GREEN MANSIONS

A Romance of the Tropical Forest

by W. H. Hudson

FOREWORD

I take up pen for this foreword with the fear of one who knows that hecannot do justice to his subject, and the trembling of one who wouldnot, for a good deal, set down words unpleasing to the eye of him whowrote Green Mansions, The Purple Land, and all those other books whichhave meant so much to me. For of all living authors--now that Tolstoihas gone I could least dispense with W. H. Hudson. Why do I love hiswriting so? I think because he is, of living writers that I read, therarest spirit, and has the clearest gift of conveying to me the natureof that spirit. Writers are to their readers little new worlds to beexplored; and each traveller in the realms of literature must needs havea favourite hunting-ground, which, in his good will--or perhaps merelyin his egoism--he would wish others to share with him. 

The great and abiding misfortunes of most of us writers are twofold: Weare, as worlds, rather common tramping-ground for our readers, rather tame territory; and as guides and dragomans thereto we are toosuperficial, lacking clear intimacy of expression; in fact--like guideor dragoman--we cannot let folk into the real secrets, or show them thespirit, of the land. 

Now, Hudson, whether in a pure romance like this Green Mansions, or inthat romantic piece of realism The Purple Land, or in books like IdleDays in Patagonia, Afoot in England, The Land's End, Adventuresamong Birds, A Shepherd's Life, and all his other nomadic records ofcommunings with men, birds, beasts, and Nature, has a supreme gift ofdisclosing not only the thing he sees but the spirit of his vision. Without apparent effort he takes you with him into a rare, free, naturalworld, and always you are refreshed, stimulated, enlarged, by goingthere. 

He is of course a distinguished naturalist, probably the most acute, broad-minded, and understanding observer of Nature living. And this, inan age of specialism, which loves to put men into pigeonholes and labelthem, has been a misfortune to the reading public, who seeing the labelNaturalist, pass on, and take down the nearest novel. Hudson has indeedthe gifts and knowledge of a Naturalist, but that is a mere fraction ofhis value and interest. A really great writer such as this is no more tobe circumscribed by a single word than America by the part of it calledNew York. The expert knowledge which Hudson has of Nature gives to allhis work backbone and surety of fibre, and to his sense of beauty anintimate actuality. But his real eminence and extraordinary attractionlie in his spirit and philosophy. We feel from his writings that heis nearer to Nature than other men, and yet more truly civilized. Thecompetitive, towny culture, the queer up-to-date commercial knowingnesswith which we are so busy coating ourselves simply will not stick tohim. A passage in his Hampshire Days describes him better than Ican: "The blue sky, the brown soil beneath, the grass, the trees, theanimals, the wind, and rain, and stars are never strange to me; for I amin and of and am one with them; and my flesh and the soil are one, andthe heat in my blood and in the sunshine are one, and the winds and thetempests and my passions are one. I feel the 'strangeness' only withregard to my fellow men, especially in towns, where they exist inconditions unnatural to me, but congenial to them. .. . In such moments wesometimes feel a kinship with, and are strangely drawn to, the dead, who were not as these; the long, long dead, the men who knew not life intowns, and felt no strangeness in sun and wind and rain. " This unspoiledunity with Nature pervades all his writings; they are remote from thefret and dust and pettiness of town life; they are large, direct, free. It is not quite simplicity, for the mind of this writer is subtle andfastidious, sensitive to each motion of natural and human life; but hissensitiveness is somehow different from, almost inimical to, that of usothers, who sit indoors and dip our pens in shades of feeling. Hudson'sfancy is akin to the flight of the birds that are his special loves--itnever seems to have entered a house, but since birth to have beenroaming the air, in rain and sun, or visiting the trees and the grass. I not only disbelieve utterly, but intensely dislike, the doctrine ofmetempsychosis, which, if I understand it aright, seems the negation ofthe creative impulse, an apotheosis of staleness--nothing quite new inthe world, never anything quite new--not even the soul of a baby; andso I am not prepared to entertain the whim that a bird was one of hisremote incarnations; still, in sweep of wing, quickness of eye, andnatural sweet strength of song he is not unlike a super-bird--which isa horrid image. And that reminds me: This, after all, is a foreword toGreen Mansions--the romance of the bird-girl Rima--a story actual yetfantastic, which immortalizes, I think, as passionate a love of allbeautiful things as ever was in the heart of man. Somewhere Hudson says:"The sense of the beautiful is God's best gift to the human soul. " Soit is: and to pass that gift on to others, in such measure as hereinis expressed, must surely have been happiness to him who wrote GreenMansions. In form and spirit the book is unique, a simple romanticnarrative transmuted by sheer glow of beauty into a prose poem. Withoutever departing from its quality of a tale, it symbolizes the yearningof the human soul for the attainment of perfect love and beauty in thislife--that impossible perfection which we must all learn to see fallfrom its high tree and be consumed in the flames, as was Rima thebird-girl, but whose fine white ashes we gather that they may be mingledat last with our own, when we too have been refined by the fire ofdeath's resignation. The book is soaked through and through with astrange beauty. I will not go on singing its praises, or trying to makeit understood, because I have other words to say of its author. 

Do we realize how far our town life and culture have got away fromthings that really matter; how instead of making civilization ourhandmaid to freedom we have set her heel on our necks, and under it bitedust all the time? Hudson, whether he knows it or not, is now the chiefstandard-bearer of another faith. Thus he spake in The Purple Land: "Ah, yes, we are all vainly seeking after happiness in the wrong way. Itwas with us once and ours, but we despised it, for it was only the oldcommon happiness which Nature gives to all her children, and we wentaway from it in search of another grander kind of happiness which somedreamer--Bacon or another--assured us we should find. We had only toconquer Nature, find out her secrets, make her our obedient slave, thenthe Earth would be Eden, and every man Adam and every woman Eve. We arestill marching bravely on, conquering Nature, but how weary and sadwe are getting! The old joy in life and gaiety of heart have vanished, though we do sometimes pause for a few moments in our long forced marchto watch the labours of some pale mechanician, seeking after perpetualmotion, and indulge in a little, dry, cackling laugh at his expense. "And again: "For here the religion that languishes in crowded cities orsteals shamefaced to hide itself in dim churches flourishes greatly, filling the soul with a solemn joy. Face to face with Nature on the vasthills at eventide, who does not feel himself near to the Unseen?

 "Out of his heart God shall not pass His image stamped is on every grass. "

All Hudson's books breathe this spirit of revolt against our newenslavement by towns and machinery, and are true oases in an age sodreadfully resigned to the "pale mechanician. "

But Hudson is not, as Tolstoi was, a conscious prophet; his spirit isfreer, more willful, whimsical--almost perverse--and far more steeped inlove of beauty. If you called him a prophet he would stamp his footat you--as he will at me if he reads these words; but his voice isprophetic, for all that, crying in a wilderness, out of which, at thecall, will spring up roses here and there, and the sweet-smelling grass. I would that every man, woman, and child in England were made to readhim; and I would that you in America would take him to heart. He is atonic, a deep refreshing drink, with a strange and wonderful flavour; heis a mine of new interests, and ways of thought instinctively right. Asa simple narrator he is well-nigh unsurpassed; as a stylist he hasfew, if any, living equals. And in all his work there is an indefinablefreedom from any thought of after-benefit--even from the desire that weshould read him. He puts down what he sees and feels, out of sheer loveof the thing seen, and the emotion felt; the smell of the lamp has nottouched a single page that he ever wrote. That alone is a marvel to uswho know that to write well, even to write clearly, is a wound business, long to learn, hard to learn, and no gift of the angels. Style shouldnot obtrude between a writer and his reader; it should be servant, notmaster. To use words so true and simple that they oppose no obstacleto the flow of thought and feeling from mind to mind, and yet byjuxtaposition of word-sounds set up in the recipient continuing emotionor gratification--this is the essence of style; and Hudson's writing haspre-eminently this double quality. From almost any page of his books anexample might be taken. Here is one no better than a thousand others, adescription of two little girls on a beach: "They were dressed in blackfrocks and scarlet blouses, which set off their beautiful small darkfaces; their eyes sparkled like black diamonds, and their loose hairwas a wonder to see, a black mist or cloud about their heads and neckscomposed of threads fine as gossamer, blacker than jet and shining likespun glass--hair that looked as if no comb or brush could ever tame itsbeautiful wildness. And in spirit they were what they seemed: such awild, joyous, frolicsome spirit, with such grace and fleetness, onedoes not look for in human beings, but only in birds or in some smallbird-like volatile mammal--a squirrel or a spider-monkey of the tropicalforest, or the chinchilla of the desolate mountain slopes; the swiftest, wildest, loveliest, most airy, and most vocal of small beauties. " Orthis, as the quintessence of a sly remark: "After that Mantel got on tohis horse and rode away. It was black and rainy, but he had never neededmoon or lantern to find what he sought by night, whether his ownhouse, or a fat cow--also his own, perhaps. " So one might go on quotingfelicity for ever from this writer. He seems to touch every string withfresh and uninked fingers; and the secret of his power lies, I suspect, in the fact that his words: "Life being more than all else to me. . . "are so utterly true. 

