ared in the dark as they laid Adam in his
grave, and Kit, worn by anxiety and physical strain, listened dully to
the solemn Latin office. Then, when the old priest's voice died away, he
went back to the mission, where he fell asleep and slept twelve hours.

In the morning, he sat beneath a broken arch that had once formed part of
a cloister. Outside the patch of shadow, the sun beat upon dazzling sand,
and a few vivid green palm-fronds hung over a ruined wall. Beyond this
the forest rose, dark and forbidding, against the glaring sky. Although
the rest had refreshed Kit, he felt as if he had got older in the last
few days and now the strain had slackened he was lonely. So far, he had
obeyed orders and when doubtful looked to Adam for a lead, but Adam had
gone and left him control. All that belonged to his youth had vanished;
he was a man, with a man's responsibilities, and a man's problems to
solve. Presently Father Herman came up and sat down opposite. Although he
looked feeble, his glance was clear and kind.

"This house is yours, senor, and I am your servant," he said. "Yet I
cannot hope that you will remain long and the times are disturbed. If I
can help--"

"Since the rebels know I am here, it would not be safe to stay, but I
cannot reach Salinas Point before the steamer sails," Kit replied. "I
must get to Havana as soon as possible."

Father Herman thought for a few minutes and then resumed: "A small
schooner is loading at a beach not far off and I know the _patron_. He
would take you to Arenas, where the president has supporters and you
might get a ship. I think he sails to-night, but I will send a message."

Kit thanked him and went on: "You were my uncle's friend, and now I have
taken his place, you are mine. As you let him send you things the mission
needed, perhaps you will not refuse me."

"I had not hoped for this," Father Herman answered with a grateful look.
"The generous gifts meant much to us, for we are very poor."

"Friendship has privileges. Besides, it was my uncle's wish, and will be
something I can do for his sake."

Father Herman's worn face got very soft and he gave Kit an approving
glance. "You are his kinsman, senor; one cannot doubt that. Like him, you
are staunch and do not forget, but in some ways you are different. I will
take your gifts and pray that yours may be a less stormy life."

"Thank you," Kit said gently and went off to look after his men.

In the afternoon he left the m