"And you walked in!" shouted Miranda delightedly. "Well, I walked out again," said the other complacently. "But you left Panama inside the mouth!" "Have your joke, Senor Doctor," said Herran, not relishing the broad allusion to his discomfiture. "But perhaps your American friends here will find a cayman in the bushes. Why do they go to Bogota just now?" "They are friends to you. With you it is all right." "I hear that the peons are rising against the Yankees." "The canaille! They can do nothing." "Besides," pursued the general, "excellent and harmless as this learned Senor and his family are, I can hardly appear, under all the circumstances, as protector and champion of a party of Americans." General Herran spoke in so rapid an undertone that only one to whom Spanish is the native tongue could have followed him. But Leighton's keen intelligence, although he was not well versed in Spanish idioms, was quick to catch at least an inkling of what was passing between his two companions. "There is danger for Americans traveling in the interior?" he asked. "I not say so," replied the doctor stoutly. Herran tugged at the tangles of his bushy beard. "I hear that some peons have left Bogota to fight the Yankees on the coast," he said. "But--it is nothing." "Well, what shall we do?" The general shrugged his shoulders. Miranda fanned himself more vigorously than ever. "It is not important, Senor," he said impatiently. "These people are good peoples; they are not caymans." "Perhaps it is better to wait before you go to Bogota," persisted Herran. "Wait in the river?" angrily demanded the doctor. "I don't believe there is any danger. I love this country," said Una. "Let's go to Bogota, Uncle Harold." "Heavens, child!" exclaimed Mrs. Quayle tremulously, the heavy gold rings that adorned her fingers clicking together in dismay. "With all these savage, half-dressed natives about, threatening the lives of innocent Americans--and poor Mr. Parmelee down with this terrible fever----" "I am not," feebly protested Andrew. "Yes, that is so!" exclaimed the doctor, a joyous grin wrinkling his face. "The vieja (old lady) speak right. We stay at Honda and give this little fellow my pills." "There is sense in your plan," declared Leighton. "If we can be comfortable--and safe--at Honda, we will stay until we know what is happening away from the river, and until Mr. Parmelee regains his health under your treatment." "My dear Mr. Leighton, I assure you,----" began the schoolmaster piteously. "Don't be an estolido!" interrupted Miranda bruskly. "Soon you will be all right with my pills. This little vieja, she know--she is very wise." Mrs. Quayle's gray ringlets bobbed deprecatingly at this generous tribute to a hitherto unsuspected sagacity on the part of their modest owner, while Andrew looked more uncomfortable and woebegone than ever. "Doctor, you are sure that Mr. Parmelee has this miserable fever?" inquired Una anxiously.