"I am afraid not, Hurka. We English here are in the service of Chili. We are free ourselves, and our sympathies are with all men who are struggling to be free; but we have no idea of conquest here, and were Peru to offer to come under our rule we should not accept it. We have already wide possessions in North America and elsewhere, and need no further territories, especially in a climate that is unfitted for us. We might rule it as we do India, but the Peruvians would never be contented, and we should never attempt to keep them in subjection did they wish us gone. India, the country you speak of, is inhabited by many races and religions. Before we went, there were incessant wars, and were we to leave they would at once recommence. The people, then, feel that our rule is a real benefit, and that they are far happier under it than they were under their native rulers. When we went there we had no thought of conquering it; we only went there to trade. It was because we were attacked that we defended ourselves, and there are still portions of the country that are altogether independent, and so long as the native sovereigns leave us alone we are well contented that things should remain as they are. We do not enrich ourselves at the expense of the natives. They have to pay taxes to keep up the expenses of the army and administration there, but England draws no revenue from India. It does not, as Spain did, enrich itself with the plunder of the land; and it is free to people of all nations to trade there as we do ourselves. Individuals may gain wealth there by commerce, or by the growth of indigo and other things that we cannot raise at home, but as a nation we obtain no revenue whatever from India. The army there is for the most part raised from the people, who are free to enlist or not as they please, and who fight as faithfully for us as they would have done for their own rulers."

"Then what do you gain by being there?" Hurka asked.

"We gain in the trade that is carried on by our merchants selling English goods there, and buying Indian produce. The army and the civil government furnish employment to large numbers of Englishmen. These are the only material advantages that, so far as I know, we gain; although of course it is a matter of pride and satisfaction to Englishmen that they rule over so great a country, and that our presence there is of enormous advantage to the people."

"And are there no gold or silver mines there?" Pita asked.

"No; at any rate nothing that has been worked since we went there."

"Ah, if you would but come here," Hurka exclaimed, "what a blessing it would be to us! and I am sure that the Indians, when they knew that they would be fairly treated, would no longer preserve the secrets of the Incas, but would gladly open to you mines that have been hidden ever since the Spaniards came, and hand over vast treasures that have been left untouched all these years. They are useless to them, and are hidden only because they hate the Spaniards, and know that did they discover these mines they would compel the people to work at them as their fathers did; and ere long we should disappear altogether."

While they had been talking they had floated quietly down the stream, and Pita said that they were now but a few miles from the next village, and had better tie up until darkness came on.

"Have you any desire for gold, senor?" Hurka asked, after they had secured the canoe to an overhanging branch, and the two Indians had rolled and lighted their cigarettes.

"Not particularly, Hurka. I suppose everyone would like gold; but I have already enough to live upon, having been very fortunate in aiding to capture a vessel carrying a large sum for the payment of the Spanish troops. If I were to search for gold it would be rather for the sake of the adventure than for the treasure."

"You are the first white man I have ever met, senor, who would not undertake any risk in order to gain a fortune, and the richest are as ready to adventure their gold in any enterprise that promises even a chance of success, as the poorest are willing to risk their lives."

"The adventure itself would be very exciting," Stephen said, "and I do not say that I should not like to take part in one, just as I am glad to have the chance of such an adventure as going down the Amazon; but it would certainly be the excitement, and not the chance of making money, that would attract me. I don't say for a moment that I should refuse a share in the treasure, only that I would not run any great risks for the sake of the treasure alone. I suppose that every one could do with more than he has; for even if you have nothing to wish for, it would at least be a pleasure to give it away.

"I have been fortunate; although I am still very young. I have been through a great many adventures, and if I were to settle quietly down at home now, I have more to look back upon than most men."

Day after day they floated down, sometimes on a broad tranquil sheet with a scarce perceptible current, and at others in a rapid headlong stream pent up between narrow banks. The volume of water had vastly increased since they started, owing to the number of streams that had flowed into the Beni, some of these being so large that they would be considered good-sized rivers in Europe. At last, a month after starting, Hurka said that next day they would reach the confluence of the Beni and the Madeira.

"There is a mission-station there, and if the senor likes to pause there for a day or two before descending the river he can do so."

"Not at all, Hurka. In the first place I shall be asked a great many questions which would be difficult to answer, and in the second, even two days in a mission-station would be frightfully dull."

"Very well, senor, then we will pass straight into the river and halt a few hours' journey further down."

"Why should we halt at all?"

"We shall want to construct a raft, senor. There are many dangerous rapids in the Madeira besides the falls, and the river is beginning to rise. You were noticing yesterday how thick the water had become, and some of the streams that run into it are laden with mud. That shows that the rain has begun on the western slopes. The Madeira is generally in flood two days before the Beni, and the water will be running down in a great stream; therefore it will be necessary to make our raft. We need not desert the canoe, but can let it float alongside of us, or we can haul it on to the raft; it will be convenient for sleeping in."

"We had better land at once and make our raft," Pita said, "before we reach the Madeira. I know of no high bank for a very long distance after we have entered the great river where we could manage it."

"Then by all means let us do so at once," Stephen said, "and perhaps we may get some sport."

Accordingly the boat was headed towards shore. When they reached the side they found that the Beni itself had risen, and the bank, usually seven or eight feet out of water, was now little more than a foot above its level.

"You may get some birds," Hurka said, "but nothing else. The instinct of the beasts tells them that the river is nearly full, and doubtless indeed the low-lying parts of the forest are already submerged. They will be off before this, and will travel on till they come to ground that is always above the floods. Some will, doubtless, be caught and perish. Such as climb will take to trees, but hunger will destroy them."

"How far do the floods extend?"

"In some places a hundred miles, and on the Amazon itself, as I have heard, a great deal further."

They paddled along close to the bank until they reached a spot where it was bordered by a vast number of reeds, many of them as thick as Stephen's arm.

"Now we are going to make our raft," Hurka said. "These reeds are far better than solid branches. They are very light, and we fasten them but loosely together, so that they can give to the water. When we have made it, we shall then want four young saplings. These we shall lash together firmly in a square, and under each corner we fasten the skins, and one also in the middle of each pole; you know we have brought eight with us. First we make the raft itself with the rushes. It is made about four feet larger each way than the frame with the skins. This frame is laid in the raft, and is fastened loosely to it. Thus you see the raft itself is complete without the poles and skins, which, so long as it holds together, simply rest on it, but if the raft gets broken up the skins will support the poles. We generally lash a few cross poles to the frame, and on these we sit, for the water splashes up between the reeds, making everything wet. As we are going to take our canoe with us, we shall not want the cross poles, but shall lay her on the reeds and get on board her. We shall pick out the largest reeds we can get to place under the spot where she will lie, and shall only get out of the boat when it is necessary to go to the front or sides of the raft to pole her off from any floating tree or other danger."

It took them two days to complete the raft, the second day's work being carried on afloat, for the stream rose very rapidly. The lashings of the reeds were of leather thongs, so tied that while they were held firmly in their places there was a great deal of play, an advantage that Stephen discovered as soon as they were afloat again on the stream. The rapidity with which the river was running raised it in a series of sharp waves, and a rigid raft would have had one end or the other constantly immersed. The raft, however, undulated with the water almost as a carpet of the same size would have done, the lashings of the buoyant reeds permitting each side to rise and fall, while the structure upon it lifted or fell with the motion. The canoe half floated and was half supported by the raft below it, and Stephen was surprised to find how slight the motion was even in the broken water. Presently the two Indians left the canoe, and seating themselves on the poles, paddled towards the shore to the left, and getting out of the current made their way along the edge of the forest.

"We are close now," Hurka said, "to the Madeira, and the struggle of the two swollen rivers will raise a turmoil so great that even this raft might break up in the waves."

This Stephen could well believe when the canoe reached the angle where the rivers joined. The width was nearly two miles, and the scene presented the appearance of the sea in a violent gale, except that it was a chaos without order or regularity. The cross currents seemed to crash against each other, hurling the spray many yards in the air. Waves leapt up in conical form as if lifted bodily from below. The position of the centre of the stream changed continually as one current or the other gained the mastery. Here and there were whirlpools and eddies that would have engulfed an ordinary boat in a moment. The whole was white with foam.

"It is like a huge boiling pot," Stephen said as he watched it.

"No boat ever made could live in it," Hurka said. "I have seen boats on the great waves that break on the coast, but there was an order in the waves, and those skilled in the work could wait their opportunity and come in on the top of one of them. Here all is confusion, and a boat would be thrown into the air by one of those suddenly rising lumps of water, and if caught between two of the waves would be crushed like a shell. No one would think of descending the river when the Beni and the Madeira are in flood, except by doing as we are doing now, keeping in the dead-water, or, if in canoes, making their way through the submerged forests. But even this would be hazardous work, for the canoe might be torn by unseen boughs below the surface of the water. Therefore at times like these, most men wait until the floods have abated, unless they are in a great hurry, and this is seldom, for neither Indians nor Peruvians are ever in haste about anything.

