Astonished as the Camera Chap was by this spectacle, he presently witnessed something which amazed him still more. A man rushed from the ship to the pier, and as he went down the gangplank he was greeted by cheers from the wild-looking horsemen. The man was the tall, handsome passenger whom Hawley had known at Señor Juan Cipriani, of Buenos Aires. He was clad now in a gorgeous uniform of blue and gold, and he brandished a sword which flashed in the sunlight. As he joined the group on the pier they gathered around him, and welcomed him with shouts of “Viva Rodriguez! Viva el general!” He acknowledged this ovation with a graceful sweep of his sombrero, and as he happened to turn toward the ship, Hawley saw that his face was aglow with enthusiasm. Something caused the Camera Chap to glance, just then, at Señora Felix. A great change had come over her. Her face, too, was radiant with happiness, and she was sobbing softly. But suddenly she uttered a cry of mingled horror and dismay; she clutched the rail in front of her, as though to save herself from falling. The Camera Chap had only to glance toward the dock to realize the cause of her agitation. With the swiftness of a moving-picture drama, the scene there had changed. A regiment of infantry, springing up apparently from nowhere, had surrounded the group of horsemen. The latter were now surrendering as meekly as the handful of soldiers had previously surrendered to them. The only man making the slightest attempt to fight was Cipriani. He was struggling frantically in the grasp of two burly infantrymen. These two successive bloodless victories struck Hawley as so ludicrous that he would have laughed but for the evident grief of the woman beside him. There was not the slightest doubt that this latest development meant tragedy to her, however amusing it might appear to a disinterested spectator. Making a valiant effort to regain her calm, she hurried below to her stateroom. The Camera Chap did not see her again until the _Colombia_ arrived at Puerto Cabero. But before they arrived at the latter port a steward stealthily handed him at note. The missive was unsigned, but he recognized the handwriting, and although to anybody else its wording might have been vague, he had no difficulty in grasping its meaning. The note ran: “Pay no attention to what was said to you last night. What you have witnessed has changed the situation. Now, our only hope lies in your discretion and your ability to carry out the mission intrusted to you.” CHAPTER IX. THE GIRL IN PINK.