There he met with an apparent obstacle, since in Moorish fashion no one was allowed to find ingress or egress during the period between sunset and sunrise. This he had been aware of ere landing, and all his plans were shaped with an utter disregard for the edict of the governor-general. Avoiding the gates discreetly he made his way along the dilapidated wall that marked what had once been the land defense of the city. It was now in decay, like many other antiquated battlements connected with Spain's possessions throughout the world--relics of bygone days when muzzle loading guns marked the highest epoch in the art of war. Of course this guarding of the gates was more or less of a big sham, since the people of San Juan could go and come in scores of other places. And Roderic remembered this fact. When by turning this way and that he finally surmounted the difficulty, and found himself among the houses near the barracks of the troops in the eastern end of the city, he felt as though he deserved congratulations on account of his good generalship. Still this was but a beginning, one step in the long and difficult ladder he had laid out to climb. It could only be ascended a single round at a time, but he had really made a good start. He found himself in a portion of San Juan which he had really never looked upon under similar conditions, the quarter where the poorer element herded, where houses were thronged with black and white, Spaniards, and reconcentradoes of Porto Rico who endeavored to remain neutral, negroes from Jamaica and Hayti and a mongrel population. Seldom even in the rainy season does such a downpour come at night--they look for it in the afternoon, when it cools the sultry atmosphere and with the sea breeze renders the evening delightfully refreshing. Just then the streets were swimming in water, and almost practically deserted--even the dolorous cry of the "dulce" vendors had ceased to echo along the narrow thoroughfares. But the cafes and concert halls and shops appeared to be doing a land office business to judge from the crowds that had collected. Roderic's one desire now was to reach a little den just off the breathing place for the poor, known as the Plaza Cristobal Colon in honor of Columbus. Here he believed he would find the opportunity he craved for rest, and a chance to dry his reeking garments, under the humble roof of a devoted friend. Two years had passed since last he had seen this party, and two years is a long time--much may occur during such a period--people change their residence mayhap their country, and sometimes even die. Still he was ready to take the chances. No one halted him as he pushed on, and yet these narrow, illy lighted streets could not be reckoned the safest places in the city for respectable people to walk after a certain hour.