"Two hundred rods beyond us lies the road," he says; "and fifty yards farther is the track. We will hitch here."
"Very good," declares Ashley. "Here, then, we separate. It is now nearly 8 o'clock," consulting his watch by the glow of his cigar. "Good luck, old man. The signal for my reappearance will be the old rallying cry of 'Santiago.'
The men exchanged a hearty handclasp. Then Ashley dismounts, and headed by the guide, leads Rozinante through the brush to the road. Here he vaults into the saddle again and canters toward the town.
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE FIGHT IN THE MOONLIGHT.
"Didn't expect you back so soon," declares Landlord
Carter, answering Ashley's halloa without the Hotel
Americano at Jibana.
"I am a little ahead on my own calculations," is the reply. "Are the Americans still here?"
"No, sir; left this afternoon for Santiago."
"Full house, though, I judge, motioning toward the windows of the reading-room, from which emanate snatches of song and the clink of glasses.
"Yes; gang of Spanish troopers. Noisy devils. Stop overnight, I suppose?"
"Sure. I want some supper in a hurry and a room at your leisure."
The landlord shouts to the hostler, who leads Rozinante away to his well-earned grain, and Ashley follows Carter into the hotel, with the remark: "I do not care to have those chaps in there see me, or know who I am."
"All right, sir. This way. The troopers are all in the drinking-room and they haven't moved out of their chairs for an hour."
Supper over, Ashley is shown to his room and the
