"How did you happen to be so close by, Ysabel," queried Matt, "when Dick and I were so sorely in need of help?"
"Pedro said that you would probably make a landing in the Purgatoire, which is a branch of the Izaral, and that the general was watching closely the path that led from the branch to the encampment. I heard a number of rifle shots, and that led me to hurry toward the path. I got there just in time to see you. I am sorry for what I was compelled to do in New Orleans, and if I can help you any now I wish you would let me."
"You have already been a lot of help to us," said Matt. "Whether you can help us any more or not remains to be seen. Perhaps, Ysabel, we may be able to help you a little."
"How?" she returned, leveling her lustrous black eyes upon him.
"You can't remain here, in this poor camp, indefinitely," went on Matt. "Pedro is taking a good many chances, I should think, coming here to smuggle food to you. What would happen if General Pitou was to catch Pedro? In that case you would be left without any one to look after you."
"I know that," answered the girl, drawing a long face, "but anything is better than being compelled to marry the general. I won't do that!" and again she stamped her foot angrily.
"What are your plans?" asked Matt.
"Pedro is going to try and get a pitpan for me and send me down to Port Livingstone. He says there is a pitpan on the Purgatoire, and that, just as soon as the hour is favorable, he will start me for the town."
"That pitpan has been stove in and destroyed," said Matt, "so you can't count on that. Why not go down the river with us, in the Grampus? Have you friends in Port Livingstone?"
"No," replied the girl, a flash of pleasure crossing her face at Matt's suggestion that she go away in the submarine, "but I have good friends in Belize—my mother's people. They will take care of me. I should have stayed there instead of coming on to Port Livingstone as my father told me."