“And what of my father?” I asked anxiously. “He was not at the fort, nor have I been able to hear anything of him.”
“The Cuban forces captured several prisoners, and they are being held in a valley just below here. I was on the point of journeying hither to interview them on that point when Alano discovered you coming through the plantain grove,” answered Captain Guerez.
“Then let us go and question them now,” I cried.
The captain was willing, and off we hurried on horseback, Burnham and myself being provided with steeds which had belonged to the Spanish prisoners.
Riding was much more comfortable than walking, and the road being fairly level the distance to the valley mentioned was soon covered. Here it was found that four of the Spaniards had died of their wounds, but there were six others, and these Captain Guerez proceeded to examine carefully, taking each aside for that purpose.
“Your father is en route for Santiago,” he said, when the examination was over. “When he arrives there he is to be tried by court-martial for plotting against the life of a certain Spanish leader, General Gonza. If we wish to save him we must start after him without an instant’s delay.”