We reached Savannah on Tuesday, and were to leave in the steamer for St.
Augustine Thursday afternoon. Thursday morning we went out to the
cemetery of Bonaventure, one of the loveliest places in the whole world,
where there are long avenues of live-oaks that stretch from one side of
the road to the other, like great covered arbors, and from every limb of
every tree hang great streamers of gray moss, four and five feet long.
It was just wonderful to look at. The whole place seemed dripping with
waving fringe. Rectus said it looked to him as if this was a graveyard
for old men, and that every old fellow had had to hang his beard on a
tree before he went down into his grave.

This was a curious idea for Rectus to have, and the colored man who was
driving us--we went out in style, in a barouche, but I wouldn't do that
kind of thing again without making a bargain beforehand--turned around
to look at him as if he thought he was a little crazy. Rectus was
certainly in high spirits. There was a sort of change coming over him.
His eyes had a sparkle in them that I never saw before. No one could
say that he didn't take interest in things now. I think the warm weather
had something to do with it.

"I tell you what it is, Gordon," said he,--he still called me Gordon,
and I didn't insist on "Mr.," because I thought that, on the whole,
perhaps it wouldn't do,--"I'm waking up. I feel as if I had been asleep
all my life, and was just beginning to open my eyes."

A graveyard seemed a queer place to start out fresh in this way, but it
wasn't long before I found that, if Rectus hadn't really wakened up, he
could kick pretty hard in his sleep.

Nothing much happened on the trip down to St. Augustine, for we
travelled nearly all the way by night. Early the next morning we were
lying off that old half Spanish town, wishing the tide would rise so
that we could go in. There is a bar between two islands that lie in
front of the town, and you have to go over that to get into the harbor.
We were on the "Tigris," the Bahama steamer that touched at St.
Augustine on her way to Nassau, and she couldn't get over that bar until
high tide. We were dreadfully impatient, for we could see the old town,
with its trees, all green and bright, and its low, wide houses, and a
great light-house, marked like a barber's pole or a stick of
old-fashioned mint-candy, and, what was best of all, a splendid old
castle, or fort, built by the Spaniards three hundred years ago! We
declared we would go there the moment we set foot on shore. In fact, we
soon had about a dozen plans for seeing the town.

If we had been the pilots, we would have bumped that old steamer over
the bar, somehow or other, long before the real pilot started her in;
but we had to wait. When we did go in, and steamed along in front of the
old fort, we could see that it was gray and crumbling, and moss-covered
in places, and it was just like an oil-painting. The whole town, in
fact, was like an oil-painting to us.

The moment the stairs were put down, we scuffled ashore, and left the
steamer to go on to the Bahamas whenever she felt like it. We gave our
valises and trunk-checks to a negro man with a wagon, and told him to
take the baggage to a hotel that we could see from the wharf, and then
we started off for the fort. But on my way along the wharf I made up my
mind that, as the fort had been there for three hundred years, it would
probably stand a while longer, and that we had better go along with our
baggage, and see about getting a place to live in, for we were not going
to be in any hurry to leave St. Augustine.

We didn't go to any hotel at all. I had a letter of introduction to a
Mr. Cholott, and on our way up from the wharf, I heard some one call out
that name to a gentleman. So I remembered my letter, and went up and
gave it to him. He was a first-rate man, and when we told him where we
were going, we had quite a talk, and he said he would advise us to go to
a boarding-house. It would be cheaper, and if we were like most boys
that he knew, we'd like it better. He said that board could be had with
several families that he knew, and that some of the Minorcans took
boarders in the winter.

Of course, Rectus wanted to know, right away, what a Minorcan was. I
didn't think it was exactly the place to ask questions which probably
had long answers, but Mr. Cholott didn't seem to be in a hurry, and he
just started off and told us about the Minorcans. A chap called
Turnbull, more than a hundred years ago, brought over to Florida a lot
of the natives of the island of Minorca, in the Mediterranean, and began
a colony. But he was a mean sort of chap; he didn't care for anything
but making money out of the Minorcans, and it wasn't long before they
found it out, for he was really making slaves of them. So they just rose
up and rebelled, and left old Turnbull to run his colony by himself.
Served him right, too. They started off on their own accounts, and most
of them came to this town, where they settled, and have had a good time
ever since. There are a great many of them here now, descendants of the
original Minorcans, and they keep pretty much together and keep their
old name, too. They look a good deal like Spaniards, Mr. Cholott said,
and many of them are very excellent people.

Rectus took the greatest interest in these Minorcans, but we didn't take
board with any of them. We went to the house of a lady who was a friend
of Mr. Cholott, and she gave us a splendid room, that looked right out
over the harbor. We could see the islands, and the light-house, and the
bar with the surf outside, and even get a glimpse of the ocean. We saw
the "Tigris" going out over the bar. The captain wanted to get out on
the same tide he came in on, and he did not lose any time. As soon as
she got fairly out to sea, we hurried down, to go to the fort. But
first, Rectus said, we ought to go and buy straw hats. There were lots
of men with straw hats in St. Augustine. This was true, for it was just
as warm here as we have it in June, and we started off to look for a
straw-hat store.

