in their tourist costumes the four “scouts,” for such they now were, walked rapidly through the town, attracting no more attention than that bestowed on them by hordes of beggars and insistent vendors of various worthless native articles. but instead of annoying them, these rather dubious intentions delighted our party, as it was a good earnest of the effectiveness of their disguises.
after half an hour or so of walking under a broiling sun, the party began to traverse the outskirts of the city, where pigs roamed at large and naked children rolled delightedly in the gutters. nobody made the slightest effort to molest them, and presently they reached the rear lines of the government troops entrenched about the city.
the soldiers seemed a happy-go-lucky lot.[148] some of them were smoking yellow paper cigarettes. here was a group throwing dice on a drum head. there was an eager, interested circle about a cock fight. in one or two places sat a forlorn figure strumming some love song on a guitar. their tents were ragged and patched, and their arms of the kind bought at government condemnation sales.
“but they can fight like wildcats,” stanley assured his companions.
their road led northward from the city below, along the edge of a steep cliff covered to its summit with tropical growth of vivid, staring green. here and there little villas set back like colored jewels in a green setting. below, a turquoise sea dashed itself against the rocks. it was a scene that at any other time would have delighted the dreadnought boys, but just then their thoughts were set on other things than scenery. about two miles out they passed through the last outpost of the costavezan troops, and presently were traversing ground which lay between the lines of the opposing forces. it was blisteringly hot.[149] none of the party noticed this, however, so intently were their minds occupied.
the main army of the insurgents lay, as they knew, across the range to the southwest of the town. the forces they were now headed for formed the victorious army of the north. it was by effecting a junction of these two forces at the very walls, so to speak, of boca del sierras that general de guzman hoped to effect the capitulation of that city. what had become of the government forces, which the army before them had scattered, no one knew. it was supposed, however, that their officers were trying to reassemble their demoralized troops somewhere back in the jungles to the north.
“it wouldn’t take a large force to defend this road against an army,” observed ned, as they pursued their way along the thoroughfare, which was in places literally hewn out of the cliff face.
“no,” agreed the midshipman, “but as i understand it the government fears that the insurgents’ navy—or rather the ships they captured from the government—may bombard the city[150] from seaward at the same time the land forces make their attack. this would inevitably accomplish its downfall.”
“not much doubt of that,” agreed stanley. “if only the government had some boats, they could bottle up the insurgent fleet somewhere, and then go ahead and drive out the troops all around.”
“that’s it,” assented stark, “but at present the government doesn’t know, and can’t find out, where the dickens the insurgents have hidden their fleet. they’d give a whole lot to know, i guess.”
“i reckon so, sir,” agreed stanley, with a short laugh.
for some ten minutes more they walked on in silence. then suddenly around a sharp curve in the road a black object came into view.
“a gun!” exclaimed herc.
“guns,” corrected ned, as his eyes fell on several more of the field pieces commanding the road from points of vantage dug out high upon the cliff side.
“no danger of the government making a sortie[151] up this road,” remarked the midshipman. “with all that artillery those fellows could hold anything.”
as they neared the first gun a young officer stepped forward briskly. already concealed sentries had given warning of their approach.
“what do the senors wish?” he inquired politely enough, raising his hand to the peak of his red-embroidered cap.
it was evident that he took them for harmless, foolish tourists. the young officer hastened to assume the part he had decided to play. ned could hardly suppress a grin as he listened to midshipman stark’s imitation of a british accent in reply.
“just strolling around, old chap, you know,” he assured the young insurgent officer. “no harm—eh, what?”
“i suppose you know that you are within the lines of general de guzman?” came the polite inquiry in rather astonished tones.
“no, really? by jove, here’s luck. always[152] wanted to see an insurgent camp, you know—eh, archie?”
here stark turned to ned, who, taken by surprise, turned red and blurted out:
“yes, by jove,” in accents which no self-respecting britisher would have owned to.
“i hardly know what to do,” said the young officer hesitating. “if you gentlemen will give me your word of honor that you are non-combatants?”
“we can,” rejoined stark, without an instant’s hesitation. he was glad that he could make the assertion without the slightest warping of the truth.
“very well, then. if you will follow me i will conduct you to general de guzman.”
the four americans exchanged glances of real dismay. they had figured on the general of the insurgents being miles away with the other army. as they learned afterward, however, their bad luck had brought him to the army of the north that very morning to tender his congratulations for its brilliant victory of the day before.
undesirous as they were of meeting general de guzman, who might prove to be more astute than the young officer, there was no help for it. they were fairly in for it. with somewhat downcast faces they followed their guide past the formidable rows of artillery and within the insurgent lines. so far as they could judge it was quite as well organized and better supplied with arms than that of the government. the men, cheered by their victories, appeared, too, to be in better mood than the costavezans. laughter was everywhere, and a degree of order and cleanliness not often found in south american insurgent forces.
“evidently general de guzman is a good commander,” thought ned.
from time to time as they passed among the troops the young officer pointed out things of interest. if he had not already been so anxious over the result of their interview with the general, midshipman stark’s heart would have smote him for the deception he was practicing on this kind-hearted young host.
“you have seen service elsewhere?” he asked, as they walked along.
“oh, yes, senor. i was with the spanish troops in morocco. we had what the yankees call a ‘hot time’ there.”
“you do not like yankees, as you call them.”
