Meantime the Cuban cavalry continued its course.  By midnight it had reached Cemetery Hill, overlooking the town of San Luis.  The moon was half way down the sky.  Maceo sat upon his horse surveying the scene below him long and silently.  The little town was aglow with electric lights and the whistle of locomotives resounded in the valley.  Over three thousand Spanish troops were quartered in the town and their movements were plainly discernible.  Trains were arriving hourly from Santiago, bearing strong re-enforcements.  Through a field-glass Maceo watched the stirring scene.  He turned the glass beyond the town and gazed through it patiently, betraying a trace of anxiety.  Finally he alighted and conferred with Colonel Miro, his chief of staff.  A moment afterward came the order to dismount.  Three hundred troopers obeyed and were about to tether their horses when they were called to attention.  A second order reached their ears.  They were told to stand motionless, with both feet on the ground, and to await further orders with their right hands’ on their saddles.  In the moonlight beneath the scattered palms they stood as silent as if petrified.

A story of Maceo.

Among them there was a newspaper correspondent who had known Maceo many years, and who had parted with him at Port Limon, in Central America, a few months before.  He had joined the column just after the battle of Paralejo.  In obedience to orders he stood with his arm over the back of his horse, blinking at the enlivening scene below him.  Exhausted by the day’s march, his eyes closed and he found it impossible to keep awake.  A moment later he fastened the bridle to his foot, wrapped himself in his rubber coat, placed a satchel under his head, and fell asleep in the wet grass.  The adjutant soon awoke him, telling him that he had better get up, as they were going to have a fight.  He thanked the adjutant, who told him there were over three thousand Spanish soldiers in San Luis and that it was surrounded with fourteen blockhouses.  The correspondent soon curled himself on the grass a second time and was in a sound slumber, when he was again aroused by the adjutant, who told him he was in positive danger if he persisted in disobeying the order of General Maceo.  A third time his heavy eyelids closed and he was in a dead sleep, when startled by a peremptory shake.  Jesus Mascons, Maceo’s secretary, stood over him.  “Get up this instant,” said he.  “The general wants to see you immediately.”

In a few seconds the correspondent was on his feet.  The whistles were still blowing and the electric lights still glowing in the valley, and the moon was on the horizon.  He went forward in some trepidation, fancying that the general was going to upbraid him for disobeying his orders.  He was surprised to find him very pleasant.  Maceo always spoke in a low tone, as he had been shot twice through the lungs.

“Are you not hungry?” he asked.