“I have their plans well in mind, Mark,” he whispered. “Oh, if only we could find General Garcia and tell him all!”
“Did you find out just where the general is located?”
“Pretty nearly—in that direction”—my Cuban chum waved his hand. “There is a ravine to cross and then a pass through the mountains. I believe the rebels now hold the pass, but the Spaniards mean to gain the high ground and hem them in. If they do that, my people will be slaughtered like cattle in a pen.”
“And supposing our fathers are with the rebels?” I put in quickly.
“Yes, I was thinking of that, Mark. We had best—— Hist!”
Alano stopped short. From a distance came the sounds of horses' hoofs.
“It must be Captain Crabo,” said Alano. “Lay low!”
We drew still further into the brush and waited. Nearer and nearer came the horses. Then came a shout and a sudden halting.
“They’ve challenged the newcomers,” whispered Alano, as we heard the words “Quien va?”
Evidently the reply was satisfactory, for in a moment more the new arrivals had joined the force under the cliff. Looking from our shelter, we saw that Captain Crabo was the same individual who had had us locked up in the smoke-house some days previously.