tight boots and a wobbly helmet, he did not enjoy the first half mile of a fast gallop down the winding road [Pg 30]which he was obliged to follow before he could strike into the country. Beneath, to the left, and on a plateau in front, were respectively the ancient and modern sections of Cartagena. But, having succeeded thus far, he had made up his mind inflexibly as to the course he would pursue. [Pg 30] He meant to reach his own ranch, twelve miles inland, within the hour. He reckoned that, in the easy-going South American way, it would not be occupied as yet by an armed guard. An officer had rummaged among his papers that morning, but came away with the others. In any event, in that direction, and there only, lay any real chance of ultimate safety. On his estate there were two men at least in whom he might place trust; and even if he could not enter the house, one of them might obtain for him the clothes and money without which he had not the remotest prospect of getting away alive from the Republic of San Juan. He had pocketed Steinbaum’s twenty dollars in order to hire a horse, but the unwitting hospitality of Captain Gomez had provided him with a better animal than was to be picked up at the nearest posada. Indeed, with the exception of an automobile, a luxury that was few and far between in Cartagena, he could not have secured a swifter or more reliable conveyance [Pg 31]than this very steed, which would cover the twelve miles in less than an hour, and had also saved him a quarter of an hour’s running walk, an experience savoring of Chinese torture when undertaken in tight boots. [Pg 31] The notion of possible pursuit by a party of soldiers in a car had barely occurred to him when he heard the rapid panting of an automobile in the rear. He slackened pace, took a shorter grip of the reins, and loosened the revolver in its case. Flight was ridiculous, unless he made across country; a last resource, involving a fatal loss of time. He took nothing for granted. Steinbaum was one of the half-dozen car-owners in Cartagena, and this was surely he, escorting Señor Porilla and the lady back to the town. They might pass him without recognition. If they didn’t, he would shoot Steinbaum and put a bullet into a tire. There would be no half measures. Suarez and his ally had declared war
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