After long wanderings, and many hardships, Balthazar and two fellow priests accidentally discovered Quipai, at that time a mere collection of huts on the banks of a small stream which descended from the gorges of the Cordillera only to be lost in the sands of the desert. But all around were remains which showed that Quipai had once been a place of importance and the seat of a large population—ruined buildings of colossal dimensions, heaps of quarried stones, a cemetery rich in relics of silver and gold; and a great azequia, in many places still intact, had brought down water from the heart of the mountains for the irrigation of the rainless region of the coast.

Balthazar had moreover heard of the marvellous system of irrigation whereby the Incas had fertilized nearly the whole of the Peruvian desert; and as he surveyed the ruins he conceived the great idea of restoring the aqueduct and repeopling the neighboring waste. To this task he devoted his life. His first proceeding was to convert the Indians and found a mission, which he called San Cristobal de Quipai; his next to show them how to make the most of the water-privileges they already possessed. A reservoir was built, more land brought under cultivation, and the oasis rendered capable of supporting a larger population. The resulting prosperity and the abbe's fame as a physician (he possessed a fair knowledge of medicine) drew other Indians to Quipai.

After a while the gigantic undertaking was begun, and little by little, and with infinite patience and pain accomplished. It was a work of many years, and when I travelled the whole length of the azequia I marvelled greatly how the abbe, with the means at his command, could have achieved an enterprise so arduous and vast. The aqueduct, nearly twenty leagues in length, extended from the foot of the snow-line to a valley above Quipai, the water being taken thence in stone-lined canals and wooden pipes to the seashore. In several places the azequia was carried on lofty arches over deep ravines: and there were two great reservoirs, both remarkable works. The upper one was the crater of an extinct volcano, of unknown depth, which contained an immense quantity of water. It took so long to fill that the abbe, as he laughingly told me, began to think that there must be a hole in the bottom. But in the end it did fill to the very brim, and always remained full. The second reservoir, a dammed up valley, was just below the first; it served to break the fall from the higher to the lower level and receive the overflow from the crater.

A bursting of either of the reservoirs was quite out of the question; at any rate the abbe so assured me, and certainly the crater looked strong enough to hold all the water in the Andes, could it have been got therein, while the lower reservoir was so shallow—the out-flow and the loss by evaporation being equal to the in-take—that even if the banks were to give way no great harm could be done.

I mention these particulars because they have an important bearing on events that afterward befell, and on my own destiny.

Only a born engineer and organizer of untiring energy and illimitable patience could have performed so herculean a labor. Balthazar was all this, and more. He knew how to rule men despotically yet secure their love. The Indians did his bidding without hesitation and wrought for him without pay. In the absence of this quality his task had never been done. On the other hand, he owed something to fortune. All the materials were ready to his hand. He built with the stone quarried by the Incas. His work suffered no interruption from frost or snow or rain. His very isolation was an advantage. He had neither enemies to fear, friends to please, nor government officers to propitiate.

On the landward side Quipai was accessible only by difficult and little known mountain-passes which nobody without some strong motive would care to traverse, and passing ships might be trusted to give a wide berth to an iron-bound coast destitute alike of harbors and trade.

So it came to pass that, albeit the mission of Quipai was in the dominion of the King of Spain, none of his agents knew of its existence, his writs did not run there, and Balthazar treated the royal decree for the expulsion of the Jesuits from South America (of which he heard two or three years after its promulgation) with the contempt that he thought it deserved. Nevertheless, he deemed it the part of prudence to maintain his isolation more rigidly than ever, and make his communications with the outer world few and far between, for had it become known to the captain-general of Peru that there was a member of the proscribed order in his vice-royalty, even at so out of the way a place as Quipai he would have been sent about his business without ceremony. The possibility of this contingency was always in the abbe's mind. For a time it caused him serious disquiet; but as the years went on and no notice was taken of him his mind became easier. The news I brought of the then recent events in Spain and the revolt of her colonies made him easier. The viceroy would have too many irons in the fire to trouble himself about the mission of Quipai and its chief, even if they should come to his knowledge, which was to the last degree improbable. We sat talking for several hours, and should probably have talked longer had not the abbe kindly yet peremptorily insisted on my retiring to rest.

Early next morning we started on an excursion to the valley lake, each of us mounted on a fine mule from the abbe's stables, and attended by an arriero. North as well as south of San Cristobal (as the village was generally called) the country had the same garden-like aspect. There was none of the tangled vegetation which in tropical forests impedes the traveller's progress; except where they had been planted by the roadside for protection from the sun, or bent over the water-courses, the trees grew wide apart like trees in a park. Men and women were busy in the fields and plantations, for the abbe had done even a more wonderful thing than restoring the great azequia—converted a tribe of indolent aborigines into an industrious community of husbandmen and craftsmen; among them were carpenters, smiths, masons, weavers, dyers, and cunning workers in silver and gold. The secret of his power was the personal ascendancy of a strong man, the naturally docile character of his converts, the inflexible justice which characterized all his dealings with them, and the belief assiduously cultivated, that as he had been their benefactor in this world he could control their destinies in the next. Though he never punished he was always obeyed, and there was probably not a man or woman under his sway who would have hesitated to obey him, even to death.

The lake was small yet picturesque, its verdant banks deepening by contrast the dark desolation of the arid mountains in which it was embosomed. Some three thousand feet above it rose the extinct volcano, the slopes of which in the days of the Incas were terraced and cultivated. Angela and I half rode, half walked to the top; but the abbe, on the plea that he had some business to look after, stayed at the bottom.

The crater was about eight hundred yards in diameter and filled nearly to the brim with crystal water, which outflowed by a wide and well made channel into the lake, the supply being kept up by the in-flow from the azequia, whose course we could trace far into the mountains.

The view from our coigne of vantage was unspeakably grand. Behind us rose the stupendous range of the Andes, with its snow-white peaks and smoking volcanoes; before us the oasis of Quipai rolled like a river of living green to the shores of the measureless ocean, whose shining waters in that clear air and under that azure sky seemed only a few miles away, while, as far as the eye could reach, the coast-line was fringed with the dreary waste where I had so nearly perished.

The oasis, as I now for the first time discovered, was a valley, a broad shallow depression in the desert falling in a gentle slope from the foot of the Cordillera to the sea, whereby its irrigation was greatly facilitated.

"How beautiful Quipai looks, and how like a river!" said Angela. "That is what I always think when I come here—how like a river!"

"Who knows that long ago the valley was not the bed of a river!"

"It must be very long ago, then, before there was any Cordillera. Rain-clouds never cross the Andes, and for untold ages there can have been no rain here on the coast."

"You are right. Without rain you cannot have much of a river, and if the azequia were to fail there would be very little left of Quipai."

"Don't suggest anything so dreadful as the failure of the azequia. It is the Palladium of the mission and the source of all our prosperity and happiness. Besides, how could it fail? You see how solidly it is built, and every month it is carefully inspected from end to end."

"It might be destroyed by an earthquake."

"You are pleased to be a Job's comforter, Monsieur Nigel. Damaged it might be, but hardly destroyed, except in some cataclysm which would destroy everything, and that is a risk which, like all dwellers in countries subject to earthquakes, we must run. We cannot escape from the conditions of our existence; and life is so pleasant here, we are spared so many of the miseries which afflict our fellow-creatures in other parts of the world—war, pestilence, strife, and want—that it were as foolish and ungrateful to make ourselves unhappy because we are exposed to some remote danger against which we cannot guard, as to repine because we cannot live forever."

"You discourse most excellent philosophy, Mademoiselle Angela."

"Without knowing it, then, as Monsieur Jourdan talked prose."

"So! You have read Moliere?"

"Over and over again."

"Then you must have a library at San Cristobal."

"A very small one, as you may suppose; but a small library is not altogether a disadvantage, as the abbe says. The fewer books you have the oftener you read them; and it is better to read a few books well than many superficially."

"The abbe has been your sole teacher, I suppose?"

"Has been! He is still. He has even written books for me, and he is the author of some of the best I possess—But don't you think, monsieur, we had better descend to the valley? The abbe will have finished his business by this time, and though he is the best man in the world he has the fault of kings; he does not like to wait."



CHAPTER XXVIII.

I BID YOU STAY.

"You have been here a month, Monsieur Nigel, living in close intimacy with Angela and myself," said the abbe, as we sat on the veranda sipping our morning coffee. "You have mixed with our people, seen our country, and inspected the great azequia in its entire length. Tell me, now, frankly, what do you think of us?"

"I never passed so happy a month in my life, and—"

"I am glad to hear you say so, very glad. My question, however, referred not to your feelings but your opinion. I will repeat it: What think you of Quipai and its institutions?"

"I know of but one institution in Quipai, and I admire it more than I can tell."

"And that is?"

"Yourself, Monsieur l'Abbe."

The abbe smiled as if the compliment pleased him, but the next moment his face took the "pale cast of thought," and he remained silent for several minutes.

"I know what you mean," he said at length, speaking slowly and rather sadly. "You mean that I am Quipai, and that without me Quipai would be nowhere."

"Exactly, Monsieur l'Abbe. Quipai is a miracle; you are its creator, yet I doubt whether, as it now exists, it could long survive you. But that is a contingency which we need not discuss; you have still many years of life before you."

"I like a well-turned compliment, Monsieur Nigel, because in order to be acceptable it must possess both a modicum of truth and a soupcon of wit. But flattery I detest, for it must needs be insincere. A man of ninety cannot, in the nature of things, have many years of life before him. What are even ten years to one who has already lived nearly a century? This is a solemn moment for both of us, and I want to be sincere with you. You were sincere just now when you said Quipai would perish with me. And it will—unless I can find a successor who will continue the work which I have begun. My people are good and faithful, but they require a prescient and capable chief, and there is not one among them who is fitted either by nature or education to take the place of leader. Will you be my successor, Monsieur Nigel?"

This was a startling proposal. To stay in Quipai for a few weeks or even a few months might be very delightful. But to settle for life in an Andean desert! On the other hand, to leave Quipai were to lose Angela.

