The temporary camp was deserted.
[CHAPTER XXIX.]
LOOKING FOR MY CUBAN CHUM.
“Gone, eh?” remarked Gilbert Burnham, as he saw the disappointed look upon my face. “Well, you could hardly expect anything different, with the fighting going on. It’s more than likely they took part in the attack.”
“I presume so,” I answered. “But where can they be now? The firing has about ceased.”
“The rebels have withdrawn from the town, that’s certain. Let us try to find the main body of the insurgents, and there we’ll probably learn of the whereabouts of your friends.”
I considered this good advice, and, leaving the vicinity of what had been the former camp, we struck out on a trail which took us in a semi-circle around Cubineta.
It was one of the hottest days I had yet experienced since landing on the island, and we had not progressed a half-mile before I was fairly panting for breath. As for Gilbert Burnham, he declared that he must halt or collapse.