While we were still in sight of Los Hanios it began to rain, and we had not made over a mile when the downpour became very heavy. Burnham wished to take shelter under some trees, but I would not hear of it, and Alano and his father backed me up in my idea.
“We can rest a-plenty when Mr. Carter is once more safe,” said the captain, and that ended the discussion.
On and on we went, until, looking ahead, we espied a turn in the road. Beyond this was a bank six or eight feet in height, and this was where the railroad tracks were located.
“We had best dismount and go ahead on foot,” said the captain. “A sentry could easily see our animals if he had his eyes about him.”
“If he wasn’t asleep,” put in Burnham. "I fancy these Spaniards and Cubans do a lot of sleeping whenever they get the chance."
“Not in war-times,” said Alano, who did not fancy this slur upon his countrymen. “Of course we are not so nervous and impatient as some of the Americans,” he added pointedly, and Burnham took the hint and said no more on the subject.
A fierce rattle of thunder stopped all talking soon after. The lightning became almost incessant, and glared and flared along the railroad tracks as far as eye could see. We came together close to a clump of berry bushes.
“Wait a moment,” whispered Captain Guerez. “I think I saw a sentry not over fifty feet away!”
At this announcement all of us crouched down, and each looked to his weapons, feeling that a crisis might be at hand. Alano’s father moved like a shadow up to the railroad bank.
“I was right,” he announced, after a particularly bright flash of lightning; “I saw his gun-barrel plainly.”