Gib. I say, old fellow, it strikes me we're getting into a beastly
mess. What on earth's to be done?"

They checked their mules, and looked at each other.

"What can the Spaniard's game be, Hawtry? We've had a good five
shillings' worth."

"Let us take our own bearings," Hawtry said. "The sun now is nearly on
our left. Well, of course, that is somewhere about west-sou-west, so
we must be going northward. I don't think that can be right. I'm sure
it can't. Look here, you fellow, there is the sun setting there"--and
he pointed to it--"Gibraltar must lie somewhere over there, and that's
the way we mean to go."

The Spaniard looked surly, then he pointed to the road ahead, and
indicated that it bent round the next spur of the hill, and made a
detour in the direction in which Hawtry indicated that Gibraltar must
lie.

"What on earth shall we do, Jack? If this fellow means mischief, we
are in an awkward fix. I don't suppose he intends to attack us,
because we with our dirks would be a match for him with that long
knife of his. But if he means anything, he has probably got some other
fellows with him."

"Then hadn't we better go in for him at once," Jack said, "before he
gets any one to help him?"

Hawtry laughed.