The Mexican addressed a few angry words to a companion, and the latter arose and moved toward Alex with a long grass rope. The boy sprang away, but there was the ever-present revolver and the threatening face behind it, so he settled back on the hot sand.
“If you say anything more,” the Mexican snarled, “I’ll have your tongue tied instead of your hands and feet. Understand?”
Alex submitted to the tying without a word of protest, though he laughed bravely in the face of the man who did the work. The boy had accomplished his purpose, and was willing to suffer a temporary inconvenience. He had notified Case that the three captors were suspicious of each other, and probably would not stand together if a rush was made against them. He had also informed him that the money had not yet been secured by the Mexicans, and that they were as ready to fight King or their fellow countrymen for it as to battle with their captives.
Case understood that Alex was talking for his information, and once more turned his attention to the motor boat. He saw Captain Joe trot over the spit and the island and leap on board the craft, saw King and Clay conversing together for a time, and then saw the dog leave the boat with Clay close behind him.
The others saw what was going on, too, and the hearts of the boys sank at the thought of Clay becoming a prisoner. Before Clay gained the shore the Mexicans ordered the boys to their feet and retreated with them to a more sheltered spot higher up in the foothills. Alex did his best, during the move, to attract the attention of Clay and so warn him, but the boy was across the levee, following the dog closely, and so the prisoners with their escort passed over the level, scalding stretch of sand without being seen by the searcher, who was still on the opposite side of the barrier.
From their hiding-place the boys finally saw Clay climb over the sand levee and continue on his way to the hills. For a moment Captain Joe moved along ahead of him, his short ears pricked forward, his nose close to the ground, then the dog ran on and disappeared in a wrinkle to the south, where the hills reached out nearer to the shoreline.
The Mexicans were now holding what seemed to be a heated argument as to the advisability of shooting Clay before he got to them. The boys could understand only the words used by the spokesman, and he appeared to be arguing against such a step, advising that murdering an American was a crime which rarely escaped punishment. Clay heard the voices and stopped short.
“Alex! Case!” he cried out. “Where are you hiding?”
“Answer him! Answer him!” commanded the Mexican. “Tell him to come here! You will so save his life! Do it quick!”
“I won’t!” shouted Alex, raising his voice. “I won’t. Keep away, Clay!” he cried, lifting his bound wrists high above his head in order that Clay might see. “Keep away until you can bring help!”