It would not be becoming to record the exact words used by O'Connor as he lay, within a few feet of Will, on the slope of the embankment. They were very expressive, and very warm, so warm indeed that Mr. Jackson just beyond him suggested that he should "draw it mild." Ruggles, a little farther away, did not utter a word, and for some moments Will simply listened sympathetically to O'Connor, who undoubtedly expressed the feelings of them all.
"It was Machado, after all," said Will at length.
This provoked another explosion from O'Connor, who said a great deal as to what he would do to Machado when he got him.
"Yes, the scoundrel!" said Mr. Jackson. "He and his telegraph have done it. I'll take care another time to have an English telegraphist."
Machado had in fact telegraphed in the Chief's name to Bolivar, asking that six empty trucks should be coupled to the usual train. He had further instructed that the train should stop at a place about twenty miles from railhead to load up sleepers, which were cut from the forest for use on the railway. When the train pulled up at the appointed spot there was no load of sleepers, but a company of armed rebels, who sprang into the empty trucks, and covered themselves with canvas, Captain Espejo having ordered the driver, a Spaniard, to take them on to railhead, threatening him with instant death if he attempted to give warning.
"I wonder what they will do with us," said Mr. Jackson.
"I hope they'll take us away from this pretty soon," said Will. "There's a fly on my nose, and I can't shake it off."
"My throat is like an oven," growled O'Connor.
"One glass of beer!" sighed Ruggles: "just one: there's no harm in one."
Their plight was indeed desperately unpleasant. They were laid on the sunny side of the embankment. The afternoon sun beat full upon them, and before long they were subject to the pressing attentions of innumerable insects, which, their arms being bound, they were unable to drive away. They got some relief by turning over on their faces, but as time went on the heat, the insects, and their thirst made them thoroughly wretched. More than once O'Connor yelled for some one to bring him a drink; but no attention was paid to him, and it seemed as if Captain Espejo, for all his charming manners, was bent on slowly grilling them to death.