Book + 

III + 

Olifa + 

I + 

General Alexander Lossberg, the Commander-in-Chief of the Olifa Expeditionary Force, was in a good temper as he took the air one morning on his smart little blue roan on the long ridge to the east of his advanced headquarters. It was nearly four months since he had occupied the city of the Gran Seco, and he felt that the situation was now satisfactory to his orderly mind. At first it had been rather an anxious business, this groping in the dark for an enemy whom it seemed impossible to locate. With his superb force⁠—his infantry divisions, his mechanised battalions, his cavalry brigade, his field batteries, and his light tanks⁠—it had irked him to find nothing to spend his strength on. But he had been patient and very cautious. The enemy had an unpleasant number of aeroplanes and knew how to use them⁠—he was a good soldier and could appreciate the merits of an antagonist⁠—and his repeated demands to Olifa for more planes had brought a meagre response. But, in spite of the semi-blindness which this weakness in the air involved, he had groped his way steadily to the identification and the capture of the enemy bases. + 

There was Fort Castor⁠—that had soon fallen. The name set him musing upon the fate of him who had once been Gobernador of the Gran Seco. He had never liked him; he remembered the insolent calm of his eyes, and his habit of asking unanswerable questions. The man had been an arrogant civilian, and his cleverness was futile in war. He had heard that he was an unwilling figurehead, a prisoner in the hands of the guerrillero whom the people called El Obro, and whom he understood to be a Scottish soldier-of-fortune. Well, this El Obro, he was not much of a soldier; only a flashy amateur. The General had heard a good deal of talk in his time about the importance of the psychological factor in war, and was a little sick of it. Why should he trouble himself to read the mind of this guerrillero; he knew by instinct the kind of mind he had⁠—the ingenious schoolboy, treating war as a holiday game and banking on the unexpected. There was no such thing as the unexpected. War was an exact mathematical science. Cleverness and daring might delay for a week or two the advance of the great military machine, but in the end it crept forward, crushing opposition as a tank went through barbed wire and breastworks. Once again the professional had been justified, and the General flung out his chest and drew deep and pleasant draughts of the cool morning. + 

Fort Castor⁠—and then Loa, and then the easy capture of the enemy’s secret base up on that shelf between the mountains and the sea. What was the name of it? Los Patios de la Mañana. An amusing name, the kind of name that those playacting folk would choose. He had not yet visited the place, but he promised himself that pleasure soon. It was said to be very beautiful. He could imagine worse fates than to be the Governor of this province, and Los Patios might be an eligible site for a country house. Soldiering in Olifa itself had been a little tedious for a man of his energy. But Gobernador of this rich province⁠—that promised power, and amusement, and, of course, wealth. In these Latin republics he understood that there was a generous margin for those set in authority. + 

The Mines had been his great problem. Olifa had always been nervous lest the enemy should so destroy them that their restoration would be a labour of years. One part of the danger had been removed when he occupied the city and the smelting works; the other, the Mines, had been made his chief preoccupation, by direct instructions from his Government. It had not been his own wish. He did not believe in tying himself up with anything in the nature of a fortress. He had been taught that it was a general’s duty to seek out the enemy and destroy him, and not to be entangled in the defence of property. His adversaries had guessed at this obligation, for they had made the Mines the scene of most of the fighting, and had managed by constant pinpricking to tie up most of his troops on that long front.⁠ ⁠… + 

Yet, perhaps, in their blundering way the Olifa Government had been right. Against an enemy so light and elusive and with such a vast hinterland for retreat, their way had perhaps been the best. He remembered that he had not been very successful in his rounding-up expeditions. His cavalry nets had been drawn tight again and again without enclosing anything. The cavalry had indeed been a failure. It had been led a pretty dance by El Obro’s commandos, had been split up and destroyed in patches, had lost itself, had fought against itself in fog and darkness. As a gunner, he had never been a cavalry enthusiast, and now he was more disillusioned than ever. Also the tanks had not been a success, since there had been nothing solid against which to use them.⁠ ⁠… No, perhaps Olifa by some fortunate accident had judged right. This long-drawn defence of the Mines had done its part. It must have depleted terribly the enemy’s vanishing stock of munitions; he wished he could think that it had depleted his numbers. And now it was over. For three days the Mines front had been stagnant, and his patrols had reported no enemy force within twenty miles. The cause could only be that debacle of munitionment which he had always foreseen and counted on. + 

There remained Pacheco⁠—that robbers’ nest in the angle of the hills. That, he believed, was the main enemy headquarters, and he had been anxious for a long time to burn it out. This very morning he was advancing on Pacheco in strength. At last there was something to bite on. The result, of course, was a foregone conclusion, and after that⁠—? Where would El Obro find his next refuge? It was on Pacheco, no doubt, that the attempts on the Mines front had been based. It was from Pacheco beyond question that the raids on the railway had been launched. These raids had for some time been happily abortive, and, now that he had his blockhouse system nearly complete, the only danger was from an occasional bombing aeroplane⁠—if the enemy had any bombs left.⁠ ⁠… There was perhaps another base in the northeast⁠—he had some evidence of that. But what were these bases? Mere twigs on which to perch, and always being moved nearer to the inhospitable hills. You could not call that a base which supplied nothing in the way of food or shells. His military soul repudiated the name. He ran his mental eye over the map of the Gran Seco. The city and the railway to Olifa securely held; the Mines now free from all danger; the enemy forced out of the whole western, southern, and northern parts, and holding only an unknown corner in the northeast with driblets southward towards the Tierra Caliente. The war was over. The country was conquered. All that remained was a little minor police work. + 

His reflections were so satisfactory that the General was compelled to ease his feelings by swift movement. He gave his horse its head against the slope, and, raising his cap, let the wind sing about him and ruffle his thinning hair. He drew rein at the crest and scanned the wide landscape. A fine soldierly figure he looked, his square tanned face flushed with exercise, his grey eyes with almost a boyish light in them, the slight heaviness and sullenness of mouth and jaw relaxed in good humour. He looked eastward where sixty or seventy miles away the great chain of the mountains stretched its white fingers into the unfathomable blue. He was no connoisseur in the picturesque, but suddenly those mountains gave him a feeling of pleasure. He felt a proprietary interest in this land, of which he might soon be Governor, and he was glad that his future satrapy included these magnificent creatures of God. They reminded him of his childhood, when from a Bavarian valley he had stared at the distant snows of the Wettersteingebirge. + 

He turned, and before him lay the grassy barrens that stretched to the city. On his right he could see the slim headgear of the Mines, and the defences of that now stagnant front. The sight initiated a new train of thought. He had always meant to have the Mines started as soon as possible. That would be proof positive of his victory. When he had broached the idea to Olifa it had been received with enthusiasm; those bovine ministers could not comprehend the meaning of his operations, but they could appreciate such a result as the resumption of their great industry.⁠ ⁠… That very afternoon he would send a dispatch, and he would begin to work out the first stages.⁠ ⁠… And then a reflection brought him up with a jerk. Where was he to find the experts to advise him? What had become of those strange gentlemen who called themselves the Conquistadors? + 

He had talked it all over with Romanes many weeks ago. He detested the type, the unwholesome pale faces, the low voices, the opaque eyes, which nevertheless in their blankness seemed to hold a perpetual sneer. But he had been instructed from Olifa to treat them with respect, and Romanes he found that he could get on with. The man had been a soldier⁠—a good soldier, he believed, till he had fallen down⁠—and he had not forgotten his earlier trade. The General had been impressed with the soundness of his military views. He had a contempt for anyone who fell out of his own hierarchy, but he did not show it, and Romanes had no doubt appreciated being treated as still one of the brotherhood. Romanes had been insistent on starting the Mines. Half-power, of course, at first; there would be a great lack of technical staffs and white foremen. But he was confident that all the labour needed could be got among the concentrados and prisoners, and that he and his colleagues could make up a skeleton staff. + 

But that was nearly a month ago. General Lossberg had owed his professional success to his remarkable power of absorption in the task of the moment. He had been busy conducting a war, and he had had no ear for gossip. But he seemed to remember something. There were queer stories about those people. They lived on drugs and got them somewhere⁠—where was it? somewhere in the mountains? Yes. Olivarez had told him that they had gone to the mountains, they and the blackguard-looking fellows who had been Castor’s Bodyguard.⁠ ⁠… Why had it been permitted? He would have something to say to Olivarez.⁠ ⁠… + 

The General cantered across the baked yard in front of his quarters, and, giving his horse to an orderly, marched into the office of his Chief of Staff. Olivarez was older by several years than Lossberg, and, along with General Bianca, was the military pride of Olifa. He was a slight man, with a long olive-tinted face, a fleshy nose, and grizzled hair cut en brosse. He jumped to his feet as the General entered, and was about to speak, when he was forestalled. + 

“What about that fellow Romanes, General?” Lossberg demanded. “I want to get hold of him at once⁠—him and his friends. I propose to start the Mines.” + 

The other looked puzzled for a moment. He had something of his chief’s gift of absorption, and his mind had been much occupied of late by other matters. + 

“Romanes, sir? Yes, I remember.” He turned the leaves of a big diary. “He left here on the 23rd of last month. Some private business. He was no use to us and we did not try to stop him. He was going into the mountains and was confident that he could get past General Peters’s patrols. There was some talk of a seaplane which D’Ingraville had got hold of in Olifa. D’Ingraville, you may remember, sir, was formerly of the French Air Service. He left a request that we should keep in touch with him⁠—by air, of course⁠—and he gave us certain bearings and directions by which we could find him. I do not know if anything has been done about it. Shall I send for Colonel Waldstein?” + 

Presently Waldstein appeared, a little man all wire and whipcord. He had something to tell, but not much. + 

“We had Señor Romanes’s directions beyond doubt,” he said, “but it is one thing, sir, to be given a line and quite another to be able to take it. That does not need saying. We twice tried to make contact with him, but you will remember, sir, that three weeks ago the enemy planes were very active between here and the mountains. There is reason to believe that both the fighting scouts that we sent out were shot down. At any rate, they have not returned.” + 

“Have you done nothing since then?” Lossberg asked peremptorily. + 

“No, sir. Every machine we possess has been engaged in urgent business.” + 

Lossberg tapped his teeth with a pencil; it was a habit he had when he was slightly ruffled. + 

“There is now no enemy activity in that area, Colonel Waldstein,” he said at last. “You will please arrange that a machine is sent at once to the place indicated by Señor Romanes. No, send two, and send Hoffding carriers. I want Señor Romanes brought here at once, and as many of his colleagues as can be accommodated, and arrangements made for the transport here of the rest. Do you understand? The matter is urgent.” + 

Waldstein saluted and went. Then Olivarez was given the chance of saying that which had been on his tongue. + 

“There is a message from Pacheco, sir. We occupied it an hour and twenty minutes ago.” + 

Lossberg’s face lit up. “But that is good business. Had we much trouble?” + 

“No, sir. We were not opposed. The place was abandoned.” + 

Lossberg stared blankly. “Abandoned, you say?” + 

“Abandoned, sir. Not a shell was fired. No contact mines had been left. And apparently it had not been abandoned in a hurry, for every scrap of stores had been removed. The place had been deserted for several days.” + 

The Commander-in-Chief, who was commonly a precisian in his speech, observed that he was damned. He stared with his eyes abstracted, thinking hard. He had always been contemptuous about psychology, but now he wished he could see a little into the mind of El Obro. + 

“Where have they gone?” he soliloquised. “Peters had five thousand men there a week ago. I wonder what diabolical game he is up to now? There’s no way east or south. He has not come west, for we hold the land up to the southern scarp. He must have gone north. There’s something preparing up in that northeast corner which we have got to discover. Tell Colonel Waldstein to arrange for an extensive air patrol of the eastern Tierra Caliente. Let him take a radius of 150 miles. Yes, telegraph the news about Pacheco to the War Ministry. It will make a good headline for the papers. But do not mention that we found it abandoned. I will give all the details in my dispatch.” + 

“The wireless is working very badly, sir,” said Olivarez. “We have been consistently jammed the last thirty-six hours.” + 

“Atmospherics,” the Colonel observed. He had moments of longing for the old days of war, when you stuck to the heliograph, and the dispatch rider, and the telegraph. Then, somewhat perturbed, he went to breakfast. The crystal-clear vision of the future which he had had that morning on the savannah was a little dulled. + 

Towards the late afternoon of the same day one of the Hoffding machines returned, and with it the pilot of the other, which had crashed in one of the glens. It reported a difficult and disastrous journey. It had followed Romanes’s directions and made its way into the mountain range by an intricate series of valleys. It had found itself in a region where the wind came in baffling eddies, and where there was no possible landing-place. All the valleys were narrow and sheer and muffled with forest. It had discerned a shelf of flat ground, filled with the ruins of great stone towers. There, flying low, it had seen the remains of old campfires, but there were no human beings now in the place. After that came the disaster to its sister machine, the pilot of which had been saved by a miracle. Unless it attempted to fly over the main range, there was nothing more to be done, so it had come home to report. + 

Late that night one of Waldstein’s patrols brought in a man who had been found in the tangled country under the lee of the mountains. He was half dead with fatigue and starvation, but had recovered sufficiently to ask to be taken to the General’s Headquarters. The General had not had the pleasant dinner which he had anticipated. The meal, instead of being a cheerful celebration of the capture of Pacheco, had been an anxious confabulation with his staff. For something had gone wrong with his communications, and he could get no answer from Olifa. In place of the lyric congratulations on success which he had expected, his message had been followed by utter silence. The long-distance telephone had never been noted for its reliability, but hitherto the telegraph service had been perfect. Now, with the wireless out of gear for two days, it looked as if this too had failed. That, or some intense preoccupation at the Ministry of War. Consequently, when Olivarez brought in the rag of humanity which his patrol had picked up, it was with no friendly eye that Lossberg regarded him. + 

“We cannot find Señor Romanes,” the Chief of Staff had said, “but this is one of those who were with him. One of the gentry whom Castor called his Bodyguard. He says he has something for your private ear. Jesucristo! Wherever he came from he has had a rough journey.” + 

Mr. Daniel Judson had not been improved in looks by his recent experiences. His clothes hung in rags, his skin was black with exposure, and short commons had sharpened his face so that his big head tapered to a jackal’s mask. Normally his broken nose and rabbit teeth gave him a touch of comedy, ferocious comedy⁠—but now these features seemed to be blended into one overwhelming impression of something snarling and ravening. The slouch of his thickset shoulders gave him the air of crouching for a spring, like a mad dog. He had had food, of which he had eaten sparingly, being used to similar experiences and knowing the danger of a glut. Lossberg gave him permission to sit down, while his story dribbled out through the confusion of fatigue. + 

Most of it was startlingly new to the General and his staff. He spoke of a camp at Los Tronos del Rey. “Those guys had to have the dope, and the Indians fetched it.⁠ ⁠…” He told of the daily expeditions and of the discovery of a pass through the mountains which had excited Romanes.⁠ ⁠… “We were expecting you to send to us, but you never came, so Mr. Romanes, he tried to get to you. The Indians must have double-crossed us, for nothing happened. We sent out Magee, and he never came back. Then the Indians turned nasty. There was a woman we had with us and she got away. The Indians must have helped her, and they cut the bridge behind her, and next morning the whole outfit did a bunk. After that we were between a rock and a hard place. There was a lot of unpleasantness with Mr. Romanes, but by and by we see’d we couldn’t do nothing by fighting each other, so we shared out the grub, and took what we each thought was the best road off that bloody mantelpiece.⁠ ⁠… I started out with two pals, and I don’t know where in hell they’ve got to.” Mr. Judson appeared to be going to be sick at the recollection. He recounted haltingly something of his troubles, first in the forest and then in the glens of the foothills. Famine had been the worst. “A biscuit would ha’ rattled in my stomach like a buckshot in a tin pan.” He had several times decided that he was about to perish. “This world one time, then the fireworks,” was the way he expressed his anticipation. By and by he had become so feeble that he could only crawl and weep, and in that condition the patrols had found him. Even now he had not the strength of a newborn cat. “If I slapped a fly this moment, I’d fall down.” + 

Lossberg fastened upon one item in his story, the pass through the mountains. Judson strayed into vague profanity. He didn’t rightly know how to describe it, but they had found it all right, and Mr. Romanes had thought it as important as hell. That was why he had made his despairing effort to get in touch with the General. Judson’s brains were too befogged to explain further, but he quoted a sentence of Romanes. “Mr. Romanes, I heard him say to the long Frenchy, him that was the airman, ‘By God!’ he says, ‘if we don’t stop that bolt-hole the rebs one fine morning will be breakfasting in Olifa.’ ” + 

Judson was dismissed, and the General looked at his Chief of Staff. + 

“Romanes is not a fool,” he said, “and he has been a soldier. He has found out something which he wanted badly to get to us. Remember he is on our side. Except by our victory he and his friends cannot get back to the life they enjoy. What is that something? A road through the mountains into Olifa? We have always understood that there was no road, no practicable road, except that which the railway follows. There may be a pass which we know nothing of. Romanes knows about it. The question is, does El Obro? If he does, it would explain Pacheco.” + 

The two men talked long and gravely. One result of their conference was that Waldstein was given fresh orders. His air patrols must move a little farther south and explore the valleys east of Pacheco. At all costs they must find Señor Romanes and his companions, who must now be making their way down from the hills. + 

Lossberg had a disturbed night, but about ten next morning he had news which cheered him. There had been a sudden revival of enemy activity in the north part of the province. Mounted bands had been seen west of the line Fort Castor-Loa, and a motor convoy, bound for the latter place, had been captured. To Lossberg this was reassuring tidings. It seemed to explain the whereabouts of Peters and his Pacheco force. They had not gone south through any mysterious pass in the mountains, but north, to join the oddments up in that northeastern corner. The General convinced himself that what he had always foreseen had now come to pass. The enemy was confined to the northeast of the Tierra Caliente, and all that remained was slowly and drastically to bring him to book. He would of course make sallies from his beleaguerment, but it would not be hard to cope with the desperate efforts of weak and ill-provided men. + 

Yet the whole of the following week was taken up with these sallies. The enemy had changed his tactics, and adopted a vigorous offensive. The Mines front was stagnant, and Lossberg was able to move one infantry division and all his cavalry to the threatened north. + 

The first thing that happened was that Loa fell to the guerrilleros, and the garrison in the Courts of the Morning had its land communications cut. This was interpreted by Lossberg as a feint, for Loa could be no value to the enemy. In this he was right, for after its stores had been removed, Loa was abandoned. + 