"You hesitate. But reflect well, my friend, before denying my request. True, you are loath to renounce the great world with its excitements, ambitions, and pleasures. But you would renounce them for a life free from care, an honorable position, and a career full of promise. It will take years to complete the work I have begun, and make Quipai a nation. As I said when you first came, Providence sent you here, as it sent Angela, for some good end. It sent the one for the other. Stay with us, Monsieur Nigel, and marry Angela! If you search the world through you could find no sweeter wife."

My hesitation vanished like the morning mist before the rising sun.

"If Angela will be my wife," I said, "I will be your successor."

"It is the answer I expected, Monsieur Nigel. I am content to let Angela be the arbiter of your fate and the fate of Quipai. She will be here presently. Put the question yourself. She knows nothing of this; but I have watched you both, and though my eyes are growing dim I am not blind."

And with that the abbe left me to my thoughts. It was not the first time that the idea of asking Angela to be my wife had entered my mind. I loved her from the moment I first set eyes on her, and my love has become a passion. But I had not been able to see my way. How could I ask a beautiful, gently nurtured girl to share the lot of a penniless wanderer, even if she could consent to leave Quipai, which I greatly doubted. But now! Compared with Angela, the excitements and ambitions of which the abbe had spoken did not weigh as a feather in the balance. Without her life would be a dreary penance; with her a much worse place than Quipai would be an earthly paradise.

But would she have me? The abbe seemed to think so. Nevertheless, I felt by no means sure about it. True, she appeared to like my company. But that might be because I had so much to tell her that was strange and new; and though I had observed her narrowly, I had detected none of that charming self-consciousness, that tender confusion, those stolen glances, whereby the conventional lover gauges his mistress's feelings, and knows before he speaks that his love is returned. Angela was always the same—frank, open, and joyous, and, except that her caresses were reserved for him, made no difference between the abbe and me.

"A chirimoya for your thoughts, senor!" said a well-known voice, in musical Castilian. "For these three minutes I have been standing close by you, with this freshly gathered chirimoya, and you took no notice of me."

"A thousand pardons and a thousand thanks, senorita!" I answered, taking the proffered fruit. "But my thoughts were worth all the chirimoyas in the world, delicious as they are, for they were of you."

"We were thinking of each other then."

"What! Were you thinking of me?"

"Si, senor."

"And what were you thinking, senorita?"

"That God was very good in sending you to Quipai."

"Why?"

"For several reasons."

"Tell me them."

"Because you have done the abbe good. Aforetime he was often sad. You remember his saying that he had cares. I know not what, but now he seems himself again."

"Anything else?"

"Si, senor. You have also increased my happiness. Not that I was unhappy before, for, thanks to the dear abbe, my life has been free from sorrow; but during the last month—since you came—I have been more than happy, I have been joyous."

"You don't want me to go, then?"

"O senor! Want you to go! How can you—what have I done or said?" exclaimed the girl, impetuously and almost indignantly. "Surely, sir, you are not tired of us already?"

"Heaven forbid! If you want me to stay I shall not go. It is for you to decide. Angela mia, it depends on you whether I go away soon—how or whither I know not—or stay here all my life long."

"Depends on me! Then, sir, I bid you stay."

"Oh, Angela, you must say more than that. You must consent to become my wife; then do with me what you will."

"Your wife! You ask me to become your wife?"

"Yes, Angela. I have loved you since the day we first met; every day my love grows stronger and deeper, and unless you love me in return, and will be my wife, I cannot stay; I must go—go at once."

"Quipai, senor," said Angela, archly, at the same time giving me her hand.

"Quipai! I don't quite understand—unless you mean—"

"Quipai," she repeated, her eyes brightening into a merry smile.

"Unless you mean—"

"Quipai."

"Oh, how dull I am! I see now. Quipai—rest here."

"Si, senor."

"And if I rest here, you will—"

"Do as you wish, senor, and with all my heart; for as you love me, so I love you."

"Dearest Angela!" I said, kissing her hand, "you make me almost too happy. Never will I leave Quipai without you."

"And never will I leave it without you. But let us not talk of leaving Quipai. Where can we be happier than here with the dear abbe? But what will he say?"

"He will give us his blessing. His most ardent wish is that I should be your husband and his successor."

"How good he is? And I, wicked girl that I am, repay his goodness with base ingratitude. Ah me! How shall I tell him?"

"You repay his goodness with base ingratitude? You speak in riddles, my Angela."

"Since the waves washed me to his feet, a little child, the abbe has cherished me with all the tenderness of a mother, all the devotion of a father. He has been everything to me; and now you are everything to me. I love you better than I love him. Don't you think I am a wicked girl?" And she put her arm within mine, and looking at me with love-beaming eyes, caressing my cheek with her hand.

"I will grant you absolution, and award you no worse penance than an embrace, ma fille cherie," said the abbe, who had returned to the veranda just in time to overhear Angela's confession. "I rejoice in your happiness, mignonne. To-day you make two men happy—your lover and myself. You have lightened my mind of the cares which threatened to darken my closing days. The thought of leaving you without a protector and Quipai without a chief was a sore trouble. Your husband will be both. Like Moses, I have seen the Promised Land, and I shall be content."

"Talk not of dying, dear father or you will make me sad," said Angela, putting her arms round his neck.

"There are worse things than dying, my child. But you are quite right; this is no time for melancholy forebodings. Let us be happy while we may; and since I came to Quipai, sixty years ago, I have had no happier day than this."

As the only law at Quipai was the abbe's will, and we had neither settlements to make, trousseaux to prepare, nor house to get ready (the abbe's house being big enough for us all), there was no reason why our wedding should be delayed, and the week after Angela and I had plighted our troth, we were married at the church of San Cristobal.

The abbe's wedding-present to Angela was a gold cross studded with large uncut diamonds. Where he got them I had no idea, but I heard afterward—and something more.

All this time nothing, save vague generalities, had passed between us on the subject of religion—rather to my surprise, for priests are not wont to ignore so completely their raison d'etre, but I subsequently found that Balthazar, albeit a devout Christian, was no bigot. Either his early training, his long isolation from ecclesiastical influence, or his communings with Nature had broadened his horizon and spiritualized his beliefs. Dogma sat lightly on him, and he construed the apostolic exhortations to charity in their widest sense. But these views were reserved for Angela and myself. With his flock he was the Roman ecclesiastic—a sovereign pontiff—whom they must obey in this world on pain of being damned in the next. For he held that the only ways of successfully ruling semi-civilized races are by physical force, personal influence, or their fear of the unseen and the unknown. At the outset Balthazar, having no physical force at his command, had to trust altogether to personal influence, which, being now re-enforced by the highest religious sanctions, made his power literally absolute. Albeit Quipai possessed neither soldiers, constables, nor prison, his authority was never questioned; he was as implicitly obeyed as a general at the head of an army in the field.

I have spoken of the abbe's communings with Nature. I ought rather to have said his searchings into her mysteries; for he was a shrewd philosopher and keen observer, and despite the disadvantages under which he labored, the scarcity of his books, and the rudeness of his instruments, he had acquired during his long life a vast fund of curious knowledge which he placed unreservedly at my disposal. I became his pupil, and it was he who first kindled in my breast that love of science which for nearly three-score years I have lived only to gratify.



CHAPTER XXIX.

THE ABBE'S LEGACY.

Life was easy at Quipai, and we were free from care. On the other hand, we had so much to do that time sped swiftly, and though we were sometimes tired we were never weary. The abbe made me the civil governor of the mission, and gave orders that I should be as implicitly obeyed as himself. My duties in this capacity, though not arduous, were interesting, including as they did all that concerned the well-being of the people, the maintenance of the azequia, and the irrigation of the oasis. My leisure hours were spent in study, working in the abbe's laboratory, and with Angela, who nearly always accompanied me on my excursions to the head of the aqueduct which, as I have already mentioned was at the foot of the snow-line, two days' journey from the valley lake.

It was during one of these excursions that we planned our new home, a mountain nest which we would have all to ourselves, and whither at the height of summer we might escape from the heat of the oasis, for albeit the climate of Quipai was fine on the whole, there were times when the temperature rose to an uncomfortable height. The spot on which we fixed was a hollow in the hills, some two miles beyond the crater reservoir and about eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. By tapping the azequia we turned the barren valley into a garden of roses, for in that rainless region water was a veritable magician, whatsoever it touched it vivified. This done we sent up timber, and built ourselves a cottage, which we called Alta Vista, for the air was superb and the view one of the grandest in the world.

Angela would fain have persuaded the abbe to join us; yet though I made a well-graded road and the journey was neither long nor fatiguing he came but seldom. He was so thoroughly acclimatized that he preferred the warmth of San Cristobal to the freshness of Alta Vista, and the growing burden of his years indisposed him to exertion, and made movement an effort. We could all see, and none more clearly than himself, that the end was not far off. He contemplated it with the fortitude of a philosopher and the faith of a Christian. For the spiritual wants of his people he provided by ordaining (as in virtue of his ecclesiastical rank he had the right to do), three young men, whom he had carefully educated for the purpose; the reins of government he gave over entirely to me.

"I have lived a long life and done a good work, and though I shall be sorry to leave you, I am quite content to go," he said one day to Angela and me. "It is not in my power to bequeath you a fortune, in the ordinary sense of the word, for money I have none, yet so long as the mission prospers you will be better off than if I could give you millions. But everything human is ephemeral and I cannot disguise from myself the possibility of some great disaster befalling you. Those mountains contain both gold and silver, and an invasion of treasure-seekers, either from the sea or the Cordillera would be the ruin of the mission. My poor people would be demoralized, perhaps destroyed, and you would be compelled to quit Quipai and return to the world. For that contingency, though I hope it will never come to pass, you must be prepared, and I will point out the way. The mountains, as I have said, contain silver and gold; and contain something even more precious than silver and gold—diamonds, I made the discovery nearly half a century ago, and I confess that, for a time, the temptation was almost more than I could withstand. With such wealth as I saw at my disposal I might do anything, be anything, enrich my order, win distinction for myself, and attain to high rank, perhaps the highest, in the church, or leave it and become a power in the world, a master of men and the guest of princes. Yes, it was a sore temptation, but with God's help, I overcame it and chose the better part, the path of duty, and I have my reward. I brought a few diamonds away with me, some of which are in Angela's cross; but I have never been to the place since. I told you not this sooner, my son, partly because there seemed no need, partly because, not knowing you as well as I know you now, I thought you might be tempted in like manner as I was and we pray not to be led into temptation. But though I tell you where these precious stones are to be found, I am sure that you will never quit Quipai."

