All this seemed incredible and yet a little reflection convinced Major Starland that the sagacious native was right.  The American had two treacherous enemies to meet in the Dictators who professed to be his friends.

“I will go back to Atlamalco; I will call the dog to account; what will he dare say for himself?”

“I am sure,” observed the soft-voiced Captain, “that Major Starland will not be so unwise as that.”

“Why will it be unwise?”

“General Yozarro will not see you when you return.”

“He dare not refuse!  I will bring up my yacht and lay his confounded town under tribute.”

“He has a gunboat.”

“All you folks refer to that tub as a gunboat, when it is only an old tug, which he has painted over and fitted up with a couple of six-pounders.  It is not worth taking into consideration:  I will force myself into his presence and compel him to undo what he has done and to beg my pardon on his knees.”

The Captain indulged in his expressive shrug and smoked in silence.  He was giving the American a few minutes in which to regain his poise.  The American did so.

“Why did Martella leave his service?” he abruptly asked.

“General Yozarro caused his brother to be shot, because he ran the gunboat aground the other day.  It was upon a mound formed under water one night by the forked river, which no one could see.  The boat was not injured, but he shot Martella’s brother, who was the pilot.  Martella, therefore, hates him.”

“No more than I do.  Had I known what you have told me when talking with him this forenoon, I should have put a bullet through his carcass.”

“There are better ways than that; let us go to the home of General Yozarro in the mountains and bring away the Senorita; Martella will go with us.”

“He will be shot as a deserter if taken prisoner.”

“He won’t be taken prisoner; perhaps, too, he may gain the chance to slay General Yozarro; it will delight his heart if he can do so.”

“No more than it will delight mine; talk with him, Captain; if he will help me through with this business, he will never regret it.”

Captain Guzman made his way past the sail to the bow where the native was sitting, gazing thoughtfully back over the stream they were leaving behind them.  He turned his head as his friend approached, and the two talked in low tones, both seemingly calm, though each was stirred by strong emotion.  Then the Captain came back to the American, who, with his hand on the tiller, was holding the boat to her course.  He ran in quite close to the southern shore and was studying the Rubio Mountains, whose craggy crests were visible in the sky throughout the whole voyage between the capitals of the republics.  He was consumed with resentment that anyone had dared to hold the daughter of an American citizen a guest without her consent, ­in other words a prisoner, as if she were a criminal.  Manifestly there was a “sovereign remedy” for all this.  The great United States Government would not permit the outrage, and any wrong done to one of its people would cost the miserable offender dear.

But the leading Republic of the world lay many leagues to the northward.  It would take weeks to bring a naval vessel thence, and certainly a number of days before one could come from the nearest port.  Meanwhile, the hours were of measureless value.  The Major ground his teeth when he thought he had allowed his yacht to pass down the river to San Luis, with the understanding that she need not return for several days.  There was no way, however, of getting word to Captain Winton, who could not suspect the urgent necessity for his presence in this part of the land of abominations.

“Martella will be glad to go with us; he says we should go ashore just this side of the point of land ahead.”

“He doesn’t seem to have any weapons with him,” remarked the Major, scrutinizing the fellow, who was looking at him with a curiously intent expression.

“He could not bring his musket, but he has a knife under his coat, and none knows better how to use it.”

“Bring him here.”

Guzman motioned to his friend, who rose to his feet, touching a forefinger to the front of his sombrero, and skilfully picked his course along the careening boat.

“Take the tiller for a few minutes, Captain.”

The moment Martella came within reach, the American extended his hand and addressed him in his native tongue: 

“The Captain says you are ready to show us the way to Castillo Descanso, where Señoritas Estacardo and Starland are staying.”

Martella nodded his head several times and said eagerly, “Si, si, si.”

“Are you certain they are there?”

“I am not, but I think so.”

“The deuce!  Captain, I thought you said he was certain.”

“So he is, ­as certain as one can be; he saw them go ashore last night and start inland under the escort of two soldiers, and heard them say they were going to Castillo Descanso; isn’t that true, Martella?”

“It is true, but perhaps they did not arrive there.”

“Oh, hang it! ­that is as near right as one can be.  Show the Captain where to direct the boat and we’ll soon set things humming.”

Martella pointed out the spot, and Guzman, who was an expert navigator, turned the prow inward, while the Major lowered the sail, and they rounded to at a place where all were able to leap ashore dry shod.  The craft was carefully made fast, and leaving what slight luggage they had behind, they were ready to press inland without loss of time.  The leader carried his rifle and belt full of cartridges and his revolver; the Captain his revolver, while the private was armed only with a long frightful knife, which he kept, so far as possible, out of sight under his jacket.

Standing beside one another for a minute or two, the American asked his guide: 

“Did General Yozarro start for this point when he left Atlamalco in his tug?”

“I heard him say he intended to take the Senorita to Zalapata to meet her brother, and Senorita Estacardo went along to bear her company.”

“That’s what the villain told me; did he pass beyond this point?”

“He did so for several miles.”

“What cause did he give for turning back?”

“He said war was about to break out between the republics; I heard that much, but I was one of the firemen and could not hear all; he said afterward that he discovered something ahead which caused him to turn back in haste.”

“What was it?”

“Nothing, for there was nothing to see.”

“He planned it from the first to deceive the Señoritas.”

“You speak the truth, but why should he take the pains to do that, when he might have gone overland and made the halt in the mountains?”

It was Captain Guzman who answered: 

“Such a journey would have been long and hard for the Señoritas; the voyage is far more pleasant.”

“Why did he start at night?”

“It was easier for him to see the danger which was not there, or for him to make the Señoritas believe he saw it.”

“General Yozarro is devilish sly; let us go.”