up here for the night. So do me the honor, senores, to
visit my little cell, and we will fight the cursed mosquitoes over a
sip of red rum. I have some of very excellent quality."

Jose and Don Jorge bowed their acquiescence and followed him up the
muddy road. The cell referred to consisted of a suite of several
rooms, commodiously furnished, and looking out from the second story
of one of the better colonial houses of the town upon a richly
blooming interior _patio_. As the visitors entered, a comely young
woman who had just lighted an oil-burning "student" lamp and placed it
upon the center table, disappeared into one of the more remote rooms.

"My niece," said the priest Diego, winking at Don Jorge as he set out
cigars and a _garrafon_ of Jamaica rum. "I have ordered a case of
American beer," he continued, lighting a cigar. "But that was two
months ago, and it hasn't arrived yet. _Diablo!_ but the good _medico_
tells me I drink too much rum for this very Christian climate."

Don Jorge swept the place with an appraising glance. "H'm," he
commented, as he poured himself a liberal libation from the
_garrafon_. "The Lord surely provides for His faithful children."

"Yes, the Lord, that's right," laughed Padre Diego; "still I am daily
rendering no small thanks to His Grace, Don Wenceslas, future Bishop
of Cartagena."

"And eminent services into the bargain, I'll venture," added Don
Jorge.

Padre Diego's eyes twinkled merrily. Jose started. Then even in this
remote town the artful Wenceslas maintained his agent!

"But our friend is neither drinking nor smoking," said Padre Diego,
turning inquiringly to Jose, who had left his glass untouched.

"With your permission," replied the latter; "I do not use liquor or
tobacco."

"Nor women either, eh?" laughed Padre Diego. "_Por Dios!_ what is it
the Dutchman says?

'Wer nicht liebt Wein, Weib und Gesang,
Der bleibt ein Narr sein Lebenlang.'

"_Caramba!_ but my German has all slipped from me."

"Don't worry," commented Don Jorge cynically; "for I'll wager it took
nothing good with it."

"_Hombre!_ but you are hard on a loyal servant of the Lord," exclaimed
Padre Diego in a tone of mock injury, as he drained another glass of
the fiery liquor.

"Servant of the Lord!" guffawed Don Jorge. "Of the Lord Pope, Lord
Wenceslas, or the Lord God, may we ask?"

"_Que chiste!_ Why, stupid, all three. I do not put all my eggs into
one basket, how