The lad had indeed thought of a way to outwit the bandits. It came to him suddenly, and was not fully matured even when he started from General Matajente’s side, but as he rode on he saw more clearly, and his heart beat fast and the blood surged to his cheeks. “If they are only mounted on Nigger and Tom,” he thought. “If they only——”
His guide stopped further reflection by the sharp command, “Wait here, while I ride on,” and Harvey reined in his horse under an ironwood tree, about fifty yards from the group, which could now be seen distinctly ahead.
The envoy evidently conferred with the leader, for after a few minutes another voice called out, “Ride up! quick now!” and the boy urged his horse forward. He was permitted to approach within a few feet, and there he saw his sister and her friend, both mounted on horses and seated astride.
“Thank God!” he thought, “Rosita is on Nigger and Bella is on Tom.”
The girls were not bound, nor were they gagged, but forming a semicircle behind and at the sides of them, partly in the road and partly in the long grass, were a dozen mounted bandits, revolvers shining in their hands. The girls were very pale, but did not appear to have been injured in any way. They looked like ghosts there in the moonlight, clad in the white dresses they had donned for the evening at Chucuito. They were strangely silent, and the only greeting given Harvey was with their wild, staring eyes.
The man who had called out rode from the centre, and Harvey saw that he was Alfred, the discharged servant.
“Want to speak with your sister, eh, boy? Well, you can. They’re all right. Yes, you may answer,” he added, turning to the girls. “You see, we told them we’d blow their brains out if they said anything.”
“Oh, Harvey! Save us! Save us! Isn’t papa coming?”
“It will be all right, Rosita,” the boy answered nervously. “Have you been hurt?”
“No, not much. My side pains me, for I was lifted suddenly into the saddle.”