"I wonder if the army of invasion has come," was Walter's thought, as he, too, sought the open air. A short sword lay beside a writing-table under a near-by shelter, and he appropriated the weapon. "I'm going to join our men or know the reason why!" And away he went toward the water, which could now be seen quite plainly between the rocks and hills.
The marines, after fighting from early afternoon until the following morning, were now intrenched on a small hill, protected in front by a dense chaparral. They were utterly worn out, and it was found necessary to reënforce them by men from the _Marblehead_ and other vessels. Several field-guns had been brought ashore, and although the firing from the Spaniards was heavy, our gallant men held the ground they had first claimed.
"Halt! Who comes there?" came the command, from a thicket, and Walter stopped short, although the words, spoken in true English, filled him with joy.
"Are you an American?" questioned the youth, eagerly.
"Walter Russell, cruiser _Brooklyn_. Oh, but am I not glad to get back among the boys again!"
"From the _Brooklyn_? What are you doing ashore here?" questioned the marine, a bronzed but evidently a good-natured man of middle age.
"It's a long story. I've been a prisoner twice, and I was afraid I was about done for when the guards up and ran away from the prison and let me and a crowd of Cubans escape. How can I get back to my ship?"
"You're asking me too much now. Go down yonder and report to our commander. I reckon there ain't no call to rouse up the corporal of the guard, with everybody utterly worn out. You're true blue--I can see that by the cut of your jib."
Inside of five minutes more Walter found himself surrounded by half a dozen officers, including a major of marines, who questioned him closely regarding his adventures and concerning the various detachments of Spanish soldiers that he had encountered.
"You've been through a good deal, lad," said the major, slapping Walter on the shoulder. "I dare say you wouldn't like to go through it again."
"No, indeed! The Spaniards are--are brutes!" exclaimed the youth. "I only hope we send them from Cuba a-flying. I think they and the Cubans must have been fighting for the past three years like a lot of cats and dogs. It's high time Uncle Sam took a hand." This reply brought forth a hearty laugh from those gathered around. Walter, young as he was, had hit the nail right on the head, as later events proved.