The plan was approved and the boy left the camp, imitating the manner in which Señor Cisneros had made his journeys of the evening before. The three within the enclosure looked at him approvingly, and the Peruvian said: “He worms his way along as well as an experienced woodsman. That’s a very clever lad.”
“Indeed, he is,” said Hope-Jones, “and a more truthful, honest youngster I never met.”
They watched the tree which Harvey had spoken of as his goal, and before long they saw something moving in the branches, but very slowly, for the boy was observing even more caution than when on the ground. After ten minutes’ careful climbing he reached a spot halfway to the top, where the branches were fewer, and there he stopped, evidently at a sufficient altitude to look over the intervening boulders and see the camp of the Majeronas. He was stationary for a few seconds, then they saw him commence to descend, but no longer slowly and with caution; he came down hand below hand, and when he reached the ground he ran to the camp, not attempting to observe the quiet which had marked his departure.
Knowing that he must have good cause for alarm and feeling that an attack was possibly imminent, the three men stood at a “ready” in the openings, their weapons poised. When Harvey joined them he said quickly, but in low tones:—
“A half dozen of the savages are coming this way. They were not far off when I left the tree and were moving slowly, looking closely at the ground, as if in search of something. The others are still in camp.”
Saying this, Harvey picked up his shot-gun.
“You say they are walking slowly and looking down, as if in search of something?”
“Yes, captain. They were bent low, and at first I thought they were crawling; then I saw that they appeared to be examining the ground as they passed.”
“Hum! I suppose they found my trail. The copper-colored rascals have a scent as keen as a dog. But I think that I fooled them.”
“How so?” asked Ferguson.