"You won't leave the town till dusk. Slip up to our place and bring a can from the outhouse. Here's the key. Nobody will be about at that time, and you can come back through the sugar-canes."
"The cans are heavy."
"Well, I'll meet you where the path joins the road to Señor Durand's. There are plenty of trees to hide amongst. I won't leave here until it's getting dark, and I'll keep a good look-out. Between us we can carry a can or two easily."
Romaña was not unwilling to make the attempt. He knew the ground thoroughly; it would not be difficult to thread his way secretly through the plantations to the shed, fifty yards in the rear of the house, where the petrol was stored; the sugar-canes grew so high that he could pass among them without any risk of being espied. He agreed to the suggestion, only impressing on Tim the necessity for caution. Then, pulling his hat well down over his eyes, and gathering his cloak around him, he took his leave, and set off on the fifteen-mile walk to the town.
CHAPTER XIV
HIS FATHER'S HOUSE
Tim was not remarkable for patience. The morning and afternoon of the next day passed too slowly for him. In the cave there was nothing to do; outside, his activity was circumscribed. He gave himself a bath in the pool below the waterfall, then returned to the cave for his breakfast. The empty meat tin tempted him to set it up at one end of the cave as a target, and practise revolver-shooting. But recollecting that the shape of this hiding-place might set up tell-tale reverberations, he abandoned the idea, kicked the tin away, and by way of doing something went for another bathe.
While he was still disporting in the water he heard footsteps in the direction of the path, and scampered back lightly to the shelter of the leafy screen. Peering out somewhat anxiously, he saw an old Indian woman filling a pitcher from the brook. She carried it across the track among the brushwood on the other side, and disappeared. Tim guessed that she was one of the workers on Señor Durand's estate, which extended for several miles between the two paths from San Rosario. Some hours later a Cholo youth walked up the track, carrying a fishing-net and basket; he, no doubt, was going to the river to catch the family dinner. Except for these two, Tim saw no human being during the day. A number of waterfowl settled on the stream when the sun was high, and he caught glimpses of gaudy parrots occasionally; these were all the signs of life.
He had promised Romaña not to start too soon, and meant to keep his promise. It was twelve miles to the spot where they had arranged to meet, a walk of less than three or more than four hours according to the pace. Tim reasoned that by taking the longer period he would have more opportunities for scouting, and could make up for any time lost if he should have to conceal himself from passers-by. Accordingly he started, a full hour before he need have done. When once upon the path he forgot his intention to go slowly. He kept up a good swinging pace, though neglecting no precaution. In the plantations on his left hand he saw the distant forms of several of Señor Durand's workers, but he met nobody on the path, and nobody overtook him.
When he arrived at the place agreed upon, it wanted still nearly two hours of sunset. Romaña could not reach him for at least three hours, perhaps four or five if he brought petrol. Tim began to wish that he had not been in such a hurry. The spot was a cross-road--the junction of the path by which he had come with the track running northwards to Señor Durand's estate, with that running eastwards to his own home, and with another going southwards and emerging into the main road from San Rosario to San Juan. There were trees all around, and Tim decided to climb into one that gave him a partial view of all the tracks.