Certain histories of the Cuban War for Independence speak of "The Battle of San Antonio de los Banos." They relate how one thousand patriots¹ captured the village after a gallant² and sanguinary resistance by its Spanish garrison³; how they released the prisoners in the local jail, replenished⁵ their own supplies, and then retired⁶ in the face of enemy reinforcements. It is quite a stirring story to read and it has but one fault, a fault, by the way, not uncommon⁷ in histories—it is mainly untrue.  
In the first place, the engagement was in no sense a battle, but merely a raid. The number of troops engaged was, perhaps, one-fifth of the generous total ascribed by the historians, and as a military manoeuver it served no purpose whatsoever⁸. That the Cubans delivered a spirited attack there is no denying. As a matter of fact, the engagement was characterized by an abandon, by a lack of caution, truly sensational⁹, the reason being that the Insurrectos were half starved and stormed the town much as hungry hoboes attack a lunch-counter. Nevertheless, since the affair had a direct bearing upon the fortunes of several people connected with this story, it is, perhaps, worth relating.
 
The Baths of St. Anthony consisted of a sulphur spring which for many years had been held in high regard by gouty and rheumatic Camagueyans; around this spring a village had arisen which boasted rather better shops than the ordinary country town. It was this fact which had induced the gallant and obliging Colonel Lopez to attack it, for, as he explained to his American friends, if any place outside of Habana was likely to contain pickles¹⁰, jam, sardines¹¹, candy, tooth-powder, and such other delicacies¹² as appeared necessary to the contentment of a visiting American lady, San Antonio de los Banos was the one. Colonel Lopez did not believe in half measures: once he had determined¹³ to prove his devotion to Norine Evans, he would have sacrificed himself and the flower of his command; he would have wasted his last precious three-pound shell in breaching¹⁴ the walls of San Antonio de los Banos rather than fail. But as a matter of fact the village had no walls and it was defended only by a couple of blockhouses. Therefore the colonel left his artillery¹⁵ behind.
 
Perhaps its name was the most impressive thing about San Antonio de los Banos. Its streets were narrow and steep and stony¹⁶, and its flinty little plaza¹⁷ was flanked by stores of the customary sort, the fronts of which were open so that mounted customers from the country might ride in to make their purchases. Crowning two commanding eminences¹⁸ just outside the village limits were the loopholed fortinas, where for months past the Spanish garrison had been dozing¹⁹.
 
Lopez and his troop approached the town in the early morning. As they deployed²⁰ for the attack the colonel issued private instructions to certain members of his command.
 
"O'Reilly, you and Senor Branch will enter one grocery-store after another. You will purchase that jam, those sardines, and whatever else you think Miss Evans would like. Captain Judson, you and Major Ramos will go to the apothecary-shop—I understand there is a very good one—and look for tooth-powder and candy and the like, I shall see that the streets are cleared, then I shall endeavor to discover some pickles; but as God is my judge, I doubt if there is such a thing this side of Habana."
 
Leslie Branch, whose temper had not improved with the long night ride, inquired, caustically²¹: "Do you expect us to buy the groceries? Well, I'm broke, and so is O'Reilly."
 
"Have you no money?" asked the colonel, vastly surprised.
 
"I haven't tipped my hat to a dollar since I quit newspaper work.
What's more, I want to do a little shopping for myself."
O'Reilly agreed: "If you don't give us some change, Colonel, we'll have to open a charge account in your name."
 
"Carmaba!" muttered Lopez. "I intended to borrow from you gentlemen.
Well, never mind—we'll commandeer what we wish in the name of the
Republic."
Lopez's attack proved a complete surprise, both to the citizens and to the garrison of the town. The rebel bugle²² gave the first warning of what was afoot, and before the Castilian troops who were loitering off duty could regain²³ their quarters, before the citizens could take cover or the shopkeepers close and bar their heavy wooden shutters²⁴, two hundred ragged²⁵ horsemen were yelling down the streets.
 
