For some time this uproar continued, and at one moment it seemed to be coming perilously near; but in the end they overshot us, going down the hill some way below. Then they gave over shouting, and we heard no more of them, by which we judged they had given up the attempt to find us or the dog in despair, and were gone back the way they had come.
So when we counted it safe to move, we once more began to force our passage down to the river; and, not to tire the reader as much as we tired ourselves in this business, we at length reached the water-side.
Here, being exhausted with our exertions and faint for want of food, we made a fire, and ate a serpent roasted on the embers, which Matthew had cut down; and this I recollect, because it was the first time I had tasted of these reptiles; nor should I then have eaten it, having a great loathing for such worms, but that Matthew assured me they were excellent meat, as indeed they are for those who can get no better.
While we were regaling ourselves I begged Matthew to tell me why he had come down to the river instead of returning to the road.
"For two reasons, master," he replies. "First of all, there was not a bend of that road that was safe for us, seeing that at any turn we might have marched smack into the hands of the Portugals."
"I don't see that," says I; "for we had stood a better chance of catching sight of Lewis de Pino and his train going on before us than they of spying us creeping on behind them."
"How about the others?" says he.
"What others?"
"Why, they who have been hunting us with the dog."
"They, I take it, are Lewis de Pino's men," says I.