Dawn showed the voyagers that they were indeed fortunate, for they were upon the mainland of Cuba, and as far as they could see, both east and west, the reef was unbroken.  There was still some uncertainty as to their precise position, for the jungle at their backs shut off their view of the interior; but that gave them little concern.  Men were lolling about, exhausted, but Major Ramos allowed them no time for rest; he roused them, and kept them on the go until the priceless supplies had been collected within the shelter of the brush.  Then he broke open certain packages, and distributed arms among his followers.

Even while this was going on there came an alarm; over the low promontory that cut off the eastern coastline a streamer of smoke was seen.  There was a scurry for cover; the little band lay low and watched while a Spanish cruiser stole past not more than a mile outside the line of froth.

The three Americans, who were munching a tasteless breakfast of pilot-bread, were joined by Major Ramos.  He was no longer the immaculate personage he had been:  he was barefooted; his clothes were torn; his trousers were rolled up to the knee and whitened by sea-water, while the revolver at his hip and the bandolier of cartridges over his shoulder lent him an incongruously ferocious appearance.  Ever since Norine had so rudely shattered his romantic fancies the major had treated both her and O’Reilly with a stiff and distant formality.  He began now by saying: 

“I am despatching a message to General Gomez’s headquarters, asking him to send a pack-train and an escort for these supplies.  There is danger here; perhaps you would like to go on with the couriers.”

O’Reilly accepted eagerly; then thinking of the girl, he said, doubtfully: 

“I’m afraid Miss Evans isn’t equal to the trip.”

“Nonsense!  I’m equal to anything,” Norine declared.  And indeed she looked capable enough as she stood there in her short walking-suit and stout boots.

Branch alone declined the invitation, vowing that he was too weak to budge.  If there was the faintest prospect of riding to the interior he infinitely preferred to await the opportunity, he said, even at the risk of an attack by Spanish soldiers in the mean time.

It took O’Reilly but a short time to collect the few articles necessary for the trip; indeed, his bundle was so small that Norine was dismayed.

“Can’t I take any clothes?” she inquired in a panic.  “I can’t live without a change.”

“It is something you’ll have to learn,” he told her.  “An Insurrecto with two shirts is wealthy.  Some of them haven’t any.”

“Isn’t it likely to rain on us?”

“It’s almost sure to.”

Miss Evans pondered this prospect; then she laughed.  “It must feel funny,” she said.

There were three other members of the traveling-party, men who knew something of the country round about; they were good fighters, doubtless, but in spite of their shiny new weapons they resembled soldiers even less than did their major.  All were dressed as they had been when they left New York; one even wore a derby hat and pointed patent-leather shoes.  Nevertheless, Norine Evans thought the little cavalcade presented quite a martial appearance as it filed away into the jungle.