Kirk Munroe - Forward, March

K >> Kirk Munroe >> Forward, March

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

"After that," said Ridge, "he must have tried to escape on my horse,
which probably flung him over her head and broke his neck. Didn't you,
old girl?"

Had Senorita possessed the power of speech, she would certainly have
answered "Yes," for that was exactly what had happened.

"At any rate," continued the young trooper, with a sigh of relief, "I
am mighty glad my neglect of duty did not result more seriously. At
the same time we are left in an awkward shape for continuing our
journey."

"How so?" asked the other. "I am not afraid to walk."

"But I have lost my guide."

"You have lost one and gained another, who will serve you with equal
skill, since I know very well the road to Jiguani."

"Of course you must know it," replied Ridge. "How stupid of me not to
remember! and, as we can take turns at riding my horse, we shall
doubtless get along all right."

There was no more sleep for either of the young soldiers that night;
and by earliest dawn, having already eaten their frugal breakfast of
roasted yams--an article of diet of which Ridge was becoming heartily
tired--they set forth on the road to Jiguani.

As they were already on the southern slope of the mountains and
descending into a broad valley, they made such rapid progress, by
alternately riding and walking, that the sun had not passed its
meridian when they reached the Cauto--the longest river in Cuba. There
was formerly a small settlement at the crossing, but it had long since
been destroyed, and now only presented the sight, so common in Cuba, of
charred ruins devoid of human presence. There was neither bridge nor
boat, but Lieutenant Navarro declared the river fordable at this point.
Ridge regarded dubiously the chocolate-colored flood already swollen by
the first of the summer rains, and wished that they had at least two
horses with which to cross it. As they had not, and as nothing was to
be gained by delay, he took his companion up behind him, and Senorita,
thus doubly burdened, plunged bravely into the stream. Until they were
half-way across all went well, the mare cautiously feeling her way, and
the water not reaching more than to her belly, Then, without warning,
she dropped into a hole so deep that the turbid current closed above
the heads of her riders as well as her own.

Reappearing on the surface, the mare struck out for shore, with Ridge
swimming beside her, and the young Spaniard, who was a poor swimmer,
clinging desperately to her tail. Fortunately the channel into which
they had plunged was so narrow that within two minutes they had reached
its farther side in safety, and could once more touch bottom. Wading
up-stream to a point where the road left the river, they emerged from
the water, soaked and dripping, but thankful to have met with no worse
harm than a ducking.

As Ridge turned to laugh at the forlorn appearance presented by his
companion, the latter uttered an exclamation of dismay, and at the same
moment they were surrounded by half a dozen as villainous-looking
ruffians as our troopers had yet seen in Cuba. His heart sank within
him. Again was he a prisoner with the prospect at least of having his
journey seriously delayed. In the confusion of the moment he did not
note that those into whose hands he had fallen wore blouses and
trousers of blue drilling traversed by narrow, vertical stripes of
white, the campaign uniform of the Spanish army in Cuba; but his
companion instantly recognized it, and demanded, with a tone of
authority, "Who commands here?"

"I do," replied the most ill-favored of the crew, stepping forward.

"You are a guerilla, are you not?"

"A captain of irregular cavalry, senor. And you?"

"I," replied the lieutenant, "am a major of regulars, attached to the
staff of General Luis Pando, and on an urgent mission to Jiguani. My
horse was killed by insurgents this morning, and I had a narrow escape,
leaving one of them dead."

"Which is the reason that two of you rode one horse in crossing the
river, and so led me to mistake you for 'mamby?'" [1] said the guerilla
captain.

"Very likely, sir, though I can't be accountable for your mistakes.
Now you may let your men make a fire by which we can dry ourselves, and
you may also have food prepared, for we are hungry."

"But your friend, Major, who is he?" asked the other, scanning Ridge's
brown canvas uniform doubtfully.

"None of your business, sir. Let it be sufficient that he is my
friend, and do as I bid you without further words."

At this Discipline, even though suspicious, yielded to the voice of
Authority, and the guerilla made surly announcement that both fire and
food were close at hand.

This proved true; for, on gaining the face of the bluff, our friends
found themselves in the presence of some twenty more guerillas, who
were gathered about fires, cooking and eating strips of meat from a
recently butchered steer. Their horses were picketed close at hand,
and beyond them grazed a herd of small wild-looking Cuban cattle. For
these this detachment of "beef-riders" had scoured the country-side,
and they were now returning with them to Jiguani. A scout from this
party, patrolling the river-bank, had notified the captain that
strangers were about to cross from the other side, and he had thus been
enabled to prepare for their reception.

