“You love the hound?” suggested General Harero, stooping to smooth its glossy coat.

“Yes.”

“He is to be envied, then, upon my soul, lady.  How could he, with no powers of utterance, have done that for himself, which we poor gallants so fail in doing?”

“And what may that be?” asked Isabella, archly tossing her head.

“Win thy love,” half whispered the officer, drawing closer to her side.

The answer was lost, if indeed Isabella intended one, by the father’s calling the attention of the party to some object on the Regla shore, opposite the city, looming up in the dim light.

Ruez had mounted the parapet, and with his feet carelessly dangling on the other side, sat gazing off upon the sea, now straining his eye to make out the rig of some dark hull in the distance, and now following back the moon’s glittering wake until it met the shore.  At this moment the hound, leaving his mistress’s side, put his fore paws upon the top of the parapet and his nose into one of the boy’s hands, causing him to turn round suddenly to see what it was that touched him; in doing which he lost his balance, and with a faint cry fell from the parapet far down to the water below.  Each of the gentlemen at once sprang upon the stone work and looked over where the boy had fallen, but it would have been madness for any one, however good a swimmer; and as they realized this and their helpless situation, they stood for a moment dumb with consternation.

At that moment a plunge was heard in the water from the edge of the quay far below the parapet, and a dark form was traced making its way through the water with that strong bold stroke that shows the effort of a confident and powerful swimmer.

“Thank God some one has seen his fall from below, and they will rescue him,” said Don Gonzales, springing swiftly down the Plato steps, followed by Isabella and the officers, and seeking the street that led to the quay below.

“O hasten, father, hasten!” exclaimed Isabella, impatiently.

“Nay, Isabella, my old limbs totter with fear for dear Ruez,” was the hasty reply of the old don, as he hurried forward with his daughter.

“Dear, dear Ruez,” exclaimed Isabella, hysterically.

Dashing by the guard stationed on the quay, who presented arms as his superiors passed, they reached its end in time to see, through the now dim twilight, the efforts of some one in the water supporting the half insensible boy with one arm, while with the other he was struggling with almost superhuman effort against the steady set of the tide to seaward.  Already were a couple of seamen lowering a quarter-boat from an American barque, near by, but the rope had fouled in the blocks, and they could not loose it.  A couple of infantry soldiers had also come up to the spot, and having secured a rope were about to attempt some assistance to the swimmer.

“Heave the line,” shouted one of the seamen.  “Give me the bight of it, and I’ll swim out to him.”