But the next move was startling, no less than a raid on the Gran Seco city. It happened about 1 a.m. on a night when there was no moon. The enemy cut up the pickets, and for nearly four hours held all the city west of the smelting works and north of the railway station. The thing had been beautifully arranged. The raiders, who seemed to know the place intimately, occupied the key-points, and used the machine guns they had taken at the northern approaches. They knew, too, where the stores were, and helped themselves to what they wanted, loading the loot into light motor-wagons which had only the day before arrived from Olifa. They destroyed a freight train in the railway yards and put no less than seven locomotives out of action. It was artful destruction, done by men who were skilful mechanics, and it would take weeks to repair. Then, after setting fire to the Gran Seco Club as a final feu de joie, they made off at their leisure, taking with them the light motor-wagons. It was well after daybreak before Lossberg’s first reinforcements arrived, for the telephone and telegraph wires had been comprehensively cut. An attempt to follow was made with armed cars, but the pursuit struck the rear of the raiders about forty miles northeast of the city, was ambushed, and badly cut up. The enemy had vanished again into his northeastern fastness. + 

All this was disquieting, but yet in its way consoling. Judson’s story had deeply impressed the Commander-in-Chief, and he was relieved to have discovered the whereabouts of the Pacheco force. It must have joined the bands under Escrick, for hitherto Escrick had been far too weak to think of an offensive. So he set about with a will the task of hunting down the remnant. He established a cordon of posts in a line from the Mines to Loa, and, based on each extremity, he had a mobile force of cavalry and mechanised battalions. He believed that this cordon could not be pierced, and his plan was slowly to push it forward till he had driven the enemy into the mountain valleys. Of these he would then seal up the ends, and starve him out. + 

But the cordon was pierced, repeatedly pierced. There was no further raid on the Gran Seco, but there was a disastrous dash on the Mines, which ended in the explosion of a shell-dump and the shattering of two engine-houses. Marvellous to relate, too, there was a raid on the railway, from what base no man knew, and the line was badly damaged in the crucial section between Tombequi and Villa Bar. Also there were perpetual pinpricks. Not a convoy seemed to be able to move on any of the Gran Seco roads without some regrettable accident⁠—a mined road, a broken culvert, a long-distance sniping of baneful accuracy. Lossberg, who had regarded the campaign as over, was forced to admit that it had miraculously entered upon a new phase. + 

In the thick of this guerrilla warfare the General forgot his other problems. He was kept so feverishly busy that he omitted to worry about the silence of the Olifa Ministry of War and the absence of a reply to his message about Pacheco. He was moving fast about the country and did not remember to inquire whether Waldstein’s machines had picked up any news of the Conquistadors. Waldstein’s machines were now on other duties. But there came a night when he was able to return to his advanced Headquarters, which had remained in the vicinity of the Mines. He dined alone with Olivarez, the first peaceful meal he had had for ten days. Both men were in better spirits. + 

“It is the last spasm of a dying animal,” said Lossberg. “Now we know to a decimal the worst he could do, and we know that he cannot repeat it. In a week this activity will die down, and we shall turn to the question of starting the Mines. Even now it is police work we are engaged in, not war.” + 

Olivarez nodded and smiled. “By the way, we have news of the Conquistadors. Señor Romanes is here, and the man they call Larbert, the Englishman.” + 

“I will see them after dinner,” was the answer. General Lossberg filled himself a glass of champagne⁠—he had allowed himself champagne that evening⁠—and looked complacently at its sparkle. He had had an annoying time, but he had come to the end of it. + 

The telephone bell rang, and Olivarez took the receiver. “It is from Olifa at last,” he said over his shoulder. “A message forwarded from Base Headquarters.” + 

The General continued to contemplate his glass, with a smiling face. He awaited the congratulations which were his due. Suddenly he was startled to attention, for his Chief of Staff was speaking in an odd voice. + 

“Repeat,” he said, and again, “Repeat!” He turned to Lossberg without hanging up the receiver and his hand trembled. + 

“I can’t make it out.⁠ ⁠… It must be a mistake.⁠ ⁠… It is from Santa Ana, not Olifa. I don’t know who sent it.⁠ ⁠… Good God, it can’t be true!” + 

“What is it, man?” Lossberg asked. + 

“It says that Santa Ana was captured this morning by the enemy. Santa Ana! By the American Blenkiron, who was known here as Rosas!” + 

Lossberg’s face whitened, but he retained his composure. He even laughed, a little harshly. “If that is true, El Obro is assuredly through the passes.” + 

II + 

The short spring had gone, and it was already early summer at Charcillo. The gnarled tamarisks which lined two sides of the great pebbled courtyard were hung with long lilac blooms, and the poplars and willows were green along the water-furrows. The estancia was of an older type than Veiro. There were no neat paddocks and English-looking stables; part of the house itself had stood for three hundred years, and the thick walls of the corrals were almost fortifications. The place stood on a low ridge between the main stream of the Vulpas and a tributary, commanding to the west and south long views over savannah which gradually dipped to the blueness of the coastal plain. Behind, to the east, was more rolling country, but from every ridge might be descried fifty miles off the dark loom of the mountains, and in clear weather the northernmost peaks of Los Doce Apóstoles. + 

For the past fortnight Janet had been a happy denizen of a fantastic world. She felt that she was now promoted to the rank of a combatant. Her adventure had by a marvellous chance been the turning-point in the campaign. As she looked back upon the last month, the fear and horror were forgotten. Her week of captivity was only like a dark night between bright and bustling days. Far back in the corridors of memory she saw the Courts of the Morning, a platform lifted high above the world, whence with a divine detachment they had looked down upon the struggles of mortals. That life could not have lasted, but it had done its work, for it had wrought a miracle in the Gobernador. + 

What had become of the mysterious being with his inhuman composure and his secret thoughts? A new man had been born, a man who had forgotten his past and walked on a new earth with a curious innocence. He seemed to be happy, happy in companionship as well as in leadership. For beyond doubt he was a leader, and his post as generalissimo was no polite fiction. It was an unfamiliar world to him, but he had taken hold of it like a master. Modestly, simply, he had applied his mind to strange problems, and from the first day he had had an unquestioned authority. In the great movement through the passes, after Peters with the remnant of his command had gone north to Escrick, and Sandy had led his mounted three thousand into Olifa, it was the Gobernador who had spoken the ultimate word. By tacit consent he was always deferred to, and as he mastered the problems his authority became one of mind as well as of character. And he was happy⁠—that was the immense change. He seemed to have rid himself of a burden both of years and cares. + 

Crowded days lay behind them. Charcillo was the base headquarters, but when the word to strike was given they would move to Veiro. Meanwhile the concentration was secret. The Olifa Government had no doubt news of trouble at the southeastern edge of the Gran Seco, but they had no knowledge of what was happening in this wild corner of their own province. For the countryside was at their back and Luis’s agents controlled all the communications with the capital. They had spent a feverish week over the coming concentration, and to Charcillo at all hours of the day and night had come Luis’s lieutenants to consult. Some of them were young men whom Janet had met at the Polo Club or danced with in Olifa; many were officers of the Olifa reserve; some were grizzled haciendados from the skirts of the hills or rich industrials from Alcorta and Cardanio.⁠ ⁠… There was old Martinez and his five sons, who owned hundreds of miles of ranching ground on the skirts of the mountains.⁠ ⁠… And Ramirez and his clan, who were the fruit kings of Olifa.⁠ ⁠… And the Zarranigas from Pecos, whose ancestors had come to the country with Pizarro.⁠ ⁠… And young Miguel de Campanillo, whose kin had ridden with Toledo and whose family had given a later Olifa three presidents.⁠ ⁠… She did not quite understand them. These men were prosperous; they had no grievance against the Gran Seco; they were not of the rootless revolutionary type. Why should they want to join in this quarrel? But the chief marvel was Don Alejandro Gedd. The little man had become a crusader. Why? His patriotism in the past had chiefly shown itself in dislike of all things American. He had disliked Castor, too, and now he was his willing henchman. + 

There was a big map indoors, on which with coloured pins the strength of the opposing sides was shown. Olifa had three battalions in the city, in camp in the Plaza de Toros, and she had a skeleton division at Pecos, and a battalion at Santa Ana. There were detachments at Alcorta and Cardanio, and on the latter place was based the small Olifa navy. These points were marked with green pins, but it was to be noted that sometimes close up to them was stuck a red pin. That meant that in such places there was a strong anti-Government element in the regulars. The red pins were widely scattered, but there were certain spots marked with black rings, which were the centres for concentration. One was on the railway south of Santa Ana, another at the junction southeast of Olifa, whence ran the line to Alcorta. But the chief was at the railhead west of Veiro. To the north the Gran Seco was unmarked. No news had come of how Peters and Escrick were faring in their intensive guerrilla campaign. + 

The thing fascinated the girl. She seemed to be herself a player in a drama which was nearing its last act. Of the ultimate purpose she scarcely thought. Victory was to her a concrete thing, a single culminating moment, beyond which her mind would not speculate. + 

Her one anxiety was Sandy. He had lost the briskness and the audacity with which he had begun the campaign. Perhaps he was tired; he must be, for he had worn himself to a shadow in the Gran Seco. A man has only a certain stock of vital energy, and he had squandered his lavishly.⁠ ⁠… But there was more in it than that, she thought. Sandy was a born adventurer, who must always be imperilling himself, working on the extreme edge of hazard, playing for an outside chance. But now the war was almost regularised. It was a revolution of the familiar type, where the rank and file took the risks. Sandy hated bloodshed. For war he had no use unless it was war on his special plan, an audacious assault upon the enemy’s nerves. The other kind, the usual kind, he would only accept if it were in defence of his own country, and Olifa was not his fatherland. + 

Janet said as much to Castor, who had joined her where she sat on a low white wall, plucking at the long blooms of the tamarisks. He looked like a fighting admiral, who had strayed by accident into khaki. + 

He nodded his agreement. + 

“That is Lord Clanroyden’s trouble. He is born out of due season. He does not quite like a game where the chances are not hopelessly against him. Now that the odds have been shortened he is uncomfortable. But let him console himself. We have still a long way to travel. General Lossberg and I are in the position of each facing his own capital, like the French and Germans before Sedan. That is not comfortable for him, but it is not altogether comfortable for us. We have to keep him shut up in the Gran Seco, for if his army got out it would destroy us in a week. Also we have to persuade the Olifa Government that it will be well to make peace, and that may not be easy. Let the señor be at ease. It is still a war not of brute force but of morale.” + 

“I think you are happy,” she said. + 

“I am happy because I have found something. I have found friends, and I have found a better philosophy. Also I have found what I never had before, a country. I am discovering the rudiments of life.” + 

“You are ten years younger.” + 

He laughed. “And yet I am destroying all the things I have given my life to make. I have jettisoned my old ambition. I hoped to be a Napoleon to change the shape of the world. Fool that I was! I should only have begun to yawn after it was done, and then somebody would have shot me. Now I am quite content if I can help to make an inconsiderable Latin republic a more wholesome State⁠—and if I can prove myself not unworthy of my friends.” + 

“That is the truth,” she said. “This is not Sandy’s country.⁠ ⁠… You have changed places, I think. You have come down into the homely world, and Sandy is beginning to wander in the cold uplands of his finical conscience. It is a side of him you have never seen, but I have. Unless he is tied to duties which need every atom of his powers, he will begin to torment himself with questions.” + 

“That is perhaps the explanation of the adventurer,” was his reply. “He is happiest when he need not stop to think. For myself, I have thought too much about large matters, and I now think only of little things, like Olifa.” + 

That night Luis returned, bringing with him Miguel de Campanillo, Don Alejandro, and one of the young Zarranigas. At supper, which was eaten on tables in the veranda under a grape trellis, for the night was warm, there was the equivalent of a Council of War. It was the eve of raising the standard. The troops at Pecos had been elaborately tampered with, and at a signal the majority which favoured the revolution would occupy the barracks and the depot, much as the Mines Police had done in the Gran Seco. But before that it was necessary to make certain that Lossberg would be detained beyond the mountains, and for this purpose Santa Ana must be occupied. This task was entrusted to Blenkiron, who with two thousand mounted troops was to move next morning. Once his job was completed, he was to join hands with the Campanillos at Pecos, who hoped to add their local levies to the regulars who would by that time have seized the place. The railway beyond Santa Ana was to be destroyed and the telegraph wires cut. Lossberg’s blockhouses did not come within eighty miles of Santa Ana, not farther south than the frontier station of Gabones, but, in case he attempted to break through, the narrow pass south of Gabones was to be held in strength, and the road which accompanied the railway was to be comprehensively mined. Meantime the concentrations at Veiro and Alcorta Junction were to be completed, and the dockyard at Cardanio was to be taken. + 

The talk at first was all of numbers and distances. Castor, who carried a multitude of figures in his head, satisfied himself that nothing had been omitted, and he was answered by Luis from a file of messages. Then, as the stars pricked out, and the wind from the hills began to temper the heat, the company relaxed. Soon the air was blue with cigarette smoke, and some, cramped by a long day in motorcars on bad roads, strolled into the courtyard, where the scent of flowers from the great painted wine-vats was mingled with sharper smells of baked earth and miles of grasses. Presently Sandy went off with Blenkiron and Castor to verify some figures. Barbara and Archie walked with the young Zarraniga, and Janet found herself in a party of four with Campanillo, Luis, and Don Alejandro. + 

There was something in the tropic night which went to her head. Though she had no prospect beyond the courtyard shimmering under the stars, she seemed to be looking from a watchtower over an immense country⁠—steaming coast marshes, baked white cities, miles of waving green, cliffs red as blood falling into an angry blue sea, mountains that stretched cold fingers to the very courts of heaven. For months she had been breathing that air which only belongs to lands which man has not yet mastered, and its sharpness and strangeness had entered her blood. She was in love with space. For a moment she was a patriot of this huge child of a raw and half-made continent. + 

“Don Alejandro,” she said, “do you remember the first night when we dined with you in the Olifa hotel? You told us about Olifa, how she had no problems⁠—no discontents⁠—because she was rich and secure. But you said that she had bartered her pride for prosperity.” + 

Don Alejandro laughed. “True,” he said. “I also said that she had no soul, but in saying that I lied. Olifa has always had a soul, but it has been sleeping. Now it looks as if Luis had awakened it.” + 

“What puzzles me is why?” Janet said again. “You had no grievances⁠—I mean the ordinary people. They had an orderly Government and light taxes and no conscription, and the reason was the golden eggs from the Gran Seco. What has made the ordinary Olifero angry with the golden goose?” + 

“He is not angry.” It was Luis who answered. “He does not trouble. The ordinary man everywhere in the world only wishes to be left alone. Revolutions are not made by the many but by the few. Yet there are enough of the discontented, I think, to do our business.” + 

“But why the discontent?” + 

“Because we have remembered our pride. We of the old houses have not been happy in a State which was no better than a big trading firm⁠—with foreign brains to do the work which the Olifero should do himself.” + 

“What work?” + 

“Governing us and defending us. Our army is mainly a force of skilled mercenaries. And our Government⁠—well, the voice of the ministers was the voice of Olifa, but the wires which made them speak and act were pulled by the Commander-in-Chief, who is now having a final talk about Santa Ana with Lord Clanroyden and Señor Blenkiron. We have still an old-fashioned prejudice in favour of governing ourselves.” + 

“How long have you been organising this discontent?” + 

“How long, Sandro?” Luis asked Gedd. “About three years come Christmas. The thing went fast, for the spirit was there waiting for it. Prosperity is not enough for us Oliferos. Our pride was outraged by our stout bourgeois ministers, who took their orders so obediently from another.⁠ ⁠… But we organised in the dark, blindly, for we knew that we needed some notable piece of good fortune to succeed. Then we found the Yanqui Wilbur, and through him Señor Blenkiron. And at the end came Lord Clanroyden. It is a simple tale of the mercies of God. Let us hope that these mercies are not exhausted.” + 

“But if Olifa was under the thumb of Mr. Castor, won’t it be the same even if we win? He is our commander, isn’t he? Can you have a nationalist revolution led to victory by the man whose domination of your country stirred up your nationalism? You have made your chief opponent your leader⁠—a foreigner too, a man with no country.” + 

“Not so. He is one of us.” + 

“But he is an Austrian.” + 

“On his father’s side he is Austrian. But his grandmother was a Campanillo, a great-great-aunt of friend Miguel here.” + 

“Does he know that? Does Sandy know it?” The girl was open-mouthed in amazement. + 

“He has always known it. I myself have known it this past year, and the fact was the basis of our plans.⁠ ⁠… It is a long story, Lady Roylance, too long to tell at this hour of the night. As you justly say, he had no country. That is a fashionable folly among certain clever people in Europe. Today he has found one.⁠ ⁠… That was one reason why Lord Clanroyden and I planned to carry him off and maroon him up in the Patios de la Mañana⁠—that he might find his country. There is no loosing the chains of blood. Once he got the bittersweet smell of our land into his nostrils and the clean air of our hills into his lungs, we believed that the cobwebs would fall from his eyes and very old ancestral things come to life. That has happened, I think.⁠ ⁠… More than that, of course. Between us⁠—you, perhaps, especially⁠—we have made him a human being. He will dream different dreams now, more wholesome dreams.” + 

“What will you do with him? Can you fit him in⁠—anything as big as he is?” + 

“We will of course make him our President,” Don Alejandro interposed. “He is our great man, our show figure. We look to his brains to give us good government and to keep us prosperous.” + 

“But can you harness him?” Janet persisted. “Can you turn Niagara into a useful stream which will irrigate gardens?” + 

“He will harness himself,” said Luis, “for he is wise.” + 

“And yet,” she urged, “for years he has been hugging ambitions vast enough to set half the globe on fire⁠—not silly whims, but closely-reasoned ambitions worked out to decimal fractions. He hated America⁠—that was why Mr. Blenkiron first decided to fight him. From what I remember of your table-talk, Don Alejandro, you also had no great love for America. Didn’t you say that you regarded her patronage as an insult to your country? Why should you wish to put a spoke in the wheel of a man who has the same prejudice?” + 

“Because I am not a fool.” Don Alejandro spoke with a brusqueness remarkable in one so suave. “Because I will not have Olifa made a pawn in a crazy game which means ruin. I do not love Yanquis, apart from Miss Dasent and Wilbur and Blenkiron and perhaps three others. But I want my country to be a rival to the United States in power and quality⁠—not to be a blind mouse along with other blind mice in the hands of déraciné genius.” + 

