said Ruiz.

"There's no hurry."

"Not for you. Stay, if you please."

"No, no; we'll all go together."

Ruiz Calderon rose.

"I have to get a good horse. The most dangerous part of the business is getting to Valmosa, because I must go near the rebel lines."

"Good luck to Ruiz!" cried all his comrades, emptying their glasses as they spoke.

"Thank you, gentlemen, thank you. My good fellow, your wine was excellent. If you should hear a horseman gallop past your hut to-night, don't be alarmed. It will only be me."

Scarcely had they gone, when Dan Daly rushed out.

"Faith, it's more than flesh an' blood could stand. Arrah! but me mouth watered when I heard the glasses clinkin'. The spalpeens!" he cried in dismay, "they've not left a drop for me."

"There's plenty."

Dan gazed in amazement at the hoard of liquor that had been discovered.

"What a find! It's meself could put in a week here in this blessed hut."

"But you won't."

"Eh?"

"I say you won't. It will be dark, Dan, in one hour. There's a boat lying down on the creek."

"An' faith, what's that to me?"

"Everything. You'll get on board that boat, go down the creek into the sea, and try and find the cruiser. The Brooklyn won't be far off. You must take a light with you and give a signal."

Dan was astounded.

"An' is it by mesilf I'm to go?"

"That's exactly what it is, Dan. You're old enough to be trusted alone, you know."

"But you?"

"Oh, I have work on shore. Never mind me."

"It's more danger ye're runnin' your head into."

"Trust me to get it out again. Now, don't interrupt me. I've a letter to write."

Dan busily employed himself with the whisky whilst Young Glory was writing his letter.

"Here it is."

"An' who's it for?"

"Captain Miles."

"Our skipper?"

"He's the only Captain Miles I know. Now, Dan, it's very important that that letter should reach Captain Miles as soon as possible. You understand me?"

"Yes, an' if it's to be done I'll do it."

"That I know. Now, to start you."

The two men left the hut. The boat was moored immediately opposite, and in it were a pair of sculls.

Young Glory would not allow a moment to be wasted. He unhitched the painter and pushed off the boat. Then, having seen Dan start on his dangerous mission, he went back to the hut.

CHAPTER IV.

YOUNG GLORY AND CAPTAIN RUIZ CALDERON—IN THE CAMP OF THE PATRIOTS.

The project Young Glory had conceived was incredibly bold.

If he had told Dan what it was, the Irishman would have done his best to dissuade him from it.

But Young Glory instead of changing his mind, became more fixed in his purpose as the time flew by.

"I don't see why it should fail," he said to himself, as he sat listening intently. "Ah! there he is. Well, the die is cast, or will be in a few minutes, anyway. I'll go through with it to the end."

He passed his hand through his thick golden curls which his sombrero had hitherto concealed. Then he hurriedly went out and posted himself behind a large tree a few yards from the hut.

Nearer and nearer came the noise that had attracted his attention. A horseman was approaching at a rapid rate, that was clear.

"Captain Calderon for certain," said Young Glory to himself. "There won't be any time to see, so I must assume it's he and take my chances."

It was so dark that he could not see the horseman, though he knew he must be very near by the sound. Then, suddenly, out into the road he sprang.

"Halt!" he cried in ringing tones, "or I will put a bullet into you."

The horseman seemed astounded. Many men could have dashed by regardless of consequences, but this man reined in his steed instantly, drawing the animal back on its haunches.

As he did so Young Glory drew up close to him, still keeping him covered with his six-shooter.

"I must ask you to dismount," he said, "and at once."

There was a light coming from the hut, for Young Glory had left the door open, and by it both men were able to distinguish each other.

Young Glory recognized Captain Calderon instantly.

"My man!" he muttered.

"The fellow from the hut!" cried the officer.

"I asked you to dismount, senor capitan," repeated Young Glory.

"I heard you, and I demand to know the meaning of this insolence."

"Demand! A strange word from a helpless man, senor. Are you aware that you are in my power, senor. Come, come, don't drive me to extremities. I should be sorry to have to injure a gallant young officer like yourself, but I tell you plainly, captain, that if you hesitate, my duty will compel me to kill you!"

There was something in the tone with which these words were spoken, more than in the words themselves, which impressed the officer.

He realized now that he had not, as he had supposed at first, a drunkard to deal with. But he was still completely at a loss to know what was meant.

However, he reasoned that a few minutes' chat in the hut, would certainly lead to a satisfactory explanation.

"The less time lost the better," said the Spanish captain.

So he dismounted, and Young Glory took possession of his pistol and also his horse. The latter he instantly hitched up to a hook driven in the wall of the hut.

"Now, fellow," said the captain, when the two men found themselves in the hut, "what does this foolery mean?"

"Take off your clothes!"

The officer colored with passion.

"My clothes," he gasped. "Never!"

"I will make you."

"What! are you a thief?"

"Call me what you please, but do as I say or it will be worse for you."

The Spanish captain made a dash at Young Glory.

The latter stepped back quickly, raising his six-shooter as he did so, and pointing it at his captive.

"You are foolish," said Young Glory. "You cannot compete with me, and you ought to understand that."

What was causing the Spaniard to stare so? Not the fact that he was threatened by Young Glory's six-shooter. No, but because when Young Glory had moved backwards, his sombrero had dropped off his head, thus exposing his thick yellow curls.

"You are not a Spaniard," said Captain Calderon, astounded at the change in his captor.

"No."

"Neither are you a Cuban."

"No."

"Who are you, then?"

"I will tell you. I am Young Glory."

The Spaniard dropped into a chair.

"So you are the man who released the prisoner who was to be shot?"

"Yes."

"And you've done terrible injury to the Spanish cause, both here and in Spain."

"You pay me a high compliment, senor."

"We have a heavy debt against you, Young Glory," said the Spaniard, gloomily.

"You will when this night is over. My work has only just commenced. Come, captain, you and I must not quarrel. You are a brave man, I know. Don't drive me to extremities. I must have your uniform and I'll give you—these."

Young Glory laughed as he pointed to the rags he was wearing.

A soldier soon recognizes the truth. A civilian is more disposed to argue. So the result was that Captain Calderon yielded with the best grace he could, and commenced to undress.

Young Glory, meanwhile, was doing the same, and in a few minutes the exchange had been effected.

Captain Calderon was a Cuban fisherman. Young Glory was a Spanish officer.

"They fit me beautifully, capitan. Don't you think so? Why, really, I'm not a conceited chap, but I don't think it would be well for you if the fair Julia saw me to-night."

"So you were listening to what I and my comrades were saying?" asked the captain, with a black look on his face.

"I heard every word. It's a way I have, and I find it extremely useful