[pshrynk]

Harv followed the strangely dressed American at a discrete distance. He wasn't sure how far back he actually had to stay, because the American immediately picked up another tail who was basically walking two feet behind him most fo the way and was never noticed.

Harv began to wonder what, exactly, this guy was doing in Cuba. He seemed too dim to be a business man, more obnoxious than the usual tourist, and definitely not the Cosa Nostra types who frequently came down from Miami. Maybe he was a spy. Harv shook his head at that thought. Even Army OSI was not that stupid.

The other tail that was following the American was soon joined by three other young Cuban men who were keeping more disctreetly back. Harv was sure he'd not been sighted, but held back further, just to be safe.

It all hit the fan when the American stopped to purchase a small piece of pottery and tried to haggle over the price.

"I say, old bean! How mucho for el potto?"

The vendor looked around him and espied the tails that Biggles had picked up. "It is free, senor! Please take it and leave!"

Biggles drew himself up proudly and congratulated himself on his negotiating prowess.

"Well, I must say that that was incredibly ea... OOOF!" He crumpled up as the nearest tailing Cuban punched him solidly in the stomach. Soon Biggles was surrounded by four men, each of whom menaced him with a knife. They were screaming at him in Spanish.

"I don't believe that I can follow... OUCH!" said Biggles as a foot connected with his abused belly.

One of the assailants had picked up English at one time. "Give us your money, Bastardo!" he said, holding a knife in Biggles' face.

"Oh dear! I seem to have fallen in with thieves! I wonder what the Manual has to say about this?"

"It probably says that you're better off fighting when the odds are more in your favor," said Harv from near Biggles' head.

The four assailants turned as a man to face Harv. "What makes you think that you can even up the odds, puto?"

Harv got a studied look on his face and said, "Well, I'm a lot better fighter than any of you as far as what I've seen so far. So I could probably bring down two of you in the first three second, which would bring it up to even right away."

"But you don't have no knife! I'll cut you from bottom to top!"

"Ah, well, you have me there! I guess then I'd have to draw on the rest of what the Manual says, which is, 'never bring a knife to a gun fight.'" Harv pulled his arm from behind his back and pointed his Colt revolver at the gut of the nearest Cuban. They all dropped their knives and sauntered away nonchalantly, as if trying out for the Cuban National Synchronized Sauntering Team.