ANDRES.
"What is that?" ejaculated Alano, stopping short and catching my arm.
"A cry of some kind," I answered. "Listen!"
We stepped behind some trees, to avoid any enemies who might be about,
and remained silent. Again came the cry.
"It is a man in distress!" said Alano presently. "He asks us not to
desert him."
"Then he probably saw us from the window of the hut. What had we best
do?"
"You remain here, and I will investigate," rejoined my Cuban chum.
With caution he approached the thatched hut, a miserable affair,
scarcely twelve feet square and six feet high, with the trunks of palm
trees as the four corner-posts. There were one tiny window and a narrow
door, and Alano after some hesitation entered the latter, pistol in
hand.
"Come, Mark!" he cried presently, and I ran forward and joined him.
A pitiable scene presented itself. Closely bound to a post which ran
up beside the window was a Cuban negro of perhaps fifty years of age,
gray-haired and wrinkled. He was scantily clothed, and the cruel
green-hide cords which bound him had cut deeply into his flesh, in many
places to such an extent that the blood was flowing. The negro's tongue
was much swollen, and the first thing he begged for upon being released
was a drink of water.
We obtained the water, and also gave him what we could to eat, for
which he thanked us over and over again, and would have kissed our
hands had we permitted it. He was a tall man, but so thin he looked
almost like a skeleton.
"For two days was I tied up," he explained to Alano, in his Spanish
_patois_. "I thought I would die of hunger and thirst, when, on raising
my eyes, I beheld you and your companion. Heaven be praised for sending
you! Andres will never forget you for your goodness, never!"
"And how came you in this position?" questioned my chum.
"Ah, dare I tell, master?"
"You are a rebel?"
The negro lowered his eyes and was silent.
"If you are, you have nothing to fear from us," continued Alano.
"Ah--good! good!" Andres wrung his hand. "Yes, I am a rebel. For two
years I fought under our good General Maceo and under Garcia. But I
am old, I cannot climb the mountains as of yore, and I got sick and
was sent back. The Spanish soldiers followed me, robbed me of what
little I possessed, and, instead of shooting me, bound me to the post
as a torture. Ah, but they are a cruel set!" And the eyes of the negro
glowed wrathfully. "If only I was younger!"
"Were the Spaniards on horseback?" asked Alano.
"Yes, master--a dozen of them."
Alano described the bandits we had met, and Andres felt certain they
must be the same crowd. The poor fellow could scarcely stand, and sank
down on a bed of cedar boughs and palm branches. We did what we could
for him, and in return he invited us to make his poor home our own.
There was a rude fireplace behind the hut, and here hung a great iron
pot. Rekindling the fire, we set the pot to boiling; and Andres hobbled
around to prepare a soup, or rather broth, made of green plantains,
rice, and a bit of dried meat the bandits had not discovered, flavoring
the whole mess with garlic. The dish was not particularly appetizing to
me, but I was tremendously hungry and made way with a fair share of
it, while Alano apparently enjoyed his portion.
It was dark when the meal was finished, and we decided to remain at
the hut all night, satisfied that we would be about as secure there
as anywhere. The smoke of the smoldering fire kept the mosquitoes
and gnats at a distance, and Andres found for us a couple of grass
hammocks, which, when slung from the corner-posts, made very
comfortable resting-places.
During the evening Alano questioned Andres closely, and learned that
General Garcia was pushing on toward Guantanamo, as we had previously
been informed. Andres did not know Señor Guerez, but he asserted that
many planters throughout the district had joined the rebel forces,
deserting their canefields and taking all of their help with them.
"The men are poorly armed," he continued. "Some have only their
canefield knives--but even with these they are a match for the Spanish
soldiers, on account of their bravery"--an assertion which later on
proved, for the greater part, to be true.
The night passed without an alarm of any kind, and before sunrise we
were stirring around, preparing a few small fish Alano had been lucky
enough to catch in a near-by mountain stream. These fish Andres baked
by rolling them in a casing of clay; and never have I eaten anything
which tasted more delicious.
Before we left him the Cuban negro gave us minute directions for
reaching the rear guard of the rebel army. He said the password was
still "Maysi."
"You had better join the army," he said, on parting. "You will gain
nothing by trying to go around. And you, master Alano--if your father
has joined the forces, it may be that will gain you a horse and full
directions as to just where your parent is," and as we trudged off
Andres wished us Godspeed and good luck over and over again, with a
friendly wave of his black bony hand.
The cool spell, although it was really only cool by contrast, had
utterly passed, and as the sun came up it seemed to fairly strike one
a blow upon the head. We were traveling along the edge of a low cliff,
and shade was scarce, although we took advantage of every bit which
came in our way. The perspiration poured from our faces, necks, and
hands; and about ten o'clock I was forced to call a halt and throw
myself on my back on the ground.
"I knew it would be so," said my chum. "That is why I called for
an early start. We might as well rest until two or three in the
afternoon. Very few people travel here in the heat of the day."
"It is suffocating," I murmured. "Like one great bake-oven and
steam-laundry combined."
"That is what makes the vegetation flourish," he smiled. "Just see how
it grows!"
I did not have far to look to notice it. Before us was a forest of
grenadillo and rosewood, behind us palms and plantains, with an
occasional cacao and mahogany tree. The ground was covered with long
grass and low brush, and over all hung the festoons of vines of many
colors, some blooming profusely. A smell of "something growing green"
filled the hot air, and from every side arose the hum of countless
insects and the occasional note of a bird.
"I wouldn't remain on the ground too long," remarked Alano presently.
"When one is hot and lies down, that is the time to take on a fever.
Better rest in yonder tree--it is more healthy; and, besides, if there
is any breeze stirring, there is where you will catch it."
"We might as well be on a deserted island as to be in Cuba," I said,
after both of us had climbed into a mahogany tree. "There is not a
building nor a human soul in sight. I half believe we are lost again."
Alano smiled. "Let us rather say, as your Indian said, 'We are not
lost, we are here. The army and the towns and villages are lost,'" and
he laughed at the old joke, which had been the first he had ever read,
in English, in a magazine at Broxville Academy.
"Well, it's just as bad, Alano. I, for one, am tired of tramping up
hill and down. If we could reach the army and get a couple of horses,
it would be a great improvement."
My chum was about to reply to this, when he paused and gave a start.
And I started, too, when I saw what was the trouble. On a limb directly
over us, and ready to descend upon our very heads, was a serpent all of
six feet in length!