CHAPTER XIII.
IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.
The last words of José Pelado were called forth by the sudden appearance of a peon with the announcement that a body of insurgents had been seen the night before, and that a flock of cattle had been killed or driven away by them. Upon receiving this intelligence, the coffee planter replied in Spanish in a tone that showed great anger. When he had conversed with the messenger for a few minutes he turned back to his guests, saying:
"The hungry hounds are again abroad. That mountain outlaw, Juan Rhoades, is at his old pranks, and this time he has become bolder than common from the fact that he has succeeded in calling about him more than five hundred rebels. News also comes from San Carlos that two spies are in this vicinity, and that efforts are being made to hunt them down. Well, let the fools look after themselves. Rhoades had better give me a wide berth."
Ronie and Jack were beginning to think it was about time for them to be on their way. Their horses were well rested by this time, so they proposed to Señor Pelado that they bid him good-by. He seemed disappointed to find they were not going to stay longer, and showed his good-will by offering to send an escort of men to protect them in case they should be attacked by Rhoades and his outlaws. But our heroes stoutly opposed this, while thanking him for his kindness.
"Two will be able to get through where a larger body might attract attention and find it difficult to escape," replied Jack.
"You seem like plucky fellows, and I think you will get through all right. In case you do need help, do not hesitate to call on José Pelado. If you succeed in meeting General Castro give him my regards."
These parting words were not spoken until Ronie and Jack had regained their saddles, and were heading their horses toward Caracas. As they dashed out upon the road they noticed a crowd of peons watching them with looks not altogether friendly.
"Did you notice that tall fellow—the one with the extraordinary mustache—who stood somewhat in the background while we talked with Pelado?" asked Ronie.
"That I did, lad, and I says to myself: 'That fellow is hatching mischief.' He was not in sight the last part of our stay."
"I did not see him, Jack. What do you think he will do—follow us?"
"Not exactly; but if we do not meet some of his confederates before night I shall be happily disappointed. At any rate, it behooves us to be on the lookout continually."
The way now wound through a coffee country, and they were frequently met by these small planters, sometimes singly, but more often by twos or in squads.
"The idleness that usually follows in the footsteps of war seems lo have fallen on the inhabitants," remarked Jack.
As this did not seem to call for any reply, Ronie remained silent, his mind busy with the thoughts of past adventures and conjectures over the possibilities ahead. So the midday was passed, and the afternoon came on apace, while they moved leisurely on so as not to exhaust their horses. These were given their noon meal, and allowed two hours of rest under the friendly shade of a tacamahaca, which was fragrant with the resinous substance that it exuded from its trunk, an opaque, lemon-colored sort of wax which the natives on the Orinoco used very much for torchlights. This was a tree of great size and beauty. They were now in a region broken by the outlying spurs of mountain, and about sunset reached a mountain hamlet which bore a decidedly deserted appearance.
It had been their intention to push on beyond this place, preferring to pass the night at some isolated planter's than here, but Ronie's horse, which had showed slight lameness for several hours, now became unable to go any farther. In this dilemma they looked about for a stopping place. In this matter they soon found they were not to be given much choice. The dwellings were so nearly alike, and built after the pyramidal style of architecture already described, slanting roofs reaching nearly to the ground, thatched with palm leaves, four posts with ox hides stretched between composed the walls, so the collection looked like a colony of beehives. Unfortunately, they were soon to learn that it was not "a land of milk and honey." The houses possessed no doors and windows, professedly for the reason that they were not needed in that climate. Neither were they needed to protect the occupant from prowling thieves, for the very simple reason that the owner owned nothing worth stealing!
After passing nearly the length of this poverty-marked hamlet, our heroes hailed with delight the appearance of a building which looked like a palace when compared to the others. It did prove to be a sort of public house, or, rather, a hospital where people seeking the bracing atmosphere of this mountain retreat and the mineral water to be found here could stop. The lower half of the walls were made of stout planks in the rough, with doors and windows. The upper portion was left open to allow free passage of air and light. Ample protection from sun and storm was afforded by the slanting roof, which reached to within five feet of the ground. Under these overhanging eaves a narrow veranda encircled the building.
Half a dozen swarthy-hued men in loose attire, a pair of breeches, tightly buttoned at the knees, and a shirt of bright colors, marked off like a checkerboard, lounged about the abode, but not one of them offered them any attention, except to stare upon them with undisguised curiosity, as our twain paused in front of the main entrance. Upon dismounting and entering the building, they were greeted by the proprietor with many smiles and much scraping and bowing.
