“Just a minute; wait till I hear the lad’s report.”
Meanwhile Harvey had been whispering rapidly: “The girls are on our horses, Rosita on Louis’s and Bella on mine. They are the swiftest horses in Chucuito. Both are several steps in advance of the men, and no one is touching them. They are good riders. Shall I do it?”
“Yes, and God help you. Quick now!”
The boy swung his horse round, and rising from his saddle yelled at the top of his voice:—
“Coo-ee! Coo-ee!”
It was a call used by brothers and sister. When out riding, if they became separated and wished to attract one another’s attention, this was their signal. It meant to hurry as well.
“Coo-ee! Coo-ee!”
Horses had learned the call, as well as the boys and the girl. The animals always pricked their ears and started toward the sound when it rang out.
“Coo-ee! Coo-ee!”
A sharp ring of hoofs; a scream from up the road—a scream, the intonation of which showed that the one who gave vent to it understood.