“Oh, heavens!” I exclaimed, as the memory of this man came over me; “why did I not bring more men? Clayley, we must go on now. Slowly, Raoul—slowly, and with caution—do you hear.”
The Frenchman struck into the path that led to the rancho, and rode silently forward. We followed in single file, Lincoln keeping a look-out some paces in the rear.
Chapter Thirty One.
Captured by Guerilleros.
We emerged from the forest and entered the fields. All silent. No sign or sound of a suspicion. The house still standing and safe.
“The guerillero must have been waiting for someone whom he expected by the Medellin road. Ride on, Raoul!”
“Captain,” said the man in a whisper, and halting at the end of the guardaraya (enclosure).
“Well?”