Dick hesitated. Clare had stolen his papers. This seemed impossible, but it was true. Yet when he looked up he answered as his heart urged him:

"No. It sounds absurd."

"It is absurd," Jake said firmly.

Neither spoke for the next minute, and then Dick frowned at a disturbing thought. Could the lad understand Clare so well unless he loved her?

"That picture must have taken some time to paint. Did Miss Kenwardine often pose for you?"

"No," said Jake, rather dryly; "in fact, she didn't really pose at all. I had trouble to get permission to make one or two quick sketches, and worked up the rest from memory."

"Yet she let you sketch her. It was something of a privilege."

Jake smiled in a curious way. "I think I see what you mean. Miss Kenwardine likes me, but although I've some artistic taste, I'm frankly flesh and blood; and that's not quite her style. She finds me a little more in harmony with her than the rest, but this is all. Still, it's something to me. Now you understand matters, perhaps you won't take so much trouble to keep me out of Santa Brigida."

"I'll do my best to keep you away from Kenwardine," Dick declared.

"Very well," Jake answered with a grin. "You're quite a good sort, though you're not always very smart, and I can't blame you for doing what you think is your duty."

Then he set to work on his calculations and there was silence on the veranda.

Dick kept him occupied for the next week, and then prudently decided not to press the lad too hard by finding him work that obviously need not be done. If he was to preserve his power, it must be used with caution. The first evening Jake was free he started for Santa Brigida, though as there was no longer a locomotive available, he got two laborers to take him down the line on a hand-car. After that he had some distance to walk and arrived at Kenwardine's powdered with dust. It was a hot night and he found Kenwardine and three or four others in the patio.

A small, shaded lamp stood upon the table they had gathered round, and the light sparkled on delicate green glasses and a carafe of wine. It touched the men's white clothes, and then, cut off by the shade, left their faces in shadow and fell upon the tiles. A colored paper lantern, however, hung from a wire near an outside staircase and Jake saw Clare a short distance away. It looked as if she had stopped in crossing the patio, but as he came forward Kenwardine got up.

"It's some time since we have seen you," he remarked.

"Yes," said Jake. "I meant to come before, but couldn't get away."

"Then you have begun to take your business seriously?"

"My guardian does."

"Ah!" said Kenwardine, speaking rather louder, "if you mean Mr. Brandon, I certainly thought him a serious person. But what has this to do with your coming here?"

"He found me work that kept me busy evenings."

"With the object of keeping you out of mischief?"

"I imagine he meant something of the kind," Jake admitted with a chuckle. He glanced round, and felt he had been too frank, as his eyes rested on Clare. He could not see her face, but thought she was listening.

"Then it looks as if he believed we were dangerous people for you to associate with," Kenwardine remarked, with a smile. "Well, I suppose we're not remarkable for the conventional virtues."

Jake, remembering Dick had insisted that Kenwardine was dangerous, felt embarrassed as he noted that Clare was now looking at him. To make things worse, he thought Kenwardine had meant her to hear.

"I expect he really was afraid of my going to the casino," he answered as carelessly as he could.

"Though he would not be much relieved to find you had come to my house instead? Well, I suppose one must make allowances for the Puritan character."

"Brandon isn't much of a Puritan, and he's certainly not a prig," Jake objected.

Kenwardine laughed. "I'm not sure this explanation makes things much better, but we'll let it go. We were talking about the new water supply. It's a harmless subject and you ought to be interested."

Jake sat down and stole a glance at Clare as he drank a glass of wine. There was nothing to be learned from her face, but he was vexed with Kenwardine, who had intentionally involved him in an awkward situation. Jake admitted that he had not dealt with it very well. For all that, he began to talk about the irrigation works and the plans for bringing water to the town, and was relieved to see that Clare had gone when he next looked round.

As a matter of fact, Clare had quietly stolen away and was sitting on a balcony in the dark, tingling with anger and humiliation. She imagined that she had banished Brandon from her thoughts and was alarmed to find that he had still power to wound her. It had been a shock to learn he believed that she had stolen his papers; but he had now warned his companion against her father and no doubt herself. Jake's manner when questioned had seemed to indicate this.

By and by she tried, not to make excuses for Brandon, but to understand his point of view, and was forced to admit that it was not unreasonable. Her father now and then allowed, or perhaps encouraged, his guests to play for high stakes, and she had hated to see the evening gatherings of extravagant young men at their house in England. Indeed, she had eagerly welcomed the change when he had offered to take her abroad because business necessitated his leaving the country. Things had been better at Santa Brigida, but after a time the card playing had begun again. The men who now came to their house were, however, of a different type from the rather dissipated youths she had previously met. They were quieter and more reserved; men of experience who had known adventure. Still, she disliked their coming and had sometimes felt she must escape from a life that filled her with repugnance. The trouble was that she did not know where to find a refuge and could not force herself to leave her father, who had treated her with good-humored indulgence.

Then she began to wonder what was the business that had brought him to Santa Brigida. He did not talk about it, but she was sure it was not gambling, as Brandon thought. No doubt he won some money from his friends, but it could not be much and he must lose at times. She must look for another explanation and it was hard to find. Men who did not play cards came to the house in the daytime and occasionally late at night, and Kenwardine, who wrote a good many letters, now and then went away down the coast. There was a mystery about his occupation that puzzled and vaguely alarmed her, and she could turn to nobody for advice. She had refused her aunt's offer of a home and knew it would not be renewed. They had cast her off and done with her. Getting up presently with a troubled sigh, she went to her room.

In the meantime, Jake stayed in the patio with the others. A thin, dark Spaniard, who spoke English well, and two Americans occupied the other side of the table; a fat German sat nearly opposite the Spaniard and next to Jake. The heat made them languid and nobody wanted to play cards, although there was a pack on the table. This happened oftener than Brandon thought.

"It's a depressing night and an enervating country," Kenwardine remarked. "I wonder why we stay here as we do, since we're apt to leave it as poor as when we came. The people are an unstable lot, and when you've spent your time and energy developing what you hope is a profitable scheme, some change of policy or leaders suddenly cuts it short."

"I guess that explains why we are here," one of the Americans replied. "The South is the home of the dramatic surprise and this appeals to us. In the North, they act by rule and one knows, more or less, what will happen; but this gives one no chances to bet upon."

The fat German nodded. "It is the gambler's point of view. You people take with pleasure steep chances, as they say, but mine act not so. The system is better. One calculates beforehand what may happen and it is provided for. If things do not go as one expects, one labors to change them, and when this is not possible adopts an alternative plan."

"But there always is a plan, Senor Richter!" the Spaniard remarked.

Richter smiled. "With us, I think that is true. Luck is more fickle than a woman and we like not the surprise. But our effort is to be prepared for it."

"You're a pretty hard crowd to run up against," said the other American.

Jake, who had taken no part in the recent talk, and leaned languidly back in his chair, turned his head as he heard footsteps in the patio. They were quick and decided, as if somebody was coming straight towards the table, but they stopped suddenly. This seemed strange and Jake, who had caught a glimpse of a man in white clothes, looked round to see if Kenwardine had made him a sign. The latter, however, was lighting his pipe, but the Spaniard leaned forward a little, as if trying to see across the patio. Jake thought he would find this difficult with the light of the lamp in his eyes, but Richter, who sat opposite, got up and reached across the table.

"With excuses, Don Sebastian, but the wine is on your side," he said, and filled his glass from the decanter before he sat down.

In the meantime the man who had come in was waiting, but seemed to have moved, because Jake could only see an indistinct figure in the gloom.

"Is that you, Enrique?" Kenwardine asked when he had lighted his pipe.

"Si, senor," a voice answered, and Kenwardine made a sign of dismissal.

"Bueno! You can tell me about it to-morrow. I am engaged now."

The footsteps began again and when they died away Kenwardine picked up the cards.

"Shall we play for half an hour?" he asked.

The others agreed, but the stakes were moderate and nobody took much interest in the game; and Jake presently left the house without seeing anything more of Clare. He felt he had wasted the evening, but as he walked back to the line he thought about the man whom Kenwardine had sent away. He did not think the fellow was one of the servants, and it seemed strange that Richter should have got up and stood in front of Don Sebastian when the latter was trying to see across the patio. Still, there was no apparent reason why the Spaniard should want to see who had come in, and Jake dismissed the matter.



CHAPTER XIII

THE RETURN FROM THE FIESTA

The sure-footed mules, braced hard against the weight of the carriage, slid down a steep descent across slippery stones when Clare, who wondered what would happen if the worn-out harness broke, rode into Adexe. Gleaming white houses rose one above another among feathery palms, with a broad streak of darker green in their midst to mark the shady alameda. Behind, the dark range towered against the sky; in front lay a foam-fringed beach and the vast blue sweep of dazzling sea. Music came up through the languid murmur of the surf, and the steep streets were filled with people whose clothes made patches of brilliant color. The carriage jolted safely down the hill, and Clare looked about with interest as they turned into the central plaza, where the driver stopped.

"It's a picturesque little town and I'm glad you brought me," she said. "But what does the fiesta they're holding celebrate?"

"I don't know; the first landing of the Spaniards, perhaps," Kenwardine replied. "Anyhow, it's a popular function, and as everybody in the neighborhood takes part in it, I came with the object of meeting some people I do business with. In fact, I may have to leave you for a time with the wife of a Spaniard whom I know."