He was evidently disappointed that they and their belongings could not
be seized as prizes of war, and manifested this by the envious glances
that he cast at Senorita as well as upon the weapons that Ridge was
drying and cleaning. Especially was the young trooper's rifle an
object of longing admiration, and, after a critical examination, the
captain even went so far as to offer to buy it; but Ridge refused to
part with the gun, whereupon the man turned sulky, and declined to hold
further intercourse with him.

After a while the whole party again took the road, Lieutenant Navarro
riding a spare horse that he had "requisitioned" from the guerilla
leader. The latter rode with his guests at the head of the
advance-guard, and Ridge noticed that, as two scouts were still in
front of them, while others of the guerillas rode on either side, they
were completely surrounded, and practically prisoners. He suggested as
much to his companion, but the latter only smiled, and said:

"What matters it, so long as we are safely escorted to Jiguani?"

"But I don't want to go there."

"True. I had forgotten. You wish to proceed to Enramada, where I am
to join you."

"Yes, on the second day from now."

"With only slight delay we might travel together."

"I have reasons for preferring to go alone."

"You will be in danger from the Cubans."

"Ask your guerilla captain if he thinks so."

The latter said he did not believe there were any insurgents on the
Enramada road just then, since their chief, General Garcia, had
withdrawn from Bayamo, and was understood to be collecting his entire
force near El Cobre, in the Sierra Maestra, or southern coast range.

"Very well, then," said Ridge. "I desire to leave you as soon as we
come to the Enramada road, and I wish that you would inform your
guerilla friend that I propose to do so."

"I will do better; for when we reach the forks, which will be shortly,
I will order you to take the one to the left, while we keep to the
right, and he will not dare attempt to detain you."

But the guerilla, who had determined to possess himself of Ridge's
horse and rifle, did dare do that very thing. Thus, when at the
forking of the roads the order was given as proposed, and Ridge started
to obey it, the captain whipped out a pistol, and declared that the
stranger must accompany him into Jiguani for examination before the
authorities.

At this our young trooper clapped spurs to Senorita, flung himself flat
on her back, and dashed away on his chosen road, followed by a
scattering volley of pistol-shots, and by four of the best mounted
among the guerillas, who, at their captain's command, sprang after him
in hot pursuit.

[1] Derisive term applied by Spaniards to Cuban insurgents.

CHAPTER XVIII

DEATH OF SENORITA

From the earliest days of Spanish rule in Cuba human life has been held
very cheap. Especially of late years, when thousands of men, women,
and children have been wantonly murdered, has the killing of a man for
any reason been lightly regarded. So in the present instance the
guerilla captain instructed those detailed to overtake the escaping
prisoner to kill him and bring back all his property. It seemed to him
an easy task for his well-mounted beef-riders, familiar with every foot
of that region, to overtake and overpower one who had already travelled
far that day, and was evidently a stranger to the country. When they
had done so he would obtain that coveted rifle. On the whole, he was
glad that one of his prisoners had made a foolish dash for liberty, and
rather wished the other would do the same thing.

But the other contented himself with denouncing the action of the
guerilla captain in bitter terms, and promising to report it the moment
they reached the Spanish lines. At all of which the latter only smiled
contemptuously.

In the mean time Ridge, lying low on his horse's neck to offer as small
a target as possible to the shots fired by his pursuers whenever they
sighted him, was uttering words of encouragement in Senorita's ear, and
she was responding with such a burst of speed that the beef-riders were
quickly left far behind. At length nothing was to be seen or heard of
them; and, believing that they had given over the chase as hopeless,
the young trooper allowed the panting mare who had borne him so bravely
to slacken her heading pace until it was reduced to a walk.

He was still in the broad Cauto valley, where the sabanetas, or open
glades of tall grasses, were interspersed with wide tracts of
impenetrable jungle and forests of palms. By these his view was
limited on every side, but he knew that the mountains among which he
hoped to find the insurgent leader lay to the southward. So he
determined to leave the road by the first trail leading in that
direction, and continue on it until he should meet some one willing to
guide him to his destination.

