As the boys turned to retrace their path, Adrian lingered a moment to watch the flight of a flock of water-fowl, and, as he did so, his attention was attracted to the movements of a boat, which had put out from the mountain-side, and which had started the flight of the water-fowl. It contained three men, and, as it slipped silently out of the shadows of the overhanging trees, there was something about the appearance of the man at the stern which seemed most familiar, although he had his blanket thrown over his shoulder in such a manner as to conceal his face.
At first Adrian started to call his companions, but upon second thought he decided to do a little reconnoitering on his own hook. He accordingly
dismounted from his horse, and walked slowly around the trees which obscured his view. At his left was a little point of land, extending out into the water, and he slowly and cautiously made his way thither. From this point of vantage he obtained a good view of the river for quite a distance, and could see the boat without being seen.
It was very evident that the boat had come out of a little inlet about a hundred yards from the point upon which Adrian was standing, which appeared to be the mouth of a small brook. On the other side of the point, around which the boat was slowly being rowed, was a steep rock, at least three times the length of an ordinary skiff, beyond which it was impossible for Adrian to see. The boat headed directly for the rock, and a moment later disappeared behind it; but that one look was sufficient to convince Adrian that the man who had attracted his attention was the same who had tried to steal Pedro.
“I wonder what he is doing around here, anyway?” soliloquized Adrian. “No good, I’m sure. The best thing I can do is to hurry after the rest of them and tell them what I have seen. They’ll be wondering where I am.”
Hastily he scrambled up the bank to where he had left his horse, when, just as he raised his head above the edge, he felt a hand grasp his right foot, and he was pulled violently downward. For just
a minute he clung to the shrubbery about him, and then, gaining his wits, he suddenly relaxed his hold and, turning half way round, push himself backward.
It was an old trick he had learned at school, and the result was that he came down on top, instead of underneath, the man who had grasped his ankle.
In another moment he was engaged in a rough-and-tumble fight, which proved of short duration, for Adrian was much more than a match for his assailant. Almost as soon as it takes to tell it, Adrian was sitting on top of a white-shirted peon, whose only weapon was a great stone, with which he had doubtless intended to intimidate, rather than hit, the boy.
“Well,” exclaimed Adrian, as soon as he had gained his breath sufficiently to speak, “what do you mean by dragging me down like this?”