"Orders were to keep you out of sight," growled the second guard.
"All right, I'll go back as soon as I've cleaned out my lungs."
While the captain was speaking he was peering around sharply, trying to locate the other desperadoes and ascertain what the chances of escape really were.
As he gazed first to one side and then the other, he caught sight of a hand waving in the air. A second later he made out the head and shoulders of old Benson, as the scout rose to his feet behind some brushwood.
The thought that the scout was at hand to assist them cheered the young officer wonderfully, and he drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
"Are you going back soon?" growled one of the guards.
"Yes," answered the captain. "But I say," he went on, "why can't we come to terms?"
"Don't want to make any terms with you," growled the other guard.
"It might be better for you to do so."
"We know our own business best, captain. You just go back as you was ordered to do. If you don't——"