CHAPTER TWO.
COMPACT WITH THE NEW FRIEND AND DISCOVERY OF AN OLD ONE.
Keeping the fire low in order to prevent its being seen by any of thewandering bands of patriots--_alias_ soldiers, _alias_ banditti--whomight chance to be in the neighbourhood, the three travellers thusthrown unexpectedly together ate their supper in comparative silence,Lawrence and Pedro exchanging a comment on the viands now and then, andthe handsome Indian girl sitting opposite to them with her eyes for themost part fixed on the ground, though now and then she raised them totake a quick stealthy glance at the huge youth whose appetite did notseem to be greatly affected by his misfortunes. Perhaps she waswondering whether all Englishmen, possessed such innocent kindly facesand such ungainly though powerful frames. It may be that she wascontrasting him with the handsome well-knit Pedro at his side.
Whatever her thoughts might have been, the short glances of her lustrouseyes gave no clue to them, and her tongue was silent, save when shereplied by some brief monosyllable to a remark or query put in theIndian language occasionally by Pedro. Sometimes a gleam of thefirelight threw her fine brown features into bold relief, but on theseoccasions, when Lawrence Armstrong chanced to observe them, theyconveyed no expression whatever save that of profound gravity, with atouch, perhaps, of sadness.
The bench being awkwardly situated for a table, they had arranged asmall box, bottom up, instead. Lawrence and his new acquaintance seatedthemselves on the ground, and Manuela used her saddle as a chair.
Towards the end of their meal the two men became more communicative, andwhen Pedro had lighted a cigarette, they began to talk of theirimmediate future.
"You don't smoke?" remarked Pedro in passing.
"No," replied Lawrence.
"Not like the most of your countrymen," said the other.
"So much the worse," rejoined the youth.
"The worse for them or for you--which?" asked Pedro, with a significantglance.
"No matter," returned Lawrence with a laugh.
"Well, now," resumed Pedro, after a few puffs, during the emission ofwhich his countenance assumed the expression of seriousness, whichseemed most natural to it, "what do you intend to do? It is well tohave that point fairly settled to-night, so that there may be nouncertainty or delay in the morning. I would not urge the question wereit not that in the morning we must either go on together as travellingcompanions, or say our final adieux and part. I am not in the habit ofprying into men's private affairs, but, to speak the bare truth, I amnaturally interested in one whose father has on more than one occasiondone me good service. You need not answer me unless you please,senhor," added the man with the air of one who is prepared to retireupon his dignity at a moment's notice.
"Thanks, thanks, Pedro," said the Englishman, heartily, "I appreciateyour kindness, and accept your sympathy with gratitude. Moreover, I amglad to find that I have been thrown at such a crisis in my fortunesinto the company of one who had regard for my dear father. But I scarceknow what to do. I will give you my confidence unreservedly. Perhapsyou may be able to advise--"
"Stay," interrupted the other, on whose countenance a slightly sternexpression hovered. "Before you give me unreserved confidence, it isbut fair that I should tell you candidly that I cannot pay you back inkind. As to private matters, I have none that would be likely tointerest any one under the sun. In regard to other things--my businessis not my own. Why I am here and what I mean to do I have no right toreveal. Whither I am bound, however, is not necessarily a secret, andif you choose to travel with me you undoubtedly have a right to know."
Young Armstrong expressed himself satisfied. He might have wished toknow more, but, like Pedro, he had no desire to pry into other men'saffairs, and, being of an open confiding nature, was quite ready to takehis companion on trust, even though he had been less candid and engagingin manner than he was. After explaining that he had been educated inEdinburgh, and trained to the medical profession, he went on to say thathe had been hastily summoned to take charge of the sugar-mill at hisfather's death, and that he had expected to find an old overseer, whowould have instructed him in all that he had to do in a business withwhich he was totally unacquainted.
