attention. He bore his seventy odd years lightly
and his slight form was as straight as a ramrod. His uniform, unlike
those of his faithful followers, was immaculately spotless. His carbine,
on which he rested, was gold mounted; the sabre at his side was
elegantly chased and decorated, and the silver on his pistol handles
glittered in the waning light. As he turned his eyes on the group in
the doorway, his heavy iron-grey eyebrows contracted into a scowl and he
spoke quickly to O'Connor. The latter turned and started from his chair
angrily.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"If you please, Massa Cap'n, ah----"

"Let me explain, Wash," said Mason, advancing a step when he felt the
hand of one of the guards fall heavily on his shoulder. "I think,
captain," he continued, pointing to the man, "that we can get along now
without the protection of these gentlemen."

O'Connor waved his hand and the two men saluted and filed out.

Mason advanced boldly to the table and facing O'Connor, said:

"Captain Dynamite, you should not blame Washington. It is his love for
you and Miss Juanita that brings him here."

"I suppose you are right, boy," said the captain, still scowling, "but I
am in great trouble and I do not like to have my plans interfered with.
But what brings you here?"

"Well, we heard that you were in trouble, and as Washington was going to
join you, we thought we would come along, too, and be of what assistance
we could."

The scowl faded from the man's face. He turned to General Gomez and
spoke to him in Spanish. When he had finished, the old warrior looked
the Midget over from head to foot and the stern lines of his face broke
into a genial smile, gentle and reassuring. O'Connor stepped forward,
and taking Mason's hand, shook it warmly.

"I thank you, my boy, for your good intentions. You must have made
excellent time over a rough and dangerous road, for you are here close
at my heels. And your journey has left its marks, I see," he said, as he
noticed Mason's cut and bruised face and hands, and his torn clothing.
"But where are your friends?"

"The Spaniards have got 'em," said Mason, laconically.

O'Connor looked first at the boy as if he thought it a joke, and then at
Washington, in whose troubled face he read confirmation.

"Yas, Massa Cap'n; Spaniards got 'em, suah 'nough," said Washington,
nodding his head vigorously in the affirmative.

"When, where, how did it happen?" asked O'Connor, r