"The greatest danger to inexperienced travellers is that of being lost in the forest. Many streams come in, and when the water is very high it is difficult to know whether one is crossing a tract denuded of wood or one of the many channels of the river; and once lost in the forest a traveller's fate is sealed, for the current there is insufficient to enable him to judge in which direction is the main river, for he may be in a back eddy or in the current from a cross channel. The trees are so interlaced with creepers that every foot of the way has to be cut, while among the foliage are snakes of all kinds, from the great boas to the little tree snakes, a bite from which causes death in a few minutes. There too are starving jaguars, leopards, and wild cats, who, once they get over the terror caused by the inundation, are all on the look-out for food. Amidst all these enemies the inexperienced traveller speedily loses his presence of mind and even his reason.

"Once when I was going down this very river we heard a noise of wild laughter, intermingled with strange piercing cries. We knew at once that it was a traveller lost in the forest. It took us two hours to cut our way to the spot where we heard the sounds. We guessed who were the sufferers. Two Spaniards had hired a large canoe, and had taken with them six village boatmen. They had refused my offer to go with four men of my tribe who were accustomed to the river and its dangers, as we demanded a much higher sum than the villagers were ready to go for, and we said when we saw them put off that they would never get down to the mission. When we reached the spot one man was lying dead at the bottom of the canoe. One of the Spaniards and one of the villagers were missing, having no doubt leapt overboard in their madness. The others were all raving madmen, some with scarce strength to raise themselves in the boat, others making the dreadful laughing and screaming that we had heard.

"When they saw us they took us, I believe, for devils, and it was not until we had lassoed the strongest that we were able to overpower them. We bound them and laid them at the bottom of our canoe and took them down to the mission, which was some fifty miles below us. I was told afterwards that only one of them ever recovered his senses; the others either died raving or were hopelessly mad. From the one who recovered it was learned that as soon as they came to the point where the stream became rapid they made for the edge of the forest. At night they tied up their canoe to a tree, but in the morning when they awoke they found that the line had become untied, and that they had drifted into the forest. There they had been three days when we found them. They had lost all idea of direction, and had we been a few hours later the last voice would have been silenced, and when the flood subsided the canoe and its occupants would have rotted away, and no one would ever have known the fate that had befallen them."

"How do you find your way through a flooded forest, Hurka?"

"It is born in us as it is born in birds to make their way back to their nests. It may be that a careful examination would show that the trunks on one side are more thickly covered with creepers than the other; but we do not need to take notice of such things, or if we notice them it is without knowing it, as we are sure of our direction. We have seen Spanish travellers who had the things with which they said they could direct their course at sea, with a card that goes round and round, and always when it is steady points in one direction. This is no doubt very useful out on the plains or in a forest where there are no obstacles, but here where the woods are intercepted by numberless streams and with wide swamps, such a machine is useless to any one unless he is intimately acquainted with the country and the course of the streams. Even Indian dwellers on the shores of the river often, in the times of floods, get lost in the forest and lose their lives, so changed is the aspect of everything by the water."

"It must be terrible," Stephen said, as he glanced between the trunks of the trees at the still, dark water under the thick canopy. "Of course the sun must be a help."

"We do not often see the sun in times of flood, senor. Rain often falls very heavily, and even when it does not do so there is, you see, a mist in the air rising from this vast expanse of water. Besides, it is only when it is directly overhead that the sun's rays penetrate the foliage, and at that time it is too high for the shadows to afford much guidance. Among us, three shots of a gun at regular intervals is a call for aid, but in flood time it is a useless one, for the Indians, like the wild beasts, all leave, save when their huts are on eminences, and the chances of the shots being heard by human ears are small indeed. To one lost in the forest at other times it is all but certain death, but when the floods are out a man would do wisely to fire the first shot into his own head."

Day after day they travelled on, keeping just far enough out to get the benefit of the current without allowing themselves to be drawn towards the centre of the river. Even this at times was very difficult, especially when they were passing round curves, for much of the water, instead of following the channel, made its way through the forest to the next bend in the river, and they had the greatest difficulty in preventing themselves from being drawn in among the trees by the current. At such times they were forced to launch the canoe overboard, to roll up the bottom of the raft, and to lay the great bundle of rushes across the poles now supported by the inflated skins. Only then by vigorous paddling, in which Stephen bore his part, were they able to tow this behind them across the current until they reached a point where the force of the stream was confined to the regular channel. At one point, where the river was broader than usual and the current in consequence slower, they crossed to the other bank.

"We are getting near the rapids now," Hurka said, "and this bank is the least dangerous of the two. Hitherto we have had nothing but the force of the stream to contend with, but now we shall have rocks. It is for this that we constructed the raft. Up to now we should have done far better to have come down in the canoe alone, but, once among the rocks, a touch would break her up, while the raft can scrape against them without injury. You will see that the aspect of things will change altogether; the banks where the rapids are, are high and steep, and the inundations will cease for a time. Once beyond the falls we shall again be in a flat country, and the inundations will extend almost all the way down until we reach the Amazon."

"There is no way of avoiding the rapids, I suppose?" Stephen asked.

"None but by getting out and carrying everything round. At the falls this has to be done, there are no other means of passing them. In some respects it is safer to go down the rapids now than it is in the dry season, for the greater portion of the rocks are far below the surface, and we shall pass over small falls without even noticing them."

The days as a rule passed pleasantly enough, save where the voyagers had to work against cross currents, but at night, when they tied up to a tree, the noise was prodigious. The howling and roaring of wild beasts was incessant. Monkeys chattered in terror, and occasionally an almost human scream proclaimed that one of them had been seized by a snake, or some other enemy. The hissing of reptiles could at times be distinctly heard, and Stephen often thought that he could hear their movements in the boughs above him.

At length they approached the rapids, and the stream became still more impetuous. The Indians had cut long poles, and as they drifted down one stood at each corner of the raft, using their poles occasionally as paddles to keep it straight. Stephen remained in the canoe in the centre. He would gladly have shared in any work that was to be done, but here he felt that he could be of no use.

"To-morrow we shall be in the full force of the rapids, senor," Hurka said. "I should advise you to lay yourself down in the bottom of the canoe and to pass the day in sleep. It will be safer so should there be an accident, for, with your weight at the bottom, the canoe will be more likely to keep upright than it otherwise would. You cannot aid us, and the speed at which we shall do the next hundred miles will be great indeed. In eight hours we shall be at the foot of the rapids."

"I will sit down at the bottom of the canoe, but I must see what is going on. I am accustomed to the aspect of a sea in a violent gale, and this great body of water, however fast it rushes, will not be more trying to the nerves than such a scene as that. There is one thing that I should wish you to do. Let each tie a light rope round his waist and fasten the other end to the canoe, and then if the raft does go to pieces you will be able to get on board, and at any rate, if she upsets we shall be together."

"We will do it if you wish, senor, but there would be danger of our capsizing the canoe."

"Not so much danger as there would be of the canoe upsetting if I were alone in it, for I should be powerless even to keep her straight, and she would go broadside on to a rock and be dashed to pieces."

"The senor is right, Hurka," Pita said gravely; "we will do as he wishes. But the ropes must be long, so that if we are flung off the raft there will be no sudden pull on the canoe. Should there be such a misfortune I will shout to you, and we will then swim towards the boat, taking up the ropes as we go, but putting no strain upon them; when we reach the boat, one will aid the senor to steady it while the other climbs in; after that it will be easier to get the second on board."

"You still think that it is better to make a passage than to carry the whole kit and the canoe over?"

"It would take many weeks, senor. Besides, though I have never been here before, I have heard that the difficulties are so great that the river Indians never attempt to carry even a light canoe over. I am at your service, senor, and am willing to try if you give the order, but I have been told by Indians that when the river is, as now, in flood, the danger is by no means great. Of course, we shall keep out of the full strength of the current."

Accordingly they started the next morning, and an hour after setting out were in the sweep of the rapids. The passage was an intensely exciting one. The Indians stood, paddle in hand, one at each corner of the front of the raft; their poles lay ready to snatch up in case any rock was approached, but the paddles were needed to keep the raft from being dragged out into the full force of the current. Here the water rose in steep ridges, and had the raft got among these it would have been torn to pieces almost instantly. At the same time it was desirable not to go too near the shore, as the risk from submerged rocks would be greater there. But Stephen saw that unless rocks came absolutely above the surface they would be swept over them, as the raft drew but two or three inches of water. Except in the middle, the stream rushed along with a surface broken only by tiny eddies. It was only by seeing how they flew past the banks that any idea could be formed of the speed at which they were travelling.

