He had passed the night in full retreat with the remnant of his followers before the forces of the rival President.
“Everything has gone wrong,” he said. “I have lost heavily, and thought that I should never have been able to join my friends. What about the hacienda? Have you done anything for its defence?”
“The best we could,” replied the skipper. “I suppose you know that the enemy had been here, that there had been a fight, and that they had wrecked the place.”
“I? No!” cried the Don, in a voice full of despair. “I sent a party of my friends here to meet you, and this was the rendezvous. Don’t tell me that they have been attacked and beaten.”
“I have as good as told you that,” said the skipper dryly.
“Ah–h–h!” panted the Don.
“We have put the place in as good a state of defence as there was time for, but we have not seen a soul.”
“It is terrible,” groaned the Don. “My poor friends! prisoners, or driven off! But you! You have your brave men.”
“I have about half my crew here, sir,” said the skipper sternly; “but we haven’t come to fight, only to bring what you know.”
“Ah! The guns, the ammunition, the store of rifles!” cried the Don joyously. “Magnificent! Oh, you brave Englishmen! And you have them landed safe?”