“Unless you can supply us with better accommodations,” rejoined my chum.
“We can supply you with nothing. We have nothing but what is on us,” laughed the second rebel.
Both told us later that they were on special picket duty in that neighborhood. They had been duly enlisted under General Garcia, but were not in uniform, each wearing only a wet and muddy linen suit, thick boots, and a plain braided palm hat. Around his waist each had strapped a leather belt, and in this stuck a machete—a long, sharp, and exceedingly cruel-looking knife. Over the shoulder was another strap, fastened to a canvas bag containing ammunition and other articles of their outfit.
These specimens of the rebels were hardly what I had expected to see, yet they were so earnest in their manner I could not help but admire them. One of them had brought down a couple of birds, and these were cooked over our fire and divided among all hands, together with the few things we had to offer. After the meal each soldier placed a big bite of tobacco in his mouth, lit a cigarette, and proceeded to make himself comfortable.
“The Spaniards will not move in this weather,” said one. “They are too afraid of getting wet and taking cold.”
Darkness had come upon us, and it was still raining as steadily as ever. Our clothing was dry; and, as the cave was warmed, the rebel guards ordered us to put out the fire, that it might not attract attention during the night.
We were told that we had made several mistakes on the road and were far away from Tiarriba. If we desire to go there, the rebels said they would put us on the right road.
“But if you are in sympathy with us, you had better pass Tiarriba by,” said one to Alano. “The city is filled with Spanish soldiers, and you may not be able to get away as easily as you did from Santiago.”
Alano consulted with me, and then asked the rebel what we had best do.
“That depends. Do you want to join the forces under General Garcia?”