cted that Ignacio would tell such a tale, and so he was
not surprised. The offense with which the lad found himself charged was
a terrible one, and he realized that he could be hanged for it.

Yet what was he to do?

"I fear," he said to the Spaniard, "that it will do me little good to
deny this story."

"That is true," said the other, promptly.

And his cruel eyes gleamed as he watched the prisoner.

"Do you deny the shooting?" he demanded.

"No," said Clif, "I do not."

"You find it easier to say that the men pretended to be Americans."

"I find it easier because it is truer," was the cadet's answer.

And then there were several moments of silence while the three actors of
this little drama watched each other eagerly.

Ignacio was fairly beside himself with triumph. He could scarcely keep
himself quiet, and under his bushy eyebrows, his dark eyes gleamed
triumphantly.

He had played his trump card. And he had his victim where he wanted him
at last. To watch him under the torture of his present position was
almost as good as to watch him under the torture of the knife.

For what could he do? He might bluster and protest (all to Ignacio's
glee) but nobody would believe him.

For Ignacio knew that the Spanish officer was glad enough to believe the
story the spy told him. His prejudice and his hatred of Americans would
turn the scale.

And it would be fine to punish a Yankee pig for such a crime as this.

As for Clif, he was filled with a kind of dull despair; he knew the odds
against him, and realized that his struggles would be those of a caged
animal. He had done nothing but his duty and the law of nations would
have justified him. But Ignacio's lie upon that one small point (of what
the Spanish gunboat had done) was enough to make him liable to death.

The officer seemed to realize the smallness of difference, for he turned
to Ignacio.

"Are you perfectly sure," he demanded, "that you heard our vessel
announce her identity?"

"I am, senor."

"And what was her name?"

Clif's eyes brightened at that; he thought Ignacio would be caught
there.

But the cunning fellow was prepared, and answered instantly.

"The Regina."

He had chosen the name of a Spanish gunboat he knew to be at sea; and
the ruse worked.

"What more can you expect?" demanded the officer of Clif.

And then the cadet looked up to make the last effort for his life.

"As I have told you," he said, "this fellow's story is fal