When Santiago Fell: or, The War Adventures of Two Chums. Stratemeyer Edward

we went, trudging through sand and shells and not infrequently through mire several inches to a foot deep. It was hard work, and I wished more than once that we were on horseback. There was also a brook to cross, but the bridge was gone and there was nothing left to do but to ford the stream.

      “It’s not to our boot-tops,” said Alano, after an examination, “so we won’t have to take our boots and socks off. Come; I fancy there is a good road ahead.”

      He started into the water, and I went after him. We had reached the middle of the stream when both of us let out a wild yell, and not without reason, for we had detected a movement from the opposite bank, and now saw a monstrous alligator bearing swiftly down upon us!

      CHAPTER V.

      LOST AMONG THE HILLS

      Both Alano and I were almost paralyzed by the sight of the huge alligator bearing down upon us, his mouth wide open, showing his cruel teeth, and his long tail shifting angrily from side to side.

      “Back!” yelled my Cuban chum, and back we went, almost tumbling over each other in our haste to gain the bank from where we had started.

      The alligator lost no time in coming up behind, uttering what to me sounded like a snort of rage. He had been lying half-hidden in the mud, and the mud still clung to his scaly sides and back. Altogether, he was the most horrible creature I had ever beheld.

      Reaching the bank of the brook, with the alligator not three yards behind us, we fled up a series of rocks overgrown with moss and vines. We did not pause until we were at the very summit, then both of us drew our pistols and fired at the blinking eyes. The bullets glanced from the “'gator’s” head without doing much harm, and with another snort the terrifying beast turned back into the brook and sank into a pool out of sight.

      “My gracious, Alano, supposing he had caught us!” I gasped, when I could catch my breath.

      “We would have been devoured,” he answered, with a shudder, for of all creatures the alligator is the one most dreaded by Cubans, being the only living beast on the island dangerous to life because of its strength.

      “He must have been lying in wait for somebody,” I remarked, after a moment’s pause, during which we kept our eyes on the brook, in a vain attempt to gain another look at our tormentor.

      “He was – it is the way they do, Mark. If they can, they wait until you are alongside of them. Then a blow from the tail knocks you flat, and that ends the fight – for you,” and again Alano shuddered, and so did I.

      “We can’t cross,” I said, a few minutes later, as all remained quiet. “I would not attempt it for a thousand dollars.”

      “Nor I – on foot. Perhaps we can do so by means of the trees. Let us climb yonder palm and investigate.”

      We climbed the palm, a sloping tree covered with numerous trailing vines. Our movements disturbed countless beetles, lizards, and a dozen birds, some of the latter flying off with a whir which was startling. The top of the palm reached, we swung ourselves to its neighbor, standing directly upon the bank of the brook. In a few minutes we had reached a willow and then a cacao, and thus we crossed the stream in safety, although not without considerable exertion.

      The sun was beginning to set when we reached a small village called by the natives San Lerma – a mere collection of thatched cottages belonging to some sheep-raisers. Before entering we made certain there were no soldiers around.

      Our coming brought half a dozen men, women, and children to our side. They were mainly of negro blood, and the children were but scantily clothed. They commenced to ask innumerable questions, which Alano answered as well as he could. One of the negroes had heard of Señor Guerez' plantation, and immediately volunteered to furnish us with sleeping accommodations for the night.

      “Many of us have joined the noble General Garcia,” he said, in almost a whisper. “I would join too, but Teresa will not hear of it.” Teresa was his wife – a fat, grim-looking wench who ruled the household with a rod of iron. She grumbled a good deal at having to provide us with a bed, but became very pleasant when Alano slipped a small silver coin into her greasy palm.

      Feeling fairly secure in our quarters, we slept soundly, and did not awaken until the sun was shining brightly. The inevitable pot of black coffee was over the fire, and the smoke of bacon and potatoes frying in a saucepan filled the air. Breakfast was soon served, after which we greased our boots, saw to our other traps and our bag of provisions, which we had not opened, and proceeded on our way – the husband of Teresa wishing us well, and the big-eyed children staring after us in silent wonder and curiosity.

      “That is a terrible existence,” I said to Alano. “Think of living in that fashion all your life!”

      “They know no better,” he returned philosophically. “And I fancy they are happy in their way. Their living comes easy to them, and they never worry about styles in clothing or rent day. Sometimes they have dances and other amusements. Didn’t you see the home-made guitar on the wall?”

      On we went, past the village and to a highway which we had understood would take us to Tiarriba, but which took us to nothing of the sort. As we proceeded the sun grew more oppressive than ever, until I was glad enough to take Alano’s advice, and place some wet grass in my hat to keep the top of my head cool.

      “It will rain again soon,” said Alano, “and if it comes from the right quarter it will be much cooler for several days after.”

      The ground now became hilly, and we walked up and down several places which were steep enough to cause us to pant for breath. By noon we reckoned we had covered eight or nine miles. We halted for our midday rest and meal under some wild peppers, and we had not yet finished when we heard the low rumble of thunder.

      “The storm is coming, sure enough!” I exclaimed. “What had we best do – find some shelter?”

      “That depends, Mark. If the lightning is going to be strong, better seek the open air. We do not want to be struck.”

      We went on, hoping that some village would soon be found, but none appeared. The rain commenced to hit the tree leaves, and soon there was a steady downpour. We buttoned our coats tightly around the neck, and stopped under the spreading branches of an uncultivated banana tree, the half-ripe fruit of which hung within easy reach.

      The thunder had increased rapidly, and now from out of the ominous-looking clouds the lightning played incessantly. Alano shook his head dubiously.

      “Do you know what I think?” he said.

      “Well?”

      “I think we have missed our way. If we were on the right road we would have come to some dwelling ere this. I believe we have branched off on some forest trail.”

      “Let us go on, Alano. See, the rain is coming through the tree already.”

      It was tough work now, for the road was uphill and the clayey ground was slippery and treacherous. It was not long before I took a tumble, and would have rolled over some sharp rocks had Alano not caught my arm. At one minute the road seemed pitch-dark, at the next a flash of lightning would nearly blind us.

      Presently we gained the crest of a hill a little higher than its fellows, and gazed around us. On all sides were the waving branches of palms and other trees, dotted here and there with clearings of rocks and coarse grasses. Not a building of any kind was in sight.

      “It is as I thought,” said my Cuban chum dubiously. “We have lost our way in the hills.”

      “And what will we have to do – retrace our steps?” I ventured anxiously.

      “I don’t know. If we push on I suppose we’ll strike some place sooner or later.”

      “Yes, but our provisions won’t last forever, Alano.”

      “That is true, Mark, but we’ll have to – Oh!”

      Alano stopped short and staggered back into my arms. We had stepped for the moment under the shelter of a stately palm. Now it was as if a wave of fire had swept close to our face. It was a flash of lightning;