On all sides of them, amid the trampled cane-stalks, lay the dead, some on their backs, some on their knees, as if trying to crawl away to some spot to die. Many were the pools of human blood, and in more places than one the sugar-cane was dyed with human blood. "Horrible! horrible! I cannot bear it!" gasped Estella, as her brain began to reel. "I must leave it, Cara. Come!" "I see nothing of your father," said the maid, holding the lantern aloft and gazing around. "Look! Look!" she added, suddenly, and pointed ahead. "What is it?" asked Estella. "A soldier, alive! See! he is beckoning to us. Poor man, let us go to him!" "Yes, yes! Perhaps he was left for dead!" replied Estella, readily. They ran to the side of the soldier, and found he was badly wounded in the side, from which his life's blood was oozing rapidly. "A drink!" he murmured, so faintly that Estella could scarcely hear him. "A drink!" There was a little spring close at hand, and Estella ran and procured a tin-cupfull of water. He tried to drink, but could not, and the effort brought on a fit of coughing. "I am done for!" he sighed, and for the moment he closed his eyes. Then he opened them again. "It was a fair fight, I suppose," he rambled. "Did he die, as I am to die?" "He! Who?" asked Estella. "The man who faced me. Let me see! Ah, yes, he called himself General Corona; he was brave, too, but he didn't escape entirely, I know that. I thrust at him with my sword, and he fell--but I fell first----" He gave a gasp. "Maybe he is dead, and we'll meet in the other land. Yes, I pressed him close--the thrust was near his heart--Cuba libre! Cuba lib----!" The last word ended in a cough. Estella sprang forward to raise up the soldier, but alas! there was no use of so doing. He was dead. The cane-field seemed to swim before the beautiful girl's eyes. What had the soldier said--that he had fought her father--pierced him to the heart with his sword! Could it be true, and was her only remaining parent now dead? She gave a piteous cry, and buried her face upon Cara's bosom. "He is dead!" she moaned. "I feel it--I know it! Oh, Father in Heaven be merciful to me--protect Thy child, who is now left utterly alone!" CHAPTER XI. "BACK! IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE!" Cara had been mistaken when she supposed Howard had been carried off in a wagon. A wagon had been used for several other prisoners, but Howard had been tightly bound with rawhide thongs and lashed to the back of a mule, which was then led away by one of the soldiers who had accompanied the detachment on horseback. It was apparent that Howard need expect no favors from those who had him in charge. They considered him a spy, and as such destined to be finally shot; therefore, what was the use of kindness to him? He was jeered at and beaten, and when a halt was made for the night, at a plantation farm-house, he felt more dead than alive.