"He died with a jibe at Candotto, who would discover where our comrades
were. The wine-shop is a heap of ashes now, but that night the friends
of liberty came out from the barrancos and crept in upon Brena Abajo."
"They drove the soldiers out?"
"No," said the man very quietly. "The Peninsulares fought well. There
are many dead patriots in the streets of Brena Abajo, and only
Candotto's men left to bury them."
Maccario straightened himself suddenly in his chair. "It was a strong
column?"
"No, senor. Four companies only. It seems Morales had sent for them."
Maccario turned to Appleby. "Now we know why Morales, who does nothing
without a motive, was waiting. Well, they will march slowly, fearing
another attack, with a section or two thrown forward in case there were
friends of ours waiting them among the cane. The Colonel Candotto would,
however, send messengers to Morales."
The man laughed in a curiously grim fashion. "Then they would never
reach him. The paths are watched, and the friends of liberty are bold
now there is to be war with America."
"I think our friend is right," said Maccario, who stood up with a little
smile. "The service he has done us will be remembered in due time.
Senor, the major-domo whom you will find below will give you food and
show you where you can sleep."
The man went out, and Appleby glanced at his comrade with a little flush
in his face.
"I think our time has come," he said.
Maccario's dark eyes sparkled. "We march in an hour. Candotto's men will
march circumspectly, and lie behind the walls of an aldea at night. When
they reach Santa Marta it will be to-morrow evening, and they will not
find Morales then."
"No," said Appleby. "I think we can get in, but it will be a risk. It
would have been certain in another week or two. We were growing stronger
every day."
Maccario smiled dryly. "There are times when one cannot wait too long,
my friend."
He went out upon the veranda, a man called out sharply in the shadows
below, there was a hum of voices, and dim figures swarmed into the
patio. Then there was a tramp of feet and a jingling of steel, lights
flashed in the windows, and Appleby, slipping clear of the bustle,
entered Tony's room. He lighted the little lamp, and then sat down on
the bed. Tony lay close beside him sleeping quietly, and Appleby felt a
curious little thrill as he looked down on him. The man had wronged him
grievously, but the bond which had grown strong in happier days bound
them together still.
The room was very hot, and the quiet face that was almost boyish yet was
beaded with perspiration, but Appleby saw there was a stamp upon it
which it had not borne in England. Tony, it seemed, had changed, and
Appleby felt that he might still do his work with credit, and be the
stronger because of his fall. Then as he struggled with a faint sense of
envy and bitterness Tony opened his eyes and smiled.
"You there, Bernard? I was back at Northrop with you and Violet a moment
ago," he said drowsily.
"Still, you are in Cuba now," said Appleby.
Tony appeared to be endeavoring to collect his thoughts. "It is
difficult to realize it, and I can't quite persuade myself I'm awake
yet," he said. "The sun was shining on the lawn, and I could see the red
geraniums and the little blue lobelia round the border as clearly as I
ever saw anything in my life. You were talking to Violet, and the
trouble between us seemed to have gone. Why couldn't you let me sleep
on?"
"I felt tempted to," said Appleby gravely. "Still, you see, we are
marching to assault Santa Marta almost immediately."
Tony sprang out of bed, and was half dressed when he turned to Appleby
again with a sparkle in his eyes.
"I'm taller than most of these Cubans. You'll have to put me at the head
of your company," he said.
"No," said Appleby dryly. "We are leaving a handful of men behind us to
hold the hacienda, and I mean you to stay with them."
Tony laughed a clear, ringing laugh. "Did you think for a moment that I
would? Now, you will gain nothing by insisting, and you don't command.
If I can't get your permission I'll get Maccario's."
"There is very grim work on hand, and the rest are more fitted for it
than you."
Tony turned with a trace of stiffness which became him. "There was a
time when you apparently took pleasure in pointing out my slackness,
Bernard," he said. "Still, while I'm willing to admit it, I think it's
moral,--and not physical."
"Of course!"
Tony's face relaxed, and he laughed. "That's devilishly complimentary--
but I'm coming. I've never been in a fight, and the sensation will be a
pleasant novelty, but there's something else. You see, it may happen
that one of us gets hurt."
"It is, I believe, quite likely."
"Well," said Tony very quietly, "that is just why I'm coming. I don't
wish to be uncivil--but while Maccario's willing I think it's evident
that you can't stop me."
Appleby looked at him a moment with a curious softness in his eyes, and
then made a little gesture of resignation, while Maccario, who opened
the door quietly, smiled as he glanced at them.
"The Senor Palliser will march with us?" he said.
"Of course!" said Tony lightly, but Appleby, who felt a little shiver
run through him, said nothing at all.
Twenty minutes later the Sin Verguenza went stumbling down the tram-line
file by file, and when they swung out into the carretera Tony Palliser
marched with the leading four at the head of one company. The night was
still and dark and the tramp of feet alone rang through the silence of
the dusky cane, for the Sin Verguenza knew there was grim work before
them, and marched with portentous quietness. Their time had come, but
they realized with an unpleasant distinctness that if they failed very
few of them would escape the vengeance of Morales.