At last there was a soft splashing and he could dimly see them wade into the river. Their disputes were over, and they were going across in haste. Then the foremost of them plunged into a belt of mist, and for several minutes he watched their comrades press onwards from the tall gra.s.s and reeds. The water was gleaming faintly now, and they looked like a long black snake crawling through the midst of it until the filmy haze shut them in. At times a shouting came up through the splashing and crackle of undergrowth. In the meanwhile the tail of the straggling column still winding down the side of the gorge was steadily growing plainer, and the haze commenced to slide and curl upwards in long filmy wisps, until at last Ormsgill scrambled to his feet with every nerve in him thrilling. The ringing of a bugle rose from beyond the river and was answered by another blast apparently from the rise behind him.

Then the splashing ceased suddenly, and there was for a few moments a tense and almost intolerable silence, during which he stood still with one hand clenched until a clamor rose from the midst of the river, and he heard the dull thud of a flintlock gun. It was answered by a clear ringing crash of riflery, and then while the flintlocks and Sniders joined in, thin pale flashes blazed amidst the reeds and in the sliding mist. This lasted for, perhaps, a minute or two, until it became evident that the rebels were splashing back again. Ormsgill could see them streaming out of the mist, and as he watched them another patter of riflery broke out upon the higher ground behind him.

A bugle rang shrilly, and he fancied he heard a white man's voice calling in the bush. Then looking round as one of the boys touched him, he saw that his guards were no longer there. They had evidently fled and left him to shift for himself. He stood a minute considering, with the boys clamoring about him, and then made up his mind. The rebels were streaming back up the gorge, and it seemed to him just possible that if he separated himself from them he might slip away un.o.bserved in the press of the pursuit. Once across the river he might still reach the coast.

Calling to the boys he set out at a stumbling run, and for awhile skirted the ridge of bluff. The rebels were too intent on their own affairs to trouble about him, even if any of them noticed him, which appeared very doubtful. He struck the river half a mile below the spot where the negroes had attempted the crossing, and plunged in with the boys still about him. He could see them clearly now, and the bush showed sharp and black against the sky. There was a desultory patter of riflery behind him, but except for that he could hear very little, and he pushed on with the water rising rapidly to his waist. It was as much as he could do to keep his feet, for the stream ran strong. Then one of the boys clutched him and held him up, and for the next few minutes they struggled desperately in a swifter swirl of current until the water sank again suddenly, and he stood, gasping, knee-deep in the yellow stream, looking about him.

It was broad daylight now, and he could see a steep bank clothed with thick bush and brushwood close by. There was a little hollow in it up which the mist that still drifted about the river was flowing, and calling to his boys he headed for it. Nothing seemed to indicate that there were any troops in the vicinity. They floundered dripping through a belt of tall gra.s.s, and were clambering up the slope when one of the boys laid a wet hand upon his arm and the rest stood still suddenly. Ormsgill felt his heart beating a good deal faster than usual, though he could see nothing but trees in front of him. He was on the point of pushing on again when a voice came out of the sliding haze.

"Stand still," it said sharply in Portuguese. "We will shoot the first who stirs."

Ormsgill made a sign to the boys, and in another moment several black soldiers appeared among the trees. A white sergeant in very soiled uniform moved out from among them and stood surveying him with a little sardonic grin.

"There are half a dozen rifles here," he said. "You surrender yourselves?"

Ormsgill made a little gesture. "Senor," he said, "it is evident that we are in your hands."

The man beckoned him to come forward with the boys, and a few more black soldiers who rose out of the undergrowth closed in on them.

Ormsgill turned quietly to the sergeant.

"You have been too much for the bushmen," he said. "Who is commanding you?"

"Dom Clemente," said the sergeant. "He has trapped those pigs of the forest. That is a wonderful man. You will wait here until I can send you to him. Whether he will have you shot I do not know."

In spite of this observation he appeared a good-humored person, and presently offered Ormsgill a cigarette. The latter, who sat down near the sergeant and smoked it, waited until a patrol came along, when the black soldier in command marched him and the boys through the undergrowth, and at length led him into the presence of Dom Clemente.

He sat in state at a little table, immaculate in trim white uniform, with two black men with rifles standing behind him. Another white officer and a dusky interpreter who stood close by had apparently been interrogating a couple of rebel prisoners. They squatted upon the ground gazing at the white men with apprehension in their eyes. Dom Clemente made Ormsgill a little formal salutation, and then leaned back in his chair.

"This meeting reminds me of another occasion when you were brought before me, Senor and you were then frank with me," he said. "I might suggest that candor would be equally advisable just now. I hear that San Roque has fallen, and it appears that you were there. I must ask you to tell me in what capacity."

"As a prisoner in the hands of the rebels," said Ormsgill.

Dom Clemente nodded. "It is on the whole fortunate that I think one could take your word for it," he said. "You are desired to tell us what happened at San Roque."

Ormsgill did so quietly, though he said as little as possible about his own share in the proceedings, and afterwards answered the questions the other officer asked him until Dom Clemente turned to him again.

"It seems that Dom Erminio has, at least, acquitted himself creditably in this affair," he observed. "All things considered, I do not know that one has much occasion to be sorry for him. Dom Luiz, too, went down beside his gun. Well, that is, after all, what one would have expected from him."

Then he made a little gesture. "You will understand that there are matters which demand my attention, and I may have something more to say later. In the meanwhile you will give me your parole. The boys will be looked after."

