“On the contrary, he is very much alive, as are the other Frontier Boys.”
“Well, I’ll be blessed,” said the captain, “the old innkeeper and the Senor’s man told me all the party had gone up with the old hulk.”
Amid frequent expressions of astonishment the steward told the story, as he had learned it, of the affair at San Matteo Bay, ending with the rescue of the entire party.
“Poor Reynolds,” laughed Captain Beauchamp. “He must have had a jolly meeting with the Senor. I wrote to Reynolds that everybody had been blown sky high, and that the slate was clean.”
The mate, whose voice was a low grumble, made some remark which Juarez could not hear.
“Yes, about that Jim,” the captain was saying. “What we want to do is to surprise him, take him unawares.”
Again the murmur of the mate’s voice, but he spoke too low for his words to be heard.
“It’s near dusk,” resumed the captain. “In half an hour it will be pitch dark. We’ll jog along towards the bay and take some observations.”
The listener heard no more.
Some bird flitted into a branch close beside Juarez and uttered a gentle chirp. He knew that he was alone. He knew, too, that a serious task was cut out for him. To descend the mountain by the route he had come and reach the shack or shelter at the landing place would necessitate his passing the villainous pair he had overheard. This they would likely prevent. The feat was well nigh impossible.