DIONYSIO CAPTURES A SPANIARD
While Ridge was greatly disappointed at losing the guidance and
companionship of the young Cuban, in whom his confidence was now wholly
restored, he could not, under the circumstances, urge him to go
farther, nor did he dare longer delay his own journey. With Señorita,
all his belongings, including his undelivered despatches, and the money
stolen when he was captured by del Concha, had been restored to him.
So he now added to his outfit a grass-woven hammock that he purchased
in the refugee camp, and was then ready to set forth.
The new guide awaiting him was a coal-black negro named Dionysio, who
was of such huge stature that the other Cubans seemed pygmies beside
him. He was armed only with a great machete, ground to exceeding
sharpness, and he disdained to ride a horse, declaring that he could,
on foot, cover a greater distance in less time than any horse on the
island, which Ridge was able to credit after a short experience with
his ebony guide. Besides, being a big man and a very strong one,
Dionysio was a silent man, as taciturn as an Indian, and never spoke
except upon necessity.
When Ridge was introduced to him he was sitting in the shade of a
corojo-palm, smoking a cigarette and lovingly fingering the razor-like
edge of his machete.
"This is the Señor Americano whom you are to guide to Jiguani, and
afterwards, if he requires it, to Santiago," said del Concha,
Dionysio looked keenly at Ridge, but uttered no word.
"He is ready to start."
The negro stood up, to signify that he was also ready.
"You will not let the Spaniards kill him," Dionysio tapped his machete
significantly.
"Well, my friend, adios," said del Concha, "and may you come safely to
your journey's end!"
Accepting this farewell as a signal to move, the black giant set forth
at a swinging pace, and, in order not to lose sight of him, Ridge was
obliged instantly to follow. In another minute, therefore, they had
crossed the clearing, plunged again into the forest, and the refugee
camp was as lost to their view as though it had not existed.
The silent guide bore on his shoulders a burden of yams rolled in a
hammock, but it in no way interfered with the freedom of his movements.
For miles he maintained, up hill and down, the same speed with which he
had set out, and which so taxed Señorita's endurance that Ridge was
finally forced to call a halt. The heat of the sun was by this time
intense, while the forest steamed from a succession of brief but
drenching showers that had swept over it since they started.
As Dionysio comprehended what was wanted he proceeded, without a word,
to construct a small bower of branches and palm leaves, beneath which
he slung Ridge's hammock. The young trooper's eyes were so leaden with
sleep that he had no sooner slipped into this than he was lost in a
dreamless slumber.
When he next awoke, greatly refreshed by his long nap, the great heat
of the day was past, and the shadows of coming evening produced a
pleasant coolness. For a few minutes Ridge lay in a state of lazy
content, gazing with languid interest at his surroundings. The sky, so
far as he could see it, was cloudless, the crisp leaves of a tall palm
close at hand rustled in a light breeze like the patter of rain, gayly
plumaged paroquets and nonpareils flitted across his line of vision,
and the air was filled with the pleasant odor of burning wood, mingled
with the fragrance of a cigarette that Dionysio smoked while squatted
on his heels before a small fire. A little beyond, Señorita, tethered
to a tree, cropped at a small patch of coarse grass, and--but Ridge
could not credit his senses until he had rubbed his eyes vigorously to
make sure that they were doing their duty--another horse was sharing
the grass-plot with her. As he assured himself of this, Ridge sat up,
and was about to demand an explanation of the negro, when his question
was checked by another sight still more amazing.
A human figure staring fixedly at him with glaring eyes was rigidly
bound to the trunk of a near-by tree. It was that of a young man in
the uniform of a Spanish officer. His face was covered with blood,
upon which a swarm of flies had settled, and he was so securely
fastened that he could not move hand nor foot. He was also gagged so
that he could make no sound beyond an inarticulate groan, which he
uttered when he saw that Ridge was awake and looking at him.
With an exclamation of dismay the young American leaped from his
hammock. At the same moment Dionysio rose to his feet with a broad
grin on his black face, and spoke for the first time since Ridge had
made his acquaintance.
"Him Holguin Spaniard," he said, pointing to the prisoner. "Me catch
him. Keep him for Americano to kill. Now you shoot him."
