“To see Señora Paez and General Zuroaga,” said Ned. “Is he in the city?”
“Hush! Be careful, Señor Carfora!” said Pablo, as Manuelo almost reluctantly sheathed his too ready long knife. “We were waiting here for him. He has been to the palace, to meet General Bravo. Our regiment has already joined the army, but he is not yet sure about Santa Anna and some other men. It is a dark time, señor!”
“Now, Pablo,” said Ned, “there isn’t much to tell about me. I was captured when Vera Cruz surrendered. I was with General Morales. I got in to-night, and I have a great deal to say to the general and Señora Paez and the Tassaras.”
“Zuroaga is here now,” said a low, cautiously speaking voice behind him. “Put up your sword, Carfora, and come along with me. I want to see you more than you do me. I must know the latest news from General Scott’s army. Pablo, it was of no use. Santa Anna would make no terms with me, but his day is nearly over. Bravo’s government has rejected the treaty offered by the United States, and we are to fight it out to the bitter end. The gates have been shut, and there will be no more sending out of supplies. I think the war will begin again to-morrow.”
“Oh, dear me!” thought Ned. “There goes all my chance for getting out again until after our army has captured the city. How my head does ache!”
The rap from Pablo’s lance-staff had not really injured him, however, and all three of them walked on till they reached the Paez place without saying another word. Here it was at once evident that they, or, at least, the general and Pablo, were waited for. The front door opened to admit them, and shut quickly behind them as they passed in.
“Señora Paez,” said Zuroaga to a shadow in the unlighted hall, “the armistice is ended, but I shall command my Oaxaca regiment in the fighting which is now sure to come. Let us all meet in the parlor and hear from Señor Carfora the American account of these lost battles.”
“Carfora?” she exclaimed. “Is he here? Oh, how I do wish to hear him! I believe we have been told altogether too many lies. Our troops do not half know how badly they have been beaten, nor what is the real strength of the American army.”
They walked on into the parlor, and here there were lights burning, but Ned was not thinking of them. He was gazing at the pale face of a man in uniform and on crutches, who came slowly forward between a woman and a young girl, with a mournful smile upon his face.
“Colonel Tassara!” exclaimed Ned. “I knew you were wounded, but are you not getting well?”