CHAPTER XXV.
THE SPY OF CARACAS.
Immediately after the victory at La Victoria our three Americans were forced to part with Francisco, who was to return to the capital with General Castro, while they were called to Don Isadora's estate, the owner thinking he had got on the track of a clew to the whereabouts of Mrs. Rand. The don received them with open arms, he having fully recovered from the effects of his wounds, but the errand proved fruitless, and they felt obliged to abandon the quest in this vicinity.
So they again found themselves in La Guayra. But their stay here was short. Ronie was anxious to get to Caracas, that he might consult with Mr. Bowen, to see if nothing could be done by him toward finding his mother. General Castro was also to join with him, and altogether he felt very hopeful, though aware that his mother might be beyond his power of help before this. But he was a brave youth, and he resolved to do all he could and hope for the best.
It has been said that the capital of Venezuela, while only five miles inland from its port, La Guayra, is situated in the mountains, three thousand feet above the seashore. The railroad which connects the two coils about this rugged ascent like a steel lariat thrown by a dextrous hand, now winding in and out where some bottomless abyss is encircled like a huge letter U upon the landscape, or anon clinging upon the rim of some sharp-pointed rock, where the same train creeps around the angle, showing mortal fear by its snail-like pace. Another has aptly compared it to a spider's thread strung from crag to crag. Time and again the engineer can look back from his cab into the windows of the rear coach, while between him and the object of his gaze yawns a rock-walled well hundreds of feet in depth.
The young engineers were standing on the rear platform, watching with admiring gaze the wild scene stretching away from their feet.
"Isn't it grand, magnificent!" exclaimed Harrie. "I never saw its equal. Did ever you, Jack?"
"Nothing to surpass it, lad; not even the Alpine Pass of the Colorado. Where can one find a grander combination of sea, plain, valley and mountain? And whoever saw a greener plain on a bluer sea?"
"Or a sky quite as serene," added Harrie.
Ronie was fain to agree with his enthusiastic companions, while they admired together the rugged panorama falling away from them to the foothills trending from the base of the mountain like the huge roots of some great tree which had burst from their imprisonment in the earth and stood out as the bold supports of the mighty burden they upheld. Between these ridges, or leaping from their gnarled sides in silvery cascades, numerous streams of water made bright bands on the background of gray and dark green. Below the mountains, groves of royal palms, standing with park-like regularity and so far apart that their white trunks shone like pillars cased in silver foil, were to be seen. Out from among these gleamed the white and yellow roofs of the cottages of the people. Beyond these glistened the white line of breakers, forever coming and forever going, leaving only a chalk mark to tell where they have been but will never be again. Outside of this lay old ocean, throbbing under the hot, fierce tropical sun like a hunted creature panting to get its breath, but never resting.
Still up, up, crept the iron conqueror, until it broke the veil of mist in cloudland, up where the trees were jeweled with dewdrops and the track reeked with the wine of the sky. At one place they could look down into three thousand feet of space, and soon after their sight was gladdened by the view of the valley on the other side and the thrice welcome sight of Caracas. Again they were pleased by the happy blending of art and nature, the beautiful country, the basin under its stupendous rim, the city marked by the towers of its numerous churches, the dazzling roofs of public buildings, the regular streets lined with picturesque cottages, the gardens of white houses of the coffee planters, and beyond more mountains.
Caracas was founded by Diego de Losada in 1567, and named the "City of Santiago de Leon de Caracas." The picturesque valley which forms its site was the capital of the heroic tribe of natives known as "the people of Caracas," which name was very appropriately given to the capital of the race which after two hundred years of warfare succeeded in annihilating the original owners of the soil. This long struggle against the stronger power by the weaker forms one of the most glorious pages in South American history, and scintillates with deeds of heroism and human sacrifice.
Now the ascent has been made, they find that the city is overlooked by mountains smooth and bare of trees, but covered with a light-green sward, except where some stream affords a band of a darker tint. The clouds seem of more than northern fleeciness, and hang over the peaks like smoke, or float lazily from valley to valley, giving varying hues to the beautiful landscape. The climate is delightful; the first impressions of the capital pleasing.
Caracas has a population of about eighty thousand, it being the usage that only one family shall occupy a house. It is a city of culture and fashion, of public statues to scholars and artists, as well as warriors, for not all of the history of this interesting republic is filled with war. While a land of hotheaded people, whose career has been largely filled with riots and revolutions, here and there are to be found evidences of a high civilization, producing marked contracts of the rival forces of man.
