"A caiman is after me, señor," he shouted in his native tongue.
"Nonsense," replied Andy; then turning to his companions he explained that the mulatto had declared that an alligator had run after him.
"It's impossible," he added. "However, we'll see what's frightened him."
On emerging from the edge of the wood that had obstructed their view of that part of the bay where Quexo had been to gather dry sticks, the lads burst into a roar of laughter. Sedately waddling over the sand was a huge turtle.
"Follow me, Hoppy," exclaimed Andy. "Get between him and the sea; we can't afford to lose this chance."
Finding its retreat cut off, the turtle began to throw up showers of sand with its flippers, but Andy rushed it, and, seizing one of the creature's horny limbs, strove to capsize the reptile.
The task was beyond him; even with the aid of his two chums he could not raise the shell-clad creature from the sand.
"Get hold of an oar and one of the empty tubs," he exclaimed breathlessly. "You go, Terence. Hoppy and I will prevent the turtle getting away."
Presently Terence returned with the desired article, and using the oar as a lever the three lads succeeded in turning the turtle on its back, when Andy, with a dexterous sweep of his knife, cut the animal's throat.
"Hurrah! Turtle steak to-morrow, pater!" he shouted on their return to the camp.