In eight hours it was over. Several times the paddlers had to exert themselves to the utmost to avoid spots where great swells of water showed that there were rocks below the surface, but on no occasion did the Indians have to use their poles. The bed of the river widened sharply at the foot of the rapids, and just as Stephen congratulated himself that the passage had been safely made, he saw by an increase in the labour of the Indians that something was wrong. Standing up in the canoe he perceived that they had been shot out of the current into the back-water formed by the sudden widening of the stream, and that in this back-water was a very strong eddy sweeping round and round in a circle. This was about a hundred yards in diameter, with a depression in the centre, and round this the raft was carried at a rate that defied the efforts of the two paddlers to check.

At one moment they were within twenty yards of a flat forest-covered shore, and the next were near the edge of the torrent pouring down the rapids. In vain the paddlers tried to edge the raft out little by little from the whirlpool. Not only was the current too strong for them, but its surface was dotted with floating logs and branches of trees that, like themselves, coursed round and round. As long as all were travelling at the same rate and in the same direction the danger of a collision was comparatively slight, but more than once when the rowers succeeded in gaining a short distance towards the outside edge of the whirlpool, they were forced to desist suddenly and paddle straight with the current, to avoid a great log bearing down upon them.

Pita took a lariat from the canoe and prepared to throw it, so as to catch one of the branches when they neared the shore. He tried several times, but the distance was too great; and indeed it was necessary to catch the trees at some little distance before reaching the point opposite to them, in order to pull diagonally across the current, for a jerk when the canoe was at right angles would have torn the raft to pieces.

"Could we launch the canoe and paddle out of the whirlpool in that?" Stephen said.

"We might do that," Hurka replied, "but a touch from any of these logs would sink her in a moment; and besides, we should be sorry to lose the raft, for we have no skins to make floats, and the rushes of which we constructed it only grow in the quiet waters of the upper river. We might take to the canoe as a last resource, but we should be very loth to do it."

"How long would the lariats be, tied together, with that piece of thin rope you brought to check the raft in dangerous places?"

"The rope is a hundred and fifty yards long, senor, the lariats reach about thirty yards."

"That would be plenty," Stephen said. "My idea is that you might fasten the end of the rope to an arrow and shoot it among the trees. It might not catch the first time, but no doubt it would after a few trials. The rope will, of course, be coiled up so as to pay out easily, and we could pull it in or pay it out as we went round and round. Each time as we approach the shore, we could pull on it a little and edge the raft a few feet out, slackening out again as we came to the nearest point to the trees. If there were any logs in our way of course we should not pull; thus, by choosing our opportunity, we might get her out little by little till we are outside the full force of the stream."

The Indians did not quite understand Stephen's plan, but at once agreed to try it. Pita chose his heaviest arrow and lashed the end of the rope firmly to it, close to the feathers. Stephen knotted the lariats to the rope, and coiled them up so that they would run out easily, and they then prepared for the first attempt.



CHAPTER XVIII.

CAPTURED BY INDIANS.

Drawing the bow till the point of the arrow almost touched the wood, Pita stood like a statue until the boat was opposite to the trees, then he loosed it, and it flew far into the foliage. The instant the boat reached the opposite side of the whirlpool Stephen and Hurka drew in the rope hand over hand.

"Leave go, Hurka," Stephen said as the rope tightened. "I will try as we pass whether it has caught in the trees."

As the canoe passed on he put a slight strain on the rope. It yielded for a moment, and then flew through his fingers rapidly.

"It has caught on something," he said. "Now, haul in rapidly this time, Hurka, as soon as we pass the opposite point, so as to get the strain on as quickly as we can. Pita, do you keep your eye on the logs, and shout if there is anything in the way."

As soon as they had passed the half-way point on their way back to the shore, Stephen and Hurka began to pull. They could get but little tension on the rope, for the boat was travelling almost as fast as they could pull it in; still, once or twice they were able to put their strength on it for a moment, and the raft moved a foot or two through the water. Again and again this manoeuvre was repeated, and little by little they gained ground, until at last they edged the raft so near to the edge of the current that the two Indians, seizing their paddles, were able to get her into the still water beyond. They rowed to the trees, and there tied up.

"That was a good plan, senor," Pita said. "I should never have thought of it. I did think of shooting an arrow across to the trees, but I saw that the jerk would be so great that it would tear the raft to pieces."

It was some time before Stephen was inclined to talk; for the exertion necessary to pull the rope in at a rate exceeding that at which the boat was travelling towards the trees, coming as it did after the excitement of the passage down the rapids, had completely exhausted him. He was drenched with perspiration, and was glad to lie still in the bottom of the canoe for a time.

"Well, what next. Pita?" he asked when his breath came quietly.

"We shall float down as before, senor. It is a flat country for the next fifty miles, and the great inundations will rob the river of its power. We shall have several more rapids to pass, but I do not think they will be worse than these. Then we shall get to the falls. There are several small ones, round which we shall have to carry our boats, and there is a great one where the whole river leaps down a hundred feet in a mass. On still nights you can hear it, I am told, nigh a hundred miles away. It is the greatest fall in South America, though a traveller I once met told me that in North America there was a fall that was higher, but that there was nothing like the same quantity poured over it as over this at flood-time. Once beyond that there remain no more falls or rapids, and a ship can sail up there from the Amazon. Good-sized craft do come up sometimes, for there is a mission-station there, and the fathers carry on a trade with the Indians, who come from the lower districts to purchase goods."

"I shall be very glad when the water gets clear enough for us to take to fishing again," Stephen said. "We have caught no fish of late, and have got but a few birds, and I am getting very tired of these cakes."

Another three weeks and Stephen stood at the foot of the fall of the river Madeira. The flood of water that poured down in one unbroken sheet was enormous. The noise was like that of continual thunder, and Stephen, as he stood watching the swollen waters at his feet and feeling the very ground shake beneath them, felt spell-bound at the grandeur of the scene. The mission-house was inhabited by only two or three old monks, and from them they learned that there had been a bad outbreak of fever there, several had died, and the rest were so weakened that it had been determined that the monks, with the exception of these men, who had passed through many fevers and were thoroughly acclimatized, should go down by boat to Barra, and remain there until the season of the floods terminated and the sun had dried the inundated country.

Stephen was glad of a rest, for since entering the rapids the work had been hard and continuous. The Indians would have undertaken all the portage round the various falls and bad rapids, but he insisted on doing his share of the work, and had day after day toiled with heavy weights over a rough country. It was all over now, and the prospect of a week spent at the mission before proceeding on their voyage was very pleasant.

"You must be careful," one of the monks said, "not to stray too far from the house. The natives of the neighbourhood have long since been Christianized, but we are visited by parties from long distances belonging to some of the other tribes who are still wholly wild and eat human flesh. Here they behave peaceably, because they credit us with supernatural powers, seeing the respect and devotion with which we are regarded by the natives here, of whom indeed we generally keep a strong body on guard during the time that the strangers most frequently visit us; that is to say, at the time that the floods are out. At that time most of the people who live near the river are forced to retire to a great distance from their homes, and being deprived of their usual pursuits, they take that opportunity of coming here to purchase the articles they require. I do not say that they would harm you, but assuredly they might do so, and it would therefore be best for you to keep near the mission-house. Here you are safe from any danger whatever, for even the wildest Indian would not venture to set foot inside these walls, fearing that if they did, some terrible calamity might befall them."

Stephen took the advice, for although he was not much affected by what the old man said, Pita and his companion both confirmed his words, and told him that many bad Indians, who would kill and eat any white man who entered their district, frequently visited these mission-houses.

"Always carry your gun with you, senor. They have not the same terror of firearms as their forefathers had, but they have heard enough to know that they are weapons of war, and much more formidable than their own bows and arrows, or the poisoned darts of their blow-pipes."

Stephen accordingly never went out, even to visit the falls, where he spent the greater portion of his time, without his rifle. Generally one or other of the Indians accompanied him, but seeing that no strangers visited the mission-house, they gradually abstained from doing so. Stephen preferred being alone—the tremendous roar of the water rendered conversation impossible—and he was quite content to lie and dreamily watch the flood pouring down unceasingly. On the evening before the day on which they were to start, the moon was shining brilliantly, and Stephen, taking his gun as usual, went out without mentioning his intention to his companions, and strolled down to take a last quiet look at the mighty fall, whose fascination grew upon him the oftener he looked at it and came to realize more and more its marvellous power and energy. He had been seated there for about an hour, when, without the slightest warning that anyone was near him, he received a sudden blow on the head that rolled him over unconscious. When he recovered his senses he found himself in the bottom of a small canoe paddled by three Indians.