"I have no great desire to know the whereabout of this diamond mine, father. Tell me or not as you think fit. In any case, I shall be true to my trust and my word. I promise you that I will not leave Quipai till I am forced, and I hope I never may be."

"All the same, my son, it is the part of a wise man to provide for even unlikely contingencies. Remember, it is the unexpected that happens, and I would not have you and our dear Angela cast on the world penniless. For her, bred as she has been, it would be a frightful misfortune; and up yonder are diamonds which would make you rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Promise me that you will go thither, and bring away as many as you can conveniently carry about your persons in the event of your being compelled to quit the oasis at short notice."

"I promise. Nevertheless, I see no probability—"

"We are discussing possibilities not probabilities, my son. And during the last few days I have had forebodings, if I were superstitious I should say prophetic visions, else had I not broached the subject. Regard it, if you like, as an old man's whim—and keep a look-out on the sea."

"Why particularly on the sea?"

"It is the quarter whence danger is most to be apprehended. If some Spanish war-ship were to sight the oasis and send a boat ashore, either out of idle curiosity or for other reasons, a report would be made to the captain-general, or to whomsoever is now in authority at Lima, and there would come a horde of government functionaries, who would take possession of everything, and you would have to go. But take your pen and note down the particulars that will enable you to find the diamond mine."

Though Angela and I listened to the abbe's warnings with all respect, they made little impression on our minds. We regarded them as the vagaries of an old man, whose mind was affected by the feebleness of his body, and a few weeks later he breathed his last. His death came in the natural order of things, and, as he had outlived his strength, it was for him a happy release; yet, as we had loved him much, we sorrowed for him deeply, and I still honor his memory. Take him all in all, Abbe Balthazar was the best man I have ever known.

Shortly after we laid him in the ground I made a visit to the diamond ground, the situation of which the abbe had so fully described that I found it without difficulty. But the undertaking, besides proving much more arduous than I had anticipated, came near to costing me my life. I took with me an arriero and three mules, one carrying an ample supply of food, and, as I thought, of water, for the abbe had told me that a mountain-stream ran through the valley where I was to look for the diamonds. As ill-luck would have it, however, the stream was dried up. Had it not been that I did not like to return empty-handed I should have returned at once, for our stock of water was exhausted and we were two days' journey from Quipai.

I spent a whole day seeking among the stones and pebbles, and my search was so far successful that I picked up two score diamonds, some of considerable size. If I could have stayed longer I might have made a still richer harvest; and I had an idea that there were more under than above ground. But I had stayed too long as it was. The mules were already suffering for want of water; all three perished before we reached Quipai, and the arriero and myself got home only just alive.

Nevertheless, had not Angelo put her veto on the project, I should have made another visit to the place, provided with a sufficiency of water for the double journey. I, moreover, thought that with time and proper tools I could find water on the spot. However, I went not again, and I renounced my design all the more willingly as I knew that the diamonds I had already found were a fortune in themselves. I added them to my collection of minerals which I kept in my cabinet at Alta Vista. My Quipais being honest and knowing nothing whatever of precious stones I had no fear of robbers.

For several years after Balthazar's death nothing occurred to disturb the even tenor of our way, and I had almost forgotten his warnings, and that we were potentially "rich beyond the dreams of avarice," when one day a runner brought word that two men had landed on the coasts and were on the way to San Cristobal.

This was startling news, and I questioned the messenger closely, but all he could tell me was that the strangers had arrived in a small boat, half famished and terribly thirsty, and had asked, in broken Spanish, to be taken to the chief of the country, and that he had been sent on to inform me of their coming.

"The abbe!" exclaimed Angela, "you remember what he said about danger from the sea."

"Yes; but there is nothing to fear from two hungry men in a small boat—as I judge from the runner's account, shipwrecked mariners."

"I don't know; there's no telling, they may be followed by others, and unless we keep them here—"

"If necessary we must keep them here; as, however, they are evidently not Spaniards it may not be necessary. But as to that I can form no opinion till I have seen and questioned them."

We were still talking about them, for the incident was both suggestive and exciting, when the strangers were brought in. As I expected, they were seamen, in appearance regular old salts. One was middle-sized, broad built, brawny, and large-limbed—a squat Hercules, with big red whiskers, earrings and a pig-tail. His companion was taller and less sturdy, his black locks hung in ringlets on either side of a swarthy, hairless face, and the arms and hands of both, as also their breasts were extensively tattooed.

Their surprise on beholding Angela and me was almost ludicrous. They might have been expecting to see a copper-colored cacique dressed in war-paint and adorned with scalps.

"White! By the piper that played before Moses, white!" muttered the red-whiskered man. "Who'd ha' thought it! A squaw in petticoats, too, with a gold chain round her neck! Where the hangmant have we got to?"

"You are English?" I said, quietly.

"Well, I'll be—yes, sir! I'm English, name of Yawl, Bill Yawl, sir, of the port of Liverpool, at your service. My mate, here, he's a—"

"I'll tell my own tale, if you please, Bill Yawl," interrupted the other as I thought rather peremptorily. "My name is Kidd, and I'm a native of Barbadoes in the West Indies, by calling, a mariner, and late second mate of the brig Sulky Sail, Jones, master, bound from Liverpool to Lima, with a cargo of hardware and cotton goods."

"And what has become of the Sulky Sail?"

"She went to the bottom, sir, three days ago."

"But there has been no bad weather, lately."

"Not lately. But we made very bad weather rounding the Horn, and the ship sprang a leak, and though, by throwing cargo overboard, and working hard at the pumps, we managed to keep her afloat nearly a month; she foundered at last."

"And are you the only survivors?"

"No, sir; the master and most of the crew got away in the long boat. But as the ship went down the dinghy was swamped. Bill and me managed to right her and get aboard again, but the others as was with us got drowned."

"And the long boat?"

"We lost each other in the night, and, having no water, and only a tin of biscuits, Bill and me made straight for the coast, and landed in the little cove down below this morning. All we have is what we stand up in. And we shall feel much obliged if you will kindly give us food and shelter until such time as we can get away."

On this I assured Mr. Kidd that I was sorry for their misfortune, and would gladly find them food and lodging, and whatever else they might require, but as for getting away, I did not see how that was possible, unless by sea, and in their own dinghy.

"We are very grateful for your kindness, sir; but I don't think we should much like to make another voyage in the dinghy."

"She ain't seaworthy," growled Yawl, "you've to bale all the time, and if it came on to blow she'd turn turtle in half a minute."

"May be some vessel will be touching here, sir," suggested Kidd.

"Vessels never do touch here, except to be dashed in pieces against the rocks."

"Well, I suppose we shall have to wait till a chance happens out. This seems a nice place, and we are in no hurry, if you aren't."

So the two castaways became my guests; and if they waited to be taken off by a passing ship they were likely to remain my guests as long as they lived.

For a few days they rambled about the place with their hands in their pockets and cigars (with which I supplied them liberally) in their mouths. But after a while time began to hang heavy on their hands, and one day they came to me with a proposal.

"We are tired of doing nothing, Mr. Fortescue," said Kidd.

"It is the hardest work I ever put my hand to, and not a grog-shop in the place," interposed Yawl.

"Hold your jaw, Bill, and let me say my say out. We are tired of doing nothing, and if you like we will build you a sloop."

"A sloop! To go away in, I suppose?"

"That is as you please, sir. Anyhow, a sloop, say of fifteen or twenty tons, would be very useful. You might take a sail with your lady now and again, and explore the coast. Yawl has been both ship's carpenter and bo'son—he'll boss the job; and I'm a very fair amateur cabinet-maker. If you want anything in that line doing at your house, sir, I shall be glad to do it for you."

The project pleased me; an occasional cruise would be an agreeable diversion, and I assented to Kidd's proposal without hesitation. There was as much wreckage lying on the cliff as would build a man-of-war, and a small cove at the foot of the oasis where the sloop could lie safely at anchor.

So the work was taken in hand, some of my own people helping, and after several months' labor the Angela, as I proposed to call her, was launched. She had a comfortable little cabin and so soon as she was masted and rigged would be ready for sea.

In the mean time I asked Kidd to superintend some alterations I was making at Alta Vista, and among other things construct larger cabinets for my mineral and entomological specimens. He did the work quite to my satisfaction, but before it was well finished I made a portentous discovery—several of my diamonds were missing. There could be no doubt about it, for I knew the number to a nicety, and had counted them over and over again. Neither could there be any doubt that Kidd was the thief. Besides my wife, myself, and one or two of our servants, no one else had been in the room; and our own people would not have taken the trouble to pick up a diamond from the ground, much less steal one from my house.

My first impulse was to accuse Kidd of the theft and have him searched. And then I reflected that I was almost as much to blame as himself. Assuming that he knew something of the value of precious stones, I had exposed him to temptation by leaving so many and of so great value in an open drawer. He might well suppose that I set no store by them, and that half a dozen or so would never be missed. So I decided to keep silence for the present and keep a watch on Mr. Kidd's movements. It might be that he and Yawl were thinking to steal a march on me and sail away secretly with the sloop, and perhaps something else. They had both struck up rather close friendships with native women.

But as I did not want to lose any more of my diamonds, and there was no place at Alta Vista where they would be safe so long as Kidd was on the premises, I put them in a bag in the inside pocket of a quilted vest which I always wore on my mountain excursions, my intention being to take them on the following day down to San Cristobal and bestow them in a secure hiding-place.

