But Ayacanora did not return; and ten days more went on in continual toil at the canoes without any news of her from the hunters.  Amyas, by the by, had strictly bidden these last not to follow the girl, not even to speak to her, if they came across her in their wanderings.  He was shrewd enough to guess that the only way to cure her sulkiness was to outsulk her; but there was no sign of her presence in any direction; and the canoes being finished at last, the gold, and such provisions as they could collect, were placed on board, and one evening the party prepared for their fresh voyage.  They determined to travel as much as possible by night, for fear of discovery, especially in the neighborhood of the few Spanish settlements which were then scattered along the banks of the main stream.  These, however, the negroes knew, so that there was no fear of coming on them unawares; and as for falling asleep in their night journeys, “Nobody,” the negroes said, “ever slept on the Magdalena; the mosquitoes took too good care of that.”  Which fact Amyas and his crew verified afterwards as thoroughly as wretched men could do.

The sun had sunk; the night had all but fallen; the men were all on board; Amyas in command of one canoe, Cary of the other.  The Indians were grouped on the bank, watching the party with their listless stare, and with them the young guide, who preferred remaining among the Indians, and was made supremely happy by the present of Spanish sword and an English axe; while, in the midst, the old hermit, with tears in his eyes, prayed God’s blessing on them.

“I owe to you, noble cavaliers, new peace, new labor, I may say, new life.  May God be with you, and teach you to use your gold and your swords better than I used mine.”

The adventurers waved their hands to him.

“Give way, men,” cried Amyas; and as he spoke the paddles dashed into the water, to a right English hurrah! which sent the birds fluttering from their roosts, and was answered by the yell of a hundred monkeys, and the distant roar of the jaguar.

About twenty yards below, a wooded rock, some ten feet high, hung over the stream.  The river was not there more than fifteen yards broad; deep near the rock, shallow on the farther side; and Amyas’s canoe led the way, within ten feet of the stone.

As he passed, a dark figure leapt from the bushes on the edge, and plunged heavily into the water close to the boat.  All started.  A jaguar?  No; he would not have missed so short a spring.  What, then?  A human being?

A head rose panting to the surface, and with a few strong strokes the swimmer had clutched the gunwale.  It was Ayacanora!

“Go back!” shouted Amyas.  “Go back, girl!”

She uttered the same wild cry with which she had fled into the forest.

“I will die, then!” and she threw up her arms.  Another moment, and she had sunk.

To see her perish before his eyes! who could bear that?  Her hands alone were above the surface.  Amyas caught convulsively at her in the darkness, and seized her wrist.