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IN THE NICK OF TIME

SWIFT AND SURE

The Story of a Hydroplane

By

HERBERT STRANG

Author of 'King of the Air,' 'Barclay of the Guides,' etc., etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY J. FINNEMORE

LONDON

HENRY FROWDE

HODDER AND STOUGHTON

1910

RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED,

BREAD STREET HILL, E.C., AND

BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.

PREFACE

Exactly a century has passed since the French invasion of Spain gave the signal for a general revolt of the Spanish-American Colonies. In the twenty years' struggle that ensued, Spain paid in kind for more than three centuries of Colonial misrule. Her garrisons, again and again reinforced from the mother country, fought a losing fight, with the old-time Spanish gallantry that had won for Ferdinand the Empire of the West. But the tide of freedom swept them remorselessly from one province after another, and with them went the swarms of corrupt officials who since the days of Cortes and Pizarro had plundered the colonies for the benefit of the Spanish treasury.

In the northern provinces the leading spirit of revolt was Simon Bolivar, a man whose many faults of character were obscured by an extraordinary energy and enthusiasm. He is said to have fought four hundred battles; his victories were sullied by inhuman barbarities; his defeats were retrieved by unconquerable perseverance. Bolivar was instrumental in founding five republics, among them that of his native province of Venezuela, of which he was the first President.

Ten years of one of the grimmest struggles known to history gave freedom to Venezuela and her sister republics; but in the north, as in many other parts of the Continent, freedom has for the past century spelt, not liberty, but licence. Centuries of slavery, in fact if not in name, had rendered the mixed races of South America unfit for self-government. The mass of the people merely exchanged one set of corrupt rulers for another; the history of the South American Republics has been for the most part a chronicle of incessant civil war between the partisans of rival dictators. Venezuela has in this respect one of the saddest records. Since Bolivar, her first liberator, died in exile eighty years ago, she has enjoyed scarcely five consecutive years of peace. Although blessed with boundless natural resources, the country is probably the most backward of all states that can claim a place among civilized nations. The population of Venezuela is believed to be less at the present time than during the Spanish domination; and it is doubtful whether the condition of the people has been sensibly bettered by a hundred years of self-government.

The best hope for this and other South American republics seems to be in the gradual opening up of the Continent by the capital and enterprise of more progressive communities. This movement has hitherto been checked by the insecurity of life and property due to constantly recurring revolutions. But sooner or later trade and commerce, one of the greatest of civilizing agencies, must bring the nations of South America into such close relationship with Europe and the United States that they cannot fail to recognize the value of stable political institutions. This recognition will be the first step towards what the wars of independence should have given, but did not give them--liberty.

HERBERT STRANG.

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CONTENTS

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

[In the Nick of Time]

[A Scrimmage at Railhead]

[Assault and Battery]

[The Race to the Swift]

[CHAPTER I--JAGUAR AND HYDROPLANE]

The level rays of the early sun were struggling with the mist that lingered upon a broad full river, like a sluggard loth to quit his bed. As yet the contest was unequal, for the banks of the stream were covered with trees and shrubs, crowding upon one another as if in competition for elbow-room, through whose thick ravelled foliage the sunbeams could not clear a way. Here and there, however, the dense screen was parted by little alleys or open spaces carpeted with grass or moss, and through these a golden radiance shone, dispersing the mist, and throwing a glistening pathway across the river.

At one such glade, withdrawn a little from the brink, stood a jaguar, which, from moment to moment, lifted its head and gave utterance to a roar. It faced the stream: its tail lashed its flanks, to the annoyance of countless flies which would fain have found a temporary lodgment in its sleek and glossy coat. It roared, and roared again, with curious persistence, for the mere pleasure of roaring, an observer might have thought. And yet such a person, had he been worthy of the name observer, would have detected a reason for this strange behaviour. Had he watched the surface of the water opposite to where the jaguar stood, he would have marked a gradual assembling of greenish-yellow objects, scaly and hard; and, set in each, two glassy leering eyes. They were in fact the snouts of alligators, or caymans as they are known in Venezuela.

Moment by moment the assemblage increased, the hideous creatures gaping at the jaguar like an enraptured audience at a popular baritone. The quadruped, indeed, was executing his solo for their amusement, though hardly for their benefit. One could have fancied, as the audience grew, that he derived encouragement from their presence, and exerted himself with ever greater abandon. The performance, however, came to an end surprisingly abrupt. Suddenly the roarer turned his head up-stream and set off with lolloping gait along a winding track that led among the trees. The observer, following him, would have seen him force his way through the undergrowth, now leaping a fallen trunk that lay across his path, now pressing his body through a tangle that might have seemed impenetrable.

Meanwhile the caymans also had turned upstream, and swam after the jaguar, like an idle crowd following at the heels of a street singer. But though their movements were rapid, they had to stem the current, and the object of their solicitation drew away from them. Nor did he stop to practise his vocal powers again. Steadily he pursued his way until he had left them a mile or more behind. Then, compelled to strike off to the left by a peculiarly dense mass of thorn, he quitted the brink of the stream for a few yards. Coming upon it again through a glade, he looked warily about him, advancing with slow and stealthy tread. It was at this spot that he purposed to cross the river. All at once he stopped short, and sinking to the ground, lay motionless, scarcely distinguishable from the jungle around him, so closely did his colouring harmonize with it. In a few moments, with the silent undulating movement of a cat stalking a bird, he crept forward. No caymans were near; having attracted them by his vocalization he had left them in the lurch, and was content. But on a branch of a tree overhanging the river he had spied the form of a dark-skinned man stretched at full length. The hunted was now the hunter. The reptiles had lost their victim; he in his turn was intent on seizing his prey.

The man lay close upon the branch, his eyes fixed upon some object on the farther bank, a little distance up-stream. The tree being rooted in the base of the bank, which here rose a few yards above the river, the jaguar was somewhat higher than the man, stretched all unsuspecting upon a lower bough. Noiselessly, without so much as a rustle, the animal glided down the face of the bank, and coming to the tree, began to climb up the slanting trunk behind his destined victim. No ear could have detected his furtive movements; the man's attention was absorbed by the object of his gaze; yet, when the beast was only a few feet from him, some instinct warned him of impending danger. He turned his head, and beheld the savage creature crouching for a spring. Quick as thought, the man rolled himself round the branch, and dropped with a heavy splash into the river. The jaguar was already launched in air when the man let go his hold, but instead of striking his prey, he lighted on the vacant branch. The force of his spring was too great to be checked by the grip of his claws upon the bark. He lost his footing, and fell plump into the water where it still eddied from the plunge of the man.

A hundred yards up the river, moored to a tree-stump in the further bank, lay a motor-boat of unusual shape. Its only occupant, a young white man, in the act of casting off, had looked up when he heard the first splash. Before he could see what had caused it, the jaguar tumbled headlong from the branch. With the instinct of a sportsman, the young man instantly stretched his hand towards the rifle that lay at his side, only to draw it back as he remembered that the charge was small shot. The head of the jaguar appeared above the surface; the white man wondered what had caused the first splash, but seeing the animal swimming downstream he was not specially interested, and was on the point of lifting his mooring-rope on board when he suddenly caught sight of a black head on the surface, a little beyond the jaguar. It was the head of a man swimming desperately towards the nearer bank.

Will Pentelow was interested enough now. The jaguar also had seen the swimming man, and with a low snarl started in pursuit. There was little chance of the swimmer gaining the bank before the beast. Even if he did, it would merely be to fall a prey. Flinging the rope into the bottom of the boat, Will pressed the lever. The little vessel started, and, assisted by a four-knot current, rapidly gathered way. But the man and the jaguar were also helped by the current, though they were swimming diagonally across the stream. They were so near to each other now that Will doubted whether, at the full speed of the engine, he could overtake them in time to intervene. If he fired, the spreading of the shot would injure the man as well as the beast. Our observer would certainly have concluded that the swimmer was doomed.

Suddenly, however, the boat shot forward with marvellous velocity. The bow, or rather the platform at the forepart, rose clean out of the water, and the vessel seemed to skim along the surface. Fast as the jaguar was overhauling the man, the vessel was still faster closing in upon the jaguar. Will steered straight upon the tawny head. The boat appeared to fly along.

Hitherto the jaguar had been so intent upon his victim as to be oblivious of all else. Even the whirring of the propeller had not struck upon his senses. But when no more than three yards separated him from the man, he became suddenly aware that he in his turn was pursued. He turned half round, to see a rushing monster almost upon him. In another instant there was a heavy thud; the boat quivered from stem to stern, but with no perceptible slackening of speed passed clean over the spot where the animal had been.