I little knew that I should never see San Cristobal again.



CHAPTER XXX.

THE QUENCHING OF QUIPAI.

The cottage at Alta Vista had expanded little by little into a long, single storied flat-roofed house, shaded by palm-trees and set in a fair garden, which looked all the brighter from its contrast with the brown and herbless hill-sides that uprose around it.

In the after part of the day on which I discovered the theft, Angela and myself were sitting under the veranda, which fronted the house and commanded a view of the great reservoir, the oasis and the ocean. She was reading aloud a favorite chapter in "Don Quixote," one of the few books we possessed. I was smoking.

Angela read well; her pronunciation of Spanish was faultless, and I always took particular pleasure in hearing her read the idiomatic Castilian of Cervantes. Nevertheless, my mind wandered; and, try as I might, I could not help thinking more of the theft of the diamonds than the doughty deeds of the Don and the shrewd sayings of Sancho Panza. Not that the loss gave me serious concern. A few stones more or less made no great difference, and I should probably never turn to account those I had. But the incident revived suspicions as to the good faith of the two castaways, which had been long floating vaguely in my mind. From the first I had rather doubted the account they gave of themselves. And Kidd! I had never much liked him; he had a hard inscrutable face, and unless I greatly misjudged him was capable of bolder enterprises than petty larceny. He was just the man to steal secretly away and return with a horde of unscrupulous treasure-seekers, for he knew now that there were diamonds in the neighborhood, and he must have heard that we had found gold and silver ornaments and vessels in the old cemetery—

"Dios mio! What is that?" exclaimed Angela, dropping her book and springing to her feet, an example which I instantly followed, for the earth was moving under us, and there fell on our ears, for the first time, the dread sound of subterranean thunder.

"An earthquake!"

But the alarm was only momentary. In less time than it takes to tell the trembling ceased and the thunder died away.

"Only a slight shock, after all," I said, "and I hope we shall have no more. However, it is just as well to be prepared. I will have the mules got out of the stable; and if there is anything inside you particularly want you had better fetch it. I will join you in the garden presently."

As I passed through the house I saw Kidd coming out of the room where I kept my specimens.

"What are you doing there?" I asked him, sharply.

"I went for a tool I left there" (holding up a chisel). "Did you feel the shock?"

"Yes, and there may be another. Tell Maximiliano to get the mules out."

"If he has been after the diamonds," I thought, "he must know that I have taken them away. I had better make sure of them." And with that I stepped into my room, put on my quilted jacket, and armed myself with a small hatchet and a broad-bladed, highly tempered knife, given to me by the abbe, which served both as a dagger and a machete.

When I had seen the mules safely tethered, and warned the servants and others to run into the open if there should be another shock, I returned to Angela, who had resumed her seat in the veranda.

"Equipped for the mountains! Where away now, caro mio?" she said, regarding me with some surprise.

"Nowhere. At any rate, I have no present intention of running away. I have put on my jacket because of these diamonds, and brought my hatchet and hunting-knife because, if the house collapses, I should not be able to get them at the very time they would be the most required."

"If the house collapses! You think, then, we are going to have a bad earthquake?"

"It is possible. This is an earthquake country; there has been nothing more serious than a slight trembling since long before the abbe died; and I have a feeling that something more serious is about to happen. Underground thunder is always an ominous symptom.—Ah! There it is again. Run into the garden. I will bring the chairs and wraps."

The house being timber built and one storied, I had little fear that it would collapse; but anything may happen in an earthquake, and in the garden we were safe from anything short of the ground on which we stood actually gaping or slipping bodily down the mountain-side.

The second shock was followed by a third, more violent than either of its predecessors. The earth trembled and heaved so that we could scarcely stand. The underground thunder became louder and continuous and, what was even more appalling, we could distinctly see the mountain-tops move and shake, as if they were going to fall and overwhelm us.

But even this shock passed off without doing any material mischief, and I was beginning to think the worst was over when one of the servants drew my attention to the great reservoir. It smoked and though there was no wind the water was white with foam and running over the banks.

This went on several minutes, and then the water, as if yielding to some irresistible force, left the sides, and there shot out of it a gigantic jet nearly as thick as the crater was wide and hundreds of feet high. It broke in the form of a rose and fell in a fine spray, which the setting sun hued with all the colors of the rainbow.

It was the most splendid sight I had ever seen and the most portentous—for I knew that the crater had become active, and remembering how long it had taken to fill I feared the worst.

The jet went on rising and falling for nearly an hour, but as the mass of the water returned to the crater, very little going over the sides, no great harm was done.

"Thank Heaven for the respite!" exclaimed Angela, who had been clinging to me all the time, trembling yet courageous. "Don't you think the danger is now past, my Nigel?"

"For us, it may be. But if the crater has really become active. I fear that our poor people at San Cristobal will be in very great danger indeed."

"No! God alone—Hearken!"

A muffled peal of thunder which seemed to come from the very bowels of the earth, followed by a detonation like the discharge of an army's artillery, and the sides of the crater opened, and with a wild roar the pent-up torrent burst forth, and leaping into the lake, rolled, a mighty avalanche of water, toward the doomed oasis.

We looked at each other in speechless dismay. Nothing could resist that terrible flood; it would sweep everything before it, for, though its violence might be lessened before it reached the sea, only the few who happened to be near the coast could escape destruction.

Nobody spoke; the roar of the cataract deafened us, the awfulness of the catastrophe made us dumb. We were as if stunned, and I was conscious of nothing save a sickening sense of helplessness and despair.

For an hour we stood watching the outpouring of the water. In that hour Quipai was destroyed and its people perished.

As the blood-red sun sank into the bosom of the broad Pacific, a great cloud of smoke and steam, mingled with stones and ashes, was puffed out of the crater and a stream of fiery lava, bursting from the breach in the side of the mountain, followed in the wake of the water.

The uproar was terrific; explosion succeeded explosion; great stones hurled through the air and fell back into the crater with a din like discharges of musketry, and whenever there came a lull we could hear the hissing of the water as it met the lava.

We remained in the garden the night through. Nobody thought of going indoors; but after a while we became so weary with watching and overwrought with excitement that, despite the danger and the noise we could not keep our eyes open. Before the southern cross began to bend we were all asleep, Angela and I wrapped in our cobijas, the others on the turf and under the trees.

When I opened my eyes the sun was rising majestically above the Cordillera, but its rays had not yet reached the ocean. I rose and looked around. The crater was still smoking, and a mist hung over the oasis, but the lava had ceased to flow, and not a zephyr moved the air, not a tremor stirred the earth. Only the blackened throat of the volcano and the ghastly rent in its side were there to remind us of the havoc that had been wrought and the ruin of Quipai.

I roused the people and bade them prepare breakfast, for though thousands may perish in a night, the survivors must eat on the morrow. The house, albeit considerably shaken, was still intact, but several of the doors were so tightly jammed that I had to break them open with my hatchet.

When breakfast was ready I woke Angela.

"Is it real, or have I been dreaming?" she asked, with a shudder, looking wildly round.

"It is only too real," I said, pointing to the smoking crater.

"Misericordia! what shall we do?"

"First of all, we must go down to the oasis and see whether any of the people are left alive."

"You are right. When we have done what we can for the others it will be time enough to think about ourselves."

"Are there any others?" I thought, for I greatly doubted whether we should find any alive, except, perhaps, Yawl and the three or four men who were helping him. But I kept my misgivings to myself, and after breakfast we set off. Angela and myself were mounted, and I assigned a mule to Kidd. The man might be useful, and, circumstanced as we were, it would have been bad policy to give him the cold shoulder. We also took with us provisions, clothing, and a tent, for I was by no means sure that we should find either food or shelter on the oasis.

As we passed the volcano I looked into the crater. Nearly level with the breach made by the water was a great mass of seething lava, which I regarded as a sure sign that another eruption might take place at any moment. The valley lake had disappeared; banks, trees, soil, dwellings, all were gone, leaving only bare rocks and burning lava. Of San Cristobal there was not a vestige; the oasis had been converted into a damp and steaming gully, void of vegetation and animal life. But, as I had anticipated, the force of the flood was spent before it reached the coast. Much of the water had overflowed into the desert and been absorbed by the sand, and the little that remained was now sinking into the earth and being evaporated by the sun.

For hours Angela and I rode on in silence; our distress was too deep for words.

"Quipai is gone," she murmured at length, shuddering and looking at me with tear-filled eyes.

"Yes, gone and forever. As entirely as if it had never been. It is worse than the carnage of a great battle. These poor people! Nature is more cruel than man."

"But surely! will you not try to restore the oasis and re-create Quipai?"

"To do that, cara mia, would require another Abbe Balthazar and sixty years of life. And to what end? Sooner or later our work would be destroyed as his has been, even if we were allowed to begin it. The volcano may be active for ages. We must go."

"Whither?"

"Back to the world, that in new scenes and occupation we may perchance forget this crowning calamity."

"It is something to have been happy so long."

"It is much; it is almost everything. Whatever the future may have in store for us, darling, nothing can deprive us of the sunny memories of the past, and the happiness we have enjoyed at Quipai."

"True, and if this misfortune were not so terrible—But God knows best. It ill becomes me, who never knew sorrow before, to repine.—Yes, let us go. But how?"

"By sea. I fear you would never survive the hazards and hardships of a journey over the Cordillera, and dearly as I love you—because I love you—I would rather have you die than be captured by Indians and made the wife of some savage cacique. Yes, we must go by sea, in the sloop built by these two castaways. Yet, even in that there will be a serious risk; for if they suspect I have the diamonds in my possession—and I am afraid the suspicion is inevitable—they will probably—"

"What?"

"Try to murder us."

"Murder us! For the diamonds?"

"Yes, my Angela, for the diamonds. In the world which you have never seen men commit horrible crimes for insignificant gains, and I have here in my pocket the value of a king's ransom. Even the average man could hardly withstand so great a temptation, and all we know of these sailors is that one of them is a thief."

"What will you do then?"

