"We must walk," said the Frenchman. "See, there is our guide: the peaks of the Sierras. But this poltroon?" and he pointed to the motionless Valderian.
"Let him stop," replied Dacres. "He'll buck up when he finds he's alone. It will be all the better for us if he doesn't see in which direction we go."
Removing the breech-action from the rifle, Dacres began to make preparations for the long tramp. A bottle half-full of wine, a couple of small cakes made of Indian corn, and a piece of sun-dried meat comprised their stock of provisions after a careful search of the lockers of the cab had been made.
Presently Henri astonished his companion by shouting "Prenez garde!" and pointing through the forward window, which was partly obscured by the steam that was still escaping from the boiler.
Whipping out his revolver in anticipation of another attack, Dacres looked in the direction indicated.
Travelling swiftly down the long incline was a number of trucks. In another two or three minutes they would be crashing into the stationary engine.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A BRUSH WITH THE INDIANS.
"JUMP for it!" exclaimed Dacres.
Henri hesitated, then, prodding the engineer with his foot, gave additional warning of the threatened danger.