I do not descant on his love for simple folk and simple things, hischampionship of the weak, and the revolt against the cagings andcruelties of life, whether to men or birds or beasts, that springs outof him as if against his will; because, having spoken of him as one witha vital philosophy or faith, I don't wish to draw red herrings acrossthe main trail of his worth to the world. His work is a vision ofnatural beauty and of human life as it might be, quickened and sweetenedby the sun and the wind and the rain, and by fellowship with all theother forms of life--the truest vision now being given to us, who aremore in want of it than any generation has ever been. A very greatwriter; and--to my thinking--the most valuable our age possesses. 

JOHN GALSWORTHY

September 1915 Manaton: Devon

GREEN MANSIONS

PROLOGUE

It is a cause of very great regret to me that this task has taken somuch longer a time than I had expected for its completion. It isnow many months--over a year, in fact--since I wrote to Georgetownannouncing my intention of publishing, IN A VERY FEW MONTHS, the wholetruth about Mr. Abel. Hardly less could have been looked for from hisnearest friend, and I had hoped that the discussion in the newspaperswould have ceased, at all events, until the appearance of the promisedbook. It has not been so; and at this distance from Guiana I was notaware of how much conjectural matter was being printed week by week inthe local press, some of which must have been painful reading to Mr. Abel's friends. A darkened chamber, the existence of which had neverbeen suspected in that familiar house in Main Street, furnishedonly with an ebony stand on which stood a cinerary urn, its surfaceornamented with flower and leaf and thorn, and winding through it allthe figure of a serpent; an inscription, too, of seven short words whichno one could understand or rightly interpret; and finally the disposalof the mysterious ashes--that was all there was relating to an untoldchapter in a man's life for imagination to work on. Let us hope thatnow, at last, the romance-weaving will come to an end. It was, however, but natural that the keenest curiosity should have been excited; notonly because of that peculiar and indescribable charm of the man, whichall recognized and which won all hearts, but also because of that hiddenchapter--that sojourn in the desert, about which he preserved silence. It was felt in a vague way by his intimates that he had met with unusualexperiences which had profoundly affected him and changed the course ofhis life. To me alone was the truth known, and I must now tell, brieflyas possible, how my great friendship and close intimacy with him cameabout. 

When, in 1887, I arrived in Georgetown to take up an appointment in apublic office, I found Mr. Abel an old resident there, a man of meansand a favourite in society. Yet he was an alien, a Venezuelan, oneof that turbulent people on our border whom the colonists have alwayslooked on as their natural enemies. The story told to me was that abouttwelve years before that time he had arrived at Georgetown from someremote district in the interior; that he had journeyed alone on footacross half the continent to the coast, and had first appeared amongthem, a young stranger, penniless, in rags, wasted almost to a skeletonby fever and misery of all kinds, his face blackened by long exposureto sun and wind. Friendless, with but little English, it was a hardstruggle for him to live; but he managed somehow, and eventually lettersfrom Caracas informed him that a considerable property of which he hadbeen deprived was once more his own, and he was also invited to returnto his country to take his part in the government of the Republic. ButMr. Abel, though young, had already outlived political passions andaspirations, and, apparently, even the love of his country; at allevents, he elected to stay where he was--his enemies, he would saysmilingly, were his best friends--and one of the first uses he made ofhis fortune was to buy that house in Main Street which was afterwardslike a home to me. 

I must state here that my friend's full name was Abel Guevez deArgensola, but in his early days in Georgetown he was called by hisChristian name only, and later he wished to be known simply as "Mr. Abel. "

I had no sooner made his acquaintance than I ceased to wonder at theesteem and even affection with which he, a Venezuelan, was regarded inthis British colony. All knew and liked him, and the reason of it wasthe personal charm of the man, his kindly disposition, his manner withwomen, which pleased them and excited no man's jealousy--not eventhe old hot-tempered planter's, with a very young and pretty andlight-headed wife--his love of little children, of all wild creatures, of nature, and of whatsoever was furthest removed from the commonmaterial interests and concerns of a purely commercial community. The things which excited other men--politics, sport, and the price ofcrystals--were outside of his thoughts; and when men had done withthem for a season, when like the tempest they had "blown their fill" inoffice and club-room and house and wanted a change, it was a relief toturn to Mr. Abel and get him to discourse of his world--the world ofnature and of the spirit. 

It was, all felt, a good thing to have a Mr. Abel in Georgetown. Thatit was indeed good for me I quickly discovered. I had certainlynot expected to meet in such a place with any person to share mytastes--that love of poetry which has been the chief passion and delightof my life; but such a one I had found in Mr. Abel. It surprised methat he, suckled on the literature of Spain, and a reader of only ten ortwelve years of English literature, possessed a knowledge of our modernpoetry as intimate as my own, and a love of it equally great. Thisfeeling brought us together and made us two--the nervous olive-skinnedHispano-American of the tropics and the phlegmatic blue-eyed Saxon ofthe cold north--one in spirit and more than brothers. Many were thedaylight hours we spent together and "tired the sun with talking"; many, past counting, the precious evenings in that restful house of his whereI was an almost daily guest. I had not looked for such happiness; nor, he often said, had he. A result of this intimacy was that the vague ideaconcerning his hidden past, that some unusual experience had profoundlyaffected him and perhaps changed the whole course of his life, did notdiminish, but, on the contrary, became accentuated, and was often inmy mind. The change in him was almost painful to witness whenever ourwandering talk touched on the subject of the aborigines, and of theknowledge he had acquired of their character and languages whenliving or travelling among them; all that made his conversation mostengaging--the lively, curious mind, the wit, the gaiety of spirittinged with a tender melancholy--appeared to fade out of it; even theexpression of his face would change, becoming hard and set, and he woulddeal you out facts in a dry mechanical way as if reading them in a book. It grieved me to note this, but I dropped no hint of such a feeling, andwould never have spoken about it but for a quarrel which came at last tomake the one brief solitary break in that close friendship of years. I got into a bad state of health, and Abel was not only much concernedabout it, but annoyed, as if I had not treated him well by being ill, and he would even say that I could get well if I wished to. I did nottake this seriously, but one morning, when calling to see me at theoffice, he attacked me in a way that made me downright angry with him. He told me that indolence and the use of stimulants was the cause ofmy bad health. He spoke in a mocking way, with a presence of not quitemeaning it, but the feeling could not be wholly disguised. Stung by hisreproaches, I blurted out that he had no right to talk to me, evenin fun, in such a way. Yes, he said, getting serious, he had the bestright--that of our friendship. He would be no true friend if he kept hispeace about such a matter. Then, in my haste, I retorted that to me thefriendship between us did not seem so perfect and complete as it did tohim. One condition of friendship is that the partners in it should beknown to each other. He had had my whole life and mind open to him, toread it as in a book. HIS life was a closed and clasped volume to me. 

His face darkened, and after a few moments' silent reflection he got upand left me with a cold good-bye, and without that hand-grasp which hadbeen customary between us. 

After his departure I had the feeling that a great loss, a greatcalamity, had befallen me, but I was still smarting at his too candidcriticism, all the more because in my heart I acknowledged its truth. And that night, lying awake, I repented of the cruel retort I had made, and resolved to ask his forgiveness and leave it to him to determinethe question of our future relations. But he was beforehand with me, andwith the morning came a letter begging my forgiveness and asking me togo that evening to dine with him. 

We were alone, and during dinner and afterwards, when we sat smoking andsipping black coffee in the veranda, we were unusually quiet, even togravity, which caused the two white-clad servants that waited on us--thebrown-faced subtle-eyed old Hindu butler and an almost blue-black youngGuiana Negro--to direct many furtive glances at their master's face. They were accustomed to see him in a more genial mood when he had afriend to dine. To me the change in his manner was not surprising: fromthe moment of seeing him I had divined that he had determined to openthe shut and clasped volume of which I had spoken--that the time had nowcome for him to speak. 

CHAPTER I

Now that we are cool, he said, and regret that we hurt each other, I amnot sorry that it happened. I deserved your reproach: a hundred timesI have wished to tell you the whole story of my travels and adventuresamong the savages, and one of the reasons which prevented me was thefear that it would have an unfortunate effect on our friendship. Thatwas precious, and I desired above everything to keep it. But I mustthink no more about that now. I must think only of how I am to tell youmy story. I will begin at a time when I was twenty-three. It was earlyin life to be in the thick of politics, and in trouble to the extent ofhaving to fly my country to save my liberty, perhaps my life. 

