“There it is again!  Something more than a wild animal this time, Fortescue,” exclaims Carmen, springing to his feet.

I follow his example; but the same instant a dozen men spring from the bushes, and before we can offer any resistance, or even draw our swords, we are borne to the ground and despite our struggles, our arms pinioned to our sides.

CHAPTER XV.

AN OLD ENEMY.

Our captors were Spanish soldiers.

“Be good enough to rise and accompany us to San Felipe, senores,” said the non-commissioned officer in command of the detachment, “and if you attempt to escape I shall blow your brains out.”

“Dios mio! It serves us right for not keeping a better lookout,” said Carmen, with a laugh which I thought sounded rather hollow.  “We shall be in San Felipe sooner than we expected, that is all.  Lead on, sergeant; we have a dozen good reasons for not trying to escape, to say nothing of our strait waistcoats.”

Whereupon we were marched down the hill and taken to San Felipe, two men following with our horses, from which and other circumstances I inferred that we had been under observation ever since our arrival in the neighborhood.  The others were doubtless under observation also; and at the moment I thought less of our own predicament (in view of the hanging propensities of General Griscelli, a decidedly unpleasant one) than of the terrible surprise which awaited Mejia and his army, for, as I quickly perceived, the Spaniards were quite on the alert, and fully prepared for whatever might befall.  The place swarmed with soldiers; sentries were pacing to and fro on the parapets, gunners furbishing up their pieces, and squads of native auxiliaries being drilled on a broad savanna outside the walls.

Many of the houses were mere huts—­roofs on stilts; others, “wattle and dab;” a few, brown-stone.  To the most imposing of these we were conducted by our escort.  Above the doorway, on either side of which stood a sentry, was an inscription:  “Headquarters:  General Griscelli.”

The sergeant asked one of the sentries if the general was in, and receiving an answer in the affirmative he entered, leaving us outside.  Presently he returned.

“The general will see you,” he said; “be good enough to come in.”

We went in, and after traversing a wide corridor were ushered into a large room, where an officer in undress uniform sat writing at a big table.  Several other officers were lounging in easy-chairs, and smoking big cigars.

“Here are the prisoners, general,” announced our conductor.

The man at the table, looking up, glanced first at Carmen, then at me.

“Caramba!” he exclaimed, with a stare of surprise, “you and I have met before, I think.”

I returned the stare with interest, for though I recognized him I could hardly believe my own eyes.