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 [See page 318 
 
 O'REILLY STOOD BLINKING AT THE SIGHT EXPOSED, FOR THE LITTLE 
 BARREL WAS FULL OF COINS YELLOW COINS, LARGE AND SMALL
 
 A NOVEL 
 BY 
 
 REX BEACH 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE IRON TRAIL" "THE SPOILERS" 
 " HEART OF THE SUNSET" ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
 NEW YORK & LONDON
 
 BOOKS BY 
 REX BEACH 
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 THE CRIMSON GARDENIA AND OTHER 
 
 TALES OF ADVENTURE 
 HEART OF THE SUNSET 
 THE AUCTION BLOCK 
 THE IRON TRAIL 
 THE NET 
 
 THE NE'ER-DO-WELL 
 THE SPOILERS 
 THE BARRIER 
 THE SILVER HORDE 
 GOING SOME 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK 
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Copyright, 1916, by Harper & Brothers 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
 Published September, 1916 
 
 i-Q
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT i 
 
 II. SPANISH GOLD 14 
 
 III. "THE O'REILLY" 28 
 
 IV. RETRIBUTION 44 
 
 V. A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS 62 
 
 VI. THE QUEST BEGINS 75 
 
 VII. THE MAN WHO WOULD KNOW LIFE 87 
 
 VIII. THE SPANISH DOUBLOON 97 
 
 IX. MARAUDERS 108 
 
 X. O'REILLY TALKS HOG LATIN 119 
 
 XI. THE HAND OF THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL .... 129 
 
 XII. WHEN THE WORLD RAN BACKWARD 142 
 
 XIII. CAPITULATION 151 
 
 XIV. A WOMAN WITH A MISSION 156 
 
 XV. FILIBUSTERS 166 
 
 XVI. THE CITY AMONG THE LEAVES 178 
 
 XVII. THE CITY OF BEGGARS . 190 
 
 XVIII. SPEAKING OF FOOD 206 
 
 XIX. THAT SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 224 
 
 XX. EL DEMONIO'S CHILD 240 
 
 XXI. TREASURE 251 
 
 XXII. THE TROCHA 264 
 
 XXIII. INTO THE CITY OF DEATH 274 
 
 XXIV.- ROSA 287 
 
 XXV. THE HAUNTED GARDEN -. . 301 
 
 XXVI. How COBO STOOD ON His HEAD 315 
 
 XXVII. MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 326 
 
 XXVIII. THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 340 
 
 XXIX. WHAT HAPPENED AT SUNDOWN 354 
 
 XXX. THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT 365 
 
 I 7 
 
 -L i
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 O'REILLY STOOD BLINKING AT THE SIGHT EXPOSED, 
 FOR THE LITTLE BARREL WAS FULL OF COINS 
 YELLOW COINS, LARGE AND SMALL .... Frontispiece 
 
 "AH-H! Now I SEE! IT Is MY STEPMOTHER. SHE 
 
 Is ASLEEP" Fating P- 52 
 
 BRANCH'S EYES WERE GLUED UPON THE CHILD IN 
 
 HORRIFIED FASCINATION " 234 
 
 IT WAS O'REILLY! ' " 352

 
 RAINBOW'S END
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT 
 
 IN all probability your first view of the valley of the 
 Yumuri will be from the Hermitage of Montserrate, 
 for it is there that the cocheros drive you. Up the winding 
 road they take you, with the bay at your back and the 
 gorge at your right, to the crest of a narrow ridge where 
 the chapel stands. Once there, you overlook the fairest 
 sight in all Christendom "the loveliest valley in the 
 world," as Humboldt called it for the Yumuri nestles 
 right at your feet, a vale of pure delight, a glimpse of 
 Paradise that bewilders the eye and fills the soul with 
 ecstasy. 
 
 It is larger than it seems at first sight; through it mean 
 ders the river, coiling and uncoiling, hidden here and there 
 by jungle growths, and seeking final outlet through a 
 cleft in the wall not unlike a crack in the side of a painted 
 bowl. The place seems to have been fashioned as a 
 dwelling for dryads and hamadryads, for nixies and 
 pixies, and all the fabled spirits of forest and stream. 
 Fairy hands tinted its steep slopes and carpeted its level 
 floor with the richest of green brocades. Nowhere is 
 there a clash of color; nowhere does a naked hillside 
 or monstrous jut of rock obtrude to mar its placid beauty;
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 nowhere can you see a crude, disfiguring mark of man's 
 handiwork there are only fields, and bowers, with an 
 occasional thatched roof faded gray by the sun. 
 
 Royal palms, most perfect of trees, are scattered every 
 where. They stand alone or in stately groves, their 
 lush fronds drooping like gigantic ostrich plumes, their 
 slim trunks as smooth and regular and white as if turned 
 in a giant lathe and then rubbed with pipe-clay. In 
 all Cuba, island of bewitching vistas, there is no other 
 Yumuri, and in all the wide world, perhaps, there is no 
 valley of moods and aspects so varying. You should see 
 it at evening, all warm and slumberous, all gold and green 
 and purple; or at early dawn, when the mists are fading 
 like pale memories of dreams and the tints are delicate; 
 or again, during a tempest, when it is a caldron of whirling 
 vapors and when the palm-trees bend like coryphees, 
 tossing their arms to the galloping hurricane. But what 
 ever the time of day or the season of the year at which 
 you visit it, the Yumuri will render you wordless with 
 delight, and you will vow that it is the happiest valley 
 men's eyes have ever looked upon. 
 
 Standing there beside the shrine of Our Lady of Mont- 
 serrate, you will see beyond the cleft through which the 
 river emerges another hill, La Cumbre, from which 
 the view is almost as wonderful, and your driver may tell 
 you about the splendid homes that used to grace its slopes 
 in the golden days when Cuba had an aristocracy. They 
 were classic Roman villas, such as once lined the Via 
 Appia little palaces, with mosaics and marbles and 
 precious woods imported from Europe, and furnished 
 with the rarest treasures for in those days the Cuban 
 planters were rich and spent their money lavishly. Melan 
 choly reminders of this splendor exist even now in the 
 shape of a crumbled ruin here and there, a lichened pillar, 
 an occasional porcelain urn in its place atop a vine- 
 grown bit of wall. Your cochero may point out a certain 
 
 2
 
 THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT 
 
 grove of orange-trees, now little more than a rank tangle, 
 and tell you about the quinta of Don Este"ban Varona, 
 and its hidden treasure; about little Est6ban and Rosa, 
 the twins; and about Sebastian, the giant slave, who 
 died in fury, taking with him the secret of the well. 
 
 The Spanish Main is rich in tales of treasure-trove, for 
 when the Antilles were most affluent they were least 
 secure, and men were put to strange shifts to protect 
 their fortunes. Certain hoards, like jewels of tragic his 
 tory, in time assumed a sort of evil personality, not in 
 frequently exercising a dire influence over the lives of 
 those who chanced to fall under their spells. It was as 
 if the money were accursed, for certainly the seekers often 
 came to evil. Of such a character was the Varona 
 treasure. Don Este*ban himself was neither better nor 
 worse than other men of his time, and although part of the 
 money he hid was wrung from the toil of slaves and the 
 traffic in their bodies, much of it was clean enough, and 
 in time the earth purified it all. Since his acts made so 
 deep an impress, and since the treasure he left played so 
 big a part in the destinies of those who came after him, 
 it is well that some account of these matters should be 
 given. 
 
 The story, please remember, is an old one; it has been 
 often told, and in the telling and retelling it is but natural 
 that a certain glamour, a certain tropical extravagance, 
 should attach to it, therefore you should make allowance 
 for some exaggeration, some accretions due to the lapse 
 of time. In the main, however, it is well authenticated 
 and runs parallel to fact. 
 
 Dona Rosa Varona lived barely long enough to learn that 
 she had given birth to twins. Don Este"ban, whom people 
 knew as a grim man, took the blow of his sudden bereave 
 ment as became one of his strong fiber. Leaving the 
 priest upon his knees and the doctor busied with the babies, 
 he strode through the house and out into the sunset, fol- 
 
 3
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 lowed by the wails of the slave women. From the negro 
 quarters came the sound of other and even louder lamen 
 tations, for Dona Rosa had been well loved and the news 
 of her passing had spread quickly. 
 
 Don Este'ban was at heart a selfish man, and now, 
 therefore, he felt a sullen, fierce resentment mingled with 
 his grief. What trick was this? he asked himself. What 
 had he done to merit such misfortune? Had he not made 
 rich gifts to the Church? Had he not gone on foot to the 
 shrine of Our Lady of Montserrate with a splendid votive 
 offering a pair of eardrops, a necklace, and a crucifix, 
 all of diamonds that quivered in the sunlight like drops of 
 purest water? Had he not knelt and prayed for his 
 wife's safe delivery and then hung his gifts upon the 
 sacred image, as Loyola had hung up his weapons before 
 that other counterpart of Our Lady? Don Est6ban 
 scowled at the memory, for those gems were of the finest, 
 and certainly of a value sufficient to recompense the Virgin 
 for any ordinary miracle. They were worth five thousand 
 pesos at least, he told himself; they represented the price 
 of five slaves five of his finest girls, schooled in house 
 keeping and of an age suitable for breeding. An extrava 
 gance, truly! Don Este'ban knew the value of money as 
 well as anybody, and he swore now that he would give no 
 more to the Church. 
 
 He looked up from his unhappy musings to find a gigan 
 tic, barefooted negro standing before him. The slave 
 was middle-aged; his kinky hair was growing gray; but 
 he was of superb proportions, and the muscles which 
 showed through the rents in his cotton garments were as 
 smooth and supple as those of a stripling. His black face 
 was puckered with grief, as he began: 
 
 "Master, is it true that Dona Rosa " The fellow 
 choked. 
 
 "Yes," Este'ban nodded, wearily, "she is dead, Se 
 bastian."
 
 THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT 
 
 Tears came to Sebastian's eyes and overflowed his 
 cheeks; he stood motionless, striving to voice his sym 
 pathy. At length he said: 
 
 " She was too good for this world. God was jealous and 
 took her to Paradise." 
 
 The widowed man cried out, angrily: 
 
 "Paradise! What is this but paradise?" He stared 
 with resentful eyes at the beauty round about him. " See ! 
 The Yumuri!" Don Este"ban flung a long arm outward. 
 "Do you think there is a sight like that in heaven? And 
 yonder " He turned to the harbor far below, with its 
 fleet of sailing-ships resting like a flock of gulls upon a sea 
 of quicksilver. Beyond the bay, twenty miles distant, 
 a range of hazy mountains hid the horizon. Facing to 
 the south, Este"ban looked up the full length of the valley 
 of the San Juan, clear to the majestic Pan de Matanzas, 
 a wonderful sight indeed; then his eyes returned, as they 
 always did, to the Yumuri, Valley of Delight. "Paradise 
 indeed!" he muttered. "I gave her everything. She 
 gained nothing by dying." 
 
 With a grave thoughtfulness which proved him superior 
 to the ordinary slave, Sebastian replied: 
 
 "True! She had all that any woman's heart could 
 desire, but in return for your goodness she gave you 
 children. You have lost her, but you have gained an heir, 
 and a beautiful girl baby who will grow to be another 
 Dona Rosa. I grieved as you grieve, once upon a time, 
 for my woman died in childbirth, too. You remember? 
 But my daughter lives, and she has brought sunshine into 
 my old age. That is the purpose of children." He 
 paused and shifted his weight uncertainly, digging his 
 stiff black toes into the dirt. After a time he said, slowly: 
 "Excellency! Now, about the well ?" 
 
 "Yes. What about it ?" Este"ban lifted smoldering eyes. 
 
 "Did the Dona Rosa confide her share of the secret to 
 any one? Those priests and those doctors, you know ?" 
 
 5
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "She died without speaking." 
 
 "Then it rests between you and me?" 
 
 "It does, unless you have babbled." is 
 
 "Master!" Sebastian drew himself up and there was 
 real dignity in his black face. 
 
 "Understand, my whole fortune is there everything, 
 even to the deeds of patent for the plantations. If I 
 thought there was danger of your betraying me I would 
 have your tongue pulled out and your eyes torn from their 
 sockets." 
 
 The black man spoke with a simplicity that carried 
 conviction. "You have seen me tested. You know I 
 am faithful. But, master, this secret is a great burden 
 for my old shoulders, and I have been thinking Times 
 are unsettled, Don Este*ban, and death comes without 
 warning. You are known to be the richest man in this 
 province and these government officials are robbers. 
 Suppose I should be left alone? What then?" 
 
 The planter considered for a moment. "They are my 
 countrymen, but a curse on them," he said, finally. 
 "Well, when my children are old enough to hold their 
 tongues they will have to be told. If I'm gone, you shall 
 be the one to tell them. Now leave me; this is no time to 
 speak of such things." 
 
 Sebastian went as noiselessly as he had come. On his 
 way back to his quarters he took the path to the well 
 the place where most of his time was ordinarily spent. 
 Sebastian had dug this well, and with his own hands he 
 had beautified its surroundings until they were the 
 loveliest on the Varona grounds. The rock for the build 
 ing of the quinta had been quarried here, and in the center 
 of the resulting depression, grass-grown and flowering now, 
 was the well itself. Its waters seeped from subterranean 
 caverns and filtered, pure and cool, through the porous 
 country rock. Plantain, palm, orange, and tamarind trees 
 bordered the hollow; over the rocky walls ran a riot of 
 
 6
 
 THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT 
 
 vines and ferns and ornamental plants. ., It was Sebas 
 tian's task to keep this place green, and thither he took 
 his way, from force of habit. 
 
 Through the twilight came Pancho Cueto, the manager, 
 a youngish man, with a narrow face and bold, close-set 
 eyes. Spying Sebastian, he began: 
 
 "So Don Este"ban has an heir at last?" 
 
 The slave rubbed his eyes with the heel of his huge 
 yellow palm and answered, respectfully: 
 
 ' ' Yes, Don Pancho. Two little angels, a boy and a girl. ' ' 
 His gray brows drew together in a painful frown. " Dona 
 Rosa was a saint. No doubt there is great rejoicing in 
 heaven at her coming. Eh? What do you think?" 
 
 "Um-m! Possibly. Don Este"ban will miss her for a 
 time and then, I dare say, he will remarry." At the 
 negro's exclamation Cueto cried: "So! And why not? 
 Everybody knows how rich he is. From Oriente to Pinar 
 del Rio the women have heard about his treasure." 
 
 "What treasure?" asked Sebastian, after an instant's 
 pause. 
 
 Cueto's dark eyes gleamed resentfully at this show of 
 ignorance, but he laughed. 
 
 " Ho ! There's a careful fellow for you ! No wonder he 
 trusts you. But do you think I have neither eyes nor 
 ears? My good Sebastian, you know all about that 
 treasure ; in fact, you know far more about many things 
 than Don Este"ban would care to have you tell. Come 
 now, don't you?" 
 
 Sebastian's face was like a mask carved from ebony. 
 "Of what does this treasure consist?" he inquired. "I 
 have never heard about it." 
 
 "Of gold, of jewels, of silver bars and precious orna 
 ments." Cueto's head was thrust forward, his nostrils 
 were dilated, his teeth gleamed. "Oh, it is somewhere 
 about, as you very well know! Bah! Don't deny it. 
 I'm no fool. What becomes of the money from the slave 
 
 7
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 girls, eh? And the sugar crops, too? Does it go to buy 
 arms and ammunition for the rebels? No. DonEste"ban 
 hides it, and you help him. Come," he cried, disregarding 
 Sebastian's murmurs of protest, "did you ever think how 
 fabulous that fortune must be by this time? Did you 
 ever think that one little gem, one bag of gold, would buy 
 your freedom?" 
 
 " Don Este"ban has promised to buy my freedom and the 
 freedom of my girl." 
 
 ' ' So ?" The manager was plainly surprised. ' ' I didn't 
 know that." After a moment he began to laugh. "And 
 yet you pretend to know nothing about that treasure? 
 Ha! You're a good boy, Sebastian, and so I am. I 
 admire you. We're both loyal to our master, eh? But 
 now about Evangelina." Cueto's face took on a craftier 
 expression. "She is a likely girl, and when she grows 
 up she will be worth more than you, her father. Don't 
 forget that Don Esteban is before all else a business man. 
 Be careful that some one doesn't make him so good an 
 offer for your girl that he will forget his promise and 
 sell her." 
 
 Sebastian uttered a hoarse, animal cry and the whites 
 of his eyes showed through the gloom. "He would never 
 sell Evangelina!" 
 
 Cueto laughed aloud once more. "Of course! He 
 would not dare, eh? I am only teasing you. But see! 
 You have given yourself away. Everything you tell me 
 proves that you know all about that treasure." 
 
 "I know but one thing," the slave declared, stiffening 
 himself slowly, "and that is to be faithful to Don Este*- 
 ban." He turned and departed, leaving Pancho Cueto 
 staring after him meditatively. 
 
 In the days following the birth of his children and the 
 death of his wife, Don Esteban Varona, as had been his 
 custom, steered a middle course in politics, in that way 
 managing to avoid a clash with the Spanish officials who 
 
 8
 
 THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT 
 
 ruled the island, or an open break with his Cuban neigh 
 bors, who rebelled beneath their wrongs. This was no 
 easy thing to do, for the agents of the crown were uni 
 formly corrupt and quite ruthless, while most of the 
 native-born were either openly or secretly in sympathy 
 with the revolution in the Orient. But Este*ban dealt 
 diplomatically with both factions and went on raising 
 slaves and sugar to his own great profit. Owing to the 
 impossibility of importing negroes, the market steadily 
 improved, and Estelban reaped a handsome profit from 
 those he had on hand, especially when his crop of young 
 girls matured. His sugar-plantations prospered, too, and 
 Pancho Cueto, who managed them, continued to wonder 
 where the money went. 
 
 The twins, Esteban and Rosa, developed into healthy 
 children and became the pride of Sebastian and his 
 daughter, into whose care they had been given. As for 
 Evangelina, the young negress, she grew tall and strong 
 and handsome, until she was the finest slave girl in the 
 neighborhood. Whenever Sebastian looked at her he 
 thanked God for his happy circumstances. 
 
 Then, one day, Don Esteban Varona remarried, and the 
 Dona Isabel, who had been a famous Habana beauty, 
 came to live at the quinta. The daughter of impoverished 
 parents, she had heard and thought much about the 
 mysterious treasure of La Cumbre. 
 
 There followed a period of feasting and entertainment, 
 of music and merrymaking. Spanish officials, prominent 
 civilians of Matanzas and the countryside, drove up the hill 
 to welcome DonEst^ban's bride. But before the first fervor 
 of his honeymoon cooled the groom began to fear that he 
 had made a serious mistake. Dona Isabel, he discovered, 
 was both vain and selfish. Not only did she crave luxury 
 and display, but with singular persistence she demanded 
 to know all about her husband's financial affairs. 
 
 Now Don Esteban was no longer young; age had 
 2 9
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 soured him with suspicion, and when once he saw himself 
 as the victim of a mercenary marriage he turned bitterly 
 against his wife. Her curiosity he sullenly resented, and 
 he unblushingly denied his possession of any considerable 
 wealth. In fact, he tried with malicious ingenuity to 
 make her believe him a poor man. But Isabel was not 
 of the sort to be readily deceived. Finding her arts and 
 coquetries of no avail, she flew into a rage, and a furious 
 quarrel ensued the first of many. For the lady could 
 not rest without knowing all there was to know about the 
 treasure. Avaricious to her finger-tips, she itched to 
 weigh those bags of precious metal and yearned to see 
 those jewels burning upon her bosom. Her mercenary 
 mind magnified their value many times, and her anger at 
 Don Este"ban's obstinacy deepened to a smoldering hatred. 
 
 She searched the quinta, of course, whenever she had a 
 chance, but she discovered nothing with the result that 
 the mystery began to engross her whole thought. She 
 pried into the obscurest corners, she questioned the 
 slaves, she lay awake at night listening to Este"ban's 
 breathing, in the hope of surprising his secret from his 
 dreams. Naturally such a life was trying to the husband, 
 but as his wife's obsession grew his determination to foil 
 her only strengthened. Outwardly, of course, the pair 
 maintained a show of harmony, for they were proud and 
 they occupied a position of some consequence in the 
 community. But their private relations went from bad 
 to worse. At length a time came when they lived in 
 frank enmity; when Isabel never spoke to Este"ban except 
 in reproach or anger, and when Este"ban unlocked his 
 lips only to taunt his wife with the fact that she had 
 been thwarted despite her cunning. 
 
 In most quarters, as time went on, the story of the 
 Varona treasure was forgotten, or at least put down as 
 legendary. Only Isabel, who, in spite of her husband's 
 secretiveness, learned much, and Pancho Cueto, who 
 
 10
 
 THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT 
 
 'kept his own account of the annual income from the 
 business, held the matter in serious remembrance. The 
 overseer was a patient man; he watched with interest the 
 growing discord at the quinta and planned to profit by it, 
 should occasion offer. 
 
 It was only natural under such conditions that Dona 
 Isabel should learn to dislike her stepchildren Este'ban 
 had told her frankly that they would inherit whatever 
 fortune he possessed. The thought that, after all, she 
 might never share in the treasure for which she had sac 
 rificed her youth and beauty was like to drive the woman 
 mad, and, as may be imagined, she found ways to vent 
 her spite upon the twins. She widened her hatred so as to 
 include old Sebastian and his daughter, and even went so 
 far as to persecute Evangelina's sweetheart, a slave named 
 Asensio. 
 
 It had not taken Dona Isabel long to guess the reason for 
 Sebastian's many privileges, and one of her first efforts had 
 been to win the old man's confidence. It was in vain, 
 however, that she flattered and cajoled, or stormed and 
 threatened; Sebastian withstood her as a towering ceiba 
 withstands the summer heat and the winter hurricane. 
 
 His firmness made her vindictive, and so in time she 
 laid a scheme to estrange him from his master. 
 
 Dona Isabel was crafty. She began to complain about 
 Evangelina, but it was only after many months that she 
 ventured to suggest to her husband that he sell the girl. 
 Este'ban, of course, refused point-blank; he was too fond 
 of Sebastian's daughter, he declared, to think of such a 
 thing. 
 
 "So, that is it," sneered Dona Isabel. "Well, she is 
 young and shapely and handsome, as wenches go. I 
 rather suspected you were fond of her " 
 
 With difficulty Este'ban restrained an oath. "You 
 mistake my meaning," he said, stiffly. " Sebastian has 
 served me faithfully, and Evangelina plays with my 
 
 ii
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 children. She is good to them; she is more of a mother 
 to them than you have ever been." 
 
 "Is that why you dress her like a lady? Bah! A 
 likely story!" Isabel tossed her fine, dark head. "I'm 
 not blind ; I see what goes on about me. This will make 
 a pretty scandal among your friends she as black as the 
 pit, and you " 
 
 " Woman!" shouted the planter, " you have a sting like a 
 scorpion." 
 
 "I won't have that wench in my house," Isabel flared 
 out at him. 
 
 Goaded to fury by his wife's senseless accusation, 
 Este"ban cried : ' ' Your house ? By what license do you call 
 it yours?" 
 
 "Am I not married to you?" 
 
 "Damnation! Yes as a leech is married to its 
 victim. You suck my blood." 
 
 "Your blood!" The woman laughed shrilly. "You 
 have no blood; your veins run vinegar. You are a 
 miser." 
 
 "Miser! Miser! I grow sick of the word. It is all 
 you find to taunt me with. Confess that you married me 
 for my money," he roared. 
 
 "Of course I did! Do you think a woman of my 
 beauty would marry you for anything else? But a fine 
 bargain I made!" 
 
 "Vampire!" 
 
 "Wife or vampire, I intend to rule this house, and I 
 refuse to be shamed by a thick-lipped African. Her airs 
 tell her story. She is insolent to me, but I sha'n't endure 
 it. She laughs at me. Well, your friends shall laugh at 
 you." 
 
 "Silence!" commanded Este"ban. 
 
 "Sell her." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Sell her, or " 
 
 12
 
 THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT 
 
 Without waiting to hear her threat Este*ban tossed his 
 arms above his head and fled from the room. Flinging 
 himself into the saddle, he spurred down the hill and 
 through the town to the Casino de Espanol, where he 
 spent the night at cards with the Spanish officials. But 
 he did not sell Evangelina. 
 
 In the days that followed many similar scenes occurred, 
 and as Este"ban's home life grew more unhappy his dis 
 sipations increased. He drank and gambled heavily; he 
 brought his friends to the quinta with him, and strove to 
 forget domestic unpleasantness in boisterous revelry. 
 
 His wife, however, found opportunities enough to weary 
 and exasperate him with reproaches regarding the slave 
 girl.
 
 II 
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 '"PHE twins were seven years old when Dona Isabel's 
 1 schemes bore their first bitter fruit, and the occasion 
 was a particularly uproarious night when Don Este"ban 
 entertained a crowd of his Castilian friends. Little Rosa 
 was awakened at a late hour by the laughter and shouts 
 of her father's guests. She was afraid, for there was 
 something strange about the voices, some quality to them 
 which was foreign to the child's experience. Creeping 
 into her brother's room, she awoke him, and together they 
 listened. 
 
 Don Mario de Castano was singing a song, the words of 
 which were lost, but which brought a yell of approval from 
 his companions. The twins distinguished the voice of 
 Don Pablo Peza, too Don Pablo, whose magnificent 
 black beard had so often excited their admiration. Yes, 
 and there was Col. Mendoza y Linares, doubtless in 
 his splendid uniform. These gentlemen were well and 
 favorably known to the boy and girl, yet Rosa began to 
 whimper, and when Est6ban tried to reassure her his own 
 voice was thin and reedy from fright. 
 
 In the midst of their agitation they heard some one 
 weeping; there came a rush of feet down the hallway, 
 and the next instant Evangelina flung herself into the 
 room. A summer moon flooded the chamber with ra 
 diance and enabled her to see the two small white figures 
 sitting up in the middle of the bed. 
 
 Evangelina fell upon her knees before them. "Little 
 
 14
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 master! Little mistress!" she sobbed. "You will save 
 me, won't you? We love each other, eh? See then, what 
 a crime this is! Say that you will save me!" She was 
 beside herself, and her voice was hoarse and cracked from 
 grief. She wrung her hands, she rocked herself from side 
 to side, she kissed the twins' nightgowns, tugging at them 
 convulsively. 
 
 The children were frightened, but they managed to 
 quaver: "What has happened? Who has harmed you?" 
 
 ' ' Don Pablo Peza, ' ' wept the negress. 4 ' Your father has 
 sold me to him lost me at cards. Oh, I shall die! 
 Sebastian won't believe it. He is praying. And Asen- 
 sio O God! But what can they do to help me? You 
 alone can save me. You won't let Don Pablo take me 
 away ? It would kill me. " 
 
 "Wait!" Este"ban scrambled out of bed and stood be 
 side his dusky nurse and playmate. ' ' Don't cry any more . 
 I'll tell papa that you don't like Don Pablo." 
 
 Rosa followed. "Yes, come along, brother," she cried, 
 shrilly. "We'll tell Don Pablo to go home and leave our 
 Evangelina." 
 
 "My blessed doves! But will they listen to you?" 
 moaned the slave. 
 
 "Papa does whatever we ask," they assured her, 
 gravely. "If he should growl we'll come back and hide 
 you in the big wardrobe where nobody will ever find you." 
 Then hand in hand, with their long nightgowns lifted to 
 their knees, they pattered out into the hall and down 
 toward the living-room, whence came the shouting and the 
 laughter. 
 
 Don Mario de Castano, who was facing the door, 
 stopped in the midst of a ribald song to cry: "God be 
 praised! What's this I see?" 
 
 The others looked and then burst into merriment, for 
 across the litter of cards and dice and empty glasses they 
 saw a dimpled girl and boy, as like as two peas. They
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 were just out of bed ; they were peering through the smoke, 
 and blinking like two little owls. Their evident embar 
 rassment amused the guests hugely. 
 
 "So! You awaken the household with your songs," 
 some one chided Don Mario. 
 
 "Two cherubs from heaven," another exclaimed. 
 
 And a third cried, "A toast to Este"ban's beautiful 
 children." 
 
 But the father lurched forward, a frown upon his face. 
 "What is this, my dears?" he inquired, thickly. "Run 
 back to your beds. This is no place for you." 
 
 "We love Evangelina," piped the twins. "You must 
 not let Don Pablo have her if you please." 
 
 "Evangelina?" 
 
 They nodded. "We love her. . . . She plays with us 
 every day. . . . We want her to stay here. . . . She belongs 
 to us." 
 
 Accustomed as they were to prompt compliance with 
 their demands, they spoke imperiously; but they had 
 never seen a frown like this upon their father's face, and 
 at his refusal their voices grew squeaky with excitement 
 and uncertainty. 
 
 "Go to your rooms, my sweethearts," Don Esteban 
 directed, finally. 
 
 "We want Evangelina. She belongs to us," they 
 chorused, stubbornly. 
 
 Don Pablo shook with laughter. " So ! She belongs to 
 you, eh? And I'm to be robbed of my winnings. Very 
 well, then, come and give me a kiss, both of you, and 
 I'll see what can be done." 
 
 But the children saw that Don Pablo's face was strangely 
 flushed, that his eyes were wild and his magnificent 
 beard was wet with wine; therefore they hung back. 
 
 "You won your bet fairly," Este"ban growled at him. 
 "Pay no heed to these babies." 
 
 "Evangelina is ours," the little ones bravely repeated. 
 
 16
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 Then their father exploded: "The devil! Am I 
 dreaming? Where have you learned to oppose me? 
 Back to your beds, both of you." Seeing them hesitate, 
 he shouted for his wife. "Ho, there! Isabel, my love! 
 Come put these imps to rest. Or must I teach them 
 manners with my palm? A fine thing, truly! Are they 
 to be allowed to roam the house at will and get a fever?" 
 
 Mere mention of their stepmother's name was enough 
 for Rosa and Est6ban; they scuttled away as fast as they 
 could go, and when Dona Isabel came to their rooms, a few 
 moments later, she found them in their beds, with their 
 eyes deceitfully squeezed shut. Evangelina was cowering 
 in a corner. Isabel had overheard the wager, and her 
 soul was evilly alight; she jerked the slave girl to her feet 
 and with a blow of her palm sent her to her quarters. 
 Then she turned her attention to the twins. When she 
 left them they were weeping silently, both for themselves 
 and for Evangelina, whom they dearly loved. 
 
 Meanwhile Don Mario had resumed his singing. 
 
 Day was breaking when Esteban Varona bade his 
 guests good-by at the door of his house. As he 
 stood there Sebastian came to him out of the mists 
 of the dawn. The old man had been waiting for 
 hours. He was half crazed from apprehension, and 
 now cast himself prone before his master, begging for 
 Evangelina. 
 
 Don Pablo, in whom the liquor was dying, cursed im 
 patiently: "Caramba! Have I won the treasure of your 
 whole establishment?" he inquired. "Perhaps you value 
 this wench at more than a thousand pesos; if so, you will 
 say that I cheated you." 
 
 "No! She's only an ordinary girl. My wife doesn't 
 like her, and so I determined to get rid of her. She is 
 yours, fairly enough," Varona told him. 
 
 "Then send her to my house. I'll breed her to Salva 
 dor, my cochero. He's the strongest man I have." 
 
 17
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Sebastian uttered a strangled cry and rose to his feet. 
 ' ' Master ! You must not ' ' 
 
 "Silence!" ordered Este*ban. Wine never agreed with 
 him, and this morning its effects, combined with his losses 
 at gambling, had put him in a nasty temper. "Go 
 about your business. What do you mean by this, any 
 how?" he shouted. 
 
 But Sebastian, dazed of mind and sick of soul, went on, 
 unheeding. "She is my girl. You promised me her 
 freedom. I warn you " 
 
 "Eh?" The planter swayed forward and with blazing 
 eyes surveyed his slave. Este"ban knew that he had done 
 a foul thing in risking the girl upon the turn of a card, 
 and an inner voice warned him that he would repent his 
 action when he became sober, but in his present mood this 
 very knowledge enraged him the more. "You warn 
 me? Of what?" he growled. 
 
 At this moment neither master nor man knew exactly 
 what he said or did. Sebastian raised his hand on high. 
 In reality the gesture was meant to call Heaven as a 
 witness to his years of faithful service, but, misconstruing 
 his intent, Pablo Peza brought his riding-whip down across 
 the old man's back, crying: 
 
 "Ho! None of that." 
 
 A shudder ran through Sebastian's frame. Whirling, 
 he seized Don Pablo's wrist and tore the whip from his 
 fingers. Although the Spaniard was a strong man, he 
 uttered a cry of pain. 
 
 At this indignity to a guest Est^ban flew into a fury. 
 "Pancho!" he cried. "Ho! Pancho!" When the 
 manager came running, Esteban explained: "This fool 
 is dangerous. He raised his hand to me and to Don 
 Pablo." 
 
 Sebastian's protests were drowned by the angry voices 
 of the others. 
 
 "Tie him to yonder grating," directed Esteban, who 
 
 18
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 was still in the grip of a senseless rage. "Flog him well 
 and make haste about it." 
 
 Sebastian, who had no time in which to recover himself, 
 made but a weak resistance when Pancho Cueto locked 
 his wrists into a pair of clumsy, old-fashioned manacles, 
 first passing the chain around one of the bars of the iron 
 window-grating which Este"ban had indicated. Sebastian 
 felt that his whole world was tumbling about his ears. 
 He thought he must be dreaming. 
 
 Cueto swung a heavy lash; the sound of his blows 
 echoed through the quinta, and they summoned, among 
 others, Dona Isabel, who watched the scene from behind 
 her shutter with much satisfaction. The guests looked on 
 approvingly. 
 
 Sebastian made no outcry. The face he turned to his 
 master, however, was puckered with reproach and bewil 
 derment. The whip bit deep; it drew blood and raised 
 welts the thickness of one's thumb; nevertheless, for the 
 first few moments the victim suffered less in body than 
 in spirit. His brain was so benumbed, so shocked with 
 other excitations, that he was well-nigh insensible to 
 physical pain. That Evangelina, flesh of his flesh, had 
 been sold, that his lifelong faithfulness had brought such 
 reward as this, that Esteban, light of his soul, had turned 
 against him all this was simply astounding. More 
 his simple mind could not compass for the moment. 
 Gradually, however, he began to resent the shrieking 
 injustice of it all, and unsuspected forces gathered inside 
 of him. They grew until his frame was shaken by prim 
 itive savage impulses. 
 
 After a time Don Esteban cried: "That will do, 
 Cueto! Leave him now for the flies to punish. They 
 will remind him of his insolence." 
 
 Then the guests departed, and Esteban staggered into 
 the house and went to bed. 
 
 All that morning Sebastian stood with his hands chained 
 
 19
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 high over his head. The sun grew hotter and ever hotter 
 upon his lacerated back: the blood dried and clotted 
 there; a cloud of flies gathered, swarming over the raw 
 gashes left by Cueto's whip. 
 
 Before leaving for Don Pablo's quinta Evangelina came 
 to bid her father an agonized farewell, and for a long time 
 after she had gone the old man stood motionless, sense 
 less, scarcely breathing. Nor did the other slaves ven 
 ture to approach him to offer sympathy or succor. They 
 passed with heads averted and with fear in their hearts. 
 
 Since Don Este"ban's nerves, or perhaps it was his con 
 science, did not permit him to sleep, he arose about noon 
 time and dressed himself. He was still drunk, and the 
 mad rage of the early morning still possessed him ; there 
 fore, when he mounted his horse he pretended not to see 
 the figure chained to the window-grating. Sebastian's 
 affection for his master was doglike and he had taken his 
 punishment as a dog takes his, more in surprise than in 
 anger, but at this proof of callous indifference a fire 
 kindled in the old fellow's breast, hotter by far than the 
 fever from his fly-blown scores. He was thirsty, too, but 
 that was the least of his sufferings. 
 
 Sometime during the afternoon the negro heard himself 
 addressed through the window against the bars of which 
 he leaned. The speaker was Dona Isabel. She had 
 waited patiently until she knew he must be faint from 
 exhaustion and then she had let herself into the room 
 behind the grating, whence she could talk to him without 
 fear of observation. 
 
 "Do you suffer, Sebastian?" she began in a tone of 
 gentleness and pity. 
 
 "Yes, mistress." The speaker's tongue was thick and 
 swollen. 
 
 "La! La! What a crime! And you the most faithful 
 slave in all Cuba!" 
 
 "Yes, mistress." 
 
 20
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 "Can I help you?" 
 
 The negro raised his head; he shook his body to rid 
 himself of the insects which were devouring him. 
 
 "Give me a drink of water," he said, hoarsely. 
 
 " Surely, a great gourdful, all cool and dripping from the 
 well. But first I want you to tell me something. Come 
 now, let us have an understanding with each other." 
 
 "A drink, for the love of Christ," panted the old man, 
 and Dona Isabel saw how cracked and dry were his 
 thick lips, how near the torture had come to prostrating 
 him. 
 
 "I'll do more," she promised, and her voice was like 
 honey. "I'll tell Pancho Cueto to unlock you, even if 
 I risk Este'ban's anger by so doing. You have suffered 
 too much, my good fellow. Indeed you have. Well, I 
 can help you now and in the future, or I can make your 
 life just such a misery as it has been to-day. Will you 
 be my friend? Will you tell me something?" She was 
 close to the window; her black eyes were gleaming; her 
 face was ablaze with greed. 
 
 "What can I tell you?" 
 
 "Oh, you know very well! I've asked it often enough, 
 but you have lied, just as my husband has lied to me. 
 He is a miser; he has no heart; he cares for nobody, as 
 you can see. You must hate him now, even as I hate 
 him." There was a silence during which Dona Isabel 
 tried to read the expression on that tortured face in the 
 sunlight. ' ' Do you ?' ' 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "Then tell me is there really a treasure, or ?" 
 The woman gasped; she choked; she could scarcely 
 force the question for fear of disappointment. "Tell me 
 there is, Sebastian." She clutched the bars and shook 
 them. "I've heard so many lies that I begin to doubt." 
 
 The old man nodded. "Oh yes, there is a treasure," 
 said he. 
 
 21
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 " God ! You have seen it ?" Isabel was trembling as if 
 with an ague. "What is it like? How much is there? 
 Good Sebastian, I'll give you water; I'll have you set 
 free if you tell me." 
 
 "How much? I don't know. But there is much 
 pieces of Spanish gold, silver coins in casks and in little 
 boxes the boxes are bound with iron and have hasps 
 and staples; bars of precious metal and little paper pack 
 ages of gems, all tied up and hidden in leather bags. ' ' Sebas 
 tian could hear his listener panting; her bloodless fin 
 gers were wrapped tightly around the bars above his head. 
 
 "Yes! Goon." 
 
 "There are ornaments, too. God knows they must 
 have come from heaven, they are so beautiful; and 
 pearls from the Caribbean as large as plums." 
 
 "Are you speaking the truth?" 
 
 "Every peso, every bar, every knickknack I have 
 handled with my own hands. Did I not make the hiding- 
 place all alone? Senora, everything is there just as I tell 
 you and more. The grants of title from the crown for 
 this quinta and the sugar-plantations, they are there, too. 
 Don Este"ban used to fear the government officials, so he 
 hid his papers securely. Without them the lands belong to 
 no one. You understand ?" 
 
 "Of course! Yes, yes! But the jewels God! where 
 are they hidden?" 
 
 "You would never guess!" Sebastian's voice gathered 
 strength. "Ten thousand men in ten thousand years 
 would never find the place, and nobody knows the secret 
 but Don Este"ban and me." 
 
 ' ' I believe you. I knew all the time it was here. Well ? 
 Where is it?" 
 
 Sebastian hesitated and said, piteously, "I am dying " 
 
 Isabel could scarcely contain herself. "I'll give you 
 water, but first tell me where where! God in heaven! 
 Can't you see that I, too, am perishing?" 
 
 22
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 " I must have a drink." 
 
 "Tell me first." 
 
 Sebastian lifted his head and, meeting the speaker's 
 eyes, laughed hoarsely. 
 
 At the sound of his unnatural merriment Isabel re 
 coiled as if stung. She stared at the slave's face in 
 amazement and then in fury. She stammered, in 
 coherently, "You you have been lying!" 
 
 "Oh no! The treasure is there, the greatest treasure 
 in all Cuba, but you shall never know where it is. I'll 
 see to that. It was you who sold my girl; it was you 
 who brought me to this; it was your hand that whipped 
 me. Well, I'll tell Don Este"ban how you tried to bribe 
 his secret from me! What do you think he'll do then? 
 Eh? You'll feel the lash on your white back " 
 
 "You fool!" Dona Isabel looked murder. "I'll pun 
 ish you for this; I'll make you speak if I have to rub 
 your wounds with salt." 
 
 But Sebastian closed his eyes wearily. "You can't 
 make me suffer more than I have suffered," he said. 
 "And now I curse you. May that treasure be the death 
 of you. May you live in torture like mine the rest of 
 your days; may your beauty turn to ugliness such that 
 men will spit at you; may you never know peace again 
 until you die in poverty and want " 
 
 But Dona Isabel, being superstitious, fled with her 
 fingers in her ears; nor did she undertake to make good 
 her barbarous threat, realizing opportunely that it would 
 only serve to betray her desperate intentions and put her 
 husband further on his guard. Instead she shut herself 
 into her room, where she paced the floor, racking her brain 
 to guess where the hiding-place could be or to devise 
 some means of silencing Sebastian's tongue. To feel 
 that she had been overmatched, to know that there was 
 indeed a treasure, to think that the two who knew where 
 it was had been laughing at her all this time, filled the 
 
 23
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 woman with an agony approaching that which Sebastian 
 suffered from his flies. 
 
 As the sun was sinking beyond the farther rim of the 
 Yumuri and the valley was beginning to fill with shadows 
 Este"ban Varona rode up the hill. His temper was more 
 evil than ever, if that were possible, for he had drunk 
 again in an effort to drown the memory of his earlier 
 actions. With him rode half a dozen or more of his 
 friends, coming to dine and put in another night at his 
 expense. There were Pablo Peza, and Mario de Castano, 
 once more; Col. Mendoza y Linares, old Pedro Miron, 
 the advocate, and others of less consequence, whom 
 Esteban had gathered from the Spanish Club. The host 
 dismounted and lurched across the courtyard to Sebastian. 
 
 "So, , my fine fellow," he began. "Have you had 
 enough of rebellion by this time?" 
 
 "Why did you have him flogged?" the advocate in 
 quired. 
 
 Esteban explained, briefly, "He dared to raise his hand 
 in anger against one of my guests." 
 
 Sebastian's face was working as he turned upon his 
 master to say: " I would be lying if I told you that I am 
 sorry for what I did. It is you have done wrong. Your 
 soul is black with this crime. Where is my girl?" 
 
 "The devil! To hear you talk one would think you 
 were a free man." The planter's eyes were bleared and 
 he brandished his riding-whip threateningly. "I do as 
 I please with my slaves. I tolerate no insolence. Your 
 girl? Well, she's in the house of Salvador, Don Pablo's 
 cochero, where she belongs. I've warned him that he will 
 have to tame her unruly spirit, as I have tamed yours." 
 
 Sebastian had hung sick and limp against the grating, 
 but at these words he suddenly roused. It was as if a 
 current of electricity had galvanized him. He strained 
 at his manacles and the bars groaned under his weight. 
 His eyes began to roll, his lips drew back over his blue 
 
 24
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 gums. Noting his expression of ferocity, Este"ban cut 
 at his naked back with the riding-whip, crying: 
 
 "Ho! Not subdued yet, eh? You need another 
 flogging." 
 
 "Curse you and all that is yours," roared the mad 
 dened slave. "May you know the misery you have put 
 upon me. May you rot for a million years in hell." 
 The whip was rising and falling now, for Este"ban had lost 
 what little self-control the liquor had left to him. " May 
 your children's bodies grow filthy with disease; may 
 they starve; may they " 
 
 Sebastian was yelling, though his voice was hoarse with 
 pain. The lash drew blood with every blow. Meanwhile, 
 he wrenched and tugged at his bonds with the fury of a 
 maniac. 
 
 "Pablo! Your machete, quick!" panted the slave 
 owner. "God's blood! I'll make an end of this black 
 fiend, once for all." 
 
 Este"ban Varona's guests had looked on at the scene 
 with the same mild interest they would display at the 
 whipping of a balky horse: and, now that the animal 
 threatened to become dangerous, it was in their view 
 quite the proper thing to put it out of the way. Don 
 Pablo Peza stepped toward his mare to draw the machete 
 from its scabbard. But he did not hand it to his friend. 
 He heard a shout, and turned in time to see a wonderful 
 and a terrible thing. 
 
 Sebastian had braced his naked feet against the wall; 
 he had bowed his back and bent his massive shoulders 
 a back and a pair of shoulders that looked as bony and 
 muscular as those of an ox and he was heaving with 
 every ounce of strength in his enormous body. As 
 Pablo stared he saw the heavy grating come away from 
 its anchorage in the solid masonry, as a shrub is uprooted 
 from soft ground. The rods bent and twisted; there was 
 a clank and rattle and clash of metal upon the flags; 
 3 25
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 and then Sebastian turned upon his tormentor, a free 
 man, save only for the wide iron bracelets and their con 
 necting chain. He was quite insane. His face was 
 frightful to behold; it was apelike in its animal rage, and 
 he towered above his master like some fabled creature 
 out of the African jungle of his forefathers. 
 
 Sebastian's fists alone would have been formidable 
 weapons, but they were armored and weighted with the 
 old-fashioned, hand-wrought irons which Pancho Cueto 
 had locked upon them. Wrapping the chain in his fingers, 
 the slave leaped at Este*ban and struck, once. The sound 
 of the blow was sickening, for the whole bony structure of 
 Esteban Varona's head gave way. 
 
 There was a horrified cry from the other white men. 
 Don Pablo Peza ran forward, shouting. He swung his 
 machete, but Sebastian met him before the blow could 
 descend, and they went down together upon the hard 
 stones. Again Sebastian smote, with his massive hands 
 wrapped in the chain and his wrists encased in steel, and 
 this time it was as if Don Pablo's head had been caught 
 between a hammer and an anvil. The negro's strength, 
 exceptional at all times, was multiplied tenfold; he had 
 run amuck. When he arose the machete was in his grasp 
 and Don Pablo's brains were on his knuckles. 
 
 It all happened in far less time than it takes to tell. 
 The onlookers had not yet recovered from their first 
 consternation; in fact they were still fumbling and tugging 
 at whatever weapons they carried when Sebastian came 
 toward them, brandishing the blade on high. Pedro 
 Miron, the advocate, was the third to fall. He tried to 
 scramble out of the negro's path, but, being an old man, 
 his limbs were too stiff to serve him and he went down 
 shrieking. 
 
 By now the horses had caught the scent of hot blood 
 and were plunging furiously, the clatter of their hoofs 
 mingling with the blasphemies of the riders, while Se- 
 
 26
 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 
 bastian's bestial roaring made the commotion even more 
 hideous. 
 
 Este"ban's guests fought as much for their lives as for 
 vengeance upon the slayer, for Sebastian was like a 
 gorilla; he seemed intent upon killing them all. He 
 vented his fury upon whatever came within his reach; 
 he struck at men and animals alike, and the shrieks of 
 wounded horses added to the din. 
 
 It was a frightful combat. It seemed incredible that 
 one man could work such dreadful havoc in so short a 
 time. Varona and two of his friends were dead; two 
 more were badly wounded, and a Peruvian stallion lay 
 kicking on the flagging when Col. Mendoza y Linares 
 finally managed to get a bullet home in the black man's 
 brain. 
 
 Those who came running to learn the cause of the hub 
 bub turned away sick and pallid, for the paved yard was 
 a shambles. Pancho Cueto called upon the slaves to help 
 him, but they slunk back to their quarters, dumb with 
 terror and dismay. 
 
 All that night people from the town below came and 
 went and the quinta resounded to sobs and lamentations, 
 but of all the relatives of the dead and wounded, Dona 
 Isabel took her bereavement hardest. Strange to say, 
 she could not be comforted. She wept, she screamed, 
 she tore her hair, tasting the full nauseousness of the 
 cup her own avarice had prepared. Now, when it was 
 too late, she realized that she had overreached herself, 
 having caused the death of the only two who knew the 
 secret of the treasure. She remembered, also, Sebastian's 
 statement that even the deeds of patent for the land were 
 hidden with the rest, where ten thousand men in ten 
 thousand years could never fimd them. 
 
 Impressed by her manifestations of grief, Este"ban's 
 friends reasoned that the widow must have loved her hus 
 band dearly. They told one another they had wronged her. 
 
 27
 
 Ill 
 
 "THE O'REILLY" 
 
 AGE and easy living had caused Don Mario de Castano, 
 the sugar merchant, to take on weight. He had, in 
 truth, become so fat that he waddled like a penguin when 
 he walked; and when he rode, the springs of his French 
 victoria gave up in despair. They glued themselves to 
 gether, face to face, and Don Mario felt every rut and 
 every rock in the road. Nor was the merchant any less 
 heavy in mind than in body, for he was both very rich 
 and very serious, and nothing is more ponderous than a 
 rich, fat man who takes his riches and his fatness seriously. 
 In disposition Don Mario was practical and unromantic ; 
 he boasted that he had never had an illusion, never an 
 interest outside of his business. And yet, on the day 
 this story opens, this prosaic personage, in spite of his 
 bulging waistband and his taut neckband, in spite of his 
 short breath and his prickly heat, was in a very whirl 
 of pleasurable excitement. Don Mario, in fact, suffered 
 the greatest of all illusions: he was in love, and he be 
 lieved himself beloved. The object of his adoration was 
 little Rosa Varona, the daughter of his one-time friend 
 Esteban. At thought of her the planter glowed with 
 ardor at any rate he took it to be ardor, although it 
 might have been the fever from that summer rash which 
 so afflicted him and his heart fluttered in a way dangerous 
 to one of his apoplectic tendencies. To be sure, he had 
 met Rosa only twice since her return from her Yankee 
 
 28
 
 'THE O'REILLY' 
 
 school, but twice had been enough; with prompt decision 
 he had resolved to do her the honor of making her his wife. 
 
 Now, with a person of Don Mario's importance, to de 
 cide for himself is to decide for others, and inasmuch as he 
 knew that Dona Isabel, Rosa's stepmother, was notori 
 ously mercenary and had not done at all well since her 
 husband's death, it did not occur to him to doubt that 
 his suit would prosper. It was, in fact, to make terms 
 with her that he rode forth in the heat of this particular 
 afternoon. 
 
 Notwithstanding the rivulets of perspiration that were 
 coursing down every fold of his flesh, and regardless of 
 the fact that the body of his victoria was tipped at a 
 drunken angle, as if struggling to escape the burdens of 
 his great weight, Don Mario felt a jauntiness of body and 
 of spirit almost like that of youth. He saw himself as a 
 splendid prince riding toward the humble home of some 
 obscure maiden whom he had graciously chosen to be his 
 mate. 
 
 His arrival threw Dona Isabel into a flutter; the woman 
 could scarcely contain her curiosity when she came to 
 meet him, for he was not the sort of man to inconvenience 
 himself by mere social visits. Their first formal greetings 
 over, Don Mario surveyed the bare living-room and re 
 marked, lugubriously: 
 
 " I see many changes here." 
 
 "No doubt," the widow agreed. "Times have been 
 hard since poor Este"ban's death." 
 
 "What a terrible calamity that was! I shudder when 
 I think of it," said he. "I was his guest on the night 
 previous, you remember? In fact, I witnessed his wager 
 of the negro girl, Evangelina the root of the whole 
 tragedy. Well, well! Who would have believed that old 
 slave, her father, would have run mad at losing her? 
 A shocking affair, truly ! and one I shall never get out of 
 my mind." 
 
 29
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Shocking, yes. But what do you think of a rich man, 
 like Este"ban, who would leave his family destitute? 
 Who would die without revealing the place where he had 
 stored his treasure?" 
 
 Dona Isabel, it was plain, felt her wrongs keenly; she 
 spoke with as much spirit as if her husband had per 
 mitted himself to be killed purely out of spite toward her. 
 
 De Castano shook his round bullet head, saying with 
 some impatience: "You still believe in that treasure, eh? 
 My dear sefiora, the only treasure Varona left was his 
 adorable children and your admirable self." Immedi 
 ately the speaker regretted his words, for he remembered, 
 too late, that Dona Isabel was reputed to be a trifle un 
 balanced on this subject of the Varona treasure. 
 
 "I do not believe; / know!" the widow answered, with 
 more than necessary vehemence. "What became of all 
 Este"ban's money if he did not bury it? He never gave 
 any to me, for he was a miser. You know, as well as I, 
 that he carried on a stupendous business in slaves and 
 sugar, and it was common knowledge that he hid every 
 peso for fear of his enemies. But where? Where? That 
 is the question." 
 
 "You, if any one, should know, after all the years you 
 have spent in hunting for it," the merchant observed. 
 "Dios mio! Almost before Este*ban was buried you 
 began the search. People said you were going to tear 
 this house down." 
 
 "Well, I never found a trace. I had holes dug in the 
 gardens, too." 
 
 "You see? No, sefiora, it is possible to hide anything 
 except money. No man can conceal that where another 
 will not find it." 
 
 Isabel's face had grown hard and avaricious, even dur 
 ing this brief talk; her eyes were glowing; plainly she was 
 as far as ever from giving up her long-cherished conviction. 
 
 "I don't ask anybody to believe the story," she said, 
 
 30
 
 'THE O'REILLY' 
 
 resentfully. "All the same, it is true. There are pieces 
 of Spanish gold and silver coins, in boxes bound with iron 
 and fitted with hasps and staples; packages of gems; 
 pearls from the Caribbean as large as plums. Oh! 
 Sebastian told me all about it." 
 
 v Of course, of course! I shall not argue the matter." 
 Don Mario dismissed the subject with a wave of his 
 plump hand. "Now, Dona Isabel " 
 
 "As if it were not enough to lose that treasure," the 
 widow continued, stormily, "the Government must free 
 all our slaves. Tse! Tse! And now that there is no 
 longer a profit in sugar, my plantations " 
 
 "No profit in sugar? What are you saying?" queried 
 the caller. 
 
 "Oh, you have a way of prospering! What touches 
 your fingers turns to gold. But you are not at the mercy 
 of an administrador." 
 
 "Precisely! I am my own manager. If your crops do 
 not pay, then Pancho Cueto is cheating you. He is 
 capable of it. Get rid of him. But I didn't come here to 
 talk about Este"ban's hidden treasure, nor his plantations, 
 nor Pancho Cueto. I came here to talk about your step 
 daughter, Rosa." 
 
 "So?" Dona Isabel looked up quickly. 
 
 "She interests me. She is more beautiful than the 
 stars." Don Mario rolled his eyes toward the high ceil 
 ing, which, like the sky, was tinted a vivid cerulean blue. 
 "She personifies every virtue; she is delectable." He 
 pursed his wet lips, daintily picked a kiss from between 
 them with his thumb and finger, and snapped it into the 
 air. 
 
 Inasmuch as Isabel had always hated the girl venom 
 ously, she did not trust herself to comment upon her 
 caller's enthusiasm. 
 
 "She is now eighteen," the fat suitor went on, ecstatic 
 ally, "and so altogether charming But why waste
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 time in pretty speeches? I have decided to marry 
 her." 
 
 De Castano plucked a heavily scented silk handkerchief 
 from his pocket and wiped a beading of moisture from his 
 brow and upper lip. He had a habit of perspiring when 
 roused from his usual lethargy. 
 
 "Rosa has a will of her own," guardedly ventured the 
 stepmother. 
 
 Don Mario broke out, testily: "Naturally; so have we 
 all. Now let us speak plainly. You know me. I am a 
 person of importance. I am rich enough to afford what I 
 want, and I pay well. You understand ? Well, then, you 
 are Rosa's guardian and you can bend her to your de 
 sires." 
 
 "If that were only so!" exclaimed the woman. "She 
 and Este"ban what children! What tempers! Just like 
 their father's! They have never liked me; they disobey 
 me at every opportunity; they exercise the most dia 
 bolical ingenuity in making my life miserable. They were 
 to be their father's heirs, you know, and they blame me 
 for his death, for our poverty, and for all the other misfor 
 tunes that have overtaken us. We live like cats and dogs." 
 
 Don Mario had been drumming his fat fingers impa 
 tiently upon the arm of his chair. Now he exclaimed: 
 
 "Your pardon, senora, but I am just now very little 
 interested in your domestic relations; they do not thrill 
 me as my own prospective happiness does. What you 
 say about Rosa only makes me more eager, for I loathe 
 a sleepy woman. Now tell me, is she Has she any 
 affairs of the heart?" 
 
 "N-no, unless perhaps a flirtation with that young 
 American, Juan O'Reilly." Dona Isabel gave the name 
 its Spanish pronunciation of "O'Rail-ye." 
 
 "Juan O'Reilly? O'Reilly? Oh yes! But what has 
 he to offer a woman? He is little more than a clerk." 
 
 "That is what I tell her. Oh, it hasn't gone far as yet." 
 
 32
 
 'THE O'REILLY' 
 
 "Good!" Don Mario rose to leave, for the exertion of 
 his ride had made him thirsty. "You may name your 
 own reward for helping me and I will pay it the day Rosa 
 marries me. Now kindly advise her of my intentions and 
 tell her I shall come to see her soon." 
 
 It was quite true that Johnnie O'Reilly or "The 
 O'Reilly," as his friends called him had little in the way 
 of worldly advantage to offer any girl, and it wasf pre 
 cisely because of this fact that he had accepted a position 
 here in Cuba, where, from the very nature of things, pro 
 motion was likely to be more rapid than in the New York 
 office of his firm. He had come to this out-of-the-way 
 place prepared to live the lonely life of an exile, if an 
 O'Reilly could be lonely anywhere, and for a brief time 
 he had been glum enough. 
 
 But the O'Reillys, from time immemorial, had been 
 born and bred to exile ; it was their breath, their meat and 
 drink, and this particular member of the clan thrived 
 upon it quite as well as had the other Johnnies and 
 Michaels and Andys who had journeyed to far shores. 
 The O'Reillys were audacious men, a bit too heedless 
 of their own good, perhaps ; a bit too light-hearted readily 
 to impress a grave world with their varied abilities, but 
 sterling men, for all that, ambitious men, men with lime 
 in their bones and possessed of a high and ready chivalry 
 that made friends for them wherever their wandering 
 feet strayed. Spain, France, and the two Americas had 
 welcomed O'Reillys of one sort or another; even Cuba 
 had the family name written large upon her scroll. So 
 Johnnie, of New York and Matanzas, although at first 
 he felt himself a stranger in a strange land, was not so 
 considered by the Cubans. 
 
 A dancing eye speaks every language; a singing heart 
 gathers its own audience. Before the young Irish- 
 American had more than a bowing acquaintance with the 
 
 33
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 commonest Spanish verbs he had a calling acquaintance 
 with some of the most exclusive people of Matanzas. 
 He puzzled them, to be sure, for they could not fathom 
 the reason for his ever-bubbling gladness, but they strove 
 to catch its secret, and, striving, they made friends with 
 him. O'Reilly did not puzzle their daughters nearly so 
 much: more than one aristocratic senorita felt sure that 
 she quite understood the tall, blond stranger with the 
 laughing eyes, or could understand him if he gave her 
 half a chance, and so, as had been the case with other 
 O'Reillys in other lands, Johnnie's exile became no exile 
 at all. He had adjusted himself serenely to his surround 
 ings when Rosa Varona returned from school, but with 
 her coming, away went all his complacency. His con 
 tentment vanished; he experienced a total change in his 
 opinions, his hopes, and his ambitions. 
 
 He discovered, for example, that Matanzas was by no 
 means the out-of-the-way place he had considered it; 
 on the contrary, after meeting Rosa once by accident, 
 twice by design, and three times by mutual arrangement, 
 it had dawned upon him that this was the chief city of 
 Cuba, if not, perhaps, the hub around which the whole 
 world revolved; certainly it was the most agreeable of 
 all cities, since it contained everything that was neces 
 sary for man's happiness. Yet, despite the thrill of his 
 awakening, O'Reilly was not at all pleased with himself, 
 for, as it happened, there was another girl back home, 
 and during his first year of loneliness he had written to her 
 more freely and more frequently than any man on such a 
 salary as his had a right to do. 
 
 O'Reilly laid no claims to literary gifts; nevertheless, it 
 seemed to him, as he looked back upon it, that his pen 
 must have been dipped in magic and in moonlight, for the 
 girl had expressed an eager willingness to share his inter 
 esting economic problems, and in fact was waiting for him 
 to give her the legal right. Inasmuch as her father was 
 
 34
 
 'THE O'REILLY' 
 
 O'Reilly's "Company" it may be seen that Rosa Varona's 
 home-coming seriously complicated matters, not only from 
 a sentimental, but from a business standpoint. 
 
 It was in a thoughtful mood that he rode up La Cumbre 
 toward the Quinta de Esttban, late on the afternoon of 
 Don Mario's visit. Instead of going directly to the 
 house as the merchant had done, O'Reilly turned off from 
 the road and, after tethering his horse in a cluster of guava- 
 bushes, proceeded on foot. He did not like Dona Isabel, 
 nor did Dona Isabel like him. Moreover, he had a 
 particular reason for avoiding her to-day. 
 
 Just inside the Varona premises he paused an instant to 
 admire the outlook. The quinta commanded an excel 
 lent view of the Yumuri, on the one hand, and of the town 
 and harbor on the other; no one ever climbed the hill 
 from the city to gaze over into that hidden valley without 
 feeling a pleasurable surprise at finding it still there. We 
 are accustomed to think of perfect beauty as unsub 
 stantial, evanescent ; but the Yumuri never changed, and 
 in that lay its supremest wonder. 
 
 Through what had once been well-tended grounds, 
 O'Reilly made his way to a sort of sunken garden which, 
 in spite of neglect, still remained the most charming nook 
 upon the place; and there he sat down to wait for Rosa. 
 The hollow was effectually screened from view by a growth 
 of plantain, palm, orange, and tamarind trees; over the 
 rocky walls ran a profusion of flowering plants and vines; 
 in the center of the open space was an old well, its ma 
 sonry curb all but crumbled away. 
 
 When Rosa at last appeared, O'Reilly felt called 
 upon to tell her, somewhat dizzily, that she was beyond 
 doubt the sweetest flower on all the Quinta dc Esteban, 
 and since this somewhat hackneyed remark was the 
 boldest speech he had ever made to her, she blushed 
 prettily, flashing him a dimpled smile of mingled pleasure 
 and surprise. 
 
 35
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 " Oh, but I assure you I'm in no sweet temper," said she. 
 "Just now I'm tremendously angry." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "It's that stepmother Isabel." 
 
 "So! You've been quarreling again, eh? Well, she's 
 the easiest woman in all Matanzas to quarrel with 
 perhaps the only one who doesn't see something good in 
 me. I'm afraid to talk to her for fear she'd convince me 
 I'm wholly abominable." 
 
 Rosa laughed, showing her fine, regular teeth O'Reilly 
 thought he had never seen teeth so even and white. 
 "Yes, she is a difficult person. If she dreamed that I 
 see you as often as I do Well " Rosa lifted her 
 eloquent hands and eyes heavenward. "I suppose that's 
 why I enjoy doing it I so dearly love to spite her." 
 
 "I see!" O'Reilly puckered his brows and nodded. 
 "But why, in that case, haven't you seen me oftener? 
 We might just as well have made the good lady's life 
 totally unbearable." 
 
 "Silly! She knows nothing about it." With a flirta 
 tious sigh Rosa added: "That's what robs the affair of its 
 chief pleasure. Since it does not bother her in the least, 
 I think I will not allow you to come any more." 
 
 After judicious consideration, O'Reilly pretended to 
 agree. 
 
 "There's no fun in wreaking a horrible revenge, when 
 your enemy isn't wise to it," he acknowledged. "Since 
 it's your idea to irritate your stepmother, perhaps it would 
 annoy her more if I made love directly to her." 
 
 Rosa tittered, and then inquired, naively, "Can you 
 make love, senor?" 
 
 "Can I? It's the one ability an O'Reilly inherits. 
 Listen to this now." Reaching forth, he took Rosa's 
 fingers in his. "Wait!" he cried as she resisted. "Pre 
 tend that you're Mrs. Varona, your own stepmother, and 
 that this is her dimpled hand I'm holding." 
 
 36
 
 'THE O'REILLY' 
 
 "Oh-h!" The girl allowed his grasp to remain. "But 
 Isabel's hand isn't dimpled: it's thin and bony. I've felt 
 it on my ears often enough." 
 
 "Don't interrupt," he told her. "Isabel, my little 
 darling " 
 
 " ' Little' ! La! La! She's as tall and ugly as a chimney." 
 
 " Hush ! I've held my tongue as long as I can, but now 
 it's running away of its own accord, and I must tell you 
 how mad I am about you. The first time I saw you 
 it was at the ball in the Spanish Club " Again Rosa 
 drew away sharply, at which O'Reilly laid his other hand 
 over the one in his palm, saying, quickly: "You and your 
 stepdaughter, Rosa. Do you remember that first waltz 
 of ours ? Sure, I thought I was in heaven, with you in my 
 arms and your eyes shining into mine, and I told you so." 
 
 "So you make the same pretty speeches to all women, 
 eh?" the girl reproached him. 
 
 "Isabel, sweetheart, I lose my breath when I think of 
 you; my lips pucker up for kisses " 
 
 "'Isabel'!" exclaimed a voice, and the lovers started 
 guiltily apart. They turned to find Este"ban, Rosa's twin 
 brother, staring at them oddly. "Isabel?" he repeated. 
 "What's this?" 
 
 "You interrupted our theatricals. I was rehearsing an 
 impassioned proposal to your beloved stepmother," 
 O'Reilly explained, with a pretense of annoyance. 
 
 "Yes, Senor O'Reilly believes he can infuriate Isabel 
 by laying siege to her. He's a foolish person 
 Rosa's cheeks were faintly flushed and her color deepened 
 at the amusement in Este"ban's eyes. "He makes love 
 wretchedly." 
 
 "What little I overheard wasn't bad," Este"ban de- 
 declared; then he took O'Reilly's hand. 
 
 Esteban was a handsome boy, straight, slim, and 
 manly, and his resemblance to Rosa was startling. With 
 a look engaging in its frank directness, he said: "Rosa 
 
 37
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 told me about your meetings here and I came to apologize 
 for our stepmother's discourtesy. I'm sorry we can't 
 invite you into our house, but you understand? Rosa 
 and I are not like her; we are quite liberal in our views; 
 we are almost Americans, as you see. I dare say that's 
 what makes Isabel hate Americans so bitterly." 
 
 "Wouldn't it please her to know that I'm becoming 
 Cubanized as fast as ever I can?" ventured the caller. 
 
 "Oh, she hates Cubans, too!" laughed the brother. 
 "She's Spanish, you know. Well, it's fortunate you 
 didn't see her to-day. Br-r! What a temper! We had 
 our theatricals, too. I asked her for money, as usual, and, 
 as usual, she refused. It was like a scene from a play. 
 She'll walk in her sleep to-night, if ever." 
 
 Rosa nodded soberly, and O'Reilly, suppressing some 
 light reply that had sprung to his lips, inquired, curiously, 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 Brother and sister joined in explaining that Dona Isabel 
 was given to peculiar actions, especially after periods of 
 excitement or anger, and that one of her eccentricities had 
 taken the form of somnambulistic wanderings. ' ' Oh, she's 
 crazy enough," Este"ban concluded. "I believe it's her 
 evil conscience." 
 
 Rosa explained further: "She used to steal about at 
 night, hoping to surprise papa or Sebastian going or coming 
 from the treasure. They were both killed, as you know, 
 and the secret of the hiding-place was lost. Now Isabel 
 declares that they come to her in her sleep and that she 
 has to help them hunt for it, whether she wishes or not. 
 It is retribution." The speaker drew up her shoulders 
 and shivered, but Este"ban smiled. 
 
 "Bah!" he exclaimed. "I'll believe in ghosts when I 
 see one." Then, with a shake of his head: "Isabel has 
 never given up the hope of finding that treasure. She 
 would like to see Rosa married, and me fighting with the In- 
 surrectos, so that she might have a free hand in her search." 
 
 38
 
 "THE O'REILLY' 
 
 O'Reilly scanned the speaker silently for a moment; 
 then he said, with a gravity unusual in him, "I wonder if 
 you know that you're suspected of working for the 
 Insurrecto cause." 
 
 "Indeed? I didn't know." 
 
 "Well, it's a fact." O'Reilly heard Rosa gasp faintly. 
 "Is it truer" he asked. 
 
 "I am a Cuban." Este"ban's smile was a trifle grim. 
 
 "Cuban? Your people were Spanish." 
 
 "True. But no Spaniard ever raised a Spanish child in 
 Cuba. We are Cubans, Rosa and I." 
 
 At this statement the sister cried: "Hush! It is dan 
 gerous to speak in that way, with this new war growing 
 every day." 
 
 "But O'Reilly is our good friend," Este"ban protested. 
 
 "Of course I am," the American agreed, "and for that 
 reason I spoke. I hope you're not too deeply involved 
 with the rebels." 
 
 "There, Est^ban! Do you hear?" Turning to O'Reilly, 
 Rosa said, imploringly: "Please reason with him. He's 
 young and headstrong and he won't listen to me." 
 
 Este"ban frowned. "Young, eh? Well, sometimes the 
 young are called upon to do work that older men wouldn't 
 care to undertake." 
 
 "What work?" O'Reilly's eyes were still upon him. 
 "You can tell me." 
 
 " I think I can," the other agreed. "Well, then, I know 
 everybody in Matanzas; I go everywhere, and the 
 Spanish officers talk plainly before me. Somebody must 
 be the eyes and the ears for Colonel Lopez." 
 
 "Colonel Lopez!" exclaimed O'Reilly. 
 
 Este"ban nodded. 
 
 Rosa's face, as she looked at the two men, was white 
 and worried. For a time the three of them sat silent; 
 then the American said, slowly, "You'll be shot if you're 
 caught." 
 
 39
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Rosa whispered: "Yes! Think of it!" 
 
 "Some one must run chances," "Esteban averred. 
 "We're fighting tyranny; all Cuba is ablaze. I must do 
 my part." 
 
 "But sooner or later you'll be discovered then what?" 
 persisted O'Reilly. 
 
 Est6ban shrugged. "Who knows? There'll be time 
 enough when " 
 
 "What of Rosa?" 
 
 At this question the brother stirred uneasily and 
 dropped his eyes. O'Reilly laid a hand upon his arm. 
 "You have no right to jeopardize her safety. Without 
 you, to whom could she turn?" The girl flashed her ad 
 mirer a grateful glance. 
 
 " Senor, you for one would see that she " 
 
 " But I'm going away." O'Reilly felt rather than saw 
 Rosa start, for his face was averted. Purposely he kept 
 his gaze upon Esteban, for he didn't wish to see the slow 
 pallor that rose in the girl's cheeks, the look of pain that 
 crept into her eyes. "I came here to tell you both good- 
 by. I may be gone for some time. I I don't know when 
 I can get back." 
 
 "I'm sorry," Este"ban told him, with genuine regret. 
 "We have grown very fond of you. You will leave many 
 friends here in Matanzas, I'm sure. But you will come 
 back before long, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, as soon as I can. That is, if " He did not 
 finish the sentence. 
 
 "Good. You're one of us. In the mean time I'll re 
 member what you say, and at least I'll be careful." By 
 no means wanting in tact, Esteban rose briskly and, after 
 shaking hands with O'Reilly, left the two lovers to say 
 farewell as best suited them. 
 
 But for once O'Reilly's ready tongue was silent. The 
 laughter was gone from his blue eyes when he turned to 
 the girl at his side. 
 
 40
 
 'THE O'REILLY' 
 
 "You say you are going away?" Rosa inquired, breath 
 lessly. "But why?" 
 
 "I'm going partly because of this war, and partly be 
 cause of something else. I tried to tell you yesterday, 
 but I couldn't. When the revolution started everybody 
 thought it was merely a local uprising, and I wrote my 
 company to that effect; but, bless you, it has spread like 
 fire, and now the whole eastern end of the island is ablaze." 
 
 "Este*ban says it will be more terrible than the Ten 
 Years' War." 
 
 "God forbid! And yet all the old fighters are back 
 again. Nobody believed that Maximo Gomez had re 
 turned, but it's true. And the Maceos are here, too, from 
 Costa Rica. Antonio has already gained control of most 
 of Santiago Province, and he's sweeping westward. Of 
 course the Spaniards minimize the reports of his success, 
 and we, here, don't understand what's really going on. 
 Anyhow, business has stopped, and my employers have 
 ordered me home to find out what's happened to their 
 profits. They seem to hold me personally responsible for 
 this insurrection." 
 
 "I see. And when you have told them the truth you 
 will come back. Is that it?" 
 
 "I Perhaps." 
 
 "You said there was something else " 
 
 O'Reilly's hesitation became an embarrassed silence. 
 He tried to laugh it off. 
 
 "There is, otherwise I'd stay right here and tell my 
 penurious friends to whistle for their profits. It seems 
 I'm cursed with a fatal beauty. You may have noticed 
 it? No? Well, perhaps it's a magnificent business 
 ability that I have. Anyhow, the president of my com 
 pany has a notion that I'd make him a good son- 
 in-law." 
 
 "I Oh!" cried Rosa. 
 
 And at her tone O'Reilly hurried on: 
 4 4i
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "These rich men have the most absurd ideas. I sup 
 pose I'll have to " 
 
 "Then you are in love, senor?" 
 
 The young man nodded vigorously. "Indeed I am 
 with the sweetest girl in Cuba. That's the whole trouble. 
 That's why I'm hurrying home to resign before I'm 
 fired." Not daring to look too long or too deeply into 
 Rosa Varona's eyes until she had taken in the whole truth, 
 he waited, staring at his feet. "I'm sort of glad it has 
 come to a show-down and I can speak out. I'm hoping 
 she'll miss me." After a moment he ventured, "Will she 
 er will you, Rosa?" 
 
 "I? Miss you?" Rosa lifted her brows in pretended 
 amazement. Then she tipped her head daintily to one 
 side, as if weighing his question earnestly. "You are 
 amusing, of course, but I won't have much time to 
 think about you, for I am so soon to be married." 
 
 ' ' Married ? What? O'Reilly started violently, and the 
 girl exclaimed, with well-feigned concern: 
 
 " Oh, senor ! You have wounded yourself again on that 
 thorn-bush. This place is growing up to brambles." 
 
 "It wasn't my finger! Something pierced me through 
 the heart. Married? Nonsense!" 
 
 ' ' Indeed ! Do you think I 'm so ugly nobody would have 
 me?" 
 
 "Good Lord! You" O'Reilly swallowed hard. "I 
 won't tell you the truth when you know it so well." 
 
 "The richest man in Matanzas asked for my hand 
 this very afternoon." 
 
 "Who? Mario de Castano?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 O'Reilly laughed with relief, and though Rosa tried to 
 look offended, she was forced to smile. ' ' He's fat, I know, ' ' 
 she admitted, "and he makes funny noises when he 
 breathes; but he is richer than Croesus, and I adore rich 
 men." 
 
 42
 
 'THE O'REILLY' 
 
 "I hate 'em!" announced O'Reilly. Then for a second 
 time he took Rosa's dimpled hand, saying, earnestly: 
 "I'm sure you know now why I make love so badly, dear. 
 It's my Irish conscience. And you'll wait until I come 
 back, won't you?" 
 
 "Will you be gone very long?" she asked. 
 
 O'Reilly looked deeply now into the dark eyes turned 
 to his, and found that at last there was no coquetry in 
 them anywhere nothing but a lonesome, hungry yearn 
 ing and with a glad, incoherent exclamation he held out 
 his arms. Rosa Varona crept into them; then with a 
 sigh she upturned her lips to his. 
 
 "I'll wait forever," she said.
 
 IV 
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 A LTHOUGH for a long time Dona Isabel had been sure 
 /A. in her own mind that Pancho Cueto, her adminis- 
 trador, was robbing her, she had never mustered courage 
 to call him to a reckoning. And there was a reason for 
 her cowardice. Nevertheless, De Castano's blunt accu 
 sation, coupled with her own urgent needs, served to fix 
 her resolution, and on the day after the merchant's visit 
 she sent for the overseer, who at the time was living on 
 one of the plantations. 
 
 Once the message was on its way, Isabel fell into a con 
 dition bordering upon panic, and was half minded to 
 countermand her order. She spent an evening of sus 
 pense, and a miserable night. This last, however, was 
 nothing unusual with her; she was accustomed to un 
 pleasant dreams, and she was not surprised when old 
 familiar shapes came to harass her. Nor, in view of her 
 somnambulistic vagaries, was she greatly concerned to 
 find, when she woke in the morning, that her slippers 
 were stained and that her skirt was bedraggled with dew 
 and filled with burs. 
 
 Scarcely a month passed that she did not walk in her 
 sleep. 
 
 Cueto was plainly curious to learn why he had been 
 sent for, but since he asked no questions, his employer 
 was forced to open the subject herself. Several times he 
 led up to it unsuccessfully; then she took the plunge. 
 Through dry, white lips she began: 
 
 44
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 "My dear Pancho, times are hard. The plantations 
 are failing, and so " Pancho Cueto's eyes were set close 
 to his nose, his face was long and thin and harsh; he re 
 garded the speaker with such a sinister, unblinking stare 
 that she could scarcely finish: " and so I can no 
 longer afford to retain you as administrador." 
 
 " Times will improve," he said. 
 
 "Impossible! This war threatens to bring utter ruin; 
 and now that Este"ban and Rosa are home they spend 
 money like water. I groan with poverty." 
 
 "Yes, they are extravagant. It is the more reason for 
 me to remain in your service." 
 
 " No, no ! I tell you I'm bankrupt." 
 
 "So? Then the remedy is simple sell a part of your 
 land." 
 
 Although this suggestion came naturally enough, Dona 
 Isabel turned cold, and felt her smile stiffen into a grimace. 
 She wondered if Cueto could be feeling her out deliber 
 ately. "Sell the Varona lands?" she queried, after a mo 
 mentary struggle with herself. " Este"ban would rise from 
 his grave. No. It was his wish that the plantations 
 go to his children intact." 
 
 ' ' And his wish is sacred to you, eh ?" Cueto nodded his 
 approval, although his smile was disconcerting. "An 
 admirable sentiment ! It does you honor! But speaking 
 on this subject, I am reminded of that dispute with Jose* 
 Oroz over the boundary to La Joya. He is a rascal, that 
 Oroz; he would steal the sap out of your standing cane 
 if he could. I have promised to show him the original 
 deed to La Joya and to furnish him with the proofs about 
 the boundary line. That would be better than a law 
 suit, wouldn't it?" 
 
 " Decidedly! But I will settle with him myself." 
 
 Cueto lifted an admonitory hand, his face alight with 
 the faintest glimmer of ironic mirth. "I couldn't trust 
 you to the mercies of that rascal," he said, piously. " No, 
 
 45
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 I shall go on as I am, even at a sacrifice to myself. I 
 love Don Este"ban's children as my very own; and you, 
 sefiora " 
 
 Isabel knew that she must win a complete victory at 
 once or accept irretrievable defeat. 
 
 "Never!" she interrupted, with a tone of finality. "I 
 can't accept your sacrifice. I am not worthy. Kindly 
 arrange to turn over your books of account at once. I 
 shall make you as handsome a present as my circumstances 
 will permit in recognition of your long and faithful ser 
 vice." 
 
 Then Pancho Cueto did an unexpected thing: he 
 laughed shortly and shook his head. 
 
 Dona Isabel was ready to faint and her voice quavered 
 as she went on: "Understand me, we part the best of 
 friends despite all I have heard against you. I do not 
 believe these stories people tell, for you probably have 
 enemies. Even if all they say were true I should force 
 myself to be lenient because of your affection for my 
 husband." 
 
 The man rose, still smiling. "It is I who have been 
 lenient," said he. 
 
