Another order came from the chief, still in a low tone, as if he were fearful of being overheard.
Once more we moved forward, and then a strange thing happened. I was bent almost double by the men who were conducting me, and pushed through what seemed to be a small square orifice in the rocks.
CHAPTER XV.
A MARCH TO THE COAST.
I was in the open air. Of course I knew that at once.
There was very little delay. Another whispered conference, and we moved on again. The ground was now broken and rough, and from the woodland scents which were wafted to my nostrils I came to the conclusion that we were in the depths of one of the Cuban forests. Occasionally, too, I stumbled, in spite of my guards’ precautions, over rocks and tree-roots.
No one spoke. The route was one evidently well known to the chief and his myrmidons, for they seemed to me to glide on unerringly. At times we climbed the sides of low hills, but as a rule we followed a downward gradient. I felt sure that there was no path, and that we were simply striking a bee-line across country. As there was no moon, some of the men carried torches. Judging from the smell, I should say they were made of some resinous wood.
It occurred to me that our captors were running a great risk in thus marching across country by the light of torches; but I concluded that they knew their own business best.
One thing was certain—the affair was a very urgent one.
There was a mystery about the whole business which puzzled me much. To unravel it seemed impossible.
I cannot tell how far we travelled on this dreary journey, but I think a couple of hours or so must have elapsed when I was astonished to hear the distant sound of waves breaking upon a rocky shore.