Miss Starland was still gazing, hoping and dreading the appearance of the craft, when her friend pressed her arm and asked in a hurried undertone:
“Do you see him?”
She indicated a point in the trail no more than a furlong distant, where it emerged around a mass of rocks, between the Castle and the waterfall. The path just there was so narrow as to permit the passage of only a single person or animal. Withdrawing her gaze from the distance, she made out the form of a man, standing at the curve. He was motionless, and evidently studying the Castle.
His dress and swarthy countenance, plainly visible in the sunlight, showed that he was a native, who, for some reason, felt a peculiar interest in the grim structure. He may have stood thus for some minutes before the Señorita observed him, but he remained for a brief while longer, so stationary that he might well have been taken for a figure of stone.
“Do you know him?” asked the American.
“Only that he is an Atlamalcan; he wears the blue jacket; that of the Zalapatans is red,—the two tints being the distinguishing features of their uniforms; you observe he is dressed the same as our guards.”
“Have you ever seen him before?”
“He is too far off for me to observe his countenance clearly, but, so far as I can say, he is a stranger. I think he is a member of our guard.”
“Why then is he not with them? What is his object in going out there and posing in that way?”
“I wish I could answer your questions. Perhaps our captain suspects we are dreaming of escape and he has sent out guards to watch the Castle from all sides.”