“Well,” said Harper dryly, “this is not the only way out of the place. We’ll try another.” They walked back to the hacienda, passed the sugar mill, and followed the little tram‐line that wound through the cane until once more Harper came to a standstill, and his face grew a trifle grim. It was very hot, and the rails flung back the light dazzlingly between the tall green blades, but there was another suggestive blink of brightness among the long banana leaves in front of them. “More of them!” he said hoarsely. They walked on a few paces, and then a non‐commissioned officer of cazadores in dusty white uniform moved out on to the line. “Well,” said Harper brusquely, “what are you wanting here?” The man made a little deprecatory gesture as he said, “We were sent.” Appleby made as though he would brush past him, but the soldier, moving a trifle, stood in front of him. “With permission, señor, it is safer about the hacienda,” he said. “Still, if you wish to go out into the country I will send a man or two with you.” Appleby laughed. “Then you are not alone?” The soldier called softly, and three or four men in uniform appeared amidst the banana leaves. “It seems,” he said, “the Colonel Morales is anxious about the hacienda.” Harper glanced at his comrade ruefully, but an inspiration dawned on Appleby. “One appreciates his solicitude. It is conceivable that your comrades would know what to do with a bottle or two of caña. A little is beneficial when one has passed the night in the open. There was, I think, a heavy dew.” “With thanks, but it is not permitted,” said the man. “We did not, however, leave Santa Marta until there was a little light in the sky.” “Colonel Morales was good enough to send a strong detachment?” The soldier shook his head. “A section of the Barremeda company,” he said. “The Sergeant Hernando was to follow with a few files when he came in from picket duty. One does not understand it, for the country is quiet now, but one asks no questions of an officer.” “It is not usually advisable,” said Appleby with a smile. “Still, if you change your mind about the caña you can come up to the hacienda and ask for me.” He swung round, and five minutes later sat down on a truck on the tram‐ line. Harper leaned against it, and looked at him. “I guess Morales means to make sure of us,” he said. “Well, we can only hope for Maccario. You couldn’t ask him if the men you sent got through?” “I made the venture, and he told me. It was last night I sent the men out, and the cazadores only started this morning. Morales blundered then, but it is rather more than likely he couldn’t help himself. Nobody would call him timid, but just now it would have been a risky thing for him to go back to Santa Marta alone.” Harper nodded. “There’s not much you don’t think of,” he said. “Still, it seems to me quite likely that Maccario can’t get through.” “Then so far as you and I are concerned I’m afraid the game is played out,” said Appleby.