ON TO GOMEZ
When Mason and Washington awoke and discovered that their companions
were missing, the negro became greatly excited.
"You stay here, Misser Midget," he said. "I go see if I can find 'em.
They get lost in these woods, or catched by Spaniards. Don't you move
'til George Wash Jenks come back or you get lost too."
Washington took his rifle and disappeared among the trees, while Mason
anxiously paced the small glade. The time passed slowly and the boy's
nerves were strung to their highest tension. He started at the smallest
rustle of the leaves in the trees around him, and began to imagine all
sorts of disagreeable possibilities. What if Washington should be unable
to find his way back or should fall into the hands of the Spaniards? And
what if the Spaniards should discover him before Washington returned.
His excited mind began to reflect pictures of a lone boy starving to
death in the woods. And then the picture would change and he would be
struggling against an overwhelming number of Spaniards, who would seize
and bind him and rush him off to suffer the horrors of the inquisition.
Suddenly in the distance he heard the boys' shout. It sent the blood
tingling through his veins. At least he was not quite alone in the woods
while his companions were within hailing distance. He sent up a glad cry
in response. Again came the shout and again he replied, and then with
his heart more at ease, he sat down on a rock and waited for them to
appear.
There was a slight crackling in the bushes behind him. He turned
quickly. Washington burst into the clearing, his eyes bulging with
excitement.
"Quick, Misser Midget," he said, seizing the boy's arm and dragging him
off into the thicket.
"Spaniards got Misser Harry and Misser Bert and comin' this way."
Crouching low in the bushes, they saw the prisoners marched by and were
helpless to aid them. Once Washington gripped his gun and made a
movement to dash out of cover, but his better sense prevailed.
"No use," he whispered. "Spaniards too many and must be more close by."
When the party was well down the mountain, Washington pushed aside the
bushes and straightened up. Turning to Mason, who was pale from
excitement, he said: "Now we make tracks for Massa Cap'n Dynamite. They
take Missers where they take Missee Juanita. Massa cap'n he come back
with one--two--three hundred men and he and Cap'n Morgan they make 'em
sorry."
As there seemed to be nothing else to do but to seek reinforcements,
Mason, with a heavy heart picked up his bundle and his rifle, and
followed Washington through the woods. Their progress was slow, as the
negro proceeded now with more caution. Darkness soon came upon them and
made their advance still more difficult. The route that Washington was
following often necessitated a climb up the almost perpendicular face of
a rock as the mountain became more precipitous. Mason's hands bled from
contact with the rough rocks, and he panted for breath. Still Washington
pushed on, and when morning broke they found themselves at the top of
the mountain.
"Take short rest," said Washington, unslinging his pack and sitting down
with his back to a boulder. "Eat a bite and Wash make some coffee. Heap
easier goin' down mountain."
"But you said there was still another mountain to climb, Washington,"
said Mason, wearily.
"Yas, sah, but Cubitas and Massa Cap'n Dynamite on top that one. May
meet 'em comin' down with one--two--three hundred men."
"I hope we meet them at the foot, Washington. I do not long for another
climb like this one."
"Pretty tough one, suah 'nough, sah."
The descent was of course much easier than the climb, but nevertheless
they found many obstacles in their way, and as caution dictated that
they should keep well aside from any open trail, their progress down the
mountain was scarcely more rapid than their climb had been. But they had
the advantage of daylight and passed over the rough places with fewer
bruises and cuts. They made one more short stop at about noon, and then
pushed on again although the sun was now excessively hot, even as it
filtered through the thick foliage. It was late afternoon when they
reached the bottom of the mountain and entered the valley between the
two ranges of hills. This valley was about a mile wide and through it
flowed a narrow stream. The shores were wooded, but the rest of the
country was an open plain. They waded the little river, and as they were
about to clamber out on the other side, the familiar challenge rang out:
"Alto!"
"That General Gomez man. Say password," said Washington.
"Independencia," said Mason, with a slight quaver in his voice.
