THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 823 
 W 521m 
 
 Cop. 2. 
 

 Return this book on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
MR. FORTESCUE 
 
 an andean romance 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM WESTALL 
 
 VV\ 
 
 New Yoke: 
 
 THE E. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 No. 65 Duane Stbeet. 
 
Authorized Edition . 
 
r 
 
 TO 
 
 HENRY VIGNE, Esq., 
 
 IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF 
 MANY EXCELLENT RUNS WITH HIS ADMIRABLE PACK OF HARRIERS, 
 THIS STORY IS INSCRIBED 
 BY HIS OBLIGED FRIEND 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 939 1 40 
 

 
 
 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I.— Matching Green . . 
 
 • 
 
 » 
 
 • 
 
 k 
 
 . 7 
 
 Ii. — Tickle-me-quick . 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 . 12 
 
 III. — Mr. Fortescue’s' Proposal 
 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 • i 9 
 
 IV. — A Rescue .... 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 . 26 
 
 V. — Thereby hangs a Tale 
 
 0 
 
 
 
 
 . 33 
 
 VI. — The Tale begins 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 . 38 
 
 VII. — In quest of Fortune 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 * 44 
 
 VIII. — In the King’s Name . 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 50 
 
 IX. — Doomed to die . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 55 
 
 X. — Salvador .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 6i 
 
 XI. — Out of the Lion’s Mouth 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 65 
 
 XII. — Between Two Fires . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 72 
 
 XIII. — On the Llanos . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 81 
 
 XIV— Caught 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 XV. — An Old Enemy . 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 93 
 
 XVI. — The Azuferales . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . IOI 
 
 XVII. — A Timely Warning . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . no 
 
 XVIII. — A New Departure 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 116 
 
 XIX. — Don Esteban’s Daughter 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 121 
 
 XX. — The Happy Valley 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 126 
 
 XXI. — A Fight for Life 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 135 
 
 XXII. — The Cacique’s Scheme 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 142 
 
 XXIII. — You are the Man 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 149 
 
 XXIV. — In the Toils 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 153 
 
 XXV. — The Man-Killer . 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 . 158 
 
 XXVI. — Angela 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 164 
 
 XXVII. — Abbe Balthazar . 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 . 172 
 
 XXVIII. — I BID YOU STAY 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 177 
 
 XXIX.— T m Abb|’s Legacy , 
 
 9 
 
 , 
 
 « 
 
 • 
 
 . 182 
 
6 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XXX.— The Quenching of Quipai 
 XXXI.— North by west . , . 
 
 XXXII.— Found out .... 
 XXXIII— Grief and Pain . 
 
 XXXIV. — Old Friends and a New Foe 
 XXXV.— A Novel Wager . . 
 
 XXXVI.— Epilogue .... 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 189 
 . 195 
 . 200 
 . 206 
 . 211 
 . 220 
 * 225 
 
MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MATCHING GREEN. 
 
 A QUAINT old Essex village of single-storied cottages, some 
 ivy mantled, with dormer windows, thatched roofs, and miniature 
 gardens, strewed with picturesque irregularity round as fine a green 
 as you will find in the county. Its normal condition is rustic peace 
 and sleepy beatitude ; and it pursues the even tenor of its way 
 undisturbed by anything more exciting than a meeting of the vestry, 
 the parish dinner, the advent of a new curate, or the exit of one of 
 the fathers of the hamlet. 
 
 But this morning the place is all agog, and so transformed that 
 it hardly knows itself. The entire population, from the oldest gaffer 
 to the last-born baby, is out-of-doors ; the two inns are thronged 
 with guests, and the road is lined with all sorts and conditions of 
 carriages, from the four-in-hand of the wealthy swell to the donkey- 
 cart of the local costermonger. From every point of the compass 
 are trooping horsemen, some resplendent in scarlet coats, their 
 nether limbs clothed in immaculate white breeches and shining top- 
 boots, others in pan hats and brown leggings ; and all in high spirits 
 and eager for the fray ; for to-day, according to old custom, the 
 Essex Hunt hold the first regular meet of the season on Matching’s 
 matchless Green. 
 
 The master is already to the fore, and now comes Tom Cuffe, 
 the huntsman, followed by his hounds, whose sleek skins and bright 
 coats show that they are “ fit to go,” and whose eager looks bode ill 
 to the long-tailed denizens of copse and covert. 
 
8 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 It still wants a few minutes to eleven, and the interval is occupied 
 in the interchange of greetings between old companions of the chase, 
 in desultory talk about horses and hounds ; and while some of the 
 older votaries of Diana fight their battles o’er again, and describe 
 thrice-told historic runs, which grow longer with every repetition, 
 others discuss the prospects of the coming season, and indulge in 
 hopes of which, let us hope, neither Jack Frost, bad scent, nor ac- 
 cident by flood or field will mar the fruition. 
 
 Nearly all are talking, for there is a feeling of camaraderie in 
 the hunting-field which dispenses with the formality of introductions, 
 its frequenters sometimes becoming familiar friends before they have 
 learned each other’s names. 
 
 Yet there are exceptions ; and one cavalier in particular appears 
 to hold himself aloof, neither speaking to his neighbors nor mixing 
 in the throng. As he does not look like a “ sulky swell,” rendered 
 taciturn by an overweening sense of his own importance, he is prob- 
 ably either a new resident in the county or a “ stranger from a 
 distance ” — which, none whom I ask seems to know. There is some- 
 thing about this man that especially attracts my attention ; ah.d not 
 mine alone, for I perceive that he is being curiously regarded by 
 several of my neighbors. His get-up is faultless, and he sits with 
 the easy grace of a practiced horseman an animal of exceptional 
 symmetry and strength. His well-knit figure is slim and almost 
 youthful, and he holds himself as erect on his saddle as a dragoon 
 on parade. But his closely cropped hair is turning gray, and his 
 face that of a man far advanced in the fifties, if not past sixty. And 
 a striking face it is — long and oval, with a straight nose and fine 
 nostrils, a broad forehead, and a firm, resolute mouth. His com- 
 plexion, though it bears traces of age, is clear, healthy, and deeply 
 bronzed. Save for a heavy gray moustache, he is clean shaved ; 
 his dark, keenly-observant eyes are overshadowed by black and all 
 but straight brows, terminating in two little tufts, which give his 
 countenance a strange and, as some might think, an almost sardonic 
 expression. Altogether, it strikes me as being the face of a cynical 
 yet not ill-natured or malicious Mephistopheles. 
 
 Behind him are two grooms in livery, nearly as well mounted as 
 himself, and, greatly to my surprise, he is presently joined by Jim 
 Rawlings, who last season held the post of first whipper-in. 
 
 What manner of man is this who brings out four horses on the 
 Fame day, and what does he waqt >vith them all? Sqgh horses. 
 
MATCHING GREEN , 9 
 
 too ! There is not one of them that has not the look of a two hun- 
 
 dred-guinea hunter. , , . w 
 
 I was about to put the question to Keyworth, the hunt secretary, 
 who had just come within speaking distance, and was likely to know 
 if anybody did, when the master gave the signal for a move, an 
 huntsman and hounds, followed by the entire field, went off at a 
 
 We had a rather long ride to covert, but a quick find, a fox being 
 viewed away almost as soon as the hounds began to draw. It was 
 a fast thing while it lasted, but, unfortunately, it did not last long, 
 for, after a twenty minutes’ gallop, the hounds threw up their heads, 
 and cast as Cuffe might, he was unable to recover the line. 
 
 The country we had gone over was difficult and dangerous, full 
 of blind fences and yawning ditches, deep enough and wide enough 
 to swallow up any horse and his rider who might fail to clear them. 
 Fortunately, however, I escaped disaster, and for the greater part o 
 the run I was close to the gentleman with the Mephistophelian face 
 and Tom Rawlings, who acted as his pilot. Tom rode we , o 
 course-it was his business-but no better than his master, whose 
 horse, besides being a big jumper, was as clever as a cat, flying the 
 ditches like a bird, and clearing the blindest fences without making 
 
 a single mistake. ,, 
 
 After the first run we drew two coverts blank, but eventua y 
 
 found a second fox, which gave us a slow hunting run of about an 
 hour, interrupted by several checks, and saved his brus y ta ing 
 refuge in an unstopped earth. 
 
 By this time it was nearly three o’clock, and being a long w ay 
 from home, and thinking no more good would be done, I deemed it 
 expedient to leave off. I went away as Mephistopheles and his man 
 were mounting their second horses, which had just been brought up 
 by the two grooms in livery. 
 
 Mv way lay by Matching Green, and as I stopped at the village 
 inn to refresh my horse with a pail of gruel and myself with a glass 
 of ale, who should come up but old Tawney, Tom Cuffe s second 
 horseman! Besides being an adept at his calling, familiar with 
 every cross-road and almost every field in the county, he knew 
 nearly as well as a hunted fox himself which way the creature 
 meant to run. Tawney was a great gossip, and quite a mine of 
 curious information about things equine and human— especially 
 about things equine. Here was a chance not to be neglected oi 
 
10 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE, 
 
 learning something about Mephistopheles; so after warming Tawney’s 
 heart and opening his lips with a glass of hot whisky punch, I began : 
 “ You’ve got a new first whip, I see.” 
 
 “Yes, sir, name of Cobbe— Paul Cobbe. He comes from the 
 Berkshire country, he do, sir.” 
 
 “ But how is it that Rawlings has left ? and who is that gentle- 
 man he was with to-day ? ” 
 
 “What! haven’t you heard ?” exclaimed Tawney, as surprised 
 at my ignorance as if I had asked him the name of the reigning 
 sovereign. 
 
 “ I have not heard, which, seeing that I spent the greater part 
 of the summer at sea and returned only the other day, is perhaps 
 not greatly to be wondered at.” 
 
 Well, the gentleman as Rawlings has gone to and as he was 
 with to-day is Mr. Fortescue; him as has taken Kingscote.” 
 
 Kingscote was a country-house of no extraordinary size, but 
 with so large a park and gardens, conservatories and stables so ex- 
 tensive as to render its keeping up very costly ; and the owner or 
 mortgagee, I know not which, had for several years been vainly 
 trying to let it at a nominal rent. 
 
 “ He must be rich, then. Kingscote will want a lot of keep- 
 ing up.” 
 
 Rich is not the word, sir. He has more money than he knows 
 what to do with. Why, he has twenty horses now, and is building 
 loose-boxes for ten more, and he won’t look at one under a hundred 
 pounds. Rawlings has got a fine place, he has that.” 
 
 “ I am surprised he should have left the kennels, though. He 
 loses his chance of ever becoming huntsman.” 
 
 “ He is as good as that now, sir. He had a present of fifty 
 pounds to start with, gets as many shillings a week and all found, 
 and has the entire management of the stables, and with a gentleman 
 like Mr. Fortescue there’ll be some nice pickings.” 
 
 Very likely. But why does Mr. Fortescue want a pilot ? He 
 rides well, and his horses seem to know their business.” 
 
 He won t have any as doesn’t. Yes, he rides uncommon well 
 for an aged man, does Mr. Fortescue. I suppose he wants some- 
 body to show him the way atnd keep him from getting ridden over. 
 
 It isn t nice to get ridden over when you’re getting into years.” 
 
 It isn t nice whether you are getting into years or not. But 
 you can not call Mr. Fortescue an old man.” 
 
MATCHING GREEN 
 
 II 
 
 “ You can not call him a young ’un. He has a good many gray 
 hairs, and them puckers under his eyes hasn t come in a day. But 
 he has a young heart, I will say that for him. Did you see how he 
 did that ‘ double ’ as pounded half the field ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, it was a very sporting jump. But who is Mr. Fortescue, 
 and where does he come from ? ” 
 
 “ That is what nobody seems to know. Mr. Keyworth— he was 
 at the kennels only yesterday — asked me the very same question. 
 He thought Jim Rawlings might ha’ told me something. But bless 
 you, Jim knows no more than anybody else. All as he can tell 
 is as Mr. Fortescue sometimes goes to London, that he is uncom- 
 mon fond of hosses, and either rides or drives tandem nearly 
 every day, and has ordered a slap-up four-in-hand drag. And he 
 has got a ’boratory and no end o’ chemicals and stuff, and electric 
 machines, and all sorts o gimcracks. 
 
 “ Is there a Mrs. Fortescue ? ” 
 
 « Not as I knows on. There is not a woman in the house, ex- 
 cept servants.” 
 
 “ Who looks after things, then ? ” 
 
 “ Well, there’s a housekeeper. But the head bottle-washer is a 
 chap they call major-domo— a German he is. He looks after 
 everything, and an uncommon sharp domo he is, too, Jim says. 
 Nobody can do him a penny piece. And then there is Mr. Fortes- 
 cue’s body-servant ; he’s a dark man, with a big scar on one cheek, 
 and rings in his ears. They call him Rumun. 
 
 “ Nonsense ! There’s no such name as Rumun.” 
 
 “ That’s what I told Jim. He said it was a rum ’un, but his 
 name was Rumun, and no mistake,’ 
 
 “ Dark, and rings in his ears ! The man is probably a Spaniard. 
 You mean Ramon.” 
 
 -No, I don’t: I mean Rumun,” returned Tawney, doggedly. 
 “ I thought it was an uncommon rum name, and I asked Jim twice 
 — he calls at the kennels sometimes — I asked him twice, and he 
 said he was cock sure it was Rumun. 
 
 “ Rumun let it be then. Altogether, this Mr. Fortescue seems 
 to be rather a mysterious personage.” 
 
 “ You are right there, Mr. Bacon, he is. I only wish I was half 
 as mysterious. Why, he must be worth thousands upon thousands. 
 And he spends his money like a gentleman, he does— thinks less of 
 a sovereign than you think of a bob. He sent Mr. Keyworth a 
 
12 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UR. 
 
 hundred pounds for his hunt subscription, and said if they were any 
 ways short at the end of the season they had only to tell him and he 
 would send as much more. 
 
 Having now got all the information out of Tawney he was able 
 to give me, I stood him another whisky, and after lighting a cigar I 
 mounted my horse and jogged slowly homeward, thinking much 
 about Mr. Fortescue, and wondering who he could be. The study 
 of physiognomy is one of my fads, and his face had deeply im- 
 pressed me ; in great wealth, moreover, there is always something 
 that strikes the imagination, and this man was evidently very rich, 
 and the mystery that surrounded him piqued my curiosity. 
 
 CHAPTER II, 
 
 TICKLE-ME-QUICK. 
 
 Being naturally of a retiring disposition, and in no sense the 
 hero of the tale which I am about to tell, I shall say no more con- 
 cerning myself than is absolutely necessary. At the same time, it 
 is essential to a right comprehension of what follows that I say 
 something about myself, and better that I should say it now than 
 interrupt the even flow of my narrative later on. 
 
 My name is Geoffrey Bacon, and I have reason to believe that I 
 was born at a place in Essex called (appropriately enough) Ded- 
 ham. My family is one of the oldest in the county, and (of course) 
 highly respectable; but as the question is often put to me by 
 friends, and will naturally suggest itself to my readers, I may as 
 well observe, once for all, that I am not a descendent of the Lord 
 Keeper Bacon, albeit, if he had had any children, I have no doubt I 
 should have been. 
 
 My poor mother died in giving me birth ; my father followed 
 her when I was ten years old, leaving me with his blessing (nothing 
 else), to the care of his aunt, Miss Ophelia Bacon, by whom I was 
 brought up and educated. She was very good to me, but though I 
 was far from being intentionally ungrateful, I fear that I did not re- 
 pay her goodness as it deserved. The dear old lady had made up 
 her mind that I should be a doctor, and though I would rather have 
 been a farmer gr a country gentleman (the latter for choice), I made 
 
TICKLE-ME-Q Ultit. 
 
 
 no objection ; and so long as I remained at school she had no rea- 
 son to complain of my conduct. I satisfied my masters and passed 
 my preliminary examination creditably and without difficulty, to my 
 aunt’s great delight. She protested that she was proud of me, and 
 rewarded my diligence and cleverness with a five-pound note. But 
 after I became a student at Guy’s I gave her much trouble, and 
 got myself into some sad scrapes. I spent her present, and some- 
 thing more, in hiring mounts, for I was passionately fond of riding, 
 especially to hounds, and ran into debt with a neighboring livery- 
 stable keeper to the tune of twenty pounds. I would sometimes 
 borrow the greengrocer’s pony, for I was not particular what I rode, 
 so long as it had four legs. When I could obtain a mount neither 
 for love nor on credit, I went after the harriers on foot. The re- 
 sult, as touching my health and growth, was all that could be de- 
 sired. As touching my studies, however, it was less satisfactory. 
 
 I was spun twice, both in my anatomy and physiology. Miss 
 Ophelia, though sorely grieved, was very indulgent, and had she 
 lived, I am afraid that I should never have got my diploma. But 
 when I was twenty-one and she seventy-five, my dear aunt died, 
 leaving me all her property (which made an income of about four 
 hundred a year), with the proviso that unless, within three years of 
 her death, I obtained the double qualification, the whole of her es- 
 tate was to pass to Guy’s Hospital. In the mean time the trustees 
 were empowered to make me an allowance of two guineas a week 
 and defray all my hospital expenses. 
 
 On this, partly because I was loath to lose so goodly a heritage, 
 partly, I hope, from worthier motives, I buckled-to in real earnest, 
 and before I was four-and-twenty I could write after my name the 
 much-coveted capitals M. R. C. S., L. R. C. P. All this while I had 
 not once crossed a horse or looked at a hound, yet the ruling passion 
 was still strong, and being very much of Mr. Jorrock’s opinion that 
 all time not spent in hunting is lost, I resolved, before “ settling 
 down ” or taking up any position which might be incompatible 
 with indulgence in my favorite amusement, to devote a few years of 
 my life to fox-hunting. At twenty-four a man does not give much 
 thought to the future— at any rate I did not. 
 
 The next question was how to hunt three or four days a week on 
 four hundred a year, for though I was quite willing to spend my 
 income, I was resolved not to touch my capital. To begin with, I 
 sold my aunt’s cottage and furniture and took a couple of rooms for 
 
H 
 
 MR. FOR TESCUE. 
 
 the winter at Red Chimneys, a roomy farmhouse in the neighbor- 
 hood of Theydon. Then, acting on the great principle of co-opera- 
 tion, I joined at horsekeeping with my good friend and old school- 
 fellow, Bertie Alston, a London solicitor. Being both of us light- 
 weights, we could mount ourselves cheaply ; the average cost of 
 our stud of four horses did not exceed forty pounds apiece. More- 
 over, when opportunities offered, we did not disdain to turn an hon- 
 est penny by buying an animal cheap and selling him dear, and as 
 I looked after things myself, bought my own forage, and saw that I 
 had full measure, our stable expenses were kept within moderate 
 limits. Except when the weather was bad, or a horse hors de com- 
 bat , I generally contrived to get four days’ hunting a week — three 
 with the fox-hounds and one with Mr. Vigne’s harriers — for, owing 
 to his professional engagements, Alston could not go out as often 
 as I did. But as I took all the trouble and responsibility, it was 
 only fair that I should have the lion’s share of the riding. 
 
 At the end of the season we either sold the horses off or turned 
 them into a straw-yard, and I went to sea as ship’s surgeon. In 
 this capacity I made voyages to Australia, to the Cape, and to the 
 West Indies; and the summer before I first saw Mr. Fortescue I 
 had been to the Arctic Ocean in a whaler. True, the pay did not 
 amount to much, but it found me in pocket-money and clothes, and 
 I saved my keep. 
 
 Having now, as I hope, done with digressions and placed myself 
 en rapport with my readers, I will return to the principal personage 
 of my story. 
 
 The next time I met Mr. Fortescue was at Harlow Bush. He 
 was quite as well mounted as before, and accompanied, as usual, by 
 Rawlings and two grooms with their second horses. On this occa- 
 sion Mr. Fortescue did not hold himself nearly so much aloof as he 
 had done at Matching Green, perhaps because he was more noticed ; 
 and he was doubtless more noticed because the fame of his wealth 
 and the lavish use he made of it were becoming more widely known. 
 The master gave him a friendly nod and a gracious smile, and ex- 
 pressed a hope that we should have good sport ; the secretary en- 
 gaged him in a lively conversation ; the hunt servants touched their 
 caps to him with profound respect, and he received greetings from 
 most of the swells. 
 
 We drew Latton, found in a few minutes, and had a “real good 
 thing,” a grand run of nearly two hours, with only one or two 
 
TlCKLE-M E-QUICK. 
 
 IS 
 
 trifling checks, which, as I am not writing a hunting story, I need 
 not describe any further than to remark that we had plenty of fenc- 
 a good deal of hard galloping, a kill in the open, and that of 
 the sixty or seventy who were present at the start only about a score 
 were up at the finish. Among the fortunate few were Mr. Fortescue 
 and his pilot. During the latter part of the run we rode side by 
 side, and pulled up at the same instant, just as the fox was rolled 
 over. 
 
 A very fine run, I took the liberty to observe, as I stepped 
 from my saddle and slackened my horse’s girths. “ It will be a 
 long time before we have a better.” 
 
 Two hours and two minutes,” shouted the secretary, looking 
 at his watch, “ and straight. We are in the heart of the Puckeridge 
 country.” 
 
 “Yes, said Mr. Fortescue, quietly, “it was a very enjoyable 
 run. You like hunting, I think ? ” 
 
 Like it ! I should rather think I do. I regard fox-hunting as 
 the very prince of sports. It is manly, health-giving, and exhila- 
 rating. There is no sport in which so many participate and so 
 heartily enjoy. We enjoy it, the horses enjoy it, and the hounds 
 enjoy it.” 
 
 “ How about the fox ? ” 
 
 Oh, the fox ! Well, the fox is allowed to exist on condition of 
 being occasionally hunted. If there were no hunting there would 
 be no foxes. On the whole, I regard him as a fortunate and rather 
 pampered individual ; and I have even heard it said that he rather 
 likes being hunted than otherwise.” 
 
 “ As f° r the general question, I dare say you are right. But I 
 don t think the fox likes it much. It once happened to me to be 
 hunted, and I know I did not like it.” 
 
 This was rather startling, and had Mr. Fortescue spoken less 
 gravely and not been so obviously in earnest, I should have thought 
 he was joking. 
 
 “You don’t mean — Was it a paper-chase?” I said, rather 
 foolishly. 
 
 ‘No ; it was not a paper-chase,” he answered, grimly. “There 
 were no paper-chases in my time. I mean that I was once hunted, 
 just as we have been hunting that fox.” 
 
 “ With a pack of hounds ? ” 
 
 “Yes, with a pack of hounds.” 
 
i6 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE, 
 
 I was about to ask what sort of a chase it was, and how and 
 where he was hunted, when Cuffe came up, and, on behalf of the 
 master, offered Mr. Fortescue the brush. 
 
 “ Thank you,” said Mr. Fortescue, taking the brush and handing 
 it to Rawlings. “ Here is something for you ” — tipping the hunts- 
 man a sovereign, which he put in his pocket with a “Thank you 
 kindly, sir,” and a gratified smile. 
 
 And then flasks were uncorked, sandwich-cases opened, cigars 
 lighted, and the conversation becoming general, I had no other 
 opportunity— at that time — of making further inquiry of Mr. For- 
 tescue touching the singular episode in his career which he had 
 just mentioned. A few minutes later a move was made for our 
 own country, and as we were jogging along I found myself near 
 Jim Rawlings. 
 
 “That’s a fresh hoss you’ve got, I think, sir,” he said. 
 
 “ Yes, I have ridden him two or three times with the harriers ; 
 but this is the first time I have had him out with fox-hounds.” 
 
 “ He carried you very well in the run, sir.” 
 
 “ You are quite right ; he did. Very well.” 
 
 “ Does he lay hold on you at all, Mr. Bacon ? ” 
 
 “ Not a bit,” 
 
 “ Light in the mouth, a clever jumper, and a free goer.” 
 
 “ All three.” 
 
 “ Yes, he’s the right sort, he is, sir ; and if ever you feel disposed 
 to sell him, I could, may be, find you a customer.” 
 
 Accepting this as a delicate intimation that Mr. Fortescue had 
 taken a fancy to the horse and would like to buy him, I told Jim that 
 I was quite willing to sell at a fair price. 
 
 “ And what might you consider a fair price, if it is a fair ques- 
 tion ? ” asked the man. 
 
 “ A hundred guineas,” I answered ; for, as I knew that Mr. 
 Fortescue would not “ look at a horse,” as Tawney put it, under 
 that figure, it would have been useless to ask less. 
 
 “ Very well, sir. I will speak to my master, and let you know.” 
 Ranger, as I called the horse, was a purchase of Alston’s. Lik- 
 ing his looks (though Bertie was really a very indifferent judge), he 
 had bought him out of a hansom-cab for forty pounds, and after a 
 little “ schooling,” the creature took to jumping as naturally as a 
 duck takes to water. Sixty pounds may seem rather an unconscion- 
 able profit, but considering that Ranger was quite sound and up to 
 
¥ 
 
 TICKLE-ME-Q UICK. 1 7 
 
 weight, I don’t think a hundred guineas was too much. A dealer 
 would have asked a hundred and fifty. 
 
 At any rate, Mr. Fortescue did not think it too much, for Raw- 
 lings presently brought me word that his master would take the 
 horse at the price I had named, if I could warrant him sound. 
 
 “ In that case it is a bargain,” I said, “for I can warrant him 
 sound.” 
 
 “ All right, sir. I’ll send one of the grooms over to your place 
 for him to-morrow.” 
 
 Shortly afterward I fell in with Keyworth, and as a matter of 
 course we talked about Mr. Fortescue. 
 
 “ Do you know anything about him ? ” I asked. 
 
 “ Not much. I believe he is rich— and respectable.” 
 
 “ That is pretty evident, I think.” 
 
 “ I am not sure. A man who spends a good deal of money is 
 presumably rich ; but it by no means follows that he is respectable. 
 There are such people in the world as successful rogues and wealthy 
 swindlers. Not that I think Mr. Fortescue is either one or the 
 other. I learned, from the check he sent me for his subscription, who 
 his bankers are, and through a friend of mine, who is intimate with 
 one of the directors, I got a confidential report about him. It does 
 not amount to much ; but it is satisfactory so far as it goes. They 
 say he is a man of large fortune, and, as they believe, highly respect- 
 able.” 
 
 “ Is that all ? ” 
 
 “ All there was in the report. But Tomlinson — that’s my friend 
 — has heard that he has spent the greater part of his life abroad, and 
 that he made his money in South America.” 
 
 The mention of South America interested me, for I had made 
 voyages both to Rio de Janeiro and several places on the Spanish 
 Main. 
 
 “South America is rather vague,” I observed. “You might 
 almost as well say * Southern Asia.’ Have you any idea in what 
 part of it ? ” 
 
 “ Not the least. I have told you all I know. I should be glad 
 to know more ; but for the present it is quite enough for my pur- 
 pose. I intend to call upon Mr. Fortescue.” 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that I had no such intention, for hav- 
 ing neither a “ position in the county,” as the phrase goes, a house 
 of my own, nor any official connection with the hunt, a call from me 
 2 
 
i8 
 
 MR. FOR FESCUE. 
 
 would probably have been regarded, and rightly so, as a piece of 
 presumption. As it happened, however, I not only called on Mr. 
 Fortescue before the secretary, but became his guest, greatly to my 
 surprise, and, I have no doubt, to his, although he was the indirect 
 cause ; for had he not bought Ranger, it is very unlikely that I 
 should have become an inmate of his house. 
 
 It came about in this way. Bertie was so pleased with the re- 
 sult of his first speculation in horseflesh (though so far as he was 
 concerned it was a pure fluke) that he must needs make another. 
 If he had picked up a second cab-horse at thirty or forty pounds he 
 could not have gone far wrong ; but instead of that he must needs go 
 to Tattersall s and give nearly fifty for a blood mare rejoicing in the 
 name of “ Tickle-me-Quick,” described as being “ the property of a 
 gentleman, and said to have won several country steeple-chases. 
 
 The moment I set eyes on the beast I saw she was a screw, 
 “and vicious at that,” as an American would have said. But as she 
 had been bought (without warranty) and paid for, I had to make 
 the best of her. Within an hour of the mare’s arrival at Red Chim- 
 neys, I was on her back, trying her paces. She galloped well and 
 jumped splendidly, but I feared from her ways that she would be 
 hot with hounds, and, perhaps, kick in a crowd, one of the worst 
 faults that a hunter can possess. 
 
 On the next non-hunting day I took Tickle-me-Quick out for a 
 long ride in the country, to see how she shaped as a hack. I little 
 thought, as we set off, that it would prove to be her last journey, 
 and one of the most memorable events of my life. 
 
 For a while all went well. The mare wanted riding, yet she be- 
 haved no worse than I expected, although from the way she laid 
 her ears back and the angry tossing of her head when I made her 
 feel the bit, she was clearly not in the best of tempers. But I kept 
 her going , and an hour after leaving Red Chimneys we turned into 
 a narrow deep lane between high banks, which led to Kingscote 
 entering the road on the west side of the park at right angles, and 
 very near Mr. Fortescue’s lodge-gates. 
 
 In the field to my right several colts were grazing, and when 
 they caught sight of Tickle-me-Quick trotting up the lane they took 
 it into their heads to have an impromptu race among themselves. 
 Neighing loudly, they set off at full gallop. Without asking my 
 leave, Tickle-me-Quick followed suit. I tried to stop her. I might 
 35 well have tried to stop an avalanche, So, making a virtue of ne*- 
 
MR. POR RESCUE'S PROPOSAL 
 
 19 
 
 Cessity, I let her go, thinking that before she reached the top of the 
 lane she would have had quite enough, and I should be able to pull 
 her up without difficulty. 
 
 The colts are soon left behind ; but we can hear them galloping 
 behind us, and on goes the mare like the wind. I can now see the 
 end of the lane, and as the great park wall, twelve feet high, looms 
 in sight, the horrible thought flashes on my mind that unless I pull 
 her up we shall both be dashed to pieces ; for to turn a sharp cor- 
 ner at the speed we are going is quite out of the question. 
 
 I make another effort, sawing the mare’s mouth till it bleeds, and 
 tightening the reins till they are fit to break. 
 
 All in vain ; she puts her head down and gallops on, if possible 
 more madly than before. Still larger looms that terrible wall ; death 
 stares me in the face, and for the first time in my life I undergo the 
 intense agony of mortal terror. 
 
 We are now at the end of the lane. There is one chance only, 
 and that the most desperate, of saving my life. I slip my feet from 
 the stirrups, and when Tickle-me-Quick is within two or three strides 
 of the wall, I drop the reins and throw myself from her back. Then 
 all is darkness. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE’S PROPOSAL. 
 
 “Where am I?” 
 
 I feel as if I were in a strait-jacket. One of my arms is immov- 
 able, my head is bandaged, and when I try to turn I suffer excruci- 
 ating pain. 
 
 “ Where am I ? ” 
 
 Oh, you have wakened up ! ” says somebody with a foreign 
 accent, and a dark face bends over me. The light is dim and my 
 sight weak, and but for his grizzled mustache I might have taken 
 the speaker for a woman, his ears being adorned with large gold 
 rings. 
 
 “ Where are you ? You are in the house of Sefior Fortescue.” 
 
 “ And the mare ? ” 
 
 *' The mare broke her wicked head against the park wall, and 
 she has gone to the kennels to be eaten by the dogs.” 
 
20 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 “ Already ? How long is it since ? ” 
 
 “ It was the day before yesterday zat it happened." 
 
 God bless me ! I must have been insensible ever since. 
 That means concussion of the brain. Am I much damaged other- 
 wise, do you know ? ” 
 
 “ Pretty well. Your left shoulder is dislocated, one of your 
 fingers and two of your ribs broken, and one of your ankles severely 
 contused. But it might have been worse. If you had not thrown 
 yourself from your horse, as you did, you would just now be in a 
 coffin instead of in this comfortable bed.” 
 
 “ Somebody saw me, then ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, the lodge-keeper. He thought you were dead, and came 
 up and told us ; and we brought you here on a stretcher, and the 
 Senor Coronel sent for a doctor — ” 
 
 “ The Senor Coronel 1 Do you mean Mr. Fortescue ? ” 
 
 “Yes, sir, I mean Mr. Fortescue." 
 
 “ Then you are Ramon ? ” 
 
 “ Hijo de Dios ! You know my name." 
 
 “Yes, you are Mr. Fortescue’s body-servant." 
 
 “ Caramba ! Somebody must have told you.” 
 
 “You might have made a worse guess, Senor Ramon. Will 
 you please tell Mr. Fortescue that I thank him with all my heart for 
 his great kindness, and that I will not trespass on it more than I 
 can possibly help. As soon as I can be moved I shall go to my own 
 place.” 
 
 That will not be for a long time, and I do not think the Senor 
 Coronel would like — But when he returns he will see you, and 
 then you can tell him yourself.” 
 
 “ He is away from home, then ? ” 
 
 “ The Seftor Coronel has gone to London. He will be back to- 
 morrow.” 
 
 Well, if I can not thank him to-day, I can thank you, You 
 are my nurse, are you not ? ” 
 
 A little Geist and I, and Mees Tomteenson, we relieve each 
 other. But those two don’t know much about wounds." 
 
 “ And you do, I suppose ? ” 
 
 Hijo de Dzos ! Do I know much about wounds? I have 
 nursed men who have been cut to pieces. I have been cut to 
 pieces myself, Look ! ” 
 
 And with that Ramon pointed to his neck, which was seamed 
 
MR. FOR FESCUE'S PROPOSAL. 
 
 21 
 
 all the way down with a tremendous scar ; then to his left hand, 
 which was minus two fingers ; next to one of his arms, which ap- 
 peared to have been plowed from wrist to elbow with a bullet ; and 
 lastly to his head, which was almost covered with cicatrices, great 
 and small. 
 
 “ And I have many more marks in other parts of my body, 
 which it would not be convenient to show you just now/’ he said, 
 quietly. 
 
 “ You are an old soldier, then, Ramon ? ” 
 
 “ Very. And now I will light myself a cigarette, and you will 
 no more talk. As an old soldier, I know that it is bad for a cabal - 
 lero with a broken head to talk so much as you are doing.” 
 
 “ As a surgeon, I know you are right, and I will talk no more 
 for the present.” 
 
 And then, feeling rather drowsy, I composed myself to sleep. 
 The last thing I remembered before closing my eyes was the long, 
 swarthy, quixotic-looking face of my singular nurse, veiled in a blue 
 cloud of cigarette-smoke, which, as it rolled from the nostrils of his 
 big, aquiline nose, made those orifices look like the twin craters of 
 an active volcano, upside down. 
 
 When, after a short snooze, I woke a second time, my first sen- 
 sation was one of intense surprise, and being unable, without con- 
 siderable inconvenience, to rub my eyes, I winked several times in 
 succession to make sure that I was not dreaming ; for while I slept 
 the swart visage, black eyes, and grizzled mustache of my nurse 
 had, to all appearance, been turned into a fair countenance, with 
 blue eyes and a tawny head, while the tiny cigarette had become a 
 big meerschaum pipe. 
 
 “ God bless me ! You are surely not Ramon ? ” I exclaimed. 
 
 “ No ; I am Geist. It is my turn of duty as your nurse. Can I 
 get you anything ? ” 
 
 “ Thank you very much ; you are all very kind. I feel rather 
 faint, and perhaps if I had something to eat it might do me good.” 
 
 “ Certainly. There is some beef-tea ready. Here it is. Shall I 
 feed you ? ” 
 
 “ Thank you. My left arm is tied up, and this broken finger is 
 very painful. But I am giving you no end of trouble. I don’t 
 know how I shall be able to repay you and Mr. Fortescue for all 
 your kindness.” 
 
 “ Ach Gotti Don’t mention it, my dear sir. Mr. Fortescue 
 
‘22 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 said you were to have every attention ; and when a fellow-man has 
 been broken all to pieces it is our duty to do for him what we can. 
 Who knows ? Perhaps some time I may be broken all to pieces 
 myself. But I will not ride your fiery horses. My weight is seven- 
 teen stone, and if I was to throw myself off a galloping horse as you 
 did, ach Goti ! I should be broken past mending.” 
 
 Mr. Geist made an attentive and genial nurse, discoursing so 
 pleasantly and fluently that, greatly to my satisfaction (for I was 
 very weak), my part in the conversation was limited to an occa- 
 sional monosyllable ; but he said nothing on the subject as to which 
 I was most anxious for information — Mr. Fortescue — and as he 
 clearly desired to avoid it, I refrained from asking questions that 
 might have put him in a difficulty and exposed me to a rebuff. 
 
 I found out afterward that neither he nor Ramon ever discussed 
 their master, and though Mrs. Tomlinson, my third nurse (a buxom, 
 healthy, middle-aged widow, whose position seemed to be some- 
 thing between that of housekeeper and upper servant), was less 
 reticent, it was probably because she had so little to tell. 
 
 I learned, among other things, that the habits of the household 
 were almost as regular as those of a regiment, and that the serv- 
 ants, albeit kindly treated and well paid, were strictly ruled, even 
 comparatively slight breaches of discipline being punished with in- 
 stant dismissal. At half-past ten everybody was supposed to be in 
 bed, and up at six; for at seven Mr. Fortescue took his first break- 
 fast of fruit and dry toast. According to Mrs. Tomlinson (and this 
 I confess rather surprised me) he was an essentially busy man. 
 His only idle time was that which he gave to sleep. During his 
 waking hours he was always either working in his study, his labora- 
 tory, or his conservatories, riding and driving being his sole rec- 
 reations. 
 
 “ He is the most active man I ever knew, young or old,” said 
 Mrs. Tomlinson, “ and a good master— I will say that for him. But 
 I can not make him out at all. He seems to have neither kith nor 
 kin, and yet — This is quite between ourselves, Mr. Bacon — ” 
 
 “ Of course, Mrs. Tomlinson, quite.” 
 
 ‘‘Well, there is a picture in his room as he keeps veiled and 
 locked up in a sort of shrine ; but one day he forgot to turn the key, 
 and I — I looked.” 
 
 “ Naturally. And what did you see ? ” 
 
 “ The picture of a woman, dark, but, oh, so beautiful — as beau- 
 
MR. FORTESCUE S PROPOSAL . 23 
 
 tiful as an angel. . . . I thought it was, may be, a sweetheart or some- 
 thing, but she is too young for the likes of him.” 
 
 “ Portraits are always the same ; that picture may have been 
 painted ages ago. Always veiled is it ? That seems very mysteri- 
 ous, does not it ? ” 
 
 “ It does ; and I’m just dying to know what the mystery is. If 
 you should happen to find out, and its no secret, would you mind 
 telling me? ” 
 
 At this point Herr Geist appeared, whereupon Mrs. Tomlinson, 
 with true feminine tact, changed the subject without waiting for a 
 reply. 
 
 During the time I was laid up Mr. Fortescue came into my room 
 almost every day, but never stayed more than a few minutes. When 
 I expressed my sense of his kindness and talked about going home, 
 he would smile gravely, and say : 
 
 “ Patience ! You must be my guest until you have the full use 
 of your limbs and are able to go about without help. 
 
 After this I protested no more, for there was an indescribable 
 something about Mr. Fortescue which would have made it difficult 
 to contradict him, even had I been disposed to take so ungrateful 
 and ungracious a part. 
 
 At length, after a weary interval of inaction and pain, came a 
 time when I could get up and move about without discomfort, and 
 one fine frosty day, which seemed the brightest of my life, Geist 
 and Ramon helped me down-stairs and led me into a pretty little 
 morning-room, opening into one of the conservatories, where the 
 plants and flowers had been so arranged as to look like a sort of 
 tropical forest, in the midst of which was an aviary filled with par- 
 rots, cockatoos, and other birds of brilliant plumage. 
 
 Geist brought me an easy-chair, Ramon a box of cigarettes and 
 the “ Times,” and I was just settling down to a comfortable read 
 and smoke, when Mr. .Fortescue entered from the conservatory. 
 He wore a Norfolk jacket and a broad-brimmed hat, and his step 
 was so elastic, and his bearing so upright, and he seemed so strong 
 and vigorous withal, that I began to think that in estimating his age 
 at sixty I had made a mistake. He looked more like fifty or fifty-five* 
 
 “ I am glad to see you down-stairs,” he said, helping himself to 
 a cigarette. “ How do you feel ? ” 
 
 “ Very much better, thank you, and to-morrow or the next day 
 X must really—” 
 
24 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 “ No, no, I can not let you go yet. I shall keep you, at any rate, 
 a few days longer. And while this frost lasts you can do no hunt- 
 ing. How is the shoulder ? ” 
 
 “ Better. In a fortnight or so I shall be able to dispense with 
 the sling. But my ankle is the worst. The contusion was very 
 severe. I fear that I shall feel the effects of it for a long time.” 
 
 “That is very likely, I think. I would any time rather have a 
 clean flesh-wound than a severe contusion. I have had experience 
 of both. At Salamanca my shoulder was laid open with a saber- 
 stroke at the very moment my horse was shot under me ; ,and my 
 leg, which was terribly bruised in the fall, was much longer in get- 
 ting better than my shoulder.” 
 
 “At Salamanca! You surely don’t mean the battle of Sala- 
 manca ! ” 
 
 “ Yes, the battle of Salamanca.” 
 
 “ But, God bless me, that is ages ago ! At the beginning of the 
 century — 1810 or 1812, or something like that.” 
 
 “ The battle of Salamanca was fought on the 21st of July, 1812,” 
 said my host, with a matter-of-fact air. 
 
 “ But — why — how ? ” I stammered, staring at him in supreme 
 surprise. “ That is sixty years since, and you don’t look much more 
 than fifty now.” 
 
 “All the same, I am nearly fourscore,” said Mr. Fortescue, 
 smiling as if the compliment pleased him. 
 
 “ Fourscore, and so hale and strong ! I have known men half 
 your age not half so vigorous and alert. Why, you may live to be a 
 hundred.” 
 
 « I think I shall, probably longer. Of course barring accidents, 
 and if I continue to avoid a peril which has been hanging over me 
 for half a century or so, and from which I have several times escaped 
 only by the skin of my teeth.” 
 
 “And what is the peril, Mr. Fortescue?” 
 
 “ Assassination.” 
 
 “ Assassination ! ” 
 
 “ Yes, assassination. I told you a short time ago that I was 
 once hunted by a pack of hounds. I am hunted now — have been 
 hunted for two generations — by a family of murderers.” 
 
 The thought occurred to me — and not for the first time — that 
 Mr. Fortescue was either mad or a Munchausen, and I looked at 
 him curiously; but neither in that calm, powerful, self-possessed 
 
MR. FORTESCUE'S PROPOSAL. 
 
 25 
 
 face, nor in the steady gaze of those keen dark eyes, could I detect 
 the least sign of incipient insanity or a boastful spirit. 
 
 -You are quite mistaken,” he said, with one of his enigmatic 
 smiles. “ I am not mad ; and I have lived too long either to cherish 
 
 illusions or conjure up imaginary dangers.” „ 
 
 « 1 1 beg your pardon, Mr. Fortescue-I had no intention, I 
 
 stammered, quite taken aback by the accuracy with which he had 
 read, or guessed, my thoughts-” I had no intention to cast a doubt 
 on what you said. But who are these people that seek your life. 
 
 and why don’t you inform the police ? . 
 
 « The police ! How could the police help me ? exclaimed Mr. 
 Fortescue, with a gesture of disdain. “ Besides, life wou n °t e 
 worth having at the price of being always under police protection, 
 like an evicting Irish landlord. But let us change the subject ; we 
 have talked quite enough about myself. I want to talk about you. 
 
 A very few minutes sufficed to put Mr. Fortescue in possession 
 of all the information he desired. He already knew something about 
 me, and as I had nothing to conceal, I answered all his questions 
 
 without reserve. , , 
 
 - Don’t you think you are rather wasting your life ? he asked, 
 
 after I had answered the last of them. 
 
 “ I am enjoying it/’ 
 
 “Very likely. People generally do enjoy life when they are 
 young. Hunting is all very well as an amusement, but to haw no 
 other object in life seems— what shall we say ?— just a little frivo- 
 
 lous, don’t you think? , 
 
 “ Well, perhaps 'it does; but I mean, after a while, to buy a 
 
 practice and settle down.” 
 
 « But in the mean time your medical knowledge must be grow- 
 ing rather rusty. I have heard physicians say that it is only after 
 thev have obtained their degree that they begin to learn their pro- 
 fession. And the practice you get on board these ships can not 
 amount to much. 
 
 “You are quite right,” I said, frankly, for my conscience was 
 touched. “I am, as you say, living too much for the present, 
 know less than I knew when I left Guy’s. I could not pass my 
 ‘ final ’ over again to save my life. You are quite right : I must turn 
 
 over a new leaf.” T u ~ „ 
 
 “ I am glad to hear you say so, the more especially as I have a 
 
 proposal to make ; and as I make it quite as much in my own in- 
 
2 6 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UR. 
 
 terest as in yours, you will incur no obligation in accepting it. I 
 want you to become an inmate of my house, help me in my labora- 
 tory, and act as my secretary and domestic physician, and when I 
 am away from home, as my representative. You will have free 
 quarters, of course ; my stable will be at your disposal for hunting 
 purposes, and you may go sometimes to London to attend lectures 
 and do practical work at your hospital. As for salary — you can fix 
 it yourself, when you have ascertained by actual experience the 
 character of your work. What do you say ? ” 
 
 Mr. Fortescue put this question as if he had no doubt about my 
 answer, and I fulfilled his expectation by answering promptly in the 
 affirmative. The proposal seemed in every way to my advantage, 
 and was altogether to my liking; and even had it been less so I 
 should have accepted it, for what I had just heard greatly whetted 
 my curiosity, and made me more desirous than ever to know the 
 history of the extraordinary man with whom I had so strangely 
 come in contact, and ascertain the secret of his wealth. 
 
 The same day I wrote to Alston announcing the dissolution of 
 our partnership, and leaving him to deal with the horses at Red 
 Chimneys as he might think fit. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A RESCUE. 
 
 My curiosity was rather long in being gratified, and but for a 
 very strange occurrence, which I shall presently describe, probably 
 never would have been gratified. Even after I had been a member 
 of Mr. Fortescue’s household for several months, I knew little more 
 of his antecedents and circumstances than on the day when he made 
 me the proposal which I have just mentioned. If I attempted to 
 lead up to the subject, he would either cleverly evade it or say 
 bluntly that he preferred to talk about something else. Save as to 
 matters that did not particularly interest me, Ramon was as reti- 
 cent as his master; and as Geist had only been with Mr. Fortescue 
 during the latter’s residence at Kingscote, his knowledge, or, rather, 
 his ignorance was on a par with my own. 
 
 Mr. Fortescue’s character was as enigmatic as his history was 
 
A RESCUE. 
 
 27 
 
 obscure. He seemed to be destitute both of kinsfolk and friends, 
 never made any allusion to his family, neither noticed women nor 
 discussed them. Politics and religion he equally ignored, and, so 
 far as might appear, had neither foibles nor fads. On the other 
 hand, he had three passions — science, horses, and horticulture, and 
 his knowledge was almost encyclopaedic. He was a great reader, 
 master of many languages, and seeded to have been everywhere 
 and seen all in the world that was worth seeing. His wealth ap- 
 peared to be unlimited, but how he made it or where he kept it I 
 had no idea. All I knew was that whenever money was wanted it 
 was forthcoming, and that he signed a check for ten pounds and 
 ten thousand with equal indifference. As he conducted his private 
 correspondence himself, my position as secretary gave me no in- 
 sight into his affairs. My duties consisted chiefly in corresponding 
 with tradesmen, horse-dealers, and nursery gardeners, and noting 
 the results of chemical experiments. 
 
 Mr. Fortescue was very abstemious, and took great care of his 
 health, and if he was really verging on eighty (which I very much 
 doubted), I thought he might not improbably live to be a hundred 
 and ten or even a hundred and twenty. He drank nothing, what- 
 ever, neither tea, coffee, cocoa, nor any other beverage, neither 
 water nor wine, always quenching his thirst with fruit, of which he 
 ate largely. So far as I knew, the only liquid that ever passed his 
 lips was an occasional liquor-glass of a mysterious decoction which 
 he prepared himself and kept always under lock and key. His 
 breakfast, which he took every morning at seven, consisted of bread 
 and fruit. 
 
 He ate very little animal food, limiting himself for the most part 
 to fish and fowl, and invariably spent eight or nine hours of the 
 twenty-four in bed. We often discussed physiology, therapeutics, 
 and kindred subjects, of which his knowledge was so extensive as 
 to make me suspect that some time in his life he had belonged to 
 the medical profession. 
 
 “ The best physicians I ever met,” he once observed, “ are the 
 Callavayas of the Andes— if the preservation and prolongation 
 of human life is the test of medical skill. Among the Callavayas 
 the period of youth is thirty years ; a man is not held to be a man 
 until he reaches fifty, and he only begins to be old at a hundred.” 
 
 “ Was it among the Callavayas that you learned the secret of long 
 life, Mr- Fortescue ?” I asked* 
 
28 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 “ Perhaps,” he answered, with one of his peculiar smiles ; and 
 then he startled me by saying that he would never be a “lean 
 and slippered pantaloon.” When health and strength failed him 
 he should cease to live. 
 
 “You surely don’t mean that you will commit suicide? ” I ex- 
 claimed, in dismay. 
 
 “ You may call it what you like. I shall do as the Fiji Islanders 
 and some tribes of Indians do, in similar circumstances — retire 
 to a corner and still the beatings of my heart by an effort of will.” 
 
 “ But is that possible ? ” 
 
 “ I have seen it done, and I have done it myself — not, of course, 
 to the point of death, but so far as to simulate death. I once saved 
 my life in that way.” 
 
 “Was that when you were hunted, Mr. Fortescue ? ” 
 
 “ No, it was not. Let us go to the stables. I want to see you 
 ride Regina over the jumps.” 
 
 Mr. Fortescue had caused to be arranged in the park a minature 
 steeple-chase course about a mile round, on which newly-acquired 
 hunters were always tried, and the old ones regularly exercised. He 
 generally made a point of being present on these occasions, some- 
 times riding over the course himself. If a horse, bought as a 
 hunter, failed to justify its character by its performance it was in- 
 variably returned. 
 
 Sometimes Ramon gave us an exhibition of his skill as a gaucho. 
 One of the wildest of the horses would be let loose in the park, and 
 the old soldier, armed with a lasso and mounted on an animal 
 trained by himself, and equipped with a South American saddle, 
 would follow and try to “ rope ” the runaway, Mr. Fortescue, Raw- 
 lings, and myself riding after him. It was “good fun,” but I fancy 
 Mr. Fortescue regarded this sport, as he regarded hunting, less as 
 an amusement than as a means of keeping him in good health and 
 condition. 
 
 Regina (a recent purchase) was tried and, I think, found want- 
 ing. I recall the instance merely because it is associated in my 
 mind with an event which, besides affecting a momentous change 
 in my relations with Mr. Fortescue and greatly influencing my own 
 fortune, rendered possible the writing of this book. 
 
 The trial over, Mr. Fortescue told me, somewhat abruptly, that 
 he intended to leave home in an hour, and should be away for sev- 
 eral days. As he walked toward the house, I inquired if there was 
 
A kZSCUE. 
 
 20 
 
 anything he would like me to look after during his absence, where- 
 upon he mentioned several chemical and electrical experiments, 
 which he wished me to continue and note the results. He requested 
 me, further, to open all letters — save such as were marked pnvate 
 or bore foreign postmarks— and answer so many of them as, with- 
 out his instructions, I might be able to do. For the rest, I was to 
 exercise a general supervision, especially over the stables and gardens. 
 As for purely domestic concerns, Geist was so excellent a manager 
 that his master trusted him without reserve. 
 
 When Mr. Fortescue came down-stairs, equipped for his jour- 
 ney, I inquired when he expected to return, and on what day he 
 would like the carriage to meet him at the station. I thought he 
 might tell me where he was going; but he did not take the hint. 
 
 “ If it rains I will telegraph,” he said ; “if fine, I shall probably 
 walk ; it is only a couple of miles.” 
 
 Mr. Fortescue, as he always did when he went outside his park 
 (unless he was mounted), took with him a sword-stick, a habit 
 which I thought rather ridiculous, for, though he was an essentially 
 sane man, I had quite made up my mind that his fear of assassina- 
 tion was either a fancy or a fad. 
 
 After my patron’s departure I worked for a while in the labora- 
 tory ; and an hour before dinner I went for a stroll in the park, 
 making for no reason in particular, toward the principal entrance. As 
 I neared it I heard voices in dispute, and on reaching the gates I 
 found the lodge-keeper engaged in a somewhat warm altercation 
 with an Italian organ-grinder and another fellow of the same kid- 
 ney, who seemed to be his companion. 
 
 The lodge keepers had strict orders to exclude from the park all 
 beggars without exception, and all and sundry who produced music 
 by turning a handle. Real musicians, however, were freely ad- 
 mitted, and often generously rewarded. 
 
 The lodge-keeper in question (an old fellow with a wooden leg) 
 had not been able to make the two vagabonds in question under- 
 stand this. They insisted on coming in, and the lodge-keepei said 
 that if I had not appeared he verily believed they would have en- 
 tered in spite of him. They seemed to know very little English ; 
 but as I knew a little Italian, which I eked out with a few signifi- 
 cant gestures, I speedily enlightened them, and they sheered off, 
 looking daggers, and muttering what sounded like curses. 
 
 The man who carried the organ was of the usual type— short, 
 
30 
 
 MR. FORTE $CUF. 
 
 thick-set, hairy, and unwashed. His companion, rather to my sur- 
 prise, was just the reverse — tall, shapely, well set up, and compara- 
 tively well clad ; and with his dark eyes, black mustache, broad- 
 brimmed hat, and red tie loosely knotted round his brawny throat, 
 he looked decidedly picturesque. 
 
 On the following day, as I was going to the stables (which were 
 a few hundred yards below the house) I found my picturesque Ital- 
 ian in the back garden, singing a barcarole to the accompaniment of 
 a guitar. But as he had complied with the condition of which I 
 had informed him, I made no objection. So far from tliat I gave 
 him a shilling, and as the maids (who were greatly taken with his 
 appearance) got up a collection for him and gave him a feed, he 
 did not do badly. 
 
 A few days later, while out riding, I called at the station for an 
 evening paper, and there he was again, “touching his guitar,” and 
 singing something that sounded very sentimental. 
 
 “ That fellow is like a bad shilling,” I said to one of the porters 
 — “ always turning up.” 
 
 “ He is never away. I think he must have taken it into his head 
 to live here.” 
 
 “ What does he do ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, he just hangs about, and watches the trains, as if he had never 
 seen any before. I suppose there are none in the country he comes 
 from. Between whiles he sometimes plays on his banjo and sings 
 a bit for us. I can not quite make him out ; but as he is very quiet 
 and well-behaved, and never interferes with nobody, it is no business 
 of mine.” 
 
 Neither was it any business of mine ; so after buying my paper 
 I dismissed the subject from my mind and rode on to Kingscote. 
 
 As a rule, I found the morning papers quite as much as I could 
 struggle with ; but at this time a poisoning case was being tried 
 which interested me so much that while it lasted I sent for or fetched 
 an evening paper every afternoon. The day after my conversation 
 with the porter I adopted the former course, the day after that I 
 adopted the latter, and, contrary to my usual practice, I walked. 
 
 There were two ways from Kingscote to the station ; one by the 
 road, the other by a little-used footpath. I went by the road, and 
 as I was buying my paper at Smith’s bookstall the station-master 
 told me that Mr. Fortescue had returned by a train which came in 
 about ten minutes previously. 
 
A RESCUE. 
 
 3 * 
 
 “ He must be walking home by the fields, then, or we should 
 have met,” I said ; and pocketing my paper, I set off with the in- 
 tention of overtaking him. 
 
 As I have already observed, the field way was little frequented, 
 most people preferring the high-road as being equally direct and, ex- 
 cept in the height of summer, both dryer and less lonesome, 
 
 After traversing two or three fields the foot-path ran through a 
 thick wood, once part of the great forest of Essex, then descending 
 into a deep hollow, it made a sudden bend and crossed a rambling 
 old brook by a dilapidated bridge. 
 
 As I reached the bend I heard a shout, and looking down I saw 
 what at first sight (the day being on the wane and the wood 
 gloomy) I took to be three men amusing themselves with a little 
 cudgel-play. But a second glance showed me that something 
 much more like murder than cudgel-play was going on ; and 
 shortening my Irish blackthorn, I rushed at breakneck speed down 
 the hollow. 
 
 I was just in time. Mr. Fortescue, with his back against the 
 tree, was defending himself with his sword-stick against the two 
 Italians, each of whom, armed with a long dagger, was doing his 
 best to get at him without falling foul of the sword. 
 
 The rascals were so intent on their murderous business that they 
 neither heard nor saw me, and, taking them in the rear, I fetched 
 the guitar-player a crack on his skull that stretched him senseless 
 on the ground, whereupon the other villain, without more ado, took 
 to his heels. 
 
 “Thank you,” said Mr. Fortescue, quietly, as he put up his 
 weapon. “ I don’t think I could have kept the brigands at bay 
 much longer. A sword-stick is no match for a pair of Corsican 
 daggers. The next time I take a walk I must have a revolver. Is 
 that fellow dead, do you think ? If he is, I shall be still more in 
 your debt.” 
 
 I looked at the prostrate man’s face, then at his head. “ No,’’ I 
 said, “there is no fracture. He is only stunned.” My diagnosis 
 was verified almost as soon as it was spoken. The next moment 
 the Italian opened his eyes and sat up, and had I not threatened 
 him with my blackthorn would have sprung to his feet. 
 
 “ You have to thank this gentleman for saving your life,” said 
 Mr. Fortescue, in French. 
 
 “ How ? ” asked the fellow in the same language. 
 
32 
 
 MR. FOkTESCVk. 
 
 “ If you had killed me you would have been hanged. If I hand 
 you over to the police you will get twenty years at the hulks for at- 
 tempted murder, and unless you answer my questions truly I shall 
 hand you over to the police. You are a Griscelli.” 
 
 ‘‘Yes, sir.”" 
 
 “ Which of them ? ” 
 
 “ I am Giuseppe, the son of Giuseppe/’ 
 
 “ In that case you are his grandson. How did you find me 
 out ? ” 
 
 “You were at Paris last summer.” 
 
 “ But you did not see me there ? ” 
 
 “No, but Giacomo did ; and from your name and appearance 
 we felt sure you were the same,” 
 
 “ Who is Giacomo — your brother ? ” 
 
 “ No, my cousin, the son of Luigi.” 
 
 “ What is he ? ” 
 
 “ He belongs to the secret police.” 
 
 “ So Giacomo put you on the scent ? ” 
 
 “Yes, sir. He ascertained that you were living in England. 
 The rest was easy.” 
 
 Oh, it was, was it ? You don’t find yourself very much at ease 
 just now, I fancy. And now, my young friend, I am going to treat 
 you better than you deserve. I can afford to do so, for, as you see, 
 and, as your grandfather and your father discovered to their cost, I 
 bear a charmed life. You can not kill me. You may go. And I 
 advise you to return to France or Corsica, or wherever may be your 
 home, with all speed, for to-morrow I shall denounce you to the 
 police, and if you are caught you know what to expect. Who is 
 your accomplice — a kinsman ? ” 
 
 “ No, only compatriot, whose acquaintance I made in London. 
 He is a coward.” . 
 
 “ Evidently. One more question and I have done. Have you 
 any brothers ? ” 
 
 “Yes, sir; two.” 
 
 “ And about a dozen cousins, I suppose, all of whom would be 
 delighted to murder me — if they could. Now, give that gentleman 
 your dagger, and march, au pas gymnastique." 
 
 With a very ill grace, Giuseppe Griscelli did as he was bid, and 
 then, rising to his feet, he marched, not, however, at the pas gym - 
 nastique , but slowly and deliberately ; and as he reached a bend in 
 
THEREBY HANGS A TALE . 
 
 33 
 
 the path a few yards farther on, he turned round and cast at Mr, 
 Fortescue the most diabolically ferocious glance I ever saw on a 
 human countenance. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THEREBY HANGS A TALE. 
 
 “You believe now, I hope,” said Mr. Fortescue, as we walked 
 homeward. 
 
 “ Believe what, sir ? ” 
 
 “ That I have relentless enemies who seek my life. When I first 
 told you of this you did not believe me. You thought I was the 
 victim of an hallucination, el^ had I been more frank with you. 
 
