He grinned at the play upon the name of Rhodes, and whirled his horse, joining his men, who sat their mounts and watched at a little distance.
Within the portal was gathered all those left of the household of Soledad to whom the coming and the going of the revolutionary leader was the great event of their lives, and all took note of the title of “Capitan” and the fact that the Americano and the Indian girl had his last spoken words.
They had gone scarce a mile when Fidelio spurred his horse back and with Mexican dash drew him back on his haunches as Kit emerged from the corridor.
“General Rotil’s compliments,” he said with a grin, “and Marto will report to you any event requiring written record,––and silence!”
“Say that again and say it slow,” suggested Kit.
“That is the word as he said it, Capitan, ‘requiring the writing of records, and––silence!’”
“I get you,” said Kit, and with a flourish and a clatter, Fidelio was soon lost in the dust.
Kit was by no means certain that he did “get” him. He felt that he had quite enough trouble without addition of records and secrecy for acts of the Deliverer.