having. A deserted village showed signs of the passage and finally
there was proof ahead that Pilar had stopped to give battle. He
had reached his vantage ground. Connell and his men drew back and
waited. Nightfall came and with it the spiteful crack of the Mauser
rifle. A brawny trooper toppled over with a great hole in his head.
Pilar's pickets could see like cats in the night. The native scout
reported that the big village of Concepcion was not far ahead;
Pilar's men were making their stand before this rather important
stronghold.

"We'll get a scrap that is a scrap, boys," said Connell, exultingly.
"These fellows are going to put up a fight, at last. They're like
bees up yonder. We've got to fall back on the company; if we don't,
they'll chew us up before the little captain can get to us."

Too well did the men know the bellicose temperament of the big
Irishman to think of grumbling at such a command; yet, it was with
a certain reluctance which invariably accompanies a backward step
that the men retired to meet the advancing company.

Young Bansemer in his khaki uniform was not the immaculate, debonnaire
man of the drawing-room. Service, though short, had been hard and
gruelling. His face was even handsomer with its rugged lines and
set features. He was thinner and browner; his eyes were clearer
and a darker grey; his hair seemed thicker and fairer than before;
his figure more erect and sinewy. The wistful look in his eyes
seemed to betray hunger for action; his ever-ready eagerness to be
on the move told of his strength and of his weakness. He had the
lean, active bearing of the panther and the restless daring of that
lithe animal.