It was barely daylight, although the sun was above the horizon.  A vast bank of cloud hung so dense across the eastern sky as to leave the whole scene in shadow, making the hour appear much earlier.  I felt, as we searched the camp-fires, a strange uneasiness, for which I could not account—­it was a premonition of approaching peril.  This sense is the gift of many accustomed to border life, and compelled to rely for safety upon minute signs scarcely observable to the eyes of others.  I had noticed a broken reed near where we turned into this new stream, so freshly severed as to show green from sap yet flowing, while the soft mud about the base of the big rock bore evidence of having been tramped, although the distance was so great the nature of the marks was not discernible.  To be sure, native denizens of the forest might account for this, yet the sight aroused suspicion and a determination to examine more closely, while the fear of prowling enemies made me strenuous in objecting to the building of any fire with which to cook our morning meal.

The eating came to a conclusion at last, although not without grumbling, in both French and English, at being obliged to subsist on cold fare.  By use of threats I succeeded in inducing the Rev. Mr. Cairnes to retire without indulging in his usual devotional exercise.  Discovering De Noyan comfortably settled against a tree-trunk, pipe in mouth, already beginning to look sleepy about the eyes, I muttered in his hearing a word or two regarding a fishing trip into deeper water along the opposite shore, and, quietly leaving him to unsuspicious repose, slipped down to where our boat was tied beneath the tree shadows.  As I bent, loosening the rope, I felt rather than perceived the presence of Madame upon the bank above.  Turning as she addressed me, I glanced up, holding the untied rope in my hand.

“You fear Spaniards may be near,” she said quickly, as if she had deciphered my hidden thought.

“No, Madame,” I replied, scarcely able to conceal astonishment at her penetration, yet eager to quiet alarm, particularly as I had no occasion for uneasiness.  “I merely feel a curiosity to examine that odd rock beside the entrance—­the one we passed on the right.”

“Geoffrey Benteen,” she said firmly, stepping down the sloping bank until she stood beside me, “there is no occasion for your attempting deceit with me.  Besides, you are too open-hearted a man to deceive any one.  I have noticed your glances, and interpreted your thoughts, ever since we turned into this stream.  I am certain you fear at this moment we have been beguiled into a trap.  Tell me, is this not true?”

Her clear, questioning eyes gazed so directly into my own, and were so honestly courageous, I up and told her what I had observed, and where I was then bound.

“It is better to trust me,” she commented simply, as I ended my recital.  “My eyes have not been altogether idle, although I am no borderer to observe such faint signs.  There were several reeds bent low in the water a hundred yards back; their sides scraped as if a large boat had been dragged through them.  I thought nothing of it, until I observed how intently you were studying each mark left by man.  While you are gone yonder, what would you wish me to do?”