The Monkees began to edge their way toward the far side of the canyon, hanging on to the rope railing. Behind them, John and his men began to taunt them.
"What's the matter, boys?" John called over, "The bridge is still safe!"
"Yeah, real safe!" A man behind John yelled. He was a little bigger and heavier than the other men and he began to jump up and down on the bridge, causing it to buck up and down.
"Ahhh! Don't do that!" Peter yelled, as he and his band mates clung to the railing.
"Don't do what?" The man asked as he laughed and jumped up and down again on the wooden slats.
It was then that John noticed that the whole left side of the bridge, not just the one corner, was starting to sag. He looked back to see the left support rope around the post, damaged by the earlier gunfire, start to unravel due to the other man's jumping.
"Esteban, stop it!" John ordered, "You're going to knock the whole side down!"
But Esteban was too busy jumping and taunting the Monkees to hear him. The other men in the group noticed it too, but before they could stop their friend, the rope came loose, causing the whole left side of the bridge to collapse.
Esteban realized what was happening a moment too late, and before he could grab on to something, he was thrown off the bridge, taking two of the tracking dogs with him. His screams were heard the whole way down to the river far below.
John and the other three men had managed to grab onto the right support rope in time. The watched in horror as Esteban and the dogs hit the water below.
Further down the bridge, the Monkees saw what had happened too. They had to get off that bridge now.
Keeping a tight grip on the support rope and gingerly putting one foot in front of the other on the wooden side of the bridge, they began to make their way across.
It didn't take long for John and his men to recover from their shock. They grabbed their remaining dogs and began to cross the bridge the same way. Micky, the last one in line, looked back to see they were still being followed.
"Hurry!" He told his friends.
"We're going as fast as we can, Micky." Peter said, trying not to look down. The support rope on the other side was starting to fray from the extra weight.
Micky fumbled one-handed with his knapsack and finally managed to pull out his knife. He placed its sharp edge on the upper support rope between him and Captain Crocodile's men.
"Hold it right there!" He shouted at them. "Move any further and I'll cut the rope!"
The men behind Micky stopped in their tracks. John glared at Micky.
"You wouldn't dare!" He shouted back, trying to hang onto the rope and his whining dog as well.
"Why not?" Micky replied, "You've been trying to kill me and my friends!"
Behind John, one of the men tried to reach for his gun inside his pocket.
"Stop that!" Mike yelled from next to Micky. He too had his knife out and had its blade against the lower support rope. "Keep your hands where we can see them." The man pulled his hand away from his pocket.
"What do you want?" John yelled over.
"Throw your weapons into the river, now!" Micky yelled back.
When the men hesitated, Micky began to saw the support rope with his knife.
"Do as he says." John quickly told the others.
John and his men threw their guns down into the river.
"Now you guys just stay right there, until the four of us get across." Mike demanded.
Mike and Micky, preceded by Peter and Davy, slowly worked their way across the broken bridge. Micky and Mike kept their knives close to the support ropes the whole time.
"You boys are going to pay for this." John told them as the Monkees finally stepped onto solid ground.
"You're working for a maniac, you know that?" Davy told them. "Do you think he'll let you live after all this is over?"
"There used to be six of you, now there's only four." Peter added, "Captain Crocodile is an evil man who doesn't care about you."
"He pays well." John said cynically.
"Let's go." Mike said, and the four Monkees ran off as fast as they could into the forest in front of them.
John and his remaining men and their dogs scrambled across the bridge and soon were standing on solid ground too.
"What now, John?" One of the men asked him.
"Let's go after them!" Another man said angrily.
John looked at the sky, and noticed it would be dark soon. He made a decision.
"We'll make camp, rest and go over our remaining supplies." He said, "Then we continue after them. I doubt they'll be able to make much progress in the dark."
"But John..." The second man said.
"But nothing!" John shouted at him. "I'm the leader of this expedition and I'll decide what to do, not the Captain who's sitting safely in his little office."
When there was no further argument, John continued, "Like I said, we need to rest and get ready for tomorrow. I'm sure you gentlemen didn't throw all your weapons away?" He added with a smile as he pulled a pistol out of his shin holder.
The other men chuckled and pulled out their hidden weapons too. Despite this setback, they were still quite armed, dangerous and even more determined to get the Monkees.
Inside Captain Crocodile's control room, the Captain was beside himself with rage. "NO NO NO!" He howled, throwing his empty wine glass at the monitor, "They're all still alive!"
"Captain, take it easy!" Howard said, trying to placate him.
"Take it easy? Take it easy?" The Captain screamed, grabbing Howard by his throat and shaking him. "They're more than half-way across the island and they're all still alive!"
"They're just lucky, Captain, just dumb luck." Howard gasped, trying to pry the Captain's hands from his throat.
Captain Crocodile finally pushed his assistant away. With great effort he calmed down enough to talk in a normal tone of voice.
"Oh yes, Howard, they've been very lucky." The Captain replied, "But their luck has now run out."
"What do you mean Captain?" Howard asked, rubbing his throat.
"I mean tomorrow we will go out there ourselves...and make sure those Monkees don't see the light of another day." The Captain replied, his eyes dark with hate.