These unexpected challenges from invisible sentinels were somewhat
wearing on the nerves. They passed on without interference.
"Where was that man stationed, Washington?" asked Mason.
"Up top of head in big tree," chuckled the negro. "Good place to pop
over Spaniard if he comes along. Not get by the next one so easy."
Washington was right. When they reached the foot of the mountain they
were again challenged, and although Mason promptly gave the countersign,
they were at once surrounded by a dozen armed men, who talked rapidly in
Spanish. Washington, who spoke the language imperfectly, explained that
they were the bearers of an important message for Captain Dynamite, and
after many conferences aside and further questioning, two men were told
off to accompany them, and they were allowed to proceed practically as
prisoners.
"All right now," said Washington, with a broad grin. "Got a suah 'nough
body guard."
A wide, well-used trail made the ascent of this mountain comparatively
easy. When they reached the top, Mason was surprised to find a small
settlement in the middle of which was a large, low, wooden building,
all four sides of which were patroled by sentinels. Toward this building
their guard headed. They entered through a wide doorway and found
themselves in a large, square room, with three other occupants. It was
now quite dark, so that for a moment Mason did not recognize Captain
Dynamite as one of the men. The three were in earnest converse at a long
table, and for some time did not notice the new comers, who paused on
the threshold.
"That Massa Cap'n Dynamite, General Gomez, and President Betancourt,"
said Washington, pointing to the notable group.
Mason looked with interest at the old general who stood at the head of
the table. He was easily distinguished because of his military bearing
and accoutrements, for the grizzled warrior had one little weakness--a
love of display. He was a much smaller man than Mason expected to see,
but there was that in his rugged, tanned face and firm chin that at once
commanded respect and attention. He bore his seventy odd years lightly
and his slight form was as straight as a ramrod. His uniform, unlike
those of his faithful followers, was immaculately spotless. His carbine,
on which he rested, was gold mounted; the sabre at his side was
elegantly chased and decorated, and the silver on his pistol handles
glittered in the waning light. As he turned his eyes on the group in
the doorway, his heavy iron-grey eyebrows contracted into a scowl and he
spoke quickly to O'Connor. The latter turned and started from his chair
angrily.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"If you please, Massa Cap'n, ah----"
"Let me explain, Wash," said Mason, advancing a step when he felt the
hand of one of the guards fall heavily on his shoulder. "I think,
captain," he continued, pointing to the man, "that we can get along now
without the protection of these gentlemen."
O'Connor waved his hand and the two men saluted and filed out.
Mason advanced boldly to the table and facing O'Connor, said:
"Captain Dynamite, you should not blame Washington. It is his love for
you and Miss Juanita that brings him here."
"I suppose you are right, boy," said the captain, still scowling, "but I
am in great trouble and I do not like to have my plans interfered with.
But what brings you here?"
"Well, we heard that you were in trouble, and as Washington was going to
join you, we thought we would come along, too, and be of what assistance
we could."
The scowl faded from the man's face. He turned to General Gomez and
spoke to him in Spanish. When he had finished, the old warrior looked
the Midget over from head to foot and the stern lines of his face broke
into a genial smile, gentle and reassuring. O'Connor stepped forward,
and taking Mason's hand, shook it warmly.
"I thank you, my boy, for your good intentions. You must have made
excellent time over a rough and dangerous road, for you are here close
at my heels. And your journey has left its marks, I see," he said, as he
noticed Mason's cut and bruised face and hands, and his torn clothing.
"But where are your friends?"
"The Spaniards have got 'em," said Mason, laconically.
O'Connor looked first at the boy as if he thought it a joke, and then at
Washington, in whose troubled face he read confirmation.
"Yas, Massa Cap'n; Spaniards got 'em, suah 'nough," said Washington,
nodding his head vigorously in the affirmative.
"When, where, how did it happen?" asked O'Connor, rapidly.
