“To Jalapa.”
“The other fruit port across the mountains. That is a knock-down argument, Robbins. I leave the case in your hands—so long as we take my Hildegarde with us I’m ready to follow you through Hades, if necessary.”
“Perhaps it won’t be quite as bad as that, though I’ve an idea we’re not going to get through without some hard raps. But you shall see for yourself. Now, if you’re ready, follow me.”
CHAPTER XXXI.
A REVOLUTIONIST.
The attachments of home did not appeal to me in this instance; to tell the honest truth, I was extremely well pleased to escape from the place in which my person had been confined for the space of more than twenty-five hours, nearer thirty, I think.
Robbins had come to me like an angel of light, an angel with a flaming sword, who would lead me to fields of glory, and to Hildegarde—hence, I followed him with an eagerness no words of mine could describe.
He had his bearings all right, and went at the business with the air of a man who knew just what he wanted and meant to get it.
Naturally, I was not a little curious to understand how he came to be in the house of the alcalde.
I might have fancied, from his dress, that he had obtained some sort of position in the hacienda of the mayor, but that seemed too absurd for belief, considering that he possessed so wretched a command of the Spanish language.