COLONEL MARCHAND.
It was fortunate for Ronie Rand that he had succeeded in getting
control of the horse he rode, or his experiences in Venezuela would
have terminated in a tragic manner. With the thrilling command of the
leader of this body of horsemen, the firearms of his soldiers leaped to
their shoulders, and in another moment a volley of bullets would have
stopped the advance of our hero. Seeing only the inevitable to be met,
he cried out:
"I am an American! I surrender if need be."
"Hold, men!" called out the officer. "He is a lone American. He
cannot belong to the gang we are running down. Who are you, sir?"
"My name is Roland Rand, sir, and I have only recently reached this
country. With a friend I am on my way to Caracas, and just escaped
from the rebels under El Capitan."
Ronie had answered thus boldly and openly, for he was certain the body
of soldiers in front of him were not a part of the insurgents he had
just escaped by so narrow a margin. By this time the sound of other
horses approaching came from near at hand, and the officer ordered his
men to be in readiness to meet them. Believing them to be Jack and the
captive woman, he wheeled smartly about, saying:
"I believe they are friends of mine. Hold up, Jack!" he cried, as the
latter, with the woman riding abreast of him, came into sight. "I
believe these are friends."
"Halt! Who comes here?" demanded the officer.
"Friends," replied Jack, suddenly checking his headlong flight, while
the woman followed his example. Then, before anything further could be
said or done, the officer did a most unexpected thing. Urging his
horse close beside Ronie, he cried:
"Roland Rand! Is it possible I find you here?"
Ronie, at first thinking the other meant to do him harm, shrank back,
but he quickly rallied at the familiar tone of the speaker. Then, with
a wild feeling of joy, he looked more closely upon him, to exclaim the
next moment:
"Colonel Marchand!"
"At your service, Mr. Rand, but I am puzzled to know how it is I meet
you here, where I least expected to find you."
"It is a very long story to tell, Colonel Marchand, and I will gladly
explain it all to you at the first opportunity. This is my friend,
Jack Greenland," signifying that individual, who had not yet recovered
from the surprise he had experienced.
"Glad to meet you, too, Mr. Greenland. But where is Harrie, Ronie? Is
he coming behind you?"
"He is in prison at San Carlos, colonel. Jack and I were on our way to
Caracas to find relief for him."
"What is he in prison for? The penitentiary is mainly filled with
rebels now."
"That is the charge against him. He was taken under suspicious
circumstances, but I can vouch for his honor."
"Then you are not rebels, Ronie?"
"No, sir--that is, we have not committed ourselves as being against the
government."
"Good! You evidently carry a level head. I am at the head of a
regiment fighting for President Castro. We were in hot pursuit of a
body of the insurgents whom we routed in a fight below here. But who
is this woman with you?"
"She is a captive in the hands of Rhoades' guerrillas. I do not know
her name. Perhaps she will give it herself. We were trying to strike
a blow in her behalf."
The strange woman, thus appealed to, said, in that musical voice so
common to the better class of Venezuelans:
"You are very kind, senors. I do not know that you would care to hear
my name, for it has too often been a bone of contention in this unhappy
land. My husband was Francisco de Caprian. I am not ashamed to say
that."
Colonel Marchand uttered an exclamation of surprise, and, though Ronie
Rand was expecting this reply, he could not wholly conceal his emotion
at the mention of that name which he had learned to both fear and
respect. He could not refrain from saying:
"You are Francisco's mother?"
"You know my son!" she cried somewhat wildly.
"We met him on the _Libertador_, senora. He is now in prison at San
Carlos with our friend."
"Then he lives! They told me he was dead. Oh, my son! When shall I
meet him again?"
"I do not understand this," declared Colonel Marchand, brusquely. "You
talk of the _Libertador_, the outlawed scourge of the coast, of the De
Caprians, every one of whom is denounced as spies, and of loyalty to
Castro, the patriot president, all in the same breath."
"I will explain fully if I am given the opportunity," replied Ronie,
stoutly.
"Pardon me, Ronie," Colonel Marchand hastened to say. "I do not doubt
you, but this is no time for explanations here. We have dallied too
long already, if we would catch our birds. Go to the rear, you three,
under an escort to protect you. Mind you, Lieutenant Garcia, the woman
remains with you until I return. We will make short work of the
mountain rebels."
Upon finishing his brusque orders, Colonel Marchand wheeled smartly
about and dashed up the road, followed by his troops, numbering half a
hundred or more, Lieutenant Garcia and three privates remaining to look
after the two Americans and Senora de Caprian. The lieutenant showed
by his reluctance to move on his duty that he was not well pleased with
the plan, and he was heard to exclaim under his breath that it was a
shame to be cheated of the sport at this juncture. However, he soon
recovered his good nature, and, requesting his companions to follow,
rode sharply in an opposite direction to that just taken by his
superior officer.
