alifornia. Noble
as your own; ay, or any in old Spain."

"_Hasta manana, muchacas_!" salutes De Lara, preparing to take leave.
"_Pasan Vs buena noche_!"

Calderon repeating the same formulary, the two step towards the
entrance, lift up the piece of suspended sailcloth, and pass out into
night. They have taken the lantern along with them, again leaving the
grotto in darkness.

The girls grope their way, till their arms come in contact. Then,
closing in mutual embrace, they sink together upon the cold flinty
floor!

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.

OCEANWARDS.

Another day dawns over the great South Sea. As the golden orb shows
above the crest of the central American Cordillera, its beams scatter
wide over the Pacific, as a lamp raised aloft, flashing its light afar.
Many degrees of longitude receive instant illumination, at once turning
night into day.

An observer looking west over that vast watery expanse would see on its
shining surface objects that gladdened not the eyes of Balboa. In his
day, only the rude Indian _balsa, or_ frail _periagua_, afraid to
venture out, stole timidly along the shore; but now huge ships, with
broad white sails, and at rare intervals the long black hull of a
steamer, thick smoke vomited forth from her funnel, may be descried in a
offing that extends to the horizon itself.

But not always may ships be seen upon it; for the commerce of the
Pacific is slight compared with that of the Atlantic, and large vessels
passing along the coast of Veragua are few and far between.

On this morning, however, one is observed, and but one; she not sailing
coastwise, but standing out towards mid-ocean, as though she had just
left the land.

As the ascending sun dispels the night darkness around her, she can be
descried as a white fleck on the blue water, her spread sails seeming no
bigger than the wings of a sea-gull. Still, through a telescope--
supposing it in the hands of a seaman--she may be told to be a craft
with polacca-masts; moreover, that the sails on her mizzen are not
square-set, but fore-and-aft, proclaiming her a barque. For she is one;
and could the observer through his glass make out the lettering upon her
stern, he would read there her name, _El Condor_.

Were he transported aboard of her, unaware of what has happened, it
would surprise him to find her decks deserted; not even a man at the
wheel, though she is sailing with full canvas spread, even to
studding-sails; no living