He looked searchingly at me. Doubtless some suspicion of the truth was
in his mind; for he had gone to the Casa Blanca with me, and it was
scarcely likely that his keen eyes had failed to notice the cold
reception Dolores gave me on that occasion. He did not, however, touch
on that matter.
"Tell me," he said at length, "what can I do for you?"
I laughed. "What can you do except to take me to Montevideo?" I replied.
"Why do you say that?" he returned quickly.
"We are not merely friends now as we were before I joined you," I said.
"You are my General; I am simply one of your men."
"The friendship remains just the same, Richard. Let me know frankly
what you think of this campaign, since you have now suddenly turned
the current of the conversation in that direction?"
There was a slight sting in the concluding words, but I had, perhaps,
deserved it. "Since you bid me speak," I said, "I, for one, feel very
much disappointed at the little progress we are making. It seems to
me that before you are in a position to strike, the enthusiasm and
courage of your people will have vanished. You cannot get anything
like a decent army together, and the few men you have are badly armed
and undisciplined. Is it not plain that a march to Montevideo in these
circumstances is impossible, that you will be obliged to retire into
the remote and difficult places to carry on a guerilla war?"
"No," he returned; "there is to be no guerilla war.
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