Johnnie turned to discover that Leslie Branch had lagged far behind, and now, as if to cap his fantastic performances, had dismounted and was descending the river-bank to a place where a large washing had been spread upon the stones to dry. He was quite exposed, and a spiteful crackle from the nearest blockhouse showed that the Spaniards were determined to bring him down. Mauser bullets ricocheted among the rocks--even from this distance their sharp explosions were audible--others broke the surface of the stream into little geysers, as if a school of fish were leaping. While Johnnie looked on in breathless apprehension Branch appropriated several suits that promised to fit him; then he climbed up the bank, remounted his horse, and ambled slowly out of range. Now this was precisely the sort of harebrained exploit which delights a Cuban audience. When Leslie rejoined his comrades, therefore, he was greeted with shouts and cheers. "Caramba! He would risk his life for a clean shirt. ... There's a fellow for you! He enjoys the hum of these Spanish bees! ... Bravo! Tell us what the bullets said to you," they cried, crowding around him in an admiring circle. O'Reilly, unable to contain himself, burst forth in a rage: "You infernal fool! Do you want to be shot robbing a clothes-line?" "Rats!" ejaculated Leslie, sourly. "I TOLD you I had to have some clothes." "Lopez ought to court-martial you. What are you going to do with that junk, now that you have it? You can't take it with you on the march." "You wait and see," said the other. "I'm going to be comfortable, if--" He paused, with a peculiar, startled expression on his face. "Did you hear anything?" he queried after a moment. "No. What?" "Oh, nothing." The two men rode on in silence for a time, then Leslie said: "Queer thing happened back there while those Romeos were popping at me. I heard a baby crying." "A baby?" "Sure. I suppose it was the washerwoman's kid. When we flushed her she probably vamped out and left it in the grass. Anyhow, it let up an awful holler." Jacket and the other loot-laden soldiers had been sent on ahead, together with those troopers who were sharing mounts with the rescued prisoners; they were now waiting perhaps two miles from town for their companions to overtake them. As the column came up and halted, O'Reilly addressed a remark to Leslie Branch, but in the middle of it the faint, unmistakable complaint of a child came to his ears. "Listen!" he exclaimed. "What on earth--" "I've been hearing it right along," Branch said. "I--I thought I had the willies." The nearest riders abruptly ceased their chatter; they questioned one another mutely, doubting their own ears. Again came that thin, muffled wail, whereupon O'Reilly cried in astonishment: "Leslie! Why, it--it's in YOUR BUNDLE!" He pointed to the formless roll of bedding which hung from his friend's saddle-horn.