The negro gave a peculiar whistle, and immediately a short, fat negro wench put in an appearance, followed by a man of twenty-five or thirty. The man was fairly well dressed, and evidently a Cuban of Spanish descent. "It is all right, Carlos!" cried the wench. "This is Senor Ramona." "Senor Ramona!" exclaimed the negro, and rushing up he dropped Walter and took the out-stretched hand of the Cuban gentleman. A long talk in Spanish, followed, of which Walter understood hardly a word. Yet he felt certain the pair were talking about the American warships outside of the harbor, the blowing up of the _Merrimac_, and about himself. Suddenly the negro ran back to him, at the same time calling the wench. "You sick--I forget," he said. "Come; nice bed here." And he pointed to a grass hammock suspended from one of the rear corner posts of the hut to a near-by tree. "You lay dare; Josefina make good drink for you; den you feel bettair." Walter was glad enough to accept the invitation, for standing unaided was now out of the question. As soon as he was in the hammock the negro woman ran off for a wet bandage, which she tied tightly over his forehead. Carlos Dunetta evidently had an important message for Senor Ramona, for no sooner was the talk between the pair at an end, than the Cuban brought out a horse from the shelter of the trees, and dashed down the trail at a breakneck speed. "Me watch, warn you if any Spaniards come," said Carlos, on returning to Walter's side. "You bettair rest, or get fever werry bad." "Do you suppose there is any hope of my getting back to my ship?" "De ship dat blow up?" "No, a big warship out there," and Walter waved his hand in the direction of the coast. At this, the tall negro shrugged his shoulders. "Carlos can take you to de shore--but no got boat. Maybe you swim, not so?" "Well, hardly," answered Walter. "I may be a pretty good swimmer, but four or five miles is too much for any man." The negro retired, and Walter lay back watching the woman, who had brought out several bags filled with herbs. Selecting some of the herbs, the woman steeped them in water, and poured the tea into an earthen bowl, sweetening the concoction with sugarcane ends. Bringing the bowl to Walter, she motioned for him to drink. The youth had expected an unsavory mess, but he found the tea very pleasant to the taste, and ten minutes after he had taken half the contents of the bowl he was in a sound slumber, from which he did not awaken until nearly nightfall. In the meantime Josefina removed the life preserver and made him otherwise as comfortable as possible, proud to think she was serving _un Americano_ who was battling against the enemies of her beloved Cuba. "You had bettair come into de house now--night air werry bad for you," announced Carlos, as Walter sat up in the hammock and stared around him. "How feel now? weak?"