One of the natives approached his chief timidly, and spoke a few short sentences in a frightened voice.
On hearing the man’s words, Salas’ face darkened in anger and he struck him brutally with his heavy whip. The startled native recoiled in terror from his incensed master.
“He tells me that there is but one banka ready,” he explained apologetically; “the other bankas are at the foot of the trail two miles up the river. The ones we used this morning I left at the ranch. I am sorry, but as only five can go in this boat some of the party must walk. Who shall it be?” he asked abruptly.
“There are just five of us,” Maria suggested enthusiastically. “My brother and I are at home with a paddle and surely the señor colonel has often propelled his own boat.”
Salas glanced keenly at the girl’s face. He saw nothing there save youthful eagerness for adventure.
“As you wish,” he replied carelessly. “It’s a tedious journey: two miles against the swift current. My men are used to it.”
But Maria’s mind was set upon their going together. Phil pondered upon what her plan might be. The river was now narrow and the colonel’s men would always be within hail.
“What shall we do with our horses?” Phil questioned. “Are we to return here?”
“I shall leave some men here with them,” the Filipino leader assured him. “We shall either return by the way we came or else over the trail.
“Vamos,” he concluded, waving his hand toward the large canoe which two of the natives were holding close up to the steep river bank.