After catching a glimpse of the hamlet of Tahua-Miri, mounted on its piles as on stilts, as a protection against inundation from the floods, which often sweep up and over these low sand banks, the raft was moored for the night.
His intercourse with the Garral family remained the same. If he spoke little to Joam, he addressed himself more willingly to Yaquita and her daughter, and appeared not to notice the evident coolness with which he was received. They all agreed that when the raft arrived at Manaos, Torres should leave it, and that they would never speak of him again. Yaquita followed the advice of Padre Passanha, who counseled patience, but the good priest had not such an easy task in Manoel, who was quite disposed to put on shore the intruder who had been so unfortunately taken on to the raft.
The only thing that happened on this evening was the following:
A pirogue, going down the river, came alongside the jangada, after being hailed by Joam Garral.
“Are you going to Manaos?” asked he of the Indian who commanded and was steering her.
“Yes,” replied he.
“When will you get there?”
“In eight days.”
“Then you will arrive before we shall. Will you deliver a letter for me?”
“With pleasure.”
“Take this letter, then, my friend, and deliver it at Manaos.”
The Indian took the letter which Joam gave him, and a handful of reis was the price of the commission he had undertaken.
No members of the family, then gone into the house, knew anything of this. Torres was the only witness. He heard a few words exchanged between Joam and the Indian, and from the cloud which passed over his face it was easy to see that the sending of this letter considerably surprised him.
XVII
An Attack
However, if Manoel, to avoid giving rise to a violent scene on board, said nothing on the subject of Torres, he resolved to have an explanation with Benito.
“Benito,” he began, after taking him to the bow of the jangada, “I have something to say to you.”
Benito, generally so good-humored, stopped as he looked at Manoel, and a cloud came over his countenance.
“I know why,” he said; “it is about Torres.”
“Yes, Benito.”
“And I also wish to speak to you.”
“You have then noticed his attention to Minha?” said Manoel, turning pale.
“Ah! It is not a feeling of jealousy, though, that exasperates you against such a man?” said Benito quickly.
“No!” replied Manoel. “Decidedly not! Heaven forbid I should do such an injury to the girl who is to become my wife. No, Benito! She holds the adventurer in horror! I am not thinking anything of that sort; but it distresses me to see this adventurer constantly obtruding himself by his presence and conversation on your mother and sister, and seeking to introduce himself into that intimacy with your family which is already mine.”
“Manoel,” gravely answered Benito, “I share your aversion for this dubious individual, and had I consulted my feelings I would already have driven Torres off the raft! But I dare not!”
“You dare not?” said Manoel, seizing the hand of his friend. “You dare not?”
“Listen to me, Manoel,” continued Benito. “You have observed Torres well, have you not? You have remarked his attentions to my sister! Nothing can be truer! But while you have been noticing that, have you not seen that this annoying man never keeps his eyes off my father, no matter if he is near to him or far from him, and that he seems to have some spiteful secret intention in watching him with such unaccountable persistency?”
“What are you talking about, Benito? Have you any reason to think that Torres bears some grudge against Joam Garral?”
“No! I think nothing!” replied Benito; “it is only a presentiment! But look well at Torres, study his face with care, and you will see what an evil grin he has whenever my father comes into his sight.”
“Well, then,” exclaimed Manoel, “if it is so, Benito, the more reason for clearing him out!”
“More reason—or less reason,” replied Benito. “Manoel, I fear—what? I know not—but to force my father to get rid of Torres would perhaps be imprudent! I repeat it, I am afraid, though no positive fact enables me to explain my fear to myself!”
And Benito seemed to shudder with anger as he said these words.
“Then,” said Manoel, “you think we had better wait?”
“Yes; wait, before doing anything, but above all things let us be on our guard!”
“After all,” answered Manoel, “in twenty days we shall be at Manaos. There Torres must stop. There he will leave us, and we shall be relieved of his presence for good! Till then we must keep our eyes on him!”
“You understand me, Manoel?” asked Benito.
“I understand you, my friend, my brother!” replied Manoel, “although I do not share, and cannot share, your fears! What connection can possibly exist between your father and this adventurer? Evidently your father has never seen him!”
“I do not say that my father knows Torres,” said Benito; “but assuredly it seems to me that Torres knows my father. What was the fellow doing in the neighborhood of the fazenda when we met him in the forest of Iquitos? Why did he then refuse the hospitality which we offered, so as to afterward manage to force himself on us as our traveling companion? We arrive at Tabatinga, and there he is as if he was waiting for us! The probability is that these meetings were in pursuance of a preconceived plan. When I see the shifty, dogged look of Torres, all this crowds on my mind. I do not know! I am losing myself in things that defy explanation! Oh! why did I ever think of offering to take him on board this raft?”
“Be calm, Benito, I pray you!”
“Manoel!” continued Benito, who seemed to be powerless to contain himself, “think you that if it only concerned me—this man who inspires us all with such aversion and disgust—I should not hesitate to throw him overboard! But when it concerns my
