"The Spaniards are after us, sir," he reported. "They seem to have rallied most of their men, and are now near the woods where we met them, cautiously advancing. They have scouts out looking for us, for I barely escaped running into one of them."
"They have guessed the trick we played on them," said Clif, "and it will go hard with us if they find us. How near are they, did you say?"
"They seem to be in the woods now, but they are advancing steadily. They are scouring the place thoroughly, and may be down on us any moment."
"Well, boys, we'll do the best we can, if they do get here," said Clif, quietly.
A calm settled upon the band, for now they knew their situation was critical. Their ammunition was nearly exhausted, and if the enemy should succeed in attacking them from the vantage of the hillside, there was little hope of a successful resistance. Should they succeed in eluding the enemy in the darkness, there was no doubt that daybreak would seal their fate.
"There's no two ways about it," exclaimed Clif. "We've got to get off this island, and that pretty soon."
"See, sir," cried the hopeful member, who had been intently gazing across the water. "They have sent a boat!"
Clif looked in the direction in which the other was eagerly pointing.
Sure enough, he could discern the outlines of a boat slowly moving toward them some little distance from shore.
An involuntary little cheer went up from the others as they, too, saw the boat approaching.