A few moments more, and the hydroplane was floating on the water like an ordinary boat. Looking back, Will saw the swimmer scramble up the bank. Almost opposite him was the jaguar's head, bobbing up and down on the surface. The impact of the vessel had broken the creature's back. Immediately the Indian caught sight of it, he rushed along the bank in pursuit. The animal disappeared, but emerged again a few yards lower down. Then the man drew a knife from his belt, and plunged into the river. A few strokes brought him level with the carcase, and catching it by the ear, he drew it after him to the bank.

Meanwhile Will Pentelow had turned his vessel round, and, driving her against the current, came opposite to the Indian just as he reached the bank. The ground was steep and slippery, and the man was unable to drag the huge body out of the water. Will glanced all round with a caution born of familiarity with this haunt of caymans; but reflecting that the hydroplane would have scared away any of the dread reptiles that might have been lurking near, he threw out an anchor, and waded to the assistance of the Indian. Together they heaved the carcase out of the water and threw it on the bank. Then they looked at each other.

[CHAPTER II--THE HACIENDA]

William Pentelow was one of those boys who make up their mind early what they are going to be, and work steadily towards this settled aim. The son of a professional man of moderate income, he was sent to a well-known London day-school, showed no special promise for a year or two, but after his first lesson in mechanics declared that he must be an engineer, and from that time made rapid progress in science. His father recognized his bent, and sent him to the Heriot Watt College, where he was thrown among young fellows of many different nationalities, a circumstance that had two results: it caused him to think for the first time of going abroad, and it gave him opportunities of picking up a certain knowledge of foreign tongues. With French and Spanish he was soon at home; German bothered him; he was making strides in Hindostani when a sudden offer launched him on his career.

A friend of his father was superintending the building of a railway in Venezuela, for a British company engaged in working asphalt mines. Originally they had sent their products by barge along a tributary of the Orinoco, down that great river itself, and thus to sea. But after the company had been in existence for some years, the Jefe of the province of Guayana, by indirect means in which the South American official is an adept, secured a monopoly of the navigation of the tributary in question, and at once levied exorbitant transit dues on the only people who used it as a commercial waterway--the asphalt company.

The directors put up with this extortion for a time. Then the accession of a new president drove matters to a climax. This President, unlike almost every other ruler of Venezuela from the time of Bolivar, aimed, not at enriching himself and his clique, but at purifying the public life of the country. One of his first administrative acts was to dismiss the Jefe of Guayana, a notoriously corrupt official, who immediately set about making good his loss of income by doubling his fees to the asphalt company. This was more than the Company could stand. The directors made a vigorous protest to Government, but the Jefe was acting strictly within his legal rights, and there was no redress. The upshot was that the Company obtained a concession for a branch railway line, to run from their mines, along the right bank of the Jefe's river, to a junction with the trunk line about fifty miles distant. The work was immediately put in hand; the services of Mr. Pentelow's friend, Mr. George Jackson, were engaged as chief of the construction staff; and just before sailing, Mr. Jackson bethought himself of young Pentelow, now near the end of his pupilage, and offered him his first job. Will accepted with alacrity. The opportunity of gaining experience and at the same time seeing a foreign country was too good to be neglected. He sailed with Mr. Jackson, and had been several months in Venezuela when our story opens. Forty miles of the railway had already been completed, and was in use for the carriage of asphalt, this being conveyed to railhead from the mines on mules. The Company had ceased to pay dues to the ex-Jefe of Guayana, whose monopoly was now not worth an old song.

Will's only regret in leaving England was the interruption of his hobby. He had been for some time enthusiastically interested in motor-boats, and when Mr. Jackson's sudden offer came, was in the midst of experimenting with a hydroplane. This he had to leave behind. But he had not been long in Venezuela before he found an opportunity of taking up his hobby again. The labourers on the railway, a strangely assorted crowd of Spaniards, Spanish-Indians, Indo-negroes and other mongrels, were scrupulous in one matter: the observance of holidays. Saints' days and festivals were numerous, and on these all work stopped. Finding himself thus with plenty of spare time on his hands, Will turned it to account. In Caracas one day he picked up a petrol engine, very light and at the same time of considerable horse-power. It was part of a motor-car which a wealthy Venezuelan had imported from New York. One break-down after another, imperfectly repaired--for the Venezuelans are notoriously bad mechanicians--had disgusted the owner of the car, who was glad to sell it for a mere trifle. Since the car was useless outside Caracas--and indeed inside the city, for the matter of that, the paving of the streets being remarkably primitive--Will removed the engine, conveyed it to the head-quarters of the branch railway, and with the assistance of a handy man on the staff, by name Joe Ruggles, adapted it to a hydroplane which he built himself. The basin of the Orinoco is so much intersected by rivers and streams of all sizes that the new railway was at no point very far from a watercourse deep enough to float the vessel. The constantly recurring fête days gave Will many opportunities of indulging his hobby, on which he was the object of much good-humoured banter among his colleagues.

The boat, as Will had to confess, was a somewhat rough and ready affair. It was not the kind of thing that would be turned out at Thorneycroft's, and it would no doubt have been regarded with a sniff of contempt by a professional boat-builder. In its essentials it was a kind of punt, the flat bottom being fitted with planes inclined at an angle, so that when the propelling force was sufficient, the forward part of the boat was raised out of the water, skimming along the surface instead of cutting through it like an ordinary boat. The crew and engines were accommodated aft, this disposition of the weight facilitating the skimming action on which the speed of the vessel depended. Although some twenty-four feet long and eight feet in beam, her draft at rest was only a few inches. As Ruggles was accustomed to say, she could go anywhere if the dew was heavy enough. For the hull Will used a light steel framework covered with very thin planking. A boat-shaped windscreen, pierced for two ventilators intended to cool the engines, gave shelter to the crew, a very necessary precaution when the boat was moving at high speed.

Will's principal difficulty lay in converting his engine to this new use. The driving shaft he found answered admirably as a propeller shaft, the bevel wheels he melted in a crucible to form a propeller. The latter he had to cast himself, making a pattern, moulding it in sand, and pouring the melted brass into the mould.

The petrol was stored in a tank accommodated under the back seat. Will found that some twelve gallons gave him a speed of about forty knots for a four hours' run, which was quite enough for any ordinary expedition.

For a hundred and fifty miles above Ciudad Bolivar, Will soon knew most of the principal tributaries of the Orinoco. In fact the only limit to his expeditions lay in the capacity of his petrol tank, but even this he could supplement on occasion by taking with him a number of extra cans. He had of course one or two exciting experiences; these were inevitable in navigating tropical rivers at a speed of forty knots. More than once the blades of his propeller were injured by half-submerged logs. After tinkering at them some hours on the bank of a creek or river, he would return at four knots to the place from which he had started at forty. These, however, were merely exhilarating incidents; they lent just that spice of risk that made the sport thoroughly enjoyable.

Such risks were due to great speed, but there were occasions when in this very speed lay safety from disaster. One day, having a longer holiday than usual, Will ran down nearly to the mouth of the Orinoco. While going easy at some twenty knots he saw what looked like a bank of water stretching right across the river ahead of him. It did not need a second glance for him to recognize that a tidal wave was sweeping up the river, and threatening to engulf him within a few moments. Before he could bring the hydroplane round, the mass of water, moving at tremendous speed, was almost upon him. He had perhaps five seconds to spare, and drove the hydroplane at its hardest. For a moment it seemed to him that the issue hung in doubt, a very unpleasant moment, as he afterwards confessed. Then the vessel began to draw away, and the immediate danger was over. But for ten or fifteen miles he thought it wise to keep a respectful distance between himself and the tidal wave, which followed him, although at a gradually diminishing speed. Since then he had avoided the Orinoco itself, and limited his excursions to the tributaries within easy distance of the advancing railway.

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We left Will on the bank of the river, the Indian before him, the dead jaguar at his feet. The Indian glanced at his rescuer with a timid, hunted look; then, as if reassured, began to thank him in harsh imperfect Spanish. Will had perceived at once that the man was not one of the workers on the railway.

"Where do you come from?" he asked.

The hunted look returned to the man's eyes. He glanced nervously up and down the river, and towards the opposite bank. Lifting his hand, he described a half-circle with it in the air.

"But where is your home?" Will asked again.

"I have no home, señor," muttered the Indian. "It was burnt with fire."

"How was that?"

The man hesitated, then mumbled something which Will failed to catch. Evidently he was suspicious, and did not wish to be communicative. Will noticed scars on the upper part of his body; and from other slight indications, as well as the man's manifest nervousness, guessed that he was a fugitive.

"Well, you had better go," he said, "and keep out of the way of tigers. Here, take this beast if it's any good to you."

