[CHAPTER IX.]
THE INDIAN.
As we have said at the end of the preceding chapter, at the moment when the painter came out of the gallery in the cavern, he found himself face to face with Tyro, who, having entered by the opposite gallery, and not finding him in the room, was going to seek for him in the stable, where he supposed the painter might be.
The two men remained a short time motionless and silent, facing each other, carefully examining each other, and somewhat embarrassed how to commence the conversation. However, the situation, already very embarrassing, threatened, if it continued much longer, to become critical. The Frenchman saw that he must, at any price, get out of it; so he resolved on speaking boldly, persuaded that this was the best means of escaping from his embarrassment.
"You here, at last, Tyro!" he cried, feigning great joy; "I began to feel uneasy at this seclusion, to which I cannot become accustomed."
"It was impossible for me to come sooner to see you, master," answered the Indian, giving a cunning glance from under his half-closed eyelashes. "You have, I suppose, found everything in order here."
"Perfectly. I must confess that I have passed an excellent night."
"Ah!" said the Guaraní; "You have heard nothing? Has there been no unusual noise to disturb your sleep?"