Before nightfall they had put twelve miles between them and the place where they had made their compulsory landing from the locomotive.
"It is time to halt for the night," declared de la Fosse, pointing to the sun, now about to dip beyond the horizon.
"Tired?" asked Dacres laconically.
"No, only we cannot see our way after dark."
"Is that all?" asked the Englishman. "If so we may as well carry on and sleep during the day. I can shape a course by the stars."
With the fall of night the temperature dropped rapidly. The travellers could well have done with the poncho or South American cloak, for in spite of their steady progress the keen air of the uplands cut them like a knife. They were already footsore; the long, tough grass impeded them; they were unable to see the ruts in the hard ground; nevertheless, they toiled on, Dacres setting the direction by means of the relative position of the Southern Cross.
"What is that glare in the sky?" asked Henri, stopping and pointing behind him. Away to the west and close to the horizon a blurr of pale light flickered incessantly.
"Search light," replied Dacres.
"Where, then?"
"From the British fleet. On a clear night like this we can see the glare nearly a hundred miles away. Well, suppose we rest for half an hour and have some food?"