Ortega went ashore and returned with a request that I order off the hatches and start the unloading of the cargo in my boats and then go ashore with him and get my money. This was not in accord with my contract with Guzman or with the note Ortega had handed me, but, though I was reminded of my experiences with Don Carlos, I had great confidence in Guzman and did not wish to offend him, so I readily consented to the amended arrangement. As soon as the unloading was well under way I went ashore with Ortega. We climbed the bluff and walked half a mile inland to a mud-thatched hut before which a sentry was pacing. Ortega gave the countersign and we stepped inside, to find Gen. Pulgar, who was chief-of-staff for Guzman when I was introduced to him at the Willemstad Club, wrapped in a _chinchora_ and smoking in a hammock. After shaking hands with him I asked where Guzman was. He replied evasively that he was there instead of Guzman. I told him briefly about my trip, in response to his queries, and then asked him for my money, which Ortega had said was waiting for me. Pulgar smiled and straightened up. “I told Ortega to deliver that message to you,” he said, “but there is no use mincing words and I may as well tell you that you are my prisoner. Your cargo is being taken care of and will be put to a very different purpose from that which you expected. As I have said, you are my prisoner but I have an offer to make you which, if you accept it, will be to your advantage. Guzman is not an old friend of yours and if you make a profit on your arms it can’t make much difference to you whether you serve him or me. If you will join my forces, of your own free will, I will make you a colonel and give you command of a battalion and when the revolution is over I will pay you for your rifles, just as Guzman agreed to do.” “You seem to forget,” I replied, “that I have a contract with Gen. Guzman which, as an honorable man, I can’t go back on.” “Well, you don’t appear to be in a very good position just now to carry it out, do you?” he asked. I again inquired where Guzman was but a shrug of the shoulders was the only answer I could get to questions along that line. Not knowing as much about Venezuelan revolutions then as I did later I could not fathom this strange situation to my entire satisfaction, but it was my guess that in some way Pulgar had become arrayed against Guzman, and it turned out that I was right. I told Pulgar that I would give him an answer at gunfire, in the morning, and spent the night with Ortega, under guard. I tried to draw him out but, evidently according to orders, he would not even talk about the weather. At sunrise we went to see Pulgar. When asked for my decision I inquired what the result would be if his revolution failed. “Then I am sorry, my dear Captain, but you will lose your cargo, while I will lose my life, which is of infinitely more importance to me. But the revolution will not fail,” he vehemently declared.