"Yes. I see some advantage in this. Our taking their path won't matter when we go up, because we'll be in front, and we agreed that the time of our arrival is important. We must give the Bat just long enough to reach the coast before the soldiers turn back and cut us off. I expect it will mean our pushing across the hills for some distance. When we cross their line we'll be in front again." Marston signified his agreement by a nod. It was plain that they must leave much to luck, and lighting his pipe, he leaned against the rail. As the sun rose the mist ahead began to melt. Wooded heights rose out of the streaming vapor and presently Wyndham found the marks he wanted and went off to sleep while Marston kept his anxious watch. It was now nearly calm. Sometimes a puff of wind ruffled the water; sometimes the sails hung slack and the ripple at the bows died away. The sun got hot, the smooth swell shimmered with reflected light, and nothing indicated when the sea-breeze would begin. The calm, however, would not stop the tug, and Marston pictured her steaming up from San Cristobal with engines thumping hard and the empty lighters astern. News of _Columbine_'s departure had, no doubt, reached the mission; bugles would be calling and the _cazadores_ strapping on their equipment ready to start. Still it was a long march to the harbor and Marston hardly thought the troops would embark before nightfall. If wind would come, Wyndham might keep in front of them, but in the meantime _Columbine_ hardly moved. Marston wondered whether they ought to hoist out the gig and tow, although the labor would be exhausting and they could not make much progress. A dark streak broke the glittering surface, a cool draught touched Marston's face, and the slack sails swelled. _Columbine_ began to move, and presently gathering speed, listed over to the fresh sea-breeze. After an hour or two, he wakened Wyndham, who got another bearing and changed the course. At dusk they steered for the coast and towards morning anchored behind a shoal. There was nothing but the background to hide the vessel and Marston knew the risk when they landed with four of the crew. In the steamy heat of the forest, exertion soon wears a white man out, and the negroes were needed to carry food and some shelter from the dew at night.