houting a short way
back.

The chase would have ended in no time had it not been for the woods,
which kept the fugitives out of sight so that they could not be shot.

But that was a protection that would not last forever. Clif gave a
sudden gasp as he saw a clearing ahead of them.

But it was only a small one, and the Americans sped across it at the
very top of their speed. They hoped to reach the woods before their foes
sighted them.

And they did. Then suddenly a new idea flashed over Clif.

"Stop a minute!" he cried. "Ready!"

The sailors saw him draw his revolver, and they knew what it meant. They
crouched in the bushes, waiting.

"We'll show them it isn't all play," Clif whispered.

And, a second later, half a dozen Spaniards dashed out of the woods.

"Fire!" roared Clif.

There was a quick volley, and then instantly the fugitives sprang up
again and sped on. They left several of their enemies lying on the
ground.

That unexpected move had evidently disconcerted the pursuers, who hadn't
looked for a reception of that kind.

They were not heard on the trail again for fully a minute, while the
Americans made the best possible use of their time. But the pursuers did
not mean to give up as easily as that, and they soon set out once more,
firing away as if a whole army were in sight.

Their little success raised the spirits of the gallant tars
considerably; they seemed to forget they were in the enemy's country.

And they chuckled gleefully to themselves as they raced on through the
woods; they were a pretty small army of invasion, but they had lots of
courage.

But there is a limit to what courage can do, and the unfortunate sailors
soon learned it.

They came to a second clearing, a broad savanna this time.

"We'll have to run for our very lives," gasped Clif.

For if they failed to reach shelter before the Spaniards came up the
former situation would be just reversed and the Spaniards could hide and
fire in safety.

And so the men set out at breakneck speed, as if they were in a hundred
yard's dash.

"I think we can make it," thought Clif. "They seem to be a long ways
behind."

The shouts of the enemy indicated it; Clif's volley had seemed to
deprive them of their former confidence and rashness.

But unfortunately, they were not the only Spaniards in Cuba. The firing
had not failed to attract attention.

The Americans had reached about the centre of the broad plain. There was
high gras