Pedro was wiping the sweat from his forehead and Skye, putting up her fingers, realised that her face too was caked with dust and sweat, but this was not the time to worry about appearances.

“Let’s hurry,” she said. “Surely by now it would be safe to come down from the mountains and onto the plain?”

“Si, si, señora, that is what I plan to do,” Pedro answered.

His answer had a smoothness about it that aroused Skye’s suspicions.

She had already mounted while he was standing by his horse’s head and now she looked down at him and said accusingly,

“Have you lost your way?”

“No, of course not, señora. You can trust Pedro, but the track changes after the rains and it’s not always easy to find.”

Skye looked up at the sun. It was still brilliant, but sinking lower in the sky.

She began to feel apprehensive. They should have been away from the mountains by now and yet here they were with nothing ahead but rocks and gullies difficult to traverse and often meaning a tiring climb up and down before they could get their horses over them.

“Do you think you have missed the right path?” Skye asked in a voice that she strove to keep calm. “Shall we retrace our steps a little?”

“No, no, señora. Pedro find the way. You can trust Pedro.”

He smiled at her ingratiatingly as he spoke and then swung himself into the saddle.

They started off again, moving as quickly as their horses could manage and heading, as far as Skye could ascertain, towards the South, yet she could not be sure.

She tried to determine from the position of the sun exactly where they might be. But they had to twist and turn so often that after a time she became confused.

There was no doubt now that Pedro too was worried. He no longer whistled and sang. Some of his self-assurance had gone and he mopped his face more frequently.

At length the path they were riding along came abruptly to an end. The remains of what must have been a small avalanche lay ahead of them.

“We shall have to go back,” Skye said firmly.

She tried to keep the note of despair out of her tone. She had been so confident earlier in the afternoon.

She had been so sure that this time she would get away and escape that it was doubly bitter to think that her triumph must be so shortlived.

But she was not yet defeated. There was no doubt that there was a path over the mountains and if they had gone wrong it might be only a question of going back for a mile or so and turning left instead of right or vice versa.

They rode back in silence and, when finally they came to a fork in the path, Pedro’s spirits revived with surprising suddenness.