The dull thud of Ah Ling's wooden shoes upon the hard ground guided them until with uncanny suddenness the sounds ceased. The hitherto clearly defined trail of moisture dropping from the Chinaman's sodden clothes also failed. Burgoyne, revolver in hand, found himself standing at the junction of two forked paths, utterly uncertain which direction to take.
He was afraid to shout to Hilda lest her reply should betray her whereabouts. Listening intently, he could hear nothing of either the pursued or the pursuer.
"Take that path, Peter!" he said hurriedly, as Mostyn overtook him. "I'll take this one. Let the brute have it on sight if you spot him."
[Illustration: THE FATE OF AH LING]
Alwyn, following the left-hand branch of the fork, had barely covered a hundred paces when he almost stumbled over the motionless figure of Hilda Vivian lying face downwards in a patch of trodden grass. Before he could get to the girl he heard a heavy body crashing through the brushwood.
Wild with fury and desperate to wreck vengeance upon the Chinaman, Alwyn dashed in pursuit, forcing his way at breakneck speed through the dense undergrowth. With feelings of grim satisfaction he realized that he was gaining on the object of his pursuit.
Meanwhile Jasper Minalto, proceeding as fast as he could along the path, was beginning to grasp the fact that his companions were forging ahead hand over fist. More than once the cutlass nearly tripped him up, and the weight of the rifle proved a heavy encumbrance. Pausing for breath, he laid his rifle against the trunk of a tree, removed the cutlass from his belt, taking in the slack of the latter.
The temporary halt had caused the perspiration to run freely. Before he resumed his way he was obliged to wipe the moisture from his face and eyes with the broad leaf of a large plant.