He stripped off his coat, ran some distance away to a point where he could descend to the water's edge and made his way along the foot of the little bluff. Peering into the shadows, he called in vain to the Mexican.
Out beyond the point where the cliff shadow lay on the water there were tiny shimmering waves, but in that shadow he could see nothing.
"I'm afraid this is rather a serious matter for Jose Murillo," he muttered. "Had I realized the scoundrel couldn't swim, I'd followed him into the lake and pulled him out. I take it he's gone."
Juanita called to him from above:
"Can't you see him, Señor Carkaire?"
"Don't be alarmed, Juanita," he answered. "I'm coming back there. I'll be with you in a moment."
He took one last look in search of the Mexican.
"I had to defend myself," he thought. "I'm sorry I was concerned in it, but I think Jose Murillo will trouble Juanita no more."
She was waiting in a trembling anxiety as he reappeared. He picked up his coat and put it on.
"Deed you find heem?"