Cuba -- History -- Revolution, 1895-1898 -- Fiction
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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