"Señor, Americanos have heard of the wonderful curative powers of the waters of San Andrea, and have come hither to recover their wasted vitality?" he half questioned, half answered, bowing at almost each word which he delivered in a musical tone.
"Partly for that, and partly for pleasure," replied Jack. "Our horses are tired, and one of them is lame. We ourselves are weary and dust laden, and so desire rest and quiet more than we do food."
"Si, señors," waving one hand to a group of peons, who instantly left the apartment, ostensibly to look after the jaded animals, and the other toward an opening leading into an adjoining room. Thinking it was meant for them to repair thither, Jack and Ronie did so at once. It must have been dark in the room at midday; it was certainly now too dusky for them to distinguish each other with clearness. Seeing two or three clumsy, cedar chairs, covered with rawhide, standing near the wall, they each selected a seat, while they glanced about them with feelings hard to describe. If the place boasted as the resort for invalids and pleasure seekers, it had very little to offer in the way of the comforts of either. It was in truth scarcely better fitted to accommodate its guests than the tent of the wandering Arab of the desert. In addition to the rude chairs mentioned, there was a rough table placed against the wall, evidently because it could not stand alone, and a couple of grass hammocks that were intended for the double purpose of bed and lounge. Nothing in the shape of a bowl in which to lave their dust-stained faces and hands was to be seen, while they were to learn a little later that water was too scarce at this resort of mineral springs to show any need of it.
"Well," said Jack, in a low tone, "this beats anything we have found before. But if they will give our poor horses care we can get along ourselves."
"I suppose we had better give them our personal attention," said Ronie.
"In due course of time, lad. I wish now we had kept nearer the seacoast, but I will not borrow trouble. Who is coming now?"
The visitor proved to be an attendant of the house, who wished to inquire in regard to the wants of their "illustrious guests."
"We need nothing more at present," replied Jack, "than a couple of basins of cool water in which to lave these bodies and limbs of ours."
"Si, señors; your slightest wish is law at San Andrea," and, bowing very low, the speaker withdrew, and our friends were left alone for more than half an hour, when the man returned bearing in either hand a small calabash filled with water that was too thick with mud to spill over. These rude dishes possibly contained a quart of the dirty liquid each. Depositing these vessels on the table, the servant expressed the wish that they might enjoy a "very excellent bath."
"No doubt we shall," declared Jack. "Did you have to bring this far?"
"From the river, señor; two kilometers away."
"Horn of rock—Gibraltar, if you please, we'll excuse you for the time it took you. But haven't you water nearer than a mile?"
"A little, señor. Supper will be ready when you have washed."
After supper they went to examine their-horses, to find that Ronie's did not show much improvement. One of the peons, however, had interested himself so far as to bandage the limb in some black decoction that he claimed was good for a sprain, which was evidently the trouble with the creature. This man became very friendly upon finding that his efforts were so well appreciated, and he began to talk glibly of other matters, saying, among other things:
"You come from Maracaibo, I think, señors. Did you see anything of Captain Rhoades and his bold riders?"
"We heard of him," replied Jack. "We have been looking for them. Are you expecting them this way?"
"No one can tell where El Capitan will strike next, señor. He is very brave, and he moves about as if he and his men had wings."
"Is it possible that Castro's hirelings have penetrated into this region?" asked Jack, as a feeler.
"Possible it may be, but not probable. He has been whipped on every hand, and I have no doubt General Matos will ride into Caracas its conquerer before we are much older."
"Si, señor," replied Jack, who, finding that nothing more was likely to be learned, led the way back into the house. A few men were standing about in the reception-room, but everything seemed very quiet, giving little indication of the storm so soon to rise.
Ronie and Jack lay down upon their hammocks without delay, believing it would be good policy to rest while they; might, knowing not what an hour might bring forth. They had slept about three hours, when they were awakened by a commotion in the adjoining apartment, supplemented by loud voices. In a moment they were sitting bolt upright, listening to catch what was being said. The tones were loud enough for them to do this, but the speakers, all of whom were talking in Spanish, spoke in such excitement and disjointed manner that it was some time before even Jack could understand sufficient to explain the situation.
"I think it is a band of the mountain guerrillas," he whispered to Ronie, as they moved close together. "It may be Rhoades' band, I cannot say. Ha! they are speaking of a couple of Americanos coming this way. Now the proprietor is telling them there are two stranger Americanos in here. Lad, they mean us! It looks so we have got to get out or fall into their hands."
