with oil and set them afire. They scampered fast; but their hair is
short; they don't run far. These snakes will be better."
"It seems terrible to destroy our own property."
Esteban broke out excitedly; he could not discuss Pancho Cueto without
losing control of himself. "Would you permit that traitor to fatten
upon the profits of our plantations? He thinks he is safe; he is
preparing for a rich crop at high prices, but he shall never reap a
dollar from Varona land as long as I live. I shall ruin him, as he
ruined us."
Rosa shook her dark head sadly. "And we are indeed ruined. Think of our
beautiful house; all our beautiful things, too! We used to consider
ourselves poor, but--how little we knew of real poverty. There are so
many things I want. Have we nothing left?"
"I thought it best to buy those rifles," the brother murmured, dropping
his eyes. "It was one chance in a million."
"No doubt it was. It seems those Spaniards will sell their souls."
"Exactly. We can dig food from the earth and pluck it from the trees,
but good Mausers don't grow on every bush. Besides, of what use would
money be to us when we have no place to spend it?"
"True!" After a moment Rosa mused aloud: "I wonder if Cueto found the
treasure? If only we had that--"
"He didn't find it," Esteban declared, positively. "I"--he
hesitated--"I think I know why he didn't."
"Yes?"
"I think I know where it is."
"Esteban!" Rosa stared, round-eyed, at her brother.
"Oh, I mean it. I've been thinking so ever since--"
"Where is it?" breathlessly inquired the girl.
After a furtive look over his shoulder Esteban whispered, "In the well."
"You're joking!"
"No, no! Think for yourself. It was old Sebastian who dug that well--"
"Yes."
"And he alone shared father's confidence. That sunken garden was all
Sebastian's work; he spent all his time there, although he was a big,
strong man and capable of any task. No one else was allowed to tend it.
Why? I'll tell you. They feared to let any one else draw the water.
Isabel searched for years: if that treasure had been above ground her
sharp nose would have smelled it out, and now Cueto has moved the very
earth."
Rosa sat back, disappointed. "So that's your theory?"
"It's more than a theory," the boy insisted. "Look at this!" From the
pocket of his cotton trousers he produced an odd-looking coin which he
placed in Rosa's hand.
"Why, it's gold! It's a Spanish doubloon," she said. "It's the first
one I ever saw. Where did you find it?"
"You'll think I'm crazy when I tell you--sometimes I think so myself. I
found it in Isabel's hand when I took her from the well!"
Rosa was stricken speechless.
"She clutched it tightly," Esteban hurried on, "but as I made the rope
fast her hand relaxed and I saw it in the lantern-light. It was as
if--well, as if she gave it to me. I was too badly frightened to think
much about it, as you may imagine. It was a horrible place, all slime
and foul water; the rocks were slippery. But that coin was in her
fingers."
Rosa managed to say: "Impossible! Then she must have had it when she
fell."
"No, no! I saw her hands upstretched, her fingers open, in the
moonlight."
"It's uncanny. Perhaps--"
"Yes. Perhaps some unseen hand led her to the place so that we should
at last come into our own. Who knows? I didn't bother my head about the
matter at first, what with our flight and all, but now I reason that
there must be other coins where this one came from. There's no doubt
that father hid his money. He turned his slaves into gold, he bought
jewels, precious metal, anything he could hide. Well, perhaps there
were old coins in the lot. The water in the well is shallow; Isabel
must have groped this piece from the bottom. Some day I shall explore
the hole and--we shall see."
Rosa flung her arms rapturously about her brother's neck and kissed
him. "Wouldn't it be glorious?" she cried. "Wouldn't it be wonderful,
to be rich, and to want for nothing; to have fine clothes and good
things to eat once more? Good things to eat!" Her lip quivered.
"Oh--I'm so hungry."
"Poor little girl!"
"Wait till O'Reilly hears about this." Rosa was all excitement once
more. "He'll be glad he came and got me, if he does come."
Esteban caressed her. "He'll come, never fear. You remember he warned
me to be careful? Well I--I blame myself for bringing you to this. For
myself, of course I don't mind, but for you this life must be terrible.
I know it. Every time I leave you my heart is in my throat for fear of
what may happen in my absence--and yet I can't always be at your side."
"There! You acknowledge that I handicap you. Except for me you would be
making a glorious name for yourself."
