As they neared the first gun a young officer stepped forward briskly. Already concealed sentries had given warning of their approach.
“What do the senors wish?” he inquired politely enough, raising his hand to the peak of his red-embroidered cap.
It was evident that he took them for harmless, foolish tourists. The young officer hastened to assume the part he had decided to play. Ned could hardly suppress a grin as he listened to Midshipman Stark’s imitation of a British accent in reply.
“Just strolling around, old chap, you know,” he assured the young insurgent officer. “No harm—eh, what?”
“I suppose you know that you are within the lines of General de Guzman?” came the polite inquiry in rather astonished tones.
“No, really? By Jove, here’s luck. Always wanted to see an insurgent camp, you know—eh, Archie?”
Here Stark turned to Ned, who, taken by surprise, turned red and blurted out:
“Yes, by Jove,” in accents which no self-respecting Britisher would have owned to.
“I hardly know what to do,” said the young officer hesitating. “If you gentlemen will give me your word of honor that you are non-combatants?”
“We can,” rejoined Stark, without an instant’s hesitation. He was glad that he could make the assertion without the slightest warping of the truth.