THE BATTLE AT THE RAILROAD EMBANKMENT.
"We are lost!" cried my Cuban chum, as he came stumbling down to where
his father and I stood, with our prisoner between us.
"We're in for it, that's a fact!" ejaculated Gilbert Burnham, as he
came after Alano, bringing the remaining two horses. "Come on, can't we
ride two on a horse and escape them?"
Captain Guerez shook his head. There was no time left to answer, for
some of the soldiers were already less than a score of yards away. The
captain waved his hand and ran off, followed by all of us, and leaving
our late prisoner standing with mouth wide open in amazement.
To try to go back whence we had come, and thus expose ourselves on the
top of the railroad embankment, would have been foolhardy. Instead,
the captain led the way directly into a grove of sapodilla trees some
distance up the track.
Our Spanish pursuers called upon us to halt, not once, but many times;
and when we did not heed their repeated commands, they opened fire in
a manner which made us feel far from comfortable, for a bullet grazed
the captain's hand, and another whizzed so closely to my ear that I
nearly fell from ducking. There may be those who can stand up coolly
under fire; but I must confess I am not one of them, and I am willing
to give a flying bullet all the room it wishes in which to spend itself.
Hardly had we reached the grove of sapodillas than Captain Guerez
swung around and began to use his own pistol in a most effective
way, wounding two of the soldiers in advance of the main body of the
Spaniards. Seeing this, the rest of us took courage and also opened
fire, although I must confess I aimed rather low, having no desire to
kill anyone. The cracks from our four pistols brought consternation to
our pursuers, and they halted and fell back a dozen paces.
"Come on," whispered Captain Guerez. "Our only hope is to lose
ourselves in the woods. The enemy outnumbers us five to one."
Away he went again, with all of us close upon his heels. Another volley
from the Spaniards rang out, but did no damage, as the trees and brush
now hid us from view.
We had passed along a distance of a hundred feet when we heard a
crashing in the brush coming from a direction opposite to that being
taken by ourselves. Fearing another company of Spanish infantry was
coming up, Captain Guerez called us to his side.
"Here is a narrow ravine, leading under the railroad tracks," he said
hurriedly. "Let us go down into that and work our way to the other side
of the embankment."
No opposition was made, and into the ravine we fairly tumbled, just as
the soldiers came up once more. Bushes and stones hid us from view, and
we went on only when the thunder rolled, that no sounds of our progress
might reach our enemies' ears.
Ten minutes later found us close to the railroad embankment. But here
we came to a halt in dismay. The ravine had been filled up by the
recent rains, so that crawling under the tracks was out of the question.
"Now what is to be done?" asked Alano in a low voice. "We can't stay
here, that's certain."
"Some of the soldiers are coming up the ravine after us!" exclaimed
Burnham a moment later. "Hark!"
We listened, and found that he was right. At least half a dozen of the
Spaniards were advancing in a cautious manner, their guns ready for
immediate use.
"Let us climb this tree," said Captain Guerez, pointing to a tall
monarch of the forest, whose spreading branches reached nearly to the
opposite side of the embankment. "Be quick, all of you!"
He leaped for the tree, and Burnham followed. I gave Alano a boost up,
and he gave me a hand; and inside of forty seconds all of us were safe
for the time being. As we rested on the upper branches of the tree we
heard the far-away whistle of a locomotive.
"A train is coming!" said Alano.
"If we could only board it!" I put in eagerly. "It would carry us part
of the way to Guantanamo, wouldn't it?"
"It would--going in that direction," said Captain Guerez, with a wave
of his hand. "But the train may be filled with Spanish soldiers, and
what then?"
The locomotive kept coming closer, and presently we heard the rattle of
the cars as they bumped over the rails, which were far from being well
ballasted. The captain was peering out from behind the tree branches,
and he gave a deep breath as a flash of lightning lit up the scene.
"It is a freight train!" he exclaimed softly. "Come down to the branch
below, all of you!"
We understood him, and one after another we dropped to the branch
mentioned. It was directly over the track upon which the freight was
pounding along, and we calculated that the distance to the top of the
tallest cars would not be over six or eight feet.