What struck our energetic American as unexpected was the air of repose which rested upon the scene, giving little hint of the excitement reigning outside. Slowly along the streets, as if there was no occasion for haste, moved trains of mules bearing on their backs bags of coffee, or quite enveloped under huge bales of fodder, which had the appearance at a distance of some huge, lifeless bulk upon legs. Then there were bodies of foot soldiers, wearing blue uniforms with scarlet trousers and facings, also moving with a deliberation which at least bespoke their importance. This sight was enlivened by the appearance of an open fiacre whirled along the street by a pair of small but fiery horses, driven by a coachman from his high box seat, the gold trimmings to his hat and coat rivaled for brightness by the ornaments on his top boots. Evidently the carriage bore some person of importance in haste to his destination.
The cause of this undue haste, as well as the disturbance of the equanimity of this everyday sight, was explained by the sounds of another party approaching. Then, as the travelers upon the streets moved with unaccustomed celerity to one side, a body of men mounted upon high-stepping horses, strikingly caparisoned and carefully groomed, appeared in sight, the riders presenting a bold effect in their uniforms of white duck and high black boots.
"The president's bodyguard," said Ronie. "General Castro and his troops have returned, and we have got here just in the nick of time."
"There is the general riding in the center," declared Harrie. "How the people are cheering him! It cannot be that they knew of his coming so soon. Shall we follow them?"
"Perhaps we might as well," said Ronie. "I suppose Francisco is in the train somewhere. Ay, look, boys! there he comes. Doesn't he look fine? He has the natural military bearing of his race. Well, I am glad of his good fortune."
With these words Ronie began to move along with the crowd which had quickly collected, and cheering lustily began to surge ahead in the direction taken by the martial train that now moved along the street farther than they could look. It was not long before they found themselves surrounded by a jostling, but good-natured, mob, each member of which seemed determined to keep in sight of the marching column. The band had now begun to play, and as the strains of martial music filled the air, Ronie Rand was conscious of hearing a voice muttering in a deep, sullen tone:
"Curses upon him! His triumph shall be short. Soon shall the sons of——"
The rest, if spoken aloud, and the words given seemed to have been uttered involuntarily, were lost to our hero, but he caught his breath at what he had heard. It was not the import of the words, but the tone of the speaker which caused such emotion that he could constrain himself with difficulty from trying to break through the mob and find him. It was the voice of Manuel Marlin, of San Carlos!
So satisfied was Ronie of this fact that he immediately tried to push his way forward so as to reach the man, whispering for his companions to follow. But people in a crowd like that give away slowly, when they can, and when Ronie had reached the spot where the other must have been at that time he was missing. Nor could he find any trace of him.
"I am sure it was he," he said to Harrie and Jack, as soon as he explained his sudden action. "But he has slipped away from me."
"Let's keep along. He will doubtless follow the throng," said Harrie. So they moved with the spectators toward the most notable building in Caracas, the Federal Palace, which is built around a great square overflowing with flowers and fountains, and lighted by swinging electric lights. The palace is lightly built, and though painted in imitation of stone, looks like an airy castle which might be blown over at the next flaw of wind. It is profusely ornamented with statues made either of plaster of Paris or of wood painted so as to imitate marble. If this gives the building an unstable appearance and given over to frivolous amusements, it is in keeping with its environments, the high-colored walls and open fronts of the adjoining buildings that help to fill this American Paris, and it is by all odds the handsomest building in the city. And, rather than given over to scenes of frivolity and mimic life, here are the chambers of the two branches of legislature, the different offices of the department of state, and the reception hall of the president, in which is the national portrait gallery. The dome of this chamber, which is two hundred feet in length, and bears many pictures of warlike scenes, is painted with a panorama of life-size figures depicting the last battle of the Venezuelans against the Spaniards. It is really a work of artistic merit. So, altogether, the Federal Palace is a building of substantial business, and it has played an important part in the shifting affairs of the republic.
To Guzman Blanco, more than all others, does the city owe these public buildings. These were originally convents or monasteries, until Guzman overthrew the power of the church. The Federal Palace was one of these church buildings, so was the present opera house and the university. All of them seem well located for their new uses, and go to show that the church must have had a strong hold on the wealth of the capital before this daring adventurer overcame them.
