“Hang us! Hang Señor Fortescue, who has come all the way from England to help us! Hang me, Salvador Carmen! You have had a sunstroke and lost your wits; that’s what it is, Guido Pasto, you have lost your wits—but, perhaps you are joking. Say, now, you are joking.”
“No, señor. It would ill become me to make a foolish joke at your expense. Neither have I lost my wits, as you are pleased to suggest. It is only too true; you are in deadly peril. We may be observed, even now. Let us go behind these bushes, where we may converse in safety. It was to warn you of your danger that Gahra and I have been watching for you. Gahra will be here presently, and he will tell you that what I say is true.”
“This passes comprehension. What does it all mean? Out with it, good Guido; you have always been faithful, and I don’t think you are a fool.”
“Thanks for your good opinion, señor. Well, it is very painful for me to have to say it; but the general believes, and save your own personal friends, all the army believes, that you and señor Fortescue are traitors—that you betrayed them to the enemy.”
“On what grounds?” asked Carmen, highly indignant.
“You went to reconnoitre; you did not come back; the next morning we were attacked by Griscelli in force, and Señor Fortescue was seen among the enemy, seen by General Mejia himself. It was, moreover, reported this morning in the camp that Griscelli had let you go.”
“So he did, and hunted us with his infernal blood-hounds, and we only escaped by the skin of our teeth. We were surprised and taken prisoners. Señor Fortescue was a prisoner on parole when the general saw him. I believe Griscelli obtained his parole and took him to the quebrada for no other purpose than to compromise him with the patriots. And that I, who have killed more than a hundred Spaniards with my own hand, should be suspected of deserting to the enemy is too monstrous for belief.”
“Of course, it is an absurd mistake. Appearances are certainly rather against us—at any rate, against me; but a word of explanation will put the matter right. Let us go to the camp at once and have it out.”
“Not so fast, Señor Fortescue. I should like to have it out much. But there is one little difficulty in the way which you may not have taken into account. Mejia never listens to explanations, and never goes back on his word. If he said he would hang us he will. He would be very sorry afterward, I have no doubt; but that would not bring us back to life, and it would be rather ridiculous to escape Griscelli’s blood-hounds, only to be hanged by our own people.”
“And that is not the worst,” put in Guido.