sometimes. I shall to-night."

"And now I suppose I can go?"

Young Glory smiled pityingly.

"For a man of your intelligence that is a very foolish question, senor. No, you will stay here. I shall have to secure you, bind you up in fact, and also gag you."

"Gag me?"

"Yes, you might raise an alarm. You have an excellent voice as I heard when you were drinking."

Young Glory, as a seaman, had no difficulty in fixing the cords so that they would hold, and whilst he was talking, he went on with the work.

The captain was trussed up like a chicken now.

"You will repent this," hissed the captain, through his clinched teeth.

"I am of a different opinion."

"Some day I will have a bitter revenge."

"Why? All is fair in war. You would do the same to me if it served you and I was in your power. But we shall talk all night if we get on this strain. You won't be lonely for I have provided a companion for you. See!"

Young Glory raised the clothes that covered the owner of the hut and exposed him to view.

Whilst the captain was staring in astonishment at what he saw, Young Glory extinguished the light, left the hut, and closed the door securely after him.

Then he unhitched the horse, sprang into the saddle and galloped away.

Sailors do not excel as horsemen, but Young Glory was an exception to the rule. Before he had enlisted he had passed several years in the west, and the animal who tried to unseat him had a very difficult task to perform.

"The road to Valmosa," he muttered. "Guess that won't be hard to find. I know where Valmosa lies, and roads are not very plentiful in this benighted land, so I won't have much trouble if I stick to the one I'm on."

Young Glory's danger was in falling into the hands of some Spaniards. They might happen to be comrades of Ruiz, and it would be almost impossible to deceive them. But this did not daunt him. He had understood all these dangers before he took this desperate project in hand, and he thought of them now, merely because he had nothing else to do.

The ride exhilarated him, and his spirits rose as he proceeded.

Gradually the path—it was really little better than a mule path—descended towards the sea, and Young Glory was pleased because he knew Valmosa was on the coast, and this seemed to show him he was on the right road.

However, his reflections were cut short with startling rapidity.

A dozen men sprang from the surrounding trees. Two men sprang forward and seized his horse's bridle, the others, with threatening gestures, threw themselves in his way, barring his further progress.

"Caramba, senor, but you're in a hurry," said a man, who appeared to be their leader.

"You have judged rightly, senor," answered Young Glory, "I am in a hurry. Let me proceed."

The men laughed loudly.

"You are a Spanish officer. You must be mad to talk in this way," was the stern answer.

"And who are you?" asked Young Glory.

"We are Cuban patriots."

"Patriots! Then I'm safe!" exclaimed the boy, softly.

"He must die!" whispered several of the men. "We give no quarter now, since those Spanish wretches have commenced shooting their prisoners in cold blood."

Half a dozen pistols were leveled at the boy, and as many machetes flashed in the air.

A crisis had come.

"Stop!" cried Young Glory, boldly. "I am no Spaniard."

"Then what are you?"

"I am an American sailor."

The weapons that had threatened Young Glory's life were at once lowered, but the men seemed to receive his statement with great suspicion. They conferred together hastily, still retaining their hold on the young hero's horse.

At length the leader spoke.

"We cannot decide this question. You may be an American sailor, or you may be a spy. That is for others to determine. You must come with us to the general."

"Hurry, then, I beg. For, senors, a project I have in view for the benefit of your cause will fail if I am long delayed."

They pushed through the woods, the patriots finding paths that Young Glory would have searched for in vain.

Some half mile was traversed in this fashion, when a sentinel challenged. The answer was satisfactory, and on they went.

Then past one picket after another they went, showing what faithful guard the patriots kept, until the order to halt was given, and Young Glory found himself near a large fire around which were a number of Cuban officers.

"A prisoner, general!" said the leader of the party.

"And a valuable one, too," was the answer, as the general glanced at Young Glory. "A captain at the very least. Has he been searched?"

"No."

"Do so. He may be a bearer of despatches."

"It is needless to search me," said Young Glory, advancing slightly towards the general. "I am not what I seem. I am an American seaman. My name is Young Glory."

CHAPTER V.

AT VALMOSA—YOUNG GLORY DENOUNCED.

This startling announcement caused a sensation.

"Young Glory!" cried several of the officers.

"Yes, that is my name."

"Have you any proof?" said the general.

"No."

"Then we cannot let you proceed."

Young Glory's face fell. Here he saw all his hopes dashed to the ground. He determined to make one more effort.

"But if you stop me, a certain scheme against the Spaniards that I can carry through to success, will fail. I tell you it is so."

"No matter. I have said before we do not know you, so we must detain you for inquiries."

"Have you ever heard of Young Glory, general?"

"That is a foolish question. His name is a household word."

"Very well; I again repeat I am Young Glory."

"And again I ask for proof."

Suddenly an idea occurred to the boy.

"Have you ever heard of Captain Ruiz Calderon?"

"Yes. He's a distinguished officer in the Spanish army. What of it?"

"I'm Captain Calderon, or rather," said Young Glory, with a laugh, "I'm supposed to be to-night."

"How?"

"I took him prisoner."

"And released him?"

"No. Made him change clothes with me, tied him securely, and left him in a cottage on a creek belonging to a fisherman."

"I know the place!" cried one of the soldiers.

"You did this?" asked the general, incredulously.

"Certainly. It was necessary for the success of my plans. Send to the cottage, if it's possible to do so."

"It can be done."

"Very well. I entreat you to be quick, general. Much depends on it."

It was rather dangerous work to venture so near the Spanish lines, but four patriots volunteered at once, and the general, after giving them a few brief instructions, sent them on their way.

Well mounted, if no mischance happens to them, they would soon be back, and Young Glory, who was in a boiling passion, quite ignored the presence of the Cubans, and threw himself on the ground to rest while awaiting the result.

"I believe he is Young Glory," said the general to one of his officers. "He doesn't look like an impostor."

"No, sir."

"Well, he's in a temper because I've done my duty. Let him alone. His young blood will soon cool."

So it did, and Young Glory, on thinking calmly over the matter, saw that he could not have expected any different treatment to what he had received.

"General," he said, going up to him, "I was hasty. You must pardon me."

The general smiled.

"I have thought no more of it. Have a cigar. You'll find them good. They taste better perhaps to me," he added, with a laugh, "because the tobacco was grown by a Spaniard, one of our bitterest enemies, and they cost nothing."

The time seemed long. In reality the men—or at least two of them—were back in an incredibly short space of time.

"Well?" questioned the general.

"We have been