as the place for holding up the train. Here the road crosses the railway and beyond is a long stretch of straight track.
The six proceed silently to the appointed spot, and then, there being no further occasion for secrecy, they fall to smoking and chatting. The train is due at Jibana at 10 and there is yet half an hour to wait.
Twenty minutes of it go by, when Alvarez discovers that his party is short two men.
"Ho! Sancho! Francisco!" he calls, and repeats the shout, there being no response. "Whither went they, Parker?" he asks, turning to his orderly.
"They were here a few minutes ago, captain. I last noticed them strolling toward the road."
Alvarez utters an impatient growl. "Search them out, Pedro, and thou, too, Juan. The train will be here in five minutes."
As the two troopers addressed take themselves off in quest of their companions Alvarez lights a lantern and hands it to the orderly.
"By the way, what disposition is to be made of the prisoner?" asks the latter.
"We shall have to shoot him, I expect," is the cool response. "We can't very well take him with us, and we certainly cannot turn him loose."
"It seems a rather cold-blooded piece of business. It savors of murder."
At the word Alvarez shivers slightly. The nights in Cuba are damp and chilly.
"Ten o'clock," he mutters, holding his watch to the lantern. "Where the devil are my men? We shall likely have to go in search of the second pair. Ha, the train!"
The whistle of the Havana express is heard in the distance and the men leap to their feet.
"Down the track with you," orders Alvarez. "As for you," turning to four forms that are approaching from the shadows of the highway, "el diablo! What sort of men have I in my command?"
The troopers make no reply to the angry query of their leader.
