the pedestrians in the streets taken by clif and joy little thought as they glanced carelessly at the two cadets that the sturdy youth with the intelligent, manly face was he who had saved their beloved ruler, dom carlos the first, from death that day.

it was well for clif’s peace of mind and comfort that this was true, and he inwardly rejoiced thereat.

the city was in an uproar. all lisbon seemed to be hunting for the fugitive and hoping against hope that he had escaped from the river.

the large reward was not the sole cause of this feverish activity. the people far and wide respected and loved their ruler and they thirsted more for the assassin’s blood than for the fortune his body represented.

the streets and plazas were filled with excited groups discussing the event. platoons of mounted police and companies of soldiers kept the air ringing with the tread of galloping hoofs.

“it takes something like an attack on the king to stir up these people,” said joy. he added, with a sigh: “isn’t it enough to make a peaceful man sorrow to see so much strife and contention and—and pomp of war? woe!—woe!”

“oh, shut up, you fraud,” laughed clif. “there isn’t a plebe in the academy, nor a cadet, who likes fighting more than you do. you would rather fight than eat.”

the two cadets spent some time looking about the city, then they engaged a carriage and ordered the driver to take them to the suburb in which lived the windoms.

“this has been a day of events, chum,” remarked clif as he leaned back in the vehicle. “who would ever take that blooming ‘haw’ englishman to be an anarchist, and one of the very worst type, too. why, i guyed him for half an hour this morning and thought all the time he was a fool.”

“he was a fool,” replied joy, grimly.

“yes, otherwise he would never have tried such a preposterous trick. i wonder if he came here to make the attempt on dom carlos’ life?”

“like as not. i read in a paper the other day that considerable activity existed in anarchistic circles. sort[pg 268] of getting ready to slay a few monarchs, i suppose. they drove a lot of ’em from paris and london. perhaps this j. chesire-cheshire cate was one of them.”

“no doubt,” yawned clif, stretching his arms.

“d’ye think he was drowned?”

“yes. he remained under water too long. small loss to the community at large. i guess miss windom won’t wear mourning. she couldn’t bear the sight of him.”

“i don’t blame her. was he a friend of the old man?”

“no. merely a business acquaintance, i believe. said he was looking for a certain-sized pearl to finish a necklace. mr. windom is a collector of pearls, you know. he has a fortune in them.”

joy sighed.

“wonder if the pearls go with the girl,” he sighed.

“let’s talk on some sensible subject,” retorted clif, shortly.

it was within an hour of dusk when they finally reached the pretty villa occupied by the windoms.

the house was situated in the center of an extensive park, well-kept, and shaded by fine old trees. there was a small lodge at the gate, presided over by an elderly native, who admitted the cadets with every mark of respect.

he had evidently learned of clif’s gallant deed that morning.

juanita and her girl friend were awaiting them when they reached the house, and the cordial welcome the two lads received made them very happy.

shortly before tea, mr. windom arrived from business. his greeting of clif was characteristic of the man whose sole hobby in life was the collection of rare and valuable pearls.

“i am proud to know you, sir,” he exclaimed, wringing the lad’s hand. “proud to know that you are a guest under my roof to-night. the whole city—the whole world, in fact—is ringing with your name. it was great, it was magnificent! it was a deed worthy of an american.

“but you are wanted at the palace, my dear boy. the king has sent messenger after messenger to the monongahela in search of you. the old ship is fairly surrounded by steamers and tugs and small craft bearing bands of music and visitors. they call for you in vain. how can you remain in my poor house while the whole city is eager to see you.”

“if it is all the same to you, sir,” laughed clif, “i’d much rather remain here.”

he glanced slyly at juanita, and was gratified to see a soft, rosy flush overspread her fair cheeks.

kindly-hearted mr. windom seemed greatly pleased at faraday’s diplomatic answer, and carried both boys off to look at his pearls, which were kept in a small iron box in one corner of his private room.

after duly praising the really magnificent collection, some of which were almost priceless in value, clif and joy returned to the girls.

three very pleasant hours were spent after tea, then the stern rules of naval discipline which had decreed that the ship must be gained before midnight, caused the two cadets to announce their departure.

juanita and her friend were left at the house, but mr. windom hospitably started to see his guests to the gate.

“it is not often we have the honor of entertaining the rescuer of a ruling monarch, mr. faraday,” he smiled, as they walked down the tiled path. “so i must make the most of it.”

“i wish the king hadn’t come on board to be rescued, sir,” laughed clif. “especially in a country where so much—— gorry!”

he stopped and placed both hands to his head. his cap had fallen to the ground, together with a large twig from a tree under which they had just passed.

“what is the matter?” asked mr. windom, hastily. “are you hurt?”

“no. it startled me, that’s all,” replied clif. “it was just a branch, rotten, i suppose.”

he picked up his cap and the twig, the latter more out of curiosity than anything else, and walked on after his companions.

“i must have those branches clipped again,” said mr. windom. “i did not know the trees were in such condition.”

cordial farewells were exchanged at the gate, and the two cadets entered a carriage which had been ordered for that hour.

“i must be getting nervous,” laughed clif as they rolled away from the villa. he held up the twig and added:

“when i jump on being struck by such as this, it is time——”

he ceased speaking abruptly, and uttered a low whistle. the carriage was passing close to a street lamp at that moment, and the light fell full upon the object in his hand.

“what’s up?” queried joy.

“do you see the end of this bit of wood?” replied clif.

“yes.”

“well, it’s broken sharp and clean.”

“what of it.”

clif glanced at the lanky plebe for a moment before replying, then he said, slowly:

“this twig is not rotten, chum. neither did it break of its own weight.”

joy showed more excitement than his wont.

“then you think——” he began.

“there was some one up that tree,” finished clif, impressively. “and he was there for no good.”

“driver, let us out,” he added to the coachman.

the latter promptly drew up his horses and received his fare without a word of comment. he was too much accustomed to the vagaries of passengers in general to feel surprised.

a minute later clif and joy were hurriedly making their way back to the windom villa.