"Dangers!" cried Paganel. "Who uttered the word danger?"
"Not I!" replied Robert Grant, with flashing eye and determined look.
"Danger!" repeated Paganel; "does such a thing exist? Moreover, what is the question? A journey of scarcely three hundred and fifty leagues, since we shall proceed in a straight line; a journey which will be accomplished in a favorable latitude and climate; in short, a journey whose duration will be only a month at most. It is a mere walk."
"Monsieur Paganel," asked Lady Helena at last, "do you think that, if the shipwrecked sailors have fallen into the power of the Indians, their lives have been spared?"
"Certainly I do, madam. The Indians are not cannibals; far from that, one of my countrymen whom I knew in the Society was three years prisoner among the Indians of the Pampas. He suffered, was ill-treated, but at last gained the victory in this trying ordeal. A European is a useful person in these countries. The Indians know his value, and esteem him very highly."
"Well then, there is no more hesitation," said Glenarvan; "we must start, and that, too, without delay. What course shall we take?"
"An easy and agreeable one," replied Paganel. "A few mountains to begin with; then a gentle descent on the eastern slope of the Andes; and at last a level, grassy, sandy plain, a real garden."
"Let us see the map," said the major.
"Here it is, my dear MacNabb. We shall begin at the end of the thirty-seventh parallel on the coast of Chili. After passing through the capital of Araucania, we shall strike the Cordilleras, and descending their steep declivities across the Rio Colorado, we shall reach the Pampas. Passing the frontiers of Buenos Ayres, we shall continue our search until we reach the shores of the Atlantic."