Overhead he could see the branches of trees, and knew from this that they were following the bank of the river. Presently, to his surprise, they turned sharply off, and were at once in the gloom of the forest. They paddled for an hour, and then tied up the canoe to a tree. One of them lit a torch at the fire that smouldered on a flat stone, and the three gathered round it. Stephen could see that they were closely examining his rifle, pistols, watch, and money. Few remarks were made, but Stephen gathered from the tone that they were well satisfied with the capture.

"I have fallen into bad hands this time," he said to himself. "There is no doubt about their being stranger Indians. I can understand my arms being regarded by them as a most valuable capture, but why they did not finish me at once, instead, of taking me away with them, is more than I can understand, unless it be that they are cannibals."

After examining his bonds and assuring themselves that they were tight, the Indians lay down to sleep, but in the morning continued their journey as soon as daylight broke. From the absence of undergrowth and of lianas stretching from tree to tree anywhere low down, Stephen came to the conclusion that they were following what was in the dry season a track through the forest. The Indians were quite young men, and laughed and talked without any of the gravity that distinguished the older men among the natives. For some hours they paddled on, then their progress was stopped by a deep tangle of creepers stretching from tree to tree across their way. There was an exclamation of surprise and, as Stephen thought, of apprehension; they began to talk rapidly and eagerly together, one pointing in one direction and another in quite an opposite one.

"They have lost the path," he said to himself, "perhaps they took the wrong turn at starting."

The argument between them was an animated one, until one pointed to a ray of sunlight that penetrated the foliage and fell on the trunk of a tree near the water's level. All looked surprised and even graver than before. The head of the canoe was turned, and they started in the direction from which they had come, by which Stephen concluded that they had unwittingly made half a circuit. They now paddled steadily and gravely, watching the darts of sunlight, and evidently steering by them. Before they had gone far the character of the forest changed, the trees grew somewhat further apart; but an undergrowth of smaller trees rendering it extremely difficult for them to force their canoe onward, their knives had frequently to be brought out to cut a way through the creepers. Angry words were frequently exchanged between them, each, it was evident to Stephen, accusing the others of being the cause of the disaster. The quarrel became more and more embittered, until at last two of them started up, and, drawing their knives, fell furiously upon one another. In the struggle they almost capsized the boat, and catching at each other to save themselves, both went overboard together.

The struggle was continued in the water, the men stabbing each other fiercely, while the Indian on board endeavoured in vain by his shouts to induce them to abandon the strife. Presently one of them, struck to the heart, threw up his arms and sank; the other turned to swim back to the boat, but after one or two feeble strokes he too sank lower and lower, and the water soon closed over his head. The remaining Indian stood, for a time immovable, with terror and consternation in his face, and then he shook his fist threateningly at Stephen, whom he evidently regarded as being in some way the author of their misfortune, and then, taking up his paddle, proceeded to row. His manner, however, was indecisive. He had lost all confidence, and turned aside whenever the way was barred by creepers, instead of trying to cut through them. At times he ceased paddling altogether, and sat gazing restlessly around him, at other times he paddled with feverish energy. Some water had come in over the gunwale during the struggle between the Indians, and Stephen managed to turn round, face downwards, to take a hearty drink.

When evening came on, the Indian was paddling almost mechanically, when from a branch of a tree above something dropped down. For a moment Stephen could not discern its nature. There was a swift, rapid movement, a piercing cry from the Indian, followed by the sound of cracking bones, and then the man was lifted bodily out of the boat. Stephen could now see two great coils wrapped round his body, and the head of a gigantic python; then, overcome by the horror of the scene he became unconscious. When he recovered he found that the canoe had drifted away from the tree. He now set to work desperately to loose his bonds, and after great efforts and suffering severe pain, succeeded in getting one hand loose. After that the rest was easy, and in a few minutes he was free. Seizing the paddle he rowed away from the scene of the tragedy, and presently tied up to a young sapling, whose head was just above the water.

His next step was to examine the contents of the canoe. It contained, however, nothing but two or three fish dried in the sun, and some cakes, of whose composition he was ignorant, save that they were certainly not made of flour. Having satisfied his hunger and taken a long drink from the water alongside, he fired his rifle three times, but no answering sound came back. Knowing that he might only be paddling away from the river, he stretched himself in the bottom of the canoe, and resolutely postponing all thought of his position until daybreak, fell asleep. He awoke as soon as it was light again, loaded and fired his gun three times, and again listened for a response.

"It is of no use my waiting here," he said to himself, after some thought. "Pita has no shadow of a clue as to what has become of me, and as I may be thirty miles away from him it would take an army to find me. I had better try and push on until I get to dry land. I may then be able to work round the inundations until I reach the rocky ground and can make my way along it to the mission." As soon as the sun rose he was able to determine the points of the compass, and paddled steadily on, his eyes fixed upon the trees above him. Other snakes might be lurking or wild beasts taking refuge in the branches. That there were many of these indeed he was sure, by the number of uneasy howls that he had heard before the sun rose. Several times as he rowed he caught sight of leopards and jaguars in the trees; one of the latter, unobserved until he had passed beyond the branches, sprang down from above, narrowly missing the stern of the canoe, and starting in pursuit as soon as it came to the surface again. Stephen, however, was able to drive the boat through the water at a much higher rate than the beast could swim, and it was not long before he had left it far behind him.

He continued to paddle all day, but felt that his nerves were beginning to fail him, and it was only by a great effort that he was able to keep a fixed direction by the aid of the sun through the leaves. He tied up again at night, and paddled all the next day, finding to his gratification in the afternoon that the water now did not average more than four feet deep. By noon the next day he saw a break in the line of water, and a few minutes later stood on dry ground. He did not attempt to go further, but throwing himself down fell at once into a deep sleep. It was evening when he awoke; the fire still burned on the hearth in the canoe; he had been careful to keep it alight by breaking off pieces of dead wood from the trees. He now collected a large store, built up a pile a few feet beyond the water-level, and bringing some brands from the fire set it alight. His scanty stock of provisions was now nearly exhausted; he ate half of what remained, and then lay down before the fire with his pistols ready at hand in case any wild beasts should come near. The next morning he started in what he believed to be the right direction, keeping near the edge of the inundation. His memory of what happened afterwards was vague and indistinct. He remembered that for several days he kept on, sometimes plucking fruit as he went, and occasionally firing a gun three times. Rapidly his strength failed as he went on, he often stumbled and fell from exhaustion and hunger, and the power of thought altogether deserted him.

At times he fancied he saw men approaching, but only to find that his imagination had converted trees into moving objects. He had long since left the edge of the inundation. He was parched with thirst, his mind wandered, incoherent cries proceeded from his parched lips. At last he thought he saw a native village before him; as he drew towards it figures came out from the huts and gazed at him. A moment later he fell headlong to the ground, and lay there insensible.

When he came to himself he felt so weak that he could neither turn nor raise his head, but lay wondering vaguely where he was. As he looked upwards he thought he was still dreaming, for the well-known face of Pita was looking down upon him.

"Do you know me?" It was certainly Pita's voice, and being unable to move, Stephen closed his eyelids quickly in reply to the question.

"The saints be praised!" the Indian exclaimed, using the ejaculation common among the Peruvians. "He knows me, Hurka—he is sensible again, after all this time."

Hurka hurried up on the other side of Stephen. "It is true!" he exclaimed; "he knows me also."

The Indian brought a gourd, and poured some liquor into Stephen's mouth. "Do not talk," he said; "we shall have plenty of time for that later on."

Stephen closed his eyes obediently. Even now he was not certain but that he was still in a dream. So many times of late he had had a vague fancy that his Indian guides were still with him that he doubted the evidence both of eye and ear. However, he soon went off to sleep again. When he awoke, Hurka was at hand, and ready to pour some hot broth down his throat. It was long before he was strong enough to ask questions, and the Indian positively refused to talk. At last the time came when he was able to be propped up into a sitting position on his bed, which was composed of leaves covered with blankets.

"I am strong enough to hear about it now, Pita. Tell me where I am and how you come to be here."

"Hurka will tell," the Indian replied; "it is a long talk."

Stephen looked to Hurka, who at once began.

"When you did not return that evening, senor, Pita and I went out to search for you. We knew where you generally sat, but you were gone. We went to the mission, got some torches, and searching in the sand between the rocks we found traces of Indians' feet, and were able to follow them up to a point nearly a mile below the falls. There they ceased, and we were sure that you had been carried off in a canoe. As we found no sign whatever of blood or marks of a struggle we felt sure that you had not been wounded, but concluded that you had been suddenly seized, bound, and carried off. We roused some of the mission Indians, and I with three of them took to our canoe and paddled down the river for twelve hours. As we had no weight to carry and had four paddles, we felt sure that by that time we should have overtaken you had they held on down the river, for we concluded by the footmarks that there were but three of them, and they had your weight in the boat.

