Our third night was interrupted by five or six halts, but we plodded on till dawn. At the first gleam of light, I examined the horizon; there was nothing but bluish-looking mountains to the right, and in every other direction only the gloomy and deserted plain. On this day we had to be satisfied with maize-cakes; but the hope of at length reaching the woods cheered every one.
"Lucien began to repeat to the parrots the names of Hortense and Emile."
"One night more," said l'Encuerado and Sumichrast, "and then we shall have rest and abundance."
The fourth day's march was much more wearisome, especially to poor Lucien, who, still uncomplaining, yet commenced to limp dreadfully.
The day broke, and I again examined the horizon, but could see nothing except the sky and grass.
"I am afraid we are not going the right way," I said to l'Encuerado. "God grant we have not been walking at random for these three days."
The Indian stood up on his basket, and carefully examined the outline of the mountains.
"We are in the right path," said he, positively; "the savannah is very wide, that is all."