knows the soldier may not strike back.

The second night out the ship steward showed us a light lying low in
the water, and told us that was Jucaro, and we accepted his statement
and went over the side into an open boat, in which we drifted about
until morning, while the colored man who owned the boat, and a little
mulatto boy who steered it, quarreled as to where exactly the town of
Jucaro might be. They brought us up at last against a dark shadow of a
house, built on wooden posts, and apparently floating in the water.
This was the town of Jucaro as seen at that hour of the night, and as
we left it before sunrise the next morning, I did not know until my
return whether I had slept in a stationary ark or on the end of a
wharf.

[Illustration: Spanish Cavalry-From photographs taken by Mr. Davis]

We found four other men sleeping on the floor in the room assigned us,
and outside, eating by a smoking candle, a young English boy, who
looked up and laughed when he heard us speak, and said:

"You've come at last, have you? You are the first white men I've seen
since I came here. That's twelve months ago."

He was the cable operator at Jucaro; and he sits all day in front of a
sheet of white paper, and watches a ray of light play across an
imaginary line, and he can tell by its quivering, so he says, all that
is going on all over the world. Outside of his whitewashed cable office
is the landlocked bay, filled with wooden piles to keep out the sharks,
and back of him lies the village of Jucaro, consisting of two open
places filled with green slime and filth and thirty huts. But the