Phil expressed his delight as best he could, but the officer’s words had given him a distinct shock. It would go hard with them if Ruiz found out they had captured the arms he was awaiting.
“But he must know they were captured,” Phil thought suddenly. He glanced out toward the sea. “Why, it was here that we were fired upon.” Then he said aloud:
“Is this Mariel?”
“Yes,” replied the officer, “Mariel is over there. Our general’s headquarters are just behind the town. It is but a half hour’s walk from here. I shall do myself the honor of accompanying you.”
Phil protested that they could go on alone, but the officer politely insisted.
He gave some hurried orders to a ragged sergeant, then led the way past the gun and up the road.
Phil glanced with interest at the field piece. It was an American made gun and looked brand new.
“Some more of Juarez’s rascality,” he thought.
“My name is Pedro Valdez, Lieutenant of Artillery,” the officer announced, extending his hand and bowing politely.
Phil took it and stammered out the names that came first in his mind: