ESCAPING THE FLAMES.
My situation was truly an appalling one. Here I was, with the fierce
fire from the sugar-cane fields swirling about me, my horse and
companions gone, left utterly alone, with the horrifying thought that
each moment must be my last.
As the horse disappeared in a cloud of eddying smoke, I attempted to
rush after him, only to slip in the mire and roll over and over. When
I scrambled up I was covered with mud from head to foot, and the live
embers from the burning fields were coming down more thickly than ever.
But life is sweet to all of us, and even in that supreme moment of
peril I made a desperate effort to save myself. Seeing a pool of water
and mud just ahead of me, I leaped for it and threw myself down.
It was a bath far from sweet, yet at that time a most agreeable one. I
allowed what there was of the water to cover my head and shoulders and
saw to it that all of my clothing was thoroughly saturated. Then I
arose again, and, pulling my coat collar up over my ears, leaped on in
the direction taken by my companions.
The air was like that of a furnace, and soon the smoke became so thick
I could scarcely see the trail. The wind was blowing the fire directly
toward me, and to have stood that onslaught for long would have been
utterly impossible.
But just as I felt that I must sink, and while I murmured a wild prayer
for deliverance, the wind shifted and a cooling current of air reached
me. This was wonderfully reviving, and, breathing deeply, I gathered
courage and continued on my way.
Almost quarter of a mile was covered, and I had gained the base of
the hills, when the wind shifted again, and once more the fire rushed
onward and it became so hot I could not breathe except with difficulty.
"Mark! Mark! where are you?"
It was a most welcome cry, coming from Captain Guerez. In an instant
more Alano's father dashed up through the smoke.
"Captain Guerez!" I gasped, and ran up to his side. "Save me!"
"Where is your horse?" he asked, as he caught me up and assisted me to
mount behind him.
"He ran away."
No more was said. Turning his animal about, Captain Guerez dug his
spurs deep into the horse's flesh, and away we went up the hillside at
a rate of speed which soon left the roaring and crackling sugar-cane
fields far behind.
In fifteen minutes we had joined the others of the party, on a plateau
covered with stunted grass and well out of reach of the fire. Here
it was found that my runaway horse had quietly joined his fellows. I
was tempted to give him a whipping for leaving me in the lurch, but
desisted upon second thought, as it would have done no good and I knew
the animal had only done what I was trying to do--save my life.
"That was a narrow escape for you, Mark!" cried Alano, as he came up
with an anxious look on his face. "You ought to be more careful about
your horse in the future."
"You can be sure I will be, Alano," I answered; and then turned to
Captain Guerez and thanked him for what he had done for me.
It was hardly dawn; yet, as all had had a fair night's rest, it was
determined to proceed on our way and take a somewhat longer rest during
the hot noon hour.
"This fire will necessitate a change in our course," said Captain
Guerez to me.
"Will that delay us much?"
"Not over a few hours. We will reach Rodania by nightfall."
The captain was right, for it was not yet six o'clock when, from the
side of one mountain, we saw the buildings of Rodania perched upon the
side of another. We traveled across the tiny valley separating the two,
and just outside of the town Captain Guerez called a halt.
"I think I had better send Jorge ahead and see if the coast is clear,"
he said. "The coming of the negro into town will not be noticed, and he
can speedily learn if there are any Spaniards about."
This was agreed upon, and, after receiving his instructions, the
colored guide hurried away, to be gone less than half an hour.
"Spanish soldiers dare yesterday," he announced. "All gone now--on the
road to Cubineta."
"Did they have any prisoners?" questioned Captain Guerez.
"Yes, dree--two Cubans and an _Americano_."
"My father!" I cried. "Oh, Captain Guerez, cannot we overtake them
before they manage to get him to some fort or prison?"
"We'll try our best, Mark," replied Alano's father.
"Why can't we travel after them at once?" put in Alano, fairly taking
the words out of my mouth.
"We will," replied his father. "The long noontime rest has left our
horses still fresh. Forward, all of you! We will take a short cut, and
not visit Rodania at all."
During the halt I had taken the opportunity to brush off my clothing,
which was now thoroughly dry. I had taken a bath at noon, so now felt
once more like myself, although several blisters on my neck and hands,
received from the fire, hurt not a little. I told Jorge of the bums,
and he ran into the woods for several species of moss, which he crushed
between two rocks, putting the crushed pulp on the blisters.
"Take burn out soon," he announced; and he was right. In less than half
an hour after the application was made the smarting entirely ceased.
We were now in the depths of a valley back of Rodania, and here the
trail (they are called roads in Cuba, but they are only trails, and
sometimes hardly that) was so choked up with vines and so soft that our
progress was greatly impeded, and about eight o'clock we came to a halt
in the darkness.
"The mud beyond is all of two feet deep, and we can't get through it,"
declared one of the men, who had been sent in advance. "We'll have to
go back."
This was discouraging news, and I looked in perplexity at Alano's
father, whose brow contracted.
"I'll take a look myself," he said, and, dismounting so that his horse
might not get stuck, advanced on foot.
In my impatience I went with him. The way was very dark, and I
suggested that a torch be lighted.
"An excellent plan," said Alano's father, and immediately cut a cedar
branch. By its blaze we were enabled to see quite well, and succeeded
in finding another path around the muddy spot.
To save our horses we walked them for half a mile. It was tough
traveling, and the clouds of mosquitoes made the journey almost
unendurable. I was glad when, at early dawn, we emerged from the valley
on a bit of a rise, where the ground was firm and the growth somewhat
limited.
A broad highway now lay before us, the main road from Rodania to
Cubineta. It was one of the best highways I had seen since leaving
Santiago de Cuba, and this was explained by Captain Guerez, who said
the road had been put into condition just previous to the breaking out
of the war.
As usual, one of the party was in advance, and this was a lucky thing,
for about ten o'clock the soldier came tearing toward us on his horse
and motioning us to take to the woods.
Captain Guerez was on the lookout, and turned to us quickly.
"Dismount!" he cried in Spanish, and we leaped to the ground, and led
our animals into a thicket growing to the left of the highway. The
vidette followed us, stating that a large body of Spanish cavalry was
approaching.
We forced our horses into the thicket for fully a hundred feet and tied
them fast. Then, with cautious steps, we returned to the vicinity of
the road and concealed ourselves behind convenient trees and bushes.
By this time a thunder of hoofs could be heard, and soon the cavalry
appeared, at least two hundred strong. They were the finest body of
men I had seen in the island, and looked as if they had just come over
from Spain, their uniforms and weapons were so clean and new. They were
riding at a brisk pace, and hardly had we caught a good look at them
than they were gone, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.
Captain Guerez was the first to speak, when they were well out of
hearing.
"It's a good thing we did not run into them," he remarked grimly. "Our
little detachment would have stood small chances with such a body of
well-armed men."
"They form a great contrast to the rebels," I could not help but murmur.
"They do indeed, Mark. But why not? The rebels, especially in this
district, were never soldiers. When the war broke out they were
without uniforms or weapons; and what was and is worse, many of them
knew nothing about the use of a firearm. You will find the men in the
western provinces, where the whites predominate, both better trained
and clothed--although, let me add, their hearts are no more sturdy or
loyal than you will find here in the East."
Thus talking, we went on and on, until Alano, who had gone ahead this
time, came back with the information that Cubineta was in sight.
"And the village seems to be under guard of the Spanish soldiery," he
added, words which caused me, at least, considerable dismay.