We found that we were in one of the queerest towns in the world. Rectus
said it was all back-streets, and it looked something that way. The
streets were very narrow, and none of them had any pavement but sand and
powdered shell, and very few had any sidewalks. But they didn't seem to
be needed. Many of the houses had balconies on the second story, which
reached toward each other from both sides of the street, and this gave
the town a sociable appearance. There were lots of shops, and most of
them sold sea-beans. There were other things, like alligators' teeth,
and shells, and curiosities, but the great trade of the town seemed to
be in sea-beans.[A] Rectus and I each bought one for our watch-chains.

I think we tried on every straw hat in town, and we bought a couple in a
little house, where two or three young women were making them. Rectus
asked me, in a low voice, if I didn't think one of the young women was a
Mohican. I hushed him up, for it was none of his business if she was. I
had a good deal of trouble in making Rectus say "Minorcan." Whenever we
had met a dark-haired person, he had said to me: "Do you think that is a
Mohican?" It was a part of his old school disposition to get things
wrong in this way. But he never got angry when I corrected him. His
temper was perfect.

I bought a common-sized hat, but Rectus bought one that spread out far
and wide. It made him look like a Japanese umbrella. We stuffed our felt
hats into our pockets, and started for the fort. But I looked at my
watch and found it was supper-time. I had suspected it when I came out
of the hat-shop. The sea-trip and fine air here had given us tremendous
appetites, which our walk had sharpened.

So we turned back at once and hurried home, agreeing to begin square on
the fort the next day.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Sea-beans are seeds of a West Indian tree. They are of different
colors, very hard, and capable of being handsomely polished. They are
called "sea-beans" because great numbers of them drift up on the Florida
and adjacent coasts.




CHAPTER IV.

TO THE RESCUE.


The next morning, I was awakened by Rectus coming into the room.

"Hello!" said I; "where have you been? I didn't hear you get up."

"I called you once or twice," said Rectus, "but you were sleeping so
soundly I thought I'd let you alone. I knew you'd lost some sleep by
being sick on the steamer."

"That was only the first night," I exclaimed. "I've made up that long
ago. But what got you up so early?"

"I went out to take a warm salt-water bath before breakfast," answered
Rectus. "There's an eight-cornered bath-house right out here, almost
under the window, where you can have your sea-water warm if you like
it."

"Do they pump it from the tropics?" I asked, as I got up and began to
dress.

"No; they heat it in the bath-house. I had a first-rate bath, and I saw
a Minorcan."

"You don't say so!" I cried. "What was he like? Had he horns? And how
did you know what he was?"

"I asked him," said Rectus.

"Asked him!" I exclaimed. "You don't mean to say that you got up early
and went around asking people if they were Mohicans!"

"Minorcans, I said."

"Well, it's bad enough, even if you got the name right. Did you ask the
man plump to his face?"

"Yes. But he first asked me what I was. He was an oldish man, and I met
him just as I was coming out of the bath-house. He had a basket of clams
on his arm, and I asked him where he caught them. That made him laugh,
and he said he dug them out of the sand under the wharf. Then he asked
me if my name was Cisneros, and when I told him it was not, he said that
I looked like a Spaniard, and he thought that that might be my name. And
so, as he had asked me about myself, I asked him if he was a Minorcan,
and he said 'yes.'"

"And what then?" I asked.

"Nothing," said Rectus. "He went on with his clams, and I came home."

"You didn't seem to make much out of him, after all," said I. "I don't
wonder he thought you were a Spaniard, with that hat. I told you you'd
make a show of yourself. But what are you going to do with your
Minorcans, Rectus, when you catch them?"

He laughed, but didn't mention his plans.

"I didn't know how you got clams," he said. "I thought you caught them
some way. It would never have entered my head to dig for them."

"There's lots to learn in this town about fish, and ever so many other
things besides; and I tell you what it is, Rectus, as soon as we get
through with the fort,--and I don't know how long that will take us, for
I heard on the steamer that it had underground dungeons,--we'll go off
on a first-class exploring expedition."

That suited Rectus exactly.

After breakfast we started for the fort. It is just outside of the town,
and you can walk all the way on the sea-wall, which is about a yard wide
on top,--just a little too wide for one fellow, but not quite wide
enough for two.

The United States government holds the fort now, of course, and calls it
Fort Marion, but the old Spanish name was San Marco, and we disdained to
call it anything else. When we went over the drawbridge, and across the
moat, we saw the arms of Spain on a shield over the great gate of the
fort. We walked right in, into a wide hall, with dark door-ways on each
side, and then out into a great inclosed space, like a parade-ground, in
the centre of the fort, and here we saw a whole crowd of Indians. We
didn't expect to find Indians here, and we were very much surprised.
They did not wear Indian clothes, but were dressed in United States
military uniform. They didn't look like anything but Indians, though,
for all that. I asked one of them if he belonged here, and he smiled
and said "How?" and held out his hand. We both shook it, but could make
nothing out of him. A good many of them now came up and said "How?" to
us, and shook hands, and we soon found that this meant "How d' ye do?"
and was about all they knew of English.

[Illustration: "HOW?"]

We were lucky enough, before we got through shaking hands with our new
friends, to see Mr. Cholott coming toward us, and he immediately took us
in charge, and seemed to be glad to have a job of the kind. There was
nothing about the fort that he didn't know. He told us that the Indians
were prisoners, taken in the far West by United States troops, and that
some of them were the worst Indians in the whole country. They were safe
enough now, though, and were held here as hostages. Some were chiefs,
and they were all noted men,--some as murderers, and others in less
important ways. They had been here for some years, and a few of them
could speak a little English.

