Those of the Sin Verguenza who had remained appeared a trifle undecided, until Appleby, who had no desire to witness a purposeless piece of butchery, joined his comrade. Then, with the exception of two or three, they turned and went out to head off any of the defenders who might escape by an outer window from the tram‐line. Appleby secured the officer’s pistol, while Harper, apparently with no great effort, dragged him to his feet, and holding him by the shoulder gravely looked him over. “Well,” he said in English, and his voice expressed approbation, “you have grit in you. Now stand still a little. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” The young officer’s face was dark with passion, but he writhed futilely in his captor’s grasp, while the sergeant, who stood up, handed Appleby his rifle. “Tell him not to wriggle,” said Harper, grinning. “Oh, let up, you senseless devil!” Then while the Sin Verguenza laughed he backed his captive against the wall and gravely proceeded to pull his tunic straight and dust him. When this had been accomplished to his satisfaction he stepped back a pace or two, and surveyed his work smiling. “There’s not much harm done, señor,” he said. “Now, I felt it would have been a pleasure to shake the life out of you a minute or two ago.” The officer stared at him in blank astonishment, and then looked at the sergeant, who gravely laid a finger on his forehead. “They are born that way, these Americans,” he said. The officer made a curious little gesture, and would apparently have unbuckled his sword, but while the men of the Sin Verguenza, unstable even in their fierceness, laughed, Harper seized him by the shoulder, and, signing to the sergeant, propelled him violently to the door. “Out you go while you’ve got the chance!” he said in English. The officer turned, and stood still a moment as though undecided, and then vanished into the night, while in another second the sergeant sprang after him. Appleby laughed as he turned to Harper. “I scarcely fancy that was wise,” he said. “We could have kept him to play off against any of our men who fall into Morales’ hands.” “Well,” said Harper reflectively, “I don’t quite know why I let him go, but he had grit in him, and it seemed to me that if I hadn’t let up on taking a life or two after getting out of the plaza in Santa Marta it would have been mean of me. Anyway, I don’t figure we’d have kept him. He has the kind of temper that would have stirred up the Sin Verguenza into sticking knives in him.” Appleby nodded gravely, for he was astonished at very little that Harper did, while though the big skipper’s sentiment were crude there was something in his vague notion of thank‐offering that appealed to his fancy. Then Maccario came in. “The cazadores have left two men behind, but the rest got away, except a few who submitted,” he said. “We will find a place in the stables for them. It will induce Morales to be more considerate with his prisoners.”