hope everything is all right?"

Aiken and I had started to draw the mules up the hill. Already both
the officer and the trail had been completely hidden by the laurel.

"No, nothing is all right," Aiken growled.

There was the sound of an oath, the laurels parted, and the officer's
face reappeared, glaring at us angrily.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "My information is for General
Laguerre," Aiken answered, sulkily.

The man sprang away again muttering to himself, and we scrambled and
stumbled after him, guided by the sounds of breaking branches and
rolling stones.

From a glance I caught of Aiken's face I knew he was regretting now,
with even more reason than before, that he had not remained at the
coast, and I felt very sorry for him. Now that he was in trouble and
not patronizing me and poking fun at me, I experienced a strong change
of feeling toward him. He was the only friend I had in Honduras, and
as between him and these strangers who had received us so oddly, I
felt that, although it would be to my advantage to be friends with the
greater number, my loyalty was owing to Aiken. So I scrambled up
beside him and panted out with some difficulty, for the ascent was a
steep one: "If there is any row, I'm with _you_, Aiken."

"Oh, there won't be any row," he growled.