The morning of the 18th dawned, the day on which, according to Harris’s prediction, the travellers were to be safely housed at San Felice. Mrs. Weldon was really much relieved at the prospect, for she was aware that her strength must prove inadequate to the strain of a more protracted journey. The condition of her little boy, who was alternately flushed with fever, and pale with exhaustion, had begun to cause her great anxiety, and unwilling to resign the care of the child even to Nan his faithful nurse, she insisted upon carrying him in her own arms. Twelve days and nights, passed in the open air, had done much to try her powers of endurance, and the charge of a sick child in addition would soon break down her strength entirely.

Dick Sands, Nan, and the negroes had all borne the march very fairly. Their stock of provisions, though of course considerably diminished, was still far from small. As for Harris, he had shown himself pre-eminently adapted for forest-life, and capable of bearing any amount of fatigue. Yet, strange to say, as he approached the end of the journey, his manner underwent a remarkable change; instead of conversing in his ordinary frank and easy way, he became silent and preoccupied, as if engrossed in his own thoughts. Perhaps he had an instinctive consciousness that “his young friend,” as he was in the habit of addressing Dick, was entertaining hard suspicions about him.

The march was resumed. The trees once again ceased to be crowded in impenetrable masses, but stood in clusters at considerable distances apart. Now, Dick tried to argue with himself, they must be coming to the true pampas, or the man must be designedly misleading them; and yet what motive could he have?

Although during the earlier part of the day there occurred nothing that could be said absolutely to justify Dick’s increasing uneasiness, two circumstances transpired which did not escape his observation, and which, he felt, might be significant. The first of these was a sudden change in Dingo’s behaviour. The dog, throughout the march, had uniformly run along with his nose upon the ground, smelling the grass and shrubs, and occasionally uttering a sad low whine; but to-day he seemed all agitation; he scampered about with bristling coat, with his head erect, and ever and again burst into one of those furious fits of barking, with which he had formerly been accustomed to greet Negoro’s appearance upon the deck of the “Pilgrim.”

The idea that flitted across Dick’s mind was shared by Tom.

“Look, Mr. Dick, look at Dingo; he is at his old ways again,” said he; “it is just as if Negoro....”

“Hush!” said Dick to the old man, who continued in a lower voice,—

“It is just as if Negoro had followed us; do you think it is likely?”

“It might perhaps be to his advantage to follow us, if he doesn’t know the country; but if he does know the country, why then....”

Dick did not finish his sentence, but whistled to Dingo. The dog reluctantly obeyed the call.

As soon as the dog was at his side, Dick patted him, repeating,—

“Good dog! good Dingo! where’s Negoro?”

The sound of Negoro’s name had its usual effect; it seemed to irritate the animal exceedingly, and he barked furiously, and apparently wanted to dash into the thicket.

Harris had been an interested spectator of the scene, and now approached with a peculiar expression on his countenance, and inquired what they were saying to Dingo.

“Oh, nothing much,” replied Tom; “we were only asking him for news of a lost acquaintance.”

“Ah, I suppose you mean that Portuguese cook of yours.”

“Yes,” answered Tom; “we fancied from Dingo’s behaviour, that Negoro must be somewhere close at hand.”

“Why don’t you send and search the underwood? perhaps the poor wretch is in distress.”

“No need of that, Mr. Harris; Negoro, I have no doubt, is quite capable of taking care of himself.”

“Well, just as you please, my young friend,” said Harris, with an air of indifference.

Dick turned away; he continued his endeavours to pacify Dingo, and the conversation dropped.

The other thing that had arrested Dick’s attention was the behaviour of the horse. If they had been as near the hacienda as Harris described, would not the animal have pricked up its ears, sniffed the air, and with dilated nostril, exhibited some sign of satisfaction, as being upon familiar ground?

But nothing of the kind was to be observed; the horse plodded along as unconcernedly as if a stable were as far away as ever.

Even Mrs. Weldon was not so engrossed with her child, but what she was fain to express her wonder at the deserted aspect of the country. No trace of a farm-labourer was anywhere to be seen! She cast her eye at Harris, who was in his usual place in front, and observing how he was looking first to the left, and then to the right, with the air of a man who was uncertain of his path, she asked herself whether it was possible their guide might have lost his way. She dared not entertain the idea, and averted her eyes, that she might not be harassed by his movements.

