“I came here in my automobile. Can you run it?”
“Yes,” answered Juarez promptly.
“My chauffeur is awaiting me at the foot of La Mesa near Sanchez’s Villa,” continued the other. “If you could reach the car you could run the guards on the El Poso road. Just before you get to the outpost slow the machine as if you were stopping; then throw in the high gear and advance the spark to the limit. The soldiers will be too astonished to hit you even if they fire, and you will be in safety before they can fire more than one shot each.”
“Where is Pedro?” asked Juarez. “You and he must remain here and guard the arms. As long as you fire down the tunnel the soldiers will be afraid to enter the cellar. The American midshipmen will urge them to return, but your shots will prevent their courage from returning into their yellow hearts. I am sick of these natives; they must be driven like sheep. The more I see of their valor the more I am convinced that the city is ours if we can gain and mount these machine guns.”
“Pedro and I shall remain here,” the other answered; “he is not badly wounded; it is but a flesh wound on the arm. He is now above in the other house watching the soldiers from one of the windows.”
“Help me with this American pig,” Juarez’s voice said cruelly. “I’ll put on his uniform, and if I am fortunate enough not to meet one of the Americans I can deceive the soldiers; they do not know me.”
The lads heard O’Neil’s unresisting body dragged about and knew that Juarez was divesting the sailor of his uniform.
“I’d like to finish him,” said Juarez savagely, but the other objected.
“No, don’t waste your time on him, every second is precious; they may return any moment. He’s thoroughly stunned, and I can take care of him if he comes to.”
As the speaker’s voice was stilled, the lads heard footsteps. The faint light died into blackness. They were glad to know that O’Neil was not seriously hurt, but the thought that Juarez might escape and hasten the attack before the machine guns could be rescued stirred them to the highest pitch of anxiety. They listened intently, but could hear nothing save the beating of their own hearts. Undoubtedly Juarez had gone, but the other man was surely there on guard, and soon the man called Pedro would join him.