 "Eh? Speak plainly." 
 
 "Gladly. I have long suspected that Don Est<ban 
 hid the deeds of his property with the rest of his valuables, 
 and now that you admit " 
 
 Dona Isabel recoiled sharply. "Admit! Are you 
 mad? Deeds! What are you talking about?" Her eyes 
 met his bravely enough, but she could feel her lips trem 
 bling loosely. 
 
 Casting aside all pretense, the overseer exclaimed: 
 " For el amor de Dios ! An end to this ! I know why you 
 sent for me. You think I have been robbing you. Well, 
 to be honest, so I have. Why should I toil as I do while 
 you and those twins live here in luxury and idleness, 
 squandering money to which you have no right?" 
 
 46
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 "Have I lost my reason?" gasped the widow. "No 
 right?" 
 
 "At least no better right than I. Don't you under 
 stand? You have no title to those plantations! They 
 are mine, for I have paid the taxes out of my own pockets 
 now these many years." 
 
 "Taxes ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I paid them. The receipts are in my name." 
 
 "God! Such perfidy! And you who knew him!" 
 
 "The deeds have been lost for so long that the property 
 would have reverted to the crown had it not been for me. 
 You doubt that, eh? Well, appeal to the court and you 
 will find that it is true. For that matter, the officials 
 make new laws to fit each case, and should they learn that 
 Este"ban Varona died intestate they would arrange some 
 how to seize all his property and leave you without a roof 
 over your head. Fortunately I can prevent that, for I 
 have a title that will stand, in want of a better one." 
 
 There was a momentary silence while the unhappy 
 woman struggled with herself. Then: 
 
 "You took advantage of my ignorance of business to rob 
 me," she declared. "Well, I know something about the 
 Government officials: if they would make a law to fit my 
 case they will make one to fit yours. When I tell them 
 what you have done perhaps you will not fare so well 
 with them as you expect." She was fighting now with the 
 desperation of one cornered. 
 
 "Perhaps.'' Cueto shrugged. "That is what I want 
 to talk to you about, if only you will be sensible. Now 
 then, let us be frank. Inasmuch as we're both in much the 
 same fix, hadn't we better continue our present arrange 
 ments?" He stared unblinkingly at his listener. "Oh, 
 I mean it! Is it not better for you to be content with 
 what my generosity prompts me to give, rather than to 
 risk ruin for both of us by grasping for too much?" 
 
 "Merciful God! The outrage! I warrant you have 
 
 47
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 grown rich through your stealing." Isabel's voice had 
 gone flat with consternation. 
 
 "Rich? Well, not exactly, but comfortably well off." 
 Cueto actually smiled again. "No doubt my frankness is 
 a shock to you. You are angry at my proposition, eh? 
 Never mind. You will think better^of it in time, if you are 
 a sensible woman." 
 
 "What a fiend! Have you no sentiment?" 
 
 "Oh, senora! I am all sentiment. Don Este*ban was 
 my benefactor. I revere his memory, and I feel it my 
 duty to see that his family does not want. That is why 
 I have provided for you, and will continue to provide 
 in proper measure. But now, since at last we enjoy such 
 confidential relations, let us have no more of these miser 
 able suspicions of each other. Let us entirely forget this 
 unpleasant misunderstanding and be the same good 
 friends as before." 
 
 Having said this, Pancho Cueto stood silent a moment 
 in polite expectancy; then receiving no intelligible reply, 
 he bowed low and left the room. 
 
 To the avaricious Dona Isabel Cueto's frank acknowl 
 edgment of theft was maddening, and the realization that 
 she was helpless, nay, dependent upon his charity for her 
 living, fairly crucified her proud spirit. 
 
 All day she brooded, and by the time evening came she 
 had worked herself into such a state of nerves that she 
 could eat no dinner. Locking herself into her room, she 
 paced the floor, now wringing her hands, now twisting in 
 agony upon her bed, now biting her wrists in an en 
 deavor to clear her head and to devise some means of out 
 witting this treacherous overseer. But mere thought of the 
 law frightened her; the longer she pondered her situation 
 the more she realized her own impotence. There was no 
 doubt that the courts were corrupt : they were notoriously 
 venal at best, and this war had made them worse. Graft 
 was rampant everywhere. To confess publicly that 
 
 48
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 Esteban Varona had left no deeds, no title to his property, 
 would indeed be the sheerest folly. No, Cueto had her at 
 his mercy. 
 
 Sometime during the course of the evening a wild idea 
 came to Isabel. Knowing that the manager would spend 
 the night beneath her roof, she planned to kill him. At 
 first it seemed a simple thing to do merely a matter of a 
 dagger or a pistol, while he slept but further thought 
 revealed appalling risks and difficulties, and she decided 
 to wait. Poison was far safer. 
 
 That night she lay awake a long time putting her scheme 
 into final shape, and then for an interval that seemed 
 longer she hung poised in those penumbra! regions midway 
 between wakefulness and slumber. Through her mind 
 meanwhile there passed a whirling phantasmagoria, an 
 interminable procession of figures, of memories, real yet 
 unreal, convincing yet unconvincing. When she did at 
 last lose all awareness of reality the effect was merely to 
 enhance the vividness of those phantoms, to lend sub 
 stance to her vaporous visions. 
 
 Constant brooding over the. treasure had long since 
 affected Dona Isabel's brain, and as a consequence she 
 often dreamed about it. She dreamed about it again to 
 night, and, strangely enough, her dreams were pleasant. 
 Sebastian appeared, but for once he neither cursed nor 
 threatened her; and Est6ban, when he came, was again 
 the lover who had courted her in Habana. It was all very 
 wonderful, very exciting, very real. Dona Isabel found 
 herself robed for him in her wedding-gown of white, and 
 realized that she was beautiful. It seemed also as if her 
 powers of attraction were magically enhanced, for she 
 exercised a potent influence over him. Her senses were 
 quickened a, thousandfold, too. For instance, she could 
 see great distances a novel and agreeable sensation; she 
 enjoyed strange, unsuspected perfumes; she Heard the 
 music of distant waterfalls and understood the whispered 
 
 49
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 language of the breeze. It was amazing, delightful. 
 Esteban and she were walking through the grounds of the 
 quinta and he was telling her about his casks of Spanish 
 sovereigns, about those boxes bound with iron, about the 
 gold and silver ornaments of heavenly beauty and the 
 pearls as large as plums. As he talked, Isabel felt herself 
 grow hot and cold with anticipation; she experienced 
 spasms of delight. She felt that she must dance, must 
 run, must cast her arms aloft in ecstasy. Never had she 
 experienced so keen an intoxication of joy as now, while 
 Esteban was leading her toward the treasure and wooing 
 her with youthful ardor. 
 
 Then of a sudden Isabel's whole dream-world dissolved. 
 She awoke, or thought she did, at hearing her name 
 shouted. But although she underwent the mental and 
 the physical shock of being startled from slumber, although 
 she felt the first swift fright of a person aroused to strange 
 surroundings, she knew on the instant that she must still 
 be asleep; for everything about her was dim and dark, the 
 air was cold and damp, wet grass rose to her knees. It 
 flashed through her mind that she had simply been 
 whirled from a pleasant dream into one of terror. As she 
 fought with herself to throw off the illusion of this night 
 mare its reality became overwhelming. Warring, in 
 congruous sensations, far too swift for her mind to com 
 pass, were crowded into the minutest fraction of time. 
 Before she could half realize her own condition she felt 
 herself plunged into space. Now the sensation of falling 
 was not strange to Isabel it is common to all sufferers 
 from nightmare nevertheless, she experienced the dawn 
 of a horror such as she had never guessed. She heard 
 herself scream hoarsely, fearfully, and knew, too late, 
 that she was indeed awake. Then whirling chaos A sud 
 den, blinding crash of lights and sounds Nothing more ! 
 
 Esteban Varona sat until a late hour that night over
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 a letter which required the utmost care in its composition. 
 It was written upon the thinnest of paper, and when it 
 was finished the writer inclosed it in an envelope of the 
 same material. Este*ban put the letter in his pocket with 
 out addressing it. Then he extinguished his light, tip 
 toed to the door connecting his and Rosa's rooms, and 
 listened. No sound whatever came to his ears, for his 
 sister slept like a kitten. Reassured, he stole out into the 
 hall. Here he paused a moment with his ear first to 
 Pancho Cueto's door, and then to the door of his step 
 mother's room. He could hear the overseer's heavy 
 breathing and Isabel's senseless babbling the latter was 
 moaning and muttering ceaselessly, but, being accustomed 
 to her restlessness, Esteban paid no heed. 
 
 Letting himself out into the night, he took the path that 
 led to the old sunken garden. Nocturnal birds were chir 
 ruping; his way was barred with spider-webs, heavy 
 with dew and gleaming in the moonlight like tiny ropes 
 of jewels; the odor of gardenias was overpowering. He 
 passed close by the well, and its gaping black mouth, only 
 half protected by the broken coping, reminded him that 
 he had promised Rosa to cover it with planks. In its 
 present condition it was a menace to animals, if not to 
 human beings who were unaware of its presence. He told 
 himself he would attend to it on the morrow. 
 
 Seating himself on one of the old stone benches, the young 
 man lit a cigarette and composed himself to wait. He sat 
 there for a long time, grumbling inwardly, for the night was 
 damp and he was sleepy; but at last a figure stole out of 
 the gloom and joined him. The new-comer was a ragged 
 negro, dressed in the fashion of the poorer country people. 
 
 "Well, Asensio, I thought you'd never come. I'll get 
 a fever from this!" Esteban said, irritably. 
 
 "It is a long way, Don Esteban, and Evangelina made 
 me wait until dark. I tell you we have to be careful these 
 days." 
 
 Si
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 . "What is the news? What did you hear?" 
 
 Asensio sighed gratefully as he seated himself. "One 
 hears a great deal, but one never knows what to believe. 
 There is fighting in Santa Clara, and Maceo sweeps west 
 ward." 
 
 Taking the unaddressed letter from his pocket, Este*ban 
 said, "I have another message for Colonel Lopez." 
 
 "That Lopez! He's here to-day and there to-morrow; 
 one can never find him. ' ' 
 
 "Well, you must find him, and immediately, Asensio. 
 This letter contains important news so important, in 
 fact" Este"ban laughed lightly "that if you find your 
 self in danger from the Spaniards I'd advise you to chew 
 it up and swallow it as quickly as you can." 
 
 "I'll remember that," said the negro, "for there's 
 danger enough. Still, I fear these Spaniards less than 
 the guerrilleros: they are everywhere. They call them 
 selves patriots, but they are nothing more than robbers. 
 They" 
 
 Asensio paused abruptly. He seized his companion by 
 the arm and, leaning forward, stared across the level garden 
 into the shadows opposite. Something was moving there, 
 under the trees; the men could see that it was white and 
 formless, and that it pursued an erratic course. 
 
 ' ' What's that ? ' ' gasped the negro. He began to tremble 
 violently and his breath became audible. Esteban was 
 compelled to hold him down by main force. "Jesus 
 Cristo! It's old Don Este"ban, your father. They say 
 he walks at midnight, carrying his head in his two hands." 
 
 Young Varona managed to whisper, with some show of 
 courage: "Hush! Wait! I don't believe in ghosts." 
 Nevertheless, he was on the point of setting Asensio an 
 example of undignified flight when the mysterious object 
 emerged from the shadows into the open moonlight ; then 
 he sighed with relief: "Ah-h! Now I see! It is my 
 stepmother. She is asleep." 
 
 52
 
 "AH-H! NOW i SEE! IT is MY STEPMOTHER. SHE is ASLEEP'
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 "Asleep?" Asensio was incredulous. He was still so 
 unnerved by his first fright that Este"ban dared not release 
 him. 
 
 "Yes; her eyes are open, but she sees nothing." 
 
 "I don't like such things," the negro confessed in a 
 shaky voice. " How can she walk if she is asleep ? If her 
 eyes are open, how can she help seeing us ? You know she 
 hates Evangelina and me." 
 
 "I tell you she sees nothing, knows nothing " For 
 a moment or two they watched the progress of the white- 
 robed figure; then Este"ban stirred and rose from his seat. 
 "She's too close to that well. There is " He started 
 forward a pace or two. "They say people who walk at 
 night go mad if they're awakened too suddenly, and yet " 
 
 Dona Isabel was talking in a low, throaty, unnatural 
 tone. Her words were meaningless, but the effect, at that 
 hour and in those surroundings, was bizarre and fearsome. 
 Este"ban felt his scalp prickling uncomfortably. This was 
 very creepy. 
 
 When the somnambulist's deliberate progress toward the 
 mouth of the well continued he called her name softly. 
 "Dona Isabel!" Then he repeated it louder. "Dona 
 Isabel! Wake up." 
 
 The woman seemed to hear and yet not to hear. She 
 turned her head to listen, but continued to walk. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed," he said, reassuringly. "It is only 
 Esteban Dona Isabel! Stop! 1 ' Est^ban sprang forward, 
 shouting at the top of his voice, for at the sound of his 
 name Isabel had abruptly swerved to her right, a move 
 ment which brought her dangerously close to the lip of the 
 well. 
 
 "STOP! Go BACK!" screamed the young man. 
 
 Above his warning there came a shriek, shrill and 
 agonized a wail of such abysmal terror as to shock the 
 night birds and the insects into stillness. Dona Isabel 
 slipped, or stumbled, to her knees, she balanced briefly, 
 
 S3
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 clutching at random while the earth and crumbling cement 
 gave way beneath her; then she slid forward and disap 
 peared, almost out from between Esteban's hands. There 
 was a noisy rattle of rock and pebble and a great splash 
 far below; a chuckle of little stones striking the water, 
 then a faint bubbling. Nothing more. The stepson 
 stood in his tracks, sick, blind with horror; he was sway 
 ing over the opening when Asensio dragged him back. 
 
 Pancho Cueto, being a heavy sleeper, was the last to 
 be roused by Esteban's outcries. When he had hurriedly 
 slipped into his clothes in response to the pounding on his 
 door, the few servants that the establishment supported 
 had been thoroughly awakened. Este"ban was shouting 
 at them, explaining that Dona Isabel had met with an 
 accident. He was calling for a lantern, too, and a stout 
 rope. Cueto thought they must all be out of their minds 
 until he learned what had befallen the mistress of the 
 house. Then, being a man of action, he, too, issued 
 swift orders, with the result that by the time he and 
 Este"ban had run to the well both rope and lantern were 
 ready for their use. Before Este*ban could form and fit 
 a loop for his shoulders there was sufficient help on hand 
 to lower him into the treacherous abyss. 
 
 It was a commentary upon Dona Isabel's character that 
 during the long, slow moments of uncertainty while 
 Est6ban was being lowered the negroes exhibited more 
 curiosity than concern over her fate. In half-pleased 
 excitement they whispered and giggled and muttered 
 together, while Pancho lay prone at the edge of the orifice, 
 directing them how to manipulate the rope. 
 
 That was a gruesome task which fell to Este*ban, for the 
 well had been long unused, its sides were oozing slime, its 
 waters were stale and black. He was on the point of 
 fainting when he finally climbed out, leaving the negroes 
 to hoist the dripping, inert weight which he had found at 
 the bottom. 
 
 54
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 Old Sebastian's curse had come true; Dona Isabel had 
 met the fate he had called down upon her that day when 
 he hung exhausted in his chains and when the flies tor 
 mented him. The treasure for which the woman had 
 intrigued so tirelessly had been her death. Like an ignis 
 fatuus, it had lured her to destruction. Furthermore, as 
 if in grimmest irony, she had been permitted at the very 
 last to find it. Living, she had searched to no purpose 
 whatsoever; dying, she had almost grasped it in her 
 arms. 
 
 Once the first excitement had abated and a messenger 
 had been sent to town, Cueto drew Este"ban aside and 
 questioned him. 
 
 "A shocking tragedy and most peculiar," said the over 
 seer. "Nothing could amaze me more." 
 
 "Exactly! And all because of her sleep-walking. I'm 
 all in a tremble." 
 
 " She was asleep ? You are sure?" 
 
 "Have I not told you so?" Estban was impatient. 
 
 "But it is said that people given to that peculiarity 
 never come to grief. They say some sixth sense guides 
 them gives them warning of pitfalls and dangers. I I 
 can't understand " 
 
 "That well was a menace to a waking person. I didn't 
 realize how near to it she was; and when I cried out to 
 her it seemed only to hasten her steps." The young man 
 shuddered, for the horror of the thing was still in his mind. 
 
 "Tell me, how did you come to be there at such an 
 hour, eh?" 
 
 Esteban saw the malevolent curiosity in Cueto's face 
 and started. "I That is my affair. Surely you don't 
 think" 
 
 "Come, come! You can trust me." The overseer 
 winked and smiled. 
 
 "I had business that took me there," stiffly declared 
 the younger man. 
 
 55
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Exactly! And a profitable business it proved!" 
 Cueto laughed openly now. "Well, I don't mind telling 
 you, Dona Isabel's death is no disappointment to any one. 
 Anybody could see " 
 
 "Stop!" Esteban was turning alternately red and 
 white. "You seem to imply something outrageous." 
 
 "Now let us be sensible. I understand you perfectly, 
 my boy. But an officer of the Guardia Civil may arrive 
 at any moment and he will want to know how you came 
 to be with your stepmother when she plunged into that 
 trap. So prepare yourself. If only you had not given 
 the alarm. If only yoti had waited until morning. But 
 in the dead of night! Alone! He will think it queer. 
 Suppose, too, he learns that you and Dona Isabel quarreled 
 the other day over money matters?" 
 
 Young Varona recovered himself quickly. He was 
 watching his inquisitor now with a faintly speculative 
 frown. When Cueto had finished, Esteban said: 
 
 "Dona Isabel and I frequently quarreled over money 
 matters, so there is nothing strange in that. You would 
 like me to confess to some black iniquity that would make 
 us better friends, eh? Well, it so happens that I was not 
 alone to-night, but that another person saw the poor 
 woman's death and can bear me out in everything I say. 
 No, Pancho, you overreach yourself. Now then" 
 Esteban was quick-tempered, and for years he had 
 struggled against an instinctive distrust and dislike of the 
 plantation manager "remember that I have become the 
 head of this house, and your employer. You will do 
 better to think of your own affairs than of mine. Do you 
 understand me? I have long suspected that certain mat 
 ters of yours need attention, and at the first opportunity 
 I intend to have a careful reckoning with you. I think 
 you know I have a good head for figures." Turning his 
 back upon the elder man, he walked away. 
 
 Now it did not occur to Cueto really to doubt the boy's 
 
 56
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 innocence, though the circumstances of Dona Isabel's 
 death were suspicious enough to raise a question in any 
 mind; but in view of Este"ban's threat he thought it wise 
 to protect himself by setting a back-fire. It was with 
 some such vague idea in his head that he turned to the 
 sunken garden as the first gray light of dawn appeared. 
 He hoped to gain some inspiration by examining the place 
 again, and, as it proved, he succeeded beyond his most 
 sanguine expectations. 
 
 As he sat on an old stone bench, moodily repicturing 
 the catastrophe as Este*ban had described it, his attention 
 fell upon an envelope at his feet. It was sealed; it was 
 unaddressed. Cueto idly broke it open and began to read. 
 Before he had gone far he started; then he cast a furtive 
 glance about. But the place was secluded; he was un 
 observed. When he finished reading he rose, smiling. 
 He no longer feared Este"ban. On the contrary, he rather 
 pitied the young fool; for here between his fingers was 
 that which not only promised to remove the boy from his 
 path forever, but to place in his hands the entire Varona 
 estates. Fate was kind. After years of patient scheming 
 Cueto had obtained his reward. 
 
 One afternoon, perhaps a week later, Don Mario de 
 Castano came puffing and blowing up to the quinta, de 
 manding to see Rosa without a moment's delay. The 
 girl appeared before her caller had managed to dry up the 
 streams of perspiration resulting from his exertions. 
 With a directness unusual even in him Don Mario began: 
 
 "Rosa, my dear, you and Este"ban have been discovered ! 
 I was at lunch with the comandante when I learned the 
 truth. Through friendship I prevailed upon him to give 
 you an hour's grace." 
 
 "What do you mean, Don Mario?" inquired the girl. 
 
 ' ' Come, come !" the planter cried, impatiently. ' ' Don't 
 you see you can trust me? God! The recklessness, the 
 folly of young people! Could you not leave this insur- 
 5 57
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 rection to your elders? Or perhaps you thought it a 
 matter of no great importance, an amusing thing " 
 
 " Don Mario!" Rosa interrupted. " I don't know what 
 you are talking about." 
 
 "You don't, eh ?" The caller's wet cheeks grew redder ; 
 he blew like a porpoise. "Then call Esteban quickly! 
 There is not a moment to lose." When the brother ap 
 peared De Castafio blurted out at him accusingly: "Well, 
 sir! A fine fix you've put yourself in. I came here to 
 warn you, but Rosa pretends ignorance. Perhaps you 
 will be interested to learn that Colonel Fernandez has 
 issued orders to arrest you and your sister as agents of J;he 
 Insurrectos." 
 
 "What?" Este"ban drew back. Rosa turned white 
 as a lily and laid a fluttering hand upon her throat. 
 
 "You two will sleep to-night in San Severino," grimly 
 announced the rotund visitor. "You know what that 
 means. Cubans who enter the Castillo seldom come out. 
 Have you noticed the big sharks that swim about under 
 the walls of it ? Do you know what bait keeps them there ? 
 Well, I'll tell you ! It's the bodies of rebel sympathizers 
 foolish people like you who call themselves patriots." 
 
 Rosa uttered a smothered cry. 
 
 "Colonel Fernandez," Don Mario proceeded, impres 
 sively, "did me this favor, knowing me to be a suitor for 
 Rosa's hand. In spite of his duty and the evidence he " 
 
 "Evidence? What evidence?" Esteban asked, sharply. 
 
 "For one thing, your own letter to Lopez, the rebel, 
 warning him to beware of the trap prepared for him in 
 Santa Clara, and advising him of the Government force 
 at Sabanilla. Oh, don't try to deny it! I read it with 
 my own eyes, and it means death." 
 
 In the ensuing silence the fat man's asthmatic breathing 
 sounded loudly; it was like the respirations of an excited 
 eavesdropper. 
 
 At last Rosa said, faintly: "Esteban! I warned you." 
 
 58
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 Este*ban was taken aback, but it was plain that he was 
 not in the least frightened. "They haven't caught me 
 yet," he laughed. 
 
 "You say they intend to arrest me also?" Rosa eyed 
 the caller anxiously. 
 
 "Exactly!" 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 "Yes! Who accuses her, and of what?" Este"ban in 
 dignantly demanded. 
 
 "That also I have discovered through the courtesy of 
 Colonel Fernandez. Your accuser is none other than 
 Pancho Cueto." 
 
 "Cueto!" 
 
 "Yes, he has denounced both of you as rebels, and the 
 letter is only part of his proof, I believe. I don't know 
 what other evidence he has, but, take my word for it, the 
 Government does not require much proof these days. 
 Suspicion is enough. Now, then, you can guess why I am 
 here. I am not without influence; I can save Rosa, but 
 for you, Este"ban, I fear I can do nothing. You must 
 look out for yourself. Well? What do you say? We're 
 wasting precious time standing here with our mouths 
 open." 
 
 When Este"ban saw how pale his sister had grown, he 
 took her in his arms, saying, gently: "I'm sorry, dear. 
 It's all my fault." Then to the merchant, "It was very 
 good of you to warn us." 
 
 "Ha!" Don Mario fanned himself. "I'm glad you 
 appreciate my efforts. It's a good thing to have the right 
 kind of a friend. I'll marry Rosa within an hour, and I 
 fancy my name will be a sufficient shield " 
 
 Rosa turned to her elderly suitor and made a deep 
 courtesy. "I am unworthy of the honor," said she. 
 "You see, I I do not love you, Don Mario." 
 
 ' ' Love !' ' exploded the visitor. ' ' God bless you ! What 
 has love to do with the matter? Este"ban will have to 
 
 59
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 ride for his life in ten minutes and your property will be 
 seized. So you had better make yourself ready to go 
 with me." 
 
 But Rosa shook her head. 
 
 ' ' Eh ? What ails you ? What do you expect to do ?" 
 
 "I shall go with Esteban," said the girl. 
 
 This calm announcement seemed to stupefy De Castano. 
 He sat down heavily in the nearest chair, and with his wet 
 handkerchief poised in one pudgy hand he stared fixedly 
 at the speaker. His eyes were round and bulging, the 
 sweat streamed unheeded from his temples. He resembled 
 some queer bloated marine monster just emerged from 
 the sea and momentarily dazzled by the light. 
 
 "You You're mad," he finally gasped. "Este"ban, 
 tell her what it means." 
 
 But this Esteban could not do, for he himself had not 
 the faintest notion of what was in store for him. War 
 seemed to him a glorious thing; he had been told that the 
 hills were peopled with patriots. He was very young, his 
 heart was ablaze with hatred for the Spaniards and for 
 Pancho Cueto. He longed to risk his life for a free Cuba. 
 Therefore he said: "Rosa shall do as she pleases. If we 
 must be exiles we shall share each other's hardships. It 
 will not be for long." 
 
 "Idiot!" stormed the fat man. "Better that you gave 
 her to the sharks below San Severino. There is no law, 
 no safety for women outside of the cities. The island is 
 in anarchy. These patriots you talk about are the blacks, 
 the mulattoes, the lowest, laziest savages in Cuba." 
 
 "Please! Don Mario!" the girl pleaded. "I cannot 
 marry you, for I love another." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "I love another. I'm betrothed to O'Reilly, the 
 American and he's coming back to marry me." 
 
 De Castano twisted himself laboriously out of his chair 
 and waddled toward the door. He was purple with rage 
 
 60
 
 RETRIBUTION 
 
 and mortification. On the threshold he paused to wheeze : 
 "Very well, then. Go! I'm done with both of you. I 
 would have lent you a hand with this rascal Cueto, but 
 now he will fall heir to your entire property. Well, it is 
 a time for bandits! I I " Unable to think of a 
 parting speech sufficiently bitter to match his disappoint 
 ment, Don Mario plunged out into the sunlight, mutter 
 ing and stammering to himself. 
 
 Within an hour the twins were on their way up the 
 Yumuri, toward the home of Asensio and Evangelina; 
 for it was thither that they naturally turned. It was well 
 that they had made haste, for as they rode down into the 
 valley, up the other side of the hill from Matanzas came 
 a squad of the Guardia Civil, and at its head rode Pancho 
 Cueto.
 
 V 
 
 A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS 
 
 NEW YORK seemed almost like a foreign city to 
 Johnnie O'Reilly when he stepped out into it on 
 the morning after his arrival. For one thing it was bleak 
 and cold: the north wind, hailing direct from Baffin's 
 Bay, had teeth, and it bit so cruelly that he was glad 
 when he found shelter in the building which housed 
 the offices of the Carter Importing Company. The 
 tropics had thinned O'Reilly's blood, for the Cuban 
 winds bear a kiss instead of a sting ; therefore he paused in 
 the lower hallway, jostled by the morning crowds, and 
 tried to warm himself. The truth is O'Reilly was not 
 only cold, but frightened. 
 
 He was far from weak-hearted. In fact, few O'Reillys 
 were that, and Johnnie had an ingrained self-assurance 
 which might have been mistaken for impudence, but for 
 the winning smile that went with it. Yet all the way from 
 Havana he had seen in his mind's eye old Sam Carter 
 intrenched behind his flat-topped desk, and that picture 
 had more than once caused him to forget the carefully 
 rehearsed speech in which he intended to resign his 
 position as an employee and his prospects as a son- 
 in-law. 
 
 That desk of Mr. Carter's was always bare and orderly, 
 cleared for action, like the deck of a battle-ship, and over 
 it many engagements had been fought, for the man behind 
 it never shirked a conflict. His was a vigorous and 
 
 62
 
 A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS 
 
 irascible temperament, compounded of old-fashioned, slow- 
 burning black powder and nitroglycerine a combination 
 of incalculable destructive power. It was a perilously 
 unstable mixture, too: at times nothing less than a flame 
 served to ignite it; on other occasions the office force 
 pussy-footed past Carter's door on felt soles, and even then 
 the slightest jar often caused the untoward thing to let 
 go. In either event there was a deafening roar, much 
 smoke, and a deal of damage. O'Reilly felt sure that 
 whatever the condition of Mr. Carter's digestion or the 
 serenity of his mind at the beginning of their interview, 
 the news he had to impart would serve as an effective 
 detonator, after which it would be every man for himself. 
 It was not the effect of his report concerning the firm's 
 unprofitable Cuban connections which O'Reilly feared 
 would cause the decks to heave and the ship to rock 
 Samuel Carter could take calmly the most disturbing 
 financial reverse it was the blow to his pride at learning 
 that anybody could prefer another girl to his daughter. 
 Johnnie shook his shoulders and stamped his feet, but the 
 chill in his bones refused to go. 
 
 He did gain courage, however, by thinking of Rosa 
 Varona as he had last seen her, with arms outstretched, 
 with eyes tear-filled, with yearning lips aquiver at his 
 going. The picture warmed him magically, and it was 
 with a restored determination to make a clean breast of 
 the matter and face the worst that he took the elevator. 
 
 The office force of the Carter Importing Company 
 looked up when the firm's Cuban representative entered 
 the door, but its personnel having changed as the result 
 of one of those periodical disruptions that occurred in the 
 inner office, he was not recognized until he presented him 
 self to Mr. Slack, Samuel Carter's private and intimidated 
 secretary. 
 
 Mr. Slack smiled wanly, and extended a clammy, nerve 
 less hand as cold and limber as a dead fish. 
 
 63
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "You're expected," said he. "Mr. Carter is waiting to 
 see you before leaving for California." 
 
 "Seeing me won't make his trip any pleasanter," 
 O'Reilly said, somberly. 
 
 "We were afraid you wouldn't get out of Cuba; thought 
 we might have to get the American consul at work." 
 
 "Really? I didn't know I was so important." 
 
 "Oh, you're the office pet, and well you know it." 
 Mr. Slack's pleasantry was tinged with envy, for he had 
 never been able to appreciate O'Reillv, "Conditions are 
 bad, eh?" 
 
 ' ' Yes. Anybody can leave, ' ' the other told him. "It's 
 getting back that's difficult. The Spaniards don't like 
 us, and I dare say they have good reason, with all this talk 
 of intervention and the secret help we're lending the 
 Insurrectos. They held me up in Havana; tried to prove 
 I was a spy. They were positively peeved when they 
 failed. Snippy people, those Spaniards." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell Mr. Carter you're here." The secretary 
 glided unobtrusively toward the private office, disap 
 peared, glided softly into view again, and waggled a bone 
 less forefinger invitingly. O'Reilly went to meet his 
 employer as a man marches to execution. 
 
 His heart sank further at the welcome he received, for 
 the importer gave him a veritable embrace; he patted 
 him on the back and inquired three times as to his health. 
 O'Reilly was anything but cold now; he was perspiring 
 profusely, and he felt his collar growing limp. To shatter 
 this old man's eager hopes would be like kicking a child 
 in the face. Carter had never been so enthusiastic, so 
 demonstrative; there was something almost theatrical 
 in his greeting. It dismayed O'Reilly immensely to 
 realize what a hold he must have upon his employer's 
 affections. Although the latter had a reputation for self- ' 
 control, he appeared to be in a perfect flutter now. He 
 assumed a boisterousness which seemed strained and 
 
 64
 
 A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS 
 
 wholly out of keeping with the circumstances. His 
 actions vaguely reminded the younger man of an ambling 
 draft-horse trying to gallop; and when, for the fourth 
 time, Mr. Carter inquired solicitously concerning his 
 visitor's well-being, Johnnie's dismay turned to amaze 
 ment. With a heavy playfulness Mr. Carter at length 
 remarked: 
 
 "Well, my boy, you made a fizzle of it, didn't you?" 
 The tone was almost complimentary. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I'm a bright and shining failure," O'Reilly 
 acknowledged, hopefully. 
 
 "Now, don't 'yes, sir' me. We're friends, aren't we? 
 Good! Understand, I don't blame you in the least 
 it's that idiotic revolution that spoiled our business. I 
 can't understand those people. Lord! You did splen 
 didly, under the circumstances." 
 
 "They have reason enough to revolt oppression, 
 tyranny, corruption." O'Reilly mumbled the familiar 
 words in a numb paralysis at Mr. Carter's jovial fa 
 miliarity. 
 
 "All Latin countries are corrupt," announced the im 
 porter "always have been and always will be. They 
 thrive under oppression. Politics is purely a business 
 proposition with those people. However, I dare say 
 this uprising won't last long." 
 
 O'Reilly welcomed this trend of the conversation; 
 anything was better than fulsome praise, and the discus 
 sion would delay the coming crash. It seemed strange, 
 however, that Samuel Carter should take time to dis 
 course about generalities. Johnnie wondered why the 
 old man didn't get down to cases. 
 
 "It's more than an uprising, sir," he said. "The 
 rebels have overrun the eastern end of the island, and 
 when I left Maceo and Gomez were sweeping west." 
 
 "Bah! It takes money to run a war." 
 
 "They have money," desperately argued O'Reilly. 
 
 65
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Marti raised more than a million dollars, and every 
 Cuban cigar-maker in the United States gives a part of 
 his wages every week to the cause. The best blood of 
 Cuba is in the fight. The rebels are poorly armed, but 
 if our Government recognizes their belligerency they'll 
 soon fix that. Spain is about busted; she can't stand the 
 strain." 
 
 "I predict they'll quit fighting as soon as they get hun 
 gry. The Government is starving them out. However, 
 they've wound up our affairs for the time being, and " 
 Mr. Carter carefully shifted the position of an ink-well, 
 a calendar, and a paper-knife "that brings us to a con 
 sideration of your and my affairs, doesn't it? Ahem! 
 You remember our bargain? I was to give you a chance 
 and you were to make good before you er planned any 
 er matrimonial foolishness with my daughter." 
 
 "Yes, sir." O'Reilly felt that the moment had come 
 for his carefully rehearsed speech, but, unhappily, he could 
 not remember how the swan-song started. He racked 
 his brain for the opening words. 
 
 Mr. Carter, too, was unaccountably silent. He opened 
 his lips, then closed them. Both men, after an awkward 
 pause, cleared their throats in unison and eyed each 
 other expectantly. Another moment dragged past, then 
 they chorused: 
 
 " I have an unpleasant " 
 
 Each broke off at the echo of his own words. 
 
 "What's that?" inquired the importer. 
 
 "N-nothing. You were saying " 
 
 "I was thinking how lucky it is that you and Elsa 
 waited. Hm-m! Very fortunate." Again Mr. Carter 
 rearranged his desk fittings. "She has deep feelings 
 got a conscience, too. Conscience is a fine thing in a 
 woman so few of 'em have it. We sometimes differ, 
 Elsa and I, but when she sets her heart on a thing I see 
 that she gets it, even if I think she oughtn't to have it. 
 
 66
 
 A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS 
 
 What's the use of having children if you can't spoil 
 'em, eh ?" He looked up with a sort of resentful challenge, 
 and when his listener appeared to agree with him he sighed 
 with satisfaction. "Early marriages are silly but she 
 seems to think otherwise. Maybe she's right. Anyhow, 
 she's licked me. I'm done. She wants to be married 
 right away, before we go West. That's why I waited to 
 see you at once. You're a sensible fellow, Johnnie no 
 foolishness about you. You won't object, will you? We 
 men have to take our medicine." 
 
 "It's quite out of the question," stammered the un 
 happy O'Reilly. 
 
 "Come, come! It's tough on you, I know, but " 
 The fuse had begun to sputter. Johnnie had a horrified 
 vision of himself being dragged unwillingly to the altar. 
 "Elsa is going to have what she wants, if I have to break 
 something. If you'll be sensible I'll stand behind you like 
 a father and teach you the business. I'm getting old, and 
 Ethelbert could never learn it. Otherwise " The old 
 man's jaw set; his eyes began to gleam angrily. 
 
 "Who is Ethelbert?" faintly inquired O'Reilly. 
 
 "Why, dammit! He's the fellow I've been telling you 
 about. He's not so bad as he sounds; he's really a nice 
 boy" 
 
 "Elsa is in love with another man? Is that what you 
 mean?" 
 
 "Good Lord, yes! Don't you understand English? I 
 didn't think you'd take it so hard I was going to make 
 a place for you here in the office, but of course if Say! 
 What the deuce ails you?" 
 
 Samuel Carter stared with amazement, for the injured 
 victim of his daughter's fickleness had leaped to his feet 
 and was shaking his hand vigorously, meanwhile uttering 
 unintelligible sounds that seemed to signify relief, pleasure, 
 delight anything except what the old man expected. 
 
 "Are you crazy, or am I?" he queried. 
 
 67
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Yes, sir; delirious. It's this way, sir; I've changed 
 my mind, too." 
 
 "Oh! You have?" 
 
 " I've met the dearest, sweetest " O'Reilly choked, then 
 began again "the dearest, loveliest " 
 
 "Never mind the bird-calls don't coo! I get enough 
 of that at home. Don't tell me she's dearer and sweeter 
 thanElsa. Another girl! Well, I'll be damned ! Young 
 man, you're a fool." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Slightly mollified by this ready acknowledgment, Mr. 
 Carter grunted with relief. "Humph! It turned out 
 better than I thought. Why, I I was positively terrified 
 when you walked in. And to think you didn't need any 
 sympathy!" 
 
 "I do need that job, though. It will enable me to get 
 married." 
 
 "Nonsense! Better wait. I don't believe in early en 
 gagements." 
 
 "Oh yes, you do." 
 
 "Well, that depends. But, say you're a pretty nervy 
 youth to turn down my daughter and then hold me up 
 for a job, all in the same breath. Here ! Don't dance on 
 my rug. I ought to be offended, and I am, but Get 
 out while I telephone Elsa, so she can dance, too." 
 
 O'Reilly spent that evening in writing a long letter to 
 Rosa Varona. During the next few days his high spirits 
 proved a trial and an affront to Mr. Slack, who, now that 
 his employer had departed for the West, had assumed a 
 subdued and gloomy dignity to match the somber respon 
 sibilities of his position. 
 
 Other letters went forward by succeeding posts, and 
 there was no doubt now that O'Reilly's pen was tipped 
 with magic! He tingled when he reread what he had 
 written. He bade Rosa prepare for his return and their 
 immediate marriage. The fun and the excitement of 
 
 68
 
 A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS 
 
 planning their future caused him to fill page after page with 
 thrilling details of the flat-hunting, home-fitting excur 
 sions they would take upon their return to New York. 
 He wrote her ecstatic descriptions of a suite of Grand 
 Rapids furniture he had priced; he wasted a thousand 
 emotional words over a set of china he had picked out, 
 and the results of a preliminary trip into the apartment- 
 house district required a convulsive three-part letter to 
 relate. It is remarkable with what poetic fervor, what 
 strength of feeling, a lover can describe a five-room flat; 
 with what glories he can furnish it out of a modest salary 
 and still leave enough for a life of luxury. 
 
 But O'Reilly's letters did not always touch upon 
 practical things; there was a wide streak of romance in 
 him, and much of what he wrote was the sort of thing which 
 romantic lovers always write tender, foolish, worshipful 
 thoughts which half abashed him when he read them 
 over. But that Rosa would thrill to them he had no 
 doubt, nor had he any fear that she would hesitate to 
 leave her native land for him. O'Reilly's love was un 
 limited; his trust in the girl was absolute. He knew, 
 moreover, that she loved and trusted him. This, to be 
 sure, was a miracle a unique phenomenon which never 
 ceased to amaze him. He did not dream that every man 
 had felt the same vague wonder. 
 
 And so the time passed rapidly. But, strange to say, 
 there came no answer to those letters. O'Reilly chafed: 
 he cursed the revolution which had made communication 
 so uncertain; at length he cabled, but still the days 
 dragged on with no result. Gradually his impatience gave 
 way to apprehension. Unreasonable conjectures be 
 sieged his mind and destroyed his peace. 
 
 Great was his relief, therefore, when one day a worn, 
 stained envelope addressed in Rosa's hand was laid upon 
 his desk. The American stamp, the Key West postmark, 
 looked strange, but Her first letter! O'Reilly won- 
 
 69
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 dered if his first letter to her could possibly have moved 
 her as this moved him. He kissed the envelope where 
 her lips had caressed it in the sealing. Then with eager 
 fingers he broke it open. 
 
 It was a generous epistle, long and closely written, but 
 as he read his keen delight turned to dismay, and when he 
 had turned the last thin page his brain was in wildest 
 turmoil. He thought he must be dreaming. He turned 
 sick, aching eyes upon his surroundings to prove this thing 
 a nightmare, but the prosaic clink of a typewriter and the 
 drone of a voice dictating quotations on Brazilian coffee 
 were conclusive evidence to the contrary. Those pages 
 between his thumb and finger were real. Yes, and that 
 was Rosa's writing. Could it be that he had misunder 
 stood anything? He turned to the beginning and at 
 tempted to read, but his hands shook so that he was 
 obliged to lay the letter flat upon his desk. 
 
 Rosa's Spanish training had been severely tried. The 
 stiff, quaint formality of her opening paragraphs only 
 served to emphasize her final frightened cry for help. 
 
 MY DEARLY BELOVED, It is with diffidence and hesitation 
 that I take my pen in hand, for I fear you may consider me un 
 duly forward in writing to you without solicitation. Believe me, 
 I appreciate the reserve which a young lady of refinement should 
 practise even in her correspondence with the gentleman who has 
 honored her with his promise of marriage, but my circumstances 
 are such as to banish consideration of the social niceties. 
 
 Alas! What events have followed your departure from 
 Matanzas! What misfortunes have overtaken Esteban and me. 
 That happiness could be so swiftly succeeded by misery, that 
 want could follow plenty, that peril could tread so closely upon 
 the heels of safety! Where to begin, how to tell you, I scarcely 
 know; my hand shakes, my eyes are blinded nor dare I trust 
 myself to believe that this letter will ever reach you, for we are 
 refugees, Esteban and I fugitives, outcasts, living in the 
 manigua with Asensio and Evangelina, former slaves of our 
 father. Such poverty, such indescribable circumstances! But 
 
 70
 
 A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS 
 
 they were our only friends and they took us in when we were 
 homeless, so we love them. 
 
 I see you stare at these words. I hear you say, "That Rosa 
 has gone mad, like her wicked stepmother!" Indeed, sometimes 
 I think I have. But, no. I write facts. It is a relief to put 
 them down, even though you never read them. Good Asensio 
 will take this letter on his horse to the Insurrecto camp, many 
 miles away, and there give it to Colonel Lopez, our only friend, 
 who promises that in some mysterious way it will escape the eyes 
 of our enemies and reach your country. Yes, we have enemies! 
 We, who have harmed no one. Wait until I tell you. 
 
 But if this letter reaches you and I send it with a prayer 
 what then? I dare not think too long of that, for the hearts 
 of men are not like the hearts of women. What will you say 
 when you learn that the Rosa Varona whom you favored with 
 your admiration is not the Rosa of to-day? I hear you murmur, 
 "The girl forgets herself!" But, oh, the standards of yesterday 
 are gone and my reserve is gone, too! I am a hunted creature. 
 
 O'Reilly felt a great pain in his breast at the thought 
 that Rosa had for an instant doubted him. But she did 
 not really doubt; those misgivings were but momentary; 
 the abandon of her appeal showed that in her heart of 
 hearts she knew his love to be unshakable. 
 
 She had compelled herself to start with the death of 
 Dona Isabel and to give him a succinct account of all that 
 had followed. O'Reilly read the story, fascinated. Here, 
 amid these surroundings, with the rattle of typewriters 
 and the tinkle of telephone-bells in his ears, it all seemed 
 wholly improbable, fancifully unreal like the workings of 
 some turgid melodrama. 
 
 That is how we came to live with Asensio and his wife [the 
 letter went on]. Imagine it! A bohio, hidden away far up the 
 Yumuri, and so insignificant as to escape attention. We are 
 no longer people of consequence or authority; our safety depends 
 upon our inconspicuousness. We hide as do the timid animals, 
 though nature has not given us their skill in avoiding danger. I 
 do not like the wilderness; it frightens me. At night I hear
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 things rustling through the thatch above my head; in the morn 
 ing my feet touch a bare earthen floor. We live on fruits and 
 vegetables from Evangelina's garden, with now and then a fowl 
 or a bite of meat when Asensio is fortunate. Est6ban does not 
 seem to mind, but I cannot accommodate myself to these bar 
 barous surroundings. Sometimes I bite my tongue to keep 
 from complaining, for that, I know, would grieve him. 
 
 The whole country is in chaos. There is no work nothing but 
 suspicion, hatred, and violence. Oh, what desolation this war 
 has wrought ! Este'ban has already become a guerrillero. He has 
 stolen a cow, and so we have milk for our coffee; but there is 
 only a handful of coffee left, and little hope of more. Marauding 
 bands of Spaniards are everywhere, and the country people tell 
 atrocious tales about them. How will it end? How long before 
 they will discover us and the worst will happen? 
 
 Soon after our arrival Este'ban went to the camp of Colonel 
 Lopez to arrange for us to join his army, but returned heart 
 broken. It was impossible, it seems, on my account. Condi 
 tions with the patriots are worse than with us here, and the 
 colonel acknowledged frankly that he could not be burdened with 
 a woman in his command. So Este'ban has given up for the 
 present his dream of fighting, and devotes himself to protecting 
 me. You see there is no sanctuary, no help but his right arm. 
 The towns are in Spanish hands, the manigua is infested with 
 lawless men, and there is no place in which to hide me. So I 
 feel myself a burden. Estban has plans to arm a band of his 
 own. I am numb with dread of what it may lead to, for his 
 hatred is centered upon Cueto, that false servant whose wicked 
 ness reduced us to this extremity. Esteban is so young and 
 reckless. If only you were here to counsel him. 
 
 If only you were here Oh, my dearest Juan! If only you 
 were here to take me in your arms and banish this ever constant 
 terror at my heart. If only you were here to tell me that you 
 love me still in spite of my misfortune. See! The tears are 
 falling as I write. My eyes are dim, my fingers trace uncertain 
 letters on the sheet, and I can only steady them when I re 
 member that you promised to return. You will return, will 
 you not? I could not write like this if I were sure that you 
 would read these lines. My nightly prayer But I will not 
 
 72
 
 A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS 
 
 tell you of my prayers, for fate may guide this letter to you, 
 after all, and the hearts of men do change. In those dark hours 
 when my doubts arise I try to tell myself that you will surely 
 come and search me out. 
 
 Sometimes I play a game with Evangelina our only game. 
 We gather wild flowers. We assort the few belongings that I 
 managed to bring with me and I array myself for you. And 
 then I smile and laugh for a little while, and she tells me I am 
 beautiful enough to please you. But the flowers fade, and I 
 know that beauty, too, will fade in such surroundings. What 
 then? I ask myself. 
 
 When you return to Cuba see, my faith is strong again 
 avoid Matanzas, for your own sake and mine. Don Mario 
 wanted to marry me to save me this exile. But I refused; I 
 told him I was pledged to you, and he was furious. He is 
 powerful; he would balk you, and there is always room for one 
 more in San Severino. Pancho Cueto, too, living in luxury upon 
 the fruits of his crime, would certainly consider you a menace 
 to his security. You see how cunning my love for you has 
 made me? 
 
 If I could come to you, I would, but I am marked. So if 
 you still desire me you must search me out. You will? I 
 pin my faith to that as to the Cross. To doubt would be to 
 perish. If we should have to find another hiding-place, and 
 that is always likely, you can learn of our whereabouts from 
 Colonel Lopez. 
 
 Alas! If you had asked me to go with you that day! I 
 would have followed you, for my heart beat then as it beats to 
 day, for you alone. 
 
 The candle is burning low and it will soon be daylight, and 
 then this letter must begin its long, uncertain journey. I 
 must creep into my bed now, to pray and then to dream. It is 
 cold, before the dawn, and the thatch above me rustles. I am 
 very poor and sad and lonely, O'Reilly, but my cheeks are full 
 and red; my lips could learn to smile again, and you would not 
 be ashamed of me. 
 
 Asensio is rising. He goes to find his horse and I must close. 
 God grant this reaches you, some time, somehow. I trust the 
 many blots upon the paper will not give you a wrong impression 
 
 6 73
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 of my writing, for I am neat, and I write nicely; only now the 
 ink is poor and there is very little of it. There is little of any 
 thing, here at Asensio's house, except tears. Of those I fear 
 there are too many to please you, my Juan, for men do not 
 like tears. Therefore I try to smile as I sign myself, 
 Your loving and your faithful 
 
 ROSA. 
 O God! Come quickly, if you love me.
 
 VI 
 
 THE QUEST BEGINS 
 
 WHEN O'Reilly had finished his second reading of 
 the letter there were fresh blots upon the pitifully 
 untidy pages. "I write nicely, only the ink is poor " 
 "There is little of anything here at Asensio's house " 
 "It is cold before the dawn " . . . Poor little Rosa! 
 He had always thought of her as so proud, so high- 
 spirited, so playful, but another Rosa had written this 
 letter. Her appeal stirred every chord of tenderness, 
 every impulse of chivalry in his impressionable Irish 
 nature. She doubted him; she feared he would not come 
 to her. Well, he would set her doubts at rest. "O God! 
 Come quickly, if you love me." He leaped to his feet; 
 he dashed the tears from his eyes. 
 
 Mr. Slack looked up astonished at the apparition which 
 burst in upon him. He was accustomed to O'Reilly's 
 high head of steam and disapproved of it, but he had 
 never seen the fellow so surcharged as now. He was 
 positively jumpy; his voice was sharp; his hands were 
 unsteady; his eyes were bright and blue and hard. 
 
 "I want my salary, quick," Johnnie began. 
 
 Mr. Slack resented emotion, he abominated haste; he 
 had cultivated what he considered to be a thorough com 
 mercial deliberation. 
 
 "My dear man," he said, "I'd advise you " 
 
 "I don't want advice; I want money," snapped the 
 other. "I've quit, resigned, skipped, fled." 
 
 75
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Indeed? When does your resignation take effect?" 
 
 "Immediately, and if you don't move like lightning it 
 will take effect upon your person." 
 
 " Mr. Carter would never " 
 
 "Bother Mr. Carter! Now stiffen your spine long 
 enough to write my check. If you don't " O'Reilly 
 compressed his lips and breathed ominously through his 
 nostrils. He laid a heavy and persuasive hand upon the 
 secretary's shoulder. "Hump yourself, old jellyfish!" 
 
 There was a queer, wild light in O'Reilly's eye and for 
 once Mr. Slack took orders from an underling. He 
 humped himself. 
 
 Johnnie's other preparations were conducted with 
 equal vigor and promptitude; within two hours his be 
 longings were packed. But for all his haste his mind was 
 working clearly. Rosa's warning not to come to Matanzas 
 was no doubt warranted, and his own unpleasant experi 
 ences with the customs men at Havana were still fresh 
 enough to be vivid. The Spaniards were intensely sus 
 picious of all Americans, especially incoming ones, as he 
 had reason to know, and since he was nearly as well ac 
 quainted in the one place as in the other it seemed to be 
 the part of wisdom to slip into the country through a side 
 door. The seat of war was in the east. The rebels held 
 that part of the island. Once there and in touch with 
 them it would surely be no difficult task to evade the 
 local authorities and join Colonel Lopez. 
 
 O'Reilly pondered these thoughts briefly, then seized 
 his hat and hastened down-town to the office of the Cuban 
 Junta. 
 
 At this time the newspapers of the United States were 
 devoting much space to the insular uprising; the first 
 stories of Spanish atrocities later, alas ! destined to become 
 all too familiar, were gaining public attention, and there 
 were few readers who did not know something about the 
 activities of that body of patriots who made their head- 
 
 76
 
 THE QUEST BEGINS 
 
 quarters at 56 New Street. It was from this place that 
 the revolution was largely financed, so the papers said. 
 It was there that the filibustering expeditions supplying 
 arms and ammunition originated. To 56 New Street 
 O'Reilly went. 
 
 There was nothing martial about the atmosphere of the 
 Junta's offices; there were no war maps on the walls, no 
 stands of arms nor recruiting officers in evidence not 
 even a hint of intrigue or conspiracy. The place was 
 rather meanly furnished, and it was disappointingly com 
 monplace. A business-like young man inquired O'Reilly's 
 errand. 
 
 Johnnie made known a part of it, and then asked to see 
 some one in authority. In consequence, perhaps, of his 
 Irish smile or of that persuasiveness which he could render 
 almost irresistible when he willed, it was not long before 
 he gained admittance to the presence of Mr. Enriquez, a 
 distinguished, scholarly Cuban of middle age. 
 
 "You say you have important business with me?" the 
 latter inquired, speaking with an accent of refinement. 
 
 O'Reilly plunged boldly into the heart of the matter 
 which had brought him thither. When he had finished his 
 tale Mr. Enriquez inquired: 
 
 "But how do you expect me to help you?" 
 
 "I want your advice more than your help, although you 
 might tell me where I can find Colonel Lopez." 
 
 Enriquez eyed his caller keenly. "That information 
 would be very well worth having," said he. "But, you 
 understand, we know little about what is going on in 
 Cuba far less than the Spaniards themselves. I'm 
 afraid I can't help you." 
 
 "You don't take me for a spy, do you?" Johnnie asked, 
 with his friendly grin. 
 
 "Ah! You don't look like one, but we never know 
 whom to trust. This young lady in whom you are inter 
 ested, who is she?" 
 
 77
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Her name is Varona; Miss Rosa Varona." 
 
 "So?" Enriquez raised his brows. "Not by any 
 chance the heiress to that famous Varona treasure?" 
 
 "Exactly! if there is such a thing." There ensued 
 a pause while the Cuban drummed softly upon his desk 
 with his finger-tips. "Her brother Este"ban told me that 
 he was working for your cause. I warned him to be care 
 ful, but " O'Reilly's voice grew suddenly husky. 
 "Here! Read this. I want you to believe me." Rev 
 erently he laid Rosa's letter before her countryman. 
 "I'm not in the habit of showing my letters to strangers, 
 but I guess that '11 convince you I'm not a spy." 
 
 He sat silently while the letter was being read; nor 
 was he disappointed in the result. Mr. Enriquez raised 
 dark, compassionate eyes to his, saying: 
 
 "This is a touching letter, sir. I thank you for allow 
 ing me to see it. No, I don't doubt you now. Poor 
 Cuba! Her sons must be brave, her daughters patient." 
 
 "Well! You understand why I must go quickly, and 
 why I can't chance delay by going either to Matanzas or 
 to Havana. I want to land somewhere farther east, and 
 I want you to help me to find Colonel Lopez." 
 
 Mr. Enriquez frowned thoughtfully. "What I just 
 told you is literally true," he said at last. "We work in 
 the dark up here, and we don't know the whereabouts of 
 our troops. We are suspicious of strangers, too, as we 
 have reason to be. But I have a thought." He excused 
 himself and left the room. When he returned he ex 
 plained: "I don't have to tell you that we are watched 
 all the time, and that for us to assist you openly would 
 be liable to defeat your purpose. But I have just tele 
 phoned to a man I can trust, and I have told him your 
 story. He has relatives in Cuba and he agrees to help 
 you if he can. His name is Alvarado." Writing an ad 
 dress upon a card, he handed it to O'Reilly. "Go to 
 him, tell him what you have told me, and do as he directs. 
 
 78
 
 THE QUEST BEGINS 
 
 Another thing, don't return here unless it is necessary; 
 otherwise when you land in Cuba you may have cause 
 to regret it." Mr. Enriquez extended his hand, and when 
 O'Reilly tried to thank him he shook his head. ''It is 
 nothing. I wish you success, but I fear you have 
 tackled a big proposition." 
 
 Dr. Alvarado, a high type of the Cuban professional 
 man, was expecting O'Reilly. He listened patiently to 
 his caller's somewhat breathless recital. 
 
 "You do well to avoid the cities where you are known," 
 he agreed. "It would be madness, under the circum 
 stances, even to be seen in Matanzas: those enemies of 
 your friends would have you deported. But just how to 
 reach the Insurrectos " 
 
 " If you'd merely give me a letter saying I'm a friend " 
 
 The doctor promptly negatived this suggestion. ' ' Surely 
 you don't think it can be done as easily as that?" he in 
 quired. "In the first place, wherever you land, you will 
 be watched and probably searched. Such a letter, if 
 discovered, would not only end your chances, but it would 
 bring certain disaster upon those to whom it was written. 
 I have no right to jeopardize the lives of those I hold 
 dear. These are perilous times for all good Cubans, 
 Mr. O'Reilly. Enriquez told me about that poor girl. 
 She bears a famous name and I want to help her." 
 He removed his glasses and wiped them, absent-mindedly. 
 "There are three Alvarados living," he resumed. "My 
 two brothers, T6mas and Ignacio, reside in Cuba, and we 
 all work for the cause of independence in our own ways. 
 I am fortunately situated, but they are surrounded by 
 dangers, and I must ask you to be extremely careful in 
 communicating with them, for I am placing their lives in 
 your hands and I love them dearly." 
 
 " I shall do exactly as you say." 
 
 "Very well, then! Go to Neuvitas, where T6mas lives 
 there is a steamer leaving in three or four days, and 
 
 79
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 you can arrange passage on her. He is a dentist. Meet 
 him, somehow, and make yourself known by repeating 
 this sentence: ' I come from Felipe. He told me how you 
 whipped him to keep him from going to the Ten Years' 
 War!' That will be enough; he will ask you who you 
 are and what you want." 
 
 "I see. It's a sort of password." 
 
 "No. I've never had reason to communicate with him 
 in this way." Noting the bewilderment in O'Reilly's 
 face, Alvarado smiled. "You won't need to say anything 
 more. No living soul, except Tomas and I, knows that 
 he thrashed me, but it is true. I was young, I wanted to 
 go to the war, but he took it out of me with a bamboo. 
 Later we bound ourselves never to mention it. He will 
 understand from the message that I trust you, and he 
 will help you to reach the rebels, if such a thing is possible. 
 But tell me, when you have found Miss Varona, what 
 then?" 
 
 "Why, I'll bring her out." 
 
 "How? Do you think you can walk into any seaport 
 and take ship? You will be tagged and numbered by the 
 authorities. Once you disappear into the manigua, you 
 will be a marked man." 
 
 "Well, then, I'll many her right there. I'm an Amer 
 ican citizen " 
 
 " Don't build too much on that fact, either," the doctor 
 warned. "Spanish jails are strong, and your country has 
 never compelled that respect for its nationals which other 
 countries insist upon." 
 
 "Perhaps! But the first thing is to find Miss Varona 
 and learn that she's safe. I don't much care what hap 
 pens after that." 
 
 Alvarado nodded and smiled. "Good! What would 
 this world be without sentiment ? It loves a lover. I like 
 your spirit and I hope soon to have the pleasure of again 
 seeing you and meeting your wife." 
 
 80
 
 THE QUEST BEGINS 
 
 O'Reilly flushed and stammered, whereupon the good 
 Cuban patted him on the shoulder. "Come and see me 
 when you get back, and bring me news of Tomas. Now, 
 adios, compadre." 
 
 "Adios, senor! I am deeply grateful!" 
 
 O'Reilly had no difficulty in securing passage direct 
 to Neuvitas on the English steamer Dunham Castle, and a 
 few days later he saw the Atlantic Highlands dissolve into 
 the mists of a winter afternoon as the ship headed out 
 ward into a nasty running sea. 
 
 It proved to be a wretched trip. Off Hatteras the 
 Dunham Castle labored heavily for twelve hours, and bad 
 weather followed her clear into the old Bahama Channel. 
 Not until she had thrust her nose into the narrow entrance of 
 Neuvitas harbor did she wholly cease her seasick plunging, 
 but then the weather changed with bewildering suddenness. 
 
 Cuba, when it came fairly into sight, lay bathed in 
 golden sunshine, all warmth and welcome, like a bride 
 upon an azure couch. The moist breath from her fragrant 
 shores swept over the steamer's decks and Johnnie 
 O'Reilly sniffed it joyfully. 
 
 He had brought little luggage with him, only an extra 
 suit of khaki, a few toilet articles, and a Colt's revolver, 
 the companion of his earlier Cuban days. He was holding 
 the weapon in his hand, debating how and where to con 
 ceal it, when the first officer paused in the state-room 
 door and, spying it, exclaimed: 
 
 "Hello! Smuggling arms to the Insurrectos, eh?" 
 
 O'Reilly laughed. "It's an old friend. I don't know 
 just what to do with it." 
 
 "I'll tell you," the mate volunteered. "Lead your old 
 friend out here to the rail, shake hands with him, and drop 
 him overboard before he gets you into trouble." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "I mean it. They won't let you land with that hard 
 ware. Take my tip." 
 
 81
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 But Johnnie hesitated. Though his intentions were far 
 from warlike, he could not bring himself, in view of his 
 secret plans, to part with his only weapon. He examined 
 his extra pair of khaki trousers, and discovering a con 
 siderable surplus of cloth at each inside seam, he took 
 needle and thread and managed to sew the gun in so that 
 it hung close against the inside of his right leg when 
 he donned the garment. It felt queer and uncomfort 
 able, but it did not appear to be noticeable so long as 
 he stood upright. With some pride in his stratagem, 
 he laid off his winter suit and changed into lighter 
 clothing. 
 
 Neuvitas was scorching under a midday sun when he 
 came on deck. Its low, square houses were glaring white; 
 here and there a splotch of vivid Cuban blue stood out; 
 the rickety, worm-eaten piling of its water-front resembled 
 rows of rotten, snaggly teeth smiling out of a chalky face 
 mottled with unhealthy, artificial spots of color. Gusts 
 of wind from the shore brought feverish odors, as if the 
 city were sick and exhaled a tainted breath. But beyond, 
 the hills were clean and green, the fields were rich and 
 ripe. That was the Cuba which O'Reilly knew. 
 
 A Spanish transport, close by, was languidly discharging 
 uniformed troops; lighters of military supplies were being 
 unloaded; the sound of a bugle floated from the shore. 
 Moored to the docks or anchored in the harbor were 
 several shallow-draught "tin-clad" coast-patrol craft from 
 the staffs of which streamed the red and yellow bars of 
 Spain. 
 
 Although there were but a few passengers on the Dun 
 ham Castle, they were subjected to a long delay during 
 which suspicious customs men searched their baggage and 
 questioned them. Finally, however, O'Reilly found him 
 self free to go ashore. He had passed the ordeal handily, 
 and now he was eager to reach some lodging-place where 
 he could remove that revolver which knocked against his 
 
 82
 
 THE QUEST BEGINS 
 
 leg so awkwardly at every step. Once on the dock, he 
 gave his bag to a negro and led the way toward the street. 
 At the last moment, however, just as he was about to 
 plant his feet upon solid earth, he was halted by two men 
 who rose from a bench where they had been idling. They 
 carried the tasseled canes of the Secret Service, and 
 O'Reilly felt his heart jump. 
 
 With a murmured apology one of them relieved the 
 negro of the valise while the other began to search O'Reil 
 ly's person for concealed weapons. He began at Johnnie's 
 shoulders and patted one pocket after another, "fanning" 
 him in the fashion approved of policemen. Now, too late, 
 the American regretted his refusal to heed the mate's 
 warning. It seemed certain that he was in for trouble, 
 but he drew his heels together and stood with the revolver 
 pressed between his legs, praying that those exploratory 
 palms would not encounter it. When the officer had 
 slapped every pocket, ending at the hips, he nodded; his 
 companion snapped shut the valise, and handed it back 
 to the porter. 
 
 O'Reilly paused a moment or two later to wipe the 
 abundant perspiration from his face; even yet his pulse 
 was pounding erratically. He hoped the future held no 
 more surprises of this sort, for he feared that his nerve 
 might fail him. 
 
 El Gran Hotel Europea, Neuvitas's leading hostelry, be 
 lied its name. It was far from large, and certainly it was 
 anything but European, except, perhaps, in its proprietor's 
 extravagant and un-American desire to please, at any cost. 
 The building was old and dirty, the open cafe", fronting 
 upon the sidewalk of the main street, was full of flies, 
 and dust from the unclean roadway lay thick upon its 
 stone-topped tables; moreover, a recognizable odor of 
 decay issued from the patio or perhaps from the kitchen 
 behind it. After O'Reilly's first meal he was sure it came 
 from the latter place; even suspected that the odor 
 
 83
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 flattered actual conditions. But it was the best hotel 
 the place afforded, and Senor Carbajal was the most at 
 tentive of hosts. 
 
 He was a globular, unctuous little man, this Carbajal; 
 he reminded O'Reilly of a drop of oil. He evinced an 
 unusual interest in the affairs of his American guest, and 
 soon developed a habit of popping into the latter's room 
 at unexpected moments, ostensibly to see that all was as 
 it should be. Now there was very little in the room to 
 need attention only a bed with a cheese-cloth mosquito- 
 net, a wash-stand, and a towering, smelly clothes-press 
 of Spanish architecture, which looked as if it might have 
 a dark and sinister history. When, for the third time, he 
 appeared without knocking, O'Reilly suspected some 
 thing. 
 
 "You have everything, eh?" Mr. Carbajal teetered 
 upon the balls of his feet while his small black eyes roved 
 inquisitively. 
 
 "Everything in abundance." 
 
 "There is water, eh?" The proprietor peered dutifully 
 into the pitcher, incidentally taking stock of O'Reilly's 
 toilet articles. 
 
 "A veritable ocean of it." 
 
 4 ' One never knows. These servants are so lazy. But 
 your other baggage, your trunk?" 
 
 "I have no trunk." 
 
 "So? I took you to be a great traveler." 
 
 "lam." 
 
 "Selling goods, eh?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Indeed? Then you are a pleasure traveler? You see 
 the sights, is that it? Well, Cuba is beautiful." 
 
 "Most beautiful, judging from what I have seen." 
 
 Mr. Carbajal wagged a pudgy forefinger at his guest. 
 "Tut! Tut! You know Cuba. You speak the language 
 better than a native. You can't fool me, sly one!" He 
 
 84
 
 THE QUEST BEGINS 
 
 wrinkled his face and winked both eyes. It was an invita 
 tion to further confidence, and he was disappointed when 
 it passed unnoticed. "Well, you Americans are a brave 
 people," he continued, with an obvious effort to keep the 
 conversation going. "You like to be where the fighting 
 is." 
 
 "Not I. I'm a timid man." 
 
 "Ho! Ha! Ha!" the proprietor cackled. Then he 
 became pensive. "There is nothing here at Neuvitas to 
 interest a tourist except the war." 
 
 "I'm not a tourist." 
 
 "Indeed? Now that is interesting." Mr. Carbajal 
 seated himself on the edge of the bed, where he could 
 look into O'Reilly's traveling-bag. "Not a tourist, not a 
 traveling-man. Now what could possibly bring you to 
 Cuba?" 
 
 O'Reilly eyed his inquisitor gravely; a subtle melan 
 choly darkened his agreeable countenance. "I travel for 
 my health," said he. 
 
 "You Health !" Carbajal's frame began to heave ; 
 his bulging abdomen oscillated as if shaken by some hid 
 den hand. ' ' Good ! Ha ! There's another joke for you. ' ' 
 
 "I'm a sick man," O'Reilly insisted, hollowly. 
 
 "From what malady do you suffer?" inquired the hotel- 
 keeper. 
 
 "Rheumatism." 
 
 "Rheumatism? That is no more than a pain in the 
 joints, a stiffness " 
 
 "There! I knew it!" O'Reilly exclaimed in triumph. 
 Rising, he seized his host's moist hands and shook them 
 violently. "You give me courage! You make a new 
 man of me. These doctors enjoy a fellow's agony; 
 they'd like to bury him. They'd never recommend this 
 climate. No! 'Pain in the joints,' you say, 'stiffness.' 
 That proves the abominable affliction is practically un 
 known here. I thank you, sir." 
 
 85
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "You don't look sick," mumbled Carbajal. "Not like 
 the other American." 
 
 "What other American?" 
 
 "A peculiar fellow. He went on to Puerto Principe. 
 What a cough! And he was as thin as a wire. He bled 
 at the mouth, too, all the time, when he was not reviling 
 my hotel. You'll see him if you go there, provided he 
 hasn't come apart with his coughing. I believe he writes 
 for newspapers. Well, it is my pleasure to serve you. 
 Command me at any hour." Mr. Carbajal rose reluc 
 tantly and went wheezing down-stairs to his grimy tables 
 and the flies. 
 
 O'Reilly was not in the least deceived; it was plain to 
 him that the hotel man was in close touch with the 
 Spanish authorities, and he began to feel the need of some 
 better excuse, some valid business reason, for being here, 
 such as would allay suspicion once for all. But he could 
 think of nothing better than his rheumatism, and to that 
 he determined to cling.
 
 VII 
 
 THE MAN WHO WOULD KNOW LIFE 
 
 T ATER that day O'Reilly set out to reconnoiter the 
 JLrf city of Neuvitas. He was followed, of course he 
 had expected as much, and the circumstances amused 
 rather than alarmed him. But when he returned to his 
 hotel and found that his room had been visited during his 
 absence he felt a hint of uneasiness. Evidently, as Doctor 
 Alvarado had forecast, the authorities were interested in 
 him; and he had further evidence of the fact when he 
 learned that the room next him was occupied by the very 
 man who had shadowed him on the street. Inasmuch as 
 the intervening wall was no more than a thin partition, 
 through which his very breathing could be heard, while 
 his every movement could doubtless be spied upon, 
 O'Reilly saw the need of caution, and he began to cast 
 about for a place to hide that Colt's revolver, the presence 
 of which was assuming the proportions of a menace. 
 Now that his belongings had been examined three times 
 that day, the next step would probably be another search 
 of his person. Unless in the mean time he could definitely 
 establish his innocence of purpose, which was unlikely, 
 it behooved him to rid himself of the weapon without delay. 
 This, however, was a problem. He could not bring him 
 self to throw the thing away, and his bare bedroom offered 
 no place of concealment. Late that evening he called 
 Mr. Carbajal and asked him if it were possible to take a 
 bath. 
 
 87
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Mr. Carbajal assured him that it was. El Gran Hotel 
 Europea was first class in every respect; no expense had 
 been spared in its equipment. Senor O'Rail-ye had 
 indeed done well in patronizing it, for it boasted the best 
 cuarto de bano in the whole city a room, moreover, which 
 was devoted exclusively to the purposes of bathing. And 
 it was a large room large enough to accommodate a 
 dozen guests at once. To be sure, it would require, say, 
 half an hour to make it ready, for it was stored with hay 
 for the horses which drew the 'bus to and from the depot, 
 but if the senor would have patience it could soon be 
 restored to its original purpose. Mr. Carbajal himself 
 would see that there was a river of hot water. 
 
 O'Reilly thanked him. An hour later he paraded, bare 
 foot, down the hall, wrapped in a blanket. He had pur 
 posely left his clothes behind him, and the door of his. 
 room unlocked, but under his naked left arm he carried 
 the revolver. 
 
 He was a long time in his bath. When he returned 
 to his chamber he found his garments very nearly 
 as he had left them. He smiled as he crept into bed 
 and tucked the netting under his thin mattress. They 
 could search him now, whenever they pleased, for the 
 revolver and its box of precious cartridges reposed on a 
 duty beam over the bathroom, where no one would ever 
 think of looking. 
 
 During breakfast, and afterward throughout an aim 
 less morning stroll, O'Reilly felt watchful eyes upon him. 
 When he returned to his hotel he found Mr. Carbajal in 
 the cafe* concocting rejrescos for some military officers, who 
 scanned the American with bold, hostile glances. O'Reilly 
 complained to the proprietor of a toothache. 
 
 At once Mr. Carbajal was sympathetic; he was also 
 admonitory, blaming the affliction upon that bath of the 
 previous evening. Excessive bathing, he declared, was 
 injurious, particularly in the winter season; it opened 
 
 88
 
 THE MAN WHO WOULD KNOW LIFE 
 
 one's pores, and it dried one's skin and rendered one 
 liable to the attacks of every disease. Heat? Perspira 
 tion? Was it wise to resort to unnatural and artificial 
 means in order to rid oneself of a trifling annoyance? 
 If perspiration were injurious, nature would not have 
 provided it. In fact, it was nature's method of keeping 
 the body clean, and if people were unreasonably fastidious 
 about such things a little cologne would render them even 
 more agreeable to the senses than any number of baths. 
 That was the purpose of cologne. This habit of bathing 
 at fixed intervals of a week or two, regardjess of conditions, 
 might be, and probably was, responsible for all of O'Reil 
 ly's rheumatism. Mr. Carbajal, for one, knew better 
 than to overdo the thing. He had never suffered an ache 
 or a pain in his life and his teeth were perfectly sound, as 
 he demonstrated by beating vigorously upon them with 
 his mixing-spoon. 
 
 O'Reilly was impressed by this argument, he acknowl 
 edged, but unfortunately it did not remedy the pain 
 which was killing him. During the hottest part of the 
 day, when he knew the town would be asleep, he reap 
 peared in the cafe", his cheek in his hand. He declared 
 that something had to be done, at once, and inquired the 
 name and address of the best local dentist. 
 
 Mr. Carbajal named several, among them Dr. T6mas 
 Alvarado, whereupon his guest hurried away, followed at 
 a respectful distance by the secret agent. 
 
 Finding Doctor Alvarado's office was closed, as he had 
 anticipated, O'Reilly proceeded to the doctor's residence. 
 There was some delay when he rang the bell, but eventu 
 ally the dentist himself appeared. O'Reilly recognized 
 him from his resemblance to his brother. He addressed 
 him in English. 
 
 " I come from Felipe," he began. "He well remembers 
 the day you whipped him to keep him from going to the 
 Ten Years' War." 
 
 7 89
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 The languor of Doctor Alvarado's siesta vanished. 
 He started, his eyes widened. 
 
 "Who are you?" he muttered. 
 
 "My name is O'Reilly. I am an American, a friend, 
 so don't be alarmed. The man you see approaching is 
 following me, but he thinks I have come to you with a 
 toothache." 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 "I want your help in joining the Insurrectos." 
 
 By this time the detective had come within earshot. 
 Ma-king an effort at self-possession, the dentist said: "Very 
 well. I will meet you at my office hi a half -hour and see 
 what can be done." Then he bowed. 
 
 O'Reilly raised his hat and turned away. 
 
 Doctor Alvarado's dentist's chair faced a full-length 
 window, one of several which, after the Cuban fashion, 
 opened directly upon the sidewalk, rendering both the 
 waiting-room and the office almost as public as the 
 street itself. Every one of these windows was wide 
 open when Johnnie arrived; but it seemed that the den 
 tist knew what he was about, for when his patient had 
 taken his seat and he had begun an examination of the 
 troublesome tooth, he said, under his breath: 
 
 "I, too, am watched. Talk to me in English. When 
 I press, thus, upon your gum, you will know that some 
 one is passing. Now then, what is the meaning of your 
 amazing message from Felipe?" 
 
 While Doctor Alvarado pretended to treat a perfectly 
 sound molar, Johnnie managed, despite frequent inter 
 ruptions, to make known the reason and circumstances 
 of his presence. 
 
 "But there are no rebels around here," Alvarado told 
 him. "You could escape to the country, perhaps, but 
 what then? Where would you go? How would they 
 know who you are?" 
 
 "That's what I want to find out." 
 
 90
 
 THE MAN WHO WOULD KNOW LIFE 
 
 The Cuban pondered. "You'll have to go to Puerto 
 Principe," he said, at length. "Our men are operating 
 in that neighborhood, and my brother Ignacio will know 
 how to reach them. I'll give you a message to him, 
 similar to the one you brought me from Felipe." Then 
 he smiled. " I've just thought of the very thing. Years 
 ago I lent him a book which I particularly prized, and 
 one of his children damaged it. I was furious. I de 
 clared I would never lend him another, and I never have. 
 Now then, I'll give you that very volume; hand it to 
 him and say that I asked you to return it to him. I'd like 
 to see his face when he receives it." 
 
 O'Reilly thanked him, promising to use every precau 
 tion in delivering the message. The very care necessary 
 in communicating between brother and brother made him 
 realize more clearly than hitherto that he was among 
 enemies. 
 
 The next morning he paid Carbajal's score and took 
 the train to the interior. In his bag was T6mas Alvarado's 
 precious volume, and in the same coach with him rode the 
 Secret Service man. 
 
 In its general features Puerto Principe differed little 
 from the other Cuban cities O'Reilly knew. It was com 
 pactly built, it was very old and it looked its centuries. 
 Its streets were particularly narrow and crooked, having 
 been purposely laid out in labyrinthian mazes, so the story 
 goes, in order to fool the pirates. In some ways it was 
 quaint and unusual. For instance, here and there were 
 queer tinajones, vast venerable earthen jars for holding 
 rain-water, each inscribed with the date when it left the 
 potter's wheel; then, too, there was a remarkable number 
 of churches massive structures, grayed by time and in 
 the northern distance, blue against the sky, O'Reilly 
 had a glimpse of the Cubitas range, where he knew the 
 Insurrectos were in camp. That was his goal: it seemed 
 almost within his grasp. He was tempted to abandon
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 caution and make a dash for it, until he discovered that 
 the city was well guarded. One needed a pass to enter 
 or to leave Puerto Principe, and, moreover, the city had 
 no suburbs, no scattered residences outside its boundaries: 
 when one came to the end of a street one found oneself 
 in an open field faced by a barbed-wire barrier, and on 
 every road leading from the town stood a fortina, a little 
 fort of brick or logs, in which were stationed Spanish 
 soldiers. The streets were alive with uniformed men, 
 patrols were everywhere, and martial law prevailed. For 
 the first time O'Reilly began to perceive the strength of 
 that mailed hand which held the island so tightly. Judg 
 ing from the preparations here, one must conclude that 
 Spain had no intention of relinquishing her last New 
 World possession. 
 
 After a stroll through the city, during which he care 
 fully used his eyes, Johnnie asked himself how the ill- 
 drilled, ill-equipped, loosely organized Insurrectos could 
 hope to overthrow so solid a power as this, backed as it 
 seemed to be by unlimited means and unlimited armies 
 of trained troops. It looked like a hopeless undertaking. 
 No seaport, no city, scarcely a hamlet, in fact, so far as 
 O'Reilly knew, was held by the rebels; they lurked in the 
 woods or rode the savannas in ragged bands, here to-day, 
 there to-morrow. To aid or comfort them was treason. 
 They appeared out of the jungles at unexpected moments ; 
 they faded like the mists of the dawn. Theirs was an 
 apparitional warfare, and even their biggest victories 
 were signals for retreat. How could they think to win? 
 
 It seemed impossible that such resistance as they 
 offered could wear down and conquer the resources of 
 Spain, yet the very numbers and alertness of the Spanish 
 troops argued a somewhat formidable opposition. Did 
 it not also argue an all-pervading restlessness which 
 might some day escape control? O'Reilly, of course, had 
 no part in this quarrel: but it struck him as a wicked waste 
 
 92
 
 THE MAN WHO WOULD KNOW LIFE 
 
 to destroy, to ravage, and to slay when settlement was so 
 easy. The motive behind this prodigal extravagance of 
 blood and gold was nothing but foolish resistance of a 
 principle. A little yielding, a little diminution of harsh 
 ness, a little compassion on the part of the mother country, 
 and these men who were killing one another would embrace 
 and proclaim their blood brotherhood. 
 
 Pondering such thoughts as these, O'Reilly returned 
 to his hotel. As he sat in the cafe", sipping an orangeade, 
 he heard some one speaking in atrocious Spanish, and 
 looked up to see that another American had entered. 
 The stranger was a tall, funereal young man, with pallid 
 cheeks and hollow, burning eyes: he was asking for ice- 
 water, but what he said resembled anything except the 
 language of the country. 
 
 "Hey, George!" he cried. "Try gimme a vasso of 
 agwa con yellow." He pronounced the words with 
 elaborate pains. "Make it a long one." 
 
 A waiter eyed him tolerantly, but with no faintest sign 
 of understanding. 
 
