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112 For reply the Spaniard grinned meaningly and shrugged his shoulders.

"Señor must wait," he said, in broken English. "All de court verra busy; no can hear you till next week."

"But I demand a hearing," insisted Dan. "If I don't get it I shall write to our American consul about it."

"Write to consul, eh? Who carry de lettair, señor? Not me surely," and with another grin the jailer walked away and left us to ourselves. We now realized how it was—we were in the hands of enemies who would do with us just as they saw fit.

The next day it began to rain and by nightfall it was pouring down steadily. There was neither thunder nor lightning and the firmament was, to use an old simile, as black as ink. Supper was served to us at seven o'clock, a beef, rice, and garlic stew that neither of us could touch. "I'll rather starve," was Dan's comment.

By ten o'clock the majority of the prisoners were sound asleep, the Englishman snoring loudly and several others keeping in chorus with him. "Let them snore," said I, "it will help drown any noise we may make."

Dan and I had secured our places directly beneath the window previously mentioned, and now, standing on tiptoes, we worked at the bars