"Your ship's over dare," explained Gilberto, pointing with his long fingers. "Might see dem if we had glass like dis." And he shut up one hand and placed it over the other, in imitation of a spyglass.
"Do the Spaniards guard the coast?"
"To be sure, señor, very heaby guard, too, at Aguadores and Guantanamo Bay."
"Then we'll have to go slow when we get near the water's edge."
"We no go to water right away, señor—wait till we see de coast clear. Gilberto find you good hiding-place and bring eating, and there you stay till I say come—not so?"
"I suppose that will be best. I'm sure I don't want to be taken prisoner again," concluded Walter, very positively.
On they went, down the opposite side of the mountain. They were now travelling in an easterly direction, and before night many miles were covered. At last they came to a series of rocks overlooking the ocean, but situated at least a quarter of a mile back from the beach proper.
"Here is a good place to hide; Gilberto know it well," said the guide, and pointed out a rude cave. "Here Americano can stay many days and Spaniards not find him. You take it easy, and I bring food to you." And then Gilberto hurried off alone.
Walter was glad to rest, for the travelling even on horseback had been very trying. He sat down, and in half an hour Gilberto returned with some bread, some jerked beef, and a number of other eatables, done up in a bit of coffee sacking.
"Dere, dat last two, t'ree days," said the guide. "Now lay low, as Americano say, and Gilberto come back one day or udder. I take horses, and say buenas noches." And with this good night, Gilberto disappeared down the trail, leaving Walter to himself. Strange as it may seem, the youth never saw or heard of either Gilberto or Carlos again.