“I must say good-bye, now,” he said briskly, “but only for a short time I hope. It is poor hospitality to rush you into the troubles of the revolutionists, but it cannot be helped.”
With a stiff salute he turned and began issuing rapid orders to his staff, who rushed over as they got them to where the demoralized troops were struggling confusedly for their banked rifles. In a short time something like order had been restored and a corps of men sent out with machetes to clear paths into the high ground where the guns were to be planted.
“He means to plant some guns above there,” pointed Frank, “so as to command the valley when the real attack comes.”
At this moment one of the officers hurried up.
“You had better get to shelter, young gentlemen,” he said, “the trouble will begin in a few minutes and I expect it will be a hot engagement when it starts.”
Frank and Harry shook their heads. To the two high-spirited boys, facing their first taste of real warfare, to be ordered into shelter did not appeal at all.
“Can’t we do something to make ourselves useful?” asked Frank, as a company of men at a silent “double-quick” swung by into the jungle, where the scattering fire that had awakened them had died out.
“If the señors really mean that, I will see the general;” courteously replied the officer, hurrying off.
“We have never smelled powder before,” exclaimed Harry, “and we don’t mean to be sent back to the commissariat when we have a chance to see some real fighting; eh, Frank?”
“Not much,” replied Frank, “of course, I suppose, as American citizens and neutral parties, etc., we ought to sit back with our hands folded; but when I think of the threats Rogero made to father I’d like to get a crack at some of those fellows myself.”