Carmen looked very grave.

“Think better of it, amigo mio,” he said.  “When we formed this project we were both in a reckless mood.  Much of the country you propose to explore has never been trodden by the white man’s foot.  It is a country of impenetrable forests, fordless rivers, and unclimbable mountains.  You will have to undergo terrible hardships, you may die of hunger or of thirst, and escape the poisoned arrows of wild Indians only to fall a victim to the malarious fevers which none but natives of the country can resist.”

“When did you learn all this?  You talked very differently a few days ago.”

“I did, but I have been making inquiries.”

“And you have fallen in love.”

“True, and that has opened my eyes to many things.”

“To the dangers of this expedition, for instance; likewise to the fact that fighting Spaniards is not the only thing worth living for.”

“Very likely; love is always stronger than hate, and I confess that I hate the Spaniards much less than I did.  Yet, in this matter, I assure you that I do not in the least exaggerate.  You must remember that your companions will be half-breeds, men who have neither the stamina nor the courage for really rough work.  When the hardships begin they are almost sure to desert you.  If we were going together we might possibly pull through, as we have already pulled through so many dangers.”

“Yes, I shall miss you sorely.  All the same, I am resolved to go, even were the danger tenfold greater than you say it is.”

“I feared as much.  Well, if I cannot dissuade you from attempting this enterprise, I must e’en go with you, as I am pledged to do.  To let you undertake it alone, after agreeing to bear you company were treason to our friendship.  It would be like deserting in the face of the enemy.”

“Not so, Carmen.  The agreement has been cancelled by mutual consent, and to leave Juanita after winning her heart would be quite as bad as deserting in face of the enemy.  And I have a right to choose my company.  You shall not go with me.”

Juanita again gave me her hand, and from the look that accompanied it I thought that, had I spoken first—­but it was too late; the die was cast.

“You will not go just yet,” she murmured; “you will stay with us a little longer.”

“As you wish, senorita.  A few days more or less will make little difference.”

Several other attempts were made to turn me from my purpose.  Don Esteban himself (who was greatly pleased with his daughter’s betrothal to Carmen), prompted thereto by Juanita, entered the lists.  He expressed regret that he had not another daughter whom he could bestow upon me, and went even so far as to offer me land and to set me up as a Venezuelan country gentleman if I would consent to stay.