The question now was, whether a navigable stream of water existed in the neighborhood.  Dick Sand thought it probable, and for this reason:  The river which emptied into the Atlantic at the place where the “Pilgrim” had stranded could not ascend much to the north, nor much to the east, of the province, because a chain of mountains quite close to them—­those which they had mistaken for the Cordilleras—­shut in the horizon on these two sides.  Then, either the river descended from these heights, or it made a bend toward the south, and, in these two cases, Dick Sand could not take long to find the course.  Perhaps, even before reaching the river—­for it had a right to this qualification, being a direct tributary of the ocean—­one of its affluents would be met with which would suffice for the transport of the little party.

At any rate, a stream of some sort could not be far away.

In fact, during the last miles of the journey the nature of the earth had been modified.  The declivities diminished and became damp.  Here and there ran narrow streams, which indicated that the sub-soil enclosed everywhere a watery network.  During the last day’s march the caravan had kept along one of these rivulets, whose waters, reddened with oxyde of iron, eat away its steep, worn banks.  To find it again could not take long, or be very difficult.  Evidently they could not descend its impetuous course, but it would be easy to follow it to its junction with a more considerable, possibly a navigable, affluent.

Such was the very simple plan which Dick Sand determined upon, after having conferred with old Tom.

Day came, all their companions gradually awoke.  Mrs. Weldon placed little Jack in Nan’s arms.  The child was drowsy and faded-looking during the intermittent periods, and was sad to see.

Mrs. Weldon approached Dick Sand.  “Dick,” she asked, after a steady glance, “where is Harris?  I do not perceive him.”

The young novice thought that, while letting his companions believe that they were treading on the soil of Bolivia, it would not do to hide from them the American’s treason.  So he said, without hesitation:  “Harris is no longer here.”

“Has he, then, gone ahead?” asked Mrs. Weldon.  “He has fled, Mrs. Weldon,” replied Dick Sand.  “This Harris is a traitor, and it is according to Negoro’s plan that he led us this far.”  “For what motive?” quickly asked Mrs. Weldon.  “I do not know,” replied Dick Sand; “but what I do know is, that we must return, without delay, to the coast.”

“That man—­a traitor!” repeated Mrs. Weldon.  “I had a presentiment of it!  And you think, Dick, that he is in league with Negoro?”

“That may be, Mrs. Weldon.  The wretch is on our track.  Chance has brought these two scoundrels together, and—­”

“And I hope that they will not be separated when I find them again!” said Hercules.  “I will break the head of one against the other’s head!” added the giant, holding out his formidable fists.