u like to make some?"

"How much?"

Slowly Ignacio reached his hand inside of his shirt and pulled out a
little bag.

He loosened the mouth of it and took the contents out. He spread them
out on the floor of the car.

"It is American money," he said, "the money of the pigs. But it is good
money for all that."

"How much is there?"

"Ha! ha! You are interested, are you? Well, well!"

Ignacio's dark eyes glittered as he slowly went over the pile of bills.

"See, sergeant," said he, "here is a hundred-dollar bill. Just think of
it! Look at it! Think if I should get that bill changed into good
Spanish gold. The British consul would do it."

"Yes, he is a friend of the Yankees."

"Yes, he would do it for me. And then here is fifty dollars more. Look
and count it. Think of what you could do with one hundred and fifty
dollars of the Yankee's money. Think of what it would buy--food and I
know not what--a fine dress for your sweetheart, to take her away from
that rival of yours. And it is all good money, too."

"How am I to know it?"

"Carramba! Couldn't you take my word. You know me, Jose, and what I do
for Spain. Do you not know that I am a friend of Blanco's? Hey? And you
know that he trusts me when he trusts nobody else."

"And how did you get that money?"

"How did I get it! Ha! ha! I will tell--yes, por dios, I will, and those
Yankee pigs may hear me, too. Ha! ha! There was what they called a
traitor on the New York, the Yankee's flagship. She isn't much, but she
is the best they have. One of our little gunboats could whip her, for it
would be men fighting pigs."

The sergeant's eyes danced.

"And we'll sink her, too," went on Ignacio. "Just wait! I saw her run
away once from a little gunboat. The Yankees build their boats swifter
than ours so they can run away. But anyhow, as I said this man was
working for Spain. And he tried to blow up the flagship."

"Por dios!" cried the sergeant, "like we did the Maine."

"Exactly. It would have been another glorious triumph for us. And, Jose
Garcia, who do you think it was that prevented him?"

The man clinched his fists.

"I don't know!" he cried, "but I wish I could get hold of him."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"What would you do to him?"

"Santa Maria! I'd get him by the throat----"

"You would?"

"Yes. And I would choke him till he was dead."

"Dead!" echoed Ignacio, with a hoarse cry of triumph.

And then he raised one arm trembling all over with r