When Santiago Fell: or, The War Adventures of Two Chums

“Hark!” he said, holding up his hand; and we listened, to discern the tramping of horses' hoofs some distance ahead.

“There are a good many horses,” I said. “Perhaps it is the Spanish detachment.”

Alano nodded. “Follow me, and take to the woods if I hiss,” he replied.

On we went again, but slower than before. The road now wound around to the right, up under a cliff backed up by a small mountain. As the sun was behind the mountain, the path was dark in its more sheltered portions.

Suddenly Alano let out a soft hiss, and we leaped back behind a convenient rock.

“They are just ahead!” he cried softly. “They have quartered themselves for the middle of the day in a cave-like opening under the cliff, where it is, no doubt, cool and pleasant.”

“Well, what had we best do?”

“Get around them, by some means, Mark. But, hold up! Wouldn’t it be fine if we could draw close enough to overhear them – if they are talking over their plans!”

“It would be risky,” I hesitated.

“Yes, but think of the service we might do my countrymen!”

“That is true. Well, I’m with you, Alano, but for gracious' sake be careful!”

We talked the matter over for a few minutes, and then retraced our steps to where a narrow path led to the top of the cliff. Climbing this, we crawled along the edge of the cliff until we reached a spot directly over the encamped Spaniards.

They were a hearty, bold-looking set of men, handsomely uniformed and thoroughly armed, presenting a decided contrast to the dirty guerrillas we had previously encountered. A number of the soldiers were reclining upon the ground smoking, but a half-dozen of them, evidently officers, were gathered in a circle, conversing earnestly.

“They are holding a council of war!” cried Alano, after he had strained his ears to catch what was being said. “They are waiting for Captain Crabo to join them with another detachment, and then they are to aid some others in surrounding the left wing of General Garcia’s army, which is encamped in the valley on the other side of this mountain.”

CHAPTER XI.

A WILD RIDE ON HORSEBACK

I was of course deeply interested in what Alano had to say, and my heart gave a sudden leap when he mentioned that General Garcia’s wing of the rebel army was so close at hand. Instantly I thought of my father. Was he in the ranks?

I was about to speak when my Cuban chum motioned me to silence. As cautiously as a cat he drew closer to the edge of the cliff, throwing himself flat on his face as he made the movement. I followed suit, knowing full well that I would scarcely be able to understand the council of war being held below, but anxious to get a better view of the soldiery we now considered our enemies.

Evidently the Spanish officers did not imagine any outsiders were near, for they spoke rather loudly, while each gesticulated a good deal in his own particular manner. Ten minutes passed, and then there came a pause. Alano touched me on the arm, and, as silently as we had advanced, we turned and retreated into the brush back of the cliff.

“I have their plans well in mind, Mark,” he whispered. “Oh, if only we could find General Garcia and tell him all!”

“Did you find out just where the general is located?”

“Pretty nearly – in that direction” – my Cuban chum waved his hand. “There is a ravine to cross and then a pass through the mountains. I believe the rebels now hold the pass, but the Spaniards mean to gain the high ground and hem them in. If they do that, my people will be slaughtered like cattle in a pen.”

“And supposing our fathers are with the rebels?” I put in quickly.

“Yes, I was thinking of that, Mark. We had best – Hist!”

Alano stopped short. From a distance came the sounds of horses' hoofs.

“It must be Captain Crabo,” said Alano. “Lay low!”

We drew still further into the brush and waited. Nearer and nearer came the horses. Then came a shout and a sudden halting.

“They’ve challenged the newcomers,” whispered Alano, as we heard the words “Quien va?”

Evidently the reply was satisfactory, for in a moment more the new arrivals had joined the force under the cliff. Looking from our shelter, we saw that Captain Crabo was the same individual who had had us locked up in the smoke-house some days previously.

“We don’t want him to lay hands on us again,” I said, and Alano smiled grimly. “Why not get out at once?” I went on.

“Wait till I hear what Captain Crabo has to say, Mark. He may bring news, and we want to learn as much as we can. If they – ”

My Cuban chum was forced to stop speaking, for with a quick movement I had placed a warning hand over his mouth. Some of the soldiers who had been resting were coming up the cliff, evidently to take a look at the surroundings.

“Come!” I whispered into Alano’s ear, and turned to retreat. He followed me, and a distance of fifty feet was covered through the undergrowth, when we found ourselves at the edge of another cliff and actually hemmed in by the advancing men.

What were we to do? It was a serious question, and one to be decided instantly. Already the foremost of the men was less than two rods behind us. We looked around for a place to hide, but none was at hand. Then Alano gave a cry.

“They are coming from the other direction too! We are lost!”

Scarcely had the words left his lips than we heard a yell from two of the Spanish soldiers. We were discovered, and all thoughts of further concealment in that hemmed-in spot were out of the question.

Hardly realizing what I was doing in my agitated frame of mind, I ran down to the very edge of the cliff at a point about a hundred and fifty feet above where the soldiers were encamped. Looking down I discovered a series of crags leading to the highway below. Here a score or more of horses were tethered to a mahogany tree.

“Come, it’s our only chance!” I ejaculated, and leaped for the nearest crag below me at the imminent peril of tumbling and breaking my neck.

Down I went, jumping and rolling from one projection of rocks to another, with Alano but a short distance behind me. I heard a command to stop, and then a shot, but paid no heed. With a final bump I reached the foot of the cliff, less than a dozen feet from where the horses were standing.

My sudden appearance startled several of the animals, and they plunged and broke their halters. But they did not run away, and the fact that they were loose gave me another idea.

“The horses, Alano! Let us ride away on them!”

“Yes! yes!” he replied, and in a twinkle we had secured two of the nearest of the animals. We leaped into the saddle just as a second shot rang out. The bullet struck my horse a glancing blow on the flank, and off he tore up the highway as though dug with a spur.

I heard Alano coming behind me, but did not dare look back, for the highway was a poor one and my beast needed all of my attention. Fortunately, riding had been taught to me at Broxville Military Academy, so I felt fairly well at home in the saddle. Gathering up the reins, I sent the animal along at all the speed at his command. The shouting behind continued, but no more shots were fired, for the trees now hid both of us from our pursuers.

“That was a clever move,” cried Alano, as he presently ranged up beside me. “We have escaped them and provided ourselves with as good horses as one would wish to ride.”

“They will certainly follow us, Alano. We must see if we can’t throw them off the trail.”

“I see no side road.”

“Well, come on until we strike something.” I answered.

Forward we went, making both horses do their best. Half a mile was covered and we forded a small mountain torrent. As the animals paused to stick their noses into the cooling liquid, we listened and heard the Spaniards coming after us on the remainder of the animals.

“Quick!” cried Alano. “They have lost no time in following.”

“There is a side road, leading into the mountains,” I returned. “We had better take that.”