Doña Clara and her brother remounted. The monk was cautiously placed in front of the Major-domo, and the small party set out again at a foot pace, under the guidance of the Carib chief. Poor Fray Arsenio gave no other signs of existence but deep sighs, which at intervals heaved his chest, and stifled groans torn from him by suffering. At the end of three quarters of an hour they reached the boucan, by the near cut, which Omopoua indicated to them. It was empty, but not deserted, as was proved by the bull hides, still stretched out on the ground, and held down by pegs, and the boucaned meat suspended from the forks of the branches. The adventurers were probably away, hunting. The travellers were considerably annoyed by this contretemps, but Omopoua relieved them of their embarrassment. "The palefaces need not be anxious," he said, "the chief will warn his friends, the white _franiis_--in their absence the paler faces can use, without fear, everything they find here." And, joining example to precept, the Carib prepared a bed of dry leaves, which he covered with skins, and, with the Major-domo's aid, carefully laid the wounded man upon it; then he lit a fire, and after, for the last time repeating to the fugitives the assurance that they had nothing to fear, he went off, gliding like a snake through the tall grass. The Major-domo, who was tolerably well acquainted with the manners of the adventurers, with whom he had had some relations, though always against his will, for, brave though he was, or boasted of being, they inspired him with a superstitious terror--reassured the others as to their position, by declaring to them, that hospitality was so sacred with the buccaneers, that, if they were their most inveterate foes instead of quasi guests, as they had only come on their formal invitation, they would have nothing to apprehend from them. In the meanwhile, thanks to the attention which Doña Clara had not ceased to bestow on him, the poor monk had returned to his senses. Although very weak at first, he gradually regained sufficient strength to impart to Doña Clara all that happened to him since their separation. This narration, whose conclusion coincided in the minutest details with that previously made by the Carib, plunged Doña Clara into a state of stupefaction, which soon changed into horror, when she reflected on the terrible dangers that menaced her. In truth, what help could she expect? Who would dare to protect her against her husband, whose high position and omnipotence would annihilate every effort she might make to escape from his vengeance. "Courage," the monk murmured, with a tender commiseration, "courage, my daughter, above man there is God. Have confidence in Him; He will not abandon you: and if everything fail you, He will come to your assistance, and interfere in your favour."