He then took us all over the fort,--up an inclined plane to the top of
the ramparts, and into the Indian barracks on one of the wide walls,
where we saw a lot of Cheyennes and Kiowas, and Indians from other
tribes, sitting around and making bows and arrows, and polishing
sea-beans to sell to visitors. At each corner of the fort was a "lookout
tower,"--a little box of a place, stuck out from the top of the wall,
with loopholes and a long, narrow passage leading to it, with a high
wall on each side to protect from bullets and arrows the man who went to
look out. One of the towers had been knocked off, probably by a
cannon-ball. These towers and slim little passages took our fancy
greatly. Then Mr. Cholott took us downstairs to see the dungeons. He got
the key and gave it to a big old Indian, named Red Horse, who went
ahead with a lighted kerosene-lamp.

We first saw the dungeon where the Indian chief, Osceola, was shut up
during the Seminole war. It was a dreary place. There was another chief,
Wild Cat, who was imprisoned with Osceola, and one night Osceola
"boosted" him to a high window, where he squeezed through the bars and
got away. If Osceola had had any one to give him a lift, I suppose he
would have been off, too. Rectus and I wondered how the two Indians
managed this little question of who should be hoisted. Perhaps they
tossed up, or perhaps Wild Cat was the lighter of the two. The worst
dungeon, though, was a place that was discovered by accident about
thirty years ago. There was nothing there when we went in; but, when it
was first found, a chained skeleton was lying on the floor. Through a
hole in the wall we crept into another dungeon, worse yet, in which two
iron cages were found hung to the wall, with skeletons in them. It
seemed like being in some other country to stand in this dark little
dungeon, and hear these dreadful stories, while a big Indian stood
grinning by, holding a kerosene-lamp.

Mr. Cholott told us that one of the cages and the bones could now be
seen in Washington.

After Mr. Cholott went home, we tramped all over the fort again by
ourselves, and that afternoon we sat on the outer wall that runs along
the harbor-front of the fort, and watched the sail-boats and the
fishermen in their "dug-outs." There were a couple of sharks swimming up
and down in front of the town, and every now and then they would come
up and show themselves. They were the first sharks we had ever seen.

Rectus was worked up about the Indians. We had been told that, while a
great many of the chiefs and braves imprisoned here were men known to
have committed crimes, still there were others who had done nothing
wrong, and had been captured and brought here as prisoners, simply
because, in this way, the government would have a good hold on their
tribes.

Rectus thought this was the worst kind of injustice, and I agreed with
him, although I didn't see what we were going to do about it.

On our way home we met Rectus's Minorcan; he was a queer old fellow.

"Hello!" said he, when he saw Rectus. "Have you been out catching
clams?"

We stopped and talked a little while about the sharks, and then the old
man asked Rectus why he wanted to know, that morning, whether he was a
Minorcan or not.

"I just wanted to see one," said Rectus, as if he had been talking of
kangaroos or giraffes. "I've been thinking a good deal about them, and
their bold escape from slavery, and their----"

"Slavery!" sung out the old man. "We were never slaves! What do you mean
by that? Do you take us for niggers?"

He was pretty mad, and I don't wonder, if that was the way he understood
Rectus, for he was just as much a white man as either of us.

"Oh no!" said Rectus. "But I've heard all about you, and that tyrant
Turnbull, and the way you cast off his yoke. I mean your fathers, of
course."

"I reckon you've heard a little too much, young man," said the Minorcan.
"Somebody's been stuffin' you. You'd better get a hook and line, and go
out to catch clams."

"Why, you don't understand me!" cried Rectus. "I honor you for it."

The old man looked at him and then at me, and then he laughed. "All
right, bub," said he. "If ever you want to hire a boat, I've got one. My
name is Menendez. Just ask for my boat at the club-house wharf." And
then he went on.

"That's all you get for your sympathy with oppressed people," said
Rectus. "They call you bub."

"Well, that old fellow isn't oppressed," I said; "and if any of his
ancestors were, I don't suppose he cares about remembering it. We ought
to hire his boat some time."

That evening we took a walk along the sea-wall. It was a beautiful
starlight night, and a great many people were walking about. When we got
down near the fort,--which looked bigger and grayer than ever by the
starlight,--Rectus said he would like to get inside of it by night, and
I agreed that it would be a good thing to do. So we went over the
drawbridge (this place has a drawbridge, and portcullises, and
barbicans, and demi-lunes, and a moat, just as if it were a castle or a
fort of some old country in Europe),--but the big gate was shut. We
didn't care to knock, for all was dark, and we came away. Rectus
proposed that we should reconnoitre the place, and I agreed, although,
in reality, there wasn't anything to reconnoitre. We went down into the
moat, which was perfectly dry, and very wide, and walked all around the
fort.

We examined the walls, which were pretty jagged and rough in some
places, and we both agreed that if we _had_ to do it, we believed we
could climb to the top.

As we walked home, Rectus proposed that we should try to climb in some
night.

"What's the good?" I asked.

"Why, it would be a splendid thing," said he, "to scale the walls of an
old Middle-Age fort, like that. Let's try it, anyway."

I couldn't help thinking that it would be rather a fine thing to do, but
it did seem rather foolish to risk our necks to get over the walls at
night, when we could walk in, whenever we pleased, all day.