"It is yours, señor," said the man, surprised.

"I don't want it; you may have it."

He had seen that the animal's skin was ruined by the impact of the hydroplane. The Indian, however, was delighted with the gift; the claws would be valuable to him. He thanked Will with servile effusiveness, and stooped to the animal. Will stood watching him for a few moments, then got into his vessel and started it down-stream, increasing the speed until it reached at least thirty knots. In about a quarter of an hour he came to a tributary entering the river on the right bank. He had already slowed down, and steering the vessel round, he made his way up the smaller stream. In parts it was very narrow, and so closely overhung by trees on both banks that Will more than once had to bend to avoid the branches. Here and there the stream was shallow; but the hydroplane drew so little water that she was nowhere in danger of running aground.

Following its winding course for some two miles, Will came to a straight canal scarcely twenty feet broad, running into the stream on the left. He steered his vessel into this, and arrived in a few minutes at a small lake. On the further shore, some feet above the water-level, stood a fine hacienda--a sort of superior bungalow--surrounded by luxurious gardens. It was a long, broad dwelling of one storey, with verandas, the door, which was open, leading through a light hall into the patio--a spacious court, with a flowerbed in the centre, on which all the rooms of the house opened. Below, at the foot of a terrace, a small jetty projected into the lake. Will steered the hydroplane to this, and moored her beside a diminutive sailing yacht that already lay there. Then he made his way towards the house, giving a loud coo-ee.

He was half-way to the door when a young man, a few years older than himself, came to meet him. He was dressed in white drill, with a brilliant sash or cummerbund about his waist, a white sombrero on his head, and a long cigarro in his mouth.

"Hullo, old chap!" he said, with a scarcely noticeable accent. "I wondered when you would come again. I was just thinking of coffee: come along!"

He linked his arm with Will's, and led him towards the house.

"I say, can you lend me some slippers? I can't appear before the ladies like this."

Will glanced down at his long boots, which had dried green after their immersion.

"Don't worry, my dear boy, I'm alone: the ladies aren't here."

Will looked disappointed rather than relieved. The two went together into the patio; a servant placed chairs for them at a little round table, upon which coffee, bread, cheese, and fruit had already been laid.

"Yes," continued Antonio de Mello, speaking now in Spanish, "I thought I had better send my mother and sister away. There's a storm brewing."

"A revolution?"

"Undoubtedly a revolution, my friend. The President has made an enemy of every villain in the country, and General Carabaño, who is as big a rascal as Venezuela has ever known--and that's saying a good deal--is beginning to make things lively."

"In Caracas?"

"No, not yet. He has raised his flag about fifty miles from here, and if he can get a big enough army together he'll make for the capital and try to overthrow the Government. And I tell you, my friend, there's trouble ahead for your railway. Carabaño is hand in glove with the late Jefe, who doesn't love your Company."

"But why did you think it necessary to send the ladies away?"

"Because Carabaño is a particularly offensive person. He has an old grudge against me, and if the railway brings him in this direction, he will not be able to deny himself the pleasure of a visit. I do not care that my mother and sister should meet him; nor shall I meet him myself if I can avoid it. I have made arrangements for a hasty departure if I hear that he is in the neighbourhood.... But come and see my new stables. They're finished since you were here last, and I've got a new hunter you'd give your eyes for. Come along!"

Antonio de Mello was very proud of his new stables. He had lived for some time in England, whence he returned with a pretty taste in horseflesh and an ambition to start a stud. Like many of his countrymen he was a good linguist, being equally at home in English, French, and Spanish, and having some knowledge also of the native dialects of his district. He had met Will one day when riding in the neighbourhood of the railway, and struck up a friendship with him. Will had been several times to his house, where the señora and señorita had made him very welcome.

He accompanied Antonio to the stables, just completed, and duly admired their up-to-date appointments and the new hunter. He thought it a little odd that the old stables were still left standing. They were very tumbledown; indeed, an English gentleman who owned a house and gardens like the hacienda would have regarded them as an eyesore which it behoved him to remove as soon as possible. But the typical Venezuelan is not fastidious, and though Antonio had acquired some of the manners and something of the outlook of Englishmen, he still retained much of the careless and happy-go-lucky traits of the South American, and was quite content to allow his old stables to fall to pieces within a few yards of his front door.

After strolling round for half-an-hour, Will declared that it was time to be off. Antonio went down with him to the jetty; and, promising to repeat the visit before long, Will set the hydroplane skimming down the canal until he came to the stream again. Then, turning to the left, he went on for three or four miles, until the silence of the forest was broken by a low humming sound, in which, as it grew louder, it was possible to distinguish the blows of hammers, the thuds of spades, and the shouts of men. The labourers were not in sight, being concealed by the high bank and its dense vegetation.

Bringing his vessel to a stop, Will gave a low whistle. Instantly a dark face appeared in the mass of foliage on the bank, and a negro boy, about sixteen years of age, slid down towards the brink of the stream. To him Will flung the painter; the boy caught it and, plunging back among the bushes, began to haul in, Will lying at full length on the deck. The hydroplane passed through the screen of foliage into a shallow recess in the bank, where it was completely hidden from view, either from the stream or from the ground above. Owing to the constant shifting of the camp as the railway lengthened, Will had had some trouble in finding harbourage at once secure and convenient for his vessel. The labourers were a rough lot, and though it was unlikely that any of them would have been able to work the engine, it was always possible that one of them, if feloniously inclined, or perhaps simply bent on mischief, might paddle or pole the vessel down the river, or at any rate do a good deal of damage to it. Will therefore always sought for some secret place in which he might lay it up.

The recess into which it had now been hauled was discovered a few days before. It struck Will as a very suitable place for mooring the vessel, though it cost him and the negro boy some hours of hard work to clear it of frogs and other old inhabitants. The water was only about two feet deep, so that there was little fear of encountering alligators; but it was swarming with electric eels, one of which gave Will a severe shock as he waded in with his vessel. He was very careful not to give the creatures another chance.

"Why weren't you here when I started this morning?" said Will as he made the hydroplane fast.

"Very sorry, señor," replied the boy, "but señor did not wish the place to be known. I was coming, as señor ordered, but I met Señor Machado, who walked by my side. What could I do? I walked round about, but Señor Machado kept with me a long time, and when he left me alone, and I came here, your excellency was gone."

"You did very well, José. Señor Machado is a friend of yours, eh?"

"No, señor, but very friendly."

"Ah! a distinction and a difference. He asked you questions, no doubt?"

"No, señor, no questions, but he would have liked me to give answers."

"And got none. Very well, José; always keep your mouth shut. I don't want Señor Machado or any one else to meddle with my boat."

He unscrewed the throttle and put it into his pocket. Then, having seen that the painter was securely wound about an iron stake driven into the ground, he scrambled up the bank, walked along for a few yards, shoving aside the entangling undergrowth with his arms, and came to a spot whence he could overlook the scene from which the sounds proceeded. Several hundreds of dusky labourers were engaged in constructing an embankment along the edge of a wood nearly a quarter of a mile away. To the left, the railway line disappeared among the trees. A small engine was drawing a train of trucks filled with earth towards the partly built embankment. Below this, on a stretch of sward, were the tents of the engineering staff; at a considerable distance to the left were those of the coolies. Will forced his way through the trees, remaining out of sight from the encampment, and approached the tents by a circuitous route. The sudden friendliness of Señor Machado for his boy José confirmed him in his determination to keep the whereabouts of the hydroplane a profound secret. True, Señor Machado had hitherto seemed a quiet inoffensive fellow, attentive to his duty as telegraphist; but the telegraph was not constantly in use, and Will thought it just as well to keep temptation out of Señor Machado's way.

[CHAPTER III--AN ARMED PARTY]

Will went to his tent, washed and changed into his working clothes, and then set off to report himself to Mr. Jackson, known among the staff as the Chief. Work had been going on since shortly after daybreak, and as a rule Will would have been in charge of a squad; but the Chief had told him the night before that he need not come on duty until ten o'clock, when he wished to see him about a special job. It was just ten when he came to Mr. Jackson, who was perched on a goods wagon, watching the jointing of the rails some distance from the encampment.

"Here you are," said the Chief, taking his watch from his pocket. "I'll say this for you, that you're punctual, in spite of your toy. Broke down yet?"

"Not yet, but I broke a jaguar down this morning: came smack on him just as he was going to get his claws into an Indian."

"Not one of our men?"

"Oh no! It was some miles from here, beyond De Mello's place. I heard a splash, and there was the jaguar, full pelt after the man, who was swimming his hardest. It was a near thing, and----"

"Yes, I dare say, but I'm not particularly anxious to get a fellow to fill your place just as you're becoming useful. Your hydroplane is all very well as a plaything for your spare time; but it's no earthly use, and I only hope it won't lead you into scrapes. A stitch in time saves nine."

