The bandit drew his hand across his throat significantly.
“Stop!” implored Señor Cisneros, seizing Mr. Dartmoor’s bridle rein.
“Twenty thousand dollars! You don’t suppose we’ve anywhere near that sum at our command!”
“Our captain says that you can get it, señor commandante. He knows of the gold mine.”
“But even if we could get the money, it would take a long time. Will you return the señoritas to us if we promise to pay?”
“I will ask the captain,” was the answer, and the man rode back. He soon returned. “No, señor commandante. The captain will keep the señoritas, and they will be taken to our camp near Chosica. He promises they will be unharmed if you will do what he says.”
“What is that?”
“Return to Callao, secure the money, then two of you, not more, come to Chosica twenty-four hours from now. We shall be able to see you approaching a mile away. If more than two come, it will be useless, for no one will appear; but if you do as the captain says, the señoritas will be delivered to you.”
“That can never be!” exclaimed Mr. Dartmoor. “Twenty-four hours in those rascals’ hands! The girls had better be dead. Let’s advance, general.”
“Please don’t interfere,” urged the officer. Then to the bandit he said, “What do you suppose will happen to you later?”