At sunset the soldiers of Alcantara left the huts where they had been quartered and gathered in the _Plaza_. Ragged and dirty they were, and unshaven. Some of them were part Indian, with straight black hair and copper-coloured skins. Others were negroes or half-castes, with flat noses and kinky heads. But all were without uniforms. Their drill trousers were of different colours, and held up by lengths of string or rope. Their tight-fitting, collarless shirts, made of a cheap woven material, were as vari-coloured. Even their little jackets, that buttoned up to the neck and were brought in at the waist under a cartridge belt, were not of the same shade or kind. Here and there among them, stripped of its red trimmings, showed the khaki uniform of the government--spoil of a battlefield. All wore _alpargatas_; and those fortunate enough possessed straw hats of generous circumference or brown, furry _pelo de guamas_, which displayed, on a narrow _divisa_ sewed around the crown, the corps and division of the fighter beneath. Over the left shoulder of some of the men, and passed under the belt, was a rolled, double-wool poncho, the blue side out, if it so happened, but quite as often, in unconscious treason, the other, which was dyed the red of the enemy. Despite the commissary’s promise of loyalty, when the soldiers came together there were no cheers from the townspeople, who, gathering to see the departure, chattered in undertones among themselves, and eyed the motley force in illy concealed dislike. And now, obeying the call of a battered bugle, the start was made. First down the street came General Blanco Alcantara, in fine style; then the black general, Tovar, astride a lanky horse; after these, a bevy of mounted officers--three _coroneles_, two _commandantes_, and two _capitanes_; the privates--on foot and in no formation; the _asistentes_, loaded down with the personal effects of their superiors; and several burros and mules carrying pack saddles heavy with ammunition; next, each with a bundle balanced on her head, a hat hung to her arm, a gourd and a smoky pail swinging and clinking together at her side, and a long _tabaco_ in her mouth, two women; last of all, a padre, in cassock and shovel hat, riding a gaited mule. The third woman to accompany the expedition was on the edge of the town, where the road to Higuerote opens into the forest. She was watching as she rested, eating an _arepa_ and the remaining plantain. As Alcantara rode into sight, she stood up, her eyes shining, her lips parted, her head erect. The command by, she walked forward sturdily and fell in behind. Night was falling then, but she was soon spied by those in the rear. Presently, these had told others, and the soldiers stretched their necks to look back to where she trudged. There was some whispering among those nearest her, and presently the padre reined a little to speak. “You were not with us when we left the town,” he said. “How come you to be here?”