 “ I am really very sorry.” 
 
 “ Don’t protest ! I can not blame you. It is hard for people who 
 have led uneventful lives and seen little of the seamy side of human 
 nature to believe that under the veneer of civilization and the mask 
 of convention, hatreds are still as fierce, men still as revengeful as 
 ever they were in olden times. ... I hope I did not make a mistake 
 in sparing young Griscelli’s life.” 
 
 “ Sparing his life ! How ? ” 
 
 “ He sought my life, and I had a perfect right to take his. 
 
 ‘‘That is not a very Christian sentiment, Mr. Fortescue.” 
 
 “ I did not say it was. Do you always repay good for evil and 
 turn your cheek to the smiter, Mr. Bacon ? ” 
 
 “ If you put it in that way, I fear I don’t.” 
 
 “ Do you know anybody who does ? ” 
 
 After a moment’s reflection I was again compelled to answer 
 in the negative. I could not call to mind a single individual of 
 my acquaintance who acted on the principle of returning good for 
 evil. 
 
 “ Well, then, if I am no better than other people, I am no worse. 
 Yet, after all, I think I did well to let him go. Had I killed the 
 brigand, there would have been a coroner s inquest, and questions 
 asked which might have been troublesome to answer, and he has 
 brothers and cousins. If I could destroy the entire brood ! Did you 
 see the look he gave me as he went away ? It meant murder. We 
 have not seen the last of Giuseppe Griscelli, Mr. Bacon. 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUF. 
 
 “ I am afraid we have not. I never saw such an expression of 
 intense hatred in my life ! Has he cause for it ? ” 
 
 “ I dare say he thinks so. I killed his father and his grand- 
 father.” 
 
 This, uttered as indifferently as if it were a question of killing 
 hares and foxes, was more than I could stand. I am not strait- 
 laced, but I draw the line at murder. 
 
 “ You did what? ” I exclaimed, as, horror-struck and indignant, 
 I stopped in the path and looked him full in the face. 
 
 I thought I had never seen him so Mephistopheles-like. A sin- 
 ister smile parted his lips, showing his small white teeth gleaming 
 under his gray mustache, and he regarded me with a look of cyni- 
 cal amusement, in which there was perhaps a slight touch of con- 
 tempt. * 
 
 “You are a young man, Mr. Bacon,” he observed, gently, “and, 
 like most young men, and a great many old men, you make false 
 deductions. Killing is not always murder. If it. were, we should 
 consign our conquerors to everlasting infamy, instead of crowning 
 them with laurels and erecting statues, to their memory. I am no 
 murderer, Mr. Bacon. At the same time I do not cherish illusions. 
 Unpremeditated murder is by no means the worst of crimes. Tak- 
 ing a life is only anticipating the inevitable ; and of all murderers. 
 Nature is the greatest and the cruelest. I have— if I could only tell 
 you — make you see what I have seen — Even now, O God ! though 
 half a century has run its course — ” 
 
 Here Mr. Fortescue’s voice failed him ; he turned deadly pale, 
 and his countenance took an expression of the keenest anguish. 
 But the signs of emotion passed away as quickly as they had ap- 
 peared. Another moment and he had fully regained his compos- 
 ure, and he added, in his usual self-possessed manner : 
 
 “ All this must seem very strange to you, Mr. Bacon. I sup» 
 pose you consider me somewhat of a mystery.” 
 
 “Not somewhat, but very much.” 
 
 Mr. Fortescue smiled (he never laughed) and reflected a moment. 
 “I am thinking,” he said, “ how strangely things come about, 
 and, so to speak, hang together. The greatest of all mysteries is 
 fate. If that horse had not run a\yay with you, these rascals would 
 almost certainly have made away with me ; and the incident of to- 
 day is one of the consequences of that which I mentioned at our 
 first interview.” 
 
THEREBY HANGS A TALE . 35 
 
 « When we had that good run from Latton. I remember it 
 very well. You said you had been hunted yourself.” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “ How was it, Mr. Fortescue ? ” 
 
 “ Ah ! Thereby hangs a tale.” 
 
 “ Tell it me, Mr. Fortescue,” I said, eagerly. 
 
 “ And a very long tale.” 
 
 “ So much the better ; it is sure to be interesting.” 
 
 “ Ah, yes, I dare say you would find it interesting. My life has 
 been stirring and stormy enough, in all conscience except for the 
 ten years I spent in heaven,” said Mr. Fortescue, in a voice and 
 with a look of intense sadness. 
 
 “ Ten years in heaven ! ” I exclaimed, as much astonished as I 
 had just been horrified. Was the man mad, after all, or did he 
 speak in paradoxes ? “Ten years in heaven ! ” 
 
 Mr. Fortescue smiled again, and then it occurred to me that his 
 ten years of heaven might have some connection with the veiled 
 portrait and the shrine in his room up-stairs. 
 
 “ You take me too literally,” he said. “ I spoke metaphorically. 
 I did not mean that, like Swedenborg and Mohammed, I have made 
 excursions to Paradise. I merely meant that I once spent ten years 
 of such serene happiness as it seldom falls to the lot of man to en- 
 joy. But to return to our subject. You would like to know more 
 of my past ; but as it would not be satisfactory to tell you an in- 
 complete history, and to tell you all— Yet why not? I have 
 done nothing that I am ashamed of ; and it is well you should 
 know something of the man whose life you have saved once, and 
 may possibly save again. You are trustworthy, straightforward, 
 and vigilant, and albeit you are not overburdened with intelli- 
 gence — ” 
 
 Here Mr. Fortescue paused, as if to reflect ; and, though the 
 observation was not very flattering — hardly civil, indeed I was so 
 anxious to hear his story that I took it in good part, and waited 
 patiently for his decision. 
 
 “To relate it viva voce,” he went on, thoughtfully, “would be 
 troublesome to both of us.” 
 
 “ I am sure I should find it anything but troublesome,” 
 
 “Well, I should. It would take too much time, and I hate 
 traveling over old ground. But that is a difficulty which I think we 
 can get over. For many years I have made a record of the princi- 
 
36 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 pal events of my life, in the form of a personal narrative ; and 
 though I have sometimes let it run behind for a while, I have always 
 written it up.” 
 
 “ That is exactly the thing. As you say, telling a long story is 
 troublesome. I can read it.” 
 
 “ I am afraid not. It is written in a sort of stenographic cipher 
 of my own invention.” 
 
 That is very awkward,” I said, despondently. “ I know no 
 more of shorthand than of Sanskrit, and though I once tried to make 
 out a cipher, the only tangible result was a splitting headache.” 
 
 “ With the key, which I will give you, a little instruction, and 
 practice, you should have no difficulty in making out my cipher. It 
 will be an exercise for your intelligence smiling. “ Will you try ? ” 
 “ My very best.” 
 
 “ And now for the conditions. In the first place, you must, in 
 stenographic phrase, 4 extend ’ my notes, write out the narrative in 
 a legible hand and good English. If there be any blanks, I will fill 
 them up ; if you require explanations, I will give them. Do you 
 agree ? ” 
 
 “ I agree.” 
 
 “The second condition is that you neither make use of the nar- 
 rative for any purpose of your own, nor disclose the whole or any 
 part of it to anybody until and unless I give you leave. What say 
 you ? ” 
 
 “ I say yes.” 
 
 “ The third and last condition is, that you engage to stay with 
 me in your present capacity until it pleases me to give you your 
 conge . Again what say you ? ” 
 
 This was rather a “ big order,” and very one-sided. It bound 
 me to remain with Mr. Fortescue for an indefinite period, yet left 
 him at liberty to dismiss me at a moment’s notice ; and if he went 
 on living, I might have to stay at Kingscote till I was old and gray. 
 All the same, the position was a good one. I had four hundred a 
 year (the price at which I had modestly appraised my services), free 
 quarters, a pleasant life, and lots of hunting — all I could wish for, in 
 fact; and what can a man have more? So again I said, “Yes.” 
 “We are agreed in all points, then. If you will come into my 
 room ” — we were by this time arrived at the house — “ you shall 
 have your first lesson in cryptography.” 
 
 I assented with eagerness, for I was burning to begin, and, from 
 
THEREBY HANGS A TALE . 
 
 3 7 
 
 what Mr. Fortescue had said, I did not anticipate any great diffi- 
 culty in making out the cipher. 
 
 But when he produced a specimen page of his manuscript, my 
 confidence, like Bob Acre’s courage, oozed out at my finger-ends, 
 or rather, all over me, for I broke out into a cold sweat. 
 
 The first few lines resembled a confused array of algebraic 
 formula. (I detest algebra). Then came several lines that seemed 
 to have been made by the crawlings of tipsy flies with inky legs, 
 followed by half a dozen or so that looked like the ravings of a 
 lunatic done into Welsh, while the remainder consisted of Roman 
 numerals and ordinary figures mixed up, higgledy-piggledy. 
 
 “ This is nothing less than appalling,” I almost groaned. “ It 
 will take me longer to learn than two or three languages. 
 
 “ Oh, no ! When you have got the clew, and learned the signs, 
 you will read the cipher with ease.” 
 
 “ Very likely ; but when will that be ? ” 
 
 “ Soon. The system is not nearly so complicated as it looks, and 
 the language being English — ” 
 
 “ English ! It looks like a mixture of ancient Mexican and 
 modern Chinese.” 
 
 “The language being English, nothing could be easier for a man 
 of ordinary intelligence. If I had expected that my manuscript 
 would fall into the hands of a cryptographist, I should have con- 
 trived something much more complicated and written it in several 
 languages ; and you have the key ready to your hand. Come, let 
 us begin.” 
 
 After half an hour’s instruction I began to see daylight, and to 
 feel that with patience and practice I should be able to write out 
 the story in legible English. The little I had read with Mr. Fortescue 
 made me keen to know more ; but as the cryptographic narrative did 
 not begin at the beginning, he proposed that I should write this, as 
 also any other missing parts, to his dictation. 
 
 “Who knows that you may not make a book of it ? ” he said. 
 
 “ Do you think I am intelligent enough ? ” I asked, resentfully ; 
 for his uncomplimentary references to my mental capacity were still 
 rankling in my mind. 
 
 “ I should hope so. Everybody writes in these days. Don’t 
 worry yourself on that score, my dear Mr. Bacon. Even though 
 you may write a book, nobody will accuse you of being exception- 
 ally intelligent,” 
 
38 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE . 
 
 “ But * can not make a book of your narrative without your 
 leave, I observed, with a painful sense of having gained nothing by 
 my motion. 
 
 “ And leave may be sooner or later forthcoming, on con- 
 ditions.” 
 
 As the reader will find in the sequel, the leave has been given 
 and the conditions have been fulfilled, and Mr. Fortescue’s personal 
 narrative— partly taken down from his own dictation, but for the 
 most part extended from his manuscript— begins with the following- 
 chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE TALE BEGINS. 
 
 The morning after the battle of Salamanca (through which I 
 passed unscathed) the regiment of dragoons to which I belonged 
 (forming part of Anson’s brigade), together with Bock’s Germans, 
 was ordered to follow on the traces of the flying French, who had 
 retired across the River Tormes. Though we started at daylight, 
 we did not come up with their rear-guard until noon. It consisted 
 of a strong force of horse and foot, and made a stand near La Serna; 
 but the cavalry, who had received a severe lesson on the previous 
 day, bolted before we could cross swords with them. The infantry, 
 however, remained firm, and forming square, faced us like men. 
 The order was then given to charge ; and when the two brigades 
 broke into a gallop and thundered down the slope, they raised so 
 thick a cloud of dust that all we could see of the enemy was the 
 glitter of their bayonets and the flash of their musket-fire. Saddles 
 were emptied both to the right and left of me, and one of the rider- 
 less horses, maddened by a wound in the head, dashed wildly for- 
 ward, and leaping among the bayonets and lashing out furiously 
 with his hind-legs, opened a way into the square. I was the first 
 man through the gap, and engaged the French colonel in a hand-to- 
 hand combat. At the very moment just as I gave him the point in 
 his throat he cut open my shoulder, my horse, mortally hurt by a 
 bayonet thrust, fell, half rolling over me and crushing my leg. 
 
 As I lay on the ground, faint with the loss of blood and unable 
 to rise, some of our fellows rode over me, and being hit on the head 
 
THE TALE BEGINS. 
 
 39 
 
 by one of their horses, I lost consciousness. When I came to my- 
 self the skirmish was over, nearly the whole of the French rear- 
 guard had been taken prisoners or cut to pieces, and a surgeon was 
 dressing my wounds. This done, I was removed in an ambulance 
 to Salamanca. 
 
 The historic old city, with its steep, narrow streets, numerous 
 convents, and famous university, had been well-nigh ruined by the 
 French, who had pulled down half the convents and nearly all the 
 colleges, and used the stones for the building of forts which a few 
 weeks previously, Wellington had bombarded with red-hot shot 
 
 The hospitals being crowded with sick and wounded, I was bi - 
 leted in the house of a certain Senor Don Alberto Zamorra, whic 
 (probably owing to the fact of its having been the quarters of a 
 French colonel) had not taken much harm, either during the Frenc 
 occupation of the town or the subsequent siege of the forts. 
 
 Don Alberto gave me a hearty, albeit a dignified welcome, and 
 being a Spanish gentleman of the old school, he naturally placed his 
 house, and all that it contained, at my disposal. I did not, of course, 
 take this assurance literally, and had I not been on the right side I 
 should doubtless have met with a very different reception. All the 
 same, he made a very agreeable host, and before I had been his 
 guest many days we became fast friends. 
 
 Don Zamorra was old, nearly as old as I am now ; and as 
 speedily discovered, he had passed the greater part of his life in 
 Spanish America, where he had held high office under the crown. 
 He could hardly talk about anything else, in fact, and once he began 
 to discourse about his former greatness and the marvels of the Indies 
 (as South and Central America were then sometimes called) he 
 never knew when to stop. He had crossed the Andes and seen the 
 Amazon, sailed down the Orinoco and visited the mines of Potosi 
 and Guanajuata, beheld the fiery summit of Cotopaxi and peeped 
 down the smoky crater of Acatenango. He told of fights with In- 
 dians and wild animals, of being lost in the forest, and of perilous 
 expeditions in search of gold and precious stones. Wnen Zamona 
 spoke of gold his whole attitude changed, the fires of his youth 
 blazed up afresh, his face glowed with excitement, and h.s eyes 
 sparkled with greed. At these times I saw m him a true type of the 
 old Spanish Conquestadores, who would baptize a cacique to save 
 him from hell one day, and kill him and loot his treasure the next 
 Don Alberto had, moreover, a firm belief in the existence of tn« 
 
40 
 
 MR. FOR 'RESCUE. 
 
 fabled El Dorado, and of the city of Manoa, with its resplendent 
 house of the sun, its hoards of silver and gold, and its gilded king. 
 Thousands of adventurers had gone forth in search of these wonders 
 and thousands had perished in the attempt to find them. Seiior 
 Zamorra had sought El Dorado on the banks of the Orinoco and the 
 Rio Negro; others, near the source of the Rio Grande and the 
 Maranon others, again, among the volcanoes of Salvador and the 
 
 w^Tofr^ C ° rdl ", eraS ' Zamorra believed that it lay either in the 
 \ilds of Guiana or the unexplored confines of Peru and the Brazils. 
 
 ° f and beIleved even greater wonders— of a stream 
 on the Pacific coast of Mexico, whose pebbles were silver, and whose 
 sand was gold ; of a volcano in the Peruvian Cordillera, whose crater 
 was lined with the noblest of metals, and which once in every hun- 
 
 dus^of gold ejeCt6d ’ f ° r da> ’ S t0g6ther diamonds ’ and rubies, and 
 
 “ If that volcano could only be found,’ ' said the don, with a con- 
 
 f hiS b0l :j fingers ’ and a g reed >’ g'-e in his aged 
 X',, f ‘I 131 VoIcano c ° uld onl y be found 1 Why, it must be made 
 of gold, and covered with precious stones 1 The man who found it’ 
 would be the richest in all the world-richer than all the people in 
 the world put together 1 ” 1 F 
 
 “ Did you ever see it, Don Alberto ? ” I asked. 
 
 I hlcfseenTh? 66 / 1 ? ” Upl ‘ ft ‘ n - his withered hands. “ If 
 
 X h that volcano you would never have seen me, but you 
 
 saw it ba )h h me ' T u ad k fr ° m an Indi0 ' vbose father once 
 
 saw lt with his own eyes; but I was too old, too old ’’—sighing— 
 
 to go on the quest. To undertake such an enterprise a man should 
 
 Jf'Yu 6 pnme of llfe and g.° alone. A single companion, even 
 ugh he were your own brother, might be fatal; for what virtue 
 could be proof against so great a temptation-millions of diamonds 
 and a mountain of gold ? ” Ims 
 
 I b Z?«77t7 CUri ° Sity and fir6d my ’ ma g* nat ion — not that 
 , ed it all, for Zamorra was evidently a visional with a fixed 
 
 daTsSoutrr 0 ^^^ 26 ’ Credulousas a child; but in those 
 da>s South America had been very little written about and not half 
 
 explored , for me it had all the charm and fascination of the un- 
 known-a land of romance and adventure, abounding in grand 
 scenery peopled by strange races, and containing the mightiest 
 nvers the greatest forests, and highest mountains in the world 
 When my host dismounted from his hobby he was an intelligent 
 
THE TALE BEGINS. 
 
 41 
 
 talker and told me much that was interesting about Mexico, Peru, 
 Guatemala, and the Spanish Main. He had several books on the 
 subject which I greedily devoured. The expedition of Piedro de 
 Ursua and Lope de Aguirre in search of El Dorado and Omagua , 
 
 “ History of the Conquest of Mexico,” by Don Antonio de Solis , 
 Piedrolieta’s “ General History of the Conquest of the New Kingdom 
 of Grenada,” and others ; and before we parted I had resolved that, 
 so soon as the war was over, I would make a voyage to the land of 
 the setting sun, and see for myself the wonders of which I had 
 
 ^“You are right,” said Sehor Zamorra, when I told him of my 
 intention. “America is the country of the future. Ah, if I were 
 only fifty years younger ! You will, of course, visit Venezuela ; an 
 if you visit Venezuela you are sure to go to Caracas. I will give 
 you a letter of introduction to a friend of mine there. He is a man 
 in authority, and may be of use to you. I should much like you to 
 
 see him and greet him on my behalf. 
 
 I thanked my host, and promised to see his friend and present 
 the letter. It was addressed to Don Simon de Ulloa. Little did i 
 think how much trouble that letter would give me, and how near it 
 would come to being my death-warrant. 
 
 Zamorra then besought me, with tears in his eyes, to go in search 
 
 of the Golden Volcano. x T 
 
 “ If you could give me a more definite idea of its whereabout I 
 might possibly make the attempt,” I answered, with intentional 
 vagueness ; for though I no more believed in the objective existence 
 of the Golden Volcano than in Aladdin’s lamp, I did not wish to 
 hurt the old man’s feelings by an avowal of my skepticism. 
 
 « Ah, my dear sir,” he said, with a gesture of despair, “ if I knew 
 the whereabout of the Golden Volcano, I should go thither myself, 
 old as I am. I should have gone long ago, and returned with a 
 hoard of wealth that would make me the master of Europe-wealth 
 that would buy kingdoms. I can tell you no more than that it is 
 somewhere in the region of the Peruvian Andes. It may be that by 
 cautious inquiry you will light on an Indio who will lead you to t e 
 very spot. It is worth the attempt, and if by the help of St. Peter 
 and the Holy Virgin you succeed, and I am still alive, send me out 
 of your abundance a few arrobas (twenty-five pounds) of gold and a 
 handful of large diamonds. It is all I ask. 
 
 It was all he asked ! 
 
42 
 
 Mr. fortescue. 
 
 When I find that volcano, Don Alberto ” I said “I will a 
 y», no, , mere handful dlamond5 bot a ^ 1 »nd 
 
 Z L^° 'S' ' 0r r ““ da ' “« "as 
 
 of Burgos, was ? *• «“ 
 
 Salamanca would almost inevitably he S ^ fr ° ntier ’ and that 
 O*, were given for , he ' £ ,™, * £ French. 
 
 to part my We S pined" XrrT qUarterS ’ “ d Zam ° rra and 1 ^ 
 «re hope, destined neve, to* °‘ ‘'“f" 1 ' 1 “ d ” 
 again I W „ Don Albmo for ^ , * ™Sf>>‘ »»» mee, 
 
 nse mj^bridpearnn'and bd ”? cta,t 'r."“™«<l »«' my hurls lo 
 was fit for the field and eageTfo/the °r ^ ” ext carn P ai £ n 1 
 Vittoria, one of the most brill' efn J- II was the campaign of 
 
 England. Even h ZLTf a T t “ ^ ^ ° f 
 
 in my veins when I think of that time so full of 1 °° d ting ' eS 
 
 ure, and glory-the forcing of tL Renees the adVent " 
 
 ^battles of Bayonne, ifrthes, ZHZ12S2 
 
 Elista* ‘ aba, ‘-^ 
 
 It occurred after the battle of Vittoria xi^ v 
 inr for the Pyrenees, laden with theCof a Sl aT "“ k - 
 
 ,hc , "«’' dra »« 
 
 presented aTthldof 1 ,i’ “™ IS ° ‘ as ,he “f Vittoria 
 
 the ?™eh a,„ ' h ^ The broto > ”” a ™ »' 
 
 Places of artillery, sereTwfth'fa*I d ?' Pan,plona r0a4 e « h <y 
 
 thousands of wagons and r tn C ° Vering their retr eat; 
 
 to move • the red mat a ■ t ^ geS i arnmec i together and unable 
 move, the red-coated infantry of England, marching steadily 
 
the tale begins. 
 
 43 
 
 across the plain ; the boom of the cannon, the rattle of musketry, 
 the scream of women as the bullets whistled through the air and 
 shells burst over their heads— all this made up a scene, dramatic 
 and picturesque, it is true, yet fullbf dire confusion and Dantesque 
 honor; for death had reaped a rich harvest, and thousands of 
 wounded lay writhing on the blood-stained field. 
 
 Owing to the bursting of packages, the overturning of wagons, 
 and the havoc wrought by shot and shell, valuable effects, com, 
 gems, gold and silver candlesticks and vessels, priceless paintings, 
 the spoil of Spanish churches and convents, were strewed over t e 
 ground. There was no need to plunder ; our men picked up money 
 as they marched, and it was computed that a sum equal to a million 
 sterling found its way into their knapsacks and pockets. 
 
 Our Spanish allies, officers as well as privates, were less scrupu- 
 lous. They robbed like highwaymen, and protested that they were 
 only taking their own. 
 
 While riding toward Vittoria to execute an order of the colonel s, 
 
 I passed a carriage which a moment or two previously had been 
 overtaken by several of Longa’s dragoons, with the evident intention • 
 of overhauling it. In the carriage were two ladies, one young and 
 pretty the other good-looking and mature ; and, as I judged fiom 
 their appearance, both being well dressed, the daughter and wife of 
 a French officer of rank. They appealed to me for help. 
 
 “You are an English officer,” said the elder in French; “all the 
 world knows that your nation is as chivalrous as it is brave. Pro- 
 tect us, I pray you, from these ruffians.” 
 
 I bowed, and turning to the Spaniards, onk of whom was an 
 officer, spoke them fair ; for my business was pressing, and I had 
 no wish to be mixed up in a quarrel. 
 
 « Caballeros,” I said, “ we do not make war on women. You will 
 
 let these ladies go.” 
 
 “Carambo! We shall do nothing of the sort,” returned the 
 officer, insolently. “ These ladies are our prisoners, and their car- 
 riage and all it contains our prize.” 
 
 ** I beg your pardon, Senor Capitan, but you are, peihaps, not 
 aware that Lord Wellington has given strict orders that private 
 property is to be respected ; and no true cabaliero molests women. 
 
 “ Hijo cle Dios ! Dare you say that I am no true cabaliero ? 
 Begone this instant, or—” 
 
 The Spaniard drew his sword ; I drew mine ; his men began to 
 
44 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 look to the priming of their pistols, and had General Anson not 
 chanced to come by just in the nick of time, it might have gone ill 
 with me. On learning what had happened, he said I had acted 
 very properly, and told the Spaniards that if they did not promptly 
 depart he would hand them over to the provost-marshal. 
 
 “ We sha11 meet again, I hope, you and I," said the officer, defi- 
 antly, as he gathered up his reins. 
 
 “So do I, if only that I may have an opportunity of chastis- 
 ing you for your insolence,” was my equally defiant answer. 
 
 “A thousand thanks, monsieur! You have done me and my 
 daughter a great service, said the elder of the ladies. “ Do me the 
 pleasure to accept this ring as a slight souvenir of our gratitude, 
 and I trust that in happier times we may meet again.” 
 
 I accepted the souvenir without looking at it ; reciprocated the 
 wish in my best French, made my best bow, and rode off on my 
 errand. By the same act I had made one enemy and two friends ; 
 therefore, as I thought, the balance was in my favor. But I was 
 wrong, for a wider experience of the world than I then possessed 
 has taught me that it is better to miss making a hundred ordinary 
 friends than to make one inveterate enemy. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN QUEST OF FORTUNE. 
 
 When the war came to an end my occupation was gone, for 
 both circumstances and my own will compelled me to leave the 
 army. My allowance could no longer be continued. At the best, 
 the life of a lieutenant of dragoons in peace time would have been 
 little to my liking ; with no other resource than my pay, it would 
 have been intolerable. So I sent in my papers, and resolved to seek 
 my fortune in South America. After the payment of my debts (in- 
 curred partly in the purchase of my first commission) and the pro- 
 vision of my outfit, the sum left at my disposal was comparatively 
 trifling. But I possessed a valuable asset in the ring given me by 
 the French lady on the field of Vittoria. It was heavy, of antique 
 make, curiously wrought, and set with a large sapphire of incompa- 
 rable beauty. A jeweler, to whom I showed it, said he had never 
 
IN QUEST OF FORTUNE . 
 
 45 - 
 
 seen a finer. I could have sold it for a hundred guineas. But as 
 the gem was property in a portable shape and more convertible 
 than a bill of exchange, I preferred to keep it, taking, however, the 
 precaution to have the sapphire covered with a composition, in 
 order that its value might not be too readily apparent to covetous 
 eyes. 
 
 At this time the Spanish colonies of Colombia (including the 
 countries now known as Venezuela, New Granada, and Ecuador, as 
 also the present republic of southern Central America) were in full 
 revolt against the mother country. The war had been going on foi 
 several years with varying fortunes ; but latterly the Spaniards had 
 been getting decidedly the best of it. Caracas and all the seaport 
 towns were in their possession, and the patriot cause was only main- 
 tained by a few bands of irregulars, who were waging a desperate 
 and almost hopeless contest in the forests and on the llanos of the 
 interior. 
 
 My sympathies were on the popular side, and I might have 
 joined the volunteer force which was being raised in England for 
 sendee with the insurgents. But this did not suit my purpose. If 
 I accepted a commission in the Legion I should have to go vheie I 
 was ordered. I preferred to go where I listed. I had no objection 
 to fighting, but I wanted to do it in my own way and at my own 
 time, and rather in the ranks of the rebels themselves than as 
 officer in a foreign force. 
 
 This view of the case I represented to Senor Morena, one of the 
 ** patriot ” agents in London, and asked his advice. 
 
 “ Why not go to Caracas ” he said. 
 
 “ What would be the use of that ? Caracas is in the hands of 
 the Spaniards.” 
 
 “ You could get from Caracas into the interior, and do the cause 
 an important sendee.” 
 
 “ How ? ” 
 
 Senor Morena explained that the patriots of the capital, being 
 sorely oppressed by the Spaniards, were losing courage, and he 
 wished greatly to send them a message of hope and the assurance 
 that help was at hand. It was also most desirable that the insur- 
 gent leaders on the field should be informed of the organization of a 
 British liberating Legion, and of other measures which were being 
 taken to afford them relief and turn the tide of victory in their favor. 
 
 But to communicate these tidings to the parties concerned was 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 46 
 
 by no means easy. The post was obviously quite out of the ques- 
 tion, and no Spanish creole could land at any port held by the Roy- 
 alists without the almost certainty of being promptly strangled or 
 shot. “ An Englishman, however — especially an Englishman who 
 had fought under Wellington in Spain — might undertake the mission 
 with comparative impunity,” said Senor Morena. 
 
 “ I understand perfectly,” I answered. “ I have to go in the 
 character of an ordinary traveling Englishman, and act as an emis- 
 sary of the insurgent junta. But if my true character is detected, 
 what then ? ” 
 
 “ That is not at all likely, Mr, Fortescue.” 
 
 “ Yet the unlikely happens sometimes— happens generally, in 
 fact. Suppose it does in the present instance ? ” 
 
 “In that case I am very much afraid that you would be 
 shot.” 
 
 “ I have not a doubt of it. Nevertheless, your proposal pleases 
 me, and I shall do my best to carry out your wishes.” 
 
 Whereupon Senor Morena expressed his thanks in sonorous 
 Castilian, protested that my courage and devotion would earn me 
 the eternal gratitude of every patriot, and promised to have every- 
 thing ready for me in the course of the week, a promise which he 
 faithfully kept. 
 
 Three days later Morena brought me a packet of letters and a 
 memorandum containing minute instructions for my guidance. 
 Nothing could be more harmless looking than the letters. They 
 contained merely a few items of general news and the recommen- 
 dation of the bearer to the good offices of the recipient. But this 
 was only a blind ; the real letters were written in cipher, with sym- 
 pathetic ink. They were, moreover, addressed to secret friends of 
 the revolutionary cause, who, as Senor Morena believed and hoped, 
 were, as yet, unsuspected by the Spanish authorities, and at large. 
 
 “To give you letters to known patriots would be simply to in- 
 sure your destruction,” said the senor, “ even if you were to find 
 them alive and at liberty.” 
 
 I had also Don Alberto’s letter, and as the old gentleman had 
 once been president of the Audiencia Real (Royal Council), Morena 
 thought it would be of great use to me, and serve to ward off sus- 
 picion, even though some of the friends to whom he had himself 
 written should have meanwhile got into trouble. 
 
 But as if he had not complete confidence in the efficacy of these 
 
IN QUEST OF FORTUNE , 47 
 
 elaborate precautions, Senor Morena strongly advised me to stay 
 no longer in Caracas than I could possibly help. 
 
 “ Spies more vigilant than those of the Inquisition are con- 
 tinually on the lookout for victims,” he said. “ An inadvertent 
 word, a look even, might betray you ; the only law is the will of the 
 military and the police, and they make very short work of those 
 whom they suspect. Yes, leave Caracas the moment you have de- 
 livered your letters ; our friends will smuggle you through the 
 Spanish line and lead you to one of the patriot camps.” 
 
 This was not very encouraging ; but I was at an adventurous 
 age and in an enterprising mood, and the creole’s warnings had 
 rather the effect of increasing my desire to go forward with the 
 undertaking in which I had engaged than causing me to falter in 
 my resolve. Like Napoleon, I believed in my star, and I had faced 
 death too often on the field of battle to fear the rather remote 
 dangers Morena had foreshadowed, and in whose existence I only 
 half believed. 
 
 The die being cast, the next question was how I should reach 
 my destination. The Spaniards of that age kept the trade with 
 their colonies in their own hands, and it was seldom, indeed, that a 
 ship sailed from the Thames for La Guayra or any other port on the 
 Main. I was, however, lucky enough to find a vessel in the river 
 taking in cargo for the island of Curagoa, which had just been ceded 
 by England to the Dutch, from whom it was captured in 1 807, and 
 for a reasonable consideration the master agreed to fit me up a 
 cabin and give me a passage. 
 
 The voyage was rather long — something like fifty days — yet 
 not altogether uneventful ; for in the course of it we were chased by 
 an American privateer, overhauled by a Spanish cruiser, nearly 
 caught by a pirate, and almost swamped in a hurricane ; but we 
 fortunately escaped these and all other dangers, and eventually 
 reached our haven in safety. 
 
 I had brought with me letters of credit on a Dutch merchant at 
 Curagoa, of the name of Van Voorst, from whom I obtained as 
 much coin as I thought would cover my expenses for a few months, 
 and left the balance in his hands on deposit. With the help of this 
 gentleman, moreover, I chartered a falucha for the voyage to La 
 Guayra. Also at his suggestion, moreover, I stitched several gold 
 pieces in the lining of my vest and the waistband of my trousers, as a 
 reserve in case of accident. 
 
MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 4§ 
 
 We made the run in twenty-four hours, and as the falucka let 
 go in the roadstead I tore up my memorandum of instructions 
 (which I had carefully committed to memory) and threw the frag- 
 ments into the sea. 
 
 A little later we were boarded by two revenue officers, who 
 seemed more surprised than pleased t?> see me ; as, however, my 
 papers were in perfect order, and nothing either compromising or 
 contraband was found in my possession, they allowed me to land, 
 and I thought that my troubles (for the present) were over. But I 
 had not been ashore many minutes when I was met by a sergeant 
 and a file of soldiers, who asked me politely, yet firmly, to accom- 
 pany them to the commandant of the garrison. 
 
 I complied, of course, and was conducted to the barracks, where 
 I found the gentleman in question lolling in a chinchura (ham- 
 mock) and smoking a cigar. He eyed me with great suspicion, and 
 after examining my passport, demanded my business, and wanted 
 to know why I had taken it into my head to visit Colombia at a 
 time when the country was being convulsed with civil war. 
 
 Thinking it best to answer frankly (with one or two reserva- 
 tions), I said that, having heard much of South America while 
 campaigning in Spain, I had made up my mind to voyage thither 
 on the first opportunity. 
 
 “ What ! you have served in Spain, in the army of Lord Welling- 
 ton ! ” interposed the commandant, with great vivacity. 
 
 “ Yes ; I joined shortly before the battle of Salamanca, where I 
 was wounded. I was also at Vittoria, and 
 
 “ So was I. I commanded a regiment in Murrillo’s corps d' armte, 
 and have come out with him to Colombia. We are brothers in arms. 
 We have both bled in the sacred cause of Spanish independence. 
 Let me embrace you.” 
 
 Whereupon the commandant, springing from his hammock, put 
 his arms round my neck and his head on my shoulders, patted me 
 on the back, and kissed me on both cheeks, a salute which I thought 
 it expedient to return, though his face was pot overclean and he 
 smelled abominably of garlic and stale tobacco. 
 
 “ So you have come to see South America— only to see it ! ” he 
 said. “ But perhaps you are scientific ; you have the intention to 
 explore the country and write a book, like the illustrious Hum- 
 boldt ? ” 
 
 The idea was useful. I modestly admitted that I did cultivate 
 
49 
 
 m quest of fortune. 
 
 a little science, and allowed my “ brother-in-arms to remain in the 
 belief that I proposed to follow in the footsteps of the author of 
 “Cosmos”— at a distance. 
 
 “ I have an immense respect for science,” continued the com- 
 mandant, “ and I doubt not that you will write a book which will 
 make you famous. My only regret is, that in the present state of 
 the country you may find going about rather difficult. But it won t 
 be for long. We have well-nigh got this cursed rebellion under. 
 A few weeks more, and there will not be a rebel left alive between 
 the Andes and the Atlantic. The Captain-General of New Granada 
 reports that he has either shot or hanged every known patriot m 
 the province. We are doing the same here in Venezuela. We give 
 no quarter ; it is the only way with rebels. Guerra a la muerte ! 
 
 After this the commandant asked me to dinner, and insisted on 
 my becoming his guest until the morrow, when he would provide 
 me with mules for myself and my baggage, and give me an escort 
 to Caracas, and letter of introduction to one of his friends there. So 
 great was his kindness, indeed, that only the ferocious sentiments 
 which he had avowed in respect of the rebels reconciled me to the 
 deception which I was compelled to practice. I accepted his hos- 
 pitality and his offer of mules and an escort, and the next morning 
 I set out on the first stage of my inland journey. Before parting 
 he expressed a hope— which I deemed it prudent to reciprocate— 
 that we should meet again. 
 
 Nothing can be finer than the ride to Caracas by the old Spanish 
 road, or more superb than its position in a magnificent valley, 
 watered by four rivers, surrounded by a rampart of lofty mountains, 
 and enjoying, by reason of its altitude, a climate of perpetual spring. 
 But the city itself wore an aspect of gloom and desolation. Four 
 years previously the ground on which it stood had been torn and 
 rent by a succession of terrible earthquakes in which hundreds of 
 houses were leveled with the earth, and thousands of its people 
 bereft of their lives. Since that time two sieges, and wholesale 
 proscription and executions, first by one side and then by the other, 
 had well-nigh completed its destruction. Its principal buildings 
 were still in ruins, and half its population had either perished or 
 fled. Nearly every civilian whom I met in the streets was in mourn- 
 ing. Even the Royalists (who were more numerous than I expected) 
 looked unhappy, for all had suffered either in person or in property, 
 and none knew what further woes the future might bring them, 
 
 4 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN THE KING’S NAME. 
 
 I put up at the Posada de los Generates (recommended by the 
 commandant), and the day after my arrival I delivered the tetters 
 confided to me by Senor Morena. This done, I felt safe; for (as I 
 thought) there was nothing else in my posession by which I could 
 possibly be compromised. I did not deliver the letter > sep arate y. 
 
 I gave the packet, just as 1 had received it, to a certain Sefior Carera 
 the secret chief of' the patriot party in Caracas. I also 
 long verbal message from Morelia, and we discussed at length the 
 condition of the country and the prospects of the insurrection, 
 the interior, he said, there raged a frightful g^^a ^artere a d 
 Caracas was under a veritable reign of terror. Of the half dozen 
 friends for whom I had brought tetters, one had been garoted , 
 another was in prison, and would almost certainly meet the same 
 fate. It was only by posing as a loyalist and exercising the utmost 
 circumspection that he had so far succeeded in keeping a whole skin , 
 and if he were not convinced that he could do more for the cause 
 where he was than elsewhere, he would not remain m the city 
 another hour. As for myself, he was quite of Morena s opinion, 
 that the sooner I got away the better. 
 
 “ I consider it my duty to watch over your safety, he ; sai . 
 should be sorry indeed were any harm to befall an Eng is ca a ero 
 lo b ss risked bis life .o serve us and trough, u, such go«l n,^ 
 
 “ What harm can befall me, now that I have g 
 
 PaC Mna’ciytder martial law and full of spies, there is no telhng 
 what may happen. Being, moreover, a stranger, you are a mar t 
 man. It is not everybody who, like the commandan ^Guayra 
 will believe that you are traveling for your own pleasure. Wha 
 In in his senses would choose a time like this for a scientific 
 
 ram .And then Sefior Carera explained that he could alT “ g ® 
 to leave Caracas almost immediately, under excellent guidance 
 teniente of Colonel Mejia, one of the guerilla leaders, was in the 
 on a secret errand, and would set out on his return journey in three 
 days. Tf l Hked I might go with him, and I could not have a better 
 guide or a more trustworthy companion. 
 
IN THE KING'S NAME. 
 
 51 
 
 It was a chance not to be lost. I told Senor Carera that I should 
 only be too glad to profit by the opportunity, and that on any day 
 and at any hour which he might name I would be ready. 
 
 “ I will see the teniente , and let you know further in the course 
 of to-morrow/’ said Carera, after a moment’s thought. “ The affair 
 will require nice management. There are patrols on every road. 
 You must be well mounted, and I suppose you will want a mule for 
 your baggage.” 
 
 “ No ! I shall take no more than I can carry in my saddle-bags. 
 We must not be incumbered with pack-mules on an expedition of 
 this sort. We may have to ride for our lives.” 
 
 “You are quite right, Senor Fortescue; so you may. I will see 
 that you are well mounted, and I shall be delighted to take charge 
 of your belongings until the patriots again, and for the last time, 
 capture Caracas and drive those thrice accursed Spaniards into the 
 sea.” 
 
 Before we separated I invited Senor Carera to almuerzo (the 
 equivalent to the Continental second breakfast) on the following day. 
 
 After a moment’s reflection he accepted the invitation. “But 
 we shall have to be very cautious,” he added. “ The posada is a 
 Royalist house, and the posadero (inn-keeper) is hand and glove 
 with the police. If we speak of the patriots at all, it must be only 
 to abuse them. . . . But our turn will come, and then— por Dios! 
 — then — ” 
 
 The fierce light in Carera’s eyes, and the gesture by which his 
 words were emphasized, boded ill for the Royalists if the patriots 
 should get the upper hand. No wonder that a war in which men 
 like him were engaged on the one side, and men like el Comman- 
 dant Castro on the other, should be savage, merciless, and “ to the 
 death.” 
 
 As I had decided to quit Caracas so soon, it did not seem worth 
 while presenting the letter to one of his brother officers which I had 
 received from Commandant Castro. I thought, too, that in existing 
 circumstances the less I had to do with officers the better. But I 
 did not like the idea of going away without fulfilling my promise to 
 call on Zamorra’s old friend, Don Sefior Ulloa. 
 
 So when I returned to the posada I asked the posadero (inn- 
 keeper), a tall Biscayan, with an immensely long nose, a cringing 
 manner, and an insincere smile, if he would kindly direct me to 
 Senor Ulloa’s house. 
 
52 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 “ Si, seiior, ” said the' posadero, giving me a queer look, and ex- 
 changing significant glances with two or three of his guests who 
 were within earshot. “ Si, senor, I can direct you to the house of 
 Senor Ulloa. You mean Don Simon, of course ? ” 
 
 “Yes. I have a letter of introduction to him.” 
 
 “ Oh, you have a letter of introduction to Don Simon ! If you 
 will come into the street I will show you the way.” 
 
 Whereupon we went outside, and the posadero, pointing out the 
 Church of San lldefonso, told me that the large house over against 
 the eastern door was the house I sought. 
 
 “ Gracias, senor," I said, as I started on my errand, taking the 
 shady side of the street and walking slowly, for the day was warm. 
 
 I walked slowly and thought deeply, trying to make out what 
 could be the meaning of the glances which the mention of Senor 
 Ulloa’s name had evoked, and there was a nameless something in 
 the posadero s manner I did not like. Besides being cringing, as 
 usual, it was half mocking, half menacing, as if I had said, or he 
 had heard, something that placed me in his power. 
 
 Yet what could he have heard ? What could there be in the 
 name of Ulloa to either excite his enmity or rouse his suspi- 
 cions ? As a man in authority and the particular friend of an ex- 
 president of the Audiencia Real, Don Simon must needs be above 
 reproach. 
 
 Should I turn back and ask the posadera what he meant . JNo, 
 that were both weak and impolitic. He would either answer me 
 with a lie, or refuse to answer at all, and qui s excuse s accuse. I 
 resolved to go on, and see what came of it. Don Simon would no 
 doubt be able to enlighten me. 
 
 I found his place without difficulty. There could be no mis- 
 taking it— a large house over against the eastern door of the Church 
 of San lldefonso, built round a patio , or courtyard, after the fash- 
 ion of Spanish and South American mansions. like the church, it 
 seemed to have been much damaged by the earthquake ; the outer 
 walls were cracked, and the gateway was incumbered with fallen 
 stones. 
 
 This surprised me less than may be supposed. Creoles are not 
 remarkable for energy, and it was quite possible that Senor Ulloa s 
 fortunes might have suffered as severely from the war as his house 
 had suffered from the earthquake. But when I entered the patio 
 I was more than surprised. The only visible signs of life weie 
 
IN THE KING'S NAME . 
 
 53 
 
 lizards, darting in and out of their holes, and a huge rattlesnake 
 sunning himself under the ledge of a broken fountain. Grass was 
 growing between the stones ; rotten doors hung on rusty hinges ; 
 there were great gaps in the roof and huge fissures in the walls, 
 and when I called no one answered. 
 
 “ Surely,” I thought, “ I have made some mistake. This house 
 is both deserted and ruined.” 
 
 I returned to the street and accosted a passer-by. 
 
 “ Is this the house of Don Simon Ulloa ? ” I asked him. 
 v Si, Sehor ,” he said ; and then hurried on as if my question had 
 half-frightened him out of his wits. 
 
 I could not tell what to make of this ; but my first idea was that 
 Senor Ulloa was dead, and the house had the reputation of being 
 haunted. In any case, the innkeeper had evidently played me a 
 scurvy trick, and I went back to the posada with the full intention 
 of having it out with him. 
 
 “ Did you find the house of Don Simon, Senor Fortescue? ” he 
 asked when he saw me. 
 
 “ Yes, but I did not find him. The house is empty and deserted. 
 What do you mean by sending me on such a fool’s errand ? ” 
 
 “ I beg your pardon, senor. You asked me to direct you to 
 Senor Ulloa’s house, and I did so. What could I do more ? ” And 
 the fellow cringed and smirked, as if it were all a capital joke, till I 
 could hardly refrain from pulling his long nose first and kicking him 
 afterwards, but I listened to the voice of prudence and resisted the 
 impulse. 
 
 “ You know quite well that I sought Senor Ulloa. Did I not 
 tell you that I had a letter for him ? If you were a caballero in- 
 stead of a wretched posadero, I would chastise your trickery as it 
 deserves. What has become of Senor Ulloa, and how comes it 
 that his house is deserted ? ” 
 
 “ Senor Ulloa is dead. He was garoted.” 
 
 “ Garoted ! What for ? ” 
 
 “ Treason. There was discovered a compromising correspond- 
 ence between him and Bolivar. But why ask me ? As a friend of 
 Senor Ulloa, you surely know all this ? ” 
 
 “ I never was a friend of his — never even saw him ! I had merely 
 a letter to him from a common friend. But how happened it that 
 Seiior Ulloa, who, I believe, was a correjidor , entered into a corre- 
 spondence with the arch-traitor ? ” 
 
54 
 
 MR. FOR FESCUE. 
 
 « That made it all the worse. He richly deserved his fate. His 
 eldest son. who was privy to the affair, was strangled at the same 
 time as his father; his other children fled, and Senora Ulloa died of 
 
 gUe “Poor woman! No wonder the house is deserted. What a 
 
 frightful state of things ! ” . , T 
 
 And then, feeling that I had said enough, and fearing that 
 might say more, I turned on my heel, lighted a cigar, and, while I 
 paced to and fro in the patio, seriously considered my position, 
 which, as I clearly perceived, was beginning to be rather precarious. 
 
 As likely as not the innkeeper would denounce me, and then it 
 would, of course, be very absurd, for I was utterly ignorant, and 
 Zamorra, a Royalist to the bone, must have been 
 that his friend Ulloa had any hand in the rebellion. The mere f 
 of carrying a harmless letter of introduction from a well-known loy- 
 1, to . friend whom be believed to be still a loyalist could surely 
 not be construed as an offense. At any rate, it ough not to be. 
 But when I recalled all I had heard from Morena, and the stories 
 told me but an hour before by Carera, I thought it extremely prob- 
 able that it would be, and bitterly regretted that I had not men- 
 tioned to the latter Ulloa’s name. He would have put me on my 
 guard, and I should not have so fatally committed myself with the 
 
 ^But regrets are useless, and worse. They waste time and weaken 
 
 resolve. The question of the moment was, What should I do . ow 
 
 avoid the danger which I felt sure was impending? There seeme 
 only one way— immediate flight. I would go to Carera, tell him all 
 that had happened, and ask him to arrange for my departure from 
 Caracas that very night. I could steal away unseen when all was 
 
 qU1 ^At once,” I said to myself-” at once. If I exaggerate if the 
 danger be not so pressing as I fear, he is just the man to tell me; 
 butffirst of all, I will go into my room and destroy this confounde 
 letter. The posadero did not see it. All that he can say is 
 
 « In the king’s name ! ” exclaimed a rough voice behind me , and 
 
 a heavy hand was laid on my arm. 
 
 Turning sharply round, I found myself confronted by an officer 
 of police and four alguazils, all armed to the teeth. 
 
 ' “ I arrest you in the king’s name,” repeated the officer, 
 
 « On what charge ? ” I asked. 
 
DOOMED TO DIE. 
 
 55 
 
 “ Treason. Giving aid and comfort to the king's enemies and 
 acting as a medium of communication between rebels against i 
 
 aUt “°Very well ; I am ready to accompany you,” I said, seeing that, 
 for the moment at least, resistance and escape were equally out of 
 
 the question ; “ but the charge is false. 
 
 ‘‘That I have nothing to do with. The case is one for the mili- 
 
 tary tribunal. Before we go I must search your room. 
 
 ■ He did so, and, except my passport, found nothing whoever of 
 a documentary, much less of a compromising character He the 
 
 searched me, and took possession of Za ™°" as un " C ^ 
 
 Ulloa and my memorandum-book, in which, however, there wer 
 merely a few commonplace notes and scientific jottags- 
 
 This done, he placed two of his alguazils on either side of me 
 telling them to run me through with their bayonets if ^ttemptedto 
 escape, and then, drawing his sword and bringing up e re , g 
 the order to march. 
 
 As we passed through the gateway I caught sight of the fos- 
 dero, laughing consumedly, and pointing at me the finger of scorn 
 and triumph How sorry I felt that I had not kicked him when I 
 was in the humor and had the opportunity . 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DOOMED TO DIE. 
 
 My captors conducted me to a dilapidated building near the 
 Plaza Major, which did duty as a temporary jail, the principal 
 prison of Caracas having been destroyed by the earthquake and left 
 as it fell. Nevertheless, the room to which I was taken seemed 
 quite strong enough to hold anybody unsupplied with housebreak- 
 ing implements or less ingenious than Jack Sheppard. The oor 
 was thick and well bolted, the window or grating (for it was, ot 
 course, destitute of glass) high and heavily barred, yet not too 
 high to be reached with a little contrivance. Mounting the sin- 
 gle chair (besides a hammock the only furniture the room con- 
 tained), I gripped the bars with my hands, raised myself up, and 
 looked out. Below me was a narrow, and, as it might appear, a 
 
MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 56 
 
 little-frequented street, at the end of which a sentry was doing his 
 monotonous spell of duty. 
 
 The place was evidently well guarded, and from the number of 
 soldiers whom I had seen about the gateway and in the patio, I 
 concluded that, besides serving as a jail, it was used also as 
 a military post. Even though I might get out, I should not find it 
 very easy to get away. And what were my chances of getting out ? 
 As yet they seemed exceedingly remote. The only possible exits 
 were the door and the window. The door was both locked and 
 bolted, and either to open or make an opening in it I should want a 
 brace and bit and a saw, and several hours’ freedom from intrusion. 
 It would be easier to cut the bars— if I possessed a file or a suitable 
 saw. I had my knife, and with time and patience I might possibly 
 fashion a tool that would answer the purpose. 
 
 But time was just what I might not be able to command. I 
 had heard that the sole merit of the military tribunal was its 
 promptitude ; it never kept its victims long in suspense ; they were 
 either quickly released or as quickly dispatched the latter being 
 the alternative most generally adopted. It was for this reason that, 
 the moment I was arrested, I began to think how I could escape. 
 As neither opening the door nor breaking the bars seemed immedi- 
 ately feasible, the idea of bribing the turnkey naturally occurred to 
 me. Thanks to the precaution suggested by Mr. Van Voorst, I 
 had several gold pieces in my belt. But though the fellow would 
 no doubt accept my money, what security had I that he would keep 
 his word ? And how, even if he were to leave the door open, should 
 I evade the vigilance of the sentries and the soldiers who were 
 always loitering in the patio ? 
 
 On the whole, I thought, the best thing I could do was to wait 
 quietly until the morrow. The night is often fruitful in ideas. I 
 might be acquitted, after all, and if I attempted to bribe the turnkey 
 before my examination, and he should betray me to his superiors, 
 my condemnation would be a foregone conclusion. The mere at- 
 tempt would be regarded as an admission of guilt. 
 
 A while later, the zambo turnkey (half Indian, half negro), 
 brought me my evening meal — a loaf of bread and a small bottle of 
 w i ne _ an d I studied his countenance closely. It was both treach- 
 erous and truculent, and I felt that if I trusted him he would be 
 sure to play me false. 
 
 A s it was near sunset I asked for a light, and tried to engage 
 
DOOMED TO DIE . 
 
 5 7 
 
 him in conversation. But the attempt failed. He answered surlily, 
 that a dark room was quite good enough for a damned rebel, and 
 left me to myself. 
 
 When it became too dark to walk about, I lay down in the ham- 
 mock and was soon in the land of dreams ; for I was young and 
 sanguine, and though I could not help feeling somewhat anxious, it 
 was not the sort of anxiety which kills sleep. Only once in my life 
 have I tasted the agony of despair. That time was not yet. 
 
 When I awoke the clock of a neighboring church was striking 
 three, and the rays of a brilliant tropical moon were streaming 
 through the barred window of my room, making it hardly less light 
 than day. 
 
 As the echo of the last stroke dies away, I fancy that I hear 
 something strike against the grating. 
 
 I rise up in my hammock, listening intently, and at the same in- 
 stant a small shower of pebbles, flung by an unseen hand, falls into 
 the room. 
 
 A signal ! 
 
 Yes, and a signal that demands an answer. In less time than it 
 takes to tell I slip from my hammock, gather up the pebbles, climb 
 up to the window, and drop them into the street. Then, looking 
 out, I can just discern, deep in the shadow of the building opposite, 
 the figure of a man. He raises his arm ; something white flies over 
 my head and falls on the floor. Dropping hurriedly from the grat- 
 ing, I pick up the messsage-bearing missile— a pebble to which is 
 tied a piece of paper. I can see that the paper contains writing, and 
 climbing a second time up to the grating, I make out by the light 
 of the moonbeams the words — 
 
 “ If you are condemned , ask for a priest. 
 
 My first feeling was one of bitter disappointment. Why should 
 I ask for a priest ? I was not a Roman Catholic ; I did not want to 
 confess. If the author of the missive was Carera— and who else 
 could it be ? — why had he given himself so much trouble to make 
 so unpleasantly suggestive a recommendation ? A priest, forsootn ! 
 A file and a cord would be much more to the purpose. . . . But 
 might not the words mean more than appeared ? Could it be that 
 Carera desired to give me a friendly hint to prepare for the worst . 
 ... Or was it possible that the ghostly man would bring me a fur- 
 ther message and help me in some way to escape ? At any rate, it 
 was a more encouraging theory than the other, and I resolved to act 
 
58 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 on it. If the priest did me no good, he could, at least, do me no 
 har After tearing up the bit of paper and chewing the fragments, I 
 
 returned to my hammock and lay awake-sleep being now out of 
 
 Se quest on-until the turnkey brought me a cup of chocolate, of 
 wSich S the remains of the loaf, I made my first break ast. 
 About the middle of the day he brought me something more subs- 
 tantial e ()n both occasions I pressed him with questions as to 
 Sen I was to be examined, and what they were going to do with 
 le to ah of which he answered “A* (“ I don t know ) and, 
 
 probably enough, he told the truth. However, I was not kept g 
 n susnense Later on in the afternoon the door opened for the third 
 Le and the officer who had arrested me, followed by his alguazils 
 appeared at the threshold and announced that he had been ordere 
 
 to escort me to the tribunal. , 
 
 We went in the same order as before ; and a walk of less t 
 fifteen minutes brought us to another tumble-down building, whic 
 appearS to'have bell once a court-house. Only the lower rooms 
 were habitable, and at a door, on either side of which stood 
 sentrv, my conductor respectfully knocked. 
 
 - Adelante! ” said a rough voice ; and we entered according y. 
 Before a long table at the upper end of a large, bare.y-furms 
 room with rough walls and a cracked ceiling, sat three men in uni- 
 form.’ The one who occupied the chief seat, and seemed to be the 
 president, was old and gray, with hard, suspicious eyes, and a long, 
 tvDical Spanish face, in every line of which I read crue y 
 ^termination. His colleagues, who called him ‘‘marquis 
 Treated him with great deference, and his breast was covered with 
 
 '^Itwas evident that on this man would depend my fate. The 
 others were there merely to register his decrees. , 
 
 After leading me to the table and saluting the tnbun f ** 
 officer of police, whose sword was still drawn, placed himself in a 
 , onvenient* position for running m« through, in the even, of nr» 
 behaving disrespectfully to the tribunal or attempting to escape 
 
 The president, who had before him the letter to Senor Ulloa, my 
 passport and a document that looked like a brief, demanded my 
 name and quality, 
 
 I told him. , , 
 
 *< What was your purpose in coming to Caracas , he as e . 
 
DOOMED TO DIE . 
 
 59 
 
 “ Simply to see the country." 
 
 He laughed scornfully. 
 
 “ To see the country ! What nonsense is this ? How can any- 
 body see a country which is ravaged by brigands and convulsed 
 with civil war ? And where is your authority ? ” 
 
 “ My passport." 
 
 “ A passport such as this is only available in a time of peace. 
 No stranger unprovided with a safe conduct from the caftitan-gen - 
 eral is allowed to travel in the province of Caracas. It is useless 
 trying to deceive us, senor. Your purpose is to carry information 
 to the rebels, probably to join them, as is proved by your posses- 
 sion of a letter to so base a traitor as Senor Ulloa." 
 
 On this I explained how I had obtained the letter, and pointed 
 out that the very fact of my asking the posadero to direct me to 
 Ulloa’s house, and going thither openly, was proof positive of my 
 innocence. Had my purpose been that which he imputed to me, l 
 should have shown more caution. 
 
 “ That does not at all follow," rejoined the president. “ You ma} 
 have intended to disarm suspicion by a pretense of ignorance. 
 Moreover, you expressed to the senor posadero sentiments hostile 
 to the Government of his Majesty the King. 
 
 “It is untrue. I did nothing of the sort," I exclaimed, impetu- 
 ously. 
 
 “Mind what you say, prisoner. Unless you treat the tribunal 
 with due respect you shall be sent back, to the car cel, and tried in 
 your absence." 
 
 “ Do you call this a trial ? " I exclaimed, indignantly. “Iam a 
 British subject. I have committed no offense ; but if I must be 
 tried I demand the right of being tried by a civil tribunal, 
 
 “ British subjects who venture into a city under martial law 
 must take the consequences. We can show them no more consid- 
 eration than we show Spanish subjects. They deserve much less, 
 indeed. At this moment a force is being organized in England, 
 with the sanction and encouragement of the British Government, to 
 serve against our troops in these colonies. This is an act of war, 
 and if the king, my master, were of my mind, he would declare war 
 against England. Better an open foe than a treacherous friend. 
 Do you hold a commission in the Legion, senor ? ” 
 
 “ No." 
 
 “ Know you anybody who does ? ” 
 
6o 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 1 
 
 -Yes* I believe that several men with whom 1 served in Spam 
 have Accepted commissions. But you will surely no. hold me re- 
 
 SP “‘“: mail 1 ” Y^tove'qnhe enough sins of you, own an- 
 swer for You may not actually hold a commission in this force o^ 
 filibusters but you are acquainted with people who do ; and fro 
 
 “ own admission and facts that have come , o«r know edge, 
 
 le beheve that you are acting as an intermedia', bet ween the r ^ 
 l ^ * n +u; s country and their agents in England. 
 
 ^VunSerSdJg to .«» us that ,» have come her. out o , « 
 curiosity. You have come to spy out the nakedness of the , 
 hpimr a soldier you know how spies are dealt witn. 
 
 Hm?.he pmsiden. held a whispered consultation with h.s col- 
 
 JeSo h ;rS“.h,Tair^styouhave been fuhy 
 made”.. id sentence of the court is tog. be stmngled on 
 the Plata Major to-morrow mornmg a. ™ e 
 
 •• Strangled 1 Surely, sehores, ,« w,U no, comm,. ^ 
 
 infamy? This is a mere mockery of a trial. 
 
 an indictment nor been confronted by witnesses. Call this 
 
 yorTdo' 1 not "moderate your language, prisoner youwffi be 
 strangled to-night instead ’’-writing, 
 
 to the officer of police. „ * k d smo thering my indigna- 
 
 ■ ■“ * .. to. fought and Sled for Spain. 
 
 S’ “MIS r P at.dier's y dwrth. and allow me before . die to 
 
 ciously. ^Sefior Fortesoie’s request. Instead of being strangled 
 
 "raCshoTb; a Mng par, - - *** "i - 
 I’wihmyself we that'yombodyfs laid in consecrated ground. When 
 
 would you like the priest to visit you ^ much time 
 
 - This evening, senor president. There will not 
 
 to-morrow morning/’ caj)itan . Tell them at the car cel that 
 
 “ That 1S true ‘ ’ Dr ; est in his own room this evening. 
 
 Sefior Fortescue may see a priest m ms v 
 
 Adios senor! ” 
 
SALVADOR. 
 
