Where Duty Called: or, In Honor Bound

The mountain outlaw was about to carry out his own order, when he received a terrific blow from Jack Greenland, which tumbled him from his seat to the ground. Jack and Ronie had been quick to perceive that in this exciting tableau lay their chance of action.

"Mount the free horse and ride down the road for your life!" said Jack. "A bold dash will carry us through."

Then he sprang forward to capture the horse ridden by the insurgent chief, knowing that, could he be successful in this, it would throw the squad into confusion. Without a leader they were not likely to make a very effective pursuit. I have described the result of his swift and daring onset. And, as Rhoades, stunned by the blow, sank helpless to the earth, the fearless American seized the bridle rein of the frightened horse before it could clear itself from the hand of its former master. Almost simultaneously with this action Jack would have been in the saddle, but for the fact that the right foot of the insurgent had caught in the stirrup. This caused a brief delay, but, wrenching the offending limb aside, the captor vaulted into the seat just as two or three shots whistled through the air at random from the discomfited insurgents, who were at a loss to account for just what was being enacted in their midst. One of these bullets cut away a lock of his silvered hair, but, unminding his narrow escape, he turned the horse sharply about, crying to the woman, who had succeeded in heading her steed down the road:

"Ride for your life. It is your only hope."

She had already reached the outside circle of the little group, and her horse, a spirited one, cleared the last of the dismayed riders, to bear her down the way at a terrific pace, her long, black hair streaming in the wind as she sped on. Once a white face was turned backward for a moment, and then she disappeared from sight.

Meanwhile Ronie was having an experience equally as exciting and even more dangerous to his life and liberty. He had succeeded in catching upon the bridle of the horse that had thrown its rider, and he gained the saddle an instant later, while the terrified animal reared and plunged furiously. But the young engineer had secured a firm hold on the reins, and was likely to obtain quick control over the creature, when he found stout hands laid on the bridle with a power which threw the struggling brute back upon its haunches.

The attack of the insurgents, three in number, was so sudden and powerful that Ronie's escape seemed impossible.

"Shoot the dog!" cried one of the insurgents.

"Don't let him get away!" exclaimed the chief, who had rallied by this time sufficient to realize something of the situation.

Ronie knew he could expect no assistance from Jack, who was having all he could attend to, and he resolved to make a desperate attempt to get away. Accordingly, he whipped out the stout knife which had been given him by Manuel Marlin, and as the shots of his enemies sped past his head, he cut the reins upon which the insurgents were clinging, when the men, suddenly losing their hold, staggered forward, leaving the animal freed from their clutches.

Finding itself thus relieved of the weight dragging it down, the horse flung up its head, gave vent to a wild snort, and bounded madly over their writhing forms, to rush like a whirlwind down the road, scarcely a head behind Jack, mounted on the chief's fleet-footed steed. Though nearly unseated by this abrupt onset, Ronie held fast to his position, while he was borne on at a rate of speed which fairly took away his breath. Even Jack, going at his terrific pace, was passed, and then the woman on the stout gray was outdistanced. Without check or guidance to its headlong flight, Ronie soon found that his horse was running away!

The cries and the rifle shots of his enemies were soon lost in the distance, but the young engineer had barely recovered his equilibrium, so to speak, when he became conscious of the approach of a body of horsemen from ahead. Naturally expecting only enemies, he began to wonder how he was to come out of this new danger. The sounds of the approaching horses told that this party were coming at a gait almost as swift as that by which he was carried along. Thus he was not given sufficient time in which to prepare for the meeting, if any preparation could be made by him in his plight, before he found himself carried into the very midst of a squad of a dozen horsemen, sweeping toward him at a breakneck pace. Wild shouts rang in his ears, but if efforts were made to stop him he was not aware of it. In some manner, never quite plain to him, he was carried through the party of riders, brushing against them on the right and left, but clearing them in an incredible space of time, to be still carried on with unabated speed.

So far Ronie had not gathered his scattered faculties enough to act, but now, remembering that the bridle was still left on the head of the horse he bestrode, he leaned forward and grasped the side straps close down to the bit. Perhaps the animal had begun to tire of its wild race.

At any rate, it quickly yielded to the strong hands wrenching at its mouth, and began to slacken its speed.

All this really took place in less time than it has taken to describe it, even in outline, and the excitement and confusion of the surprised riders in his rear were yet ringing in his ears, when Ronie, for the second time, became aware of the approach of horsemen. But before he could obtain control of his own horse, or anticipate who might now be in his pathway, a stentorian voice thundered in English:

"Halt! Who comes here?"

CHAPTER XVI.

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, señors. 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, señora. 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 Señora 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 Señora 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.

CHAPTER XVII.

A CUNNING RUSE

"Speaking about joining our forces," said Colonel Marchand, "under the circumstances it will be impossible for me to fulfill my promise to you when I wrote. Neither would it be practicable to carry out plans made under different conditions. Join our army for a while; it will prove a lively vacation for you, and just as soon as this little cloud blows over we will start. We will have the government behind us, too. It is a great undertaking in more senses than one. I expect to become regularly attached to Castro's army within a short time. In fact, I am away now only temporarily. What do you say to becoming comrades under Castro?"

