Where Duty Called Part 24

"I am afraid I have made you sad, senors, when there is so much to make one happy. But I forgot that this is not for you, and that your heart is heavy, Senor Rand, over the fate of your poor mother. Let us hope you, too, may soon find your cup of joy full to overflowing."

"Have you heard how Colonel Marchand is?" asked Harrie, seeing that Ronie did not feel like replying to their friend.

"He is likely to recover, but his campaigning is doubtless over until some time in the future. Come, senors, I shall insist that you stop with me to-night, and it is time you seek rest."

CHAPTER XXVI.

"IT IS MANUEL MARLIN!"

It was a beautiful morning, that which followed, and our friends were astir early. Wandering out upon the streets, eager to learn if any new tidings had come of the spy, they soon found themselves walking under the refreshing shade of rows of ornamental trees. In following this course, they came somewhat abruptly upon a plaza floored for a wide s.p.a.ce with rare mosaics, and lit at night by swinging electric lights.

"This is the Plaza de Bolivar," said Jack, "a favorite place for the president's band to come and play. See, there is the statue of the republic's hero."

Ronie and Harrie had already discovered an equestrian statue, mounted upon a heavy pedestal, while the rider held with one hand a straightened rein on his refractory steed, and with the other he pointed his sword high into the air, as if he would pierce some imaginary enemy stationed in s.p.a.ce. It was a bizarre affair, the weather-stained image of a horse rearing into the air after the fashion of some huge rocking-horse. From the bold figure of man and steed their gaze dropped to the base, where they saw in raised letters the name of Simon Bolivar, the Liberator of Venezuela. Instinctively, our Americans uncovered their heads out of respect to the memory of the man who was not only a great warrior, but a notable statesman, and a poet of considerable merit. His proclamations to the armies are examples of masterly eloquence, and as much to be admired as his military genius, which won for him the applause of the five republics that he liberated.

The statue of Bolivar is in bronze, and is considered one of the most notable examples of modern art.

When his young companions had tired of looking at the equestrian figure of the warrior, Jack said:

"Now come with me, lads, and I will show you a sight worth two of this to you and me."

Without reply, Ronie and Harrie followed their friend until they came upon a delightfully retired retreat, which, without the bizarre attractions of the Plaza Bolivar, had a freshness and quiet beauty the other lacked. Antic.i.p.ating now what they were to meet, to our young Americans there was indeed an air of sanct.i.ty and hallowed peace that the more ornate spot did not possess. With reverential steps they moved silently but swiftly along the clean, graveled path bordered with deep, green gra.s.s and overhung with interlacing branches of the trees which formed a roof over their heads, until they reached the center of the plot, where the torrid sun of the tropics beat down upon the head of the statue they had come to see.

This was the Plaza Washington, and the man honored here was the American patriot, the Father of His Country, who had been given this honored recognition in the capital of the United States of Venezuela.

Uncovering their heads, the three stood for several minutes in a silence that seemed too sacred to be broken, while they looked upon the calm, benign features of Washington, honored thus by a race they had not expected would pay such homage. At that very moment, un.o.bserved by them, a couple of natives a little way off, at the uncovering of their heads, removed their wide-brimmed headgear, and looked on with respectful attention. Farther removed, a group of women, dark-eyed, dark-featured, but not unpleasant of countenance, also paused in their morning work to watch the newcomers with respectful admiration rather than curiosity. Evidently these people understood and shared with these strangers from a far-away land this spirit of national pride and patriotism, for true patriots always revere the memory of heroes.

"Isn't it strange Washington should be given a statue here?" asked Harrie.

"Not so very strange," replied Jack, "when you come to think that the histories of the two countries are so nearly alike, up to the day of these two heroes, they might be written by the same historian with slight modifications. Bolivar was the Washington of Venezuela. Then, too, you will remember that Miranda, the pioneer of patriots in this country, served his apprenticeship under Washington, fighting for our country. When he had finished there he returned to his native land to take up her battles. What he learned with our army helped him here.

