ye."

Wilson suppressed a shout, and soon there was the confused clicking of
the locks as they closed over the full chambers of the rifles. It was
music to the ears of Danbury, who from the moment his feet had touched
shore was impatient to take the road without further delay. Wilson was
just as bad, if not worse, which left Stubbs really the only man of
them all able to think calmly and somewhat rationally.

He formed the men into columns of two, hastily inspected each one of
them, and finally got them started with Danbury and the guide leading,
Wilson, on the right side, and himself on the left and well to the
rear where he could watch for possible desertions until the hill men
took their place behind them. It was a new world for them all; the
strange tropical foliage silhouetted against the vivid night sky,
the piercing perfume of new flowers, and the shadow jungle either
side made it seem almost unreal. At the junction of this forest
path and the main road the hill men fell in behind like ghosts. They
were brown, medium-sized men, dressed in cotton trousers and blouses.
They were without shoes or hats and were armed with a medley of
weapons, from modern rifles to the big, two-edged sword with which
their ancestors fought. Save under the leadership of the priest,
they were said not to be good fighters, but with him to spur them on
they became veritable demons, hurling themselves upon the enemy
with a recklessness only possible to religious fanatics. So
fiercely had they resisted the attack made upon them in the
expedition of the hills that it was said that not within ten years
would it be possible to organize again sufficient men with courage
to venture to cross the Andes.

The road turned and twisted, wandered up hill and down, beckoning them
on through this phantasmal world which but for them would have slept
on in aromatic peace. To Wilson this all seemed part of a dream. It
was one of those strange visions he had seen between the stars that
night after the crash when he had gazed from his study window. Somehow
it did not seem to belong in his life at all. The girl did, but
nothing else did. It was meant for him to have her, but in the usual
ruts of men.

This was some other self which, with holsters and cartridge belt, was
marching in the dark with this group of uncouth men. The only thing
that made it real was the fact that he was moving towards her. Once he
had found her he would go back again and seek his