bsorbed in his work and
forgetful of his disastrously adopted profession of arms.

He called for water and bandages, and, while he worked, Rodman was
talking with the other man. Herve stood silently looking on. He
recognized that the dark man was a ship-captain--probably commanding a
tramp freighter.

"When did you come?" inquired Rodman.

"Called at this port for coal," responded the other. "I've been down
to Rio with flour, and I have to call at La Guayra. I sail in two
hours."

"Where do you go from Venezuela?"

"I sailed out of Havre, and I'm going back with fruit. The Doc's had
about enough. I'm goin' to take him with me."

For a moment, Rodman stood speculating, then he bent eagerly forward.

"Paul," he whispered, "you know me. I've done you a turn or two in the
past."

The sailor nodded.

"Now, I want you to do me a turn. I want you to take this man with
you. He must get out of here, and he can't care for himself. He'll be
all right--either all right or dead--before you land on the other
side. The Doc here will look after him. He's got money. Whatever you
do for him, he'll pay handsomely. He's a rich man." The filibuster was
talking rapidly and earnestly.

"Where do I take him?" asked the captain, with evident reluctance.

"Wherever you're going; anywhere away from here. He'll make it all
right with you."

The captain caught the surgeon's eyes, and the surgeon nodded.

Rodman suddenly remembered Saxon's story, the story of the old past
that was nothing more to him than another life, and the other man upon
whom he had turned his back. Possibly, there might even be efforts at
locating the conspirators. He leaned over, and, though he sunk his
voice low, Herve heard him say:

"This gentleman doesn't want to be found just now. If people ask about
him, you don't know who he is, _comprende_?"

"That's no lie, either," growled the ship-master. "I ain't got an idea
who he is. I ain't sure I want him on my hands."

A sudden quiet came on the place. An officer had entered the door,
his face pale, and, as though with an instantaneous prescience that he
bore bad tidings, the noises dropped away. The officer raised his
hand, and his words fell on absolute silence as he said in Spanish:

"The conference is ended. Vegas surrenders--without terms."

"You see!" exclaimed Rodman, excitedly. "You see, it's the last
chance! Paul, you've got to take him! In a half-hour, the armistice
will be over. For God's sak