Noon came and went and found me still tramping around the valley looking for Alano and Jorge. In my passage through the bushes my already ragged clothing was torn still more, until I felt certain that any half-decent scarecrow could discount me greatly in appearance.
At four o’clock, utterly worn out, I threw myself on the ground in a little clearing and gave myself up to my bitter reflections. I felt that I was hopelessly lost. Moreover, I was tremendously hungry, with nothing in sight with which to satisfy the cravings of my appetite. Night, too, was approaching. What was to be done?
[CHAPTER XIX.]
THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN.
I lay in the clearing in the valley for all of half an hour. Then, somewhat rested, I arose, unable to endure the thought that night would find me in the wilds alone and unarmed.
I could well remember how the sun had stood when I had separated from my companions, and now, using the sun as a guide, I endeavored once more to trace my steps to the path leading down to the river. Once the stream was gained, I resolved to search up and down its banks until the old convent was sighted.
My course led me up the side of a small mountain, which I climbed with great difficulty, on account of the loose stones and dirt, which more than once caused my ankle to give a dangerous twist. A sprained ankle would have capped the climax of my misfortunes.
Just as the sun was beginning to set behind the peaks to the westward of me, I reached a little plateau which divided a ridge from the mountain proper. Here I rested for a few minutes and obtained a refreshing drink at a spring under some rocks. Then I went on, in some manner satisfied that I was on the right path at last.