Not to be deterred by mere hearsay, the two friends hired mules and guides, and at once set out eastwards, far more anxious to escape to the highlands from the tropical heat of Mazatlan, than apprehensive of interference from Indians. Yet, as the country grew lonelier and more rugged, the mules less tractable and the guides less self-confident, the journey certainly began to lose some of the romantic charm which, from a safe distance, it had promised to possess; and when, towards nightfall of the third day's march, a tropical thunderstorm suddenly burst upon them, and the Mexican guides announced that the nearest shelter was at a hill village ten miles distant, both the adventurers found themselves thinking wistfully of the cosy steamer which they had recently left. Those ten miles seemed like a hundred; the rain continued to fall like a cataract; a baggage-mule took to flight and had to be pursued; then the animal ridden by the doctor got his forefeet in a hole, and for some time refused to move; and, by way of a little further diversion, the guides began to quarrel among themselves as to the precise direction in which the village lay. The end of the journey came at last, however, but not the end of their annoyances. As the drenched men came within a stone's-throw of half a dozen feeble lights for which they had been making, they heard an excited buzz of voices, and, without warning, a dozen or more guns were fired in their direction. A baggage-mule dropped screaming from a skin wound on the shoulder, and one bullet passed so close to the doctor's head that the broad brim of his _sombrero_ was perforated. "Back, everybody," shouted one of the guides. "It is an Indian ambuscade. They are firing from shelter, and we can do nothing." But von Tempsky had caught the sound of something which gave him a little comfort; to wit, an expression in French from one of the shooters. "Who are you?" he shouted in French. The reply was in the same language. "Halt there; stay where you are and let us know your business." "Do you think we want to stop here to get soaked a little more?" shouted Dr. Steel, urging on his mule before his friend had had time to frame an explanation. "Come along; we guessed they were Indians, and they paid us the same compliment." The volley was not repeated; but a crowd of men with rifles and lanterns came scurrying to meet the little cavalcade; and, after some laughter and expressions of regret, their leader began a voluble explanation, which von Tempsky cut very short by announcing that he and his party were wet to the skin and required shelter. Thereupon they were ushered into the building whence the shots had been fired, which proved to be a tumble-down inn kept by an old Frenchman.