Before his companion could reply an ugly-looking visage appeared above the edge of the woodwork forming the walls of the building, and which, as has been said, were built only half the height of the structure. Then it became evident from the sounds that the body of soldiers in the adjoining room were about to enter their quarters!
"We are in for it now!" said Jack. "We might as well make a bold dash for liberty. The time for palavering is past."
CHAPTER XIV.
INDIAN WARFARE.
Ronie realized that it was a critical moment for them. While it was too dark in the room to see anything plainly, the dark visages above the walls were silhouetted against the background of the night with vivid clearness. They proved beyond a doubt that the building was surrounded by the armed men. All this flashed through his mind very quickly, for they lost no time in attempting to make their escape.
"Follow me," whispered Jack, leading the way to the rear wall. Then, notwithstanding the presence of the enemies without, he caught upon the top of the wall, and, springing into the air, cleared the obstruction with an agility some young athletes might have envied. Nor was Ronie a bit behind him. Seizing firmly on the wall, the young engineer bounded upward, and, turning a complete somersault, landed on his feet a couple of yards beyond the other side of the wall.
Jack struck within half a dozen feet of him, outside of the cordon of watchers surrounding the building. At the same moment an outburst of cries from inside the building told that the mob within had entered the room our twain had just left so unceremoniously. Without stopping to hear more, they darted into the thicket of bushes bordering the clearing about the dwelling.
They were barely in time to escape a volley of bullets sent after them by the insurgents, who had rallied with celerity and prepared to start in pursuit, giving expression to loud yells of mingled surprise and consternation at the bold act just performed. These cries served to tell the fugitives of their situation without doing any material harm. At any rate, Ronie and Jack found themselves several rods from the building before their enemies mustered for pursuit. But at the very outset it promised to be a stern chase.
Unacquainted with the grounds as they were, Ronie and Jack had to be constantly on the watch against running into some of the impassable thickets that grew in every direction. The woods seemed to be full of the insurgents, for go whither they would they soon found their further flight cut off in that course by a body of the armed outlaws lying in wait for them, or crossing their path like so many hounds running down a brace of foxes. They could still hear the outcries and excitement prevailing at the building they had left.
"Hist!" exclaimed Jack, suddenly grasping Ronie by the arm. "I hear them coming from the right and left. Down upon your hands and knees, lad. We must crawl for it."
It was evident the enemies were too numerous for them to risk a hand-to-hand struggle, so the fugitives dropped close to the earth and began a tedious advance through the matted bushes which formed a sort of hedge between the parties of insurgents. Jack was slightly ahead, but Ronie kept as near to him as possible. In this way they advanced for three or four yards. It was quite dark in the growth, but they could discern the forms of the natives plain enough to see that a dozen or more were within a few paces of them. Then Jack paused, signaling to Ronie to do the same by a gentle grip upon his wrist.
It had become very still in the jungle-like forest, and Ronie was wondering what this movement of his companion meant, when a sharp scream pierced the night air. It was a woman's voice, freighted with great fear and suffering.
"We are not the only ones in trouble," whispered Jack.
"What does it mean? Hark, Jack! she is pleading for her liberty. There is a man's voice, and he, too, is begging for some one to spare his life. Is there nothing we can do for them?"
"It looks as if we had about all we could look after to save our own lives, lad. But, as long as it is in our way let's creep a little nearer the place."
The insurgents, having apparently moved farther to their right, they cautiously advanced, being careful not to disturb a bush or make any noise. They advanced in this way for a few rods, when they found themselves on the margin of a sunken swamp, dense with a growth of vines and bushes enveloped in moss and lichens. Finding this impenetrable, they crawled along its border, though forced to steer more to their right than they thought prudent. It was evidently this impassable jungle which had changed the course of the insurgents.
They must have advanced a hundred rods without finding any end to the swamp, when the sound of voices now became distinctly heard, though they were not raised above an ordinary tone. It was the same woman speaking they had heard before, while her accents were scarcely less intense. She was saying, in Spanish:
"Have mercy, señors! I have never wronged you nor the poor country you profess to be fighting for. My poor husband died in her defense, and I am willing to give my life in her cause, but do not torture me."
"Tell us where he is and we will spare you," replied a masculine voice, pitched in a high key.