"Bolivar had no small task on his hand when he undertook to free five republics, and who conquered a territory nearly half as great as Europe.

"It is a common practice for the inhabitants here to strew their garlands of flowers about this place, and once I remember, upon a holiday, coming here, to find the statue of Washington, pedestal and base, literally decked with floral wreaths. Never, it seemed to me, not even in our own land, did the n.o.ble countenance of Washington look grander than here, surrounded by a race that did not speak his language, but whose hearts beat as patriotically, as if they understood every word."

"It was a happy thought that they should have sculptured him as a man of peace rather than of war," said Ronie. "It is more happy in its effect, as I look upon him, than the warlike figure of Bolivar."

"Very true; at least, from our standpoint. While they did well to select this phase of his character, no doubt it thrills their hot veins more to look on the defiant form of their beloved leader. What I have said of the two men was truth, but similarity stops there. Bolivar had very much of the savage wildness about him, and he was reckless, headstrong, and sometimes foolhardy. But his career was a grand one, as viewed by his countrymen. It was filled with bold, cunning, victorious marches. His Valley Forge was the torrid jungles and sun-swept plains of a tropical clime; his Delaware, filled with floating ice, to be crossed in mid-winter, the broken mountain pa.s.s, or the pathless swamp filled with deadly malaria. Like our Washington, he came of a distinguished family, and he was educated in Europe for the court and camp. But, if educated abroad, his love for his native land never failed, and Venezuela never had a truer son, or a more valiant fighter for her natural rights.

"Ay, lads, his campaigns were filled with such stupendous feats of activity and accomplishment as few have ever equaled. Starting on the seacoast near Pallao, with his foot soldiers and rude cavalry mounted on mule back, he crossed the continent. The perils of mountain-climbing and the hardships of the jungle were met and overcome by his indomitable followers, inspired by his glowing example, living much of the time on berries and roots, sleeping at night upon the ground, to free in turn Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador and Bolivia; then, sweeping down the Pacific coast, to finally overthrow the empire of Peru. He was a young man filled with the love of freedom and the fire of ambition. So little was his heroism appreciated by those whom he thus met that time and again he was forced to meet the a.s.sa.s.sin, only to find himself deserted at last by those whom he had looked upon and rewarded as friends. So he died alone, of heartaches over the ingrat.i.tude of a people he had led out of bondage. But to-day tardy justice makes him, as he deserved to be, the hero of five republics."

"Why should his countrymen, after all he had done for them, strip him of his honors and leave him forlorn and disappointed?" asked Ronie.

"It was owing largely to the inborn fickleness of people of a tropical clime. Two charges, one directly opposed to the other, were brought against him. One party claimed, after having rid them of kings, he tried to make a dictator of himself, with power more absolute than that of those he had deposed. The other said it was because, upon his followers asking him to accept such power, he declined and went into voluntary exile at Santa Marta. Be that as it may, it was nearly twenty years after his death before there was one bold enough to give him the place in public opinion that he deserved. He caused an artist to design a statue that should perpetuate his memory.

"Now we come to see how closely the history of this country is blended with our own. On the neck of the statue the artist placed a miniature in the form of a medallion which the family of Washington had given Bolivar. On the reverse of this was a lock of Washington's hair, with the inscription:

"'This portrait of the founder of liberty in North America is presented by his adopted son to him who has acquired equal glory in South America.'

"You will notice that none of the insignias of honors showered upon him in his hours of triumph by different countries have been retained by the artist, this portrait of the Father of Our Country having been the only ornament it was deemed he would have cared for, as in life he was prouder of this than all else. So you see, the busts and statues of the Liberator bear only this tribute, while those of his followers are decked with glittering ornaments."

