"Why--I don't understand."

"Oh, I'm in trouble. I simply had to get away, and this was all I could think of. I wanted to blow a real hole through myself and I tried three times. But I missed myself."

"Missed yourself? How? Why?"

Branch wiped the sweat from his face. "I flinched--shut my eyes and pulled the trigger."

Norine seated herself weakly; she stared in bewilderment at the unhappy speaker. "Afraid? You, El Demonio! Why, you aren't afraid of anything!"

"Say! You don't believe all that stuff, do you? I'm afraid of my shadow and always have been. I'm not brave and never was. They told me I was going to die and it scared me so that I tried to end things quickly. I couldn't bear to die slowly, to KNOW that I was dying by inches. But, Lord! It scared me even worse to go into battle. I was blind with fright all the time and I never got over it. Why, the sight of a gun gives me a chill, and I jump every time one goes off. G.o.d! how I've suffered! I went crazy at our first engagement--crazy with fear. I didn't know where I was, or what happened, or anything. Afterward, when they hailed me as a hero, I thought they were kidding, that everybody must know how frightened I was. After a time I saw that I'd fooled them, and that shamed me. Then--I had to keep it up or become ridiculous. But it nearly killed me."

"If you're speaking the truth, I'm not sure you're such a coward as you make out," Norine said.

"Oh yes, I am. Wait! Before I knew it I had a reputation. Then I had to live up to it." The speaker groaned. "It wasn't so bad as long as I felt sure I was going to die, anyhow, but when I discovered I was getting well--" Branch raised a pair of tragic eyes, his tone changed.

"I'll tell you what cured me. I SCARED myself well! Those bugs in my lungs died from suffocation, for I never breathed as long as there was a Spaniard in the same county with me. One day I found that I couldn't cough if I tried. I got strong. I slept well. And EAT? Huh! I gobbled my share of food and whined for more. I stole what belonged to the others. I began to enjoy myself--to have fun. Life opened up nice and rosy. I fell in love with my new self and the joy of living. Then I didn't want to die--never had, you understand, except to cheat the bugs; it gave me the horrors to think of the chances I'd taken. To be strong, to be healthy and free from pain, to tear my food like a wild animal, and to enjoy hard work was all new and strange and wonderful. I was drunk with it. To think of being cut down, crippled, reduced to the useless, miserable thing I had been, was intolerable. I was twice as scared then as I'd ever been, for I had more to lose. You understand? I forced myself to do the insane things expected of me, when people were looking--natural pride, I suppose--but when they weren't looking, oh, how I dogged it! I crawled on my belly and hid in holes like a snake."

"How--funny!" Norine exclaimed.

"You've got a blamed queer idea of humor," Branch flashed, with a show of his former irritability.

"And so you shot yourself?"

"Yep! I tried to select a good spot where it wouldn't hurt or prove too inconvenient, but--there isn't a place to spare on a fellow's whole body. He needs every inch of himself every minute. I was going to shoot myself in the foot, but my feet are full of bones and I saw myself on crutches the rest of my life."

"Why didn't you resign from the service? You didn't regularly enlist and you've surely earned your discharge."

Branch nodded. "I thought of that, but I've gained a reputation that I don't deserve and, strangely enough, I'm madly jealous of it. I thought if I were really shot by a regular bullet I'd be mourned as a hero and have a chance to walk out with colors flying. I want to tell my children, if I ever have any, what a glorious man I was and how I helped to free Cuba. Oh, I'd lie like a thief to my own children! Now you see why I don't want a doctor. There's only one thing I want--and that's--HOME." Leslie heaved a deep sigh. "Gee! I'm homesick."

"So am I," Norine feelingly declared. "I think I understand how you feel and I can't blame you for wanting to live, now that you've learned what a splendid thing life is."

"If O'Reilly had been with me I think I could have managed, somehow, for he would have understood, too. I--I'll never go back to the front, alone--they can shoot me, if they want to. Have you heard anything from him?"

"Not a word. Cuba swallowed him up. Oh, Leslie, it is a cruel country!

It is taking the best and the youngest. I--want to go away."

