THE INSULT TO THE FLAG.
A week later, or, to be more exact, on April 10, 1914, the
Broncho Rider Boys and their friend Pedro were back in the City
of Mexico. During the two weeks they had been at Pachuca, many
changes had taken place and on the morning in question they had
just finished their coffee in the breakfast room when Guadalupe,
Pedro's sister, brought in the morning paper.
"What's the news?" asked Adrian.
Guadalupe glanced at the paper and hid it behind her back without
making any reply.
"Why, Sister!" exclaimed Pedro with all the dignity of his
sixteen years. "How can you be so rude?"
"She's only joking," laughed Billie, who was always found on
Guadalupe's side when any argument took place. "Come, tell us!
What is it?"
Guadalupe shook her head.
"Oh, I can't," she replied in a pained voice.
"Why not?" from Billie.
"It says we are going to have war with the United States and I
don't believe it."
"Of course you don't," replied Billie. "Neither does any one
else."
"Let me see," said Pedro sternly.
Slowly the girl handed her brother the paper.
He opened it and read.
"A party of American marines was arrested in Tampico yesterday
for landing on Mexican soil with arms in their hands. They were
marched through the streets under a heavy guard and lodged in
jail. After a parley with the American Admiral, Mayo, the
commandant of the city finally released them upon the assurance
of the Admiral that it should not occur again."
"Well, if it was only a mistake, that doesn't mean war," laughed
Billie, but Donald's face took on a more serious look.
"That isn't all," said Pedro.
"Well," from Billie, "let's have the rest of it."
"The American Admiral has now declared that the men did not land
on Mexican soil with arms in their hands, but that they were in
their boat at the pier when arrested. He claims that they were
taken from under the American flag----"
"What?" almost shouted Billie, springing to his feet. "Taken
from under the American flag? Well, I'll bet that will mean
war--unless," he added after a brief pause, "Gen. Huerta
apologizes."
"Why should he apologize?" asked Pedro.
"For insulting the American flag."
"That's what the American Admiral says," interrupted Guadalupe,
"and he threatens to fire on the city."
"And I'll bet he'll do it," said Adrian.
"If he does we'll sink his ships," said Pedro.
"What with?" asked Billie sarcastically. "Why, Admiral Mayo could
blow Tampico out of the water."
"If he does, the Mexicans will march on Washington," from Pedro.
"What?" from Donald. "March on Washington? Why, Huerta can't
hardly keep Carranza out of the City of Mexico."
"But if your admiral fires on Tampico, Carranza will help Gen.
Huerta," declared Pedro.
"Do you really think so?" asked Adrian.
"I know it. We may have our little family troubles down here in
Mexico, but if the United States should interfere, we'd all turn
in and fight her."
Billie was about to reply when Gen. Sanchez entered the room.
"I see you have been reading the news," he said calmly.
"And discussing it too," said Donald.
"Which we had better not at present," replied the General. "You
boys are our guests and as long as you are, you are our friends;
but I am afraid there is serious trouble coming and I think it
will be much better if you make arrangements at once to return to
the United States. As you know, I am not a favorite with the
present administration and I might not be able to protect you."
"We can ask the protection of the American Ambassador," said
Donald.
Gen. Sanchez smiled kindly.
"The American Ambassador may be asked to leave."
The boys looked serious.
"Do you really think it is as bad as that?" asked Adrian.
"I fear so. Later dispatches from Tampico state that the American
Admiral has demanded a salute of twenty-one guns to the American
flag. I know Gen. Huerta well enough to know that he will never
order the salute."
"Then what will happen?" asked Donald.
"No one can say. I understand that the American government has
placed the matter in the hands of Admiral Fletcher, the ranking
officer, who is in charge of the Atlantic fleet off Vera Cruz."
"Do you think we should go at once?" queried Billie.
"Yes, I think it would be better. I will make such arrangements
as I can for your transportation to Vera Cruz. In the meantime
you had better go and register yourselves at the United States
Embassy. I am never sure of Gen. Huerta."
Without further discussion the boys prepared to take Gen.
Sanchez' advice, and, donning their hats, started for the
embassy, leaving Pedro much chagrined and Guadalupe in tears.
"I can't see why there has to be war!" she declared. "Why can't
men behave themselves?"
"What do girls know about war?" asked Pedro.
"They know it's terrible and takes their fathers and brothers,
that's what they know, and they wish they didn't have to know
that."
Pedro made no reply, but went to his room, where he selected from
among his most cherished belongings a gift for each of his
guests--three beautiful opals--and laid them upon their
respective suit cases.
When the Broncho Rider Boys arrived at the embassy they found a
large crowd of Americans already assembled. Word had been
circulated that it would be wise for all of them to leave Mexico
and those who could were going, while many men whose business
detained them in Mexico were sending their families. All had come
to the embassy for information and to register.
As a result it was late in the afternoon before the boys returned
to Gen. Sanchez' residence. But late as they were, the general
had not yet come in. They went to their room and when they saw
the gifts which Pedro had laid on each valise, they could not
keep back the tears.
"Well, there's one thing," declared Billie as he drew the back of
his hand across his eyes, "we don't have to fight Pedro, no
matter what comes. I'm going to hunt him up and tell him so."
And he did.
