"_Quien_?" cried the porter within the _saguan_.
"_Yo_," I responded.
The door was opened slowly and with caution.
"Is the Senorito Narcisso within?" I inquired.
The man answered in the affirmative.
"Tell him a friend wishes to speak with him."
After a moment's hesitation the porter dragged himself lazily up the
stone steps. In a few seconds the boy--a fine, bold-looking lad, whom I
had seen during our trial--came leaping down. He started on recognising
me.
"Hush!" I whispered, making signs to him to be silent. "Take leave of
your friends, and meet me in ten minutes behind the church of La
Magdalena."
"Why, Senor," inquired the boy without listening, "how have you got out
of prison? I have just been to the governor on your behalf, and--."
"No matter how," I replied, interrupting him; "follow my directions--
remember your mother and sisters are suffering."
"I shall come," said the boy resolutely.
"_Hasta luego_!" (Lose no time then). "_Adios_!"
We parted without another word. I rejoined Raoul, and we walked on
towards La Magdalena. We passed through the street where we had been
captured on the preceding night, but it was so altered that we should
not have known it. Fragments of walls were thrown across the path, and
here and there lay masses of bricks and mortar freshly torn down.
Neither patrol nor sentry thought of troubling us now, and our strange
appearance did not strike the attention of the passengers.
We reached the church, and Raoul descended, leaving me to wait for the
boy. The latter was true to his word, and his slight figure soon
appeared rounding the corner. Without losing a moment we all three
entered the subterranean passage, but the tide was still high, and we
had to wait for the ebb. This came at length, and, clambering over the
rocks, we entered the surf and waded as before. After an hour's toil we
reached Punta Hornos, and a little beyond this point I was enabled to
hail one of our own pickets, and to pass the lines in safety.
At ten o'clock I was in my own tent--just twenty-four hours from the
time I had left it, and, with the exception of Clayley, not one of my
brother officers knew anything of our adventure.
Clayley and I agreed to "mount" a party the next night and carry the boy
to his friends. This we accordingly did, stealing out of camp after
tattoo. It would be impossible to describe the rejoicing of our new
acquaintances--the gratitude lavishly expressed--the smiles of love that
thanked us.
We should have repeated our visits almost nightly; but from that time
the guerilleros swarmed in the back-country, and small parties of our
men, straggling from camp, were cut off daily. It was necessary,
therefore, for my friend and myself to chafe under a prudent impatience,
and wait for the fall of Vera Cruz.