And, a second later, half a dozen Spaniards dashed out of the woods.
"Fire!" roared Clif.
There was a quick volley, and then instantly the fugitives sprang up again and sped on. They left several of their enemies lying on the ground.
That unexpected move had evidently disconcerted the pursuers, who hadn't looked for a reception of that kind.
They were not heard on the trail again for fully a minute, while the Americans made the best possible use of their time. But the pursuers did not mean to give up as easily as that, and they soon set out once more, firing away as if a whole army were in sight.
Their little success raised the spirits of the gallant tars considerably; they seemed to forget they were in the enemy's country.
And they chuckled gleefully to themselves as they raced on through the woods; they were a pretty small army of invasion, but they had lots of courage.
But there is a limit to what courage can do, and the unfortunate sailors soon learned it.
They came to a second clearing, a broad savanna this time.
"We'll have to run for our very lives," gasped Clif.