Luis laughed. “You have stirred up the gentle Sandro, Lady Roylance, by touching his sorest spot. I do not think you quite understand the meaning of Spanish blood. You ought to, for the British are nearest to us of any race. We are realists, you know, very calculating and prosaic and close to the earth. But we must have our glamour too, our touch of poetry. We make good monarchists⁠—and good republicans, if we can hit on the right president. Castor will suit us admirably, for he will give us poetry, which the dingy camarilla now in Olifa never did. He will have ideas and imagination and colour, and the air of magnificence. With him we will advance so fast that we shall astonish mankind. But his brilliance will not be dangerous, for all around him will be Spaniards, we Oliferos, very appreciative of poetry, but quite resolved to keep our feet on the ground. Like your Scotch, who will quote the poets and weep over them, and the next moment make hard bargains.” + 

A lamp had been put on the table by a servant, and round it white moths were fluttering. As Janet looked at the faces revealed in its light, she received a sudden clear impression of something she had not met before⁠—an ardour which was not ashamed to reveal itself because it was in turn based on a revelation. Don Alejandro with his neat small features and high cheekbones⁠—Luis, fair, golden-brown of skin, with his glowing eyes⁠—the young Zarraniga with his slender eyebrows and grave, rather sullen mouth⁠—there was something innocently apostolic about them. They were in the grip of an idea. Their patriotism was an adventure, for their country was still to be made. + 

She smiled at the boy Miguel, and he smiled back at her. She had seen the same look, as a child, in the faces of young men starting for Flanders. Here was one to whom new horizons had suddenly appeared. Luis read her thoughts. + 

“We are going to make a country which will offer careers for youth,” he said. “Our young men will no longer have to leave Olifa, or, if they stay at home, stagnate on their estates. Their future will be their country’s future, for they will govern it, and thereby we shall have an advantage over that great people whom Sandro so much dislikes. We shall invent a new civilisation in this continent, which will be a bridge between the old world and the new.” + 

Sandy’s face suddenly appeared in the circle of light, and behind him Blenkiron and Castor. There was a hush, inevitable when serious talk is suddenly overheard. Blenkiron’s jolly laugh broke it. + 

“Looks as if you folk had been picking on my poor little country,” he said. + 

“No, indeed we haven’t,” said Janet. “We have only been deciding that Olifa is going to be neither a satellite nor an enemy of America, but an honourable rival.” + 

“That’s fine! They’ll be mighty glad to hear it in Washington.” + 

Archie and Barbara and the young Zarraniga presently joined them, and the group reassorted itself. Janet sat very still, her eyes on two faces, Castor’s and Sandy’s. In the first she saw what she had not observed before, a certain kinship to the men with whom she had been talking. It was a subtle resemblance, a thing not of feature or manner, but of a look in the eyes, a tone in the voice. Castor belonged here after all. He could be captured by a dream.⁠ ⁠… She had once said that he had a short-range imagination, and it was true. He was the ready slave of an idea.⁠ ⁠… And he was young. He had never been anything else but young. She looked at Sandy, and suddenly felt that they were old⁠—he and she and Archie and Blenkiron⁠—even Barbara. They could not be happily rapt into a dream, because they dragged too great a weight of tradition behind them. They were children of an ancient world, and could not break from it.⁠ ⁠… She no longer felt herself a sharer in their enterprise, but a benevolent stranger.⁠ ⁠… And Sandy? The burden had left his shoulders and he looked a little bewildered. Perhaps a little homesick? These others had found a country. Might it not be that he was longing for his own? + 

She lay awake for some time after she went to bed, puzzling over this new direction of her thoughts. Might not something great come out of this venture, something of high moment for the world? And then she thought of a look she had caught on Barbara’s face, and she fell asleep with her mind on a fresh trail.⁠ ⁠… She was awakened at three o’clock by the sound of departing motorcars. That would be Blenkiron on his way to Santa Ana. Her friends might have no spiritual share in the fervours of the rebellion, but they had a very practical part to play in it. + 

III + 

The succeeding days were full of bustle and excitement, for the train had been lit and the explosions were beginning. The road and railway to the Gran Seco were destroyed by Blenkiron with the completeness of a great engineer. The revolt of the troops at Pecos went like clockwork. Also the naval base at Cardanio was easily surprised, and the Olifa navy, except for two destroyers in Olifa harbour and a few patrol boats along the coast, was quietly put out of action. + 

But on the first news of success there followed less comforting messages. The concentration at Veiro was going slowly. The ordinary Olifero was nervous, and hesitated to declare himself till he was certain which was the winning side. At Alcorta, too, the industrial centre, there was a danger of Communist trouble, which would immobilise forces which should have been marching north. + 

“Whoever said ‘Il n’y a que le premier pas qui coûte,’ ” Sandy told Janet, “was a fool. It is blindingly untrue of revolutions. The first step is easy. You can always start with a bang. It’s the second step that is the devil. We haven’t succeeded, or anything like it, for the country hasn’t risen, and it isn’t certain by a long chalk whether it is on our side. It is waiting to see how the cat jumps. We’ve got my Gran Seco troops, and about four thousand of the regulars. Add Luis’s recruits and we may have a total of twelve thousand. Also we’ve temporarily bottled up Lossberg. But the Government has far more than three battalions in the city, as we believed. They’ve the better part of a division, and they’ve the pick of the artillery. Old Bianca is no fool, and they’re fortifying like blazes. We haven’t yet the strength for a coup, and it’s a question whether we’ll ever get it. It’s all a question of morale. Unless we can bluff the Government into a surrender by cracking their morale, we can’t force them.⁠ ⁠… Oh yes, once they surrendered it would be smooth going. The cat would have jumped and the whole country would be behind us. But you can’t run a revolution, as Luis thinks you can, on a handful of grandees.” + 

“What is the worst that could happen?” Janet asked anxiously. + 

“That Lossberg should break out. That would blow us sky-high. He would stiffen the Government, and put the fear of death on the Oliferos. They’re not going to stand up against the first-class regular army they have bought and paid for. Down on these plains Lossberg would drive us like sheep, and we should all go to heaven in a whirl of aimless glory.⁠ ⁠… Janet, I’m sick with anxiety. I’ve brought you and Archie into this mess, and it’s the kind of mess I don’t understand.” + 

He looked far more haggard than she had ever seen him in the Gran Seco. + 

“You’re tired to death,” she said, and knew that she was talking nonsense. + 

“I’m not tired,” he replied wearily, “but I’m out of my element. I hate war, except my own sort, and any moment this may become the hopeless ordinary kind that I detest and am no good at.⁠ ⁠… You see, this isn’t my country, and it isn’t yours or Archie’s. We can’t feel about it like Luis and the others. I’ve done what I set out to do, and spiked Castor’s guns. But the curse of life is that you can’t stop short when you want, and I seem to have landed you all into the fire out of the frying-pan.⁠ ⁠… The worst of it is, I can do nothing. There’s no job for me here. El Obro is dead and buried, and I’m only a foreign filibuster mixed up in a show for which he has no heart.” + 

Yet he seemed busy enough. He was splitting up his command, and had already parted with most of the white mounted troops. Only his Indians remained, under their white officers; it had always been decided to reserve them to the last, because of their effect on the nerves of the Olifa population. Of them he had now a little over a thousand. + 

They were paraded one evening, tall, lean men on little wiry horses, who by now had almost the discipline of cavalry and were also trained marksmen. Janet and Barbara stood beside Sandy, as he watched them pass in the dusty sunlight. + 

“A fine lot,” he said. “These fellows have something to fight for. Thank God, they’ll never go back to the old slavery. If the worst happens, there’ll be a new breed of bandit in the hills.” + 

Behind them appeared Bobby Latimer. The aeroplanes had been left in the Gran Seco, all but one flight, which kept Charcillo in touch with Luis and Blenkiron. Bobby himself made long private patrols mostly in the direction of the city. That day, however, he had shaped his course for the north. + 

As he saluted, Janet saw that his face was solemn. + 

“There’s hell loose in the passes, sir,” he said. “I have been up the road we came from the Gran Seco, and somebody’s put Lossberg wise to it. There’s a good-sized army on its way down⁠—ten troops of horse, and about four thousand infantry, and an unholy lot of light batteries. They were in the Thunderer Valley three hours ago, and should make the place we called the Tennis Court before dark. Tomorrow evening they’ll be on the Vulpas.” + 

A slow smile spread over Sandy’s face. + 

“I spoke too soon,” he said to Janet, “when I complained that I had nothing to do. I’m about to be the busiest man in this continent. Bobby, when you’ve fed and washed, you go off to Don Luis. I’ll have a message written out for you. Janet, dear, run and tell Rogerson to be in my room in half an hour. I’ll wait and have a word with Ackroyd.” + 

“It’s pretty serious, isn’t it, sir?” Latimer asked. + 

“It’s so serious that if that column shows its nose on the Vulpas we may chuck up the sponge. But thank God, it’s still in the narrows. I’ve got a thousand men⁠—three times what old Leonidas had⁠—and I’m going to try the Thermopylae stunt.” + 

He found his arm clutched by Barbara. + 

“Is it worth it?” she cried, and even in his absorption he noticed that her face had gone very pale. “Is it worth it?” she repeated. “We can’t spare you.⁠ ⁠… Nobody came back from Thermopylae.” + 

Her eyes sobered him. He even flushed slightly. + 

“I’m coming back all right, Miss Dasent, and so are my men. I might be spared, but we couldn’t do without them. We’re not brave like the Spartans. Our Thermopylae is going to be a more cunning affair than the old one.” + 

IV + 

Half an hour later Blenkiron arrived by aeroplane. He had not been expected, and when he walked into the room where Sandy was giving his final instructions to Rogerson he was greeted with a shout of joy. + 

“Thank God!” Sandy cried. “You’re the one man in the whole world I wanted. What providence has brought you here?” + 

“Why, I wanted to get some notion of the general proposition.” His goggles had preserved his eyes from the fine dust which coated his face, so that he looked like a red owl with great staring eye-holes. “We’ve gotten our show pretty well advanced, and I could turn it over to Melville with an easy mind. There’ll be no traffic south of Gabones for quite a while.” + 

“You’ve closed that port?” Sandy demanded. + 

“Sure. Closed it and sealed it and put a heap of stones at the door. Things are going nicely at Pecos too. But I’ve heard nothing from the south, and I kind of hoped to be put wise about the general proposition⁠—” + 

“Never mind the general proposition. There’s a special one we’ve got to face. Lossberg is half through the passes.” + 

“You don’t say.” Blenkiron’s face ceased to be that of an owl, and contracted into something hard and vigilant. “Who brought word?” + 

“Bobby Latimer⁠—less than an hour ago.” + 

“Good boy! Say, this is getting central. We’ve certainly got to push him back.” + 

“We certainly have. Do you realise that as yet we’re nowhere near winning? Everything is still on a knife-edge. The country is waiting to see what happens before it makes up its mind⁠—I mean the great bulk of the people, for Luis’s lads are only a sprinkling. We’ve got to bluff the Government into surrender, and we haven’t the foggiest chance if Lossberg shows his face in Olifa. If the passes are opened, we’re absolutely done in. Have you got that?” + 

“Sure.” + 

“Then in one hour’s time we start out to stop that bolt-hole. You and I and a few others. Thank the Lord you’ve turned up, for this is more your kind of show than mine.” + 

Blenkiron groaned, but his eyes were cheerful. “There’s no rest for the weary, but it’s mighty good for my figure. I’ve dropped thirty pounds since I went to the wars. Have you a map handy? I’d like to refresh my memory about that patch of country.” + 

“We made a rough drawing coming down, and here’s the result.” Sandy spread out a big sheet on his desk. “The distances are more or less correct.⁠ ⁠… See, here’s Charcillo. It’s about ten miles to the main stream of the Vulpas, and about twenty more to its head. Then there’s the pass⁠—four more till you look into the Thunderer.” + 

Blenkiron put on his horn spectacles and with a grubby forefinger traced the route from the Gran Seco, by which they had come and by which their enemy was now following. From Pacheco the trail ran to the valley under the hills which the Indians called the river of the Blue Wolf. It did not turn up the tributary water of the Catalpas, by which Janet and Archie had escaped, but continued up the main stream, which presently bent due eastward. When the valley narrowed to a glen the road turned south and crossed the southern containing wall to the upper waters of an eastward-flowing river which the Indians called the Thunderer. Hitherto the road had been intricate and steep, but passable for men and animals and even for light motors, since it was reasonably broad and its floor was the shaly mountain gravel. But the glen of the Thunderer was ancient chaos, strewn with immense boulders and the debris of old landslides, and in the middle was a torrent which amply earned its Indian name. Yet there was a road for those who knew it, and the stream could be forded at one place, where it spread into a broad shallow pool on a shelf of rock before hurling itself into its customary abyss. That ford was six miles down from the pass which led from the Blue Wolf, and after it the road climbed among the cliffs and screes of the southern containing wall, till it reached a broad flat mantelpiece which could have accommodated an army corps. This was the place to which Luis had given the name of the Tennis Court, and it was the key of the route. For from it a track led upward, a track which seemed to be driving aimlessly at a sheer precipice. But after running for a little southward in the moraine below the rocks, it turned a corner, and a cleft was revealed above it, a narrow saddle between two great fingers of mountain. The elevation was too low for ice, but the couloir, white with alkali, had the look of a long tongue of glacier running up to a snow saddle.⁠ ⁠… The saddle itself was a fearsome place, for above the pad of gravel the cliffs beetled in a dreadful overhang. Rockfalls were frequent, and on the journey down Luis had insisted on the troops making the passage in small detachments, very slowly, and in complete silence.⁠ ⁠… Beyond, the track corkscrewed down a long ravine until it reached the flowers and grass of the upper Vulpas. + 

Sandy put his finger on the Tennis Court. + 

“Bobby says they will be there this evening late, and they must camp. They will probably send on pickets to the Vulpas pass,⁠ ⁠… but they won’t move till dawn, and the main body won’t be in the pass till well on in the forenoon. I don’t think they can be allowed to come so far. I’ve selected the Tennis Court as the ne plus ultra. What do you think?” + 

Blenkiron had screwed his forehead into a thousand wrinkles as he pored over the map. He now took off his spectacles. + 

“I guess they’d better stay there,” he said blandly. “I get your notion.” + 

“You see, when Providence made this country, He put it rather loosely together. We ought to be able to shake its bones a bit, and you understand that sort of thing better than I do.” + 

“Maybe. How many men will you take?” + 

“I’ll take Corbett⁠—he knows the game. He was with Dick Hannay in Rhodesia. And I’ll take a hundred troopers. Castor any moment may want every fighting man he can lay his hands on, and you don’t need many in my kind of war. Only enough to put up a fight with Lossberg’s pickets, if he has had the forethought to post them in the pass.⁠ ⁠… Now for food. We must be in the saddle by eight-thirty.” + 

An hour later in the big paddock behind the corrals Sandy reviewed his men. Except for white troop-sergeants, they were all Indian, selected men of the foothills rather than of the Tierra Caliente. He spoke to them in their own tongue. “On the work of this night,” he said, “the freedom of your people depends. The enemy is in the passes, but he will not leave them. We will move the mountains so as to close the way. But first it is necessary to get there. When the moon rises, we must be where the Vulpas is only a little stream. I trust you as I would trust my brother by blood.” + 

Janet watched them go, but Barbara did not appear. As they swung out to the open downs, it might have been observed that certain of the horsemen had their saddles encumbered with mysterious packages. + 

The first part of the road was across open downs of which the starlight showed the contours but not the colours. One dark, opaque, velvet ridge succeeded another⁠—a monotint world, though the sky above was so crowded with stars that part of it was like a phosphorescent belt, wherein there was more light than darkness. The going was good, for at this season of the year the coarse herbage of the savannah was short, and there were great spaces of grainy sand dotted with scrub scarcely taller than the grasses. It was like Sussex downland, since in most of the hollows there were no streams. Water was only crossed twice, till the troops found themselves on a long decline, and saw far below them the stars reflected in the pools of a river. + 

The Vulpas valley, before it runs out into the coastal plain, is some five miles broad and defined only by shallow ridges. But as the traveller goes eastward he finds that it narrows and deepens, until it makes a sharp-cut gulf among the foothills. The expedition struck the valley where it was on the edge of becoming a mountain-glen. Most of it was Luis’s own land, and the only dwellers in it his vaqueros, but they were lower down, and in all its topmost course the stream flowed through lonely upland pastures, which would be heavily stocked later when the midsummer drought had parched the lower lands. + 

The scent of the place, drawn out by night, came to Sandy as a thing familiar. It was the scent of uplands all the world over, upspringing greenery and water and clean stone and shallow soil. The moon had not risen when they reached the meadows by the stream side, and rode eastward along a series of grassy steps, with the Vulpas water talking more loudly with every mile as it approached its mountain cradle. There was no sound, not even a wandering night-wind, except for the river and the beat of hoofs muffled in herbage and the occasional clash of buckle on rifle-butt. Even Blenkiron, short of sleep and rather weary, felt the intoxication of the hour and the place. Sandy beside him seemed to be happy, for just above his breath he was humming a tune. + 

Suddenly a wash of faint colour flooded the glen, a colour which deepened from a pale amber to the tint of ripe corn. The moon was beginning to climb the sky. Also the distances began to reveal themselves; the containing slopes, now the outflankers of the mountains, were clearly seen, and in front there was a dark loom into the mid-heavens. Sandy looked at his watch and nodded cheerfully to Blenkiron. They had made good time, and would be in the narrows of the pass before the moon was fairly up. + 

After another mile he halted his command. On each side the containing walls had drawn in till the valley was not half a mile wide, and the Vulpas had become a brawling torrent. The troops separated into detachments, and a patrol of five led the van at a distance of some hundred yards from the next group. Sandy and Blenkiron were with the second group. The course was now altered, and instead of keeping beside the stream they moved well up on the slopes to the right, which were of short grass and outcrops of rock set at an easy angle. They went more slowly now and more circumspectly, avoiding patches of shingle which might echo the sound of movement. + 

Quickly they climbed till they were in the throat of a ravine, a dark sword-cut where the moon gave only the faintest illumination. Far up its light could be seen golden on the cliffs and ridges, but they themselves rode in an umber dusk. The ravine twined and turned, so that the advance patrol was often completely lost to sight and hearing. + 

The word was passed back for extra care and quiet. “In two miles,” Sandy whispered, “we shall be under the Saddle. There we leave the horses. There is a little amphitheatre where the Vulpas rises, with room enough to picket our beasts.” + 

But at the next angle of the ravine Sandy reined in violently, so that Blenkiron cannoned into him. There was a shuffling and a drawing of breath as the men behind followed suit. Someone was coming towards them.⁠ ⁠… Sandy and Blenkiron lowered their pistols when they saw that it was the advance patrol. The riders forced their horses alongside till their leader could speak into Sandy’s ear. + 