"Nothing of the sort. More probably I'd be getting myself killed. No!
It's better this way. We must be brave and patient and--think of what
is waiting for us at the bottom of that well."
It was indeed a great piece of luck which had enabled Esteban Varona to
buy a half-dozen Mausers from a Spanish soldier. Through Asensio's
acquaintance he had profited by the dishonesty of an enemy, and,
although it had taken all his money to effect the purchase, Esteban
considered the sacrifice well worth while. The fire of patriotism
burned fiercely in him, as did his hatred of Pancho Cueto, and the four
trusty young negroes to whom he had given rifles made, with Asensio and
himself, an armed party large enough to be reckoned with. These blacks
were excitable fellows, and wretched marksmen, but, on the other hand,
each and every one had been raised with a machete at his hip and knew
how to use it. After a few preliminary forays under Esteban's
leadership they had absorbed a bit of discipline and were beginning to
feel a military ardor.
In the Cuban field forces there were many negroes, and many of their
fellow-patriots fought better, or endured the hardships of guerrilla
warfare more cheerfully, than they. Gen. Antonio Maceo was of mixed
blood, and yet his leadership was characterized not only by rare
judgment and ability, but also by an exalted abandon of personal
bravery. His several brothers rendered Cuba services scarcely less
distinguished, and they were but of a few of many dark-skinned heroes.
This struggle for independence was no patrician's war; the best stock
of the island fought side by side with field-hands.
At dawn of the morning following his talk with Rosa, when the members
of his command assembled, Esteban was up and ready. He had made his
preparations to destroy Pancho Cueto's fields, and since the road over
the hills to La Joya was long he had summoned them early.
"Be careful!" Rosa implored him. "I shall die of suspense."
"It is for you to be careful," he laughed. "Keep a good watch, and
conceal yourself at the first alarm. However, I think we have taught
these bandits a lesson. As for Cueto, he would run to the jungle if he
saw us. He has the heart of a mouse." He kissed his sister
affectionately and then rode off at the head of his tattered band.
Rosa waved him a last farewell as he disappeared into the woods, then,
to occupy herself, she helped Evangelina with what little housework
there was to do, later going with her to the garden patch where the
viandas grew.
Evangelina's early devotion to her mistress had not diminished with
time; if anything, it had deepened. When emancipation came she would
have returned to the service of her beloved twins had it not been for
Dona Isabel's refusal to accept her. As it was, she and Asensio had
married, and by means of Rosa's surreptitious help they had managed to
buy this little piece of land. Rosa had practised self-denial to make
the purchase possible, and her self-sacrifice had borne fruit: that act
of childish beneficence had created a refuge for Esteban and herself
and had ripened the negro woman's affection into idolatry.
Evangelina's joy at having the girl to herself, where she could daily
see her, touch her, serve her, was tempered only by the knowledge of
Rosa's unhappiness. She scolded and tyrannized, she mothered and adored
the girl to her heart's content; she watched over her like a hawk; she
deemed no labor in her service too exacting. It would have gone ill
with any one who offered harm to Rosa, for Evangelina was strong and
capable; she had the arms and the hands of a man, and she possessed the
smoldering black temper of Sebastian, her father.
Even in peaceful times few people came to this clearing, in the woods,
far off from the main-traveled roads of the Yumuri, and the day, as
usual, passed uneventfully. Evangelina worked, with one eye upon her
Rosa, the other watchfully alert for danger. When evening came she
prepared their scanty meal, upbraiding Rosa, meanwhile, for her
attempts to assist her. Then they sat for an hour or two on the bench
outside the door, talking about Juan O'Rail-ye and the probable hour of
his coming.
There were no candles in Asensio's house now, and had there been,
neither woman would have dared light one. To hunted creatures darkness
is a friend; danger stalks under the sun.
When Rosa fretted about her brother, the negress reassured her. "Don't
be frightened, little dove; he has the makings of a great soldier. It's
a good thing for the Spaniards that he isn't general. Cuba would be
free in no time."
"He's so reckless."
"Oh, he knows what he's doing. Besides, Asensio wouldn't let him be
hurt. I took pains to tell him that if ever he permitted Esteban to
suffer so much as a scratch I would disembowel him with his own
machete. He knows me. Now, then, it is growing cool and the night air
carries fevers. Creep into your bed and dream about that handsome lover
of yours."
"No, I'll keep watch with you."