Anxious to get sight of this spy, if possible, Ronie and Harrie did not try to get in so as to witness the president's reception, though Jack did so, in the hope that he might find the man if he should dare to remain with the crowd. But the rest of the day passed, however, without bringing success to them, and the two young engineers were standing near the entrance to one of those cathedrals which form such an important portion of the buildings of the capital. They had barely gained a position where they could watch the comers and goers without being noticed themselves, when they were glad to see Captain Francisco de Caprian approaching, with their old-time friend, Jack Greenland.
Naturally, the countenance of the first was radiant with joyous excitement.
"It has been a great day for Caracas," he said. "President Castro has reason to be proud of it, as nothing has happened to mar its perfect harmony. Yet there is a rumor afloat—I know not how it got started—that there is a secret enemy in the capital, a spy, waiting for a favorable chance to strike a deadly blow at the hero himself."
"I suppose efforts will be made to capture him?" said Ronie.
"Be assured of that. A handsome reward is offered. Oh, they will get him, soon or late."
Then a sigh escaped the lips of the handsome young officer, and he murmured to himself rather than to his companions:
"I would, dear father, you might have been spared to witness this day, for I believe you would have rejoiced with the rest of us." Then, suddenly remembering his companions, he said: "Forgive me, señors, but to me these very shadows of this building are sacred. It was here, in the last revolution, my dear father, with nine others, made their final stand and fought so good a fight that it was found necessary to build a fire in the tower and smoke them out with the fumes of sulphur. Ay, it was a desperate test for the ten," said Francisco, while his dark eyes lighted with an intense light and his thin hand quivered spasmodically.
"Did your father and his friends perish?" asked Harrie and Ronie, both deeply interested in this simple narrative.
"It was their only alternative, señors, for to yield meant death and torture. Father, let it be said to his credit, gave his companions opportunity to surrender; but, let it be said to their credit, they stood bravely together. Then, their last shot spent, and the fumes of the drug rapidly overpowering them, they threw themselves from the tower into the street. It is said they went downward to their fate with clasped hands. I am glad I did not witness the sad sight. But I believe a brighter day is dawning for poor Venezuela, and that her brave defenders did not give their lives in vain."
Our three friends were deeply touched with this pathetic story, related in such gentle tones as to make it seem like some sweet vision rather than one of grim war's bitter sacrifices. Looking beyond their heroic companion, they were struck with the peacefulness of their environments, so well in accord with the manner of the speaker, all tending to soften the tragic interest of the scene of warlike and heroic action. Where the ill-fated band of patriots, the last to make a stand at that time, must have fallen, ran the sunken rails of the tram cars, and in sight were the notion shops and confectionery stores, where laughing, prattling children were wont to come to find the simple toys and playthings to amuse them. At nighttime electric lights illuminated with their dazzling splendor the now peaceful scene, while seekers of religious promises wended their way softly in and out of the old cathedral.
"I am afraid I have made you sad, señors, when there is so much to make one happy. But I forgot that this is not for you, and that your heart is heavy, Señor Rand, over the fate of your poor mother. Let us hope you, too, may soon find your cup of joy full to overflowing."
"Have you heard how Colonel Marchand is?" asked Harrie, seeing that Ronie did not feel like replying to their friend.
"He is likely to recover, but his campaigning is doubtless over until some time in the future. Come, señors, I shall insist that you stop with me to-night, and it is time you seek rest."
CHAPTER XXVI.
"IT IS MANUEL MARLIN!"
It was a beautiful morning, that which followed, and our friends were astir early. Wandering out upon the streets, eager to learn if any new tidings had come of the spy, they soon found themselves walking under the refreshing shade of rows of ornamental trees. In following this course, they came somewhat abruptly upon a plaza floored for a wide space with rare mosaics, and lit at night by swinging electric lights.
"This is the Plaza de Bolivar," said Jack, "a favorite place for the president's band to come and play. See, there is the statue of the republic's hero."
