The story of Rosa's rescue came slowly and in fragments, for the news of O'Reilly's return caused a sensation. His recital¹ was interrupted many times. So numerous and so noisy did these diversions become that Norine, fearing for the welfare of her patient, banished² O'Reilly's visitors and bore him and Branch off to her own cabin, leaving the brother and sister alone. In the privacy of Norine's quarters O'Reilly finished telling her the more important details of his adventures. He was well-nigh worn out, but his two friends would not respect his weariness; they were half hysterical⁵ with joy at his safety, treating him like one returned from the dead; so he rambled⁶ disjointedly through his tale. He told them of his hazardous⁷ trip westward⁸, of his and Jacket's entrance into Matanzas and of the distressing⁹ scenes they witnessed there. When he had finished the account of his dramatic meeting with Rosa his hearers' eyes were wet. The recital of the escape held them breathless.  
"As a matter of fact, our get-away was ridiculously easy," he said, "for we had luck at every turn—regular Irish luck. I'm sure Captain Morin suspected that Rosa wasn't a boy, but he was perfectly¹⁰ foolish about Jacket and tolerated us on his account. We owe everything to that kid; he's wonderful. I made Morin independent for life, but it wasn't the money, it was Jacket who induced him to bring us clear to Turiguano. He landed us one night, this side of the Moron¹¹ trocha. Since then we've waded¹² swamps to our armpits, we've fought the jungle and chewed bark—but we're here." Johnnie heaved a deep sigh of relief.
 
"Where did you get the money to hire schooners¹³ and corrupt¹⁴ captains?"
Branch inquired. "You were broke when I knew you."
O'Reilly hesitated; he lowered his voice to a whisper. "We found the
Varona treasure."
Norine uttered a cry. "Not Don Esteban's treasure?"
 
"Exactly. It was in the well where young Esteban told us it was."
 
"Oh, Johnnie! You mean thing!" exclaimed the girl. "You promised—"
 
"You'll have a chance to dig," he laughed. "We couldn't begin to bring all of it; we merely took the jewels and the deeds and what money our clothes would hold. The rest—"
 
"Wait! WAIT!" Branch wailed¹⁵, clapping his hand to his head. "'Merely the jewels and the deeds and what money our clothes would hold?' Bullets! Why, one suit of clothes will hold all the money in the world! Am I dreaming? 'Money!' I haven't seen a bona-fide dollar since I put on long pants. What does money look like? Is it round or—?"
 
Johnnie produced from his pocket a handful of coins.
 
Branch's eyes bulged¹⁶, he touched a gold piece respectfully, weighed it carefully, then pressed it to his lips. He rubbed it against his cheeks and in his hair; he placed it between his teeth and bit it.
 
"It's REAL!" he cried. "Now let me look at the jewels."
 
"Rosa has them. She's wearing them on her back. Hunched¹⁷ backs are lucky, you know; hers is worth a fortune."
 
"Why, this beats the Arabian Nights!" Norine gasped¹⁸.
 
"It beats—" Branch paused, then wagged his head warningly at the girl. "I don't believe a word of it and you mustn't. Johnnie read this story on his yachting-trip. It couldn't happen. In the first place there isn't any more money in the world; mints have quit coining it. Why, if I wrote such a yarn—"
 
"It IS almost unbelievable," Johnnie acknowledged. "I found Aladdin's cave, but"—his face paled and he stirred uneasily—"it was nearly the death of all of us. I'll have to tell you the whole story now; I've only told you the half."
 
While his hearers listened, petrified¹⁹ with amazement²⁰ and doubting their ears, he recited the incidents of that unforgettable night on La Cumbre: how Cobo came, and of the trap he sprung; how Jacket stole upon the assassin while he knelt, and of the blow he struck.
 
When Johnnie had finished there was a long moment of silence. Then
Norine quavered, tremulously: "That boy! That blessed boy!"
Branch murmured, feebly: "Dash water in my face, or you'll lose me. I—You—" He found no words to express his feelings and finally voiced his favorite expletive.
 
"It's all too weirdly²² improbable," O'Reilly smiled, "but ask Rosa or Jacket—the boy is bursting to tell some one. He nearly died because he couldn't brag²³ about it to Captain Morin, and there won't be any holding him now. I'm afraid he'll tip off the news about that treasure in spite of all my warnings. Those jewels are a temptation; I won't rest easy until they're safely locked up in some good vault²⁴. Now then, I've told you everything, but I'm dying for news. Tell me about yourselves, about Esteban. I expected to find him well. What ails⁴ him?"
 
