"It was their only alternative, señors, for to yield meant death and torture. Father, let it be said to his credit, gave his companions opportunity to surrender; but, let it be said to their credit, they stood bravely together. Then, their last shot spent, and the fumes of the drug rapidly overpowering them, they threw themselves from the tower into the street. It is said they went downward to their fate with clasped hands. I am glad I did not witness the sad sight. But I believe a brighter day is dawning for poor Venezuela, and that her brave defenders did not give their lives in vain."
Our three friends were deeply touched with this pathetic story, related in such gentle tones as to make it seem like some sweet vision rather than one of grim war's bitter sacrifices. Looking beyond their heroic companion, they were struck with the peacefulness of their environments, so well in accord with the manner of the speaker, all tending to soften the tragic interest of the scene of warlike and heroic action. Where the ill-fated band of patriots, the last to make a stand at that time, must have fallen, ran the sunken rails of the tram cars, and in sight were the notion shops and confectionery stores, where laughing, prattling children were wont to come to find the simple toys and playthings to amuse them. At nighttime electric lights illuminated with their dazzling splendor the now peaceful scene, while seekers of religious promises wended their way softly in and out of the old cathedral.
"I am afraid I have made you sad, señors, when there is so much to make one happy. But I forgot that this is not for you, and that your heart is heavy, Señor Rand, over the fate of your poor mother. Let us hope you, too, may soon find your cup of joy full to overflowing."
"Have you heard how Colonel Marchand is?" asked Harrie, seeing that Ronie did not feel like replying to their friend.
"He is likely to recover, but his campaigning is doubtless over until some time in the future. Come, señors, I shall insist that you stop with me to-night, and it is time you seek rest."
CHAPTER XXVI.
"IT IS MANUEL MARLIN!"
It was a beautiful morning, that which followed, and our friends were astir early. Wandering out upon the streets, eager to learn if any new tidings had come of the spy, they soon found themselves walking under the refreshing shade of rows of ornamental trees. In following this course, they came somewhat abruptly upon a plaza floored for a wide space with rare mosaics, and lit at night by swinging electric lights.
"This is the Plaza de Bolivar," said Jack, "a favorite place for the president's band to come and play. See, there is the statue of the republic's hero."