“There are men below the rocks,” he whispered. “Many men⁠—more than we have with us. They are camped beside the water, and they are confident, for they have made fires.” + 

Sandy looked at Blenkiron and laughed. “They have done the right thing,” he said. “Flung an advanced body across the Saddle to guard the descent while the others cross. I should have thought of that.⁠ ⁠… I’ve got into a bad habit of underrating old Lossberg.” + 

He sat for a little whistling softly between his teeth. Then he began to think aloud, resuming between every sentence his low whistling. He seemed to be cheerful. + 

“Can we climb the rocks? That’s the question.⁠ ⁠… If half a dozen of us can get to the Saddle, the trick is done.⁠ ⁠… We should be able to raise a few cragsmen.⁠ ⁠… Corbett would know.⁠ ⁠… Also we must make those beggars hands-up. How many did you say? Half as many again as ourselves.⁠ ⁠… Well, it’s plain we can’t do that job with our present strength.⁠ ⁠… Somebody has got to get back to Charcillo hell-for-leather and bring supports. It’s force majeure we want. No needless heroics and no needless casualties.⁠ ⁠… What do you say, John S.?” + 

“I guess that’s correct. We’d better get our man off right away. If Lossberg has come this far, he’ll aim to have the rest of his push over the Saddle pretty early in the morning.” + 

Sandy tore a leaf from a pocketbook, and, using the cliff face as a desk, wrote a message. Then he folded it and looked round. + 

“Whom shall we send?” he asked Blenkiron. “Corbett would be able to find a man.” + 

“Send me!” A voice spoke at his elbow, and it spoke in English. It could not be Corbett, for he was in charge of the rear, nor was it Corbett’s voice. Sandy found himself staring at a slim figure in a trooper’s kit, riding an animal which he recognised. It was Luis’s favourite mare. + 

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Good God! It can’t be! Barbara⁠—Miss Dasent⁠—” + 

There was not light enough to see the girl’s face. It may have shown confusion and embarrassment, but there was nothing of the sort in her voice. The voice was cool, self-reliant, almost imperious. + 

“I’m glad I came, for now I can be useful. If I go, it will save a fighting man. I know the road⁠—I’m accustomed to know how to get back any road I come⁠—and I’m better mounted than any of you.” She patted her mare’s neck. + 

“You had no business to come. You did very wrong.” Sandy’s voice was hard and angry. “Good God, this is no place for a woman. I don’t like you going back alone, but you’re safer on the road than here.⁠ ⁠… Give this note to Colonel Ackroyd, and after that go straight to bed. You understand, Miss Dasent. These are my orders.” + 

She took the note and sidled her mare round in the narrow space below the cliff. + 

“Send Corbett along as you pass,” he added. “I needn’t tell you that the business is urgent.” + 

“You needn’t,” she said, and disappeared round the corner of rock. + 

The two men stared after her till the sound of her going was lost in the forward movement of the next detachment. + 

“I’d like to know,” said Blenkiron reflectively, “just why Babs has gotten the bit in her teeth?” + 

“Can she do it? I mean, is it safe for her?” The tenseness in Sandy’s voice was anxiety, not irritation. + 

“You bet she’ll do it, and I don’t worry about risks as long as she’s on a horse. You can’t puzzle her there.” + 

Two hours later six men were perched high up among the rocks on the right side (what mountaineers would call the “true left”) of the couloir which led from the springs of Vulpas to the Saddle. Five of them were Indians, hunters from the Blue Wolf valley, and the sixth was Sandy. It had been a precarious and intricate journey. First they had made their way up the cliffs from the point where the advance troop had halted. This had been easy enough, for the angle was not too steep and there was plenty of scrub. But even there they had been dismayed by the rottenness of the rock. Boulders would come loose in their hands, and be left delicately poised to descend in the first gale. + 

When the right elevation had been attained, the next step was to traverse the side of the amphitheatre where Lossberg’s van was encamped. Here it was necessary to proceed with extreme caution. Happily that part of the ravine was in shadow, and no eyes from below could detect them, but it was essential that there should be no slipping or sending down of stones, lest the enemy should become alarmed and patrol the track that led to the Saddle. It was horribly difficult to move with speed and softness, and often it seemed impossible to move at all. For the whole hillside was loose, a gigantic scree with boulders instead of gravel, and each man of the six, beside his rifle, was encumbered with explosives. There were scaurs of crumbling earth, where the whole mountain seemed to shift at their tread. These were passed an inch at a time, holding hands, and in one place the last man swung into the void, while his foothold, with a sound like a great sigh, sunk into the depth beneath him. There were masses of friable rock, which had to be crossed with the body splayed out like a swimmer’s. There was one point where, to circumvent the cliff, it became necessary to ascend a rotten chimney, and then traverse a ledge which looked like giving way any moment and precipitating the company on to the bivouac below. Sandy, to his disgust, found that he was the least efficient of the six. The Indians with their soft leather footgear had a certitude far beyond his, and more than once he had to depend on their aid. All the time the bivouac lights were plain eight hundred feet beneath them, and in the still night every sound of the camp rose as sharp and clear as if it were at their elbow. + 

But at last the circuit was finished, and the climbers stopped to rest in an eyrie well in the jaws of the ravine itself. There the rock was firmer, and they were able without much difficulty to traverse till they reached the track to the Saddle, a few hundred feet above the camp. Sandy’s plan was to wait in the Saddle and lay his train of explosives, but not to fire the fuse till the signal had been given by Blenkiron that the reserves had arrived from Charcillo. This was to be two rifle shots in rapid succession, followed by a third at an interval of thirty seconds. The rockfall which he would engineer in the Saddle would bar escape in that direction. Blenkiron would hold the road down the Vulpas, and Lossberg’s van would be summoned to surrender at the first light. He had also arranged that detachments of Indians should climb the rocks on both sides of the amphitheatre, so as to give point to Blenkiron’s arguments. Now that he had made the traverse and had got between the enemy and the Saddle, the success of the enterprise seemed assured. There must be no mistake about the length of the time fuses. He and his men must be out of the couloir and round the angle of the mountain before the explosion started, for the couloir would be like the bore of a gun for the ammunition of the falling rocks. His cheerfulness was a little clouded by anxiety. He wished Blenkiron rather than himself had the job, for he was not an expert in explosives, but it would have been impossible to get Blenkiron’s massive body across that treacherous hillside. + 

The couloir was very dark. The walls rose precipitately to frame a narrow ribbon of moonlit sky. Far in front this ribbon descended to a V-shaped gap, which was the Saddle. All six moved with the utmost deliberation and care up the shaly track. There was no need to preach caution to the Indians. It was not the enemy beneath that made them step as lightly as dancers; there was in their blood the fear of the hair-trigger, unstable rocks. Besides, there was no hurry. It would be two hours⁠—perhaps three⁠—before Blenkiron could give the signal. Already the day’s heat had gone from the air, and the chill of night was spreading from the far snowfields. It would be very cold waiting in the Saddle. + 

They were within two hundred yards of the top, when Sandy found his arm gripped. The Indian behind him had halted, poised like a runner, and had raised his head to listen. + 

“There are men in the pass,” he whispered. + 

Sandy strained his ears but could catch nothing. He shook his head, but the Indian nodded violently. “Men,” he repeated. “White men!” + 

The thing seemed to Sandy incredible. Lossberg was cautious, no doubt, but he would not picket the Saddle, as well as send an advance guard beyond the pass, when he had the bulk of his forces still at the Tennis Court. Could the whole army be advancing by night? Impossible. In another hour the moon would be down, and this was no road for a night march, with horses and batteries. + 

His reflections may have made him careless, for he stumbled, and in his fall clutched at a boulder. It gave, rolled out of its gravel bed, and plunged down the track. The others stepped aside to avoid it, and for a second there was a general slipping and clattering to break the stillness. + 

Suddenly the place was flooded with a blinding glare, which lit up every pebble and crinkle of rock. And then, almost in the same moment it seemed, there came a blast of machine-gun bullets fired a little too low. Sandy saw the white shale in front of him leap into living dust-devils. + 

He signalled his men to the cover of the right-hand rock, where there was a slight overhang. Again came a burst of machine-gun fire, and the searchlight maintained its unwinking stare. + 

Sandy thought hard and fast. There was a machine-gun post on the Saddle⁠—a bold step considering its precarious environs. That post could not be large, probably not more than his own number. Before he could do his business and close the bolt-hole, that post must be destroyed. They must wait till the alarm had passed and then creep forward, trusting to the chance of surprise. Had they been seen? He hardly thought so, for at the first blink of the searchlight they had been on their faces. Probably it was only the nervousness of men perched by night in an eerie post. + 

But the nervousness did not seem to abate. There was no more shooting, but the glare continued for nearly an hour, while the six lay flat under the overhang, very cramped and cold. Sandy waited till the darkness had lasted for twenty minutes. They were not more than two hundred yards from the Saddle, and the intervening distance could surely be traversed so silently that it would be possible to rush the garrison. + 

But the last part of the couloir was the hardest, for it ceased to be a moraine of sand and boulders and came out on the loose and naked ribs of the hills. Keeping as far as possible in the shelter of the embracing walls, moving one at a time in line and flat on their faces like a stalker approaching a stag, they found it impossible to avoid making a noise, which to their ears echoed alarmingly in that funnel. Sandy was the chief offender. His belt seemed to catch on every jag, and his boots gritted harshly whenever they touched stone. + 

Again the searchlight leapt out.⁠ ⁠… There could be no question this time. They were seen. As they wriggled for the tiniest cover, a blast of machine-gun bullets swept by, this time over their heads. + 

“We’ll have to rush ’em,” Sandy whispered hoarsely. He saw all his plans frustrated, and nothing left but a desperate venture.⁠ ⁠… + 

And then to his amazement, he found himself dragged to his feet by two of the Indians and whirled into a violent rush. But it was not towards the enemy. “The mountains fall,” he heard in the throaty Indian speech, and the next instant he was leaping down the couloir. + 

Of what happened next he had only a dim recollection. A roar like the Day of Judgment was in his ears. “Those damned machine guns,” he remembered repeating to himself. “They’ve brought the rocks down.⁠ ⁠…” Then from behind came a blast of wind which swept them off their feet. He seemed to drop for yards, and as he dropped he felt half the world rush past him. An eddy of wind seemed to plaster him against the rock wall.⁠ ⁠… He found himself on soft earth clutching an Indian by the hair.⁠ ⁠… A hand dragged him into a coign of rock and pressed him flat, while salvos of great shells seemed to be bursting all about him.⁠ ⁠… He must have lost part of his senses, for he was conscious of shouting the name of his platoon sergeant at Loos, and also babbling childishly “Those damned machine guns.”⁠ ⁠… There seemed to be a perpetual rain of avalanches and in one of them he was half buried. He remembered the feeling of suffocation, and then of free air, which he could scarcely breathe because of spasms of nausea.⁠ ⁠… And then darkness came down on him, and he knew nothing till he woke on a shelf of rock far to the left of the couloir, with the early dawn bright around him. + 

He was a mass of bruises, and had a cut on his brow from which the blood trickled into his eyes, but he could find no broken bones. There were three Indians beside him, one with a smashed wrist and all intricately scarred and battered. When he asked about the other two, a hand was pointed downwards to where at the foot of the couloir a vast drift of rock and earth curled upwards like a sea-wave. It spread far into the little amphitheatre, and hid the springs of Vulpas. There was no sign of human life in the place. + 

Sandy’s head was still too dazed to permit of thought. All he knew was that he was alive and very weary. He dropped back, and one of the Indians made a rest for him with the crook of his arm. + 

But presently his supporter moved. Sandy, hovering between sleep and waking, heard dimly a shouting which his companion answered. Then he felt himself being coaxed to rise. There were men below who were urging him to come down. He had never had vertigo in his life, but at the thought of descent his whole being revolted. A horror of space had come over him, and he knew that if he moved a step he would fall. + 

In the end he descended like a piece of baggage in the arms of Corbett and a squad of Indians. He looked up at the couloir, which at the top beetled in a new cliff. It would take a brigade laden with explosives a month to blast their way through that curtain of rock. At the sight his nausea returned. “Take me out of this hellish place,” he groaned. + 

They carried him down the track, past the spot where the night before he had begun his escalade of the cliffs. The next thing he knew was that he was in a more open glen among grass, and that Blenkiron had him in his arms. There was a fire burning and Blenkiron, when he had laid him down, put a cup to his lips. “Black coffee and brandy,” he said. “That’s the dope for you. I’ve been singing hallelujahs ever since I got word you were safe. I oughtn’t to have trusted you with that much lentonite. You must have been mighty rash in touching it off.” + 

“I never used it.” Sandy struggled against his weakness and his voice came with a croak. “There was a post on the Saddle with machine guns. They spotted us and loosed off.⁠ ⁠… We crawled nearer and were going to rush them when they loosed off again.⁠ ⁠… That last burst did the trick and brought down the mountain.” + 

“Great Mike! And you?” + 

“I came down with the mountain. God knows how I got off with my life. Those Indians⁠ ⁠… gallant fellows⁠ ⁠… two of them gone⁠ ⁠… I’ll tell you more later.” + 

But presently the hot drink seemed to put life into him, and he sat up. “What happened here? Did Ackroyd get my message?” + 

“Sure. We managed fine. I guess we could have done without reinforcements, for your avalanche put the fear of death into the pick of Lossberg’s Pioneers. They reckoned the Last Day was come and they ran down the gully like mad folk. We shepherded them quietly, and waited till Rogerson turned up, when they hands-upped like lambs. We’ve gotten a nice little bag⁠—fourteen hundred and seventy-three combatant soldiers, if you include your friend Mr. Lariarty.” + 

“Great Scott! Is he here? I want him brought to me at once. And Rogerson too.” + 

The Lariarty who stood before him a quarter of an hour later was a different man from the dapper Gran Seco magnate. The sun and wind of the hills had put no colour into his pallid face, but that face was thin and peaked as if he had been through great bodily fatigue. The eyes, too, seemed less inhuman, for there was pain in their sombre depths. His clothes were little better than Sandy’s and he had not shaved for days. + 

“Hullo, Timmy, you look as if you had been in the wars. Had breakfast?⁠ ⁠… Well, I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’re not a prisoner. I owe you a good turn for a certain evening in the Gran Seco. You can have a horse and go wherever you like. What’s your fancy?” + 

The man seemed to have difficulty in finding words. + 

“Thank you, Arbuthnot,” he said at last. “I should like to go to Olifa city.” + 

“All right. But you’d better hurry, or there may be trouble in getting in. Have you plenty of money? Good. Well, there’s nothing to keep you here. Colonel Rogerson will see about a horse. Bon voyage!” + 

Lariarty seemed to be about to say something, but changed his mind. He cast one curious look at Sandy, bowed gravely, and moved away. + 

Rogerson lingered. + 

“Miss Dasent specially asked me to give you a message, sir,” he said. “It was that she would obey your orders and go straight to bed.” + 

V + 

There was no communication between Castor’s headquarters and the Gran Seco. The revolt had captured early the main wireless station in Olifa, which was on the railway near Alcorta Junction; and since the installation at the Courts of the Morning had been destroyed, the only station in the Gran Seco was under Lossberg’s control, and, so far as he was concerned, wholly useless. The telegraph and telephone lines followed the railway, and were now in a state of chaos. While Lossberg was cut off from his superiors, so were Peters and Escrick from their chief. They had their orders to worry the flanks of the enemy, and it would appear that they fulfilled them, for after the failure to break through the passes there was no activity for a week at the only outlet left to him, the railway to Santa Ana. + 

For the revolt it was a week of desperate busyness. Sandy had his hostages, captured at the Vulpas source, and he made ample use of them. They were, except for Lariarty, Olifa regulars, and mainly foreigners, but among them were representatives of well-known Olifa families. The latter, after Luis had had a private word with them, were given a courteous dismissal and returned to their homes. But the rank and file were used for a different purpose. + 

Throughout the country there were localities where the revolt was welcomed and the people were ready for its hazards. But in other districts the balance trembled. These were the richer parts, the great fruit-growing coastal regions, Alcorta, the environs of Cardanio, the corn and vine country towards Macheiro and Nimao and Jacinta. There both men and masters were prospering, and even those who favoured Luis preferred, if possible, to gamble on a certainty. It was to these districts that the prisoners went, in charge of Luis’s young caballeros. Their internment was ostentatious, their progress a dignified parade. To the staring inhabitants this spectacle was proof that the dreaded professional army, which they respected as a costly luxury, was not invincible. Rumour spread and magnified the story of the affair in the passes, for, since the inland telegraph was in Castor’s hands, rumour had no check. Lossberg, beaten in the Gran Seco, had made a desperate effort to break out, and had been utterly defeated. These prisoners were the advance-guard of a beaten army; the rest were shut in securely behind the bars of the Gran Seco hills. + 

The effect was instantaneous. The sitters dropped off the fence, and areas which had been lukewarm became the most fervent of all. Presently the sporadic fires met and mingled. Luis’s small garrisons in districts which had been apathetic became speedily the nuclei of formidable risings. For a week there was no rest for the staff, for at last the concentration could begin. There were desperate problems of commissariat and transport to be solved, for most of the rolling stock of the railway was lying idle inside the defence lines of Olifa city. But every hour brought the armed levies of the south and east nearer to the city, and Castor’s poste de commandement was moved from Charcillo to Veiro, where Don Mario found the peaceful routine of his life changed to a succession of excitements which made him younger by twenty years. + 

At the inception of the revolt Luis’s first step had been to get possession of the telegraph. The lines were not destroyed, but the points of their debouchment from the city area were held, so that Olifa could not communicate beyond her area. At first the Government had been able to reach Cardanio through the foreign cables, but with the capture of the naval base that avenue was closed. But it was possible to send news into the city, and by various devices the fullest and most startling information about the advance and concentration was at the disposal of the President and his Cabinet. There were other ways. Olifa depended a good deal on country produce, and market carts passed daily through its outposts. Agents of the revolt had thus a chance for circulating rumours, and Veiro by the same means was kept informed of most things that befell in the city. + 

