"

"I'm glad you think that of me," said Talbot, gently.

"I was going to tell you about my younger brother," said Brooke. "We
were in Cuba together, where the fighting was--just such a country as
this--and I was trying to work my way along between the two forces so
as to get to Matanzas. The danger was frightful. Neither side gave
any quarter. It was a war of savages, and my chief anxiety was for
poor Otto. But you never saw any one pluckier than he was--as cool,
as calm, as fearless as though he was in a parlor. So we went for
weeks."

"And what became of him?" asked Talbot, as Brooke paused.

"We escaped," said he, "and reached Matanzas--but there--the poor
boy--died. So you see, Talbot, since you have joined me my memory
goes back to those Cuban days; and whenever I say to you 'Talbot,
lad,' it seems as though I am speaking to my dear lost Otto. And here
let me say, Talbot, that if I ever seem familiar, you must not think
it want of respect; think rather that I am mistaking you for Otto,
and forgive it."

"Do not say that," said Talbot. "I should prefer to have you think of
me as 'Otto,' and even call me 'Otto.'"

"No, Talbot, boy, you have your own name, and by that I will call
you."

"It is strange, Brooke," said Talbot. "We have only known one another
for a short time, but it seems as though we had been friends for a
lifetime. I suppose this is owing to the feeling of comradeship which
has sprung up between us--or perhaps because you think of me as your
younger brother. For my part, I feel as though we two were comrades,
like soldiers that we read of, only my part in the business will be a
miserable one, I fear. We are brothers in arms, Brooke, aren't we?"

"Brothers in arms," said Brooke, in a soft, gentle tone; "yes,
Talbot, lad, that's exactly what we are. Yes, comrade, we have a
fight before us, and only each other to rely on."

"In our family," said Talbot, "there is a cimeter which is an
heirloom. It was brought from the East during the Crusades by an
ancestor. While there, he was wounded and taken prisoner by a Saracen
emir named Hayreddin. This Saracen treated him with chivalrous
generosity, and a warm friendship sprung up between them. They
exchanged arms, the Saracen taking Talbot's sword, while Talbot took
Hayreddin's cimeter. Hayreddin set Talbot free. Afterward he himself
was taken prisoner, and Talbot was fortunate enough to procure his
freedom. The cimeter is the very one which my ances