Having formed this crude plan, and believing that Senorita had been
allowed sufficient time to recover her breath, he began to urge her to
a better speed, but, to his surprise, she failed to respond. Neither
words nor spur served to move her from the slow walk into which she had
fallen. Such a thing had not happened since the beginning of their
acquaintance in far-away San Antonio, and the young trooper dismounted
to discover what had gone wrong.

He had not far to look, for, as he touched the ground, a red trickle of
blood caught his eye. The plucky little mare had been hit by one of
the beef-riders' shots, but had given no sign until now, when her
weakness could no longer be overcome. So copious was the flow of blood
that it was evident an artery had been severed, and already had the
loss been very great. In vain did Ridge strive to stanch the cruel
outspurt. He had no proper appliances, and the evil was too serious to
be remedied by his simple skill. Even as he made the attempt the
gallant beast swayed, staggered, and then sank with a groan to the
ground. Almost sobbing with grief and dismay, Ridge flung himself
beside her and threw an arm caressingly across her neck.

"Poor old girl! Dear old girl!" he cried. "To think that I should
have brought you here just for this. It is too bad! too bad! And what
shall I do without you?"

Then with a sudden thought he sprang to his feet and began an eager
search on both sides of the road for water, but found none.
Disappointed and heavy-hearted, he returned to Senorita. She lay as he
had left her, but motionless and with closed eyes. Again he knelt at
her side, and at the sound of his voice the loving eyes were once more
opened. At the same time, with a mighty effort, the proud head was
uplifted, as though the mare were about to struggle to her feet. Just
then came a shot from behind them, and, with a bullet intended for her
young master buried deep in her brain, the dear horse yielded up her
life.

The shot was so instantly followed by a clatter of hoofs, that Ridge
had barely time to snatch his rifle and fling himself to the ground
behind Senorita's body before the beef-riders appeared charging up the
road, yelling and firing, as they came.

With his rifle resting across the mare's side, Ridge took quick aim and
fired. One of the advancing horsemen threw up his arms and fell over
backward, but the young American did not see him; for, without waiting
to note the effect of his shot, he dropped the rifle and seized his
revolver. It was a self-cocking weapon, and as rapidly as he could
pull the trigger he delivered the contents of all six chambers at the
guerillas. Whether or not they fired in return he did not know, but as
the smoke from his own fusillade cleared away he saw one man lying
motionless in the road, and another dragging himself into the grass at
one side. From that direction also came the furious plunging of a
horse. Of the others who had pursued him nothing was to be seen.
Hastily reloading his revolver, and throwing another cartridge into the
chamber of his rifle, Ridge nervously awaited further developments.
Would they again charge upon his front, or would they seek to outflank
him by crawling through the dense growth on either side? The latter
would be the safer move, and could be easily made.

As our young soldier realized this, he decided to forestall the attempt
by taking to the grass himself, and in another moment he was cautiously
creeping on hands and knees amid the hot brown stalks that grew many
feet above his head. Fearing that his movement might attract
attention, he did not go far; but, after making his way for a few rods
parallel to the road, he again gained its edge and halted at a place
where, peering between the grass stems, he could see his dead horse.

Here he lay motionless until he became convinced that his enemies had
beaten a retreat and would trouble him no more. Thus thinking,
impatient of delay, and painfully cramped by his position, he was about
to rise when the long silence was broken by a low cuckoo call close at
hand. Was it a signal or the note of some strange bird? As Ridge
hesitated, the call was answered from the other side of the road.
Again it sounded from the side on which he lay; then, from the opposite
side a man's head came slowly into view, low down among the grass
stems. After hasty glances both up and down the road it was withdrawn,
and the cuckoo notes were again exchanged. Then two of the baffled
beef-riders rose boldly to their feet and stepped out in full view,
close beside the dead horse. The young trooper could not distinguish
their words; but, from their angry gestures, they were discussing his
disappearance and the advisability of a further attempt to capture him.

At the same moment his own thoughts were of a most conflicting nature.
One of the men was covered by his rifle, and his finger was on its
ready trigger, but he hesitated to pull it. They had killed his horse
and sought to take his life. Even now they would shoot him down
without mercy, and as a pastime, if the opportunity offered. Knowing
this, and realizing his danger if those men should discover him, the
young American still hesitated to fire from ambush and take human life
in cold blood.

That others did not feel as he did about such things was shown while he
hesitated, for the two beef-riders had been in sight but a few seconds
when there came a flash and a roar of guns from the opposite side of
the road, a little beyond where Ridge was hiding. Both the guerillas
fell as though struck by a thunder-bolt, and their blue-clad forms lay
motionless across Senorita's body. Her death was amply avenged.

