“Perhaps they have my father a prisoner in that fortress,” I suggested.
“It is not unlikely, Mark—if the men who held him have not yet gone further than Cubineta.”
“Can’t we steal into town under cover of night?” I continued.
“We might do that—if it would do any good.”
“I want to join my father at any hazard.”
“That might be very foolish, Mark. How can you assist him if you are yourself made a prisoner?”
“Would they hold a boy like myself?”
“You are not so young as you would like to make them imagine,” laughed Alano’s father shortly. “Besides, if left free, they would be afraid you would carry messages for your father. I think the best thing we can do just now is to let Jorge go into town, pretending he is half starved and willing to do anything for anybody who will give him food. By taking this course, no one will pay much attention to him, as there are many such worthless blacks floating about, and he can quietly find his way around the fort and learn what prisoners, if any, are being kept there.”
This was sensible advice, and, impatient as I was to catch sight of my parent, I agreed to wait. We rode back to where the others had made their camp, and Jorge was called up and duly instructed. The black grinned with pleasure, for he considered it a great honor to do spy work for such an influential planter as Captain Guerez. Possibly he had visions of a good situation on the plantation after the war was over; but, if so, he kept his thoughts on that point to himself.
Jorge gone, the time hung heavily on the hands of all; but I believe I was the most impatient of the crowd, and with good reason. Alano noticed how uneasily I moved about, and soon joined me.