“The wires from Rio are cut in every direction,” said he, in an agitated voice. “A band of the Uruguayan guards, under de Souza and Valcour, is galloping over the country to arrest every patriot they can find, and our people are hiding themselves in terror.”
Consternation spread over the features of the little band which a moment before had deemed itself so secure and powerful. Bastro turned to pace the earthen floor with anxious strides, while the others watched him silently.
“What of Francisco Paola?” suddenly asked the leader.
“Why, senhor, he seems to have disappeared,” replied the scout, with hesitation.
“Disappeared! And why?”
“Perhaps I can answer that question, Senhor Bastro,” said a voice behind us, and turning my head I saw my friend Pedro, the station-master at Cuyaba, standing within the doorway.
“Enter, Pedro,” commanded the leader. “What news do you bring, and why have you abandoned your post?”
“The wires are down,” said the station-master, “and no train is allowed to leave Rio since the Emperor reached there at midnight.”
“Then you know nothing of what has transpired at the capital?” asked Bastro.
“Nothing, senhor. It was yesterday morning when the Emperor’s party met the train at Cuyaba, and I handed him a telegram from de Lima, the Minister of State. It read in this way: ‘General Fonseca and his army have revolted and seized the palace, the citadel, and all public buildings. I have called upon every loyal Brazilian to rally to the support of the Empire. Return at once. Arrest the traitors Francisco Paola and his sister. Situation critical.”