“No matter!” grated Juan. “We can worry them. We shall be killed, of course, but perhaps we can settle three or four of their men first.”
“See here,” remonstrated Hal. “I’m ready for fighting, but not for suicide.”
“It is the way we Cubans fight,” rejoined Juan, proudly. “We care not what the number of the enemy. We always fire when we see one.”
“We’ll fire, then, if you say so,” agreed Hal. “If you asked my opinion, though, I should say that we had better wait until we have had a chance to offer ourselves at the nearest Cuban camp.”
Juan fixed his wide open eyes on our hero for an instant.
“I have no doubt you are right, mi amigo,” he said, an instant later. “Our Cuban blood is too hot. We lack the cool judgment of you Americanos. Senor, will you take command?”
“Until we reach camp, if you wish it.”
“I beg you to do so.”
“Very well; though I warn you,” smiled Hal, “that I shall not give the order to attack thirty times our number.”
Juan sighed, but remained silent.