nd windowless huts, built of tree trunks, and thatched with palm leaves.
Each of the humble dwellings was surrounded by its cactus hedge, enclosing
an infinite variety of gorgeous tropical flowers, which offered a striking
contrast with the adjacent poverty and filth. From the elevation on which
the patriots stood, a chapel with snow-white walls, buried amidst
centenary cypresses, was visible, as also some other buildings of various
sizes, apparently belonging to an _hacienda_ or plantation.

The party descended rapidly but cautiously towards the village, headed by
a young Creole, who now, for the first time during their march, attracted
Don Manuel's attention, and under whose unbuttoned frock-coat were visible
the blue uniform and white facings of the patriots, and the insignia of a
field-officer. The morning mass was just over, and the village alive with
Indians--men, women, and children--who crowded round the detachment with
joyous welcome and vociferous greetings.

In the midst of the bustle, the sound of voices was suddenly heard
approaching the village from the opposite side, and presently the advanced
guard of a corps of patriots came in sight. These were followed by several
officers of distinguished appearance, clothed in rich staff uniforms, and
amongst them the Conde Carlos. Then came the main body, numbering about
five hundred men, all well armed and equipped. They were for the most part
Indians, Metises, and Zambos from the southern provinces, powerful
well-built fellows, who, in spite of their long march, came on with a
light step and a proud glance. From time to time there was a shout of
"_Viva Vicente Guerero! Viva nuestro general!_"

Oddly enough, as it struck Don Manuel, our old acquaintance, Captain Jago,
was walking among the brilliant train of staff-officers, still attired in
his shabby _manga_, although he had found means to renew the covering of
his feet.

"Ah! Don Manuel!" cried he with a somewhat malicious smile, and fixing his
eyes on the now tattered shoes and garb of the young cavalier, "You were
doubtless not over well-pleased with your last night's march; but we could
not help it, and your friend the Count Carlos has fared no better. I
trust, however, that my commands were obeyed, and that Major Galeana took
all possible care of you?"

"Major Galeana take care of me!" repeated the youth indignantly, his blood
again getting up at the remembrance of the rough handling he had
experienced.