They arose, and fairly shaking with exhaustion, managed to crawl on for a hundred feet or less. Then they came upon a hollow partly filled with water. At one end of the pool was another mountain stream.
"Into the water," said Walter, quickly. "Remember, that leaves no trail." And in they plunged, with as little noise as possible, and moved from the pool to the stream and then continued their journey to where there was a small wall of rocks. Up the wall they clambered, and threw themselves flat in some high grass, worming their way out of sight like a couple of snakes. Then they grew quiet again, hardly daring to breathe.
With torches waving in the air, the natives reached the pool and came to a halt on its banks. As Walter had said, water leaves no trail, and loud were the grunts of disgust which the Negritos uttered as they ranged around the spot, inspecting every foot of the bank with care. At last, feeling certain that the Americanos had not gone deeper into the forest, they moved down the stream.
Walter and Si heard them coming, and the hearts of the young tars thumped violently beneath their jackets. To run farther was out of the question.
