LOOKING FOR MY CUBAN CHUM.
"Gone, eh?" remarked Gilbert Burnham, as he saw the disappointed look
upon my face. "Well, you could hardly expect anything different, with
the fighting going on. It's more than likely they took part in the
attack."
"I presume so," I answered. "But where can they be now? The firing has
about ceased."
"The rebels have withdrawn from the town, that's certain. Let us try to
find the main body of the insurgents, and there we'll probably learn of
the whereabouts of your friends."
I considered this good advice, and, leaving the vicinity of what had
been the former camp, we struck out on a trail which took us in a
semi-circle around Cubineta.
It was one of the hottest days I had yet experienced since landing on
the island, and we had not progressed a half-mile before I was fairly
panting for breath. As for Gilbert Burnham, he declared that he must
halt or collapse.
"Talk about balmy groves and summer skies," he growled. "I would rather
be at the North Pole any time. Why, I'll bet a dollar you could bake
bread on that bit of ground out there!" and he pointed to a stretch of
dark soil, dried as hard as stone by the fierce rays of the sun.
"The average Cuban never thinks of traveling in the sun between eleven
and three o'clock, and I don't blame him," I rejoined. "Let us climb a
tree and take it easy."
We mounted an oak, I making certain first that there was no snake on
it, and took seats near the very top. By parting the branches we could
get a fair view of Cubineta, and we saw that the attack was at an end.
The rebels had retreated out of sight, but not before setting fire to
the fort, which was burning fiercely, with nothing being done to save
it from destruction.
"To me it looks as if the rebels were bunched in the woods to the
north," I said, after a long and careful survey. "I wish we had a
field-glass."
"I'm glad we took the pistols, Carter. They may come in very handy
before we reach safe quarters again."
"I'm sure I don't want to shoot anyone, Burnham," I answered.
"But you believe in defending yourself?"
"Yes. But what do you propose to do, now you have escaped?"
"Get back to the coast and take the first vessel I can find for the
United States."
"Then you've had sufficient of reporting down here?"
"Yes, indeed! If any other young man wants to come down here and take
my place, he is welcome to do so." And Gilbert Burnham spoke with an
emphasis that proved he meant every word he uttered.
As soon as we were cooled off and rested, we resumed our way, through
a heavy undergrowth which, on account of the entangling vines, often
looked as if it would utterly stay our progress. But both of us were
persevering, and by four o'clock had reached the section of country I
had fancied the rebels were occupying.
My surmise was correct. Hardly had we proceeded a dozen yards along a
side road than three Cubans leaped from behind some brush and commanded
us to halt. We did so and explained that we were Americans, at the
same time pointing to the burning fort and then crossing our wrists as
though tied.
The rebels understood by this that we had been prisoners, and as we did
not attempt to draw our pistols, they shouldered their long guns and
conducted us to the officer in command.
"Look for Captain Guerez?" said the officer, whose name I have
forgotten. "He ride off dat way!" and he pointed with his hand to the
westward. "He look for you, I tink."
This was comforting news, and I asked if Alano's father had taken part
in the attack on Cubineta, to which I received the reply that both the
captain and all under him had taken part and that one of the insurgents
had been killed.
"Was it his boy Alano?"
"No, man named Ciruso."
I waited to hear no more, but, thanking the officer for his trouble,
hurried off down a trail leading to the westward, with Burnham at my
side.
We were descending a short hill, covered with a stunted growth of
brush, which tripped us up more than once, when my companion suddenly
uttered a howl and tumbled over me in his effort to retreat.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Spiders, or crabs, as big as your foot," he cried. "Look! look!" He
pointed to several holes in the sand, beside a small brook. At the
entrance to each hole sat an enormous land crab, gray in color, with
round, staring eyes, well calculated to give anyone a good scare.
"They are only crabs, and won't hurt you, unless you try to catch hold
of them," I laughed. "Alano told me of them, and I've met them before."
"More of the beauties of this delightful country," said Burnham
sarcastically.
I advanced and stamped my foot, and instantly each crab scampered for
his hole, in the clumsy fashion all crabs have. I fancied some of them
hissed at us, but I might have been mistaken.
The brook crossed, we ascended the next hill and entered a plantain
grove where the fruit hung in profusion on all sides. We found some
that was almost ripe, and made a refreshing meal.
"Hullo, Mark!"
The welcome voice rang out from a grove of oaks on the other side of
the plantains. I started, then rushed ahead, to find myself, a minute
later, in Alano's arms, with Captain Guerez looking on, highly pleased.
"We thought you were killed!" ejaculated my Cuban chum, when our
greeting was over. "Where on earth have you been?"
"Haven't you seen Jorge?"
"No," put in Alano's father.
"It's a long story. Let me introduce another American," and I presented
Gilbert Burnham.
Sitting down in as cool a spot as we could find, each related all he
had to tell. My story is already known.
"When you did not show up in camp I was much worried," said the
captain, "and I sent men out at once to hunt up both you and Jorge.
During this search one of the men, Circuso, met some of the Spanish
troops, and fought desperately to escape them, but was shot and killed."
"Poor chap!" I could not help but murmur. "Did he leave a family?"
"No; he was a bachelor, without kith or kin."
"I think he might have escaped," put in Alano, "but he was so fierce
against the soldiers from Spain. He said they had no right to come over
here and fight us, and he was in for killing every one of them."
"While the hunt for you and Jorge was going on," continued Alano's
father, "the rebel leader, Captain Conovas, arrived and said he had
instructions to attack Cubineta and make an attempt to release the
prisoners at the fort. I decided to join him in the attack, at the same
time thinking you might be a prisoner with your father.
"We operated from the south and from across the river, and soon took
possession of the fort, only to be repulsed with a heavy loss. Then our
party withdrew to this quarter, and here we are."
"And what of my father?" I asked anxiously. "He was not at the fort,
nor have I been able to hear anything of him."
"The Cuban forces captured several prisoners, and they are being held
in a valley just below here. I was on the point of journeying hither to
interview them on that point when Alano discovered you coming through
the plantain grove," answered Captain Guerez.
"Then let us go and question them now," I cried.
The captain was willing, and off we hurried on horseback, Burnham and
myself being provided with steeds which had belonged to the Spanish
prisoners.
Riding was much more comfortable than walking, and the road being
fairly level the distance to the valley mentioned was soon covered.
Here it was found that four of the Spaniards had died of their wounds,
but there were six others, and these Captain Guerez proceeded to
examine carefully, taking each aside for that purpose.
"Your father is _en route_ for Santiago," he said, when the examination
was over. "When he arrives there he is to be tried by court-martial for
plotting against the life of a certain Spanish leader, General Gonza.
If we wish to save him we must start after him without an instant's
delay."