But it was of no use to say anything like that to Rectus. He was full of
the idea of scaling the walls, and I found that, when the boy did get
worked up to anything, he could talk first-rate, and before we went to
sleep I got the notion of it, too, and we made up our minds that we
would try it.

The next day we walked around the walls two or three times, and found a
place where we thought we could get up, if we had a rope fastened to the
top of the wall. When General Oglethorpe bombarded the fort,--at the
time the Spaniards held it,--he made a good many dents in the wall, and
these would help us. I did climb up a few feet, but we saw that it would
never do to try to get all the way up without a rope.

How to fasten the rope on the top of the wall was the next question. We
went in the fort, and found that if we could get a stout grapnel over
the wall, it would probably catch on the inside of the coping, and give
us a good enough hold. There is a wide walk on top, with a low wall on
the outside, just high enough to shelter cannon, and to enable the
garrison to dodge musketry and arrows.

We had a good deal of trouble finding a rope, but we bought one, at
last, which was stout enough,--the man asked us if we were going to fish
for sharks, and didn't seem to believe us when we said no,--and we took
it to our room, and made knots in it about a foot apart. The fort walls
are about twenty feet high, and we made the rope plenty long enough,
with something to spare. We didn't have much trouble to find a grapnel.
We bought a small one, but it was strong enough. We talked the matter
over a great deal, and went to the fort several times, making
examinations, and measuring the height of the wall, from the top, with a
spool of cotton.

It was two or three days before we got everything ready, and in our
trips to the fort we saw a good deal of the Indians. We often met them
in the town, too, for they were frequently allowed to go out and walk
about by themselves. There was no danger, I suppose, of their trying to
run away, for they were several thousand miles from their homes, and
they probably would not care to run to any other place with no larger
stock of the English language than one word, "How?" Some of them,
however, could talk a little English. There was one big fellow--he was
probably the largest of them all--who was called "Maiden's Heart." I
couldn't see how his name fitted, for he looked like an out-and-out
savage, and generally wore a grin that seemed wicked enough to frighten
settlers out of his part of the country. But he may have had a tender
spot, somewhere, which entitled him to his name, and he was certainly
very willing to talk to us, to the extent of his ability, which was not
very great. We managed, however, to have some interesting, though rather
choppy, conversations.

There was another fellow, a young chief, called Crowded Owl, that we
liked better than any of the others, although we couldn't talk to him at
all. He was not much older than I was, and so seemed to take to us. He
would walk all around with us, and point out things. We had bought some
sea-beans of him, and it may be that he hoped to sell us some more. At
any rate, he was very friendly.

We met Mr. Cholott several times, and he told us of some good places to
go to, and said he'd take us out fishing before long. But we were in no
hurry for any expedition until we had carried out our little plan of
surprising the fort. I gave the greater part of our money, however, to
Mr. Cholott to lock up in his safe. I didn't like old Mr. Colbert's plan
of going about with your capital pinned to your pockets. It might do
while we were travelling, but I would rather have had it in drafts or
something else not easily lost.

We had a good many discussions about our grapnel. We did not know
whether there was a sentinel on duty in the fort at night or not, but
supposed there was, and, if so, he would be likely to hear the grapnel
when we threw it up and it hit the stones. We thought we could get over
this difficulty by wrapping the grapnel in cotton wool. This would
deaden the sound when it struck, but would not prevent the points of the
hooks from holding to the inner edge of the wall. Everything now seemed
all right, except that we had no object in view after we got over the
wall. I always like to have some reason for doing a thing, especially
when it's pretty hard to do. I said this to Rectus, and he agreed with
me.

"What I would like to do," said he, "would be to benefit the innocent
Indian prisoners."

"I don't know what we can do for them," said I. "We can't let them out,
and they'd all go back again if we did."

"No, we can't do that," said he; "but we ought to do something. I've
been around looking at them all carefully, and I feel sure that there
are at least forty men among those Indians who haven't done a thing to
warrant shutting them up."

"Why, how do you know?" I exclaimed.

"I judge from their faces," said Rectus.

Of course this made me laugh, but he didn't care.

"I'll tell you what we could do," said he; "we could enter a protest
that might be heard of, and do some good. We could take a pot of black
paint and a brush with us, and paint on one of the doors that open into
the inner square,--where everybody could see it,--something like this:
'Let the righteous Indian go free.' That would create talk, and
something might be done."

"Who'd do it?" said I. "The captain in command couldn't. He has no power
to let any of them go free."

"Well, we might address the notice to the President of the United
States--in big black letters. They could not conceal such a thing."

"Well, now, look here, Rectus," said I; "this thing is going to cost too
much money. That rope was expensive, and the grapnel cost a good deal
more than we thought it would; and now you want a big pot of black
paint. We mustn't spend our money too fast, and if we've got to
economize, let's begin on black paint. You can write your proclamation
on paper, and stick it on the door with tacks. They could send that
easier to the President than they could send a whole door."

"You may make as much fun as you please," said Rectus, "but I'm going to
write it out now."

And so he did, in big letters, on half a sheet of foolscap.




CHAPTER V.

STORMING SAN MARCO.


