As they stood and listened the sounds grew nearer—sounds of many feet, and words of command in Spanish.
"Come away from the path!" Will whispered, and seizing Vic's arm, he drew her into the underbrush, and on hands and knees they crawled away from the danger.
In a moment more the soldiers passed; thousands of them, they thought, by the sound, but in reality something less than a hundred. When Will and his cousin resumed their feet they could not find the path. To add to their troubles, they were lost in the Cuban forest.
How long they struggled through the sharp bushes they did not know till afterward; but when they stopped it was because a stone wall stood in their way—the stone wall of a small cabin. Will felt his way along the wall till he found the door, but it was shut and locked. He rapped, but there was no response.
"I am afraid it is deserted," he said; "but maybe we can get in to wait for daylight."
Again he rapped at the door, and softly called: "Hello! Let us in! We are Americans and friends."
Suddenly the door opened, and a familiar voice answered. "Will Hall, how do you come to be here?"
"What's that?" said another voice inside; and Will and Vic needed no further telling that their fathers were found.
In another minute they were inside the dark cabin, and the door was barred.
"Where is your boat?" both the men asked, almost in the same breath.