"You see," he continued, "my father always said that he meant to retireon his fortune, and did not wish me to carry on the business, but, beingnaturally an uncommunicative man on business matters, he never gave meany information as to details. Of course, I had expected that hismanager here, and his books, would reveal all that I required to know,but the soldiers have settled that question. Mill and books have gonetogether, and as to manager, clerks, and servants, I know not where theyare."
"Scattered, no doubt," said Pedro, "here, there, and everywhere--onlytoo glad to escape from a neighbourhood which has been given up to fireand sword by way of improving its political condition!"
"I know not," returned Lawrence, sadly. "But it would be useless, Ifear, to try to ferret them out."
"Quite useless," said Pedro. "Besides, what would it avail to talk withany of them about the affairs of a place that is now in ashes? But ifyour father spoke of his fortune, he must have had at least some of itin a bank somewhere."
"True, but I don't know where. All I know is that he once mentionedcasually in one of his letters that he was going to Buenos Ayres, wherehe had some property."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Pedro. "Come, that may help you to decide, for I ammyself going to Buenos Ayres, and can guide you there if disposed to go.Only, you will have to make up your mind to a pretty long and hardjourney, for duty requires me to go by a devious route. You must know,"he continued, lighting another cigarette, "that I am pledged to takethat girl to her father, who lives not far from Buenos Ayres."
He pointed as he spoke to Manuela, who, having laid her head on hersaddle, appeared to have fallen asleep.
"Her father must be a chief, I should think, to judge from herdignified, graceful carriage, as well as her fine features," saidLawrence in a low tone.
"Yes, he is a chief--a great chief," returned Pedro, gazing at hiscigarette in a meditative mood--"a very great chief. You see, shehappened to be living with friends on the western side of the mountainswhen this war between Chili and Peru broke out, and her father naturallywants to get her out of danger. The old chief once saved my life, so,you see, I am bound both by duty and gratitude to rescue his daughter."
"Indeed you are, and a pleasant duty it must be," returned Lawrence withan approving nod; "but don't you think it might have been wise to haverescued some other female, a domestic for instance, to keep her company?The poor girl will feel very lonely on such a long journey as you speakof."
Pedro again looked musingly at his cigarette, and flipped off the ashwith his little finger.
"You have not had much experience of war, young man," he said, "if youthink that in cases of rescue men can always arrange things comfortably,and according to the rules of propriety. When towns and villages are inflames, when plunder and rapine run riot everywhere, and little childrenare spitted on the bayonets of patriots, as is often the case even inwhat men have agreed to term civilised warfare, one is glad to escapewith the skin of one's teeth. Yet I was not as regardless of Manuela'scomfort as you seem to think. A poor woman who had nursed her when achild volunteered to accompany us, and continued with us on the firstpart of our journey; but the exertion, as I had feared, was too much forher. She caught a fever and died, so that we were forced to come onalone. If you join us, however, I shall be greatly pleased, for two canalways make a better fight than one, and in these unsettled times thereis no saying what we may fall in with in crossing the mountains."
"But why expose the poor girl to such risks?" asked Lawrence. "Surelythere must be some place of safety nearer than Buenos Ayres, to whichyou might conduct her?"
"Senhor Armstrong," replied the man, with a return of his sternexpression, "I have told you that my business is urgent. Not even therescue of my old friend's daughter can turn me aside from it. WhenMan
uela begged me to take her with me, I pointed out the difficultiesand dangers of the route, and the necessity for my pursuing a long anddevious course, but she said she feared to remain where she was; that,being young, strong, and accustomed to an active life, she felt sure shewas equal to the journey; that she could trust me, and that she knew herfather would approve of her taking the step. I agreed, with somehesitation. It turned out that the girl was right in her fears, forbefore we left the town it was attacked by the troops of Chili. ThePeruvians made but a poor resistance, and it was carried by assault.When I saw that all hope of saving the place was gone, I managed tobring Manuela and her nurse away in safety. As I have told you, thenurse died, and now--here we are alone. Manuela chooses to run therisk. I will not turn aside from my duty. If you choose to join us,the girl will be safer--at least until we cross the mountains. On theother side I shall be joined by friends, if need be."
