ONE GOOD TURN AND ANOTHER.
Perhaps there did not exist in that metropolis any one who felt a
keener interest in the uprising than myself.
True, some men flung ambition into the arena, and like old Gen.
Toreado, risked life and reputation in the affair.
I had the safety of Hildegarde to consider, and surely that was of far
more importance than my own individual ambition.
Now that I had guessed what Robbins was up to, my position on
the _azotea_ gave me a good chance to ascertain how affairs were
progressing elsewhere.
The tumult, instead of dying out, increased in volume as new recruits
joined the shouting insurgents.
What of our own enemies? Not a man jack of them had shown himself since
the alarm burst out.
Were they gone?
Had the coast been left clear?
Delicious thought; if true, how quickly had Robbins’ muscular efforts
borne fruit.
I quite yearned to put it to the test, to leave the roof and seek a
more congenial atmosphere.
Robbins still whanged away.
He was a tireless plodder, yet I noticed that the tongue of the bell
was now held in his left hand, and that hardly the same energy was
being expended as at first.
What did it matter, since his object had been accomplished, and the
revolution was on--a full hour ahead of the arranged time.
I drew Hildegarde into my arms.
“Don’t be alarmed--it is only a little revolution down below; they
seldom last long; and our friends, Carmencita’s friends, are even now
storming the citadel. Hark!”
As I spoke the brass cannon boomed again, proving that sturdy
resistance had been met.
This worried Robbins a bit.
He dropped the clapper, abandoned the bell, and hurried over to my side.
“We must get away,” he said.
That agreed with my fancy, and I immediately gave him to understand as
much.
“The boys haven’t made the clean sweep they expected; you heard the
gun--it may ruin all, for they won’t stand up long before that. Once
the tide sets in against Toreado, all is lost. That’s the way things
go down here, I’m told. Now, they need me.”
He never spoke truer words, and what was better, there could be no
boastfulness found in that simple declaration.
They did need some one at their head, some one who could show more
military strategy than the pompous Gen. Toreado.
It was settled--we must go--on my part to find a place of refuge for
Hildegarde, while Robbins sought fields of glory.
Of course, it must be via the trap, since there was no other available
route.
We hurried over to where the iron chairs and settees were piled up so
very like a pyramid, and set to work destroying its symbolic perfection.
When the last impediment had been hurled aside the doors were quickly
raised.
I would have led the van, but Robbins pushed me back.
“That’s my duty,” he declared, as he dropped out of sight into the
breach.
I half expected to hear the bark of his gun, but instead came his
cheering roar:
“All clear below. Avast there, Morgan, down with you!”
So I drew Hildegarde with me, and we left the roof that had been the
scene of this last escapade in our adventures.
There was just room for us to descend side by side, and below we found
Robbins eagerly waiting to lead the way out.
Where was the doughty alcalde, where his merry men at this time?
A few minutes before they had been storming our fortress with a
pertinacity that deserved commendation, and now the place where they
had once been, knew them no longer; the rooms and corridors of the
great _casa_ appeared deserted, and not a hand was raised in protest as
our little party made for the main exit.
There was no legerdemain about it.
Our worthy alcalde had doubtless passed through many revolutions in his
time--he knew only too well what those cries and that tumult portended,
and when a change of dynasty was imminent far be it from him to allow
such minor matters as the capture of two Yengees to keep him from
weightier business.
They were on the street, just as every man in Bolivar was at that hour;
when morning came the result would be unanimous, whether the revolution
succeeded or not, for in that region every one is outwardly heart and
soul with the powers that be.
We walked through deserted apartments, we traversed a patio where no
sign of porter or watchman might be seen, and thus we came once more to
the _calle_.
I felt a savage joy at being free--thirty hours in a Bolivar dungeon is
about all any ordinary man can stand, and since my rescue Robbins had
kept me so busy that up to the present I was hardly in a condition to
realize how much cause there was for rejoicing.
The riotous proceedings did not occur near the home of the alcalde--it
was at the public _plaza_ where the exciting drama was being played.
