"Light a match and drop it down," ordered Corporal Ruz. "This rascal carries nothing," he went on, disappointedly, having found Carlos's pockets empty of anything of value. The negro did carry a message, but it was on a small patch of thin paper, which had been rolled up tightly and concealed in his thick woolly hair.
The match was lit and dropped, and all ablaze it landed upon Walter's head. He caught it in silence and put it out, but the movement was noticed from above.
"There is some one else in the tree—a white man," cried the soldier. "Come out of that!" he continued.
Walter guessed what the command meant, and as further concealment would have been useless he attempted to crawl from the hole. But this was not so easy, and in the end the soldier had to lend a hand, and then both leaped to the ground together.
"Un Americano!" ejaculated Corporal Ruz. "De donde viene V.?" he added, asking Walter where he came from.
At this the boy shook his head. "I don't understand you," he said.
"No habla V. castellano?" continued the corporal, asking if he did not speak Spanish.
Again Walter shook his head.
"Yankee pig!" murmured the corporal, using a term quite common in Cuba during the war. "Why does he not learn our beautiful language? Does he expect we will learn his dirty English?"
He turned to the soldier who had discovered Walter, and between them they searched the lad's clothing thoroughly, and even took off his shoes and stockings.