"First of all, I must find a safer hiding-place for our wealth than my pockets; and we must be ever on our guard. The voyage will not be long, and we shall be three against two."

"Three! You will take Ramon, then?"

"Certainly—if he will go with us."

"Of course he will. Ramon would follow you to the world's end. And the other sailor—Yawl—may have been drowned in the flood."

"I don't think so. The flood did not go much farther than this, and Yawl was busy with his boat. But we shall soon know; the cliffs are in sight."



CHAPTER XXXI.

NORTH BY WEST.

Besides Yawl and his helpers, we found on the beach about thirty men and women, the saved of two thousand. Among them was one of the priests ordained by the abbe. All had lived in the lower part of the oasis, and when the volcano began spouting water, after the third earthquake, they fled to the coast and so escaped. Though naturally much distressed (being bereft of home, kindred, and all they possessed), they bore their misfortunes with the uncomplaining stoicism so characteristic of their race.

The immediate question was how to dispose of these unfortunates. I could not take them away in the sloop, and I knew that they would prefer to remain in the neighborhood where they were born. But the oasis was uninhabitable. A few weeks and it would be merged once more in the desert from which it had been so painfully won. Therefore I proposed that they should settle at Alta Vista under charge of the priest. Alta Vista being above the volcano no outburst of lava could reach them, and the azequia being intact beyond that point they could easily bring more land under cultivation and live in comfort and abundance.

To this proposal the survivors and the priest gladly and gratefully assented. They were very good, those poor Indians, and seemed much more concerned over our approaching departure than their own fate, beseeching us, with many entreaties, not to leave them. Angela would have yielded, but I was obdurate. I could not see that it was in any sense our duty to bury ourselves in a remote corner of the Andes for the sake of a score or two of Indians who were very well able to do without us. What could be the good of building up another colony and creating another oasis merely that the evil genii of the mountains might destroy them in a night? Had the abbe, instead of spending a lifetime in making Quipai, devoted his energies to some other work, he might have won for himself enduring fame and permanently benefited mankind. As it was, he had effected less than nothing, and I was resolved not to court his fate by following his example.

Those were the arguments I used to Angela, and in the end she not only fully agreed with me that it was well for us to go, but that the sooner we went the better. The means were at hand. Yawl could have the yacht ready for sea within twenty-four hours. There was little more to do than head the sails and get water and provisions on board. I had the casks filled forthwith—for the water in the channels was fast draining away—set some of the people to work preparing tasajo, and sent Ramon with the mules and two arrieros to Alta Vista for the remainder of our clothing, bedding, and several other things which I thought would be useful on the voyage.

Ramon, I may mention, was my own personal attendant. He had been brought up and educated by Angela and myself, and was warmly attached to us. In disposition he was bright and courageous, in features almost European; there could be little doubt that he was descended from some white castaway, who had landed on the coast and been adopted by this tribe. He said it would break his heart if we left him behind, so we took him with us, and he has ever since been the faithful companion of my wanderings and my trusty friend.

My wife and I slept in our tent, Kidd and Yawl on the sloop. As the sails were not bent nor the boat victualled, I had no fear of their giving us the slip in the night. In the morning Ramon and the arrieros returned with their lading, and by sunset we had everything on board and was ready for a start.

The next thing was to settle our course. I wanted to reach a port where I could turn some of my diamonds into cash and take shipping for England, the West Indies, or the United States. We were between Valparaiso and Callao, and the former place, as being on the way, seemed the more desirable place to make for. But as the prevailing winds on the coast are north and northwest a voyage in the opposite direction would involve much beating up and nasty fetches, and, in all probability, be long and tedious. For these reasons I decided in favor of Callao, and told Kidd to shape our course accordingly.

"Just as you like, sir," he said; "it is all the same to Yawl and me where we go. But it's a longish stretch to Callao. Don't you think we had better make for some nearer place? There's Islay, and there's Arica; and I doubt whether our water will last out till we get to Callao."

"We must make it last till we get to Callao," I answered, sharply; "except under compulsion I will put in neither at Islay nor Arica."

"All right, sir! We are under your orders, and what you say shall be done, as far as lies in our power."

Kidd's answer was civil but his manner was surly and defiant, and it struck me that he might have some special reason for desiring to avoid Callao. But I was resolved to go thither, so that in case of need I might claim the protection of the British consul, whom I was sure to find there. I was by no means sure that I should find one either at Islay or Arica. I knew something of the ways of Spanish revenue officers, and as I had no papers, it was quite possible that (in the absence of a consul) I might be cast into prison and plundered of all I possessed, especially if Mr. Kidd should hint that it included a bag of diamonds.

The sloop's accommodation for passengers was neither extensive nor luxurious. The small cabin aft was just big enough to hold Angela and myself, and once in it, we were like rats in a hole, as, to get out, we had to climb an almost perpendicular ladder. Kidd and Yawl were to sleep, turn and turn about, in a sort of dog-house which they had contrived in the bows. Ramon would roll himself in his cobija and sleep anywhere.

Before going on board I made such arrangements as I hoped would insure us against foul play. I stitched one half of the diamonds in my waist-belt; the other half my wife hid away in her dress. Among the things brought down from Alta Vista was an exquisite little dagger with a Damascened blade, which I gave to Angela. I had my hunting-knife, and Ramon his machete.

I laid it down as a rule from which there was to be no departure, that Ramon and I were neither to sleep at the same time nor be in the cabin together, and that when we had anything particular to say we should say it in Quipai. As it happened, he knew a little English; I had taught my wife my mother-tongue, and Ramon, by dint of hearing it spoken, and with a little instruction from me and from her, had become so far proficient in the language that he could understand the greater part of what was said. This, however, was not known to Kidd and Yawl; I told him not to let them know; but whenever opportunity occurred to listen to their conversation, and report it to me. I thought that if they meditated evil against us I might in this way obtain timely information of their designs; and I considered that, in the circumstances (our lives being, as I believed, in jeopardy), the expedient was quite justifiable.

We sailed at sunset and got well away, and the clear sky and resplendent stars, the calm sea and the fair soft wind augured well for a prosperous voyage. Yet my heart was sad and my spirits were low. The parting with our poor Indians had been very trying, and I could not help asking myself whether I had acted quite rightly in deserting them, whether it would not have been nobler (though perhaps not so worldly wise) to throw in my lot with theirs and try to recreate the oasis, as Angela had suggested. I also doubted whether I was acting the part of a prudent man in embarking my wife, my fortune, and myself on a wretched little sloop (which would probably founder in the first storm), under the control of two men of whom I knew no good, and who, as I feared, might play us false?

But whether I had acted wisely or unwisely, there was no going back now, and as I did not want Angela to perceive that I was either dubious or downcast, I pulled myself together, put on a cheerful countenance, and spoke hopefully of our prospects.

She was with us on deck, Kidd being at the helm.

"I have no very precise idea how far we maybe from Callao," I said, "but if this wind lasts we should be there in five or six days at the outside. Don't you think so, Kidd?"

"May be. You still think of going to Callao, then?"

"Still think of going to Callao! I am determined to go to Callao. Why do you ask? Did not I distinctly say so before we started?"

"I thought you had maybe changed your mind. And Callao won't be easy to make. Neither Yawl nor me has ever been there; we don't know the bearings, and we have no compass, and I don't know much about the stars in these latitudes."

"But I do, and better still, I have a compass."

"A compass! Do you hear that, Bill Yawl? Mr. Fortescue has got a compass. Go to Callao! Why, we can go a'most anywhere. Where have you got it, sir—in the cabin?"

"Yes, Abbe Balthazar and I made it, ever so long since. It is only rudely fashioned, and has never been adjusted, but I dare say it will answer the purpose as well as another."

"Of course it will, and if you'll kindly bring it here, it'll be a great help. I reckon if I keep her head about—"

"Nor' by west."

"Ay, ay, sir, that's it, I have no doubt. If I keep her head nor' by west, I dare say we shall fetch Callao as soon as you was a-saying just now. But Bill and me should have the compass before us when we're steering; and to-morrow we'll try to rig up a bit of a binnacle. You, perhaps, would not mind fetching it now, sir?—Bring that patent lantern of yours, Bill."

I fetched the compass and Yawl the lantern, made of a glass bottle and a piece of copper sheeting (like the rest of our equipments, the spoil of the sea).

Kidd was quite delighted with the compass, the card of which was properly marked and framed in a block of wood, and said it could easily be suspended on gimbals and fixed on a binnacle.

After a while, Angela, who felt tired, went below, and I with her, but only to fetch my cobija and a pillow, for, as I told Kidd, I intended to remain on deck all night, the cabin being too close and stuffy for two persons. This was true, yet not the whole truth. I had another reason; I saw that nothing would be easier than for Kidd or Yawl to slip on the cabin-hatch while I was below, and so have us at their mercy, for Ramon, though a stalwart youth enough, could not contend with the two sailors single-handed.

"Just as you like, sir; it's all the same to me," answered Kidd, rather shortly, and then relapsed into thoughtful silence.

I felt sure that he was scheming something which boded us no good, though, as yet, I had no idea what it could be. His motive for desiring to take the sloop to Islay or Arica, rather than to Callao, was pretty obvious, but why he should change his mind on the subject simply because of the compass, passed my comprehension. We could make Callao merely by running up the coast, with which, despite his disclaimer, I had not the least doubt he was quite familiar; and even if he were not, there was nothing in a compass to enlighten him.

But whatever his scheme might be I did not think he would attempt to use force—unless he could take us at a disadvantage. Man for man, Ramon and I were quite equal to Kidd and Yawl. We were, moreover, better armed, as so far as I knew, they had no weapons, save their sailors' knives. In a personal struggle, they might come off second best; were, in any case, likely to get badly hurt, and unless I was much mistaken, they wanted to get hold of my diamonds with a minimum of risk to themselves. Wherefore, so long as we kept a sharp lookout, we had little to fear from open violence. As for the scheme which was seething in Kidd's brain, I must needs wait for further developments before taking measures to counteract it.

