little cry. "Hark! Listen! What was that?" Loud and clear over the waters of the bay came the notes of a bugle.
"That's taps, dear," he whispered. "That gunboat of Uncle Sam's that came in to-day. Do you know what it says?"
"No, no ! Not that. Listen again."
They heard distinctly the sound as of some one fumbling at the gate latch, and then a low knocking.
"It may be Mr. Hardesty — Jack," she cried, springing up. "Let me open the gate. It might be a trap, a trick to get hold of you," she added, as they hastily crossed the garden.
"Bother!" said West, and with a bound had reached the gate and shot back the bolt.
Elizabeth heard a smothered cry, and the gate was slammed in her face. She sat down upon a garden bench, her senses dizzy with the suddenness of the event. They had him. That was clear. But who was it? And which way had they gone? Catching her black lace mantilla from her shoulders, she covered her golden head and fair face, opened the gate softly and peered out.
There was a knot of men on the street corner going toward the bay. She ran across the garden to a low gate, almost hidden in shrubbery, and opened it a little. There she crouched until the men passed by. She distinctly saw Sam's fair head and tall figure among them. Softly following them at some distance, she saw them enter a large house fifty rods down the street.
"Olivera's house! Olivera, my father's friend!"
Safe inside the garden, she ran to the old Professor, who was placidly sort- ing specimens.
"Is Mr. Hardesty in yet?" she called, trying to fight down the fear that he, too, had been kidnaped. Serene in his unconsciousness of anything outside his work, the scientist did not notice her perturbation, merely shaking his head and smiling as he pasted a label On a tiny box.
Eunning to the house, she searched all the rooms and the dusky, silent patis into which they all opened. She saw no one but a black man asleep on a bench.
"Oli ! Oli !" she cried, shaking the bench violently. The black man rose sleepily.
"Where is my father?"
He shook his head.
"Hello, little Miss Elizabeth !" called a merry voice, and Elizabeth, running to meet the white figure approaching through the dimness, stumbled and almost fell.
"What is it ?" he whispered as he helped to steady her. "Has anything fright- ened you? Where's everybody?"
"It's Sam," she wailed. "He — they — and I thought they had you, too. I couldn't do a thing. Oh, what shall we do?"
"Where is Sam?"
"They have taken him away. You see, I let him open the gate, and they — Oh, Jack, do something, do something and hurry !" She caught his arm appealingly. "But what are you doing like this? These clothes — your skin so dark — oh, am I crazy?" She leaned dizzily against a pillar, her hand to her head.
"It's all right," he cheerily explained. "I've been playing Haroun Al Easchid. Look like a really, truly half-breed, don't I? Been all over town. Passed your father, and he didn't know me. Isn't it great? And say, Elizabeth, that gun- boat will send an escort for us and take us on board in the morning." He took off his straw hat and tossed it.
"Yes, yes, but Sam?"
"Oh, I'll find him in short order," cried the confident young fellow. "These clothes will take me anywhere. Which way did the ruflSans go? You said some- body took him away, didn't you?"
