gs in
a significant gesture of his hand, "is it--it is not--it is not
connected with the business of your little shop? There is no failure
in your plans?"

"No, no," said Dicky. "This is merely the result of a little private
affair of mine, a digression from the regular line of business. They
say for a complete life a man must know poverty, love and war. But
they don't go well together, _capitan mio_. No; there is no failure
in my business. The little shop is doing very well."

When the captain had departed Dicky called the sergeant of the jail
squad and asked:

"Am I _preso_ by the military or by the civil authority?"

"Surely there is no martial law in effect now, senor."

"_Bueno_. Now go or send to the alcalde, the _Jues de la Paz_ and the
_Jefe de los Policios_. Tell them I am prepared at once to satisfy
the demands of justice." A folded bill of the "long green" slid into
the sergeant's hand.

Then Dicky's smile came back again, for he knew that the hours of his
captivity were numbered; and he hummed, in time with the sentry's
tread:

"_They're hanging men and women now,
For lacking of the green._"

So, that night Dicky sat by the window of the room over his shop
and his little saint sat close by, working at something silken and
dainty. Dicky was thoughtful and grave. His red hair was in an
unusual state of disorder. Pasa's fingers often ached to smooth and
arrange it, but Dicky would never allow it. He was poring, to-night,
over a great litter of maps and books and papers on his table until
that perpendicular line came between his brows that always distressed
Pasa. Presently she went and brought his hat, and stood with it until
he looked up, inquiringly.

"It is sad for you here," she explained. "Go out and drink _vino
blanco_. Come back when you get that smile you used to wear. That is
what I wish to see."

Dicky laughed and threw down his papers. "The _vino blanco_ stage
is past. It has served its turn. Perhaps, after all, there was less
entered my mouth and more my ears than people thought. But, there
will be no more maps or frowns to-night. I promise you that. Come."

They sat upon a reed _silleta_ at the window and watched the
quivering gleams from the lights of the _Catarina_ reflected in the
harbour.

Presently Pasa rippled out one of her infrequent chirrups of audible
laughter.

"I was thinking," she began, anticipating Dicky's question, "of the
foolish things girls have in t