“I see,” he said, “it was a love of adventure that brought you here—you English are always running after adventures. A caballero like you can have no sympathy with these rascally rebels.”
“I beg your pardon; I do sympathize with the rebels; not, I confess, as warmly as I did at first, and if I had known as much as I know now, I think I should have hesitated to join them.”
“How so?”
“They kill prisoners in cold blood, and conduct war more like savages than Christians.”
“You are right, they do. Yes, killing prisoners in cold blood is a brutal practice! I am obliged to be severe sometimes, much to my regret. But there is only one way of dealing with a rebellion—you must stamp it out; civil war is not as other wars. Why not join us, Señor Fortescue? I will give you a command.”
“That is quite out of the question, General Griscelli; I am not a mere soldier of fortune. I have eaten these people’s salt, and though I don’t like some of their ways, I wish well to their cause.”
“Think better of it, señor. The alternative might not be agreeable.”
“Whatever the alternative may be, my decision is irrevocable. And you said just now you would let me go.”
“Oh, yes, I will let you go, since you insist on it” (smiling). “All the same, I think you will regret your decision—Mejia, of course, means to attack us. He can have come with no other object—by your advice?”
“Certainly not.”