PRISONERS OF WAR.
As Frank and Harry found themselves confronted with the row of leveled rifles the officer who had addressed them placed a small silver whistle to his lips and blew twice. At the signal a score of men came rushing out of the mangroves, all armed and as villainous looking as the men who had first surprised the boys. The officer gave them a brief order in Spanish, the purport of which the boys did not get.
They were not long to be left in doubt as to its significance however. Two of the men advanced with a rope and motioned to the boys to place their hands together in front of them. The boys’ reply was emphatic and startling. Frank’s fist shot out, at almost the same moment as Harry’s, and in a second both the Nicaraguan worthies were lying flat on the ground, wondering what had struck them. Far from irritating the officer and his men the boys’ act seemed to amuse them. They shouted with laughter as their injured countrymen picked themselves up and slunk away with black looks at the boys. They muttered something as they went.
“They are saying, señors,” said the polite young officer, “that they hope to form part of the firing squad at your execution.”
In spite of themselves both boys gave a gasp of horror.
“Ah, I see I have shocked you,” went on their persecutor, “is it possible that you did not know that Rogero has been particularly anxious to find you, ever since you so cleverly rescued your young journalistic friend. In fact I expect to get a very handsome reward for your capture. I can assure you that when our scouts reported two American boys in league with the insurgent troops that I lost no time in taking steps to make sure your capture. I must thank you for the charming manner in which you have walked into my trap. What is it you Americans say ‘Will you walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly?’—ah, yes, that is it. Well, Señors Fly, you see I have you trapped and you might as well submit gracefully to capture.”
Like a flash both boys realized the serious position they were in. “In league with insurgents” their sneering captor had said. It would be a difficult matter to prove that they were not and, as non-combatants, of course, they had no business to be on active service for either army. Both boys knew Rogero too well to expect any mercy from him. Brave as they were their hearts sank but only for a moment.
“Come on, Frank, let’s make a dash for it,” exclaimed Harry. “They can only shoot us.”
Frank put out a detaining hand.
“It would be of no use Harry,” he said, “we are in their power and had better submit. We will find a way out yet,—never fear.”