Part 49

"You can't if one of these fellows puts a bullet in you," said Roddy. "You know you are making a big sacrifice, and I thank you for it."

McKildrick looked at him in some embarrassment.

"You stand to lose more than any of us," he said. "I'm told you are to be congratulated." His eyes were so full of sympathy and good feeling that Roddy held out his hand.

"You're the first one to do it," he said happily; "and it's good to hear. Mac!" he exclaimed, in awe-struck tones, "I'm the happiest, luckiest, and the least deserving beggar in all the world!"

McKildrick smiled dryly.

"I seem to have heard something like that before," he said.

"Never!" cried Roddy stoutly. "Other poor devils may have thought so, but I know. It never happened to any one but me!"

McKildrick turned his eyes seaward and frowned,

"I even used the same lines myself once," he said; "but I found I'd got hold of some other fellow's part. So if anything should come my way to-night it wouldn't make such a lot of difference."

Roddy took one hand from the wheel and, leaning forward, touched McKildrick on the knee.

"I'm sorry," he said; "I didn't know."

McKildrick nodded, and as though glad of an interruption, held up his hand.

"Listen!" he cried. "Stop the engine!"

Roddy let the launch slip forward on her own headway. In the silence that followed they heard from the city the confused murmur of a mob and the sharp bark of pistols. They looked at each other significantly.

"The surface indications seem to show," said McKildrick, "that things are loosening up. I guess it's going to be one of those nights!"

As they rounded the point and the whole of the harbor front came into view, they saw that the doors of the bonded warehouses had been broken open, and that the boxes and bales they contained had been tumbled out upon the wharf and piled into barricades. From behind these, and from the windows of the custom-house, men not in uniform, and evidently of the Rojas faction, were firing upon the tiny gun-boat in the harbor, and from it their rifle-fire was being answered by an automatic gun. With full speed ahead, Roddy ran the gauntlet of this cross-fire, and in safety tied up to his own wharf.

"Go inside," he commanded, "and find out what has happened. And tell Peter we'll take his cargo on board now. Until we're ready to start I'll stay by the launch and see no one tries to borrow her."

Peter and McKildrick returned at once, and with gasoline, tins of biscuit and meat, and a cask of drinking water, stocked the boat for her possible run to Curaçao. The Rojas party, so Peter informed them, had taken the barracks in the suburbs and, preliminary to an attack on the fortress, had seized the custom-house which faced it; but the artillery barracks, which were inside the city, were still in the hands of the government troops. Until they were taken, with the guns in them, the Rojas faction were without artillery, and against the fortress could do nothing. It was already dusk, and, in half an hour, would be night. It was for this the Rojas crowd were waiting. As yet, of Vega and his followers no news had reached the city. But the government troops were pursuing him closely, and it was probable that an engagement had already taken place.

"By this time," said Roddy, "Vicenti has told Rojas, and in an hour Pedro will arrive, and then we start. Go get something to eat, and send my dinner out here. I've some tinkering to do on the engine."

Before separating, McKildrick suggested that Peter and Roddy should set their watches by his, which was already set to agree with Vicenti's.

"For, should anything happen to me," he explained, "you boys must blow up the wall, and you must know just when you are to do it. Roddy knows how to do it, and," he added to Peter, "I'll explain it to you while we're at dinner."

They left Roddy on his knees, busily plying his oil-can, and crossed the garden. In the patio they found the table ready for dinner, and two lamps casting a cheerful light upon the white cloth and flashing from the bottle of red Rioja.

As they seated themselves, one of the stray bullets that were singing above the housetops dislodged a tile, and the pieces of red clay fell clattering into the court-yard. Peter reached for the claret and, with ostentatious slowness, filled McKildrick's glass.

"Dynasties may come," he said, "and dynasties may go; but I find one always dines."

"Why not?" replied McKildrick. "Napoleon said an army is a collection of stomachs. Why should you and I pretend to be better soldiers than Napoleon's?"

As a signal to the kitchen he clapped his hands; but the servant who answered came not from the kitchen, but from the street. His yellow skin was pale with fright. He gasped and pointed into the shadow at a soldier who followed him. The man wore the uniform of a hospital steward and on his arm the badge of the Red Cross. He stepped forward and, glancing with concern from Peter to McKildrick, saluted mechanically.

"Doctor Vicenti!" he exclaimed; "he wishes to see you. He is outside on a stretcher. We are taking him to the hospital, but he made us bring him here first." The man shook his head sharply. "He is dying!" he said.

In this sudden threat of disaster to their plan the thought of both the conspirators was first for Rojas.