Thanks to many years spent in the district, Estella knew almost every foot of the way, and did not hesitate when it came to a choice of roads. She wished she had Cara or one of the men servants with her, but realized that, under existing circumstances, this was impossible--a companion of any sort might have spoiled all. "Halt!" cried a stern voice, and Estella found herself confronted by a young negro who presented to her breast the barrel of an old United States Army musket. "Who goes there?" went on the sentry. "Cuba." "The password, señorita." "Machete!" The negro looked surprised. "From what company?" he asked, slowly. "Captain Martinez." Instantly the manner of the sentry changed. He dropped the musket to his side. "Pass on!" he cried, and he disappeared from view as suddenly as he had come. Estella lost no time in continuing upon her way. "The captain was right," she murmured. "The insurgents have the city completely hemmed in. No outside help can come to the Spanish troops garrisoned there. Pray Heaven they subdue the place quickly, and Howard regains his liberty!" A quarter of an hour more of riding and Estella reached the outskirts of Marambo just as the storm burst in all its fury. She was on a highway lined with railroad tracks, and had not advanced far when she was stopped by a guard belonging to Lieutenant Mazenas' command. She had not the Spanish password, and in consequence was detained until her identity was established. She was about to leave the vicinity when the lieutenant, having heard her name mentioned, came to her in wonder. "And what brings you out in this terrible storm, fair Estella?" he asked. "Has my father come to Marambo?" she asked, ignoring his question. "I have not seen him. I thought he was at home with you?" "He left shortly after you did," replied the beautiful girl, and was about to ride on when he caught her by the arm. "It is not safe for you to be riding alone at this time of night," he said. "It is better for you to have an attendant." "Thanks, but I prefer to be alone," she responded, coldly. By an attendant she knew he meant himself. "You are very daring," he went on. "Is there anything of importance on foot?" "These are troublous times," was her evasive answer. "One cannot tell what is going to happen from one day to the next." "That is true," he said, and a grim smile played over his features as he thought of the wicked plot set afloat against Howard Sherwood. He wondered if she had entered the city on the young war correspondent's account. "At least let me provide you with a cloak," he went on, and before she could refuse, he had thrown his heavy army cloak over her shoulders. He would have gone with her, but at that moment an orderly came up and summoned him away. Estella was sorry she had encountered him, and was half inclined to throw the cloak away, so much did she despise its owner. But as it was raining harder than ever, she kept it on.