Evangelina was indignant. "Go!" she stormed. "What will happen to those
red cheeks if you don't sleep? Do you think the American will want to
marry an old woman with wrinkles? He may be here to-morrow--yes, I have
a certain feeling about it."
Rosa obeyed, although reluctantly. "I'll sleep for a while," she
compromised, "then I'll come out and take my turn."
This exactly suited the elder woman, who knew something about the
slumbers of youth. Nevertheless, dawn was still a long way off when,
true to her promise, Rosa emerged from the hut with an apology for
having slept so long. Evangelina protested, though her eyes were heavy
and she had been yawning prodigiously for hours. But for once the girl
was firm. "I can't sleep," she declared. "Why force me to lie staring
into the dark while you suffer?" Having finally prevailed in her
determination, she seated herself in the warm place Evangelina had
vacated, and, curling her small feet under her, she settled herself,
chin in hand, to think of O'Reilly. It was a good time to think, for
the jungle was very still and the night like a velvet curtain.
"We had better leave the horses here." Pancho Cueto hesitatingly
addressed the dim blur which he knew to be Colonel Cobo. The Colonel of
Volunteers was in a vile temper, what with the long night ride and an
error of Cueto's which had considerably lengthened the journey.
"Where is the house?" growled the officer.
"Not far. But the path is rocky and the horses' feet--"
"God, yes!" There was a creak of saddle leathers and a groan as the
colonel dismounted. "Now, my good Cueto," he threatened, "another of
your mistakes and I'll give you something to remember me by. Damnation!
What a night! As black as hell."
"It will be daylight before we know it," the other said, nervously.
"Excellent! Then I can see to deal with you if you've fooled me." A
curt order brought his men out of their saddles. One of their number
was detailed to guard the animals, while the rest fell in behind Cueto
and followed him up the trail by the starglow.
IX
MARAUDERS
The surprise was easily effected, for Colonel Cobo's men were
accomplished in this sort of work. Rosa, crouching upon her bench,
heard nothing, saw nothing, until out of the shadows beside her human
forms materialized. Her white dress, like a dim phosphorescent glow in
dark waters, betrayed her presence, and as she sprang to her feet rough
hands seized her. She screamed once, twice; then a palm closed over her
mouth and she began to struggle like a cat.
Evangelina, who had waked at the first outcry, met the marauders as
they rushed through the door. The hush of the sleeping Jungle was
shattered now; there were shouts and curses, loudly bellowed orders, a
great scuffling and pounding of feet upon the dirt floor of the hut,
the rickety, bark-covered walls bulged and creaked. Over all sounded
the shrieks of the negress battling in the pitch-black interior like an
animal in its lair. Then some one set fire to the thatch; the flames
licked up the dead palm-leaves to the ridge-pole, and the surroundings
leaped into view.
Rosa saw a swarthy, thick-set man in the uniform of a Colonel of
Volunteers, and behind him Pancho Cueto. Tearing the hand from her lips
for a moment, she cried Cueto's name, but he gave no heed. He was
straining his gaze upon the door of the bohio in the immediate
expectation of seeing Esteban emerge. He clutched a revolver in his
hand, but it was plain from the nerveless way in which he held the
weapon that he had little stomach for the adventure. He was, in fact,
more inclined to run than to stand his ground. Rosa shrieked his name
again; then she heard the officer say:
"Where is the young fellow? I hear nothing but the squeals of that
common wench."
Evangelina's cries of rage and defiance suddenly ceased, and with them
the sounds of combat. From the blazing bohio ran two armed men,
brushing sparks from their clothing. A third followed, dragging
Evangelina by one naked arm. The black woman was inert; her scanty
garments were well-nigh ripped from her body: she lay huddled where the
soldier flung her.
Rosa felt herself swooning, and she knew nothing of what immediately
followed. After a time she felt herself shaken, and heard the colonel
addressing her.
"Come, come!" he was saying. "Why don't you answer me?" He dragged her
farther from what was now a roaring furnace. "Where is your precious
brother and that black fellow?"
Rosa could only stare dully.
"It seems we missed them," said Cueto.
"More of your bungling," Cobo broke out at him, wrathfully. "God! I've
a mind to toss you into that fire." He turned his attention once more
to Rosa, and with a jerk that shook her into fuller consciousness
repeated: "Where are they? Speak to me."