At this startling demonstration in his behalf, Ridge sprang to his feet
in full view of half a dozen men, ragged and swarthy, who were running
down the road with yells of delight. They halted at sight of the
stranger, and some raised their weapons; but he, recognizing them as
Cubans, called out: "I am Americano, and those Spaniards whom you have
so bravely killed sought my life. Viva Cuba libre!"

Upon this they again advanced with shouts and eager questions. They
belonged to a detachment of the Cuban army on its way to join General
Garcia, and had been attracted by the sound of firing. Coming to
discover its cause, they had seen the dead horse, and were stealing
cautiously towards it when halted by the familiar cuckoo call of their
enemies.

That Ridge had suffered at the hands of the Spaniards, and fought with
them, was a sufficient passport to their favor. Thus when he explained
his desire to meet their general they consented to guide him to the
Cuban rendezvous, which they said was high up in the mountains.

With a heavy heart and tear-dimmed eyes the young American turned from
a last look at his beloved horse, and set forth with these new
acquaintances on their toilsome march. He carried only his arms, but
the Cubans had stripped the dead--both men and horses--of everything
valuable, and were thus well laden with trophies.

A short distance from the spot where Senorita had given her own life in
saving that of her master, they turned into a barely discernible trail
that soon brought them to the foot-hills, where they camped for the
night. All the next day they pushed on, with infrequent halts, ever
climbing higher over trails so rough and obscure that only experienced
eyes could follow them. Here and there they passed food-stations
guarded by old men, poorly clad women, and naked children. Each of
these consisted of a thatched hut, an open fire, and a sweet-potato
patch, and to the marching Cubans they supplied roasted potatoes,
sugar-cane, and occasionally a few ripe mangoes.

Ridge and a guide, to whom he had promised money, outstripped the
others, and shortly before sunset of the second day reached the summit
of a pass lying between the great bulk of El Cobre on the east and Pico
Turquino, the tallest mountain in Cuba. From this point was outspread
a superb view of densely wooded mountain slopes tumbling steeply down
to the boundless blue of the Caribbean Sea. Here the guide departed,
promising shortly to return, leaving Ridge to gaze upon the wonderful
panorama unfolded on all sides, and thrilled with the thought that he
had crossed Cuba.

While he stood thus, forgetful of everything save the marvellous beauty
of his surroundings, he was puzzled by a sound as of distant thunder
coming from a direction in which no cloud was visible. As he
speculated concerning this phenomenon, he was startled by a voice close
at hand saying, in English: "That is a welcome sound to Cuban ears,
senor, since it is the thunder of American war-ships bombarding the
defences of Santiago."

CHAPTER XIX

CALIXTO GARCIA THE CUBAN

"The thunder of American war-ships!" Instantly, as Ridge learned its
nature, the mighty sound took on a new significance, and seemed like
the voice of his own glorious country demanding freedom for an
oppressed people. Filled with this thought, he turned to the man who
had suggested it, and found himself in the presence of one wearing the
uniform of a Cuban officer. The latter had taken off his hat, and the
young American noted a livid bullet scar in the centre of his broad
white forehead. The man was elderly, fine-looking, and smooth-shaven
except for a heavy white mustache. His picture had been published in
every illustrated paper and magazine in the United States.

Promptly giving a military salute, Ridge said, "I believe I have the
honor of addressing General Garcia."

"Yes, I am Calixto Garcia. But who are you?"

"An officer of the American army, come to you with a message from its
commanding General."

"Have you credentials or despatches by which you may be known?"

"Only this, sir." Here Ridge lowered his voice and gave, for the
second time since landing in Cuba, the secret countersign of the Junta.

"It is sufficient," said the General, smiling and holding out his hand.
"Now what is your message?"

"That the American army of invasion, having sailed from Tampa, is due
within the next two days to arrive off Santiago; and General Shafter,
who commands it, is desirous of an interview with you before landing
his troops. He asks you to name the place of meeting."

"Thank you, sir, for bringing me this great news, and gladly will I
meet your General whenever he may choose to come. Also I will fix the
place of meeting down yonder at Aserraderos. From this station I will
watch day and night for his ships, and when they come will be ready to
receive him."

"Very good, sir. I will so report to my General."

"But how do you expect to communicate with him?" asked Garcia,
curiously.