When coming down the hillside Clare had noticed a sugar mill and an ugly coaling wharf that ran out into the bay. Two steamers lay not far off, rolling gently on the glittering swell, and several lighters were moored against the wharf. Since she had never heard him speak of coal, she imagined her father's business was with the sugar mill, but he seldom talked to her about such matters and she did not ask. He took her to an old, yellow house, with tarnished brass rails barring its lower windows and a marble fountain in the patio, where brilliant creepers hung from the balconies. The soft splash of falling water was soothing and the spray cooled the air.

"It is very pretty," Clare said while they waited. "I wish we could make our patio like this."

"We may be able to do so when Brandon and his friends bring us the water," Kenwardine replied with a quick glance at the girl. "Have you seen him recently?"

"Not for three or four weeks," said Clare.

There was nothing to be learned from her face, but Kenwardine noted a hint of coldness in her voice. Next moment, however, a stout lady in a black dress, and a thin, brown-faced Spaniard came down to meet them. Kenwardine presented Clare, and for a time they sat on a balcony, talking in a mixture of French and Castilian. Then a man came up the outside staircase and took off his hat as he turned to Kenwardine. He had a swarthy skin, but Clare carelessly remarked that the hollows about his eyes were darker than the rest of his face, as if they had been overlooked in a hurried wash, and his bare feet were covered with fine, black dust.

"Don Martin waits you, senor," he said.

Kenwardine excused himself to his hostess, and after promising to return before long went away with the man.

"Who is Don Martin, and does he own the coaling wharf?" Clare asked.

"No," said the Spaniard. "What makes you imagine so?"

"There was some coal-dust on his messenger."

The Spaniard laughed. "Your eyes are as keen as they are bright, senorita, but your father spoke of business and he does not deal in coal. They use it for the engine at the sugar mill."

"Could I follow him to the mill? I would like to see how they extract the sugar from the cane."

"It is not a good day for that; the machinery will not be running," said the Spaniard, who looked at his wife.

"I meant to take you to the cathedral. Everybody goes on the fiesta," the lady broke in.

Clare agreed. She suspected that her father had not gone to the sugar mill, but this did not matter, and she presently left the house with her hostess. The small and rather dark cathedral was crowded, and Clare, who understood very little of what went on, was impressed by the close rows of kneeling figures, while the candles glimmering through the incense, and the music, had their effect. She came out in a thoughtful mood, partly dazzled by the change of light, and it was with something of a shock she stopped to avoid collision with a man at the bottom of the steps. It was Brandon, and she noted that he looked well again, but although they were face to face and he waited with his eyes fixed on her, she turned away and spoke to her companion. Dick crossed the street with his hand clenched and his face hot, but felt that he had deserved his rebuff. He could not expect Miss Kenwardine to meet him as a friend.

An hour or two later, Kenwardine returned to the house with Richter, the German, and said he found he must drive to a village some distance off to meet an official whom he had expected to see in the town. He doubted if he could get back that night, but a sailing barquillo would take passengers to Santa Brigida, and Clare could go home by her. The girl made no objection when she heard that two French ladies, whom she knew, were returning by the boat, and stayed with her hostess when Kenwardine and Richter left. Towards evening the Spaniard came in and stated that the barquillo had sailed earlier than had been announced, but a steam launch was going to Santa Brigida with some friends of his on board and he could get Clare a passage if she would sooner go. Senor Kenwardine, he added, might drive home by another road without calling there again.

Half an hour later Clare went with him to the coaling wharf, where a launch lay at some steps. A few people were already on board, and her host left after putting her in charge of a Spanish lady. The girl imagined that he was glad to get rid of her, and thought there was something mysterious about her father's movements. Something he had not expected must have happened, because he would not have brought her if he had known he could not take her home. It was, however, not a long run to Santa Brigida, by sea, and the launch, which had a powerful engine, looked fast.

In another few minutes a man came down the steps and threw off a rope before he jumped on board. Taking off his hat to the passengers, he started the engine and sat down at the helm. Clare did not see his face until the launch was gliding away from the wharf, and then hid her annoyance and surprise, for it was Brandon. His eyes rested on her for a moment as he glanced about the boat, but she saw he did not expect recognition. Perhaps she had been wrong when she passed him outside the cathedral, but it was now too late to change her attitude.

The water was smooth, the sun had sunk behind the range, and a warm breeze that ruffled the shining surface with silky ripples blew off the shore. The rumble of the surf came in a deep undertone through the throb of the engine, and the launch sped on with a frothy wave curling at her bows. Now and then Clare glanced quickly at the helmsman, who sat with his arm thrown round the tiller. She thought he looked disturbed, and felt sorry, though she told herself that she had done the proper thing.

After a time the launch swung in towards the beach and stopped at a rude landing behind a reef. Houses showed among the trees not far off and Clare thought this was the pueblo of Arenas. Then she was disturbed to see that all her companions were going to land. When the Spanish lady said good-by she got up, with the idea of following the rest, but Dick stopped her.

"Do you expect Mr. Kenwardine to meet you?" he asked.

"No. I was told the launch was going to Santa Brigida, but didn't know that she was yours."

Dick eyes twinkled. "I am going to Santa Brigida and the boat is one we use, but my colored fireman refused to leave the fiesta. Now you can't stay at Arenas, and I doubt if you can get a mule to take you home, because they'll all have gone to Adexe. But, if you like, we'll go ashore and try."

"You don't think I could find a carriage?" Clare asked irresolutely, seeing that if she now showed herself determined to avoid him, it would be humiliating to be forced to fall back upon his help.

"I don't. Besides, it's some distance to Santa Brigida over a rough, steep road that you'd find very awkward in the dark, while as I can land you in an hour, it seems unnecessary for you to leave the boat here."

"Yes," said Clare, "perhaps it is."

Dick threw some coal into the furnace, and restarted the launch. The throb of the engine was quicker than before, and when a jet of steam blew away from the escape-pipe Clare imagined that he meant to lose no time. She glanced at him as he sat at the helm with a moody face; and then away at the black hills that slid past. The silence was embarrassing and she wondered whether he would break it. On the whole, she wanted him to do so, but would give him no help.

"Of course," he said at length, "you needn't talk if you'd sooner not. But you gave me the cut direct in Adexe, and although I may have deserved it, it hurt."

"I don't see why it should hurt," Clare answered coldly.

"Don't you?" he asked. "Well, you have the right to choose your acquaintances; but I once thought we were pretty good friends and I mightn't have got better if you hadn't taken care of me. That ought to count for something."

Clare blushed, but her eyes sparkled and her glance was steady. "If we are to have an explanation, it must be complete and without reserve. Very well! Why did you change when you were getting better? And why did you hint that I must know you hadn't stolen the plans?"

Dick studied her with some surprise. He had thought her gentle and trustful, but saw that she burned with imperious anger. It certainly was not acting and contradicted the supposition of her guilt.

"If I did hint anything of the kind, I must have been a bit light-headed," he answered awkwardly. "You get morbid fancies when you have fever."

"The fever had nearly gone. You were braver then than you seem to be now."

"I suppose that's true. Sometimes a shock gives you pluck and I got a nasty one as I began to remember things."

Both were silent for the next few moments. Clare's pose was tense and her look strained, but her anger had vanished. Dick thought she was calmer than himself, but after all, she was, so to speak, on her defense and her part was easier than his. He had forgiven her for robbing him; Kenwardine had forced her to do so, and Dick regretted he had not hidden his knowledge of the deed she must have hated. It was bodily weakness that had led him to show his suspicion, but he knew that if they were to be friends again no reserve was possible. As Clare had said, the explanation must be complete. It was strange, after what had happened, that he should want her friendship, but he did want it, more than anything else. Yet she must be told plainly what he had thought her. He shrank from the task.

"What did you remember?" Clare asked, forcing herself to look at him.

"That I had the plans in the left, top pocket of my uniform when I reached your house; I felt to see if they were there as I came up the drive," he answered doggedly. "Soon afterward, you slipped as we went down the steps into the garden and in clutching me your hand caught and pulled the pocket open. It was a deep pocket and the papers could not have fallen out."

"So you concluded that I had stolen them!" Clare said in a cold, strained voice, though her face flushed crimson.

"What else could I think?"

Then, though she tried to hide the breakdown, Clare's nerve gave way. She had forced the crisis in order to clear herself, but saw that she could not do so. Dick's statement was convincing; the papers had been stolen while he was in their house, and she had a horrible suspicion that her father was the thief. It came with a shock, though she had already been tormented by a vague fear of the truth that she had resolutely refused to face. She remembered the men who were at the house on the eventful night. They were somewhat dissipated young sportsmen and not remarkable for intelligence. None of them was likely to take part in such a plot.

"You must understand what a serious thing you are saying," she faltered, trying to doubt him and finding that she could not.

"I do," he said, regarding her with gravely pitiful eyes. "Still, you rather forced it out of me. Perhaps this is a weak excuse, because I had meant to forget the matter."

"But didn't you want to clear yourself and get taken back?"

"No; I knew it was too late. I'd shown I couldn't be trusted with an important job; and I'd made a fresh start here."

His answer touched the girl, and after a quick half-ashamed glance, she thought she had misjudged him. It was not her physical charm that had made him willing to condone her offense, for he showed none of the bold admiration she had shrunk from in other men. Instead, he was compassionate and, she imagined, anxious to save her pain.

She did not answer and turning her head, vacantly watched the shore slide past. The mountains were growing blacker, trails of mist that looked like gauze gathered in the ravines, and specks of light began to pierce the gloom ahead. They marked Santa Brigida, and something must still be said before the launch reached port. It was painful that Brandon should take her guilt for granted, but she feared to declare her innocence.

