As he spoke, we observed a bright light bursting forth from among the trees, at a short distance off along the bank. Now it disappeared--now it came again in sight. We paddled down towards it. It was apparently a torch held in a person's hand. We rapidly approached the light, but yet failed to discover any place where we could land with safety. We shouted loudly, hoping to attract the attention of any one who might be near. Presently a hail came off the land. We answered it. Again a voice was heard.

"Can you tell us where we can land with safety?" cried John, in Spanish.

The answer was unintelligible. Presently he asked again in English; and in a little time we saw the light moving along the bank. Then it remained stationary. We exerted ourselves to the utmost to steer for it; and we now saw a division in the wall of trees, which indicated that there was a pa.s.sage between them. Again the thunder reared, the lightning flashed, and the wind blew with fearful force.

Maria shrieked loudly, "The water is washing over the raft!"

"Hold on! hold on!" cried John; "we shall soon be in safety." And in another minute we were entering the mouth of a narrow channel. "We will turn the canoe round," said John, "and let the raft go first. We may thus prevent it being dashed on the bank."

We did as he advised. Scarcely, however, had we turned the raft round when we found it had reached the sh.o.r.e.

"Do you, Domingos, help the senora and Maria to land!" shouted John.

By the light from the torch we saw a tall figure standing on the bank.

He flung the light so that it might fall across us.

"Females!" he exclaimed. "A sorry night to be buffeting with the waves of the Amazon! Give me your hands, whoever you are. I should little have expected to find my countrymen in such a plight in this remote region."

While he was speaking he helped Ellen and Maria up the bank, the two monkeys following, while Poll and Niger clung fast to Maria's shoulders.

Faithful True did not attempt to leap on sh.o.r.e, though he could easily have done so, but remained with me in the canoe. Domingos, meantime, was hastily throwing our goods on sh.o.r.e; while we continued exerting ourselves in preventing the raft being lifted by the force of the water and upset on the bank.

"All the things are safely landed," cried Domingos at length.

We then, casting off the tow-rope, paddled round, and ran the bow of the canoe on sh.o.r.e. Not till then did True leap out of her. Domingos and the stranger coming down, helped us to drag her out of the water.

"We may save the raft also," said the latter. "You may require it to continue your voyage; as I conclude you do not intend to locate yourselves here, and compel me to seek another home in the wilderness."

I was struck by the morose tone in which the stranger spoke. He, however, a.s.sisted us in dragging up the raft sufficiently high to prevent its being knocked about by the waves, which ran even into the comparatively smooth part of the channel in which we found ourselves.

"We heartily thank you for your a.s.sistance," said John. "We owe the preservation of our lives to you; for, with the increasing storm, we could scarcely have escaped destruction had we been driven further down the river."

"You owe me no thanks, young sir. I would have done the same for a party of benighted savages, as you call them," answered the stranger.

"Your dumb companions are equally welcome. I am not ill pleased to see them. It speaks in your favour that they follow you willingly, instead of being dragged about with ropes and chains, or confined in cages, as civilised men treat the creatures they pretend to tame. I have, however, but poor shelter to offer you from the deluge which will soon be down on our heads. Follow me; there is no time to be lost."

"But we must not allow our goods to remain out," said John.

"I will a.s.sist you, then, to carry them," answered the stranger, lifting up double the number of packages which we usually carried at a time.

We then all loaded ourselves. Ellen insisted on carrying a package, and followed the stranger, who went before us with his torch. We could not even then exchange words, as we had to proceed in single file along a narrow pathway, fringed on either side with thick shrubs--apparently the after-growth of a cleared spot, soon to spring up again into tall trees.

We soon found ourselves within the forest, where, so dense was the gloom, that without the torch to guide us we could not have made our way. Its ruddy flame glanced on the trunks of the tall trees, showing a canopy of wide-spreading boughs overhead, and the intricate tracery of the numberless sipos which hung in festoons, or dropped in long threadlike lines from them. Pa.s.sing for a few yards through a jungle, the boughs spreading so closely above our heads that we often had to stoop, we found ourselves in an open s.p.a.ce, in which by the light of the torch we saw a small hut with deep eaves, the gable end turned towards us. It was raised on posts several feet from the ground. A ladder led to a platform or verandah, which projected from the wall of the gable, in which was a small door.