 "Agwa con yellow agwa with ice. Ice! ICE!" the 
 man repeated loudly. Still failing of a response, he 
 shouted, "Don't you know what 'ice' is?" He wrapped 
 his long, lean arms about himself and shivered. "Cold! 
 Icie! Freezum! Br-r-r! Savvy?" 
 
 Inspiration came to the waiter; a smile irradiated his 
 countenance, and with a murmured apology for his stu 
 pidity he hurried away. 
 
 O'Reilly stepped over to the stranger's table and in 
 troduced himself. "The hotel-keeper in Neuvitas told 
 me I'd find you here," he said. "Your name is " 
 
 "Branch; Leslie Branch. So Carbajal said you'd find 
 me here, eh? Oh, the greasy little liar. He didn't be 
 lieve it. He thought his cooking would have killed me, 
 long ago, and it nearly did." This time Mr. Branch's 
 bony frame underwent a genuine shudder and his face 
 
 93
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 was convulsed with loathing. "Did you try his butter? 
 'Made in Denmark' during the early Victorian period. 
 I hate antiques can't eat anything oily. Carbajal's in 
 the Secret Service. Nice fat little spy. ' ' 
 
 "So I suspected." 
 
 Mr. Branch's beverage appeared at this moment. 
 With a flourish the waiter placed a small glass and a 
 bottle of dark liquid before him. Branch stared at it, 
 then rolled a fiercely smoldering eye upward. 
 
 "What's that?" he inquired. 
 
 O'Reilly read the label. "It's bitters," said he. 
 
 "Bitters! And I asked for 'yellow' a glass of agwa 
 with yellow." Branch's voice shook. "I'm dying of a 
 fever, and this ivory-billed toucan brings me a quart of 
 poison. Bullets!" It was impossible to describe the sug 
 gestion of profanity with which the speaker colored this 
 innocuous expletive. "Weak as I am, I shall gnaw his 
 windpipe." He bared his teeth suggestively and raised 
 two talon-like hands. 
 
 The waiter was puzzled, but not alarmed. He em 
 braced himself as his customer had done, and shud 
 dered; then pointing at the bitters, he nodded encour 
 agingly. 
 
 O'Reilly forestalled an outburst by translating his 
 countryman's wants. "Un vaso de agua con hielo," said 
 he, and the attendant was all apologies. 
 
 "So, you speak the lingo?" marveled Mr. Branch. 
 "Well, I can't get the hang of it. Don't like it. Don't 
 like anything Spanish. Hell of a country, isn't it? 
 where the ice is 'yellow' and the butter is 'meant to kill you,' 
 and does." 
 
 O'Reilly laughed. "You've been studying a guide 
 book, 'with complete glossary of Spanish phrases.' By 
 the way, Carbajal said you are a writer." 
 
 Mr. Branch nodded listlessly. "I'm supposed to re 
 port this insurrection, but the Spaniards won't let me. 
 
 94
 
 THE MAN WHO WOULD KNOW LIFE 
 
 They edit my stuff to suit themselves. I'm getting tired 
 of the farce." . 
 
 "Going home?" 
 
 "Don't dare." The speaker tapped his concave chest. 
 "Bum lungs. I came down here to shuffle off, and I'm 
 waiting for it to happen. What brings you to Cuba?" 
 
 "I'm here for my health, too." The real invalid 
 stared. "I have rheumatism." 
 
 " Going to sweat it out, eh ? Well, there's nothing to do 
 but sweat" Branch was racked by a coughing spasm 
 that shook his reedy frame "sweat and cough. Bullets! 
 No mistake about that hospital bark, is there?" When 
 he had regained his breath he said: "See here ! I'm going 
 to take a chance with you, for I like your looks. My 
 newspaper work is a bluff: I don't send enough stuff to 
 keep me alive. I come here to cure my lungs, and I 
 want you to help me do it." 
 
 O'Reilly stared at the man in surprise. "How can I 
 help you?" he asked. 
 
 "By taking me with you." 
 
 "With me? Where?" 
 
 "To the Insurrectos, of course." 
 
 The men eyed each other fixedly. "What makes you 
 think " O'Reilly began. 
 
 "Oh, don't say it! I've got a hunch! I don't know 
 what your game is probably dynamite: there's a story 
 that the rebels have sent for some American experts to 
 teach them how to use the stuff, and God knows they need 
 instruction! Anyhow, I can't swallow that rheumatism 
 talk. I thought you might give me a lift. Take me along, 
 will you?" 
 
 "And how would that benefit your cough?" Johnnie 
 inquired, curiously. 
 
 Mr. Branch hesitated. "Well, I'll tell you," he said, 
 after a moment. "I'm afraid to die this way, by inches, 
 and hours. I'm scared to death." It seemed impossible 
 
 95
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 that the sick man's cheeks could further blanch, but they 
 became fairly livid, while a beading of moisture appeared 
 upon his upper lip. "God! You've no idea how it gets 
 on a fellow's nerves to see himself slipping slipping. 
 I'd like to end it suddenly, like that!" He voiced the 
 last sentence abruptly and snapped his fingers. "I've 
 tried to bump off, but no courage! Funny, isn't it? 
 Well, the doctors told me another New York winter 
 would put me in a rosewood show-case. I've tried Colo 
 rado and it's no good. See? So I decided to join the 
 Cubans and let a bullet do the trick. I never did like 
 the Spaniards their cooking is too greasy. Then, too, 
 I'd like to have a thrill before I cash in taste 'the salt of 
 life,' as somebody expressed it. That's war. It's the 
 biggest game in the world. What do you think of the 
 idea?" 
 
 "Not much," O'Reilly said, honestly. 
 
 "Difference in temperament. I suppose it is a sick 
 fancy, but I've got it. Unfortunately, now that I'm 
 here, these Romeos won't let me get out of town. If 
 you're what I think you are, give me a hand. I'm a 
 rotten coward, but I'll fight if the Cubans will take me." 
 
 "Where are the Cubans?" 
 
 " Oh, they're out yonder in the hills. I know all about 
 'em. Come over to my quarters, and I'll show you a 
 map, if you're interested." 
 
 "I am," said O'Reilly, and, rising, he followed his new 
 acquaintance.
 
 VIII 
 
 THE SPANISH DOUBLOON 
 
 ON the whole, Pancho Cueto's plans had worked 
 smoothly. After denouncing the Varona twins as 
 traitors he had managed to have himself appointed trustee 
 for the crown, for all their properties, consummation for 
 which he had worked from the moment he read that letter 
 of Este'ban's on the morning after Dona Isabel's death. 
 To be sure, the overseer had acquired title, of a sort, to the 
 plantation by paying the taxes over a period of years, but 
 it was the quinta itself which he desired, the Quinta de 
 Esttban with its hidden gold. That there was a treasure 
 Cueto had never doubted, and, once the place was his to 
 do with as he chose, he began his search. 
 
 Cueto was a tireless, thorough-going man, therefore he 
 did not set about his explorations in the haphazard man 
 ner of Dona Isabel. Commencing at the lower edge of 
 the grounds, he ripped them up with a series of deep 
 trenches and cross-cuts. It was a task that required the 
 labor of many men for several weeks, and when it was 
 finished there was scarcely a growing thing left upon the 
 place. Only a few of the larger trees remained. Cueto 
 was disappointed at finding nothing, but he was not dis 
 couraged. Next he tore down the old slave barracoons 
 and the outbuildings, after which he completely wrecked 
 the residence itself. He pulled it apart bit by bit, brick 
 by brick. H even dug up its foundations, but without 
 the reward of so much as a single peseta. Finally, when 
 
 97
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 the villa was but a heap of rubbish and the grounds a 
 scar upon the slope of La Cumbre, he desisted, baffled, 
 incredulous, while all Matanzas laughed at him. Having 
 sacrificed his choicest residence, he retired in chagrin to 
 the plantation of La Joya. 
 
 But Cueto was now a man with a grievance. He 
 burned with rage, and his contempt for the boy and girl 
 he had wronged soured into hatred. Such time as he 
 did not spend in racking his brain to explain the disap 
 pearance of the dead Este"ban's riches, he devoted to 
 cursing the living Estban and his sister, who, it seemed 
 to him, were somehow to blame for his wrecked hopes. 
 
 In time he began to realize also that so long as they 
 lived they would jeopardize his tenure of their property. 
 Public feeling, at present, was high; there was intense 
 bitterness against all rebels; but the war would end some 
 day. What then? Cueto asked himself. Sympathy was 
 ever on the side of the weak and oppressed. There would 
 come a day of reckoning. 
 
 As if to swell his discomfiture and strengthen his fears, 
 out from the hills at the head of the Yumuri issued rumors 
 of a little band of guerriileros, under the leadership of a 
 beardless boy a band of blacks who were making the 
 upper valley unsafe for Spanish scouting parties. 
 
 Cursing the name of Varona, Pancho Cueto armed him 
 self. He did not venture far alone, and, like Dona Isabel 
 before him, he began to have bad dreams at night. 
 
 One day a field of Cueto's cane was burned, and his 
 laborers reported seeing Este"ban and some negroes riding 
 into the wood. The overseer took horse within the hour 
 and rode pell-mell to Matanzas. In the city at this time 
 was a certain Colonel Cobo, in command of Spanish 
 Volunteers, those execrable convict troops from the Isle 
 of Pines whose atrocities had already marked them as 
 wolves rather than men, and to him Pancho went with 
 his story. 
 
 98
 
 THE SPANISH DOUBLOON 
 
 "Ah yes! That Varona boy. I've heard of him," 
 Cobo remarked, when his caller had finished his account. 
 "He has reason to hate you, I dare say, for you robbed 
 him." The Colonel smiled disagreeably. He was a dis 
 agreeable fellow, so dark of skin as to lend credence to 
 the gossip regarding his parentage; a loud, strutting, 
 domineering person, whose record in Santa Clara Province 
 was such that only the men discussed it. 
 
 Cueto murmured something to the effect that the law 
 had placed him in his position as trustee for the crown, 
 and should therefore protect him; but Colonel Cobo's 
 respect for the law, it seemed, was slight. In his view 
 there was but one law in the land, the law of force. 
 
 "Why do you come to me?" he asked. 
 
 "That fellow is a desperado," Pancho declared. "He 
 should be destroyed." 
 
 " Bah ! The country is overrun with desperadoes of his 
 kind, and worse. Burning crops is nothing new. I'd 
 make an end of him soon enough, but nearly all of my 
 men are in Cardenas. We have work enough to do." 
 
 "I'd make it worth while, if you could put an end to 
 him," Pancho said, hesitatingly. Then, recalling some 
 of those stories about Colonel Cobo, he added, "There 
 are two of them, you know, a boy and a girl." 
 
 4 ' Ah yes ! I remember. ' ' 
 
 "I can direct you to the house of Asensio, where they 
 live." 
 
 "Um-m!" Cobo was thoughtful. "A girl. How old 
 is she?" 
 
 "Eighteen." 
 
 " Ugly as an alligator, I'll warrant." 
 
 "Ha! The most ravishing creature in all Matanzas. 
 All the men were mad over her." Cueto's eyes gleamed 
 craftily, for he believed he had measured Cobo's caliber. 
 4 'She should have married old Castafio and all his money, 
 but she was heart and soul in the revolution. She and 
 
 99
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 the boy were spying on us, you know, and sending the. 
 information to that rebel, Lopez." 
 
 ' ' Lopez ! Spies, were they ?" 
 
 "The worst kind. You'd scarcely believe it of a 
 beautiful girl, with her culture and refinement. I tell 
 you it broke more than one heart. De Castano, for in 
 stance, has never recovered. He sits all day in the 
 Casino and grieves for her. Such hair and eyes, such 
 skin as white as milk and flesh as pure as the petals 
 of a flower. Well, you wouldn't believe such charms 
 existed." 
 
 Colonel Cobo, the guerrilla, licked his full, red lips and 
 ran a strong, square hand over his curly, short-cropped 
 hair. "You say you know where she where they are 
 living?" 
 
 "Ah, perfectly! It's less than a night's ride. There's 
 no one except the boy to reckon with." 
 
 "How much is he worth to you?" bluntly inquired the 
 soldier, and Cueto sat down to make the best terms 
 possible. 
 
 "Do you think he received my letter?" Rosa asked of 
 her brother one evening as they sat on the board bench by 
 Asensio's door. It was a familiar question to Este"ban; 
 he had answered it many times. 
 
 "Oh yes!" he declared. "Lopez's messenger got 
 through to Key West." 
 
 "Then why doesn't he come?" 
 
 "But, my dear, you must be patient. Think of his 
 difficulties." 
 
 The girl sighed. "I do. I think of nothing else. 
 Sometimes I feel that he is here I seem to feel his presence 
 then again the most terrible doubts assail me. You 
 know there was another woman. Perhaps." 
 
 "What an idea!" Este"ban exclaimed. "As if he could 
 think of any one after knowing you. Did he not assure 
 
 100
 
 THE SPANISH DOUBLOON 
 
 you that he was going to New York for the sole purpose 
 of breaking off that affair? Well, then!" This subject 
 always distressed young Varona; therefore he changed it. 
 "Come! You haven't heard of my good fortune. I 
 captured another fine snake to-day, a big, sleepy fellow. 
 Believe me, he'll wake up when I set fire to his tail. 
 He'll go like the wind, and with every foot he goes away 
 will go more of Pancho Cueto's profits." 
 
 "You intend to burn more of his fields?" absently in 
 quired the girl. 
 
 "Every one of them. You should have seen those rats 
 when we soaked them with oil and set them afire. They 
 scampered fast; but their hair is short; they don't run 
 far. These snakes will be better." 
 
 "It seems terrible to destroy our own property." 
 
 Este*ban broke out excitedly; he could not discuss 
 Pancho Cueto without losing control of himself. "Would 
 you permit that traitor to fatten upon the profits of our 
 plantations? He thinks he is safe; he is preparing for a 
 rich crop at high prices, but he shall never reap a dollar 
 from Varona land as long as I live. I shall ruin him, as 
 he ruined us." 
 
 Rosa shook her dark head sadly. "And we are indeed 
 ruined. Think of our beautiful house; all our beautiful 
 things, too! We used to consider ourselves poor, but 
 how little we knew of real poverty. There are so many 
 things I want. Have we nothing left?" 
 
 "I thought it best to buy those rifles," the brother 
 murmured, dropping his eyes. "It was one chance in a 
 million." 
 
 "No doubt it was. It seems those Spaniards will sell 
 their souls." 
 
 "Exactly. We can dig food from the earth and pluck 
 it from the trees, but good Mausers don't grow on every 
 bush. Besides, of what use would money be to us when 
 we have no place to spend it?" 
 
 JOI
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "True!" After a moment Rosa mused aloud: "I 
 wonder if Cueto found the treasure? If only we had 
 that" 
 
 " He didn't find it," Este"ban declared, positively. " I " 
 he hesitated "I think I know why he didn't." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I think I know where it is." 
 
 "Esteban!" Rosa stared, round-eyed, at her brother. 
 
 "Oh, I mean it. I've been thinking so ever since " 
 
 "Where is it?" breathlessly inquired the girl. 
 
 After a furtive look over his shoulder Esteban whispered, 
 "In the well." 
 
 "You're joking!" 
 
 "No, no! Think for yourself. It was old Sebastian 
 who dug that well " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' ' And he alone shared father's confidence. That sunken 
 garden was all Sebastian's work; he spent all his time 
 there, although he was a big, strong man and capable of 
 any task. No one else was allowed to tend it. Why? 
 I'll tell you. They feared to let any one else draw the 
 water. Isabel searched for years: if that treasure had 
 been above ground her sharp nose would have smelled it 
 out, and now Cueto has moved the very earth." 
 
 Rosa sat back, disappointed. ' ' So that's your theory ?' ' 
 
 " It's more than a theory," the boy insisted. "Look at 
 this!" From the pocket of his cotton trousers he pro 
 duced an odd-looking coin which he placed in Rosa's hand. 
 
 "Why, it's gold! It's a Spanish doubloon," she said. 
 "It's the first one I ever saw. Where did you find it?" 
 
 "You'll think I'm crazy when I tell you sometimes I 
 think so myself. I found it in Isabel's hand when I took 
 her from the well!" 
 
 Rosa was stricken speechless. 
 
 "She clutched it tightly," Esteban hurried on, "but as 
 I made the rope fast her hand relaxed and I saw it in the 
 
 1 02
 
 THE SPANISH DOUBLOON 
 
 lantern-light. It was as if well, as if she gave it to me. 
 I was too badly frightened to think much about it, as 
 you may imagine. It was a horrible place, all slime and 
 foul water; the rocks were slippery. But that coin 
 was in her fingers." 
 
 Rosa managed to say: "Impossible! Then she must 
 have had it when she fell." 
 
 "No, no! I saw her hands upstretched, her fingers 
 open, in the moonlight." 
 
 "It's uncanny. Perhaps " 
 
 "Yes. Perhaps some unseen hand led her to the place 
 so that we should at last come into our own. Who knows ? 
 I didn't bother my head about the matter at first, what 
 with our flight and all, but now I reason that there must 
 be other coins where this one came from. There's no 
 doubt that father hid his money. He turned his slaves 
 into gold, he bought jewels, precious metal, anything he 
 could hide. Well, perhaps there were old coins in the lot. 
 The water in the well is shallow; Isabel must have 
 groped this piece from the bottom. Some day I shall 
 explore the hole and we shall see." 
 
 Rosa flung her arms rapturously about her brother's 
 neck and kissed him. "Wouldn't it be glorious?" she 
 cried. "Wouldn't it be wonderful, to be rich, and to 
 want for nothing ; to have fine clothes and good things to 
 eat once more? Good things to eat!" Her lip quivered. 
 "Oh I'm so hungry." 
 
 "Poor little girl!" 
 
 "Wait till O'Reilly hears about this." Rosa was all 
 excitement once more. "He'll be glad he came and got 
 me, if he does come." 
 
 Este"ban caressed her. "He'll come, never fear. You 
 remember he warned me to be careful? Well I I blame 
 myself for bringing you to this. For myself, of course I 
 don't mind, but for you this life must be terrible. I know 
 it. Every time I leave you my heart is in my throat for 
 
 103
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 fear of what may happen in my absence and yet I can't 
 always be at your side." 
 
 "There! You acknowledge that I handicap you. 
 Except for me you would be making a glorious name for 
 yourself." 
 
 "Nothing of the sort. More probably I'd be getting 
 myself killed. No ! It's better this way. We must be 
 brave and patient and think of what is waiting for us 
 at the bottom of that well." 
 
 It was indeed a great piece of luck which had enabled 
 Est6ban Varona to buy a half-dozen Mausers from a 
 Spanish soldier. Through Asensio's acquaintance he had 
 profited by the dishonesty of an enemy, and, although it 
 had taken all his money to effect the purchase, Este"ban 
 considered the sacrifice well worth while. The fire of 
 patriotism burned fiercely in him, as did his hatred of 
 Pancho Cueto, and the four trusty young negroes to whom 
 he had given rifles made, with Asensio and himself, an 
 armed party large enough to be reckoned with. These 
 blacks were excitable fellows, and wretched marksmen, 
 but, on the other hand, each and every one had been 
 raised with a machete at his hip and knew how to use it. 
 After a few preliminary forays under Est6ban's leadership 
 they had absorbed a bit of discipline and were beginning to 
 feel a military ardor. 
 
 In the Cuban field forces there were many negroes, and 
 many of their fellow-patriots fought better, or endured 
 the hardships of guerrilla warfare more cheerfully, than 
 they. Gen. Antonio Maceo was of mixed blood, and 
 yet his leadership was characterized not only by rare 
 judgment and ability, but also by an exalted abandon of 
 personal bravery. His several brothers rendered Cuba 
 services scarcely less distinguished, and they were but 
 of a few of many dark-skinned heroes. This struggle for 
 independence was no patrician's war; the best stock of 
 the island fought side by side with field-hands. 
 
 104
 
 THE SPANISH DOUBLOON 
 
 At dawn of the morning following his talk with Rosa, 
 when the members of his command assembled, Este"ban 
 was up and ready. He had made his preparations to 
 destroy Pancho Cueto's fields, and since the road over the 
 hills to La Joya was long he had summoned them early. 
 
 "Be careful!" Rosa implored him. "I shall die of 
 suspense." 
 
 " It is for you to be careful," he laughed. "Keep a good 
 watch, and conceal yourself at the first alarm. However, 
 I think we have taught these bandits a lesson. As for 
 Cueto, he would run to the jungle if he saw us. He has 
 the heart of a mouse." He kissed his sister affectionately 
 and then rode off at the head of his tattered band. 
 
 Rosa waved him a last farewell as he disappeared into 
 the woods, then, to occupy herself, she helped Evangelina 
 with what little housework there was to do, later going 
 with her to the garden patch where the viandas grew. 
 
 Evangelina's early devotion to her mistress had not 
 diminished with time; if anything, it had deepened. 
 When emancipation came she would have returned to the 
 service of her beloved twins had it not been for Dona 
 Isabel's refusal to accept her. As it was, she and Asensio 
 had married, and by means of Rosa's surreptitious help 
 they had managed to buy this little piece of land. Rosa 
 had practised self-denial to make the purchase possible, 
 and her self-sacrifice had borne fruit : that act of childish 
 beneficence had created a refuge for Este"ban and herself 
 and had ripened the negro woman's affection into idolatry. 
 
 Evangelina's joy at having the girl to herself, where she 
 could daily see her, touch her, serve her, was tempered 
 only by the knowledge of Rosa's unhappiness. She 
 scolded and tyrannized, she mothered and adored the girl 
 to her heart's content; she watched over her like a hawk; 
 she deemed no labor in her service too exacting. It would 
 have gone ill with any one who offered harm to Rosa, for 
 Evangelina was strong and capable; she had the arms and 
 8 IO S
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 the hands of a man, and she possessed the smoldering 
 black temper of Sebastian, her father. 
 
 Even in peaceful times few people came to this clearing 
 in the woods, far ofi from the main-traveled roads of the 
 Yumuri, and the day, as usual, passed uneventfully. 
 Evangelina worked, with one eye upon her Rosa, the 
 other watchfully alert for danger. When evening came 
 she prepared their scanty meal, upbraiding Rosa, mean 
 while, for her attempts to assist her. Then they sat 
 for an hour or two on the bench outside the door, talk 
 ing about Juan O'Rail-ye and the probable hour of his 
 coming. 
 
 There were no candles in Asensio's house now, and had 
 there been, neither woman would have dared light one. 
 To hunted creatures darkness is a friend; danger stalks 
 under the sun. 
 
 When Rosa fretted about her brother, the negress re 
 assured her. "Don't be frightened, little dove; he has 
 the makings of a great soldier. It's a good thing for the 
 Spaniards that he isn't general. Cuba would be free in 
 no time." 
 
 "He's so reckless." 
 
 "Oh, he knows what he's doing. Besides, Asensio 
 wouldn't let him be hurt. I took pains to tell him that 
 if ever he permitted Este"ban to suffer so much as a 
 scratch I would disembowel him with his own machete. 
 He knows me. Now, then, it is growing cool and the 
 night air carries fevers. Creep into your bed and dream 
 about that handsome lover of yours." 
 
 "No, I'll keep watch with you." 
 
 Evangelina was indignant . ' ' Go !' ' she stormed. ' ' What 
 will happen to those red cheeks if you don't sleep? Do 
 you think the American will want to marry an old woman 
 with wrinkles? He may be here to-morrow yes, I have 
 a certain feeling about it." 
 
 Rosa obeyed, although reluctantly. "I'll sleep for a 
 
 1 06
 
 THE SPANISH DOUBLOON 
 
 while," she compromised, "then I'll come out and take 
 my turn." 
 
 This exactly suited the elder woman, who knew some 
 thing about the slumbers of youth. Nevertheless, dawn 
 was still a long way off when, true to her promise, Rosa 
 emerged from the hut with an apology for having slept 
 so long. Evangelina protested, though her eyes were 
 heavy and she had been yawning prodigiously for hours. 
 But for once the girl was firm. "I can't sleep," she de 
 clared. "Why force me to lie staring into the dark while 
 you suffer?" Having finally prevailed in her deter 
 mination, she seated herself in the warm place Evangelina 
 had vacated, and, curling her small feet under her, she 
 settled herself, chin in hand, to think of O'Reilly. It 
 was a good time to think, for the jungle was very still and 
 the night like a velvet curtain. 
 
 "We had better leave the horses here." Pancho Cueto 
 hesitatingly addressed the dim blur which he knew to be 
 Colonel Cobo. The Colonel of Volunteers was in a vile 
 temper, what with the long night ride and an error of 
 Cueto's which had considerably lengthened the journey. 
 
 "Where is the house?" growled the officer. 
 
 " Not far. But the path is rocky and the horses' feet " 
 
 "God, yes!" There was a creak of saddle leathers and 
 a groan as the colonel dismounted. "Now, my good 
 Cueto," he threatened, "another of your mistakes and 
 I'll give you something to remember me by. Damnation ! 
 What a night ! As black as hell." 
 
 "It will be daylight before we know it," the other said, 
 nervously. 
 
 "Excellent! Then I can see to deal with you if you've 
 fooled me." A curt order brought his men out of their 
 saddles. One of their number was detailed to guard the 
 animals, while the rest fell in behind Cueto and followed 
 him up the trail by the starglow. 
 
 107
 
 IX 
 
 MARAUDERS 
 
 '"PHE surprise was easily effected, for Colonel Cobo's 
 1 men were accomplished in this sort of work. Rosa, 
 crouching upon her bench, heard nothing, saw nothing, 
 until out of the shadows beside her human forms ma 
 terialized. Her white dress, like a dim phosphorescent 
 glow in dark waters, betrayed her presence, and as she 
 sprang to her feet rough hands seized her. She screamed 
 once, twice; then a palm closed over her mouth and she 
 began to struggle like a cat. 
 
 Evangelina, who had waked at the first outcry, met 
 the marauders as they rushed through the door. The 
 hush of the sleeping jungle was shattered now ; there were 
 shouts and curses, loudly bellowed orders, a great scuf 
 fling and pounding of feet upon the dirt floor of the hut, 
 the rickety, bark-covered walls bulged and creaked. 
 Over all sounded the shrieks of the negress battling in the 
 pitch-black interior like an animal in its lair. Then some 
 one set fire to the thatch; the flames licked up the dead 
 palm-leaves to the ridge-pole, and the surroundings leaped 
 into view. 
 
 Rosa saw a swarthy, thick-set man in the uniform of a 
 Colonel of Volunteers, and behind him Pancho Cueto. 
 Tearing the hand from her lips for a moment, she cried 
 Cueto's name, but he gave no heed. He was straining his 
 gaze upon the door of the bohio in the immediate expecta 
 tion of seeing Este'ban emerge. He clutched a revolver in 
 
 108
 
 MARAUDERS 
 
 his hand, but it was plain from the nerveless way in which 
 he held the weapon that he had little stomach for the ad 
 venture. He was, in fact, more inclined to run than to 
 stand his ground. Rosa shrieked his name again; then 
 she heard the officer say: 
 
 "Where is the young fellow? I hear nothing but the 
 squeals of that common wench." 
 
 Evangelina's cries of rage and defiance suddenly ceased, 
 and with them the sounds of combat. From the blazing 
 bohio ran two armed men, brushing sparks from their 
 clothing. A third followed, dragging Evangelina by one 
 naked arm. The black woman was inert; her scanty 
 garments were well-nigh ripped from her body: she lay 
 huddled where the soldier flung her. 
 
 Rosa felt herself swooning, and she knew nothing of 
 what immediately followed. After a time she felt herself 
 shaken, and heard the colonel addressing her. 
 
 "Come, come!" he was saying. "Why don't you 
 answer me ?" He dragged her farther from what was now 
 a roaring furnace. "Where is your precious brother and 
 that black fellow?" 
 
 Rosa could only stare dully. 
 
 "It seems we missed them," said Cueto. 
 
 "More of your bungling," Cobo broke out at him, 
 wrathfully. "God! I've a mind to toss you into that 
 fire." He turned his attention once more to Rosa, and 
 with a jerk that shook her into fuller consciousness re 
 peated: "Where are they? Speak to me." 
 
 ' ' Gone !" she gasped. ' ' Gone !' ' She struggled weakly 
 toward Cueto, imploring him, "Pancho, don't you know 
 me?" 
 
 "Well, we've taught him a lesson," said Cueto, grinning 
 apprehensively at Cobo. "We've accomplished some 
 thing, anyhow, eh?" He nodded at Rosa. "She's all 
 that I told you. Look at her!" 
 
 Colonel Cobo took time to scrutinize his prisoner. 
 
 109
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 He turned her about in the light from the burning dwell 
 ing; then he agreed. 
 
 "Yes! She's a pretty little spy quite a prize, truly. 
 Now then!" His thick lips spread; he spoke to her more 
 gently. "I want you to tell me about that brother of 
 yours, eh? Cueto said I would find him here. Ha! 
 Still frightened, I see. Well, I have a way with women ; 
 I dare say you'll be glad to tell me everything by and by." 
 Then, seeing that his men risked a scorching in their 
 search of the hut and were already quarreling over the 
 scanty plunder which it afforded, he turned from Rosa 
 to call them away. 
 
 Profiting by his inattention, Rosa wriggled out of his 
 grasp and ran to Evangelina, who lay face down in the 
 dirt, her limbs sprawled loosely. She flung herself upon 
 the prostrate body and cried the black woman's name, but 
 she could awaken no response. 
 
 The first pink of dawn was now deepening in the east, 
 and as soon as it had grown light enough to see to travel 
 Colonel Cobo prepared to return to his horses. The roof 
 and walls of the bohio had fallen away to ashes, its skeleton 
 of poles and its few pieces of crude furniture alone 
 were smoldering when he called his men together and 
 gave the word to go. 
 
 "Come, my sweetheart." He addressed himself to the 
 girl. "Leave that carrion for the buzzards." 
 
 Rosa looked up to find him leering at her. She brushed 
 the tears from her eyes, crying : 
 
 "Go away! In God's name haven't you done harm 
 enough?" 
 
 "Oh, but you're going with me." 
 
 The girl rose; her face was colorless; she was aquiver 
 with indignation. "Leave me!" she stormed. "What 
 have I done to you? Don't " 
 
 "Caramba! A temper. And you have strength, too, 
 as I discovered. Must I bind those pretty hands or " 
 
 no
 
 MARAUDERS 
 
 Colonel Cobo reached forth, laughing, and encircled her 
 in his powerful arms. Rosa fought him as she had fought 
 at the first moment of desperation, but he lifted her easily 
 and went striding across the field behind his men. 
 
 Este"ban's party made good time over the hills and into 
 the San Juan, for Asensio knew the country well. Mid- 
 afternoon found them in sight of La Joya. Cueto's cane 
 was thick and high ; it was ready for the knife or for the 
 torch. Making a de'tour, the incendiaries approached it 
 from the east in order to have the trade-winds at their 
 backs. They dismounted in the shelter of a wood and 
 removed the bags which they- had carried on their 
 saddles. Inside these bags were several snakes, the 
 largest perhaps eight feet in length. To the tail of 
 each the negroes fastened a leather thong, and then to 
 each thong a length of telegraph-wire, the end of which 
 had been bent into a loop to hold a bundle of oil-soaked 
 waste. These preliminaries accomplished, they bore the 
 reptiles into the cane-fields at widely separated places and 
 lighted the waste. 
 
 Este"ban, from his saddle, saw the first wisps of smoke 
 arise and grow and unwind into long ribbons, reaching 
 deep into the standing crop. Soon tongues of flame ap 
 peared and the green tops of the cane began to shrivel 
 and to wave as the steady east wind took effect. From 
 the nearest conflagration a great snapping and crackling 
 of juicy stalks arose. The thin, dry strippings with which 
 the earth was carpeted formed a vast tinder bed, and 
 once the fire was started there was no checking it. Smoke 
 billowed upward and was hurried westward before the 
 breeze; in a dozen places the fields burst into flame. 
 From somewhere came a faint shouting, then a shot or two, 
 and finally the ringing of a bell. 
 
 Este"ban waited only until he saw that his work of devas 
 tation was well under way, then he led his followers back 
 
 in
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 toward the hills. At sunset he reined in upon the crest of 
 a ridge and looked behind him into the valley. The whole 
 sky was black with smoke, as if a city were in flames. 
 
 Removing his wide jipi-japa hat, the young man swept 
 a mocking salutation to the east. 
 
 "So now, good Pancho Cueto," he cried, "I leave you 
 the compliments of those twins you love so well." 
 
 In the shelter of a ravine the party took time to eat 
 supper, their first meal since leaving home, and it was 
 after dark when they finished. The negroes, who were 
 thoroughly tired, were for spending the night here, but 
 Este"ban, more cautious than they, would not have it so. 
 Accordingly, the men remounted their weary horses, 
 though not without some grumbling, and set out. It was 
 slow traveling, for the woods were dark and the trails 
 were blind; the men were fairly obliged to feel their way. 
 At length they crossed the summit and worked down 
 toward the Yumuri, but it seemed as if daylight would 
 never come. 
 
 "A weary ride," EsteTjan yawned. "I shall sleep for a 
 week." 
 
 Asensio agreed. "That Cueto will be furious," said he. 
 "Some day, perhaps, he and I will meet face to face. 
 Then I shall kill him." 
 
 Est6ban reined in his horse. " Look !" said he. " Yon 
 der is a light." 
 
 The other horsemen crowded close, staring through the 
 darkness. It was very still in the woods; dawn was less 
 than half an hour away. 
 
 "What is Evangelina thinking about?" Asensio mut 
 tered. 
 
 "But, see! It grows brighter." There followed a mo 
 ment or two during which there was no sound except the 
 breathing of the horses and the creak of saddle leathers 
 as the riders craned their necks to see over the low tree- 
 tops below them. Then Este"ban cried: 
 
 112
 
 MARAUDERS 
 
 "Come! I'm afraid it's our house." Fear gripped 
 him, but he managed to say, calmly, "Perhaps there has 
 been an accident." 
 
 Asensio, muttering excitedly, was trying to crowd past 
 him; for a few yards the two horses brushed along side by 
 side. The distant point of light had become a glare now; 
 it winked balefully through the openings as the party 
 hurried toward it. But it was still a long way off, and 
 the eastern sky had grown rosy before the dense woods of 
 the hillside gave way to the sparser growth of the low 
 ground. 
 
 Este"ban turned a sick, white face over his shoulder and 
 jerked out his orders; then he kicked his tired mount 
 into a swifter gallop. It was he who first broke out into 
 the clearing. One glance, and the story was told. 
 
 The hut was but a crumbling skeleton of charred poles. 
 Strung out across the little field of malangas, yuccas, and 
 sweet-potatoes were several hilarious Volunteers, their 
 arms filled with loot from the cabin. Behind them strode 
 an officer bearing Rosa struggling against his breast. 
 
 Este"ban did not pause; he drove his horse headlong 
 through the soft red earth of the garden. His sudden ap 
 pearance seemed briefly to paralyze the marauders. It 
 was a moment before they could drop their spoils, unsling 
 their rifles, and begin to fire at him, and by that time he had 
 covered half the distance to his sister. Those rifle-shots 
 came faintly to E)ste"ban's ears; he scarcely heard them; 
 he merely lowered his head and rode straight at that black- 
 visaged colonel, sobbing and whimpering in his fury. 
 
 But in spite of his speed he made no difficult target. 
 A bullet brought his horse down and the boy went flying 
 over its neck. Nothing but the loose loam saved him 
 from injury. As he rose to his feet, breathless and covered 
 with the red dirt, there came a swift thudding of hoofs and 
 Asensio swept past him like a rocket. Este"ban caught 
 one glimpse of the negro's face, a fleeting vision of white 
 
 "3
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 teeth bared to the gums, of distended yellow eyes, of 
 flat, distorted features; then Asensio was fairly upon 
 Colonel Cobo. The colonel, who had dropped his burden, 
 now tried to dodge. Asensio slashed once at him with 
 his long, murderous machete, but the next instant he was 
 engaged with a trooper who had fired almost into his face. 
 
 The other negroes also were in the open by this time, 
 yelling and firing as fast as they could work the bolts 
 of their rifles, and although they aimed at nothing in 
 particular, the effect of their fusillade was all that could 
 be wished. Cobo's men, led by the terrified Pancho 
 Cueto, turned and fled for cover, believing themselves in 
 danger of annihilation. Nor was the colonel himself 
 in any condition to rally them, for Asensio's blade had 
 cloven one full dark cheek to the bone, and the shock and 
 pain had unnerved him; he was frightened at sight of the 
 blood that streamed down over the breast of his white 
 tunic, and so, when he saw his men turn tail, he followed 
 suit, lunging through the lush garden growth, holding 
 his wound in his hand and shrieking profane commands 
 which went unheeded. 
 
 The field was small, the jungle was close at hand. A 
 moment and the interlopers had vanished into it, all but 
 one, who lay kicking among the broad malanga-leaves, and 
 over whom Asensio kept spurring his terrified horse, 
 hacking downward with insane fury. 
 
 This was the first hand-to-hand encounter Esteban's 
 men had had, and their swift victory rendered them 
 ferocious. Flinging their guns aside, they went crashing 
 into the brush on the trail of their enemies. 
 
 Rosa found herself in her brother's arms, sobbing out 
 the story of the outrage and quivering at every sound of 
 the chase. He was caressing her, and telling her to have 
 no further fears; both of them were fairly hysterical. 
 Even before Este"ban had heard all, Lorenzo, the mulatto, 
 reappeared, leading three cavalry horses and shouting 
 
 114
 
 MARAUDERS 
 
 extravagant praises of his own bravery. Esteban com 
 plimented him and the fellow galloped away again, 
 voicing the most blood-curdling threats. 
 
 Evangelina, thanks to her thick skull, was not dead. 
 In the course of time under Rosa's and Esteban's minis 
 trations she regained her senses, and when the other men 
 returned they found her lying sick and dazed, but other 
 wise quite whole. 
 
 Then, there beside the ruins of the hut, was a strange 
 scene of rejoicing. Asensio, recovered now from his 
 burst of savagery, was tearful, compassionate; his com 
 rades laughed and chattered and bragged about their 
 prodigious deeds of valor. Over and over they recounted 
 their versions of the encounter, each more fanciful than 
 the other, until it seemed that they must have left the 
 forest filled with corpses. 
 
 Este"ban alone was grave. He had heard of Colonel 
 Cobo, and, remembering that denim-clad figure out yonder 
 in the trampled garden, he knew that serious consequences 
 would follow. The Volunteers were revengeful; their 
 colonel was not the sort of man to forgive a deep humilia 
 tion. Doubtless he would put a price upon the heads of 
 all of them, and certainly he would never allow them 
 another encounter upon anything like even terms. Then, 
 too, the narrowness of Rosa's escape caused the boy's 
 heart to dissolve with terror. 
 
 After a conference with Asensio he decided that they 
 must prepare for flight, and late that afternoon they all 
 set out to seek a safer refuge, Evangelina in tears at 
 leaving her precious garden plot. Their led horse, one of 
 those Lorenzo had captured, carried a pitifully light 
 burden only some tools, some pans and kettles, and a roll 
 of charred bedclothes. 
 
 Johnnie O'Reilly had no difficulty in locating the 
 residence of Ignacio Alvarado, but to communicate with 
 
 "5
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 him was quite another matter, inasmuch as his every 
 step was dogged by that persistent shadow from Neuvitas. 
 Leslie Branch had told him enough about conditions here 
 in Puerto Principe to make him extremely cautious, and 
 after their first talk he had once more concealed his re 
 volver in a safe hiding-place, taking good care thereafter 
 that nothing in his conduct should awaken suspicion. 
 
 Unfortunately his room was on the second floor of the 
 hotel, and hence his goings and comings were always open 
 to observation. But he noted that a window at one end 
 of the upper hall overlooked a sloping, tile-roofed shed, 
 and that the garden wall behind the hotel premises was 
 not provided with those barbarous spikes or broken bottles 
 which decorate so many Cuban walls. It promised him 
 a means of egress when the time should come to use it. 
 In this hall, moreover, directly opposite his door there 
 was an oil bracket-lamp which gave light to the passage 
 way, and which was forever going out, a fact which the 
 young man noted with satisfaction. 
 
 One evening, several days after his arrival, a sudden 
 rain-storm drove O'Reilly indoors, and as he ascended to 
 his room he saw that the lamp in the hallway flared and 
 smoked at every gust of wind. It was very dark outside; 
 he reasoned that the streets would be deserted. Hastily 
 securing that book which Alvarado, the dentist, had given 
 him, he took a position close inside his door. When he 
 heard the spy pass and enter the next chamber he stole 
 out into the hall ^and breathed into the lamp-chimney. 
 A moment later he was safely through the window and 
 was working his way down the shed roof, praying that 
 his movements had not been seen and that the tiles were 
 firm. The rain was driving in sheets and he was wet to 
 the skin when he dropped into the patio; nevertheless he 
 was laughing to himself. He nimbly scaled the wall, 
 crossed an inclosure, climbed a second wall, and descended 
 into a dark side street. Taking advantage of the densest 
 
 116
 
 MARAUDERS 
 
 shadows and the numerous overhanging balconies, he set 
 out at a brisk trot. 
 
 A light showed through the barred windows of the 
 Alvarado home, indicating that the family was in. After 
 some fumbling O'Reilly laid hold of the latch; then, with 
 out knocking, he opened the front door and stepped in. 
 
 He found himself, as he had expected, in the parlor, a 
 high-ceilinged, sparsely furnished room with a glazed 
 floor of Spanish mosaics. His sudden appearance threw 
 the occupants into alarm: a woman cried out sharply; 
 a man whom O'Reilly identified as Ignacio Alvarado him 
 self leaped to his feet and faced him, exclaiming: 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "I'm a friend. Don't be alarmed." Johnnie sum 
 moned his most agreeable smile, then he extended the 
 sodden package he had carried beneath his arm. " I come 
 from your brother T6mas. He asked me to hand you 
 this book and to say that he is returning it with his 
 thanks." 
 
 "What are you saying?" Plainly the speaker did not 
 comprehend; there was nothing but apprehension in his 
 voice. 
 
 O'Reilly tore the wet paper from the volume and laid 
 it in Alvarado's hand. "Look at it, please, and you'll 
 understand. I didn't take time to knock, for fear I 
 might be followed." 
 
 Alvarado stared first at the book, then at his caller. 
 After a moment he made a sign to his wife, who left the 
 room. Wetting his lips, he inquired, with an effort, 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 O'Reilly told him in a few words. Alvarado showed 
 relief; he even smiled. "I see, but Caramba! You 
 gave me a start. And this book! Ha! TomaS will 
 have his jokes. It is well you took precautions, for 
 I am under surveillance. I'll help you, yes! But 
 you must not come here again. Return to your hotel 
 
 117
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 and Let me think." Seiior Alvarado frowned in 
 deepest thought ; then he said: " I have it ! Every morn 
 ing at half past nine a man wearing a Panama hat and a 
 gray silk necktie with a large gold pin will pass along the 
 sidewalk across the street from the Isla de Cuba. You 
 will know him. One day, I cannot promise how soon, he 
 will lift his hat thus, and wipe his face. You understand? 
 Good. Follow him. He will give you final directions. 
 Meanwhile I will make known your presence to certain 
 of our friends who can be trusted. You know Manin, 
 the druggist ? Well, you can talk to him, and he will keep 
 you posted as to our progress. Now go before some one 
 comes." 
 
 O'Reilly wrung the Cuban's hand. Then he stepped 
 out into the night, leaving a pool of water on the clean 
 blue tiles where he had stood.
 
 , x 
 
 O'REILLY TALKS HOG LATIN 
 
 IN the days that followed his call on Ignacio Alvarado, 
 O'Reilly behaved so openly that the Secret Service 
 agent detailed to watch him relaxed his vigilance. Cer 
 tainly there was nothing suspicious in the conduct of a 
 fellow who sat all the morning tipped back in a hotel 
 chair, languidly scanning the passers-by, whose after 
 noons were spent on the streets or at the soda-fountain 
 in Manin's drug-store, and whose evenings were devoted 
 to aimless gossip with his countryman, the newspaper 
 writer. Manifestly this O'Reilly was a harmless person. 
 But the spy did not guess how frantic Johnnie was be 
 coming at this delay, how he inwardly chafed and fretted 
 when two weeks had rolled by and still no signal had 
 come. Manin told him to be patient ; he assured him that 
 word had been sent into the Cubitas hills, and that 
 friends were busy in his behalf; but Johnnie was eager 
 to be up and doing. This inaction paralyzed him; it 
 made him almost ill to think how much time had slipped 
 away. Then, too, his money was running low. 
 
 At last, however, the day arrived when the man with 
 the gray necktie raised his hat and wiped his brow as he 
 passed the Isla de Cuba. Johnnie could scarcely hold 
 himself in his chair. By and by he rose, stretching him 
 self, and sauntered after the fellow. For several blocks 
 he kept him in sight, but without receiving any further 
 sign. The man paused to greet friends, he stopped at 
 
 119
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 several shops, and his aimless wanderings continued for 
 the best part of an hour, during which he led the way 
 to the outskirts of the city. Fortunately O'Reilly's shad 
 ow was nowhere in sight. 
 
 Without a glance over his shoulder the man turned 
 into a large, walled inclosure. When Johnnie followed 
 he found himself in one of the old cemeteries. Ahead of 
 him, up a shady avenue bordered with trees, the stranger 
 hurried; then he swerved to his left, and when O'Reilly 
 came to the point where he had disappeared there was no 
 body in sight. Apprehending that he had made some 
 mistake in the signal, O'Reilly hastened down the walk. 
 Then at last, to his great relief, he heard a sibilant: 
 
 "Psst! Psst!" 
 
 It came from behind a screen of shrubbery, and 
 there he found the Cuban waiting. The latter began 
 rapidly: 
 
 "Our plans are complete. Listen closely. One week 
 from to-day, at ten o'clock in the morning, you must be in 
 Manin's drug-store. Directly across the street you will 
 see two negroes with three horses. At fifteen minutes past 
 ten walk out San Rafael Street to the edge of the city, 
 where the hospital stands. The negroes will follow you. 
 There is a fort near by " 
 
 "I know." 
 
 " It commands the road. You will be challenged if you 
 pass it, so turn in at the hospital. But do not enter the 
 gates, for the negroes will overtake you at that point. 
 They will stop to adjust the saron of the lead horse. 
 That will be your signal; mount him and ride fast. The 
 Spaniards will fire at you, but if you are hit one of the 
 blacks will take you on his horse. If one of them is hit 
 or his horse falls you must stop and take him up. Ride 
 out half a mile and you will find a band of Insurrectos 
 in the woods at the right. They know you are coming. 
 Now, adois and good luck." 
 
 120
 
 O'REILLY TALKS HOG LATIN 
 
 With a smile and a quick grip of the hand the messenger 
 walked swiftly away. O'Reilly returned to his hotel. 
 
 At last! One week, and this numbing, heartbreaking 
 delay would end; he would be free to take up his quest. 
 O'Reilly choked at the thought; the blood drummed in 
 his ears. Rosa would think he was never coming; she 
 would surely believe that his heart had changed. As if it 
 could! "OGod! Come quickly, if you love me." Well, 
 a week was only seven days. He longed to risk those 
 Spanish bullets this very hour. 
 
 But those seven days were more than a week, they were 
 seven eternities. The hours were like lead; O'Reilly 
 could compose his mind to nothing; he was in a fever 
 of impatience. 
 
 Meanwhile, he was compelled to see a good deal of 
 Leslie Branch. The reporter was anything but cheerful 
 company, for, believing firmly in the steady progress of 
 his malady, he was weighed down by the deepest melan 
 choly. The fellow was a veritable cave of despair; he 
 voiced never-ceasing complaints; nothing suited him; and 
 but for something likable in the man an effect due in 
 part to the fact that his chronic irritation took amusing 
 forms he would have been an intolerable bore. To 
 cheer him up was quite impossible, and although it 
 seemed to Johnnie that the Cuban climate agreed with 
 him and that he lacked only strength of will to cheat 
 the grave, the mere suggestion of such a thought was 
 offensive to the invalid. He construed every optimistic 
 word, every effort at encouragement, either as a reflection 
 upon his sincerity or as the indication of a heartless in 
 difference to his sufferings. He continued to talk wist 
 fully about joining the Insurrectos, and O'Reilly would 
 have been glad to put him in the way of realizing his 
 fantastic ambition to "taste the salt of life" had it been 
 in his power; but, since he himself depended upon friends 
 unknown to him, he did not dare to risk complicating 
 9 121
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 matters. In fact, he did not even tell Branch of his coming 
 adventure. 
 
 The day of days dawned at last, and Johnnie was 
 early at Manin's soda-fountain, drinking insipid beverages 
 and anxiously watching the street. In due time the 
 negroes appeared, their straw sarons laden with produce 
 which they innocently disposed of. O'Reilly began to 
 consult his watch with such frequency that the druggist 
 joked him. 
 
 Manin's banter was interrupted by a bugle-call. Down 
 the street came perhaps two hundred mounted troops. 
 They wheeled into San Rafael Street at a gallop and 
 disappeared in the direction of the suburbs. 
 
 "Now what does that mean?" murmured the druggist. 
 "Wait here while I go to the roof where I can see some 
 thing." 
 
 O'Reilly tried to compose himself , meanwhile becoming 
 aware of a growing excitement in the street. Pedestrians 
 had halted, shopkeepers had come to their doors, questions 
 were flying from mouth to mouth. Then from the direc 
 tion of the fort at the end of San Rafael Street sounded a 
 faint rattling fusillade, more bugle-calls, and finally the 
 thin, distant shouting of men. 
 
 "Rebels!" some one cried. 
 
 "Dios mio, they are attacking the city!'" 
 
 "They have audacity, eh?" 
 
 The roofs were black with people now. Manin came 
 hurrying down into the store. 
 
 " Something has gone wrong," he whispered. "They're 
 fighting out yonder in the woods. There has been some 
 treachery." 
 
 "It is ten-fifteen," said O'Reilly. "I must be going." 
 
 Manin stared at him. "You don't understand " 
 
 "Those black fellows are getting their horses ready. 
 I'm going." 
 
 The druggist tried to force Johnnie into a chair. 4 ' Mad- 
 
 122
 
 O'REILLY TALKS HOG LATIN 
 
 man!" he panted. "I tell you our friends have been 
 betrayed; they are retreating. Go back to your hotel 
 quickly." 
 
 For the first time during their acquaintance Manin 
 heard the good-natured American curse; O'Reilly's blue 
 eyes were blazing; he had let go of himself completely. 
 
 "I'm going!" he cried, hoarsely. "All the damned 
 Spaniards in Cuba won't stop me. God! I've waited 
 too long I should have made a break " 
 
 "Idiot!" stormed the druggist. "You wish to die, 
 eh?" 
 
 O'Reilly ripped out another oath and fought off the 
 other's restraining hands. 
 
 "Very well, then," cried Manin, "but have some 
 thought of us who have risked our lives for you. Sup 
 pose you should escape? How would our troops receive 
 you now? Would they not think you had cunningly 
 arranged this trap?" 
 
 A light of reason slowly reappeared in the younger 
 man's eyes. 
 
 " No !" Manin pressed his advantage. "You must wait 
 until " He broke off abruptly and stepped behind his 
 counter, for a man in the uniform of a Spanish lieutenant 
 had entered the store. 
 
 The new-comer walked directly to O'Reilly; he was a 
 clean-cut, alert young fellow. After a searching glance 
 around the place he spoke in a voice audible to both 
 men: 
 
 "Senor, you are in danger. To-night, at midnight, you 
 will be arrested. I beg of you to see that there is nothing 
 incriminating in your possession." 
 
 O'Reilly's face betrayed his amazement. "Arrested? 
 What for? On what charge " 
 
 The stranger shrugged. "I don't know. That news 
 paper man will be arrested at the same moment, so you 
 had better warn him. But be careful where and how you 
 
 123
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 do so, for all his movements are watched, all his words are 
 overheard." 
 
 "Why do you tell me this you? Is it some scheme 
 to to incriminate me?" O'Reilly inquired. 
 
 Manin was leaning over the counter, his face drawn with 
 anxiety, his lips framing the same question. 
 
 "No!" The lieutenant shook his head. "I am a 
 friend a Cuban, in spite of this uniform. If you repeat 
 my words I shall be shot within the hour. I implore 
 you" his voice became more urgent "to heed my 
 warning. I don't know what you had to do with this 
 skirmish out San Rafael Street, but a short time ago a 
 message came from the fortina that Insurrectos were in 
 the woods close by. I hope it will not prove to be a bloody 
 encounter. And now remember midnight !' ' He bowed, 
 turned to the door, and was gone. 
 
 Manin heaved a sigh of relief. "Caramba! He gave 
 me a fright : I thought my time had come. But what did 
 I tell you, eh?" 
 
 "That fellow is a Cuban spy!" 
 
 "No doubt. We have many friends. Well! You see 
 what would have happened if you had tried to go. Now 
 then, you must prepare yourself for the worst." 
 
 Perhaps a half-hour later O'Reilly saw the cavalry 
 squadron returning to its barracks. The men were 
 laughing; they were shouting brief boastful accounts of 
 their encounter to the people on the sidewalks. Two of 
 them were sick and white; they lurched in their saddles, 
 and were supported by their comrades, but it was not 
 upon them that the eyes of the onlookers centered. 
 Through the filth of the street behind the cavalcade 
 trailed a limp bundle of rags which had once been a man. 
 It was tied to a rope and it dragged heavily; its limbs 
 were loose; its face, blackened by mud, stared blindly 
 skyward. 
 
 O'Reilly gazed at the object with horrified fascination; 
 
 124
 
 O'REILLY TALKS HOG LATIN 
 
 then with a sudden sick feeling of dizziness he retired to 
 his room, asking himself if he were responsible for that 
 poor fellow's death. 
 
 Meanwhile the citizens of Puerto Principe looked on 
 with stony eyes. There was no cheering among them, 
 only a hush in their chatter, above which sounded the 
 rattle of accoutrements, the clump-clump of hoofs, and 
 the exultant voices of the Spanish troopers. 
 
 For some reason or other Leslie Branch was nowhere 
 to be found; his room was locked and no one had seen 
 him; hence there was no possibility of warning him, until 
 that evening, when he appeared while O'Reilly was making 
 a pretense of eating dinner. 
 
 "Where the devil have you been?" the latter inquired, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Been getting out my weekly joke about the revolution. 
 Had to write up this morning's ' battle.' Couldn't work 
 in my room, so I " 
 
 "Sit down; and don't jump when I tell you what has 
 happened. We're going to be pinched at midnight." 
 
 "Why midnight?" 
 
 "I don't know, unless that's the fashionable hour for 
 military calls." 
 
 "What's it all about?" 
 
 "I guess they don't like us. Have you got anything 
 incriminating about you?" 
 
 "N-no! Nothing, except my citizen's papers and a 
 letter of introduction to General Maximo Gomez." 
 
 O'Reilly suddenly lost what appetite remained to him. 
 "Nothing except a letter to General Gomez!" he cried. 
 "Good Lord, Branch! Were you ever shot at sunrise?" 
 
 The reporter coughed dismally. "N-no! It's too 
 damp. I suppose you mean to hint I'd better destroy 
 that letter, eh?" 
 
 "Just as quickly as possible. Where is it?" 
 
 "In my room." 
 
 125
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Hm-m! Then I'm not sure you'll have a chance to 
 destroy it." O'Reilly was thinking rapidly. "From 
 what I was told I suspect you are being watched even 
 there." 
 
 " Bullets ! I thought as much." 
 
 "Would you mind using some other oath?" O'Reilly 
 broke out, irritably. "I've always considered 'bullets' 
 weak and ineffective, but it has a significance." 
 
 "There's a new lodger in the room next to me. I've 
 heard him moving around. I'll bet he's got a peephole 
 in the wall." Branch was visibly excited. 
 
 "Quite likely. I have the same kind of a neighbor; 
 that is he watching us now." 
 
 Leslie cast a hostile eye at the man his friend indicated. 
 "Looks like a miserable spy, doesn't he? But, say, how 
 am I going to make away with that letter?" 
 
 "I'm trying to think," said Johnnie. After a time he 
 rose from the table and the two strolled out. Johnnie was 
 still thinking. 
 
 When the two arrived at Branch's quarters O'Reilly 
 scrutinized the room as closely as he dared, and then sat 
 for some time idly gossiping. Both men were under a 
 considerable strain, for they thought it more than likely 
 that hostile eyes were upon them. It gave them an uncom 
 fortable thrill; and while it seemed a simple thing to burn 
 that letter of introduction, they realized that if their sus 
 picions were correct such a procedure would only serve 
 to deepen their difficulties. Nothing they could later say 
 would explain to the satisfaction of the authorities so 
 questionable an act. The mere destruction of a mysterious 
 document, particularly at this late hour, would look alto 
 gether too queer; it might easily cause their complete 
 undoing. Inasmuch as his enemies were waiting only for 
 an excuse to be rid of him, O'Reilly knew that deportation 
 was the least he could expect, and at the thought his 
 fingers itched to hold that letter over the lamp-chimney. 
 
 126
 
 O'REILLY TALKS HOG LATIN 
 
 Imprisonment, almost any punishment, was better than 
 deportation. That would mean beginning all over again. 
 
 While he was talking he used his eyes, and finally 
 a plan suggested itself. To make doubly sure that his 
 words would not be understood he inquired, casually: 
 
 " Do you speak any foreign languages?" 
 
 ' ' Sure ! Spanish and hog Latin. ' ' 
 
 In spite of himself O'Reilly grinned; then making use 
 of that incoherent derangement of syllables upon the use 
 of which every American boy prides himself, he directed 
 Branch's attention to the tiles of the roof overhead. 
 
 The reporter's wits were sharp; his eyes brightened; 
 he nodded his instant understanding. The house had but 
 one story, its roof was constructed of the common, half- 
 round Cuban tiling, each piece about two feet long. 
 These tiles were laid in parallel rows from ridge-pole to 
 eave, and these rows were locked together by other tiling 
 laid bottom side up over them. Where the convex faces 
 of the lower layer overlapped, after the fashion of shingles, 
 were numerous interstices due to imperfections in manu 
 facture; more than one of these was large enough to form 
 a hiding-place for a letter. 
 
 Continuing to disguise his language, O'Reilly directed 
 his companion to open the table drawer in which the un 
 welcome document reposed and to see that it was where he 
 could instantly lay hands upon it in the dark. Branch 
 did as he was told. 
 
 For some time longer they talked; then they rose as if 
 to leave the room. O'Reilly took his stand near the door 
 and directly beneath the most promising crevice in the 
 roof, which at this point was perhaps nine feet from the 
 floor. 
 
 Branch stooped over the table and breathed into the 
 lamp-chimney ; the room was plunged into darkness. There 
 followed a faint rustling of paper; the next instant he 
 was at O'Reilly's side. Stooping, Johnnie seized him 
 
 127
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 about the knees and lifted him. There was the briefest 
 pause; then feeling a pinch upon his shoulder, O'Reilly 
 lowered his burden noiselessly, and the two men left the 
 room. 
 
 When they were safely out in the street Branch rubbed 
 his head and complained: "Bullets, you're strong! You 
 nearly broke a rafter with my head. But I guess I got 
 'em out of sight." 
 
 " Them?" 
 
 "Yes. I hid my American 'papers,' too. These 
 Dons are sore on Yankees, you know. I'm going to be 
 an Englishman, and you'd better follow suit. I'm the 
 the youngest son of the Earl of Pawtucket, and you'd 
 better tell 'em your uncle was the Duke of Ireland, or 
 something."
 
 XI 
 
 THE HAND OP THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL 
 
 ON the stroke of midnight O'Reilly was arrested. 
 After a thorough search of his person and his prem 
 ises he was escorted to Government headquarters, where 
 he found Leslie Branch. 
 
 The invalid looked taller, thinner, more bloodless than 
 ever, and his air of settled gloom admirably became the 
 situation. 
 
 "Hello, Earl. What luck?" Johnnie flashed at him. 
 
 "Good!" 
 
 An officer sharply commanded them to be silent. 
 
 There ensued a long delay, introduced, perhaps, for its 
 effect upon the prisoners; then they were led into a large 
 room where, it seemed, the entire staff of the Spanish 
 garrison was waiting. It was an imposing collection of 
 uniforms, a row of grim faces and hostile eyes, which the 
 two Americans beheld. Spread out upon a table in front 
 of the officers were the personal belongings of both men. 
 
 The prisoners were ordered to stand side by side, facing 
 their accusers. Then each in turn was subjected to a 
 rigorous examination. Owing to his acquaintance with 
 Spanish, O'Reilly was able to defend himself without the 
 aid of an interpreter. He began by asserting that he had 
 come to Cuba for his health, and declared that he had 
 endeavored at all times since his arrival to conduct him 
 self in strict conformity with local regulations. If in any 
 way he had offended, he had not done so intentionally. 
 
 129
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 He denied having the remotest connection with the rebels, 
 and demanded an explanation of his arrest. 
 
 But his plausible words did not in the least affect his 
 hearers. General Antuna, the comandante, a square- 
 faced man with the airs of a courtier, but with the bold, 
 hard eyes of a fighter, leaned forward, saying: 
 
 "So you suffer from ill health, senor?" 
 
 "I do, severely. Rheumatism." 
 
 The general nodded. "Three days ago you were over 
 taken by a rain-storm while walking through the city." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "When the rain had passed, you returned to your hotel. 
 At the junction of San Rafael and Estrella streets a pool 
 of water had gathered and you leaped it. Am I right?" 
 
 "No doubt." 
 
 General Antuna consulted a report before him. "That 
 pool measured six feet four inches in width. Do you ask 
 me to believe that a person suffering from rheumatism 
 could do that?" 
 
 Leslie Branch shifted his weight and wet his lips, but 
 O'Reilly only shrugged impatiently. ' ' My dear General," 
 said he, "did you never experience a neuralgia? Well 
 then, was the pain continuous? In this climate my 
 affliction troubles me very little. That is why I remain 
 here." 
 
 From among the articles in front of him the general 
 selected a solitary 44-caliber revolver cartridge and, 
 holding it up, said: 
 
 "What do you say to this?" 
 
 " I don't know what to say. Where did it come from?" 
 
 "It was found in the cloth pocket of your valise." 
 
 O'Reilly frowned; then a light of understanding irradi 
 ated his frank countenance. "It must have lain there 
 ever since I left Matanzas, three months ago." 
 
 "Ha ! Matanzas !" fiercely ejaculated a colonel. " What 
 were you doing in Matanzas?" 
 
 130
 
 HAND OF THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL 
 
 It was unnecessary to prevaricate now. Johnnie told 
 of his earlier connection with the Carter Importing Com 
 pany, gave names, dates, and facts to bear out his state 
 ments, and challenged his accusers to verify them. 
 
 Undoubtedly some of his hearers were impressed, but 
 they were by no means convinced of the innocence of his 
 present purpose, and, in fact, the ferocious colonel seemed 
 to regard past residence in Cuba as proof conclusive of a 
 present connection with the rebels. Johnnie gathered 
 that he was suspected of being one of those American 
 engineers who were reported to have been engaged to 
 instruct the enemy in the use of explosives : his inquisitors 
 did their best to wring such an admission from him or to 
 entrap him into the use of some technical phrase, some 
 slip of the tongue which would verify their suspicions. 
 They even examined his hands with minutest care, as if 
 to find some telltale callous or chemical discoloration 
 which would convict him. Then finally, to give him the 
 lie absolute, the aggressive colonel seized a nickel- 
 plated atomizer from the table and brandished it trium 
 phantly before the young men's eyes. 
 
 "Enough of this pretense!" he cried. "What is this 
 instrument, eh?" 
 
 "It is evidently an atomizer, a nasal syringe. I never 
 saw it before." 
 
 "It's mine," said Leslie Branch; but the colonel did 
 not heed the interruption. 
 
 "Ha! And pray explain its use." 
 
 Johnnie undertook to do so, but it was plain that his 
 words carried no conviction, for his mocking inquisitor 
 gave a loud snort and gestured eloquently to his com 
 mander. "There you have it!" he declared, proudly. 
 "This impostor betrays himself." 
 
 The other officers were eying the unfamiliar article 
 curiously; one of them ventured gingerly to handle it; 
 they exchanged whispers.
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "What do you call it?" the general inquired, leaning 
 forward. 
 
 This was the colonel's moment. "I will tell you!" he 
 said, with a sneer at O'Reilly. "I am something of a 
 genius at mechanical inventions, and therefore I am not for 
 a moment deceived by this fellow's common lies. This ' ' 
 he paused dramatically and held his brother officers with 
 a burning glance "this instrument, in my opinion, was 
 devised for the purpose of injecting fulminate of mercury 
 into dynamite." 
 
 There was a breathless hush. The Spaniards stared at 
 the little syringe with amazement. 
 
 "And how does it operate?" queried one. 
 
 "It is one of those ingenious Yankee contrivances. 
 I have never seen one quite like it, but my intelligence 
 makes its principle plain. Evidently one inserts the tube 
 into the dynamite, so, and presses the bulb " 
 
 There came a loud cry from General Antuna, who had 
 bent closer; he clapped his hands to his face and staggered 
 from his chair, for in suiting his action to his words the 
 colonel had squeezed the bulb, with the result that a spray 
 of salt water had squirted fairly into his superior officer's 
 interested and attentive countenance. 
 
 " My eyes ! Dios mio ! I am blinded for life !' ' shouted 
 the unhappy general, and his subordinates looked on, 
 frozen with consternation. 
 
 The author of this calamity blanched; he was stricken 
 dumb with horror. 
 
 Some one cried: "A doctor, quickly. Jesus Cristo! 
 Such carelessness!" 
 
 " This is terrible !' ' another stammered. " It will explode 
 next." 
 
 There was a concerted scramble away from the table. 
 
 Leslie Branch laughed it was the first time that 
 O'Reilly had ever heard him give audible evidence of 
 amusement. His reedy frame was shaken as by a painful 
 
 132
 
 HAND OF THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL 
 
 spasm; his colorless face was distorted, and from his lips 
 issued queer, hysterical barks and chortles. "Tell 'em 
 it's nothing but brine," he said, chokingly. 
 
 When this welcome intelligence had been translated, 
 and when the general had proved it to be true, there was a 
 great sigh of relief, followed by a subdued titter at the 
 colonel's expense. The latter was chagrined. Having 
 made himself and the comandante ridiculous, he took 
 refuge behind an assumption of somber and offended 
 dignity. But it was plain that he still considered these 
 Americans dangerous people, and that his suspicions were 
 as keen as ever. 
 
 The interruption served to end O'Reilly's ordeal, for 
 the moment at least, and attention was now turned to his 
 companion. It was evident from the first that Branch's 
 case was hopeless. He readily acknowledged himself to 
 be a newspaper writer, and admitted having sent articles 
 for publication through the mails. This was quite enough ; 
 from the attitude of the military men it promised to go 
 hard with him. But he sprung a surprise by boldly pro 
 claiming himself an English citizen and warning his 
 captors not to treat him with the contempt or with the 
 severity they reserved for Americans. Curiously his 
 words had an effect. Judgment for the moment was 
 suspended, and the two prisoners were led away, after 
 which another delay ensued. 
 
 At last O'Reilly was recalled ; but when he re-entered the 
 big room he found General Antuna awaiting him, alone. 
 
 " Permit me to apologize for the inconvenience we have 
 put you to," the comandante began. 
 
 "Then am I free?" 
 
 "You are." 
 
 "I thank you." 
 
 The general's hard eyes gleamed. " Personally I at no 
 time put faith in the idea that you are a powder expert," 
 said he. "No. I had my own suspicions and I regret 
 
 133
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 to say this inquiry has not in the least served to lessen 
 them." 
 
 "Indeed? May I ask of what you suspect me?" 
 Johnnie was genuinely interested. 
 
 The general spoke with force and gravity: "Mr. 
 O'Reilly, I believe you to be a far greater menace to the 
 interests of my country than well, than a score of 
 dynamite experts. I believe you are a writer." 
 
 The American smiled. "Are writers such dangerous 
 people?" 
 
 "That altogether depends upon circumstances. The 
 United States is inclined to recognize the belligerency of 
 these Cuban rebels, and her relations with Spain are be 
 coming daily more strained; ill-feeling grows, and all 
 because of the exaggerations, the mendacities, that have 
 gone forth from here to your newspapers. We are de 
 termined to put down this uprising in our own way; we 
 will tolerate no foreign interference. War is never a 
 pleasant thing, but you journalists have magnified its 
 horrors and misrepresented the cause of Spain until you 
 threaten to bring on another and a more horrible combat. 
 Now then, you understand what I mean when I say that 
 you are more dangerous than a powder expert; that your 
 pen can do more injury, can cause the death of more 
 Spanish troops than could a regiment of Americans with 
 dynamite. Your English friend makes no secret of his 
 business, so we shall escort him to Neuvitas and see him 
 safely out of the country, once for all." 
 
 "And yet you permit me to remain?" Johnnie was 
 surprised. 
 
 "For the present, yes! That is my official message to 
 you. Privately, however" the speaker eyed O'Reilly 
 with a disconcerting expression "I would like to warn 
 you. You are a bright fellow, and you have a way with 
 you there's no denying it. Under other conditions it 
 would be a pleasure to know you better. It grieves me, 
 
 134
 
 HAND OF THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL 
 
 therefore, to warn you that your further stay in Cuba will 
 not be pleasant. I almost regret that there is no 
 conclusive evidence against you; it would so simplify 
 matters. Come now, hadn't you better acknowledge 
 that I have guessed your secret?" 
 
 O'Reilly's perplexity was changing to dismay, for it 
 seemed to him he was being played with; nevertheless, he 
 shook his head. "I would only be deceiving you, sir," 
 he said. 
 
 General Antuna sighed. "Then I see embarrass 
 ments ahead for both of us." 
 
 "More arrests?" 
 
 "Not necessarily. Understand me, I speak as one 
 gentleman to another, but you must have noticed that 
 Americans are unpopular with our troops. Eh ? They are 
 impulsive, these troopers; accidents cannot be prevented. 
 Suppose something should happen to you? There is the 
 trouble. You came to Cuba to enjoy its climate; you 
 cannot be expected to remain indoors. Of course not. 
 Well! Among our soldiers are many new recruits, pa 
 triotic, enthusiastic young fellows, but careless. They 
 are wretchedly unproficient marksmen, and they haven't 
 learned the dangers of promiscuous rifle fire. They are 
 forever shooting at things, merely to score a hit. Would 
 you believe it? Oh, I have to discipline them frequently. 
 To think of you going abroad through the streets, there 
 fore, worries me intensely." 
 
 "Your solicitude is touching." O'Reilly bowed mock 
 ingly; but disregarding his tone, General Antuna pro 
 ceeded in the same false key: 
 
 "Suppose you should be found dead some day. Im 
 agine my feelings." The speaker's tone and expression 
 were eloquent of concern. "How could I fix the re 
 sponsibility?" 
 
 "By having me followed, as usual, I dare say," O'Reilly 
 said, bitterly. 
 
 135
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Oh, you will of course be shadowed day and night; 
 in fact, to be quite sure of your er safety I shall ask 
 you to permit one of my men to accompany you every 
 where and even to share your room. We shall try never 
 to lose sight of you, depend upon it. But these detectives 
 are careless fellows at best; I don't trust them. Of course 
 such precautions would exonerate me from all blame and 
 relieve my Government from any responsibility for in 
 jury to you, but, nevertheless, it would tend to complicate 
 relations already strained. You see I am quite honest 
 with you." The general allowed time for his words to 
 sink in; then he sighed once more. "I wish you could 
 find another climate equally beneficial to your rheumatism. 
 It would lift a great load from my mind. I could offer 
 you the hospitality of an escort to Neuvitas, and your 
 friend Mr. Branch is such good company he would so 
 shorten your trip to New York!" The speaker paused 
 hopefully; that same sardonic flicker was on his lips. 
 
 Johnnie could not summon an answering smile, for his 
 heart was like lead. He realized now the utter futility of 
 resistance; he knew that to remain in Puerto Principe 
 after this thinly veiled warning would be to court de 
 struction and destruction of a shocking character against 
 which it would be impossible to guard. Even an espionage 
 stricter than that to which he had been subjected would 
 utterly defeat his plans. After a moment of thought he 
 said, gravely: 
 
 "I appreciate the delicacy of your consideration, sir, 
 and I shall go." 
 
 General Antuna leaped to his feet, his grim face alight; 
 striding to O'Reilly, he pressed his hands he seemed upon 
 the point of embracing him. "I thank you!" he cried. 
 "You render me a supreme service. See, I breathe easy. 
 Permit me to offer you refreshment one of our famous 
 Spanish wines. No? Then the best cigar in all Cuba!" 
 
 His expressions of gratitude were fulsome ; he swore that 
 
 136
 
 HAND OF THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL 
 
 O'Reilly had done him the greatest favor of his life, but 
 his words were like poison to his hearer. 
 
 "You embarrass me," O'Reilly told him, endeavoring to 
 carry off his defeat with some show of grace. In his 
 bitterness he could not refrain from adding, "If my 
 accursed affliction returns, perhaps we shall meet again 
 before long, either here or elsewhere." 
 
 "Oh, I have little hope for such a pleasure," the general 
 quickly replied. "But if we do meet, remember we 
 Spaniards have a cure for rheumatism. It is unpleasant, 
 but efficacious. A little, nickel-plated pill, that is all." 
 General Antuna's teeth shone for an instant. "There is 
 another remedy, not quite so immediate in its effect, but 
 a good one. I have tried it and found it excellent. 
 Drink plenty of cocoanut-water ! That is the Cuban 
 remedy; the other I call the Spanish cure. Cocoanuts 
 are splendid. I shall see that a crate of the choicest fruit 
 is placed aboard your steamer. Accept them with my 
 compliments, and when you partake of them think of me." 
 
 O'Reilly did think of General Antuna, not only when he 
 was escorted to the railway station at daylight, but when 
 he and Branch took their seats and their guards filed in 
 behind them. He assured himself moodily that he would 
 not cease to think of that sardonic old joker for a long 
 time to come. He cursed savagely ; the memory of these 
 wasted weeks, the narrow margin of his failure, filled him 
 with a sick feeling of dismay and impotence. His mind 
 quailed at the consequence of this new delay. Where 
 was Rosa now? How and when would he return? With 
 difficulty he resisted the impulse to fling himself from the 
 moving train; but he composed himself by the thought 
 that Cuba was not fenced about with bayonets. He 
 would come back. 
 
 Leslie Branch broke in upon his gloomy preoccupation 
 by asking, "How much money have you?" 
 
 "Less than ten dollars." 
 10 137
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "You're rich. My landlady cleaned me. Is it the 
 practice of beneficent monarchies to provide transporta 
 tion for their departing guests?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly." 
 
 Branch coughed dismally. "It '11 be all right if they 
 just buy me a ticket to the first fog. One more hemor 
 rhage and I'll wing my way aloft. God! I'd hate to be 
 buried at sea." 
 
 "Cheer up !" O'Reilly reassured him, irritably. " There 
 may be ice aboard." 
 
 "Icel" Leslie gasped. "Oh, bullets!" 
 
 In marked contrast to the difficulties of entering Cuba 
 was the ease of leaving it. A ship was sailing from 
 Neuvitas on the very afternoon when the two Americans 
 arrived, and they were hurried aboard. Not until the 
 anchor was up did their military escort depart from them. 
 
 With angry, brooding eyes O'Reilly watched the white 
 houses along the water-front dwindle away, the mangrove 
 swamps slip past, and the hills rise out of their purple 
 haze. When the salt breath of the trades came to his 
 nostrils he turned into his state-room, and, taking the 
 crate of cocoanuts with which General Antuna had 
 thoughtfully provided him, he bore it to the rail and 
 dropped it overboard. 
 
 "Rheumatism was a fool disease, anyhow," he muttered. 
 
 "Great news!" Este"ban Varona announced one day as 
 he dismounted after a foraging trip into the Yumuri. 
 "We met some of Lacret's men and they told us that 
 Spain has recalled Captain-General Campos. He ac 
 knowledges himself powerless to stem the flood of Cuban 
 revolution. What do you say to that?" 
 
 "Does that mean the end of the war?" Rosa eagerly 
 inquired. 
 
 "Oh no. They have sent a new man he's in Havana 
 now a dark little, old fellow who never smiles. He has a 
 
 138
 
 HAND OF THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL 
 
 long nose and a big chin; he dresses all in black a very 
 'Jew-bird' in appearance, from what I hear. His name is 
 Weyler Valeriano Weyler, Marquis of Teneriffe." Es- 
 tban laughed tolerantly, for as yet the name of Weyler 
 meant nothing to him. 
 
 "No wonder we knew nothing about it," said the girl. 
 "We hide like animals and we see no one for weeks at a 
 time. I sometimes wonder how O'Reilly will manage to 
 find us." 
 
 "Oh, he'll manage it somehow," Este"ban declared, 
 cheerfully. Then he ran an approving eye over the new 
 bohio and the new garden plot which Evangelina had 
 courageously begun. "We're not so badly fixed, are we? 
 At least Colonel Cobo won't find us so readily this time." 
 
 "Cobo!" shuddered the girl. "I dream aboist him." 
 
 Este"ban scowled. "I've seen him at a distance several 
 times, but he takes pains to guard himself well when he 
 comes into the Yumuri. They say he's trying to destroy 
 the whole valley." 
 
 "He will never forget." 
 
 Este"ban covertly appraised his sister's charms, but re 
 specting her terror of Cobo he did not speak his thoughts. 
 He was certain, however, that Rosa knew, as well as he, 
 what motive lay behind the fellow's tireless persecutions 
 of the valley dwellers; for in spite of their isolation stories 
 of Cobo had reached the refugees stories that had 
 rendered both the boy and the girl sick with apprehension. 
 The colonel, it seemed, had nearly died of his machete 
 wound, and on recovering he had sworn to exterminate 
 the wasps that had stung him. He had sworn other 
 oaths, too, oaths that robbed Este"ban of his sleep. 
 
 Este"ban idolized his sister; her loyalty to him was the 
 most precious thing of his life. Therefore, the thought 
 of that swarthy ruffian hunting her down as a hound 
 hangs to the trail of a doe awoke in him a terrible anger. 
 Second only to his hatred for the guerrilla chief was his
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 bitterness against the traitor, Pancho Cueto, who had 
 capped his villainy by setting this new peril upon them; 
 and since Rosa's safety and his own honor called for the 
 death of both men, he had sworn that somehow he would 
 effect it. It was, of course, a difficult matter to get at 
 the Colonel of Volunteers, but Cueto still lived in the 
 midst of his blackened fields, and it was against him that 
 the boy was now planning to launch his first blow. 
 
 The mention of Cobo's name had momentarily dis 
 tracted Est6ban's thought's. Now he collected them and 
 said: 
 
 "Wait! I am forgetting something. See what La- 
 cret's men handed me; they are posted from one end of 
 the island to the other." He displayed a printed bando, 
 or proclamation, signed by the new captain-general, and 
 read as follows: 
 
 " All inhabitants of the country districts, or those who reside 
 outside the lines of fortifications of the towns, shall, within a 
 period of eight days, enter the towns which are occupied by 
 the troops. Any individual found outside the lines in the 
 country at the eKpiration of this period shall be considered a 
 rebel and shall be dealt with as such." 
 
 It was that inhuman order of concentration, the result 
 of which proved to be without parallel in military history 
 an order which gave its savage author the name of being 
 the arch-fiend of a nation reputed peculiarly cruel. 
 Neither Esteban nor Rosa, however, grasped the full 
 significance of the proclamation; no one could have done 
 so. No eye could have foreseen the merciless butchery 
 of non-combatants, the starvation and death by disease 
 of hordes of helpless men, women, and children herded 
 into the cities. Four hundred thousand Cubans driven 
 from their homes into shelterless prison camps; more than 
 two hundred thousand dead from hunger and disease; 
 a fruitful land laid bare of all that could serve as food, 
 
 140
 
 HAND OF THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL 
 
 and changed to an ash-gray desolation; gaunt famine 
 from Oriente to Pinar del Rio that was the sequel to 
 those printed words of "Weyler the Butcher" which 
 Este'ban read. 
 
