They wrung hands in the darkness that followed the lightning flash, and, after the Anglo-Saxon fashion, said brief, inconsequential words. Yet the hearts of the two were full, and both Bill Breakstone, who had done the last miracle, and Hans Arenberg were moved deeply.
"Your letter came, John," said Phil simply, "and we are here. These are the best friends I ever had or that anybody ever could have. The man who brought you out of the castle was Bill Breakstone, and the one with me is Hans Arenberg. Without them I never could have reached you in the castle."
"You talk too much, young sir," said Bill Breakstone.
Then John suddenly remembered.
"Mr. Breakstone is wounded," he exclaimed. "We took off most of our clothes to swim the moat and I remember seeing a red spot on his side."
"Like your brother, you talk too much," said Bill Breakstone. "It seems to be a family failing with the Bedfords. It's a mere scratch."
"No harm iss done where none iss meant," said Arenberg sententiously. "It iss also well for us soon to be away from where we now are."
"That is true," said Breakstone. "The Mexicans undoubtedly will make some sort of a search and pursuit, though I don't think they'll carry it far on such a night. Come on boys, I'll lead, and the reunited family will bring up the rear. But no talking is best. You can't tell what we might stir up."
He led the way, and the others followed in silence. They crossed a valley, reached a mountain slope and began to climb. Up they went for at least two hours, pausing at times for John to take breath and rest. Meanwhile the storm continued, with cold rain, an alternate groaning and whistling of the wind through the valley, deep rumblings of thunder, and now and then a bright flare of lightning. John caught only one other glimpse of the huge, ominous bulk of the Castle of Montevideo, but it was far below him now. He knew, too, that it was impossible for anybody to follow a mountain trail in such darkness and storm. But, despite his great joy, he was feeling an exceeding weariness of the body. The long confinement had told heavily, but he would utter no complaint.
A half hour more, and they turned into a deep cove which led three or four hundred yards into the Sierra. At its end stood a small cabin, built of logs and almost hidden under the overhang of the cliff.