We started out on our storming expedition on a Tuesday night, about nine
o'clock; we had a latch-key, so we could come home when we pleased.
Rectus carried the rope, and I had the grapnel, wrapped in its cotton
wool. We put newspapers around these things, and made pretty respectable
packages of them. We did not go down the sea-wall, but walked around
through some of the inner streets. It seemed to us like a curious
expedition. We were not going to do anything wrong, but we had no idea
what the United States government would think about it. We came down to
the fort on its landward side, but our attack was to be made upon the
waterfront, and so we went around that way, on the side farthest from
the town. There were several people about yet, and we had to wait. We
dropped our packages into the moat, and walked about on the
water-battery, which is between the harbor and the moat, and is used as
a sort of pleasure-ground by the people of the town. It was a pretty
dark night, although the stars were out, and the last of the promenaders
soon went home; and then, after giving them about ten minutes to get
entirely out of sight and hearing, we jumped down into the moat, which
is only five or six feet below the water-battery, and, taking our
packages, went over to that part of the wall which we had fixed upon for
our assault.

We fastened the rope to the grapnel, and then Rectus stood back while I
made ready for the throw. It was a pretty big throw, almost straight up
in the air, but I was strong, and was used to pitching, and all that
sort of thing. I coiled the rope on the ground, took the loose end of it
firmly in my left hand, and then, letting the grapnel hang from my right
hand until it nearly touched the ground, I swung it round and round,
perpendicularly, and when it had gone round three or four times, I gave
it a tremendous hurl upward.

It rose beautifully, like a rocket, and fell inside of the ramparts,
making only a little thud of a sound.

"First-rate!" said Rectus, softly; and I felt pretty proud myself.

I pulled on the rope, and found the grapnel had caught. I hung with my
whole weight on it, but it held splendidly.

"Now, then," said I to Rectus, "you can climb up. Go slowly, and be very
careful. There's no hurry. And mind you take a good hold when you get to
the top."

We had arranged that Rectus was to go first. This did not look very
brave on my part, but I felt that I wanted to be under him, while he was
climbing, so that I could break his fall if he should slip down. It
would not be exactly a perpendicular fall, for the wall slanted a
little, but it would be bad enough. However, I had climbed up worse
places than that, and Rectus was very nimble; so I felt there was no
great danger.

Up he went, hand over hand, and putting his toes into nicks every now
and then, thereby helping himself very much. He took it slowly and
easily, and I felt sure he would be all right. As I looked at him,
climbing up there in the darkness, while I was standing below, holding
the rope so that it should not swing, I could not help thinking that I
was a pretty curious kind of a tutor for a boy. However, I was taking
all the care of him that I could, and if he came down he'd probably hurt
me worse than he would hurt himself. Besides, I had no reason to suppose
that old Mr. Colbert objected to a little fun. Then I began to think of
Mrs. Colbert, and while I was thinking of her, and looking up at Rectus,
I was amazed to see him going up quite rapidly, while the end of the
rope slipped through my fingers. Up he went, and when I ran back, I
could see a dark figure on the wall, above him. Somebody was pulling him
up.

In a very few moments he disappeared over the top, rope and all!

Now, I was truly frightened. What might happen to the boy?

I was about to shout, but, on second thoughts, decided to keep quiet;
yet I instantly made up my mind that, if I didn't see or hear from him
pretty soon, I would run around to the gate and bang up the people
inside. However, it was not necessary for me to trouble myself, for, in
a minute, the rope came down again, and I took hold of it. I pulled on
it and found it all firm, and then I went up. I climbed up pretty fast,
and two or three times I felt a tug, as if somebody above was trying to
pull me up. But it was of no use, for I was a great deal stouter and
heavier than Rectus, who was a light, slim boy. But as I neared the top,
a hand came down and clutched me by the collar, and some one, with a
powerful arm and grip, helped me over the top of the wall. There stood
Rectus, all right, and the fellow who had helped us up was the big
Indian, "Maiden's Heart."

I looked at Rectus, and he whispered:

"He says there's a sentinel down there in the square."

At this, Maiden's Heart bobbed his head two or three times, and,
motioning to us to crouch down, he crept quietly over to the inner wall
of the ramparts and looked down.

"What shall we say we came for?" I whispered, quickly.

"I don't know," said Rectus.

"Well, we must think of something," I said, "or we shall look like
fools."

But before he had time to think, Maiden's Heart crept back. He put his
finger on his lips, and, beckoning us to follow him, he led the way to a
corner of the fort near one of the lookout towers. We followed as
quietly as we could, and then we all three slipped into the narrow
entrance to the tower, the Indian motioning us to go first. When we two
stood inside of the little round tower, old Maiden's Heart planted
himself before us in the passage, and waited to hear what we had to say.

But we couldn't think of anything to say. Directly, however, I thought I
must do something, so I whispered to the Indian:

"Does the sentry ever come up here?"

He seemed to catch my meaning.

"I go watch," he said. "Come back. Tell you." And off he stole, making
no more noise than a cat.

"Bother on him!" said Rectus. "If I'd known he was up here, I would
never have come."

"I reckon not," said I. "But now that we have come, what are we going to
do or say? That fellow evidently thinks we have some big project on
hand, and he's ready to help us; we must be careful, or he'll rush down
and murder the sentinel."

"I'm sure I don't know what to say to him," said Rectus. "We ought to
have thought of this before. I suppose it would be of no use to mention
my poster to him."

"No, indeed," said I; "he'd never understand that. And, besides, there's
a man down there. Let's peep out and see what he's doing."

So we crept to the entrance of the passage, and saw Maiden's Heart,
crouched near the top of the inclined plane which serves as a stairway
from the square to the ramparts, and looking over the low wall,
evidently watching the sentry.

