But for how long?

That was the question which obtruded itself, even while filled with the delightful thrill of his new love, and when en rapport with his marvellous surroundings.

The intimate knowledge which Ariel possessed of the region would guide them to some spot where they could reasonably hope to be safe from pursuit, unless such pursuit was led by her enraged parent.

Ashman was still scrutinizing the great mass of rock, steadily assuming more definite shape in the moonlight as the intervening distance decreased, when he was surprised that he had not noticed the mountainous elevation behind it.  The immense rock seemed but the beginning of others rising beyond to the height of a thousand feet, while they broadened to the right and left until they stretched over an extent of several miles.

It seemed to him that these constituted a spur of the Geral range, which extend in a northwesterly direction between the Guapore River (forming a part of the eastern boundary of Bolivia) and the headwaters of the Tapajos and Xingu.  If so, their extent was continuous for a hundred miles.

Ashman had ceased paddling, though, under the faint momentum remaining, the canoe continued slowly moving over the lake and gradually drawing near the rock.  He did not break the silence, but asked himself what could be the reason of Ariel’s direction for him to paddle toward the rock.  He supposed there was some place of concealment which she had in mind, though he discerned nothing of that nature.

“We cannot stay there forever,” was the practical thought in the mind of the lover, who felt the next moment as though he would be happy to dwell forever anywhere with her.

“After we have staid here until pursuit is given up—­if it ever will be—­then we must leave the country.  I will take her to my home in North America, where I shall love and cherish her and become the envied of all men.”

“We are approaching the rock,” he said, addressing her; “what next, dearest Ariel.”

“Paddle right on,” was the astonishing reply.

He looked at her with a questioning smile.  Could she be in earnest?

“Right on,” she repeated, reading his thoughts aright.

“Very well; the slave obeys his mistress,” he replied, giving the paddle another dip in the water.

Gazing ahead, he instantly discovered the cause of her reply.  A tunnel opened into the rock, seemingly near the centre.  It was perhaps ten feet in height and with a width slightly greater.  Could it be she meant he should enter that black forbidding passage?  He asked the question and she replied that such was her wish.

He could not decline to take her whither she desired to go.  Gently swaying the blade, he sent the boat within the dark opening, which appeared to distend its jaws to swallow the canoe and them from the world to which they had bidden good-bye.