“Adio senores.”

And with that we rode on our respective ways.

“Two troopers and prisoner,” said Carmen, thoughtfully.

“So there are more of them, after all!  How many, I wonder?  If this prisoner be a patriot we must rescue him, senor Fortescue.”

“With all my heart—­if we can.”

“Only two troopers!  You and I are a match for six.”

“Possibly.  But we don’t know that the two are not followed by a score!  There seems to be no end of them.”

“I don’t think so.  If there were the colonel would have asked us to tell them also to hurry up.  But we shall soon find out.  When we meet the fellows we will speak them fair and ask a few questions.”

Ten minutes later we met them.

“Buene noche, senores!” said Carmen, riding forward.  “We bring a message from the colonel.  He bids you make haste.”

“All very fine.  But how can we make haste when we are hampered by this rascal?  I should like to blow his brains out.”

“This rascal” was the prisoner, a big powerful fellow who seemed to be either a zambo or a negro.  His arms were bound to his side, and he walked between the troopers, to whose saddles he was fastened by two stout cords.

“Why don’t you blow his brains out?”

“Because we should get into trouble.  He is the colonel’s slave, and therefore valuable property.  We have tried dragging him along; but the villain throws himself down, and might get a limb broken, so all we can do is prod him occasionally with the points of our sabres; but he does not seem to mind us in the least.  We have tried swearing; we might as well whistle.  Make haste, indeed!”

“A very hard case, I am sure.  I sympathize with you, senores.  Is the man a runaway that you have to take such care of him?”

“That is just it.  He ran away and rambled for months in the forest; and if he had not stolen back to La Victoria and been betrayed by a woman, he would never have been caught.  After that, the colonel would not trust him at large; but he thinks that at Caracas he will have him safe.  And now, senores, with your leave we must go on.”

“Ah!  You are the last, I suppose?”

“We are; curse it!  The main body must be a league ahead by this time, and we shall not reach Caracas for hours. Adios!”

“Let us rescue the poor devil!” I whispered to Carmen.

“By all means.  One moment, senores; I beg your pardon—­now, Fortescue!”

And with that we placed our horses across the road, whipped out our pistols and pointed them at the troopers’ heads, to their owners’ unutterable surprise.

“We are sorry to inconvenience you, senores,” said my companion, politely; “but we are going to release this slave, and we have need of your horses.  Unbuckle your swords, throw them on the ground, and dismount.  No hesitation, or you are dead men!  Shall we treat them as they proposed to treat the slave, Senor Fortescue?  Blow out their brains?  It will be safer, and save us a deal of trouble.”