It was some hours later when Gen. Sanchez returned and announced
that it would be impossible for the boys to get transportation to
Vera Cruz for two or three days, as the track had been torn up in
the neighborhood of Cordoba, but that he had been promised that
they would be given safe conduct as soon as the track was
repaired.
It was three days later, therefore, before the boys were able to
leave, during which time they remained in the house at Gen.
Sanchez' request to avoid any unpleasantness, which might make
trouble for him.
On the morning of the 13th the boys bade good-bye to their host
and his family and were driven in an automobile to the station.
Already there were more than enough persons to fill four trains,
and the guards were permitting only those to board the cars who
had passes signed by the Mexican provost marshal.
Thanks to Gen. Sanchez, our boys had been provided with such
passes, but they were not allowed to take their rifles or
revolvers aboard the train. They had no more than found seats and
made themselves comfortable than the conductor shouted "Vamanos,"
and the train pulled slowly out of the shed.
"Well," remarked Donald as they rolled slowly along, "this is a
pretty tough ending to a friendly visit. I think I've seen about
all I want of Mexico for some time to come."
"What do you suppose will happen?" asked Billie. "Do you think
we'll really go to war with Mexico unless Gen. Huerta orders the
salute?"
"I don't know," was Donald's cautious reply. "I hope not."
"And I hope we do!" exclaimed a somewhat florid gentleman who sat
in the seat ahead and who had overheard the conversation. "I'd
just like an opportunity to come down here with an army and wipe
the whole nation off the earth."
Donald made no reply, but Adrian asked sympathetically: "Have
they treated you badly, sir?"
"Have they treated me badly? Well, I should say so. They wouldn't
let me out of my hotel for two days and now they have refused to
carry my trunk and made me leave it with the express company. I
guess they don't know who I am."
"I'm sure they do not, sir."
"Well, I'll show them who I am as soon as I get to Vera Cruz and
can see Admiral Fletcher. He'll know how to protect Americans!"
"I'm sure he will, sir."
"And when the first marine lands, I want to be right there with a
rifle to help drive the Mexicans off the earth."
"It would be wise not to say too much," whispered Adrian. "I see
that officer in the end of the car has his eye on you. He may
speak English."
"I don't care who hears me," said the florid man angrily. "I mean
it."
At the same moment a guard who had approached from the other end
of the car laid his hand upon the angry man's shoulder.
"If the Señor is not satisfied," he said, "we shall be pleased to
send him back to the City of Mexico."
"Oh, no-no-no," was the stammering reply. "I am very well
satisfied. All I want is to get out of the country."
"Let us hope there will be no trouble about that," was the polite
response, and the florid man lapsed into silence.
Ordinarily it is a pleasant day's journey from the City of Mexico
to the seaport city of Vera Cruz; or if one prefers he may make a
night ride of it in times of peace. The train which left the City
of Mexico that April morning made no such time. After a tiresome
all-day ride with numerous aggravating stops, when darkness fell
they were still on the plateau of Mexico, some miles west of
Orizaba, running slowly for fear some stray bunch of Carranzistas
or Zapatistas might have torn up a length or two of track.
It was possibly an hour later that the engine gave a furious
jerk, followed by a bump and another jerk, and then the train
came to a dead stop.
In a minute everybody was on his feet asking everybody else what
had happened. As no one knew, there was a general movement for
the doors, as it was too dark to see much from the windows.
"Sit down, everybody," ordered the guard. "There is no danger,
but we have stopped on a high trestle."
The passengers obeyed, realizing the danger of leaving the
coaches. There was a general round of conversation, and then as
the train did not start, people settled back in their seats and
tried to sleep.
Some minutes later Billie gave Adrian a nudge with his elbow.
"Are you asleep?" he asked.
"No. Why?"
"I've just been looking out of the window. We're not on a
trestle."
"No? Well, what of it?"
"Only that the guard was lying. What did he do it for?"
"I don't know. Because he was a Mexican, I guess. Go on to
sleep."
"That isn't the answer, although it's pretty good. They have some
scheme. I wouldn't be surprised if they were going to keep us
prisoners somewhere around here."
"Nonsense. Go on to sleep."
But Billie was not satisfied. He leaned over and tried to talk to
Donald, but he was fast asleep.
"I think I'll go on a little scouting expedition," he muttered.
"I need some exercise."
He arose, stretched himself and walked slowly toward the door,
which stood wide open.
"I wonder where the guard is?" he thought. "It's mighty funny
he'd go and leave the coach like this."
He stepped on to the coach ahead. The same condition existed.
Billie's curiosity got the best of him and he jumped out onto the
ground. It was pitch dark, but he had not advanced more than
twenty steps before he discovered groups of men seated upon the
grass. A second glance convinced him they were armed.
He drew back and stood beside the coach, where he thought fast.
"There's one of two things," he soliloquized. "We are either
prisoners or else we are being guarded against an expected
attack. Whichever it is, this is no time for the Broncho Rider
Boys to be asleep. I'll go and tell the others."
He started to climb onto the car, but a guard appeared on the
platform and ordered him away at the point of his bayonet.
"I'm a passenger," explained Billie.
"Go away!" was the reply, emphasized by a quick advance of the
bayonet.
Seeing that it was no time to argue, Billie slid back into the
darkness.