When I had come to this conclusion I told Ramon, in Quipai, to lie down, and that when I wanted to sleep I would waken him.

I watched until midnight, at which hour Yawl relieved Kidd at the helm, and Kidd turned in. Shortly afterward I roused Ramon, and bade him keep watch while I slept.



CHAPTER XXXII.

FOUND OUT.

When I awoke it was broad daylight, Yawl at the helm, the sloop bowling along at a great rate before a fresh breeze. But, to my utter surprise, there was no land in sight.

"How is this, Yawl?" I asked; "we are out of doors. How have you been steering?"

"The course you laid down sir, nor' by west."

"That is impossible. I am not much of a seaman, yet I know that if you had been steering nor' by west, we should have the coast under our lee, and we cannot even see the peaks of the Cordillera."

"Of course you cannot; they are covered with a mist," put in Kidd.

"I see no mist; moreover, the Cordillera is visible a hundred miles away, and by good rights we should not be more than thirty or forty miles from the coast."

"It's the fault of your compass, then. The darned thing is all wrong. Better chuck it overboard and have done with it."

"If you do, I'll chuck you overboard. The compass is quite correct. You have been steering due west for some purpose of your own, against my orders."

"Oh, that's your game, is it? You are the skipper, and us a brace of lubbers as doesn't know north from west, I suppose. Let him sail the cursed craft hissel, Bill."

Yawl let go the tiller, on which the sloop broached to and nearly went on her beam ends. This was more than I could bear, and calling on Ramon to follow me, I sprang forward, seized Kidd by the throat, and, drawing my dagger, told him that unless he promised to obey my orders and do his duty, I would make an end of him then and there. Meanwhile, Ramon was keeping Yawl off with his machete, flourishing it around his head in a way that made the old salt's hair nearly stand on end. Seeing that resistance was useless, Kidd caved in.

"I ask your pardon, Mr. Fortescue," he said, hoarsely, for my hand was still on his throat. "I ask your pardon, but I lost my temper, and when I lose my temper it's the very devil; I don't know what I'm doing; but I promise faithfully to obey your orders and do my duty."

On this I loosed him, and bade Ramon put up his machete and let Yawl go back to his steering. In one sense this was an untoward incident. It made Kidd my personal enemy. Quite apart from the question of the diamonds, he would bear me a grudge and do me an ill turn if he could. He was that sort of a man. Henceforward it would be war to the knife between us, and I should have to be more on my guard than ever. On the other hand, it was a distinct advantage to have beaten him in a contest for the mastery; if he had beaten me, I should have had to accept whatever conditions he might have thought fit to impose, for I was quite unable to sail the sloop myself.

A light was thrown on his motive for changing the sloop's course by something Ramon had told me when the trouble was over. Shortly before I awoke he heard Kidd say to Yawl that he would very much like to know where I had hidden the diamonds, and that if they could only keep her head due west, we should make San Ambrosio about the same time that I was expecting to make Callao.

I had never heard of San Ambrosio before; but the fact of Kidd wanting to go thither was reason enough for my not wanting to go, so I bade Yawl steer due north, that is to say, parallel with the coast, and as the continent of South America trends considerably to the westward, about twenty degrees south of the equator, I reckoned that this course should bring us within sight of land on the following day, or the day after, according to the speed we made.

I not only told Yawl and Kidd to steer north, but saw that they did it, as to which, the compass being now always before us, there was no difficulty. Thinking it was well to learn to steer, I took a hand now and again at the tiller, under the direction of Kidd, whose manners my recent lesson had greatly improved. He was very affable, and obeyed my orders with alacrity and seeming good-will.

The next day I began to look out for land, without, however, much expectation of seeing any, but when a second day, being the third of our voyage, ended with the same result or, rather, want of result, I became uneasy, and expressed myself in this sense to Kidd.

"You have miscalculated the distance," he said, "and there's nothing so easy, when you've no chart and can take no observations. And how can you tell the sloop's rate of sailing? The wind is fair and constant—it always is in the trades—but how do you know as there is not a strong current dead against us? I don't think there's the least use looking for land before to-morrow."

This rather reassured me. It was quite true that the sloop might not be going so fast as I reckoned, and the coast be farther off than I thought—although I did not much believe in the current.

But the morrow came and went, and still no sign of land, and again, on the fifth day, the sun rose on an unbroken expanse of water. In clear weather—and no weather could be clearer—the Andes, as I had heard, were visible to mariners a hundred and fifty miles out at sea. Yet not a peak could be seen. Then I knew beyond a doubt that something was wrong. What could it be? Sailing as swiftly as we had been for five days, it was inconceivable that we should not have made land if we had been steering north, and for that I had the evidence of my senses. Where, then, was the mystery?

As I asked myself this question, Ramon touched me on the shoulder, and whispered in Quipai:

"Just now Yawl said to Kidd that it was quite time we sighted San Ambrosio, and that if we missed it, after all, it would be cursed awkward. And Kidd answered that 'if we fell in with Hux it would be all right.'"

This was more puzzling still. He had said before that, if we continued on the westward tack, we should make San Ambrosio at the time I was expecting to sight Callao, and now, although we were sailing due north, the villains counted on making San Ambrosio all the same.

Where was San Ambrosio? Not on the coast, for they were clearly looking for it then, had probably been looking for it some time, and the mainland must be at least two hundred miles away. If not on the coast San Ambrosio was an island, yet how it could lie both to the west and to the north was not quite obvious. And who was Hux, and why should falling in with him make matters all right for my interesting shipmates? Of one thing I felt sure—all right for these meant all wrong for me, and it behooved me to prevent the meeting—but how?

While these thoughts were passing through my mind, I was pacing to and fro on the sloop's deck, where was also Angela, sitting on a cobija, and leaning against the taffrail, Kidd being at the helm, and Ramon and Yawl smoking in the bows, for though they did not quite trust each other, they occasionally exchanged a not unfriendly word. Now and then I glanced mechanically at the compass. As I have already mentioned, it was not an ordinary ship compass in a brass frame, but a makeshift affair, in a wooden frame, to which Kidd had attached makeshift gimbals and hung on a makeshift binnacle, the latter being fixed between the tiller and the cabin-hatch. The deck was very narrow, and to lengthen my tether I generally passed between the tiller and the binnacle, sometimes exchanging a word with Angela. Once, as I did so, the sun's rays fell athwart the sloop's stern, and, happening the same moment to look at the compass, I made a discovery that sent the blood with sudden rush first to my heart and then to my brain; a small piece of iron, invisible in an ordinary light, had been driven into the framework of the compass, close to that part of the card marked "W," thereby deflecting the needle to the point in question, so that ever since our departure from Quipai, we had been steering due west, instead of north by west, as I intended and believed. The dodge might not have deceived a seaman, but it had certainly deceived me.

"You infernal scoundrel, I have found you out. Look there!" I shouted, pointing at the piece of iron. As I spoke Kidd let go the tiller, and quick as lightning gave me a tremendous blow with his fist between the shoulders, which just missed throwing me head foremost down the cabin-hatch, and sent me face downward on the deck breathless and half stunned. Before I could even think of rising, Kidd, who, as he struck, shouted to Yawl to "kill the Indian," was kneeling on my back with his fingers round my windpipe.

"At last! I have you now, you conceited jackanapes, you d——d sea-lawyer. Where have you got them diamonds? You won't answer! Shall I throttle you, or brain you with this belaying-pin? I'll throttle you; then there'll be none of your dirty blood to swab up."

With that the villain squeezed my windpipe still tighter, and quite unable either to struggle or speak, I was giving myself up for lost, when his hold suddenly relaxed, and groaning deeply, he sank beside me on the deck. Freed from his weight, I staggered to my feet to find that I owed my life to Angela, who had used her dagger to such purpose that Kidd was like never to speak again.

"Ramon! Ramon! Haste, or that man will kill him," she cried, all in a tremble, and pale with horror at the thought of her own boldness.

Yawl's onslaught was so sudden that the boy had been unable to draw his machete, and after a desperate bout of tugging and straining, the sailor had got the upper-hand and was now kneeling on Ramon's chest, and feeling for his knife. Though sorely bruised with my fall, and still gasping for breath, I ran to the rescue, and gripping Yawl by the shoulders, bore him backward on the deck. Another moment, and we had him at our mercy; I held down his head, while Ramon, astride on his body, pinioned his arms.

"Now, look here, Yawl!" I said. "You have tried to commit murder and deserve to die; your comrade and accomplice is dead, but I will spare your life on conditions. You must promise to obey my orders as if I were your captain, and you under articles of war, and help me to work the sloop to Callao, or some other port on the mainland. In return, I promise not to bring any charge against you when we get there."

"All right, sir! Kidd was my master, and I obeyed him; now you are my master and I will obey you."

I quite believed that the old salt was speaking sincerely. He had been so completely under Kidd's influence as to have no will of his own.

"Good! but there is something else. I must have those diamonds he stole from my house at Alta Vista. Where are they?"

"Stitched inside his jersey, under the arm-hole."

I went to Kidd's body, cut open his jersey, and found the diamonds in two small canvas bags. They were among the largest I had and (as I subsequently found) worth fifty thousand pounds. After we had thrown the body overboard, I ordered Yawl to put the sloop on the starboard tack, and myself taking the helm changed the course to due north. Then I asked him who he and Kidd were, whence they came, and why they had so shamefully deceived me as to the course we were steering.