 " Eight days ! When is the time up ?" Rosa inquired. 
 
 "Bless you, this is already two weeks old!" her brother 
 told her. 
 
 "Why, then, it means that we'll be shot if we're caught." 
 
 "Exactly! But we sha'n't be caught, eh? Let the 
 timid ones take fright at the squeaks of this old black 
 bird. Let them go into the cities: we shall have the 
 more to eat!" Este'ban crumpled the paper in his hand 
 and dropped it. "Meanwhile I jfhall proceed toward 
 my settlement with Pancho Cueto." His very careless 
 confidence gave Rosa courage.
 
 XII 
 
 WHEN THE WORLD RAN BACKWARD 
 
 ESTfiBAN went about his plan of destroying Pancho 
 Cueto with youthful energy and zest. First he se 
 cured, at some pains, a half-stick of dynamite, a cap and 
 fuse, and a gallon or more of kerosene; then he assembled 
 his followers and led them once again into the San Juan. 
 
 This time the ride to La Joya was longer than before, 
 and since every member of the little band was proscribed, 
 Est^ban insisted upon the greatest caution. But there 
 was little need of especial care, for the country was already 
 depopulated, as a result of Weyler's proclamation. 
 Fields were empty, houses silent; no living creatures 
 stirred, except in the tree-tops, and the very birds seemed 
 frightened, subdued. It struck young Varona queerly. 
 It was as if the whole land was in mourning ; he saw noth 
 ing but blackbirds, somber-hued vultures, dismal Judea- 
 birds with their ebony plumage and yellow beaks. Far 
 up the valley a funeral pall of smoke hung in the sky 
 itself; that was where the Spaniards were burning the 
 houses of those too slow in obeying the order of con 
 centration. 
 
 La Joya, however, was still tenanted when early in the 
 evening its rightful owner arrived; the house and some of 
 its outbuildings showed lights. Este"ban concealed his 
 men. While the horses cropped and the negroes rested 
 he fitted fuse and cap to his precious piece of dynamite. 
 It was likely, he thought, that Cueto had provided himself 
 
 142
 
 THE WORLD RAN BACKWARD 
 
 with a body-guard, and knowing the plantation house 
 as he did, he had no intention of battering weakly at its 
 stout ironwood door while his quarry took fright and 
 slipped away. 
 
 Now while Este"ban was thus busied, Pancho Cueto 
 was entertaining an unwelcome guest. In the late after 
 noon he had been surprised by the visit of a dozen or more 
 Volunteers, and inasmuch as his relations with their 
 colonel had been none of the friendliest since that ill- 
 starred expedition into the Yumuri, he had felt a chill of 
 apprehension on seeing the redoubtable Cobo himself at 
 their head. 
 
 The colonel had explained that he was returning from a 
 trip up the San Juan, taken for the purpose of rounding 
 up those inhabitants who had been dilatory in obeying 
 the new orders from Havana. That smoke to the south 
 ward was from fires of his kindling: he had burned a good 
 many crops and houses and punished a good many people, 
 and since this was exactly the sort of task he liked he was 
 in no unpleasant mood. He had demanded of Cueto 
 lodging for himself and his troop, announcing that a part 
 of his command was somewhere behind and would rejoin 
 him later in the night. 
 
 Cueto had welcomed his visitor in all humility; he put 
 up the soldiers in the bate of the sugar-mill, and then 
 installed Cobo in his best room, after which he ransacked 
 the house for food and drink and tobacco. 
 
 Later he and the colonel sat long over their supper, for 
 the latter's exultant humor continued. Cobo, it tran 
 spired, was delighted with the new captain-general, a man 
 of blood and iron, a man after his own heart. This Wey- 
 ler, he predicted, would put an end to the insurrection; 
 there would be no more of Campos's weak, merciful 
 methods, which were, in reality, nothing less than en 
 couragement to revolt. Cueto, of course, agreed. 
 
 "We're sweeping the country as with a broom, and
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 already Matanzas is bulging with refugees," the officer 
 told him. "They call themselves pacificos, but they 
 carry information and aid our enemies. We'll have no 
 more of that." 
 
 "Will it not be a great expense to feed so many people?" 
 Cueto ventured. 
 
 "Let them feed themselves. Is it our fault that they 
 make such measures necessary? By no means. Once 
 we have them safe, we shall exterminate all whom we 
 encounter in the country." The speaker drank deeply 
 of Cueto's good wine and smacked his lips. "It's the 
 kind of work I like. Extermination! They have had 
 their warning. From now on we shall spare neither man, 
 woman, nor child. The men are traitors, the women 
 breed, and the children grow up." 
 
 Cueto nodded his complete approval of this program. 
 "Oh, decidedly," said he. "This spirit of violence must 
 be stamped out or none of us will be safe. Let me tell 
 you I myself live in constant dread of that young villain, 
 Varona. I hope you haven't forgotten him. ' ' 
 
 "Forgotten him?" Colonel Cobo fingered a lately 
 healed scar which further disfigured his ugly face, then 
 he cursed frightfully. "It's by God's mercy alone that 
 I'm alive to-night. And I haven't forgotten the girl, 
 either. She'll have to come in, along with the others. 
 The boy may stay out, but she can't." He licked his 
 lips. "Wait until I have finished with this valley. 
 I'll drive the Yumuri next, as a hunter drives a thicket 
 for his game, and nothing will slip through." 
 
 His thoughts once turned upon Rosa, the colonel could 
 talk of little else, and Cueto realized that the girl had 
 indeed made a deep impression upon him. The over 
 seer was well pleased, and when Cobo finally took himself 
 off to bed he followed in better spirits than he had enjoyed 
 for some time. For one thing, it was agreeable to look 
 forward to a night of undisturbed repose. Pancho's ap- 
 
 144
 
 THE WORLD RAN BACKWARD 
 
 prehensions had fattened upon themselves, and he had 
 been living of late in a nightmare of terror. 
 
 But it seemed to him that he had barely closed his eyes 
 when he was awakened by a tremendous vibration and 
 found himself in the center of the floor, undecided whether 
 he had been hurled from his bed or whether he had leaped 
 thither. Still in a daze, he heard a shout from the 
 direction of Cobo's room, then a din of other voices, fol 
 lowed by a rush of feet; the next instant his door was 
 flung back and he saw, by the light of high-held torches, 
 Este"ban Varona and a ragged rabble of black men. 
 Cueto knew that he faced death. He uttered a shrill 
 scream of terror, and, seizing the revolver which was 
 always close at his hand, he fired blindly. Then his foes 
 were upon him. What happened thereafter took but an 
 instant. He dodged a blow from Est6ban's clubbed rifle 
 only to behold the flash of a machete. Crying out again, 
 he tried to guard himself from the descending blade, but 
 too late; the sound of his hoarse terror died in his throat, 
 half born. 
 
 "Quick! Soak the bed with oil and fire it," Est6ban 
 directed; then he ran out into the hall to investigate that 
 other shouting. He found the chamber whence it 
 issued and tried to smash the door; but at the second 
 blow he heard a gun-shot from within and the wood 
 splintered outward almost into his face. Simultaneously, 
 from somewhere outside the house, arose the notes of 
 a Spanish bugle-call. 
 
 Young Varona waited to hear no more. Nor did his 
 men; realizing the peril into which they had been led, 
 they bolted from the house as fast as they could go. 
 There was no need for questions; from the direction of the 
 sugar-mill came bellowed orders and the sound of men 
 shouting to their horses. Evidently those were troops 
 and trained troops, too, for they took no time to saddle; 
 they were up and mounted almost before the marauders 
 
 H5
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 had gained the backs of their own animals. There was 
 no opportunity to choose a retreat across the fields; 
 Este'ban spurred down the driveway toward the main 
 calzada, yelling to his men to follow him. 
 
 The approach to La Joya was by way of a notable 
 avenue, perhaps a half-mile in length, and bordered by 
 tall, even rows of royal palms. These stately trees 
 shaded the avenue by day and lent it a cavern-like gloom 
 by night. Near the public causeway the road was cut 
 through a bit of rising ground, and was walled by steep 
 banks overgrown with vines. 
 
 Into the black tunnel formed by the palms the fugitives 
 plunged, with the clatter of hoofs close behind them. 
 Those of the Volunteers who pressed them hardest began 
 to shoot wildly, for this typically Cuban refusal to stand 
 ground enraged them beyond measure. 
 
 Est^ban's party would doubtless have made good their 
 escape had it not been for that other guerrillero returning 
 from its raid; but, as it happened, the two forces met in 
 the sunken road. Nothing but the darkness and the head 
 long approach of the fleeing men saved them from imme 
 diate destruction, for the collision occurred between 
 banks too steep for a horse to climb, and with that yelling 
 pack too close behind to permit of retreat. 
 
 Instantly there began a blind battle in these desperately 
 cramped quarters. After the first moment or two friend 
 and foe were indistinguishable and the men of both 
 parties began firing or thrusting at whatever loomed 
 nearest out of the gloom. The narrow ravine quickly 
 became a place of utter confusion, a volcano of blas 
 phemies, a press of jostling, plunging, struggling bodies. 
 Horses reared and bit at one another. Riders fought 
 stirrup to stirrup with clubbed rifles and machetes; 
 saddles were emptied and the terrified horses bolted. 
 Some of them lunged up the banks, only to tumble down 
 again, their threshing limbs and sharp-shod hoofs working 
 
 146
 
 THE WORLD RAN BACKWARD 
 
 more havoc than blows from old-time battle-hammers. 
 Meanwhile those of Cobo's men who had ridden out from 
 the sugar-mill naturally attributed this new uproar to a 
 stand of their enemies, and began to rake the road with 
 rifle fire; then, in obedience to the commands of their 
 half-clad colonel, they charged. A moment and they 
 were fighting hand to hand with their returning comrades. 
 Spaniard clashed with Spaniard, and somewhere in the 
 me'le'e the six marauders battled for their lives. 
 
 Of course, after the first moment of conflict, Este"ban 
 had not been able to exert the least control over his men ; 
 in fact, he could not make himself heard. Nor could he 
 spare the breath to shout ; he was too desperately engaged. 
 When the full truth of the situation dawned upon him 
 he gave up hope for his life and at first merely strove to 
 wreak such havoc as he could. Yet while some of his 
 faculties were completely numbed in the stress of that 
 white-hot moment, others remained singularly clear. 
 The shock of his surprise, the imminence of his peril, 
 rendered him dead to any emotion save dismay, and yet, 
 strangely enough, he remembered Rosa's pressing need 
 for him and, more for her sake than for his own, fought 
 to extricate himself from the confusion. His rifle was 
 empty, he had its hot barrel in his hands; he dimly dis 
 tinguished Asensio wielding his machete. Then he found 
 himself down and half stunned. He was running here 
 and there to avoid lunging horses; he was tripping and 
 falling, but meanwhile, as opportunity offered, he con 
 tinued to use his clubbed weapon. Something smote him 
 heavily, at last whether a hoof or a gun-stock he could 
 not tell and next he was on all-fours, trying to drag him 
 self out of this rat-pit. But his limbs were queerly re 
 bellious, and he was sick; he had never experienced any 
 thing quite like this and he thought he must be wounded. 
 It greatly surprised him to find that he could struggle 
 upward through the brambles, even though it was hard 
 
 H7
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 work. Men were fighting all around and below him, 
 meanwhile, and he wondered vaguely what made them 
 kill one another when he and his negroes were all dead or 
 dying. It seemed very strange of a piece with the 
 general unreality of things and it troubled him not a 
 little. 
 
 At last he gained the top of the bank and managed to 
 assume an upright position, clinging to the bole of a palm- 
 tree. One of his arms was useless, he discovered, and he 
 realized with a curious shock that it was broken. He was 
 bleeding, too, from more than one wound, but he could 
 walk, after a fashion. 
 
 He was inclined to stay and finish the fight, but he 
 recollected that Rosa would be waiting for him and that 
 he must go to her, and so he set out across the fields, 
 staggering through the charred cane stubble. The night 
 was not so black as it had been, and this puzzled him 
 until he saw that the plantation house was ablaze. Flames 
 were belching from its windows, casting abroad a lurid 
 radiance; and remembering Pancho Cueto, Este"ban 
 laughed. 
 
 By and by, after he was well away, his numbness passed 
 and he began to suffer excruciating pain. The pain had 
 been there all the time, so it seemed; he was simply 
 gaining the capacity to feel it. He was ready to die now, 
 he was so ill; moreover, his left arm dangled and got in his 
 way. Only that subconscious realization of the necessity 
 to keep going for Rosa's sake sustained him. 
 
 After a while he found himself on a forest trail; then 
 he came to other fields and labored across them. Fortune 
 finally led his feet down into a creek-bed, and he drank 
 greedily, sitting upon a stone and scooping the water up 
 in his one useful hand. He was a long time in quenching 
 his thirst, and a longer time in getting up, but he finally 
 managed this, and he succeeded thereafter in keeping on 
 his feet. Daylight came at last to show him his way. 
 
 148
 
 THE WORLD RAN BACKWARD 
 
 More than once he paused, alarmed, at voices in the 
 woods, only to find that the sounds issued from his own 
 throat. 
 
 It had grown very hot now, so hot that heat-waves 
 obscured his vision and caused the most absurd forms to 
 take shape. He began to hunt aimlessly for water, but 
 there was none. Evidently this heat had parched the 
 land, dried up the streams, and set the stones afire. It 
 was incredible, but true. 
 
 Estdban reasoned that he must be near home by this 
 time, for he had been traveling for days for years. 
 The country, indeed, was altogether unfamiliar; he could 
 not recall ever having seen the path he trod, but for that 
 matter everything was strange. In the first place he 
 knew that he was going west, and yet the morning sun 
 persisted in beating hotly into his face ! That alone con 
 vinced him that things had gone awry with the world. 
 He could remember a great convulsion of some sort, 
 but just what it was he had no clear idea! Evidently, 
 though, it had been sufficient to change the rotation of 
 the earth. Yes, that was it ; the earth was running back 
 ward upon its axis; he could actually feel it whirling 
 under his feet. No wonder his journey seemed so long. 
 He was laboring over a gigantic treadmill, balancing like 
 an equilibrist upon a revolving sphere. Well, it was a 
 simple matter to stop walking, sit down, and allow him 
 self to be spun backward around to the place where Rosa 
 was waiting. He pondered this idea for some time, until 
 its absurdity became apparent. Undoubtedly he must 
 be going out of his head; he saw that it was necessary 
 to keep walking until the back-spin of that treadmill 
 brought Rosa to him. 
 
 But the time came when he could walk no farther. He 
 tried repeatedly and failed, and meanwhile the earth spun 
 even more rapidly, threatening to whirl him off into space. 
 It was a terrible sensation; he lay down and hugged the 
 
 149
 
 THE WORLD RAN BACKWARD 
 
 ground, clinging to roots and sobbing weakly. Rosa, he 
 knew, was just around the next bend in the trail; he called 
 to her, but she did not answer, and he dared not attempt 
 to creep forward because his grip was failing. He could 
 feel his fingers slipping slipping. It was agony. He 
 summoned his last atom of determination, but to no avail. 
 He gave up finally, and felt himself propelled dizzily out 
 ward into immeasurable voids. His last thought, as he 
 went whirling end over end through space, was of his 
 sister. She would never know how hard he had tried 
 to reach her.
 
 XIII 
 
 CAPITULATION 
 
 ATE on the second day after the battle Asensio re- 
 turned to his bohio. Rosa and Evangelina, already 
 frantic at the delay, heard him crying to them while he was 
 still hidden in the woods, and knew that the worst had 
 happened. There was little need for him to tell his story, 
 for he was weaponless, stained, and bloody. He had 
 crossed the hills on foot after a miraculous escape from 
 that ravine of death. Of his companions he knew nothing 
 whatever; the mention of Este'ban's name caused him to 
 beat his breast and cry aloud. He was weak and feverish, 
 and his incoherent story of the midnight encounter was so 
 highly colored that Rosa nearly swooned with horror. 
 
 The girl stood swaying while he told how the night had 
 betrayed them, how he had wrought incredible feats of 
 valor before the shifting tide of battle had spewed him 
 out the end of the sunken road and left him half dead in 
 the grass. Asensio had lain there until, finding himself 
 growing stronger, he had burrowed into a tangle of vines 
 at the foot of a wall, where he had remained until the 
 fighting ceased. When the Spaniards had finally dis 
 covered their mistake and had ceased riding one another 
 d6wn, when lights came and he heard Colonel Cobo cursing 
 them like one insane, he had wriggled away, crossed the 
 calzada, and hidden in the woods until dawn. He had 
 been walking ever since; he had come home to die. 
 
 Rosa heard only parts of the story, for her mind was
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 numbed, her heart frozen. Her emotion was too deep for 
 tears, it paralyzed her for the time being; she merely 
 stood staring, her dark eyes glazed, her ashen lips apart. 
 Finally something snapped, and she knew nothing more 
 until hours afterward, when she found herself upon her 
 comfortless bed with Evangelina bending over her. All 
 night she had lain inert, in a merciful stupor; it was not 
 until the next morning that she gradually came out of her 
 coma. 
 
 - Then it was that the negress was really alarmed, fearing 
 that if the girl did rally her mind would be affected. 
 But Rosa was young and, despite her fragility of form, she 
 was strong too strong, it seemed to her, and possessed of 
 too deep a capacity for suffering. How she ever survived 
 those next few days, days when she prayed hourly to die, 
 was a mystery. And when she found that she could at 
 last shed tears, what agony I The bond between her arid 
 Estdban had been stronger than usually exists between 
 sister and brother; he had been her other self; in him 
 she had centered her love, her pride, her ambition. The 
 two had never quarreled; no angry word had ever passed 
 between them: their mutual understanding, moreover, 
 had been almost more than human, and where the one was 
 concerned the other had been utterly unselfish. To lose 
 Est6ban, therefore, split the girl's soul and heart asunder; 
 she felt that she could not stand without him. Born into 
 the world at the same hour, welded into unity by their 
 mother's supreme pain, the boy and girl were of the same 
 flesh and spirit; they were animated by the same life- 
 current. Never had the one been ill but that the other 
 had suffered corresponding symptoms; never had the one 
 been sad or gay but that the other had felt a like reaction. 
 Personalities so closely knit together are not uncommon, 
 and to sever them is often dangerous. 
 
 Into Rosa's life, however, there had come one interest 
 
 which she could not share with her twin that was her 
 
 152
 
 CAPITULATION 
 
 love for O'Reilly. Spanish-reared women, as a rule, do 
 not play with love; when it comes they welcome it, even 
 though it be that first infatuation so often scorned by 
 older, colder people. So it was with Rosa Varona. 
 Whatever might have been the true nature of her first 
 feeling for the Irish-American, suffering and meditation 
 had deepened and strengthened it into a mature and 
 genuine passion. As the wise men of old found wisdom 
 in cave or desert, so Rosa in her solitude had learned the 
 truth about herself. Now, in the hour of her extremity, 
 thoughts of O'Reilly acted as a potent medicine. Her 
 hungry yearning for him and her faith in his coming 
 stimulated her desire to live, and so aided her recovery. 
 
 The day arrived when her brain was normal and when 
 she could creep about the hut. But she was only the 
 ghost of the girl she had been; she seldom spoke, and 
 she never smiled. She sat for hours staring out into the 
 sunshine, and when she found tears upon her cheeks she 
 was surprised, for it seemed to her that she must long ago 
 have shed the very last. 
 
 Asensio, likewise recovered, but he, too, was sadly 
 changed. There was no longer any martial spirit in him; 
 he feared the Spaniards, and tales of their atrocities 
 cowed him. 
 
 Then Cobo came into the Yumuri. The valley, already 
 well-nigh deserted, was filled to the brim with smoke 
 from burning fields and houses, and through it the sun 
 showed like a copper shield. Refugees passed the bohio, 
 bound farther into the hills, and Asensio told the two 
 women that he and they must also go. So the three 
 gathered up what few things they could carry on their 
 backs and fled. 
 
 They did not stop until they had gained the fastnesses 
 of the Pan de Matanzas. Here they built a shelter and 
 again took up the problem of living, which was now more 
 difficult than ever.
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Asensio would not have been greatly inconvenienced 
 by the change had he been alone, for certain fruits grew 
 wild in the forests, and the earth, where the Spaniards 
 had not trod, was full of roots upon which a creature of his 
 primitive habits could have managed to live. But ham 
 pered as he was by two women, one of whom was as 
 delicate as a flower, Asensio found his task extremely dif 
 ficult. And it grew daily more difficult; for there were 
 other people here in the woods, and, moreover, the country 
 round about was being steadily scoured by the enemy, who 
 had orders to destroy every living, growing thing that was 
 capable of sustaining human life. Stock was butchered 
 and left to rot, trees were cut down, root-fields burned. 
 Weyler's policy of frightfulness was in full sway, and 
 starvation was driving its reluctant victims into his net. 
 Meanwhile roving bands of guerrillas searched out and 
 killed the stronger and the more tenacious families. 
 
 The Pan de Matanzas, so called because of its resem 
 blance to a mighty loaf of bread, became a mockery to the 
 hungry people cowering in its shelter. Bread! Rosa 
 Varona could not remember when she had last tasted such 
 a luxury. Raw cane, cocoanuts, the tasteless fruita 
 bomba, roots, the pith from palm tops, these were her 
 articles of -diet, and she did not thrive upon them. She 
 was always more or less hungry. She was ragged, too, 
 and she shivered miserably through the long, chill nights. 
 Rosa could measure the change in her appearance only 
 by studying her reflection from the surface of the spring 
 where she drew water, but she could see that she had be 
 come very thin, and she judged that the color had en 
 tirely gone from her cheeks. It saddened her, for O'Reil 
 ly's sake. 
 
 Time came when Asensio spoke of giving up the struggle 
 and going in. They were gradually starving, he said, and 
 Rosa was ill; the risk of discovery was ever present. It 
 was better to go while they had the strength than slowly
 
 CAPITULATION 
 
 but surely to perish here. He had heard that there were 
 twenty thousand reconcentrados in Matanzas; in such a 
 crowd they could easily manage to hide themselves; 
 they would at least be fed along with the others. 
 
 No one had told Asensio that the Government was 
 leaving its prisoners to shift for themselves, supplying 
 them with not a pound of food nor a square inch of shelter. 
 
 Evangelina at first demurred to this idea, declaring that 
 Rosa would never be allowed to reach the city, since the 
 roads were patrolled by lawless bands of troops. Never 
 theless her husband continued to argue. Rosa herself 
 took no part in the discussion, for it did not greatly matter 
 to her whether she stayed or went. 
 
 Misery bred desperation at last; Evangelina's courage 
 failed her, and she allowed herself to be won over. She 
 began her preparations by disguising Rosa. Gathering 
 herbs and berries, she made a stain with which she colored 
 the girl's face and body, then she sewed a bundle of leaves 
 into the back of Rosa's waist so that when the latter 
 stooped her shoulders and walked with a stick her ap 
 pearance of deformity was complete. 
 
 On the night before their departure Rosa Varona prayed 
 long and earnestly, asking little for herself, but much for 
 the two black people who had suffered so much for her. 
 She prayed also that O'Reilly would come before it was 
 too late.
 
 XIV 
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION 
 
 WITHIN a few hours after O'Reilly's return to 
 New York he telephoned to Felipe Alvarado, ex 
 plaining briefly the disastrous failure of his Cuban trip. 
 
 "I feared as much," the doctor told him. "You were 
 lucky to escape with your life." 
 
 "Well, I'm going back." 
 
 "Of course; but have you made any plans?" 
 
 "Not yet. I dare say I'll have to join some filibuster 
 ing outfit. Won't you intercede for me with the Junta? 
 They're constantly sending parties." 
 
 "Um-m! not quite so often as that." Alvarado was 
 silent for a moment; then he said: "Dine with me to 
 night and we'll talk it over. I'm eager for news of my 
 brothers and there is some one I wish you to meet. 
 She is interested in our cause." 
 
 "'She'? A woman?" 
 
 "Yes, and an unusual woman. She has contributed 
 liberally to our cause. I would like you to meet her." 
 
 "Very well; but I've only one suit of clothes, and it 
 looks as if I'd slept in it." 
 
 "Oh, bother the clothes!" laughed the physician. 
 "I've given most of mine to my destitute countrymen. 
 Don't expect too much to eat, either; every extra dollar, 
 you know, goes the same way as my extra trousers. It 
 will be a sort of patriotic 'poverty party.' Come at 
 seven, please." 
 
 156
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION 
 
 "Dining out, eh? Lucky devil!" said Leslie Branch 
 when he had learned of his companion's invitation. 
 "And to meet a philanthropic old lady! Gee! Maybe 
 she'll offer to adopt you. Who knows?" 
 
 "I wish you'd offer to lend me a clean shirt." 
 
 "Ill do it," readily agreed the other. "I'll stake you 
 to my last one. But keep it clean! Have a care for the 
 cuffs a little inadvertency with the soup may ruin my 
 prospects for a job. You understand, don't you, that our 
 next meal after this one may depend upon this shirt's 
 prosperous appearance?" Branch dove into his bag and 
 emerged with a stiffly laundered shirt done up in a Cuban 
 newspaper. He unwrapped the garment and gazed 
 fondly upon it, murmuring, " "Tis a pretty thing, is it not ?" 
 His exertions had brought on a violent coughing-spell, 
 which left him weak and gasping; but when he had 
 regained his breath he went on in the same key: "Again 
 I solemnly warn you that this spotless bosom is our 
 bulwark against poverty. One stain may cut down my 
 space rates; editors are an infernally fastidious lot. 
 Fortunately they want facts about the war in Cuba, and 
 I'm full of 'em: I've fought in the trenches and heard the 
 song of grape and canister " 
 
 "Grape-fruit and canned goods, you mean," O'Reilly 
 grinned. 
 
 "Well, I shall write with both in mind. The hope of 
 one will stir memories of the other. And who is there to 
 dispute me? At least I know what a battle should be 
 like, and I shall thrill my readers with imaginary combats." 
 
 O'Reilly eyed the speaker with appreciation. On the 
 way north he had learned to know Leslie Branch and to 
 like him, for he had discovered that the man possessed a 
 rare and pleasing peculiarity of disposition. Ordinarily 
 Branch was bitter, irritable, pessimistic; but when his 
 luck was worst and his fortunes lowest he brightened up. 
 It seemed that he reacted naturally, automatically, against 
 
 157
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 misfortune. Certainly his and O'Reilly's plight upon 
 leaving Cuba had been sufficiently unpleasant, for they 
 were almost penniless, and the invalid, moreover, knew 
 that he was facing a probably fatal climate; neverthe 
 less, once they were at sea, he had ceased his grumbling, 
 and had surprised his traveling-companion by assuming a 
 genuinely cheerful mien. Even yet O'Reilly was not 
 over his amazement; he could not make up his mind 
 whether the man was animated by desperate courage or 
 merely by hopeless resignation. But whatever the truth, 
 the effect of this typical perversity had been most agree 
 able. And when Leslie cheerfully volunteered to share 
 the proceeds of his newspaper work during their stay 
 in New York, thus enabling his friend to seize the first 
 chance of returning to Cuba, Johnnie's affection for him 
 was cemented. But Branch's very cheerfulness worried 
 him; it seemed to betoken that the fellow was sicker than 
 he would confess. 
 
 That evening O'Reilly anticipated his dinner engage 
 ment by a few moments in order to have a word alone 
 with Alvarado. 
 
 "I've seen Enriquez," he told the doctor, "but he won't 
 promise to send me through. He says the Junta is 
 besieged by fellows who want to fight for Cuba and of 
 course I don't. When I appealed in Rosa's name he told 
 me, truthfully enough, I dare say, that there are thousands 
 of Cuban women as badly in need of succor as she. He 
 says this is no time for private considerations." 
 
 "Quite so!" the doctor agreed. "We hear frightful 
 stories about this new concentration policy. I can't 
 believe them." 
 
 "Oh, I guess they are true; it is the more reason why 
 I must get back at once," O'Reilly said, earnestly. 
 
 "This lady who is coming here to-night has influence 
 with Enriquez. You remember I told you that she has 
 contributed liberally. She might help you." 
 
 158
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION 
 
 " I'll implore her to put in a word for me. Who is she ? ' ' 
 
 "Well, she's my pet nurse " 
 
 "A nurse!" O'Reilly's eyes opened wide. "A nurse, 
 with money! I didn't know there was such a thing." 
 
 " Neither did I. They're rarer even than rich doctors," 
 Alvarado acknowledged. ' ' But, you see, nursing is merely 
 Miss Evans's avocation. She's one of the few wealthy 
 women I know who have real ideals, and live up to them." 
 
 ' ' Oh, she has a ' mission' ! ' ' Johnnie's interest in Doctor 
 Alvarado's other guest suddenly fell away, and his tone 
 indicated as much. As the doctor was about to reply the 
 ringing of the door-bell summoned him away. 
 
 O'Reilly had met women with ideals, with purposes, 
 with avocations, and his opinion of them was low. Women 
 who had "missions" were always tiresome, he had dis 
 covered. This one, it appeared, was unusual only in that 
 she had adopted a particularly exacting form of charitable 
 work. Nursing, even as a rich woman's diversion, must 
 be anything but agreeable. O'Reilly pictured this Evans 
 person in his mind a large, plain, elderly creature, ob 
 sessed with impractical ideas of uplifting the masses! 
 She would undoubtedly bore him stiff with stories of her 
 work: she would reproach him with neglect of his duties 
 to the suffering. Johnnie was too poor to be charitable 
 and too deeply engrossed at the moment with his own 
 troubles to care anything whatever about the "masses." 
 
 And she was a "miss." That meant that she wore 
 thick glasses and probably kept cats. 
 
 A ringing laugh from the cramped hallway interrupted 
 these reflections; then amoment later Doctor Alvarado was 
 introducing O'Reilly to a young woman so completely out 
 of the picture, so utterly the opposite of his preconceived 
 notions, that he was momentarily at a loss. Johnnie found 
 himself looking into a pair of frank gray eyes, and 
 felt his hand seized by a firm, almost masculine grasp. 
 Miss Evans, according to his first dazzling impression, was 
 
 iS9
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 about the most fetching creature he had ever seen and 
 about the last person by whom any young man could be 
 bored. If she kept cats they must be pedigreed Persian 
 cats, and well worth keeping, Johnnie decided. The girl 
 and she was a girl had brought into the room an 
 electric vitality, a breeziness hard to describe. Her eyes 
 were humorous and intelligent; her teeth, which she 
 seemed always ready to show in a friendly, generous 
 smile, were strong and white and sparkling. Altogether 
 she was such a vision of healthy, unaffected, and smartly 
 gotten-up young womanhood that O'Reilly could only 
 stammer his acknowledgment of the introduction, in 
 wardly berating himself for his awkwardness. He was 
 aware of Alvarado's amusement, and this added to his 
 embarrassment. 
 
 "The doctor has told me all about you." Miss Evans 
 addressed Johnnie over her shoulder as she laid off her 
 furs and a stylish little turban hat. "I'm dying to hear 
 what happened on your trip." 
 
 "So am I," confessed Alvarado. "You know, Mr. 
 O'Reilly has seen my brothers." 
 
 "You men must go right ahead and talk as if I weren't 
 here. I won't interrupt, except with a few vivas or 
 carambas or What are some other lady-like Spanish 
 exclamations?" 
 
 "There aren't very many," Johnnie acknowledged. 
 "I always try to swear in English." 
 
 Alvarado placed an affectionate hand upon Miss 
 Evans's shoulder. "O'Reilly, this girl has done more for 
 Cuba than any of us. She has spent a small fortune for 
 medical supplies," said he. 
 
 "Those poor men must live on quinine," the girl ex 
 claimed. ' ' Any one who can bear to take the stuff ought to 
 have all he wants. I've a perfect passion for giving pills." 
 
 "Oh, you may joke about it. All the same, if others 
 would make the same sacrifice " 
 
 1 60
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION 
 
 Miss Evans interrupted breezily: "It wasn't any sac 
 rifice at all. That's the worst of it. The salve I bought 
 was really for my conscience, if you must know. I 
 squander altogether too much on myself." Then, turn 
 ing to O'Reilly, "I love extravagance, don't you?" 
 
 "Dearly! It's my one unconquerable vice," he told 
 her. He thought grimly of the four dollars in his pocket 
 which represented his and Leslie Branch's total wealth, 
 but it seemed to him that he was called upon to agree 
 with anything Miss Evans might choose to say. 
 
 O'Reilly liked this girl. He had liked her the instant 
 she favored him with her friendly smile, and so, trusting 
 fatuously to his masculine powers of observation, he 
 tried to analyze her. He could not guess her age, for an 
 expensive ladies' tailor can baffle the most discriminating 
 eye. Certainly, however, she was not too old he had an 
 idea that she would tell him her exact age if he asked her. 
 While he could not call her beautiful, she was something 
 immensely better she was alive, human, interesting, and 
 interested. The fact that she did not take her "mission" 
 over-seriously proved that she was also sensible beyond 
 most women. Yes, that was it, Norine Evans was a 
 perfectly sensible, unspoiled young person, who showed 
 the admirable effects of clean living and clean thinking 
 coupled with a normal, sturdy constitution. O'Reilly 
 told himself that here was a girl who could pour tea, nurse 
 a sick man, or throw a baseball. 
 
 And she was as good as her promise. She did not in 
 terrupt when, during dinner, Alvarado led Johnnie to talk 
 about his latest experience in Cuba, but, on the contrary, 
 her unflagging interest induced O'Reilly to address his 
 talk more often to her than to the doctor. He soon dis 
 covered that she understood the Cuban situation as well 
 as or better than he, and that her sympathies were keen. 
 When she did speak it was to ask intelligent questions, 
 some of which, by the way, it taxed O'Reilly's wits to 
 
 161
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 answer satisfactorily. Heretofore, Johnnie had looked 
 upon the war primarily as an unfortunate condition of 
 affairs which had played the mischief with his own per 
 sonal fortunes; he had not allowed himself to be very 
 deeply affected by the rights or the wrongs of either party. 
 But Norine Evans took a much deeper and broader view 
 of the matter. She was genuinely moved by the gallant 
 struggle of the Cuban people, and when the dinner was 
 over she exploded a surprise which left both men speech 
 less. 
 
 "This settles it with me," she announced. " I'm going 
 down there." 
 
 Alvarado stared at her for a moment. "My dear " 
 he began. 
 
 But she warned him: "Don't argue with me. You 
 know I detest arguments. I've been thinking about it 
 for some time, and " 
 
 "It is quite impossible," the doctor declared, firmly; 
 and O'Reilly agreed. 
 
 "Of course you could go to Havana," said the latter, 
 "but you wouldn't be allowed to see anything." 
 
 "I'm going right to the Insurrectos with you." 
 
 "With me!" O'Reilly could not conceal his lack of 
 enthusiasm. ' ' I don't know that the Junta will take me. ' ' 
 
 "They will if I ask them." 
 
 Alvarado inquired, "What ever put such a ridiculous 
 idea into your head?" 
 
 The girl laughed. "It's the only kind of ideas I have. 
 But there are ten thousand reasons why I want to go. 
 In the first place, I fairly itch to give pills. You say the 
 rebels have no hospitals, no nurses " 
 
 "We do the best we can, with our equipment." 
 
 "Well, I'll supply better equipment, and I'll handle it 
 myself. I'm in earnest. You sha'n't stop me." 
 
 O'Reilly was uncomfortably aware of the speaker's 
 determination; protests had no effect upon her; her clear 
 
 162
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION 
 
 cheeks had flushed, her eyes were dancing. Evidently 
 here was a girl who did very much as she chose. 
 
 "You don't realize what you are saying," he told her, 
 gravely. "You'd have to go as a filibuster, on some 
 decrepit, unseaworthy freighter loaded to the guards and 
 crowded with men of all sorts. It's dangerous business, 
 running the Spanish blockade. If captured you would 
 be treated just like the rest of us." 
 
 "Lovely! We'd land in small boats some dark night. 
 Maybe we'd have a fight!" 
 
 "And if you got through, what then? Life in a bark 
 hut, with nothing to eat. Bugs! Snakes! Hardships!" 
 
 "That decides me. I eat too much Doctor Alvarado 
 tells me I do. I adore huts, and I don't seriously object 
 to insects." 
 
 The physician stirred uneasily. "It's utterly absurd," 
 he expostulated. "Some women might do it, but you're 
 not the sort. You are pardon me a most attractive 
 young person. You'd be thrown among rough men." 
 
 "Mr. O'Reilly will look out for me. But for that 
 matter I can take care of myself. Oh, it's of no use trying 
 to discourage me. I always have my own way; I'm 
 completely spoiled." 
 
 "Your family will never consent," O'Reilly ventured; 
 whereupon Miss Evans laughed. 
 
 "I haven't such a thing. I'm alone and unencumbered. 
 No girl was ever so fortunate. But wait I'll settle this 
 whole thing in a minute." She quitted the table, ran to 
 Alvarado's telephone, and called a number. 
 
 "She's after Enriquez," groaned the physician. "He's 
 weak; he can't refuse her anything." 
 
 "I don't want a woman on my hands," O'Reilly whis 
 pered, fiercely. "Suppose she got sick? Good Lord! 
 I'd have to nurse her." He wiped a sudden moisture 
 from his brow. 
 
 "Oh, she won't get sick. She'll probably nurse you 
 
 163
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 and and all the other men. You'll like it, too, and you 
 will all fall in love with her everybody does and start 
 fighting among yourselves. There! She has Enriquez. 
 Listen." 
 
 Johnnie shivered apprehensively at the directness with 
 which Miss Evans put her request. "You understand, I 
 want to go and see for myself," she was saying. "If you 
 need medicines I'll give them bushels of the nastiest 
 stuff I can buy. I'll organize a field hospital. . . . Oh, 
 very well, call it a bribe, if you like. Anyhow, I've fully 
 determined to go, and Mr. O'Reilly has volunteered to 
 take care of me. He's charmed with the idea." Miss 
 Evans giggled. "That means you'll have to take him 
 along, too." 
 
 There followed a pause during which the two men ex 
 changed dismayed glances. 
 
 "She doesn't seem to care what she says," O'Reilly 
 murmured. "But I'll put a flea in Enriquez's ear." 
 
 "Put it in writing, please." There was another wait. 
 
 "Now read it to me Good !" Miss Evans fairly purred 
 
 over the telephone. "Send it to me by messenger right 
 away; that's a dear. I'm at Doctor Alvarado's house, 
 and he's beside himself with joy. Thanks, awfully. 
 You're so nice." A moment, and she was back in the 
 dining-room facing her two friends a picture of triumph. 
 "You have nothing more to say about it," she gloated. 
 "'The Provisional Government of Cuba, through its 
 New York representatives, extends to Miss Norine Evans 
 an invitation to visit its temporary headquarters in the 
 Sierra de something-or-other, and deems it an honor 
 to have her as its guest so long as she wishes to remain 
 there. It requests that all military and civil officers 
 afford her every safety and convenience within their 
 power.' That's practically what Mr. Enriquez read to 
 me. In fifteen minutes it will be here in black and white. 
 Now then, let's celebrate." 
 
 164
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION 
 
 She executed a dance step, pirouetted around the room, 
 then plumped herself down into her chair. She rattled 
 her cup and saucer noisily, crying, "Fill them up, Doctor 
 Gloom. Let's drink to Cuba Libre." 
 
 Johnnie managed to smile as he raised his demi-tasse. 
 "Here's to my success as a chaperon," said he. "I'm 
 disliked by the Spaniards, and now the Cubans will hate 
 me. I can see happy days ahead."
 
 XV 
 
 FILIBUSTERS 
 
 T ESLIE BRANCH was asleep when O'Reilly returned 
 L^ to their room, but he awoke sufficiently to listen to 
 the latter's breathless account of the dinner-party. 
 
 "I'm rattled," Johnnie confessed. "Why, that girl 
 just bounced right into the middle of everything, and 
 and I can't bounce her out again." 
 
 "You say she's young, and pretty \ and rich?" Leslie 
 was incredulous. 
 
 "Y-yes! All of that." 
 
 " Um-m ! Doctor Alvarado must mix a good cocktail." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because you're drunk and delirious. They don't come 
 that way, my boy. When they're rich they're old and 
 ugly." 
 
 "I tell you this girl is young and stunning." 
 
 "Of course she is," Branch agreed, soothingly. "Now 
 go to sleep and don't think any more about her, there's 
 a good boy ! Everything will be all right in the morning. 
 Perhaps it never happened; perhaps you didn't meet any 
 woman at all." The speaker yawned and turned over. 
 
 " Don't be an ass," Johnnie cried, impatiently. "What 
 are we going to do with a woman on our hands?" 
 
 " We? Don't divide her with me. What are you going 
 to do? The truth is plain, this Miss Evans is in love with 
 you and you don't know it. She sees in you her soul 
 mate. Well, if you don't want her, I want her. I'll eat 
 
 166
 
 FILIBUSTERS 
 
 her medicine. I'll even many the poor old soul, if she's 
 rich." 
 
 O'Reilly arose early the next morning and hurried down 
 to the office of the Junta, hoping that he could convince 
 Mr. Enriquez of the folly of allowing Norine Evans to have 
 her way. By the light of day Miss Evans's project 
 seemed more hare-brained than ever, and he suspected 
 that Enriquez had acquiesced in it only because of a 
 natural inability to refuse anything to a pretty woman 
 that was typically Cuban. But his respect for Miss 
 Evans's energy and initiative deepened when, on arriving 
 at 56 New Street, he discovered that she had forestalled 
 him and was even then closeted with the man he had come 
 to see. Johnnie waited uneasily; he was dismayed when 
 the girl finally appeared, with Enriquez in tow, for the 
 man's face was radiant. 
 
 "It's all settled," she announced, at sight of O'Reilly. 
 " I've speeded them up." 
 
 "You're an early riser," the latter remarked. "I 
 hardly expected " 
 
 Enriquez broke in. "Such enthusiasm! Such ardor! 
 She whirls a person off his feet." 
 
 "It seems that the Junta lacks money for another 
 expedition, so I've made up the deficit. We'll be off in 
 a week." 
 
 "Really? Then you're actually going?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "It was like a gift from Heaven," Enriquez cried. 
 "Our last embarrassment is removed, and " 
 
 But Johnnie interrupted him. "You're crazy, both of 
 you," he declared, irritably. "Cuba is no place for an 
 American girl. I'm not thinking so much about the 
 danger of capture on the way down as the hardship after 
 she gets there and the fact that she will be thrown among 
 all sorts of men." 
 
 The elder man lifted his head. "Every Cuban will 
 
 167
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 know who Miss Evans is, and what she has done for our 
 cause. You do not seem to have a high regard for our 
 chivalry, sir." 
 
 ' ' There !' ' Norine was triumphant. 
 
 "There is bound to be some danger, of course," En- 
 riquez continued, "for the coast is well patrolled; but 
 once the expedition is landed, Miss Evans will be among 
 friends. She will be as safe in our camps as if she were in 
 her own home." 
 
 "Don't be hateful, and argumentative, or I'll begin 
 to think you're a born chaperon," Miss Evans exclaimed. 
 "Come! Make up your mind to endure me. And now 
 you're going to help me buy my tropical outfit." 
 
 With a smile and a nod at Enriquez she took O'Reilly's 
 arm and bore him away. 
 
 In spite of his panic-struck protestations that he knew 
 less than nothing about woman's requirements, she led 
 him up-town. And she kept him at her side all that 
 morning while she made her purchases; then when she 
 had loaded him down with parcels she invited him to 
 take her to lunch. The girl was so keenly alive and so 
 delighted with the prospect of adventure that Johnnie 
 could not long remain displeased with her. She had an 
 irresistible way about her, and he soon found himself 
 sharing her good spirits. She had a healthy appetite, 
 too; when O'Reilly set out for his lodgings after escorting 
 her home he walked in order to save car fare. Clams, 
 consomme", chicken salad, French pastry, and other ex 
 travagances had reduced his capital to zero. 
 
 The days of idle waiting that followed were trying, 
 even to one of O'Reilly's philosophic habit of mind. He 
 could learn nothing about the Junta's plans, and, owing 
 to his complete uncertainty, he was unable to get work. 
 Leslie Branch, too, failed to find steady employment, 
 though he managed, by the sale of an occasional column, 
 to keep them both from actual suffering. His cough, 
 
 168
 
 FILIBUSTERS 
 
 meanwhile, grew worse day by day, for the spring was 
 late and raw. As a result his spirits rose, and he became 
 the best of all possible good companions. Johnnie, who 
 was becoming constantly more fond of him, felt his 
 anxiety increase in proportion to this improvement in 
 mood; it seemed to him that Branch was on the very 
 verge of a collapse. 
 
 At last there came a message which brought them great 
 joy. Enriquez directed them to be in readiness to leave 
 Jersey City at seven o'clock the following morning. 
 Neither man slept much that night. 
 
 As they waited in the huge, barn-like station Enriquez 
 appeared with Norine Evans upon his arm. The girl's 
 color .was high; she was tremulous with excitement. 
 Leslie Branch, who saw her for the first time, emitted a 
 low whistle of surprise. 
 
 "Glory be! That goddess!" he cried. "And I called 
 her a ' poor old soul ' !" 
 
 When Norine took his bony, bloodless hand in her warm, 
 grasp and flashed him her frank, friendly smile, he capitu 
 lated instantly. In hyperbolical terms he strove to voice 
 his pleasure at the meeting; but he lost the thread of his 
 thought and floundered so hopelessly among his words 
 that Norine said, laughingly: 
 
 "Now, Mr. Branch, bold buccaneers don't make pretty 
 speeches. Hitch up your belt and say, 'Hello, Norine!' 
 I'll call you Leslie." 
 
 "Don't call me 'Leslie,'" he begged. "Call me 
 often." 
 
 Then he beamed upon the others, as if this medieval 
 pun were both startling and original. It was plain that he 
 wholly and inanely approved of Norine Evans. 
 
 Enriquez was introducing a new-comer now, one 
 Major Ramos, a square-jawed, forceful Cuban, who, it 
 seemed, was to be in command of the expedition. 
 
 "My duties end here," Enriquez explained. "Major 
 12 169
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Ramos will take charge of you, and you must do exactly 
 as he directs. Ask no questions, for he won't answer 
 them. Do you think you can follow instructions?" 
 
 "Certainly not. I sha'n't even try," Norine told him. 
 "I'm fairly bursting with curiosity at this moment." 
 
 "Remember, Ramos, not a word." 
 
 "I promise," smiled the major. 
 
 "Good-by and good luck." Enriquez shook hands all 
 around; then he bowed and kissed Miss Evans's fingers. 
 "I shall pray that you escape all danger, senorita, and I 
 shall see that Cuba remembers her debt to you." 
 
 When he had gone the three Americans followed their 
 new guide through the iron gates. 
 
 Major Ramos proved that he knew how to obey orders 
 even though the other members of his party did not. 
 He remained utterly deaf to Miss Evans's entreaties 
 that he let her know something about the plans of the 
 expedition; he would not even tell her where he was 
 taking her, where the other filibusters had assembled, or 
 from what port their ship would sail. He did go so far, 
 however, as to explain that an inkling of the Junta's plans 
 had leaked out, and that determined efforts to upset 
 them were being made, efforts which necessitated the 
 greatest care on his part. This, of course, whetted the 
 girl's curiosity; but to her most artful queries he opposed 
 a baffling silence. When Philadelphia, Washington, then 
 Baltimore, and finally Richmond were left behind, Miss 
 Evans was, in truth, ready to explode, and her two com 
 panions were in a similar frame of mind. 
 
 Major Ramos was not naturally a silent man; he had 
 all the loquacity of the Latin, and all the Latin's appre 
 ciation of a pretty woman; he made no secret of the fact 
 that his orders irked him. Despite his official reserve he 
 proved himself a pleasant traveling-companion, and he 
 talked freely on all but one subject. He played a good 
 game of cards, too, and he devoted himself with admirable 
 
 170
 
 FILIBUSTERS 
 
 courtesy to Norine's comfort. It was not until the train 
 was approaching Charleston that he finally announced : 
 
 " Now then, my first command. This is the end of our 
 journey; the other members of the expedition are here. 
 But I must ask you not to talk with them or with any 
 strangers, for our friends are being watched by detectives 
 in the employ of the Spanish minister at Washington and 
 by United States deputy-marshals. One little indis 
 cretion might ruin everything." 
 
 "Spies! Oh, goody!" cried Miss Evans. 
 
 "The local authorities intend to seize any vessel we 
 try to sail on. We must be careful." 
 
 The hotel to which Major Ramos led his guests ap- 1 
 peared to be well filled; there were many Cubans in the 
 lobby, and the air was heavy with the aroma of their 
 strong, black cigarettes. As the major entered they 
 turned interested and expectant faces toward him and 
 they eyed his companions with frank curiosity. Miss 
 Evans became the target for more than one warmly 
 admiring glance. 
 
 As for O'Reilly, the familiar odor of those Cuban ciga 
 rettes, the snatches of Spanish conversation which he over 
 heard, awoke in him a great excitement ; he realized with 
 an odd thrill that these eager, dark-visaged men were now 
 his friends and comrades, and that those Americans 
 loitering watchfully among them were his enemies the 
 spies of whom Ramos had spoken. There were at least 
 a score of the latter, and all were plainly stamped with the 
 distinctive marks of their calling. That they, too, were 
 interested in the latest arrivals was soon made evident by 
 their efforts to get acquainted. 
 
 To Norine Evans it was all immensely exciting. The 
 attention she evoked delighted her vastly, and she was 
 almost offended when O'Reilly threatened one particularly 
 forward sleuth with a thrashing, thereby ending her fun. 
 
 It was a strangely restless gathering. The Cubans sat 
 
 171
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 in groups or in pairs with their heads together, smoking 
 furiously and whispering, pausing now and then to glare 
 balefully at some detective who drew within ear-shot. 
 Every hour increased the strain. 
 
 On the street it became known that a party of filibusters 
 was in the city and curious townspeople came to investi 
 gate, while others journeyed to the water-front to stare 
 at the big ocean-going tug which had slipped into the 
 harbor on the evening previous. When they learned that 
 she was none other than the Dauntless, that most famous 
 of Cuban blockade-runners, and that "Dynamite Johnny " 
 O'Brien himself was in command, interest grew. The 
 exploits of that redoubtable mariner were familiar to the 
 citizens of Charleston, and their sympathies were quite 
 naturally with the cause he served; therefore they were 
 disappointed to behold a revenue cutter at anchor close 
 alongside the Dauntless. Her steam was up; she was 
 ready for instant action; it seemed impossible for " Dyna 
 mite Johnny" to get his cargo and his passengers aboard 
 under her very nose. Some imaginative person claimed 
 to have a tip that the Dauntless intended to ram the 
 revenue cutter, and a warning to that effect appeared in 
 the evening paper, together with the rumor that a Spanish 
 cruiser was waiting just outside the three-mile limit. 
 
 Charleston awoke with a start, and the Cuban patriots 
 who found themselves the object of this sudden interest 
 buzzed like flies. They muttered and whispered more 
 mysteriously than ever, and consumed even greater quan 
 tities of tobacco. The detectives became painfully alert. 
 
 To O'Reilly and his two companions it seemed that the 
 expedition had already failed. Through some blunder its 
 plans had evidently become known, and all was ruined. 
 That was the worst of these Cubans; they couldn't keep 
 a secret. Branch stalked the hotel lobby like a restless 
 wraith. O'Reilly was furious. Of the entire party 
 Ramos alone maintained an unruffled pleasantry; he 
 
 172
 
 FILIBUSTERS 
 
 spent the evening in Miss Evans's company, quite oblivious 
 to the general feeling of dismay. 
 
 On the next afternoon word was quietly passed to get 
 ready, and the filibusters, carrying their scant hand- 
 baggage, began to leave the hotel in groups, followed, 
 of course, by the watchful spies. 
 
 As the three Americans prepared for departure Norine 
 whispered: "Listen! Everything is all right. We're 
 not going aboard the Dauntless at all; she's here as a 
 blind." 
 
 "Are you sure?" O'Reilly shot her a quick glance. 
 
 "Major Ramos himself gave that story to the news 
 papers; it's all a part of his plan. I promised not to tell, 
 but I just can't help myself . Gee! I'm having a good 
 time." 
 
 Leslie Branch shook his head mournfully. "You may 
 enjoy it, but I don't," he grumbled. "We'll end by being 
 pinched, and that will finish me. One week in a damp 
 cell, with my lungs " 
 
 O'Reilly, whose spirits had risen magically, clapped him 
 heartily on the back, crying: "Congratulations! You're 
 feeling better." 
 
 "I never felt worse!" the other complained. 
 
 "Nonsense! That's the first kick you've made since 
 we hit cold weather. By the time we reach Cuba you'll 
 be nice and melancholy and your cough will be all gone." 
 
 Ramos led his three charges to the railroad station 
 and into the rear coach of a south-bound train, where the 
 other members of the expedition had already found seats. 
 As they climbed aboard, a Secret Service agent essayed to 
 follow them, but he was stopped by a brakeman, who said: 
 
 "You can't ride in here; this is a special car. Some 
 sort of a picnic party. They're ' wops ' or Greeks or some 
 thing." 
 
 Other detectives who attempted to invade the privacy 
 of that rear coach after the train had gotten under way 
 
 i73
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 were also denied. Meanwhile, the filibusters cast re 
 straint aside, and for the first time intermingled freely. 
 
 Evening came, then night, and still the party was jerked 
 along at the tail of the train without a hint as to its destina 
 tion. About midnight those who were not dozing noted 
 that they had stopped at an obscure pine-woods junction, 
 and that when the train got under way once more their 
 own car did not move. The ruse was now apparent; 
 owing to the lateness of the hour, it was doubtful if any 
 one in the forward coaches was aware that the train was 
 lighter by one car. 
 
 There was a brief delay; then a locomotive crept out 
 from a siding, coupled up to the standing car, and drew 
 it off upon another track. Soon the "excursion party" 
 was being rushed swiftly toward the coast, some twenty 
 miles away. 
 
 Major Ramos came down the aisle, laughing, and spoke 
 to his American protege's. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of that, eh? Imagine the 
 feelings of those good deputy-marshals when they wake 
 up. I bet they'll rub their eyes." 
 
 Miss Evans bounced excitedly in her seat; she clapped 
 her hands. 
 
 "You must have friends in high places," O'Reilly 
 grinned, and the Cuban agreed. 
 
 "Yes, I purposely drew attention to us in Charleston, 
 while our ship was loading. She's ready and waiting for 
 us now; and by daylight we ought to be safely out to sea. 
 Meanwhile the Dauntless has weighed anchor and is 
 steaming north, followed, I hope, by all the revenue 
 cutters hereabouts." 
 
 It was the darkest time of the night when the special 
 train came to a stop at a bridge spanning one of the 
 deep Southern rivers. In the stream below, dimly out 
 lined in the gloom, lay the Fair Play, a small tramp 
 steamer; her crew were up and awake. The new arrivals 
 
 174
 
 FILIBUSTERS 
 
 were hurried aboard, and within a half-hour she was 
 feeling her way seaward. 
 
 With daylight, caution gave way to haste, and the 
 rusty little tramp began to drive forward for all she was 
 worth. She cleared the three-mile limit safely and then 
 turned south. Not a craft was in sight; not a smudge 
 of smoke discolored the sky-line. 
 
 It had been a trying night for the filibusters, and when 
 the low coast-line was dropped astern they began to think 
 of sleep. Breakfast of a sort was served on deck, after 
 which those favored ones who had berths sought them, 
 while their less fortunate companions stretched out wher 
 ever they could find a place. 
 
 Johnnie O'Reilly was not one of those who slept; he 
 was too much elated. Already he could see the hills 
 of Cuba dozing behind their purple veils; in fancy he felt 
 the fierce white heat from close-walled streets, and 
 scented the odors of "mangly" swamps. He heard the 
 ceaseless sighing of royal palms. How he had hungered 
 for it all; how he had raged at his delays! Cuba's spell 
 was upon him; he knew now that he loved the island, and 
 that he would never feel at rest on other soil. 
 
 It had seemed so small a matter to return ; it had seemed 
 so easy to seek out Rosa and to save her! Yet the days 
 had grown into weeks; the weeks had aged into months. 
 Well, he had done his best; he had never rested from the 
 moment of Rosa's first appeal. Her enemies had foiled 
 him once, but there would be no turning back this time 
 rather a firing-squad or a dungeon in Cabanas than that. 
 
 O'Reilly had taken his bitter medicine as becomes a 
 man he had maintained a calm, if not a cheerful, front; 
 but now that every throb of the propeller bore him closer 
 to his heart's desire he felt a growing jubilation, a mounting 
 restlessness that was hard to master. His pulse was 
 pounding; his breath swelled in his lungs. Sleep? 
 That was for those who merely risked their lives for
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Cuba. Hunger? No food could satisfy a starving soul. 
 Rest? He would never rest until he held Rosa Varona 
 in his arms. This rusty, sluggish tub was standing still ! 
 
 Into the midst of his preoccupation Norine Evans 
 forced herself, announcing, breathlessly: 
 
 "Oh, but I'm excited! They're hoisting a cannon out 
 of the hold and putting it together, so that we can fight 
 if we have to." 
 
 " Now don't you wish you'd stayed at home?" O'Reilly 
 smiled at her. 
 
 "Good heavens, no! I'm having the time of my life. 
 I nearly died of curiosity at first until I found Major 
 Ramos's tongue." 
 
 "Hm-m! You found it, all right. He appears to be 
 completely conquered." 
 
 "I-I'm afraid so," the girl acknowledged, with a little 
 grimace. "You'd think he'd never seen a woman before. 
 He's very intense. Very!" 
 
 "You don't expect me, as your chaperon, to approve of 
 your behavior? Why, you've been flirting outrageously." 
 
 " I had to flirt a little: I simply had to know what was 
 going on. But I fixed him." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "I couldn't let him spoil my fun, could I? Of course 
 not. Well, I put a damper on him. I told him about 
 you about us." 
 
 O'Reilly was puzzled. "What do you mean?" he in 
 quired. 
 
 "You won't be angry, will you? When he waxed 
 romantic I told him he had come into my life too late. 
 I confessed that I was in love with another man with 
 you." As her hearer drew back in dismay Miss Evans 
 added, quickly, "Oh, don't be frightened; that isn't 
 half" 
 
 "Of course you're joking," Johnnie stammered. 
 
 "Indeed I'm not. I thought it would discourage him, 
 
 176
 
 FILIBUSTERS 
 
 but it didn't. So I told him a whopper. I said we 
 were engaged." The speaker tittered. She was de 
 lighted with herself. 
 
 ' ' Engaged ? To be married? ' ' 
 
 "Certainly! People aren't engaged to to go fishing, 
 are they? I had to tell him something; he was getting 
 positively feverish. If he'd kept it up I'd have told him 
 we were secretly married." 
 
 "This may be funny," the young man said, stiffly, 
 "but I don't see it." 
 
 "Oh, don't look so glum! I'm not going to hold you 
 to it, you know. Why " Miss Evans's bantering manner 
 ceased, and she said, earnestly: "Doctor Alvarado told 
 me your story, and I think it is splendid. I'm going to 
 help you find that little Rosa, if you'll let me. You were 
 thinking about her when I came up, weren't you?" 
 
 Johnnie nodded. 
 
 "You might talk to me about her, if you care to." 
 
 O'Reilly's voice was husky and low as he said: "I 
 daren't trust myself. I'm afraid. She's so young, so 
 sweet, so beautiful and these are war-times. I'm almost 
 afraid to think " 
 
 Norine saw her companion's cheeks blanch slowly, saw 
 his laughing eyes grow grave, saw the muscular brown 
 hand upon the rail tighten until the knuckles were white; 
 impulsively she laid her palm over his. 
 
 "Don't let yourself worry," she said. "If money 
 would buy her safety you could have all that I have. Just 
 be brave and true and patient, and you'll find her. I'm 
 sure you will. And in the mean time don't mind my 
 frivolity; it's just my way. You see this is my first 
 taste of life, and it has gone to my head."
 
 XVI 
 
 THE CITY AMONG THE LEAVES 
 
 HHHE night was moonless and warm. An impalpable 
 r 1 haze dimmed the star-glow, only the diffused illumi 
 nation of the open sea enabled the passengers of the 
 Fair Play to identify that blacker darkness on the horizon 
 ahead of them as land. The ship herself was no more than 
 a formless blot stealing through the gloom, and save for 
 the phosphorescence at bow and stern no light betrayed 
 her presence, not even so much as the flare of a match or 
 the coal from a cigar or cigarette. Orders of the strictest 
 had been issued and the expedicionarios, gathered along 
 the rails, were not inclined to disregard them, for only 
 two nights before the Fair Play, in spite of every precau 
 tion, had shoved her nose fairly into a hornets' nest and 
 had managed to escape only by virtue of the darkness 
 and the speed of her engines. 
 
 She had approached within a mile or two of the pre 
 arranged landing-place when over the mangroves had 
 flared the blinding white light of a Spanish patrol-boat; 
 like a thief surprised at his work the tramp had turned 
 tail and fled, never pausing until she lay safe among the 
 Bahama Banks. 
 
 Now she was feeling her way back, some distance to the 
 westward. Major Ramos was on the bridge with the 
 captain. Two men were taking soundings in a blind 
 search for that steep wall which forms the side of the old 
 Bahama Channel. When the lead finally gave them 
 
 178
 
 THE CITY AMONG THE LEAVES 
 
 warning, the Fair Play lost her headway and came to a 
 stop, rolling lazily; in the silence that ensued Leslie 
 Branch's recurrent cough barked loudly. 
 
 "They're afraid to go closer, on account of the reef," 
 O'Reilly explained to his companions. 
 
 "That must be it that I hear," Norine ventured. 
 "Or maybe it's just the roaring in my ears." 
 
 "Probably the latter," said Branch. "I'm scared 
 stiff. I don't like reefs. Are there any sharks in these 
 waters?" 
 
 "Plenty." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad I'm thin," the sick man murmured. 
 
 Major Ramos spoke in a low tone from the darkness 
 above, calling for a volunteer boat's crew to reconnoiter 
 and to look for an opening through the reef. Before the 
 words were out of his mouth O'Reilly had offered himself. 
 
 Ten minutes later he found himself at the steering-oar 
 of one of the ship's life-boats, heading shoreward. A 
 hundred yards, and the Fair Play was lost to view; but, 
 keeping his face set toward that inky horizon, O'Reilly 
 guided his boat perhaps a half-mile nearer before ordering 
 his crew to cease rowing. Now through the stillness came 
 a low, slow, pulsating whisper, the voice of the barrier 
 reef. 
 
 The trade-winds had died with the sun, and only the 
 gentlest ground-swell was running ; nevertheless, when the 
 boat drew farther in the sound increased alarmingly, and 
 soon a white breaker streak showed dimly where the coral 
 teeth of the reef bit through. 
 
 There was a long night's work ahead; time pressed, and 
 so O'Reilly altered his course and cruised along outside 
 the white water, urging his crew to lustier strokes. It 
 was haphazard work, this search for an opening, and 
 every hour of delay increased the danger of discovery. 
 
 A mile two miles it seemed like ten to the taut oars 
 men, and then a black hiatus of still water showed in the 
 
 179
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 phosphorescent foam. O'Reilly explored it briefly; then 
 he turned back toward the ship. When he had gone as 
 far as he dared, he lit a lantern and, shielding its rays from 
 the shore with his coat, flashed it seaward. After a short 
 interval a dim red eye winked once out of the blackness. 
 O'Reilly steered for it. 
 
 Soon he and his crew were aboard and the ship was 
 groping her way toward the break in the reef. Mean 
 while, her deck became a scene of feverish activity; out 
 from her hold came cases of ammunition and medical 
 supplies; the field-piece on the bow was hurriedly dis 
 mounted; the small boats, of which there were an extra 
 number, were swung out, with the result that when the 
 Fair Play had manceuvered as close as she dared every 
 thing was in readiness. 
 
 Many of these expedicionarios were professional men, 
 clerks, cigar-makers, and the like; few of them had ever 
 done hard manual labor; yet they fell to their tasks will 
 ingly enough. While they worked a close watch with 
 night glasses was maintained from the bridge. 
 
 O'Reilly took the first load through the reef, and dis 
 charged it upon a sandy beach. No one seemed to know 
 positively whether this was the mainland or some key; 
 and there was no time for exploration; in either event, 
 there was no choice of action. Every man tumbled over 
 board and waded ashore with a packing-case; he dropped 
 this in the sand above high-tide mark, and then ran back 
 for another. It was swift, hot work. From the darkness 
 on each side came the sounds of other boat crews similarly 
 engaged. 
 
 Johnnie was back alongside the ship and ready for a 
 second cargo before the last tender had set out upon its 
 first trip, and then for several hours this slavish activity 
 continued. Some crews lost themselves in the gloom, 
 fetched up on the reef, and were forced to dump their 
 freight into the foam, trusting to salvage it when daylight 
 
 1 80
 
 THE CITY AMONG THE LEAVES 
 
 came. Every one was wet to the skin; bodies steamed in 
 the heat; men who had pulled at oars until their hands 
 were raw and bleeding cursed and groaned at their own 
 fatigue. But there was little shirking; those whose 
 strength completely failed them dropped in the sand and 
 rested until they could resume then- labors. 
 
 Daylight was coming when the last boat cast off and the 
 Fair Play, with a hoarse triumphant blast of her whistle, 
 faded into the north, her part in the expedition at an end. 
 
 O'Reilly bore Norine Evans ashore in his arms, and 
 when he placed her feet upon Cuban soil she hugged him, 
 crying: 
 
 "We fooled them, Johnnie! But if it hadn't been for 
 you we'd have turned back. The captain was afraid of the 
 reef." 
 
 "I don't mind telling you I was afraid, too," he sighed, 
 wearily. "Now then, about all we have to fear are 
 Spanish coast-guards." 
 
 Dawn showed the voyagers that they were indeed 
 fortunate, for they were upon the mainland of Cuba, and 
 as far as they could see, both east and west, the reef was 
 unbroken. There was still some uncertainty as to their 
 precise position, for the jungle at their backs shut off 
 their view of the interior; but that gave them little con 
 cern. Men were lolling about, exhausted, but Major 
 Ramos allowed them no time for rest; he roused them, 
 and kept them on the go until the priceless supplies had 
 been collected within the shelter of the brush. Then he 
 broke open certain packages, and distributed arms among 
 his followers. 
 
 Even while this was going on there came an alarm; 
 over the low promontory that cut off the eastern coast 
 line a streamer of smoke was seen. There was a scurry 
 for cover; the little band lay low and watched while a 
 Spanish cruiser stole past not more than a mile outside 
 the line of froth. 
 
 181
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 The three Americans, who were munching a tasteless 
 breakfast of pilot-bread, were joined by Major Ramos. 
 He was no longer the immaculate personage he had been: 
 he was barefooted; his clothes were torn; his trousers 
 were rolled up to the knee and whitened by sea-water, 
 while the revolver at his hip and the bandolier of cartridges 
 over his shoulder lent him an incongruously ferocious 
 appearance. Ever since Norine had so rudely shattered 
 his romantic fancies the major had treated both her and 
 O'Reilly with a stiff and distant formality. He began 
 now by saying: 
 
 "I am despatching a message to General Gomez's 
 headquarters, asking him to send a pack-train and an 
 escort for these supplies. There is danger here; perhaps 
 you would like to go on with the couriers." 
 
 O'Reilly accepted eagerly; then thinking of the girl, 
 he said, doubtfully: 
 
 "I'm afraid Miss Evans isn't equal to the trip." 
 
 "Nonsense! I'm equal to anything," Norine declared. 
 And indeed she looked capable enough as she stood there 
 in her short walking-suit and stout boots. 
 
 Branch alone declined the invitation, vowing that he 
 was too weak to budge. If there was the faintest prospect 
 of riding to the interior he infinitely preferred to await 
 the opportunity, he said, even at the risk of an attack by 
 Spanish soldiers in the mean time. 
 
 It took O'Reilly but a short time to collect the few 
 articles necessary for the trip ; indeed, his bundle was so 
 small that Norine was dismayed. 
 
 "Can't I take any clothes?" she inquired in a panic. 
 "I can't live without a change." 
 
 " It is something you'll have to learn, ' ' he told her. ' ' An 
 Insurrecto with two shirts is wealthy. Some of them 
 haven't any." 
 
 "Isn't it likely to rain on us?" 
 
 "It's almost sure to." 
 
 182
 
 THE CITY AMONG THE LEAVES 
 
 Miss Evans pondered this prospect; then she laughed. 
 "It must feel funny," she said. 
 
 There were three other members of the traveling-party, 
 men who knew something of the country round about; 
 they were good fighters, doubtless, but in spite of their 
 shiny new weapons they resembled soldiers even less than 
 did their major. All were dressed as they had been when 
 they left New York; one even wore a derby hat and 
 pointed patent-leather shoes. Nevertheless, Norine 
 Evans thought the little cavalcade presented quite a 
 martial appearance as it filed away into the jungle. 
 
 The first few miles were trying, for the coast was 
 swampy and thickly grown up to underbrush; but in time 
 the jungle gave place to higher timber and to open savan 
 nas deep in guinea-grass. Soon after noon the travelers 
 came to a farm, the owner of which was known to one of 
 the guides, and here a stop was made in order to secure 
 horses and food. 
 
 It was a charming little rancho. The palm-thatched 
 house was set in a grove of mamey and mango trees, all 
 heavily burdened with fruit; there was a vianda-patch, 
 and, wonder of wonders, there were a half-dozen cows 
 dozing in the shade. Spying these animals, Norine 
 promptly demanded a glass of milk, and O'Reilly trans 
 lated her request to the farmer. 
 
 The man was obliging until he learned that the American 
 lady purposed drinking the milk fresh and warm; then 
 he refused positively. Fresh milk was full of fever, he 
 explained : it was alive with germs. He would bring her, 
 instead, some which had been boiled and salted in the 
 usual Cuban manner. This he did, but after one bitter 
 mouthful Norine insisted upon her original request. With 
 a dubious shake of bis head and a further warning the 
 farmer directed his son to oblige the pretty lady by 
 milking one of the cows ; he made it plain, however, that 
 he disclaimed all responsibility for the result. 
 
 183
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Johnnie, who was badly fagged from the previous night's 
 work, found a shady spot and stretched himself out for a 
 nap. He inquired idly if there were any Spaniards in the 
 vicinity, and learned that there were, but that they seldom 
 came this way. 
 
 "We'd never see them here, if it were not for these 
 sin verguenzas may a bad lightning split them! who 
 take money to show them the bridle-paths," the country 
 man explained. " I'd like to guide them once. I'd lead 
 them into a swamp and leave them to sink in the mud, 
 then I'd go back and cut off their heads. Ha! That 
 would be a satisfaction, now, wouldn't it?" 
 
 O'Reilly agreed sleepily that it would doubtless be a 
 very great satisfaction indeed. 
 
 "I'm as good a patriot as God ever made," the fellow 
 ran on. ' ' You can see that, eh ? But what do you think ? 
 I have a brother, a very blood brother, who would sell 
 himself for a peseta. He passed here the other day at the 
 head of a whole Spanish guerrillero." The speaker bared 
 his teeth and spat viciously. "Christ! How I would 
 like to cut his throat!" 
 
 The shade was grateful. O'Reilly dozed. He was 
 awakened by being roughly shaken, and he found the 
 man with the derby hat bending over him. The fellow 
 was excited; his eyes were ringed with white; his expres 
 sion bespoke the liveliest alarm. Loud voices came from 
 the rear of the bohio. 
 
 ' ' What's the matter ? Spaniards ?" Johnnie was on his 
 feet in an instant. 
 
 "No, no! Your sefiorita!" the man gasped. "For the 
 love of God come quickly." He set off at a run, and 
 Johnnie followed, a prey to sudden sick misgivings. 
 
 Around the house they dashed, and into a group the 
 center of which was Norine herself, a gourdful of milk in 
 one hand, a partially devoured mango in the other. At 
 first glance there seemed to be nothing amiss; but the 
 
 184
 
 THE CITY AMONG THE LEAVES 
 
 owner of the farm was dancing; he was trying to seize 
 first the mango, then the drinking-vessel. His wife was 
 wringing her hands and crying, shrilly : 
 
 "God have mercy! So young so beautiful! What a 
 pity!" 
 
 The two filibusters and the farmer's eldest son, all 
 visibly perturbed, likewise joined in the commotion, while 
 the smaller children looked on from the background and 
 whimpered. 
 
 "What's happened?" O'Reilly demanded, breathlessly. 
 
 Norine turned a puzzled face to him, meanwhile warding 
 off the farmer's attack. "I can't quite make out," she 
 said. "They all talk at once. Please ask them what 
 I've done." Mechanically she raised the ripe mango to 
 her lips, whereupon the rancher o, with a yell, leaped upon 
 her and violently wrenched it out of her fingers. 
 
 Facing O'Reilly, the man panted: "There! You saw 
 her! She wouldn't listen to my wife " 
 
 "Oh, I warned her!" wailed the woman. "But it was 
 too late." 
 
 "You must tell her what she has done," said the fellow 
 in the stiff hat. 
 
 "Well, what has she done?" Johnnie managed to in 
 quire, whereupon every one began a separate explanation: 
 
 "She will never become your wife. . . . Look! That's 
 not her first mango. . . . Enough to destroy an army. . . . 
 You can see for yourself. . . . Wait ! Ask her how many 
 she ate. Ask her, sefior, I implore you!" 
 
 There was a silence while Johnnie translated the ques 
 tion and repeated the answer: 
 
 "She says she doesn't remember, they are so nice and 
 ripe 
 
 "'So nice and ripe'!" shouted the owner of the farm, 
 tearing his hair. 
 
 " ' So nice and ripe ' ! " echoed his wife. 
 
 "'So nice and ripe'!" groaned the man who had awak- 
 13 185
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 ened O'Reilly. " Major Ramos told me to guard her with 
 my life because she is the guest of Cuba. Well, I shall 
 kill myself." 
 
 The country woman laid a trembling hand upon 
 Norine's arm, inquiring, gently: "How are you feeling, 
 my beautiful dove? Sick, eh?" 
 
 "What on earth ails these people?" inquired the object 
 of all this solicitude. "I haven't made away with a baby. 
 Maybe they're afraid I won't pay for my food?" 
 
 Light came to O'Reilly. "I remember now," said he. 
 "Mangoes and milk are supposed to be poisonous. The 
 woman wants to know how you feel." 
 
 "Poisonous! Nonsense! They taste splendid. Tell 
 her I'm still half starved." 
 
 It proved now that one of the three members of the 
 landing-party possessed an unsuspected knowledge of 
 English, which modesty alone had prevented him from 
 revealing. Under the stress of his emotion he broke out: 
 
 "Oh, missy! Those fruit is skill you." 
 
 "I don't believe it," Miss Evans declared. 
 
 "It skill you, all right. Maybe you got a headache 
 here, eh?" The speaker laid a hand upon his abdomen 
 and leaned forward expectantly. 
 
 "Nothing but an aching void." 
 
 This confession, or a garbled translation of it, was 
 enough for the others; it confirmed their worst fears. 
 The farmer volunteered to ride for the nearest priest, but 
 hesitated, declaring it a waste of time, inasmuch as the 
 lady would be dead in half an hour. His wife ran to the 
 house for her crucifix and rosary, which latter she insisted 
 upon hanging around Norine's neck. After that she 
 directed the men to carry the sufferer indoors, her inten 
 tion being to make her guest's last moments as comfortable 
 as possible. When Norine refused to be carried she was 
 warned that the least exertion would but hasten the end, 
 which was, alas ! all too near. 
 
 186
 
 THE CITY AMONG THE LEAVES 
 
 O'Reilly was impressed, in spite of himself, by this 
 weight of conviction, especially when the Cubans ridiculed 
 his suggestion that the combination of milk and mango 
 might not prove altogether fatal to an American. Nothing, 
 they assured him, could possibly be deadlier than this 
 abominable mixture. 
 
 The victim herself, however, remained skeptical; she 
 alone treated the matter lightly, and although she did 
 finally consent to lie down, it was merely to please the 
 others and because she was tired. 
 
 "They have set their minds on seeing me expire, and 
 they're such nice people I'm almost ashamed to disappoint 
 them," she confided to O'Reilly. "But really I'm too 
 hungry to die. Now don't forget to call me when dinner 
 is ready." 
 
 "Honestly, do you feel all right?" he asked of her. 
 
 "Never better." 
 
 The meal was slow in coming, for not only were the 
 cooking arrangements primitive, but the apprehensive 
 housewife could not long remain away from the sick 
 room. She made frequent visits thereto, and after each 
 she reported in a whisper the condition of the patient. 
 The lady looked very white. . . . Her breathing was becom 
 ing slower. . . . She was unconscious. . . . All would soon be 
 over. ... It was better to let her pass painlessly to paradise 
 than to torture her with useless remedies. Realizing 
 that the poison had at last begun to work, the men tip 
 toed to the door and peered in compassionately, where 
 upon the sufferer roused herself sufficiently to call them 
 "a lot of rubber-necks" and bid them begone. 
 
 "Her mind wanders," explained the man of the house; 
 and then to cheer O'Reilly he added, "She is young and 
 strong; she may linger until evening." 
 
 The meal was set at last, however; the men were 
 stealthily attacking it. Suddenly the sick woman swept 
 out from her retreat and sat down among them. 
 
 187
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 ' ' Senorita ! This is suicide !" they implored. 
 
 Then, as she ignored them and helped herself liberally 
 to the food, their own appetites vanished and they 
 pushed themselves away from the table. 
 
 With a twinkle in his eye O'Reilly said, gravely, " Dying 
 people have strange fancies. Pray don't thwart her." 
 
 Indifference so callous on the part of a lover shocked the 
 Cubans. They rebuked O'Reilly silently; it was plain 
 that they considered Americans a barbarously cold 
 blooded race. Meanwhile they apprehensively watched 
 Norine's every mouthful. 
 
 When, after a time, no ill effects having appeared, she 
 suggested departing, they whispered together. They 
 agreed at last that it was perhaps the course of wisdom 
 to humor her. She was the guest of their Government; 
 it would not do to displease her. Inasmuch as her end 
 was inevitable, it could matter little whether she died here 
 or elsewhere. Accordingly they saddled their borrowed 
 horses and set out. 
 
 All that afternoon Norine was an object of the tenderest 
 solicitude on the part of her three Cuban guides. They 
 momentarily expected to see her stricken. Then when 
 she gave no sign of distress they marveled, and expressed 
 great admiration at her fortitude in enduring pain. 
 
 That night was spent at another farm-house. When 
 on the next morning Norine not only was seen to be alive 
 and well, but insisted upon making her breakfast of 
 mangoes and milk, the fellow in the derby hat flung his 
 hands on high and told O'Reilly: 
 
 "It is no less than a miracle, but now she courts the 
 wrath of God, sefior! As for me, I shall never again asso 
 ciate with eccentric persons who delight to fly in the face 
 of Providence. It is my opinion that all Americans are 
 crazy." 
 
 The party had penetrated to the foot-hills of the Sierra 
 de Cubitas now, and as they ascended, the scenery 
 
 1 88
 
 THE CITY AMONG THE LEAVES 
 
 changed. Rarely is the Cuban landscape anything but 
 pleasing. For the most part green pastures sown with 
 stately palm-trees and laid out as if for a picnic alternate 
 with low rolling hills, and in but few places are the altitudes 
 at all impressive. It is a smiling island. It has been 
 said, too, that everything in it is friendly to man: the 
 people are amiable, warm-hearted; the very animals and 
 insects are harmless. Cuban cattle are shy, but trusting; 
 Cuban horses are patient and affectionate; the serpents 
 have no poison, and although the spiders and the scorpions 
 grow large and forbidding, their sting is ineffective. But 
 here in the Cubitas range all was different. The land was 
 stern and forbidding: canons deep and damp raised 
 dripping walls to the sky; bridle-paths skirted ledges that 
 were bold and fearsome, or lost themselves in gloomy 
 jungles as noisome as Spanish dungeons. Hidden away in 
 these fastnesses, the rebel Government had established 
 its capital. Here, safe from surprise, the soldiers of 
 Gomez and Maceo and Garcia rested between attacks, 
 nursing their wounded and recruiting their strength for 
 further sallies. 
 