"They could hardly have counted on being pursued so closely, and would not, therefore, have made any special effort. Then we turned and paddled back, keeping close to the trees in hopes of getting some sign of where the canoe had entered the forest. We found none, and as soon as we got to the mission, I set out to follow Pita, who had started inland. We thought it likely that the Indians had come across the inundations, and that he might obtain some news as to which tribe they belonged to. Of course he followed the high ground and passed through several Indian villages, but he was sure that they had not come from these, for in that case they would have gone on foot to the mission instead of taking the trouble to pass through the forest in a canoe. He walked sixty miles the next day and then reached the farthest edge of the inundation, and leaving the high ground followed it.

"He had taken with him a bag of flour from the mission, and kept on for a week; then he thought he must have gone beyond the spot where you had been landed. He had walked, he thought, fifty miles a day, and was more than three hundred from the high ground, and concluded that unless the canoe had come a long distance up the river they would never have made so long a passage through the forest. Then he went back again, keeping further away from the water. Four days later he came upon a group of Indian huts, and there heard that a strange white man had arrived at a village twenty miles distant, two days before. None knew from whence he came, for he had fallen down as soon as he arrived, and was lying ill. Pita could not understand how you could have arrived in such a state, unless indeed you had killed your captors after landing, and had then wandered in the forest until you chanced upon the village. He hastened there, greatly disturbed in his mind, in the first place, at the thought of your illness, and next because the tribe was a very savage one and ate human flesh.

"When he entered the village the natives crowded round him. He was an Indian like themselves, but his dress showed that he consorted with the hated white men. Pita, however, pushed them aside, and to their astonishment spoke to them in their own language. Pita's mother, indeed, had been one of that very tribe, and her father a great chief among them, so that when he told them who he was, he was heartily welcomed and treated with great respect. It was lucky for me that he arrived, for only the day before I too, when I gained news of your whereabouts, had reached the village, and upon entering had at once been made prisoner. I gathered from what I could understand of their language that I was to be eaten. I think that the manner in which you entered their village, and the mystery as to how you could have come there, saved your life. It seemed to them as something supernatural, and they were attending you carefully in order that if you recovered they might learn from you how you had come there, after which they would no doubt have killed you. Pita had some difficulty in obtaining my release, but upon his saying that, although belonging to another tribe, I was a great friend of his, they handed me over to him. Since then we have been as natives of the village. We have taken it by turn to nurse you, and by turns have hunted with the men."

"How long have I been here?"

"Nigh six months, senor."

"Six months!" Stephen repeated; "surely not, Hurka. I never could have been ill all that time; I must have died long ago."

"You were ill for six weeks, senor, with fever. When at last that passed away, your mind did not come back to you. Sometimes you raved about a great snake that was about to seize you; sometimes you thought that you were wandering in the forest; more often you lay quiet and without saying anything. We gave you plenty of food and you got stronger, but there was no change in your mind. A month before your mind came back the fever seized you again, and we had little hope that you would live; but we had got medicine from the mission, and just when it seemed to us that you were on the point of death, you fell into a deep sleep, and when, after lying for twenty hours so, you opened your eyes and knew Pita, we found that your mind had come back to you again. That is all."

"And you and Pita have remained here for six months nursing me!" Stephen said, holding out his hand to the Indian; "you are indeed good comrades and faithful friends, and I owe my life to you."

The exhaustion caused by listening to Hurka's story prevented Stephen from saying more, and in two minutes he dropped off to sleep. The next day he related to the two Indians the story of his passage through the forest.

"It was wonderful indeed that you should have alighted upon my mother's village," Pita said. "It was not to this that the three Indians belonged, but to another thirty miles away. Their disappearance has been the subject of much talk. It was at first thought that they had lost their way in the inundation and so perished, but when their canoe was discovered at the edge of the water-mark, long after the inundation had ceased, no one could account for it. The village was but three or four miles from the spot where the canoe was found, and there was no possibility of their missing their way. They could hardly have been all three devoured by wild beasts, unless, indeed, they had fallen in with a herd of peccaries; and this, it is now thought, must have been their fate. Fortunately, no one associated your coming with the discovery of the canoe."

Gradually Stephen regained strength, but it was some weeks before he was fit to travel again.

"I suppose," he said one day to Hurka, "that you will follow the track straight through the forest to the mission, instead of going all the way round as you did."

"I don't know yet, senor. We shall have some difficulty in getting away. Our skill with the bow and gun have so impressed them that they want to make Pita their chief and keep him here, and they want to adopt me into the tribe for the same reason. Till you began to get stronger we could roam about as we liked alone, but of late we have noticed that we are always watched, and Pita has been told that unless he consents to remain, you and I will both be killed and eaten. Pita has put off giving them a decided answer, but he cannot do so much longer; and now that you are well enough to travel, we shall have to make off as soon as we can. He has been told that if he and I consent to remain with them, they will take you to a place among the hills, eight days away, where you can find much gold and return rich to your own country."

"It is very awkward, Hurka, but I should think that you and Pita can contrive some plan for getting off."

The little Indian nodded.

"We can manage that," he said. "We have only been waiting until we were sure that you were strong enough to travel. I know that even now you could not go far, but once in the forest, we shall be able to outwit them and to travel slowly. Pita and I have been hiding up a store of food for the journey, and if you are willing we will try to make our escape to-night. There have, for the last fortnight, been men posted round us as soon as it became dark, but we shall be able either to crawl through them or to dispose of any who may bar our way."

Pita presently returned from hunting. He carried a dozen large pigeons in his hand.

"We must go to-night," he said briefly. "I have been told that I must give an answer to-morrow."

"I have been telling the senor," Hurka said, "and he is ready to make the attempt at once; but I wish that they had given you a day or two longer, for there will be extra vigilance to-night."

Pita made a gesture of contempt.

"They will but throw away their lives," he said. "Let us go out."

As they walked along the village the women looked curiously at them, while men watched them closely with scowling looks.

"Do you see that large tree at the edge of the forest, senor?" Pita asked presently; "it has lost its bark, and the trunk is white."

"I see it, Pita."

"Well, senor, as soon as we start to-night do you make straight for that. We will join you there. Do not stop if there should be fighting, and have no fear for us. The great point is for you to get to the edge of the forest. You are not strong enough to run fast yet; but once in the forest we shall be all right. The night is dark, for the moon will not rise till some hours after sunset. Do you think that you will be able to find the tree?"

"I think so, Pita. I will fix its bearings in my mind, and notice the direction I have to take on leaving the hut. I wish I had my gun and pistols."

"You can have my gun when we are once in the forest, senor; but we must fight at first with our bows. There are a hundred and fifty men here, and as we wish above all things to hide the way we have gone, a gun must not be fired unless we are so surrounded that escape is impossible."

"How shall we leave the hut, Pita?"

"By the back. We will cut a hole through that mud wall as soon as it gets dark; but we must not leave until all save the watchers are asleep, or we should have them all down upon us instantly, on the alarm being raised. When we are through them, Hurka and I will run in another direction, and make a long round before we come back to the tree, so that they will not know in which direction to seek for us. They will be sure, indeed, that we shall take to the forest; but it would be useless for them to begin the search for us until the morning, and they will be in no great haste, for they will know that you are not strong enough to walk very far, and that when they once strike on our track they will have no difficulty in overtaking us."

"I feel strong enough to walk a good distance," Stephen said.

"You may feel so, senor; but you have not tried. For months your limbs have done no work, and they will soon feel it. Besides, even had you your full strength and vigour, the Indians could easily outwalk you, for they would run in four hours as much as you could do in eight. If we escape, it must be by craft, and not by speed."

"I am quite sure that you will do all that you can, Pita, but remember that it is my express wish that you should not throw away your lives in a vain attempt to save mine. I will do all that I can; but if they come close to us, and I can go no further, I charge you to leave me, and to make your way to the river. You have already done too much for me, by throwing away eight months of your lives in this wretched place. Few indeed would have done so much, and it is my most earnest wish that you should not sacrifice your lives for my sake in a hopeless struggle against overpowering odds."

Hurka laughed. "That is not our way, senor. We are comrades, and comrades stick to each other to the last. You are our employer, and we have undertaken to carry you through all dangers. You have been kind and good to us, and our lives are yours. We shall either all get together to the mission, or none of us will reach it. In all other matters we are ready to obey your orders, but our lives are our own to dispose of as we choose."

