the sea-water, and dripping upon the pavement
at every step.

Before we could walk beyond reach, the man shouted out:

"_Carajo! caballeros_, why don't you strip before entering the _bano_?"

"What is it?" cried a soldier, coming up and stopping us.

A group of his comrades joined him, and we were hurried into the light.

"_Mil diablos_!" exclaimed one of the soldiers, recognising Raoul; "our
old friend the Frenchman! _Parlez-vous francais_, _Monsieur_?"

"Spies!" cried another.

"Arrest them!" shouted a sergeant of the guard, at the moment coming up
with a patrol, and we were both jumped upon and held by about a dozen
men.

In vain Raoul protested our innocence, declaring that we were only two
poor fishermen, who had wet our clothes in drawing the nets.

"It's not a fisherman's costume, Monsieur," said one.

"Fishermen don't usually wear diamonds on their knuckles," cried
another, snatching a ring from my finger.

On this ring, inside the circlet, were engraven my name and rank!

Several men, now coming forward, recognised Raoul, and stated, moreover,
that he had been missing for some days.

"He must, therefore," said they, "have been with the Yankees."

We were soon handcuffed and marched off to the guard-prison. There we
were closely searched, but nothing further was found, except my purse
containing several gold eagles--an American coin that of itself would
have been sufficient evidence to condemn me.

We were now heavily chained to each other, after which the guard left us
to our thoughts. They could not have left us in much less agreeable
companionship.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

HELP FROM HEAVEN.

"I would not care a _claco_ for my own life," said Raoul, as the gate
closed upon us, "but that you, Captain--_helas! helas_!" and the
Frenchman groaned and sank upon the stone bench, dragging me down also.

I could offer no consolation. I knew that we should be tried as spies;
and, if convicted--a result almost certain--we had not twenty hours to
live. The thought that I had brought this brave fellow to such a fate
enhanced the misery of my situation. To die thus ingloriously was
bitter indeed. Three days ago I could have spent my life recklessly;
but now, how changed were my feelings! I had found something worth
living to enjoy; and to think I should never again--"Oh! I have become
a coward!" I cursed my rashness bitterly.

We passed the night in vain attempts at mutual consolation.