 61 
 
 And with that my three judges rose from their seats and bowed 
 as politely as if they were parting with an honored guest. Though 
 this proceeding struck me as being both ghastly and grotesque, I 
 returned the greeting in due form, and made my best bow. I 
 learned afterward that I had really been treated with exceptional 
 consideration, and might esteem myself fortunate in not being con- 
 demned without trial and strangled without notice. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SALVADOR. 
 
 Now that I knew beyond a doubt what would be my fate unless 
 I could escape before morning, I became decidedly anxious as to 
 the outcome of my approaching interview with the ghostly com- 
 forter for whom I had asked. It was my last chance. If it failed 
 me, or the man turned out to be a priest and nothing more, my 
 hours were numbered. The time was too short to arrange any other 
 plan. Would he bring with him a file and a cord ? Even if he did, 
 we could hardly hope to cut through the bars before daylight. And 
 most important consideration of all, how would Carera contrive to 
 
 send me the right man ? 
 
 The mystery was solved more quickly than I expected. 
 
 After leaving the tribunal, my escort took me back by the way 
 we had come, the police captain, who was showing himself much 
 more friendly (probably because he looked on me as a good “ Chris- 
 tian ” and a dying man), walking beside instead of behind me ; and 
 when we were within a hundred yards or so of the car cel I observed 
 a Franciscan friar pacing slowly toward us. 
 
 I felt intuitively that this was my man; and when he drew 
 nearer a slight movement of his eyebrows and a quick look of intelli- 
 gence told me that I was right. 
 
 “ I have no acquaintance among the clergy of Caracas,” I said 
 to my conductor. “ This friar will serve my purpose as well as a 
 regular priest.” 
 
 “ As you like, senor. Shall I ask him to see you ? ” 
 
 “ Gracias senor capitan , if you please.” 
 
 Whereupon the officer respectfullv accosted the friar, and after 
 
 I 
 
6 2 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 telling him that I had been condemned to die at sunrise on the mor- 
 row, asked if he would receive my confession and give me such 
 religious consolation as my case required. 
 
 “Con mucho gusto, capitan ,” answered the friar. “When 
 would the senor like me to visit him? ” 
 
 “ At once > father. My hours are numbered, and I would fain 
 spend the night in meditation and prayer.” 
 
 “ Come with us, father,” said the captain. “ The senor has the 
 permission of the tribunal to see a priest in his own room.” 
 
 So we entered the prison together, and the captain, having 
 given the necessary instructions to the turnkey, we were conducted 
 to my room. 
 
 “ When you have done/’ he said, “ knock at the door, and I will 
 come and let you out/’ 
 
 “ Good 1 But you need not wait. I shall not be ready for half 
 an hour or more.” 
 
 As the key turned in the lock, the soz-dzsant friar threw back 
 his cowl. “ Now, Senor Fortescue,” he said, with a laugh, “ I am 
 ready to hear your confession.” 
 
 I confess that I feel as if I were in purgatory already, and I 
 shall be uncommonly glad if you can get me out of it.” 
 
 “ We!1 ’ P ur gatory is not the pleasantest of places by all accounts, 
 and I am quite willing to do whatever I can for you. By way of 
 beginning, take this ointment and smear your face and hands there- 
 with.” 
 
 “Why?” 
 
 “To make you look swart and ugly, like the zambo.” 
 
 “ And then ? ” 
 
 And then ? When the turnkey comes back we shall overpower, 
 bind, and gag him— if he resists, strangle him. Then you will 
 put on his clothes and don his sombrero, and as the moon rises 
 late, and the prison is badly lighted, I have no doubt we shall run 
 the gantlet of the guard without difficulty. . . . That is a splen- 
 did ointment. You are almost as dark as a negro. Now for your 
 feet.” 
 
 “ My feet ! I see ! I must go out barefoot.” 
 
 Of course. Who ever heard of a zambo turnkey wearing 
 shoes ? I will hide yours under my habit, and you can put them on 
 afterward.” 
 
 “ You are a friend of Carera’s, of course ?-” 
 
SALVADOR. 63 
 
 “ Yes ; I am Salvador Carmen, the teniente of Colonel Mejia, at 
 your service.” 
 
 “ Salvador Carmen ! A name of good omen. You are saving 
 me.” 
 
 “ I will either save you or perish with you. Take this dagger. 
 Better to die fighting than be strangled on the plaza.” 
 
 “ Is this your plan or Carera’s ? ” I asked, as I put the dagger in 
 my belt. 
 
 “ Partly his and partly mine, I think. When he heard of your 
 arrest, he said* that it concerned our honor to effect your rescue. 
 The idea of throwing a stone through the window was Carera’s ; 
 that of personating a priest was mine.” 
 
 “ But how did Carera find out where I was ? and what assurance 
 had you that when I asked for a priest they would bring you ? ” 
 
 “ That was easy enough. This is a small military post as well 
 as an occasional prison. Some of the soldiers are always drinking 
 at th z pul fieri a round the corner, and they talk in their cups. I even 
 know the countersign for to-night. It is ‘Baylen.’ I saw them 
 take you to the tribunal, and as I knew that when you asked for a 
 priest that they would call in the first whom they saw, just to save 
 themselves the trouble of going farther, I took care to be hereabout 
 in this guise as you returned. I was fortunate enough to meet you 
 face to face, and you were sharp enough to detect my true character 
 at a glance.” 
 
 “ I am greatly indebted to you and Senor Carera — more than I 
 can say. You are risking your lives to save mine.” 
 
 “ That is nothing, my dear sir. I often risk my life twenty times 
 in a day. And what matters it? We are all under sentence of 
 death. A few years and there will be an end of us.” 
 
 Salvador Carmen may have been twenty-six or twenty-eight 
 years old. He was of middle height and athletic build, yet wiry 
 withal, in splendid condition, and as hard as nails. Though darker 
 than the average Spaniard, his short, wavy hair and powerful, clear- 
 cut features showed that his blood was free from negro or Indian 
 taint. Plis face bespoke a strange mixture of gentleness and reso- 
 lution, melancholy and ferocity, as if an originally fine nature had 
 been annealed by fiery trials, and perhaps perverted by some terri- 
 ble wrong. 
 
 “ Yes, senor, we carry our lives in our hands in this most un- 
 happy country/’ he continued, after a short pause. “ Three years 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 64 
 
 ago I was one of a family of eight, and no happier family could be 
 found in the whole capitanio-general of Caracas. ... Of those 
 eight, seven are gone ; I am the only one left. Four were killed in 
 the great earthquake. Then my father took part in the revolu- 
 tionary movement, and to save his life had to leave his home. One 
 night he returned in disguise to see my mother. I happened to be 
 away at the time ; but my brother Tomas was there, and the police, 
 getting wind of my fathers arrival, arrested both them and him. 
 My father was condemned as a rebel ; my mother and brother were 
 condemned for harboring him, and all were strangled together on 
 the plaza there.” 
 
 “ Good heaven ! Can such things be ? ” I said, as much moved 
 by his grief as by his tale of horror. 
 
 “ I saw them die. Oh, my God ! I saw them die, and yet I live 
 to tell the tale ! ” exclaimed Carmen, in a tone of intense sadness. 
 “ But ” — fiercely — “ I have taken a terrible revenge. With my own 
 hand have I slain more than a hundred European Spaniards, and I 
 have sworn to slay as many as there were hairs on my mother’s 
 head. . . . But enough of this ! The night is upon us. It is time 
 to make ready. When the zambo comes in, I shall seize him by 
 the throat and threaten him with my dagger. While I hold him 
 you must stuff this cloth into his mouth, take off his shirt and trou- 
 sers— he has no other garments — and put them on over your own. 
 That done, we will bind him with this cord, and lock him in with 
 his own key. Are you ready ? ” 
 
 “ I am ready.” 
 
 Carmen knocked loudly at the door. 
 
 Two minutes later the door opens, and as the zambo closes it 
 behind him, Carmen seizes him by the throat and pushes him against 
 the wall. 
 
 “ A word, a whisper, and you are a dead man ! ” he hisses, 
 sternly, at the same time drawing his dagger. “ Open your mouth, 
 or, per Dios — The cloth, senor. Now, off with your shiit and 
 trousers.” 
 
 The turnkey obeys without the least attempt at resistance. The 
 shaking of his limbs as I help him to undress shows that he is half 
 frightened to death. 
 
 Then Carmen, still gripping the man’s throat and threatening 
 him with his dagger, makes him lie down, and I bind his arms with 
 the cord. 
 
OUT OF THE LIONS MOUTH. 6$ 
 
 That done, I slip the man’s trousers and shirt over my own, don 
 his sombrero, and take his key. 
 
 “ So far, well,” says Carmen, “if we only get safely through the 
 patio and pass the guard ! Put the sombrero over your face, imi- 
 tate the zambo’s shuffling gait, and walk carelessly by my side, as 
 if you were conducting me to the gate and a short way down the 
 street. Have you your dagger ? Good ! Open the door and let 
 us go forth. One word more ! If it comes to a fight^back to back. 
 Try to grasp the muskets with your left and stab with your right- 
 upward ! ” 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 OUT OF THE LION’S MOUTH. 
 
 As the short sunset of the tropics had now merged into com- 
 plete darkness, we crossed the patio without being noticed ; but 
 near the gateway several soldiers of the guard were seated round a 
 small table, playing at cards by the light of a flickering lamp. 
 
 “ Hello ! Who goes there ? ” said one of them, looking up. 
 “Pablo, the turnkey, and a friar! Won’t you take a hand, Pablo? 
 You won a real from me last night ; I want my revenge.” 
 
 “ He is going with me as far as the plaza. It is dark, and I am 
 very near-sighted,” put in Carmen, with ready presence of mind, 
 “ He will be back in a few minutes, and then he will give you your 
 revenge, won’t you, Pablo? ” 
 
 “ Si, padre con mucho gusto,” I answered, mimicking the deep 
 gutteral of the zambo. 
 
 “ Good ! I shall expect you in a few minutes,” said the soldier. 
 Buene noche, padre ! ” 
 
 “Good-night, my son.” 
 
 “ Now for the sentry,” murmured Carmen ; “ luckily we have the 
 password, otherwise it might be awkward.” 
 
 “ We must try to slip past him.” 
 
 But it was not to be. As we step through the gateway into the 
 street, the man turns right about face and we are seen. 
 
 “ Halte / Quien vivef ” he cried. 
 
 “ Friends.” 
 
 “ Advance, friends, and give the countersign.” 
 
66 
 
 MR. FOR TESCUE. 
 
 As you see, I am a friar. I have been shriving a condemned 
 prisoner. You surely do not expeet me to give the countersign ! " 
 said Carmen, going close up to him. 
 
 “ Certainly not, padre . But who is that with you ? ” 
 
 “ Pablo, the turnkey.” 
 
 “ Advance and give the countersign, Pablo.” 
 
 “ Baylen.” 
 
 “Wrong; it has been changed within the last ten minutes 
 You must go back and get it, friend Pablo.” 
 
 It is not worth the trouble. He is only seeing me to the end 
 of the street, pleaded Carmen. 
 
 I shall not let him go another step without the countersign,” 
 returned the sentry, doggedly. “I am not sure that I ought to 
 let you go either, father. He has only to ask—” 
 
 A sudden movement of Carmen’s arm, a gleam of steel in the 
 darkness, the soldier’s musket falls from his grasp, and with a deep 
 groan he sinks heavily on the ground. 
 
 Quick, senor, or we shall be taken ! Round the corner ! We 
 must not run ; that would attract attention. A sharp walk. Good ! 
 Keep close to the wall. Two minutes more and we shall be safe. 
 A narrow escape ! If the sentry had made you go back or called 
 the guard, all would have been lost.” / 
 
 “ How was it ? Did you stab him ? ” 
 
 To the heart. He has mounted guard for the last time. So 
 much the better, It is an enemy and a Spaniard the less.” 
 
 , . tV 1 the same > Senor Carmen, I would rather kill my enemies in 
 fair fight than in cold blood.” 
 
 “I also ; but there are occasions. As likely as not this soldier 
 would have been in the firing party told off to shoot' you to-mor- 
 row morning. There would not have been much fair fight in that. 
 And had I not killed him, we should both have been tried by drum- 
 head court-martial, and shot or strangled to-night. This wav 
 Now, I defy them to catch us.” 
 
 As he spoke, Carmen plunged into a heap of ruins by the way- 
 side, with the intricacies of which, despite the darkness, he appeared 
 to be quite familiar. 
 
 , Nobody will disturb us here,” he said at length, pausing under 
 the shadow of a broken wall. “ These are the ruins of the Church 
 of Alta Gracia, which, in its fall during the great earthquake, killed 
 several hundred worshipers. People say they are haunted; after 
 
OUT OF THE LION’S MOUTH. 
 
 67 
 
 dark nobody will come near them. But we must not stay many 
 minutes. Take off the zambo’s shirt and trousers, and put on 
 your shoes and stockings — there they are — and I shall doff my cloak 
 of religion.” 
 
 “ What next?” 
 
 « We must make off with all speed and by devious ways— though 
 I think we have quite thrown our pursuers off the scent— to a house 
 in the outskirts belonging to a friend of the cause, where we shall 
 find horses, and start for the llanos before the moon rises and the 
 hue and cry can be raised.” 
 
 “ What is the journey ? ” 
 
 “That depends on circumstances. Four or five days, perhaps. 
 Vamanos! Time presses.” 
 
 We left the ruins at the side opposite to that at which we had 
 entered them, and after traversing several by-streets and narrow 
 lanes reached the open country, and walked on rapidly till we came 
 to a lonesome house in a large garden. 
 
 Carmen went up to the door, whistled softly, and knocked 
 thrice. 
 
 “ Who is there ? ” asked a voice from within. 
 
 “Salvador.” 
 
 On this the gate of the patio , wide enough to admit a man on 
 horseback, was thrown open, and the next moment I was in the 
 arms of Senor Carera. 
 
 “ Out of the lion’s mouth ! ” he exclaimed, as he kissed me on 
 both cheeks. “ I was dying of anxiety. But, thank Heaven and 
 the Holy Virgin, you are safe.” 
 
 “ I have also to thank you and Senor Carmen ; and I do thank 
 you with all my heart.’ 
 
 “Say no more. We could not have done less. You were our 
 guest. You rendered us a great service. Had we let you perish 
 without an effort to save you, we should have been eternally dis- 
 graced. But come in and refresh yourselves. Your stay here must 
 be brief, and we can talk while we eat.” 
 
 As we sat at table, Carmen told the story of my rescue. 
 
 “ It was well done,” said our host, thoughtfully, “ very well done. 
 Yet I regret you had to kill the sentry. But for that you might have 
 had a little sleep, and started after midnight. As it is, you must set 
 off forthwith and get well on the road before the news of the escape 
 gets noised abroad. And everything is ready. All your things are 
 
68 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 here, Senor Fortescue. You can select what you want for the jour- 
 ney and leave the rest in my charge.” 
 
 “ All my things here 1 How did you manage that, Senor Carera ? ” 
 
 ‘‘By sending a man, whom I could trust, in the character of a 
 messenger from the prison with a note to the posadero, as from you, 
 asking him to deliver your baggage and receipt your bill.” 
 
 “ That was very good of you, Senor Carera. A thousand thanks. 
 How much — ” 
 
 “ How much ! Th at is my affair. You are my guest, remem- 
 ber. Your baggage is in the next room, and while you make your 
 preparations, I will see to the saddling of the horses.” 
 
 A very few minutes sufficed to put on my riding-boots, get my 
 pistols, and make up my scanty kit. When I went outside, the 
 horses were waiting in the patio, each of them held by a black 
 groom. Everything was in order. A cobija was strapped behind 
 either saddle, both of which were furnished with holsters and bags. 
 
 “ I have had some tasajo (dried beef) put in the saddle-bags, as 
 much as will keep you going three or four days,” said Senor Carera. 
 “You won’t find many hotels on the road. And you will want a 
 sword, Mr. Fortescue. Do me the favor to accept this as a souvenir 
 of our friendship. It is a fine Toledo blade, with a history. An 
 ancestor of mine wore it at the battle of Lepanto. It may bend but 
 will never break, and has an edge like a razor. I give it you to be 
 used against my country’s enemies, and I am sure you will never 
 draw it without cause, nor sheathe it without honor.” 
 
 I thanked my host warmly for his timely gift, and, as I buckled 
 the historic weapon to my side, glanced at the horse which he had 
 p aced at my disposal. It was a beautiful flea-bitten gray, with a 
 small, fiery head, arched neck, sloping shoulders, deep chest, power- 
 U we ^“bent hocks, and “clean,” shapely legs — a very 
 
 model of a horse, and, as it seemed, in perfect condition. 
 
 “Ah, you may look at Pizarro as long as you like, Senor Fortes- 
 cue and he is well worth looking at ; but you will never tire him,” 
 SaiC I < S. arera ” “ What wi >l you do if you meet the patrol, Salvador? ” 
 
 Evade them if we can, charge them if we can not.” 
 
 “ By all means the former, if possible, and then you may not be 
 pursued. And now, senor, I trust you will not hold me wanting in 
 hospitality if I urge you to mount ; but your lives are in jeonardy, 
 and there may be death in delay. Put out the lights, men, and open 
 the gates. Adios, Senor Fortescue! Adios, my dear Salvador. 
 
OUT OF THE LION'S MOUTH 69 
 
 We shall meet again in happier times. God guard you, and bring 
 you safe to your journey’s end.” 
 
 And then we rode forth into the night. 
 
 “ We had better take to the open country at once, and strike the 
 road about a few miles farther on, It is rather risky, for we shall 
 have to get over several rifts made by the earthquake and cross a 
 stream with high banks. But if we take to the road straightway, we 
 are almost sure to meet a patrol. We may meet one in any case; 
 but the farther from the city the encounter takes place, the greater 
 will be our chance of getting through.” 
 
 “ You know best. Lead on, and I will follow. Are these rifts 
 you speak of, wide ? ” 
 
 “ They are easily jumpable by daylight ; but how we shall do 
 them in the dark, I don’t know. However, these horses are as nim- 
 ble as cats, and almost as keen-sighted. I think, if we leave it to 
 them, they will carry us safely over. The sky is a little clearer, too, 
 and that will count in our favor. This way ! ” 
 
 We sped on as swiftly and silently as the specter horseman of the 
 story, for Venezuelan horses being unshod and their favorite pace a 
 gliding run (much less fatiguing for horse and rider than the high 
 trot of Europe) they move as noiselessly over grass as a man in 
 slippers. 
 
 “ Look out ! ” cried Carmen, reining in his horse. “ We are not 
 far from the first grip. Don’t you see something like a black streak 
 running across the grass ? That is it.” 
 
 “ How wide, do you suppose ? ” 
 
 “ Eight or ten feet. Don’t try to guide your horse. He won’t 
 refuse. Let him have his head and take it in his own way. Go 
 first ; my horse likes a lead.” 
 
 Pizarro went to the edge of the rift, stretched out his head as if 
 to measure the distance, and then, springing over as lightly as a deer, 
 landed safely on the other side. The next moment Carmen was with 
 me. After two or three more grips (all of unknown depth, and one 
 smelling strongly of sulphur) had been surmounted in the same way, 
 we came to the stream. The bank was so steep and slippery that 
 the horses had to slide down it on their haunches (after the manner 
 of South American horses). But having got in, we had to get out. 
 This proved no easy task, and it was only after we had floundered 
 in the brook for twenty minutes or more, that Carmen found a 
 place where he thought it might be possible to make our exit. And 
 
70 
 
 MR, FORTE SCUE \ 
 
 such a place ! We were forced to dismount, climb up almost on our 
 hands and knees, and let the horses scramble after us as they best 
 could. 
 
 “ That is the last of our difficulties/' said Carmen, as we got 
 into our saddles. “ In ten minutes we strike the road, and then we 
 shall have a free course for several hours/' 
 
 “ How about the patrols ? Do you think we have given them 
 the slip ? ” 
 
 “ I do. They don’t often come as far as this/' 
 
 We reached the road at a point where it was level with the 
 fields; and a few miles farther on entered a defile, bounded on the 
 left by a deep ravine, on the right by a rocky height. 
 
 And then there occurred a startling phenomenon. As the moon 
 rose above the Silla of Caracas, the entire savanna below us seemed 
 to take fire, streams as of lava began to run up (not down) the sides 
 of the hills, throwing a lurid glare over the sleeping city, and bring- 
 ing into strong relief the rugged mountains which walled in the plain. 
 “ Good heavens, what is that ! ” I exclaimed. 
 
 “ It is the time of drought, and the peons are firing the grass to 
 improve the land,” said Carmen. “ I wish they had not done it just 
 now, though. However, it is, perhaps, quite as well. If the light 
 makes us more visible to others, it also makes others more visible to 
 us. Hark ! What is that ? Did you not hear something ? " 
 
 " I did. The neighing of a horse. Halt ! Let us listen/' 
 
 “ The neighing of a horse and something more.” 
 
 “ Men’s voices and the rattle of accoutrements. The patrol, 
 after all. What shall we do ? To turn back would be fatal. The 
 ravine is too deep to descend. Climbing those rocks is out of the 
 question. There is but one alternative — we must charge right 
 through them.” 
 
 “ How many men does a patrol generally consist of ? ” 
 
 “ Sometimes two, sometimes four.” 
 
 “ May it not be a squadron on the march ? ” 
 
 “ It may. No matter. We must charge them, all the same. 
 Better die sword in hand than be garroted on the plaza. We have 
 one great advantage. We shall take these fellows by surprise. 
 Let us wait here in the shade, and the moment they round that cor- 
 ner, go at them, full gallop/ 
 
 The words were scarcely spoken, when two dragoons came il 
 sight, then two more. 
 
OUT OF THE LION'S MOUTH. Jl 
 
 “ Four ! ” murmured Carmen. “ The odds are not too great. 
 We shall do it. Are you ready ? Now ! ” 
 
 The dragoons, surprised by our sudden appearance, pulled up 
 and stood stock-still, as if doubtful whether our intentions were hos- 
 tile or friendly ; and we were at them almost before they had drawn 
 their swords. 
 
 As I charged the foremost Spaniard, his horse swerved from the 
 road, and rolled with his rider into the ravine. The second, profit- 
 ing by his comrade’s disaster, gave us the slip and galloped toward 
 Caracas. This left us face to face with the other two, and in little 
 more than as many minutes I had run my man through, and Car- 
 men had hurled his to the ground with a cleft skull. 
 
 “ I thought we should do it,” he said as he sheathed his sword. 
 
 “ But before we ride on let us see who the fellows are, for, ’pon my 
 soul, they have not the looks of a patrol from Caracas.” 
 
 As he spoke, Carmen dismounted and closely examined the 
 prostrate men’s facings. 
 
 “ Caramba ! They belong to the regiment of Irun,” «, 
 
 ** j remember them. They were in Murillo s corp d armie at 
 Vittoria.” 
 
 « I wish they were at Vittoria now. Their headquarters are at 
 La Victoria ! Worse luck ! ” 
 
 “ Why ? ” 
 
 “ Because there may be more of them. You suggested just now 
 the possibility of a squadron. How if we meet a regiment ? 
 
 “ We should be in rather a bad scrape. 
 
 “ We are in a bad scrape, amigo mio. Unless I am greatly 
 mistaken the regiment of Irun, or, at any rate, a squadron of it is 
 on the march hitherward. If they started at sunrise and rested 
 during the heat of the day, this is about the time the advance-guard 
 would be here. Having no enemy to fear in these parts, they 
 would naturally break up into small detachments ; there has been 
 no rain for weeks, and the dust raised by a large body of horsemen 
 is simply stifling. However, we may as well go forward to certain 
 death as go back to it. Besides, I hate going back in any circum- 
 stances. And we have just one chance. We must hurry on and 
 ride for our lives.” 
 
 “ I don’t quite see that. We shall meet them all the 
 sooner.” 
 
 Carmen made some reply which I failed to catch, and as the 
 
72 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 way was rough and Pizarro required all my attention, I did not re- 
 peat the question. 
 
 We passed rapidly up the brow, and when we reached more 
 even ground, put our horses to the gallop and went on, up hill and 
 down dale, until Carmen, uttering an exclamation pulled his horse 
 into a walk. 
 
 “ 1 ^ink we can get down here,” he said. 
 
 We had reached a place where, although the mountain to our 
 right was still precipitous, the ravine seemed narrower and the 
 sides less steep. 
 
 “ I think we can,” repeated Carmen. “ At any rate, we must 
 try. 
 
 And with that he dismounted, and leading his horse to the brink 
 of the ravine, incontinently disappeared. 
 
 “ Come on! It will do!” he cried, dragging his horse after 
 him. 
 
 I followed with Pizarro, who missing his footing landed on his 
 head. As for myself, I rolled from top to bottom, the descent be- 
 mg much steeper than I had expected. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 
 
 The ravine was filled with shrubs and trees, through which we 
 partly forced, partly threaded our way, until we reached a spot 
 where we were invisible from the road. 
 
 Now off with your cobija and throw it oyer your horse’s head,” 
 said Carmen. “ If they don’t hear they won’t neigh, and a single 
 neigh might be our ruin.” 
 
 You mean to stay here until the troops have gone past ? ” 
 
 Exactly, I knew there was a good hiding-place hereabout, 
 and that if we reached it before the troops came up we should be 
 safe. If there be any more of them they will pass us in a few 
 minutes. Now, if you will hitch Pizarro to that tree— oh, you have 
 done so already. Good ! Well, let us return to the road and watch. 
 We can hide in the grass, or behind the bushes.” 
 
 We returned accordingly, and choosing a place where we could 
 
BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 
 
 73 
 
 see without being seen, we lay down and listened, exchanging now 
 and then a whispered remark. 
 
 “ Hist ! ” said Carmen, presently, putting his ear to the ground. 
 He had been so long on the war-path and lived so much in the open 
 air, that his senses were almost as acute as those of a wild animal 
 
 “ They are coming ! ” 
 
 Soon the hum of voices, the neighing of steeds, and the clang of 
 steel fell on my ear, and peering between the branches I could see 
 a group of shadows moving toward us. Then the shadows, taking 
 form and substance, became six horsemen. They passed within a 
 few feet of our hiding-place. We heard their talk, saw their faces 
 in the moonlight, and Carmen whispered that he could distinguish 
 the facings of their uniforms. 
 
 “ It is as I feared,” he muttered, “ the entire regiment of Irun, 
 shifting their quarters to Caracas. We are prisoners here for an 
 hour or two. Well, it is perhaps better to have them behind than 
 before us.” 
 
 “ What will happen when they find the bodies of the two 
 troopers ? ” 
 
 “ That is precisely the question I am asking myself. But not 
 having met us they will naturally conclude that we have gone on 
 toward Caracas.” 
 
 “ Unless they are differently informed by the man who escaped 
 us.” 
 
 “ I don’t think he would be in any hurry to turn back. He went 
 off at a devil of a pace.” 
 
 “He might turn back for all that, when he recovered from his 
 scare. He could not help seeing that we were only two, and if he 
 informs the others they will know of a surety that we are hiding in 
 the ravine.” 
 
 “ And then there would be a hunt. However, at the speed they 
 are riding it will take them an hour or more to reach the scene of 
 our skirmish, and then there is coming back. Everything depends 
 on how soon the last of them go by. If we have only a few minutes 
 start they will never overtake us, and once on the other side of Los 
 Teycos we shall be safe both from discovery and pursuit. European 
 cavalry are of no use in a Venezuelan forest; and I don t think 
 these Irun fellows have any blood-hounds.” 
 
 “ Blood-hounds ! You surely don’t mean to say that the Span- 
 iards use blood-hounds ? ” 
 
74 
 
 MR . FOR RESCUE. 
 
 “ I mean nothing else. General Griscelli, who holds the chief 
 command in the district of San Felipe, keeps a pack of blood- 
 hounds, which he got from Cuba. But, though a Spanish general, 
 Griscelli is not a Spaniard born. He is either a Corsican or an Ital- 
 ian. I believe he was originally in the French army, and when Du- 
 pont surrendered at Baylen he went over to the other side, and ac- 
 cepted a commission from the King of Spain.” 
 
 “Not a very good record, that.” 
 
 “ And he is not a good man. He outvies even the Spaniards in 
 cruelty. A very able general, though. He has given us a deal of 
 trouble. Down with your head ! Here comes some more.” 
 
 A whole troop this time. They pass in a cloud of dust. After 
 a short interval another detachment sweeps by ; then another and 
 another. 
 
 “Gracias a Dios! they are putting on more speed. At this 
 rate we shall soon be at liberty. But, caramba , how they might 
 have been trapped, Sefior Fortescue! A few men on that height 
 hurling down rocks, the defile lined with sharp-shooters, half a hun- 
 dred of Mejia’s llaneros to cut off their retreat, and the regiment of 
 Irun could be destroyed to a man.” 
 
 “ Or taken prisoners.” 
 
 “ I don’t think there would be many prisoners,” said Carmen, 
 grimly. “ These must almost be the last, I think — they are. See ! 
 Here come the tag-rag and bobtail.” 
 
 The tag-rag and bobtail consisted of a string of loaded mules with 
 their arrieros , a dozen women riding mules, and as many men on foot. 
 
 “ Let us get out of this hole while we may, and before any of 
 them come back. Once on the road and mounted, we shall at least 
 be able to fight ; but down here — ” 
 
 “ All the same, this hole has served our turn well. However, I 
 quite agree with you that the best thing we can do is to get out of 
 it quickly.” 
 
 This was more easily said than done. It was like climbing up a 
 precipice. Pizarro slipped back three times. Carmen’s mare did 
 no better. In the end we had to dismount, fasten two lariats to 
 each saddle, and haul while the horses scrambled. A little help 
 goes a long way in such circumstances. 
 
 All this both made noise and caused delay, and it was with a 
 decided sense of relief that we found ourselves once more in the 
 saddle and en route . 
 
BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 
 
 75 
 
 «We have lost more time than I reckoned on,” said Carmen, as 
 we galloped through the pass. “ If any of the dragoons had turned 
 back — However, they did not, and, as our horses are both fresher 
 than theirs and carry less weight, they will have no chance of over- 
 taking us if they do ; and, as the whole of the regiment has gone 
 on, there is no chance of meeting any more of them — Caramba ! 
 Halt ! ” 
 
 “ What is it ? ” I asked, pulling up short. 
 
 “ I spoke too soon. More are coming. Don’t you hear them ? ” 
 “ Yes ; and I see shadows in the distance.” 
 
 “ The shadows are soldiers, and we shall have to charge them 
 whether they be few or many, amzgo mio ; so say your prayers and 
 draw your Toledo. But first let us shake hands, we may never — ” 
 “ I am quite ready to charge by your side, Carmen ; but would 
 it not be better, think you, to try what a little stratagy will do ? ” 
 
 “ With all my heart, if you can suggest anything feasible. I like 
 a fight immensely— when the odds are not too great— and I hope to 
 die fighting. All the same, I have no very strong desire to die at 
 this particular moment.” 
 
 “ Neither have I. So let us go on like peaceable travelers, and 
 the chances are that these men, taking for granted that the others 
 have let us pass, will not meddle with us. If they do, we must 
 make the best fight we can.” 
 
 “ A happy thought ! Let us act on it. If they ask any ques- 
 tions I will answer. Your English accent might excite suspicion.” 
 The party before us consisted of nine horsemen, several of 
 whom appeared to be officers. 
 
 “Buene noche , sehores ,” said Carmen, so soon as we were with- 
 in speaking distance. 
 
 “ Buene noche , sehores. You have met the troops, of course. 
 How far are they ahead ? ” asked one of the officers. 
 
 “ The main body are quite a league ahead by this time. The 
 pack-mules and arrieros passed us about fifteen minutes ago.” 
 
 “ Gracias ! Who are you, and whither may you be wending, 
 senores ? ” 
 
 “ I am Sancho Mencar, at your service sehor coronel, a Govern- 
 ment messenger, carrying dispatches to General Salazar, at La 
 Victoria. My companion is Sefior Tesco, a merchant, who is jour- 
 neying to the same place on business.” 
 
 “Good ! you can go on. You will meet two troopers who are 
 
76 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 bringing on a prisoner. Do me the favor to tell them to make 
 haste.” 
 
 * Certainly, sehor coronel. Adz os, sehores .” 
 
 “ Adzos, seiiores .” 
 
 And with that we rode on our respective ways. 
 
 “Two troopers and prisoner,” said Carmen, thoughtfully. “So ; 
 there are more of them, after all ! How many, I wonder? If this KJ 
 prisoner be a patriot we must rescue him, Sehor Fortescue.” 
 
 “ With all my heart — if we can.” ^ 
 
 “ Only two troopers ! You and I are a match for six.” 
 
 “ Possibly. But we don’t know that the two are not followed \ 
 by a score ! There seems to be no end of them.” 
 
 “ I don’t think so. If there were, the colonel would have asked r 
 us to tell them also to hurry up. But we shall soon find out. 
 When we meet the fellows we will speak them fair and ask a few / 
 questions.” 
 
 Ten minutes later we met them. 
 
 “ Buene noche , sehores /” said Carmen, riding forward. “We j 
 bring a message from the colonel. He bids you make haste.” 
 
 “All very fine. But how can we make haste when we are 
 hampered by this rascal ? I should like to blow his brains out.” 
 
 “ This rascal ” was the prisoner, a big powerful fellow who 
 seemed to be either a zambo or a negro. His arms were bound to 
 his side, and he walked between the troopers, to whose saddles he 
 was fastened by two stout cords. 
 
 “ Why don’t you blow his brains out ? ” 
 
 “ Because we should get into trouble. He is the colonel’s slave, 
 and therefore valuable property. We have tried dragging him 
 along ; but the villain throws himself down, and might get a limb 
 broken, so all we can do is prod him occasionally with the points 
 of our sabers ; but he does not seem to mind us in the least. We 
 have tried swearing ; we might as well whistle. Make haste, in- 
 deed ! ” 
 
 “ A very hard case, I am sure. I sympathize with you, se- 
 nores. Is the man a runaway that you have to take such care of 
 him ? ” 
 
 “ That is just it. He ran away and rambled for months in the 
 forest ; and if he had not stolen back to La Victoria and been be- 
 trayed by a woman, he would never have been caught. After that, 
 the colonel would not trust him at large; but he thinks that at 
 
BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 
 
 Caracas he will have him safe. And now, senores, with your leave 
 we must go on.” 
 
 “ Ah ! You are the last, I suppose ? ” 
 
 “We are ; curse it ! The main body must be a league ahead 
 by this time, and we shall not reach Caracas for hours. Adios /” 
 
 “ Let us rescue the poor devil ! ” I whispered to Carmen. 
 
 “ By all means. One moment, senores ! I beg your pardon, but 
 — now, Fortescue ! ” 
 
 And with that we placed our horses across the road, whipped 
 out our pistols and pointed them at the troopers’ heads, to their 
 owners’ unutterable surprise. 
 
 “We are sorry to inconvenience you, senores,” said my com- 
 panion, politely ; “ but we are going to release this slave, and we 
 have need of your horses. Unbuckle your swords, throw them on 
 the ground, and dismount. No hesitation, or you are dead men ! 
 Shall we treat them as they proposed to treat the slave, Seiior 
 Fortescue ? Blow out their brains ? It will be safer, and save us a 
 deal of trouble.” 
 
 “ No ! That would be murder. Let them go. They can do 
 no harm. It is impossible for them to overtake the others on 
 foot.” 
 
 Meanwhile the soldiers, having the fear of being shot before 
 them, had dismounted and laid down their weapons. 
 
 “ Go ! ” said Carmen, pointing northward, and they went. 
 
 “Your name ? ” (to the prisoner whose bonds I was cutting with 
 my sword). 
 
 “ Here they call me Jose. In my own country I was called 
 Gahra — ” 
 
 “ Let it be Gahra, then. It is less common than Jose. Every 
 other peon in the country is called Jose. You are a native of 
 Africa? ” 
 
 “ Sz seizor T 
 
 “ How came you hither ? ” 
 
 “ I was taken to Cuba in a slave-ship, brought to this country 
 by General Salazar, and sold by him to Colonel Canimo.” 
 
 “You have no great love for the Spaniards, I suppose? ” 
 
 Gahra pointed to his arms whiph had been chafed by the rope 
 till they were raw, and showed us his back which bore the marks 
 of recent stripes. 
 
 “ Can you fight ? ” 
 
78 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 “ Against the Spaniards ? Only give me the chance, and you 
 shall see,” answered the negro in a voice of intense hate.” 
 
 “ Come with us, and you shall have many chances. Mount one 
 of those horses and lead the other.” 
 
 Gahra mounted, and we moved on. 
 
 We were now at the beginning of a stiff ascent. The road, 
 which though undulating had risen almost continuously since we 
 left Caracas, was bordered with richly colored flowers and shrubs, 
 and bounded on either side by deep forests. Night was made glori- 
 ous by the great tropical moon, which shone resplendent under a 
 purple sky gilding the tree-tops and lighting us on our way. Owing 
 to the nature of the ground we could not see far before us, but the 
 backward view, with its woodcrowned heights, deep ravines, and 
 somber mountains looming in the distance, was fairy-like and fan- 
 tastic, and the higher we rose the more extensive it became. 
 
 “ Is this a long hill ? ” I asked Carmen. 
 
 “Very. An affair of half an hour, at least, at this speed; and 
 we can not go faster,” he answered, as he turned half round in his 
 saddle. 
 
 “ Why are you looking backward ? ” 
 
 “ To see whether we are followed. We lost much time in the 
 quebrado , and we have lost more since. Have you good eyes, Gahra ? 
 Born Africans generally have.” 
 
 “Yes, sir. My name, Gahia Dahra, signifies Dahra, the keen 
 sighted ! ” 
 
 “ I am glad to hear it. Be good enough to look round occasion- 
 ally, and if you see anything let us know.” 
 
 We had nearly reached the summit of the rise when the negro 
 uttered an exclamation and turned his horse completely round. 
 
 “ What is it ? ” asked Carmen and myself, following his example. 
 
 “I see figures on the brow of yonder hill.” 
 
 “ You see more than I can, and I have not bad eyes, said Car- 
 men, looking intently. “ What are they like, those figures ? 
 
 “ That I can not make out yet. They are many ; they move ; 
 and every minute they grow bigger ! That is all I can tell.” 
 
 “ It is quite enough. The bodies of the two troopers have been 
 found, the alarm has been given, and we are pursued. But they 
 won’t overtake us. They have that hill to descend, this to mount ; 
 and our horses are better than theirs.” 
 
 “ Are you going far, senor ? ” inquired Gahra. 
 
BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 
 
 79 
 
 “To the llanos.” 
 
 “ By Los Teycos ? ” 
 
 “Yes. We shall easily steal through Los Teycos, and I know 
 of a place in the forest beyond, where we can hide during the day.” 
 “ Pardon me for venturing to contradict you, senor ; but I fear 
 you will not find it very easy to steal through Los Teycos. For 
 three days it has been held by a company of infantry and all the 
 outlets are strictly guarded. No civilian unfurnished with a safe 
 conduct from the captain-general is allowed to pass.” 
 
 “ Caramba ! We are between two fires, it seems. Well, we 
 must make a dash for it. The sentries can not stop us, and we can 
 gallop through before they turn out the guard.” 
 
 “The horses will be very tired by that time, senor, and the 
 troopers can get fresh mounts at Los Teycos. But I know a 
 way — ” 
 
 “ The Indian trail ! Do you know the Indian trail ? ” 
 
 “Yes sir. I know the Indian trail, and I can take you to a place 
 in the forest where there is grass and water and game, and we 
 shall be safe from pursuit as long as we like to stay.” 
 
 “ How far off ? ” 
 
 “ About two leagues.” 
 
 “ Good. Lead on in heaven s name. You are a treasure, Gahra 
 Dahra. In rescuing you from those ruffianly Spaniards we did our- 
 selves, as well as you, a good turn.” 
 
 Our pursuers, who numbered a full score, could now be distinctly 
 seen, but in a few minutes we lost sight of them. After a sharp 
 ride of half an hour, the negro called a halt. 
 
 “This is the place. Here we turn off,” he said. 
 
 “ Here ! I see nothing but the almost dry bed of a torrent.” 
 
 “ So much the better. We shall make no footmarks,” said 
 Carmen. “ Go on, Gahra. But first of all turn that led horse 
 adrift. Are you sure this place you speak of is unknown to the 
 Spaniards ? ” 
 
 “ Quite. It is known only to a few wandering Indians and fugi- 
 tive slaves. We can stay here till sunrise. It is impossible to fol- 
 low the Indian trail by night, even with such a moon as this.” 
 
 After we had partly ridden, partly walked (for we were several 
 times compelled to dismount) about a mile along the bed of the 
 stream, which was hemmed in between impenetrable walls of tall 
 trees and dense undergrowth, Gahra, who was leading, called out ; 
 
g 6 MR. FOR FESCUE. 
 
 “This way ! ” and vanished into what looked like a hole, but proved 
 to be a cleft in the bank so overhung by vegetation as to be well- 
 
 H^ItwTs^he entrance to a passage barely wide enough to admit a 
 horse and his rider, yet as light as a star-gemmed midnight, for the 
 
 leafy vault above us was radiant with fire-flies, gleaming 1 e lamon 
 
 in the dark hair of a fair woman. 
 
 But even with this help it was extremely difficult to force our 
 wav through the tangled undergrowth, which we had several times 
 to attack, fword in hand, and none of us were sorry when Gahra 
 
 announced that we had reached the end. 
 
 “ For todos los santos ! But this is fairyland ! exclaimed Car- 
 men, who was just before me. “I never saw anything so beau- 
 
 ti£U He might well say so. We were on the shore of a mountain- 
 tarn, into whose clear depths the crescent moon, looxing calm y 
 down saw its image reflected as in a silver mirror. Lilies floated 
 on its waters, ferns and flowering shrubs bent over the ™; ** “ 
 was fragrant with sweet smells, and all around uprose giant tree 
 with stems as round and smooth as the granite columns of a gieat 
 cathedral ; and, as it seemed in that dim religious light, high enoug 
 
 tn cnnnort the the dome of heaven. 
 
 I was so lost in admiration of this marvelous scene that my 
 
 companions had unsaddled and were leading their horses down t 
 
 the water before I thought of dismounting from mine. 
 
 Iptrt from the beauty of the spot, we could have found none 
 
 more suitable for a bivouac ! We were in safety and ou^horses .n 
 
 clover, and, tethering them with the lanats we She 2 ai 
 Cahra gathered leaves and twigs and kindled a file, for the air at 
 St was fresh, and we were lightly clad. We cooked our 
 Usajo on the embers, and after smoking the calumet of peace 
 rolled ourselves in our cobijas, laid our heads on our saddles, an 
 slept the sleep of the just. 
 
ON THE LLANOS . 
 
 Bi 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ON THE LLANOS. 
 
 Only a moment ago the land had been folded in the mantle of 
 darkness. Now, a flaming eye rises from the ground at some im- 
 measurable distance, -like an outburst of volcanic fire. It grows 
 apace, chasing away the night and casting a ruddy glow on, as it 
 seems, a vast and waveless sea, as still as the painted ocean of the 
 poem, as silent as death, a sea Nvithout ships and without life, mourn- 
 ful and illimitable, and as awe-inspiring and impressive as the Andes 
 or the Alps. 
 
 So complete is the illusion that did I not know we were on the 
 verge of the llanos I should be tempted to believe that some super- 
 natural agency had transported us while we slept to the coasts of 
 the Carribean Sea or the yet more distant shores of the Pacific 
 Ocean. 
 
 Six days are gone by since we left our bivouac by the mountain- 
 tarn : three we have wandered in the woods under the guidance of 
 Gahra, three sought Mejia and his guerillas, who, being always on 
 the move, are hard to find. Last night we reached the range of 
 hills which form, as it were, the northern coast-line of the vast series 
 of savannas which stretch from the tropics to the Straits of Magel- 
 lan ; and it is now a question whether we shall descend to the 
 llanos or continue our search in the sierra. 
 
 “ It was there I left him,” said Carmen, pointing to a quebrada 
 some ten miles away. 
 
 “ Where we were yesterday ? ” 
 
 “ Yes ; and he said he would be either there or hereabout when 
 I returned, and I am quite up to time. But Mejia takes sudden re- 
 solves sometimes. He may have gone to beat up Griscelli’s quar- 
 ters at San Felipe, or be making a dash across the llanos in the 
 hope of surprising the fortified post of Tres Cruces.” 
 
 “ What shall we do then ; wait here until he comes back ? ” 
 
 “ Or ride out on the llanos in the direction of Tres Cruces. If we 
 don’t meet Mejia and his people we may hear something of them.” 
 
 “ I am for the llanos.” 
 
 “ Very well. We will go thither. But we shall have to be very 
 circumspect. There are loyalist as well as patriot guerillas roaming 
 about. They say that Morales has collected a force of three or four 
 6 
 
, MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 82 
 
 thousand, mostly Indios, and they are all so much alike that unless 
 you get pretty close it is impossible to distinguish patriots from 
 loyalists.” 
 
 “ Well, there is room to run if we can not fight.” 
 
 “ Oh, plenty of room,” laughed Carmen. “ But as for fighting- 
 loyalist guerillas are not quite the bravest of the brave, yet I don t 
 think we three are quite a match for fifty of them, and we are not 
 likely to meet fewer, if we meet any. But let us adventure by all 
 means. Our horses are fresh, and we can either return to the sierra 
 or spend the flight on the llanos, as may be most expedient. 
 
 Ten minutes later we were mounted, and an hour’s easy riding 
 brought us to the plain. It was as pathless as the ocean, yet Car- 
 men, guided by the sun, went on as confidently as if he had been 
 following a beaten track. The grass was brown and the soil yellow ; 
 particles of yellow dust floated in the air ; the few trees we passed 
 were covered with it, and we and our horses were soon in the like 
 condition. Nothing altered as we advanced ; sky and earth were 
 ever the same ; the only thing that moved was a cloud, sailing slowly 
 between us and the sun, and when Carmen called a halt on the bank 
 of a nearly dried-up stream, it required an effort to realize that since 
 we left our bivouac in the hills we had ridden twenty miles in a di- 
 rect line. Hard by was a deserted hatto , or cattle-keeper’s hut, 
 where we rested while our horses grazed. 
 
 « No sign of Mejia yet,” observed Carmen, as he lighted his cigar 
 with a burning-glass. “ Shall we go on toward Tres Cruces, or re- 
 turn to our old camping-ground in the hills ? ” 
 
 44 I am for going on.” 
 
 44 So am I. But we must keep a sharp lookout. We shall be 
 on dangerous ground after we have crossed the Tio.” 
 
 44 Where is the Tio ? ” 
 
 44 There ! ” (pointing to the attenuated stream near us). 
 
 44 That ! I thought the Tio was a river,” 
 
 44 So it is, and a big one in the rainy season, as you may have an 
 opportunity of seeing. I wish we could hear something of Mejia. 
 But there is nobody of whom we can inquire. The country is de- 
 serted ; the herdsmen have all gone south, to keep out of the way of 
 guerillas and brigands, all of whom look on cattle as common prop- 
 erty.” 
 
 44 Somebody comes ! ” said Gahra, who was always on *he look- 
 
 out. 
 
01 V THE LLANOS. 
 
 83 
 
 u How many ? ” exclaimed Carmen, springing to his feet. 
 
 “ Only one.” 
 
 “ Keep out of sight till he draws near, else he may sheer off ; 
 and I should like to have speech of him. He may be able to tell us 
 something.” 
 
 The stranger came unconcernedly on, and as he stopped in the 
 middle of the river to let his horse drink, we had a good look at 
 him. He was well mounted, carried a long spear and a macheto (a 
 broad, sword-like knife, equally useful for slitting windpipes and 
 felling trees), and wore a broad-brimmed hat, shirt, trousers, and a 
 pair of spurs (strapped to his naked feet). 
 
 As he resumed his journey across the river, we all stepped out of 
 the hatto and gave him the traditional greeting, “ Buenas dias y 
 senor .” 
 
 The man, looking up in alarm, showed a decided disposition to 
 make off, but Carmen spoke him kindly, offered him a cigar, and 
 said that all we wanted was a little information. We were peace- 
 ful travelers, and would much like to know whether the country be- 
 yond the Tio was free from guerillas. 
 
 The stranger eyed us suspiciously, and then, after a moment’s 
 hesitation, said he had heard that Mejia was “ on the war-path.” 
 
 “ Where ? ” asked Carmen. 
 
 “ They say he was at Tres Cruces three days ago ; and there 
 has been fighting.” 
 
 “ And are any of Morale’s people also on the war-path ? ” 
 
 “ That is more than I can tell you, senores. It is very likely ; 
 but as you are peaceful travelers, I am sure no one will molest you. 
 Adios , senores .” 
 
 And with that the man gave his horse a sudden dig with his 
 spurs, and went off at a gallop. 
 
 “ What a discourteous beggar he is ! ” exclaimed Carmen, an- 
 grily. “ If it would not take too much out of my mare I would ride 
 after him and give him a lesson in politeness.” 
 
 “ I don’t think he was intentionally uncivil. He seemed 
 afraid.” 
 
 “ Evidently. He did not know what we were, and feared to 
 commit himself. However, we have learned something. We are 
 on Mejia’s track. He was at Tres Cruces three days since, and if 
 we push on we may fall in with him before sunset, or, at any rate, 
 to-morrow morning.” 
 
84 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UK 
 
 “ Is it not possible that this man may have been purposely de- 
 ceiving us, or be himself misinformed ? ” I asked. 
 
 “ Quite. But as we had already decided to go on it does not 
 matter a great deal whether he is right or wrong. I think, though, 
 he knew more about the others than he cared to tell. All the more 
 reason for keeping a sharp lookout and riding slowly.” 
 
 “ So as to save our horses ? ” 
 
 “ Exactly. We may have to ride for our lives before the sun 
 goes down. And now let us mount and march.” 
 
 Our course was almost due west, and the sun being now a little 
 past the zenith, its ardent rays — which shone right in our faces — 
 together with the reverberations from the ground, made the heat 
 almost insupportable. The stirrup-irons burned our feet ; speech 
 became an effort ; we sat in our saddles, perspiring and silent ; our 
 horses, drooping their heads, settled into a listless and languid walk. 
 The glare was so trying that I closed my eyes and let Pizarro go as 
 he would. Open them when I might, the outlook was always the 
 same, the same yellow earth and blue sky, the same lifeless, inter- 
 minable plain, the same solitary sombrero palms dotting the distant 
 horizon. 
 
 This went on for an hour or two, and I think I must have fallen 
 into a doze, for when, roused by a shout from Gahra, I once more 
 opened my eyes the sun was lower and the heat less intense. 
 
 « What is it ? ” asked Carmen, who, like myself, had been half 
 asleep. “ I see nothing.” 
 
 “ A cloud of dust that moves — there ! ” (pointing). 
 
 “ So it is,” shading his eyes and looking again. “ Coming this 
 way, too. Behind that cloud is a body of horsemen. Be they 
 friends or enemies— Mejia and his people or loyalist guerillas ? ” 
 
 “ That is more than I can say, senor. Mejia, I hope.” 
 
 “ I also. But hope is not certainty, and until we can make sure 
 we had better hedge away toward the north, so as to be nearer the 
 hills in case we have to run for it.” 
 
 “You think we had better make for the hills in that case?” I 
 asked. 
 
 “ Decidedly. Mejia is sure to return thither, and Morale’s men 
 are much less likely to follow us far in that direction than south or 
 east.” 
 
 So, still riding leisurely, we diverged a little to the right, keeping 
 the cloud-veiled horsemen to our left. By this measure we should 
 
ON THE LLANOS. « 85 
 
 (if they proved to be enemies) prevent them from getting between 
 us and the hills, and thereby cutting off our best line of retreat. 
 
 Meanwhile the cloud grew bigger. Before long we could dis- 
 tinguish those whom it had hidden, without, however, being able to 
 decide whether they were friends or foes. 
 
 Carmen thought they numbered at least two hundred, and there 
 might be more behind. But who they were he could, as yet, form 
 no idea. 
 
 The nearer we approached them the greater became our excite- 
 ment and surprise. A few minutes and we should either be riding 
 for our lives or surrounded by friends. We looked to the priming 
 of our pistols, tightened our belts and our horses’ girths, wiped the 
 sweat and dust from our faces, and, while hoping for the best, pre- 
 pared for the worst. 
 
 “ They see us ! ” exclaimed Carmen. “ I can not quite make 
 them out, though. I fear . . . But let us ride quietly on. The 
 secret will soon be revealed.” 
 
 A dozen horsemen had detached themselves from the main body 
 with the intention, as might appear, of intercepting our retreat in 
 every direction. Four went south, four north, and four moved 
 slowly round to our rear. 
 
 “ Had we not better push on ? ” I asked. “ This looks very like 
 a hostile demonstration.” 
 
 “ So it does. But we must find out — And there is no hurry. 
 We shall only have the four who are coming this way to deal with, 
 the others are out of the running. All the same, we may as well 
 draw a little farther to the right, so as to give them a longer gallop 
 and get them as far from the main body as may be.” 
 
 The four were presently near enough to be distinctly seen. 
 
 “Enemies! Vamonos!” cried Carmen, after he had scanned 
 their faces. “ But not too fast. If they think we are afraid and 
 our horses tired they will follow us without waiting for the others, 
 and perhaps give us an opportunity of teaching them better man- 
 ners. Your horse is the fleetest, Senor Fortescue. You had better, 
 perhaps, ride last.” 
 
 On this hint I acted ; and when the four guerillas saw that I was 
 lagging behind they redoubled their efforts to overtake me, but 
 whenever they drew nearer than I liked, I let Pizarro out, thereby 
 keeping their horses, which were none too fresh, continually on the 
 stretch. The others were too far in the rear to cause us concern? 
 
86 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 We had tested the speed of their horses and knew that we could 
 leave them whenever we liked. 
 
 After we had gone thus about a couple of miles Carmen slack- 
 ened speed so as to let me come up with him and Gahra. 
 
 “We have five minutes to spare/’ he said. “Shall we stop 
 them ? ” 
 
 I nodded assent, whereupon we checked our horses, and wheel- 
 ing around, looked our pursuers in the face. This brought them 
 up short, and I thought they were going to turn tail, but after a 
 moments hesitation they lowered their lances and came on albeit 
 at no great speed, receiving as they did so a point-blank volley from 
 our pistols, which emptied one of their saddles. Then we drew our 
 swords and charged, but before we could get to close quarters the 
 three men sheered off to the right and left, leaving their wounded 
 comrade to his fate. It did not suit our purpose to follow them, 
 and we were about to go on, when we noticed that the other gueril- 
 las, who a few minutes previously were riding hotly after us, had 
 ceased their pursuit, and were looking round in seeming perplexity. 
 The main body had, moreover, come to a halt, and were closing up 
 and facing the other way. Something had happened. What could 
 it be ? 
 
 “ Another cloud of dust,” said Gahra, pointing to the north- 
 west. 
 
 So there was, and moving rapidly. Had our attention been less 
 taken up with the guerillas this new portent would not so long have 
 escaped us. 
 
 “Mejia! I’ll wager ten thousand piasters that behind that 
 cloud are Mejia and his braves,” exclaimed Carmen, excitedly. 
 “ Hijo de Dios / Won’t they make mince-meat of the Spaniard? 
 How I wish I were with them! Shall we go back, Senor Fortes- 
 cue?” 
 
 “ If you think — ” 
 
 “ Think ! I am sure. I can see the gleam of their spears 
 through the dust. By all means, let us join them. The Spaniards 
 have too much on their hands just now to heed us. But I must 
 have a spear.” 
 
 And with that Carmen slipped from his horse and picked up 
 the lance of the fallen guerilla. 
 
 “ Do you prefer a spear to a sword ? ” I asked, as we rode on. 
 
 “ | like both ? but in a charge on the llanos I prefer a spear de- 
 
CAUGHT. 
 
 8 7 
 
 cidedly. Yet I dare say you will do better with the weapon to 
 which you have been most accustomed. If you ward off or evade 
 the first thrust and get to your opponent’s left rear you will have 
 him at your mercy. Our llaneros are indifferent swordsmen ; but 
 once turn your back and you are doomed. Hurrah ! There is Mejia, 
 leading his fellows on. Don’t you see him ? The tall man on the 
 big horse. Forward, senores ! We may be in time for the en- 
 counter even yet.” 
 
 CHAPTER XIV, 
 
 CAUGHT. 
 
 A SMART gallop of a few minutes brought us near enough to 
 see what was going on, though as we had to make a considerable 
 dUour in order to avoid the Spaniards, we were just too late for the 
 charge, greatly to Carmen’s disappointment. 
 
 In numbers the two sides were pretty equal, the strength of 
 each being about a thousand men. Their tactics were rather those 
 of Indian braves than regular troops. The patriots were, however 
 both better led and better disciplined than their opponents, and 
 fought with a courage and a resolution that on their native plains 
 would have made them formidable foes for the “ crackest of u- 
 
 ropean cavalry. , , , 
 
 The encounter took place when we were within a few hundred 
 yards of Mejia’s left flank. It was really a charge in line albeit a 
 very broken line, every man riding as hard as he could and fighting 
 for his own land. All were armed with spears, the longest, as I 
 afterward learned, being wielded by Colombian guachos. These 
 portentous weapons-, fully fourteen feet long, were held in both 
 hands, the reins being meanwhile placed on the knees, and the 
 horses guided by voice and spur. The Spaniards seemed terribly 
 afraid of them, as well they might be, for the Colombian spears did 
 dire execution. Few missed their mark, and I saw more than one 
 trooper literally spitted and lifted clean out of his saddle. 
 
 Mejia, distinguishable by his tall stature, was in the thick of the 
 fray. After the first shock he threw away his spear, and drawing a 
 long two-handed sword, which he carried at his back, laid about 
 like a cwur-de-lion- The combat lasted only a few minutes, and 
 
88 
 
 MR. FOR FESCUE. 
 
 though we were too late to contribute to the victory we were in 
 time to take part in the pursuit. 
 
 It was a scene of wild confusion and excitement ; the Spaniards 
 galloping off in all directions, singly and in groups, making no at- 
 tempt to rally, yet when overtaken, fighting to the last, Mejia’s 
 men following them with lowered lances and wild cries, managing 
 their fiery little horses with consummate ease, and making no 
 prisoners. 
 
 “ Here is. a chance for us ; let us charge these fellows ! ” shouted 
 Carmen, as eight or nine of the enemy rode past us in full retreat ; 
 and without pausing for a reply he went off at a gallop, followed by 
 Gahra and myself ; for although I had no particular desire to attack 
 men who were flying for their lives and to whom I knew no quarter 
 would be given, it was impossible to hold back when my comrades 
 were rushing into danger. Had the Spaniards been less intent on 
 getting away it would have fared ill with us. As it was, we were 
 all wounded. Gahra got a thrust through the arm, Carmen a gash 
 in the thigh ; and as I gave one fellow the point in his throat his 
 spear pierced my hat and cut my head. If some of the patriots had 
 not come to the rescue our lives would have paid the forfeit of our 
 rashness. 
 
 The incident was witnessed by Mejia himself, who, when he rec- 
 ognized Carmen, rode forward, greeted us warmly, and remarked 
 that we were just in time. 
 
 “ To be too late,” answered Carmen, discontentedly, as he twist- 
 ed a handkerchief round his wounded thigh. 
 
 “ Not much ; and you have done your share. That was a bold 
 charge you made. And your friends ? I don’t think I have the 
 pleasure of knowing them.” 
 
 Carmen introduced us, and told him who I was. 
 
 “ I am delighted to make your acquaintance, senor,” he said, 
 graciously, “ and I will give you of my best ; but I can offer you 
 only rough fare and plenty of fighting. Will that content you ? ” 
 
 I bowed, and answered that I desired nothing better. The gue- 
 rilla leader was a man of striking appearance, tall, spare, and long 
 limbed. The contour of his face was Indian ; he had the deep-set 
 eyes, square jaws, and lank hair of the abonguil race. But his eyes 
 were blue, his hair was flaxen, and his skin as fair as that of a pure- 
 blooded Teuton. Mejia, as I subsequently heard, was the son of a 
 German father and a mestizma mother, and prouder of his Indian 
 
CA UGHT. 
 