They had by this time re-entered their hut, and Pita at once began to examine the wall, and to decide where it had best be cut through. After some conversation with Hurka they determined to make the hole in the side wall, near the rear corner of the hut.

"They are more likely to be watching at the back," Hurka explained to Stephen, "as it is there they will consider it most likely we should make the attempt to escape. We can begin the hole as soon as night comes on, but we must not complete it until the village is quiet. The knives will make no noise in cutting through this soft stuff, and the moment the hole is large enough, and the part remaining is so thin that we can push it down, one of us will stand, bow in hand, ready to shoot any of the watchers who may stop before it. Once out, senor, do not make straight for the tree, or the men at the back of the house will attack you. Turn sharp off, and run along close to the backs of the next huts until you are fifty or sixty yards away, then strike out for the tree."

Accordingly, as soon as it was dark the two Indians began to cut through the wall. When they considered that they were nearly through, they thrust the blades of the knives in. As long as they found the wall still firm they continued to remove further portions of the earth, until, on pushing the knife through, they found that it moved freely, and knew that they were within half an inch or so of the outside; then they continued their work until the hole was large enough for them to be able to issue out one at a time as soon as the thin skin remaining was cut away. This, as they told Stephen, would be but the work of a moment, for, starting at the top together, they should run their knives round the edge of the hole down to the ground, and let the whole of the wall so separated fall inside together, when they could ease it down noiselessly to the ground. The sounds in the village diminished, but they could, by listening attentively, hear an occasional footstep outside.

"Will each of them watch at a given spot?" Stephen asked.

"No, there is no chance of that; the five or six men on guard will wander round and round as they please, sometimes separately and sometimes together—more often together, for they have never got over the mystery of your arrival, and have, as I have noticed several times when I have returned late, an objection to coming near the hut. I have often seen them cross the road to the other side when they came along, in order to keep as far away from the hut as possible. Of course, we have never given them any explanation of your coming here, but have said that your memory is weak, and that all we know is that you were with us at the mission, and that we found you here."

Presently Pita announced that the time had come. He handed his gun to Stephen, while Hurka swung his across his back. Each of them took up their bows, drew half a dozen arrows from the quivers, and held them in readiness for instant use. They then placed the bows against the wall, close to the hole, opened their long knives and thrust them through the thin wall together, then each swept his knife down until it reached the ground, and cut along it until the inclosed strip gave way and fell inwards. They caught it as it moved, lowered it gently down, and then Hurka crept through the hole into the open air.



CHAPTER XIX.

IN BRAZIL.

Pita followed him, while close on the latter's heels Stephen came out, and turning off at once behind the next hut, started at a run.

As he did so he caught the sound of the twang of a bowstring, followed by a stifled cry and a fall, then came a loud yell, checked almost before it was uttered. But the alarm had been given, and loud shouts rose from several throats. He ran, as directed, some fifty yards behind the huts, and then turned and struck off across the open towards the tree. No sooner had he done so than he felt the justice of what the Indian had said. His feet seemed heavy and his joints stiff, and it needed an effort to maintain the speed at which he started, until he stopped at the tree, panting and trembling from head to foot. He had been conscious while he ran of a great uproar in the village, but his whole mind was centred on his efforts, and it was not until he paused that he heard the full volume of the outcry. A hundred voices were shouting, dogs were barking, and the women's cries could be heard in the uproar. Far away to the left he heard occasional shouts, and it was in this direction that the men of the village were evidently running. The two Indians had no doubt led the chase in the opposite direction to that which he had taken. Stephen was wondering how far they would go before turning, when, almost noiselessly, the two men ran up to the tree.

"We have shaken them off," Hurka said; "there were but two who followed closely enough to keep us in sight, and our arrows soon stopped them. Now let us go."

Pita led the way, Hurka followed him, placing as he did so one end of his bow in Stephen's hand, saying, "Our eyes are more accustomed to the dark than yours. Keep hold of the bow and follow me closely."

As soon as they were well in the forest the darkness was to Stephen absolute, and had it not been for the bow he could not have followed the little Indian, although treading almost on his heels. He appreciated more strongly than he had ever done before how much keener were the faculties of the Indians in some respects than his own, for they went along at a brisk rate, making their way through the trees with as little hesitation as if it had been broad daylight. Occasionally there was a pause for an instant as Pita slashed through a creeper barring his way.

"How can he see them?" Stephen asked.

"He does not see them, senor, he feels them. He holds his bow at arm's-length before him, and so touches even the smallest of the lianas; the large ones he can see plainly enough, and so could he the small ones were they level with the eye. It is those that are but a foot or two above the ground that are dangerous."

"It is marvellous to me how you can see anything, Hurka, for I cannot make out even the outline of your figure."

"We were born so, senor. Life in these forests accustoms the eyes to see in darkness. It is the same with the wild animals that run at night."

It was not long before Stephen's breath began to come in short gasps. The perspiration streamed from him, but he held on until Pita came to a halt.

"We will stop till you get your breath again, senor. There is no fear of them to-night, but we must hold on until morning, so as to get as long a start as possible before they can find our track and take up the pursuit. Until we have light we can do nothing to disguise our trail, but we will stop frequently, and go at a slower pace, so that you shall not become exhausted. It would never do to wear you out at the beginning of our journey."

All through the night the march was continued. They stopped at frequent intervals for a minute or two, and Stephen found himself able to keep up with them without any great difficulty, although long before morning broke he felt terribly exhausted. At last Pita said:

"In two hours it will be dawn. We will wait here, senor, and you can take a short sleep before we go on again."

Without a word Stephen dropped on to the ground, and almost instantaneously went off to sleep. When he awoke it was broad daylight. Hurka was beside him.

"We must be moving now, senor," he said. "Pita has been away for half an hour, and has just signalled to me to join him."

Stephen rose to his feet heavily. He felt stiff and sore all over, but the feeling wore off after he had walked a short distance. From time to time a cry like the note of a bird was heard, and towards this they directed their steps. They found Pita standing by the edge of a stream some fifteen yards wide, and without a word he entered the water as they came up and began to walk down it.

"I should have thought," Stephen said to Hurka, "that it would be safer to go the other way for a bit, because they would naturally suppose that we should come this way."

"That is just the reason why Pita is leading us down it," he said. "It is, of course, the way we should take to get down to the Madeira, and because it is so they will think that we would surely go the other in order to deceive them. No doubt some will go up and some will go down, but in that case we shall not have so many to fight."

A mile further another stream fell into that which they were following, and they turned up this and walked until they came to a bough some eight feet above the water. Pita sprung up and hauled himself on to it, then he leaned over and stretched his hands down to Stephen, and, with a strength the latter had hardly given him credit for, hauled him up beside him, and then similarly aided Hurka. They made their way along the bough to the main trunk, then followed another great bough on the other side, and dropped from its extremity nearly thirty yards away from the bed of the stream; then they struck off through the wood until they came upon another stream, and after following it for another half an hour left it by another tree as before.

"Now we can go on," Pita said, "it will take them hours to find our track."

They now continued their course steadily, Pita before they started taking off Stephen's boots and wrapping a broad band of soft leather he had brought with him round and round his feet.

"The heels of your boots make tracks an Indian might almost follow in the dark. You had better throw them into the next clump of bushes you come to; we can get another pair at the mission."

In the course of the day they crossed two other streams, and at each of them took measures as before to throw the Indians off their track. They kept on till nightfall, and then Stephen and Pita lay down, Hurka saying that he would watch until midnight.

"You don't think the Indians will follow at night?" Stephen asked.

"There is no fear of that, senor. They dread the wild beasts; there are so many in these forests, and they can scent a human being a long distance away. We have chosen this tree because, as you see, the lower branch is near the ground, and it will be easier to climb up into it if I give the alarm."

The next morning shortly after starting they came to a bank of a stream larger than any of those they had passed on the previous day. Here they had a short consultation, and then Hurka and Pita set to work to cut down a large number of great rushes growing in the water, taking care to cut them some inches below its level. With the aid of some creepers a raft capable of sustaining them all was speedily made, and on this they took their places, and the Indians having cut two poles to steer by, they pushed off into the middle of the stream. The current was very sluggish, and they would have made but small way had not the two Indians poled vigorously. Stephen was thankful indeed for the change; upon the previous day he had only been enabled to keep up with the greatest difficulty, and had felt that another day's labour would bring him to a stand-still.

"They will walk quite as fast as we are going," he said presently.

"Yes, senor, faster; but they are probably still far behind, us. They will, no doubt, find our trail at the points where we have left the streams, but, thanks to the pains we have taken to throw them off, will lose much time in having to search very carefully up and down every stream they come to. It will be the same if they trace us to the spot we started from on this raft; some must go up and some down, and both sides of the stream must be carefully searched. We are going nearly as fast as they will be able to do; besides, now we can travel at night. If they do not overtake us by evening, of which I think there is no chance, we shall be so far ahead by next morning that we shall be perfectly safe."

