THE EXPERIENCE OF SAMUEL ABSALOM, FILIBUSTER.

[Concluded.]

Some time after the departure of the riflemen, a detail of eight or nine men from our company was ordered off towards the lake shore, and soon afterward another smaller one to Potosi, a little village four or five miles to the northward of Rivas, bearing orders to Captain Finney’s rangers, who had gone to scout in that direction.  The rest of us ate supper, and then lay listening for the boom of the little field-piece, which should tell us that the rifles had met the enemy.  But the extraordinary toils and watchings of the last fortnight were too overpowering, and we were all soon buried in dreamless sleep.

In an hour or two I was awakened by horses’ feet clattering over the stony pavement of the porteria, or gateway to the square courtyard, in one of whose surrounding corridors we usually slept,—­on blankets, cow-hides, or hard tiles, according as each man was able to furnish himself.  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.”

Later in the night, the other party, which had been sent to Potosi, came in with panting mules, excited countenances, and one of their number stained with blood from a wound on his thigh.  They told us, that, failing to find Captain Finney at Potosi, they had stretched their orders, and gone forward to Obraja, unaware that it was occupied by the enemy.  At the entrance of the village, whilst riding on in complete darkness, they were challenged suddenly in Spanish.  Taken by surprise, they replied in English, and, before they could turn their animals, were stunned with the glare and crash of a musket-volley, a few feet ahead of them.  They recoiled, and fled with such precipitation that one of the riders was tossed over his horse’s head;—­however, scrambling to his feet, he found sense and good-luck to remount; and the whole party made good their flight to Rivas, with no further damage than two slight flesh-wounds,—­one on the trooper, and one on his mule.