 89 
 
 than his European ancestry. It was probably for this reason that 
 he preferred being called Mejia rather than Morgenstern y Mejia, 
 his original appellation. His hereditary hatred of the Spaniards, in- 
 flamed by a sense of personal wrong, was his ruling passion. He 
 spared none of the race (being enemies) who fell into his hands. 
 Natives of the country, especially those with Indian blood in their 
 veins, he treated more mercifully— when his men would let him, for 
 they liked killing even more than they liked fighting, and had an 
 unpleasant way of answering a remonstrance from their officers 
 with a thrust from their spears. 
 
 Mejia owed his ascendancy over them quite as much to his 
 good fortune in war as to his personal prowess and resolute char- 
 acter. 
 
 “ If I were to lose a battle they would probably take my life, and 
 I should certainly have to resign my command,” he observed, when 
 we were talking the matter over after the pursuit (which, night be- 
 ing near, was soon abandoned) ; “ and a llanero leader must lead — 
 no playing the general or watching operations from the rear— or it 
 will be the worse for him.” 
 
 “ I understand ; he must be first or nowhere.” 
 
 “ Yes, first or nowhere ; and they will brook no punishment save 
 death. If a man disobeys me I either let it pass or shoot him out 
 of hand, according to circumstances. If I were to strike a man or 
 order him under arrest, the entire force would either mutiny or dis- 
 band. Si y senor, my llcmeros are wild fellows.” 
 
 They looked it. Most of them wore only a ragged shirt over 
 equally ragged trousers. Their naked feet were thrust into rusty 
 stirrups. Some rode bare-backed, and there were among them 
 men of every breed which the country produced : mestizoes, mulat- 
 toes, zambos, quadroons, negroes, and Indios, but all born gctii- 
 chos and llaneroSy hardy and in high condition, and well skilled in 
 the use of lasso and spear. They were volunteers, too, and if their 
 chief failed to provide them with a sufficiency of fighting and plun- 
 der, they had no hesitation in taking themselves off without asking 
 for leave of absence. 
 
 When Mejia heard that a British force was being raised for 
 service against the Spaniards he was greatly delighted, and offered 
 me on the spot a command in his “army,” or, alternatively, the po- 
 sition of his principal aide-de-camp. I preferred the latter. 
 
 " You have decided wisely, and I thank you, senov coroneh 
 
9 ° 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 The advice and assistance of a soldier who has seen so much of 
 war as you have will be very valuable and highly esteemed/’ 
 
 I reminded the chief that, in the British army, I had held no 
 higher rank than that of lieutenant. 
 
 “ What matters that ? I have made myself a general, and I 
 make you a colonel. Who is there to say me nay? ” he demanded, 
 proudly. 
 
 Though much amused by this summary fashion of conferring 
 military rank, I kept a serious countenance, and, after congratulat- 
 ing General Mejia on his promotion and thanking him for mine, I 
 said that I should do my best to justify his confidence. 
 
 We bivouacked on the banks of a stream some ten miles from 
 the scene of our encounter with the loyalists. On our way thither, 
 Mejia told us that he had taken and destroyed Tres Cruces, and was 
 now contemplating an attack on General Griscelli at San Felipe, as 
 to which he asked my opinion. 
 
 I answered that, as I knew nothing either of the defense of San 
 Felipe or of the strength and character of the force commanded by 
 General Griscelli, I could give none. On this, Mejia informed me 
 that the- place was a large village and military post, defended by 
 earthworks and block-houses, and that the force commanded by 
 Griscelli consisted of about twenty-five hundred men, of whom 
 about half were regulars, half native auxiliaries. 
 
 “ Has he any artillery ? ” I asked. 
 
 “ About ten pieces of position, but no field-guns.” 
 
 “ And you ? ” 
 
 “ I have none whatever.” 
 
 “ Nor any infantry ? ” 
 
 “Not here. But my colleague, General Estero, is at present 
 organizing a force which I dare say will exceed two thousand men, 
 and he promises to join me in the course of a week or two.” 
 
 “ That is better, certainly. Nevertheless, I fear that with one 
 thousand horse and two thousand foot, and without artillery, you 
 will not find it easy to capture a strong place, armed with ten guns 
 and held by twenty-five hundred men, of whom half are regulars. 
 If I were you I would let San Felipe alone.” 
 
 Mejia frowned. My advice was evidently not to his liking. 
 
 “ Let me tell you, seitor coronel he said, arrogantly, “our 
 patriot soldiers are equal to any in the world, regular or irregular. 
 And, don’t you see that the very audacity of the enterprise counts 
 
CA UGHT. 
 
 91 
 
 in our favor ? The last thing Griscelli expects is an attack. We 
 shall find him unprepared and take him by surprise. That man 
 has done us a great deal of harm. He hangs every patriot who falls 
 into his hands, and I have made up my mind to hang him ! ” 
 
 After this there was nothing more to be said, and I held my 
 peace. I soon found, moreover, that albeit Mejia often made a 
 show of consulting me he had no intention of accepting my advice, 
 and that all his officers (except Carmen) and most of his men re- 
 garded me as a gringo (foreign interloper) and were envious of my 
 promotion, and jealous of my supposed influence with the general. 
 
 We bivouacked in a valley on the verge of the llanos, and the 
 next few days were spent in raiding cattle and preparing tasajo . 
 We had also another successful encounter with a party of Morale s 
 guerillas. This raised Mejia’s spirits to the highest point, and made 
 him more resolute than ever to attack San Felipe. But when I saw 
 General Estero’s infantry my misgivings as to the outcome of the 
 adventure were confirmed. His men, albeit strong and sturdy and 
 full of fight, were badly disciplined and indifferently armed, their 
 officers extremely ignorant and absurdly boastful and confident. 
 Estero himself, though like Mejia, a splendid patriotic leader, was no 
 general, and I felt sure that unless we caught Griscelli asleep we 
 should find San Felipe an uncommonly hard nut to crack. I need 
 hardly say, however, that I kept this opinion religiously to myself. 
 Everybody was so confident and cock-sure that the mere suggestion 
 of a doubt would have been regarded as treason and probably ex- 
 posed me to danger. 
 
 A march of four days, partly across the llanos, partly among 
 the wooded hills by which they were bounded, brought us one morn- 
 ing to a suitable camping-ground, within a few miles of San Felipe, 
 and Mejia, who had assumed the supreme command, decided that 
 the attack should take place on the following night. 
 
 “ You will surely reconnoiter first, General Mejia,” I ventured to 
 say. 
 
 “ What would be the use ? Estero and I know the place. 
 However, if you and Carmen like to go and have a look you may. 
 
 Carmen was nothing loath, and two hours before sunset we sad- 
 dled our horses and set out. I could speak more freely to him than 
 to any of the others, and as we rode on I remarked how carelessly 
 the camp was guarded. There were no proper outposts, and instead 
 g>£ beinjgr kept out of sight in the quebrado . the rnen were allowed tQ 
 

 
 92 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 come and go as they liked. Nothing would be easier than for a 
 treacherous soldier to desert and give information to the enemy 
 which might not only ruin the expedition but bring destruction on 
 the army. 
 
 “ No, no, Fortescue, I can not agree to that. There are no 
 traitors among us,” said my companion, warmly. 
 
 “ I hope not. Yet how can you guarantee that among two or 
 three thousand men there is not a single rascal ! In war, you 
 should leave nothing to chance. And even though none of the 
 fellows desert it is possible that some of them may wander too far 
 away and get taken prisoners, which would be quite as bad.” 
 
 “ You mean it would give Griscelli warning ? ” 
 
 « Exactly, and if he is an enterprising general he would not wait 
 to be attacked. Instead of letting us surprise him he would sur- 
 prise us.” 
 
 “ Caramba ! So he would. And Griscelli is an enterprising gen- 
 eral. We must mention -this to Mejia when we get back, amigo mioF 
 “ You may, if you like. I am tired of giving advice which is 
 never heeded,” I said, rather bitterly. 
 
 “I will, certainly, and then whatever befalls I shall have a 
 clear conscience. Mejia is one of the bravest men I know. It is a 
 pity he is so self-opinionated.” 
 
 « Yes, and to make a general a man must have something more 
 than bravery. He must have brains.” 
 
 Carmen knew the country we were in thoroughly, and at his 
 suggestion we went a roundabout way through the woods in order 
 to avoid coming in contact with any of Griscelli s people. On reach- 
 ing a hill overlooking San Felipe we tethered our horses in a grove 
 of* trees where they were well hidden, and completed the ascent on \ 
 foot. Then, lying down, and using a field-glass lent us by Mejia, 
 we made a careful survey of the place and its surroundings.” 
 
 San Felipe, a picturesque village of white houses with thatched | 
 roofs, lay in a wide well-cultivated valley, looking south, and wa- 
 tered by a shallow stream which in the rainy season was probably a , 
 wide river. At each corner of the village, well away from the houses, i 
 was a large block-house, no doubt pierced for musketry. From ( 
 one block-house to another ran an earthen parapet with a ditch, t 
 and on each parapet were mounted three guns. 
 
 “ Well, what think you of San Felipe, and our chances of taking \ 
 it? ” asked Carmen ? after a while, 
 
AN OLD ENEMY 
 
 $3 
 
 
 “ I don’t think its defenses are very formidable. A single mor- 
 tar on that height to the east would make the place untenable in an 
 hour ; set it on fire in a dozen places. It is all wood. But to at- 
 tempt its capture with a force of infantry numerically inferior to the 
 garrison will be a very hazardous enterprise indeed, and barring 
 miraculously good luck on the one side or miraculously ill luck on 
 the other can not possibly succeed, I should say. No, Carmen, I 
 don’t think we shall be in San Felipe to-morrow night, or any night, 
 just yet.” 
 
 “ But how if a part of the garrison be absent ? Hist ! Did not 
 you hear something ? ” 
 
 “ Only the crackling of a branch. Some wild animal, probably. 
 I wonder whether there are any jaguars hereabout — ” 
 
 “ Oh, if the garrison be weak and the sentries asleep it is quite 
 possible we may take the place by a rush. But, on the other hand, 
 it is equally possible that Grisceili may have got wind of our inten- 
 tion, and — ” 
 
 “ There it is again ! Something more than a wild animal this 
 time, Fortescue,” exclaims Carmen, springing to his feet. 
 
 I follow his example ; but the same instant a dozen men spring 
 from the bushes, and before we can offer any resistance, or even 
 draw our swords, we are borne to the ground and despite our strug- 
 gles, our arms pinioned to our sides. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AN OLD ENEMY. 
 
 Our captors were Spanish soldiers. 
 
 “ Be good enough to rise and accompany us to San Felipe, 
 senores,” said the non-cornmissioned officer in command of the de- 
 tachment, “ and if you attempt to escape I shall blow your brains 
 out.” 
 
 “ Dios mio ! It serves us right for not keeping a better look- 
 out,” said Carmen, with a laugh which I thought sounded rather 
 hollow. “ We shall be in San Felipe sooner than we expected, that 
 is all. Lead on, sergeant ; we have a dozen good reasons for not 
 trying to escape, to say nothing of our strait waistcoats.” 
 
94 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UR. 
 
 Whereupon we were marched down . the hill and taken to San 
 Felipe, two men following with our horses, from which and other 
 circumstances I inferred that we had been under observation ever 
 since our arrival in the neighborhood. The others were doubtless 
 under observation also ; and at the moment I thought less of our 
 own predicament (in view of the hanging propensities of General 
 Griscelli, a decidedly unpleasant one) than of the terrible surprise 
 which awaited Mejia and his army, for, as I quickly perceived, the 
 Spaniards were quite on the alert, and fully prepared for whatever 
 might befall. The place swarmed with soldiers ; sentries were 
 pacing to and fro on the parapets, gunners furbishing up their 
 pieces, and squads of native auxiliaries being drilled on a broad 
 savanna outside the walls. 
 
 Many of the houses' were mere huts — roofs on stilts ; others, 
 “wattle and dab ” ; a few, brown-stone. To the most imposing of 
 these we were conducted by our escort. Above the doorway, on 
 either side of which stood a sentry, was an inscription : “ Head- 
 quarters : General Griscelli.” 
 
 The sergeant asked one of the sentries if the general was in, and 
 receiving an answer in the affirmative he entered, leaving us outside. 
 Presently he returned. 
 
 “ The general will see you,” he said ; “ be good enough to come 
 in.” 
 
 We went in, and after traversing a wide corridor were ushered 
 into a large room, where an officer in undress uniform sat writing 
 at a big table. Several other officers were lounging in easy-chairs, 
 and smoking big cigars. 
 
 “ Here are the prisoners, general,” announced our conductor. 
 
 The man at the table, looking up, glanced first at Carmen, then 
 at me. 
 
 “ Caramba ! ” he exclaimed, with a stare of surprise, “ you and 
 I have met before, I think.” 
 
 I returned the stare with interest, for though I recognized him I 
 could hardly believe my own eyes. 
 
 “ On the field of Salamanca ? ” 
 
 “ Of course. You are the English officer who behaved so inso- 
 lently and got me reprimanded.” (This in French.) 
 
 “ I did no more than my duty. It was you that behaved inso- 
 lently.” 
 
 “Take care what you say, sehor, or fi or Dios — There is no 
 
AM OLD EMEMY, 95 
 
 English general to whom you can appeal for protection now. What 
 are you doing here ? ” 
 
 “ Not much good, I fear. Your men brought me ; I had not the 
 least desire to come, I assure you.” 
 
 “ You were caught on the hill yonder, surveying the town through 
 a glass, and Sergeant Prim overheard part of a conversation which 
 leaves no doubt that you are officers in Mejia’s army. Besides, you 
 were seen coming from the quarter where he encamped this morn- 
 ing. Is this so ? ” 
 
 Carmen and I exchanged glances. My worst fears were con- 
 firmed — we had been betrayed. 
 
 “ Is this so ? I repeat.” 
 
 “ It is.” 
 
 “ And have you, an English officer who has fought for Spain, 
 actually sunk so low as to serve with a herd of ruffianly rebels? ” 
 “At any rate, General Griscelli, I never deserted to the enemy.” 
 The taunt stung him to the quick. Livid with rage, he sprung 
 from his chair and placed his hand on his sword. 
 
 “Do you know that you are in my power?” he exclaimed. 
 “Had you uttered this insult in Spatiish, instead of in French, I 
 would have strung you up without more ado.” 
 
 “ You insulted me first. If you are a true Caballero give me the 
 satisfaction which I have a right to demand.” 
 
 « No, senor ; I don’t meet rebels on the field of honor. If they 
 are common folk I hang them; if they are gentlemen I behead 
 them.” ~ 
 
 “Which is in store for us, may I ask ? ” 
 
 “ Por Dios! you take it very coolly. Perhaps neither.” 
 
 “ You will let me go, then ? ” 
 
 “ Let you go ! Let you go ! Yes, I will let you gc,” laughing 
 like a man who has made a telling joke, or conceived a brilliant 
 idea. 
 
 “ When ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t be impatient, senor ; I should like to have the pleasure 
 of your company for a day or two before we part. Perhaps after 
 What is the strength of Mejia’s army ? ” 
 
 “ I decline to say.” 
 
 “ I think I could make you say, though, if it were worth the 
 trouble. As it happens, I know already. He has about two thou- 
 sand infantry and one thousand cavalry. What has he come here 
 
=*='■ ■ 
 
 gQ MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 for ? Does the fool actually suppose that with a force like that he 
 can capture San Felipe ? Such presumption deserves punishment, 
 and I shall give him a lesson he will not easily forget— if he lives to 
 remember it. Your name and quality, seflor ” (to Carmen). 
 
 “ Salvador Carmen, teniente in the patriot army. 
 
 “ j suppose you have heard how I tieai patriots? ^ 
 
 “ Yes, general, and I should like to treat you in the same way,” 
 
 “ You mean you would like to hang me. In that case you can 
 not complain if I hang you. However, I won’t hang you— to-day. 
 
 I will either send you to the next world in the company of your 
 general, or let you go with — ” 
 
 “ Senor Fortescue ? ” 
 
 “ Thank you— with Senor Fortescue. That is all, I think. 
 Take him to the guard-house, sergeant — Stay! If you will 
 give me your parole not to leave the town without my permission, 
 or make any attempt to escape, you may remain at large, Senor For- 
 tescue.” 
 
 “ For how long? ” 
 
 “ Two days.” 
 
 As escape in the circumstances seemed quite out of the ques- 
 tion, I gave my parole without hesitation, and asked the same favor 
 for my companion. 
 
 « No ” (sternly). “ I could not believe a rebel creole on his 
 oath. Take him away, sergeant, and see that he is well guarded. 
 If you let him escape I will hang you in his stead.” 
 
 Despite our bonds Carmen and I contrived to shake hands, or 
 rather, touch fingers, for it was little more. 
 
 “ We shall meet again,” I whispered. “ If I had known that he 
 'would not take your parole I would not have given mine. Let 
 courage be our watchword. Hasta mancma /” 
 
 “ Pray take a seat, Seflor Fortescue, and we will have a talk 
 about old times in Spain. Allow me to offer you a cigar I beg 
 your pardon, I was forgetting that my fellows had tied you up. 
 Captain Guzman (to one of the loungers), will you kindly loose Mi. 
 Fortescue? Gracias ! Now you can take a cigar, and here is a 
 
 chair for you.” . , . 
 
 I was by no means sure that this sudden display of urbanity 
 boded me good, but being a prisoner, and at Griscelli’s mercy, I 
 thought it as well to humor him, so accepted the cigar and seated 
 myself by his side. 
 
AN OLD ENEMY. 
 
 97 
 
 After a talk about the late war in Spain, in the course of which 
 Griscelli told some wonderful stories of the feats he had performed 
 there (for the man was egregiously vain) he led the conversation to 
 the present war in South America, and tried to worm out of me 
 where I had been and what I had done since my arrival in the 
 country. I answered him courteously and diplomatically, taking 
 good care to tell him nothing that I did not want to be known. 
 
 “ I see,” he said, “ it was a love of adventure that brought you 
 here — you English are always running after adventures. A Cabal- 
 lero like you can have no sympathy with these rascally rebels.” 
 
 “ I beg your pardon ; I do sympathize with the rebels ; not, I 
 confess, as warmly as I did at first, and if I had known as much as 
 I know now, I think I should have hesitated to join them.” 
 
 “ How so ? ” 
 
 “ They kill prisoners in cold blood, and conduct war more like 
 savages than Christians.” 
 
 “ You are right, they do. Yes, killing prisoners in cold blood is 
 a brutal practice ! I am obliged to be severe sometimes, much to 
 my regret. But there is only one way of dealing with a rebellion — 
 you must stamp it out ; civil war is not as other wars. Why not 
 join us, Senor Fortescue? I will give you a command.” 
 
 “ That is quite out of the question, General Griscelli ; I am not 
 a mere soldier of fortune. I have eaten these people’s salt, and 
 though I don’t like some of their ways, I wish well to their cause.” 
 “Think better of it, senor. The alternative might not be 
 agreeable.” 
 
 “ Whatever the alternative may be, my decision is irrevocable. 
 And you said just now you would let me go.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, I will let you go, since you insist on it ” (smiling). 
 “ All the same, I think you will regret your decision — Mejia, of 
 course, means to attack us. He can have come with no other ob- 
 ject— by your advice ? ” 
 
 “ Certainly not.” 
 
 “That means he is acting against your advice. The man is 
 mad. He thought of taking us by surprise, I suppose. Why, I 
 knew he was on his way hither two days ago ! And if he does 
 not attack us to-night— and we are quite ready for him — I shall 
 capture him and the whole of his army to-morrow. I want you to 
 go with us and witness the operation — in the character of a spec- 
 tator.” 
 
 7 
 
98 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 “ And a prisoner ? ” 
 
 11 If you choose to put it so.” 
 
 44 In that case, there is no more to be said, though for choice, I - 
 would rather not witness the discomfiture of my friends.” 
 
 Griscelli gave an ironical smile, which I took to mean that it was 
 precisely for this reason that he asked me to accompany him. 
 
 “Will you kindly receive Senor Fortescue, as your guest, Cap- 
 tain Guzman,” he said, 44 take him to your quarters, give him his 
 supper, and find him a bed.” 
 
 44 Con mucho gusto . Shall we go now, Senor Fortescue ? ” I 
 went, and spent a very pleasant evening with Gaptain Guzman, and 
 several of his brother-officers, whom he invited to join us, for though 
 the Spaniards of that age were frightfully cruel to their enemies, they 
 were courteous to their guests, and as a guest I was treated. As, 
 moreover, most of the men I met had served in the Peninsular war, 
 we had quite enough to talk about without touching on topics whose 
 discussion might have been incompatible with good fellowship. 
 
 When, at a late hour, I turned into the hammock provided for 
 me by Guzman, it required an effort to realize that I was a prisoner. 
 
 Why, I asked myself, had Griscelli, who was never known to spare a 
 prisoner, whose face was both cruel and false, and who could bear 
 me no good-will — why had this man treated me so courteously ? Did 
 he really mean to let me go, and if so, why ; or was the promise 
 made to the ear merely to be broken to the hope ? 
 
 44 Perhaps to-morrow will show,” I thought, as I fell asleep ; and 
 I was not far out, for the day after did. Guzman, whose room I 
 shared, wakened me long before daylight. 
 
 44 The bugle has sounded the reveille, and the troops are muster- { 
 ing on the plaza,” he said. “You had better rise and dress. The 
 general has sent word that you are to go with us, and our horses 
 are in th z patio.” 
 
 I got up at once, and after drinking a hasty cup of coffee, we 
 mounted and joined Griscelli and his staff. j 
 
 The troops were already under arms, and a few minutes later we 
 marched, our departure being so timed, as I heard the general ob- 
 serve to one of his aides-de-camp, that we might reach the neigh- 
 borhood of the rebel camp shortly before sunrise. His plan was 
 well conceived, and, unless Mejia had been forewarned or was keep- 
 ing a sharper lookout than he was in the habit of doing, I feared it 
 would go ill with him. 
 
AN OLD ENEMY, 
 
 99 
 
 The camping-ground was much better suited for concealment 
 than defense. It lay in a hollow of the hills, in shape like a horse- 
 shoe, with a single opening, looking east, and was commanded in 
 every other direction by wooded heights. Griscelli’s plan was to 
 occupy the heights with skirmishers, who, hidden behind the trees 
 and bushes, could shoot down the rebels with comparative security. 
 A force of infantry and cavalry would meanwhile take possession of 
 the opening and cut off their retreat. In this way, thought Griscelli, 
 the patriots would either be slaughtered to a man, or compelled to 
 surrender at discretion. 
 
 I could not deny (though I did not say so) that he had good 
 grounds for this opinion. The only hope for Mejia was that, 
 alarmed by our disappearance, he had stationed outposts on the 
 heights and a line of vedettes on the San Felipe road, and fortified 
 the entrance to the quebrada. In that case the attack might be re- 
 pulsed, despite the superiority of the Spanish infantry and the disad- 
 vantages of Mejia’s position. But the probabilities were against his 
 having taken any of these precautions ; the last thing he thought of 
 was being attacked, and I could hardly doubt that he would be 
 fatally entangled in the toils which were being laid for him. 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through my mind we were 
 marching rapidly and silently toward our destination, lighted only 
 by the stars. The force consisted of two brigades, the second of 
 which, commanded by General Estero, had gone on half an hour 
 previously. I was with the first and rode with Griscelli’s staff. So 
 far there had not been the slightest hitch, and the Spaniards prom- 
 ised themselves an easy victory. 
 
 It had been arranged that the first brigade should wait, about 
 a mile from the entrance to the valley until Estero opened fire, and 
 then advance and occupy the outlet. Therefore, when we reached 
 the point in question a halt was called, and we all listened eagerly 
 for the preconcerted signal. 
 
 And then occurred one of those accidents which so often mar 
 the best laid plans. After we had waited a full hour, and just as 
 day began to break, the rattle of musketry was heard on the heights, 
 whereupon Griscelli, keenly alive to the fact that every moment of 
 delay impaired his chances of success, ordered his men to fall in 
 and march at the double. But, unfortunately for the Spaniards, the 
 shots we had heard were fired too soon. The way through the 
 woods was long and difficult, Estero s men got out of hand ; some 
 
ioo 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 
 of them, in their excitement, fired too soon, with the result that, 
 when the first division appeared in the valley, the patriots, rudely 
 awakened from their fancied security, were getting under arms, and 
 Mejia saw at a glance into what a terrible predicament his overcon- 
 fidence had led him. He saw also (for though an indifferent gen- 
 eral he was no fool) that the only way of saving his army from de- 
 struction, was to break out of the valley at all hazards, before the 
 Spaniards inclosed him in a ring of fire. 
 
 Mejia took his measures accordingly. Placing his llaneros and 
 gauchos in front and the infantry in the rear, he advanced reso- 
 lutely to the attack ; and though it is contrary to rule for light cav- 
 alry to charge infantry, this order, considering the quality of the 
 rebel foot was probably the best which he could adopt. 
 
 On the other hand, the Spanish position was very strong, Gris- 
 celli massed his infantry in the throat of the quebrada , the thickets 
 on either side of it being occupied in force. The reserve consisted 
 exclusively of horse, an arm in which he was by no means strong. 
 Mejia was thus encompassed on three sides, and had his foes re- 
 served their fire and stood their ground, he could not possibly have 
 broken through them. But the Spaniards opened fire as soon as 
 the rebels came within range. Before they could reload, the gauchos 
 charged, and though many saddles were emptied, the rebel horse 
 rode so resolutely and their long spears looked so formidable, that 
 the Spaniards gave way all along the line, and took refuge among 
 the trees, thereby leaving the patriots a free course. 
 
 This was the turning-point of the battle, and had the rebel in- 
 fantry shown as much courage as their cavalry the Spaniards would 
 have been utterly beaten j but their only idea was to get away ; they 
 bolted as fast as their legs could carry them, an example which was 
 promptly imitated by the Spanish cavalry, who instead of charging 
 the rebel horse in flank as they emerged from the valley, galloped 
 off toward San Felipe, followed nolens volens by Griscelli and his 
 staff. 
 
 It was the only battle I ever saw or heard of in which both sides 
 ran away. If Mejia had gone to San Felipe he might have taken it 
 without striking a blow, but besides having lost many of his brave 
 llaneros , he had his unfortunate infantry to rally and protect, and 
 the idea probably never occurred to him. 
 
 As for the Spanish infantry, they stayed in the woods till the 
 coast was clear, and then hied them home. 
 
THE A Z UFERA LES. 
 
 IOI 
 
 Griscelli was wild with rage. To have his well-laid plans 
 thwarted by cowardice and stupidity, the easy victory he had prom- 
 ised himself turned into an ignominious defeat at the very moment 
 when, had his orders been obeyed, the fortunes of the day might 
 have been retrieved — all this would have proved a severe trial for a 
 hero or a saint, and certainly Griscelli bore his reverse neither with 
 heroic fortitude nor saintly resignation. He cursed like the jackdaw 
 of Rheims, threatened dire vengeance on all and sundry, and killed 
 one of the runaway troopers with his own hand. I narrowly es- 
 caped sharing the same fate. Happening to catch sight of me when 
 his passion was at the height he swore that he would shoot at least 
 one rebel, and drawing a pistol from his holster pointed it at my 
 head. I owed my life to Captain Guzman, who was one of the best 
 and bravest of his officers. 
 
 “Pray don’t do that, general,” he said. “ It would be an ill re- 
 quital for Senor Fortescue’s faithful observance of his parole. And 
 you promised to let him go.” 
 
 “ Promised to let him go ! So I did, and I will be as good as 
 my word,” returned Griscelli, grimly, as he uncocked his pistol. “ Yes, 
 he shall go.” 
 
 “Now?” 
 
 “No. To-night. Meet me, both of you, near the old sugar- 
 mill on the savanna when the moon rises ; and give him a good 
 supper, Guzman ; he will need it.” 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE AZUFERALES, 
 
 “WHAT is General Griscelli’s game? Does he really mean to 
 let me go, or is he merely playing with me as a cat plays with a 
 mouse ? ” I asked Guzman, as we sat at supper. 
 
 “That is just the question I have been asking myself. I never 
 knew him let a prisoner go before, and I know of no reason why he 
 should treat you more leniently than he treats others. Do you ? ” 
 
 “ No. He is more likely to bear me a grudge,” and then I told 
 Guzman what had befallen at Salamanca. 
 
 “ That makes it still less probable that he will let you go away 
 

 
 102 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 quietly. Griscelli never forgives, and to-day’s fiasco has put him 
 in a devil of a temper. He is malicious, too. We have all to be 
 careful not to offend him, even in trifles, or he would make life very 
 unpleasant for us, and I fear he has something very unpleasant in 
 store for you. You may depend upon it that he is meditating some 
 trick. He is quite capable of letting you go as far as the bridge, and 
 then bringing you back and hanging you or fastening you to the 
 tail of a wild mustang or the horns of a wild bull. That also would 
 be letting you go.” 
 
 “So it would, in a fashion! and I should prefer it to being 
 hanged.” 
 
 “I don’t think I would. The hanging would be sooner over and 
 far less painful. And there are many other ways — he might have 
 your hands tied behind your back and cannon-balls fastened to your 
 feet, and then leave you to your own devices.” 
 
 “ That would not be so bad. We should find some good soul 
 to release us, and I think I could contrive to untie Carman’s bonds 
 with my teeth.” 
 
 “ Or he might cut off your ears and put out your eyes — ” 
 
 “For Heaven’s sake cease these horrible suggestions ! You 
 make my blood run cold. But you can not be serious. Is Griscelli 
 in the habit of putting out the eyes of his prisoners ? ” 
 
 “ Not that I am aware of ; but I have heard him threaten to do 
 it, and known him to cut off a rebel’s ears first and hang him after- 
 ward. All the same, I don’t think he is likely to treat you in that 
 way. It might get to the ears of the captain-general, and though 
 he is not very particular where rebels are concerned, he draws the 
 line at mutilation.” 
 
 “We shall soon see ; we have to be at the old sugar-mill when 
 the moon rises,” I said, gloomily, for the prospect held out by Guz- 
 man was anything but encouraging. 
 
 “ And that will be soon. If I see any way of helping you, with- 
 out compromising myself, I will. Hospitality has its duties, and I 
 can not forget that you have fought and bled for Spain. — Have 
 another drink ; you don’t know what is before you ! And take this 
 knife — it will serve also as a dagger — and this pocket-pistol. Put 
 them where they will not be seen. You may find them useful.” 
 
 “ Gracias ! But you surely don’t think we shall be sent adrift 
 weaponless and on foot ? ” 
 
 “ That is as may be ; but it is well to provide for contingencies. 
 
 
THE AZUFERALES. 103 
 
 And now let us start ; nothing irritates Griscelli so much as having 
 to wait.” 
 
 So, girding on our swords (mine had been restored to me, “ by 
 special favor,” when I gave my parole), we mounted our horses, 
 which were waiting at the door, and set out. 
 
 The savanna was a wide stretch of open ground outside the 
 fortifications where reviews were held and the troops performed 
 their evolutions ; it lay on the north side of the town. Farther on 
 in the same direction was a range of low hills, thickly wooded and 
 ill provided with roads. The country to the east and west was 
 pretty much in the same condition. Southward it was more open, 
 and a score of miles away merged into the llanos. 
 
 “We are. in good time ; the moon is only just rising, and I don’t 
 think there is anybody before us,” said Guzman, as we neared the 
 old sugar-mill, a dilapidated wooden building, shaded by cebia- 
 trees and sombrero palms. 
 
 “ But there is somebody behind us,’ I said, looking back. A 
 squadron of cavalry at the least.” 
 
 “ Griscelli, I suppose, and Carmen. But why is the general bring- 
 ing so many people with him, I wonder ? And don t I see dogs ? 
 
 “ Rather ! A pack of hounds, I should say.” 
 
 “ You are right ; they are Griscelli’s blood-hounds. Is it pos- 
 sible that a prisoner or a slave has escaped, and Griscelli will ask us 
 to join in the hunt ? ” 
 
 “ Join in the hunt ! You surely don’t mean that you hunt men 
 in this country ? ” 
 
 “Sometimes — when the men are slaves or rebels. It is a sport 
 the general greatly enjoys. Yet it seems very strange ; at this time 
 of night, too — Dios mio ! can it be possible ? ” 
 
 “ Can what be possible, Captain Guzman ? ” I exclaimed, in 
 some excitement, for a terrible suspicion had crossed my mind. 
 “ Can what be possible ? In Heaven’s name, speak out ! 
 
 But, instead of answering, Guzman went forward to meet Gris- 
 celli. I followed him. 
 
 “Good-evening, gentlemen,” said the general; “I am glad you 
 are so punctual. I have brought your friend, Sefior Fortescue. As 
 you were taken together, it seems only right that you should be re- 
 leased together. It would be a pity to separate such good friends. 
 You see, I am as good as my word. You don t speak. Are you 
 not grateful ? ” 
 
104 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UE, 
 
 " That depends on the conditions, general/' 
 
 “ I make no conditions whatever. I let you go — neither more 
 nor less — whither you will. But I must warn you that, twenty min- 
 utes after you are gone, I shall lay on my hounds. If you outrun 
 them, well and good ; if not, t ant pis pour vous . I shall have kept 
 my word. Are you not grateful, Sehor Fortescue ? " 
 
 “ No ; why should I be grateful for a death more terrible than 
 hanging. Kill us at once, and have done with it. You are a dis- 
 grace to the noble profession of arms, general, and the time will 
 come — ” 
 
 “ Another word, and I will throw you to the hounds without 
 further parley," broke in Griscelli, savagely. 
 
 “ Better keep quiet ; there is nothing to be gained by roiling him," 
 whispered Carmen. 
 
 I took his advice and held my peace, all the more willingly as 
 there was something in Carmen’s manner which implied that he 
 did not think our case quite so desperate as might appear. 
 
 “ Dismount and give up your weapons," said Griscelli. 
 
 Resistance being out of the question, we obeyed with the best 
 grace we could ; but I bitterly regretted having to part with the 
 historic Toledo and my horse Pizarro ; he had carried me well, 
 and we thoroughly understood each other. The least I could do 
 was to give him his freedom, and, as I patted his neck by way of 
 bidding him farewell, I slipped the bit out of his mouth, and let 
 him go. 
 
 “ Hallo ! What is that — a horse loose ? Catch him, some of 
 you," shouted Griscelli, who had been talking with his huntsman 
 and Captain Guzman, whereupon, two of the troopers rode off in 
 pursuit, a proceeding which made Pizarro gallop all the faster, and 
 I knew that, follow him as long as they might, they would not over- 
 take him. x. 
 
 Griscelli resumed his conversation with Captain Guzman, an 
 opportunity by which I profited to glance at the hounds, and though 
 I was unable just then to regard them with very kindly feelings, I 
 could not help admiring them. Taller and more strongly built than 
 fox-hounds, muscular and broad-chested, with pendulous ears and 
 upper lips, and stern, thoughtful faces, they were splendid specimens 
 of the canine race ; even sized too, well under control, and in ap- 
 pearance no more ferocious than other hounds. Why should they 
 be ? All hounds are blood-hounds in a sense, and it is probably 
 
THE AZUFERALES . 10$ 
 
 indifferent to them whether they pursue a fox, a deer, or a man ; it 
 is entirely a matter of training. 
 
 “ I am going to let you have more law than I mentioned just 
 now,” said Griscelli, turning to Carmen and me. “ Captain Guzman, 
 here, and the huntsmen think twenty minutes would not give us 
 much of a run — these hounds are very fast — so I shall make it forty. 
 But you must first submit to a little operation. Make them ready, 
 Jos6.” 
 
 Whereupon one of the attendants, producing a bottle, smeared 
 our shoes and legs with a liquid which looked like blood, and was, 
 no doubt, intended to insure a good scent and render our escape 
 impossible. While this was going on Carmen and I took off our 
 coats and threw them on the ground. 
 
 “ When I give the word you may start,” said Griscelli, “ and forty 
 minutes afterward the hounds will be laid on — Now ! ” 
 
 “This way! Toward the hills!” said Carmen. “Are you in 
 good condition ? ” 
 
 “ Never better.” 
 
 “We must make all the haste we can, before the hounds are 
 laid on. If we can keep this up we shall reach the hills in forty 
 minutes — perhaps less.” 
 
 “ And then ? These hounds will follow us for ever — no possi- 
 bility of throwing them out — unless — is there a river ? ” 
 
 “ None near enough, still — ” 
 
 “ You have hope, then — ” 
 
 “Just a little — I have an idea — if we can go on running two 
 hours — have you a flint and steel ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, and a loaded pistol and a knife.” 
 
 “ Good ! That is better than I thought. But don’t talk. We 
 shall want every bit of breath in our bodies before we have done. 
 This way ! By the cane-piece there ! ” 
 
 With heads erect, arms well back and our chests expanded to 
 their utmost capacity we speed silently onward ; and although we 
 do not despair we realize to the full that we are running for our lives ; 
 grim Death is on our track and only by God’s help and good fortune 
 can we hope to escape. 
 
 Across the savanna, past corn-fields and cane-pieces we race, 
 without pause — looking neither to the right nor left — until we reach 
 the road leading to the hills. Here we stop a few seconds, take a 
 few deep breaths, and then, on again. So far, the road has been 
 
io6 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 tolerable, almost level and free from obstructions. But now it be- 
 gins to rise, and is so rugged withal that we have to slow our 
 speed and pick our way. Farther on it is the dry bed of a torrent, 
 cumbered with loose stones and erratic blocks, among which we 
 have to struggle painfully. 
 
 “ This is bad,” gasps Carmen, “ The hounds must be gaining on 
 us fast.” 
 
 “Yes, but the scent will be very catching among these stones. 
 They won’t run fast here. Let us jump from block to block instead 
 of walking over the pebbles. It will make it all the better for us 
 and worse for them.” 
 
 On this suggestion we straightway act, but we find the striding 
 and jumping so exhausting, and the risk of slipping and breaking a 
 limb so great, that we are presently compelled to betake ourselves 
 once more to the bed of the stream. 
 
 “ Never mind,” says Carmen, “ we shall soon be out of this valley 
 of stones, and the hounds will not find it easy to pick up the scent 
 hereabout. If we only keep out of their jaws another half-hour ! ” 
 “Of course, we shall— and more — I hope for ever. We can go 
 on for another hour. But what is your point ? ” 
 
 “ The azuferales .” 
 
 “ The azuferales / What are the azuferales ? ” 
 
 " 1 can not explain now. You will see. If we get there ten or 
 fifteen minutes before the hounds we shall have a good chance of 
 escaping them.” 
 
 “ And how long ? ” 
 
 “ That depends — perhaps twenty.” 
 
 “ Then, in Heaven’s name, lead on. It is life or death. Even 
 five minutes may make all the difference. Which way ? ” 
 
 “ By this trail to the right, and through the forest.” 
 
 The trail is a broad grass-grown path, not unlike a “ride” in 
 an English wood, bordered by trees and thick undergrowth, but 
 fairly lighted by the moonbeams, and, fortunately for us, rather 
 downhill, with no obstacles more formidable than fallen branches 
 and here and there a prostrate monarch of the forest, which we 
 easily surmount. 
 
 As we go on I notice that the character of the vegetation begins 
 to change. The trees are less leafy, the undergrowth is less dense, 
 and a mephitic odor pervades the air. Presently the foliage disap- 
 pears altogether, and the trees and bushes are as bare as if they , 
 
THE AZUFERALES , 
 
 107 
 
 had been stricken with the blast of an Arctic winter ; but instead of 
 being whitened with snow or silvered with frost they are covered 
 with an incrustation, which in the brilliant moonlight makes them 
 look like trees and bushes of gold. Over their tops rise faint wreaths 
 of yellowish clouds, and the mephitic odor becomes more pro- 
 nounced, 
 
 44 At last ! ” shouts Carmen, as we reach the end of the trail. 
 “ At last ! Amigo mio, we are saved ! ” 
 
 Before us stretches a wide treeless waste like a turf moor, with 
 a background of somber forest. The moor, which is broken into 
 humps and hillocks, smokes and boils and bubbles like the hell- 
 broth of Macbeth’s witches, and across it winds, snake-wise, a 
 steaming brook. Here and there is a stagnant pool, and under- 
 neath can be heard a dull roar, as if an imprisoned ocean were 
 beating on a pebble strewed shore. There is an unmistakable smell 
 of sulphur, and the ground on which we stand, as well as the moor 
 itself, is of a deep-yellow cast. 
 
 This, then, is the azuferales — a region of sulphur springs, a 
 brimstone inferno, a volcano in the making. No hounds will follow 
 us over that hideous heath and through that Stygian stream. 
 
 “ Can we get across and live ? ” I ask. 44 Will it bear ? ” 
 
 “ I think so. But out with your knife and cut some twigs ; and 
 where are your flint and steel ? ” 
 
 “ What are you going to do ? ” 
 
 44 Set the forest on fire — the wind is from us — and instead of 
 following us farther — and who knows that they won’t try ? — instead 
 of following us farther they will have to hark back and run for 
 their lives.” 
 
 Without another word we set to work gathering twigs, which we 
 place among the trees. Then 1 dig up with my knife and add to 
 the heap several pieces of the brimstone impregnated turf. This 
 done, I strike a light with my flint and steel. 
 
 4< Good ! ” exclaims Carmen. 44 In five minutes it will be ablaze ; 
 in ten, a brisk fire ” ; and with that we throw on more turf and sev- 
 eral heavy branches which, for the moment, almost smother it up. 
 
 44 Never mind, it still burns, and — hark ! What is that ? ” 
 
 “ The baying of the hounds and the cries of the hunters. 
 They are nearer than I thought. To the azuferales for our 
 lives ! ” 
 
 The moor, albeit in some places yielding and in others treacher- 
 
io8 
 
 MR. FOR FESCUE . 
 
 ous, did not, as I feared prove impassable. By threading our way 
 between the smoking sulphur heaps and carefully avoiding the 
 boiling springs we found it possible to get on, yet slowly and with 
 great difficulty ; and it soon became evident that, long before we I 
 gain the forest the hounds will be on the moor. Their deep-throated f 
 baying and the shouts of the field grow every moment louder and 
 more distinct. If we are viewed we shall be lost ; for if the blood- ? ! 
 hounds catch sight of us not even the terrors of the azuferales will i 
 balk them of their prey. And to our dismay the fire does not $ 
 seem to be taking hold. We can see nothing of it but a few faint v ,! 
 sparks gleaming among the bushes. 
 
 But where can we hide ? The moor is flat and treeless, the I 
 forest two or three miles away in a straight line, and we can go I 
 neither straight nor fast. If we cower behind one of the smoking I 
 brimstone mounds we shall be stifled; if we jump into one of the 
 boiling springs we shall be scalded. 
 
 “ Where can we hide ? ” I ask. 
 
 “ Where can we hide ? ” repeated Carmen. 
 
 “ That P° o1 - f Don’t you see that, a little farther on, the brook 
 forms a pool, and though it smokes, I don’t think it is very hot.” 
 
 It is just the place, and with that Carmen runs forward and 
 plunges in. 
 
 I follow him, first taking the precaution to lay my pistol and 
 knife on the edge. The water, though warm, is not uncomfortably 
 hot, and when we sit down our heads are just out of the water. 
 
 We are only just in time. Two minutes later the hounds, with 
 a great crash, burst, out of the forest, followed at a short interval by 
 half a dozen horsemen. 
 
 “ Curse this brimstone ! It has ruined the scent,” I heard Gris- 
 celli say, as the hounds threw up their heads and came to a dead 
 stop. “ If I had thought those ladrones would run hither I would 
 not have given them twenty minutes, much less forty. But they 
 can not be far off ; depend upon it, they are hiding somewhere.— 
 Por Dios ,. , Sheba has it ! Good dog ! Hark to Sheba ! Forward, 
 forward ! ” 
 
 It was true. One of the hounds had hit off the line, then fol- 
 lowed another and another, and soon the entire pack were once 
 more in full cry. But the scent was very bad, and seemed to grow 
 worse ; there was a check every few yards, and when they got to 
 the brook (which had as many turns and twists as a coiled rope), 
 
THE A Z UFERA LES. 
 
 ICQ 
 
 they were completely at fault. Nevertheless, they persevered, 
 questing about all over the moor, except in the neighborhood of the 
 sulphur mounds and the springs. 
 
 While this was going on the horsemen had tethered their steeds 
 and were following on foot, riding over the azuferales being mani- 
 festly out of the question. Once Griscelli and Sheba, who ap- 
 peared to be queen of the pack, came so near the pool that if we 
 had not promptly lowered our heads to the level of the water they 
 would certainly have seen us. 
 
 “ I am afraid they have given us the slip/’ I heard Griscelli say. 
 “ There is not a particle of scent. But if they have not fallen into 
 one of those springs and got boiled, I’ll have them yet — even though 
 I stop all night, or come again to-morrow.” 
 
 “Mira! Mira! General, the forest is on fire!” shouted 
 somebody. “ And the horses — see, they are trying to get loose ! ” 
 
 Then followed curses and cries of dismay, the huntsman sounded 
 his horn to call off the hounds, and Carmen and I, raising our 
 heads, saw a sight that made us almost shout for joy. 
 
 The fire, which all this time must have been smoldering un- 
 seen, had burst into a great blaze, trees and bushes were wrapped 
 in sulphurous flames, which, fanned by the breeze, were spreading 
 rapidly. The very turf was aglow ; two of the horses had broken 
 loose and were careering madly about ; the others were tugging 
 wildly at their lariats. 
 
 Meanwhile Griscelli and his companions, followed by the hounds, 
 were making desperate haste to get back to the trail and reach the 
 valley of stones. But the road was rough, and in attempting to 
 take short cuts several of them came to grief. Two fell into a deep 
 pool and had to be fished out. Griscelli put his foot into one of 
 the boiling springs, and, judging from the loud outcry he made, got 
 badly scalded. 
 
 By the time the hunters were clear of the moor the loose horses 
 had disappeared in the forest, and the trees on either side of the 
 trail were festooned with flames. Then there was mounting in hot 
 haste, and the riders, led by Griscelli (the two dismounted men 
 holding on to their stirrup leathers), and followed by the howling 
 and terrified hounds, tore off at the top of their speed. 
 
 “ They are gone, and I don’t think they will be in any hurry to 
 come back,” said Carman, as he scrambled out of the pool. “ It 
 was a narrow shave, though.” 
 
no 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 “ Very, and we are not out of the wood yet. Suppose the fire 
 sweeps round the moor and gains the forest on the other side ? ” 
 
 “ In that case we stand a very good chance of being either 
 roasted or starved, for we have no food, and there is not a living 
 thing on the moor but ourselves.” 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A TIMELY WARNING. 
 
 The involuntary bath which saved our lives served also to restore 
 our strength. When we entered it we were well-nigh spent ; we 
 went out of it free from any sense of fatigue, a result which was 
 probably as much due to the chemical properties of the water as to 
 its high temperature. 
 
 But though no longer tired we were both hungry and thirsty, 
 and our garments were wringing wet. Our first proceeding was to 
 take them off and wring them ; our next, to look for fresh water — 
 for the azuferales was like' the ocean-water, water everwhere and 
 not a drop to drink. 
 
 As we picked our way over the smoking waste by the light of 
 the full moon and the burning forest, I asked Carmen, who knew 
 the country and its ways so much better than myself, what he pro- 
 posed that we should do next. 
 
 “ Rejoin Mejia.” 
 
 “ But how? We are in the enemies' country and without 
 horses, and we know not where Mejia is.” 
 
 “ I don t think he is far off. He is not the man to retreat after 
 a drawn battle. Until he has beaten Grisceili or Griscelli has beaten 
 him, you may be sure he won’t go back to the llanos ; his men would 
 not let him. As for horses, we must appropriate the first we come 
 across, either by stratagem or force.” 
 
 “ Is there a way out of the forest on this side ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, there is a good trail made by Indian invalids who come 
 here to drink the waters. Our difficulty will not be so much in 
 nading our friends as avoiding our enemies. A few hours’ walk 
 will bring us to more open country, but we can not well start 
 until — ” 
 
-A TIMELY WARNING. 
 
 Ill 
 
 iS Good heavens ! What is that ? ” I exclaimed, as a plaintive 
 cry, which ended in a wail of anguish, such as might be given by a 
 lost soul in torment, rang through the forest. 
 
 Its an araguato , a howling monkey,’’ said Carmen, indiffer- 
 ently. “ That’s only some old fellow setting the tune ; we shall 
 have a regular chorus presently.” 
 
 And so we had. The first howl was followed by a second, then 
 by a third, and a fourth, and soon all the araguatoes in the neigh- 
 borhood joined in, and the din became so agonizing that I was 
 fain to put my fingers in my ears and wait for a lull. 
 
 “ ^ sounds dismal enough, in all conscience — to us ; but I think 
 they mean it for a cry of joy, a sort of morning hymn ; at any rate, 
 they don t generally begin until sunrise. But these are perhaps mis- 
 taking the fire for the sun.” 
 
 And no wonder. It was spreading rapidly. The leafless trees 
 that bordered the western side of the azuferales were all alight ; 
 sparks, carried by the wind, had kindled several giants of the forest, 
 which, tall as mast of some high amiral,” were flaunting their flar- 
 ing banners a hundred feet above the mass of the fire. 
 
 It was the most magnificent spectacle I had ever seen, so mag- 
 nificent that in watching it we forgot our own danger, as, if the fire 
 continued to spread, the forest would be impassable for days, and 
 we should be imprisoned on the azuferales without either food or 
 fresh water. 
 
 “ Look yonder ! ” said Carmen, laying his hand on my shoulder. 
 A herd of deer were breaking out of the thicket and bounding across 
 the moor. 
 
 “ Wild animals escaping from the fire ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, and we shall have more of them.” 
 
 The words were scarcely spoken when the deer were followed 
 by a drove of peccaries ; then came jaguars, pumas, antelopes, and 
 monkeys ; panthers and wolves and snakes, great and small, wrig- 
 gling over the ground with wondrous speed, and creatures the like 
 of which I had never seen before— a regular stampede of all sorts 
 and conditions of reptiles and beasts, and all too much frightened 
 to meddle either with us or each other. 
 
 Fortunately for us, moreover, we were not in their line of march, 
 and there lay between us and them a line of hot springs and smok- 
 ing sulphur mounds which they were not likely to pass. 
 
 The procession had been going on about half an hour when, 
 
112 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUF. 
 
 happening to cast my eye skyward, I saw that the moon had dis- 
 appeared ; overhead hung a heavy mass of cloud, the middle of it 
 reddened by the reflection from the fire to the color of blood, while 
 the outer edges were as black as ink. It was almost as grand a 
 spectacle as the burning forest itself. 
 
 “ We are going to have rain,” said Carmen. 
 
 “ I hope it will rain in bucketfuls,” was my an* er, for I had 
 drunk nothing since we left San Felipe, and the run, together with 
 the high temperature and the heat of the fire, had given me an in- 
 tolerable thirst. I spoke with difficulty, my swollen tongue clove to 
 the roof of my mouth, and I would gladly have given ten years of 
 my life for one glass of cold water. 
 
 Carmen, whose sufferings were as great as my own, echoed my 
 hope. And it was not long in being gratified, for even as we gazed 
 upward a flash of lightning split the clouds asunder ; peal of thunder 
 followed on peal, the rain came down not in drops nor bucketfuls 
 but in sheets, and with weight and force sufficient to beat a child or 
 a weakling to the earth. It was a veritable godsend ; we caught 
 the beautiful cool water in our hands and drank our fill. 
 
 In less than an hour not a trace of the fire could be seen— nor 
 anything else. The darkness had become so dense that we feared 
 to move lest we might perchance step into one of the boiling springs, 
 fall into the jaws of a jaguar, or set foot on a poisonous snake. So 
 we stayed where we were, whiles lying on the flooded ground, whiles 
 standing up or walking a few paces in the rain, which continued to 
 fall until the rising of the sun, when it ceased as suddenly as it had 
 begun. 
 
 The moor had been turned into a smoking swamp, with a 
 blackened forest on one side and a wall of living green on the other. 
 The wild animals had vanished. 
 
 “ Let us go ! ” said Carmen. 
 
 When we reached the trees we took off our clothes a second 
 time, hung them on a branch, and sat in the sun till they dried. 
 
 “ I suppose it is no use thinking about breakfast till we get to a 
 house or the camp, wherever that may be ? ” I observed, as we re- 
 sumed our journey. 
 
 “ Well, I don’t know. What do you say about a cup of milk to 
 begin with ? ” 
 
 “There is nothing I should -like better— -to begin with — but 
 where is the cow ? ” 
 
A TIMELY WARNING. 
 
 1X3 
 
 “ There ! ” pointing to a fine tree with oblong leaves. 
 
 " That ! ” 
 
 u Yes, that is the ftalo de vaca (cow-tree), and as you shall pres- 
 ently see, it will give us a very good breakfast, though we may get 
 nothing else. But we shall want cups. Ah, there is a calabash- 
 tree ! Lend me your knife a minute. Gracias ! ” 
 
 And with chat Carmen went to the tree, from which he cut a 
 large pear-shaped fruit. This, by slicing off the top and scooping 
 out the pulp he converted into a large bowl. The next thing was 
 to make a gash in the palo de vaca, whereupon there flowed from 
 the- wound a thick milky fluid which we caught in the bowl and 
 drank. The taste was agreeable and the result satisfactory, for, 
 though a beefsteak would have been more acceptable, the drink 
 stayed our hunger for the time and helped us on our way. 
 
 The trail was easily found. For a considerable distance it ran 
 between a double row of magnificent mimosa-trees which met over- 
 head at a height of fully one hundred and fifty feet, making a glori- 
 ous tanopy of green leaves and rustling branches. The rain had 
 cooled the air and laid the dust, and but for the danger we were in 
 (greater than we suspected) and the necessity we were under of be- 
 ing continually on the alert, we should have had a most enjoyable 
 walk. Late in the afternoon we passed a hut and a maize-field, the 
 first sign of cultivation we had seen since leaving the azuferales, 
 and ascertained our bearings from an old peon who was swinging 
 in a grass hammock and smoking a cigar. San Felipe was about 
 two leagues away, and he strongly advised us not to follow a cer- 
 tain trail, which he described, lest haply we might fall in with 
 Mejia s caballeros, some of whom he had himself seen within the 
 hour a little lower down the valley. 
 
 This was good news, and we went on in high spirits. 
 
 “ Didn’t I tell you so ? ” said Carmen, complacently. “ I knew 
 Mejia would not be far off. He is like one of your English bull- 
 dogs. He never knows when he is beaten.” 
 
 After a while the country became more open, with here and 
 there patches of cultivation ; huts were more frequent and we met 
 several groups of peons who, however, eyed us so suspiciously that 
 we thought it inexpedient to ask them any questions. 
 
 About an hour before sunset we perceived in the near distance 
 a solitary horseman ; but as his face was turned the other way he 
 did not see us, 
 
 8 
 
H4 
 
 MR. FORTESCVE. 
 
 “ He looks like one of our fellows,” observed Carmen, after scan- 
 ning him closely. “ All the same, he may not be. Let us slip be- 
 hind this acacia-bush and watch his movements.” 
 
 The man himself seemed to be watching. After a short halt, he 
 rode away and returned, but whether halting or moving he was 
 always on the lookout, and as might appear, keenly expectant. 
 
 At length he came our way. 
 
 “ I do believe — Por Dios it is — Guido Pasto, my own man ! and 
 Carmen, greatly excited, rushed from his hiding-place shouting, 
 
 “ Guido ! ” at the top of his voice. 
 
 I followed him, equally excited but less boisterous. 
 
 Guido, recognizing his masters voice, galloped forward and 
 greeted us warmly, for though he acted as Carmen’s servant he was 
 a free llanero, , and expected to be treated as a gentleman and a 
 friend. 
 
 “ Gracias a Dios ! ” he said ; “ I was beginning to fear that we 
 had passed you. Gahra and I have been looking for you all day ! ” 
 
 “That was very good of you ; and Sefior Fortescue and I owe 
 you a thousand thanks. But where are General Mejia and the 
 army ? ” 
 
 “ Near the old place. In a better position, though. But you 
 must not go there — neither of you. 
 
 “We must not go there ! But why ? 
 
 “ Because if you do the general will hang you.” 
 
 “ Hang us ! Hang Sefior Fortescue, who has come all the way 
 from England to help us ! Hang me. , Salvador Carmen ! You have 
 had a sunstroke and lost your wits ; that’s what it is, Guido Pasto, 
 you have lost your wits— but, perhaps you are joking. Say, now, 
 
 you are joking.” ^ 
 
 “ No, sefior. It would ill become me to make a foolish joke at 
 your expense. Neither have I lost my wits, as you are pleased to 
 suggest. It is only too true ; you are in deadly peril. We may be 
 observed, even now. Let us go behind these bushes, where \\e 
 may converse in safety. It was to warn you of your danger that 
 Gahra and I have been watching for you. Gahra will be here pres- 
 ently, and he will tell you that what I say is true. 
 
 “ This passes comprehension. What does it all mean ? Out 
 with it, good Guido; you have always been faithful, and I dont 
 
 think you are a fool.” _ 
 
 “Thanks for your good opinion, sefior. Well, it is very painful 
 
A TIMELY WARMING. 
 
 for me to have to say it ; but the general believes, and save your 
 own personal friends, all the army believes, that you and Senor 
 Fortescue are traitors— that you betrayed them to the enemy.” 
 
 “ On what grounds ? ” asked Carmen, highly indignant. 
 
 “ You went to reconnoiter ; you did not comeback; the next 
 morning we were attacked byGriscelli in force, and Senor Fortescue 
 was seen among the enemy, seen by General Mejia himself. It was, 
 moreover, reported this morning in the camp that Griscelli had let 
 you go.” 
 
 “ So he did, and hunted us with his infernal blood-hounds, and 
 we only escaped by the skin of our teeth. We were surprised and 
 taken prisoners. Senor Fortescue was a prisoner on parole when 
 the general saw him. I believe Griscelli obtained his parole and 
 took him to the quebrada for no other purpose than to compromise 
 him with the patriots. And that I, who have killed more than a 
 hundred Spaniards with my own hand, should be suspected of 
 deserting to the enemy, is too monstrous for belief.” 
 
 “ Of course, it is an absurd mistake. Appearances are certainly 
 rather against us — at any rate, against me ; but a word of explana- 
 tion will put the matter right. Let us go to the camp at once and 
 have it out.” 
 
 “Not so fast, Senor Fortescue. I should like to have it out 
 much. But there is one little difficulty in the way which you may 
 not have taken into account. Mejia never listens to explanations, 
 and never goes back on his word. If he said he would hang us, he 
 will. He would be very sorry afterward, I have no doubt ; but that 
 would not bring us back to life, and it would be rather ridiculous to 
 escape Griscelli s blood-hounds, only to be hanged by our own 
 people.” 
 
 “ And that is not the worst,” put in Guido. 
 
 “ Not the worst ! Why what can be worse than being hanged ? ” 
 
 “ I mean that even if the general did not carry out his threat you 
 would be killed all the same. The Colombian gauchos swear that 
 they will hack you to pieces wherever they find you. When Gahra 
 comes he will tell you the same.” 
 
 You have heard, what do you say? ” asked Carmen, turning to 
 
 me. 
 
 “ Well, as it seems so certain that if we return to the camp we 
 shad either be hanged or hacked to pieces, I am decidedly of opin- 
 ion that we had better not return.” 
 
MR. FORTE SC VE. 
 
 II 5 
 
 “ So am I. At the same time, it is quite evident that we can not 
 remain here, while every man’s hand is against us. Is there any 
 possibility of procuring horses, Guido ? ” 
 
 “ Yes sir. I think Gahra and I will be able to bring you horses 
 and arms after nightfall.” 
 
 “ Good ! And will Gahra and you throw in your lot with us ? ” 
 
 “ Where you go I will go senor. Let Gahra speak for himself. 
 He will be here, shortly. He is coming now. I will show myself 
 that he may know we are here ” (stepping out of the thicket). 
 
 When the negro arrived he expressed great satisfaction at find- 
 ing us alive and well. He did not think there would be any great 
 difficulty in getting away and bringingus horses. The lleranos were 
 still allowed to come and go pretty much as they liked, and if awk- 
 ward questions were asked it would be easy to invent excuses. The 
 best time to get away would be immediately after nightfall, when 
 most of the foraging parties would have returned to camp and the 
 men be at supper. 
 
 It was thereupon agreed that the attempt should be made, and 
 that we should stay where we were until we heard the howl of an 
 ar aguato, which Guido could imitate to perfection. This would sig- 
 nify that all was well, and the coast clear. 
 
 Then, after giving us a few pieces of tasajo and a handful of 
 cigars, the two men rode off ; for night was at hand, and if we did 
 not escape before light of moon, the chances were very much 
 against our escaping at all. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A NEW DEPARTURE. 
 
