Well pleased with themselves, therefore, the two lads had come off the ship that evening for shore leave. They had employed much of their time in strolling about, buying souvenirs and post-cards--which have even invaded Cuba--and seeing the few sights the town had to offer. Being both temperate, clean-cut young fellows, the low drinking dens and other resorts of the place had no attraction for them, although they were well patronized by a number of the sailors. To the credit of Uncle Sam's navy, though, be it said that the keepers of such places are coming to look less and less to the wearers of naval uniforms for their profits. The man-o'-warsman of to-day is an ambitious young fellow. He is far too anxious to get ahead in his chosen profession to haunt places of foolish dissipation. "Say, Ned--moving pictures!" Herc nudged his companion, as the two stood in front of a brilliantly lighted building on the main street of the Cuban town. "We've got some time yet before the shore boats leave; let's take them in," suggested Ned. As this was just what Herc had been anxious to do, no time was lost in buying tickets and securing two seats well down in front, where the two boys had a clear view of every film as it was displayed. After the exhibition of two or three of the pictures, stories familiar in such places, the screen suddenly announced that the next picture was to be a series of views taken in the Joliet penitentiary, showing the various phases of convict life. A note explained that the pictures had been taken a few years before, prior to the wave of prison reform that had swept over the country. The first scene showed the interior of a basket-making shop, with the rows of stripe-clothed unfortunates at work on their monotonous tasks. One after another similar repulsive views were shown. "Say, let's get out of this--the air seems bad," breathed Ned at last. As he spoke a fresh view was thrown on the screen. It showed a group of life-prisoners at work in the prison-yard. Unlike the other pictures, this one exhibited the figures at more than life-size. In their exaggerated proportions every form showed up clear as print, and the features of each hard face could be as clearly defined as if the pictured subject was a living being. The boys had risen to leave, but a sudden exclamation from Herc brought them to a sudden halt. Angry murmurs in Spanish rose about the boys. "W-what's the matter?" asked Ned in an astonished voice, gazing about. "Come on, you chump, and let's get out of here. We're blocking the views of the Cubanolas, or whatever they call themselves; but before you go, look at the two center convicts in that picture. Who do they remind you of?" Herc's voice shook with excitement. Ned gazed a few seconds fixedly at the screen, while the angry hum of protest increased. "Seat-a down," came voices.