Machado strolled up and down, smoking energetically. Will shot a glance at him. The man was a good telegraphist, and he had nothing against him; but he was not quite pleased to know that he had been so affable with José.
Mr. Jackson sat down at the door of the tent, and began to discuss with Will the entries the latter had made in his note-book.
"I think we look pretty easy," he said. "Still waters run deep.... Ah! here they are."
[CHAPTER IV--SIMPLE SUBTRACTION]
The cavalcade came at a walk into the compound. They were a very nondescript troop: men of all ages, tall and short, stout and thin, variously clad, but all wearing high riding-boots and a green feather in their sombreros. There were more of them than Will had supposed, numbering nearly fifty. The greater part of the troop halted when they came to the tree, but two rode forward, the first a thick-set man with bushy black eyebrows and heavy moustache. He pulled up within a few feet of Mr. Jackson, and making a military salute, said--
"Good-evening, señor."
Mr. Jackson got up and returned the salutation. Will stood at his side, and the telegraphist remained a little in the rear.
"I introduce myself, señor, as Captain Felipe Espejo, of the army of General Carabaño, liberator of Venezuela, and in his name I have the honour or requesting that you will of your great courtesy furnish my troop with refreshments."
"Do me the favour to enter my tent, Señor Capitan," said Mr. Jackson pleasantly. "No doubt you are weary after your ride."
The Captain hesitated for a moment, darting a glance around. Then he dismounted, and leaving his horse with his orderly, followed Mr. Jackson into the tent. Will entered after him, and Machado stood in the entrance.