It was the party returning from their scout on the lake. They
unsaddled and fed their animals in the yard, and afterward set about
frying plantains and fresh stolen pork for supper. As they talked over
their provant in the room behind me, I caught most of their adventure,
without the discomfort of rising or asking questions. Near the lake they
had chased and captured some natives, whose behavior was suspicious and
showed no good-will toward the Americans. The officer of the party,
thinking them spies, had carried them part of the way to Rivas to be
examined; but, fortunately, perhaps, for the captives, he afterwards
relented and set them at liberty. They also talked of a small boy who
had peeped out of the bushes as they rode by, and shouted to them,
"_Quieren for Walker_?" (Are you for Walker?) and then adding
energetically, "_Yo no quiero filibustero god-damn!_" darted away out
of sight, before any one, who was so minded, could have shot the little
rebel.
"Be sure," said one of the men at supper,--a noted croaker and tried
coward, against whom I bear a private grudge,--"the boys have learned
this from the _old_ greasers; and we are going to have all the people of
Nicaragua to fight.
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