About two miles below they came upon a small town, where Lieutenant
Garcia ordered a halt until he should receive further orders from
Colonel Marchand, or meet him in person. This place, which had been
the scene of a stirring skirmish a few days before, was now in the
hands of the government troops, which the latter did not hesitate to
display in their actions. Though Senora de Caprian was treated with
extreme courtesy, Ronie and Jack did not fail to observe that a strict
watch was kept over her, and the room assigned her at the house where
the little party made its headquarters had a guard stationed outside
the door. Of course, our heroes were allowed their liberty, but they
were only too glad to improve the interval of waiting for the
reappearance of Colonel Marchand by throwing themselves down upon the
floor and seeking sleep.
It was broad daylight when they awoke, and the sound of a body of horse
outside the building at once attracted their attention. They were soon
highly pleased to find that Colonel Marchand had returned. News came
to them that he had been successful in his pursuit of El Capitan and
his mountain rebels. As anxious as they were to see their old friend,
Ronie and Jack deemed it wise to wait until he had sought them.
This did not give over half an hour's suspense before an orderly called
upon them to say that the colonel was awaiting them in his
headquarters. It is needless to say that they lost no time in obeying
this request to see him. They found the genial commander established
in one of the smaller buildings of the village, engaged in studying a
map of the country. But at sight of them he quickly forgot his chart,
and motioned for them to be seated, saying:
"I have sent for you that I might know your story. We have sent the
rebels flying back into their mountain caves like rats driven to their
holes. They will not dare to show a head for at least twenty-four
hours, so I have a half-day's leisure, except that I must prepare my
report to send to General Castro. First I want to hear your story, and
I suggest you begin at the very beginning, so I may understand its
details and know how to act."
Ronie, acting as spokesman, told their story in as few words as
possible from the time they had left Manilla to the present moment,
interrupted several times by the impulsive officer, who was both
surprised and pleased at the information they gave him.
"By the right hand of Bolivar!" he exclaimed finally, "you may not be
aware of it, but you bear valuable intelligence that I shall take the
liberty to forward to General Castro. The character of the _Ban Righ_
or the _Libertador_ has been pretty well known to us, but you make
plain some things which have been dark. I can see how Harrie fell
under suspicion under the conditions that he was taken prisoner."
"You can secure his freedom, can you not, Colonel Marchand?"
The colonel was a tall, slender man, with flashing, black eyes and long
mustache, which he was wont to twist very vigorously when he was
excited. He gave these a savage twirl now, and, springing to his feet,
began to pace to and fro furiously.
"I know what I can do, I can try," he declared, returning to his seat
after pacing back and forth several times. "If I had been a little
more successful up this way, and he himself had not met with so many
reverses, I can imagine he might be more willing to grant my request.
But I will try--of course, I will try! I can but fail. If I do," and
here he lowered his voice, "by the right hand of Bolivar, the sword of
Leon Marchand shall be sheathed while Cipriano Castro holds the rein of
government."
Both Ronie and Jack were somewhat taken aback by this speech, which
they could see was not a discreet one to make, especially in that
place. But the excitement of Colonel Marchand passed as quickly as it
had arisen, and he resumed, with marked calmness:
"Coming here strangers, as you have, you can have little idea of the
real feeling slumbering like a volcano in the hearts of us Venezuelans.
The truth is, our people are the most ungrateful on the face of the
earth. All of the revolutions and political plots that have harassed
our country have been almost entirely uncalled for, though I will
confess our leaders have made an excuse easy through their eagerness to
"feather their nests," as you would say. But honest men have ever
found little encouragement to remain honest, when the populace stands
ready to take up the cry of 'fraud' the moment some disgruntled office
seeker utters such a cry to cover his own disappointment. The
utterance of the word becomes instantly the battle cry to call the mob
to riot and ruin. From a Venezuelan riot a general uprising will
follow in a single day, until the country is ravaged far and wide.
This is accounted for mainly by the fact that the population is made up
to nine out of ten of Indians, half-breeds and mulattoes, who are
naturally ignorant and easily aroused to fight.
"Matos is followed by just such a rabble. He is rich, but not a
soldier by training. Still, it was enough that he was brilliant in
uniform and pompous in bearing; these, coupled with the rattle of the
drum and the tramp of many feet, aroused the mongrel crowd, until the
disgruntled rebel found himself tagged by an army of ragged,
boisterous, hungry men, who gladly followed him, and follow him still.
We saw an example of the stock in El Capitan's mountain horde. He
escaped me only by the skin of his teeth."
"Here I am making a proclamation of war when I ought to be preparing my
dispatch for General Castro. I will use every argument I can for
Harrie, as I know he is a noble boy, and that his imprisonment is
unjust and wicked."
"How about Francisco de Caprian?" asked Ronie, for Colonel Marchand had
not hinted of him.
"I can do nothing," he replied, with a shake of the head. "The De
Caprians are very much in ill-favor just now. However, for your sake I
will mention him, and suggest that it will do no harm to set him free.
I think you said he suggested that he was willing to espouse our cause.
By the way, what do you say to a campaign under the illustrious Castro,
the modern Bolivar of Venezuela? I will mention your willingness, and
you can answer me afterward."
Then Colonel Marchand became very busy with the preparation of his
dispatch. When it was finished he called an orderly, who was told to
see that it was forwarded to the commander-in-chief with as great
promptness as possible.
"Bring me back a reply," added the colonel, and when he had seen the
messenger depart he turned to resume his conversation with Ronie and
Jack.