CHAPTER XXIV.
There were six of them, all coming out as clearly in the powerful moonlight as if the sun were in the heavens. The stout form of General Yozarro was at the front, walking at a moderate pace up the slope.
The moment he entered the field of vision, Major Starland heard Martella gasp, as if catching his breath. Then the American felt a hand upon his rifle, as if the other were trying to draw it from his grasp.
“My chance can never be better,” whispered the deserter.
“I will not allow murder to be done; a brave man would not ask it.”
The native loosened his straining grip upon the weapon, and all silently peered from the gloom at the procession filing past. None of the spectators spoke, but each caught the sounds of fitful conversation among the Atlamalcans. No one could have been more generous than the Dictator in the way of imprecations, which was no cause for surprise to Miss Starland.
Until the purchase of the tugboat, General Yozarro had usually passed between his capital and the Castle of Rest on horseback. Now, however, he preferred the water route, although it compelled him to walk a difficult mile.
At the moment when the rear of the procession was opposite our friends, who were breathlessly watching from their hiding place, the pony suddenly threw up his head and emitted a resounding whinny that could have been heard a mile away.
“That means a fight!” exclaimed the Major, tightening his grasp on his rifle; “be ready, Captain and Martella!”