Forward, March, Kirk Munroe [some good books to read .txt] 📗

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 Señorita, 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 SEÑORITA

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 Señorita'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 Señorita 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 Señorita. 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 Señorita'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 Señorita'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 Señorita 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