 “We seem always to be escaping, amigo mio ,” said Carmen, as 
 we sat in the shade, eating our tasajo. “ W e got out of one scrape 
 only to get into another. Your experience of the country so far has 
 not been happy.” 
 
 “Well, I certainly have had rather a lively time of it since I 
 landed at La Guayra, if that is what you mean.” 
 
 “ Very. And I should almost advise you to leave the country, 
 if that were possible. But reaching the coast in present circum- 
 
A NEW DEPARTURE. 
 
 ii 7 
 
 stances is out of the question. All the ports are in possession of 
 the Spaniards, and the roads thither beset by guerillas. I see 
 nothing for it but to go on the llanos and form a guerilla band of 
 our own.” 
 
 “ Isn’t guerilla merely another name for brigand ? ” 
 
 “ Too often. You must promise the fellows plunder.” 
 
 “ And provide it.” 
 
 “ Of course, or pay them out of your own pocket.” 
 
 "•Well, I am not disposed to become a brigand chief; and I 
 could not keep a band of guerillas at my own charge even if I 
 were disposed. As we can not get out of the country either by the 
 north or east, what do you say to trying south ? ” 
 
 “ How far ? To the Brazils ? ” 
 
 “ Farther. Over the Andes to Peru.” 
 
 “ Over the Andes to Peru ? That is a big undertaking. Do 
 you think we could find that mountain of gold and precious stones 
 you were telling me about ? ” 
 
 “ I never entertained any idea so absurd. I merely mentioned 
 poor old Zamorra’s crank as an instance of how credulous people 
 could be.” 
 
 "Well, perhaps the idea is not quite so absurd as you suppose. 
 Even stranger things have happened ; and we do know that there is 
 gold pretty nearly everywhere on this continent, to say nothing of 
 the treasure hidden in times past by Indians and Spaniards, and 
 we might find both gold and diamonds.” 
 
 “ Of course we might ; and as we can not stay here, we may as 
 well make the attempt.” 
 
 "You are not forgetting that it will be very dangerous ? We 
 shall carry our lives in our hands.” 
 
 “ That will be nothing new ; I have carried my life in my hands 
 ever since I came to Venezuela.” 
 
 "True, and if you are prepared to encounter the risk and the 
 hardship— As for myself, I must confess that the idea pleases 
 me. But have you any money ? We shall have to equip our expe- 
 dition. If there are only four of us we shall not get beyond the Rio 
 Negro. The Indians of that region are as fierce as alligators.” 
 
 " I have a few maracotes in the waistband of my trousers and 
 this ring.” 
 
 " That ring is worth nothing, my friend ; at any rate not more 
 than a few reals.” 
 
ii8 
 
 MR, FORTE SCUE. 
 
 “ A few reals! It contains a ruby, though you don’t see it, 
 worth fully five hundred piasters— if I could find a customer for it.” 
 
 “ I don’t think you will easily find a customer for a ruby ring on 
 the llanos. However, I’ll tell you what. An old friend of mine, a 
 certain Senor Morillones, has a large estate at a place called Napa- 
 rima, on the Apure. Let us go there to begin with. Morillones 
 will supply us with mules, and we may possibly persuade some of 
 his people to accompany us. Treasure-hunting is always an attrac- 
 tion for the adventurous. What say you ? ” 
 
 “ Yes. By all means let us go.” 
 
 “ We may regard it as settled, then, that we make in the first 
 instance for Naparima.” 
 
 “ Certainly.” 
 
 « That being the case the best thing we can do is to have a 
 sleep. We got none last night, and we are not likely to get any 
 to-night.” 
 
 As Carmen spoke he folded his arms and shut his eyes. I fol- 
 lowed his example, and we knew no more until, as it seemed in 
 about five minutes, we were roused by a terrific howl. 
 
 We jumped up at once and ran out of the thicket. Gahra and 
 Guido were waiting for us, each with a led horse. 
 
 “ We were beginning to think you had been taken, or gone 
 away,” said Guido, hoarsely. “ I have howled six times in succes- 
 sion. My voice will be quite ruined.” 
 
 “ It did not sound so just now. We were fast asleep.” 
 
 “ Pizarro ! ” I exclaimed, greatly delighted by the sight of my 
 old favorite. “ You have brought Pizarro ! How did you manage 
 that, Gahra ? ” 
 
 “ He came to the camp last night. But mount at once, senor. 
 We got away without difficulty— stole off while the men were at 
 supper. But we met an officer who asked us a question; and 
 though Guido said we were taking the horses by order of General 
 Mejia himself, he did not appear at all satisfied, and if he should 
 speak to the general something might happen, especially as it is not 
 long since we left the camp, and we have been waiting here ten 
 minutes. Here is a spear for you, and the pistols in your holsters 
 are loaded and primed.” 
 
 I mounted without asking any more questions. Gahra’s news 
 was disquieting, and we had no time to lose ; for, in order to reach 
 the llanos without the almost certainty of falling into the hands of 
 
A NEW DEPARTURE. 
 
 119 
 
 our friend Griscelli, we should have to pass within a mile of the 
 patriot camp, and if an alarm were given, our retreat might be cut 
 off. This, however, seemed to be our only danger; our horses 
 were fleet and fresh, and the llanos near, and, once fairly away, we 
 might bid defiance to pursuit. 
 
 “ Let us push on,” said Carmen. “ If anybody accosts us don’t 
 answer a word, and fight only at the last extremity, to save our- 
 selves from capture or death ; and, above all things, silence in the 
 ranks.” 
 
 The night was clear, the sky studded with stars, and, except 
 where trees overhung the . road, we could see some little distance 
 ahead, the only direction in which we had reason to apprehend 
 danger. 
 
 Carmen and I rode in front ; Gahra and Guido a few yards in 
 the rear. 
 
 We had not been under way more than a few minutes when 
 Gahra uttered an exclamation. 
 
 “ Hist, senores ! Look behind ! ” he said. 
 
 Turning half round in our saddles and peering intently into the 
 gloom we could just make out what seemed like a body of horse- 
 men, riding swiftly after us. 
 
 “ Probably a belated foraging party returning to camp,” said 
 Carmen. “ Deucedly awkward, though ! But they have, perhaps, 
 no desire to overtake us. Let us go on just fast enough to keep 
 them at a respectful distance.” 
 
 But it very soon became evident that the foraging party — if it 
 were a foraging party — did desire to overtake us. They put on 
 more speed; so did we. Then came loud shouts of “ Halte!" 
 These producing no effect, several pistol-shots were fired. 
 
 “ Dios mio! ” said Carmen; “they will rouse the camp, and 
 the road will be barred. Look here, Fortescue ; about two miles 
 farther on is an open glade which we have to cross, and which the 
 fellows must also cross if they either meet or intercept us. The 
 trail to the left leads to the llanos. It runs between high banks, 
 and is so narrow that one resolute man may stop a dozen. If any 
 of the gauchos get there before us we are lost. Your horse is the 
 fleetest. Ride as for your life, and hold it till we come.” 
 
 Before the words were well out of Carmen’s mouth I let Pizarro 
 go. He went like the wind. In six minutes I had reached my 
 point and taken post in the throat of the pass, well in the shade. 
 
120 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 And I was none too soon, for, almost at the same instant, three 
 Uaneros dashed into the clearing, and then, as if uncertain what to 
 do next, pulled up short. 
 
 “ Whereabout was it ? What trail shall we take ? ” asked one. 
 
 “ This ” (pointing to the road I had just quitted). 
 
 “ Don’t you hear the shouts ? — and there goes another pistol- 
 shot ! ” 
 
 “ Better divide,” said another. “ I will stay here and watch. 
 You, Jose, go forward, and you, Sanchez, reconnoitre the llanos 
 trail.” 
 
 Jose went his way, Sanchez came my way. 
 
 Still in the shade and hidden, I drew one of my pistols and 
 cocked it, fully intending, however, to reserve my fire till the last 
 moment ; I was loath to shoot a man with whom I had served only 
 a few days before. But when he drew near and, shouting my 
 name, lowered his lance, I had no alternative ; I fired, and as he 
 fell from his horse, the others galloped into the glade. 
 
 “Forward! To the llanos!” cried Carmen ; “they are close 
 behind us. A fellow tried to stop me, but I rode him down.” 
 
 And then followed a neck-or-nothing race through the pass, 
 which was more like a furrow than a road, steep, stony, and full of 
 holes, and being overshadowed by trees, as dark as chaos. Only 
 by the marvelous cleverness of our unshod horses and almost 
 miraculous good luck did we escape dire disaster, if not utter de- 
 struction, for a single stumble might have been fatal. 
 
 But Carmen, who made the running, knew what he was about. 
 His seeming rashness was the truest prudence. Our pursuers 
 would either ride as hard as we did or they would not ; in the latter 
 event we should have a good start and be beyond their ken before 
 they emerged from the pass ; in the former, there was always the 
 off chance of one of the leading horsemen coming to grief and some 
 of the others falling over him, thereby delaying them past the pos- 
 sibility of overtaking us. 
 
 Which of the contingencies came to pass, or whether the gueril- 
 las, not having the fear of death behind them, rode less recklessly 
 than we did we could form no idea. But their shouts gradually 
 became fainter ; when we reached the llanos they were no more to 
 be heard, and when the moon rose an hour later none of our pur- 
 suers were to be seen. Nevertheless, we pushed on, and except 
 once, to let our animals drink and (relieved for a moment of their 
 
DON ESTEBANS DA UGHTER. 
 
 121 
 
 saddles), refresh themselves with a roll, after the want of Venezuelan 
 horses, we drew not rein until we had put fifty miles between our- 
 selves and Generals Mejia and Griscelli. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 DON ESTEBAN’S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Ten days after our flight from San Felipe we were on the banks 
 of the Apure. We received a warm welcome from Carmen’s friend, 
 Senor Morillones, a Spanish creole of the antique type, grave, courtly 
 and dignified, the owner of many square miles of fertile land and 
 hundreds of slaves, and as rich in flocks and herds as Job in the 
 heyday of his prosperity. He had a large house, fine gardens, and 
 troops of servants. A grand seigneur in every sense of the word 
 was Senor Don Esteban Morillones. His assurance that he placed 
 himself and his house and all that was his at our disposal was no 
 mere phrase. When he heard of our contemplated journey, he of- 
 fered us mules, arms, and whatever else we required and he possessed, 
 and any mention of payment on our part would, as Carmen said, 
 and I could well see, have given our generous host dire offense. 
 
 We found, moreover, that we could easily engage as many men 
 as we wanted, on condition of letting them be our co-adventurers 
 and share in the finds which they were sure we should make ; for 
 nobody believed that we would undertake so long and arduous a 
 journey with any other purpose than the seeking of treasure. Our 
 business being thus satisfactorily arranged, we might have started 
 at once, but, for some reason or other — probably because he found 
 our quarters so pleasant — Carmen held back. Whenever I pressed 
 the point he would say : “ Why so much haste, my dear fellow ? 
 Let us stay here awhile longer,” and it was not until I threatened 
 to go without him that he consented to “name the day.” 
 
 Now Don Esteban had a daughter, by name Juanita, a beautiful 
 girl of seventeen, as fresh as a rose, and as graceful as a gazelle, a 
 girl with whom any man might be excused for falling in love, and 
 she showed me so much favor, and, as it seemed, took so much 
 pleasure in my company, that only considerations of prudence and 
 a sen§e of what was due to my host, and the laws of hospitality, 
 
122 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 prevented me from yielding myself a willing captive to her charms. 
 But as the time fixed for our departure drew near, this policy of 
 renunciation grew increasingly difficult. Juanita was too unsophisti- 
 cated to hide her feelings, and I judged from her ways that, without 
 in the least intending it, I had won her heart. She became silent 
 and preoccupied. When I spoke of our expedition the tears would 
 spring to her eyes, and she would question me about its dangers, 
 say how greatly she feared we might never meet again, and how 
 lonely she should feel when we were gone. 
 
 All this, however flattering to my amour propre , was both em- 
 barrassing and distressing, and I began seriously to doubt whether 
 it was not my duty, the laws of hospitality to the contrary, notwith- 
 standing, to take pity on Juanita, and avow the affection which was 
 fast ripening into love. She would be my advocate with Don Este- 
 ban, and seeing how much he had his daughter’s happiness at heart, 
 there could be little question that he would pardon my presumption 
 and sanction our betrothal. 
 
 Nevertheless, the preparations for our expedition went on, and 
 the time for our departure was drawing near, when one evening, as 
 I returned from a ride, I found Juanita alone on the veranda, gaz- 
 ing at the stars, and looking more than usually pensive and de- 
 pressed. 
 
 “ So you are still resolved to go, Sefior Fortescue ? ” she said, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 “ I must. One of my principal reasons for coming to South 
 America is to make an expedition to the Andes, and I want much 
 to travel in parts hitherto unexplored. And who knows ? We may 
 make great discoveries.” 
 
 “ But you might stay with us a little longer.” 
 
 “ I fear we have trespassed too long on your hospitality al- 
 ready.” 
 
 “ Our hospitality is not so easily exhausted. But, O seiior, you 
 have already stayed too long for my happiness.” 
 
 “Too long, for your happiness, senorita ! If I thought — would 
 you really like me to stay longer, to postpone this expedition indefi- 
 nitely, or abandon it altogether ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, so much, sefior, so much. The mere suggestion makes me 
 almost happy again.” 
 
 “ And if I make your wish my law., and say that it is abandoned, 
 bow then ? ” 
 
 i\ ■ - . 
 
 ~ 
 
DON ESTEBAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 123 
 
 ‘‘You will make me happier than I can tell, and your debtor for 
 life/' 
 
 " And why would it make you so happy, dear Juanita ? ” I 
 asked, tenderly, at the same time looking into her beautiful eyes and 
 taking her unresisting hand. 
 
 “ Why ! Oh, don’t you know ? Have you not guessed ? ” 
 
 “ I think I have all the same, I should like the avowal from 
 your own lips, dear Juanita.” 
 
 “ Because — because if you stay, dear,” she murmured, lowering 
 her eyes, and blushing deeply, “ if you stay, dear Salvador will stay 
 too.” 
 
 “ Dear Salvador ! Dear Salvador ! How — why — when ? I — I 
 beg your pardon, senorita. I had no idea,” I stammered, utterly 
 confounded by this surprising revelation of her secret and my own 
 stupidity. 
 
 “ I thought you knew ; that you had guessed.” 
 
 “ I mean I had no idea that it had gone so far,” I said, recover- 
 ing my self-possession, with a great effort. “ So you and Carmen 
 are betrothed.” 
 
 “ We love. But if he goes on this dreadful expedition I am sure 
 my father would not consent, and Salvador says that as he has 
 promised to take part in it he can not go back on his word. And I 
 said 1 would ask you to give it up — Salvador did not like — he said it 
 would be such a great disappointment ; and I am so glad you have 
 consented.” 
 
 “ I beg your pardon, senorita, I have not consulted.” 
 
 “ But you said only a minute ago that you would do as I de- 
 sired, that my will should be your law.” 
 
 “ Nay, senorita, I put it merely as a supposition. I said if I did 
 make your wish my law, how then? Less than ever can I renounce 
 this expedition.” 
 
 “ Then you were only mocking me ! Cruel, cruel ! ” 
 
 “ Less than ever can I renounce this expedition. But I will do 
 what will perhaps please you as well. I will release Carmen from 
 his promise. He has found his fortune ; let him stay. I have mine 
 to make ; I must go.” 
 
 “ O senor, you have made me happy again. I thank you with 
 all my heart. We can now speak to my father. But you are mis- 
 taken ; it is not the same to me whether you go or stay so long as 
 you release Salvador from his promise. I would have you stay 
 
124 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 with us, for I know that he and you are great friends and that It 
 will pain you to part.” 
 
 “ It will, indeed. He is a true man and one of the bravest and 
 most chivalrous I ever knew. I can never forget that he risked his 
 life to save mine. To lose so dear a friend will be a great grief, 
 even though my loss be your gain, senorita.” 
 
 “ No loss, Senor Fortescue. Instead of one friend you will have 
 two. Your gain will be as great as mine.” 
 
 My answer to these gracious words was to take her proffered 
 hand and press it to my lips. 
 
 “ Caramba ! What is this? Juanita? And you, senor, is it 
 the part of a friend ? Do you know ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t be jealous, Salvador,” said Juanita, quietly to her lover, 
 who had come on the balcony unperceived. “ Senor Fortescue is a 
 true friend. He is very good, he releases you from your promise. 
 And he seemed so sorry and spoke so nobly that the least I could 
 do was to let him kiss my hand.” 
 
 “You did right, Juanita. I was hasty, I cry peccavz and ask 
 your forgiveness. And you really give up this expedition for my 
 sake, dear friend ? Thanks, a thousand thanks.” 
 
 “ No, I absolve you from your promise. But I shall go, all the 
 same.” 
 
 Carmen looked very grave. 
 
 “ Think better of it, amigo mio” he said. “ When we formed 
 this project we w^re both in a reckless mood. Much of the coun- 
 try 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 hard- 
 ships, 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 things 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. 
 
DON ESTEBAN'S DA UGH TER. 
 
 m 
 
 I assure you that I do not in the least exaggerate. You must re- 
 member 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 can not dissuade you from at- 
 tempting 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 desert- 
 ing in the face of the enemy.” 
 
 “ Not so, Carmen. The agreement has been canceled by mu- 
 tual 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 accom- 
 panied it I thought that, had I spoken first— but it w r as too late ; the 
 die w r as 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 w T as 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 w^hom 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. 
 
 But I remained firm to my resolve. For, albeit, none perceived 
 it but myself, I was in a false position. Though I was not hope- 
 lessly in love with Juanita I liked her so well that the contemplation 
 of Carmen’s happiness did not add to my own. I thought, too, 
 that Juanita guessed the true state of the case ; and she was so kind 
 and gentle withal, and her gratitude at times was so demonstrative 
 that I feared if I stayed long at Naparima there might be trouble, 
 for like all men of Spanish blood, Carmen was quite capable of be- 
 ing furiously jealous. 
 
126 
 
 MR. PORTE SCUE. 
 
 I left them a month before the day fixed for their marriage. My 
 companions were Gahra, and a dozen Indians and mestizoes, to each 
 of whom I was enabled by Don Esteban’s kindness to give a hand- 
 some gratuity beforehand. 
 
 To Juanita I gave as a wedding-present my ruby ring, to Car- 
 men my horse Pizarro. 
 
 Our parting was one of the most painful incidents of my long 
 and checkered life. I loved them both and I think they loved me. 
 Juanita wept abundantly ; we all embraced and tried to console our- 
 selves by promising each other that we should meet again; but 
 when or where or how, none of us could tell, and in our hearts we 
 knew that the chances against the fruition of our hopes were too 
 great to be reckoned. 
 
 Then, full of sad thoughts and gloomy forebodings, I set out on 
 my long journey to the unknown. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE HAPPY VALLEY. 
 
 My gloomy forebodings were only too fully realized. Never 
 was a more miserably monotonous journey. After riding for weeks 
 through sodden, sunless forests and trackless wastes we had to 
 abandon our mules and take to our .feet, spend weeks on nameless 
 rivers, poling and paddling our canoes in the terrible heat, and tor- 
 mented almost to madness by countless insects. Then the rains 
 came on, and we were weather-stayed for months in a wretched 
 Indian village. But for the help of friendly aborigines — and fortu- 
 nately the few we met, being spoken fair showed themselves friendly 
 — we must all have perished. They gave us food, lent us canoes, 
 served us as pilots and guides, and thought themselves well paid 
 with a piece of scarlet cloth or a handful of glass beads. 
 
 My men turned out quite as ill as I had been led to expect. 
 Several deserted at the outset, two or three died of fever, two were 
 eaten by alligators, and when we first caught sight of the Andes, 
 Gahra was my sole companion. 
 
 We were in a pitiful plight. I was weak from the effects of a 
 fever, Gahra lame from the effects of an accident. My money was 
 
the happy Valley. 
 
 
 nearly all gone, my baggage had been lost by the upsetting of a 
 canoe, and our worldly goods consisted of two sorry mules, our 
 arms, the ragged clothes on our backs, and a few pieces of silver. 
 How we were to cross the Andes, and what we should do when we 
 reached Peru was by no means clear. As yet, the fortune which I 
 had set out to seek seemed further off than ever. We had found 
 neither gold nor silver nor precious stones, and all the coin I had in 
 my waist-belt would not cover the cost of a three days’ sojourn at 
 the most modest of posaderos. 
 
 But we have left behind us the somber and rain-saturated forests 
 of the Amazon and the Orinoco, and the fine country around us 
 and the magnificent prospect before us made me, at least, forget 
 for the moment, both our past privations and our present anxieties. 
 We are on the montaha of the eastern Cordillera, a mountain land 
 of amazing fertility, well wooded, yet not so thickly as to render 
 progress difficult ; the wayside is bordered with brilliant flowers, 
 cascades tumble from rocky heights, and far away to the west rise 
 in the clear air the glorious Andes, alps on alps, a vast range of 
 stately snow-crowned peaks, endless and solemn, veiled yet not hid- 
 den by fleecy clouds, and as cold and mysterious as winter stars 
 looking down on a sleeping world. 
 
 For a long time I gaze entranced at the wonderous scene, and 
 should probably have gone on gazing had not Gahre reminded me 
 that the day was well-nigh spent and that we were still, according to 
 the last information received, some distance' from the mission of San 
 Andrea de Huanaco, otherwise Valle Hermoso, or Happy Valley. 
 
 One of our chief difficulties had been to find our way ; maps we 
 had none, for the very sufficient reason that maps of the region we 
 had traversed did not at that time exist ; our guides had not always 
 proved either competent or trustworthy, and I had only the vaguest 
 idea as to where we were. Of two things only was I certain, that 
 we were south of the equator and within sight of the Andes of Peru 
 (which at that time included the countries now known as Ecuador 
 and Bolivia). 
 
 A few days previously I had fallen in with an old half-caste 
 priest, from whom I had heard of the Mission of San Andrea de 
 Huanaco, and how to get there, and who drew for my guidance a 
 rough sketch of the route. The priest in charge, a certain Fray 
 Ignacio, a born Catalan, would, he felt sure, be glad to find me 
 quarters and give me every information in his power. 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 12 § 
 
 And so it proved. Had I been his own familiar friend Fray 
 Ignacio could not have welcomed me more warmly or treated me 
 more kindly. A European with news but little above a year old 
 was a perfect godsend to him. When he heard that I had served 
 in his native land and the Bourbons once more ruled in France and 
 Spain, he went into ecstasies of delight, took me into his house, and 
 gave me of his best. 
 
 San Andrea was well named Valle Hermoso. It was like an 
 alpine village set in a tropical garden. The mud houses were over- 
 grown with greenery, the rocks mantled with flowers, the nearer 
 heights crested with noble trees, whose great white trunks, as 
 smooth and round as the marble pillars of an Eastern palace, were 
 roofed with domes of purple leaves. 
 
 Through the valley and between verdant banks and blooming 
 orchards meandered a silvery brook, either an affluent or a source of 
 one of the mighty streams which find their homes in the great 
 Atlantic. 
 
 The mission was a village of tame Indians, whose ancestors had 
 been “ Christianized,” by Fray Ignacio’s Jesuit predecessor. But 
 the Jesuits had been expelled from South America nearly half a 
 century before. My host belonged to the order of St. Francis. 
 The spiritual guide, as well as the earthly providence of his flock, 
 he managed their affairs in this world and prepared them for the 
 next. And they seemed nothing loath. A more listless, easy-going 
 community than the Indians of the Happy Valley it were difficult 
 to imagine. The men did little but smoke, sleep, and gamble. All 
 the real work was done by the women, and even they took care not 
 to overexert themselves. All were short-lived. The women began 
 to age at twenty, the men were old at twenty-five and generally 
 died about thirty, of general decay, said the priest. In my opinion 
 of pure laziness. Exertion is a condition of healthy existence ; and 
 the most active are generally the longest lived. 
 
 Nevertheless, Fray Ignacio was content with his people. They 
 were docile and obedient, went regularly to church, had a great 
 capacity for listening patiently to long sermons, and if they died 
 young they got so much the sooner to heaven. 
 
 All the the same. Fray Ignacio was not so free from care as 
 might be supposed. He had two anxieties. The Happy Valley was 
 so far untrue to its name as to be subject to earthquakes ; but as 
 none of a very terrific character had occurred for a quarter of a 
 
THE HAPPY VALLEY. 
 
 129 
 
 Century he was beginning to hope that it would be spared any 
 further visitations for the remainder of his lifetime. A much more 
 serious trouble were the occasional visits of bands of wild Indians — 
 Indios misterios , he called them ; what they called themselves he 
 had no idea. Neither had he any definite idea whence they came ; 
 from the other side of the Cordilleras, some people thought. But 
 they neither pillaged nor murdered — except when they were resisted 
 or in drink, for which reason the father always kept his aguardiente 
 carefully hidden. Their worst propensity was a passion for white 
 girls. There were two or three mestizo families in the village, some 
 of whom were whiter, or rather, less coppery than the others, and 
 from these the misterios would select and carry off the best-looking 
 maidens; for what purpose, Fray Ignacio could not tell, but, as he 
 feared, to sacrifice to their gods. 
 
 When I heard that these troublesome visitors generally num- 
 bered fewer than a score, I asked why, seeing that the valley con- 
 tained, at least, a hundred and fifty men capable of bearing arms, 
 the raiders were not resisted. On this the father smiled and 
 answered, that no earthly consideration would induce his tame 
 Indians to fight ; it was so much easier to die. He could not even 
 persuade the mestizoes to migrate to a safer locality. It was easier 
 to be robbed of their children occasionally than to move their goods 
 and chattels and find another home. 
 
 I asked Fray Ignacio whether he thought these robbers of white 
 children were likely to pay him a visit soon. 
 
 “ I am afraid they are,” he said. “ It is nearly two years since 
 their last visit, and they only come in summer. Why? ” 
 
 “ I have a curiosity to see them ; and I think I could save the 
 children and give these wild fellows such a lesson that they would 
 trouble you no m«re — at any rate for a long time to come.” 
 
 “ I should be inexpressibly grateful. But how, senor? ” 
 Whereupon I disclosed my scheme. It was very simple ; I pro- 
 posed to turn one of the most likely houses in the village into a 
 small fortress which might serve as a refuge for the children, and 
 which Gahra and I would undertake to defend. We had two 
 muskets and a pair of double-barreled pistols, and the priest 
 possessed an old blunderbuss, which I thought I could convert into 
 a serviceable weapon. In this way we should be able to shoot 
 down four or five of the misterios before any of them could get near 
 us, and as they had no firearms I felt sure that, after so warm a 
 9 - - 
 
MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 130 
 
 reception, they would let us alone and go their way. The shooting 
 would demoralize them, and as we should not show ourselves they 
 could not know that the garrison consisted only of the negro and 
 myself. 
 
 “ Very well,” said the priest, after a moment’s thought. “ I 
 leave it to you. But remember that if you fail they will kill you 
 and everybody else in the place. However, I dare say you will 
 succeed, the firearms may frighten them, and, on the whole, I think 
 the risk is worth running ! ” . 
 
 The next question was how to get timely warning of the enemy’s 
 approach. I suggested posting scouts on the hills which commanded 
 the roads into the valley. I thought that, albeit the tame Indians 
 were good for nothing else, they could at least sit under a tree and 
 keep their eyes open. 
 
 “ They would fall asleep,” said Fray Ignacio. 
 
 So we decided to keep a lookout among ourselves, and ask the 
 girls who tended the cattle to do the same. They were much more 
 wide-awake than the men, if the latter could be said to be awake 
 at all. 
 
 The next thing was to fortify the priest’s house, which seemed 
 the most suitable for our purpose. I strengthened the wall with 
 stays, repaired the old trabuco, which was almost as big as a small 
 cannon, and made ready for barricading the doors and windows on 
 the first alarm. 
 
 This done, there was nothing for it but to wait with what pa- 
 tience I might, and kill time as I best could. I walked about, 
 fished in the river, and talked with Fray Ignacio. I would have 
 gone out shooting, for there was plenty of game in the neighbor- 
 hood, only that I had to reserve my ammunition for more serious 
 work. 
 
 For the present, at least, my idea of exploring the Andes ap- 
 peared to be quite out of the question. I should require both mules 
 and guides, and I had no money either to buy the one or to pay the 
 other. 
 
 And so the days went monotonously on until it seemed as if I 
 should have to remain in this valley surnamed Happy for the term of 
 my natural life, and I grew so weary withal that I should have .re- 
 garded a big earthquake as a positive godsend. I was in this 
 mood, ar^ ready for any enterprise, however desperate, when one 
 morning a young woman who had been driving cattle to an upland 
 
THE HAPPY VALLEY. 
 
 131 
 
 pasture, came running to Fray Ignacio to say that she had seen a 
 troop of horsemen coming down from the mountains. 
 
 » “The misterios!" said the priest, turning pale. “Are you 
 still resolved, senor ? ” 
 
 “ Certainly,” I answered, trying to look grave, though really 
 greatly delighted. “ Be good enough to send for the girls who are 
 most in danger. Gahra and I will take possession of the house, 
 and do all that is needful.” 
 
 It was further arranged that Fray Ignacio should remain out- 
 side with his tame Indians, and tell the misterios that all the good- 
 looking mestizo, maidens were in his house, guarded by braves 
 from over the seas, who would strike dead with lightning anybody 
 who attempted to lay hands on them. 
 
 By the time our preparations were completed, and the fright- 
 ened and weeping girls shut up in an inner room, the wild Indians 
 were at the upper end of the big, straggling village, and presently 
 entered a wide, open space between the ramshackle old church and 
 Ignacio’s house. The party consisted of fifteen or sixteen warriors 
 mounted on small horses. All rode bare-back, were naked to the 
 waist, and armed with bows and arrows and the longest spears I 
 had yet seen. 
 
 The tame Indians looked stolidly on. Nothing short of an 
 earthquake would have disturbed their self-possession. Rather to 
 my surprise, for he had not so far shown a superabundance of cour- 
 age, Fray Ignacio seemed equal to the occasion. He was tall, 
 portly, and white-haired, and as he stood at the church-door, clad in 
 his priestly robes, he looked venerable and dignified. 
 
 One of the misterios , whom from his remarkable head-dress — a 
 helmet made of a condor’s skull— I took to be a cacique after 
 greeting the priest, entered into conversation with him, the purport 
 of which I had no difficulty in guessing, for the Indian, laughing 
 loudly, turned to his companions and said something that appeared 
 greatly to amuse them. Neither he nor they believed Fray Ignacio’s 
 story of the great pale-face chief and his death-dealing powers. 
 
 The cacique, followed by a few of his men, then rode leisurely 
 toward the house. He was a fine-looking fellow, with cigar- 
 colored skin and features unmistakably more Spanish than Indian. 
 
 My original' idea was to shoot the first two of them, and so 
 strike terror into the rest. But the cacique bore himself so bravely 
 that I felt reluctant to kill him in cold blood ; and thinking that kill- 
 
132 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 ing his horse might do as well, I waited until they were well within 
 range, and, taking careful aim, shot it through the head. As the 
 horse went down, the cacique sprang nimbly to his feet ; he seemed 
 neither surprised nor dismayed, took a long look at the house, then 
 waved his men back, and followed them leisurely to the other side 
 of the square. 
 
 “ What think you, Gahra ? Will they go away and leave us in 
 peace, or shall we have to shoot some of them ? ” I said, as I re- 
 loaded my musket. 
 
 “ I think we shall, senor. That tall man whose horse you shot 
 did not seem much frightened.” 
 
 “ Anything but that, and— what are they about now ? ” 
 
 The wild Indians, directed by their chief, were driving the tame 
 Indians together, pretty much as sheep-dogs drive sheep, and soon 
 had them penned into a compact mass in an angle formed by the 
 church and another building. Although the crowd numbered two 
 or three hundred, of whom a third were men, no resistance was of- 
 fered. A few of exceptionally energetic character made a languid 
 attempt to bolt, but were speedily brought back by the misterios , 
 whose long spears they treated with profound respect. 
 
 So soon as this operation was completed the cacique beckoned 
 peremptorily to the padre , and the two, talking earnestly the while, 
 came toward the house. It seemed as if the Indian chief wanted a 
 parley ; but, not being quite sure of this, I thought it advisable, 
 when he was about fifty yards off, to show him the muzzle of my 
 piece. The hint was understood. He laid his weapons on the 
 ground, and, when he and the padre were within speaking distance, 
 the padre y who appeared very much disturbed, said the cacique de- 
 sired to have speech of me. Not to be outdone in magnanimity I 
 opened the door and stepped outside. 
 
 The cacique doffed his skull-helmet, and made a low bow. I re- 
 turned the greeting, said that I was delighted to make his acquaint- 
 ance, and asked what I could do to oblige him. 
 
 “ Give up the maidens,” he answered, in broken Spanish. 
 
 “ I can not ; they are in my charge. I have sworn to protect 
 them, and, as you discovered just now, I have the means of making 
 good my word. ” 
 
 “It is true. You have lightning; I have none, and I shall not 
 sacrifice my braves in a vain attempt to take the maidens by force. 
 Nevertheless, you will give them up.” 
 
THE HAPPY VALLEY. 
 
 133 
 
 “ You are mistaken. I shall not give them up.” 
 
 The great pale-face chief is a friend of these poor tame people ; 
 he wishes them well ? ” 
 
 “ It is true, and for that reason I shall not let you carry off the 
 seven maidens.” 
 
 “ Seven ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, seven.” 
 
 “ How many men and women and maidens are there yonder, 
 trembling before the spears of my braves like corn shaken by the 
 wind — fifty times seven ? ” 
 
 “ Probably.” 
 
 “ Then my brother— for I also am a great chief— my brother 
 from over the seas holds the liberty of seven to be of more account 
 than the lives of fifty times seven.” 
 
 “My brother speaks in riddles,” I said, acknowledging the ca- 
 cique’s compliment and adopting his style. 
 
 It is a riddle that a child might read. Unless the maidens are 
 
 given up not to harm, but to be taken to our country up there 
 
 unless they are given up the spears of my braves will drink the 
 blood of their kinsfolk, and my horses shall trample their bodies in 
 the dust.” 
 
 The cacique spoke so gravely and his air was so resolute that I 
 felt sure he would do as he said, and I did not see how I could pre- 
 vent him. His men were beyond the range of our pieces, and to go 
 outside were to lose our lives to no purpose. We might get a 
 couple of shots at them, but, before we could reload, they would 
 either shoot us down with their bows or spit us with their spears. 
 
 Fray Ignacio, seeing the dilemma, drew me aside. 
 
 “ You will have to do it,” he said. “ I am very sorry. The girls 
 will either be sacrificed or brought up as heathens ; but better so 
 than that these devils should be let loose on my poor people, for, 
 albeit some might escape, many would be slaughtered. Why did 
 you shoot the horse and let the savage and his companion go scath- 
 less ? ” 
 
 You may well ask the question, father. I see what a grievous 
 mistake I made. When it came to the point, I did not like to kill 
 brave men in cold blood. I was too merciful.” 
 
 “ As you say, a grievous mistake. Never repeat it, senor. It is 
 always a mistake to show mercy to Indios brutes ' But what will 
 you do ? ” 
 
134 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 “ I suppose give up the girls ; it is the smaller evil of the two. 
 And yet — I promised that no evil should befall them — no, I must 
 make another effort.” 
 
 And with that I turned once more to the cacique. 
 
 “ Do you know,” I said, laying my hand on the pistol in my belt 
 — “ do you know that your life is in my hands ? ” 
 
 He did not flinch ; but a look passed over his face which showed 
 that my implied threat had produced an effect. 
 
 “ It is true ; but if a hair of my head be touched, all these people 
 will perish.” 
 
 “ Let them perish ! What are the lives of a few tame Indians to 
 me, compared with my oath ? Did I not tell you that I had sworn 
 to protect the maidens — that no harm should befall them ? And 
 unless you call your men off and promise to go quietly away — ” 
 Here I drew my pistol. 
 
 It was now the cacique’s turn to hesitate. After a moment’s 
 thought he answered : 
 
 “ Let the lightning kill me, then. It were better for me to die 
 than to return to my people empty-handed ; and my death will not 
 be unavenged. But if the pale-face chief will go with us instead of 
 the maidens, he will make Gondocori his friend, and these tame In- 
 dians shall not die.” 
 
 “ Go with you ! But whither ? ” 
 
 Gondocori pointed toward the Cordillera. 
 
 “To our home up yonder, in the heart of the Andes.” 
 
 “ And what will you do with me when you get me there ? ” 
 
 “ Your fate will be decided by Mamcuna, our queen. If you find 
 favor in her sight, well.” 
 
 “ And if not — ? ” 
 
 “ Then it would not be well — for you. But as she has often ex- 
 pressed a wish to see a pale-face with a long beard, I think it will 
 be well ; and in any case I answer for your life.” 
 
 “ What security have I for this ? How do I know that when 
 I am in your power you will carry out the compact ? ” 
 
 “ You have heard the word of Gondocori. See, I will swear it 
 on the emblem you mostrespect.” 
 
 And the cacique pressed his lips to the cross which hung from 
 Ignacio’s neck. It was a strange act on the part of a wild Indian, 
 and confirmed* the suspicion I already entertained, that Gondocori 
 was the son of a Christian mother. 
 
A FIGHT FOR LIFE . 
 
 135 
 
 “ He is a heathen ; his oath is worthless ; don’t trust him, let the 
 girls go,” whispered the padre in my ear. 
 
 But I had already made up my mind. It was on my conscience 
 to keep faith with the girls ; I wanted neither kill the cacique nor see 
 his man kill the tame Indians, and whatever might befall me “ up 
 yonder ” I should at any rate get away from San Andrea de 
 Huanaco. 
 
 “ The die is cast ; I will go with you,” I said, turning to Gondo- 
 cori. 
 
 “ Now, I know, beyond a doubt, that my brother is the bravest 
 of the brave. He fears not the unknown.” 
 
 I asked if Gahra might bear me company. 
 
 “ At his own risk. But I can not answer for his safety. Mam- 
 cuna loves not black people.” 
 
 This was not very encouraging, and after I had explained the 
 matter to Gahra I strongly advised him to stay where he was. But 
 he said he was my man, that he owed me his liberty, and would go 
 with me to the end, even though it should cost him his life. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 
 
 We have left behind us the ?nontano, with its verdant uplands 
 and waving forests, its blooming valleys, flower-strewed savan- 
 nas, and sunny waters, and are crawling painfully along a ledge, 
 hardly a yard wide, stern gray rocks all round us, a foaming tor- 
 rent only faintly visible in the prevailing gloom a thousand feet 
 below. Our mules, obtained at the last village in the fertile re- 
 gion, move at the speed of snails, for the path is slippery and inse- 
 cure, and one false step would mean death for both the rider and 
 the ridden. 
 
 Presently the gorge widens into a glen, where forlorn flowers 
 struggle toward the scanty light and stunted trees find a precarious 
 foothold among the rocks and stones. Soon the ravine narrows 
 again, narrows until it becomes a mere cleft ; the mule-path goes 
 up and down like some mighty snake, now mounting to a dizzy 
 height, anon descending to the bed of the thundering torrent, The 
 
136 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 air is dull and sepulchral, an icy wind blows in our faces, and 
 though I am warmly clad, and wrapped besides in a thick poncho , I 
 shiver to the bone. 
 
 At length we emerge from this valley of the shadow of death, and 
 after crossing an arid yet not quite treeless plain, begin to climb by 
 many zigzags an almost precipitous height. The mules suffer terri- 
 bly, stopping every few minutes to take breath, and it is with a feel- 
 ing of intense relief that, after an ascent of two hours, we find our- 
 selves on the cumbre , or ridge of the mountain. 
 
 For the first time since yesterday we have an unobstructed view. 
 I dismount and look round. Backward stretches an endless ex- 
 panse of bleak and storm-swept billowy mountains ; before us 
 looms, in serried phalanx, the western Cordillera, dazzling white, 
 all save one black-throated colossus, who vomits skyward thick 
 clouds of ashes and smoke, and down whose ragged flanks course 
 streams of fiery lava. 
 
 After watching this stupendous spectacle for a few minutes we 
 go on, and shortly reach another and still loftier qucbrada. Icicles 
 hang from the rocks, the pools of the streams are frozen ; we have 
 reached an altitude as high as the summit of Mont Blanc, and our 
 distended lips, swollen hands, and throbbing temples show how 
 great is the rarefaction of the air. 
 
 None of us suffer so much from the cold as poor Gahra. His 
 ebon skin has turned ashen gray, he shivers continually, can hardly 
 speak, and sits on his mule with difficulty. 
 
 The country we are in is uninhabited and the trail we are follow- 
 ing known only to a few Indians. I am the first white man, says 
 Gondocori, by whom it has been trodden. 
 
 We pass the night in a ruined building of cyclopean dimensions, 
 erected no doubt in the time of the Incas, either for the accommoda- 
 tion of travelers by whom the road was then frequented or for pur- 
 poses of defense. But being both roofless, windowless, and fireless, 
 it makes only a poor lodging. The icy wind blows through a hun- 
 dred crevices ; my limbs are frozen stiff, and when morning comes 
 many of us look more dead than alive. 
 
 I asked Gondocori how the poor girls of San Andrea could pos- 
 sibly have survived so severe a journey. 
 
 “ The weaker would have died. But I did not expect this cold. 
 The winter is beginning unusually early this year. Had we been a 
 few days later we should not have got through at all, and if it be- 
 
A FIGHT FOR LIFE . 1 37 
 
 gins to snow it may go ill with us, even yet. But to-morrow the 
 worst will be over.” 
 
 The cacique had so far behaved very well, treating me as a friend 
 and an equal, and doing all he could for my comfort. His men 
 treated me as a superior. Gondocori said very little about his coun- 
 try, still less about Queen Mamcuna, whom he also called “ Great 
 Mother.” To my frequent questions on these subjects he made 
 always the same answer : “ Patience, you will see.” 
 
 He did, however, tell me that his people called their country 
 Pachatupec and themselves Pachatupecs, that the Spaniards had 
 never subdued them or even penetrated into the fastnesses where 
 they dwelt, and that they spoke the ancient language of Peru. 
 
 Gondocori admitted that his mother was a Christian, and to her 
 he no doubt owed his notions of religion and the regularity of his 
 features. She had been carried off as he meant to carry off the 
 seven maidens of the Happy Valley, for the misterios had a theory 
 that a mixture of white and Indian blood made the finest children 
 and the boldest warriors. But white wives being difficult to ob- 
 tain, mestizo, maidens had generally to be accepted, or rather, taken 
 in their stead. 
 
 We rose before daybreak and were in the saddle at dawn. The 
 ground and the streams are hard frozen, and the path is so slippery 
 that the trembling mules dare scarcely put one foot before the 
 other, and our progress is painfully slow. We are in a broad stone- 
 strewed valley, partly covered with withered puma-grass, on which a 
 flock of graceful vicunas are quietly grazing, as seemingly uncon- 
 scious of our presence as the great condors which soar above the 
 snowy peaks that look down on the plain. 
 
 As we leave the valley, through a pass no wider than a gateway, 
 the cacique gives me a word of warning. 
 
 “ The part we are coming to is the most dangerous of all,” he 
 said. “ But it is, fortunately, not long. Two hours will bring us to 
 a sheltered valley. And now leave everything to your mule. If 
 you feel nervous shut your eyes, but as you value your life neither 
 tighten your reins nor try to guide him.” 
 
 I repeat this caution to Gahra, and ask how he feels. 
 
 “Much better, sehor, the sunshine has given me new life. I 
 feel equal to anything ! ” 
 
 And now we have to travel once more in single file, for the 
 path runs along a mountain spur almost as perpendicular as a wall ; 
 
MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 138 
 
 we are between two precipices, down which even the boldest can 
 not look without a shudder. The incline, moreover, is rapid, and 
 from time to time we come to places where the ridge is so broken 
 and insecure that we have to dismount, let our mules go first, and 
 creep after them on our hands. 
 
 At the head of the file is an Indian who rides the madrina (a 
 mare) and acts as guide, next come Gondocori, myself, and Gahra, 
 followed by the other mounted Indians, three or four baggage-mules, 
 and two men on foot. 
 
 We have been going thus nearly an hour, when a sudden and 
 portentous change sets in. Murky clouds gather round the higher 
 summits and shut out the sun, a thick mist settles down on the 
 ridge, and in a few minutes we are folded in a gloom hardlJTess 
 dense than midnight darkness. 
 
 “ Halt ! ” shouts the guide. 
 
 “ What shall we do ? ” I ask the cacique , whom, though he is 
 but two yards from me, I can not see. 
 
 “ Nothing. We can only wait here till the mist clears away,” 
 he shouts in a muffled voice. 
 
 “ And how soon may that be ? ’’ 
 
 “ Quien sabe? Perhaps a few minutes, perhaps hours.” 
 
 Hours ! To stand for hours, even for one hour, immovable in 
 that mist on that ridge would be death. Since the sun disappeared 
 the cold had become keener than ever. The blood seems to be 
 freezing in my veins, my beard is a block of ice, icicles are forming 
 on my eyelids. 
 
 If this goes on— a gleam of light ! Thank Heaven, the mist 
 is lifting, just enough to enable me to see Gondocori and the guide. 
 They are quite white. It is snowing, yet so softly as not to be felt, 
 and as the fog melts the flakes fall faster. 
 
 “Let us go on,” says Gondocori. “Better roll down the preci- 
 pice than be frozen to death. And if we stop here much longer, 
 and the snow continues, the pass beyond will be blocked, and then 
 we must die of hunger and cold, for there is no going back..” 
 
 So we move on, slowly and noiselessly, amid the fast-falling 
 snow, like a company of ghosts, every man conscious that his life 
 depends on the sagacity and sure-footedness of his mule. And it 
 is wonderful how wary the creatures are. They literally feel their 
 way, never putting one foot forward until the other is firmly planted. 
 But the snow confuses them, More than once my mule slips dan- 
 
A FIGHT FOR LIFE . 
 
 139 
 
 gerously, and I am debating within myself whether I should not be 
 safer on foot, when I hear a cry in front. 
 
 “ What is it ? ” I ask Gondocori, for I can not see past him. 
 
 “ The guide is gone. The madrina slipped, and both have rolled 
 down the precipice.” 
 
 “ Shall we get off and walk ? ” 
 
 “ If you like. You will not be any safer, though you may feel so. 
 The mules are surer footed than we are, and they have four legs to 
 our two. I shall keep where I am.” 
 
 Not caring to show myself less courageous than the cacique , I 
 also keep where I am. We get down the ridge somehow without 
 further mishaps, and after a while find ourselves in a funnel-shaped 
 gully the passage of which, in ordinary circumstances, would prob- 
 ably present no difficulty. But just now it is a veritable battle- 
 field of the winds, which seem to blow from every point of the 
 compass at once. The snow dashes against our faces like spray 
 from the ocean, and whirls round us in blasts so fierce that, at 
 times, we can neither see nor hear. The mules, terrified and ex- 
 hausted, put down their heads and stand stock-still. We dis- 
 mount and try to drag them after us, but even then they refuse to 
 move. 
 
 “ If they won’t come they must die ; and unless we hurry on we 
 shall die, too. Forward!” cried Gondocori, himself setting the 
 example. 
 
 Never did I battle so hard for very life as in that gully. The 
 snow nearly blinded me, the wind took my breath away, forced me 
 backward, and beat me to the earth again and again. More than 
 once it seemed as if we should have to succumb, and then there 
 would come a momentary lull and we would make another rush and 
 and gain a little more ground. 
 
 Amid all the hurly-burly, though I can not think consecutively 
 (all the strength of my body and every faculty of my mind being 
 absorbed in the struggle), I have one fixed idea — not to lose sight 
 of Gondocori, and, except once or twice for a few seconds, I never 
 did. Where he goes I go, and when, after an unusually severe buf- 
 feting, he plunges into a snow-drift at the end of the ravine, I fol- 
 low him without hesitation. 
 
 Side by side*we fought our way through, dashing the snow aside 
 with our hands, pushing against it with our shoulders, beating it 
 down with our feet, and after a desperate struggle, which though 
 
140 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 it appeared endless could have lasted only a few minutes, the victory 
 was ours ; we were free. 
 
 I can hardly believe my eyes. The sun is visible, the sky clear 
 and blue, and below us stretches a grassy slope like a Swiss “ alp.” 
 Save for the turmoil of wind behind us and our dripping garments 
 I could believe that I had just wakened from a bad dream, so start- 
 ling is the change. The explanation is, however, sufficiently simple : 
 the area of the tour merit c is circumscribed and we have got out of 
 it, the gully merely a passage between the two mighty ramparts of 
 rock which mark the limits of the tempest and now protect us from 
 its fury. 
 
 “ But where are the others ? ” 
 
 Up to that moment I had not given them a thought. While the 
 struggle lasted thinking had not been possible. After we abandoned 
 the mules I had eyes only for Gondocori, and never once looked be- 
 hind me. 
 
 “ Where are the others ? ” I asked the cacique. 
 
 “ Smothered in the snow ; two minutes more and we also should 
 have been smothered.” 
 
 4t Let us go back and see. They may still live.” 
 
 “ Impossible ! We could not get back if we had ten times the 
 strength and were ten instead of two. Listen ! ” 
 
 The roar of the storm in the gully is louder than ever; the drift, 
 now higher than the tallest man, grows even as we look. 
 
 Fifteen men buried alive within a few yards of us, yet beyond the 
 possibility of help ! Poor Gahra ! If he had loved me less and him- 
 self more, he would still be enjoying the dolce far nioite of Happy 
 Valley, instead of lying there, stark and stiff in his frozen winding- 
 sheet. A word of encouragement, a helping hand at the last mo- 
 ment, and he might have got through. I feel as if I had deserted 
 him in his need ; my conscience reproaches me bitterly. And yet — 
 good God ! What is that ? A black hand in the snow ! 
 
 With a single bound I am there. Gondocori follows, and as I 
 seize one hand he finds and grasps the other, and we pull out of the 
 drift the negro’s apparently lifeless body. 
 
 “ He is dead,” says the cacique. 
 
 “ I don’t think so. Raise him up, and let the sun shine on him.” 
 
 I take out my pocket-flask and pour a few drops of aguardiente 
 down his throat. Presently Gahra sighs and opens his eyes, and a 
 few minutes later is able to stand up and walk about. He can tell 
 
A FI'IHT FOR LIFE . 
 
 * 4 * 
 
 very little of what passed in the gully. He had followed Gondocori 
 and myself, and was not far behind us. He remembered plunging 
 into the snow-drift and struggling on until he fell on his face, and 
 then all was a blank. None of the Indians were with him in the 
 drift ; he felt sure they were all behind him, which was likely enough, 
 as Gahra, though sensitive to cold, was a man of exceptional bodily 
 strength. It was beyond a doubt that all had perished. 
 
 “ I left Pachatupec with fifteen braves. I have lost my braves, 
 my mules, and my baggage, and all I have to show are two men, a 
 pale-face and a black-face. Not a single maiden. How will Mam- 
 cuna take it, I wonder ? ” said Gondocori, gloomily. “ Let us go on/’ 
 “You think she will be very angry ? ” 
 
 “ I do.” 
 
 “ Is she very unpleasant when she is angry ? ” 
 
 “ She generally makes it very unpleasant for others. Her favor- 
 ite punishment for offenders is roasting them before a slow fire.” 
 
 “ And yet you propose to go on ? ” 
 
 “ What else can we do ? Going back the way we came is out 
 of the question, equally so is climbing either of those mountain- 
 ranges. If we stay hereabout we shall starve. We have not a 
 morsel of food, and until we reach Pachatupec we shall get none.” 
 
 “ And when may that be ? ” 
 
 “ By this time to-morrow.” 
 
 “ Well, let us go on, then ; though, as between being starved to 
 death and roasted alive, there is not much to choose. All the same, 
 I should like to see this wonderful queen of whom you are so much 
 afraid.” 
 
 “ You would be afraid of her, too, and very likely will be before 
 you have done with her. Nevertheless, you may find favor in her 
 sight, and I have just bethought me of a scheme which, if you con- 
 sent to adopt it, may not only save our lives, but bring you great 
 honor.” 
 
 “ And what is this scheme, Gondocori ? ” 
 
 “ I will explain it later. This is no time for talk. We must push 
 on with all speed or we shall not get to the boats before nightfall.” 
 
 “ Boats ! You surely don’t mean to say that we are to travel to 
 Pachatupec by boats. Boats can not float on a frozen mountain 
 torrent ! ” 
 
 But the cacique, who was already on the march, made no answer. 
 
142 
 
 Mr. forte sc ub. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE CACIQUE’S SCHEME. 
 
 Shortly before sunset we arrived at our halting-place for the 
 night and point of departure for the morrow — a hollow in the hills, 
 hemmed in by high rocks, almost circular in shape and about a 
 quarter of a mile in diameter. The air was motionless and the 
 temperature mild, the ground covered with grass and shrubs 
 and flowers, over which hovered clouds of bright-winged butter- 
 flies. Low down in the hollow was a still and silent pool, and 
 though, so far as I could make out, it had no exit, two large 
 flat-bottomed boats and a couple of canoes were made fast to the 
 side. Hard by was a hut of sun-dried bricks, in which were slung 
 three or four grass hammocks. 
 
 There was also fuel, so we were able to make a fire and have a 
 good warming, of which we stood greatly in need. But as nothing 
 in the shape of food could be found, either on the premises or in 
 the neighborhood, we had to go supperless to bed. 
 
 Before we turned in Gondocori let us into the secret of the scheme 
 which was to propitiate Queen Mamcuna, and bring us honor and 
 renown, instead of blame and (possibly) death. 
 
 “ I shall tell her,” said the cacique, ‘‘that though I have lost my 
 braves and brought no maidens, I have brought two famous medi 
 cine-men, who come from over the seas.” 
 
 “ Very good. But how are we to keep up the character ? ” 
 
 “You must profess your ability to heal the sick and read the 
 stars.” 
 
 “ Nothing easier. But suppose we are put to the test ? Are 
 there any sick imyour country.” 
 
 “A few; Mamcuna herself is sick; you have only to cure her 
 and all will be well.” 
 
 “Very likely; but how if I fail ? ” 
 
 “ Then she would make it unpleasant for all of us.” 
 
 “ You mean she would roast us by a slow fire ? ” 
 
 “ Probably. There is no telling, though. Our Great Mother is 
 very ingenious in inventing new punishments, and to those who de- 
 ceive her she shows no mercy.” 
 
 “ I understand. It is a case of kill or cure.” 
 
 “ Exactly. If you don’t cure her she will kill you.” 
 
— 
 
 the caciques scheme. f .. 
 
 *43 
 
 * I W ' U d ° my best ’ and as 1 have seen a good deal of practical 
 surgery, helped to dress wounds and set broken limbs, and can let 
 blood, you may truthfully say that I have some slight knowledge of 
 the healing art. But as for treating a sick woman— However I 
 eave it to you, Gondocori. If you choose to introduce me to her 
 ability - “ a medidne - n,an 1 wiU act ‘he part to the best of my 
 
 “ I ask no more, senor; and if you are fortunate enough to cure 
 Mamcuna of her sickness—” 
 
 “ 0r make her believe that I have cured her.” 
 
 “That would do quite as well; you will thank me for bringing 
 you to Pachatupec, for although the queen can make things very 
 unpleasant for those who offend her, she can also make them very 
 pleasant for those whom she likes. And now, senores, as we must 
 to-morrow travel a long way fasting, let us turn into our hammocks 
 and compose ourselves to sleep.” 
 
 Excellent advice, which I was only too glad to follow. But we 
 were awake long before daylight-for albeit fatigue often acts as an 
 anodyne, hunger is the enemy of repose-and at the first streak of 
 dawn wended to the silent pool. 
 
 WPr f S T f ' nt ° the Can0e selected b y Gondocori (the boats 
 
 ,, ^ n W f ° r the trans P° rt of mules and horses) I found 
 that the water was warm, and, on tasting it, I perceived a strong 
 mineral flavor. The pool was a thermal spring, and its high tem- 
 perature fully accounted for the fertility of the hollow and the mild- 
 ness of the air . But how were we to get out of it ? For look as I 
 might, I could see no signs either of an outlet or a current. Gon- 
 ocon who acted as pilot, quickly solved the mystery. A buttress 
 of rock which m the distance looked like a part of the mass 
 
 waTth^ the 6ntranCe t0 a narrow waterway. Down this water- 
 way the cacique navigated the canoe. It ran in tortuous course be- 
 
 sirhTnf * ? SU that at tim6S We COuld see nothin S »ve a 
 strip of purple sxy, studded with stars. Here and there the 
 
 channel widened out, and we caught a glimpse of the sun ; and at 
 an immeasurable height above us towered the nevados (snowy 
 slopes) of the Cordillera. ^ y 
 
 The stream, if that can be called a stream which does not move, 
 had many branches, and we could well believe, as Gondocori told us, 
 t it was as easy to lose one’s self in this watery labyrinth as in a 
 tropical forest. In all Pachatupec there were not ten men besides 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 144 
 
 himself who could pilot a boat through its windings. He told US, 
 also, that this was the only pass between the eastern and western 
 Cordillera in that part of the Andes, that the journey from San 
 Andrea to Pachatupec by'any other route would be an affair not of 
 days but of weeks. The water was always warm and never froze. 
 Whence it came nobody could tell. Not from the melting of the snow, 
 for snow-water was cold, and this was always warm, winter and 
 summer. For his own part he thought its source was a spring, 
 heated by volcanic fires, and many others thought the same. Its 
 depth was unknown ; he himself had tried to fathom it with the 
 longest line he could find yet had never succeeded in touching 
 ground. 
 
 Meanwhile we were making good progress, sometimes paddling, 
 sometimes poling (where the channel was narrow) and toward 
 evening when, as I reckoned, we had traveled about sixty miles, we 
 shot suddenly into a charming little lake with sylvan banks and a 
 sandy beach. 
 
 Gondocori made fast the canoe to a tree, and we stepped ashore. 
 
 We are on the summit of a spur which stands out like a bastion 
 from the imposing mass of the Cordillera, through the very heart of 
 which runs the mysterious waterway we have just traversed. Two 
 thousand feet or more below is a broad plain, bounded on the west 
 by a range of gaunt and treeless hills ribbed with contorted rocks, 
 which stretch north and south farther than the eye can reach. The 
 plain is cultivated and inhabited. There are huts, fields, orchards, 
 and streams, and about a league from the foot of the bastion is a 
 large village. 
 
 “ Pachatupec ? ” I asked. 
 
 “ Si, senor, that is Pachatupec, a very fair land, as you see, and 
 yonder is Pachacamac, where dwells our queen,” said Gondocori, 
 pointing to the village ; and then he fell into a brown study, as if he 
 was not quite sure what to do next. 
 
 The sight of his home did not seem to rejoice the cacique as 
 much as might be supposed. The approaching interview with 
 Mamcuna was obviously weighing heavily on his soul, and, to tell 
 the truth, I rather shared his apprehensions. A savage queen with 
 a sharp temper who occasionally roasted people alive was not to be 
 trifled with. But as delay was not likely to help us, and I detest 
 suspense, and, moreover, felt very hungry, I suggested that we had 
 better go on to Pachacamac forthwith. 
 
THE CACIQUE'S SCHEME . 145 
 
 ri Perhaps we had. Yes, let us get it over,” he said, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 After descending the bastion by a steep zigzag we turned into a 
 pleasant foot-path, shaded by trees, and as we neared our destina- 
 tion we met (among other people) two tall Indians, whose condor- 
 skull helmets denoted their lordly rank. On recognizing Gondocori 
 (who had lost his helmet in the snow-storm and looked otherwise 
 much dilapidated) their surprise was literally unspeakable. They 
 first stared and then gesticulated. When at length they found their 
 tongues they overwhelmed him with questions, eying Gahra and 
 me the while as if we were wild animals. After a short conversa- 
 tion of which, being in their own language, I could only guess the 
 purport, the two caciques turned back and accompanied us to the 
 village. Save that there was no sign of a church, it differed little 
 from many other villages which I had met with in my travels. 
 There' were huts, mere roofs on stilts, cottages of wattle and dab, 
 and flat-roofed houses built of sun-dried bricks. Streets, there were 
 none, the buildings being all over the place, as if they had dropped 
 from the sky or sprung up hap-hazard from the ground. 
 