"I'll tell you what let's do," said Rectus. "Let's make a rush for our
rope, and get out of this."

"No, sir!" said I. "We'd break our necks if we tried to hurry down that
rope. Don't think of anything of that kind. And, besides, we couldn't
both get down before he'd see us."

In a few minutes, Maiden's Heart crept quickly back to us, and seemed
surprised that we had left our hiding-place. He motioned us farther back
into the passage, and slipped in himself.

We did not have time to ask any questions before we heard the sentry
coming up the stairway, which was near our corner. When he reached the
top, he walked away from us over toward the Indian barracks, which were
on the ramparts, at the other end of the fort. As soon as he reached the
barracks, Maiden's Heart took me by the arm and Rectus by the collar,
and hurried us to the stairway, and then down as fast as we could go. He
made no noise himself, but Rectus and I clumped a good deal. We had to
wear our shoes, for the place was paved with rough concrete and
oyster-shells.

The sentry evidently heard the clumping, for he came running down after
us, and caught up to us almost as soon as we reached the square.

"Eugh!" said he, for he was an Indian; and he ran in front of us, and
held his musket horizontally before us. Of course we stopped. And then,
as there was nothing else that seemed proper to do, we held out our
hands and said "How?" The sentinel took his gun in his left hand, and
shook hands with us. Then Maiden's Heart, who probably remembered that
he had omitted this ceremony, also shook hands with us and said "How?"

The two Indians now began to jabber to each other, in a low voice; but
we could not, of course, make out what they said, and I don't think they
were able to imagine what we intended to do. We were standing near the
inner door of the great entrance-way, and into this they now marched us.
There was a lamp burning on a table.

Said Rectus: "I guess they're going to put us out of the front door;"
but he was mistaken. They walked us into a dark room, on one side of the
hall, and Maiden's Heart said to us: "Stay here. Him mad. I come back.
Keep still," and then he went out, probably to discuss with the sentinel
the nature of our conspiracy. It was very dark in this room, and, at
first, we couldn't see anything at all; but we soon found, from the
smell of the bread, that we were in the kitchen or bakery. We had been
here before, and had seen the head-cook, a ferocious Indian squaw, who
had been taken in the act of butchering a poor emigrant woman on the
plains. She always seemed sullen and savage, and never said a word to
anybody. We hoped she wasn't in here now.

"I didn't know they had Indian sentinels," said Rectus. "That seems a
little curious to me. I suppose they set the innocent ones to watch the
guilty."

"I don't believe that would work," said I, "for the innocent chaps
would want to get away, just as much as the others. I guess they make
'em take turns to stand guard. There has to be a sentinel in a fort, you
know, and I suppose these fellows are learning the business."

We didn't settle this question, nor the more important one of our reason
for this visit; for, at this moment, Maiden's Heart came back, carrying
the lamp. He looked at us in a curious way, and then he said:

"What you want?"

I couldn't think of any good answer to this question, but Rectus
whispered to me:

"Got any money with you?"

"Yes," said I.

"Let's buy some sea-beans," said Rectus.

"All right," I answered.

"Sea-beans?" said Maiden's Heart, who had caught the word; "you want
sea-beans?"

"Yes," said Rectus, "if you have any good ones."

At this, the Indian conducted us into the hall, put the lamp on the
table, and took three or four sea-beans from his pocket. They were very
nice ones, and beautifully polished.

"Good," said I; "we'll take these. How much, Maiden's Heart?"

"Fifty cents," said the Indian.

"For all?" I asked.

"No. No. For one. Four bean two dollar."

We both exclaimed at this, for it was double the regular price of the
beans.

"All right," said Maiden's Heart. "Twenty-five cents, daytime. Fifty
cents, night."

We looked at each other, and concluded to pay the price and depart. I
gave him two dollars, and asked him to open the gate and let us out.

[Illustration: "ANOTHER BEAN."]

He grinned.

"No. No. We got no key. Captain got key. Come up wall. Go down wall."

At this, we walked out into the square, and were about to ascend the
inclined plane when the sentinel came up and stopped us. Thereupon a low
conversation ensued between him and Maiden's Heart, at the end of which
the sentry put his hand into his pocket and pulled out three beans,
which he held out to us. I did not hesitate, but gave him a dollar and a
half for them. He took the money and let us pass on,--Maiden's Heart at
my side.

"You want more bean?" said he.

"Oh, no!" I answered. "No, indeed," said Rectus.

When we reached the place where we had left our apparatus, I swung the
rope over the wall, and, hooking the grapnel firmly on the inside,
prepared to go down, for, as before, I wished to be under Rectus, if he
should slip. But Maiden's Heart put his hand on my shoulder.

"Hold up!" he said. "I got 'nother bean. Buy this."

"Don't want it," said I.

"Yes. Yes," said Maiden's Heart, and he coolly unhooked the grapnel from
the wall.

I saw that it was of no use to contend with a big fellow like that, as
strong as two common men, and I bought the bean.

I took the grapnel from Maiden's Heart, who seemed to give it up
reluctantly, and as I hooked it on the wall, I felt a hand upon my
shoulder. I looked around, and saw the sentinel. He held out to me
another bean. It was too dark to see the quality of it, but I thought it
was very small. However, I bought it. One of these fellows must be
treated as well as the other.

Maiden's Heart and the sentry were now feeling nervously in their
pockets.

