"He knew we were in danger," declared Bob. "Otherwise you couldn't have hired him to tackle a thing like that," and the others were forced to admit that this must be so.
No one wanted to remain in that locality, so they set off once more without further delay. The road was now steeper than before, and by the time Caguas came into sight, everybody was fagged out and glad to think that traveling for that day had come to an end.
The appearance of the town was a disappointment to them. Caguas contains but five thousand inhabitants, mostly Caribbean negroes, and there are only a few buildings of fair size. The other shelters are mere huts, stretching along irregular streets, which are dirty in themselves and piled high with the refuse of years.
"The people here must be dirt poor," observed Don. "Gracious! I never thought to see such poverty—and with so much good land around that might be cultivated."
"Many of the folks won't work, no matter how hard ye drive 'em," answered old Jacob. "They live by stealin' their neighbors' fruit, and when they want anything from San Juan or Ponce they go into the woods, pick a bag or two o' cocoanuts, and take 'em along on a pony to trade with."