"Alas! I do not know. I would that I did, señors. But if I did you cannot think me cowardly enough to betray him, not at the price of my poor life. God forbid that I should for a moment have such a thought or that you should so far misjudge me in my weakness. He is all there is left me—if he yet lives, which I am not certain—my noble son, the noblest of the De Caprians."
At the mention of that name Ronie and Jack instantly remembered the brave young exile then with Harrie in prison at San Carlos, and, as may be imagined, listened with excitement hard to suppress for the next words, which were hissed rather than spoken by the man who held her a prisoner:
"You lie!" and the concealed listeners fancied they could see him lift his armed hand over her head, as if he would kill her then and there. Her reply was spoken with the calmness born of despair:
"Think as you will, señor; I have spoken the truth. Had I a dozen lives depending on my answer, it would be the same. Kill me if you wish. I can die without a regret, knowing that Francisco is not here to witness my death or suffer at your hands, El Capitan."
"She is Francisco's mother," whispered Ronie, anxiously.
"Ay, lad; and he is Rhoades, the insurgent leader."
"Must we let him butcher her in cold blood and remain inactive?" asked Ronie, whose hot nature was aroused by this unwarranted treatment of a helpless captive.
"Hist!" warned Jack. "We are watched by an enemy in yon coppice."
Ronie saw nothing in the direction indicated by his companion, but under the circumstances he felt certain he was right, and he grasped his firearm more firmly, feeling that it would not be long before he would be obliged to use it. The voices of the speakers ahead had become silent, so that not a sound broke the stillness of the scene.
"What can we do, Jack?"
"I have been thinking lad, that it may be well for us to do a little scouting, in order to get a better idea of the situation. That fellow in the thicket has got to be disposed of before we can do much else. If you will lie here and not let any of them spring a surprise on you, I will see what I can do in the way of Indian warfare. I do not believe I have lost the little cunning I picked up in fighting the Igorrotos of Luzon."
Without waiting for Ronie's reply, Jack began to creep to their rear, moving so silently that our hero was not aware of his retreat until he had fairly left his side. The voice of the insurgent chief again fell on his ear, followed by the reply of the woman, which was spoken too low for him to distinguish. Jack had now disappeared, and he knew he was alone in the midst of enemies.
Five minutes dragged themselves slowly away without bringing any material change in the situation. Ronie had not discovered any sign of Jack, but twice he had seen a man's head thrust cautiously above the matted undergrowth where he knew one of their enemies lurked. Evidently the scout, for such he judged him to be, was getting uneasy and anxious to end the suspense. During the time he had heard a small body of horsemen ride up to where the insurgent leader and his prisoner were stopping.
"Jack told me at the end of five minutes to lift my cap on the muzzle above the rim of bushes," he mused. "The time must be up now. I think I will try it."
Then Ronie removed the covering on his head, and, placing it on the end of his rifle barrel, gently raised the weapon as he had been told, in doubt as to what the result would be. He had barely accomplished the simple feat before the sharp report of a firearm rang out, and a bullet sped just over him with a hearty zip! The cap dropped by his side, and when he came to pick it up he found that it had a hole through its crown where the bullet had gone. Most assuredly the insurgent was a good marksman, and he shuddered to think what his own fate would have been had he carelessly exposed himself.
The shot of the sharpshooter brought an exclamation from the lips of the chief, but beyond that Ronie heard nothing to explain to him what was succeeding. He fancied at first he heard the man starting toward him, but he was not quite sure of it. He was becoming alarmed in regard to Jack. Where could he be all this time? Had he fallen into some trap and become a prisoner? In the midst of these reflections he suddenly became aware of the presence of some one near him, and he was about to act in his defense when the familiar voice of Jack caused him to stop.
"Easy, lad! It's all right with him yonder. Your ruse worked to perfection and just in the nick of time. I managed to handle him without making a disturbance. His shot has not seemed to arouse them, and it is time for us to act. The road is not far away, and the insurgents seemed to have halted near the outlet of this swamp. I judge they are waiting for some of their force to join them. Besides the woman, they have one or two other captives, which I judge they are taking to headquarters. If you feel like looking at them, follow me. We might as well go that way as any other, for the woods are full of the cusses behind us. Somehow, they run an idea we have taken to the mountains, which is natural, I suppose."
Ronie was nothing loath to move, as he had begun to tire of this inactivity, so he kept close behind Jack, who began to worm his way along the margin of the lowlands, until, after several minutes of this tedious advance, Jack paused.
