He sprang upon the embankment and peered off toward the enemy. The main body of the troops were resting on their arms, apparently satisfied with the capture of the solitary Cuban.
Clif, however, could see that several of the soldiers were moving about from side to side, close to the ground, as though hunting for some object among the grass. Clif was puzzled to think what they could be seeking, but he felt convinced that the Spaniards had no idea of the near proximity of the Americans.
Everything seemed to prove that, and Clif was not slow to make up his mind. There was time yet for some quick action.
"They don't know we are here, men," he exclaimed, when he rejoined the others. "The Cuban will not betray us. We can surprise them, and if we sweep down on them with a rush and create noise enough about it we can make them think the whole ship's crew is after them."
"We'll do it!" chorused the men, eagerly.
"Then, forward to the rescue!" cried Clif, leading the way. "But quietly through these trees until we reach the other side."
It would seem a foolhardy thing to do—to invite battle with such an overwhelming force, when they might quietly reach their boat and make away without detection. But their blood was up, and there was a friend and ally in peril of a Spanish dungeon or death.
Without a moment's hesitation or further thought, they advanced silently through the sparse woods, revolvers in hand. They were few in numbers, but determination was written on every face.
They reached the further edge of the clump of trees without giving a sound that would betray their presence to the enemy. Here they formed in line under Clif's leadership, shoulder to shoulder, ready for the charge.
The moon had gone behind a cloud, but here and there they could detect the glistening of a hostile bayonet, and the sound of Spanish voices.