"You were hurt when I passed you at Adexe," she remarked, without looking at him. "You must, however, see that friendship between us is impossible while you think me a thief."

"I must try to explain," Dick said slowly. "When I recovered my senses at your house after being ill, I felt I must get away as soon as possible, though I ought to have remembered only that you had taken care of me. Still, you see, my mind was weak just then. Afterwards I realized how ungratefully I had behaved. The plans didn't matter; they weren't really of much importance, and I knew if you had taken them, it was because you were forced. That made all the difference; in a way, you were not to blame. I'm afraid," he concluded lamely, "I haven't made it very clear."

Clare was moved by his naive honesty, which seemed to be guarded by something finer than common sense. After all, he had made things clear. He owned that he believed she had taken the plans, and yet he did not think her a thief. On the surface, this was rather involved, but she saw what he meant. Still, it did not carry them very far.

"It is not long since you warned Mr. Fuller against us," she resumed.

"Not against you; that would have been absurd. However, Jake's something of a gambler and your father's friends play for high stakes. The lad was put in my hands by people who trusted me to look after him. I had to justify their confidence."

"Of course. But you must understand that my father and I stand together. What touches him, touches me."

Dick glanced ahead. The lights of Santa Brigida had drawn out in a broken line, and those near the beach were large and bright. A hundred yards away, two twinkling, yellow tracks stretched across the water from the shadowy bulk of a big cargo boat. Farther on, he could see the black end of the mole washed by frothy surf. There was little time for further talk and no excuse for stopping the launch.

"That's true in a sense," he agreed with forced quietness. "I've done you an injustice, Miss Kenwardine; so much is obvious, but I can't understand the rest just yet. I suppose I mustn't ask you to forget the line I took?"

"We can't be friends as if nothing had happened."

Dick made a gesture of moody acquiescence. "Well, perhaps something will clear up the matter by and by. I must wait, because while it's difficult now, I feel it will come right."

A minute or two later he ran the launch alongside a flight of steps on the mole, and helping Clare to land went with her to her house. They said nothing on the way, but she gave him her hand when he left her at the door.



CHAPTER XIV

COMPLICATIONS

It was dark outside the feeble lamplight, and very hot, when Dick sat on his veranda after a day of keen activity in the burning sun. He felt slack and jaded, for he had had difficult work to do and his dusky laborers had flagged under the unusual heat. There was now no touch of coolness in the stagnant air, and although the camp down the valley was very quiet a confused hum of insects came out of the jungle. It rose and fell with a monotonous regularity that jarred upon Dick's nerves as he forced himself to think.

He was in danger of falling in love with Clare Kenwardine; indeed, he suspected that it would be better to face the truth and admit that he had already done so. The prudent course would be to fight against and overcome his infatuation; but suppose he found this impossible, as he feared? It seemed certain that she had stolen his papers; but after all he did not hold her accountable. Some day he would learn more about the matter and find that she was blameless. He had been a fool to think harshly of her, but he knew now that his first judgment was right. Clare, who could not have done anything base and treacherous, was much too good for him. This, however, was not the subject with which he meant to occupy himself, because if he admitted that he hoped to marry Clare, there were serious obstacles in his way.

To begin with, he had made it difficult, if not impossible, for the girl to treat him with the friendliness she had previously shown; besides which, Kenwardine would, no doubt, try to prevent his meeting her, and his opposition would be troublesome. Then it was plainly desirable that she should be separated from her father, who might involve her in his intrigues, because there was ground for believing that he was a dangerous man. In the next place, Dick was far from being able to support a wife accustomed to the extravagance that Kenwardine practised. It might be long before he could offer her the lowest standard of comfort necessary for an Englishwoman in a hot, foreign country.

He felt daunted, but not altogether hopeless, and while he pondered the matter Bethune came in. On the whole, Dick found his visit a relief.

"I expect you'll be glad to hear we can keep the machinery running," Bethune said as he sat down.

Dick nodded. Their fuel was nearly exhausted, for owing to strikes and shortage of shipping Fuller had been unable to keep them supplied.

"Then you have got some coal? As there's none at Santa Brigida just now, where's it coming from?"

"Adexe. Four big lighter loads. Stuyvesant has given orders to have them towed round."

"I understood the Adexe people didn't keep a big stock. The wharf is small."

"So did I, but it seems that Kenwardine came to Stuyvesant and offered him as much as he wanted."

"Kenwardine!" Dick exclaimed.

Bethune lighted his pipe. "Yes, Kenwardine. As the wharf's supposed to be owned by Spaniards, I don't see what he has to do with it, unless he's recently bought them out. Anyhow, it's high-grade navigation coal."

"Better stuff than we need, but the difference in price won't matter if we can keep the concrete mill going," Dick remarked thoughtfully. "Still, it's puzzling. If Kenwardine has bought the wharf, why's he sending the coal away, instead of using it in the regular bunkering trade?"

"There's a hint of mystery about the matter. I expect you heard about the collier tramp that was consigned to the French company at Arucas? Owing to some dispute, they wouldn't take the cargo and the shippers put it on the market. Fuller tried to buy some, but found that another party had got the lot. Well, Stuyvesant believes it was the German, Richter, who bought it up."

"Jake tells me that Richter's a friend of Kenwardine's."

"I didn't know about that," said Bethune. "They may have bought the cargo for some particular purpose, for which they afterwards found it wouldn't be required, and now want to sell some off."

"Then Kenwardine must have more money than I thought."

"The money may be Richter's," Bethune replied. "However, since we'll now have coal enough to last until Fuller sends some out, I don't know that we have any further interest in the matter."

He glanced keenly at Dick's thoughtful face; and then, as the latter did not answer, talked about something else until he got up to go. After he had gone, Dick leaned back in his chair with a puzzled frown. He had met Richter and rather liked him, but the fellow was a German, and it was strange that he should choose an English partner for his speculations, as he seemed to have done. But while Kenwardine was English, Dick's papers had been stolen at his house, and his distrust of the man grew stronger. There was something suspicious about this coal deal, but he could not tell exactly what his suspicions pointed to, and by and by he took up the plan of a culvert they were to begin next morning.

A few days later, Jake and he sat, one night, in the stern of the launch, which lay head to sea about half a mile from the Adexe wharf. The promised coal had not arrived, and, as fuel was running very short at the concrete mill, Dick had gone to see that a supply was sent. It was late when he reached Adexe, and found nobody in authority about, but three loaded lighters were moored at the wharf, and a gang of peons were trimming the coal that was being thrown on board another. Ahead of the craft lay a small tug with steam up. As the half-breed foreman declared that he did not know whether the coal was going to Santa Brigida or not, Dick boarded the tug and found her Spanish captain drinking cana with his engineer. Dick thought one looked at the other meaningly as he entered the small, hot cabin.

"I suppose it's Senor Fuller's coal in the barges, and we're badly in want of it," he said. "As you have steam up, you'll start soon."

"We start, yes," answered the skipper, who spoke some English, and then paused and shrugged. "I do not know if we get to Santa Brigida to-night."

"Why?" Dick asked. "There's not very much wind, and it's partly off the land."

The half-breed engineer described in uncouth Castilian the difficulties he had had with a defective pump and leaking glands, and Dick, who did not understand much of it, went back to his launch. Stopping the craft a short distance from the harbor, he said to Jake: "We'll wait until they start. Somehow I don't think they meant to leave to-night if I hadn't turned them out."

Jake looked to windward. There was a moon in the sky, which was, however, partly obscured by driving clouds. The breeze was strong, but, blowing obliquely off the land did not ruffle the sea much near the beach. A long swell, however, worked in, and farther out the white tops of the combers glistened in the moonlight. Now and then a fresher gust swept off the shadowy coast and the water frothed in angry ripples about the launch.

"They ought to make Santa Brigida, though they'll find some sea running when they reach off-shore to go round the Tajada reef," he remarked.

"There's water enough through the inside channel."

"That's so," Jake agreed. "Still, it's narrow and bad to find in the dark, and I expect the skipper would sooner go outside." Then he glanced astern and said, "They're coming out."

Two white lights, one close above the other, with a pale red glimmer below, moved away from the wharf. Behind them three or four more twinkling red spots appeared, and Dick told the fireman to start the engine half-speed. Steering for the beach, he followed the fringe of surf, but kept abreast of the tug, which held to a course that would take her round the end of the reef.

When the moon shone through he could see her plunge over the steep swell and the white wash at the lighters' bows as they followed in her wake; then as a cloud drove past, their dark hulls faded and left nothing but a row of tossing lights. By and by the launch reached a bend in the coastline and the breeze freshened and drew more ahead. The swell began to break and showers of spray blew on board, while the sea got white off-shore.

"We'll get it worse when we open up the Arenas bight," said Jake as he glanced at the lurching tug. "It looks as if the skipper meant to give the reef a wide berth. He's swinging off to starboard. Watch his smoke."

"You have done some yachting, then?"

"I have," said Jake. "I used to sail a shoal-draught sloop on Long Island Sound. Anyway, if I'd been towing those coal-scows, I'd have edged in near the beach, for the sake of smoother water, and wouldn't have headed out until I saw the reef. It will be pretty wet on board the scows now, and they'll have had to put a man on each to steer."