"If I am not mistaken, we are within gunshot of these brown-skinned rebels," he whispered. "But there is no doubt but they are on the lookout for us, and we must move with great caution. Let's make another hitch."
Once more they went forward, keeping close to the earth, and under the cover of the overhanging tropical vegetation, being careful how they disturbed each bush, and with their eyes constantly trying to pierce the gloom around them. So, like woodsmen following some Indian trail in the days of the pioneers, they wormed their way along, Jack ever and anon lifting his head slightly so as to get a wider view of his surroundings, but always careful not to expose any part of his figure.
Finally he paused again, Ronie quickly imitating his example, while he listened for the explanation he knew his companion was ready to make. Though slightly behind him, he had discovered the shadowy outlines of several horsemen drawn up in a semi-circle.
"We have reached the road," said Jack, softly. "Can you see the horsemen just to our right, where the way curves slightly?"
"Yes," replied Ronie, in the same cautious tone.
"And the woman? She is a little beyond the main body, on the gray horse."
"I see her, now that you have called my attention to her. I should know her by her skirts."
"Right, lad. The brook is just below. The crafty dogs are still harkening and waiting. But they will not wait much longer. Hark! a body of horsemen are coming up the road at this moment! It is probably these they are waiting for."
"What do you propose to do, Jack?"
"Get a little nearer, lad."
"Do you think we can save her?"
"We will try, but it can be done only at great risk and under cover of the excitement of the meeting of these squads. Come on, lad, every moment is precious to us."
CHAPTER XV.
A FRIENDLY VOICE.
In the work that followed, Jack Greenland showed that he was no novice in woodcraft, but it would take more space than I can give to it to describe minutely the details of what I shall only attempt to outline. It would not do for them to leave the thick fringe of bushes overhanging the road, and yet, in order to accomplish his purpose, it was necessary for them to shorten the space between them and the rebel riders under "El Capitan," as the mountain insurgent was called. To do this more safely, Jack retreated about a yard, and then crept forward in the same direction of the road. In spite of his extreme caution, Ronie heard a stick snap under his knee, when his heart came into his mouth. Fortunately, one of the horses stamped its foot at this moment, and thus the fainter sound was drowned by the heavier. Then the harsh voice of the insurgent was heard to exclaim:
"Fire on the head of the laggard! I cannot wait here any longer. Forward, men! on to the mansion, which shall be the cage for our bird."
Without further delay the body of half a dozen riders struck their impatient steeds smartly with their spurs, and would have swiftly disappeared from the scene, but for an accident to the foremost. His animal, thus suddenly aroused, reared into the air and then plunged forward, but, either stepping into a hole or stumbling, it staggered ahead, coming nearly upon its knees. Its rider was flung headlong into the bushes within a hand's reach of our amateur scouts!
This mishap plunged the rest of the riders into confusion, nearly unseating Rhoades himself, but who rallied with a horrible imprecation upon the head of his unfortunate follower. With rare presence of mind the woman on the gray horse wheeled her spirited animal quickly around to make a bold dash for freedom. There were horsemen behind her, but that was her only way of escape, if she could hope to get away at all. In a moment the entire scene had become one of wildest excitement, and above the clatter of hoofs and the cries of his men, rang the voice of the leader, as he swung his own horse around, calling upon his panic-stricken followers:
"Don't let her escape! Shoot her if must be, but stop her!"
The mountain outlaw was about to carry out his own order, when he received a terrific blow from Jack Greenland, which tumbled him from his seat to the ground. Jack and Ronie had been quick to perceive that in this exciting tableau lay their chance of action.
"Mount the free horse and ride down the road for your life!" said Jack. "A bold dash will carry us through."
Then he sprang forward to capture the horse ridden by the insurgent chief, knowing that, could he be successful in this, it would throw the squad into confusion. Without a leader they were not likely to make a very effective pursuit. I have described the result of his swift and daring onset. And, as Rhoades, stunned by the blow, sank helpless to the earth, the fearless American seized the bridle rein of the frightened horse before it could clear itself from the hand of its former master. Almost simultaneously with this action Jack would have been in the saddle, but for the fact that the right foot of the insurgent had caught in the stirrup. This caused a brief delay, but, wrenching the offending limb aside, the captor vaulted into the seat just as two or three shots whistled through the air at random from the discomfited insurgents, who were at a loss to account for just what was being enacted in their midst. One of these bullets cut away a lock of his silvered hair, but, unminding his narrow escape, he turned the horse sharply about, crying to the woman, who had succeeded in heading her steed down the road:
"Ride for your life. It is your only hope."