The reports varied. At the start the Government had been confident. The revolt was only a local and filibustering business, for there could be no fuel for any fire. The State was prosperous, taxation was not oppressive, for years there had been no conscription.⁠ ⁠… Then came a shade of anxiety, when it was discovered that Lossberg was silent. His last reports had been excellent, but he was singularly remiss in sending more. It was impossible to stir him up, for they had no wireless at their disposal, the long-distance telephone seemed to have broken down, and their sheaves of telegrams were unanswered.⁠ ⁠… Worse news followed. The Gran Seco railway had been cut by the rebels, there was trouble at Pecos, there was even a wild story that Lossberg had found an outlet in the eastern passes, but that his van had been cut to pieces and that bolt-hole stopped.⁠ ⁠… Then came still wilder tales, of risings in the south, of Alcorta and Cardanio gone over to the enemy, of a great rebel force moving upon the city. The hopes of the Government were still in Lossberg. He and his expert army must soon arrive to save the State. In his last report he had told them that the Gran Seco was conquered and the guerrilleros driven to the mountains. He must be even now on his way down the railway, brushing aside the rebel screen. What if the line were cut and the road damaged! He had his skilled engineers, and his mechanised battalions, his cavalry and his tanks, his unbeatable infantry. As they looked from the Parliament House over the wide levels to the north they hourly expected to see the dust-cloud which would herald their deliverer. + 

One evening there was a council of war at Veiro. It took place in Don Mario’s dining-room, where the big table had become a council-board and maps covered the ancestral Murillo. Sandy had come from the south, Blenkiron from Santa Ana, where he had left Melville in command, while Luis and Castor had returned from the concentration at Alcorta Junction, where they had received reports from the local leaders. Archie, who with Bobby Latimer was responsible for the air reconnaissance, had just arrived from a long flight north of Santa Ana. He had dire forebodings about the petrol supply. + 

“There’s a lamentable lack of juice in this land,” he complained. “We’ve tapped all the supplies and are rationing jealously, but we’re well within sight of a shortage. There was a big fire at Cardanio which wasted a lot, and of course there’s none coming in at the ports just now. The Government seem to have skinned the country to provision Lossberg. I can’t think how Peters is getting on. He must be very near his last gallon, unless he has raided some of Lossberg’s stores, and even Lossberg can’t go on forever. It’s about time that we were bringing things to a head.” + 

Luis was optimistic. “We are very near the end,” he said. “The people have risen at last. His Excellency will tell you what spirit we found today. Even the doubters are now convinced, and have become enthusiasts. Señor Sandy, your little affair in the passes has proved the conclusive argument. Now the Oliferos have no fear of Lossberg.” + 

Sandy did not answer. For the past week he had been his old vigorous self, but now his vitality seemed to have ebbed again. He looked tired and preoccupied, and his eyes were always searching Castor’s face. + 

It was the latter who spoke. “Luis is right,” he said. “Things are very near a head, but this is the real moment of crisis. We cannot take the city of Olifa by force. We have no siege artillery, and General Bianca has made the defences very strong. The defence, I need not remind you, is in a privileged position with modern weapons. The policy of the Government is simple. They have sufficient troops to police the city and defend their lines against anything we can bring. They are waiting for Lossberg, and if Lossberg comes we are beaten.” + 

“I do not agree,” Luis interposed. “Lossberg cannot conquer a people in arms.” + 

“I wonder,” Sandy spoke at last. “You have a great levy of stout fellows, gallant fellows, but not one in ten knows anything about the business. We are infernally short of machine guns, and we are not too well armed. There’s a variety of rifles in our ranks which would stock a museum, and our training is rudimentary. We are mostly third-line troops, and we have far too small a stiffening of first-line stuff. I don’t want to croak, but Lossberg could go through us like a knife through blotting-paper. Our only hope is that he won’t have the chance.” + 

“Well, he is safely bottled up, isn’t he?” + 

“For the present. But for how long? Peters and Escrick may keep him quiet for the moment, but he is bound to pull himself together and make for Santa Ana. And he is bound to succeed. Therefore⁠—” He paused. + 

“Therefore?” Luis repeated. + 

“We must bring things to a head⁠—now. The Government must surrender before he relieves them. How are we going to put on the screw? We are back at the old problem⁠—of cracking their morale.⁠ ⁠… It’s probably getting brittle. Bianca is a stiff old warrior, but the others are soft, sedentary fellows. They must be pretty jumpy by now. Is there anything fresh from Hamilton?” + 

“We had a report this morning,” Castor answered. “Undoubtedly their Excellencies are nervous. Also their police. The lower classes are on our side, and there is a perpetual rounding-up of suspects, which makes bad feeling. I am a little anxious about the safety of our envoy.” + 

“So am I,” said Sandy. “It was a wild escapade, and I don’t believe we should have allowed it. He’s too good a man to lose. How on earth did he get through the lines, and how on earth is he concealing himself?” + 

Archie laughed. “I’m not worrying about that. He makes the best imitation you ever saw of a sulky drunken Olifero peasant, and he has picked up enough of the lingo to ask for what he wants and see that he gets it. Geordie is a very wise citizen. But I do worry about one thing. He has gone back to his old waterside and backstairs haunts, and what is to prevent him from being done in by one of the Bodyguard ruffians? They might recognise him, and for all we know some of them are in Olifa. More by token, has he seen Lariarty in the city?” + 

“He doesn’t mention him.” + 

“I would like to know where that sportsman has gone. You were too easy with him, Sandy. Lariarty is the kind of lad I would always keep under lock and key.” + 

“May be. I don’t know.⁠ ⁠… But to get back to the main question⁠—how can we put the screw on their Excellencies? I’ve been away for a week. What is the exact position on the Santa Ana railway?” + 

Blenkiron put his spectacles on his nose and spread out a map and certain papers. He expounded the strength in Santa Ana and the reserves at Pecos⁠—the exact destruction done to the railway⁠—the present position of his posts south of Gabones, and the results of Bobby Latimer’s air reconnaissance beyond that point. To the best of his belief, he said, Lossberg was being so extensively worried in the Gran Seco that he was not able yet to look southward. He admitted that the look would come, but he was positive that any advance would be a slow business. He drew a sketch of several parts of the route, which he said could be held for days by a small force against any army. + 

“That’s good as far as it goes,” Sandy said. “We have probably a week at least in which to draw our people in upon Olifa and rattle the Government. A week⁠—but not more.” + 

An orderly summoned Blenkiron to the telephone. “Darn those boys,” he grumbled, “they’re so mighty keen they always want to be passing the time of day. I’m going to call them down.” + 

When he had gone, Luis spoke. He outlined the character of the various ministers from the President downwards. He was not complimentary, for he had the bitterness of the old regime towards the mushroom commercialism of Olifa, and especially towards the renegades of his own class. But he was not unfair. He admitted quality⁠—a coarse toughness of fibre⁠—the obstinacy of men who had been successful beyond their dreams⁠—above all shrewdness. “It is on this last trait,” he said, “that we must bank. They will be a little awed by the Gobernador, whom they have always looked upon as a wizard. They will be impressed by the rising of the country, for they know that it is a difficult business to govern the unwilling. We have arguments, perhaps, to convince them, always provided they do not get back Lossberg and his army in time. They are not soldiers and will be afraid of us, but, being civilians, they will also exaggerate the power of Lossberg’s professionals, and may be foolish enough to defy us.⁠ ⁠… A little while ago I spoke too confidently. We are still on the razor’s edge.” + 

Blenkiron reentered the room, and without a word made for the table where lay the papers from which he had given his exposition. He picked up his sketch of the section of the Gran Seco railway, where he had located various points A, B, C, and D. Then, almost violently, he swung Sandy round so that he could see it. + 

“Lossberg has fooled me good and sure,” he said in a voice which he tried to keep level. “It was Melville talking. There’s been hell loose up the line. Our post at A was destroyed two hours ago.⁠ ⁠… Yes, cavalry and armoured cars and light field batteries.⁠ ⁠… There’s a howling desolation on the railway between A and B, but Melville reckons that B is going to fall before night. He proposes to make a great effort at C and is pushing everything up. But God knows what strength Lossberg is in, and, though it’s a darned bad fighting country, numbers are bound to tell. D isn’t much in the way of a reserve position. It’s my solemn opinion that, if C goes, in two days Lossberg will be in Santa Ana.” + 

There was a moment of complete silence. Then Sandy observed casually, “I said we had a week. It appears we have only two days.” Every man in the room knew that tone in his voice. Sandy could be explosive and vehement when things went well, but in a crisis he often seemed to be a detached spectator from another planet. + 

Castor’s face did not alter, except for a slight knitting of the brows. Blenkiron was on his feet. “I’d better get back to Santa Ana,” he said. + 

“I don’t think so,” Sandy drawled, and looked at Castor. “I suggest, sir, that I go instead. I will take my Indians, every man of them. There’s going to be a pretty rough-and-tumble on the railway, and that suits me better than Blenkiron. I’ll push off at once, by car, and Rogerson can bring on the troops. I hope to be able to send you good news within forty-eight hours. If not⁠—well, the game’s with you. I shall be out of it.” + 

“The game is with me,” said Castor. “I propose tomorrow to have a talk with the Excelentísimo and his Cabinet.” + 

“No, no,” Sandy exclaimed. “I beg your pardon, sir, but not you. You are too valuable. We must send ambassadors. You would be a hostage.” + 

Castor allowed his head to sink on his breast. + 

“I must go,” he said after a pause. “The responsibility is mine. We are playing for high stakes, and I should cast the dice.” + 

“And be a loser from the start! You are our reserve, sir. You must stay here in Veiro, while your plenipotentiaries speak in your name. It is not a question of taking risks. We know you’re a glutton for them. It is a question of playing the right hand. Send Luis and Blenkiron. The one can speak for the republic of Olifa and the other can talk business. And meantime get your levies up to the edge of the Olifa lines. The Government have got to yield before Lossberg reaches Santa Ana. If he ever gets there, he must find that the whole country is in our hands. If we head him back, I’ll send you word, and that will be a clinching argument. But even if we’re scuppered, you may still win.⁠ ⁠… Let ’em know you’re coming. No, no! No flag of truce business. Get Archie to fly you to the Plaza de Toros. They’ll be hungry to see you. We’re gambling on the outer edge of sanity, and the wildest course is the safest. You must impress them⁠—it’s their nerves we’re gunning for. Goodbye, sir. Goodbye, all of you. If I see Veiro again, we’ll be smoking the peace-pipe.” + 

VI + 

A little before noon Archie brought his plane to a smooth landing in the great dusty amphitheatre which had been the bullring of an older Olifa, and was now sports ground and polo ground. The journey had been uneventful, and they had crossed the lines saluted only by a few rifle shots. It appeared that they were not unexpected. The place was empty, but there were pickets at the different entrances. As the travellers climbed out of the plane a squad of soldiers came forward at the double, and they completed their disembarkation in the presence of a substantial military guard. The officer in charge saluted. + 

“We have come to keep an appointment with their Excellencies,” said Luis. + 

“Their Excellencies await you,” was the reply. A big closed car had drawn up beside them, and he motioned them to enter. A minute later they were moving swiftly from the Plaza into the road which led to the Ciudad Nueva. Archie pulled up the blind of the back window and laughed. + 

“They’ve got the needle, for they are putting the plane out of action. They must think we’re devils of fellows. Well, our boats are burned right enough.” + 

The Avenida de la Paz slept in the noonday sun. On its broad sidewalk there were few of the well-dressed Oliferos whom Archie had seen on his first visit, but many of the riffraff from the old city. There seemed to be little life in the splendid offices. The headquarters of the Gran Seco administration had no longer sentries at its doors. Olifa had lost its comfortable bustle and its confidence, and had acquired the air of a city in a crisis. At the street corners there were not police, but soldiers, and as the car swung up the hill towards the great copper dome of the Parliament House, there were frequent halts and the interchange of passwords. Archie reported that a car was following them containing an armed guard. “I feel as if I were in Black Maria,” he said. “Have either of you fellows ever been in quod before?” + 

Their reception in the Grand Court was one of high ceremony. The sentries presented arms at the gate, and they were met at the main door by an aide-de-camp. There were soldiers everywhere, in the great entrance-hall, and at every turn of the broad marble staircase. First they were taken to an anteroom, where on a table light refreshments were laid out. “The señores may be thirsty after their flight,” said the aide-de-camp, as he bowed and left them. + 

“Very handsome,” Archie observed. + 

“Very politic,” said Luis. “The Cabinet believe that we have come to treat. No doubt they have their terms ready. It will be a shock to them to learn that our minimum demand is complete surrender.” + 

Blenkiron’s eyes had been slowly taking in the magnificence of his surroundings. “We’ve gotten into the wrong atmosphere,” he explained. “The folks that live in a shack like this are bound to think that nothing can go wrong with them. It’ll stiffen their backs, for it looks as if it were built for eternity. We should have aimed to shift them somewhere where they could get a sight of Sandy’s braves or Melville’s roughnecks. You can’t scare kings sitting in their palace.” + 

“Dwellers in palaces,” said Luis oracularly, “have weaker nerves than dwellers in tents.” + 

The aide-de-camp appeared again. “Their Excellencies are ready to receive you,” he announced, and, holding himself very stiff and straight, he opened a door which led to the Council Chamber. + 

It was a vast room, copied, like all the Olifa buildings, from an Old World model⁠—in this case from a room in a Venetian palazzo. The ceiling was painted with nymphs and goddesses, and statues stood in the alcoves of the panelled marble walls. The light was dim, for the sun-shutters were partially closed. At a table near the window sat, not the full Cabinet which Archie had expected, but five men. One was the heavy bull-necked President, with on each side of him Vicente Sanfuentes, the Minister of External Affairs, and Aribia, the Minister of Finance. Next to Aribia was General Bianca, and on the Foreign Minister’s other side a figure which made Archie stare, for it was Romanes, whom he had last seen in the Tronos del Rey. The President and his colleagues were in their customary black frock-coats and stiff linen, the old General was in uniform, but the Conquistador wore a suit of white drill. There was much bowing, and the three took their seats opposite the five, like witnesses before an official inquiry. A big silver box of cigars stood before the President, which he pushed towards Blenkiron, who shook his head. Archie alone helped himself; he wanted something to occupy his hands. + 

The five showed no sign of embarrassment or strain. The President had still his air of massive composure, though the pouches under his eyes seemed a little heavier. The two ministers, Sanfuentes with his round shrewd face and Aribia with his well-trimmed beard, looked as if they were at an ordinary board meeting. The old General’s thin knotted fingers drummed on the table, but that had always been his habit. Romanes’s neat light-cavalry figure seemed more dapper than ever in its cool clothing, and his lean sallow face was as expressionless as the marble at his back. + 

“Don Luis de Marzaniga we know well,” said the President, “and we have the honour of Señor Roylance’s acquaintance. You, sir,” and he looked towards Blenkiron, “I take to be the late Vice-President of the Gran Seco Administration.” + 

Blenkiron did his best to bow. He seemed to find amusement in the scene before him, for his face wore a broad grin. + 

“You have come, gentlemen,” the President continued, “to ask for terms.” + 

“No, Excellency,” said Luis, “we have come to offer them.” + 

The President frowned slightly, and General Bianca threw up his head. + 

“It is a trifling change of a word,” Luis continued, “but it is well to understand each other clearly from the start. We desire to make peace⁠—on the basis of facts. The republic of Olifa is in our hands, and therefore we are in a position to dictate the terms of peace.” + 

The General laughed angrily. He had a long face with finely cut features and very large black eyes. His skin was like ancient yellow parchment. That day he wore all his many orders, and they trembled as he squared his old shoulders. + 

“You are insolent,” he said, “insolent dreamers. You have been driven out of the Gran Seco, and as a last gambler’s throw you have stirred up trouble in Olifa. Pouf! It signifies nothing. Our army, having finished with the Gran Seco, will presently arrive, and where will your rabble be then?” + 

His voice was becoming shrill and he was embarking on a fierce tirade when the President checked him. + 

“Have patience, General,” he said. “Let the señores state their case. We can be patient, for we are confident!” + 

Luis laid a map on the table. + 

“General Lossberg is not happy in the Gran Seco,” he said. “We have still an army there⁠—an army in being, and it is occupying all his attention. I will be candid with your Excellencies. Your General holds the Gran Seco city and the Mines and much of the country, but for the rest we are masters. He is immobilised, for he cannot come to your aid. Already he has tried it. Sixteen days ago he attempted to break out through the passes of the southeast, which he had just discovered. He was beaten back, the door is closed, and some of his troops are our prisoners. As for the railway to Santa Ana, that route has been destroyed, and, as you know well, it is a route which is easily blocked. I do not think that he can come to you by that way.” + 

“These are lies,” the General shouted. “We have the most expert army of its size on the globe. What can a handful of bandits and guerrilleros do against it? General Lossberg can burst his way through your barrier whenever he pleases. He has the latest guns and tanks⁠—” + 

“I know, I know,” said Luis soothingly. “But it is too expert an army. It cannot compete with our rude simple ways.” + 

Aribia laid a hand on the General’s arm. + 

“You have a map, Señor de Marzaniga? You have perhaps something to say about Olifa.” + 

Luis had much to say. He was dealing with men who knew their own country well, and he spoke as to experts. He took his hearers up and down the land, and explained how far the revolution had prospered in each district. He expounded in detail the revolt of the regular battalions, at Santa Ana, at Pecos, at Alcorta and Cardanio, and what accession of strength they represented. He showed them the position of each railway and railway junction. He gave the names of leaders, and at some of these names the ministers started. He was constantly interrupted with questions, which he patiently answered. He had an air of extreme candour, the air of a man who has nothing to conceal, and who is anxious to give the last tittle of information in his power.⁠ ⁠… Then he expounded the nature of the different concentrations, and the strategy of the advance on the city. “I take you into our innermost confidence,” he said. “That is proof in itself that we believe we are victorious. If we had any doubt, we should not be disclosing our plans.” + 

The exposition lasted till two o’clock, when there was an adjournment for luncheon. They did not lunch together, for the three ambassadors ate in the anteroom to which they had been taken on their arrival. They talked little at the meal, for a heavy sense of futility had come upon all the three. “You can’t make that bunch understand facts,” said Blenkiron. “That is what comes of living coddled up in this palace. They’re still hanging on to Lossberg’s coattails.” + 

Luis rather wearily agreed. “If Lossberg gets to Santa Ana, and their Excellencies get wind of it in time, our game is up. We won’t be having meals like this. It will be the Old Prison for us, and a very nasty corner of it, and the Gobernador will have to do without our services. I pray God that Sandy can hold the line a little longer.” + 

Luncheon was followed by a short siesta, and they did not meet again till after four o’clock. The glare of the sun was no longer on the windows, and the green shutters were clamped back, so that the great chamber swam in the mellow light of afternoon. To Archie’s surprise the ministers were notably less rigid than in the morning. The President took the lead in the conversation. He did not deny Luis’s statements, as Aribia had done, but asked for some means of confirmation. + 

