his bare feet, sobbing, and screaming, the boy finally flung himself upon the ground and smote it with his fists, while tears streamed from his eyes.  Nor could he be silenced.  He maintained such a hideous and surprising uproar, answering Gomez’s stern commands to be silent with such maniacal howls, that the old soldier was finally glad to yield his consent, incidentally consigning the rebellious youth to that perdition with which he had threatened Cuba.

Having won his point, Jacket regained his composure with suspicious suddenness and raced away to triumph over his beloved O’Reilly.

Fifty miles of hard riding brought the party to the trocha; they neared it on the second morning after leaving Cubitas, and sought a secluded camping-spot.  Later in the day Hilario, the old Camagueyan, slipped away to reconnoiter.  He returned at twilight, but volunteered no report of what he had discovered.  After an insistent cross-examination O’Reilly wrung from him the reluctant admission that everything seemed favorable for a crossing some time that night, and that he had selected a promising point.  Beyond that the old man would say nothing.  Johnnie asked himself uneasily if this reticence was not really due to apprehension rather than to sullenness.  Whatever the cause, it was not particularly reassuring, and as evening came on Johnnie found himself growing decidedly nervous.

Supper, a simple meal, was quickly disposed of.  Then followed a long, dispiriting wait, for a gibbous moon rode high in the sky and the guides refused to stir so long as it remained there.  It was a still night; in the jungle no air was stirring, and darkness brought forth a torment of mosquitoes.  As day died, the woods awoke to sounds of bird and insect life; strange, raucous calls pealed forth, some familiar, others strange and unaccustomed.  There were thin whistlings, hoarse grunts and harsh cacklings, high-pitched elfin laughter.  Moving bodies disturbed the leaves overhead; from all sides came the rustle and stir of unseen creatures; sudden disputations were followed by startled silences.  Sitting there in the dark, bedeviled by a pest of insects, mocked at by these mysterious voices, and looking forward to a hazardous enterprise, O’Reilly began to curse his vivid imagination and to envy the impassiveness of his companions.  Even Jacket, he noted, endured the strain better; the boy was cheerful, philosophical, quite unimpressed by his surroundings.  When the mosquitoes became unbearable he put on his trousers, with some reluctance and much ceremony.

It seemed to O’Reilly that the moon floated motionless in the sky, and more than once he was upon the point of ordering a start, but he reflected that its radiance out in the open must be far greater than it seemed here under the dense tropical foliage.  After a time he began to wonder if his guides were as loyal as they should be, if Hilario’s strange reticence was caused by sullenness, by apprehension, or by something altogether different.  Both of the men were strangers to him; of their fidelity he had no guarantee.  Now that his mind had become engaged with thoughts of treachery, a determined effort was necessary to keep himself in hand and O’Reilly fell back finally upon his elemental trust in the Cuban character—­scant consolation under the circumstances.