"We can't jump with that train running at twenty or thirty miles an
hour," I said, with a shudder. "We'll slip and be ground to death under
the car wheels."
"Mark is right--a jump is out of the question," added Gilbert Burnham.
"I'd rather risk staying here."
"The train may have supplies for the soldiers about here and stop,"
whispered Captain Guerez. "Watch your chances."
On and on came the train, and in a few seconds more we realized that
those in charge had no intention of stopping in that vicinity. Yet as
the headlight came closer we lowered ourselves in readiness to make a
leap.
Suddenly there was a shrill whistle, and down went some of the brakes
on the long train. I glanced in the opposite direction from whence
the freight had come and saw on the tracks one of our runaway horses,
which stood staring in alarm at the glaring headlight. Evidently the
engineer had been startled by the sudden appearance of the animal, and,
not realizing exactly what it was, had, on the impulse of the moment,
reversed the locomotive's lever and whistled for brakes.
The train could not be stopped in time to save the beast, which was
struck and sent rolling over and over down the embankment. Then the
train went on still further, the locomotive finally coming to a halt
about fifty yards beyond the tree upon which all of us were perched.
As it slowed up the top of one of the tall freight cars rolled directly
beneath us. Giving the word to follow, Captain Guerez let himself drop
on the "running board," as it is termed by train hands--that is, the
board running along the center of the top of a freight car from end to
end. All of us came after him, the quartette landing in a row less than
two yards apart. As soon as each had struck in safety he lay down flat,
that those below the embankment, as well as those on the train, might
not have such an easy chance to discover us.
Scarcely had the train halted than some of the Spanish soldiers
came running up to ascertain why it had stopped. But their shouting
evidently frightened the train hands, who possibly thought a band of
rebels was at hand and that the horse on the track had been a ruse to
stop them. The engineer whistled to release brakes, and put on a full
head of steam, and on went the train, while the Spaniards yelled in
dismay and flourished their weapons.
"By Jove! that was a move worth making!" remarked Gilbert Burnham,
after the long train had covered at least an eighth of a mile. "We are
clear of those chaps now."
"Where will this train take us?" asked Alano of his father.
"The next village is Comaro, but I do not know if the train will stop,"
was the reply. "Two miles further on is Los Harmona, but we must not go
there, for I understand there is a strong Spanish garrison stationed in
the village. Let us get down between the cars and watch our chance to
spring off. If we remain here some of the brakemen may come along and
give the alarm."
The lightning and thunder were decreasing in violence, and the rain
had settled into a thin but steady downpour. The captain was nearest
to the front end of the freight car, and led the way down the narrow
ladder to the platform below. Once on this, and on the platform of the
car ahead, we divided into pairs on either side and awaited a favorable
opportunity to leave the train.
Comaro was reached and passed in the darkness, and the long freight
began to pull out for Los Harmona at a steady rate of twenty-five
miles or more an hour. No chance had been given us to jump off without
great danger, and now it began to look as if we would be carried right
into the fortified town, or further.
"Some distance below here is, unless I am greatly mistaken, a wide
patch of meadow," said Captain Guerez. "I do not believe a leap into
the water and mud would hurt any of us very much, and, under the
circumstances, I am in favor of taking the risk, in preference to being
carried into Los Harmona."
"If you go I will follow," I said, and Alano said the same.
"Well, I don't intend to be left alone," smiled Burnham grimly. "But
what will we do after we strike the meadow?"
"The meadow is not very broad," answered the captain, "and beyond is a
highway leading almost directly into Guantanamo. We will take to this
highway and trust to luck to get on as originally intended. Of course
the loss of our horses is a heavy one, but this cannot be helped. If
we---- Ha!"
Captain Guerez stopped short, and not without good reason. From the
interior of the freight car had come the unmistakable sounds of human
voices. We heard first two men talking, then a dozen or more. The
conversation was in Spanish, and I did not understand it. But Alano
and his father did, and my Cuban chum turned to Burnham and me in high
excitement.
"What do you think!" he whispered. "This car is filled with Spanish
soldiers bound for Guantanamo! They heard us talking, and they are
going to investigate and find out where we are and who we are!"