"It is too late," said he, "to go by a roundabout way. We must walk straight there. There are many things which cause me to believe that danger is close at hand."
"What else?" asked Harry, who already was conscious that his heart was beating quickly.
"Late last night I saw smoke on the mountains. This morning, before we started, my brother thought he heard a shot, far in the distance. Also," he added, "during the last three days we have seen very little game. Something has scared them away."
"Come," said Harry. "We waste time in words. As it is, we have barely time to get back before nightfall."
As he said this he rose to his feet, and the moment he did so there came the double report of a rifle from far away in the hills, and a bullet cut past him and buried itself in the ground, not fifteen paces from his feet.
"Down," cried the guide, "for your life!"
[CHAPTER IX—The Captive]
Harry was not slow to obey. He fell flat upon his face, whilst a second bullet whistled over his head.
"Come," said Cortes; "we must escape."
As he uttered these words, he turned upon his heel and ran down the hill, followed by the two boys. The man held himself in a crouching position until he was well over the crest-line. Then he stopped and waited for his companions.