“We offer you whatever you ask,” Luis answered. “This morning our nearest concentration was at Alcorta Junction within ten miles of this city. Appoint your emissaries, Excellency, men whose word you trust. They can go there under a flag of truce, and there they will find Manuel Martinez, and see for themselves. Or is there any other whose word you will take? The telephone service is working well.” + 

“Is there no loyalist?” the President began. + 

“I am afraid that what you call a loyalist may be hard to find. We have been too successful, you see. But⁠ ⁠… there is Don Mario at Veiro⁠—your cousin, Señor,” and he bowed to Sanfuentes. “Don Mario is no politician, and he has never in his life been able to lie. I will give you the password, so that you can telephone to him at Veiro. He knows little of the campaign, but he has eyes in his head, and he will tell you of the forces moving from the east and south.” + 

“That is good sense,” said the minister, and he left the room. He returned after an absence of half an hour. “I have spoken to Don Mario,” he said shortly. “He is an old man and an innocent.” But it was clear that he had had news which discomposed him. + 

To Archie the situation was like some preposterous stage play in a dream. He had suddenly an overpowering sense of detachment, so that he seemed to look at the scene before him as at a picture small and far away down an inverted telescope.⁠ ⁠… What on earth was he doing helping to deliver an ultimatum in a theatrical chamber in a hot white city many thousands of miles from home?⁠ ⁠… He sat a little away from the table, and saw only the back of Luis’s head and half Blenkiron’s profile, but he had the others in full view. The paradox of the scene nearly made him laugh out loud. He was a revolutionary, trying to upset a Government to which his own had accredited a Minister. These solemn five, what did he know about them? They were creatures of a world infinitely remote from his. He studied the President’s large swarthy face, heavy with the gravity of one accustomed to be obeyed and flattered⁠—stupid and dull, but not without traces of quality. In Sanfuentes he saw the family likeness to Don Mario, as far as an overfed sedentary man can resemble a hard-bitten country squire. He looked a little cunning and self-indulgent, but there was humour somewhere. Aribia was the ordinary business man, with cold shrewd eyes, but he had a pleasant smile.⁠ ⁠… Romanes! It was on him that his eyes chiefly rested. A wash of sunlight seemed to bring every feature into startling prominence. Archie saw the leanness of his head, the odd skull beneath the smooth hair, the curious hollows in his brow, the skin opaque as if no blood ran beneath it. This was Castor’s doing; the man had once been Castor’s creature, and Castor was their leader!⁠ ⁠… For a moment he felt some sympathy with the perplexed Cabinet of Olifa. + 

It was Castor’s name which roused Archie to attention. Romanes spoke in his toneless voice for almost the first time. + 

“It would have been well if the Gobernador had accompanied these gentlemen. No doubt they have full power to treat, but it would have been more satisfactory to meet the Commander-in-Chief himself.” + 

“The Commander-in-Chief cannot leave his command,” was Luis’s answer. + 

“Naturally. Still⁠ ⁠… there have been rumours, you know. We do not know if he is indeed in command. We do not know if he is in Olifa at all.” + 

“You can be assured that he is. He is at Veiro.” + 

Archie thought that he saw a flicker of sharp intelligence in Romanes’s eyes, but the next second it was gone. + 

“I think their Excellencies would have welcomed a meeting. For after all, whatever is the destiny of this country, Señor Castor must mean much to it.” + 

“He owes us an explanation,” the President growled. “He was our trusted colleague. Whatever he advised was done. Señor Sanfuentes will bear me witness when I say that he had a large share in the external policy of this State. The Administration of the Gran Seco was granted to him as if it was his private domain.⁠ ⁠… Suddenly, with no warning, he becomes our enemy. He must be mad.” + 

“He is not mad, Excellency, but it is permissible for a man to change his mind. The Gobernador has today a policy for the Gran Seco and for Olifa itself which conflicts with that of your Excellency. Some of us, independently of the Gobernador, had the same notions. We have been endeavouring for months to persuade you and your colleagues that our views must be accepted. That is why we are here today⁠—to apply, if your Excellency will permit the metaphor, the last little weight to the inclining balance.” + 

After that the five consulted in private, and it was dark before Aribia returned with an announcement. + 

“We have decided to send representatives to Alcorta Junction to meet Señor Martinez and see for themselves. Do not be offended, please, for, as you yourself have admitted, confirmation is desirable. Will you arrange with Martinez for the reception of our envoys? The party will consist of two of General Bianca’s staff-officers and Señor Romanes. They leave tomorrow at daybreak.” + 

So Luis had a busy hour on the telephone and then joined his two companions at dinner. They spent a dismal evening, before they sought their beds in the cheerless state apartments. “This is going to be worse than a League of Nations meeting at Geneva,” Blenkiron moaned. “I hoped they’d treat the thing as a business proposition, and I was ready to explain to them just how the Gran Seco should be run, and how it is going to be mighty advantageous to Olifa. They’ve all got fat bank accounts, and could understand my arguments. But we never got near business. A blind kitten could see that they’re not going to let go till they’re choked off. There’s more sand than I reckoned in that big President.” + 

“They are waiting on Lossberg,” said Luis. “They will not give up hope till they are compelled. How in the name of God can we compel them, unless Sandy brings off some colossal stroke?⁠—and that is as likely as snow in summer. Jesucristo! At this moment he is perhaps making a desperate stand in the skirts of Santa Ana!” + 

The conference was resumed next morning with the half-closed sun-shutters again making a green twilight. It was now Blenkiron’s turn. Pending the arrival of the envoys from Alcorta Junction, he was permitted to state the views of the Gobernador on the future of the Gran Seco. The discussion was long, and necessitated many calculations, in which Aribia shared. The profits of the State of Olifa from the business need not decline; nay, there was every chance of their increasing, if the organisation were put upon more stable and permanent lines. The arrangements about Indian labour must of course be altered⁠—in any case they would have presently altered themselves. The extreme high-pressure production must be given up; also the Gran Seco must be put outside Olifa politics, except for its scale of contribution to the Olifa exchequer. It must be regarded as a special territory, to be governed under a special charter. The discussion was amicable. The ministers were all shareholders in the company, and, as an academic proposition, were prepared to consider it on business lines. + 

In the afternoon the envoys returned, and, when after the long midday siesta the conference reassembled, Archie tried hopelessly to detect some change in the air of the ministers. He was disappointed. Romanes for some reason was absent, but the other four seemed in good spirits. Their placidity was unshaken. The President himself touched on the matter. + 

“Your veracity has been vindicated, Señor de Marzaniga,” and he bowed politely, “but not, I fear, your judgment. You have undoubtedly recruited many men, but they are not an army. Our officers report that it is no better than a rabble, ill-armed, ill-disciplined, and led by amateurs.” + 

“It is the people of Olifa,” said Luis hotly. “And you have seen only the spearhead⁠—one of the spearheads. There is a weighty shaft behind it.” He spoke of the extent and variousness of the rising.⁠ ⁠… Every class was in it, every condition of life.⁠ ⁠… Among its leaders were representatives of every family that had been great in Olifa’s history.⁠ ⁠… Also the chiefs of every calling, the ranchers, the fruit-growers, the wine-growers, the industrial magnates of Alcorta. He was a little carried out of himself, and it was clear that his eloquence had some effect on his hearers. “We have all Olifa with us,” he concluded, “all Olifa that is worthy of the name.” + 

The President laughed, but his laughter did not seem to come easily. “I know my countrymen, Señor de Marzaniga,” he said. “They have returned for an hour to the traditional habits which we hoped they had forgotten forever. But they will not fight⁠—they cannot fight⁠—they have nothing to fight for. The ranches of Señor Martinez could not be more prosperous under a different regime. Ramirez has no complaints from his fruit farms. The Zarranigas breed their fine horses without Government requisitions, unlike the old days. These men are not fools. Presently they will learn wisdom.” + 

“Or be taught it,” put in old General Bianca. + 

Luis had recovered his balance. + 

“There is one thing you forget, Excellency. We are patriots and love our country. Olifa is prosperous, no doubt⁠—but it has no soul. You and your colleagues have made it the appanage of a commercial corporation. We want to be a nation again.” + 

Sanfuentes spoke impatiently. “A nation! What would you have? When your crazy war broke out we were on the eve of taking the leadership of this continent. We would have made Latin America a power in the world.” + 

“I guess I know all about that, sir,” said Blenkiron. “You were going to make bad trouble in this continent, but it wasn’t for the sake of Olifa. The Gobernador was using you as a pawn in his own game. Well, Mr. Castor has thought better of it, and I can’t see why in thunder you want to go on alone. Our slogan is ‘Olifa all the time and for its own sake.’ I advise you gentlemen to listen to reason, for you can’t fight against the whole people.” + 

“The whole people,” said Aribia sweetly. “But that is precisely the point on which you have failed to convince us.” + 

Presently lamps were brought, and the discussion wandered into a morass of futility. The ministers were waiting, not very confidently perhaps, a little shaken, but determined still to wait. It was the habit of their race, for the Oliferos are not a hasty breed. With a sinking of the heart Archie realised that there would be another day of indecision, while Sandy might be struggling hard to win an extra hour for their inconclusive diplomacy. Any moment the crash might come. + 

It came about six o’clock when General Bianca was summoned by an aide-de-camp to the telephone. He returned in five minutes, almost at a run. + 

“News,” he cried, “glorious news! Lossberg is in Pecos. I have spoken to his Chief of Staff.” + 

The ministers were on their feet, and the exuberance of their relief showed the depth of their anxiety. They clamoured for details, but the General could give them little. + 

“I spoke to Olivarez.⁠ ⁠… I recognised his voice at once.⁠ ⁠… He gave his name.⁠ ⁠… What did he say? Only that he was in Pecos, and was coming here without delay.⁠ ⁠… He is evidently pressed⁠—Lossberg’s orders no doubt.⁠ ⁠… Where he is, the General must be, and the Chief of Staff is naturally sent on in advance.⁠ ⁠… We have conquered, my brothers. Tomorrow the city will be relieved, and the rebels scattered to the points of the compass.⁠ ⁠… It is the moment for toasts, for much talking has made my throat dry.” + 

The ministers did not forget their manners in their hour of triumph. The three envoys were not asked to witness the toast-drinking, but were conducted ceremoniously to another apartment, where they too were supplied with sweet champagne. Only Archie tasted it, for the two others sat back in their chairs with the faces of broken men. It was at least an hour before they were ready to speak of fresh plans⁠—futile plans, it seemed, for they must now regard themselves as prisoners. As for Archie, he still felt himself living in a crazy world of illusion, but he was so tired by the strain of the day that he fell asleep. + 

About nine o’clock an aide-de-camp appeared. + 

“General Olivarez is arriving,” he said, and his air was noticeably less civil. “Your presence is required in the Council Chamber.” + 

Once more the three envoys seated themselves at the table. It was obvious that the ministers had dined and dined well. Even Bianca’s parchment skin had a colour. Romanes was still absent. + 

The door opened and General Olivarez was announced. Two men entered. One to Archie’s amazement was Alejandro Gedd, a figure like a scarecrow, dusty, dishevelled, grey with fatigue, his ancient dapperness utterly gone. The other was a slight man in the service uniform of Olifa, with a long olive-tinted face, a fleshy nose, and grizzled hair cut en brosse. He too seemed the worse for wear, and he had his left arm in a sling. + 

It was Gedd who spoke. + 

“Your Excellencies,” he said, “I have been sent to bring General Olivarez to your presence. This morning General Lossberg was decisively defeated in the passes north of Santa Ana. His main army has fallen back, and his advance forces were cut off and taken prisoner. Of this advance General Olivarez was in command. I was ordered by Lord Clanroyden to bring him to you that you might learn from his own lips the position of affairs.” + 

The ministers were silent. Then old Bianca found his voice. + 

“Is that true, sir?” he rapped out. + 

“It is unfortunately true.” Olivarez spoke in a voice in which weariness left no room for bitterness. “Of the rest of General Lossberg’s army I cannot speak. I myself and over nine thousand of my men are prisoners in the enemy’s hands.” + 

The President behaved well, for he showed no emotion of any kind. His face was like a stone, and his voice level and toneless. He turned to Luis and bowed. + 

“We accept your terms, Señor,” he said. “General Bianca will issue the necessary orders to the city defence force.” + 

VII + 

The long-drawn fight on the Santa Ana railway was begun in the Gran Seco itself by Peters and Escrick. There was no communication between them and Castor by wireless or telegraph, but there might have been a telepathic understanding, so exactly did they time their operations to meet the crisis in the south. Their aeroplanes were now terribly hampered in their reconnaissance work by shortage of petrol, but one of Grayne’s economical flights brought news of Lossberg’s movement down the railway with the larger part of his field force. At that moment Escrick was north of the city on the road to Fort Castor, and Peters’s bands were south of the Mines in the neighbourhood of Tulifa. Escrick’s first notion was another raid on the city in quest of stores, but Peters, in whose old field of operations the Santa Ana railway had been, urged that it was their business to hang on to Lossberg’s skirts. The blockhouse system had made raiding difficult, but he argued that their first duty was to hamper Lossberg’s communications with the city which was still his base. Escrick was convinced, the more because he was still completely in the dark as to what was going on at the other end of the railway. It might be that Lossberg would have an easy road to the plains of Olifa, in which case their task must be to delay him by fastening on his rear. + 

Under the new blockhouse system they could not hope to cut up any great length of line, so they must make their effort at a single vital point. There was only one such till Gabones was reached, the bridge of San Luca. But it was likely to be the best guarded, for since the first raid Lossberg had supplemented the posts at each end of the abutment with two companies in the valley bottom. The garrisons at the ends, it will be remembered, were at San Luca itself and at the Devil’s Ear, the valley was more than half a mile wide, and the bridge had sixteen arches. Two of the central arches had been blown up by Sandy, and the line now ran across the gap on an improvised platform of steel girders. + 

It was clear that a midnight dash in the old manner would effect nothing, so Escrick decided to make an effort not to destroy a part of the bridge but to capture the whole of it, and hold it long enough to alarm Lossberg about his communications. There was now no Pacheco to serve as a base, and all the northern slopes of the southern frontier of the Gran Seco were strongly patrolled; for this was the critical flank of Lossberg’s new advance. Roger Grayne reported that the eastern side of the railway up to the frontier was watched like a trench line. + 

Thereupon Escrick made a bold decision. He resolved to attack from the west side, where a hideous country of scrub and sand and rocky kopjes stretched from the railway to the sea. This area had never been part of the battleground, chiefly because of its immense natural difficulties, and because it led to nowhere. So he ordered Peters to slip north by night from Tulifa, between the Mines and the city, and to join him on the road to Fort Castor. + 

The concentration was effected on a Monday morning. That day Lossberg was at Gabones, and his advance force under Olivarez was feeling its way south along the devastated line. That night Escrick’s whole command, nearly four thousand mounted men with every machine gun it possessed, had made a wide circuit and was in the hills some fifteen miles southwest of San Luca. There they lay during the following day, while with immense care smaller detachments made their way eastward to the ridge of kopjes on each side of the dry valley where stood the bridge. Lossberg’s aeroplanes were busy down the railway, and to the garrisons at San Luca and the Devil’s Ear no warning sight or sound came from the baking red cliffs over which they were accustomed to see the sun set. That day, Tuesday, saw Olivarez’s great thrust southward. Before night fell he had taken Blenkiron’s Post A, where once Toledo’s chivalry had been cut up by the Indians, had forced the difficult narrows at Post B, and was threatening Post C, where Melville had brought up every man for a last stand. + 

During the night of Tuesday Escrick made his attack on the San Luca bridge from the west. It was a far easier task than he had anticipated. Lossberg’s advance had switched the attention of the garrisons from defence to transport. Peters’s right wing took the Devil’s Ear with scarcely a shot, and his left, creeping up the boulder-strewn valley, surprised the post in the hollow with few casualties. San Luca put up a better fight, but by midnight it was overpowered, and an ammunition train, standing in its siding, was captured. Before the dawn broke there was another huge rent in the bridge, and both abutments were held in force, with a wicked chain of machine-gun nests commanding their approaches from north and south. A big breach had been made, and, what was more, the breach was held, and might be held for days against a considerable army. + 

The news found Lossberg on the Wednesday morning about to push forward troops to support Olivarez in his last thrust. Already he saw himself in the Olifa plains approaching the capital. He had had no news except Indian rumours, but he had by this time realised that the rebels in the Gran Seco were only a vanguard and that El Obro was now in Olifa. He had beaten the enemy in the Gran Seco, and his place was now in the lowlands. But the news from San Luca made him pause. Part of a mechanised battalion which he had sent back hastily was checked and beaten by Peters at the Devil’s Ear. Lossberg halted in deep perplexity. He must explore the situation behind him, before he could support Olivarez with an easy mind. So instead of concentrating in an immediate assault on Post C, which would have given him Santa Ana, he pushed more troops back towards San Luca and ordered Olivarez to postpone his main attack for twelve hours. + 

It was at this point that Sandy entered the game. He had arrived at Santa Ana during the course of the Tuesday night, and had had his Indians there before ten o’clock on the Wednesday morning. The reports from Melville at Post C were not reassuring. Olivarez was in great force, and once he had his field guns up not all the natural advantages of the place could keep it from destruction. The defence had already tried a night sally, which had been driven back without effecting much. Melville asked for nothing in the way of reinforcements, for he knew that there was nothing to send, since Pecos and Santa Ana were already bare. Feverish efforts were being made to strengthen Post D, the ultimate position, but everyone realised that, if C fell, D would follow. + 

When Sandy arrived he asked for the last air reports. It was believed that Lossberg was at a point thirty-seven miles south of Gabones, and that a gap of at least fifteen miles separated him from Olivarez and his van. Sandy shrugged his shoulders and turned to Rogerson. + 

“We’re getting implicated in a field action,” he said in the mild voice which he reserved for extreme emergencies. “It won’t do. If I join Melville, we shall still be outnumbered and outgunned. Latimer had better keep his planes in touch with Melville. I’m going to get to that fifteen-mile gap. Please God, Lossberg is in no hurry this morning. He must be cocksure of success after yesterday, so if I know my man he’ll take his time.” + 

