“It’s surely puzzling,” rejoined he; “we might have stopped the message, but we should have found ourselves very much involved by so doing and I fear if we made our charges against Lazar without being able to furnish sufficient evidence, we would be in a difficult position with both admiral and captain, and besides would break our promise to Craig.”
A few hours later they and their faithful boatswain’s mate, having received the necessary permission, were once more ashore. This time they were in uniform, with heavy Colt revolvers in their holsters. They trudged up the hill back of the town, known to the natives as La Mesa.
O’Neil had been informed about the stolen arms, and his keen judgment had suggested an immediate and personal investigation of the locality.
The hill was steep but not high and but sparsely inhabited. At the top they knew was the residence of Juarez.
On reaching the summit they gazed about them. Further inland away from the city was a second hill higher than La Mesa; in fact La Mesa was not a hill but a flat spur of the hill in front. On top of the latter they could see a battery of loyal artillery. To their right and left the lines of the defenders were in sight, each prominent point well supplied with men and guns. Far away to their left rose Tortuga Hill, and trailing up its steep slope were visible small objects which the lads knew were reënforcements.
“The reserves,” Phil exclaimed pointing to the turtle shaped hill; “the minister’s message has arrived and is being acted upon.”
O’Neil had left the lads deep in the study of the strategic positions of the defense and was bent on investigating the houses on the table-like hill. He entered the garden of a prosperous looking building and strolled slowly toward the house; knocking loudly on the door, he waited, listening for footsteps within. He heard a sound of some one moving about and then a hurried whispering. A few moments and the door was opened slowly; a man’s face peered through the narrow slit.
“What do you want?” the man asked gruffly in Spanish.
“Does Señor Juarez live here?” O’Neil asked in the same tongue.
The man’s face blanched and he would have closed the door, but the sailor’s heavily booted shoe had wedged it open.