"Yes, yes, senhor; tremendous!--seven feet or more, and _so_"-- indicating about three feet--"across the shoulders. Rough black head, huge black beard and moustache, hawk nose, with such awful eyes, and the strength of a tiger! I could never have been so easily overcome by one man if he had not been a giant."

"You see," said Pedro in English, turning to Lawrence with a smile, "the description tallies exactly, making due allowance for this poor fellow's alarm. He must be a clever fellow this Conrad of the Mountains, for he has not only frightened a peon out of his wits, but roused the pity of an Englishman by a.s.serting that he had been robbed by _himself_! Your charity, you see, was ill bestowed."

"So, it seems we might have made this noted bandit prisoner if we had only known!" exclaimed Lawrence, who seemed more distressed at missing the chance of becoming an amateur thief-catcher than at misdirected charity. "But do you really think the fellow was Conrad of the Mountains?"

"I am certain he was not," said Pedro.

"How do you know?"

"I have several grounds for my belief, but, even if I had not, I might easily judge from appearances. Conrad is said to be kind to women and children. The scoundrel we met with could not be kind to any one.

Moreover, there is no clear proof that Conrad _is_ a bandit, while this man certainly is one."

"I'm sorry you seem so sure, because I should like much to be able to say I had seen this notorious fellow about whom every one appears to hear so much and to know so little."

Although the bandit of whom we have just made mention was not Conrad of the Mountains, it may interest the reader to know that he was in truth a sufficiently notorious villain, named Fan, the captain of a band of twenty a.s.sa.s.sins, most of whom were escaped criminals from the prisons of Chili and Peru. Among other exploits, Fan once attacked the armed escort of a troop of mules conveying silver in bars from the mines to Chili. Fan and his men attacked them in a ravine so suddenly, and with such a deadly fire of musketry, that the few who survived laid down their arms at once, on the promise being made that their lives should be spared.

Banditti do not usually regard promises as binding. It would be surprising if they did. Fan made the survivors lie down on their faces, and was about to plunder the mules, when he changed his mind, and shot all the rest of the convoy in cold blood, except the last, who, seeing the fate that awaited him, leaped over a precipice, rolled down a steep slope many hundred feet deep, and, strange to say, escaped with his life. He then procured a dozen or two well-armed men, and returned to the scene of the robbery, but found that the robbers had flown with as much silver as they could carry, the remainder being scattered about on the road.

These miscreants were afterwards captured, but, owing to disputes between the Peruvian and the Chilian Governments, the former of whom had hold of, while the latter claimed, the robbers, they all escaped their merited punishment, and were set at large.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THICK WOODS, HEAT, CHANGE OF SCENE, AND SAVAGES.

We must change the scene now, and transport our reader to one of those numerous streams which convey the surplus waters of the Andes to the warmer regions of Bolivia, and thence, through many a wild, luxuriant wilderness and jungle, to the Parana river, by which they ultimately find their way to the sea.

It was approaching the afternoon of a very sultry day when Lawrence awoke from his midday siesta under an algaroba-tree, and slowly opened his eyes. The first object they rested upon was the brown little face of Manuela, reposing on a pillow formed of leopard skin. In those regions it was the practice, when convenient, to sling a network hammock between two trees, and enjoy one's siesta in that. The Indian girl lay in her hammock, with her eyes shut, and her little mouth open,--not undignifiedly open, but just sufficiently so to permit of one seeing something of the teeth and tongue inside.

Fascinated apparently by the sight, a mite of a blue-bird with a golden head sat on the edge of the hammock close to the little mouth, and looked in. Evidently it was a bird of an inquiring disposition, for, having gazed for a considerable time with one eye, it turned its head, and gazed a longer time with the other. Quashy lay close to Lawrence, with his back towards him. The latter, observing that the cheek of the former was more lumpy and prominent than usual, raised himself on one elbow to look at him, and found that the lump was the result of an expansion of the mouth from ear to ear. He was wide awake, gloating over the proceedings of that little blue-bird, but he heard Lawrence move, and turning his head slightly round, whispered--

"Dat am berry funny--i'n't it?"

The whisper slightly roused Manuela. She drew a long breath, vented a deep sigh, and effectually blew the blue-bird away.

At the same moment the whole party was roused by a wild and indescribable scream, followed by a magnificent flash of what seemed to be coloured fire.

In his half-sleeping condition, Lawrence, believing it to be the war-whoop of wild Indians, leaped up and grasped his cudgel, but nothing was to be seen save the grinning face of Quashy and the amused looks of Manuela and Pedro.

"Purrits," remarked the negro, by way of explanation.

"What do you mean by purrits?" demanded Lawrence, half ashamed of his alarm.

"I mean what I says, ma.s.sa,--purrits."

"He means parrots," said Pedro, with a grave smile, as he rose, and proceeded to fold up the poncho on which he had lain. "We've had many a song from these screamers, but I don't remember ever seeing such a big flock come so near us, or scream so loud, before. They must have been attracted by your pretty face, Manuela, and could not help shouting with surprise at finding you asleep."