I shook my head vigorously, and saying, "No more! no more!" threw myself
over the wall, and seized the rope, Rectus holding the grapnel in its
place as I did so. As I let myself down from knot to knot, a thought
crossed my mind: "How are we going to get that grapnel after we both are
down?"

It was a frightening thought. If the two Indians should choose, they
could keep the rope and grapnel, and, before morning, the whole posse of
red-skins might be off and away! I did not think about their being so
far from home, and all that. I only thought that they'd be glad to get
out, and that they would all come down our rope.

These reflections, which ran through my mind in no time at all, were
interrupted by Rectus, who called down from the top of the wall, in a
voice that was a little too loud to be prudent:

"Hurry! I think he's found another bean!"

I was on the ground in a few moments, and then Rectus came down. I
called to him to come slowly and be very careful, but I can't tell how
relieved I was when I saw him fairly over the wall and on his way down.

When we both stood on the ground, I took hold of the rope and shook it.
I am not generally nervous, but I was a little nervous then. I did not
shake the grapnel loose. Then I let the rope go slack, for a foot or
two, and gave it a big sweep to one side. To my great delight, over came
the grapnel, nearly falling on our heads. I think I saw Maiden's Heart
make a grab at it as it came over, but I am not sure. However, he poked
his head over the wall and said:

"Good-bye! Come again."

We answered, "Good-bye," but didn't say anything about coming again.

As we hurried along homeward, Rectus said:

"If one of those Indians had kept us up there, while the other one ran
into the barracks and got a fresh stock of sea-beans, they would have
just bankrupted us."

"No, they wouldn't," I said. "For I hadn't much more change with me. And
if I had had it, I wouldn't have given them any more. I'd have called up
the captain first. The thing was getting too expensive."

"Well, I'm glad I'm out of it," said Rectus. "And I don't believe much
in any of those Indians being very innocent. I thought Maiden's Heart
was one of the best of them, but he's a regular rascal. He knew we
wanted to back out of that affair, and he just fleeced us."

"I believe he would rather have had our scalps than our money, if he had
had us out in his country," I said.

"That's so," said Rectus. "A funny kind of a maiden's heart he's got."

We were both out of conceit with the noble red man. Rectus took his
proclamation out of his pocket as we walked along the sea-wall, and,
tearing it into little pieces, threw it into the water. When we reached
the steam-ship wharf, we walked out to the end of it, to get rid of the
rope and grapnel. I whirled the grapnel round and round, and let the
whole thing fly far out into the harbor. It was a sheer waste of a good
strong rope, but we should have had a dreary time getting the knots out
of it.

After we got home I settled up our accounts, and charged half the
sea-beans to Rectus, and half to myself.




CHAPTER VI.

THE GIRL ON THE BEACH.


I was not very well satisfied with our trip over the walls of San Marco.
In the first place, when the sea-beans, the rope and the grapnel were
all considered, it was a little too costly. In the second place, I was
not sure that I had been carrying out my contract with Mr. Colbert in
exactly the right spirit; for although he had said nothing about my
duties, I knew that he expected me to take care of his son, and paid me
for that. And I felt pretty sure that helping a fellow climb up a
knotted rope into an old fort by night was not the best way of taking
care of him. The third thing that troubled me in regard to this matter
was the feeling I had that Rectus had led me into it; that he had been
the leader and not I. Now, I did not intend that anything of that kind
should happen again. I did not come out on this expedition to follow
Rectus around; indeed, it was to be quite the other way. But, to tell
the truth, I had not imagined that he would ever try to make people
follow him. He never showed at school that such a thing was in him. So,
for these three reasons, I determined that there were to be no more
scrapes of that sort, which generally came to nothing, after all.

For the next two or three days we roved around the old town, and into
two or three orange-groves, and went out sailing with Mr. Cholott, who
owned a nice little yacht, or sail-boat, as we should call it up north.

The sailing here is just splendid, and, one morning, we thought we'd
hire a boat for ourselves and go out fishing somewhere. So we went down
to the yacht-club wharf to see about the boat that belonged to old
Menendez--Rectus's Minorcan. There were lots of sail-boats there as well
as row-boats, but we hunted up the craft we were after, and, by good
luck, found Menendez in her, bailing her out.

So we engaged her, and he said he'd take us over to the North Beach to
fish for bass. That suited us,--any beach and any kind of
fish,--provided he'd hurry up and get his boat ready. While he was
scooping away, and we were standing on the wharf watching him, along
came Crowded Owl, the young Indian we had always liked--that is, ever
since we had known any of them. He came up, said "How?" and shook hands,
and then pulled out some sea-beans. The sight of these things seemed to
make me sick, and as for Rectus, he sung out:

"Do' wan' 'em!" so suddenly that it seemed like one word, and a pretty
savage one at that.

Crowded Owl looked at me, but I shook my head, and said, "No, no, no!"
Then he drew himself up and just stood there. He seemed struck dumb; but
that didn't matter, as he couldn't talk to us, anyway. But he didn't go
away. When we walked farther up the wharf, he followed us, and again
offered us some beans. I began to get angry, and said "No!" pretty
violently. At this, he left us, but as we turned at the end of the
wharf, we saw him near the club-house, standing and talking with
Maiden's Heart.

"I think it's a shame to let those Indians wander about here in that
way," said Rectus. "They ought to be kept within bounds."

