After giving the engineer a little start, the Scouts followed. Burdened by camping equipment, they fell farther and farther back. As dusk approached, they began to feel uneasy lest they lose him entirely.
“I don’t like to make camp after dark,” Mr. Livingston said. “On the other hand, if Rhodes can press on, I guess we can too.”
Eager to make time, the Scouts did not halt to cook supper. Instead, they ate cold snacks as they jogged on over the uneven trail. Presently, they gained on Rhodes and in the gathering darkness dimly could make out his figure ahead.
The party approached the bisecting path which Willie and War had marked on their crude map dropped from the plane. Mr. Livingston was consulting it with a shielded flashlight, when Jack, who was leading, suddenly halted his mule.
“Hey, what’s the idea?” Ken demanded.
“Rhodes is at the trail junction!” Jack informed him in a whisper. “Something’s wrong! I think he’s been held up!”
“Held up!” Ken echoed, peering ahead. “Jeepers!”
From the bushes on the trail some distance below them, a dapper little man had emerged. By his body build, the Scouts were sure that it was Carlos, the bandit. Though they could not see plainly, they knew that the man must have the engineer covered.
“We haven’t been detected yet,” Jack warned in a whisper. “Those sharp bends in the trail protected us from view. Let’s see what happens!”
The Scouts could hear heated conversation in Spanish and Rhodes’ violent protests. But they were to no avail. The engineer was forced to dismount and set his mule free. Carlos then ordered him to start afoot ahead of him up the steep bisecting trail.