The drummer was filled with apprehension.
"Good Lord! we'll never get in, that way!"
The griffe girl suddenly began to whimper.
"Oh, señor, don't say that! It is the only way we can get back! We can't let the poor señora be caught in the garden!"
At this moment the two rounded a corner and came upon the dark wall of a Venezuelan garden. It was quite as high as an ordinary adobe house, and was finished in the same way, with plaster masonry. It had not a foothold from top to bottom.
The girl caught the American's arm and drew him to a standstill.
"Ola!" she breathed. "There they are now!"
The drummer paused to peer through the gloom, and saw two peons with rifles, standing half-way down the length of the garden. He looked at them, ransacking his brain for some plan. Then he moved forward again, with his shoulders back and with a certain air of authority. The soldiers heard him approach, clicked their rifles, and called him to halt.
The big man stepped out of the shadow of the wall.