"The sea of long yellow-brown gra.s.s and thistles," he added, "gets to be rather monotonous at last; but I never weary of the feeling of immensity and freedom which it inspires. Come, dine with us, senhor."

Lawrence gladly accepted the invitation.

"We make but a brief halt," said the colonel, "for time presses and distances are great. Our next shall be at the Estancia Algaroba, where we shall spend the night. Your friend Pedro will make arrangements for us. He is with the advance-guard."

"Oh, indeed," said Lawrence; then, feeling that he ought to say something more, "I suppose his newly-found daughter is with him?"

"Yes," replied the colonel, curtly, as he shot a suspicious glance at the youth from under his s.h.a.ggy brows.

After dining, Lawrence returned to the baggage-mules with an unaccountable depression of spirits upon him, and deeply absorbed with the question whether rear-guards ever overtook advance-guards, and what, if they did, usually became of intervening main bodies. With such puzzling military questions on his mind, the remainder of that day's journey was not equal to the first part, and even Quashy, the sympathetic, failed to interest him!

The estancia, previously referred to by the colonel, stood on a slight eminence surrounded by the grove of algaroba-trees from which it derived its name. The fruit of this tree forms excellent food for cattle, and Lawrence found himself busily engaged during the first hour after arrival in procuring it for his mules, and otherwise looking after his charge. When this duty was done, feeling no disposition to join his comrades at supper, he sauntered into a garden in rear of the estancia, where he found a rustic seat under an algaroba-tree, and sat down to meditate.

It was a calm, peaceful, moonlight night, with an air, so he felt, of sadness about it which harmonised with his melancholy thoughts. He now believed he saw through Colonel Marchbanks's plan, and had given up all hope of seeing Manuela again. In these circ.u.mstances, being a man of submissive spirit yet powerful will, he set himself resolutely to think of the important object in which he was engaged. Somewhat thus his meditations ran--

"I am no soldier, but I am a man, and I should be less than a man-- unworthy to live--if I were not ready to help in the rescue of women and children. Some of the girls, poor things, may be like Manu--that is--.

Now, although I hate war, and do not approve of settling disputes by the sword, I feel that self-defence, or the defence of the helpless, justifies war,--ay, to the knife. Of course it does. Was I not thoroughly justified in fighting the robbers when Manu--. Well, then, let me think it out. A thing is not properly thought at all until it is thought out, and _found_ out. Talking of that, how fortunate that Pedro's little daughter was found out. It is most interesting! I delight to think of her. And she's so pretty, too--quite beautiful, though, of course, not so beautiful as Man--"

"Bother Manuela!" he exclaimed aloud, starting up.

As he spoke, Manuela herself--the princess of the Incas--stood before him!

In order to account for this sudden miscarriage of the colonel's plans, we must turn aside to state that the princess, being of an active disposition, and not easily tired, had said to Pedro that evening, when his detachment was encamping under a group of trees not far from the estancia, that she would ride back to the main body to see her father.

"But my strict orders are," said Pedro, "that I am to keep you with the advance-guard, and you know that your father is not a man to be disobeyed."

"Quite true," returned the princess, looking with a solemn expression down at Pedro--for she was still on horseback, while he and his men were dismounted, preparing the camp. "You must on no account disobey my father, Pedro."

"Well then, you see," returned the guide, with an amused look, "I cannot give you permission to leave us."

"Of course not. That would be insubordination, Pedro, would it not?

which, in time of war, is punishable, I think, with death. I would never think of asking permission, or tempting you to disobey. I will be sure to tell my father that you positively refused to let me go. Adieu, Senhor Pedro. A good appet.i.te and sweet repose!"

She touched her splendid horse with a switch, and next moment was flying over the Pampas at a pace that rendered pursuit useless.

Dismounting and fastening her steed to a tree, she pa.s.sed through the garden towards the house, and naturally, as we have seen, came upon Lawrence.

"Manuela!" he exclaimed.

"Si, senhor," she replied.

He advanced a step with outstretched arms, and then, checking himself, clasped his hands.

