DEATH OF SEÑORITA
From the earliest days of Spanish rule in Cuba human life has been held
very cheap. Especially of late years, when thousands of men, women,
and children have been wantonly murdered, has the killing of a man for
any reason been lightly regarded. So in the present instance the
guerilla captain instructed those detailed to overtake the escaping
prisoner to kill him and bring back all his property. It seemed to him
an easy task for his well-mounted beef-riders, familiar with every foot
of that region, to overtake and overpower one who had already travelled
far that day, and was evidently a stranger to the country. When they
had done so he would obtain that coveted rifle. On the whole, he was
glad that one of his prisoners had made a foolish dash for liberty, and
rather wished the other would do the same thing.
But the other contented himself with denouncing the action of the
guerilla captain in bitter terms, and promising to report it the moment
they reached the Spanish lines. At all of which the latter only smiled
contemptuously.
In the mean time Ridge, lying low on his horse's neck to offer as small
a target as possible to the shots fired by his pursuers whenever they
sighted him, was uttering words of encouragement in Señorita's ear, and
she was responding with such a burst of speed that the beef-riders were
quickly left far behind. At length nothing was to be seen or heard of
them; and, believing that they had given over the chase as hopeless,
the young trooper allowed the panting mare who had borne him so bravely
to slacken her heading pace until it was reduced to a walk.
He was still in the broad Cauto valley, where the sabanetas, or open
glades of tall grasses, were interspersed with wide tracts of
impenetrable jungle and forests of palms. By these his view was
limited on every side, but he knew that the mountains among which he
hoped to find the insurgent leader lay to the southward. So he
determined to leave the road by the first trail leading in that
direction, and continue on it until he should meet some one willing to
guide him to his destination.
Having formed this crude plan, and believing that Señorita had been
allowed sufficient time to recover her breath, he began to urge her to
a better speed, but, to his surprise, she failed to respond. Neither
words nor spur served to move her from the slow walk into which she had
fallen. Such a thing had not happened since the beginning of their
acquaintance in far-away San Antonio, and the young trooper dismounted
to discover what had gone wrong.
He had not far to look, for, as he touched the ground, a red trickle of
blood caught his eye. The plucky little mare had been hit by one of
the beef-riders' shots, but had given no sign until now, when her
weakness could no longer be overcome. So copious was the flow of blood
that it was evident an artery had been severed, and already had the
loss been very great. In vain did Ridge strive to stanch the cruel
outspurt. He had no proper appliances, and the evil was too serious to
be remedied by his simple skill. Even as he made the attempt the
gallant beast swayed, staggered, and then sank with a groan to the
ground. Almost sobbing with grief and dismay, Ridge flung himself
beside her and threw an arm caressingly across her neck.
"Poor old girl! Dear old girl!" he cried. "To think that I should
have brought you here just for this. It is too bad! too bad! And what
shall I do without you?"
Then with a sudden thought he sprang to his feet and began an eager
search on both sides of the road for water, but found none.
Disappointed and heavy-hearted, he returned to Señorita. She lay as he
had left her, but motionless and with closed eyes. Again he knelt at
her side, and at the sound of his voice the loving eyes were once more
opened. At the same time, with a mighty effort, the proud head was
uplifted, as though the mare were about to struggle to her feet. Just
then came a shot from behind them, and, with a bullet intended for her
young master buried deep in her brain, the dear horse yielded up her
life.
The shot was so instantly followed by a clatter of hoofs, that Ridge
had barely time to snatch his rifle and fling himself to the ground
behind Señorita's body before the beef-riders appeared charging up the
road, yelling and firing, as they came.
With his rifle resting across the mare's side, Ridge took quick aim and
fired. One of the advancing horsemen threw up his arms and fell over
backward, but the young American did not see him; for, without waiting
to note the effect of his shot, he dropped the rifle and seized his
revolver. It was a self-cocking weapon, and as rapidly as he could
pull the trigger he delivered the contents of all six chambers at the
guerillas. Whether or not they fired in return he did not know, but as
the smoke from his own fusillade cleared away he saw one man lying
motionless in the road, and another dragging himself into the grass at
one side. From that direction also came the furious plunging of a
horse. Of the others who had pursued him nothing was to be seen.
Hastily reloading his revolver, and throwing another cartridge into the
chamber of his rifle, Ridge nervously awaited further developments.
Would they again charge upon his front, or would they seek to outflank
him by crawling through the dense growth on either side? The latter
would be the safer move, and could be easily made.