Ronie and Harrie had already discovered an equestrian statue, mounted upon a heavy pedestal, while the rider held with one hand a straightened rein on his refractory steed, and with the other he pointed his sword high into the air, as if he would pierce some imaginary enemy stationed in space. It was a bizarre affair, the weather-stained image of a horse rearing into the air after the fashion of some huge rocking-horse. From the bold figure of man and steed their gaze dropped to the base, where they saw in raised letters the name of Simon Bolivar, the Liberator of Venezuela. Instinctively, our Americans uncovered their heads out of respect to the memory of the man who was not only a great warrior, but a notable statesman, and a poet of considerable merit. His proclamations to the armies are examples of masterly eloquence, and as much to be admired as his military genius, which won for him the applause of the five republics that he liberated. The statue of Bolivar is in bronze, and is considered one of the most notable examples of modern art.
When his young companions had tired of looking at the equestrian figure of the warrior, Jack said:
"Now come with me, lads, and I will show you a sight worth two of this to you and me."
Without reply, Ronie and Harrie followed their friend until they came upon a delightfully retired retreat, which, without the bizarre attractions of the Plaza Bolivar, had a freshness and quiet beauty the other lacked. Anticipating now what they were to meet, to our young Americans there was indeed an air of sanctity and hallowed peace that the more ornate spot did not possess. With reverential steps they moved silently but swiftly along the clean, graveled path bordered with deep, green grass and overhung with interlacing branches of the trees which formed a roof over their heads, until they reached the center of the plot, where the torrid sun of the tropics beat down upon the head of the statue they had come to see.
This was the Plaza Washington, and the man honored here was the American patriot, the Father of His Country, who had been given this honored recognition in the capital of the United States of Venezuela. Uncovering their heads, the three stood for several minutes in a silence that seemed too sacred to be broken, while they looked upon the calm, benign features of Washington, honored thus by a race they had not expected would pay such homage. At that very moment, unobserved by them, a couple of natives a little way off, at the uncovering of their heads, removed their wide-brimmed headgear, and looked on with respectful attention. Farther removed, a group of women, dark-eyed, dark-featured, but not unpleasant of countenance, also paused in their morning work to watch the newcomers with respectful admiration rather than curiosity. Evidently these people understood and shared with these strangers from a far-away land this spirit of national pride and patriotism, for true patriots always revere the memory of heroes.
"Isn't it strange Washington should be given a statue here?" asked Harrie.
"Not so very strange," replied Jack, "when you come to think that the histories of the two countries are so nearly alike, up to the day of these two heroes, they might be written by the same historian with slight modifications. Bolivar was the Washington of Venezuela. Then, too, you will remember that Miranda, the pioneer of patriots in this country, served his apprenticeship under Washington, fighting for our country. When he had finished there he returned to his native land to take up her battles. What he learned with our army helped him here.
"Bolivar had no small task on his hand when he undertook to free five republics, and who conquered a territory nearly half as great as Europe.
"It is a common practice for the inhabitants here to strew their garlands of flowers about this place, and once I remember, upon a holiday, coming here, to find the statue of Washington, pedestal and base, literally decked with floral wreaths. Never, it seemed to me, not even in our own land, did the noble countenance of Washington look grander than here, surrounded by a race that did not speak his language, but whose hearts beat as patriotically, as if they understood every word."
"It was a happy thought that they should have sculptured him as a man of peace rather than of war," said Ronie. "It is more happy in its effect, as I look upon him, than the warlike figure of Bolivar."
"Very true; at least, from our standpoint. While they did well to select this phase of his character, no doubt it thrills their hot veins more to look on the defiant form of their beloved leader. What I have said of the two men was truth, but similarity stops there. Bolivar had very much of the savage wildness about him, and he was reckless, headstrong, and sometimes foolhardy. But his career was a grand one, as viewed by his countrymen. It was filled with bold, cunning, victorious marches. His Valley Forge was the torrid jungles and sun-swept plains of a tropical clime; his Delaware, filled with floating ice, to be crossed in mid-winter, the broken mountain pass, or the pathless swamp filled with deadly malaria. Like our Washington, he came of a distinguished family, and he was educated in Europe for the court and camp. But, if educated abroad, his love for his native land never failed, and Venezuela never had a truer son, or a more valiant fighter for her natural rights.
