“Yes, I have had the honor of knowing Minister Throgmorton for a long time, and when he was appointed to this position he was kind enough to extend me a standing invitation to come to Baracoa and be his guest. As you say, it’s a long way from Park Row, but I am having a great time.” Hawley looked at him searchingly, but said nothing. “And now, how about yourself, old top?” the _News_ man demanded. “Tit for tat, you know. What particular bunch of trouble has brought you down this way? Haven’t come to lead a revolution, have you?” “Scarcely,” the Camera Chap replied, smiling. “It is a curious coincidence, but I, too, happen to be here on a leave of absence. I haven’t had a vacation in three years, so I figured that the paper owed me a holiday.” “What made you select Baracoa?” Gale demanded suspiciously. “Why not?” the Camera Chap rejoined. “I’ve always had a hankering to visit South America. Some people prefer going to Europe, but I’ve always believed in seeing our own hemisphere first.” Gale was not satisfied by this answer. “Brought your camera along with you?” he inquired abruptly. “Of course. I wouldn’t travel without it--even on a pleasure trip. I hope to land some good snapshots before I go back.” “Snapshots of what?” Gale demanded quickly. Hawley shrugged his shoulders in a manner which would have done credit to a native of Baracoa. “That is hard to say, at present,” he answered. “I have no doubt that in a land as interesting as this, there must be many attractive things to photograph.” As he spoke he looked into the eyes of Gale’s fair companion, and saw lurking in their blue depths an appreciative twinkle which warned him that she knew his secret. Evidently her friend, the señora, had taken the girl into her confidence. The situation disturbed him greatly. He wondered uneasily whether the American minister’s daughter could be relied upon to keep what she knew to herself, or whether she would pass it along to Gale, with whom, evidently, she was on friendly terms. “Miss Throgmorton,” said Gale suddenly, “may I present my friend, Mr. Hawley? You remember my telling you the other day about Hawley, of the _Sentinel_?” “Oh, yes,” the girl replied mischievously, as she extended her hand; “I recall your telling me how often you scooped him on pictures. I really felt quite sorry for you, Mr. Hawley, when I heard Mr. Gale’s stories. Newspaper work must be a cruel game.” The Camera Chap smiled, and Gale looked somewhat sheepish. In boasting of his exploits to his host’s daughter, he had departed from the truth to an extent which covered him with glory, but did not do justice to the _Sentinel_ man.