"We are too late!" muttered the Spanish friar. "Discovering your flight, they have not waited for calm weather to follow in a swift sailing-vessel, as I had thought they would, but have sent out a search-party afoot to overtake you at the outset."
"But we must reach the Carolina before they arrive, Padre!"
"It can be done, easy enough," he answered, "but what shall I and my followers do if we are seen? Girl, I have too much at stake! I choose not to incur the Governor's anger. 'Tis not likely that they connect us with your disappearance, for Doña Orosia swore to shield me in the matter. I have done all I could. It is thus far and no farther. But you may yet escape; 'tis only a little distance to the ship; take up the paddles and make your way thither."
As he spoke he stepped from our canoe to the larger one which had closed up with us, and the two Indians followed him.
"Padre! oh, Padre! Do not leave me, do not desert me!"
They paid no heed to my appeal save to give a mighty shove to our canoe that sent it out toward midstream; then, seizing their paddles, with swift strokes they sent their own piragua speeding up the river.
It had all passed so quickly—so suddenly our hopes had been destroyed! Barbara and I had been thrown forward by the impetus given to our frail boat, and we cowered down in silence for a moment. The current was still bearing us outward; but every second our motion slackened: we would never reach the ship without some effort on our part.
I seized a paddle and worked vigorously; but the light boat only swung round and round.
"Barbara!" I cried, "take the other paddle and work with me. I can do nothing all alone!"
The dame obeyed me, sobbing and praying under her breath; but we made sorry work of it.