THE INSULT TO THE FLAG.
A week later, or, to be more exact, on April 10, 1914, the Broncho Rider Boys and their friend Pedro were back in the City of Mexico. During the two weeks they had been at Pachuca, many changes had taken place and on the morning in question they had just finished their coffee in the breakfast room when Guadalupe, Pedro's sister, brought in the morning paper.
"What's the news?" asked Adrian.
Guadalupe glanced at the paper and hid it behind her back without making any reply.
"Why, Sister!" exclaimed Pedro with all the dignity of his sixteen years. "How can you be so rude?"
"She's only joking," laughed Billie, who was always found on Guadalupe's side when any argument took place. "Come, tell us! What is it?"
Guadalupe shook her head.
"Oh, I can't," she replied in a pained voice.
"Why not?" from Billie.
"It says we are going to have war with the United States and I don't believe it."
"Of course you don't," replied Billie. "Neither does any one else."
"Let me see," said Pedro sternly.
Slowly the girl handed her brother the paper.
He opened it and read.
"A party of American marines was arrested in Tampico yesterday for landing on Mexican soil with arms in their hands. They were marched through the streets under a heavy guard and lodged in jail. After a parley with the American Admiral, Mayo, the commandant of the city finally released them upon the assurance of the Admiral that it should not occur again."
"Well, if it was only a mistake, that doesn't mean war," laughed Billie, but Donald's face took on a more serious look.
"That isn't all," said Pedro.
"Well," from Billie, "let's have the rest of it."
"The American Admiral has now declared that the men did not land on Mexican soil with arms in their hands, but that they were in their boat at the pier when arrested. He claims that they were taken from under the American flag——"
"What?" almost shouted Billie, springing to his feet. "Taken from under the American flag? Well, I'll bet that will mean war—unless," he added after a brief pause, "Gen. Huerta apologizes."
"Why should he apologize?" asked Pedro.
"For insulting the American flag."
"That's what the American Admiral says," interrupted Guadalupe, "and he threatens to fire on the city."
"And I'll bet he'll do it," said Adrian.
"If he does we'll sink his ships," said Pedro.
"What with?" asked Billie sarcastically. "Why, Admiral Mayo could blow Tampico out of the water."
"If he does, the Mexicans will march on Washington," from Pedro.
"What?" from Donald. "March on Washington? Why, Huerta can't hardly keep Carranza out of the City of Mexico."
"But if your admiral fires on Tampico, Carranza will help Gen. Huerta," declared Pedro.
"Do you really think so?" asked Adrian.
"I know it. We may have our little family troubles down here in Mexico, but if the United States should interfere, we'd all turn in and fight her."
Billie was about to reply when Gen. Sanchez entered the room.
"I see you have been reading the news," he said calmly.
"And discussing it too," said Donald.
"Which we had better not at present," replied the General. "You boys are our guests and as long as you are, you are our friends; but I am afraid there is serious trouble coming and I think it will be much better if you make arrangements at once to return to the United States. As you know, I am not a favorite with the present administration and I might not be able to protect you."
"We can ask the protection of the American Ambassador," said Donald.
Gen. Sanchez smiled kindly.
"The American Ambassador may be asked to leave."
The boys looked serious.
"Do you really think it is as bad as that?" asked Adrian.
"I fear so. Later dispatches from Tampico state that the American Admiral has demanded a salute of twenty-one guns to the American flag. I know Gen. Huerta well enough to know that he will never order the salute."
"Then what will happen?" asked Donald.
"No one can say. I understand that the American government has placed the matter in the hands of Admiral Fletcher, the ranking officer, who is in charge of the Atlantic fleet off Vera Cruz."
"Do you think we should go at once?" queried Billie.
"Yes, I think it would be better. I will make such arrangements as I can for your transportation to Vera Cruz. In the meantime you had better go and register yourselves at the United States Embassy. I am never sure of Gen. Huerta."
Without further discussion the boys prepared to take Gen. Sanchez' advice, and, donning their hats, started for the embassy, leaving Pedro much chagrined and Guadalupe in tears.
"I can't see why there has to be war!" she declared. "Why can't men behave themselves?"
"What do girls know about war?" asked Pedro.
"They know it's terrible and takes their fathers and brothers, that's what they know, and they wish they didn't have to know that."
Pedro made no reply, but went to his room, where he selected from among his most cherished belongings a gift for each of his guests—three beautiful opals—and laid them upon their respective suit cases.
When the Broncho Rider Boys arrived at the embassy they found a large crowd of Americans already assembled. Word had been circulated that it would be wise for all of them to leave Mexico and those who could were going, while many men whose business detained them in Mexico were sending their families. All had come to the embassy for information and to register.
As a result it was late in the afternoon before the boys returned to Gen. Sanchez' residence. But late as they were, the general had not yet come in. They went to their room and when they saw the gifts which Pedro had laid on each valise, they could not keep back the tears.
"Well, there's one thing," declared Billie as he drew the back of his hand across his eyes, "we don't have to fight Pedro, no matter what comes. I'm going to hunt him up and tell him so."
And he did.
