e of it without as much as a hat pin
to do business with," moaned Mason.

The captain, who had darted into his cabin a moment before, now emerged
with a cartridge belt buckled around his flannel coat and two army
pistols at his sides. He carried three other pistols in his hands.

"Here, boys," he said, as he approached them and handed one to each;
"these are for protection only. Do you know how to use them?"

"Only give us something to shoot at and we will show you," piped the
Midget.

"Well, if you have to shoot, there are your marks," was the reply, as he
pointed to the gunboat.

In the meantime equal activity had been displayed on the Spaniard. Her
decks swarmed with men, and over the still water was borne a jargon of
unintelligible orders.

Suddenly there came a sharp command from the little man on the bridge.
Dynamite understood it and raised his hand as if to warn the boys back.
There was a puff of smoke at the gunboat's bow and then a loud report.

A solid shot whistled across the bows of the _Mariella_ and ricochetted
over the water into the distance.

"Crowd on all steam, Suarez," shouted the captain, shaking his fist at
the gunboat. "We will first try the wise man's course and run away, but
if we cannot shake off that little terrier, we'll have to show our
teeth."

Then turning to the Spaniard again he put his megaphone to his lips and
shouted to the little commander, who still capered and gesticulated on
the bridge:

"Yes, I _am_ el Capitaine Dynamite. Come on and take me if you can.
Viva, Cuba Libre."

CHAPTER VIII

A BRUSH WITH THE GUNBOAT

The _Mariella_ swung slowly around until she presented only her stern
and the width of her hull as a mark for her enemy, and then under a full
head of steam she started to show her heels to the Spaniard. But clouds
of heavy, black smoke began to roll upward from the gunboat's funnel,
showing that she, too, was crowding on steam for the chase.

The puff of smoke, the bark of the gun, the shot skipping over the water
across their bows, much as a child scales a flat stone across a mill
pond, opened the boys' eyes to the seriousness of the situation. They
fingered their revolvers nervously and watched the black bow of the
Spaniard anxiously, expecting to see another white burst of smoke.

But the little commander evidently believed he could rely on the speed
of his vessel to overtake the _Mariella_, for after the warning shot, he
did not fire ag