Dennis and Turnpenny were placed among Oxnam's party, and lay side by side in the grass. The night was so dark, and the stalks so long, that they could scarcely see each other, much less any other of their company. For a time all was quiet; nothing was heard but the faint critch of insects among the herbage. But by and by Dennis caught a slight murmur from some point near at hand. He lifted his head to listen. Yes, it was certainly a man mumbling. Then he heard a glug-glug, as of liquid poured from a narrow-necked vessel, and immediately afterwards a deep sigh of contentment. Again there was silence; but after a while another glugging and another sigh.
"Begorz!" whispered Turnpenny, "'tis some bosky lubber a-puddling of aqua vitae. St! Here be bells a-coming, on the neck of moyles, Ise warrant. St!"
The sound came from the direction of Venta Cruz: evidently a train was returning to Panama. Almost immediately afterwards there came a fainter tinkle on the other side; the treasurer of Lima was on the road, but he would not reach the ambush until the train from Venta Cruz had passed.
Nearer came the sound, growing now into a loud clanging. Dennis held his breath. The Venta Cruz party was to be allowed to pass; it would meet the other travellers, and give them the word that all was well. But what was this? Some one was rustling in the grass near him; some one was moving forward; and, peeping up, Dennis saw an Englishman, as he knew by his shirt, creeping towards the road through the long stalks, and a maroon following.
At this moment his ears caught the sound of a horse trotting. He could not see the road; the men who had gone through the grass were also out of sight; but suddenly the trot changed into a gallop, and he heard the horse clattering at a furious rate down the road. His heart gave a jump; he felt a hot flush surge through him: the rider, whoever he was, had been startled, and was now doubtless dashing on to warn the coming train. Who could the fool be who had so flagrantly disobeyed the captain's orders? Had he been so mad as to expose himself, in his shirt over-all, to the view of the horseman? Turnpenny was as wrathful as Dennis.
"Be jowned if I don't deal en a whap in the niddick," he whispered, "as'll make en twine like an angle-twitch."
The sound of the hoofs died away, and Dennis expected that the clanging of the bells would cease also, and all be brought to nought. To his surprise there was no change: the bells drew nearer and nearer; now he heard men's voices; and then, with a suddenness that made him jump, a shrill whistle-blast rose high above all other sounds. It was the signal for the attack. Dennis and the sailor rushed through the grass; on all sides white-clad forms rose from their lurking-places and made towards the road with a cheer. They sprang at the muleteers, toppled them over, and without a shot fired the long line of mules was in the raiders' hands.
With many a laugh and jest the sailors hauled the packs from the backs of the mules and slit them with their hangers. But soon the mirth was turned to melancholy.
"Od-rat-en, what have we here?" cried Turnpenny, lifting a soft mass on the end of his weapon. "Bless my bones if it bean't a bunch of yokey sheep's wool!"
"And here 'tis nought but dried meat as tough as leather."