The Cuban cavalrymen were of all ages and complexions, but under the command of a smart, youthful lieutenant, who, tho young in years, was old in experience. He had seen service since the beginning of the revolt, and was one of the thirty-five left to General Agramonte when all others laid down their arms in 1871. He was a native Cuban, but there was no African or Indian blood in his veins. He had one or two scars, the result of hand-to-hand encounters with the Spanish soldiery.

There was little gaiety among the troopers. When night came, they camped near a mountain stream in a small vale, covered with grass, surrounded by a vast wall of forest. Surely there could not have been a more secure hiding-place anywhere. There was little conversation. Sad-eyed and silent, the men sat about their small camp-fires after the evening meal, scarce speaking a word, while the sentries placed about the camp walked their beat in silence.

Sitting apart from the cavalrymen were Don Manuel and the American. The latter was thinking of his young wife and children far away, and speculating on the time when he should rejoin them; while the Don was thinking how many dangers his friend would yet have to run before he was again safe on American soil.

"My heart is very heavy to-night, señor," said the Don. "I feel a depression of spirits which I can

not explain. Our forces, I fear, will meet reverses, and, after all we have done and are doing, the shackles will be tightened about Cuba."

"You are not superstitious, Don Manuel?" asked the American.

"No, señor, I have never been accredited with superstition; but when I have such vague, unaccountable depressions, or I might say impressions, I fear they are not wholly groundless. But, after all, I need not say the feeling of dread is not altogether supernatural. A course of logical reasoning may have brought me to the conclusion I have reached." "What conclusion have you reached?"

"It is more a fear than a conclusion," said Don Manuel. "I fear this revolt, like all that have preceded it, will end in the defeat of the Cubans and the tightening of the chains."

"My dear friend, I hope you are taking a gloomier look at affairs than circumstances warrant.”

"Breathe not a word of this to the men, for I would not utter a discouraging thought that would reach their ears. My friend, I fear you do not fully realize your own danger. To reach the camp of José Marti is easy, but to get back to the coast will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I have considered all that, Don Manuel."

"Then let us get a little sleep, and trust in Heaven for aid to help us through these trials."

CHAPTER IV.

ONE MORE AMERICAN MARTYR.

LONG after he had rolled himself in his blanket upon the ground to get a little repose did Stevens lay thinking over all the Cuban had said. Occasionally he heaved a sigh as he reflected on the sad condition of his wife and little ones should he fail to return. There was one matter neglected for which he could not but censure himself. His carelessness, his forgetfulness, in the light of what might happen, was almost criminal.

The camp-fires burned low, and the smoke, ascending in spiral columns, formed fantastic wreaths about the grand old trees. The keen imagination of the American peopled those wreaths of smoke with strange beings. There were castles, pyramids, and mountains that touched the sky, all waving and changing with kaleidoscopic rapidity, until he saw, as it were, a white-robed being, pale and bleeding, floating off into space. The head rested on the shoulder, and as the last faint glow from the dying embers fell on the face, he started and almost

shrieked out in alarm.

He had gazed upon his own features. In a moment it was gone, and he was surrounded by the sleeping soldiers with the fireflies lighting up the vast old wood.

He drew his blanket over his head to shut out the visions of the

night, and slept.

Day had dawned when he awoke, and the Cubans were preparing their poor meal of baked yams, and broiled steaks from a bull killed the day before. The American arose, and, making his toilet at a small mountain stream, joined the soldiers and Don Manuel at the morning meal.

Several wild dogs of the species indigenous to Cuba were seen wandering about the camp, no doubt attracted by the odor of cooking meat. One of the soldiers seized his carbine and cocked it to fire at one, but at the command of his officer he laid the gun upon the ground at his side.

Breakfast over, they saddled and mounted their horses, breaking camp without any further ceremony. This portion of the wilderness as yet had not known civilization. There were none of the domestic animals, partially wild, which nevertheless cling on the edges of civilization. Only the wolf and the jutia, a small animal of the size of a muskrat, were seen in the day's travel.

As they neared the district of the insurgents, civilization began to appear again. There were houses

and fields, and they met armed bodies of men, always on horseback, galloping over hills, evidently to hang upon the flanks of the enemy. Before sunset they had reached the camp of Col. José Marti. The colonel was not with his regiment, but would return to it in the course of a day or so. A courier was sent to inform him that his American friend and Don Manuel were in camp.

Next day the colonel, a tall, graceful, handsome gentleman, with a broad, high brow, came into camp. His uniform was faded, and the metal scabbard that contained his sword was dimmed by the rust of rains and dews; but his eye was bright, and his step firm and elastic.

"My friend, I am both glad and sorry to see you," he said, taking the hand of the American.

"Why so, Colonel Marti? Does my coming embarrass you?" asked Stevens.

"Not in the way you think, señor. The amount I owe the firm of Parker & Stevens has been set aside for them, and I am ready to deliver it at once; but what does embarrass me is to know how you are to get safely back to your country. It will never do for you to return by way of Havana."

"I have my passport."

"Little good would that do you, señor, if you should be captured on the charge of filibustering or joining or aiding the insurgent army. If it were