"Demonios!" the monk exclaimed, "take care, gossip, gestures are dangerous here."
But the bandit's despondency lasted no longer than a flash of lightning; he drew himself up again, almost as haughty as he had been previously, saying in a firm voice—"I will escape."
"Bravely spoken, gossip," the monk said; "but we must act."
"Forward!" the squatter howled.
"What do you mean?" the monk cried, with a start of terror; "why, that leads to the redskins' camp."
"Forward, I tell you."
"Very good, and may the devil protect us!" Fray Ambrosio muttered.
The squatter, as he said, marched boldly toward the camp; they soon reached the spot where they let down a lasso for Nathan, and which they had beaten a retreat from in their first movement of terror. On reaching it, the squatter parted the branches, and looked down. All the camp was aroused; Indians could be seen running about in all directions.
"Oh," Red Cedar muttered, "I hoped all these demons would start in pursuit of us; it is impossible to cross there."
"We cannot think of it," said Nathan, "we should be hopelessly lost."