“Halte!” he cried.
“Maysi!” I called promptly.
The gun was lowered, and, seeing I was but a boy, the guard smiled and murmured “Americano?” to which I nodded.
“General Garcia,” I said, and tapped my breast to signify I wished to see the great Cuban leader.
Without a word the guard led me on a distance of a hundred feet and called another soldier. A short talk ensued, and the second man motioned me to follow him through a trail in the brush. We went on for ten minutes, then came to a clearing hemmed in by a cliff and several high rocks.
Here were over a hundred soldiers on foot and twice as many on horseback. In the midst of the latter was the Cuban general I had asked to see—the gallant soldier who had fought so hard in the cause of Cuban liberty.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
GENERAL CALIXTO GARCIA.