“Then how can we get in?”
“I have been trying to form a plan,” was the slow answer. “Let us get a little closer, and I will see what can be done.”
We descended from the clearing, and just before noon reached the outskirts of the village. The captain had been right; two companies of freshly imported soldiers were in control of San Luardo.
As we surveyed the situation from a bit of woodland, we heard the heavy creaking of an ox-cart on the stony road. Looking down we saw the turnout coming slowly along, loaded with hay and straw, probably for the horses of the Spanish soldiers.
“I will go into town in that!” cried Captain Guerez. “Stop that fellow!” and he indicated the driver.
A rush was made, and the ox-cart came to a sudden halt. When the dirty fellow who drove it saw us he turned pale, but a few words from Alano’s father soon reassured him, and he readily consented to allow the captain to hide himself under the hay and straw and thus pass the guards. The driver was working for the Spaniards, but his heart was with the insurgents.
Stripping himself of his coat and everything else which gave him a military appearance, Captain Guerez rubbed a little dirt on his face, neck, and hands, leaped into the ox-cart, and dove beneath the straw. If discovered, he intended to explain that he was out of work and was willing to do anything the Spaniards desired.
Once more the cart creaked on its way toward the village, and we were left alone. Withdrawing to a safe and cool shelter, we sat down to rest and to await the captain’s return.
“I wish I could have gone along,” I said to my chum.
“Father can do the work better alone,” replied Alano, who had great faith in his parent’s ability.