"I propose to go from here to Enramada, to which place I was about to
ask you to favor me with a mount and a guide. At that point I have
arranged to meet a friend who will give me Spanish protection, and
under whose escort I shall visit Santiago. After that I shall be
guided by circumstances. But if I live I shall certainly be at
Daiquiri in time to meet the American army."

"You have undertaken a difficult task, and I only hope it may be
accomplished," replied the General, thoughtfully. "Of course I will
furnish you with a horse and an escort to Enramada, which place, as you
are doubtless aware, is already occupied by my men."

"By the Cubans?" cried Ridge, in dismay.

"Certainly. We drove out the Spaniards several days ago, and have
advanced our lines to within a few miles of Santiago. At present that
city is surrounded on three sides by the forces of Generals Castillo
and Rabi."

"In that case, sir, I shall ask for protection to the extreme limit of
the Cuban lines, both for myself and my friend."

"Is he a Spaniard?" asked Garcia, suspiciously.

"He is an American citizen," replied Ridge, "though at present
appearing as a Spaniard, and wearing the uniform of a Spanish officer."

"What is his name?"

"He is travelling under the name of Ramon Navarro."

"Very Spanish indeed, and he could not have done a more reckless or
foolish thing than attempt to pass himself off as a Spaniard in this
part of the island. If he is discovered near Enramada he will
undoubtedly be killed without a chance to explain who he really is.
But that is the way with you Americans. Confident in your own
ignorance, you are always pushing ahead without stopping to count the
cost."

"At the same time we generally get there."

"Get where?" asked the other, sharply.

"To the place we start for."

"Oh yes, you get there, in some shape, though perhaps sorry that you
have done so. In the present campaign, for instance, I have no doubt
that the very first Americans landed will make a dash for Santiago,
without waiting for artillery or even provisions. If they win a
victory, it will be by the good fortune that often attends fools; but
the chances are that when they enter Santiago it will be as prisoners
of war."

"Sir!" cried Ridge, "I am an American, and an officer in the American
army."

"Pardon, senor; I forgot," replied the General. "I was allowing myself
to utter aloud my thoughts, a thing extremely wrong and ill-advised. I
have really no doubt in the world that your gallant countrymen will
conduct themselves most admirably. Now if you will come to my poor
camp I will make you as comfortable as possible for the night, and in
the morning we will decide what is best for you to do."

"Thank you, sir," said our young trooper, "but with your permission I
should prefer to make a start at once, with the hope of reaching
Enramada before my comrade, and thus preventing a sad mistake on the
part of your troops."

"But, my young friend, you have already travelled far to-day and are
exhausted."

"I still have some strength left."

"Night is upon us, and the trails are very dangerous."

"There is a young moon, and you will furnish reliable guides," replied
Ridge, smiling.

"If I should not furnish them?"

"Then I would set forth alone."

"You are determined, then, to proceed at once?"

"I am, sir, unless detained by force."

"Ah, heavens! These Americans!" cried the General, with an air of
resignation. "They will leave nothing for to-morrow that may be
squeezed into to-day. They know not the meaning of 'manana.' Ever
impatient, ever careless of consequences, and yet they succeed. Can it
be that theirs is the way of wisdom? But no, it is their good fortune,
what they call 'luck.' Yes, senor, it shall be as you desire. In an
hour all shall be in readiness for your departure."

"Couldn't you make it half an hour, General?" asked Ridge, with an
audacity that drew forth only a grunt from the Cuban leader.

So it happened that in something less than an hour from the time of
this important interview our young American, well fed, and provided
with a pass through the Cuban lines for himself and one friend, was
retracing his steps down the northern slope of the Sierra Maestra. He
was mounted on a raw-backed but sure-footed Cuban pony, and escorted by
half a dozen ragged cavalrymen. They had barely started before he was
thankful that he had not attempted to make the journey unguided; nor
had they gone a mile before he knew that he could never have
accomplished it alone. Often he found himself traversing narrow trails
on the brink of black space where a single misstep would have brought
his career to a sudden termination. Again he passed through gloomy
tunnels of dense foliage, slid down precipitous banks, only to plunge
into rushing, bowlder-strewn torrents at the bottom, and scramble up
slopes of slippery clay on the farther side, All this was done by the
feeble and ever-lessening light of a moon in its first quarter, and as
it finally sank out of sight the leader of the escort called a halt,
declaring that they could not move another rod before daybreak.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14