"Gone!" she gasped. "Gone!" She struggled weakly toward Cueto,
imploring him, "Pancho, don't you know me?"
"Well, we've taught him a lesson," said Cueto, grinning apprehensively
at Cobo. "We've accomplished something, anyhow, eh?" He nodded at Rosa.
"She's all that I told you. Look at her!"
Colonel Cobo took time to scrutinize his prisoner. He turned her about
in the light from the burning dwelling; then he agreed.
"Yes! She's a pretty little spy--quite a prize, truly. Now then!" His
thick lips spread; he spoke to her more gently. "I want you to tell me
about that brother of yours, eh? Cueto said I would find him here. Ha!
Still frightened, I see. Well, I have a way with women; I dare say
you'll be glad to tell me everything by and by." Then, seeing that his
men risked a scorching in their search of the hut and were already
quarreling over the scanty plunder which it afforded, he turned from
Rosa to call them away.
Profiting by his inattention, Rosa wriggled out of his grasp and ran to
Evangelina, who lay face down in the dirt, her limbs sprawled loosely.
She flung herself upon the prostrate body and cried the black woman's
name, but she could awaken no response.
The first pink of dawn was now deepening in the east, and as soon as it
had grown light enough to see to travel Colonel Cobo prepared to return
to his horses. The roof and walls of the bohio had fallen away to
ashes, its skeleton of poles and its few pieces of crude furniture
alone were smoldering when he called his men together and gave the word
to go.
"Come, my sweetheart." He addressed himself to the girl. "Leave that
carrion for the buzzards."
Rosa looked up to find him leering at her. She brushed the tears from
her eyes, crying:
"Go away! In God's name haven't you done harm enough?"
"Oh, but you're going with me."
The girl rose; her face was colorless; she was aquiver with
indignation. "Leave me!" she stormed. "What have I done to you? Don't--"
"Caramba! A temper. And you have strength, too, as I discovered. Must I
bind those pretty hands or--"
Colonel Cobo reached forth, laughing, and encircled her in his powerful
arms. Rosa fought him as she had fought at the first moment of
desperation, but he lifted her easily and went striding across the
field behind his men.
Esteban's party made good time over the hills and into the San Juan,
for Asensio knew the country well. Mid-afternoon found them in sight of
La Joya. Cueto's cane was thick and high; it was ready for the knife or
for the torch. Making a detour, the incendiaries approached it from the
east in order to have the trade-winds at their backs. They dismounted
in the shelter of a wood and removed the bags which they had carried on
their saddles. Inside these bags were several snakes, the largest
perhaps eight feet in length. To the tail of each the negroes fastened
a leather thong, and then to each thong a length of telegraph-wire, the
end of which had been bent into a loop to hold a bundle of oil-soaked
waste. These preliminaries accomplished, they bore the reptiles into
the cane-fields at widely separated places and lighted the waste.
Esteban, from his saddle, saw the first wisps of smoke arise and grow
and unwind into long ribbons, reaching deep into the standing crop.
Soon tongues of flame appeared and the green tops of the cane began to
shrivel and to wave as the steady east wind took effect. From the
nearest conflagration a great snapping and crackling of juicy stalks
arose. The thin, dry strippings with which the earth was carpeted
formed a vast tinder bed, and once the fire was started there was no
checking it. Smoke billowed upward and was hurried westward before the
breeze; in a dozen places the fields burst into flame. From somewhere
came a faint shouting, then a shot or two, and finally the ringing of a
bell.
Esteban waited only until he saw that his work of devastation was well
under way, then he led his followers back toward the hills. At sunset
he reined in upon the crest of a ridge and looked behind him into the
valley. The whole sky was black with smoke, as if a city were in flames.
Removing his wide jipi-japa hat, the young man swept a mocking
salutation to the east.
"So now, good Pancho Cueto," he cried, "I leave you the compliments of
those twins you love so well."
In the shelter of a ravine the party took time to eat supper, their
first meal since leaving home, and it was after dark when they
finished. The negroes, who were thoroughly tired, were for spending the
night here, but Esteban, more cautious than they, would not have it so.
Accordingly, the men remounted their weary horses, though not without
some grumbling, and set out. It was slow traveling, for the woods were
dark and the trails were blind; the men were fairly obliged to feel
their way. At length they crossed the summit and worked down toward the
Yumuri, but it seemed as if daylight would never come.