"I should want to consult Harrie before I decided," replied Ronie.

"So you shall. Now that is settled, let us talk of other matters. It is perfectly natural, however, that you should cast your fortunes with ours for a short time. Venezuela does not forget that it was due to Miranda's experience gained in fighting for the independence of the Great Republic that he learned something of what might come to his native land, and that it was the friendship of Lafayette, Hamilton and Fox which encouraged him to push forward. When the revolution opened in 1810, the United States furnished Venezuela with her munitions of war. Two years later, when the earthquake destroyed twenty thousand of our people, she sent supplies with a liberal hand to us. In this crisis, which I believe is to be the most important affair in her history, we stand in need of Northern friendship. Europe is against us, and in the jealousy of the powers there would gladly hail any pretext upon which she could seize us."

"The Monroe Doctrine must be a great safeguard to you."

"If it hadn't been for that these little South American republics would have been swallowed by European powers long before this."

"While the swallowing would have caused some bloody wars."

"Very true, but we are used to that. There has not been a time within my remembrance when there has not been a war of some form in process. Speaking of the European nations swallowing us, you may forget that we are three times as large as France or Germany, and five times as large as Italy. We are larger than any European country outside of Russia. Something of its natural features may be understood from the fact that it holds within its domain some beautiful bodies of inland water, the largest of which, Lake Maracaibo, is somewhat larger than Lake Ontario. Within the republic are over a thousand rivers, the largest of which is the Orinoco, next in size to the Amazon of the rivers of South America.

"In regard to its physical features, the country may be divided into three great zones, increasing in size according to the following order: First, the zone of agriculture; second, the zone of grazing land; last, the larger in area than both of the others, the zone of the forests. There are two seasons, the wet and the dry, called winter and summer.

"Venezuela is thinly populated, having about two and one-half millions of inhabitants. They still preserve the type of the Spanish race, which afforded them origin, though they have become largely a cosmopolitan race, due to the mixture with the natives. These have retained to a wonderful extent their primitive beauty, so the men are manly and symmetrical, the women graceful and beautiful."

"How is it about the wild horses our geographies describe as still roaming with flowing manes and foaming nostrils and llanoes and pampas?" asked Ronie.

"They disappeared before the buffalo vanished from your Western plains. I would say also of the people, instead of the wild beauties your books tell you are yet living in almost primitive simplicity, you will find, when you get to the capital, women and maidens looking quite as anxiously for the fashion sheet from Paris as her sisters in New York. We are apt to think the only civilization is that around us. How well do I remember that my first impressions were that the little space about me in which I was reared comprised the world. Gradually my vision extended, and my knowledge expanded, until I find it is a big old world, and that it holds many people."

Colonel Marchand's kindly words, and his willingness to inform his friends, put our couple very much at their ease. Ronie improved the first opportunity to speak of that matter which was frequently uppermost in his mind, the finding of his mother's photograph under such peculiar circumstances. He was unable to offer any solution of the mystery, while he showed a deep concern.

"I cannot think your mother would come to this country, even with the hope of meeting you, without first sending me word of her intentions. Of course, I should have tried and met her at La Guayra."

"You have not heard from her?"

"Not a word, though I did expect to get a letter in regard to your coming. I feel very sure the photograph must have been brought from New York by some disinterested party, who came into possession of it by accident. I cannot imagine anything else, though this is rather hard to believe."

Realizing that Colonel Marchand had affairs that needed his attention, Ronie and Jack asked if they might look about the town, and the simple request being granted, they passed the next few hours in exploring the place, though finding little to interest them. The regular inhabitants had nearly all fled, and those who had remained appeared ill at ease under the existing conditions, as they might have been expected to be.

"I tell you what it is, Jack," said Ronie, "it looks to me as if these revolutions are sapping the very life out of the country."

"Ay, lad; and now it looks as if you and I were to become actors in one of them. I wonder what is going on yonder."

These words were spoken by Jack as their attention was caught by the sight of a group of people gathered near the building where they had been lodged. As they advanced with quickening steps, it became evident that a fight or street brawl was in process. Around this a couple of dozen or more civilians had clustered, and by the way they encircled the combatants it looked as if they were trying to shield them from the gaze of the soldiers, should any of these happen to come that way. For a wonder not one of these was in sight at that moment, though the steady tread of the sentry within the building could be heard as he paced back and forth with measured step.

"Better give them a wide berth," declared Jack. "It never does any one good to get mixed up in one of these senseless encounters. Why, if you should go to the assistance of one of them, thinking he was being abused, the chances are more than even he would join with the other in abusing you. By the horn of rock – Gibraltar, if you please! this does not seem to be a fight by common brawlers, for their mantas show they belong to the better class of civilians."