Marrophat and Jimmy could not possibly have witnessed the accident involving Alan and Rose, who, together with the wreck of their machine, remained well-cloaked by the underbrush at the bottom of the cañon. The assassins had assumed that Alan had hurried on; and since their own first business was with him, they had done likewise, reasoning that they could return and deal with his unfortunate friend at their convenience after overhauling their quarry whose life they most coveted.
As for Rose and Alan—Heaven alone knew what had happened to them. But Barcus set himself to find out without delay. He sprang from the sheltering trees and, Judith at his heels, pelted headlong down the slope to the spot where the others had vanished. To find them practically unscathed affected that loyal soul almost to tears.
But when congratulations had been mutually exchanged, there fell an awkward pause. The eyes of the four sought one another's ruefully, each pair quick with the unuttered but inexorable inquiry: What next?
The road was now barred to them. At any moment the racer might return. They confronted the necessity of threading afoot a wild and mountainous country of whose geography they were absolutely ignorant. And time pressed, while the fatigue bred of their many hardships weighed heavily upon them all.
