"It's all right, girl," he whispered, throwing an arm about the mare's neck. "We'll stick to each other and pull through somehow." Then plucking a handful of dried grass, he gave the animal a brisk rubbing that warmed them both. By the time it was finished, birds were twittering in the dense growth behind them, and the eastern sky was suffused with the glow of coming day.
Knowing nothing of his surroundings, nor what eyes might in a few minutes more discover these new features of the beach, Ridge now removed his slender belongings to a hiding-place behind some bushes, where he also fastened Señorita. Then he set forth to explore the shore with the hope of finding a path into the interior; for to force a way through the tangled chaparral that everywhere approached close to the water's edge seemed hopeless.
He had not gone a dozen paces when Señorita uttered a shrill neigh of distress at being thus deserted, and began a noisy struggle to break loose. With a muttered exclamation of dismay Ridge ran back. It was evident that the mare would not consent to be left.
"Very well," said the young man. "If you can't be reasonable and remain quietly behind for a few minutes, we must make our exploration in company. Perhaps it is better so, after all, for when I do discover a trail we shall be ready to take instant advantage of it, and get the more quickly away from this unpleasantly conspicuous place."
While thus talking in a low tone to the mare, Ridge was also equipping her for the road. He had just finished tightening the saddle-girth and was about to mount, when Señorita uttered a snort indicative of some strange presence. Turning quickly, her master was confronted by a sight that caused his heart to sink like lead. Only a few paces away stood a young man of dark but handsome features, clad in a well-worn suit of linen and a broad-brimmed palmetto hat. A military belt filled with cartridges encircled his waist, and from it hung an empty scabbard of untanned cowhide, designed to carry a machete. With that weapon held in one hand and a cocked pistol levelled full at Ridge in the other, he presented the appearance of a first-class brigand.
The young trooper made a movement towards his own revolver, but it was instantly checked by the stranger, who said, sternly, in Spanish:
"Hold there! If you but touch a weapon I shall shoot you dead! You are my prisoner, and will obey my commands. That I am prepared to enforce them I will show you."
With this he sounded a low whistle that was answered by a rustle in the bushes, from which half a dozen armed ragamuffins of all shades of swarthiness, from jet black to light chocolate, appeared as though by magic. All were provided with machetes, some carried rifles, and each looked as though it would afford him the greatest pleasure to cut into small pieces the stranger who had invaded their territory.
"You see," said their leader, with a smile, "that you are hopelessly surrounded, and that with a nod I can have you killed."
"Yes, I see," replied Ridge, "and I should be pleased to know into whose hands I have fallen. Are you Cubano or a Spaniard?"