Will's eyes twinkled, and the ghost of a smile played about his lips. The Chief had a habit of finishing his little speeches with a proverb, not always appropriate to the occasion.

"Well now, this job," continued Mr. Jackson. "I want you to check some calculations of level about six miles up. Here you are, on the plan: that's the section. You've been over the ground before; it's the most difficult part of the track. You can take Ruggles as rodman. You'll be some time over the job, so take some grub with you, and be as quick as you can. Time and tide waits for no man."

"Can I have the plan?"

"No. Trace a copy of the section: it won't take you twenty minutes. And, I say, make sure your level's in order; it won't do to get there and find there's a screw loose. Look before you leap, you know."

Having traced the plan of the section he was to survey, Will got his instruments (a hand-level, a surveyor's camera, and a pocket compass), his revolver, and a note-book, sent José to find Ruggles and saddle a couple of ponies, and in half-an-hour set off on his task. The country, as the Chief had said, was the worst bit of the whole line. It was much broken by hills and ravines, and the surveyor, choosing the easiest way for the iron road, had been compelled to trace out a rather tortuous course, which was indicated by stakes driven into the ground at intervals. The line would twice cross the little stream which Will had recently navigated in his hydroplane. Fortunately it was fordable at both points.

Will rode on with his companion at a steady trot. Ruggles was a sturdy grizzled veteran of about fifty years of age. He was the handy man of the staff. He could act as rodman, chainman or slopeman as circumstances required. He could build a boat, repair an engine, and cook a dinner with equal facility, and once he surprised Will by helping him out in a knotty calculation in trigonometry. It had been a source of wonder to Will that a man whose attainments were so various should have risen no higher than the humble situation he at present occupied. One day he ventured delicately to hint at the matter.

"I'll never earn more than two pound a week as long as I live," said Ruggles.

"But why? I earn more than that, and you could do my work better than I can."

"Drink--that's why. Every sixpence I earned above two pound would go in drink, and so, to be on the safe side, I'm never going to earn a penny more, that's flat."

Will could not help feeling amused at the old fellow's emphatic declaration, more especially because the man was not a teetotaller, but drank his glass of ale at dinner like the rest, and was never known to exceed. He guessed that there was some story in the background, and hoped that some day Ruggles would tell it; but the man was reserved about his own affairs, though as sociable and cheerful a man as any on the staff.

It was near midday when they reached the section Will was to level, and as the sun was high they decided to eat their lunch in the shade of the trees and begin work later. Ruggles produced bread and cheese and a bottle of beer, and when this had been disposed of, filled an enormous pipe and lay on his back contentedly puffing away, throwing out a remark occasionally. At last Will sprang up, saying they must set to work. For several hours they walked over the ground, making calculations which Will entered in his notebook, and taking photographs for after use. Will often found that such photographs when developed disclosed features of the country that had escaped notice. The ground he was now working over was very rough, and even in the few weeks that had elapsed since his predecessor visited the spot the track which had been partially cleared had become overgrown with tropical weeds. Ruggles found plenty of work for his knife and the axe he carried in his belt.

Will proved in course of time that the previous calculations had been very accurately made. In some cases he found lateral deviations of six or seven feet on a ten-degree slope; these he corrected. In one case he saw reason to suggest a slackening of grade on a curve in a long gradient; and he noted an alternative means of crossing a small stream, for the consideration of the Chief. It was tiring work, done in the heat of the sun, and both were glad when it was finished. They returned to the spot where they had left their ponies tethered to two of the surveyor's stakes, and were on the point of mounting when Ruggles drew Will's attention to a number of horsemen crossing an open space between two belts of woodland about two miles away. Will looked at them through his field-glass.

"They're coming this way, in single file. Wonder who they are," he said. "Have a look, Ruggles."

"About thirty of 'em, as near as I can count," said the man, after a long look. "I can't make anything of 'em."

"Are they muleteers?"

"No."

"Perhaps they are soldiers."

"Don't look like it. I can't see any uniform, nor rifles either. We'd better make tracks."

"What's the hurry? I've seen nothing to be afraid of in the natives; they're a pretty poor lot so far as I have come across them."

"That's a fine healthy English way of looking ac things, but if you'd lived in this country as long as I have you'd know that when you spot such a troop in the distance the best thing you can do is to clear out--unless, that is, you have any particular wish for trouble."

"But why on earth should you suppose they're not peaceable folk--a hunting-party, perhaps?"

"Supposing's neither here nor there. Hunters don't ride in a line, without hounds. My belief is that they're brigands, and we shan't have much to say to them with one revolver between the two of us."

"They may be soldiers."

"That's only another name for brigands here. The only difference is that a soldier is a brigand in office, and a brigand is a soldier out of office. And, by Jeremy! they've got a prisoner. There's a man trotting a-foot beside one of the horses; ten to one he's tied to the stirrup. Take a look, Mr. Pentelow."

"You're right; and I can see now they've got rifles slung to their backs. They're making a bee-line this way. What's their game, I wonder?"

"Shouldn't be surprised if they've paid a visit to the mines, to begin with."

"I think I've got it," said Will, the recollection of what Antonio de Mello had said flashing across his mind. "There's a revolution brewing: these fellows are either Government troops or rebels. We had better get back and tell the Chief."

"I said so five minutes ago, if you recollect, Mr. Pentelow. In this country there are always plots against the Government, whether it's good, bad, or indifferent--and it's mostly bad. Revolution is always on the simmer, you may say, and every few years it boils over. It's the curse of the country. Any big job like this railway of ours is like sitting on a powder-barrel: any moment you may be blown sky high, in a manner of speaking. If Government don't interfere with you, then Revolutionists will; and I'll lay ten to one those horsemen are one or the other, beating up recruits. They haven't seen us yet or they'd be coming faster, so we had better slip in among the trees and gallop for railhead. We can at least put the Chief on his guard."

They led the ponies into the wood, then mounted and set off at full speed. Mr. Jackson looked grave when he heard their report, to which Will added the information given him by Antonio de Mello in the morning. He at once whistled up the other European members of his staff from the scattered points at which they were engaged. When they came up he explained the position to them.

"They mayn't bother us," he said, "but if they're making for railhead, as Mr. Pentelow says, we must be prepared for squalls. There's no highway in this direction, and if they're not making for us, where are they bound for?"

"Perhaps they're going to pay a visit to De Mello," suggested Will.

"Maybe. Well, forewarned is forearmed: the question is, what's to be our line if they show up here? Ruggles, you know the country better than the rest of us: what do you say?"

"Speak 'em fair, sir, but have your rifles ready."

"How many do they muster?"

"There seemed about thirty, but may be more. If they're revolutionaries they'll have plenty of cheek, and think themselves more than a match for our handful."

"What will our men do?"

"Nothing but look on. My notion is that they're after recruits, and the men won't join them unless they're obliged. They know they'd only be food for powder. But they've got no arms except machetes and their tools, and they won't run the risk of being shot at."

A tall engineer of about thirty, who had been leaning against a tree, with crossed legs, a pipe in his mouth, then quietly made a suggestion.

"If I were you, Chief," he said, "I'd try a little stratagem."

"How do you mean, O'Connor?"

The man took the pipe from his mouth and pointed with it towards the embankment, thirty yards from the Chief's tent.

"Line that with rifles," he said. "We muster fifteen all told, counting in the foremen, who'll stick by us, I fancy. We've got four or five revolvers, too. Well, my notion is to post our rifles out of sight on the reverse slope, just behind those trucks. The beggars will have to pass on this side, and they won't see us. It's about time to knock off work, and they won't be surprised if they see you on a camp-stool at the door of your tent reading. I can lend you a month-old Times."

"What then?"

"Why, they'll speak to you, I suppose, and you'll soon see if they're bent on mischief. Then you can give us a sign and we'll empty a few saddles."

"Rather strong measures, O'Connor."

"Why not try bluff first?" said Will.

"You've got an idea, have you? Come into my tent, and we'll talk it over. You too, O'Connor. You others, go and get the rifles; and, Ruggles, tell the men that a small armed party is coming this way, but they needn't be alarmed. They can get their suppers and keep out of the way."

The Chief, accompanied by Will and O'Connor, walked to his tent. It was separated by a few yards from the embankment on one side, and the tents of the European staff on the other. There was a broad open space in front of these, with a large tree standing in the middle. The approaching horsemen, if they came from the expected direction, would pass between two groups of tents occupied by the labourers, into the compound, as it might be called, of which the tree marked the centre.