It was some hours later when Gen. Sanchez returned and announced that it would be impossible for the boys to get transportation to Vera Cruz for two or three days, as the track had been torn up in the neighborhood of Cordoba, but that he had been promised that they would be given safe conduct as soon as the track was repaired.
It was three days later, therefore, before the boys were able to leave, during which time they remained in the house at Gen. Sanchez' request to avoid any unpleasantness, which might make trouble for him.
On the morning of the 13th the boys bade good-bye to their host and his family and were driven in an automobile to the station. Already there were more than enough persons to fill four trains, and the guards were permitting only those to board the cars who had passes signed by the Mexican provost marshal.
Thanks to Gen. Sanchez, our boys had been provided with such passes, but they were not allowed to take their rifles or revolvers aboard the train. They had no more than found seats and made themselves comfortable than the conductor shouted "Vamanos," and the train pulled slowly out of the shed.
"Well," remarked Donald as they rolled slowly along, "this is a pretty tough ending to a friendly visit. I think I've seen about all I want of Mexico for some time to come."
"What do you suppose will happen?" asked Billie. "Do you think we'll really go to war with Mexico unless Gen. Huerta orders the salute?"
"I don't know," was Donald's cautious reply. "I hope not."
"And I hope we do!" exclaimed a somewhat florid gentleman who sat in the seat ahead and who had overheard the conversation. "I'd just like an opportunity to come down here with an army and wipe the whole nation off the earth."
Donald made no reply, but Adrian asked sympathetically: "Have they treated you badly, sir?"
"Have they treated me badly? Well, I should say so. They wouldn't let me out of my hotel for two days and now they have refused to carry my trunk and made me leave it with the express company. I guess they don't know who I am."
"I'm sure they do not, sir."
"Well, I'll show them who I am as soon as I get to Vera Cruz and can see Admiral Fletcher. He'll know how to protect Americans!"
"I'm sure he will, sir."
"And when the first marine lands, I want to be right there with a rifle to help drive the Mexicans off the earth."
"It would be wise not to say too much," whispered Adrian. "I see that officer in the end of the car has his eye on you. He may speak English."
"I don't care who hears me," said the florid man angrily. "I mean it."
At the same moment a guard who had approached from the other end of the car laid his hand upon the angry man's shoulder.
"If the Señor is not satisfied," he said, "we shall be pleased to send him back to the City of Mexico."
"Oh, no-no-no," was the stammering reply. "I am very well satisfied. All I want is to get out of the country."
"Let us hope there will be no trouble about that," was the polite response, and the florid man lapsed into silence.
Ordinarily it is a pleasant day's journey from the City of Mexico to the seaport city of Vera Cruz; or if one prefers he may make a night ride of it in times of peace. The train which left the City of Mexico that April morning made no such time. After a tiresome all-day ride with numerous aggravating stops, when darkness fell they were still on the plateau of Mexico, some miles west of Orizaba, running slowly for fear some stray bunch of Carranzistas or Zapatistas might have torn up a length or two of track.
It was possibly an hour later that the engine gave a furious jerk, followed by a bump and another jerk, and then the train came to a dead stop.
In a minute everybody was on his feet asking everybody else what had happened. As no one knew, there was a general movement for the doors, as it was too dark to see much from the windows.
"Sit down, everybody," ordered the guard. "There is no danger, but we have stopped on a high trestle."
The passengers obeyed, realizing the danger of leaving the coaches. There was a general round of conversation, and then as the train did not start, people settled back in their seats and tried to sleep.
Some minutes later Billie gave Adrian a nudge with his elbow.
"Are you asleep?" he asked.
"No. Why?"
"I've just been looking out of the window. We're not on a trestle."
"No? Well, what of it?"
"Only that the guard was lying. What did he do it for?"
"I don't know. Because he was a Mexican, I guess. Go on to sleep."
"That isn't the answer, although it's pretty good. They have some scheme. I wouldn't be surprised if they were going to keep us prisoners somewhere around here."
"Nonsense. Go on to sleep."
But Billie was not satisfied. He leaned over and tried to talk to Donald, but he was fast asleep.
"I think I'll go on a little scouting expedition," he muttered. "I need some exercise."
He arose, stretched himself and walked slowly toward the door, which stood wide open.
"I wonder where the guard is?" he thought. "It's mighty funny he'd go and leave the coach like this."
He stepped on to the coach ahead. The same condition existed.
Billie's curiosity got the best of him and he jumped out onto the ground. It was pitch dark, but he had not advanced more than twenty steps before he discovered groups of men seated upon the grass. A second glance convinced him they were armed.
He drew back and stood beside the coach, where he thought fast.
"There's one of two things," he soliloquized. "We are either prisoners or else we are being guarded against an expected attack. Whichever it is, this is no time for the Broncho Rider Boys to be asleep. I'll go and tell the others."
He started to climb onto the car, but a guard appeared on the platform and ordered him away at the point of his bayonet.
"I'm a passenger," explained Billie.
"Go away!" was the reply, emphasized by a quick advance of the bayonet.
Seeing that it was no time to argue, Billie slid back into the darkness.