"It is useless, senorita," he declared. "Flee whither you will, there is
no escape. You are on an island. This is my Indian comrade."

"Others come," said Red Ben.

"Where?" asked the Mexican anxiously.

"There."

The redskin lifted his arm and pointed away over the surface of the
silent lake.

"My friends!" gasped the girl. "They are coming to rescue me."

In the distance a black spot lay on the water. The faint clanking of
oars was heard.

Del Norte whistled a sharp signal.

In return there was a similar answer.

"Senorita," he laughed, "you are wrong; those who come are my friends."

CHAPTER VII.

THE SENTINEL.

With the sun slipping down toward the western peaks, another day was
passing.

Hidden on the side of a wooded mountain, yet having a position that
commanded a wide expanse of country, with a view of the lower hills and
valleys, Red Ben lay prone on his stomach. At his side lay a loaded
rifle.

In front of the Indian was a precipice, over which he peered at
intervals, his keen eyes searching the valley below.

Finally he stirred quickly, sat up and turned with the rifle in his
hands.

A man was approaching, but the moment this man appeared plainly in view
Red Ben put down the rifle.

Del Norte came hurriedly forward.

"Have you seen anything of pursuers?" he anxiously questioned.

The redskin nodded.

"They near," he answered.

"You have seen them?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Down there," with a motion of one brown hand toward the valley beneath
them.

"When?"

"Hour ago."

"How many?"

"Five."

"Whither did they go?"

"So," with another gesture up the valley.

"Then they are not on the trail. Your trick in covering our tracks in
case they found and followed the trail was successful. Are you sure they
were pursuers? Perhaps they were hunters looking for deer."

"No," asserted the Indian decidedly. "Ben he know. Make no mistake. They
hunt for lost gal."

"They'll never find her. In that cave she is as safe as if buried a
thousand feet underground. Even if they passed within ten feet of the
entrance they could not discover it. Was Merriwell with them?"

Ben shook his head.

"No can tell. Ben not know him. Two young men; others older."

From a pocket the Mexican drew a pistol, which he examined, making sure
it was in perfect working order. His usually handsome face wore a look
that transformed it, while there was a deadly glitter in his black eyes.

"Listen