"I'll say the same for you, Wayne," said he. "Even Ray wouldn't know you."
A jacket and a jumper, and an old hat, got of Carlos, and a twist and turn to Robert's slouch cover, completed our make-up.
Going back, we skirted the village on the west. We came in time into the brush back of the Brill hut.
A whistled bird-call brought Carlos. When he put aside the bush and stepped into view, that moment his face was a picture—his mind contending between the certainty of our identity and doubt of his eyes.
"Ah," he began, "that is ver' suprise'. How you do it?" And then he must have Melie over to the show.
Carlos had soon got himself ready, and we were off for the hills.
For some miles we kept pretty much in cover as we moved toward the mountains. Carlos knew the way through the forest, where we ofttimes slipped on the moist roots of the great trees, and scrambled amongst the lianas that were everywhere. Two hours had gone when we had our first rest in a clump of cabbage palms.
Towering above us, on a mountain, stood an old abandoned fortress. Carlos said its walls were a hundred feet high and with a thickness of twenty feet. Our way lay to the eastward of that old stronghold.
Our progress now had us puffing, for it was up-up-up. We kept as much as possible in the glades. Pigeons were plentiful, and we spied a predatory hawk, at which Robert and I got our little rifles out of their cases. But Carlos put up his hand in caution.
"To shoot is not safe," said he. "Sound go ver' far, an' we do not want anyone know some ones is here."