It was a beautiful spring day, the 31st of October, when the schooner picked her way gracefully among the shipping and out of Buenos Ayres harbor before a light wind. There was speed as well as seaworthiness in the craft, as the owners had promised, and the two fortune-hunters, who were her only passengers, were enthusiastic over the happy auspices under which they started on their extraordinary quest. The voyage was not eventful. Storms and calms, head winds and currents, made it a trip that taxed the patience of men with minds full of tremendous possibilities. Still it was no use grumbling, as Fraser explained to his companion. Nothing could be done until the 6th of December and they might as well spend the time at sea as at Rio Negro. There were still ten days to spare when they dropped anchor off the Rio Negro settlement. They went ashore, and the Scotchman was heartily welcomed by his friends in the little colony. He made inquiries about the Indians, and learned that Casimiro had not been seen by any of the colonists since Fraser’s departure six months before. None of the natives had appeared often at the settlement within the same period, and trade with them had almost ceased. Fraser did not regard this as a bad sign. Brent found the ten days’ waiting far from dull amid the picturesque scenery of the wild coast and the primitive colonial life which was all a charming novelty in his eyes. His partner was not yet able to make very active use of his convalescent limb, and an Englishman in the colony accompanied the young man on several long tramps through what was to him a delightful country. On the morning of the 6th of December, Fraser and Brent set off together on foot at about ten o’clock. The Scotchman had almost discarded his crutches, but he carried them with him on this occasion. They would help to explain Brent’s presence to the chief, he intimated. The rendezvous was at a small spring in the hills, about four miles from the settlement, where Fraser and the Patagonian had often refreshed themselves on their tramps. High noon was to be the hour of meeting. They were fully an hour in advance of the time, and when they sat down by the pool of bubbling water in a charming little hollow among the rugged hills, there was no sign of any living creature hear them. They talked together for half an hour or more about the possible results of their venture, and then the younger man began to be anxious. He was feverishly impatient to see the strange man upon whose simple, unsecured promise they had based weeks of time and effort. As the minutes passed and they saw and heard nothing save nature’s face and voice about them, Brent was unable to conceal his fears of disappointment. “Do you think he will come?” he asked impatiently looking again at his watch and noting that the hands were close to the meridian.