“No,” agreed the midshipman, “but as I understand it the government fears that the insurgents’ navy--or rather the ships they captured from the government--may bombard the city from seaward at the same time the land forces make their attack. This would inevitably accomplish its downfall.” “Not much doubt of that,” agreed Stanley. “If only the government had some boats, they could bottle up the insurgent fleet somewhere, and then go ahead and drive out the troops all around.” “That’s it,” assented Stark, “but at present the government doesn’t know, and can’t find out, where the dickens the insurgents have hidden their fleet. They’d give a whole lot to know, I guess.” “I reckon so, sir,” agreed Stanley, with a short laugh. For some ten minutes more they walked on in silence. Then suddenly around a sharp curve in the road a black object came into view. “A gun!” exclaimed Herc. “Guns,” corrected Ned, as his eyes fell on several more of the field pieces commanding the road from points of vantage dug out high upon the cliff side. “No danger of the government making a sortie up this road,” remarked the midshipman. “With all that artillery those fellows could hold anything.” As they neared the first gun a young officer stepped forward briskly. Already concealed sentries had given warning of their approach. “What do the senors wish?” he inquired politely enough, raising his hand to the peak of his red-embroidered cap. It was evident that he took them for harmless, foolish tourists. The young officer hastened to assume the part he had decided to play. Ned could hardly suppress a grin as he listened to Midshipman Stark’s imitation of a British accent in reply. “Just strolling around, old chap, you know,” he assured the young insurgent officer. “No harm--eh, what?” “I suppose you know that you are within the lines of General de Guzman?” came the polite inquiry in rather astonished tones. “No, really? By Jove, here’s luck. Always wanted to see an insurgent camp, you know--eh, Archie?” Here Stark turned to Ned, who, taken by surprise, turned red and blurted out: “Yes, by Jove,” in accents which no self-respecting Britisher would have owned to. “I hardly know what to do,” said the young officer hesitating. “If you gentlemen will give me your word of honor that you are non-combatants?” “We can,” rejoined Stark, without an instant’s hesitation. He was glad that he could make the assertion without the slightest warping of the truth. “Very well, then. If you will follow me I will conduct you to General de Guzman.” The four Americans exchanged glances of real dismay. They had figured on the general of the insurgents being miles away with the other army. As they learned afterward, however, their bad luck had brought him to the army of the north that very morning to tender his congratulations for its brilliant victory of the day before.