On the morning of April 2d Graham was among the advance pickets and almost forgot his saddle pains and creaking joints in the excitement of expected battle. For half a day Earnhardt pushed forward as fast as the trail would permit. He had halted his troops for five minutes’ rest about noon, when a native on a wiry pony, riding like one possessed, dashed into the picket and came near getting his head punched off before he could make Graham understand that he was a friend with a message for the _Americano capitan_. Graham carried him before General Earnhardt, who at the head of his column was reclining on a bank beside the trail, perspiring and dusty and brushing viciously at the flies and mosquitoes that swarmed around him. The general did not change his position when the native, who was clad in a nondescript but much-beribboned uniform, slid from his horse and with a ceremonious bow and salute informed him that he was Captain Miguel of General Mañana’s staff, and had the honour to report that he was despatched by General Mañana to say that, despite that gentleman’s earnest and desperate resistance, a large and outnumbering force of German cavalry had forced a passage of the road to Puerto Cabello about eleven o’clock that morning. While Captain Miguel was delivering his elaborate message to the disgusted cavalryman, the picket passed in an old soldier of the 10th who had been detailed as a scout at the beginning of the campaign; and this scout rode up to report just as the native captain finished speaking. Earnhardt turned impatiently from Mañana’s aide to his own trusted man and said: "Well, Morris, what is it?" "Small force of German cavalry, sir, had a scrimmage with General Mañana’s troops this morning on the Valencia road, and rode on in the direction of Puerto Cabello." "How many Germans got through?" asked the general. "All of them, sir; about two troops, as near as I could count." "And how many men did Mañana have?" the question came sharply. "Something like fifteen hundred I should judge, sir, from the sound of the firing and what I could see," answered the scout. General Earnhardt, without rising, turned with unconcealed contempt to Captain Miguel and said: "My compliments to General Mañana, and he’s a —— old fraud and I don’t want to have anything more to do with him;" and while the red-splashed aide was trying to solve the curt message which he but half understood, the trumpeter at a word from the angry cavalryman sounded _mount_ and _forward_ and the brigade was again off at top speed, hoping still to cut off the main relief force sent out from Caracas. General Earnhardt considered himself a lucky soldier to find that this force had not passed when at last he reached the road (which was hardly worthy of the name highway, though one of the thoroughfares of Venezuela); and he hastily disposed his forces to meet the German advance.