"Ay, lads, his campaigns were filled with such stupendous feats of activity and accomplishment as few have ever equaled. Starting on the seacoast near Pallao, with his foot soldiers and rude cavalry mounted on mule back, he crossed the continent. The perils of mountain-climbing and the hardships of the jungle were met and overcome by his indomitable followers, inspired by his glowing example, living much of the time on berries and roots, sleeping at night upon the ground, to free in turn Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador and Bolivia; then, sweeping down the Pacific coast, to finally overthrow the empire of Peru. He was a young man filled with the love of freedom and the fire of ambition. So little was his heroism appreciated by those whom he thus met that time and again he was forced to meet the assassin, only to find himself deserted at last by those whom he had looked upon and rewarded as friends. So he died alone, of heartaches over the ingratitude of a people he had led out of bondage. But to-day tardy justice makes him, as he deserved to be, the hero of five republics."
"Why should his countrymen, after all he had done for them, strip him of his honors and leave him forlorn and disappointed?" asked Ronie.
"It was owing largely to the inborn fickleness of people of a tropical clime. Two charges, one directly opposed to the other, were brought against him. One party claimed, after having rid them of kings, he tried to make a dictator of himself, with power more absolute than that of those he had deposed. The other said it was because, upon his followers asking him to accept such power, he declined and went into voluntary exile at Santa Marta. Be that as it may, it was nearly twenty years after his death before there was one bold enough to give him the place in public opinion that he deserved. He caused an artist to design a statue that should perpetuate his memory.
"Now we come to see how closely the history of this country is blended with our own. On the neck of the statue the artist placed a miniature in the form of a medallion which the family of Washington had given Bolivar. On the reverse of this was a lock of Washington's hair, with the inscription:
"'This portrait of the founder of liberty in North America is presented by his adopted son to him who has acquired equal glory in South America.'
"You will notice that none of the insignias of honors showered upon him in his hours of triumph by different countries have been retained by the artist, this portrait of the Father of Our Country having been the only ornament it was deemed he would have cared for, as in life he was prouder of this than all else. So you see, the busts and statues of the Liberator bear only this tribute, while those of his followers are decked with glittering ornaments."
"I have read of a very pretty story connected with its presentation," said Harrie. "It was during the time of Lafayette's visit to our country in 1824. A banquet was given in his honor and the memory of Washington by Congress. In the midst of the rejoicings and tributes paid to the venerable visitor, Henry Clay arose to say that, while they were enjoying the fruits of independence, the grand institutions founded by their patriotic forefathers, there were those in the Southern continent who were fighting as valiantly for liberty, with less hope of ultimate victory. Continuing to wax eloquent, the great orator said:
"'No nation, no generous Lafayette, has come to their succor; alone, and without aid, they have sustained their glorious cause, trusting to its justice, and with the assistance only of their bravery, their deserts and their Andes—and one man, Simon Bolivar, the Washington of South America.'
"There was wild cheering then, while men sprang to their feet and clapped their hands. Then Lafayette, the generous, asked that he might send the Southern hero some token of their sympathy and appreciation of his valor. The result was, Lafayette sent Bolivar the portrait of Washington, and it proved a gift the young patriot of the Southland revered, while his people grew to admire and cherish it."
"True, my lad, and this spirit has spread so that you will see pictures of Washington wherever you go. Now it is a portrait; then the American army crossing the wintry Delaware, under its beloved leader; or, the war over and victory's mantle of peace spread over the land, he stands before the door at Mount Vernon. You find squares and public houses named after Washington, with numerous other testimonials of him, all of which seems very pretty to the visitor from the North."
While Jack had been speaking, his gaze had become turned in an opposite direction to where the figure of a man was to be seen skulking in the thicket of flowers. Harrie and Ronie had already discovered the suspicious person, but had understood that he would flee at the slightest indication that he had been seen. Thus, before Jack had finished his speech, Ronie began to retrace his steps, with apparent carelessness, in the direction of a row of yellow, blue and pink houses, with high, barred windows, from which peeped shyly dark-eyed, swarthy-skinned women. But the moment he had passed beyond the range of the concealed man's eyes, he darted into the shrubbery so as to intercept the man should he try to escape by flight.
The wisdom of this action was apparent when Jack and Harrie started toward the spot, when he fled precipitately. This flight, however, took him right into the path of Ronie, who quickly covered him with his pistol, at the same time ordering him to stop, which he did with trembling limbs, to begin to beg for his life.
A good square look at him revealed his identity to Ronie, who exclaimed to his companions:
"Come quick, boys! it is the spy, Manuel Marlin!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
GOOD NEWS.
