"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.