The Indians seemed tireless; all through the next night, whenever Stephen awoke he found them still at work. Soon after daybreak they stopped at a spot where there was another great bed of rushes, numbers of these they cut down, largely increasing the size of the raft, and adding to its stability. It was now some twelve feet long and eight wide, and composed of a great bed of rushes two feet deep, and which, with their weight upon it, floated more than a foot above the water. Four days later they emerged from the forest on to the Madeira. The stream by which they had come had received on its way so many accessions that it was now a river of some size. It took them four days of hard work to make their way up to the mission-station, although the distance was but fifty miles, and it was only by keeping close to the shore, and utilizing every eddy and back-water, that they succeeded in stemming the current.

The mission had now its full number of occupants, and they were received with the greatest kindness. Their effects had all been carefully stowed away in case they should ever return, although none thought that there was the least probability of their doing so, as nothing had been heard of them since six months before, when an Indian brought a message from Pita begging a supply of quinine for his white companion.

They waited some days at the mission. Stephen had regained much of his strength during his journey on the raft, and was willing to make a start at once; but the good fathers of the mission insisted upon his staying with them for a few days, and he felt that he benefited a great deal by the good food and wine they gave him. There was no longer any occasion for their original raft, and although it had done them good service they were all glad when they took their places in the canoe and started with a steady stroke down the river. It was no longer a rapid stream, and the falls, though still grand, were as nothing in comparison to the scene they presented when the river was in full flood. Still, there was enough stream to help them materially, and to allow the Indians to lay in their paddles at times and let the boat drift by itself.

At the mission-house they had taken in a supply of food sufficient to last them to Barra, and as they were able to catch as many fish as they could eat, they fared well. The journey took them three weeks of somewhat monotonous travelling. There was no change in the scenery, a thick forest bordered the river on both sides; but as they got lower down there were clearings and small villages, and they met a few boats passing between these or going up to the mission. It was a glad day indeed to Stephen when the great river entered the still mightier Amazon, which was here several miles wide. Crossing it they made their way to Barra, a place of considerable size, with churches and many large buildings. His long companionship with the two Indians had, by this time, made Stephen as familiar with the Peruvian Spanish as with the Chilian, and enabled him to pass with great advantage among the Portuguese-speaking Brazilians as a native of Peru, since, had he been known to be a Chilian, they might have doubted whether he was a good Catholic, and he would, moreover, be viewed with disfavour by the Portuguese officers as one of a nation who had rebelled against Spain, his lawful master. He therefore, on landing, made his way to an hotel close by, representing himself as a traveller who had come down from Peru by the Madeira, and who wished to continue his journey down the Amazon to Para.

Stephen's next step was to purchase some clothes; those in which he left Peru, as well as the suit in the wallets, were unfit to wear. The first had remained at the mission during his long absence; he had indeed discarded it as worn out, but was glad to find it there on his return, for the other suit had been torn into absolute rags during his journey through the woods. He had no difficulty in obtaining country-cut garments, and his host, who had looked somewhat doubtfully upon him on his first arrival, was evidently relieved in his mind when he came down from his room in his new purchases.

"How are you thinking of travelling, senor? Do you desire to have a boat to yourself, or would you travel in a public boat? There are many such constantly going up and down the river. Some go through to Para, but the greater number stop far short of it, making voyages only two or three hundred miles up or down, and stopping at all the villages; these are cheaper than the long-distance boats, and you would have no difficulty in exchanging into another when it reaches its furthest point."

"I do not care which it is," Stephen replied, "and would as soon take a passage in a local craft as in another. Indeed, there is the advantage that if one does not find one's companions agreeable one can make a change and try one's luck in another boat."

"Then, if you are content with that, senor, you will not have long to wait. If not to-morrow, on the next day there is sure to be a boat going down the river."

"I also wish to take passages up the river for these Indians, who have served me most faithfully and well, and whom I regard as my friends."

"There will be no difficulty about that either, senor. Boats go occasionally from here up to the frontier, and sometimes beyond it."

Stephen talked the matter over with Pita and Hurka, and found that they would prefer to make a bargain for themselves with some native boat carrying merchandise.

"We shall be more at home so, senor; we shall go at a much lower price than it would cost by a boat carrying passengers; indeed, by offering to help at the oars when the current is strong we shall probably pay nothing whatever for our passage; as they are glad enough of help going up stream. All we shall have to do will be to buy our own provisions at the villages we stop at, just as the boatmen will do."

"You must give me an address where a letter will find you, Pita. Is there anyone at Lima to whose care I could send it?"

"Yes; Juan Fernandez, a merchant, in Santa Maria Street of Callao, number ten, knows me well, and has several times recommended me to traders and gold-seekers as a trustworthy guide, and if you address Pita, Indian guide, care of Senor Juan Fernandez, he will, I know, keep it for me until I call upon him."

"You will understand, Pita, that in paying you and Hurka only the balance of wages agreed on, I do so because I have no more money with me than is needed to carry me home; it in no way represents the deep obligation which I feel towards you both."

"Say no more of that, senor; we have done our duty, and should have done as much had you been one to whom we felt bound in no way beyond our agreement, but with you it has been altogether different. Had we been men of your own race you could not have treated us more kindly. We have been comrades and companions. If we saved your life, you must remember that you saved mine; say nothing, therefore, of an obligation. Hurka and I will always remember our journey with you as one of the most pleasant that we ever took. The toil has not been great, for we always went with the stream, while as to danger, we have both passed through many vastly greater perils. If you are satisfied with our services we are content, and more than content."

Two days later Stephen took his place in a large boat, with a long cabin on deck, carrying a mast and great sail. He parted with the Indians with deep regret, and watched them as, after looking after the boat until it had gone far down, they turned and went along the shore to a little craft on which they had arranged for a passage, and which was to start half an hour after he sailed. Then Stephen turned round to look at his fellow-passengers. One end of the deck was reserved for the whites. Here was a priest who had been up at Barra on a visit, two traders who had disposed of their merchandise and were returning to Para, an old Portuguese official, his wife, and two daughters, who had, he learnt, been staying for a month with a married daughter at Barra; besides these, there were three or four petty traders, who had come up from villages on the bank to replenish their stock of goods.

In the fore-part of the vessel were fully a score of natives, among whom were several women. An awning was extended over the after part of the upper deck, and it was not long before Stephen entered into conversation with his fellow-passengers. Hitherto he had thought of nothing but obtaining his passage, laying in a stock of provisions—for he was warned that each passenger catered for himself—and saying last words to his Indian companions; he had, therefore, had no time to obtain news of what was going on. After telling them that he had come down the Madeira, and had been laid up for more than eight months by illness, he said to the priest:

"I have now been some sixteen months away from all news, and feel like a man who has dropped from the moon."

"Then you are ignorant," the priest said in surprise, "that the southern portion of Brazil has declared Dom Pedro emperor."

"Dom Pedro!" Stephen repeated in surprise. "Is his father, King John, then dead?"

"No, he has returned to Portugal. You know that he was driven from that country by the French, and retired here and ruled over Brazil."

"That I know," Stephen said; "also that there were incessant plots and insurrections."

"That was so. Well, the war being over in Europe the Portuguese wanted their king back among them again, and last year King John returned there, leaving Dom Pedro as his lieutenant and regent. The Portuguese having got back their king wanted to bring Brazil back to its former position as subject to Portugal. This provoked a great opposition in the southern provinces, and Dom Pedro was persuaded to throw off his allegiance to his father. In October the independence of the colony was publicly declared, and by this time Dom Pedro has probably assumed the title of Emperor of Brazil. How long he will maintain the title I am unable to say. Our northern provinces of Para, Bahia, and Maranham are still Portuguese, and are held by a large number of Portuguese troops. They have a strong navy, which keeps the sea and compels the few ships of Dom Pedro to remain in port under shelter of the guns of their batteries. There can be but one end to it. The insurrection will be crushed, Dom Pedro sent to Europe as a prisoner, and all who supported him executed, or, if their lives are spared, all their possessions will be confiscated.