Ronie did not have to repeat his call, for almost before he had finished the last word Harrie and Jack were beside him. It was then but the work of a moment to disarm the terrified fellow, when he was ordered to march in front of them to the headquarters of the army. Then he fell upon his knees, actually too weak to stand up longer, and with clasped hands and white face, begged for his life.
"Spare me, señors! I am not a spy, but if you take me before the officers of Castro they will condemn me without a trial and I shall be shot! Spare me, I beg of you."
His pathetic supplications touched the hearts of his young captors, but they did not feel it would be right to let him go.
"If you are innocent you can prove it," said Ronie. "I know you are in sympathy with the insurgents, but I promise you shall have a fair opportunity to prove your innocence of being a spy if you are not one."
During these words of Ronie he bent a closer look upon him, and he suddenly recognized our hero as one of the couple who had saved him from the jaguar. He saw that Jack was another of his captors.
"I remember you, señors," he said. "You saved my life, but it would have been better for me to have been eaten by the jaguar than to fall into the hands of Castro. I will tell you something, señor, that will be worth more to you than my miserable life if you will let me go."
"It is of my mother!" exclaimed Ronie. "You had her photograph. Tell me where she is."
"If you will spare my life."
"I am a soldier under Castro; you know a soldier's duty, señor."
"I thought you were one of us," he murmured. "But I am going to tell all I know. She was taken prisoner by some of El Capitan's men. As the angels are my witness I had nothing to do with that. Her portrait fell upon the ground during the struggle and I picked it up. That is all I had to do about it."
"Where is she now?" demanded Ronie, with extreme earnestness.
"She is held as a prisoner at the old convent in Durango under command of El Capitan."
"Then she lives!" cried Ronie, in great joy.
"Si, señor. I can lead you to the place, and will if you will give me my liberty."
"That is beyond my power. I cannot—ha! here comes an officer now."
The newcomer was none other than Captain de Caprian, who asked:
"Whom have we here, señors?"
"A man we found prowling in the city under what we thought to be suspicions circumstances, so we stopped him. He is from San Carlos, and claims he is not a spy."
"I shall leave it for you to say what is to be done with him," said Francisco, "promising to see that he is fairly treated."
"I know not in regard to his being a spy," replied Ronie, "but he has given me valuable information in regard to my mother's fate."
"Does he know of her?" asked Francisco, eagerly. "That fact alone ought to save his life. What has he told you?"
In a few words Ronie explained what he had learned, when the other said, with an intonation of joy in his voice:
"I am so glad, Señor Roland. No time must be lost in going to her rescue. I have this morning received word that my mother has been given her liberty, and that she is on her way to meet me after many sad months of separation. But, dear Roland, as much as I long to meet that mother, if you are willing, and General Castro will permit, I want to go with you to help save your mother. My company will be sufficient force."
Ronie and Harrie could not conceal their emotion at the earnest words of their young friend, who showed that he spoke from the heart.
"Nay——" began Ronie, but the other checked him.
"I know what you would say, Señor Roland, but as much as mother and I want to see each other, we can both wait until this duty is performed. I am going to General Castro at once for leave of absence. You can let this man accompany us if you think he is to be trusted. I will meet you near the old cathedral half an hour hence."
After a short conference among themselves, in which Manuel Marlin was allowed to express his opinion, it was decided to let him go with them. He might prove a valuable companion, for they were all inclined to think he would not be false to his pledges.
Before an hour had passed, so promptly did they act, Captain de Caprian led out his regiment of gallant men, to start upon the long and arduous journey to Durango on the merciful errand of saving a captive from the power of El Capitan. Were the truth told, more than one of the brave band hoped they might meet the bold outlaw himself.
I need not describe that journey to Durango. The town proved to be a little hamlet under the brow of the Cordilleras, where the insurgents sometimes made their headquarters. Knowing this, the advance was made with extreme caution as soon as the regiment had entered the debatable country. Scouts were constantly on the lookout, and among these were our young engineers.
"I can scarcely wait for the time when we shall attack them," declared Ronie to Harrie and Manuel, as the three halted on the brink of a steep hill overlooking the hidden town.
"How quiet the place seems," replied Harrie. "It must be El Capitan and his troops are away."
"Off on one of his raids, no doubt. It will be so much the better for us."
"Still I really think Francisco will be disappointed if we do not find the rebel chief."