The colloquy in the Chief's tent did not last long. O'Connor came out first, still puffing at his pipe. Nobody in the camp was aware of it, but Jerry O'Connor had once held the King's commission in the Royal Engineers. There had been no more popular or capable officer in the corps than Jerry, and many were grieved when he had to leave the army, under a cloud. He was the best-liked member of the engineering staff of the new railway, and none get more work out of his men. He was soon joined by the other Europeans and the Venezuelan foremen, all armed with rifles. Knocking the ashes from his pipe, he put it into his pocket, and led his little company of thirteen to the rear of the embankment, where they lay flat on their faces just below the top, perfectly screened from observation on the other side.

Meanwhile Will also had left the Chief's tent, and made his way quickly towards a little wooden cabin that stood a few yards from the end of the railway line. As he approached, a slight young man with a swarthy sallow face came out of the cabin and walked towards the embankment. Will hailed him.

"The Chief wants you, Machado," he said.

"At once, señor? I was going to watch the horsemen who are said to be approaching. Perhaps I might be able to reassure the Chief."

"You had better come and see what he wants first."

The Venezuelan gave way with a shrug, and walked by Will's side to the tent, at the door of which Mr. Jackson was standing.

"Señor Machado," said the Chief, who was always scrupulously polite to the Spaniards on his staff, "I shall be glad of your assistance. These horsemen will be here in a few minutes, and I want you to remain here as a witness of what passes. Mr. Pentelow will remain also. We shall then have one of their own countrymen and one of mine, a useful precaution, you will agree."

Señor Machado smiled his assent. Mr. Jackson knew that, in dealing with revolutionaries in Venezuela, foreigners, and even peaceable natives, were, as he put it, between the devil and the deep sea. If he should be suspected of giving aid or countenance to the rebels he would be hauled over the coals by the Government. If he refused such aid he might be held in durance or perhaps attacked by the rebels. Whichever party proved victorious in the struggle would refuse to make good any loss he might sustain, while if either could foist upon him any charge of assisting the enemy he would lose all his property, and suffer imprisonment or fine. No evidence would probably be of any immediate avail if matters were brought to extremities; but it would be useful to have such evidence to lay before the British consul.

"You left a man at the cabin to call you if any message comes through?" said the Chief.

"Assuredly, señor; I think always of my duty."

"That's right. Just keep within easy reach. Here's a cigar."

Machado strolled up and down, smoking energetically. Will shot a glance at him. The man was a good telegraphist, and he had nothing against him; but he was not quite pleased to know that he had been so affable with José.

Mr. Jackson sat down at the door of the tent, and began to discuss with Will the entries the latter had made in his note-book.

"I think we look pretty easy," he said. "Still waters run deep.... Ah! here they are."

[CHAPTER IV--SIMPLE SUBTRACTION]

The cavalcade came at a walk into the compound. They were a very nondescript troop: men of all ages, tall and short, stout and thin, variously clad, but all wearing high riding-boots and a green feather in their sombreros. There were more of them than Will had supposed, numbering nearly fifty. The greater part of the troop halted when they came to the tree, but two rode forward, the first a thick-set man with bushy black eyebrows and heavy moustache. He pulled up within a few feet of Mr. Jackson, and making a military salute, said--

"Good-evening, señor."

Mr. Jackson got up and returned the salutation. Will stood at his side, and the telegraphist remained a little in the rear.

"I introduce myself, señor, as Captain Felipe Espejo, of the army of General Carabaño, liberator of Venezuela, and in his name I have the honour or requesting that you will of your great courtesy furnish my troop with refreshments."

"Do me the favour to enter my tent, Señor Capitan," said Mr. Jackson pleasantly. "No doubt you are weary after your ride."

The Captain hesitated for a moment, darting a glance around. Then he dismounted, and leaving his horse with his orderly, followed Mr. Jackson into the tent. Will entered after him, and Machado stood in the entrance.

"Be seated, señor," said Mr. Jackson, offering him a cigar. "I am of course aware of the excellent custom of your country, which never refuses refreshment to the traveller, and speaking for myself and my staff, it would give us the greatest pleasure to entertain you and your men. But you will see, I am sure, that I am placed in a somewhat awkward position."

"Explain yourself, señor."

"I think I am right in believing that the noble liberator has not yet assumed the reins of government? In that case any voluntary service to you on my part, even though dictated solely by courtesy, is likely to be sadly misconstrued by the present Government, is it not? I am responsible for the interests of the Company employing me to build this railway, and I must take care that no action of mine shall prejudice them. You will agree, then, señor, that I cannot undertake to provide refreshment for so large a party as yours unless formal demand is made, which, backed by the armed force at your distinguished disposal, would undoubtedly exonerate my Company from all responsibility."

"You express yourself admirably, señor," said the visitor with a smile. "May I compliment you on your command of our language? As to a formal demand, I oblige you with the greatest pleasure. I demand now, formally, that you supply my troop with food."

"That is sufficient, Señor Capitan," said Mr. Jackson, returning the smile. "Pentelow," he added in English, "go and see to this. Don't be long.... I was about to have my own evening meal," he went on in Spanish, "and if the caballero would honour me by sharing the repast, I shall be delighted, though I fear it may not be so excellent in quality as the caballero is accustomed to."

The Captain cordially accepted the invitation. He felt that things were going extremely well. Mr. Jackson summoned his servant, and ordered him to lay for four. Machado was edging away, but Mr. Jackson called him into the tent.

"You will join us this evening," he said. "Señor Machado, telegraphist on my staff."

The two Venezuelans exchanged salutations, the Captain somewhat superciliously. The meal was soon ready; Will returned; and the four sat down at the table, Mr. Jackson opening a bottle of champagne--villainous stuff, which he kept by him expressly for native guests, who relished it as though it had been the finest vintage from Rheims or Vevay.

The Captain was an excellent table companion, and a man of quite charming manners. He did full justice to the food and drink. When the meal was over, and, provided with a good cigar, he lay back in a lounge chair, he said--

"Truly, señor, it gives me the greatest annoyance to have to requite your excellent hospitality by making a further request--or, to adopt the term you prefer, a formal demand. My noble superior, General Carabaño, unfortunately lacks two things requisite to complete his success in the glorious task of liberating his beloved country from the yoke of a tyrant. These two things, señor, are men and money. General Carabaño has laid upon me the duty--never more irksome than in the present circumstances--of inviting, or, again accepting your term, of demanding, a small loan from your Company in both kinds, namely, money and men. The money shall be returned when the new Government is thoroughly established--I need not say, with accrued interest. The men also, when that glorious day arrives, will be again at the disposal of the Company, to which, in view of the goodwill displayed by its distinguished representative, a concession shall in due time be made, on terms afterwards to be decided, for the furtherance of its business."

The tone in which the Captain made this long speech was as pleasant and courteous as though he were announcing the conferment of a favour. Mr. Jackson was only surprised that the real purpose of his visit had not been disclosed before.

"I regret extremely, señor," he said, "that in my position I cannot take upon myself to make a loan of money. In doing so I should be acting entirely beyond my powers. But I will of course forward the request to my directors."

"Pardon me, señor," said the Captain suavely, "that is of course absurd. General Carabaño cannot delay the completion of his great work while time is wasted in such formalities. He must have men and money at once. I have no doubt that you have a considerable balance in your hands, beyond the immediate wages of your labourers. You will therefore be good enough to order the whole of your workers to be drawn up, so that I may select recruits, and at the same time count out a sum of five thousand pesos."

"With great respect, señor, I have to say that is my duty to protect whatever funds may be my charge, and also the peons who have been engaged by my Company under the laws of the State."

At this Captain Espejo's politeness fell from him like a cloak. He sprang up, threw his half-smoked cigar through the doorway of the tent, and cried--

"Enough of this folly! I offer you an amicable arrangement. You decline it. Then I take what I want by force."

"And may I ask how the caballero proposes to take what he wants by force?" said Mr. Jackson quietly.

All four men were now on their feet. Machado was restless with excitement. Will stood rigid, looking with admiration at his chief, whom he had never credited with such sang froid as he now displayed. When Mr. Jackson asked his question the Captain stared at him as though he had not heard him aright; then, motioning with his hand towards the men lounging beneath the tree, he said, with a laugh--

"Two score of my men, señor, could shepherd a thousand peons."

"Possibly, señor, but your number is really twenty."

The Captain stared again. What was this mad Englishman talking about?

"You are pleased to jest, señor," he said impatiently. "My troop numbers exactly forty-two."

"The matter is too serious for jesting, señor. I repeat, that for the purpose of enforcing your demand your troop is effectively less than a score. Be so good as to accompany me for a few yards and I will explain myself."

