"I played here as a lad," he said in explanation of his ready pilotage. "There is no better way to learn the lie of a country than to roam it as a boy. I verily believe I could go every step of the way with my eyes shut." Presently he stopped, and turning, looked at her doubtfully. "We should leave the path here, madame, but I fear ’tis a difficult passage, and scarce fit for you to traverse. Think you——" Barbara laughed. "Fear nothing for me. Be sure, sir, a woman can go through most things if she ardently desire to come out at the further end." So they turned from the path, and plunged into the tangle of brushwood. Despite her boast, Barbara found the difficulties of the way far greater than she had expected, for the darkness was so deep she could distinguish little of what lay around her, and the briars and thorns caught her skirts at every step. Captain Protheroe went before to part the branches for her, where it was possible, or to help her to scramble over the tangle of bushes that barred their way. In spite of her fatigue the girl’s spirits had quite recovered their customary buoyancy, and as they struggled forward, she climbing and scrambling, he pulling her on, she shook with laughter. At length, after ten minutes’ tedious struggle, their way was barred by a network of branches and creepers so tightly enlaced that the barricade was clearly not due to nature alone. Captain Protheroe after a few paces to the left, paused, and pushing aside a branch which yielded to his efforts with but slight resistance, he stepped through the opening, and their journey was at an end. Barbara found herself in a small clearing, a sloping hollow in the ground, enclosed by a ring of trees and a network of branches. The ground was thickly carpeted with moss, she felt the spring of it beneath her feet; the faint sound of running water announced the near neighbourhood of a spring; far overhead, through the thick interlacing leaves she could see the stars. "This is our camp," said Captain Protheroe, glancing round with a proprietary air of old acquaintanceship. "’Twill be nigh twenty years since my cousins and I first made it. We were Oxenham’s men then, an I remember rightly," he continued with a smile, "fighting against the Spaniards in the Neck of Panama. My father had read us the history, and we built our camp according to the fashion therein described. By the look of it, one would say that none had been here since. The forest stretches far, and ’tis an unfrequented place. ’Twill shelter us well for to-night at least, and then we can lay our plans. And now, madame, you must rest."