Appleby said nothing, but his brown fingers stiffened on the wet Marlin rifle, and Harper smiled in a somewhat sardonic fashion when he saw the glint in his half‐closed eyes. Reticence is not accounted a virtue in his country, but the Englishman’s immobility was eloquent, and his comrade was satisfied that if the worst came they would not start out on the unknown trail alone. Then four by four dim figures swung out of the shadows, and the cane seemed to shiver in unison with their trampling as they went by with a forest of sloped rifles wavering above them. Here and there a mounted officer showed above the rest; while even when the leading fours were lost again in the shadows there seemed no end to them, and there was still no slackening in the sonorous beat of feet. At last, however, laden beasts appeared with men who straggled about them, then two or three more sections with rifles trailed; and Appleby drew in a deep breath when once more the gap between the cane was empty. “There will be no room for the Sin Verguenza now, and nobody will be likely to take us in,” he said. “What is to be done, Harper?” “Go to sleep!” said the American tranquilly. “I wouldn’t worry about the Sin Verguenza. Quite a few of them have picked up enough to retire on. I wish I hadn’t handed my haversack to black Domingo when I went back for you. That’s what’s troubling me.” Appleby laughed, and rolled into the little hollow he had made for himself with the careless disregard of the future which is not infrequently the adventurer’s most valuable possession. He also slept soundly, and the sun was high when he awakened with a start to see a man looking down on him. He was dressed in unstarched linen, frayed but very clean, and a big straw hat, while he held a hoe and a basket in one hand, and stood regarding Appleby with grave curiosity. “There is much sun to‐day, señor,” he said. Appleby shifted his hand from the rifle and laid it restrainingly on Harper, who staggered to his feet, for there was something that inspired him with confidence in the man’s dark eyes. “Are there troops on the road?” he asked. “No,” said the man. “None between here and Arucas. The señores are—” “Friends of liberty!” and Harper grinned as he straightened himself and turned to Appleby. “Hadn’t you better tell him the question is where can two patriots get anything to eat?” The man glanced at their haggard faces and torn garments, which were white with dust and clammy with dew. “Ave Maria!” he said softly, and taking a small loaf from the basket broke it into two pieces. One he held out with a bottle of thin red wine, while he glanced at the other half of the loaf deprecatingly. “One must eat to work,” he said, as if in explanation. “There is always work for the poor, and between the troops and the Sin Verguenza they have very little else here.” A flush crept into Appleby’s forehead, and Harper pulled out a few pesetas, which was all he had, but the man shook his head.