The Captain eyed his host suspiciously. Was it possible that he was to be led into some trap? But the Englishman looked perfectly inoffensive. He was unarmed; his thumbs were thrust into his arm-pits, presumably a habit of Englishmen. And there were the forty men, within pistol shot: there was really no reason why he should not humour the eccentric.

The Chief strolled along, towards the rear of the embankment. He led the Captain up the plank along which barrows were wheeled up the slope. Coming to the top, he pointed to the row of figures lying prone just below the crest, each man holding a rifle.

"You see there, señor, fourteen first-rate shots. At the least sign of hostility on the part of your troop, these men will fire. Each rifle covers a man. You will confirm my remark that, for the purpose of enforcing your demands, you have less than a score of men. At the first volley fourteen will be hors de combat; the second will account for as many more before they have recovered from their surprise; at the third you will have none left."

The Captain was speechless with fury. He looked at the men motionless on the embankment, at his unconscious troopers laughing and jesting below. He turned about and saw Will, smiling, at his elbow. The Chief stood in the same easy attitude of unconcern. With a muttered oath Captain Espejo turned on his heel, and strode down the embankment. Half-way down he wheeled about, and sputtered--

"You, Señor Inglese, have not seen the last of me. General Carabaño shall hear of this impertinence--this unparalleled atrocity; and he will exact a heavy retribution, I promise you."

He completed the descent, summoned his orderly and threw himself into the saddle, and then, riding up to his men, curtly ordered them to mount and follow him. The troop rode away in the direction whence they had come.

"I'm most terribly stiff," cried O'Connor, springing up. "I'm sorry you've done it, Chief; I should have liked a scrap with the beggars; but you're a wonderful man."

The Chief smiled.

"First catch your hare, then cook him," he said.

[CHAPTER V--A SCRAP OF PAPER]

Watching the horsemen as they rode away, Will suddenly remembered the prisoner whom he had seen running beside one of them. The man was now gone. Perhaps he had slipped away; perhaps the horseman at whose stirrup he had been tied had not accompanied the rest to the camp. He spoke of it to the Chief. The latter suggestion deepened the look of gravity on Mr. Jackson's face.

"I hope to goodness there are no more of them," he said. "We had better send a native to shadow them."

"I'll do that, Chief," said O'Connor, "with Ruggles. I wouldn't trust a native."

"Very well. Don't go too far. It'll be dark soon."

When O'Connor had set off with Ruggles on horseback, Mr. Jackson asked Will to go with him to his tent to talk things over.

"This is serious," he said. "I'm afraid we've only postponed the evil day. Whether this revolution succeeds or not we shall hear more of the rebels. The Government can't help us."

"Still, we couldn't be much worse off than if you had given in to the fellow. They'd have collared all our cash; and all our peons would have mutinied--all they didn't impress, that is."

"True. It would have meant a complete smash here. The peons would have made off to the woods, carrying their machetes with them, you may be sure, and they're worth two dollars apiece. We should never have seen them again: it would have brought our work to a standstill; and as the funds of the Company are rather low I shouldn't wonder if it had been crippled beyond hope of recovery. The business has suffered enough already. The worst of it is that we've still got that to look forward to."

"What can we do?" asked Will.

"Nothing, except stick on. I'll not budge till I'm compelled for all the Carabaños and Espejos in Venezuela. We'll go about our work as usual and keep our eyes open. Our contract with the Government requires us to carry Government troops, but I'll refuse point-blank to carry any other armed force, and neither Government nor rebels will get any money out of me willingly."

They were still talking when O'Connor and Ruggles returned.

"We saw them cross the river about two miles up," said O'Connor, coming into the tent, "and they were joined by three more of the same kidney. It didn't seem worth while going any farther. But we haven't come back empty-handed."

"What have you got?" asked the Chief.

"Nothing very valuable: a poor wretch of an Indian. Ruggles is bringing him along. We found him hiding in the trees, and thought he might be a spy of theirs; but he turned out to be a runaway servant of the Captain's. He told Ruggles some story which I couldn't make out--here he is."

Ruggles entered, bringing with him a wretched-looking object. Will recognized him instantly as the man he had saved from the jaguar in the early morning. The Indian's face brightened as he saw his rescuer. He fell on his knees before him and begged for food. When he had eaten, with the ferocity of a starving man, what was given him, he said in answer to Will's questions that he had run away from Captain Espejo, who treated him cruelly. After the adventure with the jaguar he had recrossed the river, and unluckily stumbled upon the very man he had most wished to avoid. The Captain had thrashed him and tied him to the stirrup of one of his men; but taking advantage of a dense clump of forest through which they passed, he had wrenched his hands free and fled into the bush. Three of the party had dismounted and tried to track him, but he was more at home in the woodland than they, and had been able to elude them. These were the three men who, after their vain search, had rejoined the main party returning from their equally unsuccessful expedition.

"Well, he's another mouth to feed," said the Chief, "but I suppose we had better keep him and find something for him to do. What's your name?"

"Azito, señor," said the man humbly.

The Chief called up his servant, and ordered him to arrange a sleeping-place for the Indian. Then he dismissed him, and the four Englishmen, by the light of a lamp hanging from the roof of the tent, sat discussing the affair of the day and the steps to be taken on the morrow.

"I think we had better put the camp in a state of defence," said O'Connor. "If we don't protect ourselves, nobody will."

"That won't be much good," said the Chief, "we shall be shifting camp soon, and it'll be more than life's worth to attempt to fortify ourselves every time. Nothing short of a wall all round would be any good, and it would be tremendous work to build that: there's such a lot of us."

"As to shifting camp, we might put that off for a while--until next pay-day at any rate; though it will mean a tramp for the men at night after work is done. If you'll leave the defences to me I'll see what can be done."

"But the camp might be raided while we are miles away at railhead," said Will.

"We can put outposts out to give us notice of any armed party approaching; that might give us time to get back."

"You ought to have been a soldier, O'Connor. Cobbler, stick to your last, eh?"

O'Connor smiled.

"Leave it to me, Chief," he said. "I would just relish a brush with those ruffians."

"It's rather curious they came just after pay-day," said Will.

"Oh! I dare say they know what our arrangements are," replied Mr. Jackson. "It's no secret that we get our pay once a fortnight from Bolivar. We may expect a visit from them next pay-day, if not before. I only hope they won't bother us as they did the French company some years ago: they broke 'em, with the assistance of floods and earthquakes. Ah well! every cloud has a silver lining."

Next day O'Connor devoted himself to the fortification of the camp, employing a hundred men--a fourth of the whole company of peons--on the work. To lessen the labour, he took the embankment as one wall, and palisaded the top for about a hundred yards. Then he made a rough circular wall around the camp enclosure, using rails and sleepers and a number of trucks, defending the whole circuit with a chevaux-de-frise made of branches lopped from the neighbouring woods. Mr. Jackson doubted whether the terms of their concession from the Government admitted the use of timber for this purpose, but O'Connor made the very pertinent answer that permission to build a railway was of little value unless it included the right to defend the line and those employed on it; upon which the Chief said no more.

These defensive works occupied several days. Before they were completed a muleteer came from the mines to report that Captain Espejo had visited them and demanded money from the manager. Luckily the fortnight's pay had not arrived, and his cash-box was almost empty; but the Captain had seized all the money that was left, and also impressed a score of the miners, who had been marched away, presumably to the head-quarters of General Carabaño.

During these days news was brought in by several of the haciendados of the neighbourhood, from whom the Chief obtained supplies of food, that General Carabaño had captured two or three small towns to the eastward, and recruited a considerable number of men, who were for the most part poorly armed, and still worse equipped. The workers on the railway were delighted at the discomfiture of Captain Espejo; none of them had any wish to share the unenviable lot of men impressed in the revolutionary cause. At present they had hard work, but good pay; as hirelings of General Carabaño they would lead the life of dogs, liable to be whipped or slashed or even shot if they chanced to offend their officers, and to get no pay at all.

On the day after Captain Espejo's visit Mr. Jackson wrote to the Provincial Jefe at Ciudad Bolivar, with whom he was on good terms, relating what had happened, and asking for the protection of Government troops. He sent the letter by mounted messenger to the junction about fifty miles off, whence it was conveyed by rail. In two days he received a reply, in which the Jefe sympathized with his position, but said that he had just been obliged to dispatch the greater part of the force under his command to Caracas, which was threatened by a rising in Valencia. He could not further deplete his garrison without endangering Bolivar. His letter concluded with a strong warning to Mr. Jackson against affording any assistance to the rebels.

"We're between the devil and the deep sea," said the Chief, discussing the letter with his staff. "The Government can't help us, and leaves us at the mercy of the rebels; and yet it will punish us if we help them, which they may force us to do. What a country!"

