Gradually the path--it was really little better than a mule path--descended towards the sea, and Young Glory was pleased because he knew Valmosa was on the coast, and this seemed to show him he was on the right road.

However, his reflections were cut short with startling rapidity.

A dozen men sprang from the surrounding trees. Two men sprang forward and seized his horse's bridle, the others, with threatening gestures, threw themselves in his way, barring his further progress.

"Caramba, senor, but you're in a hurry," said a man, who appeared to be their leader.

"You have judged rightly, senor," answered Young Glory, "I am in a hurry. Let me proceed."

The men laughed loudly.

"You are a Spanish officer. You must be mad to talk in this way," was the stern answer.

"And who are you?" asked Young Glory.

"We are Cuban patriots."

"Patriots! Then I'm safe!" exclaimed the boy, softly.

"He must die!" whispered several of the men. "We give no quarter now, since those Spanish wretches have commenced shooting their prisoners in cold blood."

Half a dozen pistols were leveled at the boy, and as many machetes flashed in the air.

A crisis had come.

"Stop!" cried Young Glory, boldly. "I am no Spaniard."

"Then what are you?"

"I am an American sailor."

The weapons that had threatened Young Glory's life were at once lowered, but the men seemed to receive his statement with great suspicion. They conferred together hastily, still retaining their hold on the young hero's horse.

At length the leader spoke.

"We cannot decide this question. You may be an American sailor, or you may be a spy. That is for others to determine. You must come with us to the general."

"Hurry, then, I beg. For, senors, a project I have in view for the benefit of your cause will fail if I am long delayed."

They pushed through the woods, the patriots finding paths that Young Glory would have searched for in vain.

Some half mile was traversed in this fashion, when a sentinel challenged. The answer was satisfactory, and on they went.

Then past one picket after another they went, showing what faithful guard the patriots kept, until the order to halt was given, and Young Glory found himself near a large fire around which were a number of Cuban officers.

"A prisoner, general!" said the leader of the party.

"And a valuable one, too," was the answer, as the general glanced at Young Glory. "A captain at the very least. Has he been searched?"

"No."

"Do so. He may be a bearer of despatches."

"It is needless to search me," said Young Glory, advancing slightly towards the general. "I am not what I seem. I am an American seaman. My name is Young Glory."

CHAPTER V.

AT VALMOSA--YOUNG GLORY DENOUNCED.

This startling announcement caused a sensation.

"Young Glory!" cried several of the officers.

"Yes, that is my name."

"Have you any proof?" said the general.

"No."

"Then we cannot let you proceed."

Young Glory's face fell. Here he saw all his hopes dashed to the ground.

He determined to make one more effort.

"But if you stop me, a certain scheme against the Spaniards that I can carry through to success, will fail. I tell you it is so."

"No matter. I have said before we do not know you, so we must detain you for inquiries."

"Have you ever heard of Young Glory, general?"

"That is a foolish question. His name is a household word."

"Very well; I again repeat I am Young Glory."

"And again I ask for proof."

Suddenly an idea occurred to the boy.

"Have you ever heard of Captain Ruiz Calderon?"

"Yes. He's a distinguished officer in the Spanish army. What of it?"

"I'm Captain Calderon, or rather," said Young Glory, with a laugh, "I'm supposed to be to-night."