Every nation, someone remarks, has the government it deserves, andVenezuela certainly has the one it deserves and that suits it best. Wecall it a republic, not only because it is not one, but also because athing must have a name; and to have a good name, or a fine name, isvery convenient--especially when you want to borrow money. If theVenezuelans, thinly distributed over an area of half a million squaremiles, mostly illiterate peasants, half-breeds, and indigenes, wereeducated, intelligent men, zealous only for the public weal, it wouldbe possible for them to have a real republic. They have insteada government by cliques, tempered by revolution; and a very goodgovernment it is, in harmony with the physical conditions of the countryand the national temperament. Now, it happens that the educated men, representing your higher classes, are so few that there are not manypersons unconnected by ties of blood or marriage with prominent membersof the political groups to which they belong. By this you will see howeasy and almost inevitable it is that we should become accustomed tolook on conspiracy and revolt against the regnant party--the men ofanother clique--as only in the natural order of things. In the eventof failure such outbreaks are punished, but they are not regarded asimmoral. On the contrary, men of the highest intelligence and virtueamong us are seen taking a leading part in these adventures. Whethersuch a condition of things is intrinsically wrong or not, or would bewrong in some circumstances and is not wrong, because inevitable, inothers, I cannot pretend to decide; and all this tiresome profusionis only to enable you to understand how I--a young man of unblemishedcharacter, not a soldier by profession, not ambitious of politicaldistinction, wealthy for that country, popular in society, a lover ofsocial pleasures, of books, of nature actuated, as I believed, by thehighest motives, allowed myself to be drawn very readily by friends andrelations into a conspiracy to overthrow the government of the moment, with the object of replacing it by more worthy men ourselves, to wit. 

Our adventure failed because the authorities got wind of the affairand matters were precipitated. Our leaders at the moment happened to bescattered over the country--some were abroad; and a few hotheaded menof the party, who were in Caracas just then and probably feared arrest, struck a rash blow: the President was attacked in the street andwounded. But the attackers were seized, and some of them shot on thefollowing day. When the news reached me I was at a distance from thecapital, staying with a friend on an estate he owned on the RiverQuebrada Honda, in the State of Guarico, some fifteen to twenty milesfrom the town of Zaraza. My friend, an officer in the army, was a leaderin the conspiracy; and as I was the only son of a man who had beengreatly hated by the Minister of War, it became necessary for us bothto fly for our lives. In the circumstances we could not look to bepardoned, even on the score of youth. 

Our first decision was to escape to the sea-coast; but as the risk of ajourney to La Guayra, or any other port of embarkation on the northside of the country, seemed too great, we made our way in a contrarydirection to the Orinoco, and downstream to Angostura. Now, when we hadreached this comparatively safe breathing-place--safe, at all events, for the moment--I changed my mind about leaving or attempting to leavethe country. Since boyhood I had taken a very peculiar interest in thatvast and almost unexplored territory we possess south of the Orinoco, with its countless unmapped rivers and trackless forests; and inits savage inhabitants, with their ancient customs and character, unadulterated by contact with Europeans. To visit this primitivewilderness had been a cherished dream; and I had to some extent evenprepared myself for such an adventure by mastering more than one of theIndian dialects of the northern states of Venezuela. And now, findingmyself on the south side of our great river, with unlimited time atmy disposal, I determined to gratify this wish. My companion took hisdeparture towards the coast, while I set about making preparations andhunting up information from those who had travelled in the interior totrade with the savages. I decided eventually to go back upstream andpenetrate to the interior in the western part of Guayana, and theAmazonian territory bordering on Colombia and Brazil, and to return toAngostura in about six months' time. I had no fear of being arrestedin the semi-independent and in most part savage region, as the Guayanaauthorities concerned themselves little enough about the politicalupheavals at Caracas. 

The first five or six months I spent in Guayana, after leaving the cityof refuge, were eventful enough to satisfy a moderately adventurousspirit. A complaisant government employee at Angostura had providedme with a passport, in which it was set down (for few to read) that myobject in visiting the interior was to collect information concerningthe native tribes, the vegetable products of the country, and otherknowledge which would be of advantage to the Republic; and theauthorities were requested to afford me protection and assist me in mypursuits. I ascended the Orinoco, making occasional expeditions to thesmall Christian settlements in the neighbourhood of the right bank, alsoto the Indian villages; and travelling in this way, seeing and learningmuch, in about three months I reached the River Metal. During thisperiod I amused myself by keeping a journal, a record of personaladventures, impressions of the country and people, both semi-civilizedand savage; and as my journal grew, I began to think that on my returnat some future time to Caracas, it might prove useful and interesting tothe public, and also procure me fame; which thought proved pleasurableand a great incentive, so that I began to observe things more narrowlyand to study expression. But the book was not to be. 

From the mouth of the Meta I journeyed on, intending to visit thesettlement of Atahapo, where the great River Guaviare, with otherrivers, empties itself into the Orinoco. But I was not destined to reachit, for at the small settlement of Manapuri I fell ill of a low fever;and here ended the first half-year of my wanderings, about which no moreneed be told. 

A more miserable place than Manapuri for a man to be ill of a low feverin could not well be imagined. The settlement, composed of mean hovels, with a few large structures of mud, or plastered wattle, thatchedwith palm leaves, was surrounded by water, marsh, and forest, thebreeding-place of myriads of croaking frogs and of clouds of mosquitoes;even to one in perfect health existence in such a place would havebeen a burden. The inhabitants mustered about eighty or ninety, mostlyIndians of that degenerate class frequently to be met with in smalltrading outposts. The savages of Guayana are great drinkers, but notdrunkards in our sense, since their fermented liquors contain solittle alcohol that inordinate quantities must be swallowed to produceintoxication; in the settlements they prefer the white man's more potentpoisons, with the result that in a small place like Manapuri one can seeenacted, as on a stage, the last act in the great American tragedy. Tobe succeeded, doubtless, by other and possibly greater tragedies. Mythoughts at that period of suffering were pessimistic in the extreme. Sometimes, when the almost continuous rain held up for half a day, Iwould manage to creep out a short distance; but I was almost past makingany exertion, scarcely caring to live, and taking absolutely no interestin the news from Caracas, which reached me at long intervals. At the endof two months, feeling a slight improvement in my health, and with it areturning interest in life and its affairs, it occurred to me to getout my diary and write a brief account of my sojourn at Manapuri. I hadplaced it for safety in a small deal box, lent to me for the purposeby a Venezuelan trader, an old resident at the settlement, by namePantaleon--called by all Don Panta--one who openly kept half a dozenIndian wives in his house, and was noted for his dishonesty and greed, but who had proved himself a good friend to me. The box was in a cornerof the wretched palm-thatched hovel I inhabited; but on taking it out Idiscovered that for several weeks the rain had been dripping on it, andthat the manuscript was reduced to a sodden pulp. I flung it upon thefloor with a curse and threw myself back on my bed with a groan. 

In that desponding state I was found by my friend Panta, who wasconstant in his visits at all hours; and when in answer to his anxiousinquiries I pointed to the pulpy mass on the mud floor, he turned itover with his foot, and then, bursting into a loud laugh, kicked it out, remarking that he had mistaken the object for some unknown reptile thathad crawled in out of the rain. He affected to be astonished that Ishould regret its loss. It was all a true narrative, he exclaimed; ifI wished to write a book for the stay-at-homes to read, I could easilyinvent a thousand lies far more entertaining than any real experiences. He had come to me, he said, to propose something. He had lived twentyyears at that place, and had got accustomed to the climate, but it wouldnot do for me to remain any longer if I wished to live. I must go awayat once to a different country--to the mountains, where it was open anddry. "And if you want quinine when you are there, " he concluded, "smellthe wind when it blows from the south-west, and you will inhale it intoyour system, fresh from the forest. " When I remarked despondingly thatin my condition it would be impossible to quit Manapuri, he went on tosay that a small party of Indians was now in the settlement; that theyhad come, not only to trade, but to visit one of their own tribe, whowas his wife, purchased some years ago from her father. "And the moneyshe cost me I have never regretted to this day, " said he, "for she is agood wife not jealous, " he added, with a curse on all the others. TheseIndians came all the way from the Queneveta mountains, and were of theMaquiritari tribe. He, Panta, and, better still, his good wife wouldinterest them on my behalf, and for a suitable reward they would take meby slow, easy stages to their own country, where I would be treated welland recover my health. 

This proposal, after I had considered it well, produced so good aneffect on me that I not only gave a glad consent, but, on the followingday, I was able to get about and begin the preparations for my journeywith some spirit. 

In about eight days I bade good-bye to my generous friend Panta, whom Iregarded, after having seen much of him, as a kind of savage beast thathad sprung on me, not to rend, but to rescue from death; for weknow that even cruel savage brutes and evil men have at times sweet, beneficent impulses, during which they act in a way contrary to theirnatures, like passive agents of some higher power. It was a continualpain to travel in my weak condition, and the patience of my Indianswas severely taxed; but they did not forsake me; and at last the entiredistance, which I conjectured to be about sixty-five leagues, wasaccomplished; and at the end I was actually stronger and better inevery way than at the start. From this time my progress towards completerecovery was rapid. The air, with or without any medicinal virtue blownfrom the cinchona trees in the far-off Andean forest, was tonic; andwhen I took my walks on the hillside above the Indian village, or laterwhen able to climb to the summits, the world as seen from thosewild Queneveta mountains had a largeness and varied glory of scenerypeculiarly refreshing and delightful to the soul. 

