“Hush!” whispered Alano. “They may be playing us dark.”
A quarter of an hour passed,—it seemed ten times that period of time just then,—and we heard them coming back. They were very angry at their want of success; and had we been discovered, our fate would undoubtedly have been a hard one. They stalked back to the road, and a moment later we heard the hoof-strokes of their horses receding in the distance.
“Hurrah!” I shouted, but in a very subdued tone. “That’s the time we fooled them, Alano.”
My Cuban chum smiled grimly. “Yes, Mark, but we must be more careful in the future. Had we not been so busy talking we might have heard their horses long before they came into view. However, the scare is over, so let us put our best foot forward once again.”
“If only we had horses too!” I sighed. “My feet are beginning to get sore from the uneven walking.”
“Horses would truly be convenient at times. But we haven’t them, and must make the best of it. When we stop for our next meal you had best take off your boots and bathe your feet. You will be astonished how much rest that will afford them.”
I followed this advice, and found Alano was right; and after that I bathed my feet as often as I got the chance. Alano suffered no inconvenience in this particular, having climbed the hills since childhood.
We were again on rising ground, and now passed through a heavy wood of cedars, the lower branches sweeping our hats as we passed. This thick shade was very acceptable, for the glare of the sun had nearly blinded me, while more than once I felt as if I would faint from the intense heat.
“It’s not such a delightful island as I fancied it,” I said to my chum. “I much prefer the United States.”