She had already reached the outside circle of the little group, and her horse, a spirited one, cleared the last of the dismayed riders, to bear her down the way at a terrific pace, her long, black hair streaming in the wind as she sped on. Once a white face was turned backward for a moment, and then she disappeared from sight.
Meanwhile Ronie was having an experience equally as exciting and even more dangerous to his life and liberty. He had succeeded in catching upon the bridle of the horse that had thrown its rider, and he gained the saddle an instant later, while the terrified animal reared and plunged furiously. But the young engineer had secured a firm hold on the reins, and was likely to obtain quick control over the creature, when he found stout hands laid on the bridle with a power which threw the struggling brute back upon its haunches.
The attack of the insurgents, three in number, was so sudden and powerful that Ronie's escape seemed impossible.
"Shoot the dog!" cried one of the insurgents.
"Don't let him get away!" exclaimed the chief, who had rallied by this time sufficient to realize something of the situation.
Ronie knew he could expect no assistance from Jack, who was having all he could attend to, and he resolved to make a desperate attempt to get away. Accordingly, he whipped out the stout knife which had been given him by Manuel Marlin, and as the shots of his enemies sped past his head, he cut the reins upon which the insurgents were clinging, when the men, suddenly losing their hold, staggered forward, leaving the animal freed from their clutches.
Finding itself thus relieved of the weight dragging it down, the horse flung up its head, gave vent to a wild snort, and bounded madly over their writhing forms, to rush like a whirlwind down the road, scarcely a head behind Jack, mounted on the chief's fleet-footed steed. Though nearly unseated by this abrupt onset, Ronie held fast to his position, while he was borne on at a rate of speed which fairly took away his breath. Even Jack, going at his terrific pace, was passed, and then the woman on the stout gray was outdistanced. Without check or guidance to its headlong flight, Ronie soon found that his horse was running away!
The cries and the rifle shots of his enemies were soon lost in the distance, but the young engineer had barely recovered his equilibrium, so to speak, when he became conscious of the approach of a body of horsemen from ahead. Naturally expecting only enemies, he began to wonder how he was to come out of this new danger. The sounds of the approaching horses told that this party were coming at a gait almost as swift as that by which he was carried along. Thus he was not given sufficient time in which to prepare for the meeting, if any preparation could be made by him in his plight, before he found himself carried into the very midst of a squad of a dozen horsemen, sweeping toward him at a breakneck pace. Wild shouts rang in his ears, but if efforts were made to stop him he was not aware of it. In some manner, never quite plain to him, he was carried through the party of riders, brushing against them on the right and left, but clearing them in an incredible space of time, to be still carried on with unabated speed.
So far Ronie had not gathered his scattered faculties enough to act, but now, remembering that the bridle was still left on the head of the horse he bestrode, he leaned forward and grasped the side straps close down to the bit. Perhaps the animal had begun to tire of its wild race.
At any rate, it quickly yielded to the strong hands wrenching at its mouth, and began to slacken its speed.
All this really took place in less time than it has taken to describe it, even in outline, and the excitement and confusion of the surprised riders in his rear were yet ringing in his ears, when Ronie, for the second time, became aware of the approach of horsemen. But before he could obtain control of his own horse, or anticipate who might now be in his pathway, a stentorian voice thundered in English:
"Halt! Who comes here?"
CHAPTER XVI.
COLONEL MARCHAND.
It was fortunate for Ronie Rand that he had succeeded in getting control of the horse he rode, or his experiences in Venezuela would have terminated in a tragic manner. With the thrilling command of the leader of this body of horsemen, the firearms of his soldiers leaped to their shoulders, and in another moment a volley of bullets would have stopped the advance of our hero. Seeing only the inevitable to be met, he cried out:
"I am an American! I surrender if need be."
"Hold, men!" called out the officer. "He is a lone American. He cannot belong to the gang we are running down. Who are you, sir?"
"My name is Roland Rand, sir, and I have only recently reached this country. With a friend I am on my way to Caracas, and just escaped from the rebels under El Capitan."
Ronie had answered thus boldly and openly, for he was certain the body of soldiers in front of him were not a part of the insurgents he had just escaped by so narrow a margin. By this time the sound of other horses approaching came from near at hand, and the officer ordered his men to be in readiness to meet them. Believing them to be Jack and the captive woman, he wheeled smartly about, saying:
"I believe they are friends of mine. Hold up, Jack!" he cried, as the latter, with the woman riding abreast of him, came into sight. "I believe these are friends."
