The guest of honour at the Jefe's banquet that evening was not the station-master of Santa Marta, who, it is to be feared, was left out in the cold, but William Pentelow. His health was drunk (in very bad wine), and he had to listen, as comfortably as he could, to some very high-flown speeches, in which he was hailed as the true Liberator of Venezuela. Will, who was a modest fellow, took all this for what it was worth, which, he was inclined to think, was very little.

The truth is that he was not in the mood for junketing. Before the banquet the Jefe had granted him a private audience, and he related full particulars of what had happened at railhead. He ended by asking the Jefe to use his influence and authority to procure the liberation of Mr. Jackson and his subordinates. The Jefe was very sympathetic, but confessed frankly that he saw no present means of helping the Englishmen.

"It is most distressing, seÑor," he said, "but you see my unfortunate position. I am not strong enough to follow up the defeated rebels. I cannot leave the city totally unguarded, and my whole force is inferior in numbers to those of General CarabaÑo and Colonel Orellana. I can expect no help from Caracas at present, and, as you are doubtless aware, there are no garrisons in the smaller towns touched by the railway. Besides, I have no doubt that General CarabaÑo has entrained his men, and returned to the place from which he started, and since the culvert is broken, it is impossible to follow him up by train. As soon as the revolt in Valencia is suppressed, the President will certainly take strong measures against General CarabaÑo, who until then must, I fear, be left unmolested. A mere remonstrance with him on the treatment of your colleagues, unbacked by force, would be futile. I will certainly telegraph to Caracas, giving the particulars I have learnt from you, and asking for instructions; but I do not expect that anything practical will come of it immediately. At present I can only hold this city for the Government. If I may counsel you, I say, remain here for the present. I do not anticipate that your friends will suffer personal harm; General Carabano will certainly have a wholesome respect for the far-reaching arm of your great country. I shall not fail to represent your distinguished services in the highest quarters, and without doubt the President will know how to recognize them adequately. In the meantime I shall be honoured by your presence at the banquet I am giving to-night in celebration of our victory."

This was very cold comfort; but Will was not unreasonable, and on reflection he acknowledged that the Jefe could not very well take any active steps on behalf of his friends. He decided at any rate to wait until an answer had been received from Caracas, which might be expected during the following day.

Scouts who had been sent out to watch the retreating columns reported that the retirement was definitive. Colonel Orellana had marched southward round the swamps, while General CarabaÑo had entrained his men beyond the culvert and started down the line, presumably to return to his camp at De Mello's hacienda.

Next morning the Jefe decided to send a portion of his troops by steamer to the junction, to capture the station staff, who had clearly espoused the rebels' cause. When Colonel Blanco returned in the evening, he reported that he had found the station deserted. Since the destruction of the culvert six miles west of Bolivar had rendered the line useless at present for Government troops, the Colonel had thought it wise to prevent General CarabaÑo from attempting another dash on the city. Accordingly he had torn up a hundred yards of the track on this side of the junction. This left the rebels in possession of the branch line, which would, however, be of little use to them. The Colonel had not broken the telegraph wires. The traitor Pereira in Bolivar had been flung into jail, so that there was no danger of further mischief concerted between him and his friend Machado.

Meanwhile Will had spent an unhappy day. Some of the younger officers seemed disposed to continue indefinitely the revellings of the previous night, and he had great difficulty in excusing himself from participation in them without appearing discourteous. He took the opportunity of paying a visit to the offices of the Company. The agent, an Englishman, was greatly distressed at what had occurred, and cabled information to the head offices in London, leaving it to the directors to make representations to the Foreign Office. He advanced a quarter's salary to Will, who bought a revolver and a supply of petrol, together with a considerable quantity of food which he stored in the hydroplane.

An hour before Colonel Blanco's return from the junction, the Jefe sent for Will.

"I have disagreeable news for you, seÑor," he said. "This afternoon I received a telegram from General CarabaÑo saying that your superior, having taken arms against the Liberator, is now held to ransom. He threatens that unless he receives within three days 60,000 pesos for SeÑor Jackson and 12,000 for each of his subordinates they will be shot."

Will gasped. He knew without telling that to raise so large a sum as £7,000 would be impossible.

"I telegraphed this demand to Caracas, having already informed the President of what you told me yesterday," continued the Jefe. "I have his reply here. He says that he deeply regrets the outrage to which your friends have been subjected, but the permanent interests of your Company will be better served by strengthening my position here than by attempting a rescue with a totally inadequate force. He adds that the payment of a ransom is out of the question. It would merely strengthen General CarabaÑo's position, and his demand must be resisted on public grounds ay in the highest degree dangerous."

