of parting with existence. The bullet has plowed through the right shoulder, causing a ragged wound and a great flow of blood, but a few days will put him on his feet again, the surgeon reports to Cardena. Wounded honor is satisfied by the physical wound, and after a brief announcement of this fact and a stiff "Adios" the Spaniards drive away, and Navarro and his American friend are left upon the beach.
"Any trouble with the authorities likely?" Ashley queries, as the two turn cityward.
"I think not. Huerta is a thorough-paced scoundrel, but he has never been accused of being a coward or an informer."
A great change has come over Navarro. His eye is bright and his step elastic and he tells Ashley, as they stride along in the cool air of the morning, that he is terribly hungry and would appreciate a good breakfast.
As good a meal as Cuba affords is forthcoming, and as Ashley suddenly recollects the now happily unnecessary letter to Don Quesada, Navarro tears it into fragments and says abruptly:
"Ashley, amigo, have you ever seen the Pearl of the Antilles?"
"No; I haven't been in Santiago quite twenty-four hours yet. You mean the insurgent cruiser?"
"Ah, no; I mean the most beautiful girl in Cuba. She is the daughter of Don Manuel de Quesada, and is at once the joy and the despair of half the unmarried jeunesse doree of Santiago. Would you like to meet her?"
"By all means. Next to a good horse and a trim yacht, I know of nothing that interests me more than a beautiful woman."
"Good. I am going out to La Quinta de Quesada. Hunt up a horse and accompany me."
Navarro is already provided with a steed, a magnificent black animal that interests Ashley far more than the prospects of the acquaintance of the Pearl of the Antilles. "Came into my possession yesterday," Navarro tells him. "Isn't he a beauty?"
