"A mutual admiration society, you are!" cried Tim, whose spirits were wonderfully light. "How do you feel, Peter?" "Worn out," replied the doctor, laconically. "Faith. I'm not astonished. I'm bumped to death also. A hundred miles isn't bad for an inferior rider like myself." "Oh, you are a war correspondent," began Peter, fretfully, when his remarks were cut short by an exclamation from Sebastian. "Dios! the gates are open! Soldiers are coming out!" "Reinforcements for Janjalla. I've no doubt," said Philip, grimly. "They are a trifle late. Come, gentlemen, let us see the officer in charge." They urged their jaded horses towards the gate. At the sight of the little party, the soldiers halted, and an officer rode to the front. "From whence come you, Señores?" he asked in surprise. "From Janjalla." "Janjalla? Why, we are just marching thither, Señor." "You can spare yourself the trouble!" replied Jack, grimly. "Janjalla has fallen." The news passed rapidly from mouth to mouth, and a cry of rage went up from the throng. "Moreover," added Jack, quietly. "Puebla de los Naranjos has been attacked and sacked by the Indians!" Another cry of rage. "And," concluded this bearer of bad news, "Chichimec is now invested by six thousand savages." A low murmur of dismay ran through the lines. Calamity after calamity seemed to be falling on the heads of the Government. Suddenly a man rode through the gate at full speed, and pulling up his horse on its haunches, as he faced the party, made the same inquiry as had the officer. "Janjalla," cried Don Miguel Maraquando. Jack uttered the same reply. "Janjalla has fallen!" CHAPTER IV. EXIT DON FRANCISCO GOMEZ. Depart, incapable! You are no pilot to be at the helm when the ship is in danger; The vessel of state labours in the turmoil of troublous waters, Rocks this side, that side, she is drifting to leeward, shoals threaten her stout timbers. Round her rage the tempests which would sink her in waves of blood; Only a skilful captain can pilot her into a safe haven. You are not a skilful commander! In fair weather you guided the ship in a meritorious fashion; Now, when blow rebellious storms, you are not fit for the steering; the danger renders you helpless--a child were a better helmsman; No longer can you hold the ship of Republican fortunes in her right course. Captain! President! you are Captain--President no longer! Depart! give way to one who can steer with clear head and keen eye. Depart, incapable! "Dear one!" cried Dolores, as Jack embraced her, in the patio. "At last do I see you once more. Santissima! how pale! What ragged clothes! and beards on all your faces." "Indeed, Dolores, a siege is not conducive to luxury. But we will go to my house; bath, shave, and dress. When we return, you will behold us as civilised beings." "You are wounded!"