 About midway in the village one of the caciques left us to in- 
 form the queen of our arrival and to ask her pleasure as to my re- 
 ception. The other cacique asked us into his house, and offered us 
 refreshments. Of what the dishes set before us were composed I 
 had only the vaguest idea, but hunger is not fastidious and we ate 
 with a will. 
 
 We had hardly finished when cacique number one, entering in 
 breathless haste announced that Queen Mamcuna desired to see us 
 immediately, whereupon I suggested to Gondocori the expediency 
 of donning more courtly attire, if there was any to be got. 
 
 “ What, keep the queen waiting ! ” he exclaimed, aghast. “ She 
 would go mad. Impossible ! We must go as we are.” 
 
 Not wanting her majesty to go mad I made no further demur, 
 and we went. 
 
 The palace was a large adobe building within a walled inclosure, 
 guarded by a company of braves with long spears. We were 
 ushered into the royal presence without either ceremony or delay. 
 The queen was sitting in a hammock with her feet resting on the 
 ground. She wore a bright-colored, loosely-fitting bodice, a skirt to 
 match, and sandals. Her long black hair was arranged in tails, of 
 which there were seven on each side of her face. She was short 
 10 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 I46 
 
 and stout, and perhaps thirty years old, and though in early youth 
 she might have been well favored, her countenance now bore the 
 impress of evil passions, and the sodden look of it, as also the blood- 
 streaks in her eyes, showed that her drink was not always water. 
 At the same time, it was a powerful face, indicative, of a strong 
 character and a resolute will. Her complexion was bright cinnamon, 
 and the three or four women by whom she was attended were cos- 
 tumed like herself. 
 
 On entering the room the three caciques went on their knees, 
 and after a moment’s hesitation Gahra followed their example. I 
 thought it quite enough to make my best bow. Mamcuna then 
 motioned us to draw nearer, and when we were within easy speak- 
 ing distance she said something to Gondocori that sounded like a 
 question or a command, on which he made a long and, as I judged 
 from the vigor of his gesture and the earnestness of his manner, an 
 eloquent speech. I watched her closely and was glad to see that 
 though she frowned once or twice during its delivery she did not 
 seem very angry. I also observed that she looked at me much more 
 than at the cacique, which I took to be a favorable sign. *The 
 speech was followed by a lively dialogue between Mamcuna and the 
 cacique, after which the latter turned to me and said, as coolly as if 
 he were asking me to be seated : 
 
 “ The queen commands you to strip.” 
 
 “ Commands me to’ strip ! What do you mean ? ” 
 
 “ What I say ; you have to strip — undress, take off your clothes/* 
 “ You are joking.” 
 
 “Joking ! I should like to see the man who would dare to take 
 such a liberty in the audience-chamber of our Great Mother. Pray 
 don’t make words about it, senor. Take off your clothes without 
 any more bother, or she will be getting angry.” 
 
 “ Let her get angry. I shall do nothing of the sort — No, 
 don’t say that ; say that English gentlemen — I mean pale-face medi- 
 cine-men from over the seas, never undress in the presence of ladies, 
 their religion forbids it.” 
 
 Gondocori was about to remonstrate again when the queen inter- 
 posed and insisted on knowing what I said. When she heard that 
 I refused to obey her behest she turned purple with rage, and looked 
 as if she would annihilate me. Then her mood, or her mind, chang- 
 ing, she laughed loudly, at the same time pointing to the door and 
 making an observation to the cacique. 
 
THE CACIQUE'S SCHEME. 
 
 147 
 
 Having meanwhile reflected that I was not in an English draw- 
 ing-room, that this wretched woman could have me stripped whether 
 I would or no, and that refusal to comply with her wishes might 
 cost me my life, I asked Gondocori why the queen wanted me to 
 undress. 
 
 “ She wants to see whether your body is as hairy as your face 
 (I had not shaved since I left Naperima), and your face as fair as 
 your body.” 
 
 “Will it satisfy her if I meet her half-way— strip to the waist? 
 You can say that I never did as much for any woman before, and 
 that I would not ao it for the queen of my own country, whatever 
 might be the consequence.” 
 
 The cacique interpreted my proposal, and Mamcuna smiled as- 
 sent. “ The queen says, ‘ let it be as you say ’ ; and she charges me 
 to tell you that she is very much pleased to know that you will do 
 for her what you would not do for any other woman.” 
 
 On that I took off my upper garments and Mamcuna, rising 
 from her hammock, examined me as closely as a military surgeon 
 examines a freshly caught recruit. She felt the muscles of my arms, 
 thumped my chest, took note of the width of my back, punched my 
 ribs, and finally pulled a few hairs out of my beard. Then, smiling 
 approval, she retired to her chinchura. 
 
 “ You may put on your clothes; the inspection is over,” said 
 Gondocori. “ I am glad it has passed off so well. I was rather 
 afraid, though, when she began to pinch you.” 
 
 “ Afraid of what ? ” 
 
 “ Well, the queen is rather curious about skin and color and 
 that, and does curious things sometimes. She once had a strip of 
 skin cut out of a mestiza maiden's back, to see whether it was the 
 same color on both sides. But she seems to have taken quite a 
 liking for you ; says you are the prettiest man she ever saw ; 
 and if you cure her of her illness I have no doubt she will give you 
 a condor’s skull helmet and make you a cacique.” 
 
 “ I am greatly obliged to her Majesty, I am sure, and very thank- 
 ful she did not take a fancy to cut a piece out of my back. As for 
 curing her, I must first of all know what is the matter.” 
 
 “ Shall I ask her to describe her symptoms ?*” 
 
 “ If y° u please.” In reply to the questions which I put, through 
 Gondocori, the queen said that she suffered from headache, nausea, 
 and sleeplessness, and that, whereas only a few years ago she was 
 
MR, FOR RESCUE, 
 
 48 
 
 lithe, active, and gay, she was now heavy, indolent, and melancholy, 
 adding that she had suffered much at the hands of the late court 
 medicine-man, who did not understand her case at all, and that to 
 punish him for his ignorance and presumption she made him swal- 
 low a jarful of his own physic, from the effects of which he shortly 
 afterward expired in great agony. The place was- now vacant, and 
 if I succeeded in restoring her to health she would make me his 
 successor and always have me near her person. 
 
 I can not say that I regarded this prospect as particularly en- 
 couraging ; nevertheless, I tried to look pleased and told Gondocori 
 to assure the queen of my gratitude and devotion, and ask her to 
 show me her tongue. He put this request with evident reluctance, 
 and Mamcuna made an angry reply. 
 
 “ I knew how it would be,” said the cacique, “You have put 
 her in a rage. She thinks you want to insult her, and absolutely 
 refuses to make herself hideous by sticking out her tongue.” 
 
 “ She will of course do as she pleases. But unless she shows 
 me her tongue I can not cure her. I shall not even try. Tell 
 her so.” 
 
 To tell the truth I had really no great desire to look at the 
 woman’s tongue, but having made the request I meant to stand to 
 my guns. 
 
 After some further parley she yielded, first of all making the 
 three caciques and Gahra look the other way. The appearance of 
 her tongue confirmed the theory I had already formed that she was 
 suffering from dyspepsia, brought on by overeating and a too free 
 indulgence in the wine of the country (a sort of cider) and indolent 
 habits. 
 
 I said that if she would follow my instructions I had no doubt 
 that I could not only cure her but make her as lithe and active as 
 ever she was. Remembering, however, that as even the highly 
 civilized people object to be made whole without physic and fuss, 
 and that the queen would certainly not be satisfied with a simple 
 recommendation to take less food and more exercise, I observed 
 that before I could say anything further I must gather plants, make 
 decoctions, and consult the stars, and that my black colleague 
 should prepare a charm, which would greatly increase the potency 
 of my remedies and the chances of her recovery. 
 
 Mamcuna answered that I talked like a medicine-man who under- 
 stood his business and her case, that she would strictly obey my 
 
YOU ARE THE MAN . 
 
 149 
 
 orders, and so soon as she felt better give me a condor’s skull hel- 
 met. Meanwhile, I was to take up my quarters in her own house, 
 and she ordered the caciques to send me forthwith three suits of 
 clothes, my own, as she rightly remarked, not being suitable for a 
 man of my position. 
 
 “ Now, did not I tell you ? ” said Gondocori, as we left the room. 
 “ Oh, we are going on swimmingly ; and it is all my doing. I do 
 believe that if I had not protested that you were the greatest medi- 
 cine-man in the world,* and had come expressly to cure her, she 
 would have had you roasted or ripped up by the man-killer or 
 turned adrift in the desert, or something equally diabolical. Your 
 fate is in your own hands now. If you fail to make good your 
 promises, it will be out of my power to help you. You heard how 
 she treated your predecessor.” 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 YOU ARE THE MAN. 
 
 Early next morning I sent Gahra secretly up to the lake on 
 the bastion for a jar of chalybeate water, which, after being colored 
 with red earth and flavored with wild garlic, was nauseous enough 
 to satisfy the most exacting of physic swallowers. Then the negro 
 sacrificed a cock in the royal presence, and performed an incanta- 
 tion in the most approved African fashion, and we made the creat- 
 ure’s claws and comb into an amulet, which I requested the queen 
 to hang round her neck. 
 
 This done, I gave my instructions, assuring her that if she failed 
 in any particular to observe them my efforts would be vain, and her 
 cure impossible. She was to drink nothing but water and physic 
 (of the latter very little), eat animal food only once a day, and that 
 sparingly, and walk two hours every morning ; and finding that she 
 could ride on horseback (like a man), though she had lately aban- 
 doned the exercise, I told her to ride two hours every evening. I 
 also laid down other rules, purposely making them onerous and 
 hard to be observed, partly because I knew that a strict regimen 
 was necessary for her recovery, partly to leave myself a loop-hole, in 
 the event of her not recovering, for I felt pretty sure that she would 
 
MR. FORTE SC UE . 
 
 ISO 
 
 not do all that I had bidden her, and if she came short in any one 
 thing I should have an excuse ready to my hand. 
 
 But to my surprise she did not come short. For Mamcuna to 
 give up her cider and her flesh pots, and, flabby and fat as she 
 was, to walk and ride four hours every day, must have been very 
 hard, yet she conformed to regulations with rare resolution and self- 
 denial. As a natural consequence she soon began to mend, at first 
 slowly and almost imperceptibly, afterward rapidly and visibly, as 
 much to my satisfaction as hers ; for if my treatment had failed, I 
 could not have said that the fault was hers. 
 
 Meanwhile I was picking up information about her people and 
 acquiring a knowledge of their language, and as I was continually 
 hearing it spoken I was soon able to make myself understood. 
 
 The Pachatupecs, though heathens and savages, were more civil- 
 ized than any of the so-called Indios civilizcidos with whom I had 
 come in contact. They were clean as to their persons, bathing fre- 
 quently, and not filthy in their dwellings ; they raised crops, reared 
 cattle, and wore clothing, which for the caciques consisted of a tu- 
 nic of quilted cotton, breeches loose at the knees, and sandals. 
 The latter virtue may, however, have been due to the climate, for 
 though the days were warm the nights were chilly, and the winters 
 at times rather severe, the country being at a considerable height 
 above the level of the sea. On the other hand, the Pachatupecs 
 were truculent, gluttonous, and not very temperate ; they practiced 
 polygamy, and all the hard work devolved on the women, whose 
 husbands often brutally ill-used them. It was contrary to etiquette 
 to ask a man questions about his wives, and if you went to a ca- 
 cique’s house you were expected either to ignore their presence or 
 treat them as slaves, as indeed they were, and the condition of cap- 
 tive Christian girls was even worse than that of the native women. 
 
 Considering the light esteem in which women were held I was 
 surprised that the Pachatupecs consented to be ruled by one of the 
 sex. But Gondocori told me that Mamcuna came of a long line of 
 princes who were supposed to be descended from the Incas, and 
 when her father died, leaving no male issue, a majority of the ca- 
 ciques chose her as his successor, in part out of reverence for the 
 race, in part out of jealousy of each other and because they thought 
 she would let them do pretty much as they liked. So far from that, 
 however, she made them do as she liked, and when some of the 
 caciques raised a rebellion she too!< the field in person, beat them jn 
 
YOU ARE THE MAN. 
 
 ISI 
 
 a pitched battle, and put all the leaders and many of their followers 
 to death. Since that time there had been no serious attempt to dis- 
 pute her authority, which, so far as I could gather, she used, on the 
 whole, to good purpose. Though cruel and vindictive, she was also 
 shrewd and resolute, and semi-civilized races are not ruled with rose- 
 water. She could only maintain order by making herself feared, and 
 even civilized governments often act on the principle that the end 
 justifies the means. 
 
 Mamcuna had never married because, as she said, there was no 
 man in the country fit to mate with a daughter of the Incas ; but as 
 Gondocori and some others thought, the man did not exist with 
 whom she would consent to share her power. 
 
 The Pachatupec braves were fine horsemen and expert with the 
 lasso and the spear and very fair archers. They were bold mount- 
 aineers, too, and occasionally made long forays as far as the pampas, 
 where, I presume, they had brought the progenitors of the nandus , 
 of which there were a considerable number in the country, both 
 wild and tame. The latter were sometimes ridden, but rather as a 
 feat than a pleasuie. The largest flock belonged to the queen. 
 
 By the time I had so far mastered the language as to be able to 
 converse without much difficulty, the queen had fully regained her 
 health. This result which was of course entirely due to temper- 
 ate living and regular exercise— she ascribed to my skill, and I was 
 in high favor. She made me a cacique and court medicine-man; I 
 had quarters in her house, and horses and servants were always at 
 my disposal. Had her Majesty’s gratitude gone no further than this 
 I should have had nothing to complain of ; but she never let me 
 alone, and I had no peace. I was continually being summoned to 
 her presence ; she kept me talking for hours at a time, and never 
 went out for a ride or a walk without making me bear her company. 
 Her attentions became so marked, in fact, that I began to have an 
 awful fear that she had fallen in love with me. As to this she did 
 not leave me long in doubt. 
 
 One day, when I had been entertaining her with an account of 
 my travels, she startled me by inquiring, a ftroftos to nothing in par- 
 ticular, if I knew why she had not married. 
 
 “ Because you are a daughter of the Incas, and there is no man 
 in Pachatupec of equal rank with yourself.” 
 
 “ Once there was not, but now there is.” 
 
 I breathed again ; she surely could not mean me. 
 
152 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UE . 
 
 “ There is now — there has been for some time,” she continued 
 after a short pause. “ Know you who he is ? ” 
 
 I said that I had not the slightest idea. 
 
 “ Yourself, senor; you are the man.” 
 
 “ Impossible, Mamcuna ! I am of very inferior rank, indeed — a 
 common soldier, a mere nobody. 
 
 “You are too modest, serior; you do yourself an injustice. A 
 man with so white a skin, a beard so long, and eyes so beautiful 
 must be of royal lineage, and fit to mate even with a daughter of the 
 Incas.” 
 
 “You are quite mistaken, Mamcuna; I am utterly unworthy of 
 so great an honor.” 
 
 “You are not, I tell .you. Please don’t contradict me, senor” 
 (she always called me “senor”); “it makes me angry. You are 
 the man whom I delight to honor and desire to wed ; what would 
 you have more ? ” 
 
 “'Nothing — I would not have so much. You are too good; but 
 it would be wrong. I really can not let you throw yourself away on 
 a nameless foreigner. Besides, what would your caciques say ? ” 
 
 “If any man dares say a word against you I will have his tongue 
 torn out by the roots.” 
 
 “ But suppose I am married already— that I have left a wife in 
 my own country? ” I urged, in desperation. 
 
 “ That would not matter in the least. She is not likely to come 
 hither, and I will take care that I am your only wife in this country.” 
 
 “Your condescension quite overwhelms me. But all this is so 
 sudden ; you must really give me a little time — ” 
 
 “A little time! why? You perhaps think I am not sincere, 
 that I do not mean what I say, that I may change my mind. Have 
 no fear on that score. There shall be no delay. The preparations 
 for our wedding shall be begun at once, and ten days hence, dear 
 senor, you will be my husband.” 
 
 What could I say? I had, of course, no intention of marrying 
 her — I would as lief have married a leopardess. But had I given 
 her a peremptory negative she might have had me laid by the heels 
 without more ado, or worse. So I bowed my head and held my 
 tongue, resolving at the same time that, before the expiration of the 
 ten days’ respite, I would get out of the country or perish in the at- 
 tempt, Whereupon Mamcuna, taking my silence for consent, 
 showed great delight, patted me on the back, caressed my beard, 
 
IN THE TOILS. 
 
 153 
 
 fondled my hands, and called me her lord. Fortunately, kissing was 
 not an institution in Pachatupec. 
 
 One good result of our betrothal, if I may so call it, was that 
 the preparations for the wedding took up so much of Mamcuna’s 
 time that she had none left for me, and I had leisure and opportu- 
 nity to contrive a plan of escape, if I could, for, as I quickly discov- 
 ered, the difficulties in the way were almost if not altogether insur- 
 mountable. I could neither go back to the eastern Cordillera by the 
 road I had come, nor, without guides, find any other pass, either 
 farther north or farther south. Westward was a range of barren 
 hills bounded by a sandy desert, destitute of life or the means of 
 supporting life, and stretching to the desolate Pacific coast, whence, 
 even if I could reach it, I should have no means of getting away. 
 
 There was, moreover, nobody to whom I could appeal for coun- 
 sel or help. Gondocori thought me the most fortunate of men, and 
 was quite incapable of understanding my scruples. Gahra, albeit 
 willing to go with me, knew no more of the country than I did, and 
 there was not a man in it who could have been induced even by a 
 bribe either to act as my guide or otherwise connive at my escape ; 
 and I had no inducement to offer. 
 
 Nevertheless, the opportunity I was looking for came, as oppor- 
 tunities often do come, spontaneously and unexpectedly, yet in 
 shape so questionable that it was open to doubt whether, if I ac- 
 cepted it, my second condition would not be worse than my first. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 IN THE TOILS. 
 
 Five days after I had been wooed by the irresistible Mamcuna, 
 and as I was beginning to fear that I should have to marry her first 
 and run away afterward, I chanced to be riding in the neighborhood 
 of the village, when a woman darted out of the thicket and, stand- 
 ing before my horse, held up her arms imploringly. I had never 
 spoken to her, but I knew her as the white wife of one of the ca- 
 ciques. 
 
 “ Save me, senor ! ” she exclaimed, “ for the love of heaven and 
 in the name of our common Christianity, I implore you to save me ! ” 
 
154 
 
 MR. FORTE SC US, 
 
 “From what? ” 
 
 “ From my wretched life, from despair, degradation, and death/’ 
 And then she told me that, while traveling in the mountains with 
 her husband, a certain Senor de la Vega, and several friends, they 
 were set upon by a band of Pachatupecs who, after killing all the 
 male members of the party, carried her off and brought her to 
 Pachacamac, where she had been compelled to become one of the 
 wives of the cacique Chimu, and that between his brutality and 
 the jealousy of the other women, her life, apart from its ignominy, 
 was so utterly wretched that, unless she could escape, she must 
 either go mad or be driven to commit suicide. 
 
 “ I should be only too glad to rescue you if I could. I want to 
 escape myself; but how? I see no way.” 
 
 “ It is not so difficult as you think, senor ; if we can get horses 
 and a few hours’ start, I will act as guide and lead you to a civilized 
 settlement, where we shall be safe from pursuit. I know the coun- 
 try well.” 
 
 “ Are you quite sure you can do this, senora ? It will be a haz- 
 ardous enterprise, remember.” 
 
 “ Quite sure.” 
 
 “ And you are prepared to incur the risk ? ” 
 
 “ I will run any risk rather than stay where I am.” 
 
 “ Very well, I will see what can be done. Meet me here to- 
 morrow at this hour. And now, we had better separate ; if we are 
 seen together it will be bad for both of us. Hasta manana .” 
 
 And then she went her Way and I went mine. 
 
 I had said truly “a hazardous enterprise.” Hazardous and diffi- 
 cult in any circumstances, the hazard and the difficulty would be 
 greatly increased by the presence of a woman; and the fact of a 
 cacique’s wife being one of the companions of my flight would add 
 to the inveteracy of the pursuit. I greatly doubted, moreover, 
 whether Senora de la Vega knew the country as well as she as- 
 serted. She was so sick of her wretched condition that she would 
 say or do anything to get away from it — and no wonder. But was 
 I justified in letting her run the risk ? The punishment of a woman 
 who deserted her husband was death by burning ; were Senora de 
 la Vega caught, this punishment would be undoubtedly inflicted; 
 were it even suspected that she had met me or any other man ; se- 
 cretly, Chimu would almost certainly kill her. Pachatupec hus- 
 bands had the power q{ life and death oyer their wives, and they 
 
IN THE TOILS , 
 
 iS5 
 
 were as jealous and as cruel as Moors, Yet death were better than 
 the life she was compelled to lead, and as she was fully cognizant 
 of the risk it seemed my duty to do all that I could to facilitate her 
 escape. 
 
 Then another thought occurred to me. Could this be a trap, a 
 “put up job,” as the phrase goes. Though the caciques had not 
 dared to make any open protest against Mamcuna’s matrimonial 
 project, I knew that they were bitterly opposed to it, and nothing, I 
 felt sure, would please them better than to kindle the queens jeal- 
 ousy by making it appear that I was engaged in an intrigue with one 
 of Chi mu’s wives. 
 
 Yet no, I could not believe it. No Christian woman would play 
 so base a part. Senora de la Vega could have no interest in betray- 
 ing me. She hated her savage husband too heartily to be the vol- 
 untary instrument of my destruction, and she was so utterly wretched 
 that I pitied her from my soul. 
 
 A creole of pure Spanish blood and noble family, bereft of her 
 husband, forced to become the slave of a brutal Indian and the con- 
 stant associate of hardly less brutal women, painfully conscious of 
 her degradation, hopeless of any amendment of her lot, poor Senora 
 de la Vega’s fate would have touched the hardest heart. And she 
 had little children at home ! My suspicions vanished even more 
 quickly than they had been conceived, and before I reached my quar- 
 ters I had decided that, come what might, the attempt should be 
 made. 
 
 The next question was how and when. Clearly, the sooner the 
 better ; but whether we had better set off at sunrise or sunset was 
 open to doubt. By leaving at sunset we should be less easily fol- 
 lowed ; on the other hand, we should have greater difficulty in find- 
 ing our way, and be sooner missed. It was generally about sunset 
 that Mamcuna sent for me, and I knew that at this time it would be 
 well-nigh impossible for Senora de la Vega to leave Chimu’s house 
 without being observed and questioned, perhaps followed. So when 
 we met as agreed, I told her that I had decided to make the attempt 
 on the next morning, and asked her to be in a grove of plantains, 
 hard by, an hour before dawn. I besought her, whatever she did, 
 to be punctual ; our lives depended on our stealing away before 
 people were stirring. 
 
 Meanwhile Gahra and I had laid our plans. He was to give 
 oiit the night before that we were setting off early next morning 
 
MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 156 
 
 on a hunting expedition. This would enable us, without exciting 
 suspicion, to take a supply of provisions, arms, and a led horse (for 
 carrying any game we might kill) and, as I hoped, give us a long 
 start. For even when Senora de la Vega was missed nobody would 
 suspect that she had gone with us. 
 
 In the event — as we hoped, the improbable event — of our being 
 overtaken or intercepted, Gahra and I were resolved not to be taken 
 alive ; but we had, unfortunately, no firearms ; they were all lost 
 in the snow-storm. Our only weapons were bows and arrows and 
 machetes. I carried the former merely as a make-believe, to keep 
 up my character as hunter ; for the same reason we took with us a 
 brace of dogs. If it came to fighting I should have to put my trust 
 in my machete , a long broad-bladed sword like a knife, formidable 
 as a lethal weapon, yet chiefly used for clearing away brambles and 
 cutting down trees. 
 
 All went well at the beginning. We were up betimes and off 
 with our horses before daylight. The braves on duty asked no 
 questions, there was no reason why they should, and we passed 
 through the village without meeting a soul. 
 
 So far, good. The omens seemed favorable, and my hopes ran 
 high. We should get off without anybody knowing which way we 
 had taken, and several hours before Senora de la Vega was likely to 
 be missed. 
 
 But when we reached the rendezvous she was not there. I 
 whistled and called softly ; nobody answered, 
 
 “ She will he here presently, we must wait,” I said to Gahra, 
 
 It was terribly annoying. Every minute was precious. The 
 Pachatupecs are early risers, and if Senora de la Vega did not join us 
 before daylight we might be seen and the opportunity lost. The 
 sun rose ; still she did not come, and I had just made up my mind 
 to put off our departure until the next morning, and try to communi- 
 cate with Senora de la Vega in the meantime, when Gahra pointed 
 to a pathway in the wood, where his sharp eyes had detected the 
 fluttering of a robe. 
 
 At last she was coming. But too late. To start at that time 
 would be madness, and I was about to tell her so, send her back, and 
 ask her to meet us on the next morning, when she ran forward with 
 terrified face and uplifted hands. 
 
 “ Save me ! Save me!” she cried, “ I could not get away 
 sooner. I have been watched. They are following me, even now.” 
 
IN THE TOILS. 
 
 15 ; 
 
 This was a frightful misfortune, and I eared that the senora 
 had acted very imprudently. But it was no time either for re- 
 proaches or regrets, and the words were scarcely out of her mouth 
 when I lifted her into the saddle ; as I did so, I caught sight- of two 
 horsemen and several foot-people, coming down the pathway. 
 
 “ Go ! ■’ I said to Gahra, “ I shall stay here.” 
 
 “ But, senor — ” 
 
 u Go, I say ; as you love me, go at once. This lady is in your 
 charge. Take good care of her. I can keep these fellows at bay 
 until you are out of sight and, if possible, I will follow. At once, 
 please, at once ! ” 
 
 They went, Gahra’s face expressing the keenest anguish, the 
 senora half dead with fear. As they rode away I turned into the 
 pathway and prepared for the encounter. The foot-people might 
 do as they liked, they could not overtake the fugitives, but I was 
 resolved that the horsemen should only pass over my body. 
 
 The foremost of them was Chimu himself. When he saw that 
 I had no intention of turning aside, he and his companion (who 
 rode behind him) reined in their horses. The cacique was quiver- 
 ing with rage. 
 
 “ My wife has gone off with your negro,” he said, hoarsely. 
 
 I made no answer. 
 
 “ I saw you help her to mount. You have met her before 
 Mamcuna shall know of this, and my wife shall die.” 
 
 Still I made no answer. 
 
 “ Let me pass ! ” 
 
 I drew my machete. 
 
 Chimu drew his and came at me, but he was so poor a swords- 
 man, that I merely played with him, my object being to gain time, 
 and only when the other fellow tried to push past me and get to my 
 left-rear, did I cut the cacique down. On this his companion bolted 
 the way he had come. I galloped after him, more with the inten- 
 tion of frightening than hurting him, and was just on the point of 
 turning back and following the fugitives, when something dropped 
 over my head, my arms were pinioned to my side, and I was dragged 
 from my saddle. 
 
 The foot-people had lassoed me. 
 
MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 158 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE MAN-KILLER. 
 
 I WAS as helpless as a man in a strait waistcoat. When I 
 tried to rise, my captors tautened the rope and dragged me along 
 the ground. Resistance being futile, I resigned myself to my fate. 
 
 n seeing what had happened, the flying brave (a kinsman of 
 Chimu s) returned, and he and the others held a palaver. As 
 Mamcuna’s affianced husband, I was a person of importance, and 
 they were evidently at a loss how to dispose of me. If they treated 
 me roughly, they might incur her displeasure. The discussion was 
 long and rather stormy. In the result, I was asked whether I 
 would go with them quietly to the queen’s house or be taken thither, 
 nolens volens. On answering that I would go quietly, I was un- 
 bound and allowed to mount my horse. 
 
 I do not think I am a coward, and in helping Sefiora de la Vega 
 to escape and sending her off with Gahra. I knew that I had done 
 the right thing. Yet I looked forward to the approaching inter- 
 view with some misgiving. Barbarian though Mamcuna was, I 
 could not help entertaining a certain respect for her. She had 
 treated me handsomely ; in offering to make me her husband she 
 had paid me the greatest compliment in her power; and how little 
 soever you may reciprocate the sentiment, it is impossible to think 
 altogether unkindly of the woman who has given you her love 
 And my conscience was not free from reproach ; I had let her think 
 that I loved her— as I now perceived, a great mistake. Courageous 
 herself, she could appreciate courage in others, and had I boldly and 
 unequivocally refused her offer and given my reasons, I did not be- 
 lieve she would have dealt hardly with me. 
 
 As it was, Mamcuna might well say that, having deliberately 
 deceived her, I deserved the utmost punishment which it was in her 
 power to inflict. At the same time, I was not without hope that 
 when she heard my defense she would spare my life. 
 
 . the tlme we reached the queen’s house my escort had swollen 
 into a crowd, and one of the caciques went in to inform Mamcuna 
 wnat haa befallen and ask for her instructions. 
 
 In a few minutes he brought word that the queen would see me 
 and the people who had taken part in my capture forthwith. We 
 found her sitting in her chinchura, in the room where she and I 
 
THE MAti-KIlLER. 
 
 first met. Rather to my surprise she was calm and collected ; yet 
 there was a convulsive twitching of her lips and an angry glitter in 
 her eyes that boded ill for my hopes of pardon. 
 
 “ Is it true, this they tell me, senor— that you have been helping 
 Chimu 's white wife to escape, and killed Chimu ? ” she asked. 
 
 “ It is true.” 
 
 “ So you prefer this wretched pale-face woman to me ? ” 
 
 “No, Mamcuna.” 
 
 “ wh Y> ther >, did you help her to escape and kill her husband ? 
 Don’t trifle with me.” 
 
 “ Because I pitied her.” 
 
 “Why?” 
 
 “Chimu treated her ill, and she was very wretched. She 
 wanted to go back to her own country, and she has little children 
 at home.” 
 
 “What was her wretchedness to you? Did you not know 
 that you were incurring my displeasure and risking your own life ? ” 
 
 “ I did. But a Christian cabellero holds it his duty to protect 
 the weak and deliver the oppressed, even at the risk of his own 
 life.” 
 
 Mamcuna looked puzzled. The sentiment was too fine for her 
 comprehension. 
 
 “You talk foolishness, sefior. No man would run into danger 
 for a woman whom he did not desire to make his own.” 
 
 “ I had no desire to make Senora de la Vega my wife. I would 
 have done the same for any other woman.” 
 
 “For any other woman! Would you risk your life for me, 
 senor ? ” 
 
 “ Surely, Mamcuna, if you were in sorrow or distress and I could 
 do you any good thereby.” 
 
 “It is well, senor ; your voice has the ring of truth,” said the 
 queen, softly and with a gratified smile, “ and inasmuch as you went 
 not away with Chimu’s pale-faced wife, but let her depart with the 
 negro — ” 
 
 “ The senor would have gone also had we not hindered him,” 
 interposed Chimu s kinsman. “ We saw him lift the woman into 
 the saddle, and he was turning to follow her when Lurin caught 
 him with the lasso.” 
 
 “ Is this true ; would you have gone with the woman ? ” asked 
 the queen, sternly, her smile changing into an ominous frown. 
 
loo 
 
 MR. Porte scUE. 
 
 “ It is true ; but let me explain—” 
 
 “ Enough, I will not hear another word. So you would have left 
 me, a daughter of the Incas, who have honored you above all other 
 men, and gone away with a woman you say you do not love ! Your 
 heart is full of deceit, your mouth runs over with lies. You shall 
 die ; so shall the white woman and the black slave. Where are 
 they ? Bring them hither.” 
 
 The caciques and braves who were present stared at each other 
 in consternation. In their exultation and excitement over my capt- 
 ure the fugitives had been forgotten. 
 
 “Mules! Idiots! Old women! Follow them and bring them 
 back. They shall be burned in the same fire. As for you, sefior, be- 
 cause you cured me of my sickness and were to have been my hus- 
 band I will let you choose the method of your death. You may 
 either be roasted before a slow fire, hacked to pieces with machetes , 
 or fastened on the back of the man-killer and sent to perish in the 
 desert. Choose.” 
 
 “Just one word of explanation, Mamcuna. I would fain — ” 
 
 “ Silence ! or I will have your tongue torn out by the roots. 
 Choose ! ” 
 
 “ I choose the man-killer.” 
 
 “You think it will be an easier death than being hacked to 
 pieces. You are wrong. The vultures will peck out your eyes, and 
 you will die of hunger and thirst. But as you have said so let it be. 
 Tie him to the back of the man-killer, men, and chase it into the 
 desert. If you let him escape you die in his place. But treat him 
 with respect ; he was nearly my husband.” 
 
 And then Mamcuna, sinking back into her chinchura , covered 
 her face with her hands ; but she showed no sign of relenting, and 
 I was bound with ropes and hurried from the room. 
 
 The man-killer was a nandu * belonging to the’ queen, and had 
 gained his name by killing one man and maiming several others 
 who unwisely approached him when he was in an evil temper. Save 
 for an occasional outburst of homicidal mania and his abnormal size 
 and strength, the man-killer did not materially differ from the other 
 nandus of Mamcuna’s flock. His keeper controlled the bird without 
 difficulty, and I had several times seen him mount and ride it round 
 an inclosure. 
 
 * The American ostrich. 
 
The man-killer. 
 
 i6r 
 
 The desert, as 1 have already mentioned, lies between the Cor- 
 dillera and the Pacific Ocean, stretching almost the entire length of 
 the Peruvian coast, with here and there an oasis watered by one or 
 other of the few streams which do not lose themselves in the sand 
 before they reach the sea. It is a rainless, hideous region of naked 
 rocks and whirling sands, destitute of fresh water and animal life, 
 a region into which, except for a short distance, the boldest traveler 
 cares not to venture. 
 
 After leaving the queen's house I was placed in charge of a party 
 of braves commanded by a cacique, and we set out for the place 
 where my expiation was to begin. The nandu, led by his keeper 
 and another man, of course, went with us. My conductors, albeit 
 they made no secret of their joy over my downfall, did their mis- 
 tress’s bidding, and treated me with respect. They loosed my 
 bonds, taking care, however, so to guard me as to render escape im- 
 possible, and, when we halted, gave me to eat and drink. But their 
 talk was not encouraging. In their opinion nothing could save me 
 from a horrible death, probably of thirst. The best that I could 
 hope for was being smothered in a sandstorm. The man-killer 
 would probably go on till he dropped from exhaustion, and then, 
 whether I was alive or dead, birds of prey would pick out my eyes 
 and tear the flesh from my bones. 
 
 About midday we reached the mountain- range which divides 
 Pachatupec from the desert. Anything more lonesome and 
 depressing it were impossible to conceive. Not a tree, not a 
 shrub, not a blade of grass nor any green thing; neither running 
 stream nor gleam of water could be seen. It was a region in 
 which the blessed rain of heaven had not fallen for untold ages, 
 a region of desolation and death, of naked peaks, rugged preci- 
 pices, and rocky ravines. The heat from the overhead sun, inten- 
 sified by the reverberations from the great masses of rock around 
 us, and unrelieved by the slightest breath of air, was well-nigh suf- 
 focating. 
 
 Into this plutonic realm we plunged, and, after a scorching ride, 
 reached the head of a pass which led straight down to the desert. 
 Here the cacique in command of the detachment told me, rather to 
 my surprise, that we were to part company. They were already a 
 long way from home and saw no reason why they should go farther. 
 The desert, albeit four or five leagues distant, was quite visible, and, 
 once started down the pass, the nandu would be bound to go thither. 
 
 Ii 
 
1 62 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 He could not climb the rocks to the right or the left, and the braves 
 would take care that he did not return. 
 
 As objection, even though I had felt disposed to make it, would 
 have been useless, I bowed acquiescence. The thought of resisting 
 had more than once crossed my mind, and, by dint of struggling 
 and fighting, I might have made the nandu so restive that I could 
 not have been fastened on his back. But in that case my second 
 condition would have been worse than my first; I should have been 
 taken back to Pachatupec and either burned alive or hacked to 
 pieces, and, black as seemed the outlook, I clung to the hope that 
 the man-killer would somehow be the means of saving my life. 
 
 The binding was effected with considerable difficulty. It re- 
 quired the united strength of nearly all the braves to hold the nandu 
 while the cacique and the keepers secured me on his back. As he 
 was let go he kicked out savagely, ripping open with his terrible 
 claws one of the men who had been holding him. The next mo- 
 ment he was striding down the steep and stony pass at a speed 
 which, in a few minutes, left the pursuing and shouting Pachatu- 
 pecs far behind. The ground was so rough and the descent so 
 rapid that I expected every moment we should come to grief. But 
 on we went like the wind. Never in my life, except in an express- 
 train, was I carried so fast. The great bird was either wild with 
 rage or under the impression that he was being hunted. The speed 
 took my breath away ; the motion made me sick. He must have 
 done the fifteen miles between the head of the pass and the begin- 
 ning of the desert in little more than as many minutes. Then, the 
 ground being covered with sand and comparatively level, the nandu 
 slackened his speed somewhat, though he still went at a great pace. 
 
 The desert was a vast expanse of white sand, the glare of which, 
 in the bright sunshine, almost blinded me, interspersed with stretches 
 of rock, swept bare by the wind, and loose stones. 
 
 Instead of turning to the right or left, that is to say, to the north 
 or south, as I hoped and expected he would, the man-killer ran 
 straight on toward the sea. As for the distance of the coast from 
 that part of the Cordillera I had no definite idea — perhaps thirty 
 miles, perhaps fifty, perhaps more. But were it a hundred we should 
 not be long in going thither at the speed we were making ; and 
 vague hopes, suggesting the possibility of signaling a passing ship 
 or getting away by sea, began to shape themselves in my mind. 
 The nandu could not go on forever ; before reaching the sea he 
 
THE MAN-KILLER. 
 
 163 
 
 must either alter his course or stop, and if he stopped only a few 
 minutes and so gave me a chance of steadying myself I thought 
 that, by the help of my teeth, I might untie one of the cords which 
 the movements of the bird and my own efforts had already slightly 
 loosened, and once my arms were freed the rest would be easy. 
 
 An hour (as nearly as I could judge) after leaving the Cordillera 
 I sighted the Pacific — a broad expanse of blue water shining in the 
 sun and stretching to the horizon. How eagerly I looked for a sail, 
 a boat, the hut of some solitary fisherman, or any other sign of 
 human presence ! But I saw nothing save water and sand ; the 
 ocean was as lonesome as the desert. There was no salvation 
 thitherward. 
 
 Though my hope had been vague, my disappointment was bit- 
 ter ; but a few minutes later all thought of it was swallowed up in 
 a new fear. The sea was below me, and as the ground had ceased 
 to fall I knew that the desert must end on that side in a line of lofty 
 cliffs. I knew, also, that nandus are among the most stupid of 
 bipeds, and it was just' conceivable that the man-killer, not perceiv- 
 ing his danger until too late, might go over the cliffs into the sea. 
 
 The hoarse roar of the waves as they surge against the rocks, 
 at first faint, grows every moment louder and deeper. I see dis- 
 tinctly the land’s end, and mentally calculate from the angle it makes 
 with the ocean, the height of the cliffs. 
 
 Still the man-killer strides on, as straight as an arrow and as 
 resolutely as if a hundred miles of desert, instead of ten thousand 
 miles of water, stretched before him. Three minutes more and— I 
 set my teeth hard and draw a deep breath. At any rate, it will be 
 an easier end than burning, or dying of thirst— Another moment 
 and — - 
 
 But now the nandu, seeing that he will soon be treading the air, 
 makes a desperate effort to stop short, in which failing he wheels 
 half round, barely in time to save his life and mine, and then courses 
 madly along the brink for miles, as if unable to tear himself away, 
 keeping me in a state of continual fear, for a single slip, or an acci- 
 dental swerve to the right, and we should have fallen headlong down 
 the rocks, against which the waves are beating. 
 
 As night closes in he gradually — to my inexpressible relief — draws 
 inland, making in a direction that must sooner or later take us back 
 to the Cordillera, though a long way south of the pass by which we 
 had descended to the desert. But I have hardly sighted the outline 
 
164 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UE. 
 
 of the mighty barrier, looming portentously in the darkness, when 
 he alters his course once again, wending this time almost due 
 south. And so he continues for hours, seldom going straight, now 
 inclining toward the coast, anon facing toward the Cordillera, but 
 always on the southward tack, never turning to the north. 
 
 It was a beautiful night. The splendor of the purple sky with 
 its myriads of lustrous stars was in striking contrast with the same- 
 ness of the white and deathlike desert. A profound melancholy 
 took hold of me. I had ceased to fear, almost to think, my per- 
 ceptions were blinded by excitement and fatigue, my spirits op- 
 pressed by an unspeakable sense of loneliness and helplessness, and 
 the awful silence, intensified rather than relieved by the long drawn 
 moaning of the unseen ocean, which, however far I might be from 
 it, was ever in my ears. 
 
 I looked up at the stars, and when the cross began to bend I 
 knew that midnight was past, and that in a few hours would dawn 
 another day. What would it bring me — life or death ? I hardly 
 cared which ; relief from the torture and suspense I was enduring 
 would be welcome, come how it might. For I suffered cruelly ; I 
 had a terrible thirst. The cords chafed my limbs arid cut into my 
 flesh. Every movement gave an exquisite pain ; I was continually on 
 the rack ; rest, even for a moment, was impossible, as, though the 
 nandu had diminished his speed, he never stopped. And then a 
 wind came up from the sea, bringing with it clouds of dust, which 
 well-nigh choked and half blinded me ; filled my ears and intensi- 
 fied my thirst. After a while a strange faintness stole over me ; I 
 felt as if I were dying, my eyes closed, my head sank on my breast, 
 and I remembered no more. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ANGELA. 
 
 “ Reg ardez won fibre , regardez ! II va mieux , le fiauvre 
 hommeT 
 
 “ C* est ga, ma fille cherie, f ait es le boire T 
 I open my eyes with an effort, for the dust of the desert has al- 
 most blinded me. 
 
ANGELA.. 
 
 165 
 
 I am in a beautiful garden, leaning against the body of the dead 
 ostrich, a lovely girl is holding a cup of water to my parched lips, 
 and an old man of benevolent aspect stands by her side. 
 
 “ Merely mademoiselle , votes etes bien bonne ,” I murmur. 
 
 “ Oh, father, he speaks French.” 
 
 “ This passes comprehension. Are you French, monsieur ? ” 
 
 “ No, English.” 
 
 “English! This is stranger still. But whence come you, and 
 who bound you on the nandu ? ” 
 
 I will tell you a little more water, I pray you, mademoi- 
 selle.” 
 
 " Let him drink again, Angela — and dash some water in his face ; 
 he is faint.” 
 
 Le ftauvre homtne ! See how his lips are swollen! Do you 
 feel better, monsieur?” she asked, compassionately, again putting 
 the cup to my lips. 
 
 Much. A thousand thanks. I can answer your question now 
 (to the old man). I was bound on the nandu by order of the queen 
 of the Pachatupec Indians.” 
 
 “ The Pachatupec Indians ! I have heard of them. But they 
 are a long way off ; more than a hundred leagues of desert lies 
 between us and the Pachatupec country. Are you quite sure, mon- 
 sieur? ” 
 
 “ Quite. And seeing that the nandu went at a great speed, 
 though not always in a direct line, and we must have been going 
 fifteen or sixteen hours, I am not surprised that we have traveled 
 so far.” 
 
 “ Mon dieu / And all that time you have neither eaten nor 
 drunk, No wonder you are exhausted ! Come with us, and we 
 will give you something more invigorating than water. You shall 
 tell us your story afterward — if you will.” 
 
 I tried to rise, but my stiffened and almost paralyzed limbs re- 
 fused to move. 
 
 “ Let us help you. Take hi«s other arm, Angela — thus, Now ! ” 
 And with that they each gave me a hand and raised me to my 
 feet. 
 
 “ How was it? Who killed the nandu ? ” I asked, as I hobbled 
 on between them. 
 
 “ We saw the creature coming toward us with what looked like 
 a dead man on his back, and as he did not seem disposed to stop I 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE , 
 
 1 66 
 
 told Angela, who is a famous archer, to draw her bow and shoot 
 him. He fell dead where he now lies, and when we saw that, 
 though unconscious, you still lived, we unloosed you.” 
 
 “ And saved my life. Might I ask to whom I am indebted for 
 this great service, and to what beautiful country the nandu has 
 brought me?” 
 
 “Say nothing about the service, my dear sin Helping each 
 other in difficulty and distress is a duty we owe to Heaven and our 
 common humanity. I count your coming a great blessing. You 
 are the first visitor we have had for many years, and the Abbe 
 Balthazar gives you a warm welcome to San Cristobal de Quipai. 
 The name is of good omen, Quipai being an Indian word which 
 signifies ‘ Rest Here,’ and I shall be glad for you to rest here so 
 long as it may please you.” 
 
 “Nigel Fortescue, formerly an officer in the British Army, at 
 present a fugitive and a wanderer, tenders you his warmest thanks, 
 and gratefully accepts your hospitality — And now that we know 
 each other, Monsieur l’Abbe, might I ask the favor of an introduc- 
 tion to the young lady to whom I owe my deliverance from the 
 nandu ? ” 
 
 “ She is Angela, monsieur. My people call her Senorita Angela. 
 It pleases me sometimes to speak of her as Angela Dieu-donn£e, 
 for she was sent to us by God, and ever since she came among us 
 she has been our good angel,” 
 
 “ I am sure she has. Nobody with so sweet a face could be 
 otherwise than good,” I said, with an admiring glance at the beau- 
 tiful girl which dyed the damask of her cheek a yet deeper crim- 
 son. 
 
 It was no mere compliment. In all my wanderings I have not 
 beheld the equal of Angela Dieu-donnee. Though I can see her 
 now, though I learned to paint in order that, however inadequately, 
 I might make her likeness, I am unable to describe her ; words can 
 give no idea of the comeliness of her face, the grace of her move- 
 ments, and the shapeliness of her form. I have seen women with 
 skins as fair, hair as dark, eyes as deeply blue, but none with the 
 same brightness of look and sweetness of disposition, none with 
 courage as high, temper as serene. 
 
 To look at Angela was to love her, though as yet I knew not 
 that I had regained my liberty only to lose my heart. My feelings 
 at the moment oscillated between admiration of her and a painful 
 
ANGELA , 
 
 167 
 
 sense of my own disreputable appearance. Bareneaded and shoe- 
 less, covered with the dust of the desert, clad only in a tom shirt 
 and ragged trousers, my arms and legs scored with livid marks, I 
 must have seemed a veritable scarecrow. Angela looked like a 
 queen, or would have done were queens ever so charming, or so be- 
 comingly attired. Her low-crowned hat was adorned with beauti- 
 ful flowers ; a loose-fitting alpacca robe of light blue set off her 
 form to the best advantage, and round her waist was a golden 
 baldrick which supported a sheaf of arrows. At her breast was an 
 orchid which in Europe would have been almost priceless, her 
 shapely arms were bare to the shoulder, and her sandaled feet were 
 innocent of hosen. 
 
 I was wondering who could have designed this costume, in 
 which there was a savor of the pictures of Watteau and the court 
 of Versailles, how so lovely a creature could have found her way to 
 a place so remote as San Cristobal de Quipai, when the abbe re- 
 sumed the conversation. 
 
 “ Angela came to us as strangely and unexpectedly as you have 
 come, Monsieur Nigel ” (he found my Christian name the easier to 
 pronounce), “and, like you, without any volition on her part or 
 previous knowledge of our existence. But there is this difference 
 between you : she came as a little child, you come as a grown man. 
 Sixteen years ago we had several severe earthquakes. They did us 
 little harm down here, but up on the Cordillera they wrought fearful 
 havoc, and the sea rose and there was a great storm, and several 
 ships were dashed to pieces against our iron-bound coast, which no 
 mariner willingly approaches. The morning after the tempest there 
 was found on the edge of the cliffs a cot in which lay a rosy-cheeked 
 babe. How it came to pass none could tell, but we all thought 
 that the cot must have been fastened to a board, which became de- 
 tached from the cot at the very moment when the sea threw it on 
 the land. The babe was just able to lisp her name — ‘Angela,’ 
 which corresponded with the name embroidered on her clothing. 
 This is all we know about her; and I greatly fear that those to 
 whom she belonged perished in the storm. Even the wreckage 
 that was washed ashore furnished no clew ; it was part of two dif- 
 ferent vessels. The little waif was brought to me and with me she 
 has ever since remained.” 
 
 “ And will always remain, dear father,” said Angela, regarding 
 the old priest with loving reverence. " All that I lost in the storm 
 
1 68 
 
 MR. FOR FESCUE. 
 
 has he been to me — father, mother, instructor, and friend. Ycu see 
 here, monsieur, the best and wisest man in all the world.” 
 
 “You have had so wide an experience of the world and of men, 
 mignonne /” returned the abbe, with an amused smile. “Sir! 
 since she could speak she has seen two white men. You are the 
 second. Ah, well, if I were not afraid you would think we had 
 constituted ourselves into a mutual admiration society I should be 
 tempted to say something even more complimentary about her.” 
 
 Say it, Monsieur 1 Abbe, say it, I pray you,” I exclaimed 
 eagerly, for it pleased me more than I can teirto hear him sound 
 Angela’s praises. 
 
 “ Nay, I would rather you learned to appreciate her from your 
 own observation. Yet I will say this much. She is the brightness 
 of my life, the solace of my old age, and so good that even praise 
 does not spoil her. But you look tired ; shall we sit down on this 
 fallen log and rest a few minutes ? ” 
 
 To this proposal I gladly assented, for I was spent with fatigue 
 and faint with hunger. Angela, however, after glancing at me com- 
 passionately and saying she would be back in a few minutes, went 
 a little farther and presently returned with a bunch of grapes. 
 
 “Eat these,” she said, “they will refresh you.” 
 
 It was a simple act of kindness ; but a simple act of kindness, 
 gracefully performed, is often an index of character, and I felt sure 
 that the girl had a kind heart and deserved all the praises bestowed 
 on her by the abbe. 
 
 I was thanking her, perhaps more warmly than the occasion re- 
 quired, when she stopped the flow of my eloquence by reminding 
 me that I had not yet told them why the Indian queen caused me 
 to be fastened on the back of the nandu . 
 
 On this hint I spoke, and though the abbe suggested that I was 
 too tired for much talking, I not only answered the question but 
 briefly narrated the main facts of my story, reserving a fuller ac- 
 count for a future occasion. 
 
 Both listened with rapt attention ; but of the two Angela was 
 the more eager listener. She several times interrupted me with re- 
 quests for information as to matters which even among European 
 children are of common knowledge, for, though the abbe was a man 
 of high learning and she an apt pupil, her experience of life was 
 limited to Quipai ; and he had been so long out of the world that 
 be had almost forgotten it As for news, he wns worse off than 
 
ANGELA . 
 
 169 
 
 Fray Ignacio. He had heard of the First Consul but nothing of 
 the Emperor Napoleon, and when I told him of the restoration of 
 the Bourbons he shed tears of joy. 
 
 “ Thank God ! ” he exclaimed, fervently, “ France is once more 
 ruled by a son of St. Louis. The tricolor is replaced by the fleur - 
 de-lis. You are our second good angel, Monsieur Fortescue; you 
 bring us glad tidings of great joy— You smile, but I am per- 
 suaded that Providence -has led you hither in so strange a way for 
 some good purpose, and, as I venture to hope, in answer to my 
 prayers ; for albeit our lives here are so calm and happy, and I have 
 been the means of bringing a great work to a successful issue, it is 
 not in the nature of things that men should be free from care, and 
 my mind has lately been troubled with forebodings — ” 
 
 “ And you never told me, father ! ” said Angela, reproachfully. 
 “ What are they, these forebodings ? ” 
 
 “Why should you be worried with an old man’s difficulties? 
 One has reference to my people, the other— but never mind the 
 other. It may be that already a way has been opened. — If 
 you feel sufficiently rested, Monsieur Nigel, I think we had better 
 proceed. A short walk will bring us to San Cristobal, and it would 
 be well for us to get thither before the heat of the day.” 
 
 I protested that the rest and the bunch of grapes had so 
 much refreshed me that I felt equal to a long walk, and we moved 
 on. 
 
 “ What a splendid garden ! ” I exclaimed for the third or fourth 
 time as we entered an alley festooned with trailing flowers and 
 grape-vines from which the fruit hung in thick clusters. 
 
 “ All Quipai is a garden,” said the abbe, proudly. “ We have 
 fruit and flowers and cereals all the year round, thanks to the great 
 azequia (aqueduct) which the Incas built and I restored. And 
 such fruit ! Let him taste a ckirtmoya , ma fille cherie .” 
 
 From a tree about fifteen feet high Angela plucked a round 
 green fruit, not unlike an apple, but covered with small knobs and 
 scales. Then she showed me how to remove the skin, which cov- 
 ered a snow-white juicy pulp of exquisite fragrance and a flavor 
 that I hardly exaggerated in calling divine. It was a fruit fit for 
 the gods, and so I said. 
 
 “We owe it all to the great azequia ,” observed the abbe. 
 
 “ See, it feeds these rills and fills those fountains, waters our fields, 
 and makes the desert bloom like the rose and the dry places rejoice. 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 1 70 
 
 And we have not only fruit and flowers, but corn, coffee, cocoa, 
 yuccas, potatoes, and almost every sort of vegetable.” 
 
 “ Quipai is a land of plenty and a garden of delight.” 
 
 “ A most apt description, and so long as the great azequia is 
 kept in repair and the system of irrigation which I have established is 
 maintained it will remain a land of plenty and a garden of delight. 
 
 “ And if any harm should befall the azequia ? ” 
 
 “ In that case, and if our water-supply were to fail, Quipai, as 
 you see it now, would cease to exist. The desert, which we are 
 a lways fighting and have so far conquered, would regain the mas- 
 tery, and the mission become what I found it, a little oasis at the 
 foot of the Cordillera, supporting with difficulty a few score fami- 
 lies of naked Indians. One of these days, if you are so disposed, 
 you shall follow the course of the azequia and see for yourself with 
 what a marvelous reservoir, fed by Andean snows, Nature has pro- 
 vided us. But more of this another time. Look ! Yonder is San 
 Cristobal, our capital as I sometimes call it, though little more than 
 a village.” 
 
 The abbe said truly. It was little more than a village ; but as 
 gay, as picturesque, and as bright as a scene in an opera— two double 
 rows of painted houses forming a large oval, the space between 
 them laid out as a garden, with straight walks and fountains and 
 clipped shrubs, after the fashion of Versailles; in the center a 
 church and two other buildings, one of which, as the abbe told me, 
 was a school, the other his own dwelling. 
 
 The people we met saluted him with great humility, and he re- 
 turned their salutations quite en grand seigneur , even, as I thought, 
 somewhat haughtily. One woman knelt in the road, kissed his 
 hand, and asked for his blessing, which he gave like the superior 
 being she obviously considered him. It was the same in the village. 
 Everybody whom we met or passed stood still and uncovered. 
 There could be no question who was master in San Cristobal. 
 Abbe Balthazar was both priest and king, and, as I afterward came 
 to know, there was every reason why he should be. 
 
 He kept a large establishment, for the country, and lived in con- 
 siderable state. On entering his house, which was surrounded by a 
 veranda and embowered in trees, the abbe asked if I would like 
 a bath, and on my answering in the affirmative ordered one of the 
 servants, all of whom spoke Spanish, to take me to the bath-room 
 and find me a suit of clothes, 
 
ANGELA. 
 
 m 
 
 The bath made me feel like another man, and the fresh gar- 
 ments effected as great a change in my personal appearance. 
 There was not much difficulty about the fit. A cotton under-shirt, 
 a blue jacket with silver buttons, a red sash, white breeches, loose 
 at the knee, and a pair of sandals, and I was fully attired. Stock- 
 ings I had to dispense with. They were not in vogue at San Cris- 
 tobal. 
 
 When I was ready, the servant, who had acted as my valet, 
 conducted me to the- dining-room, where I found Angela and the 
 abbe. 
 
 Parbleu / exclaimed the latter, who occasionally indulged in 
 expressions that were not exactly clerical. “ Parbleu / I had no 
 idea that a bath and clean raiment could make so great an improve- 
 ment in a man s appearance. That costume becomes you toad- 
 miration, Monsieur Nigel. Don’t you think so, Angela? ” 
 
 “ You for £ et > fath eb that he is the only Caballero I ever saw. 
 Are all caballeros like him ? ” 
 
 “ Very few, I should say. It is a long time since I saw any ; but 
 even at the court of Louis XV I do not remember seeing many 
 braver looking gentlemen than our guest.” 
 
 As I bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment Angela gave 
 me a quick glance, blushed deeply, and then, turning to the abb£ 
 proposed that we should take our places at the table. 
 
 I was so hungry that even an indifferent meal would have 
 seemed a luxurious banquet, but the repast set before us might have 
 satisfied an epicure. We had a delicious soup, something like mut- 
 ton-cutlets, land-turtle steaks, and capon, all perfectly cooked ; vege- 
 tables and fruit in profusion, and the wine was as good as any I 
 had tasted in France or Spain. After dinner coffee was served and 
 the abbe inquired whether I would retire to my room and have a 
 sleep, or smoke a cigarette with him and Angela on the veranda. 
 
 In ordinary circumstances I should probably have preferred to 
 sleep; but I was so fascinated with Mademoiselle Dieu-donnee, so 
 excited by all that I had seen and heard, so curious to know the 
 history of this French priest, who talked of the court of Louis XV 
 who had created a country and a people, and contrived, in a region 
 so remote from civilization, to surround himself with so many luxu- 
 ries, that I elected without hesitation for the cigarettes and the 
 veranda. 
 
1/2 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 ABBfi BALTHAZAR. 
 
 THOUGH my wounds had not ceased their smarting nor my 
 bones their aching my happiness was complete. The splendid 
 prospect before me, the glittering peaks of the Cordillera, the gleam- 
 ing waters of the far Pacific, the gardens and fountains of San Cris- 
 tobal, the charm of Angela’s presence, and the abbe’s conversation 
 made me oblivious to the past and careless of the future. The 
 hardships and perils I had lately undergone, my weary wanderings 
 in the wilderness, the dull monotony of the Happy Valley, the pas- 
 sage of the Andes, my terrible ride on the nandu , all were forgotten. 
 The contrast between my by-gone miseries and present surroundings 
 added zest to my enjoyment. I felt as one suddenly transported 
 from Hades to Elysium, and it required an effort to realize that it 
 was not all a dream, destined to end in a rude awaking. 
 
 After some talk about Europe, the revolt of the Spanish colonies, 
 and my recent adventures, the abbe gave me an account of his life 
 and adventures. The scion of a noble French family, he had been 
 first a page of honor at Versailles, then an officer of the garde du 
 corps, and among the gayest of the gay. But while yet a youth 
 some terrible event on which he did not like to dwell— a disastrous 
 love-affair, a duel in which he killed one who had been his friend 
 wrought so radical a change in his character and his ideals that he 
 resigned his commission, left the court, and joined the Society of 
 Jesus, under the name of Balthazar. Being a noble he became an 
 abb^ (though he had never an abbey) as a matter of course, and 
 full of religious ardor and thirsting for distinction in his new call- 
 ing he volunteered to go out as a missionary among the wild tribes 
 of South America. 
 
 After long wanderings and many hardships, Balthazar and two 
 fellow-priests accidently discovered Quipai, at that time a mere col- 
 lection of huts on the banks of a small stream which descended 
 from the gorges of the Cordillera only to be lost in the sands of the 
 desert. But all round were remains which showed that Quipai 
 had once been a place of importance and the seat of a large popu- 
 lation-ruined buildings of colossal dimensions, heaps of quarried 
 stones, a cemetery rich in relics of silver and gold ; and a great 
 asequia, in many places still intact, had bromrht down water from 
 
ABBE BALTHAZAR. 
 
 the heart of the mountains for the irrigation of the rainless region 
 of the coast. 
 
 Balthazar had moreover heard of the marvelous system of irriga- 
 tion whereby the Incas had fertilized nearly the whole of the Peru- 
 vian desert ; and as he surveyed the ruins he conceived the great 
 idea of restoring the aqueduct and repeopling the neighboring 
 waste. To this task he devoted his life. His first proceeding was 
 to convert the Indians and found a mission, which he called San 
 Cristobal de Quipai ; his next to show them how to make the most 
 of the water-privileges they already possessed. A reservoir was 
 built, more land brought under cultivation, and the oasis rendered 
 capable of supporting a larger population. The resulting prosperity 
 and the abbe’s fame as a physician (he possessed a fair knowledge 
 of medicine) drew other Indians to Quipai. 
 
