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A seemingly well-travelled road went off to the left, or southward, while the one they were on turned more to the right and climbed a hill, as if it were making a further effort to get out of the tierra caliente. A great many things had been explained to Ned, as they rode along, and he was not surprised, therefore, when Señor Zuroaga said to him: "My young friend, this is the place I told you of.
The engineering party was well aware that its movements might possibly be observed from the heights beyond, as long as it remained in the open, therefore it wheeled out into the fields as it went onward, and was soon lost to view among woodlands. "Now, Crawford," said Captain Lee, "recall and tell me, as well as you can, all that Zuroaga told you about his proposed new road."
"I think so myself," said Señor Zuroaga. "Don't even stay here for breakfast. Nobody from here must come to the consul's with Señor Carfora." "Of course not," said the captain, wearily, and away he went, although Ned felt as if he were full to bursting with the most interesting kind of questions concerning the captain's night in the life-boat and the sad fate of the swift and beautiful Goshhawk.
Besides its half-dozen of oarsmen, it contained a tall man in a gorgeous uniform, and it was only a minute or so before Zuroaga exclaimed: "Yes, that is Colonel Guerra himself. I am glad he is all alone!"
There was no apparent reason for haste, but neither of them cared to linger, and before long they were out on the piazza in front, Zuroaga with his hat pulled down to his eyes and his coat collar up. Ned was at once confirmed in his previous idea that the house was anything but new, and to that he added the conviction that it was much larger than it had appeared to be in the night.
He was about to learn some other things which were not upon the ship's books, for he had reached the heel of the bowsprit, where Señor Zuroaga was standing, gazing dreamily westward. "Good morning, señor!" said Ned. "We did get away." "I don't know how good a morning it is for me," replied the dark-faced Mexican, wearily.
It was a straight, one-edged blade, with a sharp point, and a brass basket hilt, and he remarked: "Señor Zuroaga, I could hit with that, I guess." His face had flushed fiery red, and it could be seen, from his handling of the machete, that his muscles were unusually strong for his size and age. The señor nodded his approbation, as he remarked: "I think you will do.
We shall never see him again!" Ned felt as if somebody had struck him a heavy blow. He could not say a word for a moment, and then he whispered: "Poor General Zuroaga! Why, I had no idea that he would be killed!" That is always so after a battle.
You don't really have to know anything about the cargo. Besides, it was peace when we sailed. We shall make a safe landing, if nothing happens on the way." "Captain," said the Mexican, "it does not take long to make a declaration of war when both sides are determined to have one." "You're wrong there, Señor Zuroaga," replied the captain, emphatically. "Mexico doesn't want a brush with the States.
There was a sound of sobbing behind them, and in a moment more the arms of Señora Paez were around Felicia. "My darling! My dear little girl!" she exclaimed. "Señor Carfora, too! The end has come. The Americans have stormed Chapultepec, and the city is at their mercy. Alas, for me! General Bravo was taken prisoner, and my beloved old friend, Zuroaga, was killed at the head of his regiment.
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