"Come," said the count.
They went in, and when the last peon had passed through, the count continued—
"Now, Diego López, put the stones back in their place as well as you can, for it is useless to show other people the road we have taken."
The peons set to work, and in less than half an hour the entrance was once more hermetically closed, and so skilfully, that no one could have detected it from the outside. The passage in which the Spaniards found themselves was probably lighted by a multitude of imperceptible fissures, which at the same time renewed the stock of air; for although the entrance had been stopped up, it was not dark, and it was perfectly easy to breathe. Cut in the rock, the roof of this passage was lofty enough for a man to pass through comfortably on horseback—it was arched; the ground was dry and covered with a fine sand of a golden-yellow.
The count placed himself at the head of the little party and gave a signal to start. At first the passage descended rather abruptly, and from the noise the travellers heard over their heads, they understood that they were passing beneath the bed of the river; but gradually the ground rose gently, and the passage ascended with innumerable windings, opening out every now and then into long galleries, which showed that the first owners of this hacienda, as prudent people, retained several issues. At regular distances, they came to massive iron doors, which the count opened by touching a hidden spring, and which closed again after the travellers.
At length, after marching for about three-quarters of an hour in this inextricable labyrinth, the count stopped before a massive oak door, entirely covered with thick plates of iron.
"We have arrived," he said.
"What do you mean?" the Canadian remarked, "Not at the hacienda, I suppose?"
"Yes, we are at the hacienda; and, more than that, we are at the entrance of the court leading to the corral."
"That is impossible," said the Canadian.