"Ask the man who betrayed us," said the major scornfully; and on questioning the Indian, it appeared he had mistaken Santiago for the famous colonel.
"Well," muttered José, "it's a disappointment; but it can't be helped. What are we to do with the wounded? They can't go down the rope."
"Let me stay with them," I suggested, "and you can send a doctor back."
"Meanwhile," interrupted the major, "I have some little skill in surgery, and, with your permission, I will remain also. You need not fear that I shall run away. I will give my parole to come to Moquegua. After that, matters must shape their own course."
"Very well," exclaimed José; "the plan has its advantages. I'll hurry along the first doctor I come across, Jack. But you are hurt!"
"It's only a scratch; nothing serious at all."
José sent half a dozen of his men down the rope; then the dead Spaniard was lowered, the prisoners followed, and José himself descended with the remainder of the troopers.
"Haul up the rope, Jack," he cried in farewell, "and make sure of your visitors before dropping it again."