"I couldn't make out exactly, it's so dark. But it was a man, and he had either a gun or a long club in his hands."
"Which way was he moving? "
"The same way that we are."
No more was said, but both dropped down, so that the bush growing under the tall trees might conceal them. It was dark in the jungle, but as they were nearest to the light, the young captain felt that so far as seeing was concerned, the enemy had the advantage of them.
More rocks had to be crossed, and Gilmore was stepping on these when one foot slipped and he came down heavily on his back. He uttered a sharp cry of pain, then rolled over on his side and slid into some tall grass at the foot of the rocks.
"Are you much hurt?" demanded Ben, anxiously.
"Oh, my back!" was the answer, with a long-drawn groan. "I struck my spine right on a sharp edge."
"Can you walk?"
"I—I'm afraid not, captain. "What a fool I was to let myself slip! I wish we were out of this!" And Gilmore gave another groan.
"Try standing up," whispered the young captain,