Ormsgill pledged himself to make no attempt at escape, and was led away to a little tent where food was brought him and he was told he was to stay. He realized that Dom Clemente had struck the rebels a crushing blow, one from which there was little probability of their recovering, but what was being done about the pursuit he did not know, though he fancied that a body of troops had crossed the river. Still, that did not greatly concern him, and worn-out and dejected as he was he was glad to fall asleep. It was evening when he awakened as a black soldier looked into the tent, and a few minutes later Dom Clemente came in and sat down in the camp chair the soldier had brought.

Ormsgill sat on the ground sheet, heavy-eyed, tattered, and haggard, and waited for him to speak.

"I shall go on to-morrow when more troops come up, and you will come with us. There are matters that require attention yonder," he said.

"In the meanwhile I have had the boys you brought down interrogated, and the story they tell me is in some respects a fantastic one. It is, I fancy, fortunate for your sake that I am acquainted with several facts which seem to bear it out."

Ormsgill was a trifle astonished, but Dom Clemente smiled. "It is," he said, "advisable that one in authority should hear of everything, but it is not always wise that he should make that fact apparent. One waits until the time comes--and then, as was the case this morning, one acts."

He spread out one slender, faintly olive-tinted hand and then brought it down upon the table closed with an unexpected sharpness that was very expressive.

"Senor," he said, "though I have heard a little from the boys, you have not told me yet exactly how you came to fall into those bushmen's hands."

Ormsgill, who did not think that reticence was likely to be of much service, briefly related what had befallen him, and his companion nodded.

"I have the honor of your acquaintance, and it is perhaps, permissible to point out that you have a troublesome fondness for meddling with other people's business," he said. "Further, you are a trifle impulsive and precipitate."

"There was n.o.body else who seemed anxious to undertake the affair in question," said Ormsgill dryly.

Dom Clemente made a little gesture. "It is generally wiser to wait until one is certain. Well, I think I may venture to take you into my confidence to some extent. The doings of the trader Herrero--who has lodged complaints against you--and his friend Domingo have long been known to me. They were merely being permitted to involve themselves in difficulties while we waited until the time was ripe. It is now very probable that I shall suppress both of them."

"One can sometimes wait longer than is advisable," said Ormsgill with a little dry laugh. "Herrero and his friend are dead."

Then for the first time he narrated all that had been done in the inland village, and Dom Clemente, who listened carefully, smiled.

"It only proves my point," he said. "One waits and the affair regulates itself. Well, they are dead, and I do not think there is anybody who will greatly regret them. It will clear the ground for what we mean to do up yonder. There is, you understand, to be a change in our native policy, and I"--he straightened himself a trifle--"have been entrusted with its inauguration. From now we shall, at least, endeavor to modify some of the difficulties which are, perhaps, not inseparably connected with this question of the labor supply."

"The whole system should be done away with."

Dom Clemente spread his hands out. "In this country one is content with accomplishing a little now and then. But there is another matter.

Certain complaints have been made against your friend the American, and we have decided that there is nothing against him. I bring him permission to go back to his station."

"Nares," said Ormsgill quietly, "will not profit by it. He has been promoted. He was killed endeavoring to make peace at San Roque."

"Ah," said Dom Clemente, "that is a matter of regret to me. Perhaps, he was a little imprudent. Some of these missionaries are sadly deficient in diplomacy, and that may have been the case with him. I do not know. Still, when all is said, he was a brave man, and I think"--he made a little grave gesture--"what he has done for these black men will be remembered where he is now."

It was not a great deal, but Ormsgill who noticed the quick change in the little soldier's voice was satisfied with it. After all, one can not say much more of any man than that he has done what he could for his fellow men. Then Dom Clemente turned to him again.

"I have not asked you yet what you did during the attack on San Roque," he said.

"If you fancy I have done anything for which I could be held accountable it is for you to establish it. It seems to me that would be a little difficult since I believe every man in the fort is dead."

"Still--if the thing appeared advisable--it might be possible."

Ormsgill made no attempt to dispute this, but changed the subject.

"There is a thing I don't quite understand," he said. "I almost fancy the man who led the rebels must have known you held the bank when he pushed his men across."

"Yes," said Dom Clemente, "I believe he did. Still, there are men who can recognize when they must fight or fail ignominiously. One has a certain respect for them. I do not think it was that negro's fault that he was driven back. Flintlocks and matchets are not much use against our rifles."

Then he rose. "In the meanwhile you will be detained. My instructions were to arrest you, and, as you know, I only hold subordinate authority. Still, so far as my duty permits it, I think you can regard me as a friend."

He went out of the tent, and an hour or two later Ormsgill contrived to go to sleep again. He was roused by the bugles at daylight, and went back with the rear guard into the forests he had lately left, and in due time marched with them into sight of the ruins of San Roque. It was early morning when they reached the fort, but before the sun was high the three white men who had fallen there were laid to rest in state. The black troops who had with reversed rifles swung into hollow square stood listening vacantly round the bank of raw steaming soil where Father Tiebout recited words of ponderous import in the sonorous Latin tongue. Then there was a crashing volley, and as the patter of marching feet commenced again Ormsgill and the priest and Dom Clemente stood looking on while a few black soldiers raised the three rude crosses. On one of them a dusky armorer had under Ormsgill's supervision cut the words, "_In hoc signo._"

Father Tiebout glanced at them and nodded gravely. "It is fitting," he said. "He did what he could--and we others do not know how much it was. After all, it is only a grain of understanding that is now vouchsafed us, but"--and he once more broke into the sonorous Latin, "I look for the resurrection of the dead."

Dom Clemente smiled. "There are men of your profession, Father, who would not have ventured to do what you have done," he said. "Still, I think when that day comes some of us may, perhaps, have cause to envy this heretic."

Then they turned away, and in another hour once more pushed on into the forest.