“Ah, then, you knew that we were spying, señor?”
“Yes, I overheard your conversation at the river’s edge. But it is important now that we should get out of this valley as soon as possible. Have you any idea where we are?”
The Mexican shrugged his shoulders dubiously.
“Alas, señor, I am not certain, but I am inclined to think that we are in what is called the Lost Valley.”
“Lost Valley!” echoed Jack, struck by the dismal suggestion of the name. “Is there no way out?”
His companion shook his head.
“The legend says that they who blunder into the valley never escape,” he declared.
Jack could not repress a shudder as he thought of the skull by the pool; but the next instant he regained his nerve, for he knew that the stream must emerge from the valley somewhere.
“But surely this river has to find a way out of the valley?” he asked.
“Si, señor,” was the reply, “but the stream, so they say, burrows its way through a tunnel by which no human being could hope to pass.”