"I told you, Miss Juanita, that we had one friend among the Cubans; that is Captain Dynamite. We made the last trip with him on the Mariella, though not willingly. We'll tell you that story some other time when you are well out of this."
"He was well?" nervously whispered the girl.
"Yes, until he got the dispatch from Gomez telling him that you had been captured. Then he was off to Cubitas like a shot in the middle of the night. We were trying to join him when they nabbed us."
"But they have not learned from you where he is?"
"Miss Juanita, you wrong us. We do not betray our friends."
"Oh, and it is because you will not betray him that you are here. I kiss your hands."
"Permit us to kiss yours—figuratively—Miss Juanita," said Harry, gallantly, while Bert gulped down a lump in his throat when he thought of his suggestion to tell the Spanish general the truth.
"But I wouldn't have done it, Hal, old man," he said, involuntarily.
"Wouldn't have done what?"
"Not when it came right down to bed rock."