At Caguas, where he stopped for a cooling drink and a few minutes’ rest, he was advised to postpone the continuance of his journey.
“It is dangerous, señor,” said the proprietor of the little shop. “See!”
He pointed to the northeast, where, above the top of the dim, blue range, a black cloud was proceeding slowly westward, like a giant treading ponderously from peak to peak.
“Well, what of it?”
“It means a storm, señor; you will be drenched. And the trail over the mountains — at night—”
But the lieutenant commander stopped him with a gesture, mounted his pony, and departed.
He was very nearly in the center of the range, within two miles of the village of Rio, when the storm finally broke. It began with a mild drizzle; and the lieutenant commander dismounted long enough to unstrap the rubber poncho from his saddle and put it on.
He had not proceeded a hundred yards farther when the rain began to descend in torrents. At the same moment the fast-approaching darkness came like a blanket over the narrow trail; and the traveler found himself fighting blindly against whirling sheets of water and the impenetrable blackness of a tropical night.
He soon gave up the attempt to guide his pony; it required all his strength, bending over close against the animal’s neck, to maintain his seat. The roar of the wind and the descending torrents seemed terrific; he was incapable of thought or movement.
Something brushed violently against his body, and he felt the pony sway and stumble; then a jar, a feeling as though he was being hurled violently through space...
The lieutenant commander sat up, glanced round, and cursed long and variously. He wanted to know where in the name of the Seven Seas — Then he remembered.
He started to rise to his feet, and suddenly became conscious of a sharp, stinging pain in his left arm; and, trying to raise it, found that it hung helpless at his side. With another oath he stood up and stamped vigorously to assure himself of the seaworthiness of his legs, and gave an involuntarily grunt of pain as the shock communicated itself to the broken arm.
The storm was past.
Overhead the stars gleamed with the soft brilliance of the South. About and above him the thick foliage waved its broad fingers mysteriously in the gentle breeze, and through a rift to the left could be seen the uncertain white outline of a limestone cliff. Toward this the lieutenant commander made his way, thinking to find the trail. The pony was not to be seen.
For perhaps half an hour he searched for the trail, stumbling over roots and fallen branches, occasionally brought to an abrupt stop by a growth of shrubbery and vines too dense to penetrate.
At every step a shiver of pain ran through his body from the injured arm, and his head felt faint and dizzy.
Suddenly he found himself in an open clearing, at the farther end of which he saw a light shining from the window of a cottage. He staggered to it painfully and hammered on the door.
The door opened; the floor seemed to rise to meet him; and once more all was darkness.
When he awoke it was to a feeling of the most delicious warmth and weariness. For some minutes after he became conscious he kept his eyes closed, merely through the lack of desire to open them. Suddenly he heard a voice at his elbow. The words were Spanish.
“No, beloved, he is still asleep.”
Another voice, a man’s, came from across the room.
“But are you sure?”
“But yes. Really there is no cause for worry. Except for the arm, there is no injury.”
“All right. Come here, Rita.”
The lieutenant commander opened his eyes. It was broad daylight; evidently he had remained unconscious, or had slept, for many hours. He noted a small bamboo table placed close by the couch on which he lay, an American wicker rocking chair, a homemade palm screen; then his gaze wandered across the room, where stood the owners of the voices.
The girl was directly in front of the man, disclosing to view only the outlines of his figure. Suddenly she moved to one side; and the lieutenant commander gave a start of surprise and closed his eyes involuntarily.
Then he opened them again, slowly and cautiously. The man’s face stood out clearly in the light from the open window; and there could be no mistake.
“Decidedly,” thought the lieutenant commander, “I’m in a devil of a hole. The wonder is I’m still alive.”
Then he lay silent, feigning sleep, and overheard the following dialogue:
“Well, I must go,” accompanied by a masculine sigh.
“But, Tota! I’ve been waiting for you to say that; I’ve seen it in your eyes. This is our holiday; you promised it.”
“Now, little one, don’t be unreasonable. How could I foretell the storm? And those hombres; you know what they’re like. If it were not for the little trees—”
“Very well; then do you go. I shall not miss you; I shall amuse the stranger. I shall sing to him, and prepare for him the little yellow bisca, and perhaps—”
The voice ended with an indescribable tone of teasing suggestion.
“Rita! What do you mean?”
There came the sound of feet scurrying across the floor, a sigh, a little breathless laugh, then:
“Oh, Tota, my beloved! Well then, kiss me, kiss me! Ah!”
There was a pause, then the man’s voice: “And now—”
“Now you may go. But I shall go with you to the spring. And I want — but come, I’ll tell you on the way.”
The lieutenant commander heard them go out, leaving the door open behind them; and he opened his eyes and thought swiftly.
He understood at once that he had not been recognized; which was easily accounted for by the facts that he was in “civilians,” and that in the past six months he had grown a beard. But there still remained some danger; and this position of insecurity and helplessness was extremely unpleasant. Decidedly, he must get away at the very first opportunity. The first thing to do was to find out about his pony. He would ask the girl when she returned.
Then, suddenly, the lieutenant commander became aware of the fact that he felt exceedingly comfortable. Only his poncho, coat, and boots had been removed, he was covered only by a coarse cotton cloth, and there was a dull, aching pain in the injured arm from wrist to shoulder; still he felt unaccountably easy and contented.
The room, which he now noticed for the first time, though uncarpeted and with bare walls, had an indefinable air of coziness, even of refinement. The light entered with a soft glow at the window opposite, which he surmised to be toward the west; over the other window a green shade was drawn, to exclude the tropical sun.
Two or three wicker chairs, an American sewing machine, and a table or two were all the room contained; yet such was its effect that the lieutenant commander, who had never noticed a mere room before in all his life, found himself studying it with interest and appreciation.
He was roused by the sound of approaching footsteps, and looked up to see the girl coming up the path toward the open door. In her arms was a huge bunch of rose orchids.
She entered the room silently and placing the flowers on a table, tiptoed to the side of the couch. Then seeing that the lieutenant commander’s eyes were wide open, she smiled brightly.
“Ah! The señor is awake.”
“Yes.” In spite of himself, he smiled back at her.
“Well! But you have slept a very long time. And the arm — does it pain you greatly?”
She carefully drew back the coverlet, and the lieutenant commander perceived for the first time that the sleeve of his shirt had been slit to the shoulder and his arm encased in rude splints and bandages.