"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 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.