"Here you are welcome to stow your goods and rest for the night," said the stranger. "No human being but myself has ever entered it; for I seek not the society of my fellow-men, either savage or civilised, so-called. To-morrow, if the weather clears, you will, I conclude, proceed on your way; or if you insist on remaining, I must seek another home. Let that be understood, before I make you further welcome. Now, enter, and such accommodation as my hut affords shall be yours."

There was something in the tone of the speaker which, though his dress was rough and strange, made us feel that he was a man of education.

"We cordially thank you, sir," answered John, "and accept your hospitality on the terms you propose; but as a portion of our goods still remain near the river, we would ask you to give us another torch to enable us to fetch them before the rain comes done."

"I will myself accompany you," he answered, "when I have introduced the young people to my abode."

Saying this, he stepped up the ladder, and a.s.sisted Ellen and Maria to reach the platform. He then led the way in, and lighted a lamp which stood--we could see through the open door--on a table near it.

"I am sorry I have no better accommodation to offer you," he said, looking at Ellen; "but such as it is, you are welcome to it."

He came down with another torch in his hand, and proceeded with rapid strides back to the river. We had some difficulty in following him.

Again he took up a heavy load; and we, dividing the remainder of the goods between us, followed him towards the hut. Ascending the ladder as we reached it, he desired us to hand up the goods, which he carried within. As soon as we were on the platform, he drew up the ladder.

"I always secure myself thus in my fortress at night," he remarked; "and as I have taken means of preventing any snakes crawling up the posts on which it stands, I can sleep more securely than many do in the so-called civilised portion of the globe."

On entering the house, we found that it was larger than we had supposed from its appearance outside. It was divided into two rooms. The outer was fitted up, in somewhat rustic style, as a sitting-room, while we concluded that the inner one was a sleeping-room. Round the walls were arranged shelves, on one of which were a considerable number of books, with a variety of other articles. In one corner was a pile of nets and harpoons, and some spears and other weapons for the chase; in another stood an Indian mill for grinding flour, and several jars and other articles, apparently for preparing or preserving food. Against the walls stood several chests. Though the table was large enough for the whole of us to sit round it, yet there was but one stool, showing that our host, as he had told us, was unaccustomed to receive guests. He, however, pulled the chests forward, and by placing some boards between them, we all found seats.

"If you have not brought provisions, I will supply you while you stay with me," he observed; "but my own consumption is so small that I have but a limited amount to offer you."

"We would not willingly deprive you of that, sir," said John; "and we have enough to last us till we can supply ourselves with more."

"That is fortunate," remarked the recluse. "While your servant gets it ready, I will prepare my room for the young lady and her attendant. I have no cooking-place under shelter, and while the rain is pouring down, as it will begin to do presently, a fire cannot be lighted outside. You must therefore be content with a cold repast."

While the recluse--so I may call him--was absent, we for the first time had an opportunity of asking Ellen what had occurred to drive her and her attendants away from the camp.

"I was indeed unwilling to do so," she said, "till urged by Domingos.