He smiled mirthlessly. "I'm fed up on it, too. I want to be where I can shave when I need to and wear something besides canvas pajamas. I'm cured of war; I want a policeman to stop the traffic and help me across the street. I want to put my feet under a breakfast-table, rustle a morning paper, and slap an egg in the face. That's all the excitement I hunger for."

Norine filled a basin with clean water and, taking a fresh bandage, wrapped up the self-inflicted hurt, Branch watching her anxiously. Now and again he flinched like a child when she touched his wound. At last he inquired, apprehensively, "Is it infected?"

"No."

"Lord! I'm glad! Wouldn't it be just my luck to get blood poisoning?"

Norine surprised her patient by inquiring, irrelevantly, "Leslie, is there anybody here who can marry people?"

"Eh? Why, of course!" Then suddenly his somber face lightened and he cried: "NORINE! DO YOU MEAN IT?"

"Not you. I wouldn't marry you."

"Why not? I'm perfectly well--"

"Please answer me."

Leslie settled back in his chair. "I dare say some of the Cuban Cabinet officers could put up a good bluff at a marriage ceremony."

"A bluff wouldn't do."

"Who's going to be married?"

"I am."

Branch started to his feet once more, his mouth fell open. "You?

Nonsense!" When she nodded, his face darkened. "Who is he? Some Cuban, I'll bet--one of these greasers."

"It is poor Esteban."

"'Poor Esteban'! d.a.m.n it, they're all poor. That's the very reason he asked you. He's after your money."

"He didn't ask me. I asked him. He's--dying, Leslie." There was a pause. "I'm going to marry him and take him home, where he can get well."

"What will O'Reilly say?"

"I'm afraid we'll never see O'Reilly again. Cuba frightens me. It has taken him, it will take Esteban, and--that would break my heart."

"Do you love him as much as that?"

Norine raised her eyes and in their depths Branch read her answer.

"Well, that ends the rest of us," he sighed. "There's a Minister of Justice here, I believe; he sounds as if he could perform most any kind of a ceremony. We'll find out for sure."

It so happened that the President and well-nigh the entire Provisional Cabinet were in Cubitas. Leslie and Norine went directly to the former.

The supreme official was eager to oblige in every way the guest of his Government and her dare-devil countryman, El Demonio. He promptly sent for the Minister of Justice, who in turn gallantly put himself at Norine's disposal. He declared that, although he had never performed the marriage ceremony he would gladly try his hand at it. In no time the news had spread and there was subdued excitement throughout the camp. When Norine left headquarters she was the target of smiles and friendly greetings. Women nodded and chattered at her, ragged soldiers swept her salutes with their jipi-j.a.pa hats, children clung to her and capered by her side. It was vastly embarra.s.sing, this shameless publicity, but it was touching, too, for there was genuine affection and good-will behind every smile. Norine was between tears and laughter when she ran panting into Esteban's cabin, leaving Branch to wait outside.

At sight of her Esteban uttered a low cry of happiness. "Dearest! I've been lying in a stupor of delight. The world has become bright: I hear people laughing. What a change! And how is El Demonio?"

"He's all right; he's waiting to see you, but first--I've arranged everything! The President and his Cabinet are coming to witness the ceremony."

Esteban poised, petrified, upon his elbow, his face was a study. "What have you arranged?" he managed to inquire.

"'Sh--h!" Norine laid a finger upon his lips. "The guest of the Republic is to be married to-day. Dignitaries, magistrates, nabobs, are turning out in her honor. They are shaving and borrowing clean shirts for the occasion. The Minister of Justice has a brand-new pair of tan shoes and he has promised to wear them, come rain or shine."

"NORINE! Oh, my dear--" quavered the sick man. "I can't let you do this mad thing. Think! I'm ready for the grave--"

"This will make you well. We're going away when the very next expedition arrives."

But still Varona protested. "No, no! Who am I? I have nothing to offer, nothing to give. I'm poorer than a peon."

"Thank goodness, I can do all the giving! I've never told you, Esteban, but I'm quite rich." Holding the man away, she smiled into his eyes.

"Yes, richer than I have any right to be. I had no need to come to Cuba; it was just the whim of an irresponsible, spoiled young woman. I gave a huge amount of money to the New York Junta and that's why I was allowed to come."