Dick nodded agreement and signed the fireman to turn on more steam as he followed the tug outshore. The swell got steadily higher and broke in angry surges. The launch plunged, and rattled as she swung her screw out of the sea, but Dick kept his course abreast of the tug, which he could only distinguish at intervals between the clouds of spray. Her masthead lights reeled wildly to and fro, but the low red gleam from the barges was hidden and he began to wonder why her captain was steering out so far. It was prudent not to skirt the reef, but the fellow seemed to be giving it unnecessary room. The lighters would tow badly through the white, curling sea, and there was a risk of the hawsers breaking. Besides, the engineer had complained that his machinery was not running well.

A quarter of an hour later, a belt of foam between them and the land marked the reef, and the wind brought off the roar of breaking surf. Soon afterwards, the white surge faded, and only the tug's lights were left as a long cloud-bank drove across the moon. Jake stood up, shielding his eyes from the spray.

"He's broken his rope; the coal's adrift!" he cried.

Dick saw the tug's lights vanish, which meant that she had turned with her stern towards the launch; and then two or three twinkling specks some distance off.

"He'd tow the first craft with a double rope, a bridle from his quarters," he said. "It's strange that both parts broke, and, so far as I can make out, the tail barge has parted her hawser, too."

A whistle rang out, and Dick called for full-speed as the tug's green light showed.

"We'll help him to pick up the barges," he remarked.

The moon shone out as they approached the nearest, and a bright beam swept across the sea until it touched the lurching craft. Her wet side glistened about a foot above the water and then vanished as a white surge lapped over it and washed across her deck. A rope trailed from her bow and her long tiller jerked to and fro. It was obvious that she was adrift with nobody on board, and Dick cautiously steered the launch towards her.

"That's curious, but perhaps the rest drove foul of her and the helmsman lost his nerve and jumped," he said. "I'll put Maccario on board to give us the hawser."

"Then I'll go with him," Jake offered. "He can't handle the big rope alone."

Dick hesitated. It was important that they should not lose the coal, but he did not want to give the lad a dangerous task. The barge was rolling wildly and he durst not run alongside, while some risk would attend a jump across the three or four feet of water between the craft.

"I think you'd better stop here," he objected.

"I don't," Jake answered with a laugh. "Guess you've got to be logical. You want the coal, and it will take us both to save it."

He followed the fireman, who stood, balancing himself for a spring, on the forward deck, while Dick let the launch swing in as close as he thought safe. The man leapt and Dick watched Jake with keen anxiety as the launch rose with the next comber, but the lad sprang off as the bows went up, and came down with a splash in the water that flowed across the lighter's deck. Then Dick caught the line thrown him and with some trouble dragged the end of the hawser on board. He was surprised to find that it was not broken, but he waved his hand to the others as he drove the launch ahead, steering for the beach, near which he expected to find a passage through the reef.

Before he had gone far the tug steamed towards him with the other barges in tow, apparently bound for Adexe.

"It is not possible to go on," the skipper hailed. "Give me a rope; we take the lighter."

"You shan't take her to Adexe," Dick shouted. "We want the coal."

Though there was danger in getting too close, the captain let the tug drift nearer.

"We bring you the lot when the wind drops."

"No," said Dick, "I'll stick to what I've got."

He could not catch the captain's reply as the tug forged past, but it sounded like an exclamation of anger or surprise, and he looked anxiously for the foam upon the reef. It was some time before he distinguished a glimmer in the dark, for the moon was hidden and his progress was slow. The lighter was big and heavily laden, and every now and then her weight, putting a sudden strain on the hawser, jerked the launch to a standstill. It was worse when, lifting with the swell, she sheered off at an angle to her course, and Dick was forced to maneuver with helm and engine to bring her in line again, at some risk of fouling the hawser with the screw. He knew little about towing, but he had handled small sailing boats before he learned to use the launch. The coal was badly needed and must be taken to Santa Brigida, though an error of judgment might lead to the loss of the barge and perhaps of his comrade's life.

The phosphorescent gleam of the surf got plainer and the water smoother, for the reef was now to windward and broke the sea, but the moon was still covered, and Dick felt some tension as he skirted the barrier. He did not know if he could find the opening or tow the lighter through the narrow channel. The surf, however, was of help, for it flashed into sheets of spangled radiance as it washed across the reef, leaving dark patches among the lambent foam. The patches had a solid look, and Dick knew that they were rocks.

At length he saw a wider break in the belt of foam, and the sharper plunging of the launch showed that the swell worked through. This was the mouth of the channel, and there was water enough to float the craft if he could keep off the rocks. Snatching the engine-lamp from its socket, he waved it and blew the whistle. A shout reached him and showed that the others understood.

Dick felt his nerves tingle when he put the helm over and the hawser tightened as the lighter began to swing. If she took too wide a sweep, he might be unable to check her before she struck the reef, and there seemed to be a current flowing through the gap. Glancing astern for a moment, he saw her dark hull swing through a wide curve while the strain on the hawser dragged the launch's stern down, but she came round and the tension slackened as he steered up the channel.

For a time he had less trouble than he expected; but the channel turned at its outer end and wind and swell would strike at him at an awkward angle, when he took the bend. As he entered it, the moon shone out, and he saw the black top of a rock dangerously close to leeward. He waved the lantern, but the lighter, with sea and current on her weather bow, forged almost straight ahead, and the straining hawser dragged the launch back. Reaching forward, Dick opened the throttle valve to its limit, and then sat grim and still while the throb of the screw shook the trembling hull. Something would happen in the next half minute unless he could get the lighter round. Glancing back, he saw her low, wet side shine in the moonlight. Two dark figures stood aft by the tiller, and he thought the foam about the rock was only a fathom or two away.

The launch was hove down on her side. Though the screw thudded furiously, she seemed to gain no ground, and then the strain on the hawser suddenly slackened. Dick wondered whether it had broken, but he would know in the next few seconds; there was a sharp jerk, the launch was dragged to leeward, but recovered and forged ahead. She plunged her bows into a broken swell and the spray filled Dick's eyes, but when he could see again the foam was sliding past and a gap widened between the lighter's hull and the white wash on the rock.

The water was deep ahead, and since he could skirt the beach and the wind came strongly off the land, the worst of his difficulties seemed to be past. Still, it would be a long tow to Santa Brigida, and bracing himself for the work, he lit his pipe.



CHAPTER XV

THE MISSING COAL

Early next morning Dick stood in front of the Hotel Magellan, where he had slept for a few hours after his return, and was somewhat surprised to see that Jake had got up before him and was talking to a pretty, dark-skinned girl. She carried a large bunch of flowers and a basket of fruit stood close by, while Jake seemed to be persuading her to part with some.

Dick stopped and watched them, for the glow of color held his eye. Jake's white duck caught the strong sunlight, while the girl's dark hair and eyes were relieved by the brilliant lemon-tinted wall and the mass of crimson bloom. Her attitude was coquettish, and Jake regarded her with an ingratiating smile. After a few moments, however, Dick went down the street and presently heard his comrade following him. When the lad came up, he saw that he had a basket of dark green fruit and a bunch of the red flowers.

"I thought you were asleep. Early rising is not a weakness of yours," he said.

"As it happens, I didn't sleep at all," Jake replied. "Steering that unhandy coal-scow rather got upon my nerves and when she took the awkward sheer as we came through the reef the tiller knocked Maccario down and nearly broke my ribs. I had to stop the helm going the wrong way somehow."

Dick nodded. It was obvious that the lad had been quick and cool at a critical time, but his twinkling smile showed that he was now in a different mood.

"You seem to have recovered. But why couldn't you leave the girl alone?"

"I'm not sure she'd have liked that," Jake replied. "It's a pity you have no artistic taste, or you might have seen what a picture she made."

"As a matter of fact, I did see it, but she has, no doubt, a half-breed lover who'd seriously misunderstand your admiration, which might lead to your getting stabbed some night. Anyhow, why did you buy the flowers?"

"For one thing, she was taking them to the Magellan, and I couldn't stand for seeing that blaze of color wasted on the guzzling crowd you generally find in a hotel dining-room."

"That doesn't apply to the fruit. You can't eat those things. They preserve them."

"Eat them!" Jake exclaimed with a pitying look. "Well, I suppose it's the only use you have for fruit." He took a stalk fringed with rich red bloom and laid it across the dark green fruit, which was packed among glossy leaves. "Now, perhaps, you'll see why I bought it. I rather think it makes a dainty offering."

"Ah!" said Dick. "To whom do you propose to offer it?"

"Miss Kenwardine," Jake replied with a twinkle; "though of course her proper color's Madonna blue."

Dick said nothing, but walked on, and when Jake asked where he was going, answered shortly: "To the telephone."

"Well," said Jake, "knowing you as I do, I suspected something of the kind. With the romance of the South all round you, you can't rise above concrete and coal."

He followed Dick to the public telephone office and sat down in the box with the flowers in his hands. A line had recently been run along the coast, and although the service was bad, Dick, after some trouble, got connected with a port official at Arenas.

"Did a tug and three coal barges put into your harbor last night?" he asked.

"No, senor," was the answer, and Dick asked for the coal wharf at Adexe.

"Why didn't you call them first?" Jake inquired.

"I had a reason. The tug was standing to leeward when she left us, but if her skipper meant to come back to Santa Brigida, he'd have to put into Arenas, where he'd find shelter."

"Then you're not sure he meant to come back?"

"I've some doubts," Dick answered dryly, and was told that he was connected with the Adexe wharf.

"What about the coal for the Fuller irrigation works?" he asked.

