And then the vatems, the handfuls of reis—the only coins for which the natives of the Amazon exchange their goods—which rained into the pocket of Fragoso, and which he collected with evident satisfaction. But assuredly night would come before he could satisfy the demands of the customers, who were so constantly renewed. It was not only the population of Tabatinga which crowded to the door of the loja. The news of the arrival of Fragoso was not slow to get abroad; natives came to him from all sides: Ticunas from the left bank of the river, Mayorunas from the right bank, as well as those who live on the Cajuru and those who come from the villages of the Javary.
A long array of anxious ones formed itself in the square. The happy ones coming from the hands of Fragoso went proudly from one house to another, showed themselves off without daring to shake themselves, like the big children that they were.
It thus happened that when noon came the much-occupied barber had not had time to return on board, but had had to content himself with a little assai, some manioc flour, and turtle eggs, which he rapidly devoured between two applications of the curling-tongs.
But it was a great harvest for the innkeeper, as all the operations could not be conducted without a large absorption of liquors drawn from the cellars of the inn. In fact, it was an event for the town of Tabatinga, this visit of the celebrated Fragoso, barber in ordinary and extraordinary to the tribes of the Upper Amazon!
XIII
Torres
At five o’clock in the evening Fragoso was still there, and was asking himself if he would have to pass the night on the spot to satisfy the expectant crowd, when a stranger arrived in the square, and seeing all this native gathering, advanced toward the inn.
For some minutes the stranger eyed Fragoso attentively with some circumspection. The examination was obviously satisfactory, for he entered the loja.
He was a man about thirty-five years of age. He was dressed in a somewhat elegant traveling costume, which added much to his personal appearance. But his strong black beard, which the scissors had not touched for some time, and his hair, a trifle long, imperiously required the good offices of a barber.
“Good day, friend, good day!” said he, lightly striking Fragoso on the shoulder.
Fragoso turned round when he heard the words pronounced in pure Brazilian, and not in the mixed idiom of the natives.
“A compatriot?” he asked, without stopping the twisting of the refractory mouth of a Mayouma head.
“Yes,” answered the stranger. “A compatriot who has need of your services.”
“To be sure! In a minute,” said Fragoso. “Wait till I have finished with this lady!”
And this was done in a couple of strokes with the curling-tongs.
Although he was the last comer, and had no right to the vacant place, he sat down on the stool without causing any expostulation on the part of the natives who lost a turn.
Fragoso put down the irons for the scissors, and, after the manner of his brethren, said:
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“Cut my beard and my hair,” answered the stranger.
“All right!” said Fragoso, inserting his comb into the mass of hair.
And then the scissors to do their work.
“And you come from far?” asked Fragoso, who could not work without a good deal to say.
“I have come from the neighborhood of Iquitos.”
“So have I!” exclaimed Fragoso. “I have come down the Amazon from Iquitos to Tabatinga. May I ask your name?”
“No objection at all,” replied the stranger. “My name is Torres.”
When the hair was cut in the latest style Fragoso began to thin his beard, but at this moment, as he was looking straight into his face, he stopped, then began again, and then:
“Eh! Mr. Torres,” said he; “I seem to know you. We must have seen each other somewhere?”
“I do not think so,” quickly answered Torres.
“I am always wrong!” replied Fragoso, and he hurried on to finish his task.
A moment after Torres continued the conversation which this question of Fragoso had interrupted, with:
“How did you come from Iquitos?”
“From Iquitos to Tabatinga?”
“Yes.”
“On board a raft, on which I was given a passage by a worthy fazender who is going down the Amazon with his family.”
“A friend indeed!” replied Torres. “That is a chance, and if your fazender would take me—”
“Do you intend, then, to go down the river?”
“Precisely.”
“Into Para?”
“No, only to Manaos, where I have business.”
“Well, my host is very kind, and I think he would cheerfully oblige you.”
“Do you think so?”
“I might almost say I am sure.”
“And what is the name of this fazender?” asked Torres carelessly.
“Joam Garral,” answered Fragoso.
And at the same time he muttered to himself:
“I certainly have seen this fellow somewhere!”
Torres was not the man to allow a conversation to drop which was likely to interest him, and for very good reasons.
“And so you think Joam Garral would give me a passage?”
“I do not doubt it,” replied Fragoso. “What he would do for a poor chap like me he would not refuse to do for a compatriot like you.”
“Is he alone on board the jangada?”
“No,” replied Fragoso. “I was going to tell you that he is traveling with all his family—and jolly people they are, I assure you. He is accompanied by a crew of Indians and negroes, who form part of the staff at the fazenda.”
“Is he rich?”
“Oh, certainly!” answered Fragoso—“very rich. Even the timber which forms the jangada, and the cargo it carries, constitute a fortune!”
“The Joam Garral and his whole family have just passed the Brazilian frontier?”
“Yes,” said Fragoso; “his wife, his son, his daughter, and Miss
