Don Martin raised his hand.

"I thank you, and I know your loyalty; but it belongs to your country, of which I am a private citizen. I can give no orders, but I ask you to serve the new government as well as you have served me."

The officer went back to his men with a moody air, and Don Martin turned to the crowd.

"In a national crisis, it is a citizen's duty to devote himself to his country's service, and this I have done; but it is a duty that carries no claim for reward. Many of you have helped me with effort and money, and some have given their lives; but the rough work is done and the crisis is past. Now that I am no longer needed, I lay down my authority, and it is better in several ways that I should go. But you who remain have still much to do. It is harder to build than to pull down, and your task is to establish justice, freedom, and prosperity. The best foundation is obedience to the new leader the nation has chosen."

He moved back into the gloom, for darkness was gathering fast, and after a few words of grave advice Father Agustin blessed the people. Then the national guard marched away and the crowd broke up; but Grahame and his party waited, with Don Martin standing behind them by the door of the church. A smell of incense floated out, and dim lights twinkled in the building. No one spoke until the measured tramp of feet had died away.

Then Grahame put his hand on Don Martin's arm.

"The sacrifice you have made to-night must have cost you something," he said in a sympathetic voice.

"It is seldom easy to do what is best," Don Martin answered, smiling sadly. "And now, with your permission, I should like to be alone. We will start for Valverde early to-morrow."

They left him in the deserted plaza.

"What a man that is!" Cliffe remarked. "If they were all like him in Congress, there'd be a big improvement in our politics--and I guess you'd have some use for a few of his kind at Westminster."

"That's true," Grahame agreed. "I can't say that such men are scarce, but as a rule they don't come to the top. They do what's demanded of them, and then quietly fall out of sight."

The next morning they set out for the coast. The _Enchantress_ was in the roadstead when they reached the port, and they went straight on board. Macallister met them at the gangway, and there was deep feeling in his face as he shook hands with his comrades; but a few moments later he surveyed the group with a grin. Walthew had helped Evelyn on board, and Blanca stood near Grahame.

"I'm thinking ye're no' sorted right," he said; and when Evelyn blushed he resumed with a chuckle: "Ye need no' tell me; I kenned what would happen, and I wish ye all happiness."

He turned with a flourish to Don Martin.

"We'd ha' dressed the ship for ye, senor, only our flags are a bit ragged, and I couldna' find the one ye have served so weel."

"Thank you," said Don Martin. "We hope our flag will be better known before long."

Macallister hurried below to raise steam, but it was some time before they got a working pressure, and dusk was falling when the windla.s.s hauled in the rattling cable and Grahame rang the telegraph. The propeller churned the phosph.o.r.escent sea, the _Enchantress_ forged ahead, and the white town began to fade into the haze astern.

Don Martin leaned upon the taffrail, watching the dim littoral, until it melted from his sight and only the black cordillera in the background cut against the sky. Then he joined the group about the deck-house and lighted a cigarette.

"Another act finished and the curtain dropped, but one looks forward to the next with confidence," he said.

"It might have opened better if you had kept the leading part," Grahame replied, and added meaningly: "You could have kept it."

"That is possible," Don Martin agreed. "But it might not have been wise.

I fought for peace, and I was satisfied when it was secured."

"Still, I don't see why you left," Cliffe interposed. "Is Castillo strong enough to rule your people?"

"We must give him an opportunity; if he has some failings, his intentions are good. No rule is free from faults, and when it is autocratic a possible claimant for the chief post is a danger to the State. All who love change and turmoil fix their hopes on him."

"Do you mean to live in Cuba?"

"Yes. I have some skill in organization and a little money left, and friends wish me to help in the development of a new sugar estate. It is not very far from Valverde, and one hears what is going on." Don Martin paused and spread out his hands. "If all goes well, I shall grow sugar, but if it happens that my country needs me I will go back again."

Walthew changed the subject, and presently Evelyn and Grahame strolled forward to the bow. There was moonlight on the water, and the _Enchantress_ steamed smoothly up the glittering track while the foam that curled about her stern shone with phosph.o.r.escent flame.

"I wonder where that path is leading us?" Evelyn said.

"Toward the dawn," Grahame answered. "There's glamour in moonlight and mystery in the dark, but we're moving on to meet the sunshine."

THE END