He had not been long settled in his perch when he heard on his left the sound of a horse trotting. Peering out through the foliage he presently caught sight of young Felipe Durand, riding alone towards the town. Tim, as we know, was impulsive; he often acted hastily, and sometimes repented afterwards, though not so frequently as might have been expected. When his friend was within a few yards of him, he hailed him cautiously. Durand reined up with a start, and looked wonderingly about him.
"Where are you?" he said, in a tone little above a whisper.
"Here, up a tree," replied Tim.
"You are up a tree!" said Durand.
"Don't be an ass. Ride in and tie your horse up. I'm coming down to talk to you. There's no one in sight."
Durand dismounted and led his horse some distance into the copse. There Tim joined him.
"You are pretty mad," said Durand, "to come so close to the town. What on earth are you up to?"
"Romaña has gone into the town to get some grub. We're very short up yonder."
"You'll be shot if you're caught. The Prefect is raging at your father's escape. He led the raid on Mollendo's camp, thinking to catch you and your father there."
"He'd better go on raging," said Tim, with a grin. "What is happening, Durand?"