"In that case, it is no longer imprudent, but merely a mark of confidence. Diego López," he added, turning to the peon, "go to the right."
"Excellency," the latter said respectfully, "if we go to the right after passing that clump of larches, sumachs, and floripondios, we shall come to an impassable belt of rocks which border the river on that side."
"Nonsense," the count continued with a smile; "never mind; go on."
Diego López bowed, and at once went in the direction ordered. The road had to be cut with the axe, and they only advanced step by step. After about an hour of extremely fatiguing toil, the band reached, as Diego López had predicted, the foot of an enormous and irregular mass of rocks heaped on each other to a great height. They were forced to halt, owing to the material impossibility of going any further.
"You see, Excellency," Diego López said, with the satisfaction of a servant who believes he has got the best of his master.
"Yes, yes, I see," the count replied, as he attentively examined the rocks; "be kind enough, Señor Clary, to hold my horse for a moment."
He dismounted, threw the bridle to the Canadian, and said to the peon—
"Come hither, Diego."
The latter followed him without a word, vainly torturing his brain to guess what his master intended to do. The count walked straight up to the rocks; on reaching a certain spot he stooped, and after a moment's reflection, said—
"Thrust your gun barrel into that crack, and press."