"Surely he will not allow three inoffensive Englishmen to be shot," exclaimed Will, indignantly.

"It is deplorable," replied the Jefe, "but what can be done? General CarabaÑo will hesitate before taking so extreme a step, which would utterly ruin any chance he may have of usurping authority, even if he could overcome us by force of arms."

"I am not so sure of that," said Will bitterly. "From what I have seen and heard of the General I believe him to be utterly unscrupulous and capable of any atrocity, to satisfy his spite if for no other reason, for you remember, Excellency, that it was my Chief's firmness that prevented him from vastly increasing his resources."

"SeÑor Jackson indeed merits the thanks of the Republic, seÑor, and I am greatly concerned at his unfortunate position. But, as you see, I am helpless, and I can only hope that General CarabaÑo will be restrained by considerations of prudence from committing what would undoubtedly be a most heinous crime."

Will saw that, had he been in the Governor's place, he could hardly have done otherwise. But though official action was impossible, he felt that he could not himself remain securely in Bolivar while his friends were in dire peril. He was at a loss to think of any effectual means of helping them, but he could at least return to the hacienda on the chance, small though it must be, of intervening in their behalf. It flashed upon him--and the thought was a ray of hope--that the General had possibly been bluffing, and that the Englishmen were no longer his prisoners. He could not have left a large guard over them; they might have escaped. At any rate, Will decided that he must return at once and see for himself how matters stood.

Twenty minutes after his interview with the Jefe he was again on board the hydroplane with JosÉ and Azito. A few miles up the river he met Colonel Blanco's steamer returning, and learnt what had been done at the junction. Then he set off again, hoping to reach the neighbourhood of the hacienda soon after dark. But reflecting that his supply of petrol was limited, and he would have no chance of replenishing it, he contented himself with an average speed of some twenty knots, and it was dark before he reached the junction. Just at this time it happened that something went wrong with the engine, and since he did not care to risk an absolute breakdown, and could not discover the defect in the darkness, he felt it necessary to lie up until morning. Accordingly he ran the vessel into a small secluded creek, well sheltered by trees, and made his way with JosÉ and the Indian to the deserted station, where they ate a meal and fixed their quarters for the night, each taking a turn to watch.

As soon as it was light they returned to the hydroplane. To repair the defect was the work of half-an-hour. They were eating their breakfast on board the vessel when Azito declared that he heard a train approaching. The creek was so well screened by the foliage that there was no fear of their being seen from the railway line; but it was possible to observe through the leaves what happened when the train drew level. It consisted of three trucks filled with men, and Will felt sure he saw the burly form of Captain Espejo standing beside the engine-driver on his cab. He wondered whether they had got wind of the coming of the hydroplane, and had come to intercept it. This seemed very unlikely, for the news would not have reached them by telegraph now that Pereira had been removed and the staff at the junction had decamped. True, the hydroplane had been seen as it passed river-side villages, and it had met and overtaken several craft on the way--barges, skiffs, and Indian canoes. But it had outstripped all vessels going in the same direction, and it must have been impossible for any of their occupants to have given information to the rebels. A more reasonable explanation was that they had heard of the visit of Colonel Blanco, and Captain Espejo had come to discover what had happened at the junction, and whether any movement was being made from Bolivar. General CarabaÑo was probably unaware of the exact strength of the reinforcements to which he owed his defeat, and would naturally be somewhat nervous lest he should be followed up.

The train came to a standstill where the line had been torn up. Captain Espejo descended from the engine and some of his men from the trucks, and they walked along the track and into the station. Will had already decided that it would be inadvisable to continue his journey until the approach of evening. He chafed at the delay, but there would be too great a risk of being seen, or of the throbbing of the engine being heard, to venture further in the daylight, especially as the line was being used. After the train had returned, therefore--the engine running backwards, the siding at the station having been destroyed--he settled himself in the boat to make up for the broken sleep of the night.

When he awoke, he thought over what was before him. It was impossible to prepare a definite plan of operations. His first object must be to discover whether the three Englishmen were still in the camp, and still imprisoned in the stables. This seemed to him unlikely. His own escape would probably have led to a change of quarters, unless indeed the General had adopted the precaution of patrolling all sides of the stables to prevent a repetition of Will's exploit. He thought with compunction of the additional rigours the prisoners might have had to suffer through him. What he should do when he had discovered their whereabouts must be left to circumstances. He would only have a little more than one clear day to effect their release before the period named by General CarabaÑo expired, and he fretted a good deal as he thought of the possibility that all his efforts might fail.