"Is it--can it be--a dream?"

"What doos you dream, senhor?" asked the girl, in the old familiar broken English.

"Manuela, dear girl, do not trifle with me. It seems like magic. Did I not see you--in the ballroom--white--the daughter of Colonel Marchbanks?"

"Well, Senhor Armstrong," said Manuela, earnestly, and in good English, "I admit that I am the daughter of Colonel Marchbanks, but I did not-- indeed I did not _wish_ to deceive--"

"Deceive!" interrupted Lawrence, quickly, "as well might you tell me that one of the unfallen angels did not mean to deceive. O dear one, forgive me! I know not how to tell it--but--but--_can_ you believe that a great stupid fellow like myself loves you so that--that--I--well--it's of no use. I'll never act wisely if I try to--to--"

He seized her hand. She did not withdraw it. He drew her to him. She did not resist; and there followed a sound--a very slight sound; yet it was not so slight but that it sent a shock of alarm and anger to the soul of Colonel Marchbanks, who came up at that awkward moment.

"Sir! sirrah! senhor,--rascal!" spluttered the old man, as Manuela ran away from the scene, "what--why--what do you mean?"

Drawing himself up, Lawrence said, with a look of dignity--

"Colonel Marchbanks, I can look you honestly in the face, and say that neither in word nor deed have I done you or your daughter wrong."

"No--have you _not_?" shouted the colonel. "Sir! rascal!--there is a looking-gla.s.s over the mantelpiece in the estancia. Go there, look _yourself_ in the face, and say, if you dare, that you have done me no wrong!"

He wheeled about violently and strode away, fuming.

Lawrence went to his chamber, wondering at such a display of wrath in one so genial.

He glanced at the looking-gla.s.s in pa.s.sing through the chief room of the estancia. The glance revealed to him the fact that there was a large rich brown patch in the region of his mouth and nose!

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

TREATS OF SAVAGES, CAPTIVES, CHASES, ACCIDENTS, INCIDENTS, AND PERPLEXITIES.

Not unfrequently, in human affairs, evil consequences are happily averted by unforeseen circ.u.mstances. It was so on the present occasion.

What Colonel Marchbanks's wrath might have led to no one can tell, for, a little before dawn on the following morning, there came a messenger in hot haste from Pedro stating that one of the scouts had come in with the news that the Indians were encamped with their captives and booty not half a day's ride in advance of them.

The result was an immediate order to advance and to close up.

It is interesting to consider how small a matter will cheer the spirits of some men. The order to mount and ride naturally produced some excitement in the breast of Lawrence Armstrong, being unaccustomed to the dash and whirl of troops eager to meet the foe; but the succeeding order to "close up" did more, it filled his heart with joy, for did it not imply that the advance and rear-guards must come nearer to each other? At least to his unmilitary mind it seemed so.

In a brief s.p.a.ce of time, and with marvellously little noise, the troops were in motion, and at dawn, sure enough, he saw the figures of the ladies galloping with the advance party, with Pedro leading the way--for he had been appointed to the responsible duty of guide.

Venturing to push a little ahead of his special charge, Lawrence soon found himself with the main body, and heard the colonel order one of his officers to ride forward and tell the ladies to fall to the rear of the force.

Hearing this, Lawrence, almost imperceptibly to himself, tightened his reins, but, before he had dropped many strides behind, the colonel turned his head slightly and summoned him by name.

With something like a guilty feeling Lawrence rode forward.

"We have heard of the whereabouts of the savages, Senhor Armstrong. You are a civilian, and as surgeon to the force it is your duty, of course, to keep as much out of danger as possible, but as brave men usually prefer the front, I absolve you from this duty. You are at liberty to go there if you choose."

The blood rushed to our hero's face. He knew well what the old soldier meant. With a simple "Thank you, colonel," he put spurs to his steed, and was in a few seconds galloping alongside of Pedro.

"You ride furiously, senhor," said the guide, with a twinkle in his eye which was characteristic of him when amused.

Lawrence made no reply.