“Car-r-r-r-r-rajo!” vented the solitary remaining trooper, wheeling and putting spurs to his horse.
Crack! Ramirez fired again, bringing this fellow down, too.
Hal darted to his feet and started down the slope, Ramirez posting after him.
At the first sound of fire, the four pacificos had thrown themselves to the earth. Now they raised themselves, peering eagerly at their rescuers.
“You are friends of Cuba?” panted Hal.
A hot chorus in the affirmative answered him.
“You will fight with us? There are more foes near.”
“Si, si, si,” (yes, yes, yes) cried one of the pacificos, while the other three raised a tumultuous shout of:
“Viva Cuba libre!”
Hal and Juan instantly busied themselves with freeing the quartette.