Chapter 24

IN THE BELT OF THE FIREBRANDS.

“Do you mean to say, father, that they will dare to burn down all of our sugar-cane fields?” demanded Alano.

“Dare, Alano? They will dare do anything, now they have heard that I have thrown in my fortunes with the insurgents,” replied Captain Guerez bitterly.

“What of your house and barns?” I put in soberly.

“Most likely they will be ransacked first and then the torch will be applied,” answered Alano’s father with increased bitterness. “Ah, well, such are the fortunes of war. Cuba libre!” he muttered firmly.

Alano’s parent was first tempted to ride in the direction of his plantation in the hope of saving something, but speedily gave up the idea. There was no direct course hither, and the roundabout trail which must be pursued would not bring him to Guantanamo until the next morning.

"And by that time the Spaniards will have done their dastardly work and gone on," he remarked.

Several times as we rode along the plateau, Captain Guerez stopped to take a look through the field-glass, but he said nothing more excepting in an undertone to his son.

By sundown the plateau came to an end, and we plunged into a valley which was for the most part divided into immense sugar plantations, some of them half a mile or more in length.

“This is something like that at home,” remarked Alano to me, as we moved on side by side. “That is, like it was,” he hastened to add.

“The fields will grow again, won’t they?” I asked.

“Oh, yes; but my father’s loss will be very great.”

“I suppose so. Did he have much sugar on hand?”

“The storehouses were full. You see, shipments have been at a standstill for a year or more.”

“It will take a long while, after the war is over, to get back to prosperity, I am afraid, Alano?”

"It will take years, and perhaps prosperity will never come. General Garcia is determined to fight to the bitter end, and so is General Gomez, and so long as both remain among the mountains and forests it will be impossible for the Spaniards to make them surrender. I heard father say we could lead the Spanish troops a dance from one spot to another for years, and in the meantime Spain will get no revenue from Cuba, while the expense of keeping the war up will foot up to millions of piasters—something that even Spain cannot stand."

“I wish it was all over, and that we were all safe,” I returned shortly. “I’ve seen all the war I want.”

“And yet you haven’t seen any regular battle,” laughed my Cuban chum. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t make much of a fighter, Mark, if Uncle Sam got into a muss.”

“Oh, that would be different!” I burst out. “I would fight for our country every time.”

Alano laughed more loudly than ever. “That’s just it—you would fight for the United States just as we are now willing to fight for our beloved Cuba.”

I had to smile, for I saw that he was right. Cuba was as much to him as our United States was to me, and let me add that I am a Yankee lad to the backbone, and always hope to be.

Having passed the end of a large plantation, we came to several storehouses, which were wide-open and empty, and here we pitched our camp for the night.

“How close are we to the spot where my father was taken?” I asked of Alano’s father after supper.

“We have passed that locality,” was the answer, which surprised me not a little. “By to-morrow noon I hope to reach a village called Rodania, where I will be able probably to learn something definite concerning his whereabouts.”

This was certainly encouraging, and I went to bed with a lighter heart than I had had since leaving the old convent. Hope in a youthful breast is strong, and I could not but believe that so far all had gone well with my parent.

Fortunately, the storehouse in which I slept with Alano and Captain Guerez was a clean affair, so we were not troubled as we had been at Molino with vermin. We turned in at nine o’clock, and ten minutes sufficed to render me forgetful of all of my surroundings.

I awoke with a cough. I could not breathe very well, and sat up in the darkness to learn what was the matter. The wind had banged shut the storehouse door, and it was strangely hot within.

“I’ll open the door and let in some fresh air,” I said to myself, and arose from the bunch of straw upon which I had made my bed.

As I moved across the storehouse floor I heard several of the horses which were tethered outside let out snorts of alarm. Feeling something was surely wrong, I called to Alano and his father.

“What’s the trouble?” cried Captain Guerez and Alano in a breath.

“I don’t know, but the horses are alarmed,” I answered.

By this time all were aroused by a shout from Jorge, who had been left on guard. As we stepped into the open air, he came running up from a path leading into the immense sugar-cane field back of the storehouse.

“Fuego! fuego! [Fire! fire!]” he shouted at the top of his powerful lungs.

“Where?” demanded Alano’s father quickly.

“In the fields! A band of Spanish guerrillas just came up and set fire all around.”

“That cannot be, Jorge. This is the plantation of Se�or Corozan, a stanch supporter of Spain. They would not burn his fields.”

“Then they are rebels like ourselves.”

This last remark proved true, although we did not learn the fact until some time later. It seemed Se�or Corozan had left the plantation immediately after refusing the demands of a Cuban officer for food for his soldiers, and in consequence the rebel had dispatched a detachment to burn up everything in sight. It was a wanton destruction of property, but it could not very well be avoided, through the peculiar conditions under which the war was being carried on.

Just now, however, there was no time left to think of these matters. A stiff breeze was blowing, and looking over the sugar-cane fields we could see the fire leaping from place to place. Then, turning about, we made another discovery. The very storehouse in which we had been sleeping was on fire. The smoke from the smoldering straw was what had caused me to cough and wake up.

“To horse, everyone!” shouted Captain Guerez. “We had best get out of here, for there is no telling how far this fire extends, or how the wind may shift around!”

Everyone understood what he meant—that we were in danger of being caught in the midst of the conflagration; and everyone lost not an iota of time in loosening his animal and saddling him. In less than three minutes we were off, and riding down a narrow trail between the fields with all the speed at our animals' command.

As we passed along, the sky above us grew brighter, and we could hear the crackling of the cane in the distance. Then I felt a live ember drop upon my neck, which raised a small blister before I could brush it off.

“Jupiter! but this is getting hot!” I gasped, as I urged my horse on beside that of Alano. “I wonder if there is any danger of that fire catching us?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” he panted. “The only thing we can do is to ride for the hills, where the fire won’t have such a chance.”

On and on we went, now in a bunch and then again scattered into two or three groups. To gain the hills we had to cross a bit of a valley, and here our poor horses sunk into the mud half up to their knees.

Captain Guerez had been riding in the rear, but now he went ahead, to shout a word of guidance to the men in advance. Alano dashed on with his father, expecting me to follow. But my horse had become temporarily stuck, and ere he could extricate himself I had to dismount.

Once free again, I was on the point of leaping into the saddle as before, when a turn of the wind brought a shower of burning embers in a whirl over our very heads. I ducked and shook them off, letting go of my steed for that purpose.

It was a foolish movement, for the embers also struck the animal, who instantly gave a snort and a bound and ran off. I made a clutch at his tail as he passed, but missed it, and a second later I found myself utterly alone, with the fire of the sugar-cane fields hemming me in on all sides!