"That would most probably be the case," said the hunter, coolly.
"Let us hear the second chance; the one already proposed seems impracticable."
"This rock communicates, by a subterraneous passage under the bed of the river, with another rock, a good distance from the place where we now are. I will lead you to that rock; when we get there, we will embark in the canoe; having reached the opposite bank of the river, we will mount, and trust our safety to the speed of our horses."
"I should prefer this chance, if our horses were not so worn out that a night flight across the wilderness would be almost an impossibility."
"The redskins know as well as I do all the outlets from the rock on which we have taken refuge. Most likely they have already guarded the passage by which we might hope to escape."
"Alas!" said the hacendero, sorrowfully, "With all your good intention to help us, the chances you propose are against us."
"I know it; unfortunately, it does not depend upon me to make them otherwise."
"And lastly," resumed Don Pedro, with much resignation, "what is the third chance?"
"I am afraid you will find the last more desperate than the other two. It is a rash and dangerous undertaking, which might perhaps offer a hope of success if we had not with us a woman, whom we must not expose to one peril in order to save her from another."
"Then it is useless to name it," said the hacendero, with a mournful look at his daughter.