"American bluff has won the day," he laughed. "Our Cuban friend's death has been avenged, and that without the loss of a man on our side."
"The Spanish are good sprinters, at any rate," said one of the men, as they started with Clif to rejoin their companions.
Here Clif had all he could do to restrain his followers from continuing in pursuit of the enemy.
"No," said he in response to the earnest pleading. "We had better leave well enough alone. These Spaniards say we are not men, but devils, and I guess they don't care for another interview. The New York no doubt is waiting for us, and these dispatches are yet to be delivered."
There was no use to grumble, so the party set out on the return to their boat. They were highly enthusiastic over the good work done under Clif's leadership, and were proud of his pluck as well as the good generalship he had shown.
The tide of battle had carried them some distance from the spot where they had met the Cuban courier, and further still from where they had concealed their boat.
But they picked their way expeditiously through the woods, and reached the beach without further incident.
They were near the clump of trees which they recognized as that behind which they had hidden the boat when Clif stopped with a sudden exclamation.
"Gorry!" he said, "I have forgotten that shell. It won't take but a minute to return for it."
"What's the use, sir?" ventured one of the men. "As you said, we'd better let well enough alone, and not run any further risk for a shell that don't even explode."