Lossberg, as we know, was compelled to delay, but of this Sandy was not aware, and as soon as the Indians had broken bread he had them in the saddle. The eastern side of the railway valley was not practicable for horses, scarcely even for cragsmen, but he had some hopes of the western side. His expectations were all but doomed to defeat. The total distance of the circuit proposed was some thirty miles, but, after the first twenty, horses became impossible. The local guides were useless, for they led him into a network of barren ravines too far to the west⁠—a route no doubt to Gabones, but separated from the crucial part of the line by an increasing width of rocky mountains. Presently the horses had to be left behind, and under the heat of a tropical sun the way had to be pursued on foot up and down moraines of shale and crumbling precipices and sand-choked hollows. Not all the Indians lasted the course, for many were horsemen by habit and no mountaineers. Of the white men only Sandy and five others found themselves that afternoon looking down upon the railway, with aching limbs, and eyes filmed with weariness, and heads that throbbed and swam in incipient heatstroke. But that part of the railway valley which they saw was empty except for a small body of pioneers repairing the road. They were in time. Lossberg had not yet closed the gap which separated him from his Chief of Staff. + 

The time was now about four o’clock on the Wednesday afternoon. San Luca was in the hands of Peters and Escrick, Lossberg’s first attempt to oust them had failed, and that general, much perplexed, was beginning to move troops northward again. Melville, to his surprise, was managing to hold his own at Post C, since Olivarez, under Lossberg’s orders, was not pressing too hard. Blenkiron, Luis, and Archie were sitting in Olifa in their futile conference. + 

The events which followed have become famous in Olifa history, and they are told fully in the work which young Campanillo has published. Staggering with weariness but goaded on by a sense of the shortness of their time and the magnitude of their chance, Sandy’s blear-eyed following descended from the rocks and took possession of the segment of valley. He had dragged explosives with him across the hills, and with him were men from the Mines who understood their use. Before the hot night descended they had contrived a great destruction, and the early darkness was lit with flame and loud with earthquakes. Between the cliffs which rimmed the place they achieved a desolation which for days no troops could traverse, except painfully, in single file, on foot. Presently the remainder of his men straggled in, and after a short rest Sandy led his force southward, to where Olivarez’s guns could be heard at their noisy bombardment. + 

The charge of that wild commando at dawn is a tale not for dull prose but for some swinging ballad. The surprise was complete, and most of the batteries were taken in the rear. Olivarez was a stout soldier, and he rallied gallantly, but he was caught between two fires, whose magnitude he could not guess. Melville had heard the explosions of the night and knew what had happened, and he flung every ounce he possessed into the struggle. The defence became an attack, and C was no longer a beleaguered post but the base of a furious offensive. A little after midday Lossberg’s van was huddled into a rocky gut, with its own batteries turned on it, and the enemy secure on the circumference. Then came one of those moments of sudden quiet which mean the realisation of defeat on one side and incontestable victory on the other. + 

Olivarez, like a wise and humane man, surrendered. But to his surprise his surrender was received not by Melville, of whom his Intelligence scouts had fully informed him, but by a slight figure with a begrimed face and clothes in rags, who addressed him in perfect Spanish and seemed more embarrassed than himself. He learned with amazement that this was the notorious El Obro. When the guerrillero recalled a former meeting in a Moroccan town, Olivarez stared in bewilderment. “I was called Arbuthnot then,” the other said pleasantly. Then recollection awoke in the general, and his face lightened. He had heard too much about this man to feel any shame in accepting defeat at his hands. + 

VIII + 

That night, as we know, Sandy dispatched Olivarez in company with Don Alejandro Gedd to Olifa city. The following day was spent by the ambassadors in Olifa, and by Sandy at Pecos, in adjusting their plans to the new situation. There was an immense amount of work to be accomplished in the minimum of time. The great concentration at Alcorta Junction, which was now pushed up to the defence lines of the city, had to be regulated, and throughout the republic a stopgap military Government had to be extemporised. Between the revolution and the ultimate settlement a difficult interregnum must intervene. Manuel Martinez came into the city to consult with Luis, but Castor remained at Veiro, whence he issued orders to the different provinces. So far as possible the work was left in the hands of the Olifero leaders themselves. Luis was the chief executive officer, and it was Martinez who became temporary governor of Olifa city, and old Ramirez of Cardanio and one of the Zarranigas of Alcorta who were his lieutenants, while young Miguel de Campanillo carried to Lossberg the instructions of General Bianca. It was wise to keep the foreign element in the background, that Olifa might believe that her redemption had come from herself. + 

It was a torrid day with thunderstorms grumbling on the horizon, and Sandy, having received reports from the city which announced that all was quiet and orderly, and from Gabones, which told of young Campanillo’s arrival on his way to Lossberg’s headquarters, flung himself on a bed in the Pecos hotel, and tried to sleep. But sleep he could not, though every bone and muscle cried out for it. It may have been the weather, or it may have been the strain of the past days, but his mind refused to be composed and his thoughts beat a weary treadmill. He had none of the exultation of a victor, none even of the comfort which comes from a task accomplished. He laboured under a heavy sense of oppression, out of which anxiety stood like jags of rock in a stream. He could not believe that the end had been reached, not even when his reason approved that conclusion. Therefore he could not sleep. + 

An aide-de-camp made a timid appearance, for he was afraid to break in on the siesta of his chief. But it appeared that the occasion was urgent. A man wanted to speak with the General. He had given his name. Sandy looked at the card proffered him, and read “Mr. T. S. Lariarty.” + 

“Bring him here,” he said, “and see that we are not interrupted. Wait⁠ ⁠… don’t be far away, in case I want you.” He smoothed his ruffled hair, and sat on the bed awaiting his visitor, and as he waited a ridiculous memory kept recurring⁠—the Eton Beagles in the fields beyond Slough, and himself and Lariarty, both newly become uppers, struggling desperately to keep up with the field, each determined not to be outdone by the other. Much water had passed over Cuckoo Weir since then. + 

The man who presently stood before him would have made no figure in running over English ploughfields. Lariarty was no more the dapper and inscrutable Conquistador, armoured against a world which he despised. Some spring had broken within him, for he looked like one mortally sick in mind and body. But his eyes were no longer opaque. There was light in them, broken lights, like the eyes of a sick dog. + 

“You’re looking ill, Tim,” said Sandy gently. + 

“I think I am dying.⁠ ⁠… But that does not matter.⁠ ⁠… I must speak to you, Arbuthnot. You have behaved to me like a gentleman, and I pay my debts.⁠ ⁠… You think you have won, but you are wrong⁠ ⁠… unless⁠ ⁠…” The man seemed to gulp. “Veiro,” he croaked. “The women are at Veiro⁠—and the Gobernador.⁠ ⁠… They will be dead before midnight unless you can save them.” + 

Sandy was on his feet, his lethargy gone. He shouted for his aide-de-camp. “Get through to Veiro,” he told the boy, “and to Olifa⁠—to the Ministry of War. Ask for General de Marzaniga.⁠ ⁠… Get a whisky and soda, too⁠—a stiff one.” + 

The drink was brought by an orderly. “Swallow that, Timmy,” he said. “You’re all out, and it will buck you up.” + 

But the other refused it. “It would kill me,” he said. “Never mind my health, Arbuthnot. You won’t get through to Veiro⁠ ⁠… nor to Olifa.⁠ ⁠… My colleagues have made their plans. Veiro will be isolated.⁠ ⁠… Why in the name of God did you leave your friends in that lonely place? They should have been in the midst of an army. When men are desperate, they think only of revenge.” + 

“Who are ‘they’? The Conquistadors?” + 

Lariarty nodded. + 

“D’Ingraville is there, and Pasquali, and Suvorin, and Romanes⁠—Romanes above all. Larbert is dead, and I have not heard of Calvo. But Romanes⁠—” He choked again. “And there are some of the others too.⁠ ⁠… Judson and Radin and Martel, and, I think, Laschallas.⁠ ⁠… They have all death before them, the rope for some and for others a slower torture. Therefore they are mad.⁠ ⁠… Oh, what in God’s name are you waiting for? I tell you⁠ ⁠…” + 

The aide-de-camp returned. “We cannot get through to Veiro, sir,” he said. “There seems to be some breakdown on the line. And there is no answer from Olifa.” + 

“So,” said Sandy. The grimness had gone out of his face, and he was smiling again. “I want the Rolls, Truslove,” he said, “at once. Captain Zarraniga will come with me. Tell him to pick four troopers, with a hundred rounds apiece.⁠ ⁠… I want the two big Daimlers to follow, with eight troopers in each. At once. There is not a moment to lose. Let General Melville know.” + 

Lariarty had drawn himself erect. + 

“Can I come with you, Arbuthnot?” he stammered. + 

Sandy looked in his eyes, and he seemed to see behind the sickness and fever and the wreckage of the tragic years a shadow of the boy he remembered. + 

“Most certainly you are coming with me, Tim.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “It is now a quarter to nine. We shall be at Veiro by ten. God grant we are in time!” + 

The night was warm and still, for the thunder had now gone out of the air, though it still grumbled on the horizon. It was a slow business clearing the environs of Pecos, for the roads were congested with transport, owing to the moving of troops from Alcorta Junction. But once the Vulpas valley was left behind, the car swung briskly along the hard, broad roads of the plateau called the Marpas, which is one of Olifa’s chief horse-breeding areas. There was only a fingernail of moon, but the stars were like harbour-lights. Far behind could be seen the broad glow of the headlamps of the following Daimlers. Sandy at the wheel did not slacken speed at the patches where the road had been ruffled by the winter rains. He drove like a man possessed, looking every now and then at his wristwatch. + 

“Halfway,” he announced to the young Zarraniga as they passed a farm in a clump of chestnuts. Then the road climbed to a greater elevation and the light of the Daimlers behind seemed to come out of a trough. “Ten miles more,” he whispered, and Lariarty, who was jammed among the troopers behind, muttered something that sounded like a prayer. Still the road rose, and then came a long downward incline, and far away on the left a light twinkled. “Veiro,” said young Zarraniga. “Presently the good road will end, and we shall have Don Mario’s cart-track. We must be near the ravine of St. Paul and the iron bridge.” + 

Three minutes later there was a jarring of brakes and the car came to a stop. A deep narrow cleft lay before them, and where had once been a bridge there hung only a drunken girder. + 

“They have planned it well,” said Lariarty. + 

The men tumbled out of the car, for the great Rolls was as useless as a child’s go-cart. + 

“There are yet four miles,” said Zarraniga, as he followed Sandy down the side of the ravine and up the steep overhang of the far bank. “Four miles, and my men are not long-distance runners.” + 

Sandy had squared his shoulders for the race, when Zarraniga halted him. “Half a mile on the right is the farm of Pedro Aguilar. He has young horses.” + 

Pedro, who was a tenant of Don Mario’s, was roused from his sleep by the sight of seven armed men demanding mounts. Zarraniga he knew, and he trotted obediently towards his stables. + 

“I have not saddles for so many, señor,” he explained. + 

“Saddles be hanged! Give us bridles. Rope halters if you have nothing better.” Sandy was already delving furiously among the debris of Pedro’s harness-room. + 

“Two are young beasts and scarcely broken,” said the man. + 

“So much the better,” said Sandy. “I will take one and Señor Zarraniga the other.” + 

Within five minutes two scared and angry colts were being hustled out of the corrals by the help of two pairs of Pedro’s long-rowelled spurs. Once in the open they found their heads turned firmly to the east, and fled like scared deer they knew not whither. They led by at least a hundred yards, flying the deep sandy scaurs, spurning the ant-heaps, slipping, stumbling, recovering, while the troopers on their more manageable mounts pounded heavily behind. When after the first mile Sandy had his animal under control, he found to his surprise that Lariarty was beside him. + 

Now they were on the edge of the alfalfa fields and the water-furrows, and before them was the dark loom of trees. They swung to the left, avoiding the road which ran from the railway-station, and making for the line of poplars which hedged the garden. A light twinkled beyond the trees, a light which suddenly went out. + 

And then, with a cry, Lariarty swung round his horse’s head and set the beast capering and plunging. He had all but ridden down a woman⁠—a tall girl in black, wearing pink roses at her breast. + 

The same evening about half past seven Don Alejandro Gedd was taking the air in that part of the Avenida de la Paz which adjoined the Parliament House. He had had a busy day. For hours he had sat in consultation in the great Council Chamber, for he had two kinds of knowledge invaluable at the moment⁠—a wide acquaintance with the organisation of the revolution in the provinces, and considerable insight into the psychology of the capital city. He had been of great value to Luis and Blenkiron and Martinez, while they worked out the next moves⁠—the proclamation to the people of Olifa, the demobilisation of the levies, and the preparations for a presidential election. He had also been constantly on the telephone with Castor at Veiro, who was busy with the draft of the new constitution, which was to be embodied in the proclamation. Don Alejandro was contented, exhilarated, but also very weary. He decided that he owed himself a short spell of leisure, and resolved to dine alone at the club. + 

But his hopes of a little rest were frustrated. He found himself accosted by a villainous-looking peasant, whose left wrist was bound up in a dirty handkerchief, and whose mahogany face showed a long shallow scar from right temple to chin, which must have been done recently, for the blood was scarcely dry on it. Also the man appeared to be drunk, for as he clutched his arm he swayed. + 

“Maister Gedd,” came a hoarse whisper, “Maister Gedd! Haud on, for God’s sake! Ye ken me? Ye saw me at Charcillo? Hamilton’s my name. I was wi’ Sir Erchibald. Ye ken Sir Erchibald?⁠ ⁠…” The scarecrow tottered, and would have fallen had he not leaned heavily against the wall. + 

Recognition broke in on Don Alejandro’s mind. He remembered the square Scots soldier who had been with Lady Roylance in her escape from the Tronos del Rey and who had been Archie’s special henchman at Charcillo. He had heard that he had been in Olifa before the city surrendered. Don Alejandro was a man of action. There was a small café at hand in a retired side-street, and thither he led him. He compelled him to drink a claret glass of liqueur brandy. Obviously there was some story worth hearing. He was just about to begin a leisurely cross-examination, when the soldier seemed to recover his dazed wits and forestalled him. + 

“What am I sittin’ here for?” he exclaimed. “Come on, sir,” and he struggled to rise. “We maun get haud o’ Sir Erchibald or Maister Lewis. There’s awfu’ things gaun to happen afore the nicht’s oot. It’s Veiro⁠ ⁠… the twa leddies⁠ ⁠… and him they ca’ the Gobernador.⁠ ⁠… Oh, sir, let’s oot o’ this and awa’ up to Heidquarters. They’ll let me in if you’re wi’ me. I’ve been tryin’ to win in my lane for the last hour, and the sentries just shoo’d me awa’.” + 

His earnestness and alarm communicated themselves to Don Alejandro. Then the man seemed to recover his balance, and, leaning forward, clutched Don Alejandro’s knee. + 

“I’ve been in this toun a’ week. The folks think I’m a native frae some landward bit.⁠ ⁠… I’ve been bidin’ doun near the harbour⁠—it’s an auld haunt o’ mine.⁠ ⁠… Some o’ thae Bodyguard blagyirds is there, and I got chief wi’ ane o’ them.⁠ ⁠… Syne Judson appeared⁠—ye mind him? and he kenned me, and there was a wee bit o’ a turn-up. I had to rin for my life, but I had fund oot what they were ettlin’, and I’ve been jinkin’ about the closes and tryin’ to see Sir Erchibald.⁠ ⁠… This verra nicht.⁠ ⁠… Man, they’re clever. When we’re a’ crackin’ about the grand victory and thinkin’ that there’s nae mair fecht left in the ither side, they’re plannin’ a bloody revenge.⁠ ⁠… Wha’s in it? Judson, for ane, an’ yon lang, black-avised lad they ca’ Laschallas, and some o’ the white-faced gentry that used to manage the Gran Seco.⁠ ⁠… What do they ettle? It canna be ransom, for there’s nae hidy-hole they could carry their prisoners to. It maun be murder⁠—black murder. Oh, haste ye, sir. The blagyirds or now will be well on the road to Veiro. They’ve gotten cars, and they’ll no be easy stoppit.⁠ ⁠… What’s the time? Gettin’ on for eight?” The man staggered to his feet with wild eyes. + 

“Is there no an aeroplane?” he cried. “We maun gang by air, for they’ll beat us by the road.” + 

But when a quarter of an hour later Archie and Blenkiron were roused by the news into violent activity, it was found that there were no aeroplanes to be had in or near the city of Olifa. Also it was discovered that the wires between Olifa and Veiro had been tampered with. It was impossible to communicate even with Alcorta Junction. + 

IX + 

That day the life at Veiro had returned to something of its ancient serenity. Castor, indeed, was kept busy with constant telephone calls from the city, and on four occasions messengers came to him by car. But otherwise there was no sign that the place was any kind of headquarters. No garrison was in the house, and no sentries were at the gates, for considerable armies lay between it and the city on one side, and Pecos and the road to the Gran Seco on the other. + 

Don Mario pottered about the stables and the garden and had a long siesta in the darkened library. Janet also slept, for the strain of the past weeks had fatigued her more than she knew. Barbara wrote letters and went riding in the first cool of the evening. In the dim, musty-smelling rooms, in the sunny courtyard, in the garden where the lawns were beginning to brown under the summer heats, there was an air of calm after storm, of a general relaxing. The feeling was in the atmosphere, but with Janet it was less a positive satisfaction than a mere rest from anxiety. She understood now that she and Barbara had been living for a long time on the extreme edge of their nerves. The news that victory had been won brought relief rather than triumph. She had not yet adjusted her world to meet it; she was simply aware that her mind could leave the weary treadmill and be still. + 

But at dinner she realised that a change was coming over her mood. She felt lighthearted again, and had begun to look into the future. Barbara seemed to have suffered the same change, for she had been singing as she dressed. Don Mario was in his usual placid humour, but Castor was in tune with her new temper. His work for the day was finished; he had bathed and got himself into dress-clothes, for some of his kit had been sent out that morning from the city; and now he relaxed into something very like high spirits. Janet had never witnessed this new mood of his, and she found it delightful. Before he had always retained the manner of one in command, one a little apart, for whom friendliness involved a slight descent and unbending. But now he had dropped without effort to the level of ordinary folk, he laughed without constraint, his eyes had a frank companionship. + 

At dinner he talked to Don Mario of past days in Olifa. He even spoke of his Campanillo grandmother. The old man presently passed from his stilted English into Spanish, which Janet could not easily follow, but it was clear that he was pleased by Castor’s questions and was expanding happily on some matter very dear to his heart. Once again Janet saw in the two faces that which she had noted weeks before at Charcillo in the faces of Luis and his young caballeros⁠—something innocently apostolic, the ardour of men in the grip of an idea. She looked across the table at Barbara, who wore pale pink roses on the breast of her black gown. Barbara had spoken little, but there was a pleasant content in her dark eyes⁠—and now, as she caught Janet’s glance and followed it to Castor’s ardent face, there was also a flicker of amusement. + 