He had gone to shoot at a short distance from the hut, when he came hurrying back with a look of alarm, and told me that he had caught sight of some savages making their way through the forest. He insisted that they were trying to find us out, and that our only hope of safety was by instant flight. I pleaded that you would come back, and finding us gone, would fancy we had been carried off or killed. He argued that on your return, finding the raft gone, you would know we had embarked on it. At length he agreed, that if we would a.s.sist to carry the goods down to the raft he would again search round the camp, and should the natives appear to be going in a different direction, we might carry them back again. He had not gone long, when he returned with dismay on his countenance, a.s.serting that they were coming towards us, and that if we did not escape we should certainly be killed. You may suppose, my dear brothers, how fearfully agitated I was. I knew how alarmed you would be on returning not to find us, and yet, if we should remain it might be still worse. Domingos and Maria settled the matter by seizing me by the arms, and dragging me to the raft before I had time to write a note or leave any signal. I scarcely thought, indeed, of doing so, till Domingos had pushed the raft off from the bank. I entreated him to go back; but he replied that it was impossible without the risk of being caught by the savages, and began paddling the raft down the channel. I looked back, and seeing no natives, again urged him to return. He replied that he was sure they would lie in ambush to catch us, and that it would be destruction to do so. Feeling that he wished to secure my safety, I could not complain. He did his best, too, to comfort me about you. He said that as you were probably with the friendly natives, you would be defended from the Majeronas; and that by the time you had come back, those he had seen would have gone away, and you would certainly guess that we were not far off. I did my utmost to arouse myself and to a.s.sist Maria and him in paddling the raft. The wind was light, the water smooth, and there appeared to be no danger in venturing out into the river. A light wind was in our favour, and he accordingly steered towards the opposite bank, saying that we should be safer there than anywhere else, and might more easily get back than by going down the stream. I looked frequently towards the sh.o.r.e we had left, but still saw no natives. Poor Domingos was evidently anxious about you, though he did his best not to alarm me more than he had done already. We found, after getting some way across, that the current was floating us down much faster than we had expected, and I begged Domingos therefore to return. He insisted that, having got thus far, it was better to continue our course towards the southern bank, and wait there for a favourable wind for getting back. I was thankful when at length we reached a sandy beach, where we could land without difficulty and secure our raft. Domingos fortunately shot a paca, so we had plenty of food; and Maria and I a.s.sisted him in putting up a hut. Had I not been so anxious about you, I should have had no cause to complain. They both exerted themselves to the utmost; and I do not think Domingos closed his eyes all night, for whenever I awoke I saw him, through an opening in our hut, walking about or making up the fire. We spent the morning on the bank, watching in the hope of seeing you come to look for us. As soon as the wind changed, I entreated Domingos to put off, and at last, though somewhat unwillingly, he consented to do so; but he blamed himself very much for yielding to my wishes, when the wind began to blow so violently. Had you, indeed, not arrived to a.s.sist us, I suspect that our raft would have been in great danger of being overwhelmed."

"We have reason to be thankful, dear Ellen, that you were preserved,"

said John. "I am very sure Domingos acted for the best. I wish for your sake that our expedition had come to a favourable end, although the rest of us may enjoy it."

"Oh, if it were not for anxiety about papa and mamma, and dear f.a.n.n.y, and Aunt Martha, I should like it too," said Ellen. "When we once find them, I am sure that I shall enjoy our voyage down the river as much as any of you."

"You are a brave girl," said the stranger, who at that moment returned, "though, perhaps, you scarcely know the dangers you may have to encounter. Yet, after all, they are of a nature more easily overcome than many which your sisters in the civilised regions of the world are called to go through. Here you have only the elements and a few wild beasts to contend with; there, they have falsehood, treachery, evil example, allurements of all sorts, and other devices of Satan, to drag them to destruction."

While we were seated at supper, the rain came down in tremendous torrents, as the recluse had predicted. The strength of his roof was proved, as not a drop found its way through.

"I am protected here," he remarked, "from the heat of the summer months by the leafy bower overhead; while, raised on these poles, my habitation is above the floods in the rainy season. What can man want more? Much in the same way the natives on the Orinoco form their dwellings among the palm-trees; but they trust more to Nature, and, instead of piles, form floating rafts, sufficiently secured to the palm-trees to keep them stationary, but rising and falling as the floods increase or diminish."

I was struck with many of the remarks of our eccentric host, but the more I saw of him the more I was surprised that a man of his information should have thus secluded himself from the world. We had just time to give Ellen an account of our adventures, when he expressed his wish that we should hang up our hammocks, as it was past his usual hour for retiring to rest. This was an operation quickly performed, as we had only to secure them in the usual way to the posts which supported the roof.

"We should not part," said Ellen, somewhat timidly, "without our usual prayer; and we have cause to thank G.o.d for our preservation from danger."

The recluse looked at her fixedly. "You are in earnest, I am sure," he muttered. "Pray, young people, do not depart from your usual custom; I will wait for you."

Arthur, I should have said, though the youngest, always led us in prayer. "As he is absent," I remarked to Ellen's request, "I will do so."

"Oh, you have a young chaplain with you," said the recluse; "and what pay does he receive?"

"None at all, sir," answered Ellen. "He is only earnest and good."

"I should like to meet him," said the recluse.

"I hope you may, sir," said Ellen, "if you come with us."