"Thanks, I won't risk it," said Dacres emphatically. "If I fell off I might drag you with me. I'm game for another forty miles, I think; so let me give you a heave up."
Walking by the animal's side the Englishman set a steady pace, his face still towards the seemingly elusive Sierras. The heat was now terrific, and although Henri bore himself bravely, he suffered agonies.
Shortly after noon the travellers came across a small stream. This was indeed good fortune. The water-bottle was refilled, the horse watered, and additional wet bandages placed over Henri's wounds; while Dacres stripped and revelled in the comparatively cool stream.
"I think I know where we are," said de la Fosse. "This river flows through San Carlos and La Paz. We ought to be within ten kilometres of the road my father and I were following when we saw the two airships."
"In that case we ought to reach the 'Meteor' before to-night," said Dacres reassuringly, but in his mind he had grave doubts. The terrors of the mountain pass loomed largely in his imagination. Burdened by a wounded comrade the passage would be hazardous in the extreme.
Buoyed up with hope Henri was impatient to resume the journey, and Dacres, willing to humour him, complied. But the young Frenchman's physical strength was not equal to his mental powers, for within an hour of leaving the river he suddenly fell forward in a dead faint.
Dacres caught him before he fell to the ground, then, lowering him gently, he rested his comrade's head on a mound, at the same time sheltering the luckless man from the fierce rays of the sun.
To the Englishman's dismay the horse, hitherto quiet, reared, then galloped off at full speed. The reason for the stampede was not difficult to see; at less than a mile off were the Indians, reinforced till they numbered thrice the original band.
Dacres was one of those men who see and enlarge upon perils a long way ahead. Perhaps it was natural caution. But the sudden appearance of the swarm of natives simply roused the British bull-dog spirit within him. He was metaphorically about to fight with his back against the wall, although actually there was nothing to protect him from a rear attack.
Carefully he drew Henri's revolver from his holster, opened the breech and assured himself that the six chambers were loaded. Then, placing the remainder of the cartridges on the ground within easy reach, he knelt with a revolver in each hand, ready to open fire.