The boys separated, one going each way.  The Spaniard, still bewildered by the stunning blow he had received, hesitated a moment, and then rushed at Jack, who darted round the fire.  Hawtry seized the rifle, and with the butt-end attacked the Spaniard, who turned to defend himself.  Jack snatched up a heavy brand from the fire, and coming behind the Spaniard, who was waiting, knife in hand, for an opportunity to rush in between the sweeping blows which Hawtry was dealing at him with the butt-end of the rifle, smote him with all his force across the side of the head.

With a scream of agony the Spaniard fell prostrate and Jack, snatching up his knife, while Hawtry still retained the rifle, they darted off at full speed along the brow.

Presently they heard footsteps of men hastily returning, and drawing aside, threw themselves down among some low bushes.  The men were talking eagerly.  They had heard the two reports of the guns, and had no doubt that the captain had discovered the fugitives.

When the Spaniards had passed, the boys rose to their feet, and continued their flight at the top of their speed.  The men had come from below, and the boys soon discovered traces of a path descending the slope.  This they at once took, proceeding with caution now, for the descent was an extremely steep one, and the path little more than a goat track.  Fortunately the moon was shining brightly, and by its light they were enabled to follow its windings.

After half an hour’s descent, they found themselves in a rough road, along the face of the hill.  This they doubted not was the road from one of the coast villages into the interior.  They now went more cautiously, for the road was extremely rough, with large stones lying here and there upon it, and a heavy fall or a sprained ankle would be disastrous.  They had no fear of pursuit.  Once or twice they fancied that they heard shouts far above them, but they considered it likely that the band would be too far paralyzed by the loss of their captain to again take up the pursuit.

Three hours later, they stood by the sea shore, near a tiny fishing village, composed of three or four houses only.  They held a consultation as to whether it would be better to rouse the villagers and explain the circumstances, but they had become suspicious of Spaniards, and thought it likely that there would be a close relationship between the people here and the band in their neighborhood.  No lights were visible in the village, and it was probable that the inhabitants were already in bed.

They sat down for another hour to avoid the chance of their being surprised by any straggler.  Then, proceeding to the shore, they launched a small boat.  Hawtry stepped the mast and hoisted the sail, and they were soon making their way off the land.  The wind was light, and their progress slow.  For a time they kept straight out to sea, and then turned the boat’s head towards Gibraltar.