"Why didn't you stay at home, Chief?" asked O'Connor.

"Because I didn't want to run the risk of clerking at thirty bob a week," replied Mr. Jackson. "That's the fate of many good men in the old country, worse luck."

Azito, the Indian, had attached himself to Will, constituting himself an additional servant, much to the disgust and jealousy of the negro José. The two quarrelled so frequently that Will thought it advisable to separate them. Accordingly he got Mr. Jackson to make use of Azito as a scout. He gave him a pony and sent him to learn what he could of the revolutionaries: where General Carabaño had fixed his head-quarters, how many men he had with him, and what his intentions were. The Indian was at first very reluctant to venture within reach of his late master; but on Will promising that he should be well paid and provided for, the man consented, rather from blind devotion to his rescuer than from any other motive.

Returning after two days' absence, he reported that General Carabaño was quartered in a hill-village about twenty-five miles north-east of railhead. His force, as estimated by the Indians of the neighbourhood, consisted of some five hundred men. It was rumoured that the General, when he considered himself strong enough, intended to attack Ciudad Bolivar, on the Orinoco about forty-five miles farther to the north-east. His numbers were being continually increased, but he was obviously in great need of money, and had already begun to make forced requisitions on the haciendados and the Indians. Mr. Jackson devoutly hoped that money would not be forthcoming. A leader of strong personality could easily and at any time gather a large army of desperadoes in Venezuela if he had the money to pay them.

The day after Azito's return the camp suffered from one of the periodical disasters which it was impossible to foresee or to guard against. A violent tornado swept over the district, uprooting immense trees, whirling the tents away, and scattering their contents in all directions. It was all over in a few minutes, but the mischief done would take days to repair. Will was walking over the ground, seeking to recover his possessions among the litter, when he happened to find a sheet of the Company's official paper on which he saw that a rough plan was drawn. He picked it up, thinking it might be one of the Chief's papers; but on further examination he was surprised to find that it was a sketch of the encampment, or rather of that part of it occupied by the engineering staff. The position of each tent was marked, and distinguished by a letter of the alphabet. Will thought the paper must belong to O'Connor, and took it to him. At the moment O'Connor had his arms full of pyjamas and underwear which he had just collected from the havoc of the storm. His inseparable pipe was in his mouth.

"Is this yours?" asked Will, showing him the paper.

"Never saw it before," mumbled O'Connor. "What is it?"

"A plan of part of the camp."

"What would I want with a plan of the camp? Perhaps the Chief has been amusing himself. Try him."

But the Chief denied all knowledge of the paper.

"I've got something better to do than draw unnecessary plans. What's the good of it?"

"Nothing, except as information to an enemy."

"Ah! that's an idea now. 'A chiel amang us takin' notes,' eh? A wolf within the fold. I'll skin him if I catch him. Do you suspect any one?"

"Sangrado's got a shifty eye."

"Which of 'em hasn't!" said the Chief grimly. "I don't trust any of these Venezuelans beyond eyeshot. Well, he's had his trouble for nothing. There's no camp left, and we'll take care to arrange things differently now. Get a gang to move the safe, there's a good fellow: hanged if it isn't about the only thing left standing."

The safe was conveyed on trolleys to another part of the enclosure, and the Chief's tent was reerected around it. During the next few days he watched the native foremen narrowly, but saw nothing to lead him to suspect any one of them to be the traitor. They appeared indeed to be in good spirits over the news which had just come in through Antonio de Mello, who visited the camp one day and reported that the Government had made some progress in stamping out the revolt in Valencia. Free from danger in that quarter, it might be expected that the Government troops would soon be at liberty to deal with the outbreak in Guayana; and if General Carabaño had not succeeded in capturing Bolivar before there was a movement against him, his chance of ultimate success was very small. De Mello confirmed Azito's information as to the General's lack of money, which was the strongest weapon the Government possessed.

Sangrado, the foreman whom Will had mentioned, declared that the rebuff Captain Espejo had suffered would prove to be the ruin of the revolution. It had not merely deprived the General of the sinews of war on which he had no doubt confidently reckoned, but had so much damaged his prestige that he would find great difficulty in obtaining recruits.

"A courier will come one day, señor," said the man, "with the thanks of the Government. You will be a great man in Venezuela."

"We won't hallo until we are out of the wood," replied the Chief. "You don't want a revolution, then, Sangrado?"

"Certainly not, señor, nor any of us. We know which side our bread is buttered."

"Honesty is the best policy," remarked the Chief to the Englishmen of his staff afterwards. "I think the men are all right as long as they get their pay. But I'm not so sure they'd stick to us if a higher bidder came along."

The disorder in the camp was repaired: the work went steadily on: and as the line advanced, and the distance between railhead and the camp increased, Mr. Jackson began to think of shifting to another site, and questioned whether it would be worth while to spend time in fortifying it. He decided to remain in his present quarters until after next pay-day. The money would arrive by train from Bolivar, together with a large quantity of stores, the wages of the peons being paid partly in kind.

On the morning of the day when the train was expected, Machado handed the Chief a telegraphic message to the effect that the agent of the Company in Bolivar had sent six extra trucks with rails just landed from a steamer that had arrived from Antwerp, the contract for rails being in the hands of a Belgian firm.

"They're a few weeks before they are due," said the Chief, "but that's a fault on the right side. When will the train arrive?"

"About two, señor."

"That means four, I suppose. No doubt we shall get a wire from the junction as usual."

Just after twelve o'clock Machado reported that the train had left the junction, and might be expected in about three hours. The arrival of the fortnightly train was always a matter of interest in the camp. It had become the custom for the peons to strike work and crowd about railhead on these occasions. Mr. Jackson and several of his staff were always present to take formal receipt of the consignment of goods and money, the latter being escorted from the lock-up van to the safe in the Chief's tent.

About four o'clock Mr. Jackson took up his position with the three Englishmen beside the line. Several of the peons stood at hand, ready to transfer the cash to a trolley. The rest of the labourers congregated noisily close by. The appearance of the engine among the trees far away was hailed with a loud shout. In a few minutes the train, longer than usual, drew up; Mr. Jackson stepped forward to the lock-up van, with his duplicate keys of the two huge padlocks on the door. The six trucks behind, covered with canvas, would not be unloaded until the money had been bestowed in the safe.

A SCRIMMAGE AT RAILHEAD

He had just thrown the door open, and ordered the peons to lift out the bags of money, when there was a sudden outcry. Looking round, he was amazed to see a swarm of armed men rushing upon him, the nearest no more than two yards away. Before he or any other of the staff could lift a hand to defend himself, he was hurled to the ground, O'Connor and Ruggles lying beside him. Will, who happened to be a little nearer to the engine, made an attempt to bolt, and succeeded in springing down the embankment, only to find himself in the midst of a score of the assailants. He dodged two or three of them, with the agility of an old Rugby player, but was then tripped up and fell headlong, being immediately pounced on and held. The first man he saw when he collected himself was Machado the telegraphist, who had seized one of his arms and looked at him with a smile of malicious triumph.

"You are the traitor, then," thought Will. "I might have known it, after your sniffing round after my hydroplane."

In a few minutes all the European members of the staff lay trussed up on the slope of the embankment, Captain Espejo himself superintending the operation. The money had been seized. The native foremen, accepting their fate with the Spaniard's usual nonchalance, stood idly by, puffing at their cigarros. Many of the peons had taken to their heels and fled into the woods. But the majority had been too much cowed even to run, especially when several shots were fired among the fugitives as a warning. Captain Espejo summoned them to stand, declaring that they were now in the service of his excellency General Carabaño, the new President, and that any man who resisted would be instantly shot. Then, seeing that the four Englishmen were securely bound, he made his way to the Chief's tent among a group of his officers, ordering his men, who numbered nearly a hundred, to find quarters for themselves and take what they required from the stores in the train.

[CHAPTER VI--THE HOLE IN THE WALL]

It would not be becoming to record the exact words used by O'Connor as he lay, within a few feet of Will, on the slope of the embankment. They were very expressive, and very warm, so warm indeed that Mr. Jackson just beyond him suggested that he should "draw it mild." Ruggles, a little farther away, did not utter a word, and for some moments Will simply listened sympathetically to O'Connor, who undoubtedly expressed the feelings of them all.

"It was Machado, after all," said Will at length.

This provoked another explosion from O'Connor, who said a great deal as to what he would do to Machado when he got him.

"Yes, the scoundrel!" said Mr. Jackson. "He and his telegraph have done it. I'll take care another time to have an English telegraphist."