I couldn't help laughing at this change of tune, but said that I
supposed only a few of them got leave of absence at a time.

"Well," said Rectus, "there are some of them that ought never to come
out."

"Hello!" said old Menendez, sticking his head up above the edge of the
wharf. "We're ready now. Git aboard."

And so we scrambled down into the sail-boat, and Menendez pushed off,
while the two Indians stood and watched us as we slowly moved away.

When we got fairly out, our sail filled, and we went scudding away on a
good wind. Then said old Menendez, as he sat at the tiller:

"What were you hollerin' at them Injuns about?"

"I didn't know that we were hollerin'," said I, "but they were bothering
us to buy their sea-beans."

"That's curious," he said. "They aint much given to that sort of thing.
But there's no tellin' nothin' about an Injun. If I had my way, I'd
hang every one of 'em."

"Rather a blood-thirsty sentiment," said I. "Perhaps some of them don't
deserve hanging."

"Well, I've never seen one o' that kind," said he, "and I've seen lots
of Injuns. I was in the Seminole war, in this State, and was fightin'
Injuns from the beginnin' to the end of it. And I know all about how to
treat the rascals. You must hang 'em, or shoot 'em, as soon as you get
hold of 'em."

This aroused all the old sympathy for the oppressed red man that dwelt
in the heart of young Rectus, and he exclaimed:

"That would be murder! There are always two kinds of every sort of
people--all are not bad. It is wrong to condemn a whole division of the
human race that way."

"You're right about there bein' two kinds of Injuns," said the old
fellow. "There's bad ones and there's wuss ones. I know what I've seen
for myself. I'd hang 'em all."

We debated this matter some time longer, but we could make no impression
on the old Minorcan. For some reason or other, probably on account of
his sufferings or hardships in the war, he was extremely bitter against
all Indians. "You can't tell me," he replied to all of our arguments,
and I think he completely destroyed all the sympathy which Rectus had
had for the once down-trodden and deceived Minorcans, by this animosity
toward members of another race who were yet in captivity and bondage. To
be sure, there was a good deal of difference in the two cases, but
Rectus wasn't in the habit of turning up every question to look at the
bottom of it.

The North Beach is the seaward side of one of the islands that enclose
the harbor, or the Matanzas River, as it is called. We landed on the
inland side, and then walked over to the beach, which is very wide and
smooth. Here we set to work to fish. Old Menendez baited our lines, and
told us what to do. It was new sport to us.

First, we took off our shoes and stockings, and rolled up our trousers,
so as to wade out in the shallow water. We each had a long line, one end
of which we tied around our waists. Menendez had his tied to a
button-hole of his coat, but he thought he had better make our lines
very safe, as they belonged to him. There was a big hook and a heavy
lead to the other end of the line, with a piece of fish for bait, and we
swung the lead around our heads, and threw it out into the surf as far
as we could. I thought I was pretty good on the throw, but I couldn't
begin to send my line out as far as Menendez threw his. As for Rectus,
he didn't pretend to do much in the throwing business. He whirled his
line around in such a curious way that I was very much afraid he would
hook himself in the ear. But Menendez put his line out for him. He
didn't want me to do it.

Then we stood there in the sand, with the water nearly up to our knees
every time the waves came in, and waited for a bite. There wasn't much
biting. Menendez said that the tide was too low, but I've noticed that
something is always too something, every time any one takes me out
fishing, so I didn't mind that.

Menendez did hook one fellow, I think, for he gave a tremendous jerk at
his line, and began to skip inshore as if he were but ten years old; but
it was of no use. The fish changed his mind.

Then we stood and waited a while longer, until, all of a sudden, Rectus
made a skip. But he went the wrong way. Instead of skipping out of the
water, he skipped in. He went in so far that he got his trousers
dripping wet.

"Hello!" I shouted. "What's up?"

He didn't say anything, but began to pull back, and dig his heels into
the sand. Old Menendez and I saw, at the same moment, what was the
matter, and we made a rush for him. I was nearest, and got there first.
I seized Rectus by the shoulder, and pulled him back a little.

"Whew-w!" said he; "how this twine cuts!"

Then I took hold of the line in front of him, and there was no mistaking
the fact--he had a big fish on the other end of it.

"Run out!" cried Menendez, who thought there was no good of three
fellows hauling on the line; and out we ran.

When we had gone up the beach a good way, I looked back and saw a
rousing big fish flopping about furiously in the shallow water.

"Go on!" shouted Menendez; and we ran on until we had pulled it high and
dry up on the sand.

Then Menendez fell afoul of it to take out the hook, and we hurried back
to see it. It was a whopping big bass, and by the powerful way it threw
itself around on the sand, I didn't wonder that Rectus ran into the
water when he got the first jerk.

Now, this was something like sport, and we all felt encouraged, and went
to work again with a will, only Menendez untied the line from Rectus's
waist and fastened it to his button-hole.

"It may pull out," he said; "but, on the whole, it's better to lose a
fishin'-line than a boy."

We fished quietly and steadily for some time, but got no more bites,
when suddenly I heard some one say, behind me:

"They don't ever pull in!"

I turned around, and it was a girl. She was standing there with a
gentleman,--her father, I soon found out,--and I don't know how long
they had been watching us. She was about thirteen years old, and came
over with her father in a sail-boat. I remembered seeing them cruising
around as we were sailing over.

"They haven't got bites," said her father; "that's the reason they don't
pull in."