The morning was serenely cool and, in its stillness, their talk filled with clear-cut words the calm air of the ravine. A party--I could not tell how many--had already come up from the schooner in a great state of excitement. They feared that their presence had, in some way, become known to the peons of the _hacienda_. There was much abuse of a man called Carneiro, who, the day before, had fired an incautious shot at a fat cow on one of the inland _savannas_. They cursed him. Last night, before the moon rose, those on board the schooner had heard the whinnying of a horse. Somebody had ridden down to the water’s edge in the darkness and, after waiting a while, had galloped back the way he came. The prints of hoofs on the beach showed that. They feared these horsemen greatly. A vengeance was owing for the man Manuel had killed; and I could guess they talked with their faces over their shoulders. “And what about finding out whether the _Inglez_ was there, dead or alive?” asked some. I was sure, now, that they would not come down in a body. It would expose them to the danger of being caught in the cavern by the peons. There was no time for a thorough search, they argued. For the first time that morning I heard Manuel’s voice, “Stand aside.” He came down to the very brink. “If the _Inglez_ is down there, and if he is alive, he is listening to us now.” He was as certain as though he had been able to see me. He added: “But there’s no one.” “Go and look, Manuel,” they cried. He said something in a tone of contempt. The Voices above my head sank into busy murmurs. “Give me the rope here,” he said aloud. I had a feeling of some inconceivable danger nearing me; and in my state of weakness I began to tremble, backing away from the orifice. I had no strength in my limbs. I had no weapons. How could I fight? I would use my teeth. With a light knocking against the rock above the arch, Williams’ flask, tied by its green cord to the end of a thick rope, descended slowly, and hung motionless before the entrance. It had been freshly filled with water; it was dripping wet outside, and the silver top, struck by the sunbeams, dazzled my eyes. This was the danger--this bait. And it seems to me that if I had had the slightest inkling of what was coming, I should have rushed at it instantly. But it took me some time to understand--to take in the idea that this was water, there, within reach of my hand. With a great effort I resisted the madness that incited me to hurl myself upon the flask. I hung back with all my power. A convulsive spasm contracted my throat. I turned about and fled out of the passage. I ran to Seraphina. “Put out your hand to me,” I panted in the darkness. “I need your help.” I felt it resting lightly on my bowed head. She did not even ask me what I meant; as if the greatness of her soul was omniscient. There was, in that silence, a supreme unselfishness, the unquestioning devotion of a woman.