Hemming and O'Rourke, and O'Rourke's low-caste Cuban, landed in Belize. The _Laura_ continued on her way to Truxillo, and more southern ports, for which she had a mixed freight of cheap articles of American manufacture. She would start north again from Costa Rica, should she be able to find a cargo, so O'Rourke and Hemming had both given manuscripts and letters to the Nova Scotia skipper, for mailing at the first likely opportunity, with word that they would wire an address later. This done, the adventurers purchased three undersized mules. O'Rourke picked up what he could in the way of an outfit, having left everything but his pipe and poncho in the Cuban bush. They loaded one of the mules with their belongings, and put it in charge of John Nunez, and, mounting the others, started south, skirting the coast. The trip was uneventful, but Hemming wrote a number of stories descriptive of the country and the people, the mules and his companions, under the general title of "Along New Trails with Old Mules." O'Rourke regarded his friend's display of energy with kindly disdain. "There is bigger game to seaward," he said, and seemed ever on the lookout for rumours of war from the northeast. After three weeks' easy travelling, they awoke one morning to find that John Nunez had taken his departure during the night, and, along with his departure, one of their mules, a bag of hardtack and a slab of bacon. O'Rourke looked relieved. "I've often wondered how I could ever get rid of him, you know. I once saved his life," he said. "It's a good thing we happened to be using the rest of the provisions for pillows, or, by gad, your precious servant would have left us to starve," replied Hemming, in injured tones. "Cheer up, old man," laughed O'Rourke. "We're not three miles from the coast, and I'll bet we are within ten of a village of some sort," he explained. He was right, for by noon they were sitting at their ease before black coffee and a Spanish omelette, in a shabby eating-house. The town was one of some importance--in its own eyes. Also it interested Hemming. But O'Rourke sniffed. "Gay colours and bad smells--I've experienced the whole thing before," said he. "Then why the devil did you leave the _Laura_?" asked Hemming, pouring himself another glass of doubtful claret. "To look after you," retorted O'Rourke. "But, seriously," urged the Englishman. "Oh, if you will be serious," confessed the freelance, "I'll admit that it's in my blood. I might have gone to New York and waited till further developments in Cuba; but I could no more see you go ashore, to waste your time and money, without wanting to follow suit, than you could see me buy that high-priced claret without wanting to drink it all yourself." Hemming turned his monocle upon his friend in mild and curious regard. "I doubt if there is another chap alive," he said, "who can write such wisdom and talk such rot as you."