too ole to run far.”
“And I suppose you can’t even guess where any of those who escaped went to?”
“Couldn’t guess more nor a Red Injin’s noo-born babby.”
“Quashy,” said Lawrence in a low voice, “be careful how you speak of Indians.”
He glanced, as he spoke, at Manuela, who now sat with grave face and downcast eyes, having apparently found that the human countenance, however expressive, failed to make up for the want of language.
And, truly, Quashy’s countenance was unwontedly mobile and expressive. Every feature seemed to possess the power of independently betraying the thoughts and feelings of the man, so that when they all united for that end the effect was marvellous. Emotional, and full of quick sympathy, Quashy’s visage changed from grave to gay, pitiful to fierce, humorous to savage, at a moment’s notice. When, therefore, he received the gentle rebuke above referred to, his animated countenance assumed a sudden aspect of utter woe and self-condemnation that may be conceived but cannot be described, and when Lawrence gave vent to a short laugh at the unexpected change, Quashy’s eyes glistened with an arch look, and his mouth expanded from ear to ear.
And what an expansion that was, to be sure! when you take into account the display of white teeth and red gums by which it was accompanied.
“Well, now, Quash,” resumed Lawrence, “what did you do after that?”
“Arter what, massa?”
“After finding that slobbering and wringing your hands did no good.”
“Oh! arter dat, I not know what to do, an’ den I tried to die—I was so mis’rable. But I couldn’t. You’ve no notion how hard it is to die when you wants to. Anyhow I couldn’t manage it, so I gib up tryin’.”
At this point Manuela rose, and, bidding Pedro good-night in the Indian tongue, passed into her little chamber and shut the door.
“And what do you intend to do now, Quash?” asked Lawrence.
“Stick to you, massa, troo t’ick an’ t’in,” returned the negro with emphatic promptitude, which caused even Pedro to laugh.
“My poor fellow, that is impossible,” said Lawrence, who then explained his position and circumstances, showing how it was that he had little money and no immediate prospect of obtaining any,—that, in short, he was about to start out in the wide world friendless and almost penniless to seek his fortune. To all of which the negro listened with a face so utterly devoid of expression of any kind that his old master and playmate could not tell how he took it.
“And now,” he asked in conclusion, “what say you to all that?”
“Stick to you troo t’ick and t’in,” repeated Quashy, in a tone of what might be styled sulky firmness.
“But,” said Lawrence, “I can’t pay you any wages.”
“Don’ want no wages,” said Quashy.
“Besides,” resumed Lawrence, “even if I were willing to take you, Senhor Pedro might object.”
“I no care for Senhor Pedro one brass buttin,” retorted the negro.
The Peruvian smiled rather approvingly at this candid expression of opinion.
“Where you gwine?” asked Quashy, abruptly.
“To Buenos Ayres.”
“I’s gwine to Bens Airies too. I’s a free nigger, an’ no mortial man kin stop me.”
As Quashy remained obdurate, and, upon consultation, Lawrence and Pedro came to the conclusion that such a sturdy, resolute fellow might be rather useful in the circumstances, it was finally arranged, to the poor fellow’s inexpressible delight, that he should accompany them in their long journey to the far east.
Chapter Three.
Lingual Difficulties Accompanied by Physical Dangers and followed by the Advent of Banditti
After several days had passed away, our travellers found themselves among the higher passes of the great mountain range of the Andes.
Before reaching that region, however, they had, in one of the villages through which they passed, supplied themselves each with a fresh stout mule, besides two serviceable animals to carry their provisions and camp equipage.
Pedro, who of course rode ahead in the capacity of guide, seemed to possess an unlimited supply of cash, and Lawrence Armstrong had at least sufficient to enable him to bear his fair share of the expenses of the journey. As for Quashy, being a servant he had no expenses to bear.
Of course the finest, as well as the best-looking, mule had been given to the pretty Manuela, and, despite the masculine attitude of her position, she sat and managed her steed with a grace of motion that might have rendered many a white dame envious. Although filled with admiration, Lawrence was by no means surprised, for he knew well that in the Pampas, or plains, to which region her father belonged, the Indians are celebrated for their splendid horsemanship. Indeed, their little children almost live on horseback, commencing their training long before they can mount, and overcoming the difficulty of smallness in early youth, by climbing to the backs of their steeds by means of a fore-leg, and not unfrequently by the tail.
The costume of the girl was well suited to her present mode of life, being a sort of light tunic reaching a little below the knees, with loose leggings, which were richly ornamented with needlework. A straw hat with a simple feather, covered her head, beneath which her curling black hair flowed in unconfined luxuriance. She wore no ornament of any kind, and the slight shoes that covered her small feet were perfectly plain. In short, there was a modest simplicity about the girl’s whole aspect and demeanour which greatly interested the Englishman, inducing him to murmur to himself, “What an uncommonly pretty girl she would be if she were only white!”
The colour of her skin was, indeed, unusually dark, but that fact did not interfere with the classic delicacy of her features, or the natural sweetness of her expression.
The order of progress in narrow places was such that Manuela rode behind Pedro and in front of Lawrence, Quashy bringing up the rear. In more open places the young Englishman used occasionally to ride up abreast of Manuela and endeavour to engage her in conversation. He was, to say truth, very much the reverse of what is styled a lady’s man, and had all his life felt rather shy and awkward in female society, but being a sociable, kindly fellow, he felt it incumbent on him to do what in him lay to lighten the tedium of the long journey to one who, he thought, must naturally feel very lonely with no companions but men. “Besides,” he whispered to himself, “she is only an Indian, and of course cannot construe my attentions to mean anything so ridiculous as love-making—so, I will speak to her in a fatherly sort of way.”
Filled with this idea, as the party came out upon a wide and beautiful table-land, which seemed like a giant emerald set in a circlet of grand blue mountains, Lawrence pushed up alongside, and said—
“Poor girl, I fear that such prolonged riding over these rugged passes must fatigue you.” Manuela raised her dark eyes to the youth’s face, and, with a smile that was very slight—though not so slight but that it revealed a double row of bright little teeth—she replied softly—
“W’at you say?”
“Oh! I
