Suarez was the only man on the _Kansas_
who could act as guide, and the penalty of his refusal would be instant
death. She had provided a strong, sharp knife to cut the thongs which
fastened the canoes to their anchor-stones. For the rest, she trusted
to the darkness. It was her fixed resolve to succeed or die.
Gray listened to the girl's cool statement with growing admiration.
The plan began to look feasible. It came within the bounds of reason.
The odds were against it, of course, but the law of probability is
seldom in favor of a forlorn hope. Suarez, too, making the best of a
situation which gave him no option, agreed that they had a fair chance
if once they got hold of the canoes. Nevertheless, he warned them that
he knew nothing of the surroundings of Guanaco Hill. He believed there
were no reefs on that side of the inlet, but he had never visited it.
Their greatest peril lay amid the almost impenetrable trees which grew
down to the water's edge. On his advice, Gray unshipped the mast and
threw it overboard. Then silence became imperative. If aught were
said, they must speak in the merest whisper.
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