There followed a typical Cuban engagement—ten shouts to one shot. There was a mad charge on the heels of the scurrying²⁶ populace, a scattering²⁷ pop-pop of rifles, cheers, cries, shrieks²⁸ of defiance²⁹ and far-flung insults directed at the fortinas.
 
Bugles³⁰ blew on the hilltops; the defenders³¹ armed themselves and began to fire into the village. But since the Insurrectos were now well sheltered by the houses and only a portion of certain streets could be raked from the forts, the Spanish bullets did no harm. Obedient to orders, a number of Lopez's men dismounted and took positions whence they could guard against a sally, thus leaving the rest of the command free to raid the stores. In the outskirts³² of the town Mausers spoke³³, the dust leaped, and leaden messengers whined³⁴ through the air.
 
As locusts³⁵ settle upon a standing³⁶ crop, so did the army of liberators descend³⁷ upon the shops of San Antonio de los Banos. It was great fun, great excitement, while it lasted, for the town was distracted and its citizens had neither time nor inclination³⁸ to resist. Some of the shop-keepers, indeed, to prove their loyalty³⁹, openly welcomed the invaders⁴⁰. Others, however, lacking time to close up, fled incontinently, leaving their goods unguarded.
 
O'Reilly, with Branch and Jacket close at his heels, whirled his horse into the first bodega he came to. The store was stocked with general merchandise, but its owner, evidently a Spaniard, did not tarry to set a price upon any of it. As the three horsemen came clattering⁴¹ in at the front he went flying out at the rear, and, although O'Reilly called reassuringly⁴² after him, his only answer was the slamming of a back door, followed by swiftly diminishing cries of fright. Plainly, that rush of ragged men, those shots, those ferocious⁴³ shouts from the plaza, were too much for the peaceful shopkeeper and his family, and they had taken refuge in some neighbor's garden.
 
There was no time to waste. Johnnie dismounted and, walking to the shelves where some imported canned goods were displayed, he began to select those delicacies for which he had been sent. The devoted⁴⁴ Jacket was at his side. The little Cuban exercised no restraint; he seized whatever was most handy, meanwhile cursing ferociously⁴⁵, as befitted a bloodthirsty bandit. Boys are natural robbers, and at this opportunity for loot Jacket's soul flamed savagely⁴⁶ and he swept the shelves bare as he went.
 
"Hey, Leslie! Get something to carry this stuff in," O'Reilly directed over his shoulder. Receiving only a muttered reply, he turned to find that his fellow-countryman had cut down a string of perhaps two dozen large straw sombreros and was attempting to select one that fitted his head.
 
"Oh, look!" Branch murmured. "Forty dollars' worth of lids, but—all too small. They must have been made on the head of a cane⁴⁷."
 
"Take the whole string, but get us something to wrap up this grub in.
Hurry!"
Spurred by O'Reilly's tone and by a lively rattle⁴⁸ of rifle-shots outside, Leslie disappeared into the living-quarters at the back of the store. A moment later he emerged with a huge armful of bedclothes, evidently snatched at random⁴⁹. Trailing behind him, like a bridal veil, was a mosquito-net, which in his haste he had torn from its fastenings.
 
"I guess this is poor!" he exulted⁵⁰. "Bedding! Pillows! Mosquito-net!
I'll sleep comfortable after this."
From somewhere came the faint smothered⁵¹ wailing⁵³ of a baby—eloquent testimony⁵⁴ of the precipitate⁵⁵ haste with which the terrified storekeeper and his wife had fled. Dumping his burden of sheets, blankets, and brilliantly colored cotton quilts upon the floor, Branch selected two of the stoutest⁵⁶ and began to knot the corners together.
 
He had scarcely finished when Judson reined⁵⁸ in at the door and called to O'Reilly: "We've cleaned out the drugstore. Better get a move on you, for we may have to run any minute. I've just heard about some Cuban prisoners in the calaboose. Gimme a hand and we'll let 'em out."
 