"Halt! Who comes here?" demanded the officer.
"Friends," replied Jack, suddenly checking his headlong flight, while the woman followed his example. Then, before anything further could be said or done, the officer did a most unexpected thing. Urging his horse close beside Ronie, he cried:
"Roland Rand! Is it possible I find you here?"
Ronie, at first thinking the other meant to do him harm, shrank back, but he quickly rallied at the familiar tone of the speaker. Then, with a wild feeling of joy, he looked more closely upon him, to exclaim the next moment:
"Colonel Marchand!"
"At your service, Mr. Rand, but I am puzzled to know how it is I meet you here, where I least expected to find you."
"It is a very long story to tell, Colonel Marchand, and I will gladly explain it all to you at the first opportunity. This is my friend, Jack Greenland," signifying that individual, who had not yet recovered from the surprise he had experienced.
"Glad to meet you, too, Mr. Greenland. But where is Harrie, Ronie? Is he coming behind you?"
"He is in prison at San Carlos, colonel. Jack and I were on our way to Caracas to find relief for him."
"What is he in prison for? The penitentiary is mainly filled with rebels now."
"That is the charge against him. He was taken under suspicious circumstances, but I can vouch for his honor."
"Then you are not rebels, Ronie?"
"No, sir—that is, we have not committed ourselves as being against the government."
"Good! You evidently carry a level head. I am at the head of a regiment fighting for President Castro. We were in hot pursuit of a body of the insurgents whom we routed in a fight below here. But who is this woman with you?"
"She is a captive in the hands of Rhoades' guerrillas. I do not know her name. Perhaps she will give it herself. We were trying to strike a blow in her behalf."
The strange woman, thus appealed to, said, in that musical voice so common to the better class of Venezuelans:
"You are very kind, señors. I do not know that you would care to hear my name, for it has too often been a bone of contention in this unhappy land. My husband was Francisco de Caprian. I am not ashamed to say that."
Colonel Marchand uttered an exclamation of surprise, and, though Ronie Rand was expecting this reply, he could not wholly conceal his emotion at the mention of that name which he had learned to both fear and respect. He could not refrain from saying:
"You are Francisco's mother?"
"You know my son!" she cried somewhat wildly.
"We met him on the Libertador, señora. He is now in prison at San Carlos with our friend."
"Then he lives! They told me he was dead. Oh, my son! When shall I meet him again?"
"I do not understand this," declared Colonel Marchand, brusquely. "You talk of the Libertador, the outlawed scourge of the coast, of the De Caprians, every one of whom is denounced as spies, and of loyalty to Castro, the patriot president, all in the same breath."
"I will explain fully if I am given the opportunity," replied Ronie, stoutly.
"Pardon me, Ronie," Colonel Marchand hastened to say. "I do not doubt you, but this is no time for explanations here. We have dallied too long already, if we would catch our birds. Go to the rear, you three, under an escort to protect you. Mind you, Lieutenant Garcia, the woman remains with you until I return. We will make short work of the mountain rebels."
Upon finishing his brusque orders, Colonel Marchand wheeled smartly about and dashed up the road, followed by his troops, numbering half a hundred or more, Lieutenant Garcia and three privates remaining to look after the two Americans and Señora de Caprian. The lieutenant showed by his reluctance to move on his duty that he was not well pleased with the plan, and he was heard to exclaim under his breath that it was a shame to be cheated of the sport at this juncture. However, he soon recovered his good nature, and, requesting his companions to follow, rode sharply in an opposite direction to that just taken by his superior officer.
About two miles below they came upon a small town, where Lieutenant Garcia ordered a halt until he should receive further orders from Colonel Marchand, or meet him in person. This place, which had been the scene of a stirring skirmish a few days before, was now in the hands of the government troops, which the latter did not hesitate to display in their actions. Though Señora de Caprian was treated with extreme courtesy, Ronie and Jack did not fail to observe that a strict watch was kept over her, and the room assigned her at the house where the little party made its headquarters had a guard stationed outside the door. Of course, our heroes were allowed their liberty, but they were only too glad to improve the interval of waiting for the reappearance of Colonel Marchand by throwing themselves down upon the floor and seeking sleep.
It was broad daylight when they awoke, and the sound of a body of horse outside the building at once attracted their attention. They were soon highly pleased to find that Colonel Marchand had returned. News came to them that he had been successful in his pursuit of El Capitan and his mountain rebels. As anxious as they were to see their old friend, Ronie and Jack deemed it wise to wait until he had sought them.
