“We can get down all right, but to get out is a different proposition.”
“Pedro should have tested that bridge before he started across,” Ken said with a worried frown. “Wonder why it collapsed? Age probably.”
“It seemed to give way everywhere at once.”
Ken examined the withes, and the muscles of his lean, brown jaw tightened.
“Jack, this bridge was deliberately weakened!”
“You’re sure?”
“See for yourself, Jack. The underpinning’s been cut with a sharp knife. Quite recently too! Maybe today or within the last few hours!”
The discovery rather unnerved the two Scouts. With Pedro helpless on the rocks below, and Mr. Livingston somewhere behind them, suffering from fever, their situation seemed to be growing more precarious by the moment.
“Hostile Indians probably,” Jack muttered. “Something like this is to be expected after those warning arrows. They’re trying to prevent us from going on. We’re at the fringe of the forbidden country.”
“If the Indians get it into their heads we’re here to despoil treasure temples, I hate to think of the revenge they might wreak on us! We’re in a spot, Jack.”