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

“Oh, yes; we are on the outskirts of Los Hanios now.”

Five minutes later we rode into a small village occupied principally by half a hundred cattlemen, for we were now coming to the meadows and valleys in which immense herds of cows and sheep are pastured. The people of Los Hanios took but little interest in the revolution, and as a consequence had been but little molested either by the Spaniards or Cubans, although a portion of their cattle had been confiscated.

From one of the head cattlemen Captain Guerez learned that a body of Spaniards had passed through the village the afternoon before bound for Santiago. They had several prisoners, who were tied hands and feet, and fast to the mules which carried them. At least one of the prisoners had been un Americano.

At Los Hanios we procured dinner, a splendid meal – the best I had eaten since leaving the steamer, for it consisted of prime roast beef done to a turn, potatoes and beans and coffee. Burnham attended to the cooking, saying he had cooked many a meal for himself during his Bohemian life at the “Hub,” and consequently all the dishes were turned out in true American style, garlic and such stuff being for once tabooed.

Yet I hurried matters, wishing to catch up with my father as soon as possible. I wondered if he knew I was after him, and how he was faring. I felt certain that to be bound to the back of a mule over these rough trails could be anything but a pleasant sensation.

While we were still in sight of Los Hanios it began to rain, and we had not made over a mile when the downpour became very heavy. Burnham wished to take shelter under some trees, but I would not hear of it, and Alano and his father backed me up in my idea.

“We can rest a-plenty when Mr. Carter is once more safe,” said the captain, and that ended the discussion.

On and on we went, until, looking ahead, we espied a turn in the road. Beyond this was a bank six or eight feet in height, and this was where the railroad tracks were located.

“We had best dismount and go ahead on foot,” said the captain. “A sentry could easily see our animals if he had his eyes about him.”

“If he wasn’t asleep,” put in Burnham. "I fancy these Spaniards and Cubans do a lot of sleeping whenever they get the chance."

“Not in war-times,” said Alano, who did not fancy this slur upon his countrymen. “Of course we are not so nervous and impatient as some of the Americans,” he added pointedly, and Burnham took the hint and said no more on the subject.

A fierce rattle of thunder stopped all talking soon after. The lightning became almost incessant, and glared and flared along the railroad tracks as far as eye could see. We came together close to a clump of berry bushes.

“Wait a moment,” whispered Captain Guerez. “I think I saw a sentry not over fifty feet away!”

At this announcement all of us crouched down, and each looked to his weapons, feeling that a crisis might be at hand. Alano’s father moved like a shadow up to the railroad bank.

“I was right,” he announced, after a particularly bright flash of lightning; “I saw his gun-barrel plainly.”

“Can we pass him?” asked Alano.

“We can try, but – ”

“If he sees us why can’t we make him a prisoner?” I broke in. “If we did that, we would have a chance to bring our horses up the bank and over the tracks.”

“I was thinking as much,” said the captain. “The horses must be gotten over; that is necessary.”

He deliberated for a minute, and then motioned us forward, warning us at the same time to keep perfectly silent. On we went, to where something of a trail led up over the railroad embankment. There were a few bushes growing in the vicinity, and we skulked beside these, almost crawling along the ground.

Several minutes passed, and the top of the embankment was reached and we stood on the glistening tracks. Down we plunged on the opposite side, and not over a dozen paces from where the Spanish sentry was standing.

“Halte!” came the unexpected cry, and the man rushed forward, pointing his gun as he ran. But for once fate was in our favor. A trailing vine tripped him up and he went headlong.

Before the Spanish soldier could collect his senses, or make a movement to rise, Captain Guerez and myself were on him. The captain sat down astride of the fellow’s back, while I secured his gun and clapped my hand over his mouth, to keep him from calling for assistance. A second later Alano and the newspaper man came up, and the Spaniard was our prisoner.

“Now bring the horses over, as quickly as possible!” said the captain to his son and Burnham. “Mark and I will guard this fellow.”

At once Alano and Burnham departed. The prisoner struggled wildly to escape, but we held him fast, and presently Captain Guerez pulled out his sword and pointed it at the fellow’s throat.

“Not a sound, on your life!” he commanded in Spanish, and the prisoner became mute instantly.

The sharpness of the lightning and the deafening thunder had frightened our animals a good deal, and Alano and the newspaper man had all they could do to bring them up the embankment, which in one spot was quite steep. Just as the railroad tracks were reached one of the horses broke away, and with a loud snort ran down the road, his hoofs clattering loudly on the ties and the iron rails. Alano endeavored to catch him, with the result that another broke loose and went up the road in the same fashion.

“Halte!” came from half a dozen different directions, and as if by magic as many Spanish sentries showed themselves along the embankment. A flash of lightning revealed Alano and Burnham, and crack! crack! crack! went three carbines almost simultaneously. The alarm was taken up on several sides, and soon we found the best part of a company of Spanish soldiery swooping down upon us.

CHAPTER XXXI.

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?”