“In the iron store shed, I understand. They would have been sent for at night to‐morrow.” “Get them out,” said Appleby, turning to Harper. “They will be safer lying on the cane trucks in the open than anywhere.” Harper went out, and Maccario poured out a glass of wine. “It is fortunate you are a friend of mine, and one in whom I have confidence,” he said. “Had it been otherwise you would have run a very serious risk, Don Bernardino.” Appleby laughed, though he was glad that he sat in the shadow. “I can at least, let you have four hundred pesetas if the Sin Verguenza want them; but you will remember that if more rifles arrive here I will send them to Morales.” “In silver?” said Maccario. “I have samples of tobacco to carry, and a mule.” Appleby brought out two bags of silver from the chest in his office, for golden coin was almost as scarce in Cuba then as it usually is in Spain, and the two talked of different subjects with a frankness that concealed their thoughts, until there was a rattle of wheels as Harper passed below with several men pushing a little truck along the cane tramway. By and by he came in and sat down. “The cases are marked as he told us, and I’ve left them on the line,” he said. “I guess nobody would think of looking for rifles there. When are your friends coming for them, Maccario?” “I think that is better not mentioned,” said Maccario. “Those cases will, however, not be there to‐morrow.” “And your men?” said Appleby. “I cannot have them here.” “You will listen to reason, my friend. I know you are one who keeps his word, and we will send no more rifles here. Still, those men work well, and the Señor Harding is not a Loyalist. He is here to make the dollars, and because the Spaniards are masters of Cuba he will not offend them. By and by, however, there is a change, and when it is we who hold the reins it may count much for him that he was also a friend of ours.” “You know he is not a Loyalist?” said Appleby. Maccario laughed a little. “Can you doubt it—while the hacienda of San Cristoval stands? There are many burnt sugar mills in Cuba, my friend.” “Now,” said Harper dryly, “it seems to me he’s talking the plainest kind of sense. Make him promise he’ll give you warning, and take his men out quietly when he wants them for anything.” Maccario gave his promise, and they sat talking for awhile until there was a knocking at the door below, and Pancho, who came up the stairway in haste, stopped where the light showed the apprehension in his olive face. “Comes the Colonel Morales, and there are cazadores in the cane,” he said. There was a sudden silence, and Maccario, who started to his feet, seized one of the bags of silver. He, however, nodded and sat down again when Appleby’s hand fell on his shoulder. There was, it was evident, no escaping now, for a quick tread showed that the officer was already ascending the stairway. Maccario made a little gesture of resignation.