"I have read of a very pretty story connected with its presentation,"

said Harrie. "It was during the time of Lafayette's visit to our country in 1824. A banquet was given in his honor and the memory of Washington by Congress. In the midst of the rejoicings and tributes paid to the venerable visitor, Henry Clay arose to say that, while they were enjoying the fruits of independence, the grand inst.i.tutions founded by their patriotic forefathers, there were those in the Southern continent who were fighting as valiantly for liberty, with less hope of ultimate victory. Continuing to wax eloquent, the great orator said:

"'No nation, no generous Lafayette, has come to their succor; alone, and without aid, they have sustained their glorious cause, trusting to its justice, and with the a.s.sistance only of their bravery, their deserts and their Andes--and one man, Simon Bolivar, the Washington of South America.'

"There was wild cheering then, while men sprang to their feet and clapped their hands. Then Lafayette, the generous, asked that he might send the Southern hero some token of their sympathy and appreciation of his valor. The result was, Lafayette sent Bolivar the portrait of Washington, and it proved a gift the young patriot of the Southland revered, while his people grew to admire and cherish it."

"True, my lad, and this spirit has spread so that you will see pictures of Washington wherever you go. Now it is a portrait; then the American army crossing the wintry Delaware, under its beloved leader; or, the war over and victory's mantle of peace spread over the land, he stands before the door at Mount Vernon. You find squares and public houses named after Washington, with numerous other testimonials of him, all of which seems very pretty to the visitor from the North."

While Jack had been speaking, his gaze had become turned in an opposite direction to where the figure of a man was to be seen skulking in the thicket of flowers. Harrie and Ronie had already discovered the suspicious person, but had understood that he would flee at the slightest indication that he had been seen. Thus, before Jack had finished his speech, Ronie began to retrace his steps, with apparent carelessness, in the direction of a row of yellow, blue and pink houses, with high, barred windows, from which peeped shyly dark-eyed, swarthy-skinned women. But the moment he had pa.s.sed beyond the range of the concealed man's eyes, he darted into the shrubbery so as to intercept the man should he try to escape by flight.

The wisdom of this action was apparent when Jack and Harrie started toward the spot, when he fled precipitately. This flight, however, took him right into the path of Ronie, who quickly covered him with his pistol, at the same time ordering him to stop, which he did with trembling limbs, to begin to beg for his life.

A good square look at him revealed his ident.i.ty to Ronie, who exclaimed to his companions:

"Come quick, boys! it is the spy, Manuel Marlin!"

CHAPTER XXVII.

GOOD NEWS.

Ronie did not have to repeat his call, for almost before he had finished the last word Harrie and Jack were beside him. It was then but the work of a moment to disarm the terrified fellow, when he was ordered to march in front of them to the headquarters of the army.

Then he fell upon his knees, actually too weak to stand up longer, and with clasped hands and white face, begged for his life.

"Spare me, senors! I am not a spy, but if you take me before the officers of Castro they will condemn me without a trial and I shall be shot! Spare me, I beg of you."

His pathetic supplications touched the hearts of his young captors, but they did not feel it would be right to let him go.

"If you are innocent you can prove it," said Ronie. "I know you are in sympathy with the insurgents, but I promise you shall have a fair opportunity to prove your innocence of being a spy if you are not one."

During these words of Ronie he bent a closer look upon him, and he suddenly recognized our hero as one of the couple who had saved him from the jaguar. He saw that Jack was another of his captors.

"I remember you, senors," he said. "You saved my life, but it would have been better for me to have been eaten by the jaguar than to fall into the hands of Castro. I will tell you something, senor, that will be worth more to you than my miserable life if you will let me go."

"It is of my mother!" exclaimed Ronie. "You had her photograph. Tell me where she is."

"If you will spare my life."

"I am a soldier under Castro; you know a soldier's duty, senor."

"I thought you were one of us," he murmured. "But I am going to tell all I know. She was taken prisoner by some of El Capitan's men. As the angels are my witness I had nothing to do with that. Her portrait fell upon the ground during the struggle and I picked it up. That is all I had to do about it."

"Where is she now?" demanded Ronie, with extreme earnestness.