The voice was low and full of tears, but there was a ring of determination that told of a strong heart despite her woman's weakness.
"Hooray," whispered Bert. "Good for you."
"And have you no friends who can aid you?"
"Yes, one, but he may even now be dead or dying in a Spanish dungeon. It is for him I weep, not for myself. There is a price upon his head."
"What," said the boys in a breath.
"Is he Captain Dynamite of the Mariella?" asked Harry, excitedly.
"He is sometimes called so. His name is Michael O'Connor. What do you know of him?"
The woman's voice trembled with excitement.
"Hoop la," whispered Harry, hardly able to refrain from shouting. "Captain Dynamite is not in any dungeon cell, Miss Juanita, and if I am not mistaken he is already devising some plan with Gomez to effect your rescue."
"Who are you," whispered the girl in amazement, "who know O'Connor and my name so well?"