"Ah, Senor Machado, it is you. What have you got there?"

"His Excellency sends a spy to feed the caymans."

"A spy!" cried the man, more wakefully. "Who is it?"

"A wretched Indian, once in the service of the Englishman."

"Is that all? I hoped it was the Englishman who escaped. I was coming to have a look at him, but if it is an Indian it is not worth while. I shall hear him squeal. Is there any news from Bolivar, Senor Machado?"

"None."

"Then the Englishmen will be shot to-morrow," said the man. "A good riddance. Come and have a chat on your way back."

During this conversation Will had stood behind Machado so that his face could not be seen. The lamp in the hall was a small one, and the light revealed little. They moved on again, came to the steps, and descending these reached the end of the jetty. The General had been pa.s.sive since he felt the cold steel against his brow; but now, feeling that his last chance had come, he gave a sudden jerk with his legs which threw Azito down. Instantly Will was upon him, but he was a very powerful man, and, bound though he was, he wriggled and heaved his body with such violence that it was difficult to hold him. In the struggle he managed by some means to get rid of the gag, and shouted at the top of his voice--

"Help! help! I am General Carabano."

His voice was of peculiar timbre, and even the slowest-witted sentry could not have failed to recognize it. A moment after he had cried out, the sentry fired off his rifle and shouted into the hall of the house.

At once Will and Azito caught the General by the feet and began to drag him as fast as possible along the jetty, Machado still holding his head.

They were below the level of the terrace, so that none of them was at present in danger of being shot. The General was still shouting; the sentry, having given the alarm, was reloading as he ran towards the terrace.

The fugitives had now reached the yacht. Will released his hold of the General, and drew in the painter. While he was doing this, the sentry reached the head of the steps and fired. But the darkness and his flurry combined to spoil his aim. Realizing that he had missed, he sprang down the steps, and ran along the jetty, clubbing his rifle.

Machado saw him coming, and shrank away; but Azito, dropping the General's feet, waited in a crouching posture, and, parrying the blow with his machete, drove at the man with his head and b.u.t.ted him into the water.

The General, left thus momentarily unguarded, struggled vehemently to break or shake off his bonds. His wriggling brought him to the edge of the narrow jetty, and when Will, having loosed the painter, turned to secure his prisoner, he saw him roll over into the lake on the opposite side. Instantly he flung himself at full length on the jetty, peering into the water for the prize he was determined not to lose. The lake was shallow. In a few moments the General rose spluttering from his immersion, and yelled again for help. Will grabbed him by his wholly hair: Azito plunged into the water, and together they hauled him on to the jetty and threw him into the yacht. Machado had already jumped into it. Will and the Indian followed. The latter seized a paddle, Will pushed off, and the little vessel began to move down the lake towards the ca.n.a.l.

CHAPTER XIII--A SNAG

The kidnappers were not a moment too soon. The sentry, dazed and half-drowned, struggled from the muddy bottom of the lake just as the yacht put off. Scrambling on to the jetty, he filled the air with his cries. While Azito paddled the boat towards the ca.n.a.l, Will looked back towards the house. Figures were pouring out, some in their night attire, others pulling on their coats as they ran. The air rang with their shouts. They all made for the jetty. One or two fired aimlessly; the little vessel must now be invisible to them in the darkness, and until they inquired of the sentry they would not know what had happened.

There were no other boats at the jetty, so that pursuit by water was impossible, but Will wondered anxiously whether he could reach the stream at the end of the ca.n.a.l before the men could gain it by running along the banks. If they posted themselves on the banks of the narrow ca.n.a.l, he would be at their mercy.

The boat was small. It would carry no more than two comfortably.

Overloaded as it now was--the General alone was no light weight--it could not make anything like the speed of a man running. But it was taking the diameter of the lake; the pursuers would have to run round the circ.u.mference: and Will remembered that when they reached the ca.n.a.l they would find their course checked by the vegetation, the banks having been allowed to return to their primitive wildness. This would give the boat a little time.

