In due time the negroes appeared, their straw sarons
laden with produce which they innocently disposed of. O'Reilly
began to consult his watch with such frequency that the druggist
joked him.
Manin's banter was interrupted by a bugle-call. Down the street
came perhaps two hundred mounted troops. They wheeled into San
Rafael Street at a gallop and disappeared in the direction of the
suburbs.
"Now what does that mean?" murmured the druggist. "Wait here while
I go to the roof where I can see something."
O'Reilly tried to compose himself, meanwhile becoming aware of a
growing excitement in the street. Pedestrians had halted,
shopkeepers had come to their doors, questions were flying from
mouth to mouth. Then from the direction of the fort at the end of
San Rafael Street sounded a faint rattling fusillade, more bugle-
calls, and finally the thin, distant shouting of men.
"Rebels!" some one cried.
"Dios mio, they are attacking the city!"
"They have audacity, eh?"
The roofs were black with people now. Manin came hurrying down
into the store.
"Something has gone wrong," he whispered. "They're fighting out
yonder in the woods. There has been some treachery."
"It is ten-fifteen," said O'Reilly. "I must be going."
Manin stared at him. "You don't understand--"
"Those black fellows are getting their horses ready.
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