"The tug and four lighters left last night," somebody answered in Castilian, and Dick imagined from the harshness of the voice that one of the wharf-hands was speaking.

"That is so," he said. "Has she returned yet?"

"No, senor," said the man. "The tug——"

He broke off, and there was silence for some moments, after which a different voice took up the conversation in English.

"Sorry it may be a day or two before we can send more of your coal. The tug's engines——"

"Has she got back?" Dick demanded sharply.

"Speak louder; I cannot hear."

Dick did so, but the other did not seem to understand.

"In two or three days. You have one lighter."

"We have. I want to know if the tug——"

"The damage is not serious," the other broke in.

"Then I'm to understand she's back in port?"

A broken murmur answered, but by and by Dick caught the words, "Not longer than two days."

Then he rang off, and pushing Jake's chair out of the way, shut the door.

"It's plain that they don't mean to tell me what I want to know," he remarked. "The first man might have told the truth, if they had let him, but somebody pulled him away. My opinion is that the tug's not at Adexe and didn't go there."

They went back to the hotel, and Dick sat down on a bench in the patio and lighted his pipe.

"There's something very curious about the matter," he said.

"When the tug left us she seemed to be heading farther off shore than was necessary," Jake agreed. "Still, the broken water wouldn't matter so much when she had the wind astern."

"Her skipper wouldn't run off his course and lengthen the distance because the wind was fair."

"No, I don't suppose he would."

"Well," said Dick, "my impression is that he didn't mean to start at all, and wouldn't have done so if I hadn't turned him out."

Jake laughed. "After all, there's no use in making a mystery out of nothing. The people offered us the coal, and you don't suspect a dark plot to stop the works. What would they gain by that?"

"Nothing that I can see. I don't think they meant to stop the works; but they wanted the coal. It's not at Adexe, and there's no other port the tug could reach. Where has it gone?"

"It doesn't seem to matter, so long as we get a supply before our stock runs out."

"Try to look at the thing as I do," Dick insisted with a frown. "I forced the skipper to go to sea, and as soon as he had a good excuse his tow-rope parted, besides which the last barge went adrift from the rest. Her hawser, however, wasn't broken. It was slipped from the craft she was made fast to. Then, though the tug's engines were out of order, she steamed to leeward very fast and, I firmly believe, hasn't gone back to Adexe."

"I expect there's a very simple explanation," Jake replied. "The truth is you have a rather senseless suspicion of Kenwardine."

"I'll own I don't trust him," Dick answered quietly.

Jake made an impatient gesture. "Let's see if we can get breakfast, because I'm going to his house afterwards."

"They won't have got up yet."

"It's curious that you don't know more about their habits after living there. Miss Kenwardine goes out with Lucille before the sun gets hot, and her father's about as early as you are."

"What does he do in the morning?"

"I haven't inquired, but I've found him in the room he calls his office. You're misled by the idea that his occupation is gambling."

Dick did not reply, and was silent during breakfast. He understood Jake's liking for Kenwardine because there was no doubt the man had charm. His careless, genial air set one at one's ease; he had a pleasant smile, and a surface frankness that inspired confidence. Dick admitted that if he had not lost the plans at his house, he would have found it difficult to suspect him. But Jake was right on one point; Kenwardine might play for high stakes, but gambling was not his main occupation. He had some more important business. The theft of the plans, however, offered no clue to this. Kenwardine was an adventurer and might have thought he could sell the drawings, but since he had left England shortly afterwards, it was evident that he was not a regular foreign spy. It was some relief to think so, and although there was a mystery about the coal, which Dick meant to fathom if he could, nothing indicated that Kenwardine's trickery had any political aim.

Dick dismissed the matter and remembered with half-jealous uneasiness that Jake seemed to know a good deal about Kenwardine's household. The lad, of course, had gone to make inquiries when he was ill, and had probably been well received. He was very little younger than Clare, and Fuller was known to be rich. It would suit Kenwardine if Jake fell in love with the girl, and if not, his extravagance might be exploited. For all that, Dick determined that his comrade should not be victimized.

When breakfast was over they left the hotel and presently met Clare, who was followed by Lucille carrying a basket. She looked very fresh and cool in her white dress. On the whole, Dick would sooner have avoided the meeting, but Jake stopped and Clare included Dick in her smile of greeting.

"I have been to the market with Lucille," she said. "The fruit and the curious things they have upon the stalls are worth seeing. But you seem to have been there, though I did not notice you."

"No," said Jake, indicating the flowers and fruit he carried. "I got these at the hotel. The colors matched so well that I felt I couldn't let them go, and then it struck me that you might like them. Dick warned me that the things are not eatable in their present state, which is a pretty good example of his utilitarian point of view."

Clare laughed as she thanked him, and he resumed: "Lucille has enough to carry, and I'd better bring the basket along."

"Very well," said Clare. "My father was getting up when I left."

Dick said nothing, and stood a yard or two away. The girl had met him without embarrassment, but it was Jake she had addressed. He felt that he was, so to speak, being left out.

"Then I'll come and talk to him for a while," said Jake. "I don't know a nicer place on a hot morning than your patio."

"But what about your work? Are you not needed at the dam?"

"My work can wait. I find from experience that it will keep for quite a long time without shriveling away, though often it gets very stale. Anyhow, after being engaged on the company's business for the most part of last night, I'm entitled to a rest. My partner, of course, doesn't look at things like that. He's going back as fast as he can."

Dick hid his annoyance at the hint. It was impossible to prevent the lad from going to Kenwardine's when Clare was there to hear his objections, and he had no doubt that Jake enjoyed his embarrassment. Turning away, he tried to forget the matter by thinking about the coal. Since Kenwardine was at home, it was improbable that he had been at Adexe during the night. If Clare had a part in her father's plots, she might, of course, have made the statement about his getting up with an object, but Dick would not admit this. She had helped the man once, but this was an exception, and she must have yielded to some very strong pressure. For all that, Dick hoped his comrade would not tell Kenwardine much about their trip in the launch.

As a matter of fact, Jake handled the subject with some judgment when Kenwardine, who had just finished his breakfast, gave him coffee in the patio. They sat beneath the purple creeper while the sunshine crept down the opposite wall. The air was fresh and the murmur of the surf came languidly across the flat roofs.

"Aren't you in town unusually early?" Kenwardine asked.

"Well," said Jake with a twinkle, "you see we got here late."

"Then Brandon was with you. This makes it obvious that you spent a perfectly sober night."

Jake laughed. He liked Kenwardine and meant to stick to him, but although rash and extravagant, he was sometimes shrewd, and admitted that there might perhaps be some ground for Dick's suspicions. He was entitled to lose his own money, but he must run no risk of injuring his father's business. However, since Kenwardine had a share in the coaling wharf, he would learn that they had been to Adexe, and to try to hide this would show that they distrusted him.

"Our occupation was innocent but rather arduous," he said. "We went to Adexe in the launch to see when our coal was coming."

"Did you get it? The manager told me something about the tug's engines needing repairs."

"We got one scow that broke adrift off the Tajada reef. They had to turn back with the others."

"Then perhaps I'd better telephone to find out what they mean to do," Kenwardine suggested.

Jake wondered whether he wished to learn if they had already made inquiries, and thought frankness was best.

"Brandon called up the wharf as soon as the office was open, but didn't get much information. Something seemed to be wrong with the wire."

"I suppose he wanted to know when the coal would leave?"

"Yes," said Jake. "But he began by asking if the tug had come back safe, and got no further, because the other fellow couldn't hear."

"Why was he anxious about the tug?"

Kenwardine's manner was careless, but Jake imagined he felt more interest than he showed.

"It was blowing pretty fresh when she left us, and if the scows had broken adrift again, there'd have been some risk of losing them. This would delay the delivery of the coal, and we're getting very short of fuel."

"I see," said Kenwardine. "Well, if anything of the kind had happened, I would have heard of it. You needn't be afraid of not getting a supply."

Jake waited. He thought it might look significant if he showed any eagerness to change the subject, but when Kenwardine began to talk about something else he followed his lead. Half an hour later he left the house, feeling that he had used commendable tact, but determined not to tell Brandon about the interview. Dick had a habit of exaggerating the importance of things, and since he already distrusted Kenwardine, Jake thought it better not to give him fresh ground for suspicion. There was no use in supplying his comrade with another reason for preventing his going to the house.



CHAPTER XVI

JAKE GETS INTO DIFFICULTIES

Day was breaking, though it was still dark at the foot of the range, when Dick returned wearily to his iron shack after a night's work at the dam. There had been a local subsidence of the foundations on the previous afternoon, and he could not leave the spot until precautions had been taken to prevent the danger spreading. Bethune came with him to look at some plans, and on entering the veranda they were surprised to find the house well lighted and smears of mud and water upon the floor.

"Looks as if a bathing party had been walking round the shack, and your boy had tried to clean up when he was half-asleep," Bethune said.

Dick called his colored servant and asked him: "Why are all the lights burning, and what's this mess?"

"Senor Fuller say he no could see the chairs."

"Why did he want to see them?"

"He fall on one, senor; t'row it wit' mucha force and fall on it again. Say dozenas of malditos sillas. If he fall other time, he kill my head."

"Ah!" said Dick sharply. "Where is he now?"

"He go in your bed, senor."

"What has happened is pretty obvious," Bethune remarked. "Fuller came home with a big jag on and scared this fellow. We'd better see if he's all right."