 After a while the gigantic undertaking was begun, and little by 
 little, and with infinite patience and pain accomplished. It was a 
 work of many years, and when I traveled the whole length of the 
 azequia I marveled greatly how the abbe, with the means at his 
 command, could have achieved an enterprise so arduous and vast. 
 The aqueduct, nearly twenty leagues in length, extended from the 
 foot of the snow-lino to a valley above Quipai, the water being 
 taken thence in stone-lined canals and wooden pipes to the sea- 
 shore. In several places the azequia was carried on lofty arches 
 over deep ravines ; and there were two great reservoirs, both re- 
 markable works. The upper one was the crater of an extinct vol- 
 cano, of unknown depth, which contained an immense quantity of 
 water. It took so long to fill that the abbe, as he laughingly told 
 me, began to think that there must be a hole in the bottom. But 
 in the end it did fill to the very brim, and always remained full. 
 The second reservoir, a dammed up valley, was just below the first ; 
 it served to break the fall from the higher to the lower level and 
 receive the overflow from the crater. 
 
 A bursting of either of the reservoirs was quite out of the ques- 
 tion ; at any rate, the abbe so assured me, and certainly the crater 
 looked strong enough to hold all the water in the Andes, could it 
 have been got therein, while the lower reservoir was so shallow — 
 the out-flow and the loss by evaporation being equal to the in-take — 
 that even if the banks were to give way no great harm could be done. 
 
 I mention these particulars because they have an important 
 bearing on events that afterward befell, and on my own destiny. 
 
MR. FOR FESCUE. 
 
 174 
 
 Only a born engineer and organizer of untiring energy and illim- 
 itable patience could have performed so herculean a labor. Baltha- 
 zar was all this, and more. He knew how to rule men despotically 
 yet secure their love. The Indians did his bidding without hesita- 
 tion and wrought for him without pay. In the absence of this 
 quality his task had never been done. On the other hand, he owed 
 something to fortune. All the materials were ready to his hand. 
 He built with the stone quarried by the Incas. His work suffered 
 no interruption from frost or snow or rain. His very isolation was 
 an advantage. He had neither enemies to fear, friends to please, 
 nor government officers to propitiate. 
 
 On the landward side Quipai was accessible only by difficult 
 and little known mountain-passes which nobody without some 
 strong motive would care to traverse, and passing ships might be 
 trusted to give a wide berth to an iron-bound coast destitute alike 
 of harbors and trade. 
 
 So it came to pass that, albeit the mission of Quipai was in the 
 dominion of the King of Spain, none of his agents knew of its ex- 
 istence, his writs did not run there, and Balthazar treated the royal 
 decree for the expulsion of the Jesuits from South America (of 
 which he heard two or three years after its promulgation) with the 
 contempt that he thought it deserved. Nevertheless, he deemed it 
 the part of prudence to maintain his isolation more rigidly than ever, 
 and make his communications with the outer world few and far be- 
 tween, for had it become known to the captain-general of Peru that 
 there was a member of the proscribed order in his vice-royalty, 
 even at so out of the way a place as Quipai he would have been sent 
 about his business without ceremony. The possibility of this con- 
 tingency was always in the abbe’s mind. For a time it caused him 
 serious disquiet ; but as the years went on and no notice was taken 
 of him his mind became easier. The news I brought of the then 
 recent events in Spain and the revolt of her colonies made him 
 easier. The viceroy would have too many irons in the fire to 
 trouble himself about the mission of Quipai and its chief, even if 
 they should come to his knowledge, which was to the last degree 
 improbable. We sat talking for several hours, and should probably 
 have talked longer had not the abbe kindly yet peremptorily in- 
 sisted on my retiring to rest. 
 
 Early next morning we started on an excursion to the valley 
 lake, each of us mounted on a fine mule from the abbe s stables 
 
abse Balthazar , 
 
 m 
 
 t^h b t an arrier °- N ° rth as wel1 as sout h of San Cris- 
 
 tobal (as the village was generally called) the country had the same 
 
 garden-like aspect. There was none of the tangled vegetation 
 \\hich m tropical forests impedes the travelers progress - except 
 
 Thel'n o ey h ha f b6en ? ant6d ^ thC r ° adside f ° r P rotect 'on from 
 the sun, or bent over the water-courses, the trees grew wide apart 
 
 ike trees m a park. Men and women were busy in the fields and 
 
 : h ' *»“ “ done a more wonderful S 
 than restoring the great azequia — converted a tribe of -indolent 
 aborigines into an industrious community of husbandmen and 
 craftsmen ; among them were carpenters, smiths, masons, weavers 
 dyers, and cunning workers in silver and gold. The secret of hTs 
 power was the personal ascendency of a strong man, the naturally 
 docile character of his converts, the inflexible justice which charac- 
 h,S , dea [ mgS W ‘ th them ’ and the belief assiduously culti- 
 t d ’ ataS , he Had beCn thdr benefactor this world he 7 could 
 control their aestimes in the next. Though he never punished he 
 
 was always obeyed, and there was probably not a man or woman 
 under his sway who would have hesitate/to obey him even to 
 
 tmct volcano, the slopes of which in the days of the Incas were 
 rraced and cultivated. Angela and I half 'rode, half 4Tked to 
 
 the top , but the abbe, on the plea that hp hari , 
 
 look after, stayed at the bottom ^ S ° me buSiness t0 
 
 the mountains * ’ * ^ We COuld tra ce far into 
 
 Behhicfus'rose^thT stupendous ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ” t+ssr ™ ' vith — -£ i c s 
 
i?6 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 The oasis as I now for the first time discovered, was a valley, 
 
 greatly facilitated. , ... r ' iver t ” said 
 
 “ How beautiful Quipai looks, and how like a ™ 
 
 Angela. “That is what I always think when I come here 
 
 llke <f W ho knows that long ago the valley was not the bed of a 
 
 ^ It must be very long ago, then, before ‘here was any Cordillera^ 
 Rain-clouds never cross the Andes, and for untold ages theie 
 
 haV ^ramrighrXurS you can not have much of a 
 river, and if the azequia were to fail there would be very little 
 
 It is the Palladium of the mission and the sou ^ t ^ ^ ^ 
 Si^tiSTInd every month it is carefully inspected from end 
 
 Damaged it might be, but hardly destroy , e P Mch like 
 
 clysm which would destroy everything and that ua 
 
 all dwellers in countries subject to life is so 
 
 can not escape from the conditions of om exigence ^ 
 
 pleasant here, we are pestilence, 
 
 our fellow-creatures m othei parts of th t0 make our- 
 
 Wife and want that it wete a, “ d “j"'" " " d , ngCT 
 
 selves unhappy because we ate expo because we can not 
 
 against which we can not guard, as to repine because 
 
 UV - Yricourse most excellent philosophy, Mademoiselle An- 
 
 gel <‘ Without knowing it, then, as Monsieur Jourdan talked prose.” 
 “ So ! You have read Moliere ? 
 
 “ Over and over again. - . , , „ 
 
 “ Then you must have a library at an nS ^ library is 
 
 “ A very small one, as you may suppose but a s J 
 
 not altogether a disadvantage, as the abbe says. The tew 
 
/ BID YOU STAY. 
 
 177 
 
 y&d have the oftener you read them ; and it is better to read a few 
 books well than many superficially.” 
 
 “ The abbe has been your sole teacher, I suppose ? ” 
 
 “ Has been ! He is still. He has even written books for me, 
 and is the author of some of the best I possess — But don’t 
 you think, monsieur, we had better descend to the valley ? The 
 abbe will have finished his business by this time, and though he is 
 the best man in the world he has the fault of kings ; he does not 
 like to wait/’ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII, 
 
 I BID YOU STAY. 
 
 ** You have been here a month, Monsieur Nigel, living in close 
 intimacy with Angela and myself,” said the abbe, as we sat on the 
 veranda sipping our morning coffee. “ You have mixed with our 
 people, seen our country, and inspected the great azequia in its 
 entire length. Tell me, now, frankly, what you think of us ? ” 
 
 “ I never passed so happy a month in my life, and — ” 
 
 “ I am glad to hear you say so, very glad. My question, how- 
 ever, referred not to your feelings but your opinion. I will repeat 
 it : What think you of Quipai and its institutions ? ” 
 
 “ 1 kn ow of but one institution in Quipai, and I admire it more 
 than I can tell” 
 
 “ And that is ? ” 
 
 “ Yourself, Monsieur 1’Abbe/ 9 
 
 The abbe smiled as if the compliment pleased him, but the next 
 moment his face took the “ pale cast of thought,” and he remained 
 silent for several minutes. 
 
 “ 1 know what you mean,” he said at length, speaking slowly 
 and rather sadly. “ You mean that I am Quipai, and that without 
 me Quipai would be nowhere.” 
 
 “ Exactly, Monsieur l’Abbe, Quipai is a miracle ; you are its cre- 
 ator, yet I doubt whether, as it now exists, it could long survive you. 
 But that is a contingency which we need not discuss ; you have 
 still many years of life before you.” 
 
 “ I kke a well-turned compliment, Monsieur Nigel, because in 
 
I7» 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUM. 
 
 , to be acc eptable it must possess both a modicum of truth and 
 order to be acceptaD * for it must needs be insincere, 
 
 a soup<;on of wit. But y have m years 
 
 A n h- m ^ What are everin years to "one who has already 
 
 of life before him What^reeven^ ^ ^ q[ ^ 
 
 lived nearly a centu y . Th_^ ^ ^ just w 
 
 and I want to be si ) ^ - t w iH__unless 
 
 when you said Q u, P al ^continue the work which I have be- 
 
 I can find a successor faithful but they require a prescient 
 
 gun. My people are good and faithful bvU 7 4 fitted 
 
 and capable chief, and to -t leader . wm you 
 either by nature or education to taKe uic y 
 
 r” lITeaTtortT On the other iiand. .. leave Qolp.i 
 
 were to lose Angela. wel f my friend, before denying my 
 
 “eIt° U “u the great world with its 
 
 request. True, >o , But you would renounce 
 
 posi,i "' and ; cs r 
 
 them for a life f t0 complete the work I have be- 
 
 full of promise. I J> aid h you brst C ame, 
 
 gun, and make Qrupai a n at n As I md some good end. It 
 Providence sent you he e, as^se^ £ ^ ^ marry 
 
 rglVTf you search the world through you could find no sweeter 
 
 ^My hesitation vanished like the morning mist before the rising 
 
 1 SUn :. if Angela will be my wife,” I said, “I will be your sue- 
 
 first time that the idea of as ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ Qn her> and 
 
 my mind. I loved ner But I had not been able to see my 
 
 beautiful, gently nurtured girl to share the 
 
/ bid you stay. 
 
 m 
 
 lot of 3 . penniless wanderer, even if she would consent to leave Qui- 
 pai> which I greatly doubted. But now ! Compared with Angela, 
 the excitements and ambitions of which the abbe had spoken did 
 not weigh as a feather in the balance. Without her life would be 
 a dreary penance ; with her a much worse place than Quipai would 
 be an earthly paradise. 
 
 But would she have me ? The abbe seemed to think so. Nev- 
 ertheless, I felt by no means sure about it. True, she appeared to 
 like my company. But that might be because I had so much to tell 
 her that was strange and new ; and though I had observed her nar- 
 rowly, I had detected none of that charming self-consciousness, that 
 tender confusion, those stolen glances, whereby the conventional 
 lover gauges his mistress s feelings, and knows before he speaks that 
 his love is returned. Angela was always the same-frank, open, 
 and joyous, and, except that her caresses were reserved for him, 
 made no difference between the abbe and me. 
 
 “ A chirimoya for your thoughts, senor ! ” said a well-known 
 voice, in musical Castilian. -For these three minute%I have been 
 standing close by you, with this freshly gathered chirimoya, and you 
 took no notice of me.” 
 
 A thousand pardons and a thousand thanks, senorita ! ” I an- 
 swered, taking the proffered fruit. “ But my thoughts were worth 
 all the chirimoyas in the world, delicious as they are, for they were 
 of you.” 
 
 “We were thinking of each other, then.” 
 
 “ What ! Were you thinking of me ? ” 
 
 “ Si, senor.” 
 
 “ And what were you thinking, senorita ? ” 
 
 “That God was very good in sending you to Quipai.” 
 
 “ Why? ” 
 
 “For several reasons.” 
 
 “Tell me them.” 
 
 Because you have done the abbe good. Aforetime he was often 
 sad. You remember his saying that he had cares. I know not 
 what, but now he seems himself again.” 
 
 “ Anything else? ” 
 
 “ St, setior. You have also increased my happiness. Not that I 
 was unhappy before, for, thanks to the dear abb6, my life has been 
 free from sorrow ; but during the last month— since you came— I 
 have been more than happy, I have been joyous.” 
 
i8c 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 
 
 « You don’t want me to go, then ? ” 
 
 “ O serior ! Want you to go ! How can you— what have I 
 done or said ? ” exclaimed the girl, impetuously and almost indig- 
 nantly. “ Surely, sir, you are not tired of us already ? 
 
 “ Heaven forbid ! If you want me to stay I shall not go. It is 
 for you to decide. Angela mia, it depends on you whether I go 
 away soon— how or whither I know not — or stay here all my life 
 
 long.” . 
 
 “ Depends on me ! Then, sir, I bid you stay. 
 
 “ Oh, Angela, you must say more than that. You must consent 
 to become my wife ; then do with me what you will.” 
 
 “ Your wife ! You ask me to become your wife ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, Angela. I have loved you since the day we first met ; 
 every day my love grows stronger and deeper, and unless you love, 
 me in return, and will be my wife, I can not stay ; I must go-go at 
 
 ° nCe * , 
 
 “ Quipai, senarr said Angela, archly, at the same time giving 
 
 me her hand. „ 
 
 “ Quipai ! I don’t quite understand— unless you mean— 
 
 “ Quipai,” she repeated, her eyes brightening into a merry smile. 
 
 “ Unless you mean — ” 
 
 “ Quipai.” „ 
 
 “ Oh, how dull lam! I see now. Quipai— rest here. 
 
 " Si, seiior." 
 
 “ And if I rest here, you will—” 
 
 “ Do as you wish, senor, and with all my heart ; for as you love 
 me, so I love you.” 
 
 “ Dearest Angela ! ” I said, kissing her hand, “ you make me 
 almost too happy. Never will I leave Quipai without you. 
 
 “ And never will I leave it without you. But let us not talk of 
 leaving Quipai. Where can we be happier than here with the dear 
 
 abbe ? But what will he say ? ” . , . . . 
 
 “ He will give us his blessing. His most ardent wish is that I 
 
 should be your husband and his successor.” 
 
 •• How good he is ! And I, wicked girl that I am, repay his 
 goodness with base ingratitude. Ah me ! How shall I tell him ? 
 
 « You repay his goodness with base ingratitude? You speak m 
 
 riddles, my Angela.” , , , , . . 
 
 “ Since the waves washed me to his feet, a little child, the abbe 
 
 has cherished me with all the tenderness of a mother, all the devo- 
 
/ BID YOU STA F. 
 
 181 
 
 tion of a father. He has been everything to me ; and now you are 
 everything to me. I love you better than I love him. Don’t you 
 think I am a wicked girl?” And she put her arm within mine, 
 and looking at me with love-beaming eyes, caressed my cheek with 
 her hand. 
 
 “ I will grant you absolution, and award you no worse penance 
 than an embrace, mafille chhrie” said the abbe, who had returned 
 to the veranda just in time to overhear Angelas confession. “I re- 
 joice in your happiness, mignonne . To-day you make two men 
 happy— your lover and myself. You have lightened my mind of 
 the cares which threatened to darken my closing days. The 
 thought of leaving you without a protector and Quipai without a 
 chief was a sore trouble. Your husband will be both. Like 
 Moses, I have seen the Promised Land, and I shall be content.” 
 
 “Talk not of dying, dear father, or you will make me sad,” 
 said Angela, putting her arms round his neck. 
 
 “ There are worse things than dying, my child. But you are 
 quite right ; this is no time for melancholy forebodings. Let us be 
 happy while we may ; and since I came to Quipai, sixty years ago, 
 
 I have had no happier day than this.” 
 
 As the only law at Quipai was the abbe s will, and we had 
 neither settlements to make, trousseaux to prepare, nor house to 
 get ready (the abbe’s house being big enough for us all), there was 
 no reason why our wedding should be delayed, and the week after 
 Angela and I had plighted our troth, we were married at the 
 church of San Cristobal. 
 
 The abbe’s wedding-present to Angela was a gold cross stud- 
 * with lar £ e uncut diamonds. Where he got them I had no 
 idea, but I heard afterward— and something more. 
 
 All this time nothing, save vague generalities, had passed be- 
 tween us on the subject of religion— rather to my surprise, for 
 priests are not wont to ignore so completely their raison d'etre , 
 but I subsequently found that Balthazar, albeit a devout Christian, 
 was no bigot. Either his early training, his long isolation from 
 ecclesiastical influence, or his communings with Nature had broad- 
 ened his horizon and spiritualized his beliefs. Dogma sat lightly 
 on him, and he construed the apostolic exhortations to charity in 
 their widest sense. But these views were reserved for Angela and 
 myself. With his flock he was the Roman ecclesiastic — a sover- 
 eign pontiff— whom they must obey in this world on pain of being 
 
MR. FORTE SC UR. 
 
 1 82. 
 
 damned in the next. For he held that the only ways of success- 
 fully ruling semi-civilized races are by physical force, personal in- 
 fluence, or their fear of the unseen and the unknown. At the ou - 
 set Balthazar, having no physical force at his command, had to 
 trust altogether to personal influence, which, being now re-enforced 
 bv the highest religious sanctions, made his power literally absolute. 
 Albeit Quipai possessed neither soldiers, constables, nor prison, 
 his authority was never questioned ; he was as implicitly obeyed as 
 a general at the head of an army in the field. 
 
 I have spoken of the abba’s communings with Nature. I 
 ought rather to have said his searchings into her mysteries ; for he 
 was a shrewd philosopher and keen observer, and despite the is- 
 advantages under which he labored, the scarcity of his books, and the 
 rudeness of his instruments, he had acquired during his long life a 
 vast fund of curious knowledge which he placed unreservedly at my 
 disposal. I became his pupil, and it was he who first kindled in 
 my breast that love of science which for nearly three-score years I 
 have lived only to gratify. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE ABBE’S LEGACY. 
 
 LIFE was easy at Quipai, and we were free from care. On the 
 other hand, we had so much to do that time sped swiftly, and 
 though we were sometimes tired we were never weary. The abb ® 
 made me the civil governor of the mission, and gave orders that 
 should be as implicitly obeyed as himself. My duties in ^ this capa- 
 city though not arduous, were interesting, including as they did all 
 that concerned the well-being of the people, the maintenance of the 
 azequia, and the irrigation of the oasis. My leisure hours were 
 spent in study, working in the abb6’s laboratory, and with Angela 
 who nearly always accompanied me on my excursions to the head 
 of the aqueduct, which, as I have already mentioned was at the foot 
 of the snow-line, two days’ journey from the valley lake. 
 
 It was during one of these excursions that we planned our new 
 home, a mountain nest which we would have all to ourselves, an 
 whither ^ the height of summer we might escape from the heat of 
 
THE ABBE'S LEGACY, 
 
 183 
 
 the oasis, for albeit the climate of Quipai was fine on the whole, there 
 were times when the temperature rose to an uncomfortable height. 
 The spot on which we fixed was a hollow in the hills, some two 
 miles beyond the crater reservoir and about eight thousand feet above 
 the level of the sea. By tapping the azequia we turned the barren 
 valley into a garden of roses, for in that rainless region water was 
 a veritable magician, whatsoever it touched it vivified. This done 
 we sent up timber, and built ourselves a cottage, which we called 
 Alta Vista, for the air was superb and the vieV one of the grandest 
 in the world. 
 
 Angela would fain have persuaded the abbe to join us; yet 
 though I made a well-graded road and the journey was neither long 
 nor fatiguing he came but seldom. He was so thoroughly accli- 
 matized that he preferred the warmth of San Cristobal to the fresh- 
 ness of Alta Vista, and the growing burden of his years indisposed 
 him to exertion, and made movement an effort. We could all see, 
 and none more clearly than himself, that the end was not far off. 
 He contemplated it with the fortitude of a philosopher and the faith 
 of a Christian. For the spiritual wants of his people he provided 
 by ordaining (as in virtue of his ecclesiastical rank he had the right 
 to do), three young men, whom he had carefully educated for the 
 purpose ; the reins of government he gave over entirely to me. 
 
 “ I have lived a long life and done a good work, and, though I 
 shall be sorry to leave you, I am quite content to go,” he said one 
 day to Angela and me. “ It is not in my power to bequeath you a 
 fortune, in the ordinary sense of the word, for money I have none, 
 yet "so long as the mission prospers you will be better off than if I 
 could give you millions. But everything human is ephemeral and 
 I can not disguise from myself the possibility of some great dis- 
 aster befalling you. Those mountains contain both gold and silver, 
 and an invasion of treasure-seekers, either from the sea or the Cor- 
 dillera would be the ruin of the mission. My poor people would be 
 demoralized, perhaps destroyed, and you would be compelled to 
 quit Quipai and return to the world. For that contingency, though 
 I hope it will never come to pass, you must be prepared, and I will 
 point out the way. The mountains, as I have said, contain silver 
 and gold ; and contain something even more precious than silver 
 and gold — diamonds. I made the discovery nearly half a century 
 ago, and I confess that, for a time, the temptation was almost more 
 than I could withstand. With such wealth as I saw at my dis- 
 
1 84 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 posal I might do anything, be anything, enrich my order, win dis- 
 tinction tof myself, and attain to high rank, perhaps the highest, m 
 the church, or leave it and become a power in the world a masttr 
 of men and the guest of princes. Yes, it was a sore temptation, 
 but with God’s help, I overcame it and chose the better par , e 
 path of duty, and I have my reward. I brought a few diamonds 
 away with me, some of which are in Angelas cross; but I have 
 never tieen to he place since. I told you not this sooner, my son, 
 partly because there seemed no need, partly because, not knowing 
 you Is well as I know you now, I thought you might be tempted in 
 like manner as I was and we pray not to be led into temptation. 
 But though I tell you where these precious stones are to be foun , 
 
 I am sure that you will never quit Quipai. 
 
 “I have no great desire to know the whereabout of this - 
 mond mine, father. Tell me or not as you think fi n any 
 case I shall be true to my trust and my word. 1 promise you 
 that I will not leave Quipai till I am forced, and I hope 1 never may 
 
 bC ' “ All the same, my son, it is the part of a wise man to provide 
 for even unlikely contingencies. Remember, it is the unexpected 
 that happens, and I would not have you and our dear Angela cast 
 on the world penniless. For her, bred as she has been, it would be 
 a frightful misfortune; and up yonder are diamonds which would 
 make you rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Promise me that you 
 will go thither, and bring away as many as you can convenient y 
 carry about your persons in the event of your being compe e 
 
 quit the oasis at short notice.” 
 
 “ I promise. Nevertheless, I see no probability 
 
 “ We are discussing possibilities not probabilities, my son. And 
 during the last few days I have had forebodings, if I were supersti- 
 tious I should say prophetic visions, else had I not broac e 
 subject. Regard it, if you like, as an old man s whim-<md keep a 
 look-out on the sea.” 
 
 “ Why particularly on the sea? ” ... T f 
 
 « it fa the quarter whence danger is most to be apprehended I 
 some Spanish war-ship were to sight the oasis and send a boat 
 ashore, either out of idle curiosity or for other reasons, a report 
 would be made to the captain-general, or to whomsoever is now m 
 authority at Lima, and there would come a horde of ^vemmen 
 functionaries, who would take possession of everything, and yo 1 
 
THE ABBE’S LEGACY. 
 
 185 
 
 would have to go. But take your pen and note down the particulars 
 that will enable you to find the diamond mine. ” 
 
 Though Angela and I listened to the abbe’s warnings with all 
 respect, they made little impression on our minds. We regarded 
 them as the vagaries of an old man, whose mind was affected by 
 the feebleness of his body, and a few weeks later he breathed his 
 last. His death came in the natural order of things, and, as he had 
 outlived his strength, it was for him a happy release ; yet, as we had 
 loved him much, we sorrowed for him deeply, and I still honor his 
 memory. Take him all in all, Abbe Balthazar was the best man I 
 have ever known. 
 
 Shortly after we laid him in the ground I made a visit to the dia- 
 mond ground, the situation of which the abbe had so fully described 
 that I found it without difficulty. But the undertaking, besides 
 proving much more arduous than I had anticipated, came near to 
 costing me my life. I took with me an arriero and three mules 
 one carrying an ample supply of food, and, as I thought, of water! 
 for the abbe had told me that a mountain-stream ran through the 
 valley where I was to look for the diamonds. As ill luck would 
 have it, however, the stream was dried up. Had it not been that I 
 d!d not like to return empty-handed I should have returned at once, 
 for our store of water was exhausted and we were two days’ journev 
 from Quipai. J 3 
 
 I spent a whole day seeking among the stones and pebbles, and 
 my search was so far successful that I picked up two score dia- 
 monds, some of considerable size. If I could have stayed longer I 
 might have made a still richer harvest ; and I had an idea that there 
 were more under than above ground. But I had stayed too long as 
 it was. The mules were already suffering for want of water; all 
 three perished before we reached Quipai, and the arriero and myself 
 got home only just alive. 
 
 Nevertheless, had not Angela put her veto on the project I should 
 have made another visit to the place, provided with a sufficiency of 
 water for the double journey. I, moreover, thought that with time 
 and proper tools I could find water on the spot. However, I went 
 not again, and I renounced my design all the more willingly as I 
 new that the diamonds I had already found were a fortune in them- 
 selves. . I added them to my collection of minerals which I kept in 
 my cabinet at Alta Vista. My Quipais being honest and knowing 
 nothing whatever of precious stones I had no fear of robbers, 
 
MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 1 86 
 
 For several years after Balthazar’s death nothing occurred to dis- 
 turb the even tenor of our way, and I had almost forgotten his 
 warnings, and that we were potentially “ rich beyond the creams o 
 avarice,” when one day a runner brought word that two men had 
 landed on the coasts and were on the way to San Cnstoba . 
 
 This was startling news, and I questioned the messenger c y, 
 but all he could tell me was that the strangers had arrived in a small 
 boat, half-famished and terribly thirsty, and had asked m broken 
 Spanish, to be taken to the chief of the country, and that he had 
 been sent on to inform me of their coming. 
 
 “ The abbe ! ” exclaimed Angela, “ you remember what he sai 
 
 about danger from the sea.” . 
 
 “Yes; but there is nothing to fear from two hungry men in a 
 sma U boat — as I judge from the runner’s account, shipwrecked 
 
 mannerSon t _ there ' s n0 telling, ^they may be followed by 
 
 others and unless we keep them here . 
 
 “If necessary we must keep them here; as, however, they are 
 evidently not Spaniards it may not be necessary. But as to that 
 can form no opinion till I have seen and questioned them. 
 
 We were still talking about them, for the incident was bom sug- 
 gestive and exciting, when the strangers were brought in As I 
 expected they were seamen, in' appearance regular old .alts. One 
 la's middle-sized, broad-built, brawny, and squat 
 
 Hercules with big red whiskers, earrings, and a pig-tail. His co 
 panion was taller and less sturdy, his black locks hung in nngkts 
 on either side of a swarthy, hairless face, and the arms and hands 
 of both, as also their breasts were extensively tattooed. 
 
 Their surprise on beholding Angela and me was almost lu - 
 
 crous They might have been expecting to see a copper-colored 
 
 cacioue dressed in war-paint and adorned with scalps. 
 
 “White 1 By the piper that played before Moses, white . mu - 
 tered the red-whiskered man, “ Who’d ha’ thought it! A squaw 
 in petticoats, too, with a gold chain round her neck . Where 
 
 hangmant have we got to ? ” 
 
 ■< you are English? ” I said, quietly. 
 
 . • I T’ . T7 r-, r 
 
 I’m English, name of Yawl, Bill 
 
 it Web 1 11 be yes, sir . i m » 
 
 Yawl, sir, ’of the port of Liverpool, at your service. My mate, here, 
 
 hC ’^ my own tale, if you please, Bill Yawl,” interrupted the 
 
THE ABBE'S LEGACY. 
 
 187 
 
 oiner as I thought rather peremptorily. « My name is Kidd, and 
 I m a native of Barbadoes in the West Indies, by calling, a mariner, 
 and late second mate of the brig Sulky Sail, Jones, master, bound 
 from Liverpool to Lima, with a cargo of hardware and cotton 
 goods.” 
 
 “ And what has become of the Sulky Sail ? ” 
 
 “ She went to the bottom, sir, three days ago.” 
 
 “ But there has been no bad weather, lately.” 
 
 “ Not lately. But we made very bad weather rounding the Horn, 
 and the ship sprang a leak, and though, by throwing cargo over- 
 board, and working hard at the pumps, we managed to keep her 
 afloat nearly a month ; she foundered at last.” 
 
 And are you the only survivors ? ” 
 
 No, sir ; the master and most of the crew got away in the long 
 boat. But as the ship went down the dinghy was swamped. Bill 
 and me managed to right her and get aboard again, but the others 
 as was with us got drowned.” 
 
 w And the long boat ? ” 
 
 "We lost each other in the night, and, having no water, and 
 only a tin of biscuits, Bill and me made straight for the coast, and 
 landed in the little cove down below this morning. All we have is 
 what we stand up in. And we shall feel much obliged if you will 
 kindly give us food and shelter until such time as we can get 
 away.” 6 ~ 
 
 On this I assured Mr. Kidd that I was sorry for their misfort- 
 une, and would gladly find them food and lodging, and whatever 
 else they might require, but as for getting away, I did not see how 
 that was possible, unless by sea, and in their own dinghy. 
 
 “ We are ver T fateful for your kindness, sir; but I don’t think 
 we should much like to make another voyage in the dinghy.” 
 
 "She ain’t seaworthy,” growled Yawl, "you’ve to bale all the 
 time, and if it came on to blow she’d turn turtle in half a minute.” 
 
 " May be some vessel will be touching here, sir,” suggested 
 Kidd. 
 
 “ Vessels never d ° touch here, except to be dashed in pieces 
 against the rocks.” 
 
 “ WelI > 1 suppose we shall have to wait till a chance happens 
 out. This seems a nice place, and we are in no hurry, if you 
 aren’t.” 1 
 
 go the two castaways became my guests ; and if they waited to 
 
iB8 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 be taken off by a passing ship they were likely to remain my guests 
 
 ^ For afcw dayslhey rambled about the place with their hands in 
 their pockets and cigars (with which I supplied them liberally) m 
 their mouths. But after a while time began to hang heavy on the.r 
 hands, and one day they came to me with a proposal. 
 
 “We are tired of doing nothing, Mr. Fortescue, said Kidd. 
 
 « It is the hardest work I ever put my hand to, and not a grog- 
 shop in the place,” interposed Yawl. 
 
 “Hold your jaw, Bill, and let me say my say out. We __ 
 tired of doing nothing, and if you like we will build you a sloop. 
 
 « a sloop ' To go away in, I suppose ? 
 
 •4at 7s » you please, sir. Any how, a sloop, say of Steen 
 or twenty tons, would be ,er, useful. You might .ate a sod with 
 
 line doing at your house, sir, I shall be glad to o it y 
 
 The project pleased me; an occasional cruise would be an 
 agreeable diversion, and I assented to Kidd’s proposal without hesi- 
 tation There was as much wreckage lying on the cliff as would 
 build a man-of-war, and a small cove at the foot of the oasis where 
 
 the sloop could lie safely at anchor. , V, P ln- 
 
 So the work was taken in hand, some of my own people h p 
 ing and after several months’ labor the Angela, as I proposed to 
 caff her, was launched. She had a comfortable little cabin and so 
 soon as she was masted and rigged would be ready for sea 
 
 In the mean time I asked Kidd to superintend some alterations 
 I was making at Alta Vista, and among other things constru 
 larger cabinefs for my mineral and entomological specimens. He 
 £ work quite to my satisfaction, but before it was well finished 
 I made a portentous discovery— several of my diamonds we 
 missing. There could be no doubt about it, for I knew t e nun' i er 
 to a nicety and had counted them over and oyer again. Neither 
 °o„H 2= be ,uy doubt .ha. Kidd was .he tee • ^ 
 
 wife mvself, and one or two of our servants, no one else had be 
 T the room’ and our own people would not have taken the trouble 
 to pick°upa’ diamond from .be ground, much lea, steal one from 
 
 my impulse was .0 acouae Kidd of .he .heft and ha.e him 
 
THE QUeMCIUMg OE QUIP At 
 
 189 
 
 searched. And then I reflected that I was almost as much to blame 
 as himself. Assuming that he knew something of the value of 
 precious stones, I had exposed him to temptation by leaving so 
 many and of so great value in an open drawer. -He might well 
 suppose that I set no store by them, and that half a dozen or so 
 would never be missed. So I decided to keep silence for the pres- 
 ent and keep a watch on Mr. Kidd’s movements. It might be that 
 he and Yawl were thinking to steal a march on me and sail away 
 secretly with the sloop, and perhaps something else. They had 
 both struck up rather close friendships with native women. 
 
 But as I did not want to loose any more of my diamonds, and 
 there was no place at Alta Vista where they would be safe so long 
 as Kidd was on the premises, I put them in a bag in the inside 
 pocket of a quilted vest which I always wore on my mountain ex- 
 cursions, my intention being to take them on the following day 
 down to San Cristobal and bestow them in a secure hiding-place. 
 
 I little knew that I should never see San Cristobal again. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE QUENCHING OF QUIPAI. 
 
 The cottage at Alta Vista had expanded little by little into a 
 long, single storied flat-roofed house, shaded by palm-trees and 
 set in a fair garden, which looked all the brighter from its contrast 
 with the brown and herbless hill-sides that uprose around it. 
 
 In the after part of the day on which I discovered the theft, An- 
 gela and myself were sitting under the veranda, which fronted the 
 house and commanded a view of the great reservoir, the oasis and 
 the ocean. She was reading aloud a favorite chapter in “ Don 
 Quixote,” one of the few books we possessed. I was smok- 
 ing. 
 
 Angela read well ; her pronunciation of Spanish was faultless, 
 and I always took particular pleasure in hearing her read the idio- 
 matic Castilian of Cervantes. Nevertheless, my mind wandered ; 
 and, try as I might, I could not help thinking more of the theft of 
 the diamonds than the doughty deeds of the Don and the shrewd 
 sayings of Sancho Panza. Not that the loss gave me serious con- 
 
I$0 
 
 MR. FOR FESCUE. 
 
 cern. A few stones more or less made no great difference, and I 
 should probably never turn to account those I had. But the inci- 
 dent revived suspicions as to the good faith of the two castaways 
 which had been.long floating vaguely in my mind. From the first 
 I had rather doubted the account they gave of themselves And 
 Kidd ' I had never much liked him ; he had a hard inscrutable face, 
 Ld unless I greatly misjudged him was capable of boWer^- 
 prises than petty larceny. He was just the man to steal secretly 
 -way and return with a horde of unscrupulous treasure-seekers, 
 he Lew now that there were diamonds in the neighborhood, and 
 he must have heard that we had found gold and silver ornaments 
 
 exclaimed Angela, dropping her 
 book and springing to her feet, an example which . I ^ mstanffy fol- 
 lowed, for the earth was moving under us and there fel1 ™ ou 
 ears, for the first time, the dread sound of subterranean thunder. 
 
 BuUhe alarm was only momentary. In less time than it takes 
 to tell the trembling ceased and the thunder died away. 
 
 ‘ Only a slight shock, after all,” I said, “ and I hope we sha 
 have no more. However, it is just as well to be prepared I will 
 Lve the mules got out of the stable ; and if there is anything in- 
 sLe ymu particufady want you had better fetch it. I will join you 
 
 ^ ^sTptssed through the house I saw Kidd coming out of the 
 
 I asked him, sharply, 
 
 .. I went for a tool I left there ’’(holding up a chisel). “ Did you 
 
 ^’.‘Yes^and there may be another. Tell Maximiliano to get the 
 
 ^Ofte has been after the diamonds,” I thought, “he must know 
 that I have taken them away. I had better make sure of them 
 a pv, that I stepped into my room, put on my quilted jacket, 
 armed mvself with a small hatchet and a broad-bladed, highly 
 
 *S5Et LdXX mules safely lettered, and warned the ser,- 
 antsLid others to run into the open if there should be another shoe , 
 I returned to Angela, who had resumed her seat m the verai . 
 
THE quenching of quip a f 
 
 igl 
 
 Equipped for the mountains ! Where away now, carv mio ? ” 
 she said, regarding' me with some surprise. 
 
 “ Nowhere. At any rate, I have no present intention of running 
 away. I have put on my jacket because of these diamonds, and 
 brought my hatchet and hunting-knife because, if the house col- 
 lapses, I should not be able to get them at the very time they would 
 be the most required.” 
 
 “ If the house collapses ! You think, then, we are going to have 
 a bad earthquake ? ” 
 
 “ It is possible. This is an earthquake country ; there has been 
 nothing more serious than a slight trembling since long before the 
 abbe died ; and I have a feeling that something more serious is 
 about to happen. Underground thunder is always an ominous 
 symptom. — Ah ! There it is again. Run into the garden. I 
 will bring the chairs and wraps.” 
 
 The house being timber built and one storied, I had little fear 
 that it would collapse ; but anything may happen in an earthquake, 
 and in the garden we were safe from anything short of the ground 
 on which we stood actually gaping or slipping bodily down the 
 mountain-side. 
 
 The second shock was followed by a third, more violent than 
 either of its predecessors. The earth trembled and heaved so that 
 we could scarcely stand. The underground thunder became louder 
 and continuous and, what was even more appalling, we could dis- 
 tinctly see the mountam-tops move and shake, as if they were going 
 to fall and overwhelm us. 
 
 But even this shock passed off without doing any material mis- 
 chief, and I was beginning to think the worst was over when one of 
 the^ servants drew my attention to the great reservoir. It smoked, 
 and though there was no wind the water was white with foam and 
 running over the banks. 
 
 This went on several minutes, and then the water, as if yielding 
 to some irresistible force, left the sides, and there shot out of it a 
 gigantic jet nearly as thick as the crater was wide and hundreds of 
 feet high. It broke in the form of a rose and fell in a fine spray, 
 which the setting sun hued with all the color of the rainbow. 
 
 . It was the most splendid sight I had ever seen and the most 
 portentous-for I knew that the crater had become active, and re- 
 membering how long it had taken to fill I feared the worst. 
 
 The jet went on rising and falling for nearly an hour, but as the 
 
j 2 MR. FORTESCVE. 
 
 mass of the water returned to the crater, very little going over the 
 
 sides, no great harm was done. . 
 
 “Thank Heaven for the respite ! ” exclaimed Ange a, w 
 been clinging to me all the time, trembling yet courageous. Don 
 
 you think the danger is now past, my Nigel r active 
 
 “ For us it may be. But if the crater has really become active 
 X fear that our poor people at San Cristobal will be in very great 
 
 danger indeed.” 
 
 “ No ! God alone— Hearken ! ” 
 
 A muffled peal of thunder which seemed to come fro ry 
 
 bowels ol the earth, Mowed by a detonation like the *“harge << 
 an army's artillery, and the sides ol the crater opened, and I w.th a 
 wild roar the pent-up torrent burst forth, and leaping 
 rolled a mighty avalanche of water, toward the doomed oasis. 
 
 S *^y spoke; ,e r r O, the = c, -e - ns, the awM 
 
 ZXIJI in the side of the mountain, Mowed in the wake 
 was t. f c; eap.o.en 
 
 * “ WI 
 
 We remained in ' <£ .'r fwht « befame -o wiry w„h 
 
 of going in-doors , but a . t that( despite the danger 
 
 watching and overwroug " Before the south- 
 
 in our cobijas, the others on thejurf and under 
 
THE QUENCHING OF QUIPAI. 
 
 193 
 
 . ^ rh “, 1 °P ened m y eyes the sun was rising majestically above 
 the Cordillera, but its rays had not yet reached the ocean I rose 
 and looked round. The crater was still smoking, and a mist hung 
 over the oasis, but the lava had ceased to flow, and not a zephyr 
 moved the air, not a tremor stirred the earth. Only the blackened 
 throat of the volcano and the ghastly rent in its side were there 
 to remind us of the havoc that had been wrought and the ruin of 
 Quipai. 
 
 I roused the people and bade them prepare breakfast, for 
 though thousands may perish in a night, the survivors must eat on 
 the morrow. The house, albeit considerably shaken, was still in- 
 tact, but several of the doors were so tightly jammed that I had to 
 break them open with my hatchet. 
 
 When breakfast was ready I woke Angela. 
 
 “ Is it real, or have I been dreaming ? ” she asked, with a shud- 
 der, looking wildly round. 
 
 “ 14 1S on, y 400 reaI >” 1 said - pointing to the smoking crater. 
 
 “ Misericordia ! what shall we do ? ” 
 
 “ First of all, we must go down to the oasis and see whether any 
 of the peopie are left alive.” 3 
 
 “ You are right. When we have done what we can for the oth- 
 ers it will be time enough to «hink about ourselves.” 
 
 “Are there any others?” I thought, for I greatly doubted 
 
 three^o r f"^ Sh ° Uld , find an y aIive ’ except, Perhaps, Yawl and the 
 three or four men who were helping him. But I kept my misgiv- 
 ings to myself, and after breakfast we set off. Angela and myself 
 were mounted, and I assigned a mule to Kidd. The man might be 
 seul and, circumstanced as we were, it would have been bad 
 policy to give him the cold shoulder. We also took with us pro- 
 
 Shi find 1? 7 / f ° r 1 WaS ^ n ° mCanS SUre that We 
 
 should find either food or shelter on the oasis. 
 w f.r t rr d u he Volcano 1 looked into the crater. Nearly 
 nl L™ \ •\ T C made by the water Was a ^ eat mass of seeth- 
 
 , ^ 6d 33 a SUre Sign 4hat another 
 ha ?K ake P ac .® a ‘ any mom ent. The valley lake had disappeared ; 
 
 s, trees, soil, dwellings, all were gone, leaving only bare rocks 
 nd burning lava. Of San Cristobal there was not a vestige • the 
 oasis had been converted into a damp and steaming gully, void 
 of vegetation and animal life. But, as I had anticipated, the force 
 of the flood was spent before it reached the coast. Much of the 
 
194 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 -.•xrsi 
 
 d "5aip”t'gone," she murmured at length, shuddering and 
 
 looking at me with tear-hlled eyes. , f ha<J ne<er been . 
 
 „ ; Z!Z:t famag. o< a great hi, tie. These poor pe.pie , 
 
 rs,s*;r», «« — «. «— 
 
 Quipai? ” another Abbe Balthazar 
 
 ;T o » later our 
 
 and sixty years of life. And eyen if we we re allowed 
 
 •work would be destroyed as is > must go.” 
 
 to begin it. The volcano may be active for ag 
 
 ““ Back'to" the world, that in new scenes and occupation we may 
 perchance forget this crowning calamity.” 
 
 :: ^ S s< ^ ever ^ f r r :^ 
 
 TCpi ^’ ^ wouldnever survive the hazards and hard- 
 ships of a journey over be^pta«d 
 
 because I love you-I would rather have ou . we 
 
 by Indians and made caraways. Yet, 
 
 must go by sea, m the slo p Y ^ suspect I have 
 
 even in that there will be a senou ® r ' s ’ f J ;d Y he s Uspi cion is 
 the diamonds in my possession-and I am afraid F 
 
 inevitable — they will probably 
 “ What ? ” 
 
 “ Try to murder us.” ^ }> 
 
 '» <* ™ ,d * h T 
 
 *;« sien m» commit horrible crime, (or i„sig»ih»n, gams. 
 
north by west. 
 
 195 
 
 and I have here in my pocket the value of a king’s ransom. Even 
 the average man could hardly withstand so great a temptation ana 
 all we know of these sailors is that one of them is a thief ” 
 
 What will you do then? ” 
 
 “ First of all, 1 must find a safer hiding-place for our wealth th 
 my pockets ; and we must be ever on our guard The vn ^ 
 no, be long, ,„d we shaft be three against tw ° W ' 
 Three ! You will take Ramon, then ? ” 
 
 Certainly — if he will go with us ” 
 
 «»: “ n7,:\t*,„r-Z, T W !*I 
 
 flood.” y have been drowned in the 
 
 and YawTll^? S °' • Tf fl °° d dW n0tg0 much farther than this 
 ^s 7!„”; h 7 ) '' V " h “ SbM ' B “ - sl “" soon know ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 NORTH BY WEST. 
 
 brides Yawl and his helpers, we found on the beach about 
 irty men and women, the saved of two thousand. Among them 
 was one of the priests ordained by the abbe. All had lived in the 
 lower part of the oasis, and when the volcano began spouting water 
 after the third earthquake, they fled to the coast and so escaped’ 
 a ou S h natura % much distressed (being bereft of home, kindred 
 n all they possessed), they bore their misfortunes with the uncom- 
 p aimng stoicism so characteristic of their race. 
 
 The immediate question was how to dispose of these unfortunates 
 
 prefe! to^r 6 themawayin the sIoo P- a "d I knew that they would 
 the n ■ mainm the neighborhood where they were bom. But 
 asis was uninhabitable. A few weeks and it would be merged 
 
 once more the desert from which had been so ^ 
 
 large 0 ? the y ^ould settle at AltaVista und e ; 
 
 To this proposal the survivors and the priest gladly and grate- 
 

 
 r. 
 
 196 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 f . Thpv were very good, those poor Indians, and 
 
 fully assented. They we y * aDDr oaching departure than 
 seemed much more concerne o entreaties not to leave 
 
 their own fate, beseecm g obdurate. I could 
 
 them. Angela would have yielded but ^ ^ a re _ 
 
 not see that it was in any sense a score or two of Indians 
 
 mote corner of the : Andes for ^ what would be the 
 
 who were very well able creatine another oasis 
 
 good of building up another colony and them in - 
 
 merely that the evil genu o t e lifetime in making 
 
 * ni6h, H r 
 
 Quipai, devoted his en g nermanen tly benefited mankind. As 
 for himself enduring fame a p J resolved not to 
 
 it was, he had effected less than nothing, and 
 
 court his fate by following his example ^ ^ end ^ 
 
 Those were the arguments I used to Ang ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 not only fully agreed w!th me thaUj were ^ hand . Yaw i 
 
 the sooner we went the bet . twe nty-four hours. There 
 
 could have the yacht ready or se ^ and get water and pro- 
 
 was little more to do ^ k fil i ed forthwith-for the water in 
 
 visions on board, uaflinctd people to 
 
 the channels was fast framin' ! two 
 
 work preparing 0 f our clothing, bedding, 
 ^^^r^-bich I thought would be useful on the 
 
 voyage. was mv own personal attendant. He 
 
 he was descended from some white casta , d break 
 
 „« COPS, and been adopted by h* 1^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 eiefSnL blen theiaitbfol companion of my wandering and m, 
 
 trusty friend. , , Yaw l 0 n the sloop. 
 
 My »<« 1 th^boat victualed, I had «o fear of 
 
 As the sails were not bent T n the morning Ramon and 
 
 “^“S^Xn^naefwehadevety- 
 
 S££« I — « »* ■ -* 
 
north by west. 
 
 197 
 
 where I could turn some of my diamonds into cash and take shin- 
 pmg for England tne West Indies, or the United States. We were 
 between Valpara.se and Callao, and the former place, as being on 
 the way seemed the more desirable place to make for. But af the 
 prevailing winds on the coast are north and northwest a voyage in 
 he opposite direction would involve much beating up and 
 
 rel CheS, T a H d ’-wi alI f Pr ° bability ’ be l0ng and tedi °us. P For thes£ 
 
 — faV ° r ° f CalIa °’ ^ t0M “ * ^ - 
 
 “Just as you like, sir,” he said ; “ it is all the same to Yawl and 
 
 think here h W ^T‘ BUt ' t S a l0nS ’ Sh Stretch t0 Callao - D °n’t you 
 think we had better make for some nearer place? There's IsLy 
 
 “ " d 1 d0 “ bl whMh " « - - « - 
 
 „ J W f make ;t last we get to Callao,” I answered, sharply • 
 Accept under compulsion I will put in neither at Islay nor 
 
 f 11 f ght< sir '} We are under your orders, and what you say 
 shall be done, as far as lies in our power.” 7 7 
 
 Kidd’s answer was civil but his manner was surly and defiant 
 
 case of need , might claim tl)e n * " 
 
 whom I was sure to find there I was consul, 
 
 should find one either at Islay or Artca’ nl"“ U' ,h “ 1 
 
 q»te poaslfelt r ( to“ e e ateeS "a ££$£££* J ~ 
 
 sivenor SonT P^nger, w „ neither e«,e„. 
 Angeia and myadI , “ 
 
 dress, Among the things broughl 
 
MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 198 
 
 exquisite little dagger with a Damascened blade, which I gave to 
 Angela. 1 had my hunting-knife, and Ramon his machete. 
 
 I laid it down as a rule from which there was to be no depart- 
 ure that Ramon and I were neither to sleep at the same time nor 
 be in the cabin together, and that when we had anything particular 
 to say we should say it in Quipai. As it happened, he knew a little 
 English ; I had taught my wife my mother-tongue, and Ramon, by 
 dint of hearing it spoken, and with a little instruction from me and 
 from her, had become so far proficient in the language that he 
 could understand the greater part of what was said. This, how- 
 ever, was not known to Kidd and Yawl; I told him not to let them 
 know ; but whenever opportunity occurred to listen to their conver- 
 sation! and report it to me. I thought that if they meditated evil 
 against us I might in this way obtain timely information of their 
 designs; and I considered that, in the circumstances (our lives 
 being, as I believed, in jeopardy), the expedient was quite justifi- 
 
 ^ We sailed at sunset and got well away, and the clear sky and 
 resplendent stars, the calm sea and the fair soft wind augured well 
 for a prosperous voyage. Yet my heart was sad and my spirits 
 were low. The parting with our poor Indians had been very try- 
 ing and I could not help asking myself whether I had acted quite 
 rightly in deserting them, whether it would not have been nobler 
 (though perhaps not so worldly wise) to throw in my lot with theirs 
 and try to recreate the oasis, as Angela had suggested. I also 
 doubted whether I was acting the part of a prudent man in embark- 
 ing my wife, my fortune, and myself on a wretched little sloop (which 
 wLd probably founder in the first storm), under the control of two 
 men of whom I knew no good, and who, as I feared, might play 
 
 false ^ • 
 
 But whether I had acted wisely or unwisely, there was no going 
 back now, and as I did not want Angela to perceive that I was 
 either dubious or downcast, I pulled myself together put on a 
 cheerful countenance, and spoke hopefully of our prospects. 
 
 She was with us on deck, Kidd being at the he m. „ 
 
 “ I have no very precise idea how far we may be rom a ao, 
 
 I said, “but if this wind lasts we should be there in five or six days 
 at the outside. Don’t you think so, Kidd ? „ 
 
 “ May be. You still think of going to Callao, then ? 
 
 . -still think of going to Callao ! I am determined to go to Cal- 
 
north by west. 
 
 r 99 
 
 smarted?” 7 d ° ^ ^ n0t 1 distinctIy Say 50 before we 
 
 “ I thought you had may be changed your mind. And Callao 
 won t be easy to make. Neither Yawl nor me has ever been there • 
 we don t know the bearings, and we have no compass, and I don’t 
 know much about the stars in these latitudes.” 
 
 But I do, and better still, I have a compass.” 
 
 “A compass! Do you hear that, Bill Yawl? Mr. Fortescue 
 
 f g0t f “ mpaSS - Go t0 Callao •' Why > can go a’most any- 
 where. Where have you got it, sir— in the cabin ? ” 
 
 Yes, Abbe Balthazar and I made it, ever so long since. It is 
 only rudely fashioned, and has never been adjusted, but I dare say 
 it will answer the purpose as well as another.” 
 
 "°f course ^ will, and if you’ll kindly bring it here, it’ll be a 
 great help. I reckon if I keep her head about — ” 
 
 “ Nor’ by west.” 
 
 “ Ay ’ ay ; Slr ’ that ’ s 1 have no doubt. If I keep her head nor’ 
 y wes , dare say we shall fetch Callao as soon as you was a-sav- 
 mg just now. But Bill and me should have the compass before us 
 when were steering; and to-morrow we’ll try to rig up a bit of a 
 bmnacle. You, perhaps, would not mind fetching it now, sir 
 Bring that patent lantern of yours, Bill.” 
 
 hot/, fet a hed the T‘ pass and Yawl the Iantern - made of a glass 
 
 K ‘ dd WaS qUlt ® delighted with the compass, the card of which 
 as properiy marked and framed in a block of wood and said it 
 
 AfteTa J USpende . d ° n ^ mbaIs and fixed on a binnacle, 
 her K ut onI W ‘ 1 ! " “ e ‘ a ’ who feIt tired, went below, and I with 
 
 intended t/ ° 6tCh T and 3 pillow ’ for ’ as 1 told Kidd, I 
 
 't is"” ** the CaWn bein? t0 ° d0Se and 
 haH P Thls was true > y et n °t the whole truth I 
 
 Kidd oTYawiTl" 1 1 S T tHat noth ' n K would be easier thanfor 
 
 h 4 us at tie' P ° n th6 f Cabin - hatch while I was below, and so 
 
 enoii could not u Ram ° n ’ th ° Ugh a Stalwart y °mh 
 
 “ lust a n ° ., COnten d with the the two sailors single-handed. 
 
 , 3 ^° U 1 ce ’ Sir ’ ^ s the same to me ” answered Kidd 
 
 shortly, and ,he» relapsed iato thoughtful silence, 
 
 JJtTt 3t TT Schemin S something which boded us no 
 S . gh as yet, I had no idea what it could be. His motive 
 
200 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UE. 
 
 for desiring to take the sloop to Islay or Arica, rather than to Cal- 
 lao, was pretty obvious, but why he should change his mind on the 
 subject simply because of the compass, passed my comprehension. 
 We could make Callao merely by running up the coast, with wmch, 
 despite his disclaimer, I had not the least doubt he was quite famil- 
 iar ; and even if he were not, there was nothing in a compass to 
 enlighten him. 
 
 But whatever his scheme might be I did not think he would at- 
 tempt to use force— unless he could take us at disadvantage. Man 
 for man, Ramon and I were quite equal to Kidd and Yawl. We 
 were, moreover, better armed, as, so far as I knew, they had no 
 weapons, save their sailors’ knives. In a personal struggle, they 
 might come off second-best ; were, in any case, likely to get badly 
 hurt, and, unless I was much mistaken, they wanted to get hold of 
 my diamonds with a minimum of risk to themselves. Wherefore, so 
 long as we kept a sharp lookout, we had little to fear from open 
 violence. As for the scheme which was seething in Kidd’s brain, 
 I must needs wait for further developments before taking measures 
 
 to counteract it. ... 
 
 When I had come to this conclusion I told R.amon, in Quipai, to 
 lie down, and that when I wanted to sleep I would waken him. 
 
 I watched until midnight, at which hour Yawl relieved Kidd at 
 the helm, and Kidd turned in. Shortly afterward I roused Ramon, 
 and bade him keep watch while I slept. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 FOUND OUT. 
 
 When I awoke it was broad daylight, Yawl at the helm, the 
 sloop bowling along at a great rate before a fresh breeze. But, to 
 my utter surprise, there was no land in sight. 
 
 “ How is this, Yawl ? ” I asked ; “ we are out of doors. How have 
 
 you been steering ? ” 
 
 « The course you laid down sir, nor by west.” 
 
 “ That is impossible. I am not mifth of a seaman, yet I know 
 that if you had been steering nor’ by west, we should have the coast 
 under our lee, and we can not oven see the peaks of the Cordillera. 
 
FOUND OUT. 
 
 201 
 
 KiHd° f Course you can not < the y are covered with a mist," put in 
 
 ‘‘ I see no mist ; moreover, the Cordillera is visible a hundred miles 
 away and by good rights we should not be more than thirty or forty 
 miles from the coast.” . 
 
 “It's the fault of your compass, then. ' The darned thing is all 
 wrong. Better chuck it overboard and have done with it ’’ 
 
 “ If you do, I’ll chuck you overboard. The compass is'quite cor- 
 rect. You have been steering due west for some purpose of your 
 own, and against my orders.” 
 
 “Oh that’s your game, is it? You are the skipper, and us a 
 brace of lubbers as doesn t know north from west, I suppose. Let 
 him sail the cursed craft hissel, Bill.” 
 
 awl let go the tiller, on which the sloop broached to and nearly 
 went on her beam ends. This was more than I could bear, and, 
 calling on Ramon to follow me, I sprang forward, seized Kidd by 
 the throat, and, drawing my dagger, told him that unless he prom- 
 ised to obey my orders and do his duty, I would make an end of him 
 then and there. Meanwhile, Ramon was keeping Yawl off with his 
 machete, flourishing it round his head in a way that made the old 
 salt s hair nearly stand on end. Seeing that resistance was useless, 
 Kidd caved in. 
 
 “I ask your pardon, Mr. Fortescue,” he said, hoarsely, for my 
 hand was still on his throat. “ I ask your pardon, but I lost my 
 temper, and when I lose my temper it's the very devil ; I don’t know 
 what I m doing ; but I promise faithfully to obey your orders and 
 do my duty.” 
 
 On this I loosed him, and bade Ramon put up his machete and 
 let Yawl go back to his steering. In one sense this was an untoward 
 incident. It made Kidd my personal enemy. Quite apart from the 
 question of the diamonds, he would bear me a grudge and do me an 
 ill turn if he could. He was that sort of a man. Henceforward it 
 would be war to the knife between us, and I should have to be more 
 on my guard than ever. On the other hand, it was a distinct ad- 
 vantage to have beaten him in a contest for the mastery ; if he had 
 beaten me, I should have had to accept whatever conditions he 
 might have thought fit to impose, for I was quite unable to sail the 
 sloop myself. 
 
 A light was thrown on his motive for changing the sloop’s course 
 by something Ramon told me when the trouble was over. Shortly 
 
202 
 
 MR. FORTE SC C/E. 
 
 before I awoke he heard Kidd say to Yawl that he would very much 
 like to know where I had hidden the diamonds, and that if they 
 could only keep her head due west, we should make San Ambrosio 
 about the same time that I was expecting to make Callao. 
 
 I had never heard of San Ambrosio before ; but the fact of Kidd 
 wanting to go thither was reason enough for my not wanting to 
 p-o so I bade Yawl steer due north, that is to say, parallel with 
 the coast, and as the continent of South America trends considera- 
 bly to the westward, about twenty degrees south of the equator, I 
 reckoned that this course should bring us within sight of land on the 
 following day, or the day after, according to the speed we made. 
 
 I not only told Yawl and Kidd to steer north, but saw that they 
 did it, as to which, the compass being now always before us, there 
 was no difficulty. Thinking it was well to learn to steer, I took a 
 hand now and again at the tiller, under the direction of Kidd, whose 
 manners my recent lesson had greatly improved. He was very atta- 
 ble, and obeyed my orders with alacrity and seeming good-will. 
 
 The next day I began to look out for land, without, however, 
 much expectation of seeing any, but when a second day, being the 
 third of our voyage, ended with the same result or, rather, want of 
 result, I became uneasy, and expressed myself in this sense to Kidd. 
 
 “You have miscalculated the distance,” he said, “and there s 
 nothing so easy, when you’ve no chart and can take no observa- 
 tions. ° And how can you tell the sloop’s rate of sailing ? The wind 
 is fair and constant— it always is in the trades— but how do you 
 know as there is not a strong current dead against us? I don’t 
 think there’s the least use looking for land before to-morrow. 
 
 This rather reassured me. It was quite true that the sloop 
 might not be going so fast as I reckoned, and the coast be farther 
 off than I thought— although I did not much believe in the current. 
 
 But the morrow came and went, and still no sign of land, and 
 again, on the fifth day, the sun rose on an unbroken expanse of 
 water. In clear weather — and no weather could be clearer the 
 Andes, as I had heard, were visible to mariners a hundred and fifty 
 miles out at sea. Yet not a peak could be seen. Then I knew be- 
 yond a doubt that something was wrong. What could it be . . bail- 
 ing as swiftly as we had been for five days, it was inconceivable 
 that we should not hhve made land if we had been steering north, 
 and for that I had the evidence of my senses. Where, then, was 
 the mystery ? - 
 
found out. 
 