With the Maquiritari tribe I passed some weeks, and the sweet sensationsof returning health made me happy for a time; but such sensations seldomoutlast convalescence. I was no sooner well again than I began to feela restless spirit stirring in me. The monotony of savage life in thisplace became intolerable. After my long listless period the reaction hadcome, and I wished only for action, adventure--no matter how dangerous;and for new scenes, new faces, new dialects. In the end I conceived theidea of going on to the Casiquiare river, where I would find a few smallsettlements, and perhaps obtain help from the authorities there whichwould enable me to reach the Rio Negro. For it was now in my mind tofollow that river to the Amazons, and so down to Para and the Atlanticcoast. 

Leaving the Queneveta range, I started with two of the Indians as guidesand travelling companions; but their journey ended only half-way to theriver I wished to reach; and they left me with some friendly savagesliving on the Chunapay, a tributary of the Cunucumana, which flows tothe Orinoco. Here I had no choice but to wait until an opportunity ofattaching myself to some party of travelling Indians going south-westshould arrive; for by this time I had expended the whole of my smallcapital in ornaments and calico brought from Manapuri, so that I couldno longer purchase any man's service. And perhaps it will be as wellto state at this point just what I possessed. For some time I had wornnothing but sandals to protect my feet; my garments consisted of asingle suit, and one flannel shirt, which I washed frequently, goingshirtless while it was drying. Fortunately I had an excellent blue clothcloak, durable and handsome, given to me by a friend at Angostura, whoseprophecy on presenting it, that it would outlast ME, very nearly cametrue. It served as a covering by night, and to keep a man warm andcomfortable when travelling in cold and wet weather no better garmentwas ever made. I had a revolver and metal cartridge-box in my broadleather belt, also a good hunting-knife with strong buckhorn handle anda heavy blade about nine inches long. In the pocket of my cloak I had apretty silver tinder-box, and a match-box--to be mentioned again in thisnarrative--and one or two other trifling objects; these I was determinedto keep until they could be kept no longer. 

During the tedious interval of waiting on the Chunapay I was told aflattering tale by the village Indians, which eventually caused meto abandon the proposed journey to the Rio Negro. These Indians worenecklets, like nearly all the Guayana savages; but one, I observed, possessed a necklet unlike that of the others, which greatly aroused mycuriosity. It was made of thirteen gold plates, irregular in form, aboutas broad as a man's thumb-nail, and linked together with fibres. I wasallowed to examine it, and had no doubt that the pieces were of puregold, beaten flat by the savages. When questioned about it, they saidit was originally obtained from the Indians of Parahuari, and Parahuari, they further said, was a mountainous country west of the Orinoco. Everyman and woman in that place, they assured me, had such a necklet. Thisreport inflamed my mind to such a degree that I could not rest by nightor day for dreaming golden dreams, and considering how to get to thatrich district, unknown to civilized men. The Indians gravely shook theirheads when I tried to persuade them to take me. They were far enoughfrom the Orinoco, and Parahuari was ten, perhaps fifteen, days' journeyfurther on--a country unknown to them, where they had no relations. 

In spite of difficulties and delays, however, and not without pain andsome perilous adventures, I succeeded at last in reaching the upperOrinoco, and, eventually, in crossing to the other side. With my lifein my hand I struggled on westward through an unknown difficult country, from Indian village to village, where at any moment I might have beenmurdered with impunity for the sake of my few belongings. It is hard forme to speak a good word for the Guayana savages; but I must now say thisof them, that they not only did me no harm when I was at their mercyduring this long journey, but they gave me shelter in their villages, and fed me when I was hungry, and helped me on my way when I could makeno return. You must not, however, run away with the idea that there isany sweetness in their disposition, any humane or benevolent instinctssuch as are found among the civilized nations: far from it. I regardthem now, and, fortunately for me, I regarded them then, when, as I havesaid, I was at their mercy, as beasts of prey, plus a cunning or lowkind of intelligence vastly greater than that of the brute; and, foronly morality, that respect for the rights of other members of the samefamily, or tribe, without which even the rudest communities cannot holdtogether. How, then, could I do this thing, and dwell and travel freely, without receiving harm, among tribes that have no peace with and nokindly feelings towards the stranger, in a district where the whiteman is rarely or never seen? Because I knew them so well. Without thatknowledge, always available, and an extreme facility in acquiring newdialects, which had increased by practice until it was almost likeintuition, I should have fared badly after leaving the Maquiritaritribe. As it was, I had two or three very narrow escapes. 

To return from this digression. I looked at last on the famous Parahuarimountains, which, I was greatly surprised to find, were after allnothing but hills, and not very high ones. This, however, did notimpress me. The very fact that Parahuari possessed no imposing featurein its scenery seemed rather to prove that it must be rich in gold: howelse could its name and the fame of its treasures be familiar to peopledwelling so far away as the Cunucumana?

But there was no gold. I searched through the whole range, which wasabout seven leagues long, and visited the villages, where I talked muchwith the Indians, interrogating them, and they had no necklets ofgold, nor gold in any form; nor had they ever heard of its presence inParahuari or in any other place known to them. 

The very last village where I spoke on the subject of my quest, albeitnow without hope, was about a league from the western extremity of therange, in the midst of a high broken country of forest and savannah andmany swift streams; near one of these, called the Curicay, the villagestood, among low scattered trees--a large building, in which all thepeople, numbering eighteen, passed most of their time when not hunting, with two smaller buildings attached to it. The head, or chief, Runi byname, was about fifty years old, a taciturn, finely formed, and somewhatdignified savage, who was either of a sullen disposition or not wellpleased at the intrusion of a white man. And for a time I made noattempt to conciliate him. What profit was there in it at all? Eventhat light mask, which I had worn so long and with such good effect, incommoded me now: I would cast it aside and be myself--silent andsullen as my barbarous host. If any malignant purpose was taking formin his mind, let it, and let him do his worst; for when failure firststares a man in the face, it has so dark and repellent a look that notanything that can be added can make him more miserable; nor has he anyapprehension. For weeks I had been searching with eager, feverisheyes in every village, in every rocky crevice, in every noisy mountainstreamlet, for the glittering yellow dust I had travelled so far tofind. And now all my beautiful dreams--all the pleasure and power tobe--had vanished like a mere mirage on the savannah at noon. 

It was a day of despair which I spent in this place, sitting all dayindoors, for it was raining hard, immersed in my own gloomy thoughts, pretending to doze in my seat, and out of the narrow slits of myhalf-closed eyes seeing the others, also sitting or moving about, likeshadows or people in a dream; and I cared nothing about them, and wishednot to seem friendly, even for the sake of the food they might offer meby and by. 

Towards evening the rain ceased; and rising up I went out a shortdistance to the neighbouring stream, where I sat on a stone and, castingoff my sandals, laved my bruised feet in the cool running water. Thewestern half of the sky was blue again with that tender lucid blueseen after rain, but the leaves still glittered with water, and the wettrunks looked almost black under the green foliage. The rare lovelinessof the scene touched and lightened my heart. Away back in the eastthe hills of Parahuari, with the level sun full on them, loomed with astrange glory against the grey rainy clouds drawing off on that side, and their new mystic beauty almost made me forget how these same hillshad wearied, and hurt, and mocked me. On that side, also to the northand south, there was open forest, but to the west a different prospectmet the eye. Beyond the stream and the strip of verdure that fringed it, and the few scattered dwarf trees growing near its banks, spread a brownsavannah sloping upwards to a long, low, rocky ridge, beyond which rosea great solitary hill, or rather mountain, conical in form, and clothedin forest almost to the summit. This was the mountain Ytaioa, the chieflandmark in that district. As the sun went down over the ridge, beyondthe savannah, the whole western sky changed to a delicate rose colourthat had the appearance of rose-coloured smoke blown there by some faroff-wind, and left suspended--a thin, brilliant veil showing through itthe distant sky beyond, blue and ethereal. Flocks of birds, a kind oftroupial, were flying past me overhead, flock succeeding flock, on theirway to their roosting-place, uttering as they flew a clear, bell-likechirp; and there was something ethereal too in those drops of melodioussound, which fell into my heart like raindrops falling into a pool tomix their fresh heavenly water with the water of earth. 

