O’Reilly gazed at the object with horrified fascination; then with a sudden sick feeling of dizziness he retired to his room, asking himself if he were responsible for that poor fellow’s death.

Meanwhile the citizens of Puerto Principe looked on with stony eyes.  There was no cheering among them, only a hush in their chatter, above which sounded the rattle of accoutrements, the clump-clump of hoofs, and the exultant voices of the Spanish troopers.

For some reason or other Leslie Branch was nowhere to be found; his room was locked and no one had seen him; hence there was no possibility of warning him, until that evening, when he appeared while O’Reilly was making a pretense of eating dinner.

“Where the devil have you been?” the latter inquired, anxiously.

“Been getting out my weekly joke about the revolution.  Had to write up this morning’s ‘battle.’  Couldn’t work in my room, so I—­ "

“Sit down; and don’t jump when I tell you what has happened.  We’re going to be pinched at midnight.”

“Why midnight?”

“I don’t know, unless that’s the fashionable hour for military calls.”

“What’s it all about?”

“I guess they don’t like us.  Have you got anything incriminating about you?”

“N-no!  Nothing, except my citizen’s papers and—­a letter of introduction to General Maximo Gomez.”

O’Reilly suddenly lost what appetite remained to him.

“Nothing except a letter to General Gomez!” he cried.  “Good Lord, Branch!  Were you ever shot at sunrise?”

The reporter coughed dismally.  “N-no!  It’s too damp.  I suppose you mean to hint I’d better destroy that letter, eh?”

“Just as quickly as possible.  Where is it?”

“In my room.”

“Hm-m!  Then I’m not sure you’ll have a chance to destroy it.”  O’Reilly was thinking rapidly.  “From what I was told I suspect you are being watched even there.”

“Bullets!  I thought as much.”

“Would you mind using some other oath?” O’Reilly broke out, irritably.  “I’ve always considered ‘bullets’ weak and ineffective, but—­it has a significance.”

“There’s a new lodger in the room next to me.  I’ve heard him moving around.  I’ll bet he’s got a peephole in the wall.”  Branch was visibly excited.

“Quite likely.  I have the same kind of a neighbor; that is he watching us now.”

Leslie cast a hostile eye at the man his friend indicated.  “Looks like a miserable spy, doesn’t he?  But, say, how am I going to make away with that letter?”

“I’m trying to think,” said Johnnie.  After a time he rose from the table and the two strolled out.  Johnnie was still thinking.