“Cuban?  Your people were Spanish.”

“True.  But no Spaniard ever raised a Spanish child in Cuba.  We are Cubans, Rosa and I.”

At this statement the sister cried:  “Hush!  It is dangerous to speak in that way, with this new war growing every day.”

“But O’Reilly is our good friend,” Esteban protested.

“Of course I am,” the American agreed, “and for that reason I spoke.  I hope you’re not too deeply involved with the rebels.”

“There, Esteban!  Do you hear?” Turning to O’Reilly, Rosa said, imploringly:  “Please reason with him.  He’s young and headstrong and he won’t listen to me.”

Esteban frowned.  “Young, eh?  Well, sometimes the young are called upon to do work that older men wouldn’t care to undertake.”

“What work?” O’Reilly’s eyes were still upon him.  “You can tell me.”

“I think I can,” the other agreed.  “Well, then, I know everybody in Matanzas; I go everywhere, and the Spanish officers talk plainly before me.  Somebody must be the eyes and the ears for Colonel Lopez.”

“Colonel Lopez!” exclaimed O’Reilly.

Esteban nodded.

Rosa’s face, as she looked. at the two men, was white and worried.  For a time the three of them sat silent; then the American said, slowly, “You’ll be shot if you’re caught.”

Rosa whispered:  “Yes!  Think of it!”

“Some one must run chances,” Esteban averred.  “We’re fighting tyranny; all Cuba is ablaze.  I must do my part.”

“But sooner or later you’ll be discovered—­then what?” persisted O’Reilly.

Esteban shrugged.  “Who knows?  There’ll be time enough when—­”

“What of Rosa?”

At this question the brother stirred uneasily and dropped his eyes.  O’Reilly laid a hand upon his arm.  “You have no right to jeopardize her safety.  Without you, to whom could she turn?” The girl flashed her admirer a grateful glance.

“Senor, you for one would see that she—­”

“But—­I’m going away.”  O’Reilly felt rather than saw Rosa start, for his face was averted.  Purposely he kept his gaze upon Esteban, for he didn’t wish to see the slow pallor that rose in the girl’s cheeks, the look of pain that crept into her eyes.  “I came here to tell you both good-by.  I may be gone for some time.  I—­I don’t know when I can get back.”

“I’m sorry,” Esteban told him, with genuine regret.  “We have grown very fond of you.  You will leave many friends here in Matanzas, I’m sure.  But you will come back before long, eh?”

“Yes, as soon as I can.  That is, if—­” He did not finish the sentence.

“Good.  You’re one of us.  In the mean time I’ll remember what you say, and at least I’ll be careful.”  By no means wanting in tact, Esteban rose briskly and, after shaking hands with O’Reilly, left the two lovers to say farewell as best suited them.

But for once O’Reilly’s ready tongue was silent.  The laughter was gone from his blue eyes when he turned to the girl at his side.