“no, i do not.” the young officer’s brow grew dark. “they are arrogant and overbearing. they interfere too much. they are opposed to this revolution, as they call it—perhaps you know?”
he turned an inquiring glance on stark.
“not the first thing about it, my dear fellow,” the masquerading middy hastened to assure him, with his accent laid on thicker than ever.
“they even have sent a small vessel of war—a destroyer, they call her—to harass us. the pigs! i would like to line them all up against a wall and shoot them down—one by one.”
“well, this is a nice, friendly bunch we’ve run into,” whispered herc, as he heard these words. “it’s enough to scare the british accent out of a fellow to hear that chap talk.”
“hush!” warned stanley, “he might hear you,[155] and we’ve poked our noses into a bad enough hornets’ nest as it is, i’m thinking.”
so thought the others, too. stark’s part was particularly hard to play, as upon him fell the burden of keeping up the conversation with the young officer.
before long they came in sight of a pretty villa, with broad verandas well sheltered by various shade trees. before it were tethered several saddle horses. one or two of them looked as if they had been ridden hard.
“the general’s present headquarters,” said the young officer, indicating the villa with a sweep of his hand. “before, it was occupied by our leader, colonel vegas. since the arrival of the general this morning, however, he has given it up to his superior.”
“surely that is a side saddle i see on that horse yonder, old chap,” said stark suddenly. “are there ladies in your army?”
the young officer laughed heartily.
“you have curious ideas of our troops, sir.[156] no, indeed, that horse belongs to the general’s niece.”
“is that so?” inquired stark, simulating an interest he was far from feeling.
“yes, senorita isabelle de guzman and——”
he stopped short as a sharp exclamation burst from ned’s lips. it was entirely involuntary, but our readers will understand his astonishment at the name of senorita isabelle de guzman when they recall that she was the young woman named in the will found on board the derelict.
“my companion suffers from a cold,” said stark, with a sharp look at ned, who, taking the hint, began to cough violently. he was glad of this excuse to cover his embarrassment, but his paroxysms did not prevent his keeping his ears open for the officer’s next words.
“she is one of the most beautiful young women in this part of south america,” he went on.
“indeed,” commented stark, “a prize for one of the general’s brave officers, perhaps?”
“oh, no,” rejoined the spanish-american, as if shocked at the bare idea. “she has no property.[157] there would be no estate, no marriage portion with her hand.”
“indeed! that is a requisite here, then?”
“unquestionably, senor. you see, donna isabelle’s father, senor de guzman, was formerly a prisoner of the government, but he fled on a ship, which was never heard of again. it is whispered that he had expressed a wish to his brother, the general, that the estate might pass into the hands of his daughter. but, however that was, the general, as the next of kin, now enjoys it.”
“if only i had that will here,” thought ned, and then the next instant reconsidered the matter. with things going the way they were, the document was unquestionably better off where it was.
the sound of loud voices came to them as they neared the villa, and through the open windows the boys could see bright uniforms grouped about a table, which was littered with maps and plans.
“ah, the general is busy, and i dare not disturb him now,” said the young officer, as they entered the villa and emerged into a courtyard,[158] the “patio” common to all spanish-american houses. it was delightfully cool there after the hot, dusty glare of the camp.
“well, we will stroll outside a bit and come back later on, old chap,” suggested stark, glad to see a loophole of escape from the lion’s den into which he was beginning to imagine they had thrust themselves.
“oh, no, senor,” said the young officer in quite a horrified tone. “the general would wish to see you. he may besides, perhaps, wish to question you concerning affairs in the town and relating to the small american vessel of war.”
“the deuce he will,” thought stark. “confounded little in the way of information he’ll get.”
aloud he said:
“we shall be delighted, old fellow. anything at all, you know. delighted, i’m sure.”
“phew!” whistled ned in a low tone, “we’ve walked into a mouse-trap with a vengeance, and,” he added to himself as a heavy tread[159] sounded, mingled with the jingling of a sword, “here comes the cat.”
the steps drew nearer, and the next minute from behind a group of magnificent fan palms appeared a squat, stout figure in a crimson uniform. from the precise military salute and respectful bearing of the lieutenant there was no question in the minds of the adventurers that they stood in the presence of the renowned general de guzman. he was hailed in many quarters as the next dictator of costaveza and the most inveterate enemy of americans south of the caribbean.
ned regarded him curiously, while the young officer, stepping up, drew the general aside and began whispering to him. general de guzman at that time was a man of about fifty, with a florid complexion, thick neck and heavy, black mustache. his inky hair waved crisply about his rotund face, which, as has been said, was florid—noticeably so. evidently the general was a good liver. his short, stubby legs were incased in dusty riding boots, on which jingled a pair of[160] immense spurs with blunt rowels. a sword with a jeweled hilt was at his hip. a holster, with a businesslike-looking colt reposing in it, also hung there. for headgear the renowned revolutionary wore a panama hat, with a broad, red band encircling it. between his lips was a huge cigar as black almost as his hair and mustache. he chewed it nervously while he listened to the young officer’s explanations, which ned realized related to themselves. he watched the pair anxiously, for on the events of the next few minutes depended their success and possibly their lives. not a whit less were his comrades absorbed in regarding what might prove a momentous interview.
at last the general turned from the young officer and spoke. his voice was harsh and grating, and his words, for he used english, not calculated to relieve their apprehensions.
“englishmen, eh?” he rasped out, gazing at them with a suspicious stare. “they look to me more like four cursed, inquisitive yankees.”
