[CHAPTER XXIV.]
IN THE BELT OF THE FIREBRANDS.
“Do you mean to say, father, that they will dare to burn down all of our sugar-cane fields?” demanded Alano.
“Dare, Alano? They will dare do anything, now they have heard that I have thrown in my fortunes with the insurgents,” replied Captain Guerez bitterly.
“What of your house and barns?” I put in soberly.
“Most likely they will be ransacked first and then the torch will be applied,” answered Alano’s father with increased bitterness. “Ah, well, such are the fortunes of war. Cuba libre!” he muttered firmly.
Alano’s parent was first tempted to ride in the direction of his plantation in the hope of saving something, but speedily gave up the idea. There was no direct course hither, and the roundabout trail which must be pursued would not bring him to Guantanamo until the next morning.
"And by that time the Spaniards will have done their dastardly work and gone on," he remarked.
Several times as we rode along the plateau, Captain Guerez stopped to take a look through the field-glass, but he said nothing more excepting in an undertone to his son.
By sundown the plateau came to an end, and we plunged into a valley which was for the most part divided into immense sugar plantations, some of them half a mile or more in length.