"All who have suffered what I have are, or should be, filled with my longing for vengeance," answered del Concha. "Listen. The ruined plantation we have just left was my home. There I was born. There in the care of a loving father and a devoted mother, in company with a brother who was older than I, and a younger sister, I grew up. In spite of cruel taxation, we were wealthy; in spite of unrighteous laws, we were happy. Finally Spain's oppression of Cuba became unbearable, and the war to throw it off was begun. My father refused to take part in the rebellion, but my brother joined the insurgents and was killed in battle. I took his place; and, because his sons aided the insurrection, my noble father, still loyal to Spain, was seized by the Spaniards and thrown into prison. Two days later, without trial or previous warning, he was shot to death in the prison-yard. "For giving bread to starving women and children whose husbands and fathers fought in the Cuban army, my mother and sister were driven from their home to the nearest city, where the former, always delicate, died, literally of starvation, and from which my sister disappeared, so that I do not know her fate. At that time, also, our house was stripped by the soldiers of everything that could be carried away, and then burned. It is for this record of crime that I determined to spare no Spaniard who should come within my reach." "I am afraid," said Ridge, slowly, with a clear vision of his own dear home and its loved inmates in his mind, "that in your place I should act as you have acted." Although the city of Holguin lies only about twenty miles from the place where Ridge landed on the coast, the way to it was so obstructed, first by swamps and dense forests, and later by wooded hills and swollen streams, that evening shadows were closing in when Ridge and his ragged escort came within sight of its low roofs. On the still air were borne to their ears at the same moment the clear notes of Spanish bugles sounding the "Retreat." Ridge had speculated much that day concerning his reception by the Spaniards, and as to how he should enter their lines. Now del Concha proposed a plan that seemed feasible. "Ride in at full speed," he said, "while I with my men will follow as though in hot pursuit close up to the lines. Of course we will exchange shots, though both must carefully fire too high to do any damage. Is it well? Then adios, my friend, until we meet again." A few minutes later the newly posted Spanish guard was startled by the sound of shots, and then by the sight of a fugitive horseman speeding towards them, followed closely by a party of mounted insurgents who were firing at him. Drums were beat and trumpets sounded. A small body of troops hastily advanced from the city, opening their ranks to receive the panting horse and its apparently exhausted rider, but closing them to give an ineffective volley against his pursuers, who were now flying in consternation.