“We are very proud to be of any service to Mrs. Weldon,” Tom interposed with dignity, “but we are no man’s property. It is true I was sold for a slave when I was six years old; but I have long since had my freedom; and so has my son. Bat here, and all his friends, were born of free parents.”
“Ah! well then, I have to congratulate you,” replied Harris, in a manner that jarred very sensibly upon Mrs. Weldon’s feelings; but she said nothing.
Harris added—
“I can assure you that you are as safe here in Bolivia as you would be in New England.”
He had not finished speaking, when Jack, followed by Nan, came out of the grotto. The child was rubbing his eyes, having only just awakened from his night’s sleep. Catching sight of his mother, he darted towards her.
“What a charming little boy!” exclaimed Harris.
“He is my little son,” said Mrs. Weldon, kissing the child by way of morning greeting.
“Ah, madam, I am sure you must have suffered doubly on his account. Will the little man let me kiss him too?”
But there was something in the stranger’s appearance that did not take Jack’s fancy, and he shrank back timidly to his mother’s side.
“You must excuse him, sir; he is very shy.”
“Never mind,” said Harris; “we shall be better acquainted by-and-by. When we get to my brother’s, he shall have a nice little pony to ride.”
But not even this tempting offer seemed to have any effect in coaxing Jack into a more genial mood. He kept fast hold of his mother’s hand, and she, somewhat vexed at his behaviour, and anxious that no offence should be given to a man who appeared so friendly in his intentions, hastened to turn the conversation to another topic.
Meantime Dick Sands had been considering Harris’s proposal. Upon the whole, the plan of making their way to the hacienda of San Felice seemed to commend itself to his judgment; but he could not conceal from himself that a journey of 200 miles across plains and forests, without any means of transport, would be extremely fatiguing. On expressing his doubts on this point, he was met with the reply—
“Oh, that can be managed well enough, young man; just round the corner of the cliff there I have a horse, which is quite at the disposal of the lady and her son; and by easy stages of ten miles or so a day, it will do the rest of us no harm to travel on foot. Besides,” he added, “when I spoke of the journey being 200 miles, I was thinking of following, as I usually do, the course of the river; but by taking a shortcut across the forest, we may reduce the distance by nearly eighty miles.”
Mrs. Weldon was about to say how grateful she was, but Harris anticipated her.
“Not a word, madam, I beg you. You cannot thank me better than by accepting my offer. I confess I have never crossed this forest, but I am so much accustomed to the pampas that I have little fear of losing my way. The only difficulty is in the matter of provisions, as I have only supplied myself with enough to carry me on to San Felice.”
“As to provisions,” replied Mrs. Weldon, “we have enough and to spare; and we shall be more than willing to share everything with you.”
“That is well,” answered Harris; “then there can be no reason why we should not start at once.”
He was turning away with the intention of fetching his horse, when Dick Sands detained him. True to his seaman’s instincts, the young sailor felt that he should be much more at his ease on the seashore than traversing the heart of an unknown forest.
“Pardon me, Mr. Harris,” he began, “but instead of taking so long a journey across the desert of Atacama, would it not be far better for us to follow the coast either northwards or southwards, until we reach the nearest seaport?”
A frown passed over Harris’s countenance.
“I know very little about the coast,” he answered; “but I know enough to assure you that there is no town to the north within 300 or 400 miles.”
“Then why should we not go south?” persisted Dick.
“You would then have to travel to Chile, which is almost as far; and, under your circumstances, I should not advise you to skirt the pampas of the Argentine Republic. For my own part, I could not accompany you.”
“But do not the vessels which ply between Chile and Peru come within sight of this coast?” interposed Mrs. Weldon.
“No, madam; they keep out so far to sea that there would not be the faintest chance of your hailing one.”
“You seem to have another question to ask Mr. Harris,” Mrs. Weldon continued, addressing Dick, who still looked rather doubtful.
Dick replied that he was about to inquire at what port he would be likely to find a ship to convey their party to San Francisco.
“That I really cannot tell you, my young friend,” rejoined Harris; “I can only repeat my promise that we will furnish you with the means of conveyance from San Felice to Atacama, where no doubt you will obtain all the information you require.”
“I hope you will not think that Dick is insensible to your kindness, Mr. Harris,” said Mrs. Weldon, apologetically.
“On the contrary,” promptly observed Dick; “I fully appreciate it; I only wish we had been cast ashore upon a spot where we should have had no need to intrude upon his generosity.”
“I assure you, madam, it gives me unbounded pleasure to serve you in any way,” said Harris; “it is, as I have told you, not often that I come in contact with any of my own countrymen.”
“Then we accept your offer as frankly as it is made,” replied the lady, adding; “but I cannot consent to deprive you of your horse. I am a very good walker.”
“So
