before the night is gone, and before the sun goes down on another day the Semiramis will be on her way to Cuba. Once without New York bay I defy anything short of a cannon ball to overhaul her. What say you, Don Manada?"
The Cuban's face expresses the astonishment and joy that he feels. To be raised suddenly from the depths of despair to the pinnacle of hope effects a remarkable change in one of his temperament.
"Santa Maria!" he cries, as he presses warmly Van Zandt's hands. "You have done me as great a service as one man can do another. Por Dios! We shall outwit them cleverly."
"Then let us be off," says Van Zandt. "It is after 2 o'clock and we have little time to spare."
The men secure their coats and hats and ten minutes later board a cross-town car.
"Senor Van Zandt, I owe you a debt of gratitude," declares Manada; "yet I find myself marveling that you, a stranger, and the one man to win Isabel Harding's affection, should interest yourself in me and the cause I represent."
"Oh, it promised an adventure; something I have long been in need of to stir my blood to action," replies Van Zandt, lightly. "Besides, am I not an American, and is not the cause of liberty a cause that appeals to every American with a spark of manhood in his soul? Only those who know what liberty is realize its priceless worth."
They are now walking along West Street. Manada silently reproaching himself with his recent folly, wraps his greatcoat more tightly about him, and breathes a shivering malediction on the cutting winds that sweep adown the Hudson.
The sky is overcast and a slight snow is falling. It is a good night for the work in hand.
The river front is black and silent and the outlines of the vessels about the pier are barely distinguishable through the driving storm.
West Street, though dimly lighted, is not deserted. From the grog-shops come echoes of many a brawl, and
