“Did Pedro have anything to say about us?” inquired Bob.
“That’s where the good part of it comes in,” went on the girl. “The rebels think you’re in the woods, somewhere to the north of the path. All the general’s force, excepting about twenty-five armed men who are guarding the prisoners at the encampment, are hunting through the timber in the hope of catching you. Fingal is helping in the search, and vows he will make you pay dearly for the part you played in the capture of my father.”
“I fail to see anything pleasant in all this, even yet,” continued Dick. “I thought you said that here was where the good part comes in?”
“Can’t you see?” cried the girl. “If all the rebels, outside the encampment, are looking for you in the timber the other side of the path, why, that leaves the way clear to the submarine. We can go there, right off, and get away from General Pitou and his men.”
There was a short silence after this. Bob and Dick were both turning the subject over in their minds. When their eyes sought each other, dogged determination could be read in each glance.
“As you say, Ysabel,” said Bob, “we have an opportunity to get back to the submarine, but we can’t go and leave our friends behind us.”
“You—can’t go?” breathed the girl, staring at Bob as though she scarcely understood his words. “Why can’t you go?” she went on, almost fiercely. “Your friends are captured, and how can you hope to get them away from twenty-five armed men? Don’t be so foolish! Get away while you can—pretty soon it will be too late, and if you are caught you will be shot.”
“What’s in that handkerchief, Ysabel?” queried Dick, pointing to the parcel Pedro had placed on the ground near the water jar.