Doubtless into the turbid tarn of my heart some sacred drops hadfallen--from the passing birds, from that crimson disk which had nowdropped below the horizon, the darkening hills, the rose and blue ofinfinite heaven, from the whole visible circle; and I felt purifiedand had a strange sense and apprehension of a secret innocence andspirituality in nature--a prescience of some bourn, incalculably distantperhaps, to which we are all moving; of a time when the heavenly rainshall have washed us clean from all spot and blemish. This unexpectedpeace which I had found now seemed to me of infinitely greater valuethan that yellow metal I had missed finding, with all its possibilities. My wish now was to rest for a season at this spot, so remote and lovelyand peaceful, where I had experienced such unusual feelings and such ablessed disillusionment. 

This was the end of my second period in Guayana: the first had beenfilled with that dream of a book to win me fame in my country, perhapseven in Europe; the second, from the time of leaving the Quenevetamountains, with the dream of boundless wealth--the old dream of goldin this region that has drawn so many minds since the days of FranciscoPizarro. But to remain I must propitiate Runi, sitting silent withgloomy brows over there indoors; and he did not appear to me like onethat might be won with words, however flattering. It was clear tome that the time had come to part with my one remaining valuabletrinket--the tinder-box of chased silver. 

I returned to the house and, going in, seated myself on a log by thefire, just opposite to my grim host, who was smoking and appeared notto have moved since I left him. I made myself a cigarette, then drew outthe tinder-box, with its flint and steel attached to it by means oftwo small silver chains. His eyes brightened a little as they curiouslywatched my movements, and he pointed without speaking to the glowingcoals of fire at my feet. I shook my head, and striking the steel, sentout a brilliant spray of sparks, then blew on the tinder and lit mycigarette. 

This done, instead of returning the box to my pocket I passed the chainthrough the buttonhole of my cloak and let it dangle on my breast asan ornament. When the cigarette was smoked, I cleared my throat in theorthodox manner and fixed my eyes on Runi, who, on his part, made aslight movement to indicate that he was ready to listen to what I had tosay. 

My speech was long, lasting at least half an hour, delivered ina profound silence; it was chiefly occupied with an account of mywanderings in Guayana; and being little more than a catalogue of namesof all the places I had visited, and the tribes and chief or head menwith whom I had come in contact, I was able to speak continuously, andso to hide my ignorance of a dialect which was still new to me. The Guayana savage judges a man for his staying powers. To stand asmotionless as a bronze statue for one or two hours watching for abird; to sit or lie still for half a day; to endure pain, not seldomself-inflicted, without wincing; and when delivering a speech to pourit out in a copious stream, without pausing to take breath or hesitatingover a word--to be able to do all this is to prove yourself a man, anequal, one to be respected and even made a friend of. What I reallywished to say to him was put in a few words at the conclusion of mywell-nigh meaningless oration. Everywhere, I said, I had been theIndian's friend, and I wished to be his friend, to live with him atParahuari, even as I had lived with other chiefs and heads of villagesand families; to be looked on by him, as these others had looked on me, not as a stranger or a white man, but as a friend, a brother, an Indian. 

I ceased speaking, and there was a slight murmurous sound in the room, as of wind long pent up in many lungs suddenly exhaled; while Runi, still unmoved, emitted a low grunt. Then I rose, and detaching thesilver ornament from my cloak, presented it to him. He accepted it; notvery graciously, as a stranger to these people might have imagined; butI was satisfied, feeling sure that I had made a favourable impression. After a little he handed the box to the person sitting next to him, whoexamined it and passed it on to a third, and in this way it went roundand came back once more to Runi. Then he called for a drink. Therehappened to be a store of casserie in the house; probably the women hadbeen busy for some days past in making it, little thinking that it wasdestined to be prematurely consumed. A large jarful was produced; Runipolitely quaffed the first cup; I followed; then the others; and thewomen drank also, a woman taking about one cupful to a man's three. Runi and I, however, drank the most, for we had our positions as the twoprincipal personages there to maintain. Tongues were loosened now; forthe alcohol, small as the quantity contained in this mild liquor is, hadbegun to tell on our brains. I had not their pottle-shaped stomach, madeto hold unlimited quantities of meat and drink; but I was determined onthis most important occasion not to deserve my host's contempt--to becompared, perhaps, to the small bird that delicately picks up six dropsof water in its bill and is satisfied. I would measure my strengthagainst his, and if necessary drink myself into a state ofinsensibility. 

At last I was scarcely able to stand on my legs. But even the seasonedold savage was affected by this time. In vino veritas, said theancients; and the principle holds good where there is no vinum, but onlymild casserie. Runi now informed me that he had once known a white man, that he was a bad man, which had caused him to say that all white menwere bad; even as David, still more sweepingly, had proclaimed that allmen were liars. Now he found that it was not so, that I was a good man. His friendliness increased with intoxication. He presented me with acurious little tinder-box, made from the conical tail of an armadillo, hollowed out, and provided with a wooden stopper--this to be used inplace of the box I had deprived myself of. He also furnished me with agrass hammock, and had it hung up there and then, so that I could liedown when inclined. There was nothing he would not do for me. And atlast, when many more cups had been emptied, and a third or fourth jarbrought out, he began to unburthen his heart of its dark and dangeroussecrets. He shed tears--for the "man without at ear" dwells not in thewoods of Guayana: tears for those who had been treacherously slain longyears ago; for his father, who had been killed by Tripica, the fatherof Managa, who was still above ground. But let him and all his peoplebeware of Runi. He had spilt their blood before, he had fed the fox andvulture with their flesh, and would never rest while Managa lived withhis people at Uritay--the five hills of Uritay, which were two days'journey from Parahuari. While thus talking of his old enemy he lashedhimself into a kind of frenzy, smiting his chest and gnashing his teeth;and finally seizing a spear, he buried its point deep into the clayfloor, only to wrench it out and strike it into the earth again andagain, to show how he would serve Managa, and any one of Managa's peoplehe might meet with--man, woman, or child. Then he staggered out from thedoor to flourish his spear; and looking to the north-west, he shoutedaloud to Managa to come and slay his people and burn down his house, ashe had so often threatened to do. 

"Let him come! Let Managa come!" I cried, staggering out after him. "Iam your friend, your brother; I have no spear and no arrows, but I havethis--this!" And here I drew out and flourished my revolver. "Where isManaga?" I continued. "Where are the hills of Uritay?" He pointed toa star low down in the south-west. "Then, " I shouted, "let this bulletfind Managa, sitting by the fire among his people, and let him fall andpour out his blood on the ground!" And with that I discharged my pistolin the direction he had pointed to. A scream of terror burst out fromthe women and children, while Runi at my side, in an access of fiercedelight and admiration, turned and embraced me. It was the first andlast embrace I ever suffered from a naked male savage, and althoughthis did not seem a time for fastidious feelings, to be hugged to hissweltering body was an unpleasant experience. 

More cups of casserie followed this outburst; and at last, unable tokeep it up any longer, I staggered to my hammock; but being unable toget into it, Runi, overflowing with kindness, came to my assistance, whereupon we fell and rolled together on the floor. Finally I was raisedby the others and tumbled into my swinging bed, and fell at once into adeep, dreamless sleep, from which I did not awake until after sunrise onthe following morning. 

CHAPTER II

It is fortunate that casserie is manufactured by an extremely slow, laborious process, since the women, who are the drink-makers, in thefirst place have to reduce the material (cassava bread) to a pulp bymeans of their own molars, after which it is watered down and put awayin troughs to ferment. Great is the diligence of these willing slaves;but, work how they will, they can only satisfy their lords' love ofa big drink at long intervals. Such a function as that at which I hadassisted is therefore the result of much patient mastication and silentfermentation--the delicate flower of a plant that has been a long timegrowing. 

Having now established myself as one of the family, at the cost of somedisagreeable sensations and a pang or two of self-disgust, I resolvedto let nothing further trouble me at Parahuari, but to live theeasy, careless life of the idle man, joining in hunting and fishingexpeditions when in the mood; at other times enjoying existence in myown way, apart from my fellows, conversing with wild nature in thatsolitary place. Besides Runi, there were, in our little community, twooldish men, his cousins I believe, who had wives and grown-upchildren. Another family consisted of Piake, Runi's nephew, his brotherKua-ko--about whom there will be much to say--and a sister Oalava. Piakehad a wife and two children; Kua-ko was unmarried and about nineteen ortwenty years old; Oalava was the youngest of the three. Last of all, who should perhaps have been first, was Runi's mother, called Cla-cla, probably in imitation of the cry of some bird, for in these latitudes aperson is rarely, perhaps never, called by his or her real name, whichis a secret jealously preserved, even from near relations. I believethat Cla-cla herself was the only living being who knew the name herparents had bestowed on her at birth. She was a very old woman, sparein figure, brown as old sun-baked leather, her face written over withinnumerable wrinkles, and her long coarse hair perfectly white; yet shewas exceedingly active, and seemed to do more work than any other womanin the community; more than that, when the day's toil was over andnothing remained for the others to do, then Cla-cla's night work wouldbegin; and this was to talk all the others, or at all events all themen, to sleep. She was like a self-regulating machine, and punctuallyevery evening, when the door was closed, and the night fire made up, andevery man in his hammock, she would set herself going, telling the mostinterminable stories, until the last listener was fast asleep; laterin the night, if any man woke with a snort or grunt, off she would goagain, taking up the thread of the tale where she had dropped it. 