 It was a strange seat of government no nation ever 
 had a stranger for the state buildings were huts of bark 
 and leaves, the army was uniformed in rags. Cook-fires 
 smoldered in the open glades ; cavalry horses grazed in the 
 grassy streets, and wood-smoke drifted over them. 
 
 The second evening brought O'Reilly and Miss Evans 
 safely through, and at news of the expedition's success a 
 pack-train was made ready to go to its assistance. No- 
 rine's letter from the New York Junta was read, and the 
 young woman was warmly welcomed. One of the better 
 huts was vacated for her use, and the officers of the 
 provisional Government called to pay their respects.
 
 XVII 
 
 THE CITY OP BEGGARS 
 
 '"PHERE were other Americans in Cubitas, as O'Reilly 
 i soon discovered. During his first inspection of the 
 village he heard himself hailed in his own language, and 
 a young man in dirty white trousers and jacket strode 
 toward him. 
 
 "Welcome to our city!" the stranger cried. "I'm 
 Judson, Captain of Artillery, Departmento del Oriente; 
 and you're the fellow who came with that quinine lady, 
 aren't you?" 
 
 O'Reilly acknowledged his identity, and Judson grinned: 
 
 "The whole camp is talking about her and those 
 mangoes. Jove! It's a wonder she didn't die of fright. 
 Something tells me you're Irish. Anyhow, you look as 
 if you'd enjoy a scrap. Know anything about artillery?" 
 
 ' ' Nothing whatever. ' ' 
 
 "I'm sorry. We need gunners. Still, you know as much 
 as the rest of us did when we came." 
 
 "I'm not a fighter," Johnnie told him. "I'm here on 
 other business." 
 
 Captain Judson was plainly disappointed. Neverthe 
 less, he volunteered to assist his countryman in any way 
 possible. "Have you met the old man," he inquired 
 "General Gomez?" 
 
 "No, I'd like to meet him." 
 
 "Come along, then; I'll introduce you. This is about 
 the right time of day for it; he'll probably be in good 
 
 190
 
 THE CITY OF BEGGARS 
 
 humor. He has dyspepsia, you know, and he's not 
 always pleasant." 
 
 It was nearly sundown; the eastern slopes were in 
 shadow, and supper was cooking. As the two men passed 
 down the wide street between its rows of bohios the 
 fragrance of burning fagots was heavy in the air that 
 odor which is sweet in the nostrils of every man who 
 knows and loves the out-of-doors. To O'Reilly it was 
 like the scents of Araby, for his hopes were high, his feet 
 were light, and he believed his goal was in sight. 
 
 Gen. Maximo Gomez, father of patriots, bulwark of the 
 Cuban cause, was seated in a hammock, reading some 
 letters; O'Reilly recognized him instantly from the many 
 pictures he had seen. Gomez was a keen, wiry old man ; 
 the color of his swarthy, sun-bitten cheeks was thrown 
 into deeper relief by his snow-white mustache and goatee. 
 He looked up at Judson's salute and then turned a pair 
 of brilliant eyes, as hard as glass, upon O'Reilly. His was 
 an irascible, brooding face; it had in it something of the 
 sternness, the exalted detachment, of the eagle, and 
 O'Reilly gained a hint of the personality behind it. 
 Maximo Gomez was counted one of the world's ablest 
 guerrilla leaders; and indeed it had required the quench 
 less enthusiasm of a real military genius to fuse into a 
 homogeneous righting force the ill-assorted rabble of nonde 
 scripts whom Gomez led, to school them to privation and 
 to render them sufficiently mobile to defy successfully ten 
 times their number of trained troops. This, however, was 
 precisely what the old Porto-Rican had done, and in doing 
 it he had won the admiration of military students. He it 
 was, more than any other, who bore the burden, of Cuba's 
 unequal struggle; it was Gomez's cunning and Gomez's 
 indomitable will which had already subjugated half the 
 island of Cuba; it was Gomez's stubborn, unflagging re 
 sistance which was destined to shatter for all time the 
 hopes of Spain in the New World. 
 
 191
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 With a bluntness not unkind he asked O'Reilly what had 
 brought him to Cuba. Then before the young man could 
 answer he gestured with a letter in his hand, saying : 
 
 "Major Ramos gives you splendid credit for helping him 
 to land his expedition, but he says you didn't come to fight 
 with us. What does he mean ?' ' 
 
 When O'Reilly explained the reason for his presence the 
 old fighter nodded. 
 
 "So? You wish to go west, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I want to find Colonel Lopez." 
 
 ' ' Lopez ? Miguel Lopez ?' ' the general inquired , quickly. 
 
 "I believe that's his name at any rate the Colonel 
 Lopez who has been operating in Matanzas Province. 
 You see, he knows the whereabouts of my friends." 
 
 "Well, you won't have to look far for him." General 
 Gomez's leathery countenance lightened, into a smile. 
 "He happens to be right here in Cubitas." Calling Jud- 
 son to him, he said: " Amigo, take Mr. O'Reilly to Colonel 
 Lopez; you will find him somewhere about. I am sorry 
 we are not to have this young fellow for a soldier; he 
 looks like a real man and quite equal to five quintos, 
 eh?" 
 
 It was the habit of the Cubans to refer to their enemies 
 as quintos the fifth part of a man! With a wave of 
 his hand Gomez returned to his reading. 
 
 As Judson led his companion away he said: "When you 
 have finished with Lopez come to my shack and we'll have 
 supper and I'll introduce you to the rest of our gang. 
 You won't get much to eat, for we're short of grub; 
 but it's worse where Lopez comes from." 
 
 Col. Miguel Lopez, a handsome, animated fellow, took 
 O'Reilly's hand in a hearty clasp when they were intro 
 duced; but a moment later his smile gave way to a frown 
 and his brow darkened. 
 
 "So! You are that O'Reilly from Matanzas," said he. 
 " I know you now, but I never expected we would meet." 
 
 192
 
 THE CITY OF BEGGARS 
 
 "Est6ban Varona told you about me, did he not?" 
 
 The colonel inclined his head. 
 
 "I'm here at last, after the devil's own time. I've 
 been trying every way to get through. The Spaniards 
 stopped me at Puerto Principe they sent me back home, 
 you know. I've been half crazy. I You " O'Reilly 
 swallowed hard. "You know where Este"ban is? Tell 
 me" 
 
 "Have you heard nothing?" 
 
 "Nothing whatever. That is, nothing since Rosa, his 
 sister You understand, she and I are engaged " 
 
 "Yes, yes; Este"ban told me all about you." 
 
 Something in the Cuban's gravity of manner gave 
 O'Reilly warning. A sudden fear assailed him. His 
 voice shook as he asked: 
 
 "What is it ? My God ! Not bad news?" 
 
 There was no need for the officer to answer. In his 
 averted gaze O'Reilly read confirmation of his sickest 
 apprehensions. The men faced each other for a long 
 moment, while the color slowly drove out of the American's 
 cheeks, leaving him pallid, stricken. He wet his lips to 
 speak, but his voice was no more than a dry, throaty 
 rustle. 
 
 "Tell me! Which one?" he whispered. 
 
 "Both!" 
 
 O'Reilly recoiled; a spasm distorted his chalky face. 
 He began to shake weakly, and his fingers plucked aim 
 lessly at each other. 
 
 Lopez took him by the arm. ' ' Try to control yourself, ' ' 
 said he. "Sit here while I try to tell you what little I 
 know. Or, would it not be better to wait awhile, until you 
 are calmer?" As the young man made no answer, except 
 to stare at him in a white agony of suspense, he sighed: 
 "Very well, then, as you wish. But you must be a man, 
 like the rest of us. I, too, have suffered. My father" 
 Lopez's mustached lip drew back, and his teeth showed 
 
 193
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 through "died in the Laurel Ditch at Cabanas. On the 
 very day after my first victory they shot him an old 
 man. Christ ! It is because of such things that we Cubans 
 fight while we starve that we shall continue to fight 
 until no Spaniard is left upon this island. We have all 
 faced something like that which you are facing now 
 our parents murdered, our sisters and our sweethearts 
 wronged. ..." 
 
 O'Reilly, huddled where he had sunk upon the bench, 
 uttered a gasping, inarticulate cry, and covered his face 
 as if from a lash. 
 
 " I will tell you all I know which isn't much. Este"ban 
 Varona came to me soon after he and his sister had fled 
 from their home; he wanted to join my forces, but we were 
 harassed on every side, and I didn't dare take the girl 
 no woman could have endured the hardships we suffered. 
 So I convinced him that his first duty was to her, rather 
 than to his country, and he agreed. He was a fine boy! 
 He had spirit. He bought some stolen rifles and armed a 
 band of his own which wasn't a bad idea. I used to hear 
 about him. Nobody cared to molest him, I can tell you, 
 until finally he killed some of the regular troops. Then 
 of course they went after him. Meanwhile, he managed 
 to destroy his own plantations, which Cueto had robbed 
 him of. You knew Cueto?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, Este"ban put an end to him after a while; rode 
 right up to La Joya one night, broke in the door, and 
 macheted the scoundrel in his bed. But there was a 
 mistake of some sort. It seems that a body of Cobo's 
 Volunteers were somewhere close by, and the two parties 
 met. I have never learned all the details of the affair, 
 and the stories of that fight which came to me are too 
 preposterous for belief. Still, Este*ban and his men must 
 have fought like demons, for they killed some incredible 
 number. But they were human they could not defeat 
 
 194
 
 THE CITY OF BEGGARS 
 
 a regiment. It seems that only one or two of them 
 escaped." 
 
 "Estban? Did he " 
 
 Colonel Lopez nodded; then he said, gravely: "Cobo 
 takes no prisoners. I was in the Rubi hills at the time, 
 fighting hard, and it was six weeks before I got back into 
 Matanzas. Naturally, when I heard what had happened, 
 I tried to find the girl, but Weyler was concentrating the 
 pacificos by that time, and there was nobody left in the 
 Yumuri; it was a desert." 
 
 "Then you don't know positively that she . . . that 
 she" 
 
 "Wait. There is no doubt that the boy was killed, but 
 of Rosa's fate I can only form my own opinion. However, 
 one of Este"ban's men joined my troops later, and I not 
 only learned something about the girl, but also why 
 Este"ban had been so relentlessly pursued. It was all 
 Cobo's doings. You have heard of the fellow? No? 
 Well, you will." The speaker's tone was eloquent of 
 hatred. "He is worse than the worst of them a mon 
 ster! He had seen Miss Varona. She was a beautiful 
 girl..." 
 
 " Go on !" whispered the lover. 
 
 "I discovered that she didn't at first obey Weyler's 
 edict. She and the two negroes they were former slaves 
 of her father, I believe took refuge in the Pan de Matan 
 zas. Later on, Cobo's men made a raid and killed a 
 great many. Some few escaped into the high ravines, but 
 Miss Varona was not one of them. Out of regard for 
 Esteban I made careful search, but I could find no trace 
 of her." 
 
 "And yet, you don't know what happened?" O'Reilly 
 ventured. ' ' You're not sure ? " 
 
 " No, but I tell you again Cobo's men take no prisoners. 
 When I heard about that raid I gave up looking for her." 
 
 "This Cobo" the American's voice shook in spite 
 
 195
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 of his effort to hold it steady "I shall hope to meet him 
 some time." 
 
 The sudden fury that filled Colonel Lopez's face was 
 almost hidden by the gloom. "Yes. Oh yes!" he cried, 
 quickly, " and you are but one of a hundred ; I am another. 
 In my command there is a standing order to spare neither 
 Cobo nor any of his assassins; they neither expect nor 
 receive quarter from us. Now, compafiero" the Cuban 
 dropped a hand on O'Reilly's bowed head "I am sorry 
 that I had to bring you such evil tidings, but, we are men 
 and this is war." 
 
 "No, no! It isn't war it's merciless savagery! To 
 murder children and to outrage women why, that 
 violates all the ethics of warfare." 
 
 "Ethics!" the colonel cried, harshly. "Ethics? Hell 
 is without ethics. Why look for ethics in war? Violence 
 injustice insanity -chaos that is war. It is man's 
 agony woman's despair. It is a defiance of God. War 
 is without mercy, without law; it is well, it is the absence 
 of all law, all good." 
 
 There was a considerable silence. Then Lopez went on 
 in another key. 
 
 "We Cubans carry heavy hearts, but our wrongs have 
 made us mighty, and our sufferings have made us brave. 
 Here in the orient we do well enough; but, believe me, 
 you cannot imagine the desolation and the suffering 
 farther west whole provinces made barren and their 
 inhabitants either dead or dying. The world has never 
 seen anything like Weyler's slaughter of the innocents. 
 If there is indeed a God and sometimes I doubt it he 
 will not permit this horror to continue; from every pool 
 of Cuban blood another patriot will spring up, until we 
 drive that archfiend and his armies into the sea. Go back 
 to your own country now, and if your grief has made you 
 one of us in sympathy, tell the world what that black 
 butcher in Havana is doing, and beg your Government to 
 
 196
 
 THE CITY OF BEGGARS 
 
 recognize our belligerency, so that we may have arms. 
 Arms!" 
 
 It was some time before O'Reilly spoke; then he said, 
 quietly: "I am not going back. I am going to stay here 
 and look for Rosa." 
 
 "So!" exclaimed the colonel. "Well, why not? So 
 long as we do not know precisely what has happened to 
 her, we can at least hope. But, if I were you, I would 
 rather think of her as dead than as a prisoner in some 
 concentration camp. You don't know what those camps 
 are like, my friend, but I do. Now I shall leave you. 
 One needs to be alone at such an hour eh?" With a 
 pressure of his hand, Colonel Lopez walked away into the 
 darkness. 
 
 Judson and his adventurous countryman did not see 
 O'Reilly that night, nor, in fact, did any one. But the 
 next morning he appeared before General Gomez. He was 
 haggard, sick, listless. The old Porto-Rican had heard 
 from Lopez in the mean time; he was sympathetic. 
 
 "I am sorry you came all the way to hear such bad 
 news," he said. "War is a sad, hopeless business." 
 
 "But I haven't given up hope," O'Reilly said. "I 
 want to stay here and and fight." 
 
 "I inferred as much from what Lopez told me." The 
 general nodded his white head. "Well, you'll make a 
 good soldier, and we shall be glad to have you." He 
 extended his hand, and O'Reilly took it gratefully. 
 
 The city of Matanzas was "pacified." So ran the 
 boastful bando of the captain-general. And this was no 
 exaggeration, as any one could see from the number of 
 beggars there. Of all his military operations, this "pacifi 
 cation" of the western towns and provinces was the most 
 conspicuously successful and the one which gave Valeriano 
 Weyler the keenest satisfaction; for nowhere did rebellion 
 lift its head except, perhaps, among the ranks of those 
 
 197
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 disaffected men who hid in the hills, with nothing above 
 them but the open sky. As for the population at large, 
 it was cured of treason; it no longer resisted, even weakly, 
 the law of Spain. The reason was that it lay dying. 
 Weyler's cure was simple, efficacious it consisted of 
 extermination, swift and pitiless. 
 
 Poverty had been common in Matanzas, even before the 
 war, but now there were so many beggars in the city that 
 nobody undertook to count them. When the refugees 
 began to pour in by the thousands, and when it became 
 apparent that the Government intended to let them 
 starve, the better citizens undertook an effort at relief; 
 but times were hard, food was scarce, and prices high. 
 Moreover, it soon transpired that the military frowned 
 upon everything like organized charity, and in consequence 
 the new-comers were, perforce, abandoned to their own 
 devices. These country people were dumb and terrified 
 at the misfortunes which had overtaken them; they 
 wandered the streets in aimless bewilderment, fearful of 
 what blow might next befall. They were not used to 
 begging, and therefore they did not often implore alms; 
 but all day long they asked for work, for bread, that their 
 little ones might live. Work, however, was even scarcer 
 than food, and the time soon came when they crouched 
 upon curbs and door-steps, hopeless, beaten, silently re 
 proachful of those more fortunate than they. Their eyes 
 grew big and hollow; their outstretched hands grew 
 gaunt and skinny. The sound of weeping women and 
 fretting babies became a common thing to hear. 
 
 In the suburbs, just within the ring of guardian forts, 
 an "area of cultivation" was set aside, and here the 
 prisoners put up huts of yagua comfortless bark shelters, 
 which were well enough, perhaps, in fair weather, but 
 sadly ineffective against wind and rain. Here, housed 
 with hunger and crowded together in indescribable 
 squalor, they dwelt, seeking comfort in their common 
 
 198
 
 THE CITY OF BEGGARS 
 
 wretchedness. Since they had no farm implements, no 
 seeds, no means whatever of cultivating this ground ap 
 portioned to their use, it remained untilled while they 
 grew hungrier day by day. Outside the lines there were 
 yams, potatoes, edible roots and such, for the Spaniards' 
 work of desolation had not been quite complete, and no 
 hand can rob the Cuban soil of all its riches; but the 
 pacificos were not allowed to leave the city. 
 
 Fish were plentiful in the harbor, too, but to catch 
 them was forbidden. Sentries were on guard with ready 
 rifles and bared machetes; every morning through the 
 filthy reconcentrado quarter guerrillas drove pack-mules 
 bearing the mutilated bodies of those who had dared dur 
 ing the night to seek food surreptitiously. Sometimes 
 they dragged these ghastly reminders at the ends of ropes; 
 this, indeed, was a favorite way with them. 
 
 Dogs and cats became choice articles of diet, until they 
 disappeared. The Government did supply one quality 
 of food, however; at intervals, it distributed yucca roots. 
 But these were starchy and almost indigestible. From 
 eating them the children grew pinched in limb and face, 
 while their abdomens bloated hugely. Matanzas became 
 peopled with a race of grotesquely misshapen little folks, 
 gnomes with young bodies, but with faces old and sick. 
 
 Of course disease became epidemic, for in the leaky 
 hovels, dirt-floored and destitute of any convenience, 
 there could be no effort at sanitation. Conditions became 
 unspeakable. The children died first, then the aged and 
 infirm. Deaths in the street were not uncommon; nearly 
 every morning bodies were found beneath the portales. 
 Starving creatures crept to the market in the hope of 
 begging a stray bit of food, and some of them died there, 
 between the empty stalls. The death-wagons, heavy with 
 their daily freight, rumbled ceaselessly through the 
 streets, adding to the giant piles of unburied corpses out 
 side the city. 
 
 199
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Typhoid, smallpox, yellow fever, raged unchecked. 
 The hospitals were crowded, and even in them the com 
 monest necessities were lacking. It is believed that men 
 have returned from the grave, but no one, either Spaniard 
 or Cuban, had ever been known to return from one of 
 these pest-houses, and, in consequence, those who were 
 stricken preferred to remain and to die among their dear 
 ones. 
 
 Yes, Matanzas was pacified. Weyler's boast was true. 
 Nowhere in the entire province was a field in cultivation ; 
 nowhere, outside the garrisoned towns, was a house left 
 standing. Nor was the city of Matanzas the only con 
 centration camp; there were others dotted through Santa 
 Clara, Habana, and Pinar del Rio. In them half a 
 million people cried for food. Truly no rebellious land 
 was ever more completely pacified than this, no people's 
 spirits ever more completely crushed. Voices no longer 
 preached resistance; they prayed to "Our .Lady of 
 Pity" for a merciful conclusion of this misery. Hands 
 were upraised, but only to implore. In leaky huts 
 from Jucaro to Cape San Antonio the dead lay huddled 
 thickly. 
 
 Into Matanzas, city of beggary and death, came Rosa 
 Varona and her two negro companions, looking for relief. 
 They made the journey without mishap, for they were too 
 destitute to warrant plundering, and Rosa's disguise con 
 cealed what charms remained to her. But once they had 
 entered the city, what an awakening! What suffering, 
 what poverty, what rags they saw! The three of them 
 grew weak with dismay at the horror of it all; but there 
 was no retreat. 
 
 Asensio built a makeshift shelter elose under La Cum- 
 bre from it the ruins of the Quinta de Esttban were 
 visible and there they settled down to live. They had 
 hoped to lose themselves among the other prisoners, and 
 in this they were successful, for none of their miserable 
 
 200
 
 THE CITY OF BEGGARS 
 
 neighbors were in any condition to notice them, and 
 there was nothing sufficiently conspicuous about two 
 tattered blacks and their hunchbacked daughter to draw 
 attention from the soldiers. 
 
 Asensio foraged zealously, and at first he managed 
 somehow to secure enough food for his little family. He 
 developed a real talent for discovering vegetables and 
 fruits. He stole, he begged, and he found food where 
 there was none. One day the soldiers seized him and 
 put him to work on the fortifications along with a gang 
 of other men who appeared strong enough to stand hard 
 labor. Asensio was not paid for this, but he was allowed 
 one meal a day, and he succeeded in bringing home each 
 night a share of his allotment. 
 
 It is surprising how little nourishment will sustain life. 
 Rosa and her two friends had long felt the pinch of hun 
 ger, but now they plumbed new depths of privation, for 
 there were days when Asensio and his fellow-conscripts 
 received nothing at all. After a time Evangelina began 
 making baskets and weaving palm-leaf hats, which she 
 sold at six cents each. She taught Rosa the craft, and 
 they worked from dawn until dark, striving with nimble, 
 tireless fingers to supplement Asensio's rations and post 
 pone starvation. But it was a hopeless task. Other 
 nimble fingers worked as tirelessly as theirs, and the 
 demand for hats was limited. 
 
 Their hut overlooked the road to San Severino, that 
 via dolorosa on which condemned prisoners were marched 
 out to execution, and in time the women learned to recog 
 nize the peculiar blaring notes of a certain cornet, which 
 signified that another "Cuban cock was about to crow." 
 When in the damp of dewy mornings they heard that 
 bugle they ceased their weaving long enough to cross 
 themselves and whisper a prayer for the souls of those 
 who were on their way to die. But this was the only 
 respite they allowed themselves. 
 J4 201
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Rosa meditated much upon the contrast between her 
 present and her former condition. Matanzas was the 
 city of her birth, and time was when she had trod its 
 streets in arrogance and pride, when she had possessed 
 friends by the score among its residents. But of all these 
 there was not one to whom she dared appeal in this, 
 her hour of need. These were harsh times; Spanish 
 hatred of the revolutionists was bitter, and of the Cuban 
 sympathizers none were left. Moreover, Este"ban's de 
 nouncement as a traitor had estranged all who remained 
 loyal to the crown, and so far as Rosa herself was con 
 cerned, she knew that it would not matter to them that 
 she had cleaved to him merely from sisterly devotion: 
 by that act she had made herself a common enemy and 
 they would scarcely sympathize with her plight. The girl 
 had learned only too well what spirit was abroad. But 
 even had she felt assured of meeting sympathy, her pride 
 was pure Castilian, and it would never down. She, a 
 Varona, whose name was one to conjure with, whose 
 lineage was of the highest ! She to beg? The thing was 
 quite impossible. One crumb, so taken, would have 
 choked her. Rosa preferred to suffer proudly and await 
 the hour when hunger or disease would at last blot out 
 her memories of happy days and end this nightmare 
 misery. 
 
 Then, too, she dreaded any risk of discovery by old 
 Mario de Castano, who was a hard, vindictive man. 
 His parting words had shown her that he would never for 
 give the slight she had put upon him; and she did not wish 
 to put his threats to the test. Once Rosa saw him, on her 
 way to buy a few centavos' worth of sweet-potatoes; he 
 was huddled in his victoria, a huge bladder of flesh, and 
 he rode the streets deaf to the plaints of starving children, 
 blind to the misery of beseeching mothers. Rosa shrank 
 into a doorway and drew her tattered shawl closer over 
 her face for fear Don Mario might recognize in this mis- 
 
 202
 
 THE CITY OF BEGGARS - 
 
 shapen body and in these pinched, discolored features the 
 beauteous blossom he had craved. 
 
 Nor did she forget Colonel Cobo. The man's memory 
 haunted her, asleep and awake; of him she was most 
 desperately afraid. When for the first time she saw him 
 riding at the head of his cutthroats she was like to swoon 
 in her tracks, and for a whole day thereafter she cowered 
 in the hut, trembling at every sound. 
 
 In these dark hours she recalled the stories of the old 
 Varona treasure and Est^ban's interesting theory of its 
 whereabouts, but she could not bring herself to put much 
 faith in either. At the time of her brother's recital she 
 had been swayed by his conviction, but now on cooler 
 thought a dozen explanations of Dona Isabel's possession 
 of that doubloon offered themselves, no one of which 
 seemed less probable than Est^ban's. Of course it was 
 barely possible that there was indeed a treasure, and 
 even that Este*ban's surmise had been correct. But it 
 was little more than a remote possibility. Distance lends 
 a rosy color of reality to our most absurd imaginings, but, 
 like the haze that tints a far-off landscape, it dissolves 
 upon approach. Now that Rosa was here, in sight of the 
 ruined quinta itself, her hopes and half-beliefs faded. 
 
 She wanted, oh, so desperately, to believe in it, but 
 the grinding misery of her situation made it hard to do so. 
 Wonders like that came true only in fairy stories, she told 
 herself; and certainly she had no cause to consider herself 
 a favorite of fortune. 
 
 More than once she was tempted to confide in Evange- 
 lina and Asensio, but she thought better of it. Although 
 she put implicit faith in Evangelina's discretion, she knew 
 that Asensio was not the sort of fellow to be trusted with a 
 secret of great magnitude he was boastful, talkative, 
 excitable ; he was just the sort to bring destruction upon 
 all of them. Rosa had sufficient intelligence to realize 
 that even if she found her father's riches they would only 
 
 203
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 constitute another and a greater menace to the lives of 
 all of them. Nevertheless, she wished to set her mind 
 at rest once and for all. Taking Evangelina with her, she 
 climbed La Cumbre one day in search of roots and vege 
 tables. 
 
 It turned out to be a sad experience for both women. 
 The negress wept noisily at the destruction wrought by 
 Pancho Cueto, and Rosa was overcome by painful memo 
 ries. Little that was familiar remained; evidence of 
 Cueto's all-devouring greed spoke from the sprouting 
 furrows his men had dug, from the naked trees they had 
 felled and piled in orderly heaps, from the stones and 
 mortar of the house itself. Tears blinded Rosa. After 
 a time she left the black woman mourning among the 
 ruins and stole away to the sunken garden. Here the 
 marks of vandalism were less noticeable. Nevertheless, 
 few signs of beauty remained. Neglected vines drooped 
 spiritlessly from the ledges: such fruit-trees as had been 
 spared were sickly and untended; time and the elements 
 had all but completed the disheartening work. 
 
 The well remained, although it had been planked over, 
 but it was partially filled up with rubbish, as Rosa dis 
 covered when she peered into it. Only a tiny pool of 
 scum was in the bottom. After a long scrutiny the girl 
 arose, convinced at last of her brother's delusion, and 
 vaguely ashamed of her own credulity. This was about 
 the last repository that such a man as Don Este*ban, her 
 father, would have been likely to select; for, after all, the 
 most valuable part of his fortune had consisted of the 
 deeds of title to the plantations. No, if ever there had 
 been a treasure, it was hidden elsewhere; all of value 
 that this well contained for Rosa was her memory of a 
 happiness departed. Of such memories, the well, the 
 whole place, was brimful. Here, as a child, she had 
 romped with Este"ban. Here, as a girl, she had dreamed 
 her first dreams, and here O'Reilly, her smiling knight, 
 
 204
 
 THE CITY OF BEGGARS 
 
 had found her. Yonder was the very spot where he had 
 held her in his arms and begged her to await the day of 
 his return. Well, she had waited. 
 
 But was that Rosa Varona who had promised so freely 
 and so confidently this pitiful Rosa whose bones pro 
 truded through her rags? It could not be. Happiness, 
 contentment, hope these were fictions; only misery, 
 despair, and pain were real. But it had been a glorious 
 dream, at any rate a dream which Rosa vowed to cherish 
 always. 
 
 Evangelina found the girl .sitting in the sun, her thin 
 face radiant, her great eyes wet but smiling. 
 
 "Come, little dove," said the negress, "there is nothing 
 here to eat; we must get back to our weaving."
 
 XVIII 
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 IT was part of the strategy practised by the Cuban 
 leaders to divide their forces into separate columns for 
 the purpose of raiding the smaller Spanish garrisons and 
 harassing the troops sent to their relief, reassembling 
 these bands only when and where some telling blow was 
 to be struck. Not only had the military value of this 
 practice been amply demonstrated, but it had been 
 proved a necessity, owing to the fact that the Insurrectos 
 were compelled to live off the country. 
 
 When O'Reilly and Branch enlisted in the Army of the 
 Orient they were assigned to the command of Colonel 
 Miguel Lopez, and it was under his leadership that they 
 made their first acquaintance with the peculiar methods 
 of Cuban warfare. 
 
 Active service for the two Americans began at once; 
 scarcely a week had passed before Leslie Branch gained 
 his opportunity of tasting the "salt of life" in its full 
 flavor, for the young Matanzas colonel was one of the 
 few Cuban commanders who really enjoyed a fight. 
 
 There had been, at first, some doubt of Branch's 
 fitness to take the field at all he had suffered a severe 
 hemorrhage shortly after his arrival at Cubitas and it 
 was only after a hysterical demonstration on his part 
 that he had been accepted as a soldier. He simply would 
 not be left behind. At first the Cubans regarded him 
 with mingled contempt and pity, for certainly no less 
 
 206
 
 promising volunteer had ever taken service with them. 
 Nevertheless, he would doubtless have made many 
 friends among them had he not begun his service by re 
 fusing to abide by discipline of any sort and by scorning 
 all instruction in the use of arms, declaring this to be, in 
 his case, a silly waste of effort. Such an attitude very 
 naturally aroused resentment among the other men; 
 it was not long before they began to grumble at the 
 liberty allowed this headstrong weakling. But upon the 
 occasion of the very first fight this ill-will disappeared as 
 if by magic, for, although Branch deliberately disobeyed 
 orders, he nevertheless displayed such amazing audacity 
 in the face of the enemy, such a theatrical contempt for 
 bullets, as to stupefy every one. Moreover, he lived up 
 to his reputation; he continued to be insanely daring, 
 varying his exploits to correspond with his moods, with 
 the result that he attained a popularity which was unique, 
 nay, sensational. 
 
 His conduct in the face of this general admiration was 
 no less unexpected than his behavior under fire: Branch 
 gruffly refused to accept any tribute whatever; he snarled, 
 he fairly barked at those of his comrades who tried to 
 express their appreciation of his conduct a demeanor 
 which. of course awakened even greater admiration among 
 the Cubans. He was uniformly surly and sour; he 
 sneered, he scoffed, he found fault. He had the tongue of 
 a common scold, and he used it with malevolent abandon. 
 
 It was fortunate indeed that he knew no Spanish and 
 that most of his companions were equally ignorant of 
 English, for mere admiration, even of the fervent Latin 
 quality, would scarcely have been proof against his 
 spleen. As it was, his camp-mates endured his vitupera 
 tions blandly, putting him down as a pleasing eccentric in 
 whom there blazed a curious but inspiring spirit of pa 
 triotism. 
 
 O'Reilly alone understood the reason for the fellow's 
 
 207
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 morbid irritability, his suicidal recklessness; but when he 
 privately remonstrated he was gruffly told to mind his 
 own business. Branch flatly refused to modify his con 
 duct; he seemed really bent upon cheating the disease 
 that made his life a misery. 
 
 But, as usual, Fate was perverse; she refused to humor 
 the sick man's hope. When, after blindly inviting death, 
 Leslie had emerged from several engagements unscathed, 
 his surprise and perhaps a natural relief at finding him 
 self whole became tinged with a certain apprehension 
 lest he survive those deliberately courted dangers, only 
 to succumb to the ills and privations of camp life. Cuban 
 equipment was of the scantiest. Cuban dews are heavy; 
 Cuban nights are cool these were perils indeed for a 
 weak-lunged invalid. Branch began to fret. Rain filled 
 him with more terror than fixed bayonets, a chill caused 
 him keener consternation than did a thousand Spaniards; 
 he began to have agonizing visions of himself lying in some 
 leaky hovel of a hospital. It was typical of his peculiar 
 irritability that he held O'Reilly in some way responsible, 
 and vented upon him his bitterness of spirit. 
 
 The fellow's tongue grew ever sharper; his society be 
 came intolerable, his gloom oppressive and irresistibly 
 contagious. When, after several weeks of campaigning, 
 the column went into camp for a short rest, O'Reilly de 
 cided that he would try to throw off the burden of Leslie's 
 overwhelming dejection, and, if possible, shift a portion 
 of it upon the shoulders of Captain Judson. 
 
 On the day after their arrival O'Reilly and the big 
 artilleryman took advantage of a pleasant stream to 
 bathe and wash their clothes; then, while they lay in their 
 hammocks, enjoying the luxury of a tattered oil-cloth 
 shelter and waiting for the sun to dry their garments, 
 O'Reilly spoke what was in his mind. 
 
 "I'm getting about fed up on Leslie," he declared. 
 "He's the world's champion crpe-hanger, and he's 
 
 208
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 painted the whole world such a deep, despondent blue 
 that I'm completely dismal. You've got to take him off 
 my hands." 
 
 Judson grunted. ' ' What ails him ?' ' 
 
 "Well, he wears a wreath of immortelles day and night. 
 Haven't you guessed why he runs such desperate chances? 
 He's sick thinks he's going to die, anyhow, and wants to 
 finish the job quick. I'm the one who has to endure 
 him." 
 
 "Suicide?" 
 
 "It amounts to that." 
 
 ' ' The devil !' ' Judson pondered for a moment. ' ' Can't 
 you cheer him up?" 
 
 "I?" O'Reilly lifted his hands in a gesture of help 
 lessness. "When I try he gets sore at my heartless in 
 difference; when I sympathize he declares I'm nudging 
 him closer to his grave says I'm kicking the crutches out 
 from under him. He's just plain vitriol. I I'd rather 
 live with an adder!" 
 
 O'Reilly's youthful asistente, who at the moment was 
 painstakingly manufacturing a huge, black cigar for him 
 self out of some purloined tobacco, pricked up his ears 
 at the mention of Branch's name and now edged closer, 
 exclaiming: 
 
 "Caramba! There's a hero for you. Meester Branch 
 is the bravest man I ever seen. Our people call him 'El 
 Demonio'!" 
 
 O'Reilly jerked his head toward the Cuban. "You 
 see? He's made the hit of his life, and yet he resents it. 
 The Cubans are beginning to think he carries a rabbit's 
 foot." 
 
 "No rabbit's foot about it," the captain asserted. 
 "He's just so blamed thin the Spaniards can't hit him; 
 it's like shooting at the edge of a playing-card. Annie 
 Oakley is the only one who can do that." 
 
 "Well, my nerves are frayed out. I've argued myself 
 
 209
 
 hoarse, but he misconstrues everything I say. I wish 
 you'd convince him that he has a chance to get well; it 
 might alter his disposition. If something doesn't alter it 
 I'll be court-martialed for shooting a man in his sleep 
 and I'll hit him, right in the middle, no matter how slim 
 he is." O'Reilly compressed his lips firmly. 
 
 The asistente, who had finished rolling his cigar, now 
 lighted it and repeated: "Yes, sir, Meester Branch is the 
 bravest man I ever seen. You remember that first battle, 
 eh? Those Spaniards seen him comin' and threw down 
 their guns and beat it. Jesus Cristo! I laugh to skill 
 myself that day." 
 
 "Jacket " was at once the youngest and the most profane 
 member of Colonel Lopez's entire command. The most 
 shocking oaths fell from his beardless lips whenever he 
 opened them to speak English, and O'Reilly's efforts to 
 break the boy of the habit proved quite unavailing. 
 
 " Colonel Miguel," continued Jacket, "he say if he's got 
 a hunnerd sick men like El Demonio he'll march to 
 Habana. By God! What you think of that?" 
 
 Judson rolled in his hammock until his eyes rested upon 
 the youth. Then he said, "You're quite a man of arms 
 yourself, for a half-portion." 
 
 "Eh?" The object of this remark was not quite sure 
 that he understood. 
 
 "I mean you're a pretty good fighter, for a little 
 fellow." 
 
 "Hell, yes!" agreed the youth. "I can fight." 
 
 "Better look out that some big Spaniard doesn't carry 
 you off in his pocket and eat you," O'Reilly warned; at 
 which the boy grinned and shook his head. He was 
 just becoming accustomed to the American habit of 
 banter, and was beginning to like it. 
 
 "Jacket would make a bitter mouthful," Judson ven 
 tured. 
 
 The lad smiled gently and drew on his huge cigar. 
 
 210
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 "You betcher life. That Spaniard would spit 
 
 me out quick enough." 
 
 This Camagueyan boy was a character. He was per 
 haps sixteen, and small for his age a mere child, in fact. 
 Nevertheless, he was a seasoned veteran, and his American 
 camp-mates had grown exceedingly fond of him. He was 
 a pretty, graceful youngster; his eyes were large and soft 
 and dark; his face was as sensitive and mobile as that 
 of a girl ; and yet, despite his youth, he had won a reputa 
 tion for daring and ferocity quite as notable in its way as 
 was the renown of Leslie Branch. 
 
 There were many of these immature soldiers among the 
 Insurrectos, and most of them were in some way distin 
 guished for valor. War, it seems, fattens upon the ten- 
 derest of foods, and every army has its boys its won 
 drous, well-beloved infants, whom their older comrades 
 tease, torment, and idolize. Impetuous, drunk with 
 youth, and keeping no company with care, they form the 
 very aristocracy of fighting forces. They gaily undertake 
 the maddest of adventures; and by their examples they 
 fire the courage of their maturer comrades. All history 
 is spiced with their exploits. 
 
 Jacket was one of these, and he was perhaps the truest 
 patriot of any soldier in Miguel Lopez's band; for liberty, 
 to him, was not a mere abstraction or a principle, but 
 something real, tangible, alive something worthy of the 
 highest sacrifice. In his person all the wrongs of Cuba 
 burned perpetually. It mattered not that he himself 
 had never suffered his spirit was the spirit of his country, 
 pure, exalted, undefined. He stood for what the others 
 fought for. 
 
 In order to expand his knowledge of English of which, 
 by the way, he was inordinately proud Jacket had 
 volunteered to serve as O'Reilly's striker, and the result 
 had been a fast friendship. It was O'Reilly who had 
 given the boy his nickname a name prompted by a 
 
 211
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 marked eccentricity, for although Jacket possessed the 
 two garments which constituted the ordinary Insurrecto 
 uniform, he made a practice of wearing only one. On 
 chilly nights, or on formal occasions, he wore both waist 
 coat and trousers, but at other times he dispensed entirely 
 with the latter, and his legs went naked. They were 
 naked now, as, with the modesty of complete uncon 
 sciousness, he squatted in the shade, puffing thoughtfully 
 at his giant cheroot. 
 
 Once Jacket's mind was fastened upon any subject, it 
 remained there, and after a time he continued: 
 
 "Yes, I bet I don't taste good to no Spaniard. Did I 
 told you about that battle of Pino Bravo? Eh?" He 
 turned his big brown eyes upward to O'Reilly. "Cristo! 
 I skill more'n a dozen men that day !" 
 
 "Oh, Jacket!" the Americans cried. "You monstrous 
 little liar!" commented O'Reilly. 
 
 "Si, senors," the boy went on, complacently. "That 
 day I skill more'n six men. It was this way; we came on 
 them from behind and they don't see us. Phui! We 
 skill plenty, all right!" 
 
 " It was a hot scrimmage," Judson attested. "Some of 
 Luque's niggers, those tall, lean, hungry fellows from 
 Santiago, managed to hack their way through a wire fence 
 and get behind a detachment of the enemy who had 
 made a stand under a hill. They charged, and for a 
 wonder they got close enough to use their machetes. 
 It was bloody work the kind you read about no 
 quarter. Somehow Jacket managed to be right in the 
 middle of the butchery. He's a bravo kid, all right. 
 Muy malo!" 
 
 There was a moment's silence, then Judson continued: 
 "Funny thing happened afterward, though. Jacket had 
 to do his turn at picket duty that night, and he got 
 scared of the dark. We heard him squalling and scream 
 ing-" 
 
 212
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 Jacket started to his feet. "That's a dam' lie," he 
 exclaimed, resentfully. "I'm not scared of no dark." 
 
 " Didn't you holler till you woke the whole camp?" 
 
 "I ain't scared of no dark," the boy repeated; but his 
 pride, his complacency, had suddenly vanished. He dug 
 his toes into the dirt; in his eyes were tears of mortifica 
 tion. His cigar had evidently become tasteless, for he 
 removed it from his lips and gazed at it indifferently. 
 
 " Did you cry?" O'Reilly smiled; and the lad nodded 
 reluctantly. 
 
 "Did he cry?" Judson echoed. "Why, we thought we 
 were attacked. He put the whole camp in an uproar." 
 
 "What was the trouble, Jacket?" 
 
 "I I was " The boy's smooth brown cheeks paled, 
 and his moist eyes dilated at the memory. "I ain't 
 
 scared of any Spaniard when he's alive, but 
 
 it's different when he's dead. I could see dead ones 
 everywhere!" He shuddered involuntarily. "They 
 fetched me to General Gomez and Caramba! he's mad. 
 But after I tell him what I seen in the dark he say I 
 don't have to go back there no more. He let me go to 
 sleep 'longside of his hammock, and bimeby I quit 
 cryin'. I ain't never stood no picket duty since that 
 night. I won't do it." 
 
 It was plain that discussion of this unhappy subject was 
 deeply distasteful to the youthful hero of Pino Bravo, for 
 he edged away, and a moment later disappeared. 
 
 "Queer little youngster," Captain Judson said, medi 
 tatively. " He idolizes you." 
 
 O'Reilly nodded. "Yes, poor little kid. I wonder 
 what will become of him after the war? After the war!" 
 he mused. "I wonder if it will ever end." 
 
 "Humph! If we had more generals like Gomez and 
 Garcia and Maceo " 
 
 "We've got three better generals than they." 
 
 " You mean " 
 
 213
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Generals June, July, and August." 
 
 "Oh yes!" The artilleryman nodded his understand 
 ing. ' ' There's no end of yellow-jack among the Spaniards. 
 Speaking of that, what do you think of Miss Evans's work 
 in the field hospitals?" 
 
 Judson shifted his weight so that his eyes could rest 
 upon a white tent which showed through the greenery at a 
 distance; it was the one tent in all the encampment, and 
 it had been erected that very morning to shelter Norine 
 Evans, but just arrived from headquarters in the Cubitas 
 hills. The captain's lids were half closed; his heavy, 
 homely face was softened by a peculiar rapt expression. 
 He did not seem to expect an answer to his question. 
 
 " I don't think much of it," O'Reilly confessed. 
 
 "You don't!" Judson brought himself back to earth 
 with a start. "Humph! Well, I think it's perfectly 
 wonderful. I think she's the most wonderful woman, 
 and " His voice died out; he turned once more in the 
 direction of the tent. 
 
 O'Reilly smiled, understanding now the reason for his 
 companion's reckless, almost frenzied use of soap and 
 water that morning, and his cheerful stoicism in the hands 
 of a volunteer barber more accustomed to the uses of a 
 machete than a razor. 
 
 Evidently Judson had fallen, too along with Major 
 Ramos, and Colonel Lopez, and Leslie Branch, and all 
 the rest. Well, it was to be expected. Before he had 
 been a week in Cuba O'Reilly had noticed that Miss Evans 
 was a mystery and a delight to nearly every man she met. 
 
 "So you've got it, eh?" he inquired. 
 
 "Got what?" Judson did not turn his eyes. 
 
 "It." 
 
 "It? If you can't talk English, talk Spanish." 
 
 O'Reilly was not perturbed by this gniffness. "I 
 think her presence here is the silliest, the most scandalous 
 thing I ever heard of," said he. "The idea of a girl of her 
 
 214
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 accomplishments, her means, alone in Cuba! Why, it's 
 criminal!" 
 
 Judson's gunny-sacking hammock bulged beneath him. 
 It threatened to give way as he sat up with a jerk and 
 swung his bare legs over the side. His face was dark; 
 he was scowling; his chin was pugnaciously outthrust 
 and his voice rumbled as he exclaimed : 
 
 " The deuce it is ! Say! I don't like the way you talk 
 about that girl." 
 
 "You don't, eh?" O'Reilly eyed him quizzically. 
 "Would you care to have your sister do what she's doing?" 
 
 "That's not the point. You can't compare her with 
 ordinary women." 
 
 "Well, this isn't an ordinary environment for a woman, 
 no matter who she is. These Cubans are bound to talk 
 about her." 
 
 "Are they?" Judson glared at the speaker. "I'd like 
 to hear 'em. I'd like to see somebody get fresh. Why, 
 say!" he clenched his powerful hands "I'd fill their 
 hospitals until they bulged." After a moment he con 
 tinued: "I s'pose it's natural for you to worry, since 
 you're responsible for her being here, in a way, but " 
 His tone changed, he relaxed and lay back in his ham 
 mock. "Oh, well, you're about the only man I can't 
 hate." 
 
 ' ' Jealous, are you ? I didn't know you were in so deep. ' ' 
 
 The other shook his head. "Oh, I'm daffy. D'you 
 think she'd have me?" 
 
 "Not a chance." 
 
 "Hey? Why not? I'm a good big husky I'll get a 
 Government job when the war is over and " 
 
 "That's just the trouble. She'll fall for some poor, 
 sickly unfortunate, with one leg. She's the sort that 
 always does. She's the sort that has to have something to 
 'mother.' Lord, I'd give a good deal to see her safely 
 back in New York!" 
 
 215
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Judson, it seemed, had a better understanding of artil 
 lery than of women; he pondered O'Reilly's statement 
 seriously, and his face clouded. 
 
 "Some sickly fellow. Some fellow like Branch, eh?" 
 After a moment he continued, more hopefully: "Well, it 
 won't be him; he'll soon be dead. There's some consola 
 tion in that. I could almost " 
 
 O'Reilly motioned for silence, for at that moment 
 Branch himself approached, his long face set in lines of 
 discontent, even deeper than usual. He had been wander 
 ing about the camp in one of his restless fits, and now he 
 began: 
 
 "Say, what do you think I've been doing?" 
 
 "I dun'no'," Captain Judson answered, morosely. 
 "Cheering the sick and wounded; shedding smiles and 
 sunshine as usual, I suppose?" 
 
 "Hunh! You're a funny guy, aren't you? about as 
 comical as a chloroform cone. You make me laugh, you 
 do just like a broken leg. Well, I've been looking up 
 some grub for Miss Evans, and I can't find any." 
 
 "Can't find any?" 
 
 "Nothing fit for her to eat. You don't expect her to 
 live on this infernal, eternal, and internal beef stew." 
 Branch shuddered and gagged slightly. "I've eaten parts 
 of animals that were never intended to be eaten. This 
 rebel grub is killing me. What '11 it do to her?" 
 
 "Didn't Major Ramos bring anything along?" O'Reilly 
 asked. 
 
 "He says there's a famine at Cubitas." 
 
 "We'd better look into this," Judson exclaimed, and, 
 finding that his clothes were dry, he hurriedly began to 
 dress himself. 
 
 Together, the three men made an investigation of the 
 camp's resources, only to discover that Branch was right. 
 There was, indeed, but little food of any kind, and that 
 little was of the coarsest. Ordinarily, such a condition of 
 
 216
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 affairs would have occasioned them no surprise, for the 
 men were becoming accustomed to a more or less chronic 
 scarcity of provisions; but the presence of Norine Evans 
 put quite a different complexion upon the matter. They 
 were still discussing the situation when Miss Evans, 
 having finished her afternoon nap, threw open the flaps 
 of her tent and stepped out. 
 
 When she had listened to the account apologetically 
 submitted by her three friends, she drew her brows to 
 gether, saying, plaintively: "Oh dear! We've been 
 going short for a week, and Major Ramos told me we'd 
 fare better when we got here. I had my mouth all set 
 for a banquet. Couldn't you even find the poor dog a 
 bone?" 
 
 Norine was thinner and browner than when she had 
 come to Cuba, but she in no way showed the effect of any 
 serious or continued lack of nourishment. In fact, a 
 simple diet and an outdoor life had agreed with her 
 amazingly. 
 
 "I'm afraid the cupboard is bare," O'Reilly acknowl 
 edged. 
 
 "They're getting ready to slaughter another gutta- 
 percha ox, ' ' Branch said, gloomily. ' ' He's a veteran of the 
 Ten Years' War. That means stew again! STEW! One 
 puncture-proof, rubber ox and a bushel of sweet-potatoes 
 for four hundred men !" 
 
 "Do you know what I want for dinner?" Norine in 
 quired. "Lamb chops with green peas, some nice white 
 bread, a salad, and coffee." 
 
 The three men looked at her anxiously. Judson stirred 
 uneasily. 
 
 "That's what I want. I don't expect to get it." 
 
 With a sigh of relief the captain exclaimed, "I thought 
 you were giving your order." 
 
 "Goodness, no!" With a laugh the girl seated herself 
 upon her one camp-chair, inviting her callers to dispose 
 15 217
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 themselves on the ground about her. "If you can stand 
 the food, I dare say I can. Now then, tell me what 
 you've been doing since you left Cubitas. I've been 
 frightened to death that some of you would be hurt. 
 That's one reason why I've been working night and day 
 helping to get the hospitals in shape. I can't bear to think 
 of our boys being wounded." 
 
 "Not much chance of our getting shot," O'Reilly told 
 her. "But Leslie he needs a good talking to. He has 
 gone into the hero business." 
 
 Branch uttered a disdainful grunt. "Nothing of the 
 sort. I'm a sick man; if I'd rather get shot than suffer a 
 slow death from neglect, it's my own business, isn't it? 
 Imagine feeding an invalid on boiled bicycle tires! Gee! 
 I'd like to have a meal of nice nourishing ptomaines for a 
 change. Hero? Humph!" 
 
 Norine eyed the complainant critically, then said: "The 
 diet agrees with you. You look better than you did." 
 
 Branch turned a somber glance upon her and gave vent 
 to a bitter, sneering laugh. It was plain that he believed 
 she, too, was attempting to pull the wool over his eyes. 
 "I wish I could find some poisonous toadstools. I'd eat 
 'em raw." 
 
 "Listen," Norine went on. "Let's play a game. 
 We'll imagine this is Delmonico's and we'll all take turns 
 ordering the best things to eat that we can think of. 
 The one who orders best, wins. We'll call the game " 
 She frowned thoughtfully. 
 
 "Call it 'Vittles,'" O'Reilly suggested. 
 
 "'Vittles' it is. Maybe it will give us an appetite for 
 supper. Leslie, you begin. Come now, hand your hat to 
 the hat-boy, then follow the head waiter. This way, sir. 
 Table for one? Very good, sir. Here's a cool one, in 
 front of the electric fan. We have an exceptional selection 
 of cold dishes to-day, sir. Perhaps you would like a nice 
 halibut salad " 
 
 218
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 "No halibut salad," Branch answered, striving valiantly 
 to enter into the spirit of Norine's pretending. "I had 
 it for breakfast. And say, turn off that fan; I'm just back 
 from Cuba. Now then, you may bring me some oys 
 ters" 
 
 "Oysters are out of season," O'Reilly murmured, po 
 litely, "but our clams are very fine." 
 
 "Some oysters," Branch insisted, stubbornly. "After 
 that, a cup of chicken broth, a grilled sweetbread, and 
 toast Melba." 
 
 Joe Judson put an abrupt end to the invalid's meal by 
 hurling a clod at him, crying: "You're in Delmonico's, not 
 in Battle Creek. Let somebody order who knows how. 
 We'll have steak and onions all around." 
 
 "I want strawberries!" Norine cried. "They're ripe 
 now. Strawberries and cream Oh-h! Think of it!" 
 
 There was a tense silence, which O'Reilly broke by say 
 ing, " I guess ' Vittles' isn't a very good game, after all." 
 
 "It doesn't seem to fill my wants," the girl acknowl 
 edged. "Let's talk about something else." 
 
 Miss Evans did seem truly concerned for the welfare of 
 her "boys," as she termed the little group of Americans 
 whom she had met, and she showed, by asking numerous 
 questions, that her interest was keen. 
 
 The men were glad to talk and she soon gained an in 
 sight into the peculiar, aimless, unsatisfactory, and yet 
 effective method of warfare practised by the Insurrecto 
 armies ; they told her of the endless marches and counter 
 marches, the occasional skirmishes, the feints, the incon 
 clusive engagements which were all a part of the general 
 strategy operations which served to keep the enemy 
 constantly on guard, like a blind swordsman, and would, 
 it was hoped, eventually wear down his patience and 
 endurance. In her turn, Norine related something of 
 what she was doing and how her labor of mercy progressed. 
 
 "I'm nearly discouraged," she confessed, finally. 
 
 219
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Everything is so different to what I thought it would 
 be, and I'm so weak and ineffective. The medical sup 
 plies I brought are nearly all gone, and I've learned what 
 hard work it is fitting up hospitals when there's nothing 
 to fit them up with. I can't teach these people to take 
 care of themselves they seem to consider precautions 
 against disease as a confession of cowardice. Summer, 
 the yellow-fever season, is here and well, I'm getting 
 disheartened. Disheartened and hungry! They're new 
 sensations to me." She sighed. "I imagined I was 
 going to work wonders I thought I was going to be a 
 Florence Nightingale, and the men were going to idolize 
 me." 
 
 "Don't they?" Judson demanded. 
 
 "No. That is not in exactly the way I expected." 
 
 "They all want to marry her," O'Reilly explained. 
 
 "Insolent bunch!" growled the captain. Then he 
 swallowed hard and said, "But for that matter, so do I." 
 
 "Why, Joe!" Norine cast a startled glance at the big 
 fellow. 
 
 "It's a fact," he asserted, doggedly. "I might as well 
 declare myself here and now. There's always a gang of 
 eavesdroppers hanging around you." 
 
 "He means you, Leslie," O'Reilly said. "Hadn't you 
 better take a walk?" 
 
 Branch rolled a hostile eye at the artilleryman, and his 
 lip curled. "I'll not move. When he gets through, I'll 
 propose." 
 
 "How silly you boys can be!" Norine laughed. "I 
 dare say the others are joking too, but " 
 
 "Joking?" O'Reilly grinned. "Not at all. I'm the 
 only single man in camp who isn't in love with you. 
 When you arrived this morning there was a general 
 stampede for the river. I'll bet the fish in this stream will 
 taste of soap for years to come." 
 
 As if to point O'Reilly's words at the moment appeared 
 
 220
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 Colonel Lopez, shaved blood-raw and clad in a recently 
 laundered uniform which was still damp. The three 
 Americans rose to salute him, but discipline was lax and 
 he waved them back to their seats. Other eyes than his, 
 too, had noted Miss Evans's reappearance after her 
 siesta, for Major Ramos, Norine's escort from head 
 quarters, soon joined the group, and he was followed by 
 two Camagueyan lieutenants. 
 
 These latter were youths of some family standing. 
 Before the war they had been dandies, and they still had 
 an excellent opinion of their physical charms, but, unfor 
 tunately, they spoke no English and hence their atten 
 tions to Norine had been somewhat vague and pointless. 
 They possessed eloquent eyes, however, and now they 
 languished melting glances upon her, the meaning of 
 which she had no difficulty in translating. 
 
 "We've been talking about food," Leslie Branch ad 
 vised his commanding officer. "Miss Evans isn't a 
 burning patriot like the rest of us, and so of course she 
 can't share our ravenous appetite for beef cooked and 
 eaten on the hoof." 
 
 "So?" Lopez's handsome face clouded. "You are 
 hungry, then?" 
 
 Norine confessed that she was. "I'm starving!" said 
 she. " I haven't had a decent meal for a week." 
 
 "God be praised! I know where there is a goat, not 
 two leagues away!" said the colonel. 
 
 "But I don't want a goat," Norine complained. "I 
 want well, pickles, and jam, and sardines, and candy, 
 and tooth-powder! Real boarding-school luxuries. I'd 
 just like to rob a general store." 
 
 Lopez furrowed his brows and lost himself in thought. 
 Later, while the others were talking, he drew Ramos aside 
 and for a while they kept their heads together; then they 
 invited Judson to join their council. 
 
 It was not until perhaps an hour later that O'Reilly 
 
 221
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 had a chance for a confidential talk with Norine, for in 
 the mean time other officers came to pay their respects. 
 But when the last one had reluctantly departed he said: 
 
 "I've been talking to Joe about you, and I don't think 
 it's right for you to be running around alone this way." 
 
 "You know how mad that sort of talk makes me," she 
 warned him. 
 
 "Yes. Just the same, I'll never feel easy until you're 
 safe home again. And I '11 never stop bothering you until ' ' 
 
 " In the first place, I'm not alone. I take a woman with 
 me everywhere, a Mrs. Ruiz." 
 
 "Bah! She's no more of a chaperon than I am." 
 
 Norine uttered an impatient exclamation. "Is this a 
 time to consider such things?" 
 
 "Oh, I dare say the nature of your work is unconven 
 tional and excuses a good deal, but you don't understand 
 the Latin mind as I do. These Cubans have different 
 standards than ours. They're very apt to think " 
 
 "I don't care what they think," the girl declared, "so 
 long as I think I'm doing right. That's final." 
 
 There was a brief pause. Then O'Reilly admitted: 
 "I'm not seriously concerned over that part of it, either, 
 for you are the best judge of what is right and proper. 
 What does concern me, however, is the effect all this may 
 have upon you, yourself. You're impractical, romantic" 
 Norine laughed shortly, but he went on, stubbornly 
 "and just the sort of girl to be carried away by some 
 extravagant impulse." 
 
 " What makes you think I'm impractical and romantic?" 
 
 "You wouldn't be here, otherwise." 
 
 "Very well. What are you trying to get at ? What do 
 you mean by 'some extravagant impulse'?" 
 
 "I'm afraid" O'Reilly hesitated, then voiced a fear 
 which had troubled him more than he cared to acknowl 
 edge "I'm afraid of some silly entanglement, some love 
 affair" 
 
 222
 
 SPEAKING OF FOOD 
 
 Norine's laughter rang out, spontaneous, unaffected. 
 It served to relieve the momentary tension which had 
 sprung up between them. 
 
 "All these men are attracted to you, as it is quite 
 natural they should be," O'Reilly hurried on. "I'm 
 worried to death for fear you'll forget that you're too 
 blamed good for any of them." 
 
 "What a conscientious duenna you are!" she told him, 
 "but rest easy; I'm thoroughly homesick, and ready to 
 flunk it all at the first good excuse. I'll make you a 
 promise, Johnnie. If I decide to fall in love with any 
 of these ragged heroes I'll choose you. Most of them 
 think there is something between us, anyhow." 
 
 " I don't quite understand how I manage to resist you," 
 O'Reilly told her, "for I think you're perfectly splendid. 
 Probably that's why I'd hate to see you married to some 
 one-legged veteran of this amateur war." 
 
 "Women don't marry legs," she told him, lightly. 
 Then, more seriously, she asked, "What are you doing 
 about Rosa?" 
 
 "I'm waiting to hear from Matanzas Province. When 
 I joined the army I had to go where I was sent, of course, 
 but General Gomez has started inquiries, and as soon as 
 I learn something definite I shall follow it up. I shall go 
 where the trail leads." 
 
 "You still have hope?" 
 
 He nodded. "I refuse to let myself doubt." 
 
 When O'Reilly joined Judson for supper the latter met 
 him with a broad grin on his face. "Well," said he, "it 
 seems you started something with your game of 'Vittles.' 
 You can get ready to saddle up when the moon rises." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "The colonel took Miss Evans at her word. We're 
 going to raid San Antonio de los Bafios two hundred of 
 us to get her some pickles, and jam, and candy, and 
 tooth-powder." 
 
 223
 
 XIX 
 
 THAT SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 
 
 /CERTAIN histories of the Cuban War for Independ- 
 v_> ence speak of "The Battle of San Antonio de los 
 Banos." They relate how one thousand patriots cap 
 tured the village after a gallant and sanguinary resistance 
 by its Spanish garrison; how they released the prisoners 
 in the local jail, replenished their own supplies, and then 
 retired in the face of enemy reinforcements. It is quite 
 a stirring story to read and it has but one fault, a fault, 
 by the way, not uncommon in histories it is mainly 
 untrue. 
 
 In the first place, the engagement was in no sense a 
 battle, but merely a raid. The number of troops engaged 
 was, perhaps, one-fifth of the generous total ascribed by 
 the historians, and as a military manceuver it served no 
 purpose whatsoever. That the Cubans delivered a spir 
 ited attack there is no denying. As a matter of fact, the 
 engagement was characterized by an abandon, by a lack 
 of caution, truly sensational, the reason being that the 
 Insurrectos were half starved and stormed the town much 
 as hungry hoboes attack a lunch-counter. Nevertheless, 
 since the affair had a direct bearing upon the fortunes of 
 several people connected with this story, it is, perhaps, 
 worth relating. 
 
 The Baths of St. Anthony consisted of a sulphur spring 
 which for many years had been held in high regard by 
 gouty and rheumatic Camagueyans; around this spring a 
 
 224
 
 SICK MAN FROM SAN A-NTONIO 
 
 village had arisen which boasted rather better shops than 
 the ordinary country town. It was this fact which had 
 induced the gallant and obliging Colonel Lopez to attack 
 it, for, as he explained to his American friends, if any 
 place outside of Habana was likely to contain pickles, 
 jam, sardines, candy, tooth-powder, and such other 
 delicacies as appeared necessary to the contentment of a 
 visiting American lady, San Antonio de los Banos was the 
 one. Colonel Lopez did not believe in half measures: 
 once he had determined to prove his devotion to Norine 
 Evans, he would have sacrificed himself and the flower 
 of his command; he would have wasted his last precious 
 three-pound shell in breaching the walls of San Antonio 
 de los Banos rather than fail. But as a matter of fact the 
 village had no walls and it was defended only by a couple 
 of blockhouses. Therefore the colonel left his artillery 
 behind. 
 
 Perhaps its name was the most impressive thing about 
 San Antonio de los Banos. Its streets were narrow and 
 steep and stony, and its flinty little plaza was flanked by 
 stores of the customary sort, the fronts of which were 
 open so that mounted customers from the country might 
 ride in to make their purchases. Crowning two command 
 ing eminences just outside the village limits were the 
 loopholed farinas, where for months past the Spanish 
 garrison had been dozing. 
 
 Lopez and his troop approached the town in the early 
 morning. As they deployed for the attack the colonel 
 issued private instructions to certain members of his 
 command. 
 
 " O'Reilly, you and Sefior Branch will enter one grocery- 
 store after another. You will purchase that jam, those 
 sardines, and whatever else you think Miss Evans would 
 like. Captain Judson, you and Major Ramos will go to 
 the apothecary-shop I understand there is a very good 
 one and look for tooth-powder and candy and the like. 
 
 225
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 I shall see that the streets are cleared, then I shall en 
 deavor to discover some pickles; but as God is my 
 judge, I doubt if there is such a thing this side of Habana." 
 
 Leslie Branch, whose temper had not improved with the 
 long night ride, inquired, caustically: "Do you expect us 
 to buy the groceries? Well, I'm broke, and so is O'Reilly." 
 
 "Have you no money?" asked the colonel, vastly sur 
 prised. 
 
 "I haven't tipped my hat to a dollar since I quit news 
 paper work. What's more, I want to do a little shopping 
 for myself." 
 
 O'Reilly agreed: "If you don't give us some change, 
 Colonel, we'll have to open a charge account in your 
 name." 
 
 "Carmaba!" muttered Lopez. "I intended to borrow 
 from you gentlemen. Well, never mind we'll com 
 mandeer what we wish in the name of the Republic." 
 
 Lopez's attack proved a complete surprise, both to the 
 citizens and to the garrison of the town. The rebel bugle 
 gave the first warning of what was afoot, and before the 
 Castilian troops who were loitering off duty could regain 
 their quarters, before the citizens could take cover or the 
 shopkeepers close and bar their heavy wooden shutters, 
 two hundred ragged horsemen were yelling down the 
 streets. 
 
 There followed a typical Cuban engagement ten shouts 
 to one shot. There was a mad charge on the heels of the 
 scurrying populace, a scattering pop-pop of rifles, cheers, 
 cries, shrieks of defiance and far-flung insults directed at 
 the fortinas. 
 
 Bugles blew on the hilltops; the defenders armed them 
 selves and began to fire into the village. But since the 
 Insurrectos were now well sheltered by the houses and 
 only a portion of certain streets could be raked from the 
 forts, the Spanish bullets did no harm. Obedient to 
 orders, a number of Lopez's men dismounted and took 
 
 226
 
 SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 
 
 positions whence they could guard against a sally, thus 
 leaving the rest of the command free to raid the stores. 
 In the outskirts of the town Mausers spoke, the dust 
 leaped, and leaden messengers whined through the air. 
 
 As locusts settle upon a standing crop, so did the army 
 of liberators descend upon the shops of San Antonio de los 
 Baiios. It was great fun, great excitement, while it 
 lasted, for the town was distracted and its citizens had 
 neither time nor inclination to resist. Some of the shop 
 keepers, indeed, to prove their loyalty, openly welcomed 
 the invaders. Others, however, lacking time to close up, 
 fled incontinently, leaving their goods unguarded. 
 
 O'Reilly, with Branch and Jacket close at his heels, 
 whirled his horse into the first bodega he came to. The 
 store was stocked with general merchandise, but its owner, 
 evidently a Spaniard, did not tarry to set a price upon 
 any of it. As the three horsemen came clattering in at the 
 front he went flying out at the rear, and, although O'Reilly 
 called reassuringly after him, his only answer was the 
 slamming of a back door, followed by swiftly diminishing 
 cries of fright. Plainly, that rush of ragged men, those 
 shots, those ferocious shouts from the plaza, were too 
 much for the peaceful shopkeeper and his family, and 
 they had taken refuge in some neighbor's garden. 
 
 There was no time to waste. Johnnie dismounted and, 
 walking to the shelves where some imported canned 
 goods were displayed, he began to select those delicacies 
 for which he had been sent. The devoted Jacket was at 
 his side. The little Cuban exercised no restraint; he 
 seized whatever was most handy, meanwhile cursing 
 ferociously, as befitted a bloodthirsty bandit. Boys are 
 natural robbers, and at this opportunity for loot Jacket's 
 soul flamed savagely and he swept the shelves bare as he 
 went. 
 
 "Hey, Leslie! Get something to carry this stuff in," 
 O'Reilly directed over his shoulder. Receiving only a 
 
 227
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 muttered reply, he turned to find that his fellow-country 
 man had cut down a string of perhaps two dozen large 
 straw sombreros and was attempting to select one that 
 fitted his head. 
 
 ' ' Oh, look !' ' Branch murmured. ' ' Forty dollars' worth 
 of lids, but all too small. They must have been made 
 on the head of a cane." 
 
 "Take the whole string, but get us something to wrap 
 up this grub in. Hurry!" 
 
 Spurred by O'Reilly's tone and by a lively rattle of 
 rifle-shots outside, Leslie disappeared into the living- 
 quarters at the back of the store. A moment later he 
 emerged with a huge armful of bedclothes, evidently 
 snatched at random. Trailing behind him, like a bridal 
 veil, was a mosquito-net, which in his haste he had torn 
 from its fastenings. 
 
 "I guess this is poor!" he exulted. "Bedding! Pil 
 lows! Mosquito-net! I'll sleep comfortable after this." 
 
 From somewhere came the faint smothered wailing of a 
 baby eloquent testimony of the precipitate haste with 
 which the terrified storekeeper and his wife had fled. 
 Dumping his burden of sheets, blankets, and brilliantly 
 colored cotton quilts upon the floor, Branch selected two 
 of the stoutest and began to knot the corners together. 
 
 He had scarcely finished when Judson reined in at the 
 door and called to O'Reilly : ' ' We've cleaned out the drug 
 store. Better get a move on you, for we may have to 
 run any minute. I've just heard about some Cuban 
 prisoners in the calaboose. Gimme a hand and we'll let 
 'em out." 
 
 "Sure!" O'Reilly quickly remounted, meanwhile di 
 recting Jacket to load the canned goods upon his horse and 
 ride for the open country. He looked back a few mo 
 ments later, to see his asistente emerge from the bodega 
 perched between two queer-looking improvised saddle 
 bags bulging with plunder. The pony was overloaded, 
 
 228
 
 SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 
 
 but in obedience to the frantic urgings of its barelegged 
 rider it managed to break into a shambling trot. Branch 
 reappeared, too, looping the eight-foot string of straw 
 hats to his saddle-horn, and balancing before him the 
 remainder of the bedding, done up in a gaudy quilt. 
 
 Sharing in the general consternation at the attack, the 
 jail guards had disappeared, leaving Lopez's men free to 
 break into the prison. When O'Reilly joined them the 
 work was well under way. The municipal building of 
 San Antonio was a thick-walled structure with iron-barred 
 windows and stout doors; but the latter soon gave way, 
 and the attackers poured in. Seizing whatever imple 
 ments they could find, Judson and O'Reilly went from cell 
 to cell, battering, prying, smashing, leaving their comrades 
 to rescue the inmates. This jail was a poor affair. It 
 could scarcely be dignified by the name of a prison; 
 nevertheless, true prison conditions prevailed in it and it 
 was evidently conducted in typically Spanish fashion. 
 The corridors were dark and odorous, the cells unspeak 
 ably foul; O'Reilly and Judson saw, heard, smelled enough 
 to convince them that no matter how guilty the prisoners 
 might be they had been amply punished for their crimes. 
 
 This, too, was swift work. The building echoed to 
 rushing, yelling men, while outside a fitful accompaniment 
 of gun-shots urged the rescuers to greater haste. While 
 the Americans smashed lock after lock, their comrades 
 dragged the astonished inmates from their kennels, 
 hustled them into the street, and took them up behind 
 their saddles. 
 
 The raid was over, ' ' retreat ' ' was sounding, when Judson 
 and O'Reilly ran out of the prison, remounted, and joined 
 their comrades, who were streaming back toward the plaza. 
 
 "Whew!" Judson wiped the sweat out of his eyes. 
 "No chance to ask these fellows what they were in for." 
 
 "No need to ask them," said Johnnie. "A month in 
 there would be too much for a murderer.". 
 
 229
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "The druggist said most of 'em are just patriots, and 
 every holiday the Spaniards shoot one or two. There's 
 no cock-fighting, so it's the only Sunday amusement they 
 have. Did you notice that sick guy?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "He looked to me like he was plain starved. Our fel 
 lows had to carry him." 
 
 Colonel Lopez galloped up to inquire, anxiously, "Did 
 you find those eatables, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, and a lot more." 
 
 "Good! But I failed. Pickles? Caramba! Nobody 
 here ever heard of one!" 
 
 " Did we lose any men?" Judson asked. 
 
 "Not one. But Ramos was badly cut." 
 
 "So? Then he got to close quarters with some Span 
 iard?" 
 
 " Oh no !" The colonel grinned. ' ' He was in too great 
 a hurry and broke open a show-case with his fist." 
 
 The retreating Cubans still maintained their uproar, 
 discharging their rifles into the air, shrieking defiance at 
 their invisible foes, and voicing insulting invitations to 
 combat. This ferocity, however, served .only to terrify 
 further the civil population and to close the shutters of 
 San Antonio the tighter. Meanwhile, the loyal troops 
 remained safely in their blockhouses, pouring a steady 
 fire into the town. And despite this admirable display 
 of courage the visitors showed a deep respect for their 
 enemies' markmanship, taking advantage of whatever 
 shelter there was. 
 
 Leslie Branch, of course, proved the solitary exception; 
 as usual, he exposed himself recklessly and rode the middle 
 of the streets, regardless of those sudden explosions of 
 dust beneath his horse's feet or those unexpected showers 
 of plaster from above. 
 
 He had spent his time assiduously ransacking the de 
 serted shops, and in addition to his huge bundle of bedding 
 
 230
 
 SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 
 
 and his long string of straw hats he now possessed a mis 
 cellaneous assortment of plunder, in which were a bolt 
 of calico, a pair of shoes, a collection of cooking-utensils, 
 an umbrella, and strangest of all a large gilt-framed 
 mirror. The safety of these articles seemed to concern 
 him far more than his own. Spying O'Reilly, he shouted: 
 
 "Say! What's the Spanish word for 'clothing-store'? 
 I need a new suit." 
 
 "Don't be an idiot!" Johnnie yelled at him. "Keep 
 under cover." 
 
 But Branch only shook his head. "They couldn't hit 
 anything," he cried. 
 
 The next instant, as if to punctuate his remark, a spent 
 bullet smashed the mirror and sprinkled the speaker with 
 particles of glass. It was only by a miracle that he 
 escaped injury. Branch reined in his horse, examined the 
 wreck, then with a petulant exclamation cast the useless 
 frame away. 
 
 "Come on, Johnnie," Judson growled. "The damn 
 fool wants to get shot." 
 
 The sick man's bravado roused in O'Reilly a feeling of 
 mingled resentment and apprehension, but further warn 
 ing would obviously be a waste of breath. Nevertheless, 
 being a little too tender-hearted to follow Judson's non 
 chalant example and ride on, O'Reilly held in his horse, 
 meanwhile keeping an anxious eye upon his friend. 
 
 The latter was in no hurry; he jogged along leisurely, 
 evidently on the lookout for an opportunity to replenish 
 his wardrobe. Truth to say, this needed replenishing 
 Leslie resembled a scarecrow clad in a suit of soiled 
 pajamas. But by this time most of the shops had their 
 shutters up. When the last one had been left behind 
 O'Reilly spurred his horse into a gallop, relieved to know 
 that the worst was over. 
 
 The raiders had approached San Antonio de los Banos 
 across the fields at the rear, but Colonel Lopez led their 
 
 231
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 retreat by way of the camino real which followed the river- 
 bank. This road for a short distance was exposed to the 
 fire from one fort ; then it was sheltered by a bit of rising 
 ground. 
 
 O'Reilly, among the last to cross the zone of fire, was 
 just congratulating himself upon the fortunate outcome of 
 the skirmish when he saw Colonel Lopez ride to the crest 
 of a knoll, rise in his stirrups and, lifting his cupped hands 
 to his lips, direct a loud shout back toward the town. 
 Lopez was followed by several of his men, who likewise 
 began to yell and to wave their arms excitedly. 
 
 Johnnie turned to discover that Leslie Branch had 
 lagged far behind, and now, as if to cap his fantastic 
 performances, had dismounted and was descending the 
 river-bank to a place where a large washing had been 
 spread upon the stones to dry. He was quite exposed, 
 and a spiteful crackle from the nearest blockhouse 
 showed that the Spaniards were determined to bring him 
 down. Mauser bullets ricocheted among the rocks even 
 from this distance their sharp explosions were audible 
 others broke the surface of the stream into little geysers, 
 as if a school of fish were leaping. 
 
 While Johnnie looked on in breathless apprehension 
 Branch appropriated several suits that promised to fit 
 him; then he climbed up the bank, remounted his horse, 
 and ambled slowly out of range. 
 
 Now this was precisely the sort of harebrained exploit 
 which delights a Cuban audience. When Leslie rejoined 
 his comrades, therefore, he was greeted with shouts and 
 cheers. 
 
 " Caramba! He would risk his life for a clean shirt. . . . 
 There's a fellow for you! He enjoys the hum of these 
 Spanish bees! . . . Bravo! Tell us what the bullets said 
 to you," they cried, crowding around him in an admiring 
 circle. 
 
 O'Reilly, unable to contain himself, burst forth in a 
 
 232
 
 SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 
 
 rage: "You infernal fool! Do you want to be shot rob 
 bing a clothes-line?" 
 
 "Rats!" ejaculated Leslie, sourly. "I told you I had 
 to .have some clothes." 
 
 "Lopez ought to court-martial you. What are you 
 going to do with that junk, now that you have it? You 
 can't take it with you on the march." 
 
 "You wait and see," said the other. "I'm going to be 
 comfortable, if " He paused, with a peculiar, startled 
 expression on his face. "Did you hear anything?" he 
 queried after a moment. 
 
 "No. What?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing." The two men rode on in silence for a 
 time, then Leslie said: " Queer thing happened back there 
 while those Romeos were popping at me. I heard a baby 
 crying." 
 
 "A baby?" 
 
 "Sure. I suppose it was the washerwoman's kid. 
 When we flushed her she probably vamped out and left 
 it in the grass. Anyhow, it let up an awful holler." 
 
 Jacket and the other loot-laden soldiers had been sent 
 on ahead, together with those troopers who were sharing 
 mounts with the rescued prisoners; they were now waiting 
 perhaps two miles from town for their companions to 
 overtake them. As the column came up and halted, 
 O'Reilly addressed a remark to Leslie Branch, but in the 
 middle of it the faint, unmistakable complaint of a child 
 came to his ears. 
 
 "Listen!" he exclaimed. "What on earth " 
 
 "I've been hearing it right along," Branch said. "I 
 I thought I had the willies." 
 
 The nearest riders abruptly ceased their chatter; they 
 questioned one another mutely, doubting their own ears. 
 
 Again came that thin, muffled wail, whereupon O'Reilly 
 cried in astonishment: 
 
 "Leslie! Why, it it's in your bundle!" He pointed 
 16 233
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 to the formless roll of bedding which hung from his 
 friend's saddle-horn. 
 
 "G'wan! You're crazy!" Branch slipped to the 
 ground, seized the bundle in his arms, and bore it to the 
 roadside. With shaking hands he tugged at the knotted 
 corners of the comforter. "Pure imagination!" he mut 
 tered, testily. "There's nothing in here but bedclothes. 
 I just grabbed an armful " The last word ended in a 
 yell. Leslie sprang into the air as if his exploring fingers 
 had encountered a coiled serpent. "Oh, my God!" He 
 poised as if upon the point of flight. "Johnnie! Look! 
 It's alive!" 
 
 "What's alive? What is it?" 
 
 With a sudden desperate courage Branch bent forward 
 and spread out the bedding. There, exposed to the 
 bulging eyes of the onlookers, was a very tiny, very 
 brown baby. It was a young baby; it was quite naked. 
 Its eyes, exposed to the sudden glare of the morning sun, 
 closed tightly; one small hand all but lost itself in the 
 wide, toothless cavity that served as a mouth. Its ten 
 ridiculous toes curled and uncurled in a most amazing 
 fashion. 
 
 "Oh, my God!" Branch repeated, aghast. "It's just 
 b-born! Its eyes aren't open." 
 
 The Cubans, who had momentarily been stricken dumb 
 with amazement, suddenly broke into voluble speech. 
 The clamor served to attract Colonel Lopez, who was 
 riding past. 
 
 "What's the matter here?" he demanded, forcing his 
 horse through theringwhich had formed about El Demonio 
 and his bundle. One startled look and the colonel flung 
 himself out of his saddle. "Whose baby is that?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "I I Why, it's mine. I mean, I " Branch's eyes 
 were glued upon the child in horrified fascination. He 
 choked and stammered and waved his hands impotently. 
 
 234
 
 BRANCH'S EYES WERE GLUED UPON THE CHILD IN HORRIFIED FASCINATION
 
 SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 
 
 "Come, cornel Speak up! What does this mean?" 
 Lopez's voice grew stern. 
 
 "She must have be-been asleep. I just grabbed 
 You know. I " Branch's face became suddenly 
 stricken. "Look out!" he shouted, hoarsely. "She's 
 goingtfo cry, or. something." 
 
 He was right; the baby showed every sign of a firm de 
 termination to voice her indignation at the outrage she 
 had suffered. Her hand stole out of her mouth, her 
 fists closed, her face puckered ominously. Lopez stooped, 
 wrapped her in a sheet, then took her awkwardly in his 
 arms. He bent a blazing glance upon the kidnapper, but 
 he had no chance to speak before the storm of wailings 
 broke. 
 