Pedro ceased, and rekindled his cigarette, which had gone out during theexplanation.
"I will go with you," said Lawrence, with decision, as he extended hishand.
"Good," replied Pedro, grasping it with a hearty squeeze; "now I shallhave no fears for our little Indian, for robbers are cowards as a rule."
"Have we, then, much chance of meeting with robbers?"
"Well, I should say we have little chance of altogether escaping them,for in times of war there are always plenty of deserters and otherwhite-livered scoundrels who seize the opportunity to work their will.Besides, there are some noted outlaws in the neighbourhood of the passwe are going to cross. There's Conrad of the Mountains, for instance.You've heard of him?"
"No, never."
"Ah, senhor, that proves you to be a stranger here, for his name isknown from the Atlantic to the Pacific--chiefly, however, on the eastside of the Cordillera, and on the Pampas. He is an outlaw--at least heis said to be so; but one cannot believe all one hears. Some say thathe is cruel, others that he is ferocious among men, but never hurtswomen or children."
"Well, it is to be hoped we may not fall in with him, or any of hisband," said Lawrence; "for it is better to hear of his qualities than toput them to the test."
"Yet, methinks," resumed Pedro, "if you fell in with him alone youshould have no cause to fear him, for you must be more than his match."
"I don't think I should fear him," returned Lawrence, with a simplelook. "As to being more than his match, I know not, for my spirit doesnot prompt me to light, and I cannot boast of much capacity in the useof arms--unless you count my good oak-cudgel a weapon. I have acquiredsome facility in the use of that, having practised singlestick as anamusement at school."
As he spoke, the youth was surprised and somewhat startled by hiscompanion suddenly drawing a pistol from his belt, and pointing itsteadily at the open doorway of the hut. Turning his eyes quickly inthat direction, he beheld, with increased astonishment, a pair ofglaring eyes, two rows of glittering teeth, and a pair of thick redlips! The flesh which united these striking objects was all butinvisible, by reason of its being nearly as black as its background.
Most eyes, if human, would have got away from a pistol's line of firewith precipitancy, but the eyes referred to did not disappear. On thecontrary, they paid no regard whatever to the owner of the pistol, butcontinued to glare steadily at Lawrence Armstrong. Seeing this, Pedrohesitated to pull the trigger. He was quick to defend himself, but notprompt to kill. When he saw that the eyes slowly advanced out of thegloom, that they with the lips and teeth belonged to a negro whoadvanced into the room unarmed and with outspread hands, he quietlylowered his weapon, and glanced at Lawrence. No doubt Pedro felt, as hecertainly looked, perplexed, when he observed that Lawrence returned theintruder's gaze with almost equal intensity.
Suddenly the negro sprang towards the Englishman. He was a short,thick-set, and exceedingly powerful man; yet Lawrence made no move todefend himself.
"Quashy!" he exclaimed, as the black fell on his knees, seized one ofhis hands, and covered it with kisses, at the same time bursting intotears.
"Oh! massa Lawrie--oh! massa Lawrie, why you no come sooner? Why you solong? De sodger brutes nebber dar to touch de ole house if you wasdere. Oh! Massa Lawrie, you's too late--too late!--My! how you'sgrowed!"
In the midst of his sobs the young negro, for he was little more than ayouth, drew back his head to obtain a better view of his old companionand playmate.
Need we say that Lawrence reciprocated the affection of the man?
"He was a boy like myself when I was here," said Lawrence in explanationto the amused Peruvian. "His father was one of my father's mostattached servants, whom he brought from Kentucky on his way to thisland, and to whom he gave his freedom. Quashy himself used to be myplaymate.--But tell me about the attack on the mill, Quash. Were youpresent?"
"Prisint! You bery sure I was, an' I poke some holes in de varmints'fore dey hoed away."
"And how did you escape, Quash? Come, sit down and tell me all aboutit."
