In the days that followed his call on Ignacio Alvarado, O'Reilly behaved so openly that the Secret Service agent detailed¹ to watch him relaxed his vigilance. Certainly there was nothing suspicious in the conduct of a fellow who sat all the morning tipped back in a hotel chair, languidly scanning the passers-by, whose afternoons were spent on the streets or at the soda-fountain in Martin's drug-store, and whose evenings were devoted² to aimless gossip with his countryman, the newspaper writer. Manifestly this O'Reilly was a harmless person. But the spy did not guess how frantic³ Johnnie was becoming at this delay, how he inwardly chafed⁴ and fretted⁵ when two weeks had rolled by and still no signal had come. Manin told him to be patient; he assured him that word had been sent into the Cubitas hills, and that friends were busy in his behalf; but Johnnie was eager to be up and doing. This inaction paralyzed him; it made him almost ill to think how much time had slipped away. Then, too, his money was running low.  
At last, however, the day arrived when the man with the gray necktie raised his hat and wiped his brow as he passed the Isla de Cuba. Johnnie could scarcely hold himself in his chair. By and by he rose, stretching himself, and sauntered after the fellow. For several blocks he kept him in sight, but without receiving any further sign. The man paused to greet friends, he stopped at several shops, and his aimless wanderings continued for the best part of an hour, during which he led the way to the outskirts⁶ of the city. Fortunately O'Reilly's shadow was nowhere in sight.
 
Without a glance over his shoulder the man turned into a large, walled inclosure. When Johnnie followed he found himself in one of the old cemeteries⁷. Ahead of him, up a shady avenue bordered with trees, the stranger hurried; then he swerved⁸ to his left, and when O'Reilly came to the point where he had disappeared there was nobody in sight. Apprehending⁹ that he had made some mistake in the signal, O'Reilly hastened down the walk. Then at last, to his great relief, he heard a sibilant:
 
"Psst! Psst!"
 
It came from behind a screen of shrubbery, and there he found the Cuban waiting. The latter began rapidly:
 
"Our plans are complete. Listen closely. One week from to-day, at ten o'clock in the morning, you must be in Manin's drug-store. Directly across the street you will see two negroes with three horses. At fifteen minutes past ten walk out San Rafael Street to the edge of the city, where the hospital stands. The negroes will follow you. There is a fort near by—"
 
"I know."
 
"It commands the road. You will be challenged if you pass it, so turn in at the hospital. But do not enter the gates, for the negroes will overtake you at that point. They will stop to adjust the saron of the lead horse. That will be your signal; mount him and ride fast. The Spaniards will fire at you, but if you are hit one of the blacks will take you on his horse. If one of them is hit or his horse falls you must stop and take him up. Ride out half a mile and you will find a band of Insurrectos in the woods at the right. They know you are coming. Now, adois and good luck."
 
With a smile and a quick grip of the hand the messenger walked swiftly away. O'Reilly returned to his hotel.
 
At last! One week, and this numbing¹⁰, heartbreaking delay would end; he would be free to take up his quest. O'Reilly choked at the thought; the blood drummed in his ears. Rosa would think he was never coming; she would surely believe that his heart had changed. As if it could! "O God! Come quickly, if you love me." Well, a week was only seven days. He longed to risk those Spanish bullets this very hour.
 
But those seven days were more than a week, they were seven eternities. The hours were like lead; O'Reilly could compose his mind to nothing; he was in a fever of impatience¹¹.
 
Meanwhile, he was compelled to see a good deal of Leslie Branch. The reporter was anything but cheerful company, for, believing firmly in the steady progress of his malady¹², he was weighed down by the deepest melancholy¹³. The fellow was a veritable cave of despair; he voiced never-ceasing complaints; nothing suited him; and but for something likable in the man—an effect due in part to the fact that his chronic¹⁴ irritation¹⁵ took amusing forms—he would have been an intolerable bore. To cheer him up was quite impossible, and although it seemed to Johnnie that the Cuban climate agreed with him and that he lacked only strength of will to cheat the grave, the mere¹⁶ suggestion of such a thought was offensive to the invalid¹⁷. He construed¹⁸ every optimistic word, every effort at encouragement, either as a reflection upon his sincerity¹⁹ or as the indication of a heartless indifference²⁰ to his sufferings. He continued to talk wistfully about joining the Insurrectos, and O'Reilly would have been glad to put him in the way of realizing his fantastic ambition to "taste the salt of life" had it been in his power; but, since he himself depended upon friends unknown to him, he did not dare to risk complicating²¹ matters. In fact, he did not even tell Branch of his coming adventure.
 
The day of days dawned at last, and Johnnie was early at Manin's soda-fountain, drinking insipid²² beverages²³ and anxiously watching the street. In due time the negroes appeared, their straw sarons laden²⁴ with produce which they innocently disposed of. O'Reilly began to consult his watch with such frequency that the druggist joked him.
 
Manin's banter²⁵ was interrupted by a bugle-call. Down the street came perhaps two hundred mounted troops. They wheeled into San Rafael Street at a gallop²⁶ and disappeared in the direction of the suburbs.
 
"Now what does that mean?" murmured the druggist. "Wait here while I go to the roof where I can see something."
 
O'Reilly tried to compose himself, meanwhile becoming aware of a growing excitement in the street. Pedestrians²⁷ had halted, shopkeepers had come to their doors, questions were flying from mouth to mouth. Then from the direction of the fort at the end of San Rafael Street sounded a faint rattling²⁸ fusillade, more bugle-calls, and finally the thin, distant shouting of men.
 
"Rebels!" some one cried.
 
"Dios mio, they are attacking the city!"
 
"They have audacity²⁹, eh?"
 
The roofs were black with people now. Manin came hurrying down into the store.
 
"Something has gone wrong," he whispered. "They're fighting out yonder in the woods. There has been some treachery."
 
"It is ten-fifteen," said O'Reilly. "I must be going."
 
Manin stared at him. "You don't understand—"
 
"Those black fellows are getting their horses ready. I'm going."
 
The druggist tried to force Johnnie into a chair. "Madman!" he panted. "I tell you our friends have been betrayed; they are retreating. Go back to your hotel quickly."
 
For the first time during their acquaintance Manin heard the good-natured American curse; O'Reilly's blue eyes were blazing; he had let go of himself completely.
 
"I'm going!" he cried, hoarsely³⁰. "All the damned Spaniards in Cuba won't stop me. God! I've waited too long—I should have made a break—"
 
"Idiot!" stormed the druggist. "You wish to die, eh?"
 
O'Reilly ripped out another oath and fought off the other's restraining hands.
 
"Very well, then," cried Manin, "but have some thought of us who have risked our lives for you. Suppose you should escape? How would our troops receive you now? Would they not think you had cunningly arranged this trap?"
 
A light of reason slowly reappeared in the younger man's eyes.
 
"No!" Manin pressed his advantage. "You must wait until—" He broke off abruptly³¹ and stepped behind his counter, for a man in the uniform of a Spanish lieutenant³² had entered the store.
 
The new-comer walked directly to O'Reilly; he was a clean-cut, alert young fellow. After a searching glance around the place he spoke³³ in a voice audible to both men:
 
"Senor, you are in danger. To-night, at midnight, you will be arrested. I beg of you to see that there is nothing incriminating in your possession."
 
O'Reilly's face betrayed his amazement³⁴. "Arrested? What for? On what charge—"
 
The stranger shrugged³⁵. "I don't know. That newspaper man will be arrested at the same moment, so you had better warn him. But be careful where and how you do so, for all his movements are watched............