CHAPTER XLI.
THE MEETING AT CADOZA.
It is something like ten miles to Cadoza, another and
smaller railway town, and Ashley arrives about noon.
There is no American hotel here. Instead, a lazy Cuban
keeps a shiftless hostelry to which only necessity would
drive a man. A party of soldiers are gathered at the
inn and the yard is filled with their horses.
Ashley tethers his horse at a spot which he can overlook, as Rozinante is an animal that would tempt a man even more upright than a soldier in time of war. As he gives the bridle an extra hitch, a hand is dropped on his shoulder and a familiar voice whispers:
"Jack Ashley, by all that's holy!"
Ashley turns and cries out:
"Hello, Barker, old man! Where'd you get your uniform?" surveying the detective's distinctly military attire.
"Hist!" cautions Barker, glancing over his shoulder. "Buy a drink at the hotel and then ride up the road a piece. I'll join you there." Saying which the detective walks away and Ashley enters the hotel.
The drinking-room is filled with Spanish caballeria, who glance curiously at the American; after procuring a glass of wine and a cigar, Ashley mounts and rides leisurely up the road. A quarter of a mile from the hotel he finds Barker waiting, and he remarks, with a grin: "Barker, you're a fashion plate. Where on earth did you get those togs?"
"Hang it! Will you be serious ten minutes," growls Barker. "Let me tell you that the commanding officer of the gang at the hotel is Capt. Julio Alvarez, who is none other than our old friend Ralph Felton."
"So? And to trail him you turned trooper, eh?"
"Exactly. Through him I expect to find the other Felton, his father."
