Where Duty Called; or, In Honor Bound

by George Waldo Browne

CHAPTER XXI.

"THE MOUNTAIN LION."

The sight which met Ronie's gaze was one of wildness bordering upon grandness. Its wildness consisted of a body of armed troops drawn up in front of the rude building, a mob of untamable savages, as the spectator from a civilized country must have judged them. They were half clad, poorly fed, as shown by their emaciated visages, and armed mainly with the rude implements that the uncivilized use. This wild aspect of the scene was given the touch of a certain grandeur by the sublime attention this motley throng paid to him who stood upon a slightly-raised dais addressing them at this moment.

This speaker was a man of stalwart figure, with a countenance naturally dark, bronzed by long exposure to the tropic sun, and flashing eye that could look without flinching upon the midday sun or upon the wildest rabble that ever gathered under the shadows of the land of revolutions. His speech was uttered in a manner and tongue in keeping with the man and the scene. Ronie could not understand all of the fierce language which seemed to have partaken of the mountain boldness and flowed from the lips of the orator like a torrent springing from its fountain head amid the rugged fastness of its native gorge, but he understood enough to catch the import of this stimulating harangue. He knew the man was El Capitan, and he was evidently resuming a speech which, for some reason, had been temporarily broken.

"Soldiers of freedom," he was saying, "the time for action has come. You have rallied bravely at my call, and now I am ready to lead you to battle and victory! Our path is clearly marked. To-night let us teach that braggart, Don Isadora, that he is not a little king; that he cannot longer defy El Capitan! From the smoking ruins of his estate we will sweep downward like a torrent from the mountain, and like a torrent we will gather volume as we sweep along. A trail of devastated plantations shall mark our course wherever the foolhardy defy us, and above the ruins of the smaller towns shall rise the captured columns of Valencia, La Guayra, Caracas—ay, Caracas! When the capital shall be ours, then will we make laws that lift the poor man into his just deserts, while the lawless rich shall feel the spur of oppression as his meeted judgment. Then shall the name of El Capitan stand beside that of Crespo, the mountain lion!"

As might have been expected, this bombastic speech was frequently interrupted with wild applause, especially when the orator compared himself to the late president of the republic. In one respect, at least, the harangue of El Capitan was apt. Crespo, like himself, was of humble birth and very large of stature. Whether he would equal the ex-president in other ways remained to be seen. Crespo was the idol of his brave followers, who were a dashing, picturesque soldiery, that the inhabitants of Venezuela looked upon very much as the Parisians must have looked with awe upon Napoleon's Mamelukes.

The story of this Venezuelan conqueror is a most interesting one. Following the rule of three or four presidents and dictators who succeeded the noted Blancos[[1]]—there were two of these, father and son—were three or four presidents and dictators whose main object seemed to be to rob the government of all the money they could, and then flee from the country. Such proceedings gave the right man an excuse and an opportunity to rebel. This man was General Crespo, who with seven hundred followers set out to conquer the country. You have read history, know how the ambitious Pizarro, in the stormy days of conquest following the discovery of America by Columbus, overthrew the empire of the Incas with a handful of followers—only thirteen at the start. Crespo did better than that, for with only seven men he made himself president of a country more than twice as large as Spain and Portugal together, while I am glad to be able to say there was less of bloodshed and far less of inhuman sacrifice of innocent lives than in the case of the conqueror of the Incas.

I cannot refrain from giving the following story as typical of the man: His half-wild followers needed arms, and there was no manufactory to replenish them. In this extremity, when almost any other leader must have faltered, Crespo gave the order for his men to strip their bodies naked to the belt, and cover them with a liberal coating of grease. In this shape they were to charge upon an encampment of the enemy numbering more than six to one. This was to be done under cover of darkness, and as they ran through the camp each man was to hold his left hand straight out from his body. If it came in contact with a man wearing a shirt he was to overpower him and seize his firearms. If the body was like his own, he was to know it was a friend, and to keep on. In this wild, impressive manner less than three hundred half-naked men, armed only with their short knives, routed and disarmed over three thousand troops, comprising the flower of the government's army.

It will be noticed that El Capitan's appeal was personal rather than patriotic. Like many another Venezuelan revolutionist, he was fighting for selfish purposes, but his barbaric followers did not stop to consider this. Some one, with a memory of other days, asked concerning the liberation of El Mocho, when El Capitan replied:

"El Mocho is not to be trusted," meaning, no doubt, in his mind that he did not propose to give such a dangerous rival opportunity to be in his way.

Ronie felt that he had learned enough to show him his path of duty. Every moment was precious if he would warn Don Isadora of his peril, and he had no desire to leave the well-meaning don to the hands of this mountain outlaw. So he at once began his ascent of the bluff, which he found extremely difficult. But he accomplished the feat in safety, to find Jack and the Venezuelans anxiously awaiting him. A few words sufficed to explain the situation to them, when they heartily agreed with him that it was best for them to hasten to the plantation of the don as quickly as possible.

"I judge from what I heard while I was leaving my perch that El Capitan is expecting another body of his followers to join him this side of Don Isadora's. This division comes from the way of San Carlos. If it is half as large as the force now under him he will lead a formidable army against the don."

"A mere rabble," said Riva. "Don Isadora has some trained soldiers under him."

By this time the four were riding silently away, being careful to move as cautiously as they could. Riva again led the way, but Ronie and Jack were close behind him, while the younger Venezuelan kept as near to them as he could. In this manner the return journey to the don's plantation was speedily made, and without being discovered by the enemy.

As may be expected, the wealthy planter was profuse in his thanks for the information they gave him, and he began to prepare for the enemy at once, with a confidence in his ability to defeat the other that was sublime. As much as Ronie would have liked to remain and see the outcome of the affair, he felt it was his duty to start immediately to find Colonel Marchand. Don Isadora seemed to understand that it was the proper course for the scouts to pursue, so he offered no objections.

As our little party rode out of the grounds, having left their prisoners under the don's care, they saw that he had mustered his entire forces, numbering fully a hundred men, all of whom were armed with Mausers, pistols and short knives.

"El Capitan will be the one surprised this time," remarked Ronie to his companions. "I really wish we could stay and see the fun."

Little did any one of the quartet dream of the amount of "fun" in warlike earnest that he was to take part in before they should get beyond the don's big estate.

[[1]] Bolivar the "Liberator" was followed by others who managed the affairs of Venezuela very satisfactorily, until in 1846 two political parties formed. These were styled the "Liberals" and the "Conservatives," and trouble increased swiftly. In 1859 Guzman Blanco became the head of the stronger party, holding his sway until 1864, when he was succeeded by a rival. In less than ten years, however, his son came to the front, and, more powerful than his father, he made himself president, with all the prerogatives of a dictator. This office he held until 1884, when Crespo became president. Still the hold of Blanco was not broken, and two years later he reassumed the reins of government, but in 1890 his successor was defeated, and he suffered a loss of his good name. In fact, a complete change of heart for the family which had been dominant in affairs for over thirty years followed. His name was stripped from one of the States where it had been placed, and the public statues he had caused to be erected were torn down, and much of the really good work he had done was destroyed. But these radical denunciations could not remove the name of the pompous leader from the historic pages of Venezuela, and it is well to be so, for with all his shortcomings he did much for the rising republic, though his stalwart figure is the landmark of a stormy period.—AUTHOR.