"I wonder if yonder old vine-clad building is where mother is imprisoned?" asked Ronie, pointing to what the three felt must be the ancient convent pictured by those who claimed to have been there.
"Si, señors," replied Manuel. "But look there, señors! what does the coming of that llaneros mean?"
The question from Manuel was called forth by the sudden appearance of one of the riders of the llanos, or plains of Venezuela, who drew rein almost in front of the old convent. With what truly seemed wonderful celerity the people began to collect, coming from every quarter.
"Perhaps that fellow has discovered our men and is giving the alarm," said Ronie.
"I wish I was near enough to hear what he says," replied Manuel. "If you will wait for me, señors, a few minutes I will find out."
Manuel Marlin then began the descent into the town, and as the distance was not far, he soon got within hearing of the new arrival. It was not over fifteen minutes before he returned to his anxious companions with the somewhat startling announcement:
"It is as I expected, señors; El Capitan is on his way home, and is expected within a few hours!"
CHAPTER XXVIII.
VICTORY AND PEACE.
Ronie and Harrie heard this announcement with considerable alarm, as with their first thought they believed they had come too late to accomplish their purpose.
"We must get back to the regiment as soon as possible," declared Ronie. "If we act promptly we may yet rout the inhabitants of the town and save mother. How many men has El Capitan under him, do you think, Manuel?"
"I am sorry that I am not able to tell," replied the Venezuelan. "I think by what I could catch that he is coming back with a large force."
"Which makes it the more necessary that we act quickly. Come on, boys!"
His companions needed no urging to follow him, and it was not long before they were able to rejoin Captain de Caprian, who was anxiously awaiting them. But their news did not disconcert the brave young patriot.
"It only fulfills my wishes," he said. "We have only to storm the town without loss of time, and then get ready to meet El Capitan. Ay, we will give him a welcome home that he little expects. I wish Señor Greenland would—but here he comes!"
Jack had also been out on a reconnoissance, and he brought in the same news that the others had—that El Capitan was expected at Durango within a few hours.
"They say he comes with five thousand troops," added Jack.
Our heroes turned to see what effect this announcement would have upon Francisco, but as far as they could see the young captain did not show that he had heard the words. Fifteen minutes later the regiment was ordered forward, and then was begun a swift, but silent, advance upon the stronghold of the insurgents, Captain de Caprian giving out his orders calmly and confidently, as if about to enter one of the camps of Castro. Could he reasonably hope to meet successfully El Capitan's superior numbers? What if the latter had five thousand men under his command?
Ronie and Harrie could not help asking each other these questions, as they fell into line and moved sternly forward. When near to the lower end of the town Captain de Caprian divided his men into two bodies, so as to attack the place simultaneously from different parts. Our heroes remained with his division, and entered the mountain hamlet from the nearest quarter, this advance being along a narrow road overhung by a range of hills on either side.
In order to give the other division time to gain a position above them, it was necessary to make a brief delay before opening the attack. But the wait was not long before the signal was given for the double assault, and the word rang along the ranks:
"Forward! double-quick—-charge!"
It goes without saying that exciting scenes followed. Ronie, Harrie and Jack managed to keep together, and it was their good fortune to be among the first to come within close proximity to the convent where Mrs. Rand was supposed to be imprisoned. This had, in fact, been a part of Captain de Caprian's plans.
The surprise was complete as far as the insurgents were concerned. The onset of the government troops came like a tempest from a clear sky. Women shrieked and fled, followed by men who made scarcely more resistance, until they succeeded in rallying about the old convent. Here then was fought the lion's part of the battle. A hundred or more of the insurgents made a desperate stand, but they might as well have hoped to stem the mountain torrent which swept down the gorge just behind their native hamlet. They seemed to quickly realize this, and the cry for quarter soon rang out above the medley of battle.
"Forward!" still shouted the youthful commander. "Force an entrance to the old building before it is too late."
Captain de Caprian showed that he realized what was likely to follow inside the structure, for he had barely uttered his order before a cry with womanly sharpness in it rang out—an appeal for help.
Our heroes were already storming the door, having dashed aside the sentinels on duty there. The next moment, led by Ronie, and followed by a dozen of the troops, our three burst into the convent. Running swiftly along the main passage they soon came upon a scene which sent the blood coursing fiercely through their veins. It would appear that the insurgents, finding they were being routed by the government troops, sought to kill the few prisoners they held within this old building. At the very moment our rescuers appeared on the scene, one of them was swinging over his head the ugly-looking knife he carried in the act of slaying the woman who was kneeling at his feet. Ronie sent the miscreant senseless to the floor, and the next moment clasped his mother in his arms.
