Suddenly the lad raised himself on his arm again and listened. One of the sentinels had cried "Halt!" Then in quick succession came repeated cries of "Halt! Halt! Halt!" and then a shot. Charley leaped from his cot, calling his companions, and, quickly lighting a lantern, found his rifle. But, before he could pull on his shoes, the flap of the tent was thrown open, and one of the sentinels, white-faced and trembling, rushed in. "Me killie de man! Me killie de man!" he cried in broken English. By this time both the Captain and Walter were awake, and the three gathered around the guard, somewhat pale themselves, for they were not the kind that value human life lightly. "Go on, and tell us all about it," commanded Charley. "Talk Spanish." The guard broke into a torrent of words. "He had seen the man approaching in the mist. Four times he had called to him to halt but the man kept coming on. Then he had fired and the man had dropped, and now he, Gomez, would be hung." The chums had been pulling on their shoes and pants as they listened to the frightened Spaniard, and now seizing their automatics and giving the guard the lantern, they told him to lead the way to where the man lay. It was but a short way from the tents, that the Spaniard stopped and pointed ahead. "There he lies," he said. "I do not want to gaze on him. May the Blessed Virgin forgive me for his death." The boys, peering into the mist, could dimly see a dark form lying on the ground ahead of them. Charley snatched the lantern from the Spaniard's shaking hand and darted ahead. A few steps brought him to the motionless form. When the lantern's light fell upon it, he gave a howl of laughter, for, instead of lighting up the pale face of a dead man, as he had expected, its rays revealed the form of a small black bear. At the sound of his laughter, Gomez timidly approached. His delight was unbounded when he found out that it was a bear and not a man he had killed. The four of them picked up the bear and carried it back to the cook tent. "Where is Lavinia, Gomez?" Charley asked as they laid the bear down near the tent. "Why did he not come to your aid when you fired?" The Spaniard shrugged his shoulders. "I have not seen him since I shot. He is afraid maybe. Maybe he climb up a tree." But Charley did not join in the Spaniard's laugh; instead, he picked up the lantern. "Come on," he said shortly. "Let's see what has become of him." Already the guards had tramped a beaten track around the camp and it was not difficult to find where Lavinia had made his half of the circle. Midway of it lay the Spaniard, face down on the ground. "Esto Morta (he is dead)!" cried Gomez. "No," Charley said, as he felt of the man's wrist. "He has just fainted, I guess. Give me a hand and we will carry him into our tent. We don't want to rouse up the whole camp and get every one excited."