“I feel very sorry for him, too,” answered Phil, “and I hope we can straighten this out and save him from the disgrace of being relieved of his office. He was new here and speaks no Spanish at all. It was natural he should fall into the snare set for him by that scheming rascal Juarez.” Studying carefully everything they observed, the three Americans moved slowly along the road, on the borders of which the army of General Ruiz was encamped, ready for the expected word to assault the city. An officer stepped from the grove of trees in front and came boldly toward them. Our boys regarded him indifferently until he approached to within a few yards of them, then their hearts sank as they recognized the triumphant face of the American vice-consul. He raised his uniform cap in mock civility. “Three English newspaper reporters,” he sneered. “I have received instructions from General Ruiz to show you every courtesy.” The lads were dumbfounded. The game was up. A vision of a dark prison flashed before them. Phil was the first to recover himself. “We meet you in a new rôle also,” he replied in English, in a voice he tried hard to control. “I have no further use for my other rôle, since your meddling of yesterday,” Juarez replied savagely. “And I suppose,” answered Phil in as cheerful a voice as he could muster, “we must be hereafter three American naval men.” “That shall not save you,” the vice-consul growled. “General Ruiz will be delighted to meet the men who have cheated him out of his machine guns. With those guns he could take the city this minute.” “We have done what any honorable men would do,” Phil began hotly, but Juarez turned his back with an expressive shrug of his heavy shoulders. “Here, sergeant,” he called, “arrest these spies.” The worst had happened. They had met the one man Phil had hoped he could avoid. Their reason for being there Juarez of course surmised, and he could defeat them by having them locked up in an insurgent dungeon until the city had fallen. Five or six soldiers came menacingly toward them, bayonets fixed. Phil saw the futility of resistance. He made the sign of surrender, but the soldier nearest O’Neil was a little overzealous in the use of his bayonet. The sailor’s Irish blood was aroused; with a swing of his powerful fist he sent the man reeling backward, stretching his full length on the white road. CHAPTER IX A TERRIBLE PREDICAMENT The rash act of the sailor placed the lives of the three men in jeopardy. The soldiers snatched up their rifles and closed in menacingly. At this moment, however, a cavalcade appeared suddenly, and the cry of “Viva General Ruiz,” filled the air. The soldiers near the Americans fell back sullenly, leaving their captives alone in the middle of the road. “What does this mean?” cried an officer, spurring ahead and drawing in his spirited animal between the Americans and the natives. “I gave these Englishmen safe conduct. Who dares disobey my orders?”