ruck a match, and saw at once
what had happened to the poor fellow; he had been murdered by having a
dagger driven between his shoulders!

"By Jove!" gasped the Englishman, "there has been foul treachery here.
Aha!" he continued, starting to his feet, "what is _that_?"

His exclamation was occasioned by a sudden booming crash coming from the
direction of the suspension bridge over which his force had passed
before camping, and, with a sense of imminent disaster clutching at his
heart, he dashed forward in the direction of the chasm, leaving the
sentry to the tender mercies of the vultures. Jim came in sight of the
bridge--or, rather, its remains--a few seconds later, and saw at once
what had happened. The dull, chopping noise which had first attracted
his attention had been caused by axe-strokes, and the bridge had been
cut through from the farther side, allowing it to fall into the ravine.
In a moment the significance of the occurrence flashed into Douglas's
mind. What if the place whereon they were camped should prove to be a
sort of island between the ravines? And suppose the farther bridge,
their only way of escape, should also have been destroyed?

Like a hare Jim doubled on his tracks and fled back to the camp, which
he found already alarmed by the noise of the falling bridge, and a few
seconds sufficed to warn the men of what had occurred, and to arouse in
them a sense of imminent peril. Horses were saddled, bugles rang out,
tents were struck, the guns limbered up, and in ten minutes the force
was dashing along at top speed toward the next bridge, which they now
realised could not be very far away.

As they galloped, Jim suddenly caught the sound of chopping in the
distance ahead, and he urged his men to greater speed, the column
sweeping along over the rough ground like a whirlwind. And they were
only just in time! Round a bend in the road Douglas caught sight of a
score of flickering lights, and saw another ravine looming dim and black
in the semi-darkness. Were they in time? Was the bridge still intact?
wondered the Englishman.

"_Halt_! Halt!" he yelled; "halt, for your lives!"

With a clatter and scraping of hoofs, a chorus of hoarse shouts, and a
terrific whirl of dust, the troopers pulled up, and Jim saw on the
opposite edge of the cleft a party of Bolivian guerillas hacking
furiously away with axes at the bridge.

"Forward with the guns!" was now the word, and a few seconds later the
two