“The battle, if there is one, will resolve itself into a struggle for the possession of that hill,” explained the colonel. “The troops that arrive there first will win the day”--and his brow clouded--“unless the insurgent navy arrives and bombards the city from the sea.” “Do not worry about that, sir,” Stark assured him. “The navy will not be there.” “Indeed, you are in possession----” “Of positive information.” “Its source, senor?” “That I cannot divulge. But I can assure you that the navy will not be there.” The colonel looked at him curiously. “You will pardon my seeming curiosity, sir, but who or what are you and your companions?” It will be recollected that the Americans were in plain clothes. Dust-covered and travel-stained as they were, they might have indeed excited curiosity in anybody who had espied them traveling among the war-ridden hills. For a second the midshipman hesitated, and then compromised by saying: “You will not misunderstand our motives, sir, when I assure you that it is from no evil intent that I cannot tell you everything about us. Suffice it to say that we are Americans traveling in the country on business--I think I may add, important business. It is essential that we should be in Boca del Sierras to-day, and for that reason we are traversing this road.” “I appreciate what you say, senor,” rejoined the colonel. “I respect and admire all Americans. They are the government’s friends. If you wish you may travel with us. We are on the eve of a great battle. By accepting our escort you will have a chance to see what the troops of the republic can accomplish.” The offer was naturally accepted with thanks by the midshipman on behalf of the party, and a few minutes later the cavalcade moved forward. They shortly diverged from the main road and struck off upon a narrow trail. So narrow was it that the troopers were compelled to ride in single file in some parts of it. A thick growth of brush screened it perfectly from the view of any one below them--between the mountains and the sea, that is--so that, strategically considered, the colonel had chosen a splendid route for moving his troops. It was shortly before noon, and the sun blazed hotly down, when they reached a spot where the trail converged into the main road. A few rods beyond the ground sloped upward toward the summit of the Hill of the Ten Saints. “Forward!” shouted the colonel, as he saw that the coveted elevation was untenanted. “We are the first to arrive.” But even as he spoke the bushes surrounding the junction of the road and the trail became alive with men, and a raking fire was poured into the cavalry. The insurgents had prepared an ambush, into which Colonel Lazard’s cavalry had walked like so many flies into the spider’s web.