BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume

amigo. Our men will fight like devils, now they know the fortune of the Chalchuih Tlatonac is on the side of the Junta. In the same way, Don Hypolito’s soldiers will lose heart.”

      “If they lose the war, that is all I care about. I would like to see that fiend of a Xuarez punished,” said Jack, savagely. “By the way, Philip, I suppose you got no satisfaction at Acauhtzin this trip?”

      “No; the forts opened fire, and would not let me enter the harbour. Luckily, the war-ships were all south, as I knew, or we would have been smashed up.”

      “The war-ships are bombarding Janjalla, you told me.”

      “Yes; we hope, however, that it will hold out till the torpederas go south.”

      “Have they arrived?”

      “Yonder.”

      Philip pointed to the left, and there, under the walls of the fort, lay two long black objects, with stumpy black funnels. More than this, a large ship of some two thousand five hundred tons was anchored close at hand. Jack was astonished to see the change in the port since he had last beheld Tlatonac. Then it was quiet and peaceful-looking, now, what with ships and the two torpedo-boats, black wasps of the ocean, as they were, lying under the walls, the walls themselves spotted with the muzzles of heavy guns, the glitter of arms and uniforms outside the sea-gate, and the blaring of distant trumpets, the roll of drums, the aspect was of the most warlike character. He glanced at the spiteful-looking torpedo-boats, and turning towards Philip, mutely demanded an explanation.

      “You see Cholacaca is in the thick of it,” said the baronet, gaily. “You have been away close on three weeks, and during that time neither Don Hypolito nor the Junta have been idle. The former has sent his troops and war-ships to Janjalla, and the latter is busy fixing up the torpederas to have a fight with The Pizarro and her consorts down south.”

      “But that ship?”

      “The Iturbide. She is a Cuban mail steamer requisitioned by the Junta, and turned into an armed cruiser for this war. With her and the torpederas, Don Hypolito’s fleet won’t have such a pleasant time as they think.”

      “Does Don Rafael command The Iturbide?”

      “I, mi amigo!” cried Rafael, overhearing this question. “Not I. Yonder torpedo-boat is under my charge, and in that, Don Juan, you must come with me.”

      “When do you go south?”

      “The day after to-morrow. At the same time regiments march by land to Gigedo, at Janjalla. Oh, the game has begun, Juan, and the opal burns red!”

      “It will now burn whatever colour we like,” retorted Jack, shrugging his shoulders. “I saw the way those priests managed the trick. It was——”

      “Tim can tell us all that in the patio of Casa Maraquando,” interrupted Philip, hastily. “See, the anchor is down, so we had better go ashore at once, and relieve the minds of Don Miguel and the ladies.”

      “Cocom is already over the side,” said Peter, pointing to a small canoe skimming the waves. “You will receive an ovation on your way through the city.”

      “Greatness is thrust upon me,” laughed Jack, who was wonderfully lighthearted now that they were safe, “Where is Doña Dolores?”

      “Just coming on deck.”

      The girl still wore her Indian dress, as Philip, being a bachelor, had no feminine gear on board. She had, however, washed the paint from her face, and looked wonderfully bright and charming in her savage toilette.

      “Pocahontas!” said Philip, in Jack’s ear, as she approached. “Lucky man. I would I were Captain John Smith.”

      “What about Eulalia?”

      “Oh, I can tell you about Eulalia,” murmured Dr. Grench, a trifle maliciously.

      “You’ll do nothing of the sort, Peter,” said Philip, sharply. “I will tell Jack all about it myself. You stick to your beetles and Doña Serafina.”

      “Doña Serafina!” cried Dolores, overhearing the name. “Oh, Señor Felipe, how I do wish to see my dear aunt.”

      “In a few minutes, Señorita. See, the boat is waiting. We will all go on shore at once.”

      “There seems to be a row on shore,” remarked Jack, as they climbed down the side of the yacht.

      “Dios!” exclaimed Rafael, laughing. “Cocom has told them all. The news is passing from mouth to mouth. Soon it will be all over the city. Harken to the cries, mis amigos.”

      “Vive el Americano! El opalo! Dios lo pague, Doña Dolores!”

      “A shout for one, a shout for all,” observed Jack, philosophically. “They should also shout, ‘God reward Cocom!’ for without Him we would not be here.”

      They were welcomed on shore by a frantic crowd. The Cholacacans have all the vivacity and impulsiveness of southern nature. Nothing do they love so much as a public demonstration; therefore, on this occasion they gave full rein to their enthusiasm. In their eyes, Jack was a hero, Dolores a heroine, and, accordingly, they were almost stunned with vociferous applause. The fact that the opal, that sacred gem, so inextricably interwoven with the traditions of the Republic, was now in the city itself, wrought them up to a pitch of frenzy. With the Chalchuih Tlatonac in their midst, they could not fail to conquer the rebels; it was the palladium of the Republic, the genius of Tlatonac, and by it would they be enabled to overwhelm their enemies. The superstitious belief they had in the jewel was almost terrible. It glittered on the banners of Cholacaca, it coloured the whole patriotic feelings of the inhabitants. The opal meant victory to its possessors, and, lo! they held it safely in the capital.

      Up to the sea-gate the lovers passed, surrounded by their friends. On either side the vast crowd heaved like a great sea. Constant cries saluted Jack, Dolores, the opal; and to show the public that Cocom had spoken truly, Duval whispered a few words to his companion. In a moment she had drawn forth the gem from her breast, and held it up in full sight of the populace. The tumult sank to a dead stillness, as if by magic, and everyone drew a deep breath of awe and admiration as the splendid jewel flashed its lightnings in the sun. A crimson beam flared forth, owing to the position in which it was held by Dolores. It burned in her fingers like a red-hot coal. The crowd, in their superstition, took it as a sign from heaven, and burst out into frenzied cries.

      “Guerra! Guerra! El opalo! Guerra! Abajo los rebeledes!”

      Then some excited person began chanting the national song of the opal. In a moment the mob caught at the idea, and the great body of sound thundered to the sky.

      Kneel at the shrine while the future discerning,

       See how the crimson ray strengthens and glows;

       Red as the sunset the opal is burning,

       Red is prophetic of death to our foes.

      “I feel like a victorious general,” said Jack, smiling at all this enthusiasm.

      “What a pity Tim isn’t here,” remarked Peter, whose usually meek eyes were flashing like stars behind his spectacles; “he does so like a row.”

      “He’ll be having plenty where he is,” said Philip, grimly; “but look at that fellow going to do the Raleigh business with his zarape.”

      By this time they had passed into the Calle Otumba, and a frantic young Spaniard, rushing forward, flung his cloak on the ground for Dolores to walk across. The idea pleased the people, and in a few moments the whole way up to the Casa Maraquando was spread with zarapes. Then flowers were flung before them in profusion.

      “The primrose path of dalliance,” quoth Philip, laughing. “I hope these excited people won’t throw their bodies next for us to walk over. Don’t be afraid, Doña Dolores. You have your guard of honour to protect you.”

      Indeed,