“Volunteer?” echoed Juan, smiling. “It is too late for that, mi amigo! Judging by the trail we have left behind, you are already a full-fledged Cuban commander. Never has so small a command done handsomer work.” At noon they halted, in the midst of one of nature’s blooming wildernesses. Here there had been no plantations, no homes, hence the blighting hand of Spanish devastation had not left its mark. For the first time our hero remembered the food with which Captain Blodgett had provided Juan and himself the night before. It was brought to light now, and given entirely to the three late pacificos. They devoured it like famished creatures. “It seems as if I lived again,” declared one of the poor, thin fellows, when he had finished. “It is like a touch of Heaven,” said the second. “The first real food I have touched in weeks,” sighed the third. “With this in my stomach I can fight for a week without feeding.” It was still dangerous to delay. Hal gave the word to start. It took an hour to cover the next five miles, for the road was now all the way up grade. It was near the top of a hill that Hal was startled by a sudden sharp command of: “Halt!” In the same instant our hero found himself looking into the muzzles of a dozen rifles. Yet the men behind those rifles were invisible behind a dense tangle of green foliage. “What do you want here?” came the quick question. It was Juan Ramirez who answered: “We seek Major Alvaredo.” “And if he is not here?” “Then any Cuban officer will do, for I know you to be Cubans. Send word to your commander, please, that five recruits wait to offer themselves.” “Major Alvaredo is here,” replied a grave voice. Through a screen of leaves came a short, wiry-looking man of middle age, a bronzed, scarred veteran who, despite his ragged attire, looked every inch the trooper. One hand rested on the naked machete that he wore dangling at his side; the other hand touched lightly against a revolver. “You are recruits?” he asked, keenly surveying the five, then gazing with intense pleasure upon the horses, weapons and prisoners they brought him. “Judging from appearances, you will be valuable recruits. Where do you come from?” Major Alvaredo listened with an interest that soon changed to amazement as he heard of the doings of the morning. By the time that the narration was over, he grasped our hero cordially by the hand. “You are ten times welcome, senor,” he cried. “You want to see service against Spain? Carramba! you shall see it. And if I mistake not, senor Americano, my general, Calixta Garcia, will receive you as something more than a private soldier. You have won a commission, if ever man did in our armies.” “If there is a commission going a-begging,” smiled Hal, “it belongs to my guide and mentor, Juan Ramirez.” “Oh, as to that,” smiled the major, “there may be commissions enough for two.”