"I was in season, mother," he murmured; "you are safe."
But she had fainted, and as gently as possible, with the assistance of Harrie and Jack, he bore her to a bench where the fresh air could cool her fevered temple.
"To think if we had been a minute later," said Ronie.
"She opens her eyes," declared Harrie. "She has been spared."
It was indeed an affecting scene, during which Jack Greenland drew apart. He found that three other captives, all Venezuelans, had been rescued, and that these had been all the persons held in the convent.
Renewed commotion outside now caught his attention, and he returned to the side of his friends.
"I think El Capitan is coming, and that the boys are preparing to welcome him home," he said, grimly. "I think I will help in the greeting, if you will excuse me, lads."
"Forgive me, Jack, for forgetting my duty," said Harrie. "But I felt so anxious for Ronie's mother."
"I must go, mother," declared Ronie.
"Oh, my son!" she implored, "must you leave me here and now?"
It was a serious problem for the young engineers to decide, between filial and martial duty. Happily Jack quickly settled the matter by saying:
"It is your duty, lads, to remain here. I know Captain de Caprian would wish it. Look sharp to yourselves, while I join the troops in their welcome to El Capitan."
The young engineers were fain to agree to this, feeling that it was better they should. Especially was this the situation as they were not regularly attached to the regiment.
The "welcome" extended to El Capitan and his followers was given near the lower end of the town, where the mountain ranges drew so near together that the valley was narrow, uncomfortably narrow for the surprised insurgents. El Capitan will never forget that "welcome," nor will his men, who quickly scattered like sheep scaling the mountainside. If outnumbering the government troops three to one, numbers did not count then. Among those who won special distinction was Manuel Marlin.
As soon as he could do so, Captain de Caprian sought his American friends to congratulate them, while he described the complete victory of his troops. Altogether, it was a happy occasion to them.
"I shall order an immediate return to the capital," declared the young patriot. "You had better go to Caracas with us, friends."
They were nothing loath to do this, and it was an exceedingly happy company which found its way back to the mountain citadel, where they were hailed with delight by the president himself. El Capitan, the insurgent chief who had been so feared, was turned over to the proper authorities, while Manuel Marlin, in consideration of his recent bravery, was fully pardoned for any error of the past. Our friends at this time witnessed what seemed to them rather a peculiar trait of public justice. This was the return to Caracas of El Mocho, who, it will be remembered, had been kept a prisoner at San Carlos for a long time. He had been accused, and apparently with good reason, of infidelity to the government. But this was now overlooked, and General Castro openly welcomed him to his arms, upon his promise to be faithful in the future.
"It is a good specimen of South American sense of justice," remarked Jack. "One day a man is hunted as an enemy, and the next he is embraced as a loved friend. It may be all right. I cannot say."
In their happiness our heroes had no desire to criticise, much more to condemn, such a practice. Ronie was extremely thankful for this meeting with his mother. While they had many explanations to make and long stories to tell of what had happened since their parting, there is little I need repeat here. It was perfectly natural that Mrs. Rand should seek to improve the opportunity to meet Ronie in Caracas, and she did not dream of the suffering it was going to cost her, of the terror of captivity or the horrors of her long imprisonment, but these had been safely passed, and all felt like rejoicing over the outcome.
Another couple especially happy were Francisco and his mother, whom our Americans quickly learned to love and respect. She proved indeed to be a gentlewoman of the noblest type, who adored her patriotic son.
Naturally it was not long before our engineers felt it was time for them to move on their work, but this could not be done until Colonel Marchand, who joined with them in their happiness, could recover from his wounds so as to accompany them. While these healed, and our friends passed the time pleasantly in the capital, flitting back and forth between their friends, the warlike affairs of the republic grew apace. There was some fighting to be done, but mainly it had come to be a matter of diplomacy and argument between the powers, until finally the glad news of a peaceful negotiation came to them.
Once more President Castro had triumphed, achieving this time, it seemed, his grandest victory. When the account of this rang over the mountain city our American engineers began to prepare for an arduous campaign of an altogether different kind from that which befell them when they were COMRADES UNDER CASTRO.