On this Yawl answered in a dry, matter-of-fact manner, as if it were all in the way of business, that Kidd had been captain and he boatswain and carpenter of a "free-trader," known as the Sky Scraper, Sulky Sail, and by several other aliases; that the captain and crew fell out over a division of plunder, of which Kidd wanted the lion's share, the upshot being that he and Yawl, who had taken sides with him, were shoved into the dinghy and sent adrift. In these circumstances they naturally made for the nearest land, which proved to be Quipai, and deeming it inexpedient to confess that they were pirates, pretended to be castaways. They built the sloop with the idea of stealing away by themselves, and but for my discovery of the theft of the diamonds and the bursting of the crater would have done so. As I suspected, Kidd allowed us to go with them, solely with a view to cutting our throats and appropriating the remainder of the diamonds. This design being frustrated by our watchfulness, he next conceived the notion of putting in at Arica or Islay, charging me with robbing him, and, in collusion with the authorities, whom he intended to bribe, depriving me of all I possessed. This plan likewise failing, and having a decided objection to Callao, where he was known and where there might be a British cruiser as well as a British consul, Kidd hit on the brilliant idea of doctoring the compass and making me think we were going north by west, while our true course was almost due west, his object being to reach San Ambrosio, a group of rocky islets some three hundred miles from the coast, and a pirate stronghold and trysting-place. If they did not find any old comrades there, they would at least find provisions, water, and firearms, and so be able, as they thought, to despoil me of my diamonds. Also Kidd had hopes of falling in with Captain Hux, a worthy of the same kidney, who commanded the "free-trader" Culebra, and whose favorite cruising-ground was northward of San Ambrosio.

"But in my opinion," observed Mr. Yawl, coolly, when he had finished his story, "in my opinion we passed south of the islands last night, and so I told Kidd; they're very small, and as there's no lights, easy missed."

"We must be a long way from Callao, then. How far do you suppose?"

"That is more than I can tell; may be four hundred miles."

"And how long do you think it will take us to get there, assuming it to be four hundred miles?"

"Well, on this tack and with this breeze—you see, sir, the wind has fallen off a good deal since sunrise—with this breeze, about eight days."

"Eight days!" I exclaimed, in consternation. "Eight days! and I don't think we have food and water enough for two. Come with me below, Ramon, and let me see how much we have left."



CHAPTER XXXIII.

GRIEF AND PAIN.

It was even worse than I feared. Reckoning neither on a longer voyage than five or six days nor on being so far from the coast that, in case of emergency, we could not obtain fresh supplies, we had used both provisions and water rather recklessly, and now I found that of the latter we had no more than, at our recent rate of consumption, would last eighteen hours, while of food we had as much as might suffice us for twenty-four. It was necessary to reduce our allowance forthwith, and I put it to Yawl whether we could not make for some nearer port than Callao. Better risk the loss of my diamonds than die of hunger and thirst. Yawl's answer was unfavorable. The nearest port of the coast as to distance was the farthest as to time. To reach it, the wind being north by west, we should have to make long fetches and frequent tacks, whereas Callao, or the coast thereabout, could be reached by sailing due north. So there seemed nothing for it but to economize our resources to the utmost and make all the speed we could. Yet, do as we might, it was evident that, unless we could obtain a supply of food and water from some passing ship we should have to put ourselves on a starvation allowance. I was, however, much less concerned for myself and the others, than for Angela. Accustomed as she had been to a gentle, uneventful, happy life, the catastrophe of Quipai, the anxieties we had lately endured, and the confinement of the sloop, were telling visibly on her health. Moreover, Kidd's death, richly as he deserved his fate, had been a great shock to her. She strove to be cheerful, and displayed splendid courage, yet the increasing pallor of her cheeks and the sadness in her eyes, showed how much she suffered. We men stinted ourselves of water that she might have enough, but seeing this she declined to take more than her share, often refusing to drink when she was tormented with thirst.

And then there befell an accident which well-nigh proved fatal to us all. A gust of wind blew the mainsail (made of grass-cloth) into ribbons, the consequence being that our rate of sailing was reduced to two knots an hour, and our hope of reaching Callao to zero.

Meanwhile, Angela grew weaker and weaker, she fell into a low fever, was at times even delirious, and I began to fear that, unless help speedily came, a calamity was imminent, which for me personally would be worse than the quenching of Quipai. And when we were at the last extremity, mad with thirst and feeble with fasting, help did come. One morning at daylight Yawl sighted a sail—a large vessel a few miles astern of us, but a point or two more to the west, and on the same tack as ourselves. We altered the sloop's course at once so as to bring her across the stranger's bows, for having neither ensign to reverse, nor gun wherewith to fire a signal of distress, it was a matter of life and death for us to get within hailing-distance.

"What is she! Can you make her out?" I asked Yawl, as trembling with excitement, we looked longingly at the noble ship in which centered our hopes.

"Three masts! A merchantman? No, I'm blest if I don't think she's a man-of-war. So she is, a frigate and a firm 'un—forty or fifty guns, I should say."

"Under what flag?"

"I'll tell you in a minute—Union Jack! No, stars and stripes. She belongs to Uncle Sam, she do, sir, and he's no call to be ashamed of her; she's a perfect beauty and well handled. By—I do believe they see us. They are shortening sail. We shall be alongside in a few minutes."

"Who are you and what do you want?" asked a voice from the frigate, so soon as we were within hail.

"We are English and starving. For God's sake, throw us a rope!" I answered.

The rope being thrown and the sloop made fast, I asked the officer of the watch to take us on board the frigate, as seeing the condition of our boat and ourselves, I did not think we could possibly reach our destination, that my wife was very sick, and unless she could have better attention than we were able to give her, might not recover.

"Of course we will take you on board—and the poor lady. Pass the word for the doctor, you there! But what on earth are you doing with a lady in a craft like that, so far out at sea, too?"

Without waiting for an answer to his question, the officer ordered a hammock to be lowered, in which we carefully placed Angela, who was thereupon hoisted on the frigate's deck. We men followed, and were received by a fine old gentleman with a florid face and white hair, whom I rightly conjectured to be the captain.

"Well," he said, quietly, "what can I do for you?"

"Water," I gasped, for the exertion of coming on board had been almost too much for me.

"Poor fellow! Certainly. Why did I not think of it before? You shall have both food and drink. Somebody bring water with a dash of rum in it—not too much, they are weak. And Mr. Charles, tell the wardroom steward to get a square meal ready for this gentleman. Might I ask your name, sir?"

"Nigel Fortescue."

"Thank you, Mr. Fortescue. Mine is Bigelow, and I have the honor to command the United States ship Constellation. Here's the water! I hope you have not forgotten the dash of rum, Tomkins.—There! Take a long drink. You will feel better now, and when you have had a square meal, you shall tell me all about it. And the others? You are an old salt, anybody can see that."

"Yes, sir. Bill Yawl at your service, an old man-o'-war's man, able-bodied seaman, bo's'n, and ship's carpenter, anything you like sir. Ax your pardon, sir, but a glass of half-water grog—"

"Not until you have eaten. Then you may have two glasses. Tomkins, take these men to the purser and tell him to give them a square meal. The doctor is attending to your wife, Mr. Fortescue. She is in my state-room and shall have every comfort we can give her."

"I thank you with all my heart, Captain Bigelow. You are really too good, I can never—"

"Tut, tut, tut, my dear sir. Pray don't say a word. I have only given her my spare state-room. Mr. Charles will take you to the ward-room, we can talk afterward. Meanwhile, I shall have your belongings got on board, and then, I suppose, we had better sink that craft of yours. If we leave her to knock about the ocean she may be knocking against some ship in the night and doing her a mischief."

After I had eaten the "square meal" set for me in the ward-room, and spent a few minutes with Angela, I joined the captain and first lieutenant in the former's state-room, and over a glass of grog, told them briefly, but frankly, something of my life and adventures.

"Well, it is the queerest yarn I ever heard; but I dare say none the less true on that account," said Captain Bigelow, when I had finished. "With that sweet lady for your wife and your belt full of diamonds, you may esteem yourself one of the most fortunate of men. And you did quite right to get away from that place. But what was your point? where did you expect to get to with that sloop of yours?"

"Callao."

"Callao! Why the course you were on would never have taken you to Callao. Callao lies nor' by east, not nor' by west. If you had not fallen in with us, I am afraid you would never have got anywhere."

"I am sure we should not. Three days more and we should have died of thirst."

"Where shall we put you ashore?"

"That is for you to say. Where would it be convenient?"

"How would Panama suit you?"

"It is just the place. We could cross the isthmus to Chagres; but before going to England, I should like to call at La Guayra, and find out whether my friend Carmen still lives."

"You can do that easily; but if I were you, and had all those diamonds in my possession, I would get home as quickly as possible, and put them in a place of safety. There are men who would commit a thousand murders for one of them."

"Well, I shall see. Perhaps I had better consign them to London through some merchant, and have them insured."

"Perhaps you had, especially if you can get somebody to insure the insurer. And take my advice, don't tell a soul on board what you have told us. My crew are passably honest, but if they knew how many diamonds you carried about you, I should be very sorry to go bail for them."

As I went on deck after our talk, I was met by the surgeon.

"A word with you, Mr. Fortescue," he said, gravely, taking me aside, "your wife—"

"Yes, sir, what about my wife?" I asked, with a sudden sinking of the heart, for the man's manner was even more portentous than his words.

"She is very ill."

"She was very ill, and if we had remained longer on the sloop—but now—with nourishing food and your care, doctor, she will quickly regain her strength. Indeed, she is better already."

"For the moment. But she is very much reduced and the symptoms are grave. A recurrence of the fever—"

"But such a fever is so easily cured. I know what you are hinting at, doctor. Yet I cannot think—You will not let her die. After surmounting so many dangers, and being so miraculously rescued, and with prospects so fair, it would be too cruel."

"I will do my best, sir, you may be sure. But I thought it my duty to prepare you for the worst. The issue is with God."

* * * * *

This is a part of my story on which I care not to dwell. Even yet I cannot think of it without grief and pain. My dear wife was taken from me. She died in my arms, her hand in mine, as sweetly and serenely as she had lived. But for Captain Bigelow and his officers I should have buried myself with Angela in the fathomless sea. I owed him my life a second time—such as it was—more, for he taught me the duty and grace of resignation, showed me that, though to cherish the memory of a great sorrow ennobles a man, he who abandons himself to unmeasured grief is as pusillanimous as he who shirks his duty on the field of battle.