Dick took him into his bedroom and the negro followed. The room was very hot and filled with a rank smell of kerosene, for the lamp was smoking and the negro explained that Jake had threatened him with violence if he turned it down. The lad lay with a flushed face on Dick's bed; his muddy boots sticking out from under the crumpled coverlet. He seemed to be fully dressed and his wet clothes were smeared with foul green slime. There was a big red lump on his forehead.

"Why didn't you put him into his own bed?" Dick asked the negro.

"He go in, senor, and come out quick. Say no possible he stop. Maldito bed is damp."

Bethune smiled. "There'll be a big washbasket for the lavenderas to-morrow, but we must take his wet clothes off." He shook Jake. "You've got to wake up!"

After a time Jake opened his eyes and blinked at Bethune. "All right! You're not as fat as Salvador, and you can catch that chair. The fool thing follows me and keeps getting in my way."

"Come out," Bethune ordered him, and turned to the negro. "Where's his pyjamas?"

Salvador brought a suit, and Dick, who dragged Jake out of bed, asked: "How did you get into this mess?"

"Fell into pond behind the dam; not safe that pond. Put a shingle up to-morrow, 'Keep off the grass.' No, that'sh not right. Let'sh try again. 'Twenty dollars fine if you spit on the sidewalk.'"

Bethune grinned at Dick. "It's not an unusual notice in some of our smaller towns, and one must admit it's necessary. However, we want to get him into dry clothes."

Jake gave them some trouble, but they put him in a re-made bed and went back to the verandah, where Bethune sat down.

"Fuller has his good points, but I guess you find him something of a responsibility," he remarked.

"I do," said Dick, with feeling. "Still, this is the first time he has come home the worse for liquor. I'm rather worried about it, because it's a new trouble."

"And you had enough already?" Bethune suggested. "Well, though you're not very old yet, I think Miss Fuller did well to make you his guardian, and perhaps I'm to blame for his relapse, because I sent him to Santa Brigida. Francois was busy and there were a number of bills to pay for stores we bought in the town. I hope Fuller hasn't lost the money!"

Dick felt disturbed, but he said, "I don't think so. Jake's erratic, but he's surprised me by his prudence now and then."

Bethune left soon afterwards, and Dick went to bed, but got up again after an hour or two and began his work without seeing Jake. They did not meet during the day, and Dick went home to his evening meal uncertain what line to take. He had no real authority, and finding Jake languid and silent, decided to say nothing about his escapade. When the meal was finished, they left the hot room, as usual, for the verandah, and Jake dropped listlessly into a canvas chair.

"I allow you're more tactful than I thought," he remarked with a feeble smile. "Guess I was pretty drunk last night."

"It looked rather like it from your clothes and the upset in the house," Dick agreed.

Jake looked thoughtful. "Well," he said ingenuously, "I have been on a jag before, but I really don't often indulge in that kind of thing, and don't remember drinking enough to knock me out. You see, Kenwardine's a fastidious fellow and sticks to wine. The sort he keeps is light."

"Then you got drunk at his house? I'd sooner have heard you were at the casino, where the Spaniards would have turned you out."

"You don't know the worst yet," Jake replied hesitatingly. "As I'm in a very tight place, I'd better 'fess up. Francois doesn't seem to have told you that I tried to draw my pay for some months ahead."

"Ah!" said Dick, remembering with uneasiness what he had learned from Bethune. "That sounds ominous. Did you——"

"Let me get it over," Jake interrupted. "Richter was there, besides a Spanish fellow, and a man called Black. We'd been playing cards, and I'd won a small pile when my luck began to turn. It wasn't long before I was cleaned out and heavily in debt. Kenwardine said I'd had enough and had better quit. I sometimes think you don't quite do the fellow justice."

"Never mind that," said Dick. "I suppose you didn't stop?"

"No; I took a drink that braced me up and soon afterwards thought I saw my chance. The cards looked pretty good, and I put up a big bluff and piled on all I had."

"But you had nothing; you'd lost what you began with."

Jake colored. "Bethune had given me a check to bearer."

"I was afraid of that," Dick said gravely. "But go on."

"I thought I'd bluff them, but Black and the Spaniard told me to play, though Kenwardine held back at first. Said they didn't want to take advantage of my rashness and I couldn't make good. Well, I saw how I could put it over, and it looked as if they couldn't stop me, until Black brought out a trump I didn't think he ought to have. After that I don't remember much, but imagine I turned on the fellow and made some trouble."

"Can you remember how the cards went?"

"No," said Dick awkwardly, "not now, and I may have been mistaken about the thing. I believe I fell over the table and they put me on a couch. After a time, I saw there was nobody in the room, and thought I'd better get out." He paused and added with a flush: "I was afraid Miss Kenwardine might find me in the morning."

"You can't pay back the money you lost?"

"I can't. The check will show in the works' accounts and there'll sure be trouble if the old man hears of it."

Dick was silent for a few moments. It was curious that Jake had tried to defend Kenwardine; but this did not matter. The lad's anxiety and distress were plain.

"If you'll leave the thing entirely in my hands, I'll see what can be done," he said. "I'll have to tell Bethune."

"I'll do whatever you want, if you'll help me out," Jake answered eagerly, and after asking some questions about his losses, Dick went to Bethune's shack.

Bethune listened thoughtfully to what he had to say, and then remarked: "We'll take it for granted that you mean to see him through. Have you enough money?"

"No; that's why I came."

"You must get the check back, anyhow," said Bethune, who opened a drawer and took out a roll of paper currency. "Here's my pile, and it's at your service, but it won't go far enough."

"I think it will, with what I can add," said Dick, after counting the bills. "You see, I don't mean to pay the full amount."

Bethune looked at him and smiled. "Well, that's rather unusual, but if they made him drunk and the game was not quite straight! Have you got his promise not to play again?"

"I haven't. What I'm going to do will make it awkward, if not impossible. Besides, he'll have no money. I'll stop what he owes out of his pay."

"A good plan! However, I won't lend you the money; I'll lend it Jake, which makes him responsible. But your pay's less than mine, and you'll have to economize for the next few months."

"That won't matter," Dick answered quietly. "I owe Fuller something, and I like the lad."

He went back to his shack and said to Jake, "We'll be able to clear off the debt, but you must ask no questions and agree to any arrangement I think it best to make."

"You're a good sort," Jake said with feeling; but Dick cut short his thanks and went off to bed.

Next morning he started for Santa Brigida, and when he reached Kenwardine's house met Clare on a balcony at the top of the outside stairs. Somewhat to his surprise, she stopped him with a sign, and then stood silent for a moment, looking disturbed.

"Mr. Brandon," she said hesitatingly, "I resented your trying to prevent Mr. Fuller coming here, but I now think it better that he should keep away. He's young and extravagant, and perhaps——"

"Yes," said Dick, who felt sympathetic, knowing what her admission must have cost. "I'm afraid he's also rather unsteady."

Clare looked at him with some color in her face. "I must be frank. Something happened recently that showed me he oughtn't to come. I don't think I realized this before."

"Then you know what happened?"

"Not altogether," Clare replied. "But I learned enough to alarm and surprise me. You must understand that I didn't suspect——" She paused with signs of confusion and then resumed: "Of course, people of different kinds visit my father on business, and sometimes stay an hour or two afterwards, and he really can't be held responsible for them. The customs of the country force him to be friendly; you know in Santa Brigida one's office is something like an English club. Well, a man who doesn't come often began a game of cards and when Mr. Fuller——"

"Just so," said Dick as quietly as he could. "Jake's rash and not to be trusted when there are cards about; indeed, I expect he's a good deal to blame, but I'm now going to ask your father not to encourage his visits. I've no doubt he'll see the reason for this."

"I'm sure he'll help you when he understands," Clare replied, and after giving Dick a grateful look moved away.

Dick went along the balcony, thinking hard. It was obvious that Clare had found the interview painful, though he had tried to make it easier for her. She had been alarmed, but he wondered whether she had given him the warning out of tenderness for Jake. It was probable that she really thought Kenwardine was not to blame, but it must have been hard to acknowledge that his house was a dangerous place for an extravagant lad. Still, a girl might venture much when fighting for her lover. Dick frowned as he admitted this. Jake was a good fellow in spite of certain faults, but it was disturbing to think that Clare might be in love with him.

It was something of a relief when Kenwardine met him at the door of his room and took him in. Dick felt that tact was not so needful now, because the hospitality shown him was counterbalanced by the theft of the plans, and he held Kenwardine, not Clare, accountable for this. Kenwardine indicated a chair, and then sat down.

"As you haven't been here since you got better, I imagine there's some particular reason for this call," he said, with a smile.

"That is so," Dick agreed. "I've come on Fuller's behalf. He gave you a check the other night. Have you cashed it yet?"

"No. I imagined he might want to redeem it."

"He does; but, to begin with, I'd like to know how much he lost before he staked the check. I understand he increased the original stakes during the game."

"I dare say I could tell you, but I don't see your object."

"I'll explain it soon. We can't get on until I know the sum."

Kenwardine took a small, card-scoring book from a drawer, and after a few moments stated the amount Jake had lost.

"Thank you," said Dick. "I'll pay you the money now in exchange for the check."

"But he lost the check as well."

Dick hesitated. He had a repugnant part to play, since he must accuse the man who had taken him into his house when he was wounded of conspiring to rob a drunken lad. For all that, his benefactor's son should not be ruined, and he meant to separate him from Kenwardine.

"I think not," he answered coolly. "But suppose we let that go? The check is worthless, because payment can be stopped, but I'm willing to give you what Fuller had already lost."

