"In one minute it is mine," he thought exultingly, "and then back to the flagship and the test!"
But a surprise was in store for him. As he vaulted over the top of the mound on to the other side, he landed almost into the arms of a man who was just ascending that side.
The man was unmistakably a Spaniard, and from his hands there fell a round shell, that rolled away across the ground.
The encounter was startling to both, but Clif was the first to recover his wits. His quick eye detected the fallen shell, and he divined the fellow's purpose.
Before the other could recover from his evident fright, Clif sprang upon him.
"So you have found it!" he muttered, as he closed in upon the Spaniard, "but finding's not keeping's this time."
Clif's attack brought the Spaniard quickly to his senses, and he was not slow to defend himself.
In a flash he drew his revolver, but Clif was too quick for him. The latter knocked the weapon from the fellow's grasp before he had a chance to fire it.
Clif's own weapon was within easy reach, but for several reasons he did not care to use it. He wanted, among other things, to avoid a pistol shot which might attract others to the spot.
The contest must be one of muscle against muscle; and to unusual strength Clif added a surprising agility that came in good stead in such a struggle.