On the evening of the day after his enlistment Pedro Cabenza strolled across toward the prison where he had been told two Americans were held captive. Two guards sat outside in front of the door and gossiped. Cabenza, moved apparently by a desire for companionship, indifferently drifted toward them. He sat down. Presently he produced a bottle furtively. All three drank, to good health, to the success of the revolution, a third time to the day when they should march, victorious into the great city in the south. They became exhilarated. Cabenza found it necessary to work off his excitement upon the prisoners. He stood on tiptoe, holding the window bars in his hands, and jeered at the men within. "Ho, ho, Gringos! May the devil fly away with you! Food for powder--food for powder! Some fine morning the general will give orders and--we shall bury you in the sand by the river. Not so?" he scoffed in his own language. One of the Americans within drew near the window. "Listen," he said. "Do you want to earn some money--ten--twenty--one hundred dollars in gold? Will you take a letter for me to Los Robles?" "No. The general would skin me alive. I spit upon your offer. I throw dirt upon you." Cabenza stooped, in his hand scooped up some dust from the ground, and flung it between the bars. One of the guards pulled him back savagely. "Icabron! Know you not the orders of the general? None are to talk with the Gringos. Away, fool! Because of the drink Pablo and I will forget. Away!" Cabenza showed a face ludicrously terror-stricken. The punishments of Pasquale were notoriously severe. If it were known he had broken the command he would at least be beaten with whips. "I did not know. I did not know," he explained humbly, thrusting the liquor bottle at one of them. "Here, companero, drink and forget that I have spoken." He turned and scurried away into the darkness. CHAPTER XVIII HARRISON OVERPLAYS HIS HAND Through the barred window Farrar watched the guard drag Cabenza back. He was very despondent. They had been prisoners now nearly a week and could see no termination of their jail sentence in sight. The food given them was wretched. They were anxious, dirty, and unkempt. Though he would not admit it even to himself, the camera man was oppressed by the shadow of a possible impending fate. The whim of a tyrant regardless of human life might at any hour send them to a firing squad.