After crossing an open plain about a mile in width, the travellers once again entered the forest, which resumed something of the same denseness that had characterized it farther to the west. In the course of the afternoon, they came to a spot which was marked very distinctly by the vestiges of some enormous animals, which must have passed quite recently. As Dick looked carefully about him, he observed that the branches were all torn off or broken to a considerable height, and that the foot-tracks in the trampled grass were much too large to be those either of jaguars or panthers. Even if it were possible that the prints on the ground had been made by ais or other taidigrades, this would fail to account in the least for the trees being broken to such a height. Elephants alone were capable of working such destruction in the underwood, but elephants were unknown in America. Dick was puzzled, but controlled himself so that he would not apply to Harris for any enlightenment; his intuition made him aware that a man who had once tried to make him believe that giraffes were ostriches, would not hesitate a second time to impose upon his credulity.

More than ever was Dick becoming convinced that Harris was a traitor, and he was secretly prompted to tax him with his treachery. Still he was obliged to own that he could not assign any motive for the man acting in such a manner with the survivors of the “Pilgrim,” and consequently hesitated before he actually condemned him for conduct so base and heartless. What could be done? he repeatedly asked himself. On board ship the boy captain might perchance have been able to devise some plan for the safety of those so strangely committed to his charge, but here on an unknown shore, he could only suffer from the burden of this responsibility the more, because he was so utterly powerless to act.

He made up his mind on one point. He determined not to alarm the poor anxious mother a moment before he was actually compelled. It was his carrying out this determination that explained why on subsequently arriving at a considerable stream, where he saw some huge heads, swollen muzzles, long tusks and unwieldy bodies rising from amidst the rank wet grass, he uttered no word and gave no gesture of surprise; but only too well he knew, at a glance, that he must be looking at a herd of hippopotamuses.

[Illustration: “Look here! here are hands, men’s hands.”]

It was a weary march that day; a general feeling of depression spread involuntarily from one to another; hardly conscious to herself of her weariness, Mrs. Weldon was exhibiting manifest symptoms of lassitude; and it was only Dick’s moral energy and sense of duty that kept him from succumbing to the prevailing dejection.

About four o’clock, Tom noticed something lying in the grass, and stooping down he picked up a kind of knife; it was of peculiar shape, being very wide and flat in the blade, while its handle, which was of ivory, was ornamented with a good deal of clumsy carving. He carried it at once to Dick, who, when he had scrutinized it, held it up to Harris, with the remark,—

“There must be natives not far off.”

“Quite right, my young friend; the hacienda must be a very few miles away,—but yet, but yet....”

He hesitated.

“You don’t mean that you are not sure of your way,” said Dick sharply.”

“Not exactly that,” replied Harris; “yet in taking this short cut across the forest, I am inclined to think I am a mile or so out of the way. Perhaps I had better walk on a little way, and look about me.”

“No; you do not leave us here,” cried Dick firmly.

“Not against your will; but remember, I do not undertake to guide you in the dark.”

“We must spare you the necessity for that. I can answer for it that Mrs. Weldon will raise no objection to spending another night in the open air. We can start off to-morrow morning as early as we like, and if the distance be only what you represent, a few hours will easily accomplish it.”

“As you please,” answered Harris with cold civility.

Just then, Dingo again burst out into a vehement fit of barking, and it required no small amount of coaxing on Dick’s part to make him cease from his noise.

It was decided that the halt should be made at once. Mrs. Weldon, as it had been anticipated, urged nothing against it, being preoccupied by her immediate attentions to Jack, who was lying in her arms, suffering from a decided attack of fever. The shelter of a large thicket had just been selected by Dick as a suitable resting-place for the night, when Tom, who was assisting in the necessary preparations, suddenly gave a cry of horror.

“What is it, Tom?” asked Dick very calmly.

“Look! look at these trees! they are spattered with blood! and look here! here are hands, men’s hands, cut off and lying on the ground!”

