“I feel sorry for the minister,” Sydney said gravely; “he seemed such a kind old gentleman; but I suppose he shouldn’t have been so credulous.”
“I feel very sorry for him, too,” answered Phil, “and I hope we can straighten this out and save him from the disgrace of being relieved of his office. He was new here and speaks no Spanish at all. It was natural he should fall into the snare set for him by that scheming rascal Juarez.”
Studying carefully everything they observed, the three Americans moved slowly along the road, on the borders of which the army of General Ruiz was encamped, ready for the expected word to assault the city.
An officer stepped from the grove of trees in front and came boldly toward them.
Our boys regarded him indifferently until he approached to within a few yards of them, then their hearts sank as they recognized the triumphant face of the American vice-consul.
He raised his uniform cap in mock civility.
“Three English newspaper reporters,” he sneered. “I have received instructions from General Ruiz to show you every courtesy.”
The lads were dumbfounded. The game was up. A vision of a dark prison flashed before them.
Phil was the first to recover himself.
“We meet you in a new rôle also,” he replied in English, in a voice he tried hard to control.