Beven had assumed the lead, and as he was supposed to have his bearings, so that the shortest route to the boat could be taken Roderic was only too glad to resign the whole affair into his hands. It was at this critical juncture, when hope began to rise strongly in their hearts, that a new element was injected into the game. Jerome and Captain Shackelford had indeed made a strong guess as to the mission of Beven and the disguised Georgia. When they finally lost them in the neighborhood of the old fortress, Shackelford had suggested that they visit the Spanish barracks not far away, and talk the matter over with the colonel in charge, who was an old friend of the sea captain. Thus, when the alarm broke out, they surmised that Beven had something to do with it, and accompanied by a file of soldiers, posted in hot haste toward the spot. It was our friends' misfortune to meet them on the way. There were no means of hiding--indeed, the hostile squads discovered each other at about the same moment. What made it the more aggravating was the fact that the soldiers were directly between them and the bay--just a little beyond could be seen the dimpled water, flashing in the glorious light of the moon. What was to be done? Retreat had been rendered impossible, for Roderic was so confused by the several turns taken that he would not have known how to reach his boat. To surrender meant ignominious death. An Anglo-Saxon could not dream of submitting to such disgrace while one door yet remained open. That door was a gallant charge. Beven knew his nation was not at war with Spain, but his sympathies were wholly with those who spoke the same tongue--blood is thicker than water, and with prophetic wisdom he like many of his race, saw signs in the air to indicate that the time was coming when Great Britain and her colonies would stand fast with the great Republic against the rest of the world--_for peace_! Therefore he was ready to step in, this gallant son of Neptune who had seen many a hot engagement under the flag of St. George. "We must cut through or all is lost!" cried Roderic, clinching his teeth in anticipation of the hot time that was coming. "Good. I'm with you!" snapped the sailor, grimly. Leon had been armed and was eager for the fray--eager to strike a blow because of the suffering and indignities put upon him by these Spanish tories who loved not Porto Rico. "Forward, then, and God defend the right!" Roderic had hardly spoken before they were once again in motion, having involuntarily halted at first sight of the foe. As the Spaniards had also started forward, the two hostile bodies were advancing toward each other with a rapidity that promised to speedily bring them into contact. Roderic's martial spirit was fully awakened.