"That's right, jolly us up a bit," cried Dick. "We need it. But it's going to be serious enough later on."
"Pardon, senors," spoke the young Cuban, "but of the food which the kidnappers left me there is still a considerable quantity left, and the few days I was alone here I made a sort of shelter on the other side of the island. If we hasten we can get to it before dark, and spend the night there. It is better than on this side of the island."
"Fine!" cried Dick. "Why didn't you say something about that before, Pedro?"
"I did not like to interrupt the senors," was the lad's gentle answer. "But the food is not very choice, and there is not much of it."
"It'll have to do," declared the wealthy lad. "Come on, fellows, for a walk over the hill to the other shore. We'll make-believe we're on a practice march, Paul and Beeby."
"Sure," agreed the fat cadet, "only let it be more practice than march, if you please, for my feet are sore."
They started off, retracing their course in the same direction as when they had looked for the kidnapped lad. Dick led the way, with Grit coursing along at his heels, while Widdy carried Gritty, the puppy, whose short legs got tangled up in the underbrush.
They reached the other shore just as dusk fell, and there saw a mass of leaves and branches which the Spanish lad had piled into a rude sort of shelter. He showed them where he had stored the canned stuff which his captors had left for him.
"Why, that isn't so bad," announced Dick, as he saw the food supply.
"Is there any fresh water?" asked Tim Muldoon. "I'm as dry as a fish!"