The woman uttered a cry of dismay at this command, while the men suddenly stopped, facing the determined Americans with frightened looks.
"Let me pass, señors, I implore you," begged the prisoner, the tears springing to her eyes, while she clasped her hands and turned upon them such looks of agony as haunted them for many a day. Ronie, at least, felt that he had committed an act which he should regret, and it is possible if the opportunity had remained when he could have allowed her to escape with safety, he might have done it. But the die was cast, and there was no retreat. The loud, authoritative words had aroused others. The soldiers were suddenly recalled to their duty, while the sight of the fugitive and their captors quickly caught the attention of the newcomers upon the scene, foremost among these being Colonel Marchand!
He instantly comprehended the situation, and a look of admiration for the prompt deed lightened the bronze upon his cheeks, while he said:
"By the soul of Bolivar! you have done well, señors. Soldiers, secure the prisoner immediately, and see that her liberators are taken into custody."
"I hope there will be no cause for us to regret what we have done, colonel," said Ronie, who really felt sorry for the prisoner.
"You may cut off my right hand if you do, Señor Rand. At present it is necessary that we hold the woman as a prisoner of war, but she shall be well treated, and I have no doubt be set free soon."
Ronie knew Colonel Marchand was a man of his word, and he felt better over what he and Jack bad done. This pleasure was further increased by the words of the colonel as they accompanied him to his headquarters.
"This will prove a good day's work for you, Ronie. I only regret I had not been able to report it to General Castro when I sent my dispatch, but better late than never. What do you say to going with us on our campaign toward Maracaibo? We start within an hour. The rebels are rallying in that direction, and we must look after them before they become too strong."
The fact that it was likely to take them nearer to Harrie, if not quite to San Carlos, was enough to shape their decision, and inside of an hour they were mounted and riding with the troops toward the west, Ronie getting his first taste of warfare.
The days that followed would never be forgotten by our American soldiers in the service of Venezuela. Colonel Marchand seemed to be always on the move, but the enemy was even more active than he, and always kept one scene ahead of him. For instance, he left the little hamlet where Ronie and Jack joined his forces to go to another country town called Verona, where it was reported the insurgents had made a raid. Upon reaching this settlement, which was little more than a collection of coffee planters' conical dwellings, it was ascertained that the enemies had been gone a few hours, and that they were headed toward Juan. Hither, posthaste, dashed the Venezuelan cavalry, resolved to be in season this time, only to find that again the bird had flown. But Castro's troops were led by a captain who had the name of never sleeping, and once more he followed on their heels. Then he learned they had gone back to Verona! Thus two weeks were spent in vain advances and retreats, swift dashes ahead and equally as rapid doubling upon the track, until we finally find the grimy riders halted near the rim of a little plain which formed the foot of a mountain range trending away toward the more lofty peaks making the highest elevations of land in the Western World. As may be imagined, the doughty colonel was in no enviable mood, as he sat by the door of his tent, whose roof was the bended sky. It was one of those inns found at those outposts between the agricultural and pastoral regions.