We stepped out briskly enough then, and you ought to have seen the Angel strutting along in the middle of the road, in a blue suit and straw hat, the trousers beautifully creased, the latest thing in ties round his neck, the most startling thing in socks showing under his turned-up trousers, looking as if he was off to a tea-party in Southsea. Even the niggers smiled at him and got out of his way. We came upon Macdonald in a minute or two, waiting for us at a corner, with a carriage and six grand-looking mules—the carriage was like a big two-wheeled governess cart with an awning over it, and he was so enormous that he almost filled it. In we jumped, the two mids. managed to squeeze themselves alongside the native driver, our guide kicked the mules in the stomach, one after the other, just to wake them up; the driver cracked his whip, and away we went bump-terappity along the bumpy road, the bells on the harness jingling like fun. We clattered along past rows and rows of red mud cottages, dogs flying out at us from every door, and giving the two mids. a grand time with the whip, pack mules tied up to the door-posts frisking about and kicking up their heels as we went past, and long-legged fowls scattering like smoke in front of us. ’You’re extraordinarily like your brother, now you’re in plain clothes,’ Mr. Macdonald muttered, with his mouth full—for he’d started on the hampers already. ’Jolly proud of it,’ I answered, but he only made a face and shrugged his shoulders. We started climbing soon after, and the mules had a pretty hard time of it for the next three hours, zigzagging up the most appalling road, panting and grunting. The mids. and I walked the steepest parts, but neither the driver nor Mr. Macdonald budged from their seats. The higher we got the more cheerful we were. It was grand looking down at Puerta and the sea, with the _Hector_ and _Hercules_ like toy ships lying inside the breakwater, but Mr. Macdonald did not let us stop anywhere for more than a minute at a time, because there was a whole line of jangling mule carriages coming up after us, and he didn’t want to be overtaken. The mids. didn’t either, for there were four _Hercules_ mids. in the one next behind us, and they were not going to be beaten by them if they could help it. Every now and again, at the corners where the road zig-zagged, we came across thirty or forty native soldiers, evidently guarding the way. ’That looks as if they were expecting trouble,’ Mr. Macdonald told me. ’It’s most unusual. D’you see the colours they have in their hats?’ Nearly all of them had a patch of yellow and green stripes sewn on. ’I’ve never seen the regular troops wearing them,’ he said. ’Did you notice that the stripes were _vertical_! That means that they are President’s men. The de Costa’s colours are black and green, but the stripes are worn _horizontally_, and of course they aren’t allowed to wear them.’ He shook his head very ominously.