The bandit seized the weapon with a diabolical grin, and, with a movement swift as thought, fired at the hunter. But Curumilla was watching him, and cleft his skull with his tomahawk. The bullet whistled harmlessly past Valentine's ear.
"Thanks," said the bandit, as he rolled on the ground.
"What men!" Don Miguel exclaimed.
"Canarios, my friend," the general said, "you had a narrow escape."
The three men dug a hole into which they threw the bandit's body. The rest of the night passed without incident, and at daybreak the hunt recommenced. About midday, the hunters found themselves again on the river bank, and saw two Indian canoes drifting down with the current.
"Back, back!" Valentine suddenly shouted.
All lay down on the grass, and at the same instant bullets ricochetted from the rocks, and arrows whizzed through the leaves, but no one was wounded. Valentine disdained to reply.
"They are Apaches," he said. "Let us not waste our powder; besides, they are out of range."
They set out again. Gradually, the forest grew clearer, the trees became rare, and they at length entered a vast prairie.
"Stop," said Valentine, "we must be approaching. I believe we shall do well, now that we have an expanse before us, to examine the horizon."