"It isn't Negoro," said Tom; "Dingo would bark louder than that if Negoro were to be seen."
"Who, then, can it be?" asked Mrs. Weldon, with an inquiring glance towards Dick.
"We must wait and see, madam," replied Dick quietly.
Bidding Bat, Austin, and Hercules follow his example, Dick Sands took up a cutlass and a rifle, into the breach3 of which he slipped a cartridge4. Thus armed, the four young men made their way towards the river bank. Tom and Actæon were left with Mrs. Weldon at the entrance of the grotto.
The sun was just rising. Its rays, intercepted5 by the lofty range of mountains in the east, did not fall directly on the cliff; but the sea to its western horizon was sparkling in the sunbeams as the party marched along the shore. Dingo was motionless as a setter, but did not cease barking. It soon proved not to be his old enemy who was disturbing him. A man, who was not Negoro, appeared round the angle of the cliff, and advancing cautiously along the bank of the stream, seemed by his gestures to be endeavouring to pacify6 the dog, with which an encounter would certainly have been by no means desirable.
"That's not Negoro!" said Hercules.
[Illustration: "Good morning, my young friend."]
"No loss for any of us," muttered Bat.
"You are right," replied Dick; "perhaps he is a native; let us hope he may be able to tell us our whereabouts, and save us the trouble of exploring."
With their rifles on their shoulders, they advanced steadily7 towards the new arrival. The stranger, on becoming aware of their approach, manifested great surprise; he was apparently8 puzzled as to how they had reached the shore, for the "Pilgrim" had been entirely9 broken up during the night, and the spars that were floating about had probably been too few and too scattered10 to attract his attention. His first attitude seemed to betray something of fear; and raising to his shoulder a gun that had been slung11 to his belt, he began to retrace12 his steps; but conciliatory gestures on the part of Dick quickly reassured13 him, and after a moment's hesitation14, he continued to advance.
He was a man of about forty years of age, strongly built, with a keen, bright eye, grizzly15 hair and beard, and a complexion16 tanned as with constant exposure to the forest air. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, a kind of leather jerkin, or tunic17, and long boots reaching nearly to his knees. To his high heels was fastened a pair of wide-rowelled spurs, which clanked as he moved.
Dick Sands in an instant saw that he was not looking upon one of the roving Indians of the pampas, but upon one of those adventurers, often of very doubtful character, who are not unfrequently to be met with in the remotest quarters of the earth. Clearly this was neither an Indian nor a Spaniard. His erect18, not to say rigid19 deportment, and the reddish hue20 with which his hair and beard were streaked21, betokened22 him to be of Anglo-Saxon origin, a conjecture23 which was at once confirmed when upon Dick's wishing him "good morning," he replied in unmistakable English, with hardly a trace of foreign accent,-
"Good morning, my young friend."
He stepped forward, and having shaken hands with Dick, nodded to all his companions.
"Are you English?" he asked.
"No; we are Americans," replied Dick.
"North or South?" inquired the man.
"North," Dick answered.
The information seemed to afford the stranger no little satisfaction, and he again wrung24 Dick's hand with all the enthusiasm of a fellow-countryman.
"And may I ask what brings you here?" he continued.
Before, however, Dick had time to reply, the stranger had courteously26 raised his hat, and, looking round, Dick saw that his bow was intended for Mrs. Weldon, who had just reached the river-bank. She proceeded to tell him the particulars of how they had been shipwrecked, and how the vessel27 had gone to pieces on the reefs.
A look of pity crossed the man's face as he listened, and he cast his eye, as it might be involuntarily, upon the sea, in order to discern some vestige28 of the stranded29 ship.
"Ah! there is nothing to be seen of our poor schooner30!" said Dick mournfully; "the last of her was broken up in the storm last night."
"And now," interposed Mrs. Weldon, "can you tell us where we are?"
"Where?" exclaimed the man, with every indication of surprise at her question; "why, on the coast of South America, of course!"