[Illustration: "'Him Holguin Spaniard. Now you shoot him,' said the
Cuban."]
Thus saying, the negro handed Ridge a loaded pistol that he had taken
from the Spaniard, and then stepped aside with an air of ferocious
expectancy to note with what skill the latter would fire at the human
target thus provided.
Mechanically Ridge accepted the weapon, and with blazing eyes strode
towards the hapless Spaniard, who uttered a groan of agony, evidently
believing that his last moment had arrived. As the young trooper
passed the place where Dionysio had squatted, he snatched the negro's
big machete from the ground.
At this the latter chuckled with delight, evidently believing that the
blood-thirsty Americano was about to hew his victim in pieces, an
operation that, to him, would be vastly more entertaining than a mere
shooting. Then he stared in bewilderment; for, instead of cutting the
prisoner down, Ridge began to sever the lashings by which he was bound.
As the keen-edged machete cut through the last of these, the released
man fell forward in a faint, and the young American, catching him in
his arms, laid him on the sward. "Bring water!" he ordered, with a
sharp tone of authority, and the negro obeyed.
"You no kill him?" he asked, as he watched Ridge bathe the blood from
the unconscious man's face.
"Not now," was the evasive answer. "Where did you get him?"
Little by little, one word at a time, he gained from the taciturn negro
an idea of what had taken place while he slept. It seemed that, while
he had followed rough mountain trails in his roundabout course to and
from the refugee camp, there was a much better road to which they had
closely approached, when he was forced by exhaustion to call a halt.
After he fell asleep, Dionysio, going for water to a spring that he
knew of, had detected a sound of hoof-beats advancing along this road
from the direction of Holguin. Concealing himself near the spring, he
waited until the horseman, a Spanish officer, rode up to it. Then he
leaped upon the man, dragged him to the ground, and had him secured
almost before the astonished officer knew what was happening. He was
also dazed by a wound in the head received as he was hurled from his
horse.
Dionysio was on the point of killing him, as he had many a Spaniard,
but reflecting that the Americano whom he was guiding would doubtless
enjoy that pleasure, he generously decided to yield it to him and
reserve the victim until Ridge should finish his nap. So, after
gagging the Spaniard, that he might not disturb him who slept, Dionysio
flung him across his shoulder and carried him to camp. There he
secured him to a tree so that Ridge might see him upon awakening, and
then calmly resumed his duties as camp cook and sentry. The
unfortunate prisoner, wounded, bound, and powerless to move or speak,
tormented by heat and insects, and parched by a burning thirst, had
thus suffered for hours, while the young American who was to kill him
slept close at hand, blissfully unaware of his presence.
As Ridge pityingly cleansed the face of this enemy whose present
sufferings had been terminated by unconsciousness, he all at once
recognized it as that of the officer who had conveyed him from General
Pando's quarters to the guard-house in Holguin. At the same time,
noting a slight rustle of paper somewhere in the man's clothing, he
began a search for it, and finally discovered a despatch in an official
envelope. Carefully opening this without breaking the seal, he found
it to contain two papers. One was a personal note from General Pando
to the Spanish commander at Jiguani, calling his attention to the
other, which was an order to set forth at once with his entire force
for Santiago, where an American army was about to land, and where he
would be joined by 5000 troops from Holguin.
"This is interesting," commented Ridge, "and of course must not be
allowed to reach its destination. So I will just put in its place my
Carranza despatch to this same gentleman, informing him that the
Americans are to land at Cienfuegos. It will have added weight if it
appears to come from General Pando, and will surely start him off in a
direction where he can do no harm.
"I wonder, though, what I had best do with you," he continued,
meditatively, addressing the unconscious form beside him. "Of course
you will recognize me as soon as you are able to sit up and take
notice. Of course, also, I can't kill you in cold blood; nor can I
turn you over to the tender mercies of Dionysio, for that would amount
to exactly the same thing. I don't dare let you go, and I can't be
bothered with you as a prisoner; so what on earth I am to do with you
I'm sure I don't know. I almost wish you wouldn't wake up at all."
Just here, owing to Ridge's kindly ministrations, the cause of his
perplexity opened his eyes, looked the young American full in the face,
and smiled a faint smile in which recognition and gratitude were
equally blended.