Old Cla-cla amused me very much, by night and day, and I seldom tired ofwatching her owlish countenance as she sat by the fire, never allowingit to sink low for want of fuel; always studying the pot when it was onto simmer, and at the same time attending to the movements of the othersabout her, ready at a moment's notice to give assistance or to dart outon a stray chicken or refractory child. 

So much did she amuse me, although without intending it, that Ithought it would be only fair, in my turn, to do something for herentertainment. I was engaged one day in shaping a wooden foil with myknife, whistling and singing snatches of old melodies at my work, when all at once I caught sight of the ancient dame looking greatlydelighted, chuckling internally, nodding her head, and keeping timewith her hands. Evidently she was able to appreciate a style of musicsuperior to that of the aboriginals, and forthwith I abandoned my foilsfor the time and set about the manufacture of a guitar, which costme much labour and brought out more ingenuity than I had ever thoughtmyself capable of. To reduce the wood to the right thinness, then tobend and fasten it with wooden pegs and with gums, to add the arm, frets, keys, and finally the catgut strings--those of another kind beingout of the question--kept me busy for some days. When completed it wasa rude instrument, scarcely tunable; nevertheless when I smote thestrings, playing lively music, or accompanied myself in singing, I foundthat it was a great success, and so was as much pleased with my ownperformance as if I had had the most perfect guitar ever made in oldSpain. I also skipped about the floor, strum-strumming at the same time, instructing them in the most lively dances of the whites, in which thefeet must be as nimble as the player's fingers. It is true that theseexhibitions were always witnessed by the adults with a profound gravity, which would have disheartened a stranger to their ways. They were a setof hollow bronze statues that looked at me, but I knew that the livinganimals inside of them were tickled at my singing, strumming, andpirouetting. Cla-cla was, however, an exception, and encouraged me notinfrequently by emitting a sound, half cackle and half screech, byway of laughter; for she had come to her second childhood, or, at allevents, had dropped the stolid mask which the young Guayana savage, inimitation of his elders, adjusts to his face at about the age of twelve, to wear it thereafter all his life long, or only to drop it occasionallywhen very drunk. The youngsters also openly manifested their pleasure, although, as a rule, they try to restrain their feelings in the presenceof grown-up people, and with them I became a greet favourite. 

By and by I returned to my foil-making, and gave them fencing lessons, and sometimes invited two or three of the biggest boys to attack mesimultaneously, just to show how easily I could disarm and kill them. This practice excited some interest in Kua-ko, who had a little more ofcuriosity and geniality and less of the put-on dignity of the others, and with him I became most intimate. Fencing with Kua-ko was highlyamusing: no sooner was he in position, foil in hand, than all myinstructions were thrown to the winds, and he would charge and attack mein his own barbarous manner, with the result that I would send his foilspinning a dozen yards away, while he, struck motionless, would gazeafter it in open-mouthed astonishment. 

Three weeks had passed by not unpleasantly when, one morning, I tookit into my head to walk by myself across that somewhat sterile savannahwest of the village and stream, which ended, as I have said, in a long, low, stony ridge. From the village there was nothing to attract theeye in that direction; but I wished to get a better view of that greatsolitary hill or mountain of Ytaioa, and of the cloud-like summitsbeyond it in the distance. From the stream the ground rose in a gradualslope, and the highest part of the ridge for which I made was abouttwo miles from the starting-point--a parched brown plain, with nothinggrowing on it but scattered tussocks of sere hair-like grass. 

When I reached the top and could see the country beyond, I was agreeablydisappointed at the discovery that the sterile ground extended onlyabout a mile and a quarter on the further side, and was succeeded by aforest--a very inviting patch of woodland covering five or six squaremiles, occupying a kind of oblong basin, extending from the foot ofYtaioa on the north to a low range of rocky hills on the south. From thewooded basin long narrow strips of forest ran out in various directionslike the arms of an octopus, one pair embracing the slopes of Ytaioa, another much broader belt extending along a valley which cut through theridge of hills on the south side at right angles and was lost to sightbeyond; far away in the west and south and north distant mountainsappeared, not in regular ranges, but in groups or singly, or lookinglike blue banked-up clouds on the horizon. 

Glad at having discovered the existence of this forest so near home, andwondering why my Indian friends had never taken me to it nor ever wentout on that side, I set forth with a light heart to explore it formyself, regretting only that I was without a proper weapon for procuringgame. The walk from the ridge over the savannah was easy, as the barren, stony ground sloped downwards the whole way. The outer part of the woodon my side was very open, composed in most part of dwarf trees that growon stony soil, and scattered thorny bushes bearing a yellow pea-shapedblossom. Presently I came to thicker wood, where the trees were muchtaller and in greater variety; and after this came another sterilestrip, like that on the edge of the wood where stone cropped out fromthe ground and nothing grew except the yellow-flowered thorn bushes. Passing this sterile ribbon, which seemed to extend to a considerabledistance north and south, and was fifty to a hundred yards wide, theforest again became dense and the trees large, with much undergrowth inplaces obstructing the view and making progress difficult. 

I spent several hours in this wild paradise, which was so much moredelightful than the extensive gloomier forests I had so often penetratedin Guayana; for here, if the trees did not attain to such majesticproportions, the variety of vegetable forms was even greater; as faras I went it was nowhere dark under the trees, and the number of lovelyparasites everywhere illustrated the kindly influence of light and air. Even where the trees were largest the sunshine penetrated, subdued bythe foliage to exquisite greenish-golden tints, filling the wide lowerspaces with tender half-lights, and faint blue-and-gray shadows. Lyingon my back and gazing up, I felt reluctant to rise and renew my ramble. For what a roof was that above my head! Roof I call it, just as thepoets in their poverty sometimes describe the infinite ethereal sky bythat word; but it was no more roof-like and hindering to the soaringspirit than the higher clouds that float in changing forms and tints, and like the foliage chasten the intolerable noonday beams. How farabove me seemed that leafy cloudland into which I gazed! Nature, weknow, first taught the architect to produce by long colonnades theillusion of distance; but the light-excluding roof prevents him fromgetting the same effect above. Here Nature is unapproachable with hergreen, airy canopy, a sun-impregnated cloud--cloud above cloud; andthough the highest may be unreached by the eye, the beams yet filterthrough, illuming the wide spaces beneath--chamber succeeded by chamber, each with its own special lights and shadows. Far above me, but notnearly so far as it seemed, the tender gloom of one such chamber orspace is traversed now by a golden shaft of light falling through somebreak in the upper foliage, giving a strange glory to everything ittouches--projecting leaves, and beard-like tuft of moss, and snakybush-rope. And in the most open part of that most open space, suspendedon nothing to the eye, the shaft reveals a tangle of shining silverthreads--the web of some large tree-spider. These seemingly distant yetdistinctly visible threads serve to remind me that the human artist isonly able to get his horizontal distance by a monotonous reduplicationof pillar and arch, placed at regular intervals, and that the leastdeparture from this order would destroy the effect. But Nature producesher effects at random, and seems only to increase the beautiful illusionby that infinite variety of decoration in which she revels, binding treeto tree in a tangle of anaconda-like lianas, and dwindling down fromthese huge cables to airy webs and hair-like fibres that vibrate to thewind of the passing insect's wing. 

Thus in idleness, with such thoughts for company, I spent my time, gladthat no human being, savage or civilized, was with me. It was better tobe alone to listen to the monkeys that chattered without offending; towatch them occupied with the unserious business of their lives. Withthat luxuriant tropical nature, its green clouds and illusive aerialspaces, full of mystery, they harmonized well in language, appearance, and motions--mountebank angels, living their fantastic lives far aboveearth in a half-way heaven of their own. 

I saw more monkeys on that morning than I usually saw in the course ofa week's rambling. And other animals were seen; I particularly remembertwo accouries I startled, that after rushing away a few yards stoppedand stood peering back at me as if not knowing whether to regard me asfriend or enemy. Birds, too, were strangely abundant; and altogetherthis struck me as being the richest hunting-ground I had seen, and itastonished me to think that the Indians of the village did not appear tovisit it. 

On my return in the afternoon I gave an enthusiastic account of my day'sramble, speaking not of the things that had moved my soul, but only ofthose which move the Guayana Indian's soul--the animal food he craves, and which, one would imagine, Nature would prefer him to do without, sohard he finds it to wrest a sufficiency from her. To my surprise theyshook their heads and looked troubled at what I said; and finally myhost informed me that the wood I had been in was a dangerous place; thatif they went there to hunt, a great injury would be done to them; and hefinished by advising me not to visit it again. 