The negro willingly complied. Meanwhile the Indian girl, who had beenroused by his sudden entrance, resumed her seat on the saddle, and,looking intently into his black face, seemed to try to gather from theexpression of his features something of what he said.
We need not repeat the story. It was a detailed account of murder anddestruction; the burning of the place and the scattering of the oldservants. Fortunately Lawrence had no relatives to deplore.
"But don't you know where any of the household have gone?" he asked,when the excited negro paused to recover breath.
"Don't know nuffin'. Arter I poke de holes in de scoundrils, I was'bleeged to bolt. When I come back, de ole house was in flames, an'eberybody gone--what wasn't dead. I hollered--ay, till I was a'mostbusted--but nobody reply. Den I bury de dead ones, an' I've hoed abouteber since slobberin' an' wringin' my hands."
"Was our old clerk among the slain?" asked Lawrence.
"No, massa, but I tinks he's a dead one now, for he too ole to run far."
"And I suppose you can't even guess where any of those who escaped wentto?"
"Couldn't guess more nor a Red Injin's noo-born babby."
"Quashy," said Lawrence in a low voice, "be careful how you speak ofIndians."
He glanced, as he spoke, at Manuela, who now sat with grave face anddowncast eyes, having apparently found that the human countenance,however expressive, failed to make up for the want of language.
And, truly, Quashy's countenance was unwontedly mobile and expressive.Every feature seemed to possess the power of independently betraying thethoughts and feelings of the man, so that when they all united for thatend the effect was marvellous. Emotional, and full of quick sympathy,Quashy's visage changed from grave to gay, pitiful to fierce, humorousto savage, at a moment's notice. When, therefore, he received thegentle rebuke above referred to, his animated countenance assumed asudden aspect of utter woe and self-condemnation that may be conceivedbut cannot be described, and when Lawrence gave vent to a short laugh atthe unexpected change, Quashy's eyes glistened with an arch look, andhis mouth expanded from ear to ear.
And what an expansion that was, to be sure! when you take into accountthe display of white teeth and red gums by which it was accompanied.
"Well, now, Quash," resumed Lawrence, "what did you do after that?"
"Arter what, massa?"
"After finding that slobbering and wringing your hands did no good."
"Oh! arter dat, I not know what to do, an' den I tried to die--I _was_so mis'rable. But I couldn't. You've no notion how hard it is to diewhen you wants to. Anyhow I couldn't manage it, so I gib up tryin'."
At this point Manuela rose, and, bidding Pedro good-night in the Indiantongue, passed into her little chamber and shut the door.
"And what do you intend to do now, Quash?" asked Lawrence.
"Stick to you, massa, troo t'ick an' t'in," returned the negro withemphatic promptitude, which caused even Pedro to laugh.
"My poor fellow, that is
impossible," said Lawrence, who then explainedhis position and circumstances, showing how it was that he had littlemoney and no immediate prospect of obtaining any,--that, in short, hewas about to start out in the wide world friendless and almost pennilessto seek his fortune. To all of which the negro listened with a face soutterly devoid of expression of any kind that his old master andplaymate could not tell how he took it.
"And now," he asked in conclusion, "what say you to all that?"
"Stick to you troo t'ick and t'in," repeated Quashy, in a tone of whatmight be styled sulky firmness.
"But," said Lawrence, "I can't pay you any wages."
"Don' want no wages," said Quashy.
"Besides," resumed Lawrence, "even if I were willing to take you, SenhorPedro might object."
"I no care for Senhor Pedro one brass buttin," retorted the negro.
The Peruvian smiled rather approvingly at this candid expression ofopinion.
"Where you gwine?" asked Quashy, abruptly.
"To Buenos Ayres."
"I's gwine to Bens Airies too. I's a free nigger, an' no mortial mankin stop me."
As Quashy remained obdurate, and, upon consultation, Lawrence and Pedrocame to the conclusion that such a sturdy, resolute fellow might berather useful in the circumstances, it was finally arranged, to the poorfellow's inexpressible delight, that he should accompany them in theirlong journey to the far east.