“Most assuredly,” I replied. “This is my property. You have no right to invade it, for I have violated no law of Venezuela. If you enter on it I will fire on you.” “But,” he almost shouted, as he waved his arms excitedly toward his enervated patriots, “my men are here to enforce my orders. You would be insane to resist. You do not know the Venezuelan Army, sir.” “You are mistaken,” I told him. “I do know the Venezuelan Army. It is you who is ignorant. You do not know my army. It is because I know both that I have no fear. You have not a shadow of right for seeking to arrest me and your blood will be on your own head if you advance.” With this declaration which, in keeping with the comic opera custom of the country, was delivered with all of the dramatic effect I could throw into it, in order that it might carry greater weight, I retired to the house. The General could see my rifle pits, but he did not know how many men they held nor how well those men could shoot. After a short consultation with his staff he gave the order to advance, while he bravely directed operations from the rear. As his men crossed the line we fired, and eight of them fell. They continued to advance and we fired again, dropping nine more of them, while several others were hit. That was too much for them and they broke and ran, leaving seven dead and ten badly wounded. They did not fire a shot, perhaps because our men were so well concealed that Venezuelan marksmanship would have accomplished nothing against them. The General and his staff returned in an hour and asked permission to remove the fallen warriors. After burying their dead they returned to their steamer and went on up the river. In three or four days they came back, with their force slightly increased, and the General again called on me to surrender, under penalty of being arrested as a disturbing factor. I gave him the same reply as before and after thinking it over for a while he marched his troops away again.