less the rebel Xuarez.”
“Beware, Señor,” said Tejada, as several of his officers muttered angrily; “I cannot protect you, if thus you speak of our honoured President.”
“President!” cried Rafael, in a rage.
“Yes; the President of Cholacaca.”
“Don Francisco Gomez is President?”
“By the will of the aristocrats,” said Don José fiercely; “but Don Hypolito Xuarez is President by the will of the people.”
“Enough of this,” exclaimed the Intendante, waving his hand; “we are here under a flag of truce. Even you, Señor, must respect that. We will deliver our message to Xuarez, and depart unharmed.”
“That is as Don Hypolito wills it.”
“Your pardon, Señor,” interposed Philip, taking off his yachting cap; “this is an English vessel, and as such you dare not seize her.”
“I recognise no vessel as English under those colours,” said Tejada, fiercely, pointing to the opal banner.
“Bueno! I will endeavour to remove your prejudice.”
In another moment Philip had given orders to Benker, and the Union Jack was flying at the other masthead.
“You must respect our neutrality now, Señor.”
Don José bit his lip, and turning to one of his officers, gave an order. The soldier bowed, dropped over the side of the yacht, and went ashore in the boat.
“I have sent to tell Don Hypolito that an embassy has come from Tlatonac,” said Tejada, addressing the Intendante with marked coldness; “in ten or fifteen minutes you shall know his decision.”
“He must receive us, Señor.”
“No doubt; but the question is, will he let you depart?”
“By the law of nations, which recognises the white flag, he must let us go as we came, unharmed.”
“Had you not sailed under the English ensign, you would not have got into the harbour so easily. This boat would be now sunk by the guns of The Cortes.”
“I thought as much,” said Philip, easily; “therefore I flew a flag which even you had to respect.”
“And may I ask, Señores,” sneered Don José, with elaborate politeness, “under which flag you sail? the English, the Opal, or the White?”
“Under the white,” replied Garibay, promptly.
“Good! Then lower those two banners, and run up the white flag.”
“I’ll see you hanged first!” retorted Philip, bluntly. “This is an English vessel, and I defy you to touch it or the flag.”
Tejada blushed red with rage, for he knew that Xuarez, anxious to stand well in his quarrel with the great nations of Europe, would not dare to insult the Union Jack. In fact, seeing that the deputation had arrived in an English vessel, Tejada was well assured in his own mind that it would be received and sent away with the utmost courtesy, let their message from the Junta be galling as it might be. Xuarez was no barbarian, and in any case would have treated a flag of truce with honour, but the presence of these English gentlemen, of this English ship, put the matter beyond all doubt.
Under these circumstances, Tejada was unable to reply to Sir Philip; but suppressing his wrath with a great effort, bowed politely and turned away. As he did so, Don Rafael sprang forward, as also did Jack, both eager to learn if Dolores was in the town.
“I will speak, amigo,” said Rafael, hurriedly to Jack. “I know Don José, as my private friend, though public enemy; he will answer me.”
“Your servant, Señor!” remarked Tejada, stiffly, finding himself face to face with Don Rafael.
“Señor,” said the young man, taking off his sombrero with ceremonious politeness, “we are enemies because we follow different leaders; but I implore you, by the friendship which once existed between us, to answer a question I would ask.”
“Surely, Señor! You were ever welcome at my table, in time of peace. As you say, we are now enemies; but God forbid that this unhappy war should banish all courtesies between gentlemen. What question do you wish to put, Señor? It shall be answered.”
“Is my cousin—is Doña Dolores at Acauhtzin?”
Tejada started, and seemed much surprised.
“No, Señor Maraquando, she is not here. Why ask me such a strange question?”
“Not here!” cried Jack, who also knew Tejada well; “but she must be here, Señor Tejada; she has been carried off from Tlatonac, taken on board yonder vessel,”—pointing to The Pizarro—“and is now in Acauhtzin with Don Hypolito.”
“I swear to you, Señor Duval, that you wrong us. You wrong Don Hypolito,” replied Don José, earnestly. “I am aware that our leader loves Doña Dolores, and desires to marry her, but he would not carry her off so basely. No, Señor,” continued Tejada, proudly; “we are men of honour, we do not make war on women. When Don Hypolito conquers, he will ask for the honour of Doña Dolores’ hand in due form. She is not here, I swear.”
“Great Heavens!” cried Jack, in despair. “Can this be true?”
“Don José,” said Rafael, eagerly, “I know you to be a man of honour. I do not doubt your word; but I feel sure that my cousin is here.”
“Señor!”
“I do not say that you know, or are deceiving me,” went on Rafael, rapidly. “But look you, Don José. There is a zambo called Pepe, who acted as a spy for your party at Tlatonac. The other night he decoyed my cousin from the cathedral on board The Pizarro. A fisherman saw Pepe rowing to the war-ship, with a female in his boat.”
“Bueno! That is so,” interrupted Tejada, bluntly; “but the woman was a poblana—one Marina.”
“Marina!” cried Duval, savagely. “Then I have been tricked. We have all been wrong! Doña Dolores must be with the Indians.”
“I trust, Señor, your fears are groundless; but if Doña Dolores is with the Indians, she will be quite safe. They reverence her as the guardian of the Chalchuih Tlatonac.”
“Does Don Hypolito know anything about the Indians?” asked Rafael, hurriedly.
“That question, Señor, I am not at liberty to answer.”
Rafael cast one swift and penetrating glance at the impassive face of the old man, and turned away with a suppressed oath.
“Carrai!” he muttered, fiercely, to Philip, who stood by, a silent spectator. “I believe Xuarez is in league with the Indians, and has made them carry her off. If she is not here, she is at that hidden temple; but, in either case, Don Hypolito is mixed up with the case.”
“In