This did not give over half an hour's suspense before an orderly called upon them to say that the colonel was awaiting them in his headquarters. It is needless to say that they lost no time in obeying this request to see him. They found the genial commander established in one of the smaller buildings of the village, engaged in studying a map of the country. But at sight of them he quickly forgot his chart, and motioned for them to be seated, saying:
"I have sent for you that I might know your story. We have sent the rebels flying back into their mountain caves like rats driven to their holes. They will not dare to show a head for at least twenty-four hours, so I have a half-day's leisure, except that I must prepare my report to send to General Castro. First I want to hear your story, and I suggest you begin at the very beginning, so I may understand its details and know how to act."
Ronie, acting as spokesman, told their story in as few words as possible from the time they had left Manilla to the present moment, interrupted several times by the impulsive officer, who was both surprised and pleased at the information they gave him.
"By the right hand of Bolivar!" he exclaimed finally, "you may not be aware of it, but you bear valuable intelligence that I shall take the liberty to forward to General Castro. The character of the Ban Righ or the Libertador has been pretty well known to us, but you make plain some things which have been dark. I can see how Harrie fell under suspicion under the conditions that he was taken prisoner."
"You can secure his freedom, can you not, Colonel Marchand?"
The colonel was a tall, slender man, with flashing, black eyes and long mustache, which he was wont to twist very vigorously when he was excited. He gave these a savage twirl now, and, springing to his feet, began to pace to and fro furiously.
"I know what I can do, I can try," he declared, returning to his seat after pacing back and forth several times. "If I had been a little more successful up this way, and he himself had not met with so many reverses, I can imagine he might be more willing to grant my request. But I will try—of course, I will try! I can but fail. If I do," and here he lowered his voice, "by the right hand of Bolivar, the sword of Leon Marchand shall be sheathed while Cipriano Castro holds the rein of government."
Both Ronie and Jack were somewhat taken aback by this speech, which they could see was not a discreet one to make, especially in that place. But the excitement of Colonel Marchand passed as quickly as it had arisen, and he resumed, with marked calmness:
"Coming here strangers, as you have, you can have little idea of the real feeling slumbering like a volcano in the hearts of us Venezuelans. The truth is, our people are the most ungrateful on the face of the earth. All of the revolutions and political plots that have harassed our country have been almost entirely uncalled for, though I will confess our leaders have made an excuse easy through their eagerness to "feather their nests," as you would say. But honest men have ever found little encouragement to remain honest, when the populace stands ready to take up the cry of 'fraud' the moment some disgruntled office seeker utters such a cry to cover his own disappointment. The utterance of the word becomes instantly the battle cry to call the mob to riot and ruin. From a Venezuelan riot a general uprising will follow in a single day, until the country is ravaged far and wide. This is accounted for mainly by the fact that the population is made up to nine out of ten of Indians, half-breeds and mulattoes, who are naturally ignorant and easily aroused to fight.
"Matos is followed by just such a rabble. He is rich, but not a soldier by training. Still, it was enough that he was brilliant in uniform and pompous in bearing; these, coupled with the rattle of the drum and the tramp of many feet, aroused the mongrel crowd, until the disgruntled rebel found himself tagged by an army of ragged, boisterous, hungry men, who gladly followed him, and follow him still. We saw an example of the stock in El Capitan's mountain horde. He escaped me only by the skin of his teeth."
"Here I am making a proclamation of war when I ought to be preparing my dispatch for General Castro. I will use every argument I can for Harrie, as I know he is a noble boy, and that his imprisonment is unjust and wicked."
"How about Francisco de Caprian?" asked Ronie, for Colonel Marchand had not hinted of him.
"I can do nothing," he replied, with a shake of the head. "The De Caprians are very much in ill-favor just now. However, for your sake I will mention him, and suggest that it will do no harm to set him free. I think you said he suggested that he was willing to espouse our cause. By the way, what do you say to a campaign under the illustrious Castro, the modern Bolivar of Venezuela? I will mention your willingness, and you can answer me afterward."
Then Colonel Marchand became very busy with the preparation of his dispatch. When it was finished he called an orderly, who was told to see that it was forwarded to the commander-in-chief with as great promptness as possible.
"Bring me back a reply," added the colonel, and when he had seen the messenger depart he turned to resume his conversation with Ronie and Jack.