A native guide was provided, and as soon as courtesy would permit, the Americans, who could ill conceal their impatience, started on their perilous journey. Owing to the wires being cut, no news of developments near to Boca del Sierras had filtered into the northern country. For all Midshipman Stark and his companions knew, they might find the insurgents in possession of the place. In that case they faced possibilities it was not pleasant to consider. At last they were mounted, and, with their horses impatiently pawing the ground, as if as anxious to go forward as they were, they bade farewell to their emotional Latin friend, who almost broke down as the hour for parting came. He controlled himself bravely, however, although the squeeze of his hand he bestowed on each of the Americans bespoke his high regard for them. “Good-by, sir, and good luck!” called back all of them, as they cantered out into darkness with their guide. “Don’t forget to smash the _De Barros_ if she pokes her nose out!” called Ned. The _De Barros_, it will be recollected, was the only remaining vessel at Santa Anna, a small converted yacht. It was not likely that she would venture to try conclusions with the destroyer, which had proved herself such a terrible opponent, but if she did Captain Gomez meant to be ready for her. On and on into the darkness cantered the Americans and their silent guide. About midnight the moon arose and showed them that they were traversing a rough, hilly country near the seacoast. “We are not far from Miraflores,” said their guide, as he turned in his saddle. Miraflores! What memories the name recalled! How much had happened to each of them in the brief interval since their escape from the prison there! How much older each of them felt! Villas began to appear now at long intervals, dotted back in the dense greenery clothing the hillsides. Coffee and banana plantations surrounded many of them, with the great, flat “barbecues” showing white in the moonlight. Suddenly, as they rode along, Ned halted abruptly. The others drew rein as they noticed this. “What’s the trouble?” asked the middy, “horse gone lame?” “No, sir, but I thought I heard something.” “An owl, most likely. Come on, we must be pressing forward.” “No, sir, this wasn’t an owl. Hark! there it is again!” From a villa some distance back from the road was the apparent source of the cries. “It’s a call for help, sir!” exclaimed Stanley. “A woman’s voice!” added Ned. “Come on, boys,” shouted Stark, wheeling from the roadway, “we must see what is going forward up there.” CHAPTER XXII. AN ORDER TO HALT. A dense belt of dark-leaved bananas separated the villa from the highway, along which they had been riding. Without bothering to find a pathway, the Americans swung their horses into the plantation and rode forward at a rattling gait among the bananas.