Machado had in fact telegraphed in the Chief's name to Bolivar, asking that six empty trucks should be coupled to the usual train. He had further instructed that the train should stop at a place about twenty miles from railhead to load up sleepers, which were cut from the forest for use on the railway. When the train pulled up at the appointed spot there was no load of sleepers, but a company of armed rebels, who sprang into the empty trucks, and covered themselves with canvas, Captain Espejo having ordered the driver, a Spaniard, to take them on to railhead, threatening him with instant death if he attempted to give warning.

"I wonder what they will do with us," said Mr. Jackson.

"I hope they'll take us away from this pretty soon," said Will. "There's a fly on my nose, and I can't shake it off."

"My throat is like an oven," growled O'Connor.

"One glass of beer!" sighed Ruggles: "just one: there's no harm in one."

Their plight was indeed desperately unpleasant. They were laid on the sunny side of the embankment. The afternoon sun beat full upon them, and before long they were subject to the pressing attentions of innumerable insects, which, their arms being bound, they were unable to drive away. They got some relief by turning over on their faces, but as time went on the heat, the insects, and their thirst made them thoroughly wretched. More than once O'Connor yelled for some one to bring him a drink; but no attention was paid to him, and it seemed as if Captain Espejo, for all his charming manners, was bent on slowly grilling them to death.

Just before sunset, however, a bugle sounded. Sitting up, the prisoners witnessed the arrival of General Carabaño himself. He rode in amid a group of twenty officers, who formed a sort of guard of honour. Captain Espejo had paraded his men to welcome the General, whom they received with a volley of sounding vivas. Behind rode a long line of cavalry in all sorts of costumes, many of them having a led horse, no doubt the steeds of Captain Espejo's party. Behind these came a long procession of animals and men, the latter the most motley collection of ruffians Will had ever seen. Some were mounted on mules, some on donkeys; some had saddles, some rode bare-backed. There were bridles of leather, of rope, of bejuco, a climbing plant that grows plentifully in the forests. Some had no bridles at all, but clung to the donkey's mane, guiding it by a slap on the right or left ear, or a thump on the flank.

When Will thought he had seen the last of them enter, he was amazed to find that they were followed by a regiment of Caribbee infantry, who had already earned from the Government troops the name of Carabaño's bloodhounds. Their only clothing was a narrow strip about the waist and the feathers in their hair. Each had a lance, and a bow and quiver slung over the back.

"A dashed fine-looking lot," said O'Connor, admiring these muscular redskins. "You could make something of those fellows."

"The General looks a Tartar," said Will.

"There's a good deal of the negro in his composition, I'll swear," remarked Mr. Jackson. "That's a bad look-out for us; there's no more insufferable brute than your negro in authority."

General Carabaño in truth looked an unpleasant man to deal with. He was very big and tall, with a large fat face, a wide nose and thick lips, and woolly hair. He sat his horse in the middle of the compound by the tree until his men had all marched in. Then, after a few words with Captain Espejo, he rode towards the prisoners. Halting opposite them, he told his orderlies to stand them on their feet, and then, assuming a haughty demeanour, he demanded to know what they meant by rebelling against his Government. None of them replied. Enraged at their silence, he declared that he would shoot them. On this, however, Captain Espejo deferentially suggested that the penalty might be at least deferred.

"They are Englishmen, Excellency," he said, "and if you treat them as they undoubtedly deserve there will be trouble with their Government, which may seriously embarrass the consolidation of your administration."

"Caramba!" cried the General: "their Government is thousands of miles away."

"True, Excellency; but it is above all things essential that the lives of foreigners should be spared if you wish your Government to be recognized."

"Well, we will think of it. Set a guard over them to-night, Señor Capitan, and take care that none of them escapes. Where is that loyal friend of the State, Señor Machado?"

The prisoners' feet were unbound, and they were led away to one of the tents, so that they did not hear the conversation between the General and Machado. The upshot of this was that the telegraphist flashed a message to Bolivar in Mr. Jackson's name, saying that the engine had broken down, and asking for another train to be dispatched with bridging materials and other things which he found himself in need of. The General's aim was to get possession of as much rolling stock as possible for the transport of his troops to Bolivar when the time arrived. The city was a hundred and thirty miles distant by rail, though less than half that distance across country, and the junction was fifty miles from railhead, so that with care and the assistance of Machado it would be easy to prevent news of what had happened from reaching the Jefe. The camp was situated in a part of the country remote from highways, and the mounted men whom the General had placed at various points would prevent any messengers from getting through in either direction.

The prisoners were given a meal; then they were bound again and left in the tent, a strong guard being posted outside. They spent a most uncomfortable night. After Captain Espejo's remonstrance they did not suppose the General would shoot them; but uncertainty as to their fate and distress at the ruin of the Company's business worried them, and they were sleepless during the greater part of the night, discussing their situation in low tones.

Next day they were not allowed to leave the tent. They saw nothing of the General, who was in fact busy following up his operations of the previous evening. He got Machado to telegraph to head-quarters for more money. The reason given was that a wash-out--one of the sudden floods to which the country is subject--had destroyed a large quantity of stores, which must be replaced on the spot by purchases from the neighbouring haciendados. He impressed into his service such of the peons and foremen as he thought worthy of it, and drove the rest from the camp, no doubt feeling confident that by the time any of them could make their way over difficult country to Bolivar that town would have fallen into his hands.

The supplies and money requisitioned arrived late on the following day. The General had now two locomotives and thirty wagons, including those that were permanently at railhead for construction purposes. The personnel of the two trains were kept under guard, to prevent them from making off with the engines.

Meanwhile the General, finding the rough camp at railhead little to his taste, had shifted his quarters to Antonio de Mello's residence about five miles below. The news of the coup had been conveyed to De Mello instantly by some of the Indians who had fled from the camp, and he had hurriedly quitted the place for another estate of his many miles to the south, where his mother and sister were living. The hacienda was left in charge of the servants. De Mello knew that he could make no resistance to the appropriation of his house by the revolutionary leader; the utmost he could do was to remove his horses. It was not very patriotic conduct; but patriotism is not a common virtue in that land of revolution.

The General took up his quarters in the hacienda with some of his staff, including Captain Espejo, their horses being placed in the new stables. The sight of the old stables suggested to Espejo that the prisoners might be conveyed thither, so that they should be constantly under the General's eye. Accordingly they were marched in under escort of cavalry, O'Connor fuming at the indignity, which gave the others a little amusement. Will even cracked a joke when each was given a loose-box, remarking that it was the first time he had been in a box, the dress circle having been hitherto the height of his attainment.

Unknown to the prisoners, a telegraph cabin had been hurriedly rigged up for Machado at the railway line within a short distance of the house. The General had found the man so useful that he deemed it convenient to have him close at hand. It seemed advisable also that his troops should be more closely in touch with him than they could be in the old camp, so he ordered the tents to be struck, and all the stores and other things that would be useful to be transferred to a new camp about half-a-mile in the rear of the hacienda.

Will's box was in the centre, and through the open door he could see two sentries marching to and fro. Another sentry was posted at the door of the hacienda. He could see also the comings and goings of the General and his staff. They often walked up and down on the terrace in front of the house. The door of the stables was usually open during the day-time, but it was closed at night, and a sentry came on guard within. General Carabaño had given orders that the prisoners were to be prevented from communicating with one another. At first they disregarded the command, but when Captain Espejo threatened to gag them if they persisted they thought it best to remain silent, irksome though the restriction was. One of the annoyances of their situation was the impertinent curiosity of the officers and such of the men as came on various errands to the hacienda. The former sometimes lolled at the door, smoking their long cigarros, and jesting among themselves at the four prisoners, who sat in enforced silence in the mangers. When the officers were not present, their servants copied them, and drove O'Connor almost frantic with their insulting remarks. The other three, not so sensitive as the fiery Irishman, accepted their lot more philosophically.

Meanwhile General Carabaño's force was increasing. News of his exploit had been carried through the neighbourhood, and since nothing succeeds like success, it had had the effect of bringing to his flag many who hoped to share in his expected triumph. There was at present plenty of provisions in the camp, and with the serviceable Machado at his elbow, the General could always telegraph for further supplies. Will hoped that De Mello would have informed the authorities at Caracas of what had occurred, and that a Government force would be dispatched to deal with the General; but De Mello had gone in the opposite direction. Moreover, the Government had its hands full in the north, and there was no chance of present assistance from that quarter.

On the second day of the imprisonment, Will, looking through the doorway, caught sight of a black figure lurking among some bushes on the farther side of the lake, not far from the house. It seemed very much like his negro boy José, and to assure himself on the point, he walked as far as the sentry would allow him towards the door. As he came into the light the negro apparently recognized him and impulsively started forward: then, fearing discovery, slipped back again into the bushes.