I knew Robbins was desirous of immediately thrusting his individuality
into the game, and now that the way appeared clear, there seemed really
no apparent reason why he should not be allowed to follow his bent.
Surely I ought to be able to protect one little woman, armed as I was.
I told him this, at which he shouted:
“Good, Morgan! It was what I wanted to propose, but hardly knew
how you’d take it. Go right along this street until you come to the
cathedral--you know the place. I think about there you’ll find the girl
waiting to conduct you to safe quarters.”
“Hurrah!” I cried, enthusiastically.
“And, Morgan, one word more----”
“Go on--a dozen, if you like.”
“When you see her safe, come and help win. We’ll need you--we owe the
boys something for their good will, and--I want ’em to see you in the
thick of it, for, I forgot to tell you, they’ve adopted us, and we’re
already citizens of this turbulent country.”
That was just like Robbins, rushing things, and without so much as “by
your leave.” How did he know I would agree to forfeit my allegiance to
the Stars and Stripes, and join a little picayune revolutionary dot of
a Central American republic?
Then I remembered that I had been in a bad way when he did this; such
a sacrifice was not of enormous magnitude when one considered that his
liberty and life were endangered. I swung around to his way of thinking
that there was conditions requiring heroic measures--I would sooner be
alive and a citizen of Bolivar than buried under six feet of black soil.
“It’s all right, my boy--count on me before long. I couldn’t keep out
of it, you know. Now, get along with you, and silence that gun,” as
another tremendous discharge made the adobe buildings around us shake.
Robbins ran off.
I declare, he seemed as happy and frolicsome as a school urchin let
loose; some among us are so peculiarly constructed that they never seem
so joyous as when there looms up a chance for a ruction.
Hildegarde had come through all right.
How she clung to my arm, and with what eagerness she looked up in my
face when we chanced to pass under a lamp which some worthy Bolivar
citizen had placed above the door of his dwelling.
It was worth going through fire and flood to feel that I had won the
love and worship of my wife for all time.
We walked along the gloomy _calle_ in the direction of the cathedral of
which Robbins had spoken, and all the way I saw not a single citizen
abroad--without doubt they had been attracted early in the direction of
the _plaza_, where momentous events, big with the future welfare of the
country, were being enacted.
It was just as well, for I was in no humor to have my motives
questioned, and perhaps it might have gone sore with any one who dared
stand in the way.
Then the cathedral with its minarets and spires hove in sight.
It was lighter now.
We had reached another street, where it appeared to be public or
private policy to keep lamps burning during half the night.
I looked around.
This place, at least, was not deserted.
The church doors were wide open, and I could see numerous people
hastening within--whereupon I recollected that it was more or less the
custom of the country to spare even enemies who threw themselves before
the altar.
Many were veiled women, trembling with fear, hastening to pray for the
safety of those who were near and dear to them, and who might just then
be engaged in warfare at that point where the crisis of the revolution
was being waged; but a few men came also, eager to seek safety within
those sacred walls until morning came and brought intelligence which
side had won the game.
All this gave me only passing interest, for I was not in the humor to
observe matters that failed to immediately concern my affairs.
Carmencita--was she here?
We walked full in the light, so that we might be readily seen by any
one on the watch.
The move was rewarded, for I saw a figure dart out from behind a
gargoyle that marked one portion of the cathedral front.
It was the girl.
She could not restrain her ecstasy, and gave a little scream of delight
as she pounced upon Hildegarde, kissing her hand and wetting it with
her tears.
Bless her heart! She had never known so good and loving a mistress, and
I was not the one to blame her for showing emotion.
It was not my desire to linger.
The tumult kept raging, and I knew I was needed at the
front--Hildegarde was safe, and, as Robbins said, I owed something to
“the boys,” as he called them, whose uprising an hour before the time
appointed had rendered our escape possible.
So I begged Carmencita to lead the way to where she meant to keep her
mistress, incidentally declaring myself eager to return and assist her
compatriots to victory.
That inspired her, and in a very few minutes she led us into a modest
house just beyond the cathedral; here I kissed my wife a brief good-by.
I rushed off to witness and participate in the strange scenes that were
occurring at the citadel.