 News of Leslie's exploit was spreading. Men were 
 shouting and gesticulating to their comrades to come and 
 see El Demonio's spoils. There was a great chattering 
 and crowding and no little smothered laughter. Mean 
 while, Colonel Lopez was using every desperate device to 
 soothe the infant, but without success. At last he strode 
 up to Leslie and extended his burden. 
 
 "Here," he said, harshly, "she's yours. I surrender 
 her." 
 
 Leslie drew back. "No, you don't! I wouldn't touch 
 her for a thousand dollars!" he cried. 
 
 But Lopez was firm. He spoke in a tone of command: 
 " Do as I tell you. Take her. A fine outrage, to steal a 
 baby! What are we going to do with her? We can't 
 send her back the town is crazy. I've no doubt_I shall 
 hear from this." 
 
 In spite of Leslie's choking protests, in spite of his 
 feeble resistance, Lopez pressed the noisy stranger into 
 his arms, then turned to his men and directed them to be 
 off. 
 
 Branch remained motionless. He was stupefied; he 
 held the baby gingerly, not daring to put it down, dread- 
 
 235
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 ing to keep it; his eyes were rolling, he began to perspire 
 freely. Stretching a timid, detaining hand toward Lopez, 
 he inquired, huskily, "What shall I do with her?" 
 
 "God knows. I don't," snapped the officer. "I shall 
 have to think, but meanwhile I hold you responsible for 
 her. Come now, we must be going." 
 
 Leslie swallowed hard ; his face became overspread with 
 a sicklier pallor. "What '11 1 do when she gets hungry?" 
 
 Lopez could not restrain a smile. ' You should have 
 thought about that, compadre. Well, I know where there 
 is a milk cow not three leagues from here. I'll send a man 
 to borrow it from the owner and drive it to our camp. 
 Or perhaps" his handsome face hardened again "per 
 haps you would prefer to take this child back where you 
 found it?" 
 
 "No I Oh, they'd tear me limb from limb!" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 Branch turned his head from side to side in desperation. 
 He wet his lips. "It's the youngest one I ever had any 
 thing to do with. Maybe it isn't used to cow's milk," 
 he ventured. 
 
 "Unfortunately that is the only kind I can offer it. 
 Take care of it until I find some way of notifying its 
 people." 
 
 O'Reilly had looked on at his friend's embarrassment 
 with malicious enjoyment, but, realizing that Branch 
 would undoubtedly try to foist upon him the responsi 
 bility of caring for the baby, he slipped away and rode over 
 to where Captain Judson was engaged in making a litter 
 upon which to carry the sick prisoner they had rescued 
 from the jail. When he had apprised the artilleryman of 
 what Branch had found in his roll of purloined bedding 
 the latter smiled broadly. 
 
 "Serves him right," Judson chuckled. "We'll make 
 him sit up nights with it. Maybe it '11 improve his 
 disposition." More seriously he explained: "This chap 
 
 236
 
 SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 
 
 here is all in. I'm afraid we aren't going to get him 
 through." 
 
 Following Judson's glance, O'Reilly beheld an emaciated 
 figure lying in the shade of a near-by guava-bush. The 
 man was clad in filthy rags, his face was dirty and over 
 grown with a month's beard; a pair of restless eyes stared 
 unblinkingly at the brazen sky. His lips were moving; 
 from them issued a steady patter of words, but otherwise 
 he showed no sign of life. 
 
 "You said he was starving." Johnnie dismounted and 
 lent Judson a hand with his task. 
 
 "That's what I thought at first, but he's sick. I sup 
 pose it's that damned dungeon fever." 
 
 "Then we'd better look after him ourselves. These 
 Cubans are mighty careless, you know. We can swing 
 him between our horses, and " 
 
 Judson looked up to discover that Johnnie was poised 
 rigidly, his mouth open, his hands halted in midair. 
 The sick man's voice had risen, and O'Reilly, with a 
 peculiar expression of amazement upon his face, was 
 straining his ears to hear what he said. 
 
 "Eh? What's the matter?" Judson inquired. 
 
 For a moment O'Reilly remained frozen in his attitude, 
 then without a word he strode to the sufferer. He bent 
 forward, staring into the vacant, upturned face. A cry 
 burst from his throat, a cry that was like a sob, and, 
 kneeling, he gathered the frail, filthy figure into his arms. 
 
 "Esttban!" he cried. "Esteban! This is O'Reilly. 
 O'Rail-ye! Don't you know me? O'Reilly, your friend, 
 your brother ! For God's sake, tell me what they've done 
 to you! Look at me, Est6ban! Look at me! Look at me! 
 Oh, Esttban!" 
 
 Such eagerness, such thankfulness, such passionate pity 
 were in his friend's hoarse voice that Judson drew closer. 
 He noticed that the faintest flame of reason flickered for 
 an instant in the sick man's hollow eyes; then they began 
 
 237
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 to rove again, and the same rustling whisper recom 
 menced. Judson had heard something of O'Reilly's story ; 
 he had heard mention of Este'ban and Rosa Varona; 
 he stood, therefore, in silent wonderment, listening to the 
 incoherent words that poured from his friend's lips. 
 O'Reilly held the boy tenderly in his arms; tears rolled 
 down his cheeks as he implored Este'ban to hear and to 
 heed him. 
 
 "Try to hear me! Try!" There was fierce agony in 
 the cry. "Where is Rosa? . . . Rosa? . . . You're safe now; 
 you can tell me. . . . You're safe with O'Reilly. ... I came 
 back ... I came back for you and Rosa. . . . Where is she? 
 . . . Is she dead?" 
 
 Other men were assembling now. The column was 
 ready to move, but Judson signaled to Colonel Lopez 
 and made known the identity of the sick stranger. The 
 colonel came forward swiftly and laid a hand upon 
 O'Reilly's shoulder, saying: 
 
 " So ! You were right, after all. Este'ban Varona didn't 
 die. God must have sent us to San Antonio to deliver 
 him." 
 
 "He's sick, sick!" O'Reilly said, huskily. "Those 
 Spaniards! Look what they've done to him." His voice 
 changed. He cried, fiercely: "Well, I'm late again. I'm 
 always just a little bit too late. He'll die before he can 
 tell me " 
 
 "Wait! Take hold of yourself . We'll do all that can 
 be done to save him. Now come, we must be going, or all 
 San Antonio will be upon us." 
 
 O'Reilly roused. "Put him in my arms," he ordered. 
 "I'll carry him to camp myself." 
 
 But Lopez shook his head, saying, gently: "It's a long 
 march, and the litter would be better for him. Thank 
 Heaven we have an angel of mercy awaiting us, and she 
 will know how to make him well." 
 
 When the troop resumed its retreat Este'ban Varona lay 
 
 238
 
 SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO 
 
 suspended upon a swinging bed between O'Reilly's and 
 Judson's horses. Although they carried him as care 
 fully as they could throughout that long hot journey, he 
 never ceased his babbling and never awoke to his sur 
 roundings.
 
 XX 
 
 EL DEMONIO'S CHILD 
 
 DURING the next few days O'Reilly had reason to 
 bless the happy chance which had brought Norine 
 Evans to Cuba. During the return journey from San 
 Antonio de los Banos he had discovered how really ill 
 Est6ban Varona was, how weak his hold upon life. The 
 young man showed the marks of wasting illness and of 
 cruel abuse; starvation, neglect, and disease had all but 
 done for him. After listening to his ravings, O'Reilly 
 began to fear that the poor fellow's mind was permanently 
 affected. It was an appalling possibility, one to which he 
 could not reconcile himself. To think that somewhere 
 in that fevered brain was perhaps locked the truth about 
 Rosa's fate, if not the secret of her whereabouts, and 
 yet to be unable to wring an intelligent answer to a single 
 question, was intolerable. The hours of that ride were 
 among the longest O'Reilly had ever passed. 
 
 But Norine Evans gave him new heart. She took com 
 plete charge of the sick man upon his arrival in camp; 
 then in her brisk, matter-of-fact way she directed O'Reilly 
 to go and get some much-needed rest. Est6ban was ill, 
 -very ill, she admitted; there was no competent doctor 
 near, and her own facilities for nursing were primitive 
 indeed; nevertheless, she expressed confidence that she 
 could cure him, and reminded O'Reilly that nature has 
 a blessed way of building up a resistance to environment. 
 As a result of her good cheer O'Reilly managed to enjoy 
 a night's sleep. 
 
 240
 
 EL DEMONIO'S CHILD 
 
 Leslie Branch was later than the others in arriving, 
 for the baby proved to be a trial and a handicap. His 
 comrades had refused him any assistance on the home 
 ward journey. They expressed a deep, hoarse condemna 
 tion of his conduct, and pretended to consider that he had 
 sacrificed all claims to their friendship and regard. 
 
 Branch took this seriously, and he was in a state 
 bordering upon desperation when he reached camp. In 
 the hope of unloading his unwelcome burden upon Norine 
 Evans he hurried directly to her tent. But Norine had 
 heard the story; Lopez had warned her; therefore she 
 waved him away. 
 
 "Don't ask me to mother your stolen child," she said. 
 
 "Oh, but you've got to," he declared in a panic. "You've 
 just got to." 
 
 "Well, I won't. In the first place, I have a sick man 
 in my tent." 
 
 "But look! Listen! This baby dislikes me. I've 
 nearly dropped it a dozen times. I I'm going to leave 
 it, anyhow." 
 
 But Norine remained firm in her refusal. "You sha'n't 
 leave your foundling at my door. If you intend to steal 
 babies you should make up your mind to take care of 
 them." She was itching to seize the hungry little mite, 
 but she restrained the impulse. "Go ahead and keep it 
 amused until the cow arrives," she told him. 
 
 "Keep it amused! Amuse a starving brat!" tragically 
 cried the man. "In Heaven's name, how?" 
 
 "Why, play with it, cuddle it, give it your watch any 
 thing! But don't allow it to cry it may injure itself." 
 
 Branch glared resentfully; then he changed his tactics 
 and began to plead. "Oh, Norine!" he implored. "I 
 just can't do it. I'm all fagged out now, and, besides, 
 I've got the only watch in camp that keeps time. I 
 didn't sleep any last night, and it '11 keep me awake all 
 to-night. It's a nice baby, really. It needs a woman " 
 
 241
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Norine parted the flaps of her tent and pointed inside, 
 where Este"ban Varona lay upon her cot. His eyes were 
 staring; his lips were moving. "Mrs. Ruiz and I will 
 have our hands full with that poor chap. For all we know, 
 he may have some contagious disease." 
 
 Branch was utterly shameless, utterly selfish and un- 
 compassionate. "I'm sick, too sicker than he is. Have 
 a heart ! Remember, I risked my life to get you something 
 nice to eat " 
 
 "Yes! The most ridiculous procedure I ever heard of. 
 What ever made you do such a crazy thing?" Norine 
 was honestly indignant now. 
 
 "I did it for you. It seems to me that the least you 
 can do in return " 
 
 "The least, and the most, I can do is to try and save 
 this poor man's life," she firmly reasserted. "Now run 
 along. I'd take the baby if I could, but I simply can't." 
 
 " It '11 die on me," Branch protested. 
 
 "Nonsense! It's the healthiest little thing I ever saw. 
 Wait until it has its supper. You'll see." She disap 
 peared into her tent and Branch reluctantly turned away. 
 
 Next he bore the infant to Judson and O'Reilly in turn; 
 but both gruffly refused to assume the least responsibility 
 for it. In the matter of advice concerning its welfare, how 
 ever, they were more obliging. They were willing to dis 
 cuss the theory of child-rearing with him as long as he 
 would listen, but their advice merely caused him to glare 
 balefully and to curse them. Nor did he regard it as a 
 mark of friendship on their part when they collected an 
 audience that evening to watch him milk the cow a pro 
 cedure, by the way, not devoid of excitement and hazard, 
 inasmuch as Branch's knowledge of cows was even more 
 theoretical than his knowledge of babies. 
 
 Leslie had begun by this time to realize that there existed 
 a general conspiracy against him; he met it with sullen 
 resentment. He deeply regretted his ignorance of the 
 
 242
 
 EL DEMONIO'S CHILD 
 
 Spanish language, however, for a thousand epithets and 
 insults clamored for translation. 
 
 Now there are cows which an amateur can milk, and 
 there are other kinds. This particular cow was shy, ap 
 prehensive, peevish; Branch's unpractised fumbling ir 
 ritated her. Being herself a nomad of the savannas, she 
 was accustomed to firm, masterful men, therefore when 
 Leslie attempted courteously, apologetically, to separate 
 her from her milk she turned and hooked him. 
 
 El Demonio's audience, who had been looking on with 
 rapt attention, applauded this show of spirit. Branch 
 was unwontedly meek. He acknowledged his total in 
 experience, and begged his friends, almost politely, to call 
 for a substitute. 
 
 Judson explained, gravely, "These Cubans don't know 
 any more about cows than you do." 
 
 O'Reilly agreed, "They're good bull-fighters, but they 
 can't milk." 
 
 Leslie eyed the speakers, white with rage; he was 
 trembling. "You think you're damned funny, don't 
 you? You're having a jubilee with me. Well, I'm game. 
 I'll go through with it. If you'll hold her, I'll milk her. 
 I'll milk her till she hollers." 
 
 Obligingly, O'Reilly took the animal by the horns and 
 Judson laid hold of her tail. 
 
 "Stretch her tight," Leslie commanded. "Don't give 
 her an inch of slack, or I'll quit." When his friends had 
 braced themselves he moved toward the cow once more, 
 but this time from the opposite quarter. Noting the 
 direction of his approach, the onlookers gave vent to a 
 low murmur of expectancy. They drew closer. 
 
 Strangely enough, the animal stood quiet for a time 
 lost in amazement, perhaps and Leslie managed to cover 
 the bottom of his big tin cup with milk. But at last the 
 outrage proved too much for her; she slowly lifted one 
 hind foot and poised it jerkily. She seemed to consider 
 
 243
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 the next move for a moment; then she kicked forward and 
 sent Branch flying. 
 
 "Can you beat that?" O'Reilly exclaimed in apparent 
 wonderment. "Why, she walloped you with the back of 
 her hand." 
 
 Judson, too, affected great amazement. "Most cows 
 are left-handed," he declared. "Try her on the other 
 side." 
 
 Branch dried the milk from his face, then in a shaking 
 voice cried: " Have a good time with me. It's your last 
 chance." 
 
 It seemed for a while that the enterprise was doomed to 
 failure; but at last a pint or more of milk was secured, and 
 this Leslie proceeded to dilute with warm water from a 
 near-by camp-fire. Even then, however, his difficulties 
 were not over. He had supposed that any baby knew 
 enough to drink. It took him half an hour to discover his 
 mistake. Having long since given up the hope of any 
 active assistance from his audience, he doggedly set to 
 work to fashion a nursing-bottle. He succeeded in due 
 time, after making use of a flask, the stem of an unused 
 cigarette-holder, and a handkerchief. 
 
 When he finally took seat and began awkwardly coaxing 
 the fretful child to drink, the Cubans voiced their appre 
 ciation of the picture. They were courteous, they did not 
 laugh; nevertheless, the sight of their eccentric, irascible, 
 rebellious El Demonio tamely nursing a child in the fire 
 light filled them with luxurious, soul-satisfying enjoyment. 
 
 O'Reilly was up at daylight to offer his services in caring 
 for Este"ban Varona, but Norine declined them. 
 
 "His fever is down a little and he has taken some 
 nourishment," she reported. "That food you boys 
 risked your silly lives for may come in handy, after all." 
 
 "I dare say he won't be able to talk to me to-day?" 
 O'Reilly ventured. 
 
 "Not to-day, nor for many days, I'm afraid." 
 
 244
 
 EL DEMONIO'S CHILD 
 
 "If you don't mind, then, I'll hang around and listen 
 to what he says," he told her, wistfully. " He might drop 
 a word about Rosa." 
 
 "To be sure. So far he's scarcely mentioned her. I 
 can't understand much that he says, of course, but Mrs. 
 Ruiz tells me it's all jumbled and quite unintelligible. 
 How is Leslie's baby this morning?" 
 
 "Oh, it passed a good night. It was awake and had 
 ordered breakfast when I got up. Leslie was making a 
 fire to scald out its bottle. He says he didn't close his 
 eyes all night." 
 
 "Poor fellow! I'm going to help him," Norine de 
 clared. 
 
 " Please don't. Lopez wants to teach him a lesson, and 
 this is the best thing that could possibly have happened. 
 We have told him that there's no chance of returning the 
 baby, and he thinks he's elected to keep it indefinitely. 
 As a matter of fact, Jacket is going to take a letter to the 
 comandante at San Antonio this morning, advising him 
 that the child is safe, and asking him to send for it at 
 once." 
 
 "Isn't that risky?" Norine inquired. "Won't the 
 comandante attack us if he learns where we are?" 
 
 "Lopez doesn't think so. Those Spaniards are usually 
 pretty scrupulous on points of honor. There was some 
 difficulty in getting a messenger, but Jacket volunteered. 
 He volunteers for anything, that boy. They wouldn't 
 be likely to hurt a kid like him. If they should, why, we 
 have the baby, you see." 
 
 Although Norine had pretended to wash her hands of 
 all responsibility for Branch's little charge, she was by no 
 means so inhuman as she appeared. During the day she 
 kept a jealous eye upon it, and especially upon its diet. 
 
 Fortunately for all concerned, it was a good-natured 
 child; so long as its stomach was full it was contented. 
 It slept a good deal, and what time it was awake it sucked 
 
 245
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 its fist and suffered itself to be variously entertained by 
 the men. There were, of course, a number of fellows who 
 could see no humor at all in El Demonio's plight, nor any 
 reason for adding to his embarrassments. These came 
 to his aid in numerous ways. 
 
 It was an idle day ; there was nothing to do except play 
 with the baby; before night came the child had estab 
 lished itself as a general favorite. Even Branch himself 
 had become interested in it. 
 
 "Say, I've learned a lot about kids from this one," he 
 confided to O'Reilly at dinner-time. "I always thought 
 young babies were just damp, sour-smelling little animals, 
 but this one has character. She knows me already, and 
 I'm getting so I can pick her up without feeling that I'm 
 going to puncture her. She's full of dimples, too. Got 'em 
 everywhere. What do you think we'd better name her?" 
 
 " She probably has a name. Do you expect to keep her 
 permanently?" 
 
 Branch considered. "I wouldn't have thought of such 
 a thing yesterday, but how are we going to get rid of her? 
 That's the question. We can't just leave her with the 
 first family we come to. These country people have 
 more kids than they know what to do with." 
 
 "Thinking about taking her on the march with us?" 
 O'Reilly looked up, much amused. 
 
 "I don't see why it couldn't be done. The men 
 wouldn't mind and she'd make a dandy mascot." 
 
 O'Reilly shook his head. "This isn't a baseball team. 
 What about the baby's mother?" 
 
 "Bullets! Fine mother she was, to desert her child. 
 I'll bet she's glad to get rid of it. People like that don't 
 have any more affection than cattle. They don't de 
 serve to have children. What's more, they don't know 
 how to care for them. I'd like to raise this kid according 
 to my own ideas." Branch's face lightened suddenly. 
 " Say ! I've just thought of a name for her !" 
 
 246
 
 EL DEMONIO'S CHILD 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Bullets!" 
 
 "Are you swearing or naming her?" 
 
 "Wouldn't that be a good name? It's new, and it 
 means something. Raid, battle, rain of bullets! See? 
 Bullets Branch that doesn't sound bad." 
 
 With deliberate malice O'Reilly said, gravely: "Of 
 course, if you adopt her, you can name her what you 
 choose but she's a mighty brown baby! I have my 
 suspicions that she's a mulatto." 
 
 Branch was shocked, indignant. "That child's as 
 white as you are," he sputtered. Then noting the twinkle 
 in O'Reilly's eyes he turned away, muttering angrily. 
 
 Strangely enough, Leslie's fantastic suggestion found 
 echo in more than one quarter, and many of his camp- 
 mates began to argue that El Demonio's baby would 
 certainly bring the troop good luck, if it could keep her. 
 Adoption of some sort was gravely discussed that evening 
 around more than one camp-fire. 
 
 After breakfast on the following morning the baby was 
 bathed. This was an event, and it had been advertised 
 as such. An interested and admiring group of swarthy 
 cigarette-smokers looked on while Branch officiated, 
 Norine's offer to perform the service less publicly having 
 been refused. Leslie was just drying off the chubby form 
 when he was unexpectedly interrupted. 
 
 Jacket had made his round trip in safety, but instead of 
 bringing a squad of the enemy's soldiers with him he had 
 brought the child's parents, which was a much more 
 sensible thing to do. 
 
 The storekeeper and his wife arrived unheralded; they 
 gave no warning of their coming, and they exchanged no 
 amenities with the ravagers of their home. Hearing the 
 shrill, petulant voice of their beloved, they made directly 
 for it, as eagles swoop from the sky at threat to their nest. 
 
 Branch looked up at the sound of some swift approach. 
 
 247
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 He beheld an entirely strange woman bearing down upon 
 him. Her face was white, frantic, terrible ; her arms were 
 outstretched; she gave utterance to a peculiar, distressing 
 cry. Snatching the baby from his lap without so much 
 as "by your leave," she clutched it to a billowing brown 
 bosom. 
 
 Leslie rose, protesting, just in time to receive the full 
 onslaught of the child's distracted father. He went down 
 in a swirl of arms and legs ; he felt himself kicked, pounded, 
 trampled, beaten, scratched, until his friends came to the 
 rescue and dragged him to his feet. He rose to behold a 
 small, fat, disheveled Spaniard who had turned from as 
 saulting him and now appeared to be engaged in biting 
 mouthfuls from such portions of the baby's anatomy as 
 were not hidden in its mother's embrace. 
 
 A clamor of voices breaking the Sabbath calm of the 
 morning brought Norine Evans running from her tent. 
 One look, and its cause was plain. Fifty men were 
 talking loudly; fifty pairs of arms were waving. In 
 consequence of the torrent of words that beat upon their 
 ears it was some time before the merchant and his wife 
 could be made to fully understand the peculiar circum 
 stances of the kidnapping, and that no harm had 
 been intended to their darling. Slowly, bit by bit, they 
 learned the truth, but even then the mother could 
 not look upon Leslie Branch without a menacing di 
 lation of the eyes and a peculiar expression of re 
 strained ferocity. 
 
 The father was more reasonable, however; once he was 
 assured of his daughter's safety, his thankfulness sought 
 outlet. He began by embracing every one within his 
 reach. He kissed Norine, he kissed O'Reilly, he kissed 
 Judson, he made a rush at Leslie himself; but the latter, 
 suspicious of his intent, fled. Unmindful of the fact that 
 these were the men who had relieved him of a considerable 
 stock of goods and profaned his holy of holies, he recklessly 
 
 248
 
 EL DEMONIO'S CHILD 
 
 distributed among them what money he had upon his 
 person and then gave away the remaining contents of his 
 pockets. He swore his undying love for them all. Smiting 
 his breast excitedly, he urged them as a personal favor and a 
 mark of his overflowing gratitude to return to San Antonio 
 de los Baiios, make themselves masters of all his worldly 
 possessions, and then burn his store. 
 
 While this was going on, Jacket was proudly advertising 
 his share of the enterprise, not failing to give himself full 
 credit. 
 
 "By ! I made a big hit with that comandante," 
 
 he told his American friends. "Those people in San 
 Antonio say I'm the bravest boy they ever seen, and they 
 give me more'n a thousand cigars. When I rode away I 
 saluted the comandante; then I yelled, 'Vive Cuba 
 Libre!' and everybody laughed like hell. I guess those 
 people never seen nobody like me before." 
 
 That afternoon, when it came time for the merchant and 
 his little family to set out for home, a crowd of regretful 
 Insurrectos assembled to bid them farewell and to look 
 for the last time upon the baby. By now the mother's 
 apprehensions had given way to pride and she could bring 
 herself to smile at the compliments showered upon her 
 offspring and to answer in kind those which were aimed at 
 herself. She even permitted El Demonio to kiss the child 
 good-by. Her husband, since his arrival in camp, had 
 heard much about the eccentric American, and now, after 
 apologizing abjectly for his unwarranted attack, he invited 
 Branch to visit his store when this hideous war was over 
 and Cuba was free. Finally, in spite of Leslie's frantic 
 struggles, he embraced him and planted a moist kiss upon 
 either cheek. 
 
 Amid loud and repeated good wishes and a cheer for the 
 baby the visitors rode away. 
 
 Lopez linked his arm within O'Reilly's as they turned 
 back into the palm-grove. With a smile he said : 
 17 249
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Well, I hope this has taught your friend to steal no 
 more babies." 
 
 "I'm afraid he'll steal the very next one he sees. He 
 fell in love with that one and wanted to keep it." 
 
 "Oh, he wasn't alone in that. It's queer how senti 
 mental soldiers become. I've often noticed it. When I 
 was in the Rubi Hills some of my fellows adopted a goat. 
 We had to eat it finally, but those men wouldn't touch a 
 piece of the flesh and they were starving. By the way, 
 how is Varona doing?" 
 
 "About the same." 
 
 Lopez frowned. "I shall have to send him to Cubitas 
 to-morrow, for we must be under way." 
 
 "If he has to be moved, let me do it. I'd like to be 
 with him when he comes out of his fever, and learn what 
 he knows about his sister." O'Reilly's appeal was earnest. 
 
 The colonel readily yielded. "Go, by all means. Re 
 port to General Gomez, and he no doubt will let you stay 
 until the boy can talk. He may have news from Matan- 
 zas by that time." 
 
 O'Reilly pressed his colonel's hand gratefully. "You're 
 mighty good," said he. "There's one thing more. Will 
 you look out for Branch while I'm gone, and hold him 
 down?" 
 
 Lopez laughed lightly. "Oh, he'll soon get over his 
 recklessness. This life agrees with him. Why, he's a 
 different man already! When he gets well and has some 
 thing to live for he will want to live. You'll see."
 
 XXI 
 
 TREASURE 
 
 IT was a balmy, languid morning about two weeks after 
 O'Reilly's return to the City among the Leaves. The 
 Cubitas Mountains were green and sparkling from a re 
 cent shower; wood fires smoldered in front of the bark 
 huts, sending up their wavering streamers of blue; a 
 pack-train from the lower country was unloading fresh 
 vegetables in the main street, and a group of ragged men 
 were disputing over them. Some children were playing 
 baseball near by. 
 
 In a hammock swung between two trees Este"ban Varona 
 lay, listening to the admonitions of his nurse. 
 
 Johnnie O'Reilly had just bade them both a hearty good 
 morning and now Norine was saying : ' ' One hour, no more. 
 You had a temperature again last night, and it came from 
 talking too much." 
 
 "Oh, I'm better this morning," Este"ban declared. 
 "I'm getting so that I want to talk. I was too tired at 
 first, but now " 
 
 "Now, you will do exactly as you are told. Remember, 
 it takes me just one hour to make my rounds, and if you 
 are not through with your tales of blood and battle when I 
 get back you'll have to finish them to-morrow." With a 
 nod and a smile she left. 
 
 As Este"ban looked after her his white teeth gleamed and 
 his hollow face lit up. 
 
 "She brings me new life," he told O'Reilly. "She is so 
 strong, so healthy, so full of life herself. She is wonderful f 
 When I first saw her bending over me I thought I was 
 
 251
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 dreaming. Sometimes, even yet, I think she cannot be 
 real. But she is, eh?" 
 
 "She is quite substantial," O'Reilly smiled. 
 
 "I can tell when she is anywhere near, for my illness 
 leaves me. It's a fact ! And her hands Well, she lays 
 them on my head, and it no longer hurts; the fever dis 
 appears. There is some cool, delicious magic in her 
 touch.; it makes a fellow want to live. You have per 
 haps noticed it?" 
 
 " N-no ! You see, she never lays her hands on my head. 
 However, I dare say you're right. All the sick fellows 
 talk as you do." 
 
 Este"ban looked up quickly ; his face darkened. " She 
 er nurses others, eh? I'm not the only one?" 
 
 "Well, hardly." 
 
 There was a brief pause; then Este*ban shifted his posi 
 tion and his tone changed. "Tell me, have you heard 
 any news?" 
 
 "Not yet, but we will hear some before long Tm sure." 
 
 "Your faith does as much for me as this lady's care. 
 But when you go away, when I'm alone, when I begin to 
 think" 
 
 "Don't think too much; don't permit yourself to 
 doubt," O'Reilly said, quickly. "Take my word for it, 
 Rosa is alive and we'll find her somewhere, somehow. 
 You heard that she had fallen into Cobo's hands when he 
 sacked the Yumuri, but now we know that she and the 
 negroes were living in the Pan de Matanzas long after that. 
 In the same way Lopez assured me positively that you 
 were dead. Well, look at you ! It shows how little faith 
 we can put in any story. No, Rosa is safe, and General 
 Gomez will soon have word of her. That's what I've 
 been waiting for that and what you might have to tell 
 me." 
 
 " You know all that I know now and everything that has 
 happened to me." 
 
 252
 
 TREASURE 
 
 "I don't know how you came to be in a cell in San 
 Antonio de los Bafios, two hundred miles from the place 
 you were killed. That is still a mystery. ' ' 
 
 "It is very simple, amigo. Let me see: I had finished 
 telling you about the fight at La Joya. I was telling you 
 how I fainted." 
 
 "Exactly. Norine bound and gagged you at that point 
 in the story." 
 
 "Some good people found me a few hours after I lost 
 consciousness. They supposed I had been attacked by 
 guerrillas and left for dead. Finding that I still had life 
 in me, they took me home with them. They were old 
 friends from Matanzas by the name of Valdes cultured 
 people who had fled the city and were hiding in the 
 manigua like the rest of us." 
 
 "Not Valdes, the notary?" 
 
 "The very same. Alberto Valdes and his four daugh 
 ters. Heaven guided them to me. Alberto was an old 
 man; he had hard work to provide food for his girls. 
 Nevertheless, he refused to abandon me. The girls had 
 become brown and ragged and as shy as deer. They 
 nursed me for weeks, for my wounds became infected. 
 God! It seems to me that I lay there sick and helpless 
 for years. When my brain would clear I would think 
 of Rosa, and then the fever would rise again and I would 
 go out of my head. Oh, they were faithful, patient 
 people! You see, I had walked east instead of west, and 
 now I was miles away from home, and the country between 
 was swarming with Spaniards who were burning, destroy 
 ing, killing. You wouldn't know Matanzas, O'Reilly. 
 It is a desert. 
 
 "I finally became able to drag myself around the hut. 
 But I had no means of sending word to Rosa, and the 
 uncertainty nearly made me crazy. My clothes had 
 rotted from me; my bones were just under the skin. I 
 must have been a shocking sight. Then one day there 
 
 253
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 came a fellow traveling east with messages for Gomez. 
 He was one of Lopez's men, and he told me that Lopez 
 had gone to the Rubi Hills with Maceo, and that there 
 were none of our men left in the province. He told me 
 other things, too. It was from him that I learned 
 Este"ban Varona's thin hands clutched the edges of his 
 hammock and he rolled his head weakly from side to side. 
 "It was he who told me about Rosa. He said that Cobo 
 had ravaged the Yumuri and that my sister was gone. 
 Christ!" 
 
 "There, there! We know better now," O'Reilly said, 
 soothingly. 
 
 "It was a hideous story, a story of rape, murder. I 
 wonder that I didn't go mad. It never occurred to me to 
 doubt, and as a matter of fact the fellow was honest 
 enough; he really believed what he told me. Well, I was 
 sorry I hadn't died that night in the sunken road. All 
 the hope, all the desire to live, went out of me. You 
 see, I had been more than half expecting something of the 
 kind. Every time I had left Rosa it had been with the 
 sickening fear that I might never see here again. After 
 the man had finished I felt the desire to get away from all 
 I had known and loved, to leave Matanzas for new fields 
 and give what was left of me to the cause. 
 
 "I presume Alberto and the girls were relieved to get 
 rid of me, for it meant more food for them. Anyhow, 
 between us we prevailed upon the messenger to take me 
 along. I was free to enlist, since I couldn't reach Lopez, 
 and I came to join our forces in the Orient. 
 
 "That is how you found me in this province. Lopez's 
 man never delivered those despatches, for we were taken 
 crossing the trocha at least I was taken, for Pablo was 
 killed. They'd have made an end of me, too, I dare say, 
 only I was so weak. It seems a century since that night. 
 My memory doesn't serve me very well from that point, 
 for they jailed me, and I grew worse. I was out of my 
 
 254
 
 TREASURE 
 
 head a good deal. I seem to remember a stockade some 
 where and other prisoners, some of whom nursed me. 
 You say you found me in a cell in San Antonio de los 
 Baftos. Well, I don't know how I got there, and I never 
 heard of the place." 
 
 "It will probably all come back to you in time," said 
 O'Reilly. 
 
 "No doubt." 
 
 The two men fell silent for a while. Est^ban lay with 
 closed eyes, exhausted. O'Reilly gave himself up to 
 frowning thought. His thoughts were not pleasant; he 
 could not, for the life of him, believe in Rosa's safety so 
 implicitly as he had led Este*ban to suppose; his efforts 
 to cheer the other had sapped his own supply of hope, 
 leaving him a prey to black misgivings. He was glad when 
 Norine Evans's return put an end to his speculations. 
 
 Este*ban was right; the girl did have an unusual ability 
 to banish shadows, a splendid power to rout devils both of 
 the spirit and of the flesh; she was a sort of antibody, 
 destroying every noxious or unhealthy thing mental or 
 physical with which she came in contact. This blessed 
 capability was quite distinct from her skill with medicines 
 it was a gift, and as much a part of her as the healing 
 magic which dwells in the sunshine. 
 
 Certainly her knack of lending health and strength from 
 her own abundant store had never been better shown than 
 in Este*ban's case, for with almost no medical assistance 
 she had brought him back from the very voids. It was 
 quite natural, therefore, that she should take a pride in 
 her work and regard him with a certain jealous pro 
 prietary interest; it was equally natural that he should 
 claim the greater share of her attention. 
 
 " Have you harrowed this poor man's feelings sufficiently 
 for once?" she inquired of O'Reilly. 
 
 "I have. I'll agree to talk about nothing unpleasant 
 hereafter." 
 
 255
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Este'ban turned to his nurse, inquiring, abruptly, "Do 
 you think Rosa is alive?" 
 
 "Why, of course I do! Aren't you alive and almost 
 well?" 
 
 Now, as an argument, there was no particular force in 
 this suggestion; nevertheless, both men felt reassured. 
 Est6ban heaved a grateful sigh. After a moment he said, 
 
 "There is something I want to tell you both." 
 
 "Wait until to-morrow," Norine advised. 
 
 But he persisted: "No! I must tell it now. First, 
 however, did either of you discover an old coin in any of 
 my pockets an old Spanish doubloon?" 
 
 "That doubloon again!" Norine lifted her hands pro- 
 testingly, and cast a meaning look at O'Reilly. "You 
 talked about nothing else for a whole week. Let me feel 
 your pulse." 
 
 Este'ban surrendered his hand with suspicious readiness. 
 
 "You were flat broke when we got you," O'Reilly de 
 clared. 
 
 "Probably. I seem to remember that somebody stole 
 it." 
 
 "Doubloons! Pieces of eight! Golden guineas!" ex 
 claimed Norine. "Why those are pirate coins! They re 
 mind me of Treasure Island ; of Long John Silver and his 
 wooden leg; of Ben Gunn and all the rest." With a 
 voice made hoarse, doubtless to imitate the old nut-brown 
 seaman with the saber-scar and the tarry pig-tail, who sat 
 sipping his rum and water in the Admiral Benbow Inn, 
 she began to chant: 
 
 "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest 
 
 Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! 
 Drink and the Devil had done for the rest 
 Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" 
 
 Este'ban smiled uncomprehendingly. "Yes? Well, 
 
 256
 
 TREASURE 
 
 this has to do with treasure. That doubloon was a part 
 of the lost treasure of the Varonas." 
 
 ' ' Lost treasure !' ' Norine's gray eyes widened. ' ' What 
 are you talking about?" 
 
 "There is a mysterious fortune in our family. My 
 father buried it. He was very rich, you know, and he was 
 afraid of the Spaniards. O'Reilly knows the story." 
 
 Johnnie assented with a grunt. "Sure! I know all 
 about it." 
 
 Est^ban raised himself to his elbow. "You think it's a 
 myth, a joke. Well, it's not. I know where it is. I 
 found it!" 
 
 Norine gasped; Johnnie spoke soothingly: 
 
 "Don't get excited, old man; you've talked too much 
 to-day." 
 
 " Ha !" Este"ban fell back upon his pillow. ' ' I haven't 
 any fever. I'm as sane as ever I was. That treasure 
 exists, and that doubloon gave me the clue to its where 
 abouts. Pancho Cueto knew my father, and he believed 
 the story. He believed in it so strongly that well 
 that's why he denounced my sister and me as traitors. 
 He dug up our entire premises, but he didn't find it." 
 Est^ban chuckled. "Don Esteban, my father, was cun 
 ning : he could hide things better than a magpie. It re 
 mained for me to discover his trick." 
 
 Norine Evans spoke breathlessly. "Oh, glory! Treas 
 ure! Real treasure! How perfectly exciting! Tell me 
 how you found it, quick! Johnnie, you remember he 
 raved about a doubloon " 
 
 "He is raving now," O'Reilly declared, with a sharp 
 stare at his friend. 
 
 The girl- turned loyally to her patient. "I'll believe 
 you, Mr. Varona. I always believe everything about 
 buried treasure. The bigger the treasure the more im 
 plicitly I believe in it. I simply adore pirates and such 
 things; if I were a man I'd be one. Do you know, I've 
 
 257
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 always been tempted to bury my money and then go 
 look for it." 
 
 "You're making fun ef me. What?" Este"ban eyed 
 the pair doubtfully. 
 
 "No, no!" Norine was indignant. "Johnnie doesn't 
 believe in pirates or treasure, or anything. He doesn't 
 even believe in fairies, and he's Irish, too. But I do. I 
 revel in such things. If you don't go on, I'll blow up." 
 
 "There is no doubt that my father had a great deal of 
 money at one time," Este"ban began; "he was the richest 
 man in the richest city of Cuba and ..." 
 
 O'Reilly shook his head dubiously and braced his back 
 against a tree-trunk; there was a look of mild disapproba 
 tion on his face as he listened to the familiar story of Don 
 Este"ban and the slave, Sebastian. 
 
 Young Este"ban told the tale well. His own faith in it 
 lent a certain convincingness to his words and Norine 
 Evans hung upon them entranced. She was horrified at 
 the account of Don Estdban's death; her eyes grew dark as 
 Este"ban told of his and Rosa's childhood with their 
 avaricious stepmother. That part of the narrative which 
 had to do with the death of Dona Isabel and the finding 
 of the gold coin was new to O'Reilly and he found himself 
 considerably impressed by it. When Este"ban had fin 
 ished, Norine drew a deep breath. 
 
 ' ' Oh ! That lays over any story I ever heard. To think 
 that the deeds and the jewels and everything are in the 
 well at this minute! How could you go away and leave 
 them?" 
 
 "I didn't think it out at the time. I didn't evolve my 
 theory until after I had fled. Naturally, I wasn't able to 
 get back." 
 
 "But suppose somebody finds it?" Norine was aghast 
 at the thought. 
 
 "Not much chance of that. The treasure has lain 
 there for a generation, and the story itself is almost 
 
 258
 
 TREASURE 
 
 forgotten." Este*ban turned triumphantly to O'Reilly, 
 saying, "Now then, do you think I'm so crazy?" 
 
 O'Reilly didn't have it in his heart to say exactly what 
 he really thought. The circumstances of the discovery of 
 the coin were odd enough, certainly, but it seemed to him 
 that they were capable of several explanations. If, indeed, 
 there had ever been a doubloon and if Esteban had found 
 it in the dead hand of his stepmother, that, in O'Reilly's 
 opinion, by no means proved the existence of the mythical 
 Varona hoard, nor did it solve the secret of its whereabouts. 
 What he more than half suspected was that some favored 
 fancy had formed lodgment in Este"ban's brain. 
 
 "It's an interesting theory," he admitted. "Anyhow, 
 there is no danger of the treasure being uncovered very 
 soon. Cueto had a good look and made himself ridiculous^ 
 You'll have ample chance to do likewise when the war is 
 over." 
 
 "You must help me find it," said Esteban. "We shall 
 all share the fortune equally, you two, Rosa and I." 
 
 " We? Why should we share in it?" Norine asked. 
 
 "I owe it to you. Didn't O'Reilly rescue me from a 
 dungeon? Haven't you nursed me back to health? 
 Don't I owe my life to you both?" 
 
 "Nonsense! I, for one, sha'n't take a dollar of it," the 
 girl declared. "All I want to do is help dig. K you'll 
 just promise to let me do that " 
 
 "I promise. And you shall have one-fourth of every 
 thing." 
 
 "No! No!" 
 
 "Oh, but you must. I insist. Nursing is a poorly paid 
 profession. Wouldn't you like to be rich?" 
 
 "Profession! Poorly paid?" Norine sputtered, an 
 grily. "As if I'd take pay!" 
 
 "As if I would accept a great service and forget it, like 
 some miserable beggar!" Esteban replied, stiffly. 
 
 O'Reilly laughed out. "Don't let's quarrel over the 
 
 259
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 spoil until we get it," said he. "That's the way with all 
 treasure-hunters. They invariably fall out and go to 
 fighting. To avoid bloodshed, I'll agree to sell my inter 
 est cheap, for cash. Come! What will you bid? Start 
 it low. Do I hear a dollar bid? A dollar! A dollar! A 
 dollar! My share of the famous Varona fortune going 
 for a dollar!" 
 
 "There! He doesn't believe a word of it," Este*ban 
 said. 
 
 Norine gave an impatient shrug. "Some people 
 wouldn't believe they were alive unless they saw their 
 breath on a looking-glass. Goodness! How I hate a 
 sneering skeptic, a wet blanket." 
 
 O'Reilly rose with one arm shielding his face. "In the 
 interest of friendship, I withdraw. A curse on these 
 buried treasures, anyhow. We shall yet come to blows." 
 
 As he walked away he heard Norine say: "Don't pay 
 any attention to him. We'll go and dig it up ourselves, 
 and we won't wait until the war is over." 
 
 An hour later Este"ban and his nurse still had their 
 heads together. They were still talking of golden ingots 
 and pearls from the Caribbean the size of plums when 
 they looked up to see O'Reilly running toward them. 
 He was visibly excited; he waved and shouted at them. 
 He was panting when he arrived. 
 
 "News! From Matanzas!" he cried. "Gomez's man 
 has arrived." 
 
 Este"ban struggled to rise, but Norine restrained him. 
 "Rosa? What does he say? Quick!" 
 
 "Good news! She left the Pan de Matanzas with the 
 two negroes. She went into the city before Cobo's raid." 
 
 Este"ban collapsed limply. He closed his eyes, his face 
 was very white. He crossed himself weakly. 
 
 "The letter is definite. It seems they were starving. 
 They obeyed Weyler's bando. They're in Matanzas 
 now." 
 
 260
 
 TREASURE 
 
 "Do you hear, Este"ban?" Norine shook her patient 
 by the shoulder. "She's alive. Oh, can't you see that it 
 always pays to believe the best?" 
 
 "Alive! Safe!" Este"ban whispered. His eyes, when 
 he opened them, were swimming; he clutched Norine's 
 hand tightly; his other hand he extended to O'Reilly. 
 The latter was choking; his cheeks, too, were wet. "A 
 reconcentrado ! In Matanzas! Well, that's good. We 
 have friends there they'll not let her starve. This 
 makes a new man of me. See! I'm strong again. I'll 
 go to her." 
 
 "You'll go?" quickly cried Miss Evans. "You'll go! 
 You're not strong enough. It would be suicide. You, 
 with a price upon your head! Everybody knows you 
 there. Matanzas is virtually a walled city. There's 
 sickness, too yellow fever, typhus " 
 
 "Exactly. And hunger, also. Suppose no one has 
 taken Rosa in? Those concentration camps aren't nice 
 places for a girl." 
 
 "But wait! I have friends in Washington. They're 
 influential. They will cable the American consul to look 
 after her. Anyhow, you mustn't think of returning to 
 Matanzas," Norine faltered; her voice caught unex 
 pectedly and she turned her face away. 
 
 O'Reilly nodded shortly. "You're a sick man," he 
 agreed. " There's no need for both of us to go." 
 
 Este"ban looked up. "Then you " 
 
 "I leave at once. The Old Man has given me a com 
 mission to General Betancourt, and I'll be on my way in 
 an hour. The moon is young; I must cross the trocha 
 before " 
 
 "That trocha!" Este"ban was up on his elbow again. 
 "Be careful there, O'Reilly. They keep a sharp lookout, 
 and it's guarded with barbed wire. Be sure you cut 
 every strand. Yes, and muffle your horse's hoofs, too, 
 in crossing the railroad track. That's how we were de- 
 
 261
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 tected. Pablo's horse struck a rail, and they fired at the 
 sound. He fell at the first volley, riddled. Oh, I know 
 that trocha!" 
 
 "Damn the trocha!" O'Reilly exclaimed. "At last 
 I've got a chance to do something. God! How long 
 I've waited." 
 
 Este"ban drew O'Reilly's tense form down and em 
 braced his friend, after the fashion of his people. "She 
 has been waiting, too," he said, huskily. "We Varonas 
 are good waiters, O'Reilly. Rosa will never cease waiting 
 until you come. Tell her, for me " 
 
 Norine withdrew softly out of earshot. There were 
 a lump in her throat and a pain in her breast. She 
 had acquired a peculiar and affectionate interest in this 
 unhappy girl whom she had never seen, and she had 
 learned to respect O'Reilly's love. The yearning that 
 had pulsed in his voice a moment before had stirred her 
 deeply; it awoke a throb in her own bosom, for O'Reilly 
 was dear to her. She wanted him to go, yet she knew the 
 hazards that lay in his way. If, indeed, the girl were in 
 Matanzas, how, Norine asked herself, was it possible for 
 him to reach her? That O'Reilly had some mad design 
 was evident; that he would utterly disregard his own 
 safety she felt sure. But that he would meet with failure, 
 perhaps worse, seemed equally certain. Matanzas was 
 a beleagured city, and strangers could not enter or leave 
 it at will. If Rosa had not put herself behind prison 
 walls, if she were still in hiding somewhere on the island, 
 it would be a simple matter to seek her out. But Matan 
 zas, of all places ! 
 
 Then, too, the pacificos, according to all reports, were 
 dying like flies in the prison camps. Norine wondered if 
 there might not be a terrible heartache at the end of 
 O'Reilly's quest? Her face was grave and worried when, 
 hearing him speak to her, she turned to take his out 
 stretched hand. 
 
 262
 
 TREASURE 
 
 ' ' You will be careful, won't you ?' ' she implored. ' ' And 
 you'll be stout of heart, no matter what occurs?" 
 
 He nodded. "It's a long way back here to Cubitas. 
 You may not see or hear from me again." 
 
 "I understand." She choked miserably. "You mean 
 you may not come back. Oh, Johnnie!" 
 
 "Tut, tut! We O'Reillys have more lives than a litter 
 of cats. I mean I may not see you until the war is over 
 and we meet in New York. Well, we've been good pals, 
 and I'm glad you came to Cuba." His grasp upon her 
 two hands was painful. 
 
 "You must go, I know, and I wouldn't try to keep you, 
 but " Norine faltered, then impulsively she drew him 
 down and kissed him full upon the lips. "For Rosa!" 
 she whispered. Her eyes were shining as she watched 
 him pass swiftly out of sight.
 
 XXII 
 
 THE TROCHA 
 
 OF all the military measures employed by the Span 
 iards in their wars against Cuban independence, 
 perhaps the most unique was the trocha trench or trav 
 erse. Martinez Campos during the Ten Years' War 
 built the first trocha just west of the Cubitas Mountains 
 where the waist of the island is narrowest. It was 
 Campos's hope, by means of this artificial barrier, to con 
 fine the operations of the insurgents to the eastern end 
 of Cuba, but in that he failed, as likewise he failed in the 
 results gained by his efforts to concentrate the rural 
 population in the cities. Not until Weyler's time were 
 these two methods of pacification, the trocha and the 
 concentration camp, developed to their fullest extent. 
 Under the rule of the Butcher several trochas were con 
 structed at selected points, and he carried to its logical 
 conclusion the policy of concentration, with results suf 
 ficiently frightful to shock the world and to satisfy even 
 Weyler's monstrous appetite for cruelty. Although his 
 trochas hindered the free movement of Cuban troops and 
 his prison camps decimated the peaceful population of 
 several provinces, the Spanish cause gained little. Both 
 trenches and prison camps became Spanish graveyards. 
 
 Weyler's intrenchments cost millions and were elabo 
 rately constructed, belted with barbed wire, bristling with 
 blockhouses and forts. In both the digging and the 
 manning, however, they cost uncounted lives. Spanish 
 spades turned up fevers with the soil, and, so long as raw 
 Spanish troops were compelled to toil in the steaming 
 
 264
 
 THE TROCHA 
 
 morasses or to lie inactive under the sun and the rain, 
 those traitor generals June, July, and August con 
 tinued to pile up the bodies in rotting heaps and to 
 timber the trenches with their bones. So long as the 
 cities were overcrowded with pacificos and their streets 
 were putrid with disease, so long did the Spanish garrisons 
 sicken and die, as flies perish upon poisoned carrion. 
 
 Out on the cool, clean hills and the windy savannas 
 where the Insurrectos dwelt there was health. Poorly 
 armed, ragged, gaunt, these Insurrectos were kept moving 
 by hunger, always moving like cattle on a barren range. 
 But they were healthy, for disease, which is soft-footed and 
 tender-bellied, could not keep up. 
 
 At the time Johnnie O'Reilly set out for Matanzas the 
 war a war without battle, without victory, without de 
 feat had settled into a grim contest of endurance. In 
 the east, where the Insurrectos were practically supreme, 
 there was food of a sort, but beyond the Jucaro-Moron 
 trocha the old one of Campos's building the country 
 was sick. Immediately west of it, in that district which 
 the Cubans called Las Villas, the land lay dying, while 
 the entire provinces of Matanzas, Habana, and Pinar del 
 Rio were practically dead. These three were skeletons, 
 picked bare of flesh by Weyler's beak. 
 
 The Jucaro-Moron trocha had been greatly strength 
 ened since Campos's day. It followed the line of the 
 transinsular railway. Dotted at every quarter of a mile 
 along the grade were little forts connected by telephone 
 and telegraph lines. Between these fortinas were sentry 
 stations of logs or railroad ties. The jungle on either 
 side of the right-of-way had been cleared, and from 
 the remaining stumps and posts and fallen tree-trunks 
 hung a maze of barbed wire through which a man could 
 scarcely crawl, even in daylight. Eyes were keen, rifles 
 were ready, challenges were sharp, and countersigns were 
 quickly given on the Jucaro-Moron trocha, 
 18 265
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 In O'Reilly's party there were three men besides himself 
 the ever-faithful Jacket, a wrinkled old Camagueyan 
 who knew the bridle trails of his province as a fox knows 
 the tracks to its lair, and a silent guajiro from farther 
 west, detailed to accompany the expedition because of his 
 wide acquaintance with the devastated districts. Both 
 guides, having crossed the trocha more than once, affected 
 to scorn its terrors, and their easy confidence reassured 
 O'Reilly in spite of Este*ban's parting admonition. 
 
 The American had not dreamed of taking Jacket along, 
 but when he came to announce his departure the boy had 
 flatly refused to be left behind. Jacket, in fact, had 
 taken the matter entirely into his own hands and had 
 appealed directly to General Gomez. To his general the 
 boy had explained tearfully that patriotism was a rare 
 and an admirable quality, but that his love of country 
 was not half so strong or so sacred as his affection for 
 Johnnie O'Reilly. Having attached himself to the 
 American for better or for worse, no human power could 
 serve to detach him, so he asserted. He threatened, 
 moreover, that if he were compelled to suffer his bene 
 factor to go alone into the west he would lay down his 
 arms and permit General Gomez to free Cuba as best he 
 could. Cuba could go to Hades, so far as Jacket was 
 concerned he would not lift a finger to save it. Strangely 
 enough, Jacket's threat of defection had not appalled 
 General Gomez. In fact, with a dyspeptic gruffness 
 characteristic of him Gomez had ordered the boy off, 
 under penalty of a sound spanking. But Jacket had a 
 will of his own, likewise a temper. He greeted this un 
 feeling refusal with a noisy outburst of mingled rage, 
 grief, and defiance. Stamping his bare feet, sobbing, and 
 screaming, the boy finally flung himself upon the ground 
 and smote it with his fists, while tears streamed from his 
 eyes. Nor could he be silenced. He maintained such a 
 hideous and surprising uproar, answering Gomez's stern 
 
 266
 
 THE TROCHA 
 
 commands to be silent with such maniacal howls, that the 
 old soldier was finally glad to yield his consent, incident 
 ally consigning the rebellious youth to that perdition with 
 which he had threatened Cuba. 
 
 Having won his point, Jacket regained his composure 
 with suspicious suddenness and raced away to triumph 
 over his beloved O'Reilly. 
 
 Fifty miles of hard riding brought the party to the 
 trocha; they neared it on the second morning after leaving 
 Cubitas, and sought a secluded camping-spot. Later in 
 the day Hilario, the old Camagueyan, slipped away to 
 reconnoiter. He returned at twilight, but volunteered no 
 report of what he had discovered. After an insistent 
 cross-examination O'Reilly wrung from him the reluctant 
 admission that everything seemed favorable for a crossing 
 some time that night, and that he had selected a promis 
 ing point. Beyond that the old man would say nothing. 
 Johnnie asked himself uneasily if this reticence was not 
 really due to apprehension rather than to sullenness. 
 Whatever the cause, it was not particularly reassuring, 
 and as evening came on Johnnie found himself growing 
 decidedly nervous. 
 
 Supper, a simple meal, was quickly disposed of. Then 
 followed a long, dispiriting wait, for a gibbous moon rode 
 high in the sky and the guides refused to stir so long as it 
 remained there. It was a still night; in the jungle no air 
 was stirring, and darkness brought forth a torment of 
 mosquitoes. As day died, the woods awoke to sounds of 
 bird and insect life; strange, raucous calls pealed forth, 
 some familiar, others strange and unaccustomed. There 
 were thin whistlings, hoarse grunts and harsh cacklings, 
 high-pitched elfin laughter. Moving bodies disturbed the 
 leaves overhead; from all sides came the rustle and stir 
 of unseen creatures; sudden disputations were followed 
 by startled silences. Sitting there in the dark, bedeviled 
 by a pest of insects, mocked at by these mysterious voices, 
 
 267
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 and looking forward to a hazardous enterprise, O'Reilly be 
 gan to curse his vivid imagination and to envy the impas- 
 siveness of his companions. Even Jacket, he noted, en 
 dured the strain better; the boy was cheerful, philosoph 
 ical, quite unimpressed by his surroundings. When the 
 mosquitoes became unbearable he put on his trousers, 
 with some reluctance and much ceremony. 
 
 It seemed to O'Reilly that the moon floated motionless 
 in the sky, and more than once he was upon the point of 
 ordering a start, but he reflected that its radiance out in 
 the open must be far greater than it seemed here under 
 the dense tropical foliage. After a time he began to 
 wonder if his guides were as loyal as they should be, if 
 Hilario's strange reticence was caused by sullenness, by 
 apprehension, or by something altogether different. Both 
 of the men were strangers to him; of their fidelity he had 
 no guarantee. Now that his mind had become engaged 
 with thoughts of treachery, a determined effort was 
 necessary to keep himself in hand and O'Reilly fell back 
 finally upon his elemental trust in the Cuban character 
 scant consolation under the circumstances. 
 
 Midnight brought a moist, warm breeze and a few form 
 less clouds which served at times to dimly obscure the 
 moon. Watching the clouds, O'Reilly hoped that they 
 might prove to be the heralds of a storm. None came. 
 When the moon had finally crept down into the tree- 
 tops old Hilario stepped upon his cigarette, then began 
 silently to saddle up. The others followed with alacrity, 
 and fell in behind him as he led the way into the forest. 
 They no longer ventured to speak aloud; nothing but the 
 occasional sound of a hoof striking upon root or stone, the 
 creak of leather, or the rustle of branches against passing 
 bodies gave evidence that mounted men were en route. 
 
 When they had covered a couple of miles Hilario reined 
 in and the others crowded close. Ahead, dimly discernible 
 against the night sky, there appeared to be a thinning of 
 
 268
 
 THE TROCHA 
 
 the woods. After listening for a moment or two, Hilario 
 dismounted and slipped away; the three riders sat their 
 saddles with ears strained. Once more the myriad voices 
 of the night became audible the chirping of crickets, 
 the strident call of tree-toads, the whining undertone of 
 the mosquitoes. 
 
 Hilario returned with word that all was well, and each 
 man dismounted to muffle the feet of his horse with rags 
 and strips of gunny-sack provided for the purpose. Then, 
 one by one, they moved forward to the edge of the clear 
 ing. The trocha lay before them. 
 
 After the cavernous obscurity of the jungle the night 
 seemed suddenly to lighten and O'Reilly found himself 
 looking out over a level waste of stumps and tree-trunks 
 perhaps a quarter of a mile wide, extending right and left 
 as far as he could see. Against the luminous western 
 horizon opposite the inky forest stood like a wall. Mid 
 way of the clearing there was a railroad grade with a 
 telephone-pole or two limned against the sky. The 
 clearing was silent and to all appearances deserted; 
 nothing stirred, no sign of life appeared anywhere. 
 And yet, as the American studied the place, he had a 
 queer, uncomfortable sensation that it was thickly peopled 
 and that eyes were peering out at him from the gloom. 
 Blurred forms took shape, phantom figures moved along 
 the embankment, stumps stirred. 
 
 O'Reilly felt a pair of reins thrust into his hand and 
 found Hilario examining a large pair of tinner's shears. 
 
 "Do you wish me to go with you?" he inquired of the 
 guide. 
 
 The latter shook his head. "Antonio will go; he will 
 keep watch while I clear a path. If you hear or see 
 anything " 
 
 Jacket interrupted with a sibilant: "Psst! Look! 
 Yonder!" 
 
 A lantern -like illumination had leaped out of the 
 
 269
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 blackness and now approached swiftly down the railroad 
 grade. 
 
 O'Reilly laid a heavy hand upon the old Camagueyan 
 and inquired in sharp suspicion, "What does that mean 
 an alarm?" 
 
 There was a breathless moment during which the four 
 men followed the erratic course of the spark. Then 
 Antonio chuckled. "Alabaos! A light-bug," said he. 
 "Don't you know a cucullo when you see one?" He 
 cautiously tested the ejector of his carbine and tightened 
 the cord that served as his belt. 
 
 O'Reilly drew a deep breath of relief. He had never 
 become wholly accustomed to the giant light-beetles of the 
 tropics, although he had carried one often on sentry duty 
 to see the face of his watch, and not infrequently had 
 seen Cuban women wearing them in their hair as orna 
 ments. 
 
 "Jove !" he muttered. " It gave me a fright." 
 
 Hilario resumed his instructions: "If anything goes 
 wrong, wait here. Don't ride away until we have time " 
 
 "Never fear. I won't desert you," the American re 
 assured him. 
 
 The two white-clad figures slipped away, became indis 
 tinct, and then disappeared. The night was hot, the mos 
 quitoes hummed dismally and settled in clouds upon the 
 waiting pair, maddening them with their poison. After 
 a time a horse snorted and Jacket cursed nervously. 
 
 "I'd like to see where we are," the boy muttered. 
 
 "Do you know these men?" O'Reilly asked him. 
 
 "No. God deliver me from such unpleasant fellows." 
 
 "I hope they're honest." 
 
 "Humph! I trust nobody." There was a pause. 
 "Never mind," Jacket assured his companion. "I will 
 make short work of them if they prove to be traitors." 
 
 A half-hour passed, then the two ghostly figures ma 
 terialized once more. 
 
 270
 
 THE TROCHA 
 
 "Dios!" grumbled Hilario. "There are many strings 
 to this Spanish guitar. What a row when they discover 
 that I have played a Cuban danzon upon it." The old 
 man seemed less surly than before, and O'Reilly felt 
 ashamed of his recent suspicions. 
 
 "Is the way clear?" he inquired. 
 
 "As far as the railroad, yes. We heard voices there, 
 and came back. We will have to cut our way forward 
 after we cross the track. Now then, follow me without a 
 sound." 
 
 Leading his horse by the bit ring, Hilario moved out into 
 the clearing, followed once more by his three companions. 
 Concealment was out of the question now, for their only 
 covering was the darkness. O'Reilly had the uncomfort 
 able feeling that the cavalcade bulked monstrous big and 
 must be visible at a great distance; he experienced much 
 the sensations of a man crossing a sheet of thin ice with 
 nerves painfully strained, awaiting the first menacing 
 crack. In spite of all precautions the animals made a 
 tremendous racket, or so it seemed, and, despite Hilario's 
 twistings and turnings, it was impossible to avoid an 
 occasional loop of barbed wire, therefore flesh and cloth 
 ing suffered grievously. But at length the party brought 
 up under the railroad embankment and paused. Out of 
 the voids to their right came a faint murmur of voices. 
 As carefully as might be the four men ascended the slope, 
 crossed the rails, and descended into the ditch on the 
 other side. Another moment and they encountered a 
 taut strand of barbed wire. The metallic snip of Hila 
 rio's shears sounded like a pistol-shot to O'Reilly. Into 
 the maze of strands they penetrated, yard by yard, 
 clipping and carefully laying back the wire as they went. 
 Progress was slow; they had to feel their way; the sharp 
 barbs brought blood and muttered profanity at every step. 
 
 None of the four ever knew what gave the alarm. 
 Their first intimation of discovery came with a startling 
 
 271
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Quien vive?" hurled at them from somewhere at their 
 backs. 
 
 An instant and the challenge was followed by a Mauser 
 shot. Other reports rang out as the sentry emptied his 
 rifle in their direction. 
 
 "So! They are shooting-bats," Hilario grunted. 
 
 Antonio swung about and cocked his Remington, but 
 the other spoke sharply. "Fool! If you shoot they will 
 see the fire and riddle us. A curse on the spider that spun 
 this web!" 
 
 It was a test of courage to crouch among the charred 
 stumps, enmeshed in that cruel tangle of wire, while the 
 night was stabbed by daggers of fire and while the trocha 
 awoke to the wild alarm. From somewhere in the dis 
 tance came a shouted command and the sound of running 
 feet, suddenly putting an end to further inaction. An 
 tonio began to hack viciously with his machete, in an 
 effort to aid Hilario's labors. The so-uid of his sturdy 
 blows betrayed the party's whereabouts so clearly that 
 finally the older man could restrain himself no longer. 
 
 "Give it to them, compadres; it is a game that we can 
 play." 
 
 O'Reilly had been gripping his rifle tensely, his heart 
 in his throat, his pulses pounding. As near a panic as he 
 had ever been, he found, oddly enough, that the mere act 
 of throwing his weapon to his shoulder and firing it 
 calmed him. The kick of the gun subdued his excitement 
 and cleared his brain. He surprised himself by directing 
 Jacket in a cool, authoritative voice, to shoot low. When 
 he had emptied the magazine he led two of the horses for 
 ward. Then, grasping his own machete, he joined in 
 clearing a pathway. 
 
 It seemed an interminable time ere theyextricated them 
 selves from the trap, but finally they succeeded and gained 
 the welcome shelter of the woods, pausing inside its 
 shelter to cut the muffles from their horses' feet. By this 
 
 272
 
 THE TROCHA 
 
 time the defenders of the trocha were pouring volley after 
 volley at random into the night. 
 
 Hilario sucked the cuts in his horny palms and spat 
 forth the blood. 
 
 "If Gomez had the ammunition these fools are wasting 
 he would free Cuba in no time." 
 
 Now that the skirmish was over, Jacket began to boast 
 of his part in it. 
 
 " Ha! Perhaps they'll know better than to show them 
 selves the next time I come this way," said he. "You 
 saw me, didn't you? Well, I made a few Spanish widows 
 to-night." 
 
 "Not many, I'm afraid," O'Reilly laughed. 
 
 "Oh, believe me, I'm an old hand at this sort of thing. 
 I shoot just as well at night as I do in the daytime." 
 This was literally true, and when no one disputed his 
 assertion Jacket proceeded further in praise of himself, 
 only to break off with a wordless cry of dismay. 
 
 "What's the matter?" Johnnie inquired. 
 
 "Look! Behold me!" wailed the hero. "I have left 
 the half of my beautiful trousers on that barbed wire!" 
 
 Antonio swung a leg over his saddle, saying: "Come 
 along, amigos; we have fifty leagues ahead of us. The 
 war will be over while we stand here gossiping."
 
 XXIII 
 
 INTO THE CITY OF DEATH 
 
 O'REILLY'S adventures on his swift ride through Las 
 Villas have no part in this story. It is only neces 
 sary to say that they were numerous and varied, that 
 O'Reilly experienced excitement aplenty, and that upon 
 more than one occasion he was forced to think and to act 
 quickly in order to avoid a clash with some roving guer 
 rilla band. He had found it imperative at all times to 
 avoid the larger towns, for they, and in fact most of the 
 hamlets, were unsafe; hence the little party was forced 
 to follow back roads and obscure bridle trails. But the 
 two guides were never at a loss; -they were resourceful, 
 courageous, and at no time did the American have reason 
 to doubt their faithfulness. 
 
 Evidences of the war increased as the journey length 
 ened. The potreros were lush with grass, but no herds 
 grazed upon them; villages were deserted and guano huts 
 were falling into decay, charred fields growing up to weeds 
 and the ruins of vast centrales showing where the Insur- 
 rectos had been at work. This was the sugar country, 
 the heart of Cuba, whence Spain had long drawn her life 
 blood, and from the first it had" been the policy of the 
 rebel leaders to destroy the large estates, leaving un 
 damaged only the holdings of those little farmers whose 
 loyalty to the cause of freedom was unquestioned. 
 
 Food became a problem immediately after the travelers 
 had crossed the trocha. Such apprehensive families as 
 still lurked in the woods were liberal enough Antonio, by 
 
 274
 
 INTO THE CITY OF DEATH 
 
 the way, knew all of them but they had little to give and, 
 in consequence, O'Reilly's party learned the taste of wild 
 fruits, berries, and palmetto hearts. Once they managed 
 to kill a small pig, the sole survivor of some obscure 
 country tragedy, but the rest of the time their meat, when 
 there was any, consisted of iguanas those big, repulsive 
 lizards and jutias, the Cuban field-rats. 
 
 Neither the lizards nor the rats were quite as bad as 
 they looked or sounded; the meat of the former was 
 tender and white, while the latter, although strong, was 
 not unpalatable. To hungry men both were muy 
 sabrosa, as Jacket put it. This was not the boy's first 
 experience with such a diet; having campaigned before 
 in the west, he was accustomed to the taste of juita, and 
 he told O'Reilly how his troop had once lived so long 
 upon these rats that it became impossible to surprise a 
 Spanish enemy, except by approaching up the wind, as a 
 hunter stalks his game. Jacket gravely assured his friend 
 that the Spaniards could smell him and his brother 
 patriots from a distance of five kilometers a statement, 
 by the way, which the American by this time was ready 
 to believe. 
 
 Fortunately there was no shortage of food for the horses, 
 and so, despite the necessity of numerous detours, the 
 party made good time. They crossed into Matanzas, 
 pushed on over rolling hills, through sweeping savannas, 
 past empty clearings and deserted villages, to their jour 
 ney's end. A fortunate encounter with a rebel partida 
 from General Betancourt's army enabled them to reach 
 headquarters without loss of time, and one afternoon, 
 worn, ragged and hungry, they dismounted in front of 
 that gallant officer's hut. 
 
 General Betancourt read the letter which O'Reilly 
 handed him, then looked up with a smile. 
 
 "So! You are one of Gomez's Americans, eh? Well, 
 I would never have known it, to look at you; the sun and 
 
 275
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 the wind have made you into a very good Cuban. And 
 your clothes One might almost mistake you for a 
 Cuban cabinet officer." 
 
 O'Reilly joined in the laughter evoked by this remark. 
 He was quite as tattered as the poorest of Betancourt's 
 common soldiers; his shoes were broken and disreputable; 
 his cotton trousers, snagged by barbed wire and brambles, 
 and soiled by days in the saddle and nights in the grass, 
 were in desperate need of attention. His beard had 
 grown, too, and his skin, where it was exposed, was 
 burnt to a mahogany brown. Certainly there was 
 nothing about his appearance to bespeak his nation 
 ality. 
 
 The general continued: "I am directed in this letter to 
 help you in some enterprise. Command me, sir." 
 
 As briefly as possible Johnnie made known the object 
 of his journey. The officer nodded his comprehension, 
 but as he did so a puzzled expression crossed his face. 
 
 "Yes, I reported that Miss Varona had gone into the 
 city I took some pains to find out. Do you have reason 
 to doubt" 
 
 "Not the least, sir." 
 
 "Then why have you come all this way?" 
 
 "I came to find her and to fetch her to her brother." 
 
 "But you don't understand. She is actually inside 
 the lines, in Matanzas a prisoner." 
 
 " Exactly. I intend to go into Matanzas and bring her 
 out." 
 
 General Betancourt drew back, astonished. " My dear 
 man!" he exclaimed. "Are you mad?" 
 
 O'Reilly smiled faintly. "Quite probably. All lovers 
 are mildly mad, I believe." 
 
 "Ah! Lovers! I begin to see. But how do you 
 mean to go about this this impossible undertaking?" 
 
 "You told me just now that I could pass for a Cuban. 
 Well, I am going to put it to the test. If I once get into 
 
 276
 
 INTO THE CITY OF DEATH 
 
 the city I shall manage somehow to get out again, and 
 bring her with me." 
 
 "Um-m!" The general appraised O'Reilly specula- 
 tively. No doubt you can get in it is not so difficult to 
 enter, I believe, and especially to one who speaks the 
 language like a native. But the return I fear you will 
 find that another matter. Matanzas is a place of pesti 
 lence, hunger, despair. No one goes there from choice 
 any more, and no one ever comes out." 
 
 "So I should imagine." The speaker's careless tone 
 added to General Betancourt's astonishment. "Bless 
 me!" he exclaimed. "What- an extraordinary young 
 man! Is it possible that you do not comprehend the 
 terrible conditions?" A sudden thought struck him and 
 he inquired, quickly: "Tell me, you are not by any 
 chance that hero they call El Demonic? I have heard 
 that he is indeed a demon. No? Very well! You say 
 you wish to visit Matanzas, and I am instructed to help 
 you. How can I do so?" 
 
 O'Reilly hesitated an instant. "For one thing, I need 
 money. I I haven't a single peseta." 
 
 "You are welcome to the few dollars I possess." 
 
 Johnnie expressed his gratitude for this ready assist 
 ance. "One thing more," said he. "Will you give my 
 boy, Jacket, a new pair of trousers and send him back to 
 the Orient at the first opportunity?" 
 
 "Of course. It is done." The general laid a friendly 
 hand upon O'Reilly's shoulder, saying, gravely: "It 
 would relieve me intensely to send you back with him, 
 for I have fears for the success of your venture. Matan 
 zas is a hell; it has swallowed up thousands of our good 
 countrymen; thousands have died there. I'm afraid you 
 do not realize what risks you are taking." 
 
 O'Reilly did not allow this well-meant warning to in 
 fluence him, nor did he listen to the admonitions of those 
 other Cubans who tried to argue him out of his purpose, 
 
 277
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 once it became generally known. On the contrary, he 
 proceeded with his preparations and spent that afternoon 
 in satisfying himself that Rosa had indeed left the Pan 
 de Matanzas before Cobo's raid. 
 
 Among Betancourt's troops was a man who had been 
 living in the hills at the time Asensio and his family had 
 abandoned their struggle for existence, and to him 
 O'Reilly went. This fellow, it seemed, had remained 
 with his family in the mountains some time after Asensio's 
 departure. It was from him that O'Reilly heard his first 
 authentic report of the atrocities perpetrated by Cobo's 
 Volunteers. This man had lost his wife, his little son, and 
 all the scanty belongings he possessed. With shaking 
 hands upstretched to heaven, the fellow cursed the 
 author of his misfortunes. 
 
 "I live for one thing!" he cried, shrilly. "To meet that 
 monster, and to butcher him, as he butchers women and 
 children." 
 
 O'Reilly purposely left his most unpleasant task to the 
 last. When his arrangements had been completed and 
 he had acquainted himself as far as possible with the 
 hazards he was likely to encounter, he took Jacket aside 
 and broke the news to him that on the following morning 
 they must part. As he had expected, the boy refused to 
 listen to him. O'Reilly remained firm and Jacket adopted 
 those tactics which had proved so potent with General 
 Gomez. He began to weep copiously. He worked him 
 self up to a hysterical crescendo which threatened to 
 arouse the entire encampment. But O'Reilly was un 
 moved. 
 
 "Be quiet," he told the boy. " I won't let you go with 
 me, and that ends it." 
 
 "You dassent leave me," sobbed the youngster. " I got 
 no friend but you." 
 
 "It will be hard enough for one man to slip through; 
 two would be sure to fail." 
 
 278
 
 INTO THE CITY OF DEATH 
 
 "Those Spaniards will skill you!" Jacket wailed. 
 
 " So much the more reason for you to stay here." 
 
 At this the boy uttered a louder cry. He stamped his 
 bare feet in a frenzy of disappointment. "You dassent 
 leave me you dassent!" 
 
 "Listen, people are starving in Matanzas; they are 
 sick; they are dying in the streets." 
 
 "I don't eat much." 
 
 When Johnnie shook his head stubbornly Jacket 
 launched himself into a torrent of profanity the violence 
 of which dried his tears. His vocabulary was surprising. 
 He reviled the Spaniards, O'Reilly, himself, everybody 
 and everything; he leveled anathemas at that woman who 
 had come between him and his beloved benefactor. The 
 latter listened good-naturedly. 
 
 "You're a tough kid," he laughed, when Jacket's first 
 rage had worn itself out. "I like you, and I'd take you 
 if I could. But this isn't an enterprise for a boy, and it 
 won't get you anything to keep up this racket." 
 
 Jacket next tried the power of argument. He at 
 tempted to prove that in a hazardous undertaking of this 
 sort his assistance would be invaluable. He was, so he 
 declared, the one person in all Cuba in every respect 
 qualified to share O'Reilly's perils. To begin with, he 
 was not afraid of Spaniards, or anything else, for that 
 matter he dismissed the subject of personal courage 
 with a contemptuous shrug. As for cunning, sagacity, 
 prudence, resource, all-around worth, he was, without 
 doubt, unequaled in any country. He was a veritable 
 Spartan, too, when it came to hardship privation and 
 suffering were almost to his liking. He was discreet 
 discretion was something he had inherited; he was a 
 diplomat diplomacy being one of his most unique ac 
 complishments. As for this talk about hunger, O'Reilly 
 need not concern himself in the least on that score, for 
 Jacket was a small eater and could grow fat on a diet of 
 
 279
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 dead leaves. Disease? Bah! It made him laugh. His 
 experience with sickness was wider than most fisicos, 
 and he was a better nurse than Miss Evans would ever be. 
 Jacket did not wish to appear in the least boastful. 
 On the contrary, he was actually too modest, as his friends 
 could attest, but truth compelled him to admit that 
 he was just the man for O'Reilly. He found it impossible 
 to recommend himself too highly; to save his soul, he 
 could think of no qualification in which he was lacking 
 and could see no reason why his benefactor would not 
 greatly profit by the free use of his amazing talents. 
 The enterprise was difficult ; it would certainly fail with 
 out him. 
 
 Johnnie remained carefully attentive during this ad 
 juration. He felt no desire even to smile, for the boy's 
 earnestness was touching and it caused the elder man's 
 throat to tighten uncomfortably. Johnnie had not 
 realized before how fond he had become of this quaint 
 youngster. And so, when the little fellow paused hope 
 fully, O'Reilly put an arm around him. 
 
 "I'm sure you are everything you say you are, Jacket, 
 and more, too, but you can't go!" 
 
 With that Jacket flung off the embrace and, stalking 
 away, seated himself. He took a half -smoked cigar from 
 the pocket of his shirt and lit it, scowling the while at his 
 friend. More than once during the evening O'Reilly 
 detected his sullen, angry eyes upon him. 
 
 General Betancourt and several members of his staff 
 were up early the following morning to bid their visitor 
 good-by. In spite of their efforts to make the parting 
 cheerful it was plain that they had little hope of ever again 
 seeing this foolhardy American. 
 
 Johnnie's spirits were not in the least affected by this 
 ill-concealed pessimism, for, as he told himself, he had 
 money in his pockets and Matanzas was not many miles 
 away. But when he came to part from Jacket he experi- 
 
 280
 
 INTO THE CITY OF DEATH 
 
 enced a genuine disappointment. The boy, strangely 
 enough, was almost indifferent to his leaving; he merely 
 extended a limp and dirty hand, and replied to O'Reilly's 
 parting words with a careless "Adios!" 
 
 In hurt surprise the former inquired, "Don't we part 
 good friends?" 
 
 "Sure!" Jacket shrugged, then turned away. 
 
 Jacket was a likable youngster; his devotion was 
 thoroughly unselfish; it had not been easy to wound him. 
 With keener regrets than he cared to acknowledge O'Reilly 
 set out upon his journey, following the guide whom 
 General Betancourt had provided. 
 
 It was a lovely morning, sufficiently warm to promise a 
 hot midday; the air was moist and fresh from a recent 
 shower. This being the rainy season, the trails were soft, 
 and where the rich red Cuban soil was exposed the 
 travelers sank into it as into wet putty. 
 
 Crossing a rocky ridge, O'Reilly and his guide at last 
 emerged upon an open slope, knee-high in grass and grown 
 up to bottle-palms, those queer, distorted trees whose 
 trunks are swollen into the likeness of earthen water-jars. 
 Scattered here and there over the meadows were the dead 
 or fallen trunks of another variety, the cabbage-palm, the 
 green heart of which had long formed a staple article of 
 diet for the Insurrectos. Spanish axes had been at work 
 here and not a single tree remained alive. The green 
 floor of the valley farther down was dotted with the 
 other, the royal kind, that monarch of tropic vegetation 
 which lends to the Cuban landscape its peculiar and dis 
 tinctive beauty. 
 
 "Yonder is the camino," said the countryman, pointing 
 into the valley; "it will lead you to the main road; and 
 there" he turned to the northward "is Matanzas. 
 Go with God, and don't drink the well water, which is 
 polluted from the rains." With a smile and a wave of the 
 hand the man turned back and plunged into the jungle. 
 19 281
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 As O'Reilly descended the slope he realized keenly that 
 he was alone and in hostile territory. The hills and the 
 woods from Pinar del Rio to Oriente were Cuban, or, at 
 most, they were disputed ground. But here in the plains 
 and valleys near the cities Spain was supreme. From this 
 moment on O'Reilly knew he must rely entirely upon 
 himself. The success of his enterprise his very life 
 hinged upon his caution, his powers of dissimulation, his 
 ability to pass as a harmless, helpless -pacifico. It gave 
 him an unaccustomed thrill, by no means pleasant. 
 
 The road, when he came to it, proved to be a deep gutter 
 winding between red-clay banks cut by the high wheels 
 of clumsy cane-carts. Inasmuch as no crops whatever 
 had been moved over the road during the past season, it 
 was now little more than an oozy, sticky rut. Not a roof, 
 not a chimney, was in sight; the valley was deserted. 
 Here was a fertile farming country and yet no living 
 thing, no sound of bells, no voices, no crowing cocks, no 
 lowing cattle. It was depressing to O'Reilly, and more, for 
 there was something menacing and threatening about it all. 
 
 Toward noon the breeze lessened and it became insuf 
 ferably hot. A bank of clouds in the east promised a 
 cooling shower, so Johnnie sought the nearest shade to 
 wait for it, and took advantage of the delay to eat his 
 slender lunch. He was meditatively munching a sweet- 
 potato when a sound at his back caused him to leap to his 
 feet in alarm. He whirled, then uttered an exclamation of 
 amazement. Seated not fifty feet away was a bare 
 legged boy, similarly engaged in eating a sweet-potato. 
 It was Jacket. His brown cheeks were distended, his 
 bright, inquisitive eyes were fixed upon O'Reilly from 
 beneath a defiant scowl. 
 