"Sure!" O'Reilly quickly remounted, meanwhile directing Jacket to load the canned goods upon his horse and ride for the open country. He looked back a few moments later, to see his asistente emerge from the bodega perched between two queer-looking improvised⁵⁹ saddlebags bulging⁶⁰ with plunder⁶¹. The pony⁶² was overloaded⁶³, but in obedience⁶⁴ to the frantic⁶⁵ urgings of its barelegged rider it managed to break into a shambling trot⁶⁶. Branch reappeared, too, looping the eight-foot string of straw hats to his saddle-horn, and balancing before him the remainder of the bedding, done up in a gaudy⁶⁷ quilt.
 
Sharing in the general consternation⁶⁸ at the attack, the jail guards had disappeared, leaving Lopez's men free to break into the prison. When O'Reilly joined them the work was well under way. The municipal building of San Antonio was a thick-walled structure with iron-barred windows and stout⁵⁷ doors; but the latter soon gave way, and the attackers poured in. Seizing whatever implements⁶⁹ they could find, Judson and O'Reilly went from cell to cell, battering⁷⁰, prying⁷¹, smashing, leaving their comrades to rescue the inmates⁷². This jail was a poor affair. It could scarcely be dignified⁷³ by the name of a prison; nevertheless, true prison conditions prevailed in it and it was evidently conducted in typically Spanish fashion. The corridors were dark and odorous, the cells unspeakably foul⁷⁴; O'Reilly and Judson saw, heard, smelled enough to convince them that no matter how guilty the prisoners might be they had been amply punished for their crimes.
 
This, too, was swift work. The building echoed to rushing, yelling men, while outside a fitful accompaniment of gun-shots urged the rescuers to greater haste. While the Americans smashed lock after lock, their comrades dragged the astonished inmates from their kennels⁷⁵, hustled⁷⁶ them into the street, and took them up behind their saddles.
 
The raid was over, "retreat" was sounding, when Judson and O'Reilly ran out of the prison, remounted, and joined their comrades, who were streaming back toward the plaza.
 
"Whew!" Judson wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "No chance to ask these fellows what they were in for."
 
"No need to ask them," said Johnnie. "A month in there would be too much for a murderer."
 
"The druggist said most of 'em are just patriots, and every holiday the
Spaniards shoot one or two. There's no cock-fighting, so it's the only
Sunday amusement they have. Did you notice that sick guy?"
"Yes."
 
"He looked to me like he was plain starved. Our fellows had to carry him."
 
Colonel Lopez galloped⁷⁸ up to inquire, anxiously, "Did you find those eatables, eh?"
 
"Yes, sir, and a lot more."
 
"Good! But I failed. Pickles? Caramba! Nobody here ever heard of one!"
 
"Did we lose any men?" Judson asked.
 
"Not one. But Ramos was badly cut."
 
"So? Then he got to close quarters with some Spaniard?"
 
"Oh no!" The colonel grinned. "He was in too great a hurry and broke open a show-case with his fist."
 
The retreating Cubans still maintained their uproar⁷⁹, discharging their rifles into the air, shrieking⁸⁰ defiance at their invisible foes⁸¹, and voicing insulting invitations to combat. This ferocity, however, served only to terrify further the civil population and to close the shutters of San Antonio the tighter. Meanwhile, the loyal troops remained safely in their blockhouses, pouring a steady fire into the town. And despite this admirable display of courage the visitors showed a deep respect for their enemies' markmanship, taking advantage of whatever shelter there was.
 
Leslie Branch, of course, proved the solitary⁸² exception; as usual, he exposed himself recklessly and rode the middle of the streets, regardless of those sudden explosions of dust beneath his horse's feet or those unexpected showers of plaster from above.
 
He had spent his time assiduously ransacking⁸³ the deserted⁸⁴ shops, and in addition to his huge bundle of bedding and his long string of straw hats he now possessed⁸⁵ a miscellaneous assortment⁸⁶ of plunder, in which were a bolt of calico, a pair of shoes, a collection of cooking-utensils, an umbrella, and—strangest of all—a large gilt-framed mirror. The safety of these articles seemed to concern him far more than his own. Spying O'Reilly, he shouted:
 
"Say! What's the Spanish word for 'clothing-store'? I need a new suit."
 
"Don't be an idiot!" Johnnie yelled at him. "Keep under cover."
............