"I thought, a few days ago, that it was chance that brought me to Brazil," said O'Rourke, "but really, little fellow, it must have been your guardian angel. What a chap you are for getting into silly messes. There seems to be a row whenever you arrive."
"This row is not Hemming's fault," protested Hicks. O'Rourke and Hemming laughed happily, for both felt that, together, they could pull out of the worst scrape ever invented.
"This gentleman would come," said Santosa, "and at a pace that nearly wore me to the bone."
Just then Smith held a tray toward the late arrivals.
"We left McPhey organizing a relief expedition to come by land," O'Rourke informed them, after quenching his thirst, "and the major, after doing his business, will bring a party up by boat,—a company or two of government troops."
"Where did you leave the horses?" asked Hemming.
"Up the trail a little way, with a dusky admirer of yours," replied O'Rourke.
The besieged returned to the upper hall. Hicks gave a clear though somewhat lengthy account of the rebellion. Santosa told them of his ride to Pernambuco and O'Rourke gave such news as he could of the outside world. Hemming, with his eyes on the dark blue square of the window, tried to formulate a plan by which five men might protect themselves and the property against five hundred a day or two longer. He knew that, if the colonel really intended violence, the crisis must soon come.
Santosa kicked off his boots, and went to sleep on the floor. Hicks, seated with his rifle across his knees, also slipped away to the land of Nod.
"If you have no objections," remarked O'Rourke, "I will take a bath. Hope the enemy won't make any hostile move while I'm splashing."