He wanted to know all about my adventures, but there was no time to tell of them just then, for the convent gates were soon reached and here Alano’s mother met him and, after a warm embrace, led him to his father’s side. It was a happy family gathering, and I thought it best to withdraw for the time being. I walked again to the roof; and an hour later Alano joined me there.
His story was soon told. After escaping from the coffee plantation he and Jorge had become lost like myself in the forest. They, however, had not made their way to the mountain side, but had entered a valley between that mountain and the next, and, coming to a branch of the river, had floated down it until overtaken by the storm at night.
The storm had driven them to shelter under some shelving rocks, and here a temporary camp was made and Jorge went out on a search for food. Little could be found, but in the morning the guide had brought down several birds with a stick and these they had cooked and eaten with keen relish. The way was then resumed, when, at noon, they had found themselves on the wrong road and many miles out of their way.
“THE SPANIARDS WERE COMPLETELY DEMORALIZED.”
Jorge was much chagrined at his mistake and wanted Alano to kick him for his thoughtlessness. The stream was left, and they took a cut through the woods, which at last brought them to the old convent, as described.
When Alano had finished, I told him my story in all of its details, especially my adventures in the mountain stream and on the underground river. He listened in silent amazement.
“It was a wonderful escape!” he cried, when I was through. “A wonderful escape! I would like some day to explore that cave.”
“It was nothing but a big hole in the ground, and I never want to see it again,” I answered, with a shudder. “But now you are here, what do you expect to do?”