Thus far the venture, with one exception, had succeeded admirably. The prisoner was out of his cage, and would soon be clear of the pass. Then I should only have Pedro to deal with. His company was a nuisance, but it must be borne with for the present; later I should have to find means to get rid of him.
We rode slowly down the narrow path, Pedro in front, Don Felipe and I abreast. The poor fellow was in a hapless plight. The gag hurt his mouth, and the cords cut into his flesh. Had we been alone, I should, of course, have done something to ease his pain; but as long as Pedro was there, this was out of the question.
"Anyhow, it's better than being shot," I thought; "and really the wretch deserves it all."
We passed the sentries without trouble; but at the bottom of the pass my difficulties began again.
"I suppose the chief has gone to San Mateo, señor?" said Pedro questioningly. "That is the best place to watch from."
This was an awkward question, as I had intended making a straight dash for Lima; but it would not do to arouse the man's suspicions. We were too close to the mountains to run any unnecessary risks, and if Pedro showed fight there, our chance of escape was gone.
So I answered, "Yes," and rode along, wondering what would come of it. Every step led us into greater danger. We might run into the arms of the guerillas, in which event Don Felipe's fate was certain; or be stopped by the Royalists, when I should be made prisoner.
Day was now breaking, and with the strengthening light I began to see our position more clearly. It was not promising. We were farther from Lima than we had been when in the ravine, and were making straight for the mountains again. Another half-hour's riding would cut us off from escape completely. What could be done? There was no time to lose, and I must hit on a plan at once. The simplest and perhaps the only one likely to be successful I set aside without a moment's hesitation. Not for a dozen men's lives, my own included, would I harm the unsuspecting man whom chance had thrown into my power. I might, however, frighten him into obedience. As far as I could see, it was that or nothing, and the attempt must be made at once.
So, with beating heart and greatly doubting what would be the issue, I whipped out my pistol, and, levelling it at him, said quietly, "Move your hand to your musket, and you are a dead man! do as I bid you, and no harm will befall you. Leave your gun, get down from the saddle, and hold your hands above your head."
In the circumstances it was a risky experiment, because if the man should guess the truth I was entirely at his mercy. For him there was no more danger than if my pistol were a piece of wood.