"Es verdad, Señor mi General," put in Esteban. "There are too many—"
The peon's words were interrupted by a sharp, crashing blow from the direction of the river. It smote the ear-drums of the three men terrifically, and was followed by an abrupt silence. It was a cannon-shot. At the moment the three men trotted around the last obscuring adobe that stuck to the cathedral. On La Fortuna they saw a puff of smoke dissolving into air, and far down below the rapids they saw a crawling of men from a multitude of canoes—so far away that they looked like insects. Among these insect lines forming on the shore, Strawbridge caught the gleam of a banner.
The cannon on La Fortuna crashed again. Soldiers went marching out of the fort, toward the foot of the rapids. They went down the terrain of the river at a double-quick.
A feeling of movement and stir spread over the city. Almost before Strawbridge knew it, the whole terrain on which he stood was covered with denizens of the adobes. The Cock came out, peered through the sunshine, then darted back into his inky hut and reappeared with an extraordinary single-barreled, muzzle-loading pistol and a dagger. Men and women came running out of the plaza, to the riverside, for a view.
Lubito clutched the drummer's arm.
"You see, mi General, it is your men attacking. What shall I do? Gather up my men and advance?"
Some obscure cerebration caused Strawbridge to answer, "No, ... no, not now. Wait till we see how this goes!"
The bull-fighter snapped his fingers in admiration.
"Caramba, Esteban!" he cried above the noise of the gathering crowd. "What calmness! This is the strategy of a Napoleon!"
By this time the gun on La Fortuna was firing regularly, and far down the river, among the insects, little plumes of smoke showed where the shells were bursting.