Johnston McCulley

“ Ruiz cried.
A mile behind them the jungle grass waved as if driven by a hurricane, and there was not a breath of wind. The sun flashed from the tips of spears. The grass ripples ran forward toward the slope—here and there natives appeared, leading the tribe, spying out the land. ”

“ Every second they expected an uproar behind them, swift pursuit. Breathlessly they ran over the rough ground, stumbling over roots and creepers, ready for quick work if they encountered a native sentinel. On and on—and then the refuge of the blackness was reached!
There was no time now to move forward with caution and keep far from the trails. Botello and Ruiz shielded Inez between them as they fought the undergrowth, and presently they came to the main jungle trail and hurried along it. The trail was narrow, overgrown in places—it was a continual struggle to keep in it and make progress. ”

“ Botello exclaimed.
The answer came from the other direction—came from half a thousand savage throats—and down the side of the hill through the brush came painted warriors, rank upon rank.
"We are trapped!" Ruiz cried. "I know those tall fellows, good Bartolmeo. They are the Great Cacique's men! They are here to form junction with these others and aid in exterminating De Balboa. We are done, comrade—we are between the two forces! We can but die like men!"
Again they stood with backs against a rock and Inez crouching at their feet behind them. ”