isurely east, escorting an empty wagon drawn by four mules. It meant
much, these armed escorts, showing they were in the face of the enemy.
Several others passed during the hour of my watch. Then, with many
cautious glances up and down the road, I slipped quietly across and
crept for two hours through the jungle. Making my way to the side of the
bay, I saw that I had left the military post behind me. There were white
barracks and a wharf with people walking on it, and here the road and
beach were one. This much discovered, I went a safe distance into the
jungle and lay down to have a good sleep, feeling I would need all my
energy and strength for the coming night, as it promised to be a
critical one, especially as I could not afford to wait for the moon to
go down, and would not have the shelter of darkness, for the moonlight
was so powerful that one could easily read print by it.

I slept until dark, and awoke refreshed, then lunched and nearly
finished my last bottle of water. I had only sufficient food for two
more light meals. After lunch I smoked for an hour, star-gazing and
philosophizing. At 9 o'clock, emerging into the road, I started
cautiously out, walking in the shadow of the jungle as much as possible.
I thought the head of the inlet was about ten miles away, and expected
to find a military post or at least a picket stationed there.

* * * * *

Daylight once more. But it found me happy and content, for the
difficulties of the passage of the wide inlet, which had confronted me
the night before, had all been surmounted. I was now in a densely wooded
point on the western side of the bay. Between me and San Diego lay a
wild no man's land of fifty miles. That meant only two nights more of
peril and uncertainty, and it was all straight going. So far as the
coast line was concerned I was outside of the Spanish lines. Tired out
and very well contented, just as the sun rose fiery red above the
horizon, I lay down and was at once in dreamland. At noon, hungry and
with only a few ounces of food to satisfy my hunger, I woke. Finishing
my last bit of ham and bread, I lighted a cigar and set about planning.
Pulling out my little map, I began to scan it for the thousandth time.
About six miles to the north was the little town of San Miguel. Between
me and San Diego lay fifty miles of wild country swept by fire and
sword, without an inhabitant and without food. Hungry as I already was,
I fel