“Is that The Pizarro? I did not know,” he said in some perplexity. “I understood she had departed to Acauhtzin.”
“My cousin says it is The Pizarro,” interposed Dolores at this moment; “and we know not why she stays.”
“I notice she keeps well out of the range of the fort guns,” muttered Jack, anxiously. “Hum! it is curious. Perhaps she is sent by Don Hypolito to carry off Doña Dolores.”
The old lady made a gesture to avert the evil eye.
“Say not such things, Señor. That terrible man! He might carry me off even here.”
“So he might, Señora,” replied Jack, trying to be serious. “I would advise yourself and the young ladies to keep within doors.”
“If Don Hypolito can carry us off from the middle of Tlatonac, he is cleverer than I think,” said Dolores, contemptuously; “but what can be the reason of The Pizarro thus guarding the town?”
“I have it!” cried Jack, suddenly enlightened. “She is watching for the arrival of the torpedo-boats. Yes, that is her game. She wishes to meet them before they know of the revolt, and thus seduce them to the cause of Xuarez!”
“Impossible, Señor!” exclaimed both ladies at once.
“It is true! I am sure of it,” responded Jack, hurriedly. “I must speak to Don Rafael about this. ‘Adios, señoritas! Con Dios vayan ustedes.’”
The young engineer kissed the hands of both ladies, and clattered down the steps on his way to the patio. Just as he was passing through the zaguan, he heard a light foot hasten after him, and before he reached the door, Dolores was in his arms.
“I left my aunt on the azotea,” she said, breathlessly. “One kiss, querido, before you go! There;—and there! Oh, my soul! Be careful of yourself. I go, at vespers, to pray for you at the shrine of our Lady.”
“Angel! Such prayers will be my safeguard in all dangers!”
“Padre Ignatius has promised me a sacred relic which preserves the wearer from harm. He gives it to me this evening. I will bring it to you. To-night you will be here?”
“Yes, at the eighth hour. Adios, angelito!”
They embraced hurriedly, and Dolores returned to the azotea to explain her sudden absence to Doña Serafina as best she could; while Jack, filled with joy at these proofs of her love, gaily danced down the street on his way to the Plaza de San Jago, where Philip waited him.
Everywhere soldiers, everywhere the beating of drums, the shrilling of trumpets, the waving of flags, and oftentimes the martial strains of the “Opal Fandango.” The city of Tlatonac had awakened from its sleep of years, and in every street, in every house, activity prevailed. It was not a city; it was a camp. The inhabitants, almost to a man, had become soldiers, and flattered by the women, dressed in gaudy uniforms, excited by frequent draughts of aguardiente, they fancied themselves invincible. Every evening fireworks were let off in the principal squares, bands of soldiers marched nightly through the streets, singing the national song of the opal; and at times the enthusiasm arose to such a pitch that the whole city was convulsed with a delirium of joy. In the opinion of Tlatonac, the rebel Xuarez was already conquered.
“I hope this enthusiasm is not born of Dutch courage,” said Jack to himself, as he elbowed his way through an excited throng; “but it seems too violent to last. These howling wretches see Xuarez in chains, pleading for his life; but they don’t see the events which are bound to occur before such a thing takes place.”
“Abajo los Oposidores! Viva el Republica! Mueran a Xuarez!”
“Shout away, mis amigos,” muttered Duval, grimly; “we’ll see if you’ll shout as loudly when the bombs are cracking over the city. If The Pizarro sent one now, I guess you’d not be so lively.”
In the Plaza de San Jago, soldiers were being drilled. A fine body of men was El Regimient de los Caballeros, and a gallant show they made as they wheeled their horses into line. Philip, arrayed in the same style as Jack, was reining his steed beside Colonel Garibay, the commander of the troop, and on the other side of him rode Don Rafael, late a captain in the navy, now a captain on land. Don Rafael, a handsome, dark-eyed young man, full of fiery earnestness, and not unlike his sister in appearance, though lacking her softer feminine grace, had taken a great fancy to Philip, with whom he had become very intimate. Jack Duval he knew of old, and liked immensely; but Cassim’s character was more in accordance with his own, therefore they were comrades by the rule of like drawing to like.
Colonel Garibay was greatly gratified that these two young Americanos had joined his troop as volunteers, and made things as pleasant for them as he possibly could. He commanded one of the crack regiments of the Cholacacan army, and was determined that it should not belie its reputation in the coming war. Hitherto it had but reaped laurels in frontier wars against the Indians; but now it was for the first time to combat with a civilised foe, and would have a good opportunity of showing to the world of what stuff its men were made.
The regiment deployed into thin lines, massed into compact columns, charged at the gallop, retired in good order, and proved themselves in all the complicated evolutions of a cavalry corps to be thoroughly disciplined soldiers. In the burning sun, with the grey dust whirling up in clouds from the restless feet of the horses, the columns expanded and contracted like the glittering lengths of a snake, and at every sound of the bugle the lines changed their position with the utmost military precision. For three hours Garibay kept his troop hard at work. At length even his insatiable soul was satisfied at their state of efficiency, and to the stirring strains of the “Zuloaga March” the men filed off the ground.
In other parts of the plaza infantry regiments were drilling and, after a time, these also dispersed, so that by the hour of sundown the great square was almost deserted, save for scattered groups of soldiers discussing the coming war. Jack, in company with Philip and the Colonel, went off to the quarters of the latter in the sea-fort, and there they proceeded to make themselves comfortable.
“I am pleased with my children, Señores,” said Garibay, thoughtfully; “but I would I commanded foot instead of horse.”
“Wherefore so, Don Rodrigo?”
“For this reason, Señor Felipe. Our country is so mountainous that, save on the plains, there is but little use for cavalry. The seat of the war will be at Acauhtzin, and there the land is all mountains. Consequently the infantry will be of most service up yonder. If, however, the enemy come south to Tlatonac and Janjalla, our cavalry can meet them in the open plains surrounding these towns.”
“Don Hypolito will certainly come south,” said Jack, sagely. “He will not wait for the Republic to send troops up to Acauhtzin, but embark his troops on the war-ships, and try his fortunes down in this direction. Besides, Xuarez knows that the Republic has no transports for the troops.”
“No war-ships, Señor,” replied the Colonel, gravely, “that is true. But by order of his Excellency, all merchant-vessels of a certain tonnage have been seized in the port of Tlatonac, and requisitioned for the service of transporting troops to Acauhtzin.”
“The deuce! And what say the owners to such high-handed proceedings?”
“The owners have been paid. So, you see, we can embark our men on these ships, and sail north to——”
“To be knocked to pieces by the war-ships,” finished Philip, coolly.
“Señor, you forget the torpederas will be here soon.”
“That is if The Pizarro will let them pass her,” said Duval, meaningly. “I see she is cruising constantly up and down.”
“Do you think, Don Juan, she is waiting for the arrival of the torpederas?” asked the Colonel, anxiously.