must remember that I knew Don Carlos before he exchanged his customary attire for his present feminine toggery."
"Oh, how superiorily wise you look," banters Juanita. "But I tell you that Don Carlos has always been, is now and always will be a girl!"
"What!"
"And you never suspected it—you who are so penetrating?" mocks the young lady.
But Jack makes no reply. His mind is attempting to digest this surprising bit of information. Then a light begins to break upon him.
"Her real name—what is it?" he asks, suddenly.
Juanita becomes serious again. "I must not divulge it, Jack, dear. I should not have told you what I have, but you looked so comical when you told me you had been jealous of Don Carlos. There, please don't catechise me further."
"I shall not," replies Ashley. "Besides, it will be unnecessary for you to betray her identity."
"Then you know"
"I think I do. As I more than once remarked, I have an excellent memory for faces, although I am sometimes a deva diablo of a while in recalling the names that go with them." And Ashley relapses into meditation.
"Well, here we are at Santiago," announces Jack. "In a short time you can bid a temporary adieu to the soil of Cuba; and the sooner the better."
And indeed, the streets of Santiago are in apparent possession of a riotous mob, swarming in and out of the cafes.
Ashley and Juanita find no obstacles in their path; half an hour later they are aboard the America, under the red, white and blue, and Juanita is in her father's arms, relating breathlessly the thrilling incidents of the last few hours.
Ashley leaves them to their exchange of confidence and affection, and goes off to talk with Captain Meade. When he sees Don Quesada again that gentleman takes his