It entered the ca.n.a.l from the lake. The shouts of the men drew nearer.

They came from both sides. General Carabano cried out continually. The gag was lost, and Will had nothing at hand with which to silence him.

Azito plied his paddle desperately, and Machado, as anxious now as Will himself to escape, seized a second paddle and helped to propel the boat.

Had Ruggles brought the hydroplane to the end of the ca.n.a.l? What would happen if he was not there? The pursuers were probably numbered by hundreds, and even if they fired at random across the stream, so many could hardly fail to hit one or other of the occupants of the boat. Will peered anxiously into the darkness. If Ruggles had come, surely he must have heard the noise. Then why had he made no sign? Had the hydroplane broken down? All at once from down the ca.n.a.l came the throb of the engine. Will looked over the bow of the boat. He could just see, on the faintly shimmering surface of the water, a dark shape approaching.

"Ruggles!" he shouted.

"Ahoy!" came the reply. "Look out, Mr. Pentelow, I'm stern foremost."

"Good man! Catch the painter when I throw it. Don't come any farther."

Azito was paddling more slowly now, fearful of dashing into the hydroplane in the darkness. The shouts of the pursuers sounded nearer than ever: Will heard the men crashing through the undergrowth, regardless of snakes, as of all the dangers that beset the unwary by night in tropical jungle. The boat came to a stop within a yard of the hydroplane. Will flung the painter on board: Ruggles seized it and instantly started the motor. At the same moment a shot rang out from the right; another on the left; then there was a fusilade, and Will heard the bullets splashing into the water and singing through the air.

The pace of the vessel was quickening; but Ruggles could not drive the hydroplane at speed, for though he was able to steer safely between the banks of the ca.n.a.l, it was so short, and the stream beyond so narrow, that there was a danger of running the vessel against the farther bank if he went too fast. But the speed was great enough to shake off the pursuers, and in another minute the hydroplane swept round the corner of the ca.n.a.l, her head turned in the direction of the tributary of the Orinoco.

"Go on slowly," cried Will to Ruggles. "They won't dare to pursue us now. We are safe till the morning."

"Will you come aboard?" asked Ruggles.

"Not at present. I have got a prisoner."

"Machado?"

"He has been my right-hand man." He was speaking in English, so that Machado did not understand him.

"You don't say so! Who's your prisoner, then?"

"His Excellency the Liberator of Venezuela, General Carabano."

"By gosh! this beats c.o.c.k-fighting. How on earth did you do it?"

"I'll tell you all by and by. It's the greatest piece of luck. We'll hold him as hostage for the Chief and O'Connor."

"Did you find out where they are?"

"At the General's own hacienda, Las Piedras, fifty miles up-country."

"In any danger?"

"Not now. He was going to shoot them to-morrow--to-day, I should say.

But n.o.body will touch them while we have the General in our hands. We've smashed this revolution, Ruggles."

"Don't hallo till we're out of the wood, as the Chief would say. They'll come after us in the morning."

"We'll be out of their reach. We can go faster as soon as we reach the tributary--but not too fast, for goodness' sake: we don't want to strike a snag. At ten miles an hour we shall be at the junction by the time it's light, and then we shall have a straight run to Bolivar."

"But suppose they run to the junction by train and get there before us?"

"I hadn't thought of that. What a fool I am! That would be the end of us. We shall have to go pretty fast after all. Not yet; this stream's dangerous. It's lucky we haven't far to go before we get to the tributary."

"Look out!" cried Ruggles. "I've just got a whack in the eye from a branch."

His warning came too late. The yacht stopped with a jerk as its mast came into contact with an overhanging ma.s.s of foliage. The light pole snapped and fell into the bottom; at the same time the painter broke.

"It doesn't matter, luckily," said Will. "We can drift down-stream.

When it begins to get light we'll all board the hydroplane, though it will be a tight fit. Have you got a match?"

"Not one. Why?"

"I wanted to see the time. We ought to get into the tributary by about half-past one. There's plenty of time."