Don was in a curious state of mind as they travelled on. He was anxious about Jim and Terry, and the thought that he might be going further away from them with each mile was not a pleasing one. But they had no definite clue as to the whereabouts of the others, and one direction was as good as another. All of them felt that they had made for the coast, but just where on the coast they had no idea. It was simply a matter of keeping going, and watching carefully for the slightest sign which would send them in the right direction.
Before noon they arrived at the place where the old Indian village had been and where the Spanish crew, probably from the galleon, had been killed. The village had stood in a slight basin, hidden in a convenient roll of the sheltering foothills, and there was now but little to tell that there had ever been a village there. All trace of the huts which had once been there was lost, but several places in the hills, hollowed out of the volcanic dykes, showed that someone had once lived there. Some low mounds marked the burial places of the ancient Indians.
The sage pointed to the south. “From that direction the men came,” he said, his dull eyes kindling as he thought of the glory of his former race. “The village in which my fathers lived was originally there, but they lived here in order to flee into the mountains when the Spaniards came. It was here that the crew of the great ship were killed, and afterward my people scattered, leaving a few of my race in the hills and the mountains.”
They looked around the spot with interest and discussed the possibilities. Some miles east of them lay the sea, and Ned argued that the creek up which the galleon had sailed could not be far off. He would have liked to have set out for it at once, but realizing that the task of finding the missing boys was of far greater importance he smothered his desire, resolved to return some day and strike off from that spot.
“The Spaniards were evidently heading for the mountains at the time that they fell into the hands of the Indians,” the professor said.
“Why should they head for the mountains?” Don asked. “Wouldn’t they have been more likely to have kept to the shore, in the hope of being picked up by another ship?”
“I don’t think so,” replied the professor. “They may have intended to make their way over the mountains to Mexico, or they may have feared the Indians with good cause, for their cruelties made the Indians eager to lay hands on them. Probably they feared the very thing that did befall them.”
“Well, now that we have at least marked the portion of the country where the crew appeared, let’s get on,” suggested Ned. “In all my searching I fell short of this region by a good twenty-five miles, and this will help me get my bearings. Evidently the spot of the wreck is still some miles to the south, but I think we should be able to come across it when we have more leisure to look around.”
“What is your thought?” inquired Professor Scott. “Shall we strike down to the coast?”
“I think so,” nodded Ned. “Then we can beat up the coast toward the ranch, keeping our eyes open for the boys. Surely they didn’t go any further south than this.”