"It was on the far side of the fust mountain, after we pass the fust
clearing. Boys left the camp and before George Wash Jenks could find 'em
'long came Spaniards and snapped 'em up."
"Why did you let them leave the camp, you rascal? You know this country
too well for that."
"Went while George Wash Jenks was asleep," answered the negro
sheepishly.
"Well, where did they take them?"
"Leettle town 'bout mile down clearing, ah 'spect.".
"Humph! You don't know, then?"
"George Wash Jenks think it best to come to Massa Cap'n and not go
snoopin' after Spaniard in the open. Got cotched too."
"Yes, I guess you are right. Now, what is to be done? I wonder if the
boys will know enough to keep their tongues still about the _Mariella_?"
The captain looked questioningly at Mason as he spoke.
"You needn't fear, sir, that they will say or do anything likely to get
you into trouble," said the boy, promptly.
O'Connor smiled at the boy's defence of his comrades.
"I was not thinking of myself, my boy; but if it were known that they
were in any way connected with the expedition of the _Mariella_ it might
go hard with them."
"I think they will understand that, sir."
"Now, the next question is how to aid them. I think my own mission lies
in their direction. But you need freshening up a bit, and I'll wager
you are hungry. I will send a man with you to my quarters. You will find
soap and water there and a tin basin. The accommodations are a little
primitive and not quite up to the _Mariella's_, but you can get some of
the dirt out of those cuts. We will sup here when you are ready.
Washington, you know the way to the mess-room. Go and fill up that empty
stomach of yours and then return to me. You go back to Captain Morgan in
an hour."
"O, Massa Cap'n, not goin' to send George Wash Jenks back?"
"You will be best serving me, Washington. You will bear a dispatch of
the utmost importance. It must be in Captain Morgan's hands within
thirty-six hours in order that he may co-operate with us. I know of no
other man who knows the road well enough to cover it in that time. You
will also act as an escort to Miss Juanita's mother and her attendants."
Proud of the distinction and eager to serve his master, as he insisted
upon calling O'Connor, the negro straightened up.
"Message shall be there, sah. Missee Juanita's mother shall have escort,
too."
O'Connor called an orderly and sent him with Mason to his quarters.
After washing and tidying up his tattered clothing as well as he could,
the boy returned to the military headquarters, where the three men were
again in earnest conference. O'Connor motioned to a big wooden settee at
one end of the room. Mason stretched out on this and, utterly worn out,
his eyes closed and in five minutes he had dropped off into a heavy
slumber.
For half an hour longer the men continued their conference, and then,
having come to some unanimous conclusion, they rose from the table.
O'Connor, seeing the sleeping boy, stepped over to the settee and
removing his coat, rolled it up and placed it gently under his head.
Then, with a military salute to President Betancourt, he and General
Gomez passed out of the building.
Mason was suddenly awakened by the shouts of men and the jangling of
guns and sabres. He sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes, looking around
the room in a bewildered manner. At first the train of recent events
would not form themselves properly in his mind. He could not for a
moment recall the room in which he found himself, or how he got there.
The moonlight was streaming in at the low open windows and fell upon the
long table at which again sat the three men, while an orderly stood
silently behind the chair of the general. They were apparently eating,
and hunger gnawing at the boy's stomach dulled any sense of delicacy and
he rose and walked directly to the table.
"I think you said we would sup here, Captain," he said.
O'Connor turned and motioned to the orderly to bring a chair.
"I certainly did, my boy, but seeing you asleep I thought I would not
disturb you at present. Sit down, and while you eat tell me all you know
of the capture of the boys and the movements of their captors."
Mason told the details of the boys' capture and O'Connor repeated it in
Spanish to Gomez and Betancourt. In the meantime outside of the building
all was confusion, and through the open door and windows the boy could
see that armed men were rapidly gathering in response to the loud
commands of leaders. As fast as one squad or company formed, it moved
off and down the mountain trail by which Mason and Washington had
approached the plateau. Another squad began forming at once. There
seemed to be a constant stream of men pouring down the mountain side.