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 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 proclaiming 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.