“More of them!” he said hoarsely.
They walked on a few paces, and then a non-commissioned officer of cazadores in dusty white uniform moved out on to the line.
“Well,” said Harper brusquely, “what are you wanting here?”
The man made a little deprecatory gesture as he said, “We were sent.”
Appleby made as though he would brush past him, but the soldier, moving a trifle, stood in front of him.
“With permission, señor, it is safer about the hacienda,” he said. “Still, if you wish to go out into the country I will send a man or two with you.”
Appleby laughed. “Then you are not alone?”
The soldier called softly, and three or four men in uniform appeared amidst the banana leaves. “It seems,” he said, “the Colonel Morales is anxious about the hacienda.”
Harper glanced at his comrade ruefully, but an inspiration dawned on Appleby. “One appreciates his solicitude. It is conceivable that your comrades would know what to do with a bottle or two of caña. A little is beneficial when one has passed the night in the open. There was, I think, a heavy dew.”
“With thanks, but it is not permitted,” said the man. “We did not, however, leave Santa Marta until there was a little light in the sky.”