"Curumilla cut this piece off his poncho, saying, as he gave it to me, 'Go and find my brothers, show them this stuff, then they will believe you.' I set out, I have travelled twelve leagues since sunset, and here I am."
Joan then made the recital they required of him, to which Valentine and the Ulmen listened with the greatest attention.
What was to be done? These three indomitable men found themselves opposed by an impossibility, which rose implacable and terrible before them. Valentine was the first to decide.
"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, "since we have nothing left but to die with our friends, let us hasten to join them."
"Come, then," the two Indians replied. They left the hut just as the sun was rising.
The two men leaned into their saddles. Then commenced a desperate journey. It lasted six hours, then in sight of Corcovado.
"Here we must dismount," said Joan.
The horses were abandoned, and the three companions began to climb the mountain.
"Wait here for me," said Joan; "I will see how the land lies after a while."
His companions threw themselves on the ground, and he crept away. Instead of ascending higher, the Indian soon disappeared behind one of the numerous masses of granite. His absence was so long, that his friends were preparing to resume their march, at whatever risk, when they saw him come running quickly.