Manuela laughed lightly as she stepped out of her hammock.

"They've just roused us in good time," continued Pedro, looking up between the tree-tops at the sky, "for the hut of the tiger-hunter is a long way off, and I'm anxious to reach it before dark."

In a few minutes the hammock and other camp equipage was conveyed to one of the native canoes, which lay close to the river's bank, our travellers embarked, and ere long were far from the spot where the siesta had been taken.

In the afternoon they stopped for a little to refresh themselves with roasted parrot, chocolate, and biscuit.

Parrots are found everywhere and in great numbers in those regions between the Atlantic and Pacific. They live and travel in large flocks, and, as every one knows, they are remarkably fond of using their discordant voices, much to the annoyance of sensitive travellers.

Fortunately such travellers do not often go to the wild regions of South America,--when they do, they soon become un-sensitive. When parrots a.s.semble in a flock on the trees, they keep fluttering their wings with a tremulous motion, bending down their heads and chattering, young and old, without regard to each other or to harmony. Each seems bent on giving his own opinion in the loudest key, and pays no regard whatever to the opinions of others. There is something almost human in this!

It is a curious fact that, while the plumage of the parrots' b.r.e.a.s.t.s is always gaudy and brilliant in the extreme, that of their backs is usually the colour of the general tone of the region they inhabit. In woods, where the bark of trees is chiefly bright yellow and green, their backs are of these colours. In the plains they are a mixture of green and brown, so that when skimming over a country they are not easily distinguished, but if they chance to come unexpectedly on travellers, they sheer off with a shriek, and expose their gaudy b.r.e.a.s.t.s to view.

The large flock that had so suddenly come on our friends while taking their siesta had turned off thus with a horrible scream, and revealed their gay b.r.e.a.s.t.s, on which the sun chanced to shine at the moment with great power, thus producing, as we have said, a splendid flash of colour.

"Ma.s.sa," inquired Quashy, as they sat in the canoe enjoying the cold meal and floating slowly with the stream, "which you likes best,--ros'

purrit or ros' monkey?"

"Really, I'm not quite sure," replied Lawrence; "it depends very much on appet.i.te. If I'm very hungry, I prefer the one that comes first to hand. Which do _you_ like best?"

"Well, I's not kite sure needer. I t'ink sometimes dat monkey is best, but I can't easy git ober de face."

"How so, Quashy?"

"'Cause it am so like eatin' a bit o' my great-gran'moder."

"Indeed!"

"Yes. You's no notion how like dey all is to dat ole lady. You see, she was uncommon old. She come ob a long-lib race. Das whar' it is.

My moder was eighty-two, an' my gran'moder was ninety-siven, an' my great-gran'moder was a hun'r'd an' sixteen, an' dey was all alive togidder, an' at fuss you couldn' tell which was de oldest. Dey run neck an' neck for a long time, but arter de great-gran' one pa.s.s de hunr' milestone--oh! she hoed ahead like a rattlesnake. De wrinkles an'

de crows' foots, an' de--de colour--jes' like bu'nt leather! She lef'

de oders far behind, an' looked like nuffin so much as dat poor little blear-eyed monkey you shot de oder day, what Senhorina Manuela say was _so_ nice to eat. What! you un'erstan' Ingliss?" added the negro, looking at the Indian girl, who had given vent to a half-suppressed giggle.

"Yes--leetil," replied Manuela, without attempting further to restrain her mirth.

Quite pleased that his remarks should afford amus.e.m.e.nt, Quashy was about to launch out extensively on the "great-gran'moder" theme, when an exclamation from the guide checked him.

"Look, Senhor Armstrong," he said, arresting the progress of the canoe by a slight turn of his paddle. "Yonder is a mode of fishing which no doubt is new to you."

Pedro pointed as he spoke to a canoe which a sharp bend of the stream had just revealed to them. Its occupants were Indians. They were almost naked, and so intent on their occupation that the arrival of our travellers had not been observed. One of the Indians, a splendid specimen of muscular strength, stood up in the canoe with a bow and arrow in his hands and one foot on the gunwale, quite motionless.

Suddenly he drew the bow, the arrow pierced the water without causing a ripple, and next moment a transfixed fish was struggling on the surface.

The fish was barely secured when the presence of strangers was discovered. An exclamation followed. Instantly the dark savage bent his bow, with the arrow pointed this time full at the breast of Pedro.

That worthy did not, however, seem much alarmed. He at once pushed out into the stream, and gave a shout which induced the savage not only to lower his bow, but to fling it into his canoe and throw up his arms with exclamations of surprise and joy.

"He knows you?" said Lawrence, looking back at Pedro, who sat in the stern of their canoe.

"Yes, he knows me. I am pretty well-known to most people in these regions. This is the tiger-hunter of whom I have spoken. His dwelling is not far-off."

The meeting of the two friends was remarkably cordial, and it was evident to both Lawrence and Quashy that the white man and the brown were not only old friends, but more than usually fond of each other.