After a tedious and anxious day, he ventured to set off a little before dusk. It was dark when he came into the stream running past the hacienda. Finding that the wind was blowing strongly from the direction of the hacienda, he continued to use the engine for a time, not, of course, planing, but contenting himself with a bare two or three knots. When this was no longer safe, he stopped the engine and with Azito's assistance began to pole the vessel up-stream. It was slow and fatiguing work. But there was no help for it. The hydroplane was too valuable an accessory to be left where it might be discovered. The first necessity was to lay it up in security. Then they might go ashore feeling confident that, however protracted their absence might be, the vessel would be safe and always available.

As it passed within sight of the hacienda and the camp Will saw lights, and suspected from their position that the camp had been shifted. He would have liked to land and steal up to the stables; Azito offered to do so: but Will, after a little hesitation, stuck to his resolution to risk nothing until the hydroplane was in safety. It was fully four hours before he reached the hollow in the bank. Once or twice in the darkness the vessel ran aground, and the fear of lurking caymans made them careful how they moved to get her off. When, shortly after one o'clock, she was at last moored in the recess, Will was tired out. He was five miles from the hacienda: by the time he could reach it there would only be two or three hours of darkness before day broke. It would be difficult enough to make any discovery at all in the darkness: how much more difficult when time was limited! In spite of the further delay involved, Will thought it wise to rest for the remainder of the night, and to start fresh next morning on whatever course then offered itself.

Will had never before spent a night in the hydroplane. Owing perhaps to his fatigue and his anxieties he felt a little reluctant to do so now, for though the water in the recess was very shallow, there was a possibility that a cayman might wander in from the stream, a prospect not to be thought of without shuddering. Azito and the negro refused point-blank to sleep in the vessel. The wood had its perils, but they preferred to rest in a tree. To guard against any danger for himself Will hit on the plan of tying a string across the entrance of the recess about a foot above the surface of the water. An empty petrol can was attached to one end of this, and so carefully balanced that the least touch on the string would cause it to fall against the bank. The sound would, he hoped, not only give him warning, but scare away any unwelcome visitor. However, the night passed without disturbance, and Will, when he awoke, was ready for anything the day might bring forth.

It was the third day, the last, of the time allowed by General CarabaÑo for the ransom of his prisoners. Anything that could be done for them must be done at once.

"You and I will go to the hacienda," said Will to the Indian, "and see if we can find out where the seÑores are."

"I go alone, seÑor," replied Azito. "I can move as quietly as a snake. No one will hear me. Was it not I that made the hole in the wall? Let the seÑor stay here until I bring him word."

Anxious and impatient though he was, Will had to confess to himself that Azito's suggestion was reasonable. The Indian was accustomed to the woods: he might evade observation by a hundred artifices of which Will was ignorant. In any case one would go more safely than two.

"Very well," said Will. "Be as quick as you can."

The Indian slipped noiselessly away. Will spent the first part of the morning in cleaning the engine. When this was done he moved restlessly about among the trees, worried because he could do nothing, nor even form any plans until he had more information. He watched the bright-coloured birds flitting among the foliage, caught a tree frog, and examined it with a naturalist's curiosity, followed a cayman as it hunted for food along the bank; but all this palled upon him after a time, and as hour after hour passed, and Azito did not return, he became more and more uneasy. What had happened to the man? Had he fallen into the clutches of his old master? At the best he would be unmercifully thrashed; and if by any chance Captain Espejo had learnt of his association with the Englishmen, as he might do from one of the railway peons who had been impressed, Will trembled for the poor Indian's fate.

As the sun rose higher, it became oppressively hot in the moist atmosphere of the wood. At noon Will and JosÉ ate a simple dinner; then the former lay down in the hydroplane to snatch a nap. But the air of the recess was so stuffy, and insects bit him so ferociously, that at last he could endure his inactivity no longer. JosÉ had been several times to the edge of the wood to watch for Azito's return. When he came back after one of these excursions, and reported that there was still no sign of him, Will sprang up.

"I am going after him, JosÉ," he said. "You stay here and watch the boat. Do not leave it until I come."

He climbed up the bank and set off through the wood. If he went straight through it, he would emerge almost within bowshot of the hacienda. It occurred to him that he would run less risk if he came down on the camp from the opposite side rather than from the river front. Accordingly he struck off to the right, and presently reached the margin of the wood near the deserted railway camp. Looking around to make sure that no one was in sight, he ran across the open space, still littered with the dÉbris of the camp, and crawled over the embankment. A few hundred yards on the other side of this was a long stretch of forest. He entered this, and then turning to the left, hurried on as fast as he could through the clinging tangled undergrowth. Here and there the trees thinned and he bent low so that his form should not show above the vegetation. Sometimes too he came to an expanse of bare rising ground, and had to go a long way round to avoid it. But the embankment always served as a screen, and about three o'clock he arrived at a point where he could hear the distant sounds of the camp and knew that he was coming within reach of danger.