"But on what part? are we near Peru?" Dick inquired eagerly.
"No, my lad, no; you are more to the south; you are on the coast of Bolivia; close to the borders of Chili32."
"A good distance, I suppose, from Lima?" asked Dick.
"From Lima? yes, a long way; Lima is far to the north."
"And what is the name of that promontory33?" Dick said, pointing to the adjacent headland.
"That, I confess, is more than I am able to tell you," replied the stranger; "for although I have travelled a great deal in the interior of the country, I have never before visited this part of the coast."
Dick pondered in thoughtful silence over the information he had thus received. He had no reason to doubt its accuracy; according to his own reckoning he would have expected to come ashore34 somewhere between the latitudes36 of 27° and 30°; and by this stranger's showing he had made the latitude35 25°; the discrepancy37 was not very great; it was not more than might be accounted for by the action of the currents, which he knew he had been unable to estimate; moreover, the deserted38 character of the whole shore inclined him to believe more easily that he was in Lower Bolivia.
Whilst this conversation was going on, Mrs. Weldon, whose suspicions had been excited by Negoro's disappearance39, had been scrutinizing40 the stranger with the utmost attention; but she could detect nothing either in his manner or in his words to give her any cause to doubt his good faith.
"Pardon me," she said presently; "but you do not seem to me to be a native of Peru?"
"No; like yourself, I am an American, Mrs. --;" he paused, as if waiting to be told her name.
The lady smiled, and gave her name; he thanked her, and continued,-
"My name is Harris. I was born in South Carolina; but it is now twenty years since I left my home for the pampas of Bolivia; imagine, therefore, how much pleasure it gives me to come across some countrymen of my own."
"Do you live in this part of the province, Mr. Harris?" Mrs. Weldon asked.
"No, indeed; far away; I live down to the south, close to the borders of Chili. At present I am taking a journey north-eastwards to Atacama."
"Atacama!" exclaimed Dick; "are we anywhere near the desert of Atacama?"
"Yes, my young friend," rejoined Harris, "you are just on the edge of it. It extends far beyond those mountains which you see on the horizon, and is one of the most curious and least explored parts of the continent."
"And are you travelling through it alone?" Mrs. Weldon inquired.
"Yes, quite alone; and it is not the first time I have performed the journey. One of my brothers owns a large
[Illustration: "He is my little son."]
farm, the hacienda of San Felice, about 200 miles from here, and I have occasion now and then to pay him business visits."
After a moment's hesitation, as if he were weighing a sudden thought, he continued,-
"I am on my way there now, and if you will accompany me I can promise you a hearty41 welcome, and my brother will be most happy to do his best to provide you with means of conveyance42 to San Francisco."
Mrs. Weldon had hardly begun to express her thanks for the proposal when he said abruptly,-
"Are these negroes your slaves?"
"Slaves! sir," replied Mrs. Weldon, drawing herself up proudly; "we have no slaves in the United States. The south has now long followed the example of the north. Slavery is abolished."
"I beg your pardon, madam. I had forgotten that the war of 1862 had solved that question. But seeing these fellows with you, I thought perhaps they might be in your service," he added, with a slight tone of irony43.
"We are very proud to be of any service to Mrs. Weldon," Tom interposed with dignity, "but we are no man's property. It is true I was sold for a slave when I was six years old; but I have long since had my freedom; and so has my son. Bat here, and all his friends, were born of free parents."
"Ah! well then, I have to congratulate you," replied Harris, in a manner that jarred very sensibly upon Mrs. Weldon's feelings; but she said nothing.
Harris added,-
"I can assure you that you are as safe here in Bolivia as you would be in New England."
He had not finished speaking, when Jack44, followed by Nan, came out of the grotto. The child was rubbing his eyes, having only just awakened45 from his night's sleep.
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CHAPTER XVI. THROUGH THE FOREST.
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