“Dat is verra fortunate, señors. You come to see Señor Hockley, not so?” “We did? Is he here?” “He no here now. He had to go to udder house. He send me here to drive you dare, señors,” and the Cuban bowed low. “To drive to another house?” queried Darry. “Yes, Señor Carane. Dare is my volante. Please to step in, señors.” “Wait.” Sam caught Darry by the arm. “Is it far?” he questioned. “Not verra far, señor--verra nice drive dis a-morning.” “What is the matter with our friend, Mr. Hockley?” At this the Cuban shrugged his shoulders. “Cannot tell, señor. He is hurt in de back, I t’ink.” “Hurt in the back!” came from both Sam and Darry. “That looks bad,” continued the former. “Let us go to him by all means.” And he followed the Cuban to the _volante_. “It’s a wonder Hockley didn’t come straight to our hotel if he was hurt,” said Darry. “But it’s just like him. He is as stubborn as an ox when he wants to be.” In Cuba the _volante_, or “flyer” is the national carriage. It is a two-seated vehicle, slung on leathern straps between two very high wheels. The shafts are fifteen feet long, and the horses are harnessed tandem, the leader being for the postillion, or driver. It makes a very comfortable turnout and, because of the width from wheel to wheel, such a thing as a volante turning over is unknown. They were soon moving over the highway at a good rate of speed. The Cuban offered no more explanations and merely shrugged his shoulders when questioned. “Either he is very dumb or he doesn’t wish to explain,” whispered Darry. “I don’t suppose Glummy told him everything, Darry. Perhaps the poor fellow is hurt too much for that.” “He can’t be so badly off, or he wouldn’t have been able to write that letter. By the way, what did you do with it?” “Tore it up.” They were now passing several private residences and a moment later turned into a road which seemed almost deserted. Here the trees grew so low down that they frequently brushed the boys’ heads. “How much further?” demanded Sam. “We come dare soon,” shouted back the Cuban, and whipped up his horses harder than ever. There was a small brook to cross and then they turned into another side road. Here they beheld an old stone building, which looked somewhat like a deserted convent. The windows were barred, but the doorway stood open. “He in dare, señors,” said the _volante_ driver. “He have a fall not far from here.” The Cuban pointed to the old stone building. “I don’t understand this,” muttered Sam. “First he said that Hockley had to go to ‘udder house.’ Now he said he had a fall here.” “Come on, I’m not afraid, Sam.” So speaking Darry walked through the open doorway into the stone building. There being nothing else to do, Sam followed, and the _volante_ driver came after the pair. CHAPTER X THE OLD CONVENT