“The dogs!” vented Juan, gnashing his teeth as he looked the troopers over. “Of course they surrender, for the Cubans treat their prisoners of war kindly, and it is easier to surrender than to be shot. Besides, these fellows know that the Cubans cannot be bothered long with prisoners and that they will be set free.” “This is horse fair day for us,” laughed Hal. “Besides the horses which the Spaniards ride, there are four more below which appear to be uninjured.” This was the fact. Hal’s little command now had eighteen horses in all. As soon as these had been corralled, the field was gone over for every weapon and cartridge that could be found. Fifteen minutes were thus consumed. At last Hal had time to think of the pacifico who had been killed. He was dead beyond a doubt. “My brother,” huskily murmured another of the pacificos. “He died nobly, in a good cause,” said Hal, soothingly. “He died for Cuba!” cried the dead man’s brother, throwing back his head proudly. “I shall pray to the Almighty that I may die in the same splendid way.” Hal was ready to proceed, now, yet before the start could be made there was one sad duty to perform--the saddest that belongs to war. A shallow trench was dug, and in this the man who had been slain was laid. Then, while the rest stood by with uncovered heads, murmuring silent prayers, two of the pacificos covered the still form over. There was no time to bury the Spanish slain. Indeed, the Cubans, embittered by more than three years of suffering under the infamous war methods of Spain, were in little mood to do anything decent by the remains of the slain foe. “The buzzards shall get them,” cried Juan, disdainfully. “The buzzards alone, in Cuba, do not go hungry!” As Hal’s little command and considerable train moved forward, our hero heard the story of the pacificos. Some fourteen months before they had broken away from Havana. Since then they had lived in hiding in the woods, subsisting mainly on roots and fruit. Once in a while they had received morsels of meat from passing bodies of Cuban soldiers. But the law of the Republic of Cuba forbade them to join the army without weapons and ammunition, which was the only reason they had remained pacificos. That very morning they had been surprised and surrounded while sleeping. Incapable of resistance for lack of arms, they had been forced to surrender. They were on their way to Havana when rescued. Had their journey been finished they would undoubtedly have been shot in the prison yard of either Morro Castle or the Cabanas Fortress. From these men Hal learned that the Cuban commander, Major Alvaredo, was supposed to be somewhere in the neighborhood, though that officer’s exact location could be only a matter of conjecture, for the Cubans moved from point to point with the speed of human lightning. “I shall volunteer to the first Cuban commander I meet--no matter who he is,” declared Hal.