Like a flash Maynard wheeled about.
“Halt! Dismount! Don’t come to the top,” he cried. “Tether your horses—so. Follow me.”
Rifle in hand, Hal led the way, Ramirez following without a word.
“Look down there,” cried Hal.
In a valley to the northward rested a squad of Spanish cavalry men, some twenty in number, and commanded by an officer.
Ramirez looked, his eyes flashing with hate.
The enemy were dismounted, with horses tethered.
“We can fire now!” breathed the Cuban. “Those men are armed.”
“Wait!” warned Hal. “Come here. Now look down there.”
Down the southward slope of the hill, less than half the distance away of the dismounted cavalry was a sight that made the Cuban’s blood boil still hotter.