"A weary ride," Esteban yawned. "I shall sleep for a week."
Asensio agreed. "That Cueto will be furious," said he. "Some day,
perhaps, he and I will meet face to face. Then I shall kill him."
Esteban reined in his horse. "Look!" said he. "Yonder is a light."
The other horsemen crowded close, staring through the darkness. It was
very still in the woods; dawn was less than half an hour away.
"What is Evangelina thinking about?" Asensio muttered.
"But, see! It grows brighter." There followed a moment or two during
which there was no sound except the breathing of the horses and the
creak of saddle leathers as the riders craned their necks to see over
the low tree-tops below them. Then Esteban cried:
"Come! I'm--afraid it's our house." Fear gripped him, but he managed to
say, calmly, "Perhaps there has been an--accident."
Asensio, muttering excitedly, was trying to crowd past him; for a few
yards the two horses brushed along side by side. The distant point of
light had become a glare now; it winked balefully through the openings
as the party hurried toward it. But it was still a long way off, and
the eastern sky had grown rosy before the dense woods of the hillside
gave way to the sparser growth of the low ground.
Esteban turned a sick, white face over his shoulder and jerked out his
orders; then he kicked his tired mount into a swifter gallop. It was he
who first broke out into the clearing. One glance, and the story was
told.
The hut was but a crumbling skeleton of charred poles. Strung out
across the little field of malangas, yuccas, and sweet-potatoes were
several hilarious Volunteers, their arms filled with loot from the
cabin. Behind them strode an officer bearing Rosa struggling against
his breast.
Esteban did not pause; he drove his horse headlong through the soft red
earth of the garden. His sudden appearance seemed briefly to paralyze
the marauders. It was a moment before they could drop their spoils,
unsling their rifles, and begin to fire at him, and by that time he had
covered half the distance to his sister. Those rifle-shots came faintly
to Esteban's ears; he scarcely heard them; he merely lowered his head
and rode straight at that black-visaged colonel, sobbing and whimpering
in his fury.
But in spite of his speed he made no difficult target. A bullet brought
his horse down and the boy went flying over its neck. Nothing but the
loose loam saved him from injury. As he rose to his feet, breathless
and covered with the red dirt, there came a swift thudding of hoofs and
Asensio swept past him like a rocket. Esteban caught one glimpse of the
negro's face, a fleeting vision of white teeth bared to the gums, of
distended yellow eyes, of flat, distorted features; then Asensio was
fairly upon Colonel Cobo. The colonel, who had dropped his burden, now
tried to dodge. Asensio slashed once at him with his long, murderous
machete, but the next instant he was engaged with a trooper who had
fired almost into his face.
The other negroes also were in the open by this time, yelling and
firing as fast as they could work the bolts of their rifles, and
although they aimed at nothing in particular, the effect of their
fusillade was all that could be wished. Cobo's men, led by the
terrified Pancho Cueto, turned and fled for cover, believing themselves
in danger of annihilation. Nor was the colonel himself in any condition
to rally them, for Asensio's blade had cloven one full dark cheek to
the bone, and the shock and pain had unnerved him; he was frightened at
sight of the blood that streamed down over the breast of his white
tunic, and so, when he saw his men turn tail, he followed suit, lunging
through the lush garden growth, holding his wound in his hand and
shrieking profane commands which went unheeded.
The field was small, the jungle was close at hand. A moment and the
interlopers had vanished into it, all but one, who lay kicking among
the broad malanga-leaves, and over whom Asensio kept spurring his
terrified horse, hacking downward with insane fury.
This was the first hand-to-hand encounter Esteban's men had had, and
their swift victory rendered them ferocious. Flinging their guns aside,
they went crashing into the brush on the trail of their enemies.
Rosa found herself in her brother's arms, sobbing out the story of the
outrage and quivering at every sound of the chase. He was caressing
her, and telling her to have no further fears; both of them were fairly
hysterical. Even before Esteban had heard all, Lorenzo, the mulatto,
reappeared, leading three cavalry horses and shouting extravagant
praises of his own bravery. Esteban complimented him and the fellow
galloped away again, voicing the most blood-curdling threats.
Evangelina, thanks to her thick skull, was not dead. In the course of
time under Rosa's and Esteban's ministrations she regained her senses,
and when the other men returned they found her lying sick and dazed,
but otherwise quite whole.