On reaching the river, the party scrambled down the bank to the bottom. In times of rain the torrent had deposited large quantities of sand in the bed, which the shrinking of the channel in the summer had left bare and dry. On this firm floor, level as a billiard table, but ascending in a gentle plane, progress was easy; but when they reached the stream of which Romaña had spoken, and had to strike up the hill-side, they found themselves in difficulties. They had to dismount and lead the horses over great ledges of quartz, polished to a dangerous slipperiness by the action of sand and water, and round huge boulders, that offered, at first sight, insuperable obstacles. Difficult as the way was for the horses, it was doubly so for the motorcycle, which had to be carried for many yards at a time, and hauled up and over sharp-edged rocks that threatened damage to its tyres. Many times they had to stop and rest. It was now midday, and very hot, and Mr. O'Hagan's party, having had no food since the night before, were hungry as well as tired.
"Plucky little woman!" said Mr. O'Hagan at one of these halts, to his wife who sat beside him on a ledge of rock.
"Just think of Tim spending nights by himself in a cave!" said Mrs. O'Hagan. "How horrid for him!"
"Boys like that sort of thing," returned her husband with a smile. "Don't they, Tim?"
"If there's another fellow with them," said Tim. "There's no fun in camping-out alone. I wish I'd thought to bring some grub. Mother must be famished!"
"I confess I hope Señor Mollendo will have something for us," said Mrs. O'Hagan. "Going long without food is bad for a growing boy."
"I can eat anything," said Tim, "but I'm afraid you won't like their grub."
"My dear boy, I would rather eat parched peas with Señor Mollendo than sit down to a banquet with the Prefect.... Hark! What's that?"
She clutched her husband's arm at the sound of rifle-shots far to the east.
"We had better get on, I think," said Mr. O'Hagan, rising. "Where's Romaña?"