On a sign from the Indian, the oars were shipped, and the barque darted rapidly away.
The ladies gave a sigh of relief.
Tyro had thought that it would be better, on leaving, to resume the same mode of travelling, especially on account of the ladies, who, notwithstanding all their precautions, ran the risk of being easily discovered; only, as he had not thought of acquainting his master with his plans, he feared that the latter might have arranged to traverse the streets. He had therefore grounded the barque in such a position that he could see his master on his exit from the convent; and if he had seen him turn in an opposite direction to that which he had taken, he would have run after him so as to bring them back.
We have seen how, this time, Fate—no doubt tired of always persecuting the young man—had consented to protect him in directing him in the right way.
Thanks to the darkness—for the sun had set, and already the darkness was great—and especially to the breadth of the river, the barque keeping to the middle, the fugitives ran very little risk of being recognised.
They accomplished their passage in a very little time, and during all the time they did not meet any other boat than their own, except an Indian pirogue containing a single man, which crossed them on their leaving the town.
But this pirogue passed them too far off, and its course was too rapid, for it to be supposed that the man who was in it could perceive them.
They at last arrived at the entrance of the cavern.
We have said that the barque was rowed by four men.
Of these four men, two were gauchos, engaged by Tyro, and, as the Guaraní had well paid them, he had a right to reckon on their fidelity; let us add that, for greater safety, the Indian had told them nothing about their destination. The third was a domestic of the painter's—an Indian whom the latter had left at San Miguel, without taking any heed of him, when he himself took flight. The fourth was Tyro himself.