 "Jacket!" cried the man. "What the devil are you 
 doing here?" 
 
 "You goin' to let me come along?" challenged the in 
 truder. 
 
 282
 
 INTO THE CITY OF DEATH 
 
 "So! You followed me, after I said I didn't want 
 you?" O'Reilly spoke reproachfully; but reproaches had 
 no effect upon the lad. With a mild expletive, Jacket 
 signified his contempt for such a weak form of persuasion. 
 
 "See here now." O'Reilly stepped closer. "Let's be 
 sensible about this." 
 
 But Jacket scrambled to his feet and retreated warily, 
 stuffing the uneaten portion of the sweet-potato into his 
 mouth. It was plain that he had no confidence in O'Reil 
 ly's intentions. Muttering something in a muffled voice, 
 he armed himself with a stout stick. 
 
 "Come here," commanded the American. 
 
 Jacket shook his head. He made a painful attempt to 
 swallow, and when his utterance became more distinct he 
 consigned his idol to a warmer place than Cuba. 
 
 "I'm a tough kid," he declared. "Don't get gay on 
 me." 
 
 The two parleyed briefly; then, when satisfied that no 
 violence was intended him, the boy sat down to listen. 
 But, as before, neither argument nor appeal had the 
 slightest effect upon him. He denied that he had fol 
 lowed his benefactor; he declared that he was a free agent 
 and at liberty to go where he willed. If it so chanced 
 that his fancy took him to the city of Matanzas at the 
 same time O'Reilly happened to be traveling thither, the 
 circumstance might be put down to the long arm of co 
 incidence. If his company were distasteful to the elder 
 man, O'Reilly was free to wait and follow later; it was a 
 matter of complete indifference to Jacket. He had 
 business in Matanzas and he proposed to attend to it. 
 The boy lied gravely, unblushingly. Nevertheless, he kept 
 a watchful eye upon his hearer. 
 
 "Very well," O'Reilly told him, finally. " I give in." 
 
 Jacket's face instantly lit up. He radiated good 
 humor; he hitched his body closer. 
 
 "By ! I get my own way, don't I?" he laughed. 
 
 283
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Indeed you do." O'Reilly laid a hand fondly upon 
 his loyal follower. "And I don't mind telling you that 
 I'm more than half glad of it. I I was getting lonesome. 
 I didn't know how much I could miss you. But now we 
 must make some plans, we must have an understanding 
 and decide who we are. Let me see your real name is 
 Narciso " 
 
 "Narciso Villar." 
 
 "Well, then, I shall be Juan Villar, your brother. Hence 
 forth we shall speak nothing but Spanish. Tell me now, 
 what was our father's name, where was our home, and 
 what are we doing together?" 
 
 During the breathless interval before the shower the 
 two sat with their heads together, talking earnestly. As 
 the wind came and the cooling rain began to rattle on the 
 leaves overhead they took up their bundles and set out. 
 The big drops drenched them quickly. Their thin gar 
 ments clung to them and water streamed down their 
 bodies; overhead the sky was black and rent by vivid 
 streaks of fire, but they plodded onward cheerfully. 
 
 Jacket was himself again ; he bent his weight against the 
 tempest and lengthened his short strides to O'Reilly's. 
 He tried to whistle, but his teeth chattered and the wind 
 interfered, so he hummed a song, to drive the chill out of 
 his bones and to hearten his benefactor. Now that he 
 was at last accepted as a full partner in this enterprise, it 
 became his duty not only to share its perils, but to lessen 
 its hardships and to yield diversion. 
 
 The rain was cold, the briers beside the overgrown path 
 were sharp, and they scratched the boy's bare legs cruelly; 
 his stomach clamored for a companion to that solitary 
 sweet-potato, too, but in his breast glowed ardor and 
 pride. Jacket considered himself a fortunate person a 
 very fortunate person, indeed. Had he not found a 
 brother, and did not that brother love him? There was 
 no doubt about the latter, for O'Reilly's eyes, when he 
 
 284
 
 INTO THE CITY OF DEATH 
 
 looked down, were kind and smiling, his voice was friendly 
 and intimate. Here was a man to die for. 
 
 The downpour lasted but a short time, then the sun 
 came out and dried the men's clothes; on the whole, it 
 had been refreshing. When evening came the Villar 
 brothers sought refuge in an old sugar-mill, or rather in a 
 part of it still standing. They were on the main calzada 
 now, the paved road which links the two main cities of the 
 island, and by the following noon their destination was 
 in sight. 
 
 O'Reilly felt a sudden excitement when Matanzas came 
 into view. From this distance the city looked quite as it 
 did when he had left it, except that the blue harbor was 
 almost empty of shipping, while the familiar range of 
 hills that hid the Yumuri that valley of delight so closely 
 linked in his thoughts with Rosa Varona seemed to smile 
 at him like an old friend. For the thousandth time he 
 asked himself if he had come in time to find her, or if fate's 
 maddening delays had proved his own and the girl's 
 undoing. 
 
 O'Reilly knew that although Matanzas was a prison 
 and a pesthole, a girl like Rosa would suffer therein perils 
 infinitely worse than imprisonment or disease. It was a 
 thought he could not bear to dwell upon. 
 
 Signs of life began to appear now, the travelers passed 
 small garden-patches and occasional cultivated fields; they 
 encountered loaded carts bound into the city, and once 
 they hid themselves while a column of mounted troops 
 went by. 
 
 O'Reilly stopped to pass the time of day with a wrinkled 
 cartman whose dejected oxen were resting. 
 
 "Going into the city, are you?" the fellow inquired. 
 "Starved out, I suppose. Well, it's as pleasant to starve 
 in one place as another." 
 
 Jacket helped himself to a stalk of cane from the load 
 and began to strip it with his teeth. 
 
 285
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Will the soldiers allow us to enter?" Johnnie inquired. 
 
 "Of course. Why not?" The old man laughed mirth 
 lessly; then his voice changed. "Go back," he said, "go 
 back and die in the fields. Matanzas stinks of rotting 
 corpses. Go back where the air is clean." He swung his 
 long lash over the oxen, they leaned against the load, and 
 the cart creaked dismally on its way. 
 
 It is never difficult to enter a trap, and Matanzas was 
 precisely that. There were soldiers everywhere, but be 
 yond an indifferent challenge at the outer blockhouse, a 
 perfunctory question or two, Narciso and Juan Villar 
 experienced no trouble whatever in passing the lines. 
 Discipline, never strict at best, was extremely lax at the 
 brick Jortinas along the roads, and, since these two refugees 
 were too poor to warrant search, they were waved onward 
 by the sentries. They obeyed silently; in aimless bewil 
 derment they shuffled along toward the heart of the city. 
 Almost before they realized it they had run the gauntlet 
 and had joined that army of misery, fifteen thousand 
 strong. The hand of Spain had closed over them.
 
 xxrv 
 
 ROSA 
 
 "T OOK!" Jacket clutched at O'Reilly and pointed a 
 l_rf shaking finger. "More beggars! Cristo! And 
 those little children!" The boy tried to laugh, but his 
 voice cracked nervously. "Are they children, or gourds 
 with legs under them?" 
 
 O'Reilly looked, then turned his eyes away. He and 
 Jacket had reached the heart of Matanzas and were facing 
 the public square, the Plaza de la Libertad it was called. 
 O'Reilly knew the place well; every building that flanked 
 it was familiar to him, from the vast, rambling Governor's 
 Palace to the ornate Casino Espanol and the Grand 
 Hotel, and time was when he had been a welcome visitor 
 at all of them. But things were different now. Gone were 
 the customary crowds of well-dressed, well-fed citizens; 
 gone the rows of carriages which at this hour of the day 
 were wont to circle the Plaza laden with the aristocracy of 
 the city; gone was that air of cheerfulness and substance 
 which had lent distinction to the place. Matanzas ap 
 peared poor and squalid, depressingly wretched; its 
 streets were foul and the Plaza de la Libertad grim 
 mockery of a name was crowded with a throng such as 
 it had never held in O'Reilly's time, a throng of people 
 who were, without exception, gaunt, listless, ragged. 
 There was no afternoon parade of finery, no laughter, no 
 noise; the benches were full, but their occupants were 
 silent, too sick or too weak to move. Nor were there 
 any romping children. There were, to be sure, vast 
 
 287
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 numbers of undersized figures in the square, but one 
 needed to look twice to realize that they were not pygmies 
 or wizened little old folks. It was not strange that 
 Jacket had compared them to gourds with legs, for all were 
 naked, and most of them had bodies swollen into the 
 likeness of pods or calabashes. They looked peculiarly 
 grotesque with their spidery legs and thin faces. 
 
 O'Reilly passed a damp hand across his eyes. "God!" 
 he breathed. "She she's one of these!" 
 
 He had not penetrated even thus far into the city with 
 out receiving a hint of what conditions must be, for 
 in the outlying streets he had seen sights and smelled 
 odors that had sickened him; but now that he was face 
 to face with the worst, now that he breathed the very 
 breath of misery, he could scarcely credit what he saw. 
 A stench, indescribably nauseating, assailed him and 
 Jacket as they mingled with the crowd, for as yet their 
 nostrils were unused to poverty and filth. It was the 
 rancid odor that arises from unwashed, unhealthy bodies, 
 and it testified eloquently to the living-conditions of the 
 prisoners. Hollow eyes and hopeless faces followed 
 the two new-comers as they picked their way slowly 
 along. 
 
 The reconcentrados overran Matanzas in an unclean 
 swarm; streets and plazas were congested with them, for 
 no attempt was made to confine them to their quarters. 
 Morning brought them streaming down from the suburban 
 slopes where they lived, evening sent them winding back; 
 their days were spent in an aimless search for food. 
 They snatched at crumbs and combed the gutters for 
 crusts. How they managed to exist, whence came the 
 food that kept life in their miserable bodies, was a mystery, 
 even to the citizens of the city; no organized effort had 
 been made to care for them and there was insufficient 
 surplus food for half their number. Yet somehow they 
 lived and lingered on. 
 
 288
 
 ROSA 
 
 Of course the city was not entirely peopled by the starv 
 ing as a matter of fact they formed scarcely one-fifth 
 of the normal civil population and the life of the city 
 was going on a good deal as usual. Stores were open, at 
 least there was a daily train from Habana, and the bar 
 racks were full of Spanish troops. It was from off the 
 wastage of this normal population that these fifteen 
 thousand prisoners were forced to live. Even this wast 
 age was woefully inadequate, merely serving to prolong 
 suffering by making starvation slower. 
 
 At the time of O'Reilly's arrival the sight presented by 
 these innocent victims of war was appalling; it roused in 
 him a dull red rage at the power which had wrought this 
 crime and at the men who permitted it to continue. 
 Spain was a Christian nation, he reflected; she had set up 
 more crosses than any other, and yet beneath them she 
 had butchered more people than all the nations of the 
 earth combined. This monstrous, coldly calculating effort 
 to destroy the entire Cuban people seemed to him the 
 blackest infamy of all, and he wondered if it would be 
 allowed to succeed. 
 
 Fortunately for the two friends, General Betancourt's 
 generosity served to relieve them from any immediate 
 danger of starvation. After making a few purchases and 
 eating with the utmost frugality, they began their search. 
 Later, they stretched themselves out to sleep on the 
 stones beneath the portales of the railroad station. 
 
 They spent a horrid, harrowing night, for now the 
 general distress was brought home to them more poig 
 nantly than ever. At dawn they learned that these 
 people were actually dying of neglect. The faint light be 
 trayed the presence of new corpses lying upon the station 
 flagstones. From those still living, groans, sighs, sick 
 mutterings rose until O'Reilly finally dragged his youth 
 ful companion out of the place. 
 
 " I can't stand that," he confessed. " I can't sleep when 
 
 289
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 people are starving to death alongside of me. This 
 money burns my pocket. I I " 
 
 Jacket read his purpose and laid a detaining hand upon 
 his arm. 
 
 "It will save our lives, too," he said, simply. 
 
 "Bah! We are men. There are women and children 
 yonder " 
 
 But Jacket's sensibilities were calloused, it seemed. 
 " Of what use would your few pesetas be among so many?" 
 he inquired. "God has willed this, and He knows what 
 He is doing. Besides, your 'pretty one' is probably as 
 hungry as are these people. No doubt we shall find that 
 she, too, is starving." 
 
 O'Reilly slowly withdrew his hand from his pocket. 
 "Yes! It's Rosa's money. But come; I can't endure 
 this." 
 
 He led the way back to the Plaza of Liberty and there 
 on an iron bench they waited for the full day. They were 
 very tired, but further sleep was impossible, for the death- 
 wagons rumbled by on their way to collect the bodies of 
 those who had died during the night. 
 
 Neither the man nor the boy ever wholly lost the night 
 mare memory of the next few days, for their search took 
 them into every part of the reconcentrado districts. What 
 they beheld aged them. Day after day, from dawn till 
 dark, they wandered, peering into huts, staring into faces, 
 asking questions until they were faint from fatigue and 
 sick with disappointment. 
 
 As time passed and they failed to find Rosa Varona a 
 terrible apprehension began to weigh O'Reilly down; his 
 face grew old and drawn, his shoulders sagged, his limbs 
 began to drag. It was all that Jacket could do to keep 
 him going. The boy, now that there was actual need of 
 him, proved a perfect jewel; his optimism never failed, 
 his faith never faltered, and O'Reilly began to feel a dumb 
 gratitude at having the youngster by his side. 
 
 290
 
 ROSA 
 
 Jacket, too, became thin and gray about the lips. But 
 he complained not at all and he laughed a great deal. To 
 him the morrow was always another day of brilliant 
 promise toward which he looked with never-failing eager 
 ness; and not for a single moment did he question the 
 ultimate success of their endeavor. Such an example did 
 much for the older man. Together they practised the 
 strictest, harshest economy, living on a few cents a day, 
 while they methodically searched the city from limit to 
 limit. 
 
 At first O'Reilly concerned himself more than a little 
 with the problem of escape, but as time wore on he thought 
 less and less about that. Nor did he have occasion to 
 waste further concern regarding his disguise. That it was 
 perfect he proved when several of his former acquaintances 
 passed him by and when, upon one occasion, he came face 
 to face with old Don Mario de Castano. Don Mario had 
 changed; he was older, his flesh had softened, and it hung 
 loosely upon his form. He appeared worried, harassed, 
 and O'Reilly recalled rumors that the war had ruined him. 
 The man's air of dejection seemed to bear out the story. 
 
 They had been enemies, nevertheless O'Reilly felt a 
 sudden impulse to make himself known to the Spaniard 
 and to appeal directly for news of Rosa's fate. But 
 Don Mario, he remembered in time, had a reputation for 
 vindictiveness, so he smothered the desire. One other en 
 counter O'Reilly had reason to remember. 
 
 It so chanced that one day he and Jacket found them 
 selves in the miserable rabble which assembled at the 
 railroad station to implore alms from the incoming pas 
 sengers of the Habana train. Few people were traveling 
 these days, and they were, for the most part, Spanish 
 officers to whom the sight of starving country people was 
 no novelty. Now and then, however, there did arrive 
 visitors from whom the spectacle of so much wretchedness 
 wrung a contribution, hence there was always an ex- 
 
 291
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 pectant throng at the depot. On this occasion O'Reilly 
 was surprised to hear the piteous whines for charity in the 
 name of God turn suddenly into a subdued but vicious 
 mutter of rage. Hisses were intermingled with vituper 
 ations, then the crowd fell strangely silent, parting to 
 allow the passage of a great, thick-set man in the uniform 
 of a Colonel of Volunteers. The fellow was unusually 
 swarthy and he wore a black scowl upon his face, while a 
 long puckering scar the full length of one cheek lifted his 
 mouth into a crooked sneer and left exposed a glimpse of 
 wolfish teeth. 
 
 O'Reilly was at a loss to fathom this sudden alteration 
 of attitude, the whistle of indrawn breaths and the whis 
 pered curses, until he heard some one mutter the name, 
 "Cobo." Then indeed he started and stiffened in his 
 tracks. He fixed a fascinated stare upon the fellow. 
 
 Colonel Cobo seemed no little pleased by the reception 
 he created. With his chest arched and his black eyes 
 gleaming malevolently he swaggered through the press, 
 clicking his heels noisily upon the stone flags. When he 
 had gone Jacket voiced a vicious oath. 
 
 "So that is the butcher of babies!" exclaimed the boy. 
 "Well, now, I should enjoy cutting his heart out." 
 
 O'Reilly's emotions were not entirely unlike those of his 
 small companion. His lips became dry and white as he 
 tried to speak. 
 
 "What a brute! That face Ugh!" 
 
 He found himself shaking weakly, and discovered that 
 a new and wholly unaccountable feeling of discouragement 
 had settled upon him. He tried manfully to shake it off, 
 but somehow failed, for the sight of Rosa's arch-enemy 
 and the man's overbearing personality had affected him 
 queerly. Cobo's air of confidence and authority seemed 
 to emphasize O'Reilly's impotence and bring it forcibly 
 home to him. To think of his lustful persecution of Rosa 
 Varona, moreover, terrified him. The next day he re- 
 
 292
 
 ROSA 
 
 sumed his hut-to-hut search, but with a listlessness that 
 came from a firm conviction that once again he was too late. 
 
 That afternoon found the two friends among the miser 
 able hovels which encircled the foot of La Cumbre, about 
 the only quarter they had not explored. Below lay 
 San Severino, the execution-place; above was the site of 
 the old Verona home. More than once on his way about 
 the city O'Reilly had lifted his eyes in the direction of 
 the latter, feeling a great hunger to revisit the scene of his 
 last farewell to Rosa, but through fear of the melancholy 
 effect it would have upon him he had thus far resisted the 
 impulse. To-day, however, he could no longer fight the 
 morbid desire and so, in spite of Jacket's protest at the 
 useless expenditure of effort, he set out to climb the hill. 
 Of course the boy would not let him go alone. 
 
 Little was said during the ascent. The La Cumbre 
 road seemed very long and very steep. How different 
 the last time O'Reilly had swung up it ! The climb had 
 never before tired him as it did now, and he reasoned that 
 hunger must have weakened him even more than he 
 realized. Jacket felt the exertion, too; he was short of 
 breath and he rested frequently. O'Reilly saw that the 
 boy's bare, brown legs had grown bony since he had last 
 noticed them, and he felt a sudden pang at having brought 
 the little fellow into such a plight as this. 
 
 "Well, hombre," he said when they paused to rest, 
 "I'm afraid we came too late. I'm afraid we're licked." 
 
 Jacket nodded listlessly; his optimism, too, was gone. 
 "They must all be dead or we would have found them 
 before this," said he. When O'Reilly made no answer he 
 continued, "It is time we thought of getting away from 
 here, eh?" 
 
 Johnnie was sitting with his face in his hands. With 
 out lifting his head he inquired: "How are we going to 
 get away? It is easy enough to get into Matanzas, but " 
 He shrugged hopelessly. 
 
 ' 293
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 From where the two sat they could see on the opposite 
 hillside a section of the ditch and the high barbed-wire 
 fence which girdled the city and made of it a huge corral. 
 Spaced at regular intervals along the intrenchments were 
 slow-moving, diminutive figures, sentries on their well- 
 worn paths. 
 
 Jacket brightened at the thought of escape. "Ho! 
 I'll bet we can find a hole somewhere," said he. "We're 
 not like these others. They haven't the spirit to try." 
 There was a moment of silence, and then: "Caramba! 
 You remember those jutias we ate? They were strong, 
 but I would enjoy the smell of one now. Eh? Another 
 week of this and we shall be living on garbage like the 
 rest of these poor people." 
 
 Leaving Jacket to take his time, Johnnie completed the 
 climb alone, meditating upon the boy's words. "The 
 spirit to try!" Where had his spirit gone, he wondered. 
 Perhaps it had been crushed beneath the weight of misery 
 he had beheld; surely he had seen enough. Hourly con 
 tact with sickness and misfortune on such a gigantic scale 
 was enough to chill any one's hopes, and although his 
 sensibilities had been dulled, his apprehensions had been 
 quickened hour by hour. Now that he looked the matter 
 squarely in the face, it seemed absurd to believe that a 
 tender girl like Rosa Varona could long have withstood 
 the hardships of this hideous place; stronger people than 
 she had succumbed, by the hundreds. Even now the 
 hospitals were full, the sick lay untended in their hovels. 
 No one, so far as O'Reilly knew, had undertaken to 
 estimate how fast they were dying or the number of dead 
 which had already ridden out of Matanzas in those 
 rumbling wagons, but there were many. What chance 
 was there that Rosa had not been among the latter? 
 Better by far had she remained among the empty fields 
 and the barren slopes of the Pan de Matanzas, for there 
 at least the soil held roots and the trees bore fruits or 
 
 294
 
 ROSA 
 
 berries, while here was nothing but gaunt famine and 
 grinning disease. 
 
 As he breasted the summit of La Cumbre, O'Reilly be 
 held at some distance a bent figure of want. It was a 
 negro woman, grubbing in the earth with a sharpened 
 stick. After a suspicious scrutiny of him she resumed her 
 
 digging- 
 Nothing but a heap of stones and plaster remained of 
 the Varona home. The grounds, once beautiful even when 
 neglected as in Dona Isabel's time, were now a scene of 
 total desolation. A few orange-trees, to be sure, remained 
 standing, and although they were cool and green to look 
 at, they carried no fruit and the odor of their blooms was a 
 trial and a mockery to the hungry visitor. The evidences 
 of Cueto's vandalism affected O'Reilly deeply; they 
 brought him memories more painful than he had antici 
 pated. Although the place was well-nigh unrecognizable, 
 nevertheless it cried aloud of Rosa, and the unhappy lover 
 could barely control the emotions it awakened. It was 
 indeed a morbid impulse which had brought him thither, 
 but now that he was here he could not leave. Uncon 
 sciously his feet turned toward the ancient quarry which 
 had formed the sunken garden his and Rosa's trysting- 
 place. 
 
 O'Reilly desired above all things to be alone at this 
 moment, and so he was annoyed to discover that another 
 person was before him a woman, evidently some miser 
 able facifico like himself. She, too, appeared to be 
 looking for roots, and he almost stumbled over her as he 
 brushed through the guava-bushes fringing the depression. 
 His sudden appearance alarmed the creature and she 
 struggled, panic-stricken, out of his path. Her rags 
 could not conceal the fact that she was deformed, that 
 her back was crooked, so he muttered a reassuring word 
 to her. 
 
 This place was more as he had left it there was the 
 
 295
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 stone bench where he had said good-by to Rosa; yonder 
 was the well 
 
 " Senor !" Johnnie heard himself addressed by the hunch 
 backed woman. Her voice was thin, tremulous, eager, but 
 his thoughts were busy and he paid no heed. "Senor! 
 Do you look for something some one " 
 
 "N-no. Yes " he answered, abstractedly. "Yes, I 
 am looking for something some one." 
 
 "Something you have lost?" 
 
 "Something I have lost!" The question came to him 
 faintly, but it was so in tune with his unhappy mood that 
 it affected him strangely. He found that his eyes were 
 blurring and that an aching lump had risen into his 
 throat. This was the breaking-point. 
 
 O'Reilly's hearing, too, was going wrong, for he imagined 
 that some one whispered his name. God! This place 
 was not dead it was alive terribly alive with memories, 
 voices, a presence unseen yet real. He laid hold of the 
 nearest bush to steady himself, he closed his eyes, only 
 to hear his name spoken louder: 
 
 "O'Rail-ye!" 
 
 Johnnie brushed the tears from his lashes. He turned, 
 he listened, but there was no one to be seen, no one, that 
 is, except the dusky cripple who had straightened herself 
 and was facing him, poised uncertainly. He looked at 
 her a second time, then the world began to spin dizzily 
 and he groped his way toward her. He peered again, 
 closer, for everything before his eyes was swimming. 
 
 The woman was thin little more than a skeleton and 
 so frail that the wind appeared to sway her, but her face, 
 uplifted to the sun, was glorified. O'Reilly stood rooted, 
 staring at her until she opened her eyes, then he voiced a 
 great cry: 
 
 "Rosa!" What more he said he never knew . . . 
 
 He took the misshapen figure into his arms, he rained 
 kisses upon the pinched, discolored face. But Rosa did 
 
 296
 
 ROSA 
 
 not respond; her puny strength had flown and she lay 
 inert in his embrace, scarcely breathing. Tears stole down 
 her cheeks and very faintly her fingers fluttered over his 
 bearded cheeks. 
 
 Dazed, doubting, astounded, it was some time before 
 Johnnie could convince himself of the reality of this mo 
 ment, and even then words did not come to him, for his 
 mind was in turmoil. Joy, thanksgiving, compassion 
 a thousand emotions mingled in a sort of delirium, too 
 wild for coherent thought or speech. 
 
 Fear finally brought him to his senses, for he became 
 aware that Rosa had collapsed and that his endearments 
 left her unthrilled. Quickly he bore her to the bench and 
 laid her upon it. After a time she smiled up into his eyes 
 and her words were scarcely more than a murmur: 
 
 "God heard my prayers and sent you to me." 
 
 "Rosa! You are ill, you are weak " 
 
 Her eyelids fluttered. " I am dying, O'Rail-ye. I only 
 waited to see you." 
 
 ' ' No, no !" In agony he gathered her once more into his 
 arms. 
 
 ' ' Oh yes !' ' Her bloodless ringers touched his face again, 
 then his thin, worn rags. "You, too, have suffered. 
 How came you to be so poor and hungry, O'Rail-ye?" 
 
 "I'm not poor, I'm rich. See!" He jingled the coins 
 in his pocket. "That's money; money for you, sweet 
 heart. It will buy you food and medicine, it will make 
 you well and strong again. Rosa, dear, I have looked 
 for you so long, so long " His voice broke wretchedly 
 and he bowed his head. "I I was afraid " 
 
 "I waited as long as I had strength to wait," she told 
 him. " It is too bad you came so late." 
 
 Once again she lapsed into the lethargy of utter weak 
 ness, whereupon he fell to stroking her hands, calling upon 
 her to come back to him. He was beside himself now; a 
 terrible feeling of impotence and despair overcame him. 
 20 297
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Hearing some one speak, he raised his eyes and dis 
 covered at his side that figure of want which he had seen 
 digging on the slope below. It was Evangelina. The 
 negress was little more than skin and bones, her eyes were 
 bleared and yellow and sunken, her face had grown ape 
 like, but he recognized her and she him. 
 
 "You are the American," she declared. "You are 
 Rosa's man." 
 
 "Yes. But what is wrong with her? Look! She is 
 ill" 
 
 "She is often like that. It is the hunger. We have 
 nothing to eat, sefior. I, too, am ill dying; and Asen- 
 sio Oh, you don't know how they have made us 
 suffer." 
 
 ' ' We must get Rosa home. Where do you live ?" 
 
 Evangelina turned her death's head toward the city. 
 "Down yonder. But what's the use? There is no food 
 in our house and Rosa is afraid of those wagons. You 
 know the ones with the corpses. She made me bring 
 her here to die." 
 
 The girl was not wholly unconscious, it seemed, for she 
 stirred and murmured, faintly: "Those wagons! Don't 
 let them put me in there with the other dead. They pile 
 the bodies high " A weak shudder convulsed her. 
 
 O'Reilly bent lower, and in a strong, determined voice 
 cried: "You are not going to die. I have money for food. 
 Rouse yourself, Rosa, rouse yourself." 
 
 "She prayed for you every night," the negress volun 
 teered. "Such faith! Such trust! She never doubted 
 that you would come and find her. Sometimes she cried, 
 but that was because of her brother. Est^ban, you 
 know, is dead. Yes, dead, like all the rest." 
 
 " Este"ban is not dead," O'Reilly asserted. " He is alive. 
 Rosa, do you hear that? Este"ban is alive and well. I 
 left him with Gomez in the Orient. I have come to take 
 you to him." 
 
 298
 
 ROSA 
 
 "Este*ban alive? Ha! You are fooling us." Evan- 
 gelina wagged her head wisely. "We know better than 
 that." 
 
 "I tell you he is alive," O'Reilly insisted. He heard 
 Jacket calling to him at that moment, so he hallooed to 
 the boy; then when the latter had arrived he explained 
 briefly, without allowing Jacket time in which to express 
 his amazement: 
 
 "Our search is over; we have found them. But they 
 won't believe that Est6ban is alive. Tell them the 
 truth." 
 
 "Yes, he is alive. We found him rotting in a prison 
 and we rescued him," Jacket corroborated. He stared 
 curiously at the recumbent figure on the bench, then at 
 O'Reilly. He puckered his lips and gave vent to a low 
 whistle of amazement. "So. This is your pretty one, 
 eh? I She Well, I don't think much of her. But 
 then, you are not so handsome yourself, are you?" 
 
 Evangelina seemed to be stupid, a trifle touched, per 
 haps, from suffering, for she laid a skinny claw upon 
 O'Reilly's shoulder and warned him earnestly: " Look out 
 for Cobo. You have heard about him, eh? Well, he is 
 the cause of all our misery. He hunted us from place to 
 place, and it was for him that I put that hump on her 
 back. Understand me, she is straight straight and 
 pretty enough for any American. Her skin is like milk, 
 too, and her hair she used to put flowers in it for you, 
 and then we would play games. But you never came. 
 You will make allowances for her looks, will you not?" 
 
 "Poor Rosa! You two poor creatures!" O'Reilly 
 choked; he hid his face upon his sweetheart's breast. 
 
 Rosa responded; her fingers caressed him and she 
 sighed contentedly. 
 
 O'Reilly's ascent of the hill had been slow, but his 
 descent was infinitely slower, for Rosa was so feeble that 
 she could help herself but little and he lacked the strength 
 
 299
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 to carry her far at a time. Finally, however, they reached 
 the wretched hovel where Asensio lay, then leaving her 
 there, Johnnie sped on alone into the city. He returned 
 soon with several small bundles concealed about his 
 person, and with Evangelina's help he set about preparing 
 food. 
 
 Neither Rosa nor the two negroes had any appetite 
 their hunger had long since passed the point at which they 
 were conscious of it and O'Reilly was compelled to force 
 them to eat. When he had given them all that he dared 
 he offered what food was left to Jacket. 
 
 The boy moistened his lips and his fingers twitched, 
 but he shook his head. 
 
 "Oh, I'm not so hungry," he declared, indifferently. 
 "I have a friend in the market-place; I will go down there 
 and steal a fish from him." 
 
 O'Reilly patted him on the shoulder, saying: "You are 
 a good kid, and you understand, don't you? These sick 
 people will need more food than we can buy for them, so 
 we will have to draw our belts tight." 
 
 "Of course. Eating is a habit, anyhow, and we men 
 know how to get along without it. I will manage to find 
 something for you and me, for I'm a prodigious thief. I 
 can steal the hair from a man's head when I try." With 
 a nod he set off to find his benefactor's supper. 
 
 Jacket whistled heroically until he was out of O'Reilly's 
 hearing, then his bearing changed. His mouth drew 
 down, and moisture came into his eyes. He rubbed a 
 grimy hand over his stomach, murmuring, faintly: 
 "Cristo! It is hard to be a man when you smell things 
 cooking!"
 
 XXV 
 
 THE HAUNTED GARDEN 
 
 ROSA VARONA did not die. On the contrary, under 
 her lover's care she made so amazingly swift a re 
 covery that improvement was visible from hour to hour; 
 she rallied like a wilted flower under a refreshing rain. 
 It was O'Reilly's presence as much as the nourishing diet 
 provided by his money which effected this marvel, al 
 though the certainty that Este"ban was alive and safe put 
 added force into her determination to live. Rosa found 
 hope springing up in her breast, and one day she caught 
 herself laughing. The marvel of it was unbelievable. 
 O'Reilly was sitting beside her bed of leaves at the time; 
 impulsively she pressed his hand to her lips, repeating a 
 question she had asked him many times: 
 
 " Do you love me?" 
 
 For answer he bent and kissed her. What he said was 
 of no consequence. 
 
 Rosa held his hand against her cheek, at a loss for 
 words with which to voice her gladness. 
 
 "Such happiness as mine belongs in heaven," she man 
 aged to tell him. "Sometimes it frightens me. With you 
 by my side this prison is a paradise and I want for nothing. 
 War, suffering, distress I can't imagine they longer 
 exist." 
 
 "Nevertheless, they do, and Matanzas is anything but 
 a paradise," said he. " It is hell, and we must set about 
 quickly to get out of it." 
 
 "Escape, do you mean? But that is impossible. 
 301
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Asensio can tell you all about that. The Spaniards 
 used to issue passes for the men to go outside the lines 
 in search of food. It was just a trick. They never came 
 back all of them were killed. Every one knows better 
 than to try, now." 
 
 "Nevertheless, we can't stay here much longer." In 
 answer to the girl's puzzled inquiry he explained: "My 
 money is gone all but a few cents. This is the last of 
 our food and there is no chance of getting more. Jacket 
 has some mysterious source of supply and he manages to 
 bring in something every now and then, but there are 
 five of us to feed, and he can't furnish more than enough 
 for himself. No, we must make a move at once, while 
 we have the strength." 
 
 Rosa had not asked the source whence came the blessed 
 food which was bringing the life blood back into her body, 
 and although that food was not much a little meal, a 
 plantain, an occasional scrap of meat or fish it had never 
 occurred to her that the supply might be limited. She 
 met the problem bravely, however. 
 
 "I have been close to death so long that it means little 
 to me," she confessed. "I have you, and well, with you 
 at my side I can face the worst." 
 
 "Oh, we won't give up until we have to," he assured 
 her. "If I had money it would be a simple proposition 
 to bribe some guard to pass us through the lines, but I 
 have spent all that General Betancourt gave me." He 
 smoothed back Rosa's dark hair and smiled reassuringly 
 at her. "Well, I'll manage somehow ; so don't worry your 
 pretty head. I'll find the price, if I have to waylay old 
 Don Mario and rob him. Don't you think I look like a 
 bandit? The very sight of me would terrify that fat rascal." 
 
 "To me you are beautiful," breathed the girl. Then 
 she lowered her eyes. "La, la! How I spoil you! I 
 have quite forgotten how to be ladylike. Isabel was 
 right when she called me a bold and forward hussy. 
 
 302
 
 THE HAUNTED GARDEN 
 
 Now, then, please turn your face aside, for I wish to 
 think, and so long as you look at me I cannot I make 
 love to you brazenly. See! Now, then, that is much 
 better. I shall hold your hand, so. When I kiss it you 
 may look at me again, for a moment." Drawing herself 
 closer to O'Reilly, Rosa began thoughtfully: "Before you 
 came I more than once was on the point of appealing to 
 some of my former friends, but they are all Spaniards and 
 we are no longer simpatico, you understand?" 
 
 Rosa paused for his answer. 
 
 "Perfectly; I'm in the same fix. Of all the people I 
 used to know there isn't one but would denounce me if I 
 made myself known. Now that I've been fighting with 
 the Insurrectos, I daren't even go to the American consul 
 for help if there is an American consul." 
 
 Rosa nodded, then continued, hesitatingly: "I had a 
 vivid dream last night. Perhaps it was a portent. Who 
 knows? It was about that stepmother of mine. You re 
 member how she met her death? I wrote you " 
 
 "Yes, and Este*ban also told me." 
 
 "It was he who recovered her body from the well. 
 One day, while we were in hiding, away up yonder in the 
 Yumuri, he showed me an old coin " 
 
 "I know," O'Reilly said, quickly. "He told me the 
 whole story. He thinks that doubloon is a clue to your 
 father's fortune, but I can't put much faith in it. In 
 fact, I didn't believe until this moment that there was a 
 doubloon at all." 
 
 "Oh, indeed there was! I saw it." 
 
 "Then it wasn't merely a sick fancy of your brother's?" 
 
 " Indeed no, it " Rosa broke off to exclaim, " O'Reilly, 
 you are looking at me!" 
 
 "But you gave me the signal to look," he protested. 
 
 "Nothing of the sort; you placed your fingers upon 
 my lips." There was a moment of silence during which 
 the lovers were oblivious to all but each other, then Rosa 
 
 303
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 murmured: "How strange! Sometimes your eyes are 
 blue and sometimes gray. Does that mean that your 
 love, too, can change?" 
 
 "Certainly not. But come, what about Est^ban and 
 that doubloon?" 
 
 With an effort the girl brought herself back to earth. 
 "Well, it occurred to me, in the light of that dream last 
 night, that Est6ban may have been right. Of course no 
 body outside of our family credits the old story, and yet 
 my father was considered a very rich man at one time. 
 Pancho Cueto believed in the existence of the treasure, 
 and he was in a position to know." 
 
 "True! Perhaps, after all " O'Reilly frowned med 
 itatively. 
 
 Rosa lifted herself upon her elbow, her eyes sparkling. 
 "Wouldn't it be wonderful if it were true? Just think, 
 O'Reilly, cases of Spanish gold, silver coins in casks, 
 packages of gems. Oh, I've heard Isabel talk about it 
 often enough!" 
 
 "Don't forget those pearls from the Caribbean, as 
 large as plums," Johnny smiled. "I could never quite 
 swallow that. A pearl the size of a currant would buy 
 our freedom right now." After a moment he went on, 
 more seriously: "I've a notion to look into that old well 
 this very afternoon. I I dare say I'm foolish, but 
 somehow the story doesn't sound so improbable as it 
 did. Perhaps it is worth investigating " He made up 
 his mind swiftly. "I I'm off this very instant." 
 
 When O'Reilly emerged from the hut he found Jacket 
 industriously at work over a fragment of grindstone 
 which he had somewhere unearthed. The boy looked up 
 at his friend's approach and held out for inspection a long, 
 thin file, which he was slowly shaping into a knife-blade. 
 
 "What do you think of that?" he queried, proudly. 
 " It may come in handy when we are ready to clear out 
 of this pesthole." 
 
 304
 
 THE HAUNTED GARDEN 
 
 "Where did you get it?" 
 
 "Oh, I stole it. I steal everything I can lay my hands 
 on nowadays. One can never tell when he may have a 
 throat to cut, and a file has good steel in it." 
 
 "Since you are such an accomplished thief, do you 
 think you could steal something for me?" O'Reilly in 
 quired. "A piece of rope?" 
 
 "Rope?" Jacket was puzzled. "Rope is only good 
 for hanging Spaniards. My friend in the fish-market has 
 a volandra, and perhaps I can rob him of a halyard." 
 Laying aside his task, Jacket arose and made off in the 
 direction of the water-front. He was back within an 
 hour, and under his shirt he carried a coil of worn, but 
 serviceable, rope. Without waiting to explain his need 
 for this unusual article, O'Reilly linked arms with the 
 boy and set out to climb La Cumbre. When at last they 
 stood in the unused quarry and Johnnie made known his 
 intention to explore the old well Jacket regarded him with 
 undisguised amazement. 
 
 "What do you expect to find down there?" the latter 
 inquired. 
 
 "To tell you the truth, I don't really expect to find any 
 thing," the man confessed. "Now that I'm here, I'm 
 beginning to feel silly; nevertheless, I'm going to have a 
 look for the hidden treasure of the Varonas." 
 
 "Hidden treasure!" From Jacket's expression it was 
 plain that he feared his friend was mildly mad. Even 
 after O'Reilly had told him something about old Don 
 Este"ban's missing riches, he scouted the story. He 
 peeped inquisitively into the dark opening of the well, 
 then he shook his head. "Caramba! What an idea! 
 Was this old man crazy, to throw his money away?" 
 
 "He he had more than he knew what to do with, and 
 he wished to save it from the Spaniards," O'Reilly ex 
 plained, lamely. 
 
 "Humph! Nobody ever had more money than he 
 
 305
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 wanted." The boy's disgust at such credulity was 
 plain. "This well looks just like any other, only deeper; 
 you'd better look out that you don't break your neck 
 like that foolish old woman, that Dona What's-Her- 
 Name." 
 
 O'Reilly did indeed feel that he was making himself 
 ridiculous, nevertheless he made the rope fast and swung 
 himself down out of the sunlight, leaving Jacket to stand 
 guard over him. Perhaps fifteen minutes later he re 
 appeared, panting from his exertions. He was wet, 
 slimy; his clothes were streaked and stained with mud. 
 Jacket began to laugh shrilly at his appearance. 
 
 "Ha! What a big lizard is this? Your beautiful gar 
 ments are spoiled. And the treasure? Where is it?" 
 The lad was delighted. He bent double with mirth; he 
 slapped his bare legs and stamped his feet in glee. 
 
 O'Reilly grinned good-naturedly, and replaced the 
 planks which had covered the orifice, then hid the rope in 
 some near-by bushes. On their way back he endured his 
 young friend's banter absent-mindedly, but as they 
 neared Asensio's house he startled Jacket by saying, 
 "Can you manage to find a pick-ax or a crowbar?" 
 
 Jacket's eyes opened; he stopped in the middle of the 
 dusty road. "What did you see down there, compadre? 
 Tell me." 
 
 "Nothing much. Just enough to make me want to 
 see more. Do you think you can steal some sort of a tool 
 forme?" 
 
 "I can try." 
 
 ' ' Please do. And remember, say nothing before Asensio 
 or his wife." 
 
 Rosa met O'Reilly just inside the door, and at sight of 
 her he uttered an exclamation of surprise, for during his 
 absence she had removed the stain from her face and dis 
 carded that disfigurement which Evangelina had fitted to 
 her back prior to their departure from the Pan de Matan- 
 
 306
 
 THE HAUNTED GARDEN 
 
 zas. She stood before him now, straight and slim and 
 graceful the Rosa of his dreams, only very thin, very 
 fragile. Her poor tatters only enhanced her prettiness, 
 so he thought. 
 
 "Rosa dear! Do you think this is quite safe?" he 
 ventured, doubtfully. 
 
 Evangelina, who was bending over her husband, 
 straightened herself and came forward with a smile upon 
 her black face. 
 
 "She is beautiful, eh? Too beautiful to look at? 
 What did I tell you?" 
 
 Rosa was in delightful confusion at O'Reilly's evident 
 surprise and admiration. "Then I'm not so altogether 
 changed?" she asked. 
 
 "Why, you haven't changed at all, except to grow more 
 beautiful. Evangelina is right; you are too beautiful to 
 look at. But wait!" He drew her aside and whispered, 
 "I've been down in the well." Some tremor in his voice, 
 some glint in his eyes, caused the girl to seize him eagerly, 
 fiercely. "I may be wrong," he said, hurriedly; "there 
 may be nothing in it and yet I saw something." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Wooden beams, timbers of some sort, behind the stone 
 curbing." It was plain Rosa did not comprehend, so he 
 hurried on. "At first I noticed nothing unusual, except 
 that the bottom of the well is nearly dry filled up, you 
 know, with debris and stuff that has fallen in from 
 the curbing above, then I saw that although the well 
 is dug through rock, nevertheless it is entirely curbed 
 up with stones laid in mortar. That struck me as 
 queer." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I noticed, too, in one place that there was wood be 
 hind as if timbers had been placed there to cover the 
 entrance to a cave. You know this Cuban rock is full of 
 caverns." 
 
 307
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Rosa clasped her hands, she began to tremble. "You 
 have found it, O'Reilly. You have!" she whispered. 
 
 "No, no, I've found nothing yet. But I've sent 
 Jacket for a pick or a bar and to-night I'm going to pull 
 down those stones and see what is behind them." 
 
 "To-night ? You must let me go, too. I want to help." 
 
 "Very well. But meanwhile you mustn't let youi 
 hopes rise too high, for there is every chance that you will 
 be disappointed. And don't mention it to Evangelina. 
 Now then, I've a few pennies left and I'm going to buy 
 some candles." 
 
 Rosa embraced her lover impulsively. "Something 
 tells me it is true! Something tells me you are going to 
 save us all." 
 
 Evangelina in the far corner of the hut muttered to her 
 husband: "Such love-birds! They are like parrakeets, 
 forever kissing and cooing!" 
 
 Jacket returned at dusk and with him he brought a 
 rusty three-foot iron bar, evidently part of a window 
 grating. The boy was tired, disgusted, and in a vile 
 temper. "A pick-ax! A crowbar!" He cursed elo 
 quently. " One might as well try to steal a cannon out of 
 San Severino. I'm ready to do anything within reason, 
 but" 
 
 "Why, this will do nicely; it is just what I want," 
 O'Reilly told him. 
 
 "Humph! I'm glad to hear it, for that rod was nearly 
 the death of me. I broke my back wrenching at it and 
 the villain who owned the house may a bad lightning 
 split him! he ran after me until I nearly expired. If my 
 new knife had been sharp I would have turned and sent 
 him home with it between his ribs. To-morrow I shall 
 put an edge on it. Believe me, I ran until my lungs 
 burst." 
 
 Little food remained in the hut, barely enough for 
 Asensio and the women, and inasmuch as O'Reilly had 
 
 308
 
 THE HAUNTED GARDEN 
 
 spent his last centavo for candles he and Jacket were 
 forced to go hungry again. Late that evening, after the 
 wretched prison quarters had grown quiet, the three 
 treasure-hunters stole out of their hovel and wound up the 
 hill. In spite of their excitement they went slowly, for 
 none of them had the strength to hurry. Fortunately, 
 there were few prowlers within the lines, hunger having 
 robbed the reconcentrados of the spirit to venture forth, 
 and in consequence Spanish vigilance had relaxed; it 
 was now confined to the far-flung girdle of intrenchments 
 which encircled the city. The trio encountered no one. 
 
 Leaving Jacket on guard at the crest of the hill, O'Reilly 
 stationed Rosa at the mouth of the well, then lowered him 
 self once more into it. Lighting his candle, he made a 
 careful examination of the place, with the result that 
 Este"ban's theory of the missing riches seemed even less 
 improbable than it had earlier in the day. The masonry- 
 work, he discovered, had been done with a painstaking 
 thoroughness which spoke of the abundance of slave labor, 
 and time had barely begun to affect it. Here and there 
 a piece of the mortar had loosened and come away, but 
 for the most part it stood as solid as the stones between 
 which it was laid. Shoulder-high to O'Reilly there ap 
 peared to be a section of the curbing less smoothly fitted 
 than the rest, and through an interstice in this he detected 
 what seemed to be a damp wooden beam. At this point 
 he brought his iron bar into play. 
 
 It was not long before he discovered that his work was 
 cut out for him. The cement was like flint and his 
 blunt makeshift implement was almost useless against it. 
 Ankle-deep in the muddy water, he patiently pecked and 
 pounded and chipped, endeavoring to enlarge the crevice 
 so as to use his bar as a lever. The sweat streamed from 
 him and he became dismayed at his own weakness. 
 He was forced to rest frequently. 
 
 Rosa hung over the orifice above, encouraging him, in- 
 
 3<>9
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 quiring eagerly as to his progress. During his frequent 
 breathing-spells he could discern her white face dimly 
 illumined by the candle-light from below. 
 
 After he had worked for an hour or two, he made a 
 report: "It begins to look as if there really was a bulk 
 head or a door in there." 
 
 The girl clapped her hands and laughed with delight. 
 "Do hurry, dear; I'm dying of suspense." 
 
 O'Reilly groaned: "That fellow, Sebastian, knew his 
 business. This cement is like steel, and I'm afraid of 
 breaking my crowbar." 
 
 Rosa found a leaf, folded a kiss into it, and dropped it 
 to him. " That will give you strength," she declared. 
 
 O'Reilly lost all count of time after a while and he was 
 incredulous when Jacket came to warn him that daylight 
 was less than an hour away. "Why, I haven't started!" 
 he protested. He discovered, much to his surprise, that 
 he was ready to drop from fatigue and that his hands were 
 torn and blistered; when he had climbed the rope to the 
 upper air he fell exhausted in the deep grass. "I I'm 
 not myself at all," he apologized; "nothing to eat, you 
 know. But the work will go faster now, for I've made a 
 beginning." 
 
 "Do you still think " Rosa hesitated to voice the 
 question which trembled on her lips. 
 
 "I'll know for sure to-night." He directed Jacket to 
 replace the planks over the well; then the three of them 
 stole away. 
 
 O'Reilly spent most of that day in a profound stupor of 
 exhaustion, while Rosa watched anxiously over him. 
 Jacket, it seemed, had peacefully slumbered on picket 
 duty, so he occupied himself by grinding away at his knife. 
 The last scraps of food disappeared that evening. 
 
 When night fell and it came time to return to the top 
 of La Cumbre, O'Reilly asked himself if his strength would 
 prove sufficient for the task in hand. He was spiritless, 
 
 310
 
 THE HAUNTED GARDEN 
 
 sore, weak; he ached in every bone and muscle, and it re 
 quired all his determination to propel himself up the hill. 
 He wondered if he were wise thus to sacrifice his waning 
 energies on a hope so forlorn as this, but by now he had 
 begun to more than half believe in the existence of the 
 Varona treasure and he felt an almost irresistible curiosity 
 to learn what secret, if any, was concealed behind those 
 water-soaked timbers at the bottom of the well. He 
 realized, of course, that every hour he remained here, now 
 that food and money were gone, lessened the chances of 
 escape; but, on the other hand, he reasoned, with equal 
 force, that if he had indeed stumbled upon the missing 
 hoard salvation for all of them was assured. The stake, 
 it seemed to him, was worth the hazard. 
 
 Given tempered tools to work with, it would have been 
 no great undertaking to tear down that cemented wall of 
 stones, but, armed with nothing except his bare hands and 
 that soft iron bar, O'Reilly spent nearly the whole night 
 at his task. Long before the last rock had yielded, how 
 ever, he beheld that which caused him to turn a strained 
 face upward to Rosa. 
 
 "There's a little door, as sure as you live," he told her. 
 
 The girl was beside herself with excitement. "Yes? 
 What else? What more do you see?" 
 
 " Nothing. It appears to be made of solid timbers, and 
 has two huge hand-wrought locks." 
 
 "Locks! Then we have found it." Rosa closed her 
 eyes; she swayed momentarily. "Este"ban was right. 
 Locks, indeed! That means something to hide. Oh, if I 
 could only help you." 
 
 "God! If I only had something anything to work 
 with!" muttered the American as he fell to with redoubled 
 energy. He no longer tried to conserve his strength, for 
 the treasure-seeker's lust beset him. Rosa looked on, 
 wringing her hands and urging him to greater haste. 
 
 But the low, thick door was built of some hard, native 
 
 3"
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 wood: it was wet and tough and slippery. O'Reilly's 
 blows made no impression upon it, nor upon the heavy 
 hasps and staples with which it was secured in place. 
 The latter were deeply rusted, to be sure, but they with 
 stood his efforts, and he was finally forced to rest, 
 baffled, enraged, half hysterical from weakness and 
 fatigue. 
 
 Daylight was at hand once more, but he refused to give 
 up, and worked on stubbornly, furiously, until Rosa, in an 
 agony, besought him to desist. 
 
 Johnnie again collapsed on the grass and lay panting 
 while the other two replaced the planks. 
 
 "Another hour and I'd have been into it." he declared, 
 huskily. 
 
 "You will skill yourself," Jacket told him. 
 
 Rosa bent over him with shining eyes and parted lips. 
 "Yes," said she. "Be patient. We will come back, 
 O'Reilly, and to-night we shall be rich." 
 
 Colonel Cobo lit a black cigarette, leaned back in his 
 chair, and exhaled two fierce jets of smoke through his 
 nostrils. For a full moment he scowled forbiddingly at the 
 sergeant who had asked to see him. 
 
 "What's this you are telling me?" he inquired, finally. 
 
 The sergeant, a mean-faced, low-browed man, stirred 
 uneasily. 
 
 "It is God's truth. There are spirits on La Cumbre, 
 and I wish to see the priest about it." 
 
 "Spirits? What kind of spirits?" 
 
 The fellow shrugged. "Evil spirits spirits from hell. 
 The men are buying charms." 
 
 "Bah! I took you to be a sensible person." 
 
 "You don't believe me? Well, I didn't believe them 
 when they told me about it. But I saw with my own 
 eyes." 
 
 Cobo leaned forward, mildly astonished. Of all his
 
 THE HAUNTED GARDEN 
 
 villainous troop, this man was the last one he had credited 
 with imagination of this sort. "What did you see?" 
 
 "A ghost, my Colonel, nothing else. La Cumbre is no 
 place for an honest Christian." 
 
 The colonel burst into a mocking laugh. "An honest 
 Christian! You! Of all my vile ruffians, you are the 
 vilest. Why, you're a thief, a liar, and an assassin ! You 
 are lying to me now. Come the truth for once, before I 
 give you the componte." 
 
 "As God is my judge, I'm telling you the truth," pro 
 tested the soldier. "Flog me if you will rather the 
 componte than another night in those trenches. You 
 know that old quinta?" 
 
 "Where Pancho Cueto made a goat of himself? Per 
 fectly. Do you mean to say that you saw old Este"ban 
 Varona walking with his head in his hands?" 
 
 "No, but I saw that she-devil who fell in the well and 
 broke her neck." 
 
 "Eh? When did you behold this this marvel?" 
 
 "Two nights ago. She was there beside the well and 
 her face shone through the night like a lantern. Christ ! 
 There was fire upon it. She came and went, like a moth in 
 the lamplight. I tell you I repented of my sins. Some of 
 the men laughed at me when I told them, as they had 
 laughed at the others. But last night two of the doubters 
 went up there." 
 
 "Exactly. And they saw nothing." 
 
 "Your pardon, my Colonel. They came back in a cold 
 sweat, and they spent the night on their knees. The 
 woman was there again. You have seen the salt sea at 
 night? Well, her face was aglow, like that, so they said. 
 They heard the clanking of chains, too, and the sound of 
 hammers, coming from the very bowels of the earth. It 
 is all plain enough, when you know the story. But it is 
 terrifying." 
 
 "This is indeed amazing," Cobo acknowledged, "but 
 21 i
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 of course there is some simple explanation. Spirits, if 
 indeed there are such things, are made of nothing they 
 are like thin air. How, then, could they rattle chains? 
 You probably saw some wretched pacificos in search of 
 food and imagined the rest." 
 
 "Indeed! Then what did I hear with these very ears? 
 Whispers, murmurs, groans, and the clinkety-clink of old 
 Sebastian's chisel. For his sins that old slave is chained 
 in some cavern of the mountain. Soundless! I'm no 
 baby! I know when I'm asleep, and I know when I'm 
 awake. That place is accursed, and I want no more of it." 
 
 Cobo fell into frowning meditation, allowing his cigarette 
 to smolder down until it burned his thick fingers. He was 
 not a superstitious man and he put no faith in the super 
 natural, nevertheless he was convinced that his sergeant 
 was not lying, and reference to Pancho Cueto had set his 
 mind to working along strange channels. He had known 
 Cueto well, and the latter's stubborn belief in the existence 
 of that Varona treasure had more than once impressed 
 him. He wondered now if others shared that faith, or if 
 by chance they had discovered a clue to the whereabouts 
 of the money and were conducting a secret search. It 
 was a fantastic idea, nevertheless Cobo told himself that 
 if people were prying about those deserted premises it was 
 with some object, and their actions would warrant obser 
 vation. The presence of the woman a woman with the 
 glow of phosphorus upon her face was puzzling, but the 
 whole affair was puzzling. He determined to investigate. 
 After a time he murmured, " I should like to see this spirit." 
 
 The sergeant shrugged. It was plain from his expres 
 sion that he could not account for such a desire. "An 
 other night is coming," said he. 
 
 "Good! I shall visit the place, and if I see anything 
 unusual I well, I shall believe what you have told me. 
 Meanwhile, go see your priest by all means. It will do 
 you no harm."
 
 XXVI 
 
 HOW COBO STOOD ON HIS HEAD 
 
 AX that day, or during most of it, at least, Rosa and 
 O'Reilly sat hand in hand, oblivious of hunger and 
 fatigue, impatient for the coming of night, keyed to the 
 highest tension. Now they would rejoice hysterically, 
 assuring each other of their good fortune, again they 
 would grow sick with the fear of disappointment. Time 
 after time they stepped out of the hut and stared appre 
 hensively up the slopes of La Cumbre to assure themselves 
 that this was not all a part of some fantastic illusion; 
 over and over, in minutest detail, Johnnie described what 
 he had seen at the bottom of the well. He tried more than 
 once during the afternoon to sleep, but he could not, for 
 the moment he closed his eyes he found himself back there 
 in that pit upon the ridge's crest, straining at those stub 
 born rocks and slippery timbers. This inaction was mad 
 dening, his fatigue rendered him feverish and irritable. 
 
 Jacket, too, felt the strain, and after several fruitless 
 attempts to sleep he rose and went out into the sunshine, 
 where he fell to whetting his knife. He finished putting 
 a double edge upon the blade, fitted a handle to it, and 
 then a cord with which to suspend it round his neck. 
 He showed it to O'Reilly, and after receiving a word of 
 praise he crept out-doors again and tried to forget how 
 sick he was. Black spots were dancing before Jacket's 
 eyes; he experienced spells of dizziness and nausea during 
 which he dared not attempt to walk. He knew this must 
 be the result of starvation, and yet, strangely enough, the
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 thought of food was distasteful to him. He devoutly 
 wished it were not necessary to climb that hill again, for 
 he feared he would not have the strength to descend it. 
 
 Luckily for the sake of the secret, Evangelina spent 
 most of the day searching for food, while Asensio lay 
 babbling upon his bed, too ill to notice the peculiar ac 
 tions of his companions. 
 
 It was with a strange, nightmare feeling of unreality 
 that the trio dragged themselves upward to the ruined 
 quinta when darkness finally came. They no longer 
 talked, for conversation was a drain upon their powers, 
 and the reaction from the day's excitement had set in. 
 O'Reilly lurched as he walked, his limbs were heavy, and 
 his liveliest sensation was one of dread at the hard work 
 in store for him. The forcing of that door assumed the 
 proportions of a Herculean task. 
 
 But once he was at the bottom of the well and beheld 
 the handiwork of Sebastian, the slave, Just as he had left 
 it, his sense of reality returned and with it a certain 
 measure of determination. Inasmuch as he had made no 
 visible impression upon the bulkhead by his direct attack, 
 he changed his tactics now and undertook to loosen one 
 of the jambs where it was wedged into the rock at top 
 and bottom. After a desperate struggle he succeeded in 
 loosening the entire structure so that he could pry it out 
 far enough to squeeze his body through. 
 
 "I have it!" he cried to Rosa. Seizing the candle, he 
 thrust it into the opening. He beheld what he had ex 
 pected to find, a small cavern or grotto which had evi 
 dently been pierced during the digging of the well. He 
 could appreciate now how simple had been the task of 
 sealing it up so as to bafifle discovery. Rosa, poised above 
 him, scarcely breathed until he straightened himself and 
 turned his face upward once more. 
 
 He tried to speak, but voiced nothing more than a hoarse 
 croak; the candle in his hand described erratic figures. 
 
 316
 
 HOW COBO STOOD ON HIS HEAD 
 
 "What do you see?" the girl cried in an agony of sus 
 pense. 
 
 "I It's here! B-boxes, chests, casks everything!" 
 
 "God be praised! My father's fortune at last!" 
 
 Rosa forgot her surroundings; she beat her hands to 
 gether, calling upon O'Reilly to make haste and determine 
 beyond all question that the missing hoard was indeed 
 theirs. She drew perilously close to the well and knelt 
 over it like some priestess at her devotions; her eyes 
 were brimming with tears and there was a roaring in her 
 ears. It was not strange that she failed to see or to hear 
 the approach of a great blurred figure which materialized 
 out of the night and took station scarcely an arm's- 
 length behind her. 
 
 "He intended it for his children," she sobbed, "and 
 Providence saved it from our wicked enemies. It was 
 the hand of God that led us here, O'Reilly. Tell me, what 
 do you see now?" 
 
 Johnnie had wormed his way into the damp chamber and 
 a slim rectangle of light was projected against the oppo 
 site side of the well. Rosa could hear him talking and 
 moving about. 
 
 Don Esteban Varona's subterranean hiding-place was 
 large enough to store a treasure far greater than his; it 
 was perhaps ten feet in length, with a roof high enough to 
 accommodate a tall man. At the farther end were ranged 
 several small wooden chests bound with iron and fitted 
 with hasps and staples, along one side was a row of 
 diminutive casks, the sort used to contain choice wines or 
 liquors; over all was a thick covering of slime and mold. 
 The iron was deeply rusted and the place itself smelled 
 abominably stale. 
 
 O'Reilly surveyed this Aladdin's cave in a daze. He 
 set his candle down, for his fingers were numb and un 
 steady. Cautiously, as if fearful of breaking some spell, 
 he stooped and tried to move one of the casks, but found
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 that it resisted him as if cemented to the rock. He 
 noted that its head was bulged upward, as if by the damp 
 ness, so he took his iron bar and aimed a sharp blow at 
 the chine. A hoop gave way; another blow enabled him 
 to pry out the head of the cask. He stood blinking at the 
 sight exposed, for the little barrel was full of coins 
 yellow coins, large and small. O'Reilly seized a handful 
 and held them close to the candle-flame; among the num 
 ber he noted a Spanish doubloon, such as young Este"ban 
 had found. 
 
 He tested the weight of the other casks and found them 
 equally heavy. Knowing little about gold, he did not 
 attempt to estimate the value of their contents, but he 
 judged they must represent a fortune. With throbbing 
 pulses he next lifted the lid of the nearest chest. Within, 
 he discovered several compartments, each stored with 
 neatly wrapped and labeled packages of varying shapes 
 and sizes. The writing upon the tags was almost il 
 legible, but the first article which O'Reilly unwrapped 
 proved to be a goblet of most beautiful workmanship. 
 Time had long since blackened it to the appearance of 
 pewter or some base metal, but he saw that it was of solid 
 silver. Evidently he had uncovered a store of old Spanish 
 plate. 
 
 In one corner of the chest he saw a metal box of the sort 
 in which valuable papers are kept, and after some effort 
 he managed to break it open. Turning back the lid, he 
 found first a bundle of documents bearing imposing 
 scrolls and heavy seals. Despite the dampness, they were 
 in fairly good condition, and there was enough left of the 
 writing to identify them beyond all question as the 
 missing deeds of patent to the Varona lands those 
 crown grants for which Dona Isabel had searched so 
 fruitlessly. But this was not all that the smaller box 
 contained. Beneath the papers there were numerous 
 leather bags. These had rotted; they came apart
 
 HOW COBO STOOD ON HIS HEAD 
 
 easily in O'Reilly's fingers, displaying a miscellaneous 
 assortment of unset gems some of them at first sight 
 looked like drops of blood, others like drops of purest 
 water. They were the rubies and the diamonds which 
 had brought Isabel to her death. 
 
 O'Reilly waited to see no more. Candle in hand, he 
 crept out into the well to apprise Rosa of the truth. 
 
 "We've got it! There's gold by the barrel and the 
 deeds to your land. Yes, and the jewels, too a quart of 
 them, I guess. I I can't believe my eyes." He showed 
 her a handful of coins. "Look at that! Doubloons, 
 eagles! There appear to be thousands of them. Why, 
 you're the richest girl in Cuba. Rubies, diamonds yes, 
 and pearls, too, I dare say " He choked and began to 
 laugh weakly, hysterically. 
 
 "I've heard about those pearls," Rosa cried, shrilly. 
 "Pearls from the Caribbean, as large as plums. Isabel 
 used to babble about them in her sleep." 
 
 "I found those deeds the first thing. The plantations 
 are yours now, beyond any question." 
 
 Rosa drew back from her precarious position, for she had 
 grown limp from weakness and her head was whirling. 
 As she rose to her feet she brushed something, somebody, 
 some flesh-and-blood form which was standing almost 
 over her. Involuntarily she recoiled, toppling upon the 
 very brink of the pit, whereupon a heavy hand reached 
 forth and seized her. She found herself staring upward 
 into a face she had grown to know in her nightmares, a 
 face the mere memory of which was enough to freeze her 
 blood. It was a hideous visage, thick-lipped, flat-featured, 
 black; it was disfigured by a scar from lip to temple and 
 out of it gleamed a pair of eyes distended and ringed with 
 white, like the eyes of a man insane. 
 
 For an instant Rosa made no sound and no effort to 
 escape. The apparition robbed her of breath, it paralyzed 
 her in both mind and body. Her first thought was that
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 she had gone stark mad, but she had felt Cobo's hands 
 upon her once before and after her first frozen moment 
 of amazement she realized that she was in her fullest 
 senses. A shriek sprang to her lips, she tried to fight the 
 man off, but her weak struggle was like the fluttering of a 
 bird. Cobo crushed her down, strangling the half- 
 uttered cry. 
 
 Terror may be so intense, so appalling as to be unen 
 durable. In Rosa's case a merciful oblivion overtook 
 her. She felt the world grow black, fall away; felt her 
 self swing dizzily through space. 
 
 O'Reilly looked upward, inquiring, sharply, "What's 
 the matter?" He heard a scuffling of feet above him, but 
 received no answer. "Rosa! What frightened you? 
 Rosa?" There was a moment of sickening suspense, then 
 he put his shoulder to the timbers he had displaced and, 
 with a violent shove, succeeded in swinging them back 
 into place. Laying hold of the rope, he began to hoist 
 himself upward. He had gone but a little way, however, 
 when, without warning, his support gave way and he 
 fell backward; the rope came pouring down upon him. 
 "ROSA!" he called again in a voice thick from fright. 
 Followed an instant of silence; then he flattened himself 
 against the side of the well and the breath stuck in his 
 throat. 
 
 Into the dim circle of radiance above a head was thrust 
 a head, a pair of wide shoulders, and then two arms. 
 The figure bent closer, and O'Reilly recognized the 
 swarthy features of that man he had seen at the Matanzas 
 railroad station. There could be no doubt of it it was 
 Cobo. 
 
 The men stared at each other silently, and of the two 
 Cobo appeared to be the more intensely agitated. After 
 a moment his gaze fixed itself upon the opening into the 
 treasure-chamber and remained there. As if to make 
 entirely sure of what he had overheard, he stretched 
 
 320
 
 HOW COBO STOOD ON HIS HEAD 
 
 his body farther, supporting it by his outflung arms, 
 then moved his head from side to side for a better view. 
 He seemed to rock over the mouth of the well like a huge, 
 fat, black spider. He was the first to speak. 
 
 ' ' Am I dreaming ? Or have you really discovered that 
 treasure?" he queried. 
 
 O'Reilly's upturned face was ghastly. He wet his lips. 
 He managed to whisper Rosa's name. 
 
 "The riches of the Varonas! Christ! What a find!" 
 Cobo's teeth shone white in the grin of avarice. "Yes, I 
 see now a cavern in the rock. Well, well ! And you are 
 the spirit of Sebastian, chained in the bowels of La 
 Cumbre. Ha! These are the ghosts " He began to 
 chuckle, but the sound of his malevolent merriment was 
 like the hiccoughing of a drunken man. 
 
 "Rosa! What have you done " 
 
 Cobo ran on unheeding: "It must be a great treasure, 
 indeed, from all accounts the ransom of a dozen kings. 
 That's what Cueto said, 'The ransom of a dozen kings!' 
 Those were his very words." 
 
 The fellow continued to sway himself back and forth, 
 peering as if his eyes were about to leave his head. For a 
 long moment or two he utterly disregarded O'Reilly, but 
 finally as he gained more self-control his gaze shifted and 
 his expression altered. He changed his weight to his left 
 arm and with his right hand he drew his revolver. 
 
 "What are you doing?" O'Reilly cried, hoarsely. 
 
 The colonel seemed vaguely surprised at this question. 
 "Fool! Do you expect me to share it with you?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 ' ' Wait ! There's enough for all of us, ' ' O'Reilly feebly 
 protested; then, as he heard the click of the cocked 
 weapon: "Let me out. I'll pay you well make you 
 rich." In desperation he raised his shaking hand to dash 
 out the candle, but even as he did so the colonel spoke, 
 at the same time carefully lowering the revolver hammer. 
 
 321
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "You are right. What am I thinking about? There 
 must be no noise. Caraniba! A pretty business that 
 would be, wouldn't it? With my men running up here 
 to see what it was all about. No, no ! No gunshots, no 
 disturbance of any kind. You understand what I mean, 
 eh?" 
 
 His face twisted into a grin as he tossed the revolver 
 aside, then undertook to detach a stone from the 
 crumbling curb. "No noise!" he chuckled. "No noise 
 whatever." 
 
 O'Reilly, stupefied by the sudden appearance of this 
 monstrous creature, stunned by the certainty of a catas 
 trophe to Rosa, awoke to the fact that this man intended 
 to brain him where he stood. In a panic he cast his eyes 
 about him, thinking to take shelter in the treasure-cave, 
 but that retreat was closed to him, for he had wedged 
 the wooden timbers together at the first alarm. He was 
 like a rat in a pit, utterly at the mercy of this maniac. And 
 Cobo was a maniac at the moment; he had so far lost 
 control of himself as to allow the stone to slip out of his 
 grasp. It fell with a thud at O'Reilly's feet, causing the 
 assassin to laugh once more. 
 
 "Ho, ho!" he hiccoughed. "My fingers are clumsy, 
 eh? But there is no need for haste." He stretched out 
 his arm again, laid hold of another missile, and strained 
 to loosen it from its bed. "Jewels! Pearls the size of 
 plums! And I a poor man! I can't believe it yet." He 
 could not detach the stone, so he fumbled farther along 
 the curbing. "Pearls, indeed! I would send a dozen 
 men to hell for one " 
 
 O'Reilly had been standing petrified, his body forced 
 tightly against the rough surface behind him, following 
 with strained fascination the deliberate movements of 
 the man above him; now he saw Cobo, without the least 
 apparent reason, twist and shudder, saw him stiffen 
 rigidly as if seized with a sudden cramp, saw his eyes 
 
 322
 
 HOW COBO STOOD ON HIS HEAD 
 
 dilate and heard him heave a deep, whistling sigh. O'Reilly 
 could not imagine what ailed the fellow. For an eternity, 
 so it seemed, Cobo remained leaning upon his outspread 
 arms, fixed in that same attitude of paralysis it looked 
 almost as if he had been startled by some sound close by. 
 But manifestly that was not the cause of his hesitation, for 
 his face became convulsed and an expression of blank and 
 utter astonishment was stamped upon it. The men 
 stared fixedly at each other, O'Reilly with his head thrown 
 back, Cobo with his body propped rigidly upon wooden 
 arms and that peculiar shocked inquiry in his glaring eyes. 
 But slowly this expression changed ; the colonel bent as if 
 beneath a great weight, his head rose and turned back 
 upon his neck, he filled his lungs with another wheezing 
 sigh. "Christ! O Christ " he whispered. 
 
 His teeth ground together, his head began to wag upon 
 his shoulders; it dropped lower and lower; one hand 
 slipped from its hold and he lurched forward. An instant 
 he hung suspended from the waist; then he appeared to 
 let go limply as all resistance went out of his big body. 
 There came a warning rattle of dirt and mortar and peb 
 bles; the next instant he slipped into the well and plunged 
 headlong down upon O'Reilly, an avalanche of lifeless 
 flesh. 
 
 Johnnie shielded himself with his upflung arms, but he 
 was driven to his knees, and when he scrambled to his feet, 
 half stunned, it was to find himself in utter darkness. 
 There was a heavy weight against his legs. With a 
 strength born of horror and revulsion he freed himself; 
 then hearing no sound and feeling no movement, he 
 fumbled for the candle and with clumsy fingers managed 
 to relight it. Even after the flame had leaped out and he 
 saw what shared the pit with him he could barely credit 
 his senses. The nature of his deliverance was uncanny, 
 supernatural it left him dazed. He had beheld death 
 stamped upon Cobo's writhing face even while the fellow 
 
 323
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 braced himself to keep from falling, but what force had 
 effected the phenomenon, what unseen hand had stricken 
 him, Johnnie was at a loss to comprehend. It seemed a 
 miracle, indeed, until he looked closer. Then he under 
 stood. Cobo lay in a formless, boneless heap; he seemed 
 to be all arms and legs; his face was hidden, but be 
 tween his shoulders there protruded the crude wooden 
 handle of a home-made knife to which a loop of cord 
 was tied. 
 
 O'Reilly stared stupidly at the weapon; then he raised 
 his eyes. Peering down at him out of the night was 
 another face, an impertinent, beardless, youthful face. 
 
 He uttered Jacket's name, and the boy answered with a 
 smile. "Bring my knife with you when you come," the 
 latter directed. 
 
 "You!" The American's voice was weak and shaky. 
 "I thought " He set the candle down and covered his 
 eyes momentarily. 
 
 "That's a good knife, all right, and sharp, too. The 
 fellow died in a hurry, eh? Who does he happen 
 to be?" 
 
 "Don't you know? It it's Cobo." 
 
 "Cobo! Coby, the baby-killer!" Jacket breathed an 
 oath. "Oh, that blessed knife!" The boy craned his 
 small body forward until he was in danger of following 
 his victim. "Now this is good luck indeed! And to 
 think that he died just like any other man." 
 
 "Rosa! Where is she?" O'Reilly inquired in a new 
 agony of apprehension. 
 
 "Oh, she is here," Jacket assured him, carelessly. "I 
 think she has fainted. Caramba! Isn't that like a woman 
 to miss all the fun? But, compadre that was a blow 
 for Cuba Libre; what? People will talk about me when 
 I'm as dead as that pig. 'Narciso Villar, the slayer of 
 Cobo' that's what they'll call me." Jacket giggled 
 hysterically. "I I thought he would jump up and run 
 
 324
 
 HOW COBO STOOD ON HIS HEAD 
 
 after me, so I fled, but he tried to bury himself, didn't he? 
 His flesh was like butter, O'Reilly." 
 
 "Help me out, quick! Here, catch this rope." John 
 nie managed to fling the coil within reach of his little 
 friend and a moment later he had hoisted himself from 
 that pit of tragedy.
 
 XXVII 
 
 MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 
 
 WHEN Rosa Varona regained consciousness suf 
 ficiently to understand what had happened she 
 proved herself a person of no little self-control. She went 
 to pieces for a moment, as was only natural, but O'Reilly 
 soon succeeded in calming her. Nor did he have to re 
 mind her twice that this was no time for weakness or 
 hysteria; it was she, in fact, who first voiced the fear that 
 Cobo dead was scarcely Jess of a menace than Cobo alive. 
 
 "What are we going to do with him?" she inquired. 
 
 Jacket, too, appreciated the dangers of the situation. 
 "We must get rid of him quickly," said he, "for his men 
 are close by; he will be missed and there will be a search." 
 
 " I don't intend to make him a present of that treasure," 
 O'Reilly said, grimly. "It is our only salvation." 
 
 "But how are we going to hide him?" Jacket inquired. 
 "One might as well try to conceal a church; oxen couldn't 
 hoist him out of that hole." 
 
 "Precisely! He has made our work easy for us. We 
 can't take more than a small part of the money with us, 
 anyhow; the rest will have to lie here until the war is over. 
 Well ! We shall leave Cobo on guard over what remains !" 
 
 Jacket was immensely pleased with this idea, once he had 
 grasped it. "What could be better?" he cried. "The 
 man's spirit is evil enough to frighten people away and we 
 will drop stones upon him, so that he can learn the taste 
 of his own medicine. It suits me exactly to think of 
 
 326
 
 MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 
 
 Colonel Cobo standing on his head in a hole in the ground 
 for the rest of eternity!" 
 
 O'Reilly was by this time suffering the full reaction from 
 the events of the past half-hour and he was nearer ex 
 haustion than he dreamed, but, conquering his repugnance 
 for his unescapable task, he lowered himself once more 
 into the well. His arms were weak, however, and his 
 fingers numb, so he fell rather than slid the length of the 
 rope. He managed to open the door of the treasure- 
 chamber, then entered and loaded his pockets with gold. 
 He sent up the jewel-box at the end of the rope, dragged 
 the body of Cobo into the cave, then wedged the barricade 
 back into place. It required the combined strength of 
 Rosa and Jacket to help him the last few feet of his 
 climb. 
 
 "Now fetch stones, rubbish, anything and throw it in 
 there," he gasped. 
 
 The boy and the girl fell to with a will, and after a time 
 Johnnie joined them. Slowly, laboriously, the three of 
 them carried debris from the edge of the quarry and 
 bricks from the ruined house; they scraped up armfuls of 
 leaves and trash anything, in fact, which would serve 
 to raise the bottom of the shaft and conceal the entrance 
 to their enemy's resting-place. It was slavish work, but 
 O'Reilly kept them at it until they were ready to drop. 
 Daylight overtook them at their task. 
 
 They were weak, sick, deadly tired; they could barely 
 shuffle a few yards at a time when they finally reached 
 Asensio's hut; nevertheless there was hope in their hearts, 
 for O'Reilly's ragged clothes sagged with the weight of 
 gold pieces and the little metal box he carried was heavy. 
 Nor were they greatly concerned about the safety of the 
 treasure they had left behind, for the entrance to the 
 cavern lay deeply buried, and Cobo, the guerrilla, stood 
 guard over the chests of plate and the casks of coin. 
 
 Evangelina, vastly bewildered at the sight of the coin 
 
 327
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 which was forced into her palm, went for food and spent 
 most of the day in cooking it. The treasure-hunters al 
 ternately slept and ate. It was not until well along tow 
 ard evening that Rosa and O'Reilly felt any desire to 
 take stock of the contents of that jewel-box, but finally, 
 with heads together and with backs to the door of the 
 bohio, they made a furtive examination. It was a task 
 that held them spellbound, for there were loose gems of 
 many varieties, some well, some badly cut; there were 
 pieces of antique Spanish jewelry, valuable mainly by 
 virtue of their antiquity, clumsy settings of silver and 
 gold containing dead, uninteresting stones; others of the 
 finest and most delicate workmanship. Some of the 
 pieces were like glittering cobwebs enmeshing sparks of 
 fire and drops of blood. They found emeralds and sap 
 phires the value of which they did not attempt to estimate ; 
 and, besides these, a miscellaneous assortment of semi 
 precious stones. There was a fine collection of opals 
 of every size and color, among which were a number of 
 huge flat black ones, indescribably gorgeous with their 
 ever-changing peacock hues. But finest of all the lot 
 were the pearls. Where old Don Este'ban had secured 
 these latter was a mystery, for he had not been a widely 
 traveled man. They were splendid, unrivaled in size 
 and luster. Some had the iridescence of soap-bubbles, 
 others ranged from pink to deepest chocolate in color. 
 To touch them was like sacrilege. 
 
 O'Reilly realized vaguely that he held in his lap a for 
 tune greater than his wildest dreams had ever compassed. 
 These were the jewels of a rajah. It seemed incredible 
 that this ragged girl beside him was a regal heiress, the 
 possessor of a treasure such as kings might envy. After 
 a time he realized that the mere possession of these gems 
 constituted a new and overwhelming menace. 
 
 All that evening he and Rosa cowered in the darkness, 
 whispering furtively, their nerves on edge, their senses 
 
 328
 
 MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 
 
 strained. It seemed to them that new and unsuspected 
 perils stalked abroad through the night. 
 
 Morning found all hands more nearly rational and 
 feeling the first gnawings of a healthy hunger. Even 
 Asensio confessed to a quite miraculous improvement. 
 While Evangelina prepared breakfast the lovers agreed 
 upon a story to explain the origin of that mysterious gold 
 piece, and later Johnnie warned Jacket for a second time 
 to keep his tongue between his teeth. 
 
 "We will have to be doubly careful now," he told the 
 boy. "An unguarded word or an incautious move would 
 be the end of us." 
 
 Jacket nodded his complete comprehension. "Sure! 
 All Spaniards are robbers and they'd kill us for a peso. 
 Yes, and the pacificos are no better. I tell you we need 
 to get out of this place." 
 
 " I intend to arrange it at once, but the sight of those 
 jewels has frightened me. If we are searched if we are 
 even suspected " 
 
 "Oh, Rosa wouldn't have any more use for her pretty 
 trinkets. She'd be in heaven before you could scratch 
 your nose." 
 