Captain Bigelow had a great heart and a chivalrous nature. After Angela's death he treated me more as a cherished son than as a casual guest. Before we reached Panama we were fast friends. He provided me with clothing and gave me money for my immediate wants, as to have attempted to dispose of any of my diamonds there, or at Chagres, might have exposed me to suspicion, possibly to danger. In acknowledgement of his kindness and as a souvenir of our friendship, I persuaded him to accept one of the finest stones in my collection, and we parted with mutual assurances of goodwill and not without hope of meeting again.

Ramon of course, went with me. Bill Yawl, equally of of course, I left behind. He had slung his hammock in the Constellation's fo'castle, and became captain of the foretop.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

OLD FRIENDS AND A NEW FOE.

I had made up my mind to see Carmen, if he still lived; and finding at Chagres a schooner bound for La Guayra I took passages in her for myself and Ramon, all the more willingly as the captain proposed to put in at Curacoa. It occurred to me that Van Voorst, the Dutch merchant in whose hands I had left six hundred pounds, would be a likely man to advise me as to the disposal of my diamonds—if he also still lived.

Rather to my surprise, for people die fast in the tropics, I did find the old gentleman alive, but he had made so sure of my death that my reappearance almost caused his. The pipe he was smoking dropped from his mouth, and he sank back in his chair with an exclamation of fear and dismay.

"Yor need not be alarmed, Mynheer Van Voorst," I said; "I am in the flesh."

"I am glad to see you in the flesh. I don't believe in ghosts, of course. But I happened to be in what you call a brown study, and as I had heard you were shot long ago on the llanos you rather startled me, coming in so quietly—that rascally boy ought to have announced you. But I was not afraid—not in the least. Why should one be afraid of a ghost! And I saw at a glance that, as you say, you were in the flesh. I suppose you have come to inquire about your money. It is quite safe, my dear sir, and at your disposal, and you will find that it has materially increased. I will call for the ledger, and you shall see."

The ledger was brought in by a business-looking young man, whom the old merchant introduced to me as his nephew and partner, Mynheer Bernhard Van Voorst.

"This is Mr. Fortescue, Bernhard," he said, "the English gentleman who was dead—I mean that I thought he was dead, but is alive—and who many years ago left in my hands a sum of about two thousand piasters. Turn to his account and see how much there is now to his credit?"

"At the last balance the amount to Mr. Fortescue's credit was six thousand two hundred piasters."[2]

[2] At the time in question, "piaster" was a word often used as an equivalent for "dollar," both in the "Gulf ports" and the West Indies.

"You see! Did I not say so? Your capital is more than doubled."

"More than doubled! How so?"

"We have credited you with the colonial rate of interest—ten per cent.—as was only right, seeing that you had no security, and we had used the money in our business; and my friend, compound interest at ten per cent, is a great institution. It beats gold-mining, and is almost as profitable as being President of the Republic of Venezuela. How will you take your balance, Mr. Fortescue? We will have the account made up to date. I can give you half the amount in hard money—coin is not too plentiful just now in Curacoa, half in drafts at seven days' sight on the house of Goldberg, Van Voorst & Company, at Amsterdam, or Spring & Gerolstein, at London. They are a young firm, but do a safe business and work with a large capital."

"I am greatly obliged to you but all I require at present is about five hundred piasters, in hard money."

"Ah then, you have made money where you have been?" observed Mr. Van Voorst, eying me keenly through his great horn spectacles.

"Not money, but money's worth," I replied, for I had quite decided to make a confident of the honest old Dutchman, whom I liked all the better for going straight to the point without asking too many questions.

"Then it must be merchandise and merchandise is money—sometimes."

"Yes, it is merchandise."

"If it be readily salable in this island or on the Spanish Main we shall be glad to receive it from you on consignment and make you a liberal advance against bills of lading. Hardware and cotton prints are in great demand just now, and if it is anything of that sort we might sell it to arrive."

"It is nothing of that sort, Mr. Van Voorst."

"More portable, perhaps?"

"Yes, more portable."

"If you could show me a sample—"

"I can show you the bulk."

"You have got it in the schooner?"

"No, I have got it here."

"Gold dust?"

"Diamonds. I found them in the Andes, and shall be glad to have your advice as to their disposal."

"Diamonds! Ach! you are a happy man. If you would like to show me them I can perhaps give you some idea of their value. The house of Goldberg & Van Voorst, at Amsterdam, in which I was brought up, deal largely in precious stones."

On this I undid my belt and poured the diamonds on a large sheet of white paper, which Mr. Van Voorst spread on his desk.

"Mein Gott! Mein Gott!" he exclaimed in ecstacy, glaring at the diamonds through his big glasses and picking out the finest with his fat fingers. "This is the finest collection of rough stones I ever did see. They are worth—until they are weighed and cut it is impossible to say how much—but at least a million dollars, probably two millions. You found them in the Andes? You could not say where, could you, Mr. Fortescue?"

"I could, but I would rather not."

"I beg your pardon. I should have known better than to ask. You intend to go there again, of course?"

"Never! It would be at the risk of my life—and there are other reasons."

"There is no need. You are rich already, and enough is as good as a feast. You ask my advice as to the disposal of these stones. Well, my advice is that you consign them, through us, to the house of Goldberg, Van Voorst & Company. They are honest and experienced. They will get them cut and sell them for you at the highest price. They are, moreover, one of the richest houses in Amsterdam, trustworthy without limit. What do you say?"

"Yes, I will act on your advice, and consign these stones to your friends for sale at Amsterdam, or elsewhere, as they may think best. And be good enough to ask them to advise me as to the investment of the proceeds."

"They will do that with pleasure, mine friend, and having financial relations with every monetary centre in Europe they command the best information. And now we must count and weigh these stones carefully, and I shall give you a receipt in proper form. They must be shipped in three or four parcels so as to divide the risk, and I will write to Goldberg & Van Voorst to take out open policies 'by ship or ships'—for how much shall we say?"

"That I must leave to you, Mr. Van Voorst."

"Then I will say two million dollars—better make it too much than too little—and two millions may not be too much. I do not profess to be an expert, and, as likely as not, my estimate is very wide of the mark."

After the diamonds had been counted and weighed, and a receipt written out, in duplicate and in two languages, I informed Mr. Van Voorst of my intention to visit Caracas and asked whether things were pretty quiet there.

"At Caracas itself, yes. But in the interior they are fighting, as usual. The curse of Spanish rule has been succeeded by the still greater curse of chronic revolution."

"But foreigners are admitted, I suppose? I run no risk of being clapped in prison as I was last time?"

"Not the least. You can go and come as you please. You don't even require a passport. The Spaniards, who were once so hated, are now almost popular. I hear that several Spanish officers, who served in the royal army during the war, are now at Caracas, and have offered their swords to the government for the suppression of the present rebellion. Do you intend to stay long in Venezuela?"

"I think not. In any case I shall see you before I leave for Europe. Much depends on whether I find my friend Carmen alive."

"Carmen, Carmen! I seem to know the name. Is he a general?"

"Scarcely, I should think. He was only a teniente of guerillas when we parted some ten years ago."

"They are all generals now, my dear sir, and as plentiful as frogs in my native land. If you are ever in doubt as to the rank of a Venezolano, you are always safe in addressing him as a general. Yes, I fancy you will find your friend alive. At any rate, there is a General Carmen, rather a leading man among the Blues, I think, and sometimes spoken of as a probable president. You will, of course, put up at the Hotel de los Generales. Ah, here is Bernhard with the five hundred dollars in hard money, for which you asked. If you should want more, draw on us at sight. I will give you a letter of introduction to the house of Bluehm & Bluthner at Caracas, who will be glad to cash your drafts at the current rate of exchange, and to whose care I will address any letters I may have occasion to write to you."

This concluded my business with Mr. Van Voorst, and three days later I was once more in Caracas. I found the place very little altered, less than I was myself. I had entered it in high spirits, full of hope, eager for adventure, and intent on making my fortune. Now my heart was heavy with sorrow and bitter with disappointment. Though I had made my fortune, I had lost, as I thought, both the buoyancy of youth and the capacity for enjoyment, and I looked forward to the future without either hope or desire.

As I rode with Ramon into the patio of the hotel, where I had been arrested by the alguazils of the Spanish governor, a man came forward to greet me, so strikingly like the ancient posadero that I felt sure he was the latter's son. My surmise proved correct, and I afterwards heard, not without a sense of satisfaction, that the father was hanged by the patriots when they recaptured Caracas.

After I had engaged my rooms the posadero informed me (in answer to my inquiry) that General Salvador Carmen (this could be none other than my old friend) was with the army at La Victoria, but that he had a house at Caracas where his wife and family were then residing. He also mentioned incidentally that several Spanish officers of distinction, who had arrived a few days previously, were staying in the posada—doubtless the same spoken of by Van Voorst.

The day being still young, for I had left La Guayra betimes, I thought I could not do better than call on Juanita, who lived only a stone's throw from the Hotel de los Generales. She recognized me at once and received me—almost literally—with open arms. When I essayed to kiss her hand, she offered me her cheek.

"After this long time! It is a miracle!" she exclaimed. "We mourned for you as one dead; for we felt sure that if you were living we should have had news of you. How glad Salvador will be! Where have you been all this time, and why, oh why, did you not write?"

"I have been in the heart of the Andes, and I did not write because I was as much cut off from the world as if I had been in another planet."

"You must have a long story to tell us, then. But I am forgetting the most important question of all. Are you still a bachelor?"

"Worse than that, Juanita. I am a widower. I have lost the sweetest wife—"

"Misericordia! Misericordia! Pobre amigo mio! Oh, how sorry I am; how much I pity you!" And the dear lady, now a stately and handsome matron, fell a-weeping out of pure tenderness, and I had to tell her the sad story of the quenching of Quipai and Angela's death. But the telling of it, together with Juanita's sympathy, did me good, and I went away in much better spirits than I had come. Salvador, she said, would be back in a few days, and she much regretted not being able to offer me quarters; it was contrary to the custom of the place and Spanish etiquette for ladies to entertain gentlemen visitors during their husbands' absence.