They drank their coffee in Don Mario’s own room, among the spurs and whips and sporting pictures. The French windows were open wide, for the night was warm, but a fine-meshed curtain of gauze hung over them to keep out moths and flying ants. Without the stars burned fiercely, and in their light an ancient baroque group, which adorned the terrace, had the appearance of a knot of eavesdroppers. Barbara had started at her first sight of the statuary. + 

Castor stood before the empty fireplace which had been filled with a tapestry screen. There were three lamps in the room set on little tables, which illumined the heads of the two women and of Don Mario in his high-backed chair. The face of the Gobernador, being only partially lit, revealed none of the lesser details of age. The fine lines on the forehead, the streaks of grey in beard and hair were unseen; only the trim figure and the noble contour of the head stood out, and these had an air of vital youth. The impression was strengthened by the new note in his voice. + 

“You are twenty years younger tonight, Excellency,” said Don Mario. + 

“I am beginning life again,” was the answer. “I have been middle-aged⁠—I have been old⁠—and now I am young.” + 

“Can one begin life anew?” the old man asked in his precise English. “It is the fashion for people to talk so, but I wonder. It has never been my fate, for I have carried into each new stage of my life heavy burdens from the last stages. But perhaps I was always lazy⁠—lazy and a little timid.” + 

“I have been fortunate,” said Castor gravely, “for Fate itself has shut the door on that which I would leave behind.” + 

“But is the door fast? Will nothing creep through?” + 

“It can be kept fast and well guarded. I do not mean that I must not atone for my blunders. God knows I have made many and I have much folly to expiate. Yet that too is part of my good fortune. I am in a position to mend what I have done wrongly.” + 

The old man shook his head. + 

“You are luckier than I. The blunders I have made were such as did not permit themselves to be atoned for. Witness my error in crossing the Vidas and the Cintra blood. I was warned by my father about the Cintra stock, which he said meant speed but no heart, and in the mares a lamentable barrenness. But I would not listen, and all my life I have paid the penalty.” + 

“I am not a fatalist,” was the answer. “That is the blindest of superstitions. The spirit and mind of man are free to shape life if they are resolute enough and wise enough. A man is not the slave of his father’s actions, or of his own. Any error can be redeemed on this side of the grave.” + 

Don Mario laughed. “I will not discourage your optimism, Excellency. It is a pleasant gift of youth. I who am old practise humility.” + 

“I too would practise humility,” said Castor. “That is what I have learned in the Courts of the Morning. Before, I was arrogant and self-centred and friendless and inhuman. But up in that mountain eyrie I found a juster perspective.⁠ ⁠… Call it a revelation. I was granted a view of life from a great height, and many things, including myself, took different proportions. That I owe to you, Lady Roylance, and to your friends. If I were to die now, I should die happy, for I have become young again. You opened a door for me, and I have passed through it.” + 

“You are certain that it is closed behind you?” Janet did not know what made her ask the question. The words seemed to come mechanically to her lips. + 

“Closed and bolted and guarded.” There was both solemnity and exhilaration in his tone. Janet never forgot the picture he made in that moment, his head flung back, his eyes looking down under their heavy lids with a glow of something more than friendliness, his voice grave and vibrant and masterful. It challenged Fate, but in the challenge there was no vanity. She felt a sudden kindling of enthusiasm, a longing to follow this man who was born to lead his fellows. The cold Olympian had disappeared, and Prometheus was in his place, Prometheus the pioneer of humanity, the bringer of gifts to men. + 

In the pause which followed Janet alone caught Barbara’s whisper. “Turn your head slowly round⁠ ⁠… to the window.⁠ ⁠… Watch the group of statues. I saw them move⁠ ⁠… there are people there.” + 

She obeyed. She saw the edge of the group, where Hercules was engaged with the Hydra, move ever so slightly. She saw, too, a dark blur close to the right of the window, which had not been there before. In an instant she divined the truth. This was Fate’s answer to the challenge. The Gobernador had shut the door on his past, but something had forced it ajar and slipped through. + 

She heard Barbara speaking low and composedly. “They cannot see me. I am behind the light.⁠ ⁠… I will slip out.⁠ ⁠… Go on talking.” + 

Janet’s heart seemed to stop, and then resumed its beating, so loudly that she felt that it must drown the ticking of the silver clock behind Castor’s head. In a voice so steady that it surprised her, she began to question Don Mario about the coloured print of Eclipse beside his chair. She was aware of a slight stirring in the shadows and knew that Barbara had left the room. + 

Barbara found herself in a long corridor which had suddenly become very dark, and realised that the lamp in the hall beyond had been put out. Why? It was too early for the servants to have gone to bed. Someone must have entered the house, someone different from the group outside the window. + 

It required all her courage to traverse the corridor and reach the hall. It was in black darkness, and she began to grope her way to the passage beyond, which led to the courtyard.⁠ ⁠… She stopped to listen. There seemed to be a sound coming from the courtyard⁠—servants, perhaps⁠—there were four men indoors, a butler, two footmen, and Don Mario’s valet. Outside by the corrals there were the grooms and the cattlemen, hardy peons who might be trusted to defend their master. She must get to them⁠—at any cost she must get to them. She stilled every other thought by clenching her teeth on that purpose. + 

Presently she was at the foot of the main staircase, a broad shallow thing which led direct to the galleries of the upper floor. Here there was a faint glimmer of light, for the stars were shining through the staircase window. Her eyes were on it when she stumbled over something which lay sprawled across the bottom step. + 

She bit hard into her lips and stood shivering. It was a man’s body. She bent, and even in the dim light she saw by the uniform that it was one of the house-servants. He was dead. Her hands, as they touched his shoulder, felt something warm and sticky. + 

At the same moment sounds, stealthy sounds, reached her ear from the direction of the courtyard. The murderers were there, and that way there was no escape. Scarcely knowing what she did, she stepped over the body and ran up the staircase. She had a blind idea of getting to her own room, as if there she would find sanctuary. + 

She sped like a hare along the top gallery, and reached her room. At the door she stopped to listen. All seemed quiet on the upper floor. Inside the door there was the same faint sheen of starlight. Barbara sat down on her bed, and struggled against the terrible lassitude which weakened her limbs and dulled her brain. + 

She forced herself to think. She did not trouble to guess who the enemies were⁠—it was enough for her that they had come for murder. The little party in the room below were unarmed, and one was a girl and another an old man. She must act⁠—at once⁠—rouse the peons⁠—destroy the ruffians outside on the lawn before they had time to shoot. It was the only way, and she tottered to the window. + 

The room was at the other side of the house from the garden, and the window looked down on some outhouses and part of a little enclosed court. The peons lived beyond the big orchard where the corrals began. She must get to them, and almost before she knew she found herself on the veranda. There was a drop of a few feet to a roof whence she might reach the courtyard.⁠ ⁠… But the courtyard might be a cul-de-sac. It must be, for the enemy would guard all the approaches. + 

She dropped on to the roof of a shed. The courtyard was empty, but she thought she heard a sound from the gate which led to the stableyard. That was on her left; on her right were other roofs and then a grove of trees; in front a wall ran straight to the edge of the orchard. This last must be her road, and she started climbing along the top of the adobe wall, which was plentifully studded with sharp tiles. + 

The pain of the traverse seemed to restore her balance. She felt her gown tearing, and her stockings in shreds, and her knees and wrists ached. In her haste she had no time to pick her way, but when the wall suddenly broadened she scrambled to her feet, and the last stage she almost ran. + 

Now she was at the transverse wall which bounded the orchard. She remembered that the place was walled all round, and that once inside it might be hard to get out. So she still kept to the wall, which continued to be of a fair breadth, and endeavoured to circuit the orchard so as to reach the corrals. But this took her at right angles to her former course, and brought her back again to the edge of the first courtyard. + 

Suddenly she flung herself flat. There were men in the courtyard. Two men came at a run from the direction of the house. There must be a backdoor there which she had forgotten. The door into the stableyard opened, but they did not pass through. They seemed to be listening. Had they caught sight of her? She lay in a cold terror for several minutes, till she dared to raise her head again. They were gone, and the door into the stableyard was shut. + 

Barbara did not venture to rise again, but crawled for the rest of the road.⁠ ⁠… Presently she was looking into open ground, the ribbon of rough pasture between the orchard and the alfalfa fields.⁠ ⁠… Her sense of direction had become a little confused, but she thought that the peons’ quarters were to her right beyond the orchard. + 

She dropped off the wall. It was higher than she had thought, and she felt her ankle wrenched. Then she began to run, keeping in the shadow of the orchard wall. The need for haste was urgent, but her legs seemed to have no power and the pain of her ankle sickened her. Also her heart kept hammering so fast that it choked her breathing. + 

Now she was at the angle of the orchard wall, but there were no peons’ quarters before her⁠—only the savannah, with the alfalfa lands on the left, and the rails of a paddock on her right.⁠ ⁠… She turned blindly to the right⁠ ⁠… ran a few steps⁠ ⁠… changed her mind⁠ ⁠… and suddenly found herself almost ridden down by a mounted man. + 

The face she saw had the pallor of a Conquistador. She had blundered into the enemy. The man had just avoided her, and was now in difficulties with his beast. A second horseman had leaped to the ground at the sight of her, and it was into his arms that she staggered. To her amazement she heard her name spoken, and looked up into Sandy’s face. + 

She clung to him, while she stammered her story. + 

“Murder,” he said quietly. “And they are desperate men with no care for their own lives.⁠ ⁠… Timmy, it’s the mercy of God that sent you with us. You’re our only hope. You’ve got to get into the house.” + 

Janet realised that the great crisis of her life had come.⁠ ⁠… Don Mario expounded in his hoarse old voice the merits of the Eclipse print⁠—it was from the Sartorius picture which he preferred to the better known Stubbs⁠—he had picked it up in St. James’s Street in ’98⁠—no, it must have been ’96, when he was in England for the Fitzgibbon sale.⁠ ⁠… And all the time her eyes were on Castor, who still stood before the fireplace. He lit a cigarette and the match made a spurt of light before his face. + 

Janet did not dare to look towards the window.⁠ ⁠… The only hope was to keep still. Perhaps the cat would linger over the watching of the mouse. Barbara would now be alarming the house-servants; they would get at the arms, which were all in the gun-room; probably they would first get in touch with the outdoor peons. That would all take time, and meantime they must let the murderers savour their revenge at ease. For she had no doubt of the meaning of it all. The Conquistadors and the Bodyguard could have no thought but vengeance; ruin and death lay before them, and they had nothing more to hope or fear.⁠ ⁠… She wished the clock did not tick so loudly. + 

Suddenly Castor turned towards the window. Her eyes were on him, and she saw his face go grim. At the same moment there came a sound, which she knew was the rending of the gauze curtain. Now at last she turned her head, and Don Mario craned his from the depth of his chair. Outside in the starlight, close up to the sill, were half a dozen men, each with a pistol held to cover the inmates of the room. She saw what she had expected⁠—the rabbit teeth and the weasel face of Judson, Radin with his high cheekbones and his scar, Suvorin’s parched skin and albino hair, Laschallas’s thick eyebrows. It was as if a wave of corruption had flowed out of the night, and hung, ready to break, at the window. + 

One man had entered the room and stood beside Don Mario’s chair. She recognised Romanes. But it was a different figure from the trim cavalryman whom she had last seen in the Tronos del Rey. The lamp on the table at his left showed him clearly, and it seemed as if some screw had been removed which had dislocated the whole fabric of his being. He was unshaven and dirty, his clothes were ragged, and there was a long blue weal on his forehead. She saw the lean, knotted neck, the oddly-shaped skull, the pale, sneering face, as if the soul had wholly mastered the body, and transformed it to an exact reflex. But the eyes, which had once been dull and expressionless, now danced and glowed with a crazy brilliance. + 

“Good evening, sir,” he said, and his voice, once so passionless, had an odd lilt in it, like a parson who intones a litany. “Ah, it is the old horse-breeder, Sanfuentes!⁠ ⁠… And you, madame! I have been longing to meet you again, for the last time you left in rather a hurry.” But he looked not at Janet or Don Mario, but steadily, devouringly, at the Gobernador. + 

Janet sat very still in her chair, a yard from each. Castor had moved his head and she saw the clock. It must be ten minutes since Barbara had slipped out. She kept her gaze rigidly on its minute-hand, as if by some mental concentration she could hasten its circuit, for she had a notion that if the end did not come for another ten minutes there was hope. + 

“Good evening,” she heard Castor say. “You’ve an odd way of announcing yourself. You look a little off-colour. Would you like some food?” + 

The other did not reply. He was smiling, but so close were his lips to his teeth that it looked like a snarl. + 

“A cigarette anyhow.” Castor was about to feel for his case in his pocket, when a pistol barrel confronted him. + 

“Stay still,” said Romanes. “Not a movement. You will stand quite rigid, please, while I say what I have to say.” + 

“Right!” was the answer. “You used to have better manners, Romanes. Let me hear what you want to say. You have come, I suppose, to ask for terms.” + 

The coolness of the Gobernador’s tone seemed to move the other to fresh mirth. + 

“Terms!” he cried. “Oh, yes, we ask for terms. A free pardon, of course, and our passage paid to Europe, and five hundred apiece on which to begin a new life. Terms!” and his voice rose almost to a shriek. “Do you not know that there are no terms on God’s earth you could offer us?” + 

“There is nothing I intend to offer you,” was the answer. + 

“No. You are wise. I never underestimated your brains.⁠ ⁠… You have used us, and I think we have given you good service.⁠ ⁠… Now you have changed your plans, and would fling us on the scrapheap. You have different ambitions now, and your old tools are no longer required. But the tools may have something to say to that.” + 

“True. I am inclined to agree with you. I am not the man to shirk my responsibility.” Castor’s eyes had made the circuit of the room. He saw the ravening faces at the window, old Don Mario huddled in his chair, Janet below him white-lipped and tense. He saw something else⁠—a new figure which had slipped in by the door, and which he recognised as Lariarty. He saw him before Romanes did, and it was the almost imperceptible start which he gave that caused the other to cast a swift glance to his left. + 

Romanes smiled as he observed the newcomer. “Just in time,” he said. “I wondered if you would bring it off. We are going to be offered terms after all. Our old chief says he admits his responsibility.” + 

Lariarty’s sick, drawn face made no response, but he moved nearer Romanes, till their elbows almost touched. His hands were empty, but there was a bulge in his side pocket. + 

“Terms!” Romanes cried again. “You have broken our world in bits, and you speak of recognising your responsibility! You have played with souls, and you are going to find that it is an awkward game. We are dying⁠—dying. Morituri te salutamus. And the way we salute you is to take you with us. There will be no Castor, the regenerator of Olifa, for little boys to read about in their history books. For in about two minutes Castor will be dead.” + 

The man on the hearthrug flung back his head. + 

“When we worked together, Romanes,” he said, “you did not make full use of your opportunities. You cannot know much about me if you think that I can be frightened by threats of death. I am afraid of many things, but not of that.⁠ ⁠… You seem to hold a strong hand. Take me away with you⁠—anywhere⁠—away from this house. Then, if you are determined on it, put a pistol bullet through my head, or put me against a wall for the rest of your gang to have a share in the pleasure of killing me. I accept what Fate sends⁠—I have always accepted it. But why should you bring an old man and a girl into this unpleasant business?” + 

Romanes thrust his face close to the other’s, and to Janet it seemed that it was now the mask of madness. She had forgotten about the slow minute-hand of the clock, for with Lariarty’s coming⁠—and coming through the door⁠—she had realised that all hope was gone. But in that moment she did not think of her own danger. What held her gaze was Castor, who seemed to have risen to a strange nobility. There was not a tremor in his face, not a shadow of hesitation in his grave eyes. It was man towering above the beast, humanity triumphing even in its overthrow.⁠ ⁠… These broken things before him were in part his handiwork. They were the world he had left⁠—but he had left it. Yes, whatever happened, he had left it.⁠ ⁠… + 

“Not so,” Romanes was saying. “We are not civilised executioners. We are damned and dying, and our vengeance is the vengeance of the damned. The women go with you⁠—there was another here who must be found. And the old horse-coping fool.⁠ ⁠… After that we will find Rosas⁠ ⁠… and Clanroyden, curse him⁠ ⁠… and⁠ ⁠…” + 

It was then that Don Mario struck. He had been quietly reaching with his right hand for a loaded riding-whip which was on the rack on the wall beside his chair. Its handle had a heavy metal knob, and, without rising in his seat, he swung it with surprising agility at Romanes’s head. But the eyes of age are not those of youth and he missed his aim. The handle only grazed Romanes’s shoulder, glanced off, hit the lamp on the table behind him, and sent it crashing to the ground. + 

Romanes half turned to his assailant, and as he moved Lariarty leaped on him. As he leaped he cried in a strange, stifled voice the single word “Pecos,” the signal which he had agreed upon with Sandy. If he could deal with the tiger within, it was for Sandy to frustrate the wolves without. + 

But Don Mario’s unexpected attack had deranged the plan. Lariarty should have trusted to his pistol; instead, he yielded to that ancient instinct which urges a man to grapple with an enemy who is suddenly unbalanced. The signal which he should have shouted was muffled by his haste, and the watchers at the window were given a moment to act before Sandy could strike. When “Pecos” rang out a second time with a desperate shrillness it was too late. + 

For Romanes, even in his madness, had judged the situation right. He could make certain of at least part of his vengeance. Castor, too, was upon him, but his right hand was free, and he shot him at close quarters in the neck. The Gobernador fell forward on the sitting Janet, and in the same instant shots were fired from the window. They may have been meant for Castor, but they found other quarries. Lariarty dropped with a bullet in his brain, and Romanes clutched at space, gasped, and fell beside him. + 

Janet, struggling to rise, with the shots still like whiplashes in her ear, heard a second burst of fire. It came from outside the window, and she knew it for rifles. Then there seemed to be a great quiet, and the world disappeared for her⁠—everything except a dying man whom she had laid in her chair.⁠ ⁠… + 

He was beyond speech, and his eyes were vacant and innocent like a child’s. She pressed her face to his and kissed him on the lips.⁠ ⁠… A fresh lamp seemed to have been lit behind her, and by its aid she saw the glazing eyes wake for a second, and through them the soul struggle to send a last message. There was peace in the face.⁠ ⁠… + 

When Archie arrived ten minutes later his first demand was for Janet. Sandy drew him gently up to the ragged gauze curtain. + 

“She is safe⁠—by a miracle,” he said. “But Castor is dead⁠—he died in her arms. Don’t disturb her yet, Archie. A woman can only love one man truly, but many men may love her.⁠ ⁠… Janet was the only love of Castor’s life. He died happy with her kiss on his cheek.⁠ ⁠… Let her stay a little longer beside him.” + 