"Let us pray for success, senor," he said blandly. "Let us hope that natives will be there who can tell us the way to Mexico. The name will be sufficient. Speak it, and if they have heard of the place they will give us the direction." "Shove off!" shouted the sailor at the rudder, and the boat was at once pushed from the side of the brigantine. A little later her keel slid gently on to the sand, and all sprang into the water and waded ashore. As at the port in Cuba, there were trees here, and Roger at once searched for an inlet amongst them. "There is one over there," he said, pointing to the right, and speaking in Spanish. "We will go that way and try our fortune. No use to attempt to penetrate the heart of the forest, for natives are not likely to be found there." "And we shall go alone, senor?" asked the Spaniard, with some trace of anxiety. "With Tamba," answered Roger. "Lead us, Alvarez, for doubtless you are more used to these forests than are we." There was a vague, questioning look in the eyes of the Spaniard. His brow was furrowed, and Roger could see that he was thinking. But the man turned on his heel a moment later, and trudged off across the sand, while Roger and Tamba fell in behind, a quick glance passing between them. And in this order they reached the break in the trees and entered the shadow of the forest. Their road took them along the side of a stream, and though they searched for traces of natives, none were to be found. The forest trees came closer, while the ground they traversed became more difficult. They clambered over rocks and fallen trunks, and sometimes were compelled to wade along in the stream. "We are doomed to disappointment, senor," said the Spaniard, halting at last and wiping the perspiration from his brow. "There are no natives here, and never have been. We waste our breath and our strength, and we run the risk of fever. See how damp the soil is, and how huge the trees. Let us return, and try a path elsewhere." The request was reasonable, and Roger gladly assented to it. But it happened that at that point the river had narrowed, and chanced to run through a belt of rock, a strip which cropped up in the centre of the forest. Tree trunks grew close on either side, and to return in the same order would have needed an effort; Alvarez would have had to squeeze past our hero, or push his way through the undergrowth. "Then we will turn and walk as we are till the path widens," said Roger, for one small moment forgetting his caution. And what wonder! It wanted an older man than he, one experienced in life, who had met men of every sort, and had learned to trust but little, to keep up such suspicions. This Spaniard had done nothing to cause trouble. Roger was forced to confess that not once had the details of his story broken down. He had never contradicted himself, though once or twice, when off his guard, his answers had been a little doubtful. Why distrust him? Let him prove his honest intentions.