True, we had filled ourselves up, but that would be soon expended in sweat, and we only had the two quarts' reserve.
Then there was Harry. Whatever was wrong with him wasn't getting any better. The trail was easy travelling and we could do at least a mile an hour, or even more. At that rate we could be in Uaxuanoc in about five hours. It was very tempting.
Against it was the fact that the trail existed in the first place. The only place Gatt could comfortably camp was at the cenote we had just left -- he had to stick near a water supply. So it followed that if he were keeping an eye on Uaxuanoc then the trail must have been made by his chicleros, and the likelihood of bumping up against one was high. I didn't know what would happen if we did. but a!! those I had seen were armed and. from Fallen's account, they were quite prepared to use their weapons.
It was a hell of a decision to make, but finally I opted for the trail. The forest was impossible and we might not encounter a chiclero. Harry sighed in satisfaction and nodded his head in agreement. 'Anything but the forest,' he said.
We entered the trail cautiously, found nothing to worry us, and went along it away from Gatt's camp. I kept my eyes down and found plenty of evidence that the trail was in frequent use. There were footprints on patches of soft earth; twice I found discarded cigarette butts, and once an empty corned beef can which had been casually tossed aside. All that was in the first hour.
It worried me very much, but what worried me even more was Harry's slow pace. He started off chirpily enough, but he couldn't keep it up, and he lagged behind more and more. And so I had to go along more slowly because I didn't feel like getting too far ahead of him. It was evident that his condition was deteriorating very rapidly; his eyes were sunk deep into his head, and his face was white under the dark bristle of his beard. All his movements were slow and he kept one arm across his chest as he staggered along as though to stop himself from falling apart.
The trail was just as wide as was necessary for the passage of men in single file, otherwise I would have helped him along, but it was impossible for us to walk side by side and he had to make his own way, stumbling blindly behind me. In that first hour we only went about three-quarters of a mile and I began to get perturbed. It seemed that we would be a long time getting to Uaxuanoc by trail or forest.
It was because of our slowness that we were caught. I had expected to encounter a chiclero head on -- one coming down the trail the other way -- and I kept a very good lookout. Every time the trail bent in a blind corner I stopped to check the trail ahead and to confirm that we weren't going to run into trouble.
We didn't run into trouble -- it caught up with us. I suppose a chiclero had left Gatt's camp at daybreak just about the time we had set out on the trail. He wasn't weak with hunger and sickness and so he made good time and came up on us from behind. I couldn't blame Harry for not keeping a good watch on our back trail; he had enough difficulty in just putting one foot in front of me other. And so we were surprised.
There was a shout, 'He, companero!' and then a startled oath as we turned round, which was accompanied by the ominous rattle of a rifle bolt. He wasn't a very big man, but his rifle made him ten feet tall. He had put a bullet up the spout and was regarding us warily. I don't trunk he knew who we were -- all he knew was that we were strangers in a place where no strangers should be.
He rattled out a few words and brought the muzzle of the rifle to bear on us. 'Aguarde acqui! Tenga cuidado!'
It all happened in a split second. Harry turned and cannoned into me. 'Run!' he said hoarsely, and I turned and took off up the trail. There was a shot which clipped a splinter from a tree and ricocheted across the -trail in front, and a shout of warning, I was suddenly aware that I could only hear the thud of my own boots and I turned to see Harry sprawled on the ground and the chiclero running up to him with upraised gun. Harry tried weakly to struggle to his feet but the chiclero stood over him and raised the rifle to ram the butt at his skull.
There wasn't anything else I could do. I had the machete in my hand, so I threw it. If the machete had hit with the hilt or the flat of the blade, or even with that damned blunt edge, it would have served enough to knock the man off balance. But it struck point first, penetrating just under his rib cage, sinking in deep.
His mouth opened in surprise and he looked down at die broad blade protruding from his body with shock in his eyes. he made a choked sound which throttled off sharply and the upraised rifle slipped from his hands. Then his knees buckled under him and he fell on top of Harry, arms outstretched and scrabbling at the rotting leaves on the ground.
I didn't mean to kill him -- but I did. When I ran back he was already dead and blood was spurting from the wound with the last dying beats of his heart, reddening Harry's shirt. Then it stopped and there was just an oozing trickle. I rolled him away and bent down to help Harry. 'Are you all right?'
Harry wrapped his arms about his chest. 'Christ!' he said. 'I'm beat!'
I looked up and down the trail, wondering if anyone had heard the shot, then said, 'Let's get off this trail -- quickly!' I grabbed the machete which Harry had dropped and slashed at the bush by the side of the trail, penetrating about ten yards into the forest, then I helped Harry, and he collapsed helplessly on to the ground.
His mouth was opening and closing and I bent down to hear him whisper, 'My chest -- it hurts like hell I'
Take it easy,' I said. 'Have some water.' I made him as comfortable as I could, then went back to the trail. The chiclero was indubitably dead and was lying in a puddle of rapidly clotting blood. I put my hand under his armpits and hauled the body off the trail and into cover, then went back and tried to disguise the evidence of death, scuffing up earth to cover the blood. Then I picked up the rifle and went back to Harry.
He was sitting with his back against a tree and his arms still hugged about his chest. He lifted lacklustre eyes, and said, 'I think this is it.'
I hunkered down next to him. 'What's wrong?'
That fall -- it's finished me. You were right; I think my ribs have got into my lungs.' A trickle of blood oozed from his mouth.
I said, 'For Christ's sake! Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were just bleeding from the mouth.'
He gave a twisted grin. 'Would it have made any difference?'
Probably it wouldn't have made any difference. Even if I had known about it I couldn't see that we could have done any different than we had. But Harry must have been in considerable pain marching through the forest with punctured lungs.