I began to understand from their looks and the old man's vague wordsthat their fear of the wood was superstitious. If dangerous creatureshad existed there tigers, or camoodis, or solitary murderoussavages--they would have said so; but when I pressed them with questionsthey could only repeat that "something bad" existed in the place, thatanimals were abundant there because no Indian who valued his life daredventure into it. I replied that unless they gave me some more definiteinformation I should certainly go again and put myself in the way of thedanger they feared. 

My reckless courage, as they considered it, surprised them; but they hadalready begun to find out that their superstitions had no effect on me, that I listened to them as to stories invented to amuse a child, and forthe moment they made no further attempt to dissuade me. 

Next day I returned to the forest of evil report, which had now anew and even greater charm--the fascination of the unknown and themysterious; still, the warning I had received made me distrustful andcautious at first, for I could not help thinking about it. When weconsider how much of their life is passed in the woods, which becomeas familiar to them as the streets of our native town to us, it seemsalmost incredible that these savages have a superstitious fear of allforests, fearing them as much, even in the bright light of day, as anervous child with memory filled with ghost-stories fears a dark room. But, like the child in the dark room, they fear the forest only whenalone in it, and for this reason always hunt in couples or parties. What, then, prevented them from visiting this particular wood, whichoffered so tempting a harvest? The question troubled me not a little; atthe same time I was ashamed of the feeling, and fought against it; andin the end I made my way to the same sequestered spot where I had restedso long on my previous visit. 

In this place I witnessed a new thing and had a strange experience. Sitting on the ground in the shade of a large tree, I began to hear aconfused noise as of a coming tempest of wind mixed with shrill callsand cries. Nearer and nearer it came, and at last a multitude of birdsof many kinds, but mostly small, appeared in sight swarming through thetrees, some running on the trunks and larger branches, others flittingthrough the foliage, and many keeping on the wing, now hovering andnow darting this way or that. They were all busily searching for andpursuing the insects, moving on at the same time, and in a very fewminutes they had finished examining the trees near me and were gone; butnot satisfied with what I had witnessed, I jumped up and rushed afterthe flock to keep it in sight. All my caution and all recollection ofwhat the Indians had said was now forgot, so great was my interest inthis bird-army; but as they moved on without pause, they quickly left mebehind, and presently my career was stopped by an impenetrable tangle ofbushes, vines, and roots of large trees extending like huge cablesalong the ground. In the midst of this leafy labyrinth I sat down on aprojecting root to cool my blood before attempting to make my way backto my former position. After that tempest of motion and confused noisesthe silence of the forest seemed very profound; but before I hadbeen resting many moments it was broken by a low strain of exquisitebird-melody, wonderfully pure and expressive, unlike any musical sound Ihad ever heard before. It seemed to issue from a thick cluster of broadleaves of a creeper only a few yards from where I sat. With my eyesfixed on this green hiding-place I waited with suspended breath for itsrepetition, wondering whether any civilized being had ever listened tosuch a strain before. Surely not, I thought, else the fame of so divinea melody would long ago have been noised abroad. I thought of therialejo, the celebrated organbird or flute-bird, and of the various waysin which hearers are affected by it. To some its warbling is like thesound of a beautiful mysterious instrument, while to others it seemslike the singing of a blithe-hearted child with a highly melodiousvoice. I had often heard and listened with delight to the singing of therialejo in the Guayana forests, but this song, or musical phrase, wasutterly unlike it in character. It was pure, more expressive, softer--solow that at a distance of forty yards I could hardly have heard it. But its greatest charm was its resemblance to the human voice--a voicepurified and brightened to something almost angelic. Imagine, then, myimpatience as I sat there straining my sense, my deep disappointmentwhen it was not repeated! I rose at length very reluctantly and slowlybegan making my way back; but when I had progressed about thirty yards, again the sweet voice sounded just behind me, and turning quickly, Istood still and waited. The same voice, but not the same song--notthe same phrase; the notes were different, more varied and rapidlyenunciated, as if the singer had been more excited. The blood rushed tomy heart as I listened; my nerves tingled with a strange new delight, the rapture produced by such music heightened by a sense of mystery. Before many moments I heard it again, not rapid now, but a softwarbling, lower than at first, infinitely sweet and tender, sinking tolisping sounds that soon ceased to be audible; the whole having lastedas long as it would take me to repeat a sentence of a dozen words. Thisseemed the singer's farewell to me, for I waited and listened in vain tohear it repeated; and after getting back to the starting-point I sat forupwards of an hour, still hoping to hear it once more!

The weltering sun at length compelled me to quit the wood, but notbefore I had resolved to return the next morning and seek for the spotwhere I had met with so enchanting an experience. After crossing thesterile belt I have mentioned within the wood, and just before I came tothe open outer edge where the stunted trees and bushes die away on theborder of the savannah, what was my delight and astonishment at hearingthe mysterious melody once more! It seemed to issue from a clump ofbushes close by; but by this time I had come to the conclusionthat there was a ventriloquism in this woodland voice which made itimpossible for me to determine its exact direction. Of one thing I was, however, now quite convinced, and that was that the singer had beenfollowing me all the time. Again and again as I stood there listening itsounded, now so faint and apparently far off as to be scarcely audible;then all at once it would ring out bright and clear within a few yardsof me, as if the shy little thing had suddenly grown bold; but, far ornear, the vocalist remained invisible, and at length the tantalizingmelody ceased altogether. 

CHAPTER III

I was not disappointed on my next visit to the forest, nor on severalsucceeding visits; and this seemed to show that if I was right inbelieving that these strange, melodious utterances proceeded from oneindividual, then the bird or being, although still refusing to showitself, was always on the watch for my appearance and followed mewherever I went. This thought only served to increase my curiosity; Iwas constantly pondering over the subject, and at last concluded that itwould be best to induce one of the Indians to go with me to the wood onthe chance of his being able to explain the mystery. 

One of the treasures I had managed to preserve in my sojourn with thesechildren of nature, who were always anxious to become possessors of mybelongings, was a small prettily fashioned metal match-box, openingwith a spring. Remembering that Kua-ko, among others, had looked at thistrifle with covetous eyes--the covetous way in which they all looked atit had given it a fictitious value in my own--I tried to bribe him withthe offer of it to accompany me to my favourite haunt. The brave younghunter refused again and again; but on each occasion he offered toperform some other service or to give me something in exchange for thebox. At last I told him that I would give it to the first person whoshould accompany me, and fearing that someone would be found valiantenough to win the prize, he at length plucked up a spirit, and on thenext day, seeing me going out for a walk, he all at once offered to gowith me. He cunningly tried to get the box before starting--his cunning, poor youth, was not very deep! I told him that the forest we were aboutto visit abounded with plants and birds unlike any I had seen elsewhere, that I wished to learn their names and everything about them, andthat when I had got the required information the box would be his--notsooner. Finally we started, he, as usual, armed with his zabatana, withwhich, I imagined, he would procure more game than usually fell to hislittle poisoned arrows. When we reached the wood I could see that he wasill at ease: nothing would persuade him to go into the deeper parts;and even where it was very open and light he was constantly gazinginto bushes and shadowy places, as if expecting to see some frightfulcreature lying in wait for him. This behaviour might have had adisquieting effect on me had I not been thoroughly convinced that hisfears were purely superstitious and that there could be no dangerousanimal in a spot I was accustomed to walk in every day. My plan wasto ramble about with an unconcerned air, occasionally pointing out anuncommon tree or shrub or vine, or calling his attention to a distantbird-cry and asking the bird's name, in the hope that the mysteriousvoice would make itself heard and that he would be able to give me someexplanation of it. But for upwards of two hours we moved about, hearingnothing except the usual bird voices, and during all that time he neverstirred a yard from my side nor made an attempt to capture anything. Atlength we sat down under a tree, in an open spot close to the border ofthe wood. He sat down very reluctantly, and seemed more troubled inhis mind than ever, keeping his eyes continually roving about, while helistened intently to every sound. The sounds were not few, owing to theabundance of animal and especially of bird life in this favoured spot. I began to question my companion as to some of the cries we heard. Therewere notes and cries familiar to me as the crowing of the cock--parrotscreams and yelping of toucans, the distant wailing calls of maam andduraquara; and shrill laughter-like notes of the large tree-climber asit passed from tree to tree; the quick whistle of cotingas; and strangethrobbing and thrilling sounds, as of pygmies beating on metallic drums, of the skulking pitta-thrushes; and with these mingled other notesless well known. One came from the treetops, where it was perpetuallywandering amid the foliage a low note, repeated at intervals of a fewseconds, so thin and mournful and full of mystery that I half expectedto hear that it proceeded from the restless ghost of some dead bird. But no; he only said it was uttered by a "little bird"--too littlepresumably to have a name. From the foliage of a neighbouring tree camea few tinkling chirps, as of a small mandolin, two or three strings ofwhich had been carelessly struck by the player. He said that it camefrom a small green frog that lived in trees; and in this way my rudeIndian--vexed perhaps at being asked such trivial questions--brushedaway the pretty fantasies my mind had woven in the woodland solitude. For I often listened to this tinkling music, and it had suggested theidea that the place was frequented by a tribe of fairy-like troubadourmonkeys, and that if I could only be quick-sighted enough I might oneday be able to detect the minstrel sitting, in a green tunic perhaps, cross-legged on some high, swaying bough, carelessly touching hismandolin, suspended from his neck by a yellow ribbon. 