"Truly it is a sad time for Brazil. Everywhere there are two parties, the one for independence, the other for the Portuguese; but such as hold to the former naturally keep silent. What may happen in the future no man knows; but at present none have any hope that the southern provinces can resist the great force the Portuguese can bring against them, by sea and land. The mass of the people take no interest in the struggle. The natives, who are indeed the mass, care nothing whether they are governed from Lisbon or from Rio; they have to pay their taxes whoever is master. Of the whites, those families who have long been settled here are silent, that is to say, they are for independence; while those who have relations and connections in Portugal vehemently and loudly support its cause, and persecute all whom they suspect of entertaining opinions to the contrary. But all these things concern the population of the great towns; we in the interior take but little heed of them. Here we cultivate our fields, we say our masses, we carry on our trade, and politics interest us but little. If they do interest us, at least we do not speak of them. Silence is golden, my son, as you have doubtless learnt for yourself in Peru. How came so young a man as you to undertake so terrible a journey as you have made?" he asked, changing the conversation.

"It may be, father, that I did not sufficiently recognize that silence was golden. In any case my friends recommended me to take a long journey, because they thought it would be better and safer for me to travel to Brazil; and as there were reasons against my taking a passage by sea, there was nothing for me but to strike across the continent."

"You must possess courage and resolution to have ventured out on such a journey. Nevertheless, I can understand that your risk was greater had you remained. You have heard, I suppose, that Peru is now independent?"

"No, indeed," Stephen replied. "Was there a great battle?"

"There was no fighting at all. The Chilian fleet so hemmed in the Spaniards that neither supplies nor reinforcements could reach them, so they agreed to evacuate the country. San Martin was made dictator, or rather made himself so; but so great were the oppressions and tyrannies of himself and his officers that there was a revolution some months ago, and San Martin had to fly to Chili, where he has since remained, as far as I know."

"It served him right," Stephen said. "He was an ignorant, vain, and traitorous brute, and if the Peruvians had hung him he would only have got his deserts."

"I can understand, my son," the priest said with a smile, "that Peru was not a healthy place for you; and I should doubt whether, if you come to take an interest in politics here, Brazil will be a safer place of residence for you than Peru."

The voyage was pleasant but very slow. When the wind was favourable a great sail was hoisted; when it was not, the boat drifted down the river. The passengers passed the time away in eating many meals, consisting principally of the bread and fruit they purchased at the villages where the boat stopped, and in sipping coffee and smoking innumerable cigarettes. Of an evening the three ladies brought out guitars, and there was much singing by them and the male passengers, several of whom were able to take a turn at the musical instruments. Lines were put over, and occasionally fish caught. So week after week passed. The passengers changed frequently, but Stephen found all to be cheerful and sociable. Twice he had to change his craft for another of precisely the same size, rig, and slowness. The shores afforded but slight amusement, being low, and for the most part wooded, and indeed the river was for a time so wide that the land on either hand was invisible. Once or twice they met with strong winds, and the waves got up rapidly. The craft rolled heavily, and the passengers were for the most part prostrated by terror and sea-sickness.

At length after two months' passage they entered that branch of the great river upon which Para is situated, and a few days later moored alongside the quays of the town. Stephen at once went to an hotel, gave a Peruvian name, and then, having indulged in a bath and a very comfortable meal, sallied out into the town. In the streets were large numbers of Portuguese soldiers; while a short distance down the bay several fine ships of war lay at anchor. A good many merchant ships were moored alongside the quays, and Stephen determined on the following day to ascertain about them. On his return to the hotel he found a Portuguese official talking to the landlord.

"This is the gentleman," the latter said, motioning to Stephen.

"I have to ask you for your papers?" he said politely.

"I have none, senor," Stephen replied. "I have just arrived from Peru, having come down by the river Madeira into the Amazon."

"But how did you pass the frontier without papers?" the official said in an altogether changed manner.

"Simply because there is no frontier line on the Madeira, and so far as I know no Portuguese official or soldier within at least fifteen hundred miles. At any rate, I have never been asked for papers until now."

"But how is it that you started without papers?" the official said sternly.

"It was a matter that I never even thought of, senor. I had been engaged in a quarrel, and the authorities wanted me to leave. My friends furnished me with money, and I left at an hour's notice. I have gone through several perils by the way, was captured by Indians, who took all that I possessed, and would certainly have taken the papers had I had them about me. I was nearly killed and eaten, and was only saved by the courage and fidelity of two native guides who accompanied me."

"Well, senor, this is not a time when strangers can travel about Brazil without papers. You may be an emissary of the usurper Dom Pedro."

"If I had been," Stephen said quietly, "I should have come up the coast, and should hardly have gone round by Peru and returned here after a journey that has occupied me some eighteen months. It was only after I arrived at Barra that I learned that King John had left the country, and that his son Dom Pedro had been appointed regent."

The officer looked doubtful. "Your story may be a true one," he said. "I shall lay it before the authorities. Until you hear their decision you will remain here in the hotel."

"I am quite willing to do so," Stephen said. "In the meantime, senor, you will hear from the captain of the Bahia, now lying at the wharf, that I have at least come five hundred miles down the Amazon to this place, and there is one, Senor Vaquez, who is now in this hotel, or is at any rate putting up here, who came down with me all the way from Barra."

The official at once sent upstairs for the trader, who was fortunately in his room, and who at once confirmed Stephen's statement, that they had travelled together from Barra, and had left there some nine weeks before.

"This must be taken, senor," the officer said, "to relieve you from any suspicion of having come here from the insurgent provinces. At the same time there remains the fact that you have entered Brazil without passports or other necessary papers, a matter which will have to be considered by the authorities. At the same time, pending their decision there will be no occasion for you to confine yourself to the hotel, as the offence can hardly be considered a very serious one."

Two hours later Stephen was sent for to the governor's. Here a few more questions were put to him as to the absence of papers, and he was then asked what were his intentions as to the future.

"By your own confession", the officer who interrogated him said, "you are a fugitive from justice, and although we do not concern ourselves with crimes committed beyond our frontiers, we must concern ourselves with the movements of fugitives from justice who enter Portuguese territory without proper papers."

"I intend to take ship to Europe," Stephen replied. "My family have business connections there. I shall probably stay there until I hear that I can return home."

"Very well, senor. So long as you remain here you will be under surveillance, but otherwise your movements will not be interfered with."

Stephen bowed and withdrew. At the hotel that evening he learned news that surprised him and altered his plans. Some officers who had dined there were talking together, and Stephen, who was sitting near them drinking his coffee and smoking his cigarette, heard to his surprise the name of Lord Cochrane.

"There can be no doubt as to the truth of the news," one said. "Not only has this English adventurer accepted the offer of Dom Pedro to take command of his fleet, but they say he is already on his way, and is expected to arrive at Rio in a few weeks. I am afraid that he will give us some trouble."

"Not he," another said scornfully. "One of our ships could dispose of the whole of the insurgent fleet. They are, as we know from our friends there, but armed merchantmen, the Pedro Primeiro being the only real war-ship among them. Moreover, their equipments are villainously bad, and their manning worse, the only real sailors they have being our countrymen, who will bring the ships over to us when the first gun is fired. Even the Englishman can do nothing with such ships as these against three well-appointed fleets like ours."

"He did wonders on the other side," one of the other officers said.

"I grant you he did, but the odds were nothing like so great. The Chilians are better sailors by far than the people here, and could at least be relied upon to be faithful. I should think it likely that he will throw up his command in disgust as soon as he sees what this so-called fleet is, and how hopeless it is to struggle against such tremendous odds."

"I hope that it may be so, major. I own the force of your arguments, and the apparent hopelessness of any attempt to meet us at sea; but after what he did on the other side I cannot but think that he will at least give us some trouble, and at any rate make our conquest of the insurgent provinces less easy than we have anticipated. The man's reputation alone will inspire even those who regard their position as most hopeless, with some sort of energy. Hitherto I have never thought that there would be any resistance whatever, but anticipated that they would surrender as soon as our fleet appeared off their shores and our troops landed; but I think now that this Englishman may infuse some of his own mad spirit into these indolent Brazilians, and that they will make at least a show of resistance."

"All the worse for them," the captain laughed. "There will only be so many more confiscations and so much more plunder for the troops. I hope myself that they will resist, for otherwise we shall gain but little prize-money or plunder."

"I think we shall get plenty of both in any case," the other said. "Two-thirds of the people down there are rebels, and whether there is resistance or not their possessions of all kinds will be justly forfeited."

"That is so; but it is the government who will forfeit them, and but a small proportion indeed will fall to the share of the army and navy."

The conversation then turning upon other subjects, Stephen rose and strolled out of the room, and going down to the wharf seated himself on a balk of timber to think the matter out. That Lord Cochrane should have been driven to resign his position in Chili he could well understand, for he had wondered many times that he put up with the treatment that he received and the utter ingratitude that had been the sole reward of his great services; but it was singular indeed that just as he himself arrived on the eastern coast of the continent he should receive the news, that Cochrane would ere long appear on the coast to take command of the Brazilian fleet. Of course, now his plans would be changed, and instead of going to England he should endeavour to make his way down to Rio, and there join the admiral.