“What?” cried Dick, and in an instant was at his side.

His presence of mind did not fail him; he whispered,—

“Hush! Tom! hush! not a word!”

But it was with a shudder that ran through his veins that he witnessed for himself the mutilated fragments of several human bodies, and saw, lying beside them, some broken forks, and some bits of iron chain.

The sight of the gory remains made Dingo bark ferociously, and Dick, who was most anxious that Mrs. Weldon’s attention should not be called to the discovery, had the greatest difficulty in driving him back; but fortunately the lady’s mind was so engrossed with her patient, that she did not observe the commotion. Harris stood aloof; there was no one to notice the change that passed over his countenance, but the expression was almost diabolical in its malignity.

Poor old Tom himself seemed perfectly spell-bound. With his hands clenched, his eyes dilated, and his breast heaving with emotion, he kept repeating without anything like coherence, the words,—

“Forks! chains! forks! ... long ago ... remember ... too well ... chains!”

“For Mrs. Weldon’s sake, Tom, hold your tongue!” Dick implored him.

Tom, however, was full with some remembrance of the past; he continued to repeat,—

“Long ago ... forks ... chains!” until Dick led him out of hearing.

A fresh halting-place was chosen a short distance further on, and supper was prepared. But the meal was left almost untasted; not so much that hunger had been overcome by

[Illustration: The man was gone, and his horse with him.]

fatigue, but because the indefinable feeling of uneasiness, that had taken possession of them all, had entirely destroyed all appetite.

Gradually the night became very dark. The sky was covered with heavy storm-clouds, and on the western horizon flashes of summer lightning now and then glimmered through the trees. The air was perfectly still; not a leaf stirred, and the atmosphere seemed so charged with electricity as to be incapable of transmitting sound of any kind.

Dick, himself, with Austin and Bat in attendance, remained on guard, all of them eagerly straining both eye and ear to catch any light or sound that might disturb the silence and obscurity. Old Tom, with his head sunk upon his breast, sat motionless, as in a trance; he was gloomily revolving the awakened memories of the past. Mrs. Weldon was engaged with her sick child. Scarcely one of the party was really asleep, except indeed it might be Cousin Benedict, whose reasoning faculties were not of an order to carry him forwards into any future contingencies.

Midnight was still an hour in advance, when the dull air seemed filled with a deep and prolonged roar, mingled with a peculiar kind of vibration.

Tom started to his feet. A fresh recollection of his early days had struck him.

“A lion! a lion!” he shouted.

In vain Dick tried to repress him; but he repeated,—

“A lion! a lion!”

Dick Sands seized his cutlass, and, unable any longer to control his wrath, he rushed to the spot where he had left Harris lying.

The man was gone, and his horse with him!

All the suspicions that had been so long pent up within Dick’s mind now shaped themselves into actual reality. A flood of light had broken in upon him. Now he was convinced, only too certainly, that it was not the coast of America at all upon which the schooner had been cast ashore! it was not Easter Island that had been sighted far away in the west! the compass had completely deceived him; he was satisfied now that the strong currents had carried them quite round Cape Horn, and that they had really entered the Atlantic. No wonder that quinquinas, caoutchouc, and other South American products, had failed to be seen. This was neither the Bolivian pampas nor the plateau of Atacama. They were giraffes, not ostriches, that had vanished down the glade; they were elephants that had trodden down the underwood; they were hippopotamuses that were lurking by the river; it was indeed the dreaded tzetsy that Cousin Benedict had so triumphantly discovered; and, last of all, it was a lion’s roar that had disturbed the silence of the forest. That chain, that knife, those forks, were unquestionably the instruments of slave-dealers; and what could those mutilated hands be, except the relics of their ill-fated victims?

Harris and Negoro must be in a conspiracy!

It was with terrible anguish that Dick gnashed his teeth and muttered,—

“Yes, it is too true; we are in Africa! in equatorial Africa! in the land of slavery! in the very haunt of slave-drivers!” JF8v9T+ejY8NQUAfz7C9NtilR0DJEMPG5V8/nnllCDGFgpWwRT1N/Ivro6oIVdFp