Captain Guzman (to one of the loungers), will you kindly loose Mr.Fortescue?
_Gracias!_ Now you can take a cigar, and here is a chair for you." I was by no means sure that this sudden display of urbanity boded me good, but being a prisoner, and at Griscelli's mercy, I thought it as well to humor him, so accepted the cigar and seated myself by his side.
After a talk about the late war in Spain, in the course of which Griscelli told some wonderful stories of the feats he had performed there (for the man was egregiously vain) he led the conversation to the present war in South America, and tried to worm out of me where I had been and what I had done since my arrival in the country.

I answered him courteously and diplomatically, taking good care to tell him nothing that I did not want to be known.
"I see," he said, "it was a love of adventure that brought you here--you English are always running after adventures.

A caballero like you can have no sympathy with these rascally rebels." "I beg your pardon; I do sympathize with the rebels; not, I confess, as warmly as I did at first, and if I had known as much as I know now, I think I should have hesitated to join them." "How so ?" "They kill prisoners in cold blood, and conduct war more like savages than Christians." "You are right, they do.

Yes, killing prisoners in cold blood is a brutal practice! I am obliged to be severe sometimes, much to my regret.

But there is only one way of dealing with a rebellion--you must stamp it out; civil war is not as other wars.