the boardinghouse, down through the
deserted streets to the waterfront, leaving word at home that any
message was to be sent by a trusty boy to the pier.

It was a foggy and misty night on the water, an ideal night for the
gun-runner. She was relieved to learn that there had been not a hitch
so far. Still, she reasoned, that was natural. Drummond, even if he had
not been outwitted, would scarcely have spoiled the game until the last
moment.

On the _Arroyo_ every one was chafing. Below decks, the engineer and
his assistants were seeing that the machinery was in perfect order. Men
in the streets were posted to give Gordon warning of any danger.

In the river a tug was watching for a possible police boat. On the
wharf the only footfalls were those of Gordon himself and an assistant
from the Junta. It was dreary waiting, and Constance drew her coat more
closely around her, as she shivered in the night wind and tried to
brace herself against the unexpected.

At last the welcome muffled rumble of heavily laden carts disturbed the
midnight silence of the street leading to the river.

At once a score of men sprang from the hold of the ship, as if by
magic. One by one the cases were loaded. The men were working
feverishly by the light of battle lanterns--big lamps with reflectors
so placed as to throw the light exactly where it was needed and nowhere
else. They were taking aboard the _Arroyo_ dozens of coffin-like wooden
cases, and bags and boxes, smaller and even heavier. Silently and
swiftly they toiled.

It was risky work, too, at night and in the tense haste. There was a
muttered exclamation--a heavy case had dropped! a man had gone down
with a broken leg.

It was a common thing with the gun-runners. The crew of the _Arroyo_
had expected it. The victim of such an accident could not be sent to a
hospital ashore. He was carried, as gently as the rough hands could
carry anything, to one side, where he lay silently waiting for the
ship's surgeon who had been engaged for just such an emergency.
Constance bent over and made the poor fellow as comfortable as she
could. There was never a whimper from him, but he looked his gratitude.

Scarcely a fraction of a minute had been lost. The last cases were now
being loaded. The tug crawled up and made fast. Already the empty
trucks were vanishing in the misty darkness, one by one, as muffled as
they came.

Suddenly lights flashed through the fog on the river.

There was a hu