Kenwardine raised his eyebrows in ironical surprise. "This is a somewhat extraordinary course. Is Mr. Fuller in the habit of disowning his debts? You know the rule about a loss at cards."

"Fuller has left the thing in my hands, and you must hold me responsible. I mean to stick to the line I've taken."

"Then perhaps you won't mind explaining on what grounds you take it."

"Since you insist! Fuller was drunk when he made the bet. As you were his host, it was your duty to stop the game."

"The exact point when an excited young man ceases to be sober is remarkably hard to fix," Kenwardine answered dryly. "It would be awkward for the host if he fixed it too soon, and insulting to the guest."

"That's a risk you should have taken. For another thing, Fuller states that a trump was played by a man who ought not to have had it."

Kenwardine smiled. "Doesn't it strike you that you're urging conflicting reasons? First you declare that Fuller was drunk, and then that he was able to detect clever players at cheating. Your argument contradicts itself and is plainly absurd."

"Anyhow, I mean to urge it," Dick said doggedly.

"Well," said Kenwardine with a steady look, "I've no doubt you see what this implies. You charge me with a plot to intoxicate your friend and take a mean advantage of his condition."

"No; I don't go so far. I think you should have stopped the game, but Fuller accuses a man called Black of playing the wrong card. In fact, I admit that you don't mean to harm him, by taking it for granted that you'll let me have the check, because if you kept it, you'd have some hold on him."

"A firm hold," Kenwardine remarked.

Dick had partly expected this, and had his answer ready. "Not so firm as you think. If there was no other way, it would force me to stop payment and inform my employer. It would be much better that Jake should have to deal with his father than with your friends."

"You seem to have thought over the matter carefully," Kenwardine rejoined. "Well, personally, I'm willing to accept your offer and give up the check; but I must consult the others, since their loss is as much as mine. Will you wait while I go to the telephone?"

Dick waited for some time, after which Kenwardine came back and gave him the check. As soon as he got it Dick left the house, satisfied because he had done what he had meant to do, and yet feeling doubtful. Kenwardine had given way too easily. It looked as if he was not convinced that he must leave Fuller alone.

On reaching the dam Dick gave Jake the check and told him how he had got it. The lad flushed angrily, but was silent for a moment, and then gave Dick a curious look.

"I can't deny your generosity, and I'll pay you back; but you see the kind of fellow you make me out."

"I told Kenwardine you left me to deal with the matter, and the plan was mine," said Dick.

Jake signified by a gesture that the subject must be dropped. "As I did agree to leave it to you, I can't object. After all, I expect you meant well."



CHAPTER XVII

THE BLACK-FUNNEL BOAT

The breeze had fallen and the shining sea was smooth as glass when the launch passed Adexe. Dick, who lounged at the helm, was not going there. Some alterations to a mole along the coast had just been finished, and Stuyvesant had sent him to engage the contractor who had done the concrete work. Jake, who occasionally found his duties irksome, had insisted on coming.

As they crossed the mouth of the inlet, Dick glanced shorewards through his glasses. The whitewashed coal-sheds glistened dazzlingly, and a fringe of snowy surf marked the curve of beach, but outside this a belt of cool, blue water extended to the wharf. The swell surged to and fro among the piles, checkered with purple shadows and laced with threads of foam, but it was the signs of human activity that occupied Dick's attention. He noticed the cloud of dust that rolled about the mounds of coal upon the wharf and blurred the figures of the toiling peons, and the way the tubs swung up and down from the hatches of an American collier until the rattle of her winches suddenly broke off.

"They seem to be doing a big business," he remarked. "It looks as if that boat had stopped discharging, but she must have landed a large quantity of coal."

"There's pretty good shelter at Adexe," Jake replied. "In ordinary weather, steamers can come up to the wharf, instead of lying a quarter of a mile off, as they do at Santa Brigida. However, there's not much cargo shipped, and a captain who wanted his bunkers filled would have to make a special call with little chance of picking up any freight. That must tell against the place."

They were not steaming fast, and just before a projecting point shut in the inlet the deep blast of a whistle rang across the water and the collier's dark hull swung out from the wharf. A streak of foam, cut sharply between her black side and the shadowed blue of the sea, marked her load-line, and she floated high, but not as if she were empty.

"Going on somewhere else to finish, I guess," said Jake. "How much do you reckon she has discharged?"

"Fifteen hundred tons, if she was full when she came in, and I imagine they hadn't much room in the sheds before. I wonder where Kenwardine gets the money, unless his friend, Richter, is rich."

"Richter has nothing to do with the business," Jake replied. "He was to have had a share, but they couldn't come to a satisfactory agreement."

Dick looked at him sharply. "How do you know?"

"I really don't know much. Kenwardine said something about it one night when I was at his house."

"Did somebody ask him?"

"No," said Jake, "I don't think so. The subject, so to speak, cropped up and he offered us the information."

Then he talked of something else and soon afterwards the coast receded as they crossed a wide bay. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when they reached the farthest point from land. There was no wind, and in the foreground the sea ran in long undulations whose backs blazed with light. Farther off, the gentle swell was smoothed out and became an oily expanse that faded into the glitter on the horizon, but at one point the latter was faintly blurred. A passing vessel, Dick thought, and occupied himself with the engine, for he had not brought the fireman. Looking round some time afterwards, he saw that the ship had got more distinct and picked up his glasses.

She was a two-masted steamer and, cut off by the play of reflected light, floated like a mirage between sky and sea. After studying her for a minute, Dick gave Jake the glasses.

"It's a curious effect, but not uncommon on a day like this," he said. "She's like the big Spanish boats and has their tall black funnel."

"She's very like them," Jake agreed. "There's no smoke, and no wash about her. It looks as if they'd had some trouble in the engine-room and she'd stopped."

Dick nodded and glanced across the dazzling water towards the high, blue coast. He did not think the steamer could be seen from the land, and the launch would, no doubt, be invisible from her deck, but this was not important and he began to calculate how long it would take them to reach a point ahead. Some time later, he looked round again. The steamer was fading in the distance, but no smoke trailed behind her and he did not think she had started yet. His attention, however, was occupied by the headland he was steering for, because he thought it marked the neighborhood of their port.

He spent an hour in the place before he finished his business and started home, and when they were about half-way across the bay the light began to fade. The sun had sunk and the high land cut, harshly blue, against a saffron glow; the sea was shadowy and colorless in the east. Presently Jake, who sat facing aft, called out:

"There's a steamer's masthead light coming up astern of us. Now I see her side lights, and by the distance between them she's a big boat."

Dick changed his course, because the steamer's three lights would not have been visible unless she was directly following him and the launch's small yellow funnel and dingy white topsides would be hard to distinguish. When he had shut out one of the colored side lights and knew he was safe, he stopped the engine to wait until the vessel passed. There was no reason why he should do so, but somehow he felt interested in the ship. Lighting his pipe, he studied her through the glasses, which he gave to Jake.

"She's the boat we saw before," he said.

"That's so," Jake agreed. "Her engines are all right now because she's steaming fast."

Dick nodded, for he had marked the mass of foam that curled and broke away beneath the vessel's bow, but Jake resumed: "It looks as if her dynamo had stopped. There's nothing to be seen but her navigation lights and she's certainly a passenger boat. They generally glitter like a gin-saloon."

The ship was getting close now and Dick, who asked for the glasses, examined her carefully as she came up, foreshortened, on their quarter. Her dark bow looked very tall and her funnel loomed, huge and shadowy, against the sky. Above its top the masthead light shed a yellow glimmer, and far below, the sea leapt and frothed about the line of hull. This drew out and lengthened as she came abreast of them, but now he could see the tiers of passenger decks, one above the other, there was something mysterious in the gloom that reigned on board. No ring of light pierced her long dark side and the gangways behind the rails and rows of stanchions looked like shadowy caves. In the open spaces, forward and aft, however, bodies of men were gathered, their clothes showing faintly white, but they stood still in a compact mass until a whistle blew and the indistinct figures scattered across the deck.

"A big crew," Jake remarked. "Guess they've been putting them through a boat or fire drill."

Dick did not answer, but when the vessel faded into a hazy mass ahead he started the engine and steered into her eddying wake, which ran far back into the dark. Then after a glance at the compass, he beckoned Jake. "Look how she's heading."

Jake told him and he nodded. "I made it half a point more to port, but this compass swivels rather wildly. Where do you think she's bound?"

"To Santa Brigida; but, as you can see, not direct. I expect her skipper wants to take a bearing from the Adexe lights. You are going there and her course is the same as ours."

"No," said Dick; "I'm edging in towards the land rather short of Adexe. As we have the current on our bow, I want to get hold of the beach as soon as I can, for the sake of slacker water. Anyway, a big boat would keep well clear of the shore until she passed the Tajada reef."

"Then she may be going into Adexe for coal."

"That vessel wouldn't float alongside the wharf, and her skipper would sooner fill his bunkers where he'd get passengers and freight."

"Well, I expect we'll find her at Santa Brigida when we arrive."

They looked round, but the sea was now dark and empty and they let the matter drop. When they crossed the Adexe bight no steamer was anchored near, but a cluster of lights on the dusky beach marked the coaling wharf.

"They're working late," Dick said. "Can you see the tug?"

"You'd have to run close in before you could do so," Jake replied. "I expect they're trimming the coal the collier landed into the sheds."