 O'Reilly frowned. "She isn't at all strong yet. I'm 
 wondering if she can endure the hardships we'll encounter 
 when, or if, we get away." 
 
 "Exactly what I was thinking. I've been considering 
 another plan." 
 
 "Indeed?" O'Reilly scanned the face of his young 
 friend with interest. He was beginning to have a high 
 regard for Jacket's capabilities, and the boy's exploit of 
 the night before certainly entitled him to be heard upon 
 any subject. 
 
 " I told you about my friend at the market," the latter 
 continued. "Well, he is a miserable Spaniard, but he has 
 a son in the manigua." 
 
 ' ' One of us ? " Johnnie was surprised. 
 22 329
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Yes. The old fellow owns a volandra in which he 
 brings charcoal from the eastward twice a month." 
 
 There was a moment of silence; then O'Reilly said, 
 slowly, as if hesitating even to voice such a suggestion, 
 "You mean he might take us out of here on his 
 schooner?" 
 
 "Who knows? He's not a bad old fellow and he likes 
 me. But there would be no place for women." 
 
 "How well does he like you?" 
 
 "Oh, we are like two thieves." 
 
 After another period of thought O'Reilly said, "Take 
 me to him, and remember I'm your brother Juan." 
 
 The Matanzas market did not present a scene of great 
 activity when the two friends slunk into it. It was mid 
 day, and what food had earlier been offered for sale had 
 for the most part long since disappeared. All but a few 
 of the stalls were empty, and a number of emaciated 
 reconcentrados were searching listlessly among them for 
 neglected scraps, or imploring aid from such marketmen 
 as still lingered about. Like most Spanish markets, the 
 building was far from clean and housed odors unpleasant 
 even to starving people. In the smelliest section, at one 
 of the fish-stalls, Jacket accosted a villainous old brigand 
 in a rough Gallego cap, baggy blouse and trousers, and 
 straw sandals. 
 
 "Good day, my Captain," he cried, cheerily. 
 
 The Spaniard raised his head, scowled ferociously, then 
 waved a long, thin-bladed knife in menacing fashion. 
 
 "Aha! So there you are, robber! Be off now before I 
 slit your greedy little belly!" He spoke in an angry, 
 husky voice. When Jacket stood his ground he reached 
 for him with a hand upon which blood and fish-scales had 
 dried. "Didn't I promise to give you to the soldiers if 
 you came back to bother me?" 
 
 Jacket was unabashed by this hostile reception. He 
 grinned broadly and with an impudent eye he scanned the 
 
 330
 
 MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 
 
 empty premises. ' ' Where is my little fish ? " he demanded. 
 "As I live, I believe you have sold it! God! What a 
 miser! For the sake of another centavo you would see 
 me starve? There's a heart for you!" 
 
 "Your little fish!" roared the brigand, clashing his 
 blade on the filthy counter. ' ' No shark ever stole so many 
 fish as you. Come, I shall make an end of you, and have 
 some peace. Starve? You? Bah! Your body is like a 
 gourd." 
 
 ' ' Yes, and quite as hollow. I starve because you possess 
 a heart of stone. One little fish, no longer than your 
 finger. Just one?" 
 
 ' ' Not so much as a fin !" cried the man. ' ' Can I feed all 
 the rebels in Matanzas?" 
 
 "One little fish," Jacket wheedled, "for the sake of 
 Miguelito, who is bravely fighting in the manigua, to the 
 shame of his miserly old father, fattening on the groans of 
 good patriots like me! Must I remind you again that 
 Miguelito was my brother? That I have robbed my own 
 belly in order to give him food?" 
 
 "Liar!" 
 
 "It is true." 
 
 "You never saw him." 
 
 "Miguel Morin? With a scar on his neck? The 
 bravest boy in all the Orient? Ask him about Narciso 
 Villar. Come, give me my fish ! Or must I lie down and 
 die before your very eyes to -prove my hunger?" 
 
 "What a nuisance!" grumbled the marketman. He 
 reached into a basket and flung a mackerel upon the 
 table. "There! I saved it for you, and sent the good 
 women of Matanzas away empty-handed. But it is the 
 very last. Annoy me again and I shaD open you with my 
 knife and put salt on you." 
 
 "Ah! You are my good captain!" Jacket cried in 
 triumph, possessing himself of the prize. "Where would 
 I have been but for you?" Turning to O'Reilly, who had 
 
 331
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 looked on from a distance at this artificial quarrel, he 
 said, "Captain Morin, this is that brother Juan of whom 
 I have told you." 
 
 Morin smiled at Johnnie and extended his dirty palm. 
 "The little fellow can speak the truth when he wishes, it 
 seems. I began to doubt that he had a brother. What 
 a boy, eh?" Leaning closer, he whispered, hoarsely: 
 "It is cheaper to give him a fish than to have him steal 
 a whole basketful. But he is a great liar. Even yet 
 I'm not sure that he knows my Miguelito." 
 
 "You have a son. with the Insurrectos?" 
 
 "Yes." The fisherman cast a furtive glance over his 
 shoulder. "He is a traitor of the worst sort, and I don't 
 approve of him, but he's a brave boy and he loves fighting. 
 Sometimes I get hungry to see him." 
 
 "Why don't you go and fight by his side?" Jacket de 
 manded. 
 
 "God forbid!" Morin flung up his hands. "I'm a 
 loyal subject." 
 
 "Well, we are going back to fight. We are going to 
 escape and join Gomez once more!" Jacket made the 
 announcement calmly. 
 
 "'S-sh! What talk!" Morin was in a nervous panic 
 lest they be overheard. "As if anybody could escape 
 from Matanzas! What made you come here if you are 
 so eager to fight?" 
 
 "I'll tell you." O'Reilly assumed direction of the con 
 versation. "There are three of us brothers, we two and 
 Este"ban, a pretty little fellow. He was captured by 
 Cobo's men and driven in, and we came to find him." 
 
 "You came here here to Matanzas?" Old Morin 
 was incredulous. He muttered an oath. "That was a 
 very nice thing to do. And did you find him?" 
 
 "Oh yes! That was easy enough, for the lad is de 
 formed." 
 
 "Tse! Tse! What a pity!" 
 332
 
 MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 
 
 "But he is sick dying " 
 
 "Of course. They're all dying the poor people! It 
 is terrible." 
 
 ' ' We ' ' O'Reilly faltered slightly, so much hung upon 
 the manner in which Morin would take what he was about 
 to say. " We want to get him out of here we must do so, 
 or we'll lose him." 
 
 Sensing some hidden significance, some obscure purpose 
 behind this confession, the Spaniard looked sharply at the 
 speaker. His leathery countenance darkened. 
 
 "Why are you telling me this?" he inquired. "What 
 makes you think I won't betray you?" 
 
 "Something tells me you won't. You have a good 
 heart, and you have kept Narciso from starving, for the 
 sake of your own boy." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Will you help us?" 
 
 "I? In Heaven's name, how?" 
 
 "By taking us away in your charcoal -schooner." 
 
 "You're mad!" Morin cast another apprehensive look 
 over his shoulder. "I'm a poor man. All I have is my 
 two boats, the vivero, which brings fish, and the volandra, 
 which sails with charcoal. Do you think I'd forfeit them 
 and my life for strangers?" 
 
 "There wouldn't be much risk." 
 
 "Indeed? Perhaps I know something about that." 
 
 O'Reilly leaned closer. "You say you're a poor man. 
 I will pay you well." 
 
 Morin eyed the ragged speaker scornfully; it was plain 
 that he put no faith in such a promise, and so O'Reilly 
 took a piece of gold from his pocket, at sight of which the 
 fisherman started. 
 
 "What kind of pacificos are you?" Morin queried. His 
 mouth had fallen open, his eyes protruded. 
 
 "I, too, am a poor man, but I'm willing to buy freedom 
 for my little brothers and myself." 
 
 333
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "How many coins like that have you?" 
 
 "Um-m more than one; enough to pay you for 
 several cargoes of coal." 
 
 "And I have given you fish to eat!" Morin rolled his 
 eyes at Jacket. He pondered the marvel of what he had 
 seen, he muttered something to himself. 
 
 " For the sake of Miguelito, ' ' Jacket urged. ' ' Caramba! 
 What a hard-hearted father begot that boy!" 
 
 "Hush!" The fisherman was scowling. To O'Reilly 
 he said, "You do wrong to tempt a poor man." 
 
 "My brother Este"ban is sick. He is a frail little lad 
 with a crooked back. God will reward you." 
 
 ' ' Perhaps ! But how much will you pay ?' ' 
 
 "Ten Spanish sovereigns like this all that I have." 
 
 " No ! It is not enough. ' ' 
 
 O'Reilly took Jacket's hand and turned away. "I'm 
 sorry," said he. "I wish I might offer you more." He 
 had taken several steps before Morin hailed him. 
 
 "Come back to-morrow," the fisherman cried, crossly. 
 "We will try to talk like sensible people." 
 
 The brothers Villar were back at Morin's fish-stand on 
 the following afternoon and they returned daily thereafter 
 until they at last prevailed over the Spaniard's fears and 
 won his promise of assistance. That much accomplished, 
 they made several cautious purchases, a coat here, a shirt 
 there, a pair of trousers in another place, until they had 
 assembled a complete boy's outfit of clothing. 
 
 At first Rosa refused absolutely to desert her two 
 faithful negro friends, and O'Reilly won her consent to 
 consider his plan of escape only after he had put the 
 matter squarely up to Asensio and his wife and after 
 both had refused to enter into it. Asensio declared that 
 he was too sick to be moved, and asserted that he would 
 infinitely prefer to remain where he was, provided he was 
 supplied with sufficient money to cover his needs. Evan- 
 gelina agreed with him. 
 
 334
 
 MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 
 
 Then, and not until then, did Rosa begin her prepara 
 tions. First she made Evangelina cut her hair, a sacrilege 
 that wrung sighs and tears and loud lamentations from 
 the black woman, after which she altered the suit of boy's 
 clothing to fit her figure, or rather to conceal it. 
 
 When at last she put it on for O'Reilly's approval she 
 was very shy, very self-conscious, and so altogether un- 
 boylike that he shook his head positively. 
 
 "My dear, you'll never do," he told her. "You are 
 altogether too pretty." 
 
 " But wait until I put that hideous hump upon my back 
 and stain my face, then you will see how ugly I can look." 
 
 "Perhaps," he said, doubtfully. A moment, then his 
 frown lightened. "You give me a thought," said he. 
 "You shall wear the jewels." 
 
 "Wear them? How?" 
 
 "On your back, in that very hump. It will be the 
 safest possible way to conceal them." 
 
 Rosa clapped her hands in delight. "Why, of course! 
 It is the very thing. Wait until I show you." 
 
 Profiting by her first moment alone Evangelina and 
 her husband being still in ignorance of the contents of the 
 treasure-box Rosa made a bundle out of the jewels and 
 trinkets and fastened it securely inside her coat. After 
 a few experiments she adjusted it to her liking, then 
 called O'Reilly once more. This time he was better 
 satisfied; he was, in truth, surprised at the effect of the 
 disfigurement, and, after putting Rosa through several 
 rehearsals in masculine deportment, he pronounced the 
 disguise as nearly perfect as could be hoped for. An 
 application of Evangelina's stain to darken her face, a few 
 tatters and a liberal application of dirt to the suit, and he 
 declared that Rosa would pass anywhere as a boy. 
 
 There came a night when the three of them bade good-by 
 to their black companions and slipped away across the 
 city to that section known as Pueblo Nuevo, then followed 
 
 335
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 the road along the water-front until they found shelter 
 within the shadows of a rickety structure which had once 
 served as a bath-house. The building stood partially 
 upon piles and under it they crept, knee-deep in the 
 lapping waves. To their left was the illumination of 
 Matanzas; to their right, the lights of the Penas Altas 
 fort ; ahead of them, empty and dark save for the riding- 
 lights of a few small coasting-vessels, lay the harbor. 
 
 The refugees waited a long time; they were beginning 
 to fear that old Morin's nerve had weakened at the 
 eleventh hour, when they beheld a skiff approaching the 
 shore. It glided closer, entered the shade of the bath 
 house, then a voice cried: 
 
 "Pset! You are there?" It was Morin himself. 
 
 Hastily the three piled aboard. Morin bent to his 
 oars and the skiff shot out. "You were not observed?" 
 he inquired. 
 
 "No." 
 
 Morin rowed in silence for a time, then confessed: 
 "This business is not to my liking. There is too much 
 risk. Think of me putting my neck in peril " 
 
 "Ho!" Jacket chuckled. "It is just the sort of thing 
 that I enjoy. If Miguelito was captain of his father's 
 boat we'd been in Cardenas by daybreak." 
 
 "When do you sail?" O'Reilly asked. 
 
 "At dawn, God permitting. You will have to remain 
 hidden and you mustn't even breathe. I have told my 
 men that you are members of my wife's family good 
 Spaniards, but I doubt if they will believe it." 
 
 "Then you are to be my uncle?" Jacket inquired from 
 his seat in the bow. "Caramba! That's more than I can 
 stand! To be considered a Spaniard is bad enough, but 
 to be known as the nephew of an old miser who smells 
 of fish ! It is too much !" 
 
 Badinage of this sort did not displease the fisherman. 
 "It is not often they board us nowadays," he said, more 
 
 336
 
 MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 
 
 hopefully, "but of course one never can tell. Perhaps we 
 will sail out under their very noses." 
 
 He brought the skiff alongisde a battered old schooner 
 and his passengers clambered aboard. There was a tiny 
 cabin aft and on it, sheltered from the night dew by a 
 loose fold of the mainsail, were two sleeping men. The 
 new-comers followed Morin down into the evil little cabin, 
 where he warned Lhem in a stertorous whisper: 
 
 "Not a sound, mind you. If any one comes aboard, 
 you must shift for yourselves. Creep into the hold and 
 hide. Of course, if we are searched " He muttered 
 something, then groped his way out on deck, and closed 
 the hatch behind him. 
 
 It was inky dark in the cabin ; the occupants dared not 
 move about for fear of waking the sailors overhead. 
 Time passed slowly. After a while Jacket yawned and 
 sighed and grumbled under his breath. Finally he 
 stretched himself out upon a narrow board bench and fell 
 asleep. O'Reilly drew Rosa to him and she snuggled 
 comfortably into his embrace, resting her head upon his 
 shoulder. It was their first real moment alone. 
 
 Now that they had actually embarked upon this enter 
 prise and the girl had given herself entirely into his hands, 
 now that an imminent peril encompassed them both, 
 Johnnie felt that Rosa belonged to him more absolutely, 
 more completely, than at any time heretofore, so he held 
 her close. He caressed her gently, he voiced those tender, 
 intimate, foolish thoughts which he had never dared ex 
 press. This velvet darkness, this utter isolation, seemed 
 to unite them; - to feel the girl's heart beating against his 
 own and her breath warm upon his cheek was intensely 
 thrilling. An exquisite ardor inflamed him, and Rosa re 
 sponded to it. They resisted briefly, prolonging the de 
 lights of this moment, then her arms crept about him, 
 her lips met his in absolute surrender. 
 
 They began to whisper, cautiously, so as not to disturb 
 337
 
 the sleeping boy; they became unconscious of the flight of 
 time. Rosa lay relaxed against her lover's shoulder and 
 in halting murmurs, interrupted many times by caresses, 
 she told O'Reilly of her need for him, and her utter happi 
 ness. It was the fullest hour of their lives. 
 
 Sometimes he thought she must be dozing, but he was 
 never sure, for she answered to his lightest touch and 
 awoke to the faintest pressure of his lips. The night wore 
 swiftly on, and it was not long enough for either of them. 
 
 With daylight, Morin routed out his men. There was 
 a sleepy muttering, the patter of bare feet upon the deck 
 above, then the creak of blocks as the sails were raised. 
 From forward came the sound of some one splitting wood 
 to kindle the charcoal fire for breakfast. Other sailing- 
 craft seemed to be getting under way, and a fishing-boat, 
 loaded with the night's catch, came to anchor alongside. 
 
 The three brothers Villar felt the schooner heel slightly 
 and knew that she was stealing toward the Spanish gun 
 boat which was supposed to be on guard against precisely 
 such undertakings as this. A few moments, then there 
 came a hail which brought their hearts into their throats. 
 Morin himself answered the call. 
 
 "Good morning, countryman! Have you caught any 
 of those accursed filibusters since I saw you last? So? 
 Cayo Romano, eh ? Well, they come in the night and they 
 go in the night. If I were the pilot of your ship I'd 
 guarantee to put you where they'd fall into your arms, for 
 I know these waters. What have I aboard?" Morin 
 laughed loudly. "You know very well cannon and shot 
 for the rebels, of course. Will you look? . . . No? . . . Then 
 a cup of coffee perhaps?" 
 
 O'Reilly peeped through a dirt-stained cabin window 
 and saw that the volandra was slipping past the stern 
 of the ironclad, so he withdrew his head quickly. 
 
 In spite of his hospitable invitation, Captain Morin 
 made no move to come about, but instead held his schooner 
 
 338
 
 MORIN, THE FISHERMAN 
 
 on its course, meanwhile exchanging shouts with the un 
 seen speaker. It seemed incredible that Spanish disci 
 pline could be so lax, that the schooner would be allowed 
 to depart, even for a coastwise run, without some formal 
 ities of clearance, but so it seemed. Evidently the 
 Spaniards had tired of examining these small craft. It 
 was typical of their carelessness. 
 
 Of course this was but one danger past and there were 
 many more ahead, for Morin's schooner was liable to be 
 stopped by any of the numerous patrol-boats on duty 
 to the eastward. Nevertheless, when an anxious hour had 
 gone by and she was well out toward the harbor mouth, 
 the refugees told one another they were safe. 
 
 Morin shoved back the companionway hatch and 
 thrust a grinning face into view. "Ho, there! my lazy 
 little cousins!" he cried. "Wake up, for I smell Pancho's 
 coffee boiling."
 
 XXVIII 
 
 THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 
 
 T7 STfiBAN VARONA made slow progress toward re- 
 JLrf co very. In the weeks following O'Reilly's departure 
 from Cubitas his gain was steady, but beyond a certain 
 point he seemed unable to go. Then he began to lose 
 strength. Norine was the first to realize the truth, but 
 it was some time before she would acknowledge it, even 
 to herself. At last, however, she had to face the fact 
 that Este*ban's months of prison fare, the abuse, the 
 neglect he had suffered in Spanish hands, had left him 
 little more than a living corpse. It seemed as if fever 
 had burned him out, or else some dregs of disease still 
 lingered in his system and had all but quenched that elu 
 sive spark which for want of a better name we call vitality. 
 Este"ban, too, awoke to the fact that he was losing 
 ground, and his dismay was keen, for a wonderful thing 
 had come into his life and he spent much of his time in 
 delicious contemplative day dreams concerning it, waiting 
 for the hour when he would dare translate those dreams 
 into realities. It seemed to him that he had always loved 
 Norine; certainly she had enshrined herself in his heart 
 long before his mind had regained its clarity, for he had 
 come out of his delirious wanderings with his love full 
 grown. There had been no conscious beginning to it ; he 
 had emerged from darkness into dazzling glory, all in an 
 instant. Not until he found himself slipping backward 
 did he attempt to set a guard upon himself, for up to that 
 
 340
 
 THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 
 
 hour he had never questioned his right to love. He found 
 his new task heavy, almost too much for him to bear. 
 That he attempted it spoke well for the fellow's strength of 
 character. 
 
 The time came finally when he could no longer permit 
 the girl to deceive herself or him with her brave assump 
 tion of cheerfulness. Norine had just told him that he 
 was doing famously, but he smiled and shook his weary 
 head. 
 
 "Let's be honest," he said. "You know and I know 
 that I can't get well." 
 
 Norine was engaged in straightening up the interior 
 of the bark hut in which her patient was installed; she 
 ceased her labors to inquire with lifted brows: 
 
 "Tut! Tut! Pray what do you mean by that?" 
 
 "There's something desperately wrong with me and I 
 realized it long ago. So did you, but your good heart 
 wouldn't let you " 
 
 Norine crossed quickly to the hammock and laid her 
 cool hand upon the sick man's forehead. 
 
 "You mustn't be discouraged," she told him, earnestly. 
 "Remember this is a trying climate and we have nothing 
 to do with. Even the food is wretched." 
 
 Este"ban's smile became wistful. "That isn't why my 
 fever lasts. If there were any life, any health left in me 
 you would rekindle it. No, there's something desperately 
 wrong, and we're wasting time." 
 
 "You simply mustn't talk like this," she cried. Then 
 at the look in his eyes she faltered for the briefest instant. 
 "You'll undo all that we've done. Oh, if I had you 
 where I could take proper care of you 1 If we were any 
 where but here you d see." 
 
 "I believe you. But unfortunately we are not else 
 where." 
 
 " I'm going to take you away," she exclaimed, forcefully. 
 
 Est^ban stroked her hand softly. "You can't do that,
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Miss Evans. You have been wonderful to me and I can't 
 begin to express my gratitude " Norine stirred, but 
 he retained his grasp of her fingers, gaining courage from 
 the contact to proceed. "I have been trying for a long 
 time to tell you something. Will you listen?" 
 
 Norine possessed a dominant personality; she had a 
 knack of tactfully controlling and directing situations, but 
 of a sudden she experienced a panic-stricken flutter and 
 she lost her air of easy confidence. 
 
 "Not now," she exclaimed, with a visible lessening of 
 color. " Don't bother to tell me now." 
 
 "I've waited too long; I must speak." 
 
 Norine was amazed at her own confusion, which was 
 nothing less than girlish; she had actually gone to pieces 
 at threat of something she had long expected to hear. 
 
 " I know how tired of this work you have become," the 
 man was saying. " I know you're eager to get back to your 
 own work and your own life." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "You have stayed on here just to nurse me. Isn't that 
 true?" 
 
 She nodded somewhat doubtfully. 
 
 "Now then, you must stop thinking about me and 
 make your arrangements to go home." 
 
 Norine eyed the speaker queerly. "Is that what you 
 have been trying so long to tell me?" she inquired. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 There was a moment of silence. "Yes. You see, I 
 know how tired you are of this misery, this poverty, this 
 hopeless struggle. You're not a Cuban and our cause 
 isn't yours. Expeditions come from the United States 
 every now and then and the Government will see that 
 you are put safely aboard the first ship that returns. I'll 
 manage to get well somehow." 
 
 Norine' s color had returned. She stood over the ham- 
 342
 
 THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 
 
 mock, looking down mistily. " Don't you need me, want 
 me any more?" she inquired. 
 
 Este*ban turned his tired eyes away, fearing to betray 
 in them his utter wretchedness. "You have done all 
 there is to do. I want you to go back into your own world 
 and forget " 
 
 A sudden impulse seized the girl. She stopped and 
 gathered the sick man into her young, strong arms. 
 "Don't be silly," she cried. "My world is your world, 
 Este"ban dear. I'll never, never leave you." 
 
 "Miss Evans! Norine!" Varona tried feebly to free 
 himself. "You mustn't" 
 
 Norine was laughing through her tears. " If you won't 
 speak, I suppose I must, but it is very embarrassing. 
 Don't you suppose I know exactly how much you love me? 
 Why, you've told me a thousand times " 
 
 "Please! Please!" he cried in a shaking voice. "This 
 is wrong. I won't let you you, a girl with everything " 
 
 "Hush!" She drew him closer. "You're going to tell 
 me that you have nothing, can offer me nothing. You're 
 going to do the generous, noble thing. Well! I hate 
 generous people. I'm selfish, utterly selfish and spoiled, 
 and I don't propose to be robbed of anything I want, 
 least of all my happiness. You do love me, don't you?" 
 
 Este"ban's cry was eloquent; he clasped his arms about 
 her and she held him fiercely to her breast. 
 
 "Well, then, why don't you tell me so? I I can't 
 keep on proposing. It isn't ladylike." 
 
 "We're quite mad, quite insane," he told her after a 
 while. "This only makes it harder to give you up." 
 
 "You're not going to give me up and you're not 
 going to die. I sha'n't let you. Think what you have 
 to live for." 
 
 "I did wrong to surrender." 
 
 " It was I who surrendered. Come! Must I say it all? 
 Aren't you going to ask me " 
 
 343
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Why, to marry you, of course." 
 
 Este"ban gasped; he looked deeply into Norine's eyes, 
 then he closed his own. He shook his head. "Not that," 
 he whispered. "Oh, not that!" 
 
 "We're going to be married, and I'm going to take you 
 out of this miserable place." 
 
 "What happiness!" he murmured. "If I were well 
 But I won't let you marry a dying man." 
 
 Norine rose, her face aglow with new strength, new de 
 termination. She dried her eyes and readjusted her hair 
 with deft, unconscious touch, smiling down, meanwhile, 
 at the man. " I brought you back when you were all but 
 gone. I saved you after the others had given you up, and 
 now you are mine to do with as I please. You belong to 
 me and I sha'n't consult you " She turned, for a figure 
 had darkened the door; it was one of her English-speaking 
 convalescents who was acting as a sort of orderly. 
 
 "Sefiorita," the man said, with a flash of white teeth, 
 "we have another sick man, and you'd never guess who. 
 It is that American, El Demonic " 
 
 "Mr. Branch?" 
 
 "Si! The very same. He has just come from the 
 front." 
 
 " Is he sick or wounded?" Este*ban inquired. 
 
 "Shot, by a Spanish bullet. He asked at once for our 
 sefiorita." 
 
 "Of course. I'll come in an instant." When the mes 
 senger had gone Norine bent and pressed her lips to 
 Este"ban's. "Remember, you're mine to do with as I 
 please," she said; then she fled down the grassy street. 
 
 Branch was waiting at Norine's quarters, a soiled figure 
 of dejection. His left arm lay in a sling across his breast. 
 He looked up at her approach, but she scarcely recognized 
 him, so greatly changed was he. 
 
 Leslie had filled out. There was a healthy color be- 
 
 344
 
 THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 
 
 neath his deep tan, his flesh was firm, his eyes clear and 
 bright. 
 
 "Hello, Norine!" he cried. "Well, they got me." 
 
 Norine paused in astonishment. "Why, Leslie! I was 
 so frightened! But you can't be badly hurt." 
 
 "Bad enough so that Lopez sent me in. A fellow gets 
 flyblown if he stays in the field, so I beat it." 
 
 " Has your arm been dressed?" 
 
 "No. I wouldn't let these rough-and-tumble doctors 
 touch it. They'd amputate at the shoulder for a hang 
 nail. I don't trust 'em." 
 
 " Then I'll look at it." 
 
 But Leslie shrugged. "Oh, it's feeling fine, right now! 
 I'd rather leave it alone. I just wanted to see you " 
 
 "You mustn't neglect it; there's danger of " 
 
 "Gee! You're looking great," he interrupted. "It's 
 better than a banquet just to look at you." 
 
 "And you!" Norine scanned the invalid appraisingly. 
 "Why, you're another man!" 
 
 "Sure! Listen to this." He thumped his chest. 
 " Best pair of bellows in Cuba. The open air did it." 
 
 "What a pity you were hurt just at such a time. But 
 you would take insane risks. Now then, let's have a look 
 at your wound." She pushed him, protesting, into her 
 cabin. 
 
 "It doesn't hurt, really," he declared. "It's only a 
 scratch." 
 
 " Of course you'd say so. Sit down." 
 
 "Please don't bother. If you don't mind " 
 
 "But I do mind. If you won't trust me I'll run for a 
 doctor." 
 
 "I tell you I can't stand 'em. They'll probe around 
 and give a fellow gangrene." 
 
 "Then behave yourself." Norine forced the patient 
 into a chair and withdrew his arm from the sling. Then, 
 despite his weak resistance, she deftly removed the ban- 
 23 345
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 dage. From his expression she felt sure that she must be 
 hurting him, but when the injury was exposed she looked 
 up in wonderment. 
 
 "Leslie!" she exclaimed. "What in the world " 
 
 "Well! You insisted on seeing it," he grumbled. "I 
 told you it wasn't much." He tried to meet her eyes, but 
 failed. 
 
 There was a moment's pause, then Norine inquired, 
 curiously: "What is the trouble? You'd better 'fess up." 
 
 Branch struggled with himself, he swallowed hard, then 
 said: "I'm going to. You can see now why I didn't go 
 to a doctor: . I did it shot myself. You won't give me 
 away?" 
 
 "Why I don't understand." 
 
 "Oh, I'm in trouble. I simply had to get away, and 
 this was all I could think of. I wanted to blow a real 
 hole through myself and I tried three times. But I missed 
 myself." 
 
 "Missed yourself? How? Why?" 
 
 Branch wiped the sweat from his face. "I flinched 
 shut my eyes and pulled the trigger." 
 
 Norine seated herself weakly; she stared in bewilder 
 ment at the unhappy speaker. "Afraid? You, El De- 
 monio! Why, you aren't afraid of anything!" 
 
 "Say! You don't believe all that stuff, do you? I'm 
 afraid of my shadow and always have been. I'm not 
 brave and never was. They told me I was going to die 
 and it scared me so that I tried to end things quickly. I 
 couldn't bear to die slowly, to know that I was dying by 
 inches. But, Lord ! It scared me even worse to go into 
 battle. I was blind with fright all the time and I never 
 got over it. Why, the sight of a gun gives me a chill, and 
 I jump every time one goes off. God! how I've suffered! 
 I went crazy at our first engagement crazy with fear. 
 I didn't know where I was, or what happened, or any 
 thing. Afterward, when they hailed me as a hero, I 
 
 346
 
 THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 
 
 thought they were kidding, that everybody must know 
 how frightened I was. After a time I saw that I'd fooled 
 them, and that shamed me. Then I had to keep it up 
 or become ridiculous. But it nearly killed me." 
 
 "If you're speaking the truth, I'm not sure you're such 
 a coward as you make out," Norine said. 
 
 "Oh yes, I am. Wait! Before I knew it I had a 
 reputation. Then I had to live up to it." The speaker 
 groaned. "It wasn't so bad as long as I felt sure I was 
 going to die, anyhow, but when I discovered I was getting 
 well " Branch raised a pair of tragic eyes, his tone 
 changed. "I'll tell you what cured me. I scared myself 
 well! Those bugs in my lungs died from suffocation, for 
 I never breathed as long as there was a Spaniard in the 
 same county with me. One day I found that I couldn't 
 cough if I tried. I got strong. I slept well. And eat? 
 Huh ! I gobbled my share of food and whined for more. 
 I stole what belonged to the others. I began to enjoy 
 myself to have fun. Life opened up nice and rosy. I 
 fell in love with my new self and the joy of living. Then 
 I didn't want to die never had, you understand, except 
 to cheat the bugs ; it gave me the horrors to think of the 
 chances I'd taken. To be strong, to be healthy and free 
 from pain, to tear my food like a wild animal, and to 
 enjoy hard work was all new and strange and wonderful. 
 I was drunk with it. To think of being cut down, crip 
 pled, reduced to the useless, miserable thing I had been, 
 was intolerable. I was twice as scared then as I'd ever 
 been, for I had more to lose. You understand ? I forced 
 myself to do the insane things expected of me, when 
 people were looking natural pride, I suppose but when 
 they weren't looking, oh, how I dogged it ! I crawled on 
 my belly and hid in holes like a snake." 
 
 "How funny!" Norine exclaimed. 
 
 "You've got a blamed queer idea of humor," Branch 
 flashed, with a show of his former irritability. 
 
 347
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "And so you shot yourself?" 
 
 "Yep! I tried to select a good spot where it wouldn't 
 hurt or prove too inconvenient, but there isn't a place to 
 spare on a fellow's whole body. He needs every inch of 
 himself every minute. I was going to shoot myself in the 
 foot, but my feet are full of bones and I saw myself on 
 crutches the rest of my life." 
 
 "Why didn't you resign from the service? You didn't 
 regularly enlist and you've surely earned your dis 
 charge." 
 
 Branch nodded. "I thought of that, but I've gained a 
 reputation that I don't deserve and, strangely enough, 
 I'm madly jealous of it. I thought if I were really shot 
 by a regular bullet I'd be mourned as a hero and have a 
 chance to walk out with colors flying. I want to tell my 
 children, if I ever have any, what a glorious man I was 
 and how I helped to free Cuba. Oh, I'd lie like a thief to 
 my own children ! Now you see why I don't want a doc 
 tor. There's only one thing I want and that's home." 
 Leslie heaved a deep sigh. "Gee! I'm homesick." 
 
 "So am I," Norine feelingly declared. "I think I un 
 derstand how you feel and I can't blame you for wanting 
 to live, now that you've learned what a splendid thing 
 life is." 
 
 "If O'Reilly had been with me I think I could have 
 managed, somehow, for he would have understood, too. 
 I I'll never go back to the front, alone they can shoot 
 me, if they want to. Have you heard anything from 
 him?" 
 
 "Not a word. Cuba swallowed him up. Oh, Leslie, 
 it is a cruel country ! It is taking the best and the young 
 est. I want to go away." 
 
 He smiled mirthlessly. "I'm fed up on it, too. I want 
 to be where I can shave when I need to and wear some 
 thing besides canvas pajamas. I'm cured of war; I want 
 a policeman to stop the traffic and help me across the 
 
 348
 
 THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 
 
 street. I want to put my feet under a breakfast-table, 
 rustle a morning paper, and slap an egg in the face. That's 
 all the excitement I hunger for." 
 
 Norine filled a basin with clean water and, taking a 
 fresh bandage, wrapped up the self-inflicted hurt, Branch 
 watching her anxiously. Now and again he flinched like a 
 child when she touched his wound. At last he inquired, 
 apprehensively, "Is it infected?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Lord! I'm glad! Wouldn't it be just my luck to get 
 blood poisoning?" 
 
 Norine surprised her patient by inquiring, irrelevantly, 
 "Leslie, is there anybody here who can marry people?" 
 
 "Eh? Why, of course!" Then suddenly his somber 
 face lightened and he cried: "Norine! Do you mean it?" 
 
 "Not you. I wouldn't marry you." 
 
 ' ' Why not ? I'm perfectly well ' ' 
 
 " Please answer me." 
 
 Leslie settled back in his chair. "I dare say some of 
 the Cuban Cabinet officers could put up a good bluff at a 
 marriage ceremony." 
 
 "A bluff wouldn't do." 
 
 "Who's going to be married?" 
 
 "lam." 
 
 Branch started to his feet once more, his mouth fell 
 open. "You? Nonsense!" When she nodded, his face 
 darkened. "Who is he? Some Cuban, I'll bet one of 
 these greasers." 
 
 "ItispoorEsteTmn." 
 
 "'Poor Est6ban'! Damn it, they're all poor. That's 
 the very reason he asked you. He's after your money." 
 
 "He didn't ask me. I asked him. He's dying, 
 Leslie." There was a pause. " I'm going to marry him 
 and take him home, where he can get well." 
 
 "What will O'Reilly say?" 
 
 "I'm afraid we'll never see O'Reilly again. Cuba 
 
 349
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 frightens me. It has taken him, it will take Est6ban, and 
 that would break my heart." 
 
 " Do you love him as much as that?" 
 
 Norine raised her eyes and in their depths Branch read 
 her answer. "Well, that ends the rest of us," he sighed. 
 "There's a Minister of Justice here, I believe; he sounds 
 as if he could perform most any kind of a ceremony. 
 We'll find out for sure." 
 
 It so happened that the President and well-nigh the 
 entire Provisional Cabinet were in Cubitas. Leslie and 
 Norine went directly to the former. The supreme official 
 was eager to oblige in every way the guest of his Govern 
 ment and her dare-devil countryman, El Demonio. He 
 promptly sent for the Minister of Justice, who in turn 
 gallantly put himself at Norine's disposal. He declared 
 that, although he had never performed the marriage cere 
 mony he would gladly try his hand at it. In no time the 
 news had spread and there was subdued excitement 
 throughout the camp. When Norine left headquarters 
 she was the target of smiles and friendly greetings. 
 Women nodded and chattered at her, ragged soldiers 
 swept her salutes with their jipi-japa hats, children clung 
 to her and capered by her side. It was vastly embar 
 rassing, this shameless publicity, but it was touching, too, 
 for there was genuine affection and good- will behind every 
 smile. Norine was between tears and laughter when she 
 ran panting into Este'ban's cabin, leaving Branch to wait 
 outside. 
 
 At sight of her Estban uttered a low cry of happiness. 
 "Dearest! I've been lying in a stupor of delight. The 
 world has become bright : I hear people laughing. What a 
 change! And how is El Demonio?" 
 
 "He's all right; he's waiting to see you, but first 
 I've arranged everything ! The President and his Cabinet 
 are coming to witness the ceremony." 
 
 Este*ban poised, petrified, upon his elbow, his face was 
 35
 
 THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 
 
 a study. "What have you arranged?" he managed to 
 inquire. 
 
 '"Sh-h!" Norine laid a finger upon his lips. "The 
 guest of the Republic is to be married to-day. Digni 
 taries, magistrates, nabobs, are turning out in her honor. 
 They are shaving and borrowing clean shirts for the 
 occasion. The Minister of Justice has a brand-new pair 
 of tan shoes and he has promised to wear them, come rain 
 or shine." 
 
 "Norine! Oh, my dear " quavered the sick man. 
 " I can't let you do this mad thing. Think! I'm ready 
 for the grave " 
 
 " This will make you well. We're going away when the 
 very next expedition arrives." 
 
 But still Varona protested. "No, no! Who am I? I 
 have nothing to offer, nothing to give. I'm poorer than 
 a peon." 
 
 "Thank goodness, I can do all the giving! I've never 
 told you, Este"ban, but I'm quite rich." Holding the 
 man away, she smiled into his eyes. "Yes, richer than I 
 have any right to be. I had no need to come to Cuba; 
 it was just the whim of an irresponsible, spoiled young 
 woman. I gave a huge amount of money to the New 
 York Junta and that's why I was allowed to come." 
 
 "You're not a a trained nurse?" 
 
 "Oh, dear, no ! Except when it amuses me to pretend." 
 
 "How strange!" The invalid was dazed, but after a 
 moment he shook his head. " It is hard to say this, but I 
 don't know whether you really love me or whether your 
 great heart has been touched. You have learned my 
 feelings, and perhaps think in this way to make me well. 
 Is that it?" 
 
 "No, no! I'm thoroughly selfish and must have what 
 I want. I want you. So don't let's argue about it." 
 Norine tenderly enfolded the weak figure in her arms. 
 "You must, you shall get well or I shall die, too."
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "I haven't the strength to refuse," Esteban murmured. 
 "And yet, how can I leave Cuba? What right have I to 
 accept happiness and leave Rosa " 
 
 This was a subject which Norine dreaded, a question to 
 which she knew no answer. She was not in a mood to 
 discuss it, and made no attempt to do so. Instead, she 
 laid the invalid upon his pillow, saying: 
 
 " Leslie is waiting to wish you joy and a quick recovery. 
 May I ask him in?" 
 
 She stepped to the door, only to behold her late com 
 panion making off down the village street in great haste 
 and evident excitement. Surprised, offended, she checked 
 her impulse to call him back. A moment, then she 
 stepped out into the full sunlight and stared after him, 
 for she saw that which explained his desertion. Approach 
 ing between the drunken rows of grass huts was a little 
 knot of people. Even as Norine watched it grew into a 
 considerable crowd, for men and women and children 
 came hurrying from their tasks. There were three 
 figures in the lead, a man and two boys, and they walked 
 slowly, ploddingly, as if weary from a long march. 
 
 Norine decided that they were not villagers, but ragged 
 facificos, upon the verge of exhaustion. She saw Branch 
 break into a swifter run and heard him shout something, 
 then through eyes suddenly dimmed she watched him 
 fall upon the tallest of the three strangers and embrace 
 him. The crowd grew thicker. It surrounded them. 
 
 " Esteban!" Norine cried in a voice she scarcely recog 
 nized. She retreated into the doorway with one hand 
 upon her leaping heart. "Este'ban! Look! Some one 
 has just arrived. Leslie has gone " She cleared her 
 vision with a shake of her head and her tongue grew thick 
 with excitement. "They're coming here! Yes! It's 
 it's O'Reilly!" 
 
 Young Varona struggled from his hammock. "Rosa!" 
 he called, loudly, "Rosa!" 
 
 352
 
 THREE TRAVELERS COME HOME 
 
 Norine ran and caught him or he would have fallen 
 prone. He pawed and fumbled in a weak attempt to 
 free himself from her restraining arms ; a wildness was upon 
 him; he shook as if with palsy. "Did he bring her with 
 him? Is she here? Why don't you answer me? Rosa " 
 He began to mutter unintelligibly, his vitality flared up, 
 and it was with difficulty that Norine could hold him 
 down. His gaze, fixed upon the square of sunlight framed 
 by the low doorway, was blazing with excitement. To 
 Norine it seemed as if his spirit, in the uncertainty of this 
 moment, was straining to leap forth in an effort to learn 
 his sister's fate. 
 
 The crowd was near at hand now. There came the 
 scuffling of feet and murmur of many voices. Este*ban 
 fell silent, he closed his hot, bony hands upon Norine's 
 wrists in a painful grip. He bent forward, his soul 
 centered in his tortured eyes. 
 
 There came a shadow, then in the doorway the figure of 
 a man, a tattered scarecrow of a man whose feet were bare 
 and whose brown calves were exposed through flapping 
 rags. His breast was naked where thorns had tried to stay 
 him; his beard, even his hair, were matted and unkempt, 
 and the mud of many trails lay caked upon his garments. 
 
 It was O'Reilly! 
 
 He peered, blinking, into the obscurity, then he turned 
 and drew forward a frail hunchbacked boy whose face 
 was almost a mulatto hue. Hand in hand they stepped 
 into the hut and once again Este"ban Varona's soul found 
 outlet in his sister's name. He held out his shaking, 
 hungry arms and the misshapen lad ran into them. 
 
 Dumb with amazement, blind with tears, Norine found 
 herself staring upward into O'Reilly's face, and heard him 
 saying: 
 
 "I told you I would bring her home." 
 
 The next instant she lay upon his breast and sobs of 
 joy were tearing at her. 
 
 353
 
 XXIX 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT SUNDOWN 
 
 'T'HE story of Rosa's rescue came slowly and in frag- 
 1 ments, for the news of O'Reilly's return caused a 
 sensation. . His recital was interrupted many 'times. So 
 numerous and so noisy did these diversions become that 
 Norine, fearing for the welfare of her patient, banished 
 O'Reilly's visitors and bore him and Branch off to her own 
 cabin, leaving the brother and . sister alone. In the 
 privacy of Norine's quarters O'Reilly finished telling her 
 the more important details of his adventures. He was 
 well-nigh worn out, but his two friends would not respect 
 his weariness; they were half hysterical with joy at his 
 safety, treating him like one returned from the dead; 
 so he rambled disjointedly through his tale. He told 
 them of his hazardous trip westward, of his and Jacket's 
 entrance into Matanzas and of the distressing scenes they 
 witnessed there. When he had finished the account of his 
 dramatic meeting with Rosa his hearers' eyes were wet. 
 The recital of the escape held them breathless. 
 
 "As a matter of fact, our get-away was ridiculously 
 easy," he said, "for we had luck at every turn regular 
 Irish luck. I'm sure Captain Morin suspected that 
 Rosa wasn't a boy, but he was perfectly foolish about 
 Jacket and tolerated us on his account. We owe every 
 thing to that kid; he's wonderful. I made Morin inde 
 pendent for life, but it wasn't the money, it was Jacket 
 who induced him to bring us clear to Turiguano. He 
 
 354
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT SUNDOWN 
 
 landed us one night, this side of the Moron trocha. 
 Since then we've waded swamps to our armpits, we've 
 fought the jungle and chewed bark but we're here." 
 Johnnie heaved a deep sigh of relief. 
 
 "Where did you get the money to hire schooners and 
 corrupt captains?" Branch inquired. "You were broke 
 when I knew you." 
 
 O'Reilly hesitated; he lowered his voice to a whisper. 
 "We found the Varona treasure." 
 
 Norine uttered a cry. "Not Don Este'ban's treasure?" 
 
 "Exactly. It was in the well where young Este"ban 
 told us it was." 
 
 "Oh, Johnnie! You mean thing!" exclaimed the girl. 
 "You promised " 
 
 "You'll have a chance to dig," he laughed. "We 
 couldn't begin to bring all of it ; we merely took the jewels 
 and the deeds and what money our clothes would hold. 
 The rest" 
 
 ' ' Wait ! Wait! ' ' Branch wailed, clapping his hand to his 
 head. "'Merely the jewels and the deeds and what 
 money our clothes would hold?' Bullets! Why, one 
 suit of clothes will hold all the money in the world ! Am 
 I dreaming? 'Money!' I haven't seen a bona-fide dol 
 lar since I put on long pants. What does money look 
 like ? Is it round or ?' ' 
 
 Johnnie produced from his pocket a handful of coins. 
 
 Branch's eyes bulged, he touched a gold piece respect 
 fully, weighed it carefully, then pressed it to his lips. He 
 rubbed it against his cheeks and in his hair; he placed it 
 between his teeth and bit it. 
 
 " It's real!" he cried. " Now let me look at the jewels." 
 
 "Rosa has them. She's wearing them on her back. 
 Hunched backs are lucky, you know; hers is worth a 
 fortune." 
 
 "Why, this beats the Arabian Nights!" Norine gasped. 
 
 "It beats " Branch paused, then wagged his head 
 
 355
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 warningly at the girl. "I don't believe a word of it and 
 you mustn't. Johnnie read this story on his yachting- 
 trip. It couldn't happen. In the first place there isn't 
 any more money in the world; mints have quit coining 
 it. Why, if I wrote such a yarn " 
 
 "It is almost unbelievable," Johnnie acknowledged. 
 "I found Aladdin's cave, but" his face paled and he 
 stirred uneasily "it was nearly the death of all of us. 
 I'll have to tell you the whole story now; I've only told 
 you the half." 
 
 While his hearers listened, petrified with amazement and 
 doubting their ears, he recited the incidents of that un 
 forgettable night on La Cumbre: how Cobo came, and of 
 the trap he sprung; how Jacket stole upon the assassin 
 while he knelt, and of the blow he struck. 
 
 When Johnnie had finished there was a long moment of 
 silence. Then Norine quavered, tremulously: "That 
 boy ! That blessed boy !' ' 
 
 Branch murmured, feebly: "Dash water in my face, or 
 you'll lose me. I You " He found no words to 
 express his feelings and finally voiced his favorite ex 
 pletive. 
 
 "It's all too weirdly improbable," O'Reilly smiled, "but 
 ask Rosa or Jacket the boy is bursting to tell some one. 
 He nearly died because he couldn't brag about it to 
 Captain Morin, and there won't be any holding him now. 
 I'm afraid he'll tip off the news about that treasure in spite 
 of all my warnings. Those jewels are a temptation; I 
 won't rest easy until they're safely locked up in some good 
 vault. Now then, I've told you everything, but I'm 
 dying for news. Tell me about yourselves, about Este*ban. 
 I expected to find him well. What ails him?" 
 
 "Oh, Johnnie!" Norine began. "He's very ill. He 
 isn't getting well." Something in her tone caused 
 O'Reilly to glance at her sharply. Branch nodded and 
 winked significantly, and the girl confessed with a blush: 
 
 356
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT SUNDOWN 
 
 "Yes! You told me I'd surrender to some poor, broken 
 fellow. I'm very happy and I'm very sad." 
 
 "Hunh! He's far from poor and broken," Leslie cor 
 rected; "with a half-interest in a humpful of diamonds 
 and a gold-plated well, according to Baron Munchausen, 
 here. This is the Cuban leap-year, Johnnie; Norine pro 
 posed to him and he was too far gone to refuse. You 
 came just in time to interrupt a drum-head marriage." 
 
 " Is it true ?' ' When Norine acquiesced, O'Reilly pressed 
 her two hands in his. "I'm glad so glad." 
 
 Tears started to the girl's eyes; her voice broke 
 wretchedly. "Help me, Johnnie! Help me to get him 
 home " 
 
 He patted her reassuringly and she took comfort from 
 his hearty promise. 
 
 ' ' Of course I will. We'll take him and Rosa away where 
 they can forget Cuba and all the misery it has caused 
 them. We'll make him well don't worry. Meanwhile, 
 at this moment Rosa needs food and clothing, and so 
 do I." 
 
 As the three friends walked up the street they dis 
 covered Jacket holding the center of an interested crowd 
 of his countrymen. It was the boy's moment and he was 
 making the most of it. Swollen with self-importance, he 
 was puffing with relish at a gigantic gift cigar. 
 
 " I exaggerate nothing," he was saying, loudly. " O'Reil 
 ly will tell you that I killed Cobo, alone and unassisted. 
 The man is gone, he has disappeared, and all Matanzas 
 is mystified. This is the hand that did it; yonder is the 
 weapon, with that butcher's blood still on it. That knife 
 will be preserved in the museum at Habana, along with 
 my statue." Jacket spied his chief witness and called to 
 him. " Tell these good people who killed Cobo. Was it 
 Narciso Villar?" 
 
 " It was," O'Reilly smiled. " The fellow is dead." 
 
 There was renewed murmuring. The crowd pressed 
 357
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 Jacket closer; they passed the knife from hand to hand. 
 Doubters fell silent; the boy swelled visibly. Bantam- 
 like he strutted before their admiring glances, and when 
 his benefactor had passed safely out of hearing he went on: 
 
 "God! What a fight we had! It was like those com 
 bats of the gladiators you hear about. The man was 
 brave enough; there's no denying his courage, which was 
 like that of ten men like that of a fierce bull; but I 
 I was superb, magnificent : The man bellowed, he roared, 
 he grunted; he charged me, flinging the earth high with 
 his heels, but I was banderillero, picador, and matador in 
 one. I was here, I was there, I was everywhere; so 
 swiftly did I move that no eye could follow me." Jacket 
 illustrated his imaginary movements with agile leaps and 
 bounds. "The terror of his name frightened me, I'll 
 admit, but it lent me a desperate courage, too. I thought 
 of the brave men, the good women, the innocent children 
 he had slain, and I fell upon him from this side, from that 
 side, from the front, from the rear. I pricked him, shout 
 ing: 'That for the people of Las Villas! This for the 
 women of the San Juan. And once again for the babies 
 you have killed.'" Jacket carried out his pantomime by 
 prodding with a rigid finger first one, then another of his 
 listeners. "Oh, he went mad, like a bull, indeed, but I 
 was another Rafael Guerra. He shed rivers of blood, the 
 ground grew slippery and the grass became red. He 
 stood rocking in his tracks, finally; his breath was like a 
 hurricane. He was exhausted, he was covered with foam, 
 his limbs were made of lead. It was my moment. 'For 
 all your sins !' I cried, and with that I drove yonder blade 
 through his heart and out between his shoulders, thus! 
 My brothers, his flesh was rotten, and the steel clove it as 
 if it were butter." 
 
 Jacket was more than gratified at the effect of his 
 recital, for children screamed, women shuddered, and men 
 turned shocked eyes upon one another. He realized that 
 
 358
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT SUNDOWN 
 
 with a little further practice and a more diligent attention 
 to detail he could horrify the stoutest-hearted listener, nay, 
 cause hysterical women to swoon. He concluded his 
 account in a studiously careless tone; "O'Reilly came, too 
 late, but he helped me to bury the offal. We flung it 
 head first into an old well and dumped rocks upon it. 
 There it will lie until Cuba is free. That, my friends, was 
 the end of Cobo, exactly as it happened." 
 
 O'Reilly saw little of his sweetheart that day, for Norine 
 promptly bore the girl off to her own quarters and there 
 attended to her needs, the most pressing of which was 
 clothing. Norine's wardrobe offered little to choose from, 
 but between them they reduced a nurse's uniform to fit 
 the smaller figure. Meanwhile, with a rapidity and a 
 thoroughness delightful to both of them, the two girls 
 came to know each other. 
 
 While O'Reilly was similarly engaged in making himself 
 presentable, he and Branch talked earnestly, with the re 
 sult that they repaired later to General Gomez. 
 
 The general welcomed them; he listened with interest 
 to O'Reilly's story of the rescue, and to the account of 
 conditions in Matanzas. O'Reilly concluded by saying: 
 
 "I've done what I came to do, sir, but Miss Varona is 
 badly shaken by all she has been through. She's very 
 nervous and far from well. Este"ban, too, isn't recovering." 
 
 General Gomez nodded. "Miss Evans declares he 
 must have a change, and we have arranged to send him 
 out of the country. His sister, poor child, should go, 
 too." 
 
 "When can they leave?" 
 
 "Who knows? Not for some time, certainly. Expedi 
 tions are irregular." 
 
 "They should go at once," O'Reilly said, positively. 
 "That's why we came to see you. Let us Branch and 
 me take all three of them to the United States." 
 
 "You, too, El Demonio?" inquired the general. 
 359
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 "Yes, sir; if you please." 
 
 "But how? How can you take two women and a sick 
 man 
 
 ' ' We'll manage somehow, ' ' O'Reilly declared. ' ' It isn't 
 far across to the Bahama Banks." 
 
 "True. That's the route of our underground our 
 undersea railroad. As you probably know, there is a 
 venturesome countryman of yours who carries our des 
 patches by that way. He devised the scheme, to keep us 
 in touch with our friends in New York, and he has done us 
 great service. He comes and goes in a small boat, but 
 how or when nobody knows. The Spanish patrols are on 
 the lookout for him, and there's a price on his head, so 
 you won't find it easy or safe to cross. Beware that 
 you are not mistaken for him." 
 
 "Do you mean that we may go?" Branch eagerly in 
 quired. 
 
 The general hesitated, whereupon O'Reilly spoke up: 
 "For my part, I'll agree to come back if you so desire." 
 
 Gomez shook his white head. "No! You came to 
 find and to save your fiancee, and you volunteered to 
 serve with us while you were doing so. We have no de 
 sire to keep any man against his will. Some one must 
 escort Miss Evans, who is our guest. Why not you two? 
 She has every confidence in you, and if she chooses to 
 risk this enterprise rather than wait until we can guarantee 
 her an easier trip we shall not restrain her. I shall see 
 that you reach the coast safe and sound; beyond that 
 you must trust in God." 
 
 Branch was immensely relieved; he joined volubly in 
 O'Reilly's thanks and became careless of his arm, which 
 no longer appeared to pain him. Peace with honor, it 
 seemed, was all that he desired. 
 
 "I was looking forward to an interesting ceremony this 
 afternoon," Gomez went on. "Has your arrival changed 
 the plans?" 
 
 360
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT SUNDOWN 
 
 " Oh no, sir!" O'Reilly said, quickly. " I'd like to make 
 it doubly interesting, if Miss Varona will consent to such 
 short notice." 
 
 "Bravo! You have a way of doing the unexpected. 
 Twin births, a double wedding! Why not? The sight 
 of a little happiness will be good for ail of us; we're apt 
 to forget that life and the big world are going on as usual. 
 I don't think Miss Varona will have it in her heart to 
 refuse you anything." 
 
 The old soldier was right. Rosa did not gainsay her 
 lover, and toward sundown the city among the leaves 
 witnessed an unaccustomed scene. 
 
 The women of the camp, delighted at an opportunity of 
 serving Norine, had transformed Este"ban's poor quarters 
 into a tiny bower of wild blossoms and green leaves; 
 they likewise gathered flowers for the two brides-to-be, 
 then joined with nimble fingers in adorning their costumes. 
 When the girls came down the street, hand in hand, they 
 received an ovation from men and women alike. Norine 
 was pleased; she smiled and blushed and ran the gantlet 
 bravely enough. But Rosa, sadly overwrought by the 
 day's excitement, was upon the verge of a collapse. 
 Nevertheless she was happy; her eyes were shining, her 
 face was transfigured, her hand, when she took O'Reilly's, 
 was cold and tremulous, but it warmed and grew steady 
 under his grasp. 
 
 Many people all Cubitas, in fact had assembled to 
 witness the romantic double wedding, but few actually 
 succeeded, for Este"ban's hut was too small to accommo 
 date more than the highest officials of the Provisional 
 Government, so the others were forced to wait outside 
 in the gathering dusk. And those Ministers, those 
 secretaries of departments, those generals and colonels, 
 what a motley crowd they formed! There was scarcely a 
 whole garment among them. They were sunburnt, 
 wind-browned, earnest men, the old ones grayed and 
 24 361
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 grizzled from worry, the younger ones wasted from 
 hardships in the field. But out of their rags and poverty 
 shone a stately courtesy and consideration. They were 
 gentlemen, men of culture and refinement, the best and 
 oldest blood of Cuba. Both Norine and Johnnie had 
 earned their gratitude, and the story of the Varona twins 
 was typical of the island, nowadays, so they unbent and 
 there were warm congratulaitons, well-turned Latin 
 pleasantries, elaborate compliments upon the beauty of 
 the brides. 
 
 Then, afterward, there was a surprise a genuine sur 
 prise in the form of a banquet at the big mess shelter, 
 with an orchestra concealed behind a screen of fresh-cut 
 palm-leaves stuck into the soft earth. This was the 
 men's part of the celebration, . the official compliment to 
 Cuba's guest. It was a poorly furnished banquet, with a 
 service of tin and granite ware and chipped china, and 
 there was little to eat, but the true spirit of festivity was 
 present. The Lone Star emblem of the new Republic 
 was draped with the Stars and Stripes, and there were 
 many speeches. 
 
 Norine's protests at leaving Este"ban went unheeded, 
 and Leslie Branch escorted her in place of the bridegroom, 
 who lay blissfully dreaming in his hammock. Her amaze 
 ment passed all bounds when, from the hidden recess 
 behind the palm-leaves, came not the music of man 
 dolins and guitars, but the strains of a balanced orchestra 
 under the leadership of Cuba's most eminent band 
 master. Whence the players had come, where they had 
 found their instruments, was a mystery, but they played 
 well, divinely, so it seemed to the music-hungry diners. 
 
 Such a banquet as that was! Some one had contrib 
 uted a demijohn of wine, and there was coffee, too, at the 
 last, made from the berries of some jungle plant. The 
 chef, once famous at the Inglaterra, was forced to appear 
 and take homage for this final triumph. 
 
 362
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT SUNDOWN 
 
 Rosa, very dainty in her borrowed nurse's uniform, was 
 round-eyed, timid; she evoked much admiration, but 
 when she was addressed as Sefiora O'Reilly she blushed to 
 the roots of her hair and shrank close to her husband's 
 side. To feel herself secure, to see on all sides friendly 
 faces, to know that these fine men and women there were 
 numerous good Cuban matrons present were her own 
 people and meant her well, was almost unbelievable. 
 She had so long been hidden, she had so long feared every 
 stranger's glance, it was not strange that she felt ill at 
 ease, and that the banquet was a grave ordeal for her. 
 
 Branch proved to be a happy choice as Este*ban's 
 proxy, for he relieved Norine's anxiety and smothered her 
 apprehensions. When called upon to speak he made a 
 hit by honestly expressing his relief at escaping the 
 further hazards of this war. Prompted by some freakish 
 perversity, and perhaps unduly stimulated by the wine 
 he had drunk, he made open confession of his amazing 
 cowardice. 
 
 O'Reilly interpreted for him and well-nigh every sen 
 tence evoked laughter. El Demonio's heroic reputation 
 had preceded him, therefore his unsmiling effort to ridicule 
 himself struck the audience as a new and excruciatingly 
 funny phase of his eccentricity. Encountering this blank 
 wall of disbelief, Branch waxed more earnest, more con 
 vincing; in melancholy detail he described his arrant 
 timidity, his cringing fear of pain, his abhorrence of blood 
 and steel. His elongated face was genuinely solemn, his 
 voice trembled, his brow grew damp with unpleasant 
 memories; he seemed bent upon clearing his conscience 
 once for all. But he succeeded only in convulsing his 
 hearers. Women giggled, men wiped tears from their 
 eyes and declared he was a consummate actor and the 
 rarest, the most fantastic humorist they had ever listened 
 to. They swore that Cuba had lost, in him, a peerless 
 champion. When he had finished they cheered him 
 
 363
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 loudly and the orchestra broke into a rousing military 
 march. 
 
 Leslie turned to voice his irritation and surprise to 
 Norine, but she had slipped away, so he glared at O'Reilly, 
 wondering how the latter had so artfully managed to 
 mistranslate his remarks. 
 
 When Rosa and O'Reilly returned to Este"ban's cabin 
 they found Norine ahead of them. She was kneeling be 
 side the sick man's hammock, and through the doorway 
 came the low, intimate murmur of their voices. Rosa 
 drew her husband away, whispering, happily: 
 
 "He will get well. God and that wonderful girt won't 
 let him die."
 
 XXX 
 
 THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT 
 
 HP HE journey to the coast was made by easy stages and 
 1 Estban stood it fairly well. The excitement wore 
 upon him, to be sure, and the jolting of his litter was 
 trying, but Norine was always at his side where he could 
 see her, and Rosa joined in the tender care of him. Guides, 
 horses, and a tent for the sick man had been supplied, 
 and over these O'Reilly exercised a jealous watchfulness, 
 ably seconded by Branch. For once, at least, the latter 
 lent himself to useful ends and shirked no duties. His 
 wounded arm recovered miraculously and he exercised it 
 freely; he skirmished industriously for food and he en 
 livened the journey by a rare display of good spirits. 
 
 Jacket, of course, went along. Upon the announcement 
 of O'Reilly's intended departure for the States he had 
 promptly abandoned Cuba to her fate. He foreswore her 
 utterly and declared himself a loyal American citizen. 
 He made it plain once more, and for the last time, that 
 where O'Reilly went, there went he, for they were one and 
 indivisible. It dismayed him not at all to turn his feet 
 to new pathways, his face toward new adventures. 
 
 Relying upon the best information obtainable at Cubitas, 
 O'Reilly had counted upon securing a sailboat from a 
 certain fisherman whose sympathies were known to be 
 loyal, but in this he was disappointed. The party arrived 
 at its destination, a tiny clearing on an unfrequented part 
 of the north shore, only to find it deserted and already 
 grown to weeds. The house was empty, the boats were 
 
 365
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 gone all but one old hulk, too rotten to warrant moving, 
 which lay high up on the sand, its planks worm-eaten, 
 its seams wide spread by the sun. 
 
 Having established Este*ban in the hut, O'Reilly took 
 counsel with his Cubans, but gained little satisfaction from 
 them. They knew of no other fisherman in this vicinity; 
 the nearest towns were in Spanish hands; they advised a 
 return to Cubitas at once. This O'Reilly would not 
 listen to. Sending them in one direction, he took Leslie 
 and Jacket and rode away in the other. The trio followed 
 the beach for several miles until they came to a vast 
 mangrove swamp which turned them inland. This they 
 skirted until the jungle became impassable and they were 
 in danger of losing themselves; they returned at dusk, 
 having encountered no human being and having discovered 
 neither roads nor houses. 
 
 The other expedition reported slightly better successes; 
 it had located a small plantation some distance to the 
 east, the owner of which had warned them against explor 
 ing farther, inasmuch as a strong Spanish patrol, on the 
 lookout for that American despatch-bearer from Nassau, 
 was operating in his neighborhood. It was these very 
 troops, he announced, who had driven the fisherman from 
 his home; he was sure there were no boats anywhere 
 within reach. 
 
 O'Reilly was in a quandary. He gravely doubted 
 Est6ban's ability to stand the rough return journey, and 
 when he spoke to Norine of turning back she was panic- 
 stricken at the suggestion. 
 
 "No, no!" she cried, anxiously. "We must get him 
 away. Oh, Johnnie, every day we lose by waiting lessens 
 his chances! His heart is set on going through and it 
 would kill him to go back." 
 
 "Then I guess we'll have to go through," he smiled. 
 
 For the first time in their acquaintance Norine lost con 
 trol of herself. 
 
 366
 
 THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT 
 
 "We simply must find a boat. All he needs is proper 
 care, proper food, and medical attention. Here we can 
 get nothing. Why, the disappointment alone " Her 
 voice failed her, tears started to her eyes, and she began 
 to tremble wretchedly. " If he If I lose him I'll die, 
 too," she sobbed. 
 
 O'Reilly tried to comfort her and she bowed her head 
 upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Promise that you won't go back," she implored him. 
 
 "Very well, if you'll consent to risk this miserable tub 
 we found on the beach " 
 
 "I'll risk anything a raft, even." 
 
 "It is large enough to carry us if we can manage to 
 make it hold water, but it won't be safe. The weather is 
 good at this season and it shouldn't take us long to run 
 across to Andros if we have luck. If we don't have 
 luck" 
 
 Norine dried her eyes. "What would you do if you 
 were alone? Would you dare try it?" 
 
 He hesitated, then confessed, "I think I would, but " 
 
 "Is there an even chance of our getting across?" 
 
 "Perhaps. It all depends upon the weather." 
 
 "Can't we build a boat?" 
 
 He shook his head. " Even if we had lumber and tools 
 it would take too long. Ten miles to the east there are 
 Spaniards. We must do one thing or the other quickly, 
 before they learn we're here." 
 
 "Then let's go on. I'm sure Rosa will agree." 
 
 Rosa did agree. When her husband put the question 
 fairly to her she showed by the pallor of her cheeks and by 
 the rekindling light of terror in her eyes how desperately 
 she feared remaining longer in this land of hate and 
 persecution. "Don't turn back," she cried. "I'm not 
 the girl I was. I've endured so much here that I'm 
 always in fear. Anything would be better than going 
 back." 
 
 367
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 When morning came O'Reilly made a closer examination 
 of the abandoned boat. The result was not encouraging, 
 and when he told Leslie of his intention to make use of 
 it the latter stared at him in open amazement. 
 
 "Why, we'll all be drowned!" Branch declared. 
 
 "You can return to Cubitas if you wish." 
 
 "Yes, and fight some more! No, thank you! I've got 
 a hunch that I'll be killed by the very next gun I see." 
 
 "Then you'd better risk the sharks." 
 
 Jacket, who was conducting an independent examina 
 tion of the craft, made an encouraging report. "Ho! 
 I'd go 'round the world in this boat," said he. "She's 
 rotten, and you can stick your finger through her, but 
 fish have no fingers. When the water comes in we'll dip 
 it out." 
 
 " Do you want to go with us?" Johnnie eyed the news 
 paper man curiously. 
 
 "I Y-yes!" Branch gasped. "I'll go, but it's a 
 shame to lose all of Rosa's diamonds." 
 
 O'Reilly and one of the guides rode away to the farm 
 house discovered on the previous afternoon, and returned 
 in a few hours with all the tools they could find, together 
 with a bucket of tar and a coil of galvanized wire. Then 
 work began. 
 
 The wire, cut into short pieces, served as nails and 
 staples with which to draw together the gaping seams. 
 Old rags from the house and parts of the men's cloth 
 ing supplied calking, upon which the tar was smeared. 
 While one man shaped mast and oars, another cut Este- 
 ban's shelter tent into a sail, and fitted it. A stiff, sun- 
 dried cowhide was wet, then stretched and nailed to the 
 gunwales at the bow, forming a sort of forward deck to 
 shelter the sick man from the sun and rain. Jacket 
 climbed the near-by cocoa-palms and threw down a 
 plentiful supply of nuts for food and water on the voyage. 
 
 With so many hands the work went fast, and late that 
 368
 
 THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT 
 
 evening the crazy craft was launched. It was necessary 
 to handle her gingerly, and when she took the water she 
 leaked abominably. But during the night she swelled and 
 in the morning it was possible to bail her out. 
 
 O'Reilly had to acknowledge himself but poorly pleased 
 with the boat. Branch called her a coffin and declared 
 it was suicide to venture to sea in her, an opinion shared 
 by the Cubans, but the girls were enchanted. To them 
 this fragile bark looked stout and worthy ; they were in a 
 fever to be gone. 
 
 On the second afternoon the trade-wind died to a 
 gentle zephyr, so the cocoanuts and other food were 
 quickly put aboard, a bed of bows was rigged beneath 
 the rawhide forecastle and Este"ban was laid upon it. 
 Then adieux were said and a start was made. 
 
 From the point of leaving it was perhaps five miles 
 across the sound to the fringe of keys which in this neigh 
 borhood bordered the old Bahama Channel with its un- 
 plumbed depths of blue water. Here it was calm, so 
 the run was soon made. The boat handled well enough, 
 all things considered; nevertheless, to O'Reilly, her navi 
 gator, it was an anxious hour. Not only was he forced to 
 keep a sharp lookout for blockading gunboats, but he 
 feared he was doing wrong in committing his precious 
 freight to the uncertainties of the Atlantic. Even had he 
 been alone, with a crew of able sailors under him, this 
 voyage would have daunted him, for it was without doubt 
 the wildest adventure in which he had ever participated. 
 When he hinted at these fears and put the matter before 
 his companions for a final test, Branch refused to speak, 
 but Este"ban and the girls were earnestly in favor of 
 pushing on. Jacket, of course, loudly seconded them. 
 
 At sunset they entered a pass and ran between low 
 mangrove banks. The tide was ebbing and it hurried 
 them through and out into the open sea, where they felt 
 the lift of the mighty ocean swell. Over these slow un- 
 
 369
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 dulations the sailboat plowed, heading toward the empty 
 northern horizon, with the kindling Pole Star as a beacon. 
 The sky was clear, the sea was gently roughened by the 
 night breeze, the constellations grew bright and appeared 
 to hang low. 
 
 When the coast-line of Cuba had become a blur astern 
 Rosa crept back and seated herself beside her husband. 
 
 "I breathe freely for the first time since that day when 
 Don Mario came to offer me marriage," she told him. 
 "The past is beginning to seem like a bad, bad dream and 
 I feel a great hope, a great gladness. I am reborn, 
 O'Rail-ye." 
 
 "A few hours more and we can all breathe easy." He 
 smiled down at her. She laid her small palm over his 
 fingers which grasped the steering-oar, whereupon he 
 cried with pretended sternness: "Avast there! Don't 
 distract the attention of the skipper or he'll sail his boat 
 in circles. Look out or he'll send you below." 
 
 Rosa persisted mutinously, so he punished her with a 
 kiss planted fairly upon her pouting lips, whereupon she 
 nestled closer to him. "How much I love you," she 
 whispered. "But I never can tell you, for we are never 
 alone. Was there ever such a courtship, such a marriage, 
 and such a wedding journey as ours?" 
 
 "We're the owl and the pussy-cat who went to sea in a 
 beautiful pea-green boat, 'With plenty of honey and lots 
 of money, wrapped up in a ten-pound note.' Some day 
 when we've settled down in our Harlem flat, and I'm 
 working hard, we'll look back on this and consider it ro 
 mantic, thrilling. Maybe we'll long for excitement." 
 
 "Not I," Rosa shivered. "To be safe, to have you all 
 to myself where I can spoil you, that will be excitement 
 enough." 
 
 "We'll rent that little apartment I looked at, or one 
 just like it." 
 
 "But, O'Rail-ye, we're rich." 
 370
 
 THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT 
 
 "I I'd forgotten that. Then let's pretend to be poor. 
 Think how our neighbors would talk about that pretty 
 Mrs. O'Reilly on the fourth floor, and her magnificent 
 jewels. They'd swear I was a smuggler." 
 
 As the evening lengthened and the boat forged steadily 
 ahead the two sat murmuring happily. Forward, another 
 bride and groom were similarly engaged. Branch and 
 Jacket took turns bailing. 
 
 It proved to be a long, long night, for the boat, though 
 roomy, was uncomfortable. O'Reilly steered as straight 
 a course as he could without compass, but toward morning 
 he saw that the sky was growing overcast and his appre 
 hensions stirred anew. Daylight brought an increased 
 breeze which heeled the boat further. She made better 
 speed, but she likewise took more water through her 
 seams and it became necessary to lend Leslie and Jacket 
 a hand with the bailing. The deep channel was far 
 behind now, and they were on the shallow Bahama 
 Banks; beneath them they could glimpse beds of sponges, 
 patches of coral, white bottom with occasional forests of 
 brilliant-hued sea fans. The horizon still remained vacant 
 and the tip of Andros lay far to the north. 
 
 Fortunately the haze was not thick enough to wholly 
 obscure the sun and so O'Reilly was enabled to hold his 
 course. But he did not like the look of things. 
 
 By ten o'clock the sea was tumbling and the worm-eaten 
 hulk was laboring. It became necessary to shorten sail. 
 Soon the bottom of the boat was awash and Estban lay 
 in a pool of brine. Even when the girls helped to dip it 
 out they could not lower its level. The wind freshened 
 steadily; all hands worked desperately, wet to the skin. 
 
 In time there came a spiteful drizzle which completely 
 hid the sun and left no indication of the course except the 
 direction whence drove the rain. 
 
 No one spoke now. Even Este"ban lay silent, shivering 
 miserably upon his sodden bed. In obedience to O'Reilly's 
 
 37i
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 command Jacket flung overboard all but a half-dozen of 
 the remaining cocoanuts. Rosa finally straightened her 
 aching back and smiled at her husband. 
 
 "Are we going down?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh no! This is merely a squall," he told her, with an 
 assumption of confidence he was far from feeling. 
 
 Johnnie tried to reason himself into a more hopeful 
 frame of mind. He assured himself that he and his 
 companions had survived too many perils to become the 
 prey of an idle breeze like this; he argued that no fate 
 could be so cruel as to cheat them when they were so 
 close to safety. But this manful effort brought him little 
 comfort in the face of the chilling rain and with the 
 whitecaps curling higher. 
 
 Deliverance came suddenly, and from the least-expected 
 quarter. Out of the mist to starboard there materialized 
 a shape, a schooner driving ahead of the wind. The refu 
 gees descried her simultaneously and stood ankle deep in 
 the wash, waving their hats and their calabashes, and 
 shouting crazily until she saw them and fetched up. 
 
 Intense thanksgiving, a melting relief, robbed O'Reilly 
 of half his strength; his hands were shaking, his muscles 
 weak; he could barely bring his craft alongside. He saw 
 black faces staring down, he heard cries of amazement and 
 surprised inquiries, then a heaving-line came aboard and 
 the leaky tub was drawn close. 
 
 There was a babble of voices, shouted questions, hys 
 terical answers. Rosa was weeping softly; Norine had 
 lifted Este*ban and now clutched him tight, while her 
 tears fell upon his face. 
 
 The schooner was a sponger bound for Nassau; its 
 blackbird crew spoke English and they willingly helped 
 the strangers overside, laughing and shouting in a child 
 like display of excitement. How firm, how grateful was 
 the feel of that stout deck! How safe the schooner's 
 measured roll! O'Reilly's knees gave way, he clutched 
 
 37 2
 
 THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT 
 
 with strained and aching fingers at the rigging to support 
 himself, leaving Branch and Jacket to tell the surprising 
 story of their presence here. Soon there was hot food 
 and coffee, dry beds and blankets for those who needed 
 them. 
 
 Johnnie tucked his bride snugly into one of the hard 
 berths, then stooped and kissed her. Rosa's teeth were 
 chattering, but she smiled happily. 
 
 "God's hand directed us," she said. "One only needs 
 to pray long enough and strong enough and He will hear." 
 
 It was a month later. Quaint old Nassau lay dozing 
 under an afternoon sun. Its wide shell streets, its low 
 houses, the beach against which it crowded, were dazzling 
 white, as if the town had been washed clean, then spread 
 out to bleach. Upon the horizon Jay tumbled, foamy 
 cloud masses, like froth blown thither from the scene of the 
 cleansing. A breeze caused the surface of the harbor 
 to dance and dimple merrily, the sound of laughter came 
 from the water-front where barefoot spongers and fisher 
 men were busy with their boats and gear. Robust ne- 
 gresses with deep bosoms and rolling hips balanced 
 baskets and trays upon their heads and stood gossiping 
 with one another or exchanging shouts with their men 
 across the water. There was noise here, but the town 
 as a whole was somnolent, peaceful. It sprawled beside 
 the sea like a lazy man lost in day dreams and lulled by 
 the lapping surf and the hum of insects. 
 
 Up from the beach came O'Reilly and his youthful 
 alter ego, Jacket. They were clad in clean white clothes ; 
 a month of rest had done them good. Jacket was no 
 longer wizened; he was plump and sleek and as full of 
 mischief as a colt, while O'Reilly's leanness had disap 
 peared and he filled his garments as a man should. They 
 had spent the day fishing on the reefs and now bore home 
 the choicest part of their catch. 
 
 373
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 They turned in through a picket gate and up a walk 
 flanked by flower-beds and outlined between rows of 
 inverted glass bottles set side by side, the Bahama idea 
 of neatness and beauty. At the end of the walk stood a 
 cottage with wide porches hidden beneath jasmine and 
 honeysuckle and morning-glory vines. 
 
 O'Reilly's eyes were shining with anticipation; he 
 yodeled loudly. But there was no need for him to ad 
 vertise his return, for at the first click of the gate-latch a 
 figure had started from the fragrant bower and now came 
 flying to meet him. 
 
 "Look, Rosa!" Jacket lifted the heavy string of fish. 
 "We had stupendous luck." But Rosa was in her hus 
 band's arms and neither she nor O'Reilly had eyes for 
 anything but each other. 
 
 "You were gone for ages," pouted the bride. 
 
 "You missed me, eh?" 
 
 "See! I caught the biggest ones, as usual," Jacket 
 boasted. " I'm a skilful fisherman and I talk to my hook, 
 but O'Reilly sits dreaming about somebody while the 
 little crabs eat all his bait." When this evoked no notice 
 the boy shrugged in disgust and went on around the house, 
 muttering: " Caramba! You'd think they'd get sick of so 
 much billing and cooing. But no! I have to steal him 
 away and take him swimming or fishing if I want a word 
 alone with him. And the others are just as bad another 
 pair of pigeons. It's like living in a dove-cote." 
 
 Rosa, too, had vastly changed. She was clad in a 
 charming little muslin dress, there were dimples in her 
 cheeks, she wore a heavy Marechal Neil bud at her 
 breast. O'Reilly held her off and devoured her with his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Sweetheart, you grow fresher and more beautiful every 
 hour," said he. 
 
 Rosa danced upon her toes, and tugged at him. "But 
 come quickly and see the surprise we have. I've been 
 
 374
 
 THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT 
 
 wild for your return, so hurry." She led him swiftly up 
 the steps, and there, standing beside a chair, was Este'ban 
 Varona. "He dressed himself and walked out here alone. 
 He's well!" 
 
 "Este'ban! Really" 
 
 The brother nodded decisively. "It's true. I re 
 belled at last. To-morrow I'll walk to the gate and the 
 next day we'll go fishing." 
 
 "Jove! How splendid!" 
 
 "Why, I'm as firm on my feet as a rock." 
 
 Norine emerged through one of the French windows 
 and explained: "He took advantage of me while I 
 was gone for the mail, and now he's quite out of con 
 trol. Here's a letter from Leslie, by the way. He's 
 home and has a position and hopes we'll follow soon. 
 There's one bit of news; he says the talk of interven 
 tion increases and he may have to return to Cuba as 
 a war correspondent. Fancy! He's deathly frightened 
 at the prospect." 
 
 1 ' Intervention ! That would be fine, ' ' Este'ban cried. 
 
 O'Reilly nodded. "Oh, it's bound to come, and when 
 Uncle Sam takes hold Cuba will be free." 
 
 Norine agreed: "I'm sure of it. And then we'll 
 all go back to our rainbow's end and dig for that pot 
 of gold." 
 
 Este'ban turned adoring eyes upon the speaker; he 
 took her hand in his. "I've found my rainbow's end," 
 said he. 
 
 "And I've found mine," O'Reilly asserted. "I've 
 gained your father's treasure, and more I've found the 
 prize of all the Indies." With his arm about Rosa he 
 drew her into the house. 
 
 Este'ban lowered himself into his chair and Norine 
 rested herself upon its arm. He lay back with eyes 
 closed. From the regions at the rear came the voice of 
 Jacket. The boy was in a declamatory mood. He had 
 
 375
 
 RAINBOW'S END 
 
 gathered an audience, as was his daily custom, and was 
 addressing them in English: 
 
 " I skilled more'n a dozen Spaniards at Pino Bravo. It 
 was my day. By rights I should have been made a 
 general, but " 
 
 THE END
 
 A 000132614 9
 
 iiiilii!