"No, I have not seen them," said Cortes. "But the beast saw them, or got their wind. Otherwise he would not have gone."
"It's von Hardenberg, perhaps!" said Harry, turning to Braid, the wish being father to the thought.
Both looked at their guide.
"It is either the man you want," said the guide, "or else it is the Germans."
The wounded animal was now forgotten. They were face to face with the reality of their situation. They had either overtaken von Hardenberg and Peter Klein or else the Germans had received news of their having reached the frontier.
"We'll have to cross the valley," said Harry, "to get back to camp."
"That is the worst of it," said Cortes; "we must rejoin my brother. He will be awaiting us."
He had learnt his English on the Coast. He spoke the language well, but with the strange, clipped words used by the natives themselves, though the man was half a Spaniard.
"How are we to get there?" asked Jim.
The guide looked at the sun.