"We must fly, senor, there is danger," he whispered. "They will send out other scouts in this direction as soon as the last return. But I can trick them." We hurried back to our companions, and Andreas, holding his horse’s bridle, led the way. I told the other two to follow, and myself brought up the rear, glancing back now and again in great anxiety lest the soldiers should catch sight of us. But the lad knew his business, and a sharp turn up the hillside to the right brought us under the cover of a wood, and gave us an effective hiding-place. We followed him in silence, and even the horses seemed to share a sense of the danger, so warily did they move. They were indeed, as Andreas had said, perfectly trained animals; and to that training we owed our safety that night. When we had walked on this way some few hundred yards up the hill, our guide found a track into the wood, and along this we went, the darkness deepening with every step, until it was impenetrable. We were some hundred yards from the entrance, when Andreas stopped so suddenly that we ran one against the other in a confused muddle of men and horses. "There is a small clearing here on the right," he said in a whisper. "If you leave your horses free they will follow mine." And so it proved; the intelligent beasts knew his voice, and went after him with a sagacity that astonished and delighted me. "You will be safe here, I think, senor; and, with your permission, I will go back and find out the soldiers’ movements. There is no risk for me. But please do not touch the horses; they will not be got to move without trouble until I return, and will stand like statues until I tell them; and, remember, voices travel far in such a still air—even whispers." I told him to go, and then we three stood together and waited. "What are we to do if they find us, senor?" asked Cabrera. "Fight," I said, praying fervently there would be no need. "Good. Knives, Garcia," he returned. "And till then, silence," I ordered: and not another word was spoken. The stillness was absolute, and, in the circumstances, awe-inspiring, and there was not a breath of air to stir even a leaf. It was some minutes before our eyes grew sufficiently accustomed to the darkness to discern the moonlight beyond the wood, which gleamed dimly, much like a phosphorescent light, through the thickly-planted trees. Suddenly the stillness was broken by a man’s voice laughing and oathing, as he called to a comrade. We all three started and drew together at the sudden sound, so keen was the nerve tension. "Had enough of this tomfoolery yet, Juan? Seen anything—where there’s nothing to see?" "By the corpse of St. Peter, this is a madman’s freak, looking for nothing. I go no further, José," was the reply. "Have you been in the wood?"