That evening as they sat by their camp fire, Alvarez told Jack that he and his two companions on the raft had been leaders of the northern wing of the revolutionary army. They had chosen the raft as a medium to spy from, he explained, because it was possible in that way to ascertain what the border patrol was doing, without so much risk of being discovered as would have been the case had they used horses.
“I guess you wish you’d never seen the raft by this time,” commented Jack, throwing some fresh wood on the fire.
“I do, indeed,” agreed the other fervently.
Soon after this they composed themselves to sleep, but it was long before Jack closed his eyes.
He was just dozing off when the sound of a furtive footfall made him sit up, broad awake in an instant. From the darkness two green points were blazing at him.
“The eyes of some wild beast that has decided to pay us a visit,” said Jack to himself.
He was just about to arouse Alvarez and get the revolver when the creature that was prowling about the camp gave a sudden leap. Jack saw a lithe body launched at him just in time to roll to one side.
The creature, balked in its spring, came down in the midst of the hot ashes of the smoldering fire. Instantly a piercing howl of anguish split the night. The Mexican leaped up and appeared to be fully awake the instant he opened his eyes. At any rate the great, tawny body was still writhing about in the embers when two shots crackled from his revolver. The big animal gave a spring and another howl of pain and then fell over in a heap, rolling to one side of the fire.
“What—whatever was it?” cried Jack, rather timorously, for the suddenness of the attack had rather unnerved him.
“A mountain lion, and a monster, too,” came the reply. “Come up and take a look at him.”