As our young soldier realized this, he decided to forestall the attempt
by taking to the grass himself, and in another moment he was cautiously
creeping on hands and knees amid the hot brown stalks that grew many
feet above his head. Fearing that his movement might attract
attention, he did not go far; but, after making his way for a few rods
parallel to the road, he again gained its edge and halted at a place
where, peering between the grass stems, he could see his dead horse.
Here he lay motionless until he became convinced that his enemies had
beaten a retreat and would trouble him no more. Thus thinking,
impatient of delay, and painfully cramped by his position, he was about
to rise when the long silence was broken by a low cuckoo call close at
hand. Was it a signal or the note of some strange bird? As Ridge
hesitated, the call was answered from the other side of the road.
Again it sounded from the side on which he lay; then, from the opposite
side a man's head came slowly into view, low down among the grass
stems. After hasty glances both up and down the road it was withdrawn,
and the cuckoo notes were again exchanged. Then two of the baffled
beef-riders rose boldly to their feet and stepped out in full view,
close beside the dead horse. The young trooper could not distinguish
their words; but, from their angry gestures, they were discussing his
disappearance and the advisability of a further attempt to capture him.
At the same moment his own thoughts were of a most conflicting nature.
One of the men was covered by his rifle, and his finger was on its
ready trigger, but he hesitated to pull it. They had killed his horse
and sought to take his life. Even now they would shoot him down
without mercy, and as a pastime, if the opportunity offered. Knowing
this, and realizing his danger if those men should discover him, the
young American still hesitated to fire from ambush and take human life
in cold blood.
That others did not feel as he did about such things was shown while he
hesitated, for the two beef-riders had been in sight but a few seconds
when there came a flash and a roar of guns from the opposite side of
the road, a little beyond where Ridge was hiding. Both the guerillas
fell as though struck by a thunder-bolt, and their blue-clad forms lay
motionless across Señorita's body. Her death was amply avenged.
At this startling demonstration in his behalf, Ridge sprang to his feet
in full view of half a dozen men, ragged and swarthy, who were running
down the road with yells of delight. They halted at sight of the
stranger, and some raised their weapons; but he, recognizing them as
Cubans, called out: "I am Americano, and those Spaniards whom you have
so bravely killed sought my life. Viva Cuba libre!"
Upon this they again advanced with shouts and eager questions. They
belonged to a detachment of the Cuban army on its way to join General
Garcia, and had been attracted by the sound of firing. Coming to
discover its cause, they had seen the dead horse, and were stealing
cautiously towards it when halted by the familiar cuckoo call of their
enemies.
That Ridge had suffered at the hands of the Spaniards, and fought with
them, was a sufficient passport to their favor. Thus when he explained
his desire to meet their general they consented to guide him to the
Cuban rendezvous, which they said was high up in the mountains.
With a heavy heart and tear-dimmed eyes the young American turned from
a last look at his beloved horse, and set forth with these new
acquaintances on their toilsome march. He carried only his arms, but
the Cubans had stripped the dead--both men and horses--of everything
valuable, and were thus well laden with trophies.
A short distance from the spot where Señorita had given her own life in
saving that of her master, they turned into a barely discernible trail
that soon brought them to the foot-hills, where they camped for the
night. All the next day they pushed on, with infrequent halts, ever
climbing higher over trails so rough and obscure that only experienced
eyes could follow them. Here and there they passed food-stations
guarded by old men, poorly clad women, and naked children. Each of
these consisted of a thatched hut, an open fire, and a sweet-potato
patch, and to the marching Cubans they supplied roasted potatoes,
sugar-cane, and occasionally a few ripe mangoes.
Ridge and a guide, to whom he had promised money, outstripped the
others, and shortly before sunset of the second day reached the summit
of a pass lying between the great bulk of El Cobre on the east and Pico
Turquino, the tallest mountain in Cuba. From this point was outspread
a superb view of densely wooded mountain slopes tumbling steeply down
to the boundless blue of the Caribbean Sea. Here the guide departed,
promising shortly to return, leaving Ridge to gaze upon the wonderful
panorama unfolded on all sides, and thrilled with the thought that he
had crossed Cuba.
While he stood thus, forgetful of everything save the marvellous beauty
of his surroundings, he was puzzled by a sound as of distant thunder
coming from a direction in which no cloud was visible. As he
speculated concerning this phenomenon, he was startled by a voice close
at hand saying, in English: "That is a welcome sound to Cuban ears,
señor, since it is the thunder of American war-ships bombarding the
defences of Santiago."