“Now,” he continued, in a less official tone, “I shall be answerable to your father for you and I don’t want you to run any unnecessary risks.”
“I don’t see what risks we can run, except from sharks, rowing powder and ammunition ashore in a ship’s lifeboat,” Frank could not forbear saying.
General Ruiz was quick to catch his tone.
“A good soldier’s first duty is to obey,” he said, “no matter how much he may dislike the duty he is assigned to.”
The boys felt the reproof and remained silent.
“And don’t despise this errand because you don’t happen to think there’s any glory in it,” the general went on, “there is danger in it,—a good deal more danger than I feel that I have a right to ask you to run,—but, after all,” he concluded, “you are just as safe there as in the camp.”
The next minute he had gone and the boys started down the trail cut by the machete men, by which the army had advanced from the beach. They knew where the boats were drawn up, under the roots of a giant mangrove, but in the darkness they had some difficulty in finding the exact spot. At last, however, they discovered one of the small craft and Harry leaned over to untie the painter. It was pitchy dark and the man who had knotted the boat’s painter was not a scientific tier of knots.
“Bother it;” exclaimed Harry, fumbling with the knot, “we shan’t get away till daylight at this rate.”
“Here, have some light on the subject,” struck in Frank lighting a match. With the aid of the illumination. It didn’t take Harry long to cast loose and tumble into the boat. Frank, who had been leaning over him as he fumbled with the rope, straightened up and prepared to follow him. The stump of the match was still in his fingers and shed a yellow glow about them. Suddenly, Frank uttered a sharp exclamation. The next minute the match burned his fingers and died out.
“That was funny;” he exclaimed as he took his seat in the boat and both boys gave way with the oars.