“Do you know Señor Guerez?” I questioned quickly.
“Me hear of him—dat’s all.”
“Do you know where the old convent on the river is?” I continued.
The Cuban nodded. “Yeas—been dare many times—bring 'taters, onions, to Father Anuncio.”
“Could you take me there—if General Garcia would let you go?”
“Yeas, señor. But Spaniards all around—maybe shoot—bang!—dead,” and he pointed to his wounded brother. The brother demanded to know what we were talking about, and the two conversed for several minutes. Then Jorge turned again to me.
“GENERAL GARCIA, THE GALLANT SOLDIER WHO HAD FOUGHT SO HARD IN THE CAUSE OF CUBAN LIBERTY.”
“Christoval say me take you; you verra good leetle man, señor. We go now, you say go.”