Nearly an hour passed then without a word being exchanged between the two men; Lepoletais cut up tobacco, while humming a tune, and the monk prayed, or seemed to be doing so.
At length a slight noise was heard a short distance off, and a few minutes later the engagé appeared, followed by an Indian, who was no other than Omopoua, the Carib chief.
"Quick, quick, señor monk," L'Olonnais said gaily; "here is your guide, I answer for his fidelity; he will lead you in safety within two gun shots of the hatto."
The monk did not let the invitation be repeated, for anything seemed to him preferable to remaining any longer in the company of these two reprobates; besides, he thought that he had nothing to fear from an Indian.
He rose at one bound, and bridled his horse again, which had made an excellent supper, and had had all the time necessary to rest.
"Señores," he said, so soon as he was in the saddle, "I thank you for your generous hospitality, may the blessing of the Lord be upon you!"
"Thanks," the engagé replied with a laugh, "but one last hint before parting; on arriving at the hatto, do not forget to tell Doña Clara from me, that I shall expect her here tomorrow; do you hear?"
The monk uttered a cry of terror; without replying, he dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, and set off at a gallop, in the direction where the Carib was already going, with that quick, elastic step, with which a horse has a difficulty in keeping up.
The two buccaneers watched his flight with a hearty laugh, then, stretching out their feet to the fire, and laying their weapons within reach, they prepared to sleep, guarded by their dogs, vigilant sentries that would not let them be surprised.