"Did you notice that, on leaving us, Red Cedar did not say a syllable about his prisoner?"
"For what good? He knows she is in perfect safety here, any flight from this island is impossible."
"That is true; but why did he carry off this woman?"
"Who knows? Red Cedar is one of those men whose thoughts it is always dangerous to sound. Up to the present, we cannot read his conduct clearly enough; let him return, perhaps then the object he has in view will be unfolded to us."
"That woman annoys me here," the monk said in a hollow voice.
"What's to be done? Down there at Santa Fe I did not hesitate to serve you in trying to get rid of her; but now it is too late—it would be madness to dream of it. What matter to us, after all, whether she be with us, or not? Believe me, make up your mind to it, and speak no more about it. Bah! She will not prevent us reaching the placer."
The monk shook his head with a dissatisfied air, but made no reply. The Gambusino wrapped himself in his zarapé, lay down on the ground, and fell asleep. Fray Ambrosio, for his part, remained plunged in gloomy thoughts. What was he thinking of? Some treachery, doubtless.
When the woman who had been leaning against the tree, perceived that the conversation was at an end, she glided softly away, and re-entered the cabin.