"Oh, Johnnie!" Norine began. "He's very ill. He isn't getting well." Something in her tone caused O'Reilly to glance at her sharply. Branch nodded and winked²⁵ significantly, and the girl confessed with a blush: "Yes! You told me I'd surrender to some poor, broken fellow. I'm very happy and—I'm very sad."
 
"Hunh! He's far from poor and broken," Leslie corrected; "with a half-interest in a humpful of diamonds and a gold-plated well, according to Baron²⁶ Munchausen, here. This is the Cuban leap-year, Johnnie; Norine proposed to him and he was too far gone to refuse. You came just in time to interrupt a drum-head marriage."
 
"Is it true?" When Norine acquiesced²⁷, O'Reilly pressed her two hands in his. "I'm glad—so glad." Tears started to the girl's eyes; her voice broke wretchedly. "Help me, Johnnie! Help me to get him home—"
 
He patted her reassuringly²⁸ and she took comfort from his hearty²⁹ promise.
 
"Of course I will. We'll take him and Rosa away where they can forget Cuba and all the misery³⁰ it has caused them. We'll make him well—don't worry. Meanwhile, at this moment Rosa needs food and clothing, and so do I."
 
As the three friends walked up the street they discovered Jacket holding the center of an interested crowd of his countrymen. It was the boy's moment and he was making the most of it. Swollen³¹ with self-importance, he was puffing³² with relish³³ at a gigantic gift cigar.
 
"I exaggerate nothing," he was saying, loudly. "O'Reilly will tell you that I killed Cobo, alone and unassisted. The man is gone, he has disappeared, and all Matanzas is mystified. This is the hand that did it; yonder is the weapon, with that butcher's blood still on it. That knife will be preserved in the museum at Habana, along with my statue." Jacket spied his chief witness and called to him. "Tell these good people who killed Cobo. Was it Narciso Villar?"
 
"It was," O'Reilly smiled. "The fellow is dead."
 
There was renewed murmuring. The crowd pressed Jacket closer; they passed the knife from hand to hand. Doubters fell silent; the boy swelled³⁴ visibly. Bantam-like he strutted³⁵ before their admiring glances, and when his benefactor³⁶ had passed safely out of hearing he went on:
 
"God! What a fight we had! It was like those combats of the gladiators you hear about. The man was brave enough; there's no denying his courage, which was like that of ten men—like that of a fierce bull; but I—I was superb, magnificent! The man bellowed³⁷, he roared, he grunted³⁸; he charged me, flinging the earth high with his heels, but I was banderillero, picador, and matador³⁹ in one. I was here, I was there, I was everywhere; so swiftly did I move that no eye could follow me." Jacket illustrated⁴⁰ his imaginary movements with agile⁴¹ leaps and bounds. "The terror of his name frightened me, I'll admit, but it lent me a desperate courage, too. I thought of the brave men, the good women, the innocent children he had slain⁴², and I fell upon him from this side, from that side, from the front, from the rear. I pricked⁴³ him, shouting: 'That for the people of Las Villas⁴⁴! This for the women of the San Juan. And once again for the babies you have killed.'" Jacket carried out his pantomime by prodding⁴⁵ with a rigid⁴⁶ finger first one, then another of his listeners. "Oh, he went mad, like a bull, indeed, but I was another Rafael Guerra. He shed rivers of blood, the ground grew slippery and the grass became red. He stood rocking in his tracks, finally; his breath was like a hurricane. He was exhausted⁴⁷, he was covered with foam⁴⁸, his limbs were made of lead. It was my moment. 'For all your sins!' I cried, and with that I drove yonder blade through his heart and out between his shoulders, thus! My brothers, his flesh was rotten, and the steel clove⁴⁹ it as if it were butter."
 
Jacket was more than gratified at the effect of his recital, for children screamed, women shuddered⁵⁰, and men turned shocked eyes upon one another. He realized that with a little further practice and a more diligent⁵¹ attention to detail he could horrify⁵² the stoutest-hearted listener, nay⁵³, cause hysterical women to swoon. He concluded his account in a studiously careless tone; "O'Reilly came, too late,............