would pass, possibly beyond recall.

But suddenly Cachama's struggles ceased, and she sighed as though
relieved of some great fear.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "they will not kill him after all; one of the peons
intervenes, pointing out that if the Englishman is killed, none of them
may dare to again show their faces in the towns, for information of the
murder will be given, and the Peruvian Corporation--who have employed
the Englishman to do this work for them--will never rest until every one
of the murderers is brought to justice. The others understand this at
once, and agree that there shall be no murder; but they are binding the
Englishman's hands and feet, so that he cannot escape; and now they are
asking each other what will be best to do with him. There is much
talk--some urge one thing, some another--now Jose, the man who prevented
the murder, speaks--he proposes that the prisoner shall be carried to a
certain place and there detained until the whole of their wages be paid
them, after which they are to release their prisoner, and each man will
go his way, working no more for the Englishman. Now they are pondering
on the proposal--yes, they have all agreed to it; and now they are
releasing the Englishman's feet, in order that he may walk with them,
but his hands remain tied behind him, and one of the peons holds the end
of the rope, to make sure that their prisoner shall not escape. Two
others grasp him, one by either arm, to help him, for the ground is
rough and steep, and the going bad. They move forward again, following
an easterly direction--their progress is slow, for the Englishman
stumbles at almost every step, his hands being tied. He declares that
walking, under such circumstances, is impossible, and angrily demands to
be released--but they laugh and jeer at him. He struggles on, falling
frequently despite the assistance of the two men who are holding him,
and at length the party emerge from the wood on its far side and find
themselves on the spur of the mountain, on barren, rocky, open ground.
Now they reach the crest of the spur, and, passing over it, still
travelling in an easterly direction, descend into the valley beyond
until they reach the margin of a small stream flowing northward. Here
they pause in the shadow of an enormous granite rock of very remarkable
appearance, for it bears a most extraordinary resemblance to the head
and neck of an Indian--I know it well; and among us it is called `The