“How much do you offer?” asked the soldier, suddenly. “Fifty dollars.” “Fifty dollars for a gun and cartridges?” repeated Private Escarillaz. “It is too little.” “That would be altogether too much,” retorted Ramirez, imperturbably. “The price that I have offered must be for two Mauser rifles and a hundred cartridges.” “Say seventy-five dollars,” proposed the soldier, “and I may be able to help you. But for less it cannot be done.” “Then, Pedro Escarillaz, I wish you good-night,” answered Juan, performing a half wheel. “Not so quick,” uttered the soldier, warningly. “Suppose I were to call the guard? You would lose your money and your lives.” “True,” admitted Juan, composedly; “but then your officers would get the money, and you would get nothing. If you make a trade with us--why, just think what you could do with so much money.” “If I only knew how to accomplish it,” murmured Pedro, his dark eyes snapping at thought of the good times he could have in Havana with so much wealth. “Oh, very well,” said Juan, calmly, “if you cannot do it, we have made a serious mistake, and you have been a great loser.” “Wait,” whispered Pedro. “In five minutes the guard will be changed.” “And then----” “I will do my best.” Hal and Juan ensconced themselves behind some bushes. In ten minutes Pedro Escarillaz returned, trembling and pallid. Almost in silence, the trade was made, the traitor not daring to look into the eyes of the purchasers. Silently as shadows, the two latest recruits for Cuba stole off in the night. But Juan Ramirez seemed to have grown a half a foot as he turned to his American comrade, murmuring hoarsely: “Now, mi amigo, for the long grass! Henceforth our only cry shall be ‘Viva Cuba Libre!’” * * * * * Third Part. CHAPTER VIII. “AS GOMEZ WOULD SPEAK.” “It is your turn, mi amigo!” “Ready!” responded Hal, rubbing his eyes and then springing to his feet. As he did so, he caught up the Mauser rifle which had lain at his side as he slept. It was past sunrise. When he had lain down, the earth was still wrapped in darkness. There had been a bargain that he should sleep an hour, then rise and stand guard while Juan snatched an hour of refreshing sleep. Was it all a dream? Hal wondered, as he surveyed the scene with alert eyes while Juan had already commenced to snore. A dream it certainly was not. The rifle with which each was provided was a reality. So was the small Cuban flag which Juan now wore proudly pinned to his tattered jacket. Havana was now many miles behind. They were well up in the hills. Around them all was verdure and bloom. This bit of wild forest beauty had escaped the devastating hand of the Spaniard. It was Easter morning, Hal remembered, with a thrill. Surely, in this spot, nature was doing floral honor to the day.