"So! That is right, what they have written, but there is later news." He thrust his hand into his breast pocket, and dragging out some papers, selected a crumpled cable form, which he opened with shaking fingers. "Even now General Almaida is in Portriga. He holds the whole town south of the river." "Do you mean that you're in communication with them?" demanded Guy. "I thought all the wires had been cut." "We were not without our preparations," returned Congosta with a vindictive smile. "The way is still open. It will not be closed so long as General Almaida is undefeated." "And how long is that likely to be?" asked Tony. Congosta drew himself up. "Señor!" he replied dramatically. "It rests with you." There was a short pause. "Well?" said Tony encouragingly. "There are two things in which our brave army is lacking--ammunition and money. If we can help them with these----" Tony nodded. "What's the idea--exactly?" he asked. Congosta took a step forward, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. He began to speak in a low, rapid voice. "A week ago, by the instructions of General Almaida, I gave an order to one of your English houses for a supply of cartridges. The money was to have been sent to me, and we had arranged a plan for getting them safely across. Had the revolution not broken out they would now be on their way. As it is--!" he made a quick expressive gesture with his hands--"The money has not come, and even if I could pay there is no vessel that could take them to Livadia." He paused for breath. "We haven't a cargo license for the _Betty_," said Tony, "but I don't know that it really matters." Congosta came nearer still. "You will do it," he gasped. "You will lend us this money? You will take the cartridges on your yacht?" Tony nodded again. "Why, of course," he said. "It's the least I can do after losing Isabel in that careless fashion." With an exclamation of joy Congosta seized hold of his hand, and commenced wringing it violently up and down. "My friend," he exclaimed with tears in his eyes. "How can I ever thank you?" "But Good Heavens!" interrupted Guy, drawing in his breath. "Do you realize what this means? It's--it's--filibustering--piracy--buccaneering----" "Is it?" said Tony--"what fun! I have always wanted to be a buccaneer ever since I was thirteen." He disentangled himself with some difficulty from the clutches of Congosta. "Don't worry, Guy," he added, "you needn't be mixed up with it in any way." "What!" For a moment Guy's indignation rendered him almost speechless. "Do you suppose I am thinking of myself? Do you imagine I shall desert you--now--at this time?" "There is not the danger that the Señor fancies," broke in Congosta with a kind of feverish eagerness. "Listen! I will explain!" He turned to Tony. "You have heard of Braxa?" "I don't think so," said Tony regretfully. "You see I was educated at Eton."