"It's possible," Dick agreed, and after hesitating for a few moments held on his course. He remembered that one can hear a launch's engines and the splash of torn-up water for some distance on a calm night.

After a time, the lights of Santa Brigida twinkled ahead, and when they steamed up to the harbor both looked about. The American collier and a big cargo-boat lay with the reflections of their anchor-lights quivering on the swell, but there was no passenger liner to be seen. A man came to moor the launch when they landed, and Jake asked if the vessel he described had called.

"No, senor," said the man. "The only boats I know like that are the Cadiz liners, and the next is not due for a fortnight."

"Her model's a pretty common one for big passenger craft," Jake remarked to Dick as they went up the mole. "Still, the thing's curious. She wasn't at Adexe and she hasn't been here. She certainly passed us, steering for the land, and I don't see where she could have gone."

Dick began to talk about something else, but next morning asked Stuyvesant for a day's leave. Stuyvesant granted it and Dick resumed: "Do you mind giving me a blank order form? I'm going to Adexe, and the storekeeper wants a few things we can't get in Santa Brigida."

Stuyvesant signed the form. "There it is. The new coaling people seem an enterprising crowd, and you can order anything they can supply."

Dick hired a mule and took the steep inland road; but on reaching Adexe went first to the sugar mill and spent an hour with the American engineer, whose acquaintance he had made. Then, having, as he thought, accounted for his visit, he went to the wharf and carefully looked about as he made his way to the manager's office.

A few grimy peons were brushing coal-dust off the planks, their thinly-clad forms silhouetted against the shining sea. Their movements were languid, and Dick wondered whether this was due to the heat or if it was accounted for by forced activity on the previous night. A neatly built stack of coal stood beside the whitewashed sheds, but nothing suggested that it had been recently broken into. Passing it carelessly Dick glanced into the nearest shed, which was almost full, though its proximity to deep water indicated that supplies would be drawn from it before the other. Feeling rather puzzled, he stopped in front of the next shed and noted that there was much less coal in this. Moreover, a large number of empty bags lay near the entrance, as if they had been used recently and the storekeeper had not had time to put them away.

Two men were folding up the bags, but, by contrast with the glitter outside, the shed was dark, and Dick's eyes were not accustomed to the gloom. Still he thought one of the men was Oliva, the contractor whom Stuyvesant had dismissed. Next moment the fellow turned and threw a folded bag aside, after which he walked towards the other end of the shed. His movements were leisurely, but he kept his back to Dick and the latter thought this significant, although he was not sure the man had seen him.

As he did not want to be seen loitering about the sheds, he walked on, feeling puzzled. Since he did not know what stock the company had held, it was difficult to tell if coal had recently been shipped, but he imagined that some must have left the wharf after the collier had unloaded. He was used to calculating weights and cubic quantities, and the sheds were not large. Taking it for granted that the vessel had landed one thousand five hundred tons, he thought there ought to be more about than he could see. Still, if some had been shipped, he could not understand why it had been taken, at a greater cost for labor, from the last shed, where one would expect the company to keep their reserve supply. He might, perhaps, find out something from the manager, but this would need tact.

Entering the small, hot office, he found a suave Spanish gentleman whom he had already met. The latter greeted him politely and gave him a cigar.

"It is not often you leave the works, but a change is good," he said.

"We're not quite so busy and I promised to pay Allen at the sugar mill a visit," Dick replied. "Besides, I had an excuse for the trip. We're short of some engine stores that I dare say you can let us have."

He gave the manager a list, and the Spaniard nodded as he marked the items.

"We can send you most of the things. It pays us to stock goods that the engineers of the ships we coal often want; but there are some we have not got."

"Very well," said Dick. "I'll fill up our form for what you have and you can put the things on board the tug the first time she goes to Santa Brigida."

"She will go in three or four days."

Dick decided that as the launch had probably been seen, he had better mention his voyage.

"That will be soon enough. If our storekeeper had told me earlier, I would have called here yesterday. I passed close by on my way to Orava."

"One of the peons saw your boat. It is some distance to Orava."

"The sea was very smooth," said Dick. "I went to engage a contractor who had been at work upon the mole."

So far, conversation had been easy, and he had satisfactorily accounted for his passing the wharf, without, he hoped, appearing anxious to do so; but he had learned nothing yet, although he thought the Spaniard was more interested in his doings than he looked.

"The collier was leaving as we went by," he resumed. "Trade must be good, because she seemed to have unloaded a large quantity of coal."

"Sixteen hundred tons," said the manager. "In war time, when freights advance, it is wise to keep a good stock."

As this was very nearly the quantity Dick had guessed, he noted the man's frankness, but somehow imagined it was meant to hide something.

"So long as you can sell the stock," he agreed. "War, however, interferes with trade, and the French line have reduced their sailings, while I expect the small British tramps won't be so numerous."

"They have nothing to fear in these waters."

"I suppose they haven't, and vessels belonging to neutral countries ought to be safe," said Dick. "Still, the Spanish company seem to have changed their sailings, because I thought I saw one of their boats yesterday; but she was a long way off on the horizon."

He thought the other gave him a keen glance, but as the shutters were partly closed the light was not good, and the man answered carelessly:

"They do not deal with us. Adexe is off their course and no boats so large can come up to the wharf."

"Well," said Dick, who believed he had admitted enough to disarm any suspicion the other might have entertained, "doesn't coal that's kept exposed to the air lose some of its heating properties?"

"It does not suffer much damage. But we will drink a glass of wine, and then I will show you how we keep our coal."

"Thanks. These things interest me, but I looked into the sheds as I passed," Dick answered as he drank his wine.

They went out and when they entered the first shed the Spaniard called a peon and gave him an order Dick did not catch. Then he showed Dick the cranes, and the trucks that ran along the wharf on rails, and how they weighed the bags of coal. After a time they went into a shed that was nearly empty and Dick carefully looked about. Several peons were at work upon the bags, but Oliva was not there. Dick wondered whether he had been warned to keep out of sight.

As they went back to the office, his companion looked over the edge of the wharf and spoke to a seaman on the tug below. Her fires were out and the hammering that came up through the open skylights indicated that work was being done in her engine-room. Then one of the workmen seemed to object to something another said, for Dick heard "No; it must be tightened. It knocked last night."

He knew enough Castilian to feel sure he had not been mistaken, and the meaning of what he had heard was plain. A shaft-journal knocks when the bearings it revolves in have worn or shaken loose, and the machinery must have been running when the engineer heard the noise. Dick thought it better to light a cigarette, and was occupied shielding the match with his hands when the manager turned round. A few minutes later he stated that as it was a long way to Santa Brigida he must start soon and after some Spanish compliments the other let him go.

He followed the hill road slowly in a thoughtful mood. The manager had been frank, but Dick suspected him of trying to show that he had nothing to hide. Then he imagined that a quantity of coal had been shipped since the previous day, and if the tug had been at sea at night, she must have been used for towing lighters. The large vessel he had seen was obviously a passenger boat, but fast liners could be converted into auxiliary cruisers. There were, however, so far as he knew, no enemy cruisers in the neighborhood; indeed, it was supposed that they had been chased off the seas. Still, there was something mysterious about the matter, and he meant to watch the coaling company and Kenwardine.



CHAPTER XVIII

DICK GETS A WARNING

On the evening of one pay-day, Dick took a short cut through the half-breed quarter of Santa Brigida. As not infrequently happens in old Spanish cities, this unsavory neighborhood surrounded the cathedral and corresponded in character with the localities known in western America as "across the track." Indeed, a Castilian proverb bluntly plays upon the juxtaposition of vice and bells.

Ancient houses rose above the dark and narrow street. Flakes of plaster had fallen from their blank walls, the archways that pierced them were foul and strewn with refuse, and a sour smell of decay and garbage tainted the stagnant air. Here and there a grossly fat, slatternly woman leaned upon the rails of an outside balcony; negroes, Chinamen, and half-breeds passed along the broken pavements; and the dirty, open-fronted wine-shops, where swarms of flies hovered about the tables, were filled with loungers of different shades of color.

By and by Dick noticed a man in clean white duck on the opposite side of the street. He was a short distance in front, but his carriage and the fit of his clothes indicated that he was a white man and probably an American, and Dick slackened his pace. He imagined that the other would sooner not be found in that neighborhood if he happened to be an acquaintance. The fellow, however, presently crossed the street, and when he stopped and looked about, Dick, meeting him face to face, saw with some surprise that it was Kemp, the fireman, who had shown him an opportunity of escaping from the steamer that took them South.

Kemp had turned out a steady, sober man, and Dick, who had got him promoted, wondered what he was doing there, though he reflected that his own presence in the disreputable locality was liable to be misunderstood. Kemp, however, looked at him with a twinkle.

"I guess you're making for the harbor, Mr. Brandon?"

Dick said he was, and Kemp studied the surrounding houses.

"Well," he resumed, "I'm certainly up against it now. I don't know much Spanish, and these fool dagos can't talk American, while they're packed so tight in their blamed tenements that it's curious they don't fall out of the windows. It's a tough proposition to locate a man here."

"Then you're looking for somebody?"

"Yes. I've tracked Payne to this calle, but I guess there's some trailing down to be done yet."

"Ah!" said Dick; for Payne was the dismissed storekeeper. "Why do you want him?"

"I met him a while back and he'd struck bad luck, hurt his arm, for one thing. He'd been working among the breeds on the mole and living in their tenements, and couldn't strike another job. I reckoned he might want a few dollars, and I don't spend all my pay."