"I am afraid they have given us the slip," I heard Griscelli say. "There is not a particle of scent. But if they have not fallen into one of those springs and got boiled, I'll have them yet--even though I stop all night, or come again to-morrow." "_Mira! Mira!_ General, the forest is on fire!" shouted somebody. "And the horses--see, they are trying to get loose!" Then followed curses and cries of dismay, the huntsman sounded his horn to call off the hounds and Carmen and I, raising our heads, saw a sight that made us almost shout for joy. The fire, which all this time must have been smouldering unseen, had burst into a great blaze, trees and bushes were wrapped in sulphurous flames, which, fanned by the breeze, were spreading rapidly. The very turf was aglow; two of the horses had broken loose and were careering madly about; the others were tugging wildly at their lariats. Meanwhile Griscelli and his companions, followed by the hounds, were making desperate haste to get back to the trail and reach the valley of stones. But the road was rough, and in attempting to take short cuts several of them came to grief. Two fell into a deep pool and had to be fished out. Griscelli put his foot into one of the boiling springs, and, judging from the loud outcry he made, got badly scalded. By the time the hunters were clear of the moor the loose horses had disappeared in the forest, and the trees on either side of the trail were festooned with flames. Then there was mounting in hot haste, and the riders, led by Griscelli (the two dismounted men holding on to their stirrup leathers), and followed by the howling and terrified hounds, tore off at the top of their speed. "They are gone, and I don't think they will be in any hurry to come back," said Carmen, as he scrambled out of the pool. "It was a narrow shave, though." "Very, and we are not out of the wood yet. Suppose the fire sweeps round the moor and gains the forest on the other side?" "In that case we stand a very good chance of being either roasted or starved, for we have no food, and there is not a living thing on the moor but ourselves." CHAPTER XVII. A TIMELY WARNING. The involuntary bath which saved our lives served also to restore our strength. When we entered it we were well-nigh spent; we went out of it free from any sense of fatigue, a result which was probably as much due to the chemical properties of the water as to its high temperature. But though no longer tired we were both hungry and thirsty, and our garments were wringing wet. Our first proceeding was to take them off and wring them; our next, to look for fresh water--for the _azuferales_ was like the ocean-water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. As we picked our way over the smoking waste by the light of the full moon and the burning forest, I asked Carmen, who knew the country and its ways so much better than myself, what he proposed that we should do next. "Rejoin Mejia."