Esteban’s party made good time over the hills and into the San Juan, for Asensio knew the country well.  Mid-afternoon found them in sight of La Joya.  Cueto’s cane was thick and high; it was ready for the knife or for the torch.  Making a detour, the incendiaries approached it from the east in order to have the trade-winds at their backs.  They dismounted in the shelter of a wood and removed the bags which they had carried on their saddles.  Inside these bags were several snakes, the largest perhaps eight feet in length.  To the tail of each the negroes fastened a leather thong, and then to each thong a length of telegraph-wire, the end of which had been bent into a loop to hold a bundle of oil-soaked waste.  These preliminaries accomplished, they bore the reptiles into the cane-fields at widely separated places and lighted the waste.

Esteban, from his saddle, saw the first wisps of smoke arise and grow and unwind into long ribbons, reaching deep into the standing crop.  Soon tongues of flame appeared and the green tops of the cane began to shrivel and to wave as the steady east wind took effect.  From the nearest conflagration a great snapping and crackling of juicy stalks arose.  The thin, dry strippings with which the earth was carpeted formed a vast tinder bed, and once the fire was started there was no checking it.  Smoke billowed upward and was hurried westward before the breeze; in a dozen places the fields burst into flame.  From somewhere came a faint shouting, then a shot or two, and finally the ringing of a bell.

Esteban waited only until he saw that his work of devastation was well under way, then he led his followers back toward the hills.  At sunset he reined in upon the crest of a ridge and looked behind him into the valley.  The whole sky was black with smoke, as if a city were in flames.

Removing his wide jipi-japa hat, the young man swept a mocking salutation to the east.

“So now, good Pancho Cueto,” he cried, “I leave you the compliments of those twins you love so well.”

In the shelter of a ravine the party took time to eat supper, their first meal since leaving home, and it was after dark when they finished.  The negroes, who were thoroughly tired, were for spending the night here, but Esteban, more cautious than they, would not have it so.  Accordingly, the men remounted their weary horses, though not without some grumbling, and set out.  It was slow traveling, for the woods were dark and the trails were blind; the men were fairly obliged to feel their way.  At length they crossed the summit and worked down toward the Yumuri, but it seemed as if daylight would never come.

“A weary ride,” Esteban yawned.  “I shall sleep for a week.”

Asensio agreed.  “That Cueto will be furious,” said he.  “Some day, perhaps, he and I will meet face to face.  Then I shall kill him.”

Esteban reined in his horse.  “Look!” said he.  “Yonder is a light.”