, and Dan did his
work so expeditiously that the man was lying at the rear of the hut
hidden under a heap of rubbish in a very few minutes.

"Now, you must skip, Dan."

"Me?"

"I said so."

"But you?"

"Oh! I stay here," answered Young Glory, carelessly. "You see, the men
in pursuit of you will come up very soon, and I must be here to receive
them."

"Begorra, it's murther!"

"I think not."

"Young Glory, it's throwin' your life away ye'll be; they'll know you at
once."

"We shall see."

"But where shall I hide?" cried Dan.

"Rush to the woods and stay there."

"They will search the woods."

"Not after they've heard my story. I'll put them off the trail. Quick!
Get away!"

Young Glory ran to the door of the hut. Then he came back with a look of
dismay on his face.

"Too late!" he cried.

"What!"

"Too late, I said. The Spaniards are coming up by the creek. You can't
get away from this house now without being seen."

It was Dan's turn to look scared now.

"It's your own fault," answered Young Glory, impatiently. "You would
waste the precious moments by arguing the point, so see what you've
brought us to. There's only one thing for you to do now. Under with
you."

"Where?"

"Get alongside our friend. Keep him company. Lie still, Dan. It's your
only chance."

Young Glory assisted in covering Dan up, and this done, he threw off the
hat and cloak he was wearing, and secreted them. Then he hastily assumed
some old garments he found in the hut, rubbed some dirt over his face,
pulled his hat over his eyes, and with a cigarette between his lips took
his station at the door to wait for the soldiers.

Spanish soldiers are not very ceremonious in their treatment of
civilians. So Young Glory found himself roughly addressed by the