Leaving the wood, he climbed the embankment, and lay down at the top to view the camp. He saw that, as he had guessed when passing it on the stream, it had been removed, and was now established nearly half-a-mile away in the grounds of the hacienda, which the tents practically encircled. He surmised that his escape from the stables had made General CarabaÑo anxious about his own safety. If a man could get out, a man could get in, and the General had many enemies. Difficult as access had been before, it was now immeasurably more difficult, and Will felt with a sinking heart that his friends' plight was even more serious than he had believed.

He was still lying on the embankment, wondering what had become of Azito, and how he was to do anything for the prisoners, when he suddenly became aware that he was not alone. He had heard no sound except the distant hum from the camp. Turning quickly and whipping out his revolver, but still having the prudence not to rise to his feet, he was confronted by Azito himself, who had crawled up to his side. He was conscious now that his heart was thumping wildly against his ribs.

"I am here, seÑor," whispered the Indian, unnecessarily.

The two quickly slid down the embankment and entered the wood.

"I had given you up," said Will breathlessly. "What have you done?"

The Indian's story was a very simple and natural one, and Will saw that his anxiety had been quite baseless. Azito had approached to within a quarter-mile of the hacienda, and then found himself checked. The camp was astir; sentries were placed at several points of its circuit; it was impossible to get in undetected. There was no alternative but to wait. Will could imagine Azito sitting with the stolid patience of the Indian, clasping his knees, indifferent to the passage of time. His opportunity came at noon, when, after the midday meal, everybody but the sentries retired for a siesta, and even they were drowsy. Slipping round the camp, he wormed his way through the undergrowth to the back of the stables. The hole in the wall had not been filled up. There was no sound from within. Wriggling through the hole, he found that the stables were deserted. The door was open. All was quiet before the hacienda. He peeped round to the right. No sentry was posted at the new stables. Evidently the prisoners had not been transferred to them. It was impossible to search for them through the camp. Stealthily he made his way back as he had come, and going a long way round, crossed the embankment and drew near to the camp again, to view it from the other side. There was nothing to indicate the whereabouts of the prisoners.

"Did you see any one you knew?" asked Will.

"SeÑor Machado, seÑor. I saw him go in and out of the house. Once he came out with General CarabaÑo."

"Are there any special guards set in the camp itself?"

"None, seÑor, except the sentry at the door. He was asleep against the wall when I looked out from the stables."

The absence of special guards in the camp or at the house seemed to indicate that the prisoners had been removed elsewhere. A horrible fear that they had already been shot seized upon Will. For a moment he shuddered in a cold sweat of doubt and dread. But then he remembered that the period of grace had not yet expired. Furthermore, the prisoners would be more valuable alive than dead. While they still lived there was a chance of their being ransomed. General Carabano would surely, as the Jefe had suggested, hesitate to involve himself in serious complications with the British Government. A revolutionary leader can hardly play the remorseless tyrant until success has placed him beyond criticism.

But if the prisoners, then, were still alive, as seemed probable, where were they? So far as Will knew, there was no place in the immediate neighbourhood to which they could have been taken. He was at a loss how to make any discovery on this matter without revealing his presence to the enemy. The camp was astir. To enter it now was impossible. It seemed that the only thing to do was to return to the recess, and remain there until night, trying meanwhile to think out some course of action.

Before he left, however, he determined to climb the embankment once more for a final look round. Choosing for his ascent a spot a little nearer to the camp, on gaining the top he caught sight of the small wooden cabin which had been erected for the telegraphic apparatus. Before, it was concealed from him by a row of bushes. For a moment he wondered whether the prisoners had been locked up there, but the notion was negatived immediately by the absence of a sentry. And then he laughed inwardly at the idea of the prisoners being within reach of Machado. The telegraphist would hardly feel safe to perform his duties, if they were still required of him, with O'Connor near at hand, even though he was bound.

There was nothing to be gained by remaining longer, so Will, very despondent, made his way back with Azito through the wood to the recess in the bank. JosÉ reported that nothing had happened during their absence. They all had a meal; then Will went up the bank and strolled along where the vegetation did not impede walking, gloomily pondering his apparent helplessness.

Suddenly he heard a slight warning sound from Azito. He stepped hastily back among the trees, and looked up-stream, the direction in which the Indian was pointing. Coming round a bend some distance away was an object that looked like a cage or a basket. There was a man in it, standing in the middle, steering the strange vessel with a short pole as it drifted down the stream. Azito declared that he was a white man. Will gazed at him searchingly; then almost shouted for joy. The newcomer was Joe Ruggles.