The discovery appalled me at first.
Had they all been borne down by that last cannon discharge, even as I was, and failed to rise again? I glanced hither and yon about the open square, seeking piles of mangled bodies; but, strange to say, they were not visible.
The mystery increased—I could swear the men had started out all right when I did—what, then, had become of them?
It is hard to break through established custom, and as soon as the rifles of the besieged began to spit out fire, habit compelled my followers to seek some sort of refuge—they were not there to be killed, if such a thing could be averted.
Consequently, some dropped behind the band stand in the center of the square, while others ran helter-skelter to either side, seeking shelter under the protecting walls of neighboring buildings.
I could not blame them, for it had been pretty warm out there.
When these valorous souls saw me beating upon the door of the citadel with a rude battering ram I had picked up, they grasped the situation, and began to run in my direction, always bending low, as if in fear of sudden shots.
They are a cautious race, these citizens of Bolivar, which accounts for their living through so many revolutions.
Speedily I found I had at my beck and call a devoted little band, at least half a score in number, with which I might accomplish wonders.
We laid out to smash that door in a hurry, and though it was supposed to be made in a very substantial way, it could not withstand so vigorous an assault as the beam, rushed by ten pairs of arms, brought against it.