 203 
 
 , ^ r “ked myself this question, Ramon touched ms on the 
 shoulder, and whispered in Quipai : 
 
 “Just now Yawl said to Kidd that it was quite time we sighted 
 San Ambrosio, and that if we missed it, after all, it would be cursed 
 
 ^all^t.- dd anSW6red ^ ^ S 
 
 This was more puzzling still. He had said before that, if we 
 
 the Ze T ° n WeStWard taCk ’ We Sh ° Uld make San Ambrosio at 
 the time I was expecting to sight Callao, and now, although we were 
 
 the Zme 1 ! 6 ’ VUkinS C ° Unted ° n makin £ San Ambrosio all 
 
 Where was San Ambrosio? Not on the coast, for they were 
 
 clearly looking for it then, had probably been looking for it some 
 ume. and the mainland must be at least two hundred°mi.es aTy 
 
 lie ho h°t Z C ° aSt n Ambrosio was an is, “d, yet how it could 
 he both to the west and to the north was not quite obvious. And 
 
 who w HuX; Md why shou]d famng jn w . th h . m make matters an 
 
 riS fZ 7 mtereStm? „ ShiprnateS? 0f one thing I felt sure-all 
 
 * these meant all wrong for me, and it behooved me to 
 
 prevent the meeting-but how ? 
 
 pacing 1 to Zw th ° Ug , hts , were P ass i^ through my mind, I was 
 P & and fro on the sloop’s deck, where was also Angela sit- 
 
 hell °" a /f a ’ and lean ' ng against the taffraiI > Kidd being at the 
 hdm and Ramon and Yawl smokin? the bow * ^1 16 
 
 T h “ si ■ “ 
 
 : As 1 *■» 
 
 JrZieTXhVl b Z SS A frame u bUt " makeShift affair ’ in a ^ode^ 
 
 a makeshift h Z , attach d makeshift ^ imba ^ a "d hung on 
 
 thZcabllt r a< ?H H 6 I 61 ' bdn? fiX6d b6tWeen the tiHerlnd 
 
 teth-r r 11' Tbe deck Was Very narrow . and to lengthen my 
 
 Trr fhe and the binnacle, some- 
 
 raZ felFaJhwSh, r ^ Angda ' ° nCe ' &S 1 dld so ’ the s «n’s 
 
 tooZtrZ °? S f m ’ and> happenin ^ the Same <™t 
 
 sudZ rush fi Z aSS ’ u made a diSC0Very that sent the blood with 
 0 TiZ i mY ^ and th6n t0 my brain : a smaI1 Piece 
 
 framework of Z “ ^ light ’ had been driven into the 
 
 “ W ” thereby d f , COmpas f’ c ose t0 that part of the card marked 
 
 «»« sbcfoi 1“ ""J e “ the **» » q»eslion. so ,ha. 
 
 oar departure from Quipai, we had been steering due 
 
204 
 
 MR. FOR FESCUE. 
 
 west instead of north by west, as I intended and believed. The 
 dodge might not have deceived a seaman, but it had certainly e- 
 
 CelV <?Youinfemal scoundrel, I have found you out. Look th " e ' 
 
 I shouted, pointing at the piece of iron. As I spoke Kidd let go 
 the tiller, and quick as lightning gave me a tremendous Wow with 
 his fist between the shoulders, which just missed thro wmg me hea 
 foremost down the cabin-hatch, and sent me face downward on the 
 deck breathless and half stunned. Before I »»f thtnk of 
 rising Kidd, who, as he struck, shouted to Yawl to kill the I 
 dian/' was kneeling on my back with his fingers round my wind- 
 
 ^ ^ « a t j as t i I have you now, you conceited jackanapes, you d d 
 sea-latlr Where have you got them diamonds? You wont 
 answer' Shall I throttle you, or brain you with this belaying pm. 
 I’ll throttle you ; then there’ll be none of your dirty blood to swab 
 
 UP With that the villain squeezed my windpipe still tighter, and 
 quite unable either to struggle or speak I was 
 
 Lt when his hold suddenly relaxed, and groaning deeply, he sank 
 beside ^ne on the deck. Freed from his weight, I staggered to my 
 feet to find that I owed my life to Angela, who had used her d g 
 
 g er to such purpose that ^kmhirn,” she 
 
 cH^ratrSrand pale ’with horror at the thought of her 
 
 own boldness ^ suddet i that the boy had been unable 
 
 ■■sssS&SE&iSS 
 
 Sd down L head, while Ramon, astride on his body, pinioned his 
 Now, look here. Yawl ! ” I said. “ You have tried to commit 
 buTfwm s^ateymrr hfetn SiS You mSpromise to obe^ 
 
POUND OUT. 
 
 205 
 
 mainland. In return, I promise not to bring any charge against you 
 when we get there.” * 
 
 “All right, sir! Kidd was my master, and I obeyed him ; now 
 you are my master, and I will obey you.” 
 
 I quite believed that the old salt was speaking sincerely He 
 had been so completely under Kidd’s influence as to have no will of 
 his own. 
 
 “ Good 1 but there is something else. I must have those dia- 
 monds he stole from my house at Alta Vista. Where are they ? ” 
 
 “ Stitched inside his jersey, under the armhole.” 
 
 I went to Kidd’s body, cut open his jersey, and found the dia- 
 monds in two small canvas bags. They were among the largest I 
 had, and (as I subsequently found) worth fifty thousand pounds. 
 After we had thrown the body overboard, I ordered Yawl* to put 
 the sloop on the starboard tack, and myself taking the helm 
 changed the course to due north. Then I asked him who he and 
 Kidd were, whence they came, and why they had so shamefully de- 
 ceived me as to the course we were steering. 
 
 On this. Yawl answered in a dry, matter-of-fact manner, as if it 
 were all m the way of business, that Kidd had been captain and he 
 boatswain and carpenter of a “free-trader,” known as the Sky 
 Scraper Sulky Sail, and by several other aliases; that the cap- 
 
 wlenlT M u Ut T " dlVisi0n ° f P Iunder ’ ot which Kidd 
 
 wanted th 6 lion s share, the upshot being that he and Yawl, who ■ 
 
 adrift r n m m ’ W6re sh ° Ved int0 the din £hy a "d sent 
 
 adrift. In these circumstances they naturally made for the nearest 
 
 and, which proved to be Quipai, and deeming it inexpedient to con- 
 less that they were pirates, pretended to be castaways. They 
 built the sloop with the idea of stealing away by themselves, and 
 but for my d.scovery of the theft of the diamonds and the bursting 
 o e crater would have done so. As I suspected, Kidd allowed 
 us to go with them, solely with a view to cutting our throats and 
 appropriating the remainder of the diamonds. This design beino- 
 rusirated by our watchfulness, he next conceived the notion of put- 
 ing in at Anca or Islay, charging me with robbing him, and, in 
 collusion with the authorities, whom he intended to bribe, depriv- 
 ing me of all I possessed. This plan likewise failing, and having a 
 decided objection to Callao, where he was known and where there 
 might be a British cruiser as well as a British consul, Kidd hit on 
 the brilliant idea of doctoring the compass and making me think we 
 
2o6 
 
 MR. FOR RESCUE. 
 
 were going north by west, while our true course was almost due 
 . ?. nhipct heino- to reach San Ambrosio, a group of rocky 
 •sfets some three hundred miles from the coast, and a pirate strong- 
 hold and trysting-place. If they did not find any old comrade 
 there, they would at least find provisions, water, and firearms * 
 so be able, as they thought, to despoil me of my diamonds. A 
 Kidd had hopes of falling in with Captain Hux, a worthy of the 
 fame kidney who commanded the “free-trader” Culebra, and 
 whose favorite cruising-ground war northward of San Ambrosnn 
 “But in my opinion,” observed Mr. Yawl, coolly, when he had 
 finished his story, “in my opinion, we passed ^‘ o t e ““ 
 last night, and so I told Kidd ; they re very small, and as there 
 
 liSh “fffmus"be'a long way from Callao, then. How far do you 
 
 SUP “ That is more than I can tell ; may be four hundred miles.” 
 
 “ And how long do you think it will take us to get there, assum- 
 ing it to be four hundred miles ? ” . . , 
 
 g “ Well, on this tack and with this breeze-you see sir, the vv nd 
 has fallen off a good deal since sunrise-with this breeze, ab 
 
 eiS «‘Eight’’da y s!” I exclaimed, in consternation. “ Eight days! 
 
 and I don’t think we have food and water enough for two Come 
 with me below, Ramon, and let me see how much we have left. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 GRIEF AND PAIN. 
 
 It was even worse than I feared. Reckoning neither on a 
 
 longer voyage than five or six days, nor on being so far from the 
 coast that in case of emergency, we could not obtain fresh supplies 
 we had used both provisions and water rather recklessly, and 
 7o.nd that of the latter we had no more than a. our ««». rate * 
 consumption, would last eighteen hours, while of food » had 
 much as might suffice us for twenty-four. It was necessary to re 
 ”o„r allowance forthwith, and 1 put it to Jaw, whe.tar w 
 could not make lor some nearer port than Callao. Better risk 
 
GkiEP and paw. 
 
 20 ? 
 
 less of my diamonds than die of hunger and thirst v r 
 was unfavorable. The nearest nnrt nf *k rSt ' Yaw s answer 
 the farthest as to time To rm h 6 Coast as to distance was 
 
 we should have to make IT , t \ ^ n ° rth ^ W 
 
 Callao, or the coast thereabout couTd T TTh" Wher6aS 
 north. So there seemed nothing for it but to e 7 ^ C,Ue 
 sources to the utmost, and make all the J ^ 
 
 as we might, it was evident that i peed W cou ld. Yet, do 
 
 of food and water from some p’assingTip we '1i TrlT & SUPPl> ’ 
 ourselves on a starvation allowance. I vSs hn " ‘° PUt 
 
 concerned for myself and th* mu i , aS> however, much less 
 as she had beTto aTn le **’ T" f ° r A ^ da - Accustomed 
 af Quipai, the anxieties we T’ T Catastro P he 
 
 of the sloop, were telling- vkihi \ dared ’ and tbe confinement 
 death, richly as Td Trfe h^T 5 b ^ MoreOW ’ Kidd ’ S 
 She strove to be cheerful T l T t been a & reat shock to her. 
 
 wrsK^rSSS 5 
 
 duced to two knots an hour, and ouf hope of rea‘hint r T ^ 
 Meanwhile, Angela grew weaker and weaker^f^to” T' 
 fever, was at times even delirious, and I began to fear that T 
 
 a ; p wS 1 1 T„r w r° e " ! 
 
 wS sir ts .* rr ,h: 
 
 at the ke 2oI, aWl ’h aS 
 
 an which centered our hopes. g ** y 1 th nobIe shl P 
 
2o8 
 
 MR. EORTESCUE. 
 
 ..Three masts! A merchantman? No, I’m blest if I don’t 
 think she's a man-of-war. _ So she is, a frigate and a firm un-forty 
 or fifty guns, I should say.” 
 
 “ Undei what flag. . Tack' No stars and stripes. 
 
 « 1 11 tell vou in a minute— Union jacK . ino, si r 
 
 She belongs^ to Uncle Sant, she do, sit, and he’s no call u, b« 
 
 tsifisr-.* eras?!* »•'- - 
 
 •'“fwho 1 ^ 'on ”»r«h.t do yon wan. > " asked a vole, from the 
 
 Cod's sake, throw u. a 
 
 ""The LTe beS'thrown and .he sloop made fast, I asked 1 the of. 
 
 " whl« 7 a "whom .’rightly conlectnred to he the cap- 
 
 tain : Wel i .. he said, quietly, “ what can I do for you ? ” 
 
 “ Water,” I gasped, for the exertion of coming on board ha 
 
 be “^°XrSS^' Why did no. f think of it before ? 
 You shall ’have both food and drink. Somebody ^jaKr w 'h 
 
 man. Might I ask your name, sir ? 
 
 “ Thank^yo^Mr. Fortescue. Mine is Bigelow, and I have the 
 
GRIEF AND PAIN. 
 
 20Q 
 
 fans.— There ! Take a long drink. You will feel better now, and 
 when you have had a square meal, you shall tell me all about it. 
 And the others ? You are an old salt, anybody can see that.” 
 
 Yes, sir. Bill Yawl at your service, an old man-o ’-war’s man, 
 able-bodied seaman, bo’s’n, and ship’s carpenter, anything you like 
 sir. ^ Ax your pardon, sir, but a glass of half-water grog— ” 
 
 “ Not until you have eaten. Then you may have two glasses 
 Tomkins, take these men to the purser and tell him to give them a 
 square meal. The doctor is attending to your wife, Mr. Fortescue. 
 She is in my state-room and shall have every comfort we can give 
 her.” & 
 
 “I thank you with all my heart. Captain Bigelow. You are 
 really too good, I can never — ” 
 
 “ Tut, tut, tut, my dear sir. Pray don’t say a word. I have 
 only given her my spare state-room. Mr. Charles will take you to 
 the wardroom, we can talk afterward. Meanwhile, I shall have 
 your belongings got on board, and then, I suppose, we had better 
 sink that craft of yours. If we leave her to knock about the ocean 
 she may be knocking against some ship in the night and doing her 
 a mischief.” 
 
 After I had eaten the “ square meal ” set for me in the ward- 
 room, and spent a few minutes with Angela, I joined the captain 
 and first lieutenant in the former’s state-room, and over a glass of 
 grog, told them briefly, but frankly, something of my life and ad- 
 ventures. 
 
 “ WelI> il is the queerest yarn I ever heard ; but I dare say none 
 the less true on that account,” said Captain Bigelow, when I had 
 mshed. “ With that sweet lady for your wife and your belt full 
 of diamonds, you may esteem yourself one of the most fortunate of 
 men. And you did quite right to get away from that place. But 
 
 what was your point ? where did you expect to get to with that 
 Sloop of yours ? ” 
 
 “ Callao.” 
 
 “ Ca ' la ° ! Wh y the c °urse you were on would never have taken 
 you to Callao. Callao lies nor’ by east, not nor’ by west. If you 
 
 ad not fallen in with us, I am afraid you would never have got 
 anywhere. 6 
 
 , T- 3 ? 1 f SU , re we should not - Three days more and we should 
 
 nave died of thirst.” 
 
 Where shall we put you ashore ? ** 
 
216 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUM. 
 
 « Tha t Is for you to say. Where would it be convenient? " 
 
 :: r ^ m— to a**.; 
 
 but before going ^England, I should like to call at LaGuayra, and 
 
 and had all tho, 
 
 "nd are men who would 
 
 t0 Lon ' 
 
 how many diamonds you carried aDOur yu , 
 
 aside, “ your wife . h sudden sink- 
 
 i „ e ;rrt" - — 
 
 than his words. 
 
 u nt now — with nourishing food and your ca , „ 
 
 quickly regain her ^h Educed and the 
 
 “ For the moment. But she 15 very 
 
 symptoms are grave. A recur .^ enC ^ d 1 \ k ow w hat you are hint- 
 -But such. f«.er » so eastl, cu „ er die , 
 
 ing at, doctor. Yet I can n° miraculously res- 
 
 After surmounting so many dangers, and being 
 
 cued, and with prospects so fair, it wou thought it my 
 
 “ I w® do S is with God.” 
 
 duty to prepare you for the worst. 
 
 This is a part of my story on which I wi f e was 
 
 ye t I can n<* think of * “ J j dand in min e, as sweetly 
 
 2"; le e h d d 
 
 officers I should have buried myself with Angela 
 
OLD FRIENDS AND A NEW FOE. ^il 
 
 sea. I owed him my life a second time— such as it was— more, for 
 he taught me the duty and grace of resignation, showed me that 
 though to cherish the memory of a great sorrow ennobles a man he 
 who abandons himself to unmeasured grief is as pusillanimous as he 
 who shirks his duty on the field of battle. 
 
 Captain Bigelow had a great heart and a chivalrous nature 
 After Angela’s death he treated me more as a cherished son than as 
 a casual guest. Before we reached Panama we were fast friends. 
 He provided me with clothing and gave me money for my immedi- 
 ate wants, as to have attempted to dispose of any of my diamonds 
 t ere, or at Chagres, might have exposed me to suspicion, possibly 
 to danger. In acknowledgment of his kindness and as a souvenir 
 of our friendship, I persuaded him to accept one of the finest stones 
 in my collection, and we parted with mutual assurances of good- 
 will and not without hope of meeting - ag"ain. 
 
 T i f .n at hT’ °1 7 nt With me - Bm YawI > equally of course. 
 
 e > tI behm , d , He had Slung hls hammock in the Constellation’s 
 to castle, and became captain of the foretop. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 OLD FRIENDS AND A NEW FOE. 
 
 1 made up my mind to see Carmen, if he still lived ; and 
 
 finding at Chagres a schooner bound for La Guayra I took passages 
 in her for myself and Ramon, all the more willingly as the captfin 
 therTt h° P T at . Cura5oa - Tt occurred to me that Van Voorst, 
 
 ' wouSTe a m rc C ? ant Wh ° S , e hands 1 had left six hundred P° unds > 
 
 uld be a likely man to advise me as to the disposal of my dia- 
 monds— if he also still lived. y 
 
 find^hl he iV° SUrprise ’ for P e °P le die fas ‘ in the tropics, I did 
 find the old gentleman alive, but he had made so sure of my death 
 
 that my reappearance almost caused his. The pipe he was smokino- 
 dropped from his mouth, and he sank back in his chair with an ex* 
 clamation of fear and dismay. 
 
 in the^esh 6 ’^ ** Mynheer Van V °°rst,” I said ; “ I am 
 
 “ I am glad to see you in the flesh. I don’t believe in ghosts, of 
 
2X2 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 course. But I happened to be in what you call a brown study, and 
 as I had heard you were shot long ago on the llanos you rather 
 startled me, coming in so quietly— that rascally boy ought to have 
 announced you. But I was not afraid — not in the least. Why 
 should one be afraid of a ghost ? And I saw at a glance that, as 
 you say, you were in the flesh. I suppose you have come to inquire 
 about your money. It is quite safe, my dear sir, and at your dis- 
 posal, and you will find that it has materially increased. I will call 
 for the ledger, and you shall see. 
 
 The ledger was brought in by a business-looking young man, 
 whom the old merchant introduced to me as his nephew and part- 
 ner, Mynheer Bernhard Van Voorst. 
 
 “This is Mr. Fortescue, Bernhard,” he said, “the English gen- 
 tleman who was dead — I mean that I thought was dead, but is 
 alive — an d who many years ago left in my hands a sum of about 
 two thousand piasters. Turn to his account and see how much 
 there is now to his credit ? ” 
 
 “ At the last balance the amount to Mr. Fortescue’s credit was 
 six thousand two hundred piasters.” * 
 
 “You see! Did I not say so? Your capital has more than 
 
 doubled.” 
 
 “ More than doubled ! How so ? ” 
 
 “ We have credited you with the colonial rate of interest— ten per 
 cent — as was only right, seeing that you had no security, and we 
 have used the money in our business ; and mine friend, compound 
 interest at ten per cent is a great institution. It beats gold-mining, 
 and is almost as profitable as being President of the Republic of 
 Venezuela. How will you take your balance, Mr. Fortescue ? W e 
 will have the account made up to date. I can give you half the 
 amount in hard money — coin is not too plentiful just now in Curagoa, 
 half in drafts at seven days’ sight on the house of Goldberg, Van 
 Voorst & Company, at Amsterdam, or Spring & Gerolstein, at 
 London. They are a young firm, but do a safe business and work 
 with a large capital.” 
 
 “ I am greatly obliged to you, but all I require at present is 
 about five hundred piasters, in hard money.” 
 
 “ Ah then, you have made money where you have been ? ob- 
 
 * At the time in question, “ piaster ” was a word often used as an equivua- 
 lent for “ dollar” both in the “ Gulf ports” and the West Indies. 
 
OLD FfclENDS AND A NEW EOE 
 
 Zl 3 
 
 spectacle'" Van V ° 0rSt ’ 6yeing me keenly throu ^ h his ^ horn 
 
 “Not money, but money’s worth,” I replied, for I had quite de- 
 , , de , d !° ™ ake a ooohdant of the honest old Dutchman, whom I 
 iked all the better for going straight to the point without asking 
 too many questions. asicing 
 
 b ' ”' rch “ di “- - «-M» is money- 
 “Yes, it is merchandise.” 
 
 ° r0n the S P anish M*n 
 
 vou a 1 Lral reC61Ve U fr0m y0U 0n comment and make 
 
 nrints Ire agamst bills of ladin S- Hardware and cotton 
 
 p its are in great demand just now, and if it is anything of that 
 
 sort we might sell it to arrive.” S 
 
 “ 11 is nothing of that sort, Mr. Van Voorst.” 
 
 “ More portable, perhaps ? ” 
 
 “Yes, more portable.” 
 
 “ H y°n could show me a sample ” 
 
 “ I can show you the bulk.” 
 
 “You have got it in the schooner?” 
 
 “ No, I have got it here.” 
 
 “ Gold dust ? ” 
 
 “Diamonds. I found them in the Andes, and shall be glad to 
 have your advice as to their disposal.” 
 
 ** Hiamonds ! Ach ! y °u are a happy man . If you would like to ' 
 
 The t, me h r m rs I , J C u an PerhapS g ' Ve y ° U SOme idea of ^eir value. 
 The house of Goldberg and Van Voorst, at Amsterdam, in which 
 I was brought up, deal largely in precious stones.” 
 
 she? 1 I h 'l- Undid my belt and poured the diamonds on a large 
 sheet of whde paper, which Mr. Van Voorst spread on his desk. 
 
 the d f t 1 GOtt! " he exdaimed in ecstac y, glaring at 
 
 wkh htTt fi ° Ugh tt ^ glaSS6S and Pickin ^ out ^ he «nest 
 r h h J - f f fingerS ’ Thls is the fin est collection of rough stones 
 I ever did see. They are worth-until they are weighed and cut it 
 ^ impossible t ° say how much-but at least a mill, on dollars, nrob- 
 ably two millions. You found them in the Andes ? You could not 
 say where, could you, Mr. Fortescue ? ” 
 
 I could, but I would rather not.” 
 
 You intend T” pardon ’ 1 shouId have know n better than to ask. 
 
 You intend to go there again, of course ? ” 
 
214 
 
 ' MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 «Never! It would be at the risk of my life— and there are 
 
 ^TherHs no need. You are rich already, and enough is as 
 ortoci as a feast. You ask my advice as to the disposal of these 
 ftones Well, my advice is that you consign them through us, to 
 the house of Goldberg, Van Voorst and Company. They are honest 
 and experienced. They will get them cut and sell them for you at 
 the highest price. They are, moreover, one of the richest houses in 
 Amsterdam, trustworthy without limit. What do you say . 
 
 “Yes I will act on your advice, and consign these stones to 
 vour friends for sale at Amsterdam, or elsewhere, as they may think 
 best And be good enough to ask them to advise me as to the in- 
 
 h— -T* fina ”; 
 
 cial relations with every monetary center in Euiopc t ie> comm 
 the best information. And now we must count and weigh these 
 stones carefully, and I shall give you a receipt in ^proper form ' h Y 
 must be shipped in three or four parcels so as to divide the ns . 
 and I will write to Goldberg and Van Voorst to take out open 
 policies « by ship or ships -for how much shall we say . 
 
 “ That I must leave to you, Mr. Van Voorst. 
 
 « Then I will say two million dollars— better make it too muc 
 than too little — and two millions may not be too much. I do not 
 profess to be an expert, and as likely as not, my estimate is very 
 
 wide of the mark. . , , , 
 
 After the diamonds had been counted and weighed, and a re- 
 ceipt written out, in duplicate and in two languages, I informed Mr. 
 Van Voorst of my intention to visit Caracas and asked whether 
 things were pretty quiet there. 
 
 « At Caracas itself, yes. But in the intenor they are fighting, as 
 usual. The curse of Spanish rule has been succeeded by the stil 
 greater curse of chronic revolution.” 
 
 “But foreigners are admitted, I suppose? I run no risk of being 
 
 clapped in prison as I was last time ? 
 
 “Not the least. You can go and come as you please. You 
 don’t even require a passport. The Spaniards, who were once so 
 hated, are now almost popular. I hear that several Spanish officers, 
 who served in the royal army during the war, are now at Caracas, 
 and have offered their swords to the government for the suppression 
 of the present rebellion. Do you intend to stay long in Venezuela ? 
 
OLD FRIENDS AND A NEW FOE . 
 
 21 $ 
 
 “ I think not. In any case I shall see you before I leave for 
 Europe. Much depends on whether I find my friend Carmen 
 alive.” 
 
 “ Carmen, Carmen ! I seem to know the name. Is he a gen- 
 eral?” 
 
 “ Scarcely, I should think. He was only a teniente of guerillas 
 when we parted some ten years ago.” 
 
 “ They are all generals now, my dear sir, and as plentiful as 
 frogs in my native land. If you are ever in doubt as to the rank of 
 a Venezolano, you are always safe in addressing him as a general. 
 Yes, I fancy you will find your friend alive. At any rate, there is a 
 General Carmen, rather a leading man among the Blues, I think, 
 and sometimes spoken of as a probable president. You will, of 
 course, put up at the Hotel ae los Generales. Ah, here is Bernhard 
 with the five hundred dollars in hard money, for which you asked. 
 If you should want more, draw on us at sight. I will give you a 
 letter of introduction to the house of Bliihm and Bluthner at Carac- 
 as, who will be glad to cash your drafts at the current rate of ex- 
 change, and to whose care I will address any letters I may have 
 occasion to write to you.” 
 
 This concluded my business with Mr. Van Voorst, and three 
 days later I was once more in Caracas. I found the place very lit- 
 tle altered, less than I was myself. I had entered it in high spirits 
 full of hope, eager for adventure, and intent on making my fortune. 
 Now my heart was heavy with sorrow and bitter with disappoint- 
 ment. Though I had made my fortune, I had lost, as I thought, 
 both the buoyancy of youth and the capacity for enjoyment, and I 
 looked forward to the future without either hope or desire. 
 
 As I rode with Ramon into the patio of the hotel, where I had 
 been arrested by the alguazils of the Spanish governor, a man 
 came forward to greet me, so strikingly like the ancient posadero 
 that I felt sure he was the latter s son. My surmise proved correct, 
 and I afterward heard, not without a sense of satisfaction, that the 
 father was hanged by the patriots when they recaptured Caracas. 
 
 After I had engaged my rooms the posadero informed me (in 
 answer to my inquiry) that General Salvador Carmen (this could be 
 none other than my old friend) was with the army at La Victoria, 
 but that he had a house at Caracas where his wife and family w^ere 
 then residing. He also mentioned incidentally that several Spanish 
 officers of distinction, who had arrived a few days previously, were 
 
2l6 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 staying in the /W«-doubtless the same spoken ' of by Van 
 
 V0 The day being still young, for I had left La Guayra betimes, I 
 thought I could not do better than call on Juanita, who lived only a 
 stone's throw from the Hotel de los Generales. She recognized me 
 at once and received me-almost literally-with open arms. When 
 I essayed to kiss her hand, she offered me her cheek. 
 
 “After this long time! It is a miracle! she exclaime . 
 
 “ We mourned for you as one dead ; for we felt sure that if you 
 were living we should have had news of you. How glad Salvador 
 will be 1 Where have you been all this time, and why, oh why, did 
 
 YOU not write ? ” , T A * 
 
 “ I have been in the heart of the Andes, and I did not write be- 
 cause I was as much cut off from the world as if I had been in an- 
 
 “ You must have a long story to tell us, then. But I am for- 
 getting the most important question of all. Are you still a bache- 
 
 l0r ’“ Worse than that, Juanita. I am a widower. I have lost the 
 
 sweetest wife—” - . 
 
 “ Misericordia ! Misericordia ! Pobre amigo into O, 
 how sorry I am ; how much I pity you ! ” And the dear lady, now 
 a stately and handsome matron, fell a- weeping out 01 pure tender- 
 ness and I had to tell her the sad story of the quenching of Quipai 
 and Angela’s death. But the telling of it, together with Juanita s 
 sympathy did me good, and I went away in much better spirit 
 33 hid come, lalvador, she said would be back in a few days, 
 and" she much regretted not being able to offer me quarters ; . was 
 “ntS^Tt custom of the place and Spanish for lad,, s 
 
 to entertain gentlemen visitors during their husbands absui . 
 
 X T=Sn g Juanita I walked round b, the guard-house m 
 
 whi"“ had been imprisoned, »d •>™”d h *« 
 
 and 1 had hidden when we were maktng our escap . Thy g 
 nested some stirring memories— Carera (who, as I learned irom 
 Juanita, had been dead several years) and his chivalrous friendship 
 Salvador and his reckless courage; our midnight ride Gahr^ ^ 
 
 the bivouac by the mountain-tarn (poor Gahra, what had 
 SX - * guerillas ; Griscelli and his blood-h.un^w 
 I hated that man, but surely by this time he had got '«»’ > • 
 Gondocori and Queen Mamcuna; the man-killer; and Qu.pan 
 
2I 7 
 
 OLD FRIENDS AND A NEJV FOE. 
 
 My mind was still busied with these memories when I reached 
 the hotel. There seemed to be much more going on than there had 
 been earlier in the day horsemen were coming and going, sen-ants 
 hurrying to and fro, people promenading on the patio, a group of 
 uniformed officers deep in conversation. One of them, a tall, rather 
 stout man, with grizzled hair, a pair of big epaulettes, and a coat 
 covered with gold lace, had his back toward me, and as my eye 
 fell on his sword-hilt it struck me that I had seen something like 
 it before. I was trying to think where, when the owner°of it 
 turned suddenly round, and I found myself face to face with— Gris- 
 CELLI ! ! 
 
 For some seconds we stared at each other in blank amaze- 
 ment. I could see that though he recognized me, he was trying 
 to make believe that he did not; or, perhaps, he really doubted 
 whether I was the man I seemed. 
 
 “ That is my sword,” I said, pointing to the weapon by his side, 
 which had been given to me by Carera. 
 
 “Your sword ! What do you mean ? ” 
 
 “You took it from me eleven years ago, when I fell into vour 
 hands at San Felipe, and you hunted my friend Carmen and myself 
 with bloodhounds.” , y 
 
 “ What folly is this ? Hunted you with bloodhounds, forsooth ! 
 W hy this is the first time I ever set eyes on you.— The man is mad 
 — or drunk (addressing his friends). 
 
 “You lie, Griscelli ; and you are not a liar merely, but a mur- 
 derer and a coward.” 
 
 , “\ P ° r i f Z c 0S ’ , y ° U Sha11 pay for this ins ult with your heart's blood ' ” 
 he shouted, furiously, half drawing his sword. 
 
 bold v likC y ° U draW ° n 3n unarmed man.” I said, laying 
 hold of his wnst. “ Give me a sword, and you shall make me pay 
 
 or the insult with my blood-if you can. Senores ” (by this time all 
 the people m the patto had gathered round us), “Senores, are there 
 here any Venezuelan caballeros who will bear me out in this quar- 
 rel lam an Englishman, by name Fortescue; eleven years ago 
 while serving under General Mejia on the patriot side, I fell into 
 he hands of Gener al Griscelli, who deprived me of the sword he 
 now wears, which I received as a present from Senor Carera, whose 
 name you may remember. Then, after deceiving us with false 
 
 General Cafmen and niyself — he hunted us 
 with his bloodhounds, and we escaped as by a miracle. Now he 
 
2l8 
 
 MR. FORTE SCUE. 
 
 protests that he never saw me before. What say you, senores, am 
 I not right in stigmatizing him as a murderer and liar . 
 
 “ Quite right ! ” said a middle-aged, soldierly-looking man. “ I 
 also served in the war of liberation, and remember Gnscehi s 
 name well. It would serve him right to poniard him on the 
 
 « n 0) n0 . I want no murder. I demand only satisfaction. 
 
 “And he shall give it you or take the consequences. I will 
 gladly act as one witness, and I am sure my friend here, Senor Don 
 Luis de Medina, who is also a veteran of the war, will act as the 
 
 other. Will you fight, Griscelli?” 
 
 « Certainly — provided that we fight at once, and to the death. 
 You can arrange the details with my friends here. 
 
 “ Be it so.” I said, “ A la muerte!' 
 
 “To the death! To the death!” shouted the crowd, whose native 
 ferocity was now thoroughly roused. 
 
 After a short conference and a reference to Gnscelh and myself, 
 the seconds announced that we were to fight with swords^ in benor 
 de Medina’s garden, whither we straightway wended, for tnere were 
 no police to meddle with us, and at that time duels a la muerte 
 were of daily occurrence in the city of Caracas. When we arrived 
 at the garden, which was only a stone’s-throw walk from th vfiosada 
 Senor de Medina produced two swords with cutting edges, and 
 blades five feet long; for we were to fight in Spanish fashion, and 
 Spanish duelists both cut and thrust, and, when occasion serves, 
 
 use the left hand as a help in parrying. 
 
 Then the spectators, of whom there were fully two score, made 
 a ring, and Griscelli and I (having meanwhile doffed our hats, coats 
 
 and shirts), stepped into the arena. r . 
 
 I had not handled a sword for years, and for aught I knew Gris- 
 celli mi°bt he a consummate swordsman and in daily practice. ji 
 the other hand, he was too stout to be in first-rate condition, and, 
 besides being younger, I had slightly the advantage in length of arm. 
 
 When the word was given to begin, he opened tne attack with 
 great energy and resolution, and was obviously intent on killing me 
 ff he could. For a minute or two it was all I could do to hold my 
 own ; and partly to test his strength and skill, partly to get my han 
 in, I stood purposely on the defensive. 
 
 At the end of the first bout neither of us had received a scratch, 
 but Griscelli showed signs of fatigue while I was quite fresh. Also 
 
OLD FRIENDS AND A NEW FOE . 
 
 219 
 
 he was very angry and excited, and when we resumed he came at 
 me with than his former impetuosity, as if he meant to bear 
 me down by the sheer weight and rapidity of his strokes. His favor- 
 ite attacl^was a cut aimed at my head. Six several times he re 
 
 SulfgitrTfflrd 6 ’ 1 St ° PPed the Str ° ke With the 
 
 usual guard Baffled and furious, he tried it again, but-probablv 
 because of failing strength-less swiftly and adroitly. My oppo 
 tumty had come Quick as thought I ran under his guard and 
 >rm hand, passed'my sword 
 
 Then there were cries of bravo, for the popular feeling was on 
 
 BuVl i“lfttT y - SeC ° n i dS C ° ngratUlated me warmly on my victory. 
 
 I said little in reply, my attention being attracted by a young 
 
 man who was kneeling beside Griscelli's body and, as it m ght seem 
 saying a silent prayer. When he had done he rose to his feet a!5 
 as I looked on his face I saw he was the dead man’s son. 
 
 “ Sir, you have killed my father, and I shall kill you,” he said in 
 a calm voice, but with intense passion. “ Yes, I shall kill you, and 
 if I fail my cousins will kill you. If you escape us all, then we will 
 charge our children to avenge the death of the man you have this 
 day slain. We are Corsicans, and we never forgive. I know your 
 name ; mine is Giuseppe Griscelli.” 
 
 “You are distraught with grief, and know not what you say,” I 
 said as kindly as I could, for I pitied the lad. “But let not your 
 
 g " ef ™ ake L y0U un J ust - Your father died in fair fight. If I had not 
 killed him he would have killed me, and years ago he tried to hunt 
 me to death for his amusement.” 
 
 “ And I and mine— we will hunt you to death for our revenge 
 Or will you fight now? I am ready.” g ' 
 
 you “„ No ’ 1 have no quarrel with you, and I should be soriy to hurt 
 
 Go your way, then, but remember — ” 
 
 “ Come in ^ ,eaV I h ‘ m: t h< : S6ems baif-crazed,” interposed Medina. 
 Come into my house while my slaves remove the body.” 
 
220 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A NOVEL WAGER. 
 
 three days afterward Carmen, apprised by his wife of my ar- 
 
 rivaWetunredto Caracas, and 1 became their goes,, greatly to my 
 
 . . f ,u e duel with Griscelli, besides making me tempo 
 
 rarilffamous, had brought me so many friends and invitations 
 
 ^ 1 eXPr6S t d ltd 
 
 that Griscelli should have dared to return to a country where he h d 
 
 .forgotten in ten years, was the ^swen last president 
 
 qunnose he would have come back if Olivare F 
 
 and^ Yellow-had not made it known that he won d bestow com- 
 Stins on Spanish officers of distinction and give «b.m command 
 in the national army. It was a most absurd proceeding. But we 
 shot Olivarez three months ago, and I will see that these Spanish 
 interlopers are sent out of the country forthwith, that young spark 
 
 who threatens to murder you, included.” 
 
 “ Let him stay if he likes. I doubt whether he meant what he 
 
 SalC “ I have no doubt of it, whatever, amigo mio , and he shall go. 
 If he stayed in the country I could not answer for your safety ■; and 
 if you come across any of the Griscellis in Europe, take my advice 
 and be as watchful as if you were crossing a river infested with 
 
 Carmen was much discouraged by the state of the republic, as 
 well he might be. By turning out the Spaniards the former colonies 
 had merely exchanged despotism for anarchy; instead ° f 
 
 beaten with whips they were beaten with scorpions. But though 
 
 discouraged Carmen was not dismayed. He belonged to the Blues 
 who being in power, regarded their opponents the Yd ows as 
 rebels - and he was confident that the triumph of his party would 
 insure the tranquillity of the country. As he wascarefultoexpiam 
 to me he was a Blue because he was a patnot, and he pressed _ 
 so warmly to return with him to La Victoria, accept a command i 
 his army, and aid in the suppression of the insurrection, that I encU 
 by consenting. 
 
A NOVEL WAGER. 
 
 22 1 
 
 At Carmen s instance, the president gave me the command of a 
 brigade and would have raised me to the rank of general. But when 
 I found that there were about three generals for every colonel I 
 chose the nominally inferior but actually more distinguished grade. 
 
 I remained in Venezuela two years, campaigning nearly all the 
 time. But it was an ignoble warfare, cruel and ruthless, and had I 
 not given my word to Carmen, to stand by him until the country 
 was pacified, I should have resigned my commission much sooner 
 than I did. Ramon, who acted as one of my orderlies, bore himself 
 bravely and was several times wounded. 
 
 In the mean while I received several communications from Van 
 Voorst, and made two visits to Cura ? oa. The cutting and disposal 
 of my diamonds being naturally rather a long business, it was nearly 
 two years after I had shipped them to Holland before I learned the 
 result of my venture. 
 
 After all expenses were paid they brought me nearly three hun- 
 dred thousand pounds, which account Goldberg, Van Voorst and 
 Company “ held at my disposal.” 
 
 It was to arrange and advise with the Amsterdam people, as to 
 the investment of this great fortune, that I went to Europe. But I 
 did not depart until my promise was fulfilled. I left Venezuela 
 pacified from exhaustion-and Carmen in somewhat better spirits 
 than I had found him. 
 
 His last words were a warning, which I have had freauent occa- 
 sion to remember: "Beware of the Griscellis." 
 
 I sailed from Cura ? oa (Ramon, of course, accompanying me) in 
 a Dutch ship, bound for Rotterdam, whither I arrived in due course 
 and proceeding thence to Amsterdam, introduced myself to Gold- 
 berg, Van Voorst & Company. . They were a weighty and re- 
 spectable firm in every sense of the term, and received me with a 
 ponderous gravity befitting the occasion. 
 
 Though extremely courteous in their old-fashioned way, they 
 neither wasted words nor asked unnecessary questions. But they 
 made me a momentous proposal-no less than to become their part- 
 ner. They had an ample capital for their original trade of diamond 
 merchants ; but having recently become contractors for government 
 loans, they had opportunities of turning my fortune to much better 
 account than investing it in ordinary securities. Goldberg & Com- 
 pany did not make it a condition that I should take an active part in 
 he business, that would be just as I pleased. After being fully en- 
 
MR. FORTE SCUM. 
 
 222 
 
 lightened as to the nature of their transactions, and looking at their 
 latest balance-sheets, I closed with the offer, and I have never had 
 occasion to regret my decision. We opened branch houses in Lon- 
 don and Paris ; the firm is now one of the largest of its kind in 
 Europe ; we reckon our capital by millions, and, as I have lived long, 
 and had no children to provide for, the amount standing to my credit 
 exceeds that of all the other partners put together, and yields me a 
 princely income. 
 
 But I could not settle down to the monotonous career of a mer- 
 chant, and though I have always taken an interest in the business of 
 the house, and on several important occasions acted as its special 
 agent in the greater capitals; my life since that time — a period of 
 nearly fifty years— has been spent mainly in foreign travel and sci- 
 entific study. I have revisited South America and recrossed the 
 Andes, ridden on horseback from Vera Cruz to San Francisco, and 
 from San Francisco to the headwaters of the Mississippi and the 
 Missouri. I served in the war between Belgium and Holland, went 
 through the Mexican campaign of 1846, fought with Sam Houston 
 at the battle of San Jacinto, and was present, as a spectator, at the 
 fall of Sebastopol and the capture of Delhi. In the course of my 
 wanderings I have encountered many moving accidents by flood and 
 field. Once I was captured by Greek brigands, after a clespe.ae 
 fiMit, in which both Ramon and myself were wounded, and had to 
 pay four thousand pounds for my ransom For the '“ttweny 
 yelrs, however, I have avoided serious risks, done no avoidab : fight- 
 ing, and traveled only in beaten tracks; and, unless I am killed by 
 one of the Griscelli, I dare say I shall live twenty years 
 While studying therapeutics and patho ogy 
 Giessler of Zurich, shortly after my return to Europe I too* up the 
 subject ’of longevity, as to which Giessler had coveted .much ^curious 
 information, and formed certain theories one bemg hat peop e o^ 
 sound constitution and strong vitality, with no 
 
 sition to disease may, by observing a correct regimen £ 
 
 be a hundred, preserving until that age their acu ^ j 
 
 tact— in other words, only begin to be old at a hundre . 
 agreed with him, but as to what constituted a 1“ correc * 
 we differed. He held that the life most conducive to length ot 
 
 years was that of the scholar-his own, in to 
 
 reflective, and sedentary. I, on the other hand, thought that the 
 man who passed much of his time in the open air, moving about 
 
A NOVEL WAGER. 
 
 223 
 
 and using his limbs, would live the longer— other things being- 
 equal and assuming that both observed the accepted rules of health. 
 
 Ine result of our discussion was a friendly wager “You trv 
 your way; I will try mine,” said Giessler, “and we will see who 
 ives the longer— at any rate, the survivor will. The survivor must 
 also publish an account of his system, pour encourageur les autres.” 
 As we were of the same age, equally sound in constitution and 
 strong in physique, and not greatly dissimilar in temperament, 1 ac- 
 cepted the challenge. The competition is still going on. Every 
 New-year’s-day we write each other a letter, always in the same 
 words, which both answers and asks the same questions: “Still 
 a ive . If either fails to receive his letter at the specified time he 
 wi presume that the other is hors de combat, if not dead, and make 
 further inquiry. But I think I shall win. Three years ago Imet 
 
 2^1'VV ""'T* 0 ' "" Brt,ish Action’ and. tLgh te 
 
 demed ,t. he was palpably aging. His shoulders were bem his 
 
 u,S3.”hii:Tit “"S"' 
 
 i. o^sr^r rbrsrrT* * 
 
 occasion, when opportunity offered, to observe the h,bi”of tribes 
 
 this^™X“Vc r n' 0 " S "* y ; u NO "' "° re ”“*»>><« i» 
 
 that ihe^dVr^ly^hv^ong^thounh^erhaps^ot'so^! 5 ^' 3 ^^ n ’i' se ^ 
 them say. Now, these pe^pie a« ^ 
 
 unddie age make a practice of drinking a decoction which as S 
 believe, has the power of prolonging life. I brought with me to 
 
 th- other The „„ 1 • ’ analyzed the one and cultivated 
 
 th- other The conclusion at which I arrived was, that the plant in 
 question did actually possess the property of retaking that ^en 
 
 tude of XgT 63 ^ hiCh t m ° re than an y thin ^ e^e causes the decrepi- 
 
 years pas? ThJtT 7 " alka, ° id ° f which ' for thirty 
 
 daily. You see the result m i S a ° Utl0n) a p much - diIuted dose almost 
 and h ^ t* Q th . * * a so £ Ive Ramon an occasional dose 
 
 and he 1S the t vlgorous man Qf hjs ^ j ^ f ^ 
 
 take'it He nmf 6 '! W “ ^ Cmpirical remed y> and declined to 
 take it. He preferred electric baths. I take my electric baths hv 
 
 horseback exercise, and riding to hounds by 
 
 Yes, I believe I shall finish my centuiy-without becoming se- 
 
Mk. PORTE SCUM. 
 
 224 
 
 nile either in body or mind — if I can escape the Griscelli. I was ill 
 hopes that I had escaped them by coming here ; but I never stay 
 long in Europe that they don’t sooner or later find me out. I think 
 I shall have to spend the remainder of my life in America or the 
 East. The consciousness of being continually hunted, that at any 
 moment I may be confronted with a murderer and perchance be 
 murdered, is too trying for a man of my age. To tell the truth, I 
 am beginning to feel that I have nerves ; though my elixir delays 
 death, it does not insure perpetual youth ; and propitiating these 
 people is out of the question — I have tried it. 
 
 Three years after my return from Venezuela, Giuseppe, son of 
 the man whom I killed at Caracas, tried to kill me at Amsterdam, 
 fired at me point-blank with a dueling-pistol, and so nearly suc- 
 ceeded that the bullet grazed my cheek and cut a piece out of my 
 ear. Yet I not only pardoned him, but bribed the police to let him 
 go, and gave him money. Well, seven years later he repeated the 
 attempt at Naples, waylaid me at night and attacked me with a 
 dagger, but I also happened to be armed, and Guiseppi Griscelli 
 died. 
 
 At Paris, too— indeed, while the empire lasted— I found it expedi- 
 ent to shun France altogether. At that time Corsicans were greatly 
 in favor ; several members of the Griscelli family belonged to the 
 secret police and had great influence, and as I never took an alias 
 and my name is not common, I was tracked like a criminal. Once 
 I had to leave Paris by stealth at dead of night ; another time I 
 saved my life by simulating death. But why recount all the at- 
 tempts on my life? Another time, perhaps. The subject is not a 
 pleasant one, but this I will say : I never spared a Griscelli that I 
 had not cause to regret my clemency. The last I spared was the 
 young man who tried to murder me down in the wood there ; and if 
 he does not repay my forbearance by repeating the attempt, he will 
 be false to the traditions of his race. 
 
' ( EPILOGUE , 
 
 22J’ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to observe that the deciphering of Mr. 
 Fortescue s notes and the writing of his memoirs were not done in 
 a day. There were gaps to be filled up, obscure passages to be 
 elucidated, and parts of several chapters and the whole of the last 
 were written to his dictation, so that the summer came and went, 
 and another hunting-season was “ in view,” before my work, in its 
 present shape, was completed. I would fain have made it more 
 complete by giving a fuller account of Mr. Fortescue’s adventures 
 (some of which must have been very remarkable) between his first 
 return from South America and his appearance at Matching Green, 
 and I should doubtless have been able to do so (for he had prom- 
 ised to continue and amplify his narrative during the winter, as also 
 to give me the recipe of his elixir), had not our intercourse been 
 abruptly terminated by one of the strangest events in my experience 
 and, I should think, in his. 
 
 But, before going further, I would just observe that Mr Fortes- 
 cue’s cynicism, which, when I first knew him, had rather repelled 
 me, was only skin-deep. Though he held human life rather cheaper 
 than I quite liked, he was a kind and liberal master and a generous 
 giver. His largesses were often princely and invariably anonymous, 
 for he detested everything that savored of ostentation and parade. 
 On the other hand, he had no more tolerance for mendicants in 
 broadcloth than for beggars in rags, and to those who asked he 
 gave nothing. As an instance of his dislike of publicity, I may men- 
 tion that I had been with him several months before I discovered 
 that he had published, under a pseudonym, several scientific works 
 which had he acknowledged them, would have made him famous. 
 
 After Giuseppe Griscelli’s attempt on his life, I prevailed on Mr. 
 ortescue never to go outside the park-gates unaccompanied ; when 
 he went to town, or to Amsterdam, Ramon always went with him, 
 and both were armed. I also gave strict orders to the lodge-keep- 
 ers to admit no strangers without authority, and to give me imme- 
 late information as to any suspicious-looking characters whom 
 they might see loitering about. 
 
 These precautions, I thought, would be quite sufficient to pre- 
 vent any attack being made on Mr. Fortescue in the daytime. It 
 
226 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 was less easy to guard against a surprise during the night, for the 
 park-palings were not so high as to be unclimbable ; and the idea of 
 a night-watchman was suggested only to be dismissed, for the very 
 sufficient reason that when he was most wanted he would almost 
 certainly be asleep. I had no fear of Griscelli breaking in at the 
 front door ; but the house was not burglar-proof, and, as it hap- 
 pened, the weak point in our defense was one of the windows of 
 Mr. Fortescue’s bedroom. It looked into the orchard, and, by 
 climbing a tree which grew hard by, an active man could easily 
 reach it, even without a ladder. The danger was all the greater, 
 as, when the weather was mild, Mr. Fortescue always slept with the 
 window open. I proposed iron bars, to which he objected that iron 
 bars would make his room look like a prison. And then I had a 
 happy thought. 
 
 “ Let us fix a strong brass rod right across the window-frame,” 
 I said, “ in such a way that nobody can get in without laying hold of 
 it, and, by connecting it with a strong dynamo-battery inside, make 
 sure that the man who does lay hold of it will not be able to let go.” 
 The idea pleased Mr. Fortescue, and he told me to carry it out, 
 which I did promptly and effectively, taking care to make the bat- 
 tery so powerful that, if Mr. Griscelli should try to effect an entrance 
 by the window, he would be disagreeably surprised. The circuit 
 was, of course, broken by dividing the rod in two parts and inter- 
 posing a non-conductor between them. 
 
 To prevent any of the maids being “ shocked,” I told Ramon 
 (who acted as his master’s body-servant) to connect the battery 
 every night and disconnect it every morning. From time to time, 
 moreover, I overhauled the apparatus to see that it was in good 
 working order, and kept up its strength by occasionally recharging 
 the cells. 
 
 Once, when I was doing this, Mr. Fortescue said, laughingly : “ I 
 don’t think it is of any use, Bacon ; Griscelli won’t come in that 
 way. If, as some people say, it is the unexpected that happens, it 
 is the expected that does not happen.” 
 
 But in this instance both happened — the expected and the un- 
 expected. 
 
 As I mentioned at the outset of my story, the habits of the 
 Kingscote household were of an exemplary regularity. Mr. Fortes- 
 cne, who rose early, expected everybody else to follow his example 
 in this respect, and, as a rule, everybody did so. 
 
EPILOGUE . 
 
 227 
 
 One m °rnmg, at the beginning of October, when the sun rose 
 bout six o clock, and we^rose with it, I got up, donned my dress 
 ng-gown and went, as usual, to take ray matutinal bath. In order 
 to reach the bath-room I had to pass Mr V ° 
 do» t . As. neared it , heard ST*™ 
 
 and dismay, in a voice which I recognized tK • , of horror 
 Thinking that something was wrong, that Mr Forte* ° f , R , am0n ' 
 
 * 1 PUSh6d ^ ^ ^orTnd^ted 
 
 at start,ed r 
 
 and dismayed. d ° f the room ’ a ? hast 
 
 thetlT/! ^ m J ght u f ° r th6re hun ^ at the ™dowa man-or 
 a ° ne ^ 1S ^ anc ^ s convulsively grasping the magnetized 
 
 rod, .he distorted (ace pressed .rains,’ the glaj, ,heT5-S 
 
 nCdTl f 01 ?' 1 ’ V aW dr °° pinff - In that g^stly visage I recog- 
 mzed the features of Giuseppe Griscelli l ^ 
 
 “ Is he dead, doctor? ” asked Mr. Fortescue. 
 
 corps' haS been dCad S6Veral h ° UrS ’” 1 Said> aS 1 exaroined 
 
 “So much the better; the brood is one the less, and perhaps 
 
 af the?? 7 T 11 l6t me liVe ^ PeaC6 ' They mUSt see that so far 
 as their attempts against it are concerned, I bear a charmed life 
 
 Jo? debtor/’ 1 ' * *** D ° C ‘° r BaC ° n ’ and 1 hold ^ 
 
 Ramon and I disconnected the battery and dragged the bodv 
 into the room. We found in the pockets a butcher’s knife and a 
 revolver, and round the waist a rope, with which the would-be 
 urderer had doubtless intended to descend from the window after 
 accomplishing his purpose. 
 
 cote T and in in d i e h nt ’ ° f C ° Urse ’ Caused a & reat sensation both at Kings- 
 cote and m the country-side, and, equally of course, there was an 
 
 inquest, at which Mr. Fortescue, Ramon, and myself were the o.^ 
 witnesses. As Mr. Fortescue did not want it to be known that he 
 
 sei?? h, C sTfF° f *Z endMa : and detested ‘he idea of having him- 
 self and his affairs discussed by the press, we were careful not to 
 
 gainsay the popular belief that Griscelli was neither more nor les^ 
 an a dangerous and resolute burglar, and, as his possession of 
 e weapons proved, a potential murderer. As for the cause of 
 d*ath I said, as I then fully believed (though I have since had oc 
 
2 28 
 
 MR. FORTESCUE. 
 
 casion to modify this opinion somewhat), that the battery was not 
 strong enough to kill a healthy man, and, that Griscelli had died of 
 nervous shock and fear acting on a weak heart. In this view the 
 jury concurred and returned a verdict of accidental death, with the 
 (informal) rider that it “ served him right.” The chairman, a burly 
 farmer, warmly congratulated me on my ingenuity, and regretted 
 that he had not “ one of them things ” at every window in his 
 house. 
 
 So far so good ; but, unfortunately, a London paper, which lived 
 on sensation, and happened at the moment to be in want of a new 
 one, took the matter up. One of the editor’s jackals came down to 
 Kingscote, and there and elsewhere picked up a few facts concern- 
 ing Mr. Fortescue’s antecedents and habits, which he served up to 
 his readers in a highly spiced and amazingly mendacious article, en- 
 titled “ Old Fortescue and his Strange Fortunes.” But the sting of 
 the article was in its tail. The writer threw doubt on the justice of 
 the verdict. It remained to be proved, he said, that Griscelli was a 
 burglar, and his death accidental. And even burglars had their 
 rights. The law assumed them to be innocent until they were 
 proved to be guilty, and it could be permitted neither to Mr. Fortes- 
 cue nor to any other man to take people’s lives, merely because he 
 suspected them of an intention to come in by the window instead 
 of the door. By what right, he asked, did Mr. Fortescue place on 
 his windows an appliance as dangerous as forked lightning, and as 
 deadly as dynamite ? What was the difference between magnetized 
 bars in a window and spring-guns on a game-preserve ? In conclu- 
 sion, the writer demanded a searching investigation into the circum- 
 stances attending Giuseppe Griscelli’s death, likewise the immedi- 
 ate passing of an act of Parliament forbidding, under heavy penal- 
 ties, the use of magnetic batteries as a defense against supposed 
 burglars. 
 
 This effusion (which he read in a marked copy of the paper 
 obligingly forwarded by the enterprising editor) put Mr. Fortescue 
 in a terrible passion, which made him, for a moment, look younger 
 than ever I had seen him look before. The outrage rekindled the 
 fire of his youth ; he seemed to grow taller, his eyes glowed with 
 anger, and, had the enterprising editor been present, he would have 
 passed a very bad quarter of an hour. 
 
 “ The fellow who wrote this is worse than a murderer ! ” he ex- 
 claimed. “ I’ll shoot him — unless he prefers cold steel, and then I 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 229 
 
 shall serve him as I served General Griscelii ; and 'pon my soul I 
 believe Griscelii was the least rascally of the two ! I would as lief 
 be hunted by blood-hounds as be stabbed in the back by anoymous 
 slanderers ! ” 
 
 And then he wanted me to take a challenge to the enterprising 
 editor, and arrange for a meeting, which rendered it necessary to 
 remind him that we were not in the England of fifty years ago, 
 that dueling was abolished, and that his traducer would not only 
 refuse to fight, but denounce his challenger to the police and gibbet 
 him in his paper. I pointed out, on the other hand, that the article 
 was clearly libelous, and recommended Mr. Fortescue either to 
 obtain a criminal information against the proprietor of the paper, 
 or sue him for damages. 
 
 b “ No > sir ! ” he answered, with a gesture of indignation and dis- 
 dain “no, sir, I shall neither obtain a criminal information nor 
 sue for damages. The man who goes to law surrenders his liberty 
 of action and becomes the sport of chicaning lawyers and hair- 
 splitting judges. I would rather lose a hundred thousand pounds ! ” 
 
 Mr. Fortescue passed the remainder of the day at his desk, writ- 
 ing and arranging his papers. The next morning I heard, without 
 surprise, that he and Ramon were going abroad. 
 
 “ I don’t know when I shall return,” said Mr. Fortescue, as we 
 shook hands at the hall-door, “ but act as you always do when I am 
 from home, and in the course of a few days you will hear from me.” 
 
 # * ^ ^ ear fr° m an d what I heard was of a nature so sur- 
 prising as nearly to take my breath away. 
 
 “ You will never see me at Kingscote again,” he wrote ; “ I am 
 going to a country where I shall be safe, as well from the attacks of 
 Corsican assassins as from the cowardly outrages of rascally news- 
 papers.” And then he gave instructions as to the disposal of his 
 property at Kingscote. Certain things, which he enumerated, were 
 to be packed up in cases and forwarded to Amsterdam. The furni- 
 ture and effects in and about the house were to be sold, and the 
 proceeds placed at the disposal of the county authorities for the 
 benefit of local charities. Every out-door servant was to receive 
 six months’ pay, every in-door servant twelve months’ pay, in lieu 
 of notice. Geirt was to join Mr. Fortescue in a month’s time at 
 Damascus ; and to me, in lieu of notice, and as evidence of his re- 
 gard, he gave all his horses, carriages, saddlery, harness, and stable 
 equipments (not being freehold) of every description whatsoever, to 
 
230 
 
 MR. FORTE SC UE. 
 
 be dealt with as I thought fit for my personal advantage. His 
 solicitors, with my help, would wind up his affairs, and his bankers 
 had instructions to discharge all his liabilities. 
 
 His memoirs, or so much of them as I had written down, I 
 might (if I thought they would interest anybody) publish, but not 
 before the fiftieth year of the Victorian era, or the death of the 
 German emperor, whichever event happened first. The letter con- 
 cluded thus : “ I strongly advise you to buy a practice and settle 
 down to steady work. We may meet again. If I live to be a hun- 
 dred, you shall hear from me. If I die sooner, you will probably 
 hear of my demise from the house at Amsterdam, to whom please 
 send your new address/' 
 
 I was exceedingly sorry to lose Mr. Fortescue. Our intercourse 
 had been altogether pleasant and agreeable, and to myself person- 
 ally in a double sense profitable ; for he had taught me many things, 
 and rewarded me beyond my deserts. Also the breaking up of 
 Kingscote and the disposal of the household went much against 
 the grain. Yet I freely confess that Mr. Fortescue’s splendid gift 
 proved a very effective one, and almost reconciled me to his ab- 
 sence. 
 
 All the horses and carriages, except five of the former, and two 
 traps, I sent up to Tattersalls. As the horses, without exception, 
 were of the right sort, most of them perfect hunters, and it was 
 known that Mr. Fortescue would not have an unsound or vicious 
 animal in his stables, they fetched high prices. The sale brought 
 me over six thousand pounds. Two thirds of this I put out at in- 
 terest on good security ; with the remainder I bought a house and 
 practice in a part of the county as to which I will merely observe 
 that it is pleasantly situated and within reach of three packs of 
 hounds. The greater part of the year I work hard at my profes- 
 sion ; but when November comes round I engage a second assistant 
 and (weather permitting) hunt three and sometimes four days a 
 week, so long as the season lasts. 
 
 And often when hounds are running hard and I am well up, or 
 when I am “ hacking ” homeward after a good day’s sport, I think 
 gratefully of the man to whom I owe so much, and wonder whether 
 I shall ever see him again. 
 
 THE END. 
 

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