"Now, Father Felix," demanded the practical side of Ruth Wakefield, "what action can we take in this matter to help the good cause? Is there not some preparation that we can make to welcome our soldiers to Cuba, for, of course," she lifted her head, proudly, "our boys will win whatever conflict they may become engaged in ... it is only a question as to how many of them may be injured or even killed in the terrible encounter. Every man in America," said this American woman, "is a soldier if he is needed in that capacity, for every American, man, woman or child, is a _patriot_ ... devoted to the sacred traditions and splendid example of those who followed _George Washington_ to victory over those who had oppressed and insulted them." "My Daughters," said Father Felix, rising, "I must leave you for the present. I will find out what we may do to assist our countrymen and will come again to let you know the result of my search for further information. All we can do, now, is to hold the information I have just given to you inviolate and prepare ourselves, spiritually, to meet whatever emergency may arise. My Daughters," he ended, stretching out his hands in blessing over their bowed heads, "we shall have work to do and we will do it with our might. May God, in His great Mercy, guide us into the path in which He intended us to walk." CHAPTER XII On the day of Manuello's search for the girl he had so madly and hopelessly loved, old Mage made a surreptitious visit to the little cemetery in San Domingo where she had seen the body of Victorio Colenzo laid away in its final resting-place; she went among the new-made graves, of which there were a goodly number for so small a graveyard, until she found the one she sought: she stopped, then, took the dried leaves from the top of her large basket, removed a beautiful bunch of roses, tied, carefully, with a broad blue ribbon, and laid them, softly, upon the top of the mound of fresh earth; after having done this, she took a small object wrapped in tissue paper, from the very bottom of the basket, dug a small hole under the roses and buried it, covering it carefully, packing the ground over it, at first, and, then putting loose earth over the top of the miniature grave, so as to conceal its existence as much as possible, she again laid the roses carelessly over the spot. Having performed this little ceremony, old Mage looked down at her handiwork and said, apparently addressing herself, as no other human being was in sight at the time: