"Alas! who knows, Señor? The idolaters have been worshipping the devil stone greatly of late, and it may be that they have carried off Doña Dolores to assist in the ceremonies." "Not to sacrifice her?" "Santissima Virgen! no, Señor," rejoined the Padre, hastily. "The idolaters look on her as the guardian of the stone, as one under the protection of the god himself. If they have carried her off," added the priest, emphatically, "her life is safe, and her honour. But my son, Don Hypolito?" "Do you think----?" "I know nothing, my son. But there is one Pepe." "The zambo? Yes, Padre." "He hired a boat this afternoon from one of the fishers, saying he was about to go up the coast to see his mother. I heard of that by chance, my children. When it was told to me that Pepe had been seen hanging about the doors of the cathedral, I went from my chapel to the sea-port at once, and there I find that the boat and Pepe are both gone." "Carajo!" swore Rafael, giving voice to the general opinion, "he has carried Dolores off to _The Pizarro_. Ladron!" "It may not be so," said Philip, thoughtfully; "Cocom is also missing. Doña Dolores may have gone with him." "I don't believe it," said Peter, angrily. "Cocom is a good fellow, and devoted to Doña Dolores. He would not harm a hair of her head." "It's a queer business," cried Tim, in perplexity; "'tis either Cocom or Pepe. I am certain it is the last of them. _The Pizarro_ wasn't cruising up and down for nothing." "The torpedo-boats----" "To the devil with them! Hasn't Xuarez his spies in England as well as the Junta? He knows the torpedo-boats are not due here for at least a fortnight, so why should he waste time in searching for them now? By all the saints," shouted Tim, raising his enormous fist, and crashing it down on the table, "'tis Don Hypolito who has the poor girl." There was nothing more to be said in the matter as the opinions of everyone were divided. Don Rafael, Philip, and Peter believed that Dolores had been carried off by Don Hypolito, as also did Padre Ignatius; while Don Miguel, Tim, and Jack were equally confident that she was in the power of the forest Indians. The Englishmen went back to their house, and, as nothing could be done till morning, Philip spent most of the night trying to comfort Jack, who refused to go to bed, and walked up and down the sitting-room till close on dawn. At last the baronet persuaded him to lie down and have some rest, but he only slept fitfully. At dawn he was on his feet again, and away to the house of Maraquando, to hear if any news had arrived concerning Dolores. "My poor Jack, you will kill yourself," said Philip anxiously looking at the young man's haggard face. "No I won't," retorted Jack, grimly, "I'll hold out until I find Dolores. And find her I will, whether she is in that d--d temple, or with the cursed Don Hypolito."