Now that the skirmish was over, Jacket began to boast of his part in it.
"Ha! Perhaps they'll know better than to show themselves the next time
I come this way," said he. "You saw me, didn't you? Well, I made a few
Spanish widows to-night."
"Not many, I'm afraid," O'Reilly laughed.
"Oh, believe me, I'm an old hand at this sort of thing. I shoot just as well at night as I do in the daytime." This was literally true, and when no one disputed his assertion Jacket proceeded further in praise of himself, only to break off with a wordless cry of dismay.
"What's the matter?" Johnnie inquired.
"Look! Behold me!" wailed the hero. "I have left the half of my beautiful trousers on that barbed wire!"
Antonio swung a leg over his saddle, saying: "Come along, amigos; we have fifty leagues ahead of us. The war will be over while we stand here gossiping."
XXIII
INTO THE CITY OF DEATH
O'Reilly's adventures on his swift ride through Las Villas have no part in this story. It is only necessary to say that they were numerous and varied, that O'Reilly experienced excitement aplenty, and that upon more than one occasion he was forced to think and to act quickly in order to avoid a clash with some roving guerrilla band. He had found it imperative at all times to avoid the larger towns, for they, and in fact most of the hamlets, were unsafe; hence the little party was forced to follow back roads and obscure bridle trails. But the two guides were never at a loss; they were resourceful, courageous, and at no time did the American have reason to doubt their faithfulness.