"Pull up the canoe, hide the paddles among the reeds," said Montbarts, "and follow me." The Olonnais obeyed with the punctuality and intelligent vivacity which he displayed in everything, and then said to his master-- "Shall I take my fusil?" "There is no harm in doing so," the latter replied; "an adventurer should never go unarmed." "Very good; I will remember that." They proceeded inland, following a scarce-traced path, which ran with a gentle incline from the beech, wound round a rather steep hill, and after passing through a leafy mahogany forest, led to a narrow esplanade, in the centre of which a light canvas tent had been pitched, not far from a rock. A man, seated before the entrance of the tent, was reading a Breviary. He was dressed in the strict attire of the Franciscans, and seemed to have passed middle life. He was pale and thin, his features were ascetic and stern, his countenance was intelligent, and a marked expression of gentleness was spread over it. At the sound of the adventurers' footsteps he raised his head quickly, turned towards them, and a melancholy smile played round his lips. Hurriedly closing his book, he rose and walked a few steps toward the newcomers. "Heaven be with you, brothers!" he said in Spanish, "If you come with pure intentions; if not, may it inspire you with better thoughts." "My father," the filibuster said, returning his salutation, "I am the man whom the adventurers of St. Kitts call Montbarts, and my intentions are pure, for in coming here I have only yielded to the desire you expressed to see me, if you are really Fray Arsenio Mendoza, from whom I received a letter a few hours ago." "I am the person who wish to see you, brother; and that is really my name." "In that case speak, I am ready to hear you." "Brother," the monk answered, "the things I have to communicate to you are of the highest importance, and concern you alone. Perhaps it would be better that you alone should hear them." "I do not know what important matters you can have to tell me, father; but in any case, learn that this man is my engagé, and, as such, it is his duty to be deaf and dumb when I order him." "Very good, I will speak in his presence, since you demand it; still, I repeat to you, that it would be better for us to be alone." "I will act in accordance with your wish. Retire out of hearing, but keep in sight," he said to his engagé. The latter retired about one hundred yards down the path, and leant on his fusil. "Do you fear any treachery on the part of a poor monk like me?" the Franciscan asked, with a sad smile; "That would be very gratuitously imputing to me intentions very remote from my thoughts." "I suppose nothing, father; still, I am accustomed," the filibuster coarsely answered, "always to be on my guard when I am in the presence of a man of your nation, whether he be priest or layman."