“I have done only what any Cuban would do for an American,” was the quiet reply. “I offer you one more service before leaving you. You were bound to some ship?” “The British brig, Emeline Atwood.” “I know her berth. I will lead you there. Once on board, you should be safe. Come; I will show you the way, senor.” “Wait just one instant,” implored Hal. “Ramirez, such friendship as you have shown to-day is seldom met with. Pardon me if I seek to learn something about you.” “There is little to tell,” responded the Cuban. “I love this people and their island, for I am one of them. I have done, as perhaps you have guessed, all in my power to serve Cuba. You see, senor, I do not hesitate to trust you. You will wonder why one of my sentiments is not in the Cuban army. I will answer that question before you ask it. It is forbidden to a Cuban to join our patriot army unless he can bring with him a gun and some ammunition. When I can do that, I shall leave Havana and take to the long grass where the insurgents, if not as thick as locusts, are fighting as bravely as lions. Beyond that I can tell you little, except that I have no living relatives. All have died of starvation, and my greatest dread is that I shall starve before I am ready to strike out for the long grass.” Simple and brief as Ramirez’s statement was, it was the eloquent account of a patriot who would die for his cause and country, and who would die with equal cheerfulness, either of starvation in Havana, or under arms in the field. There were tears in Hal’s eyes as he heard the simple story. But Ramirez cut short his reflections by saying: “Senor, not all of our danger is behind us. If you are going to the English ship, let me advise you that we should start at once.” “Just one more question before we go,” interposed Hal. “You spoke of a gun and ammunition. Can they be obtained here in Havana?” “When one has the price, senor.” “And what is that price?” “Well, if I had twenty-five dollars I could buy a rifle and a pocketful of cartridges. But, why speculate? Twenty-five dollars is not to be found.” “You are right,” responded Hal. “Let us find the brig.” Ramirez guided him from the wharf and led him down a dark street, halting every few steps to make sure that they were not being followed. Of a sudden, the Cuban, every instant alert, dragged our hero into a doorway. “Here comes the patrol,” whispered Juan. Hal listened, yet it was some moments before he could hear the tramp of soldiers. “Your hearing is wonderful,” he whispered. “It is said,” replied Ramirez, “that starvation quickens all the senses.” “And you are starving?” uttered Hal, feeling as if he were choking. “Far from it,” was the answer. “I ate a quarter of a loaf of bread the day before yesterday.” “And since----” “I have had several drinks of water, but it was warm and therefore not palatable.” Terrible as this statement was, it was made quietly, without the least trace of a desire to parade misery.