By and by a bird came with low, swift flight, its great tail spread openfan-wise, and perched itself on an exposed bough not thirty yards fromus. It was all of a chestnut-red colour, long-bodied, in size like a bigpigeon. Its actions showed that its curiosity had been greatly excited, for it jerked from side to side, eyeing us first with one eye, then theother, while its long tail rose and fell in a measured way. 

"Look, Kua-ko, " I said in a whisper, "there is a bird for you to kill. "

But he only shook his head, still watchful. 

"Give me the blow-pipe, then, " I said, with a laugh, putting out my handto take it. But he refused to let me take it, knowing that it would onlybe an arrow wasted if I attempted to shoot anything. 

As I persisted in telling him to kill the bird, he at last bent his lipsnear me and said in a half-whisper, as if fearful of being overheard: "Ican kill nothing here. If I shot at the bird, the daughter of the Didiwould catch the dart in her hand and throw it back and hit me here, "touching his breast just over his heart. 

I laughed again, saying to myself, with some amusement, that Kua-ko wasnot such a bad companion after all--that he was not without imagination. But in spite of my laughter his words roused my interest and suggestedthe idea that the voice I was curious about had been heard by theIndians and was as great a mystery to them as to me; since, not beinglike that of any creature known to them, it would be attributed by theirsuperstitious minds to one of the numerous demons or semi-human monstersinhabiting every forest, stream, and mountain; and fear of it woulddrive them from the wood. In this case, judging from my companion'swords, they had varied the form of the superstition somewhat, inventinga daughter of a water-spirit to be afraid of. My thought was that iftheir keen, practiced eyes had never been able to see this flittingwoodland creature with a musical soul, it was not likely that I wouldsucceed in my quest. 

I began to question him, but he now appeared less inclined to talk andmore frightened than ever, and each time I attempted to speak he imposedsilence, with a quick gesture of alarm, while he continued to stareabout him with dilated eyes. All at once he sprang to his feet asif overcome with terror and started running at full speed. His fearinfected me, and, springing up, I followed as fast as I could, but hewas far ahead of me, running for dear life; and before I had gone fortyyards my feet were caught in a creeper trailing along the surface, and Imeasured my length on the ground. The sudden, violent shock almost tookaway my senses for a moment, but when I jumped up and stared round tosee no unspeakable monster--Curupita or other--rushing on to slay anddevour me there and then, I began to feel ashamed of my cowardice; andin the end I turned and walked back to the spot I had just quitted andsat down once more. I even tried to hum a tune, just to prove to myselfthat I had completely recovered from the panic caught from the miserableIndian; but it is never possible in such cases to get back one'sserenity immediately, and a vague suspicion continued to trouble me fora time. After sitting there for half an hour or so, listening to distantbird-sounds, I began to recover my old confidence, and even to feelinclined to penetrate further into the wood. All at once, making mealmost jump, so sudden it was, so much nearer and louder than I hadever heard it before, the mysterious melody began. Unmistakably it wasuttered by the same being heard on former occasions; but today it wasdifferent in character. The utterance was far more rapid, with fewersilent intervals, and it had none of the usual tenderness in it, norever once sunk to that low, whisper-like talking which had seemed to meas if the spirit of the wind had breathed its low sighs in syllablesand speech. Now it was not only loud, rapid, and continuous, but, whilestill musical, there was an incisiveness in it, a sharp ring as ofresentment, which made it strike painfully on the sense. 

The impression of an intelligent unhuman being addressing me in angertook so firm a hold on my mind that the old fear returned, and, rising, I began to walk rapidly away, intending to escape from the wood. Thevoice continued violently rating me, as it seemed to my mind, movingwith me, which caused me to accelerate my steps; and very soon I wouldhave broken into a run, when its character began to change again. Therewere pauses now, intervals of silence, long or short, and after each onethe voice came to my ear with a more subdued and dulcet sound--more ofthat melting, flute-like quality it had possessed at other times; andthis softness of tone, coupled with the talking-like form of utterance, gave me the idea of a being no longer incensed, addressing me now in apeaceable spirit, reasoning away my unworthy tremors, and imploring meto remain with it in the wood. Strange as this voice without a body was, and always productive of a slightly uncomfortable feeling on account ofits mystery, it seemed impossible to doubt that it came to me now ina spirit of pure friendliness; and when I had recovered my composure Ifound a new delight in listening to it--all the greater because of thefear so lately experienced, and of its seeming intelligence. For thethird time I reseated myself on the same spot, and at intervals thevoice talked to me there for some time and, to my fancy, expressedsatisfaction and pleasure at my presence. But later, without losing itsfriendly tone, it changed again. It seemed to move away and to be thrownback from a considerable distance; and, at long intervals, it wouldapproach me again with a new sound, which I began to interpret as ofcommand, or entreaty. Was it, I asked myself, inviting me to follow? Andif I obeyed, to what delightful discoveries or frightful dangers mightit lead? My curiosity together with the belief that the being--I calledit being, not bird, now--was friendly to me, overcame all timidity, andI rose and walked at random towards the interior of the wood. Very soonI had no doubt left that the being had desired me to follow; for therewas now a new note of gladness in its voice, and it continued near meas I walked, at intervals approaching me so closely as to set me staringinto the surrounding shadowy places like poor scared Kua-ko. 

On this occasion, too, I began to have a new fancy, for fancy orillusion I was determined to regard it, that some swift-footed being wastreading the ground near me; that I occasionally caught the faint rustleof a light footstep, and detected a motion in leaves and fronds andthread-like stems of creepers hanging near the surface, as if somepassing body had touched and made them tremble; and once or twice thatI even had a glimpse of a grey, misty object moving at no great distancein the deeper shadows. 

Led by this wandering tricksy being, I came to a spot where the treeswere very large and the damp dark ground almost free from undergrowth;and here the voice ceased to be heard. After patiently waiting andlistening for some time, I began to look about me with a slight feelingof apprehension. It was still about two hours before sunset; onlyin this place the shade of the vast trees made a perpetual twilight:moreover, it was strangely silent here, the few bird-cries that reachedme coming from a long distance. I had flattered myself that the voicehad become to some extent intelligible to me: its outburst of angercaused no doubt by my cowardly flight after the Indian; then itsrecovered friendliness, which had induced me to return; and finally itsdesire to be followed. Now that it had led me to this place of shadowand profound silence and had ceased to speak and to lead, I could nothelp thinking that this was my goal, that I had been brought to thisspot with a purpose, that in this wild and solitary retreat sometremendous adventure was about to befall me. 

As the silence continued unbroken, there was time to dwell on thisthought. I gazed before me and listened intently, scarcely breathing, until the suspense became painful--too painful at last, and I turned andtook a step with the idea of going back to the border of the wood, whenclose by, clear as a silver bell, sounded the voice once more, but onlyfor a moment--two or three syllables in response to my movement, then itwas silent again. 

Once more I was standing still, as if in obedience to a command, in thesame state of suspense; and whether the change was real or only imaginedI know not, but the silence every minute grew more profound and thegloom deeper. Imaginary terrors began to assail me. Ancient fables ofmen allured by beautiful forms and melodious voices to destruction allat once acquired a fearful significance. I recalled some of the Indianbeliefs, especially that of the mis-shapen, man-devouring monster who issaid to beguile his victims into the dark forest by mimicking the humanvoice--the voice sometimes of a woman in distress--or by singing somestrange and beautiful melody. I grew almost afraid to look round lest Ishould catch sight of him stealing towards me on his huge feet with toespointing backwards, his mouth snarling horribly to display his greatgreen fangs. It was distressing to have such fancies in this wild, solitary spot--hateful to feel their power over me when I knew that theywere nothing but fancies and creations of the savage mind. But if thesesupernatural beings had no existence, there were other monsters, onlytoo real, in these woods which it would be dreadful to encounter aloneand unarmed, since against such adversaries a revolver would be asineffectual as a popgun. Some huge camoodi, able to crush my bones likebrittle twigs in its constricting coils, might lurk in these shadows, and approach me stealthily, unseen in its dark colour on the darkground. Or some jaguar or black tiger might steal towards me, masked bya bush or tree-trunk, to spring upon me unawares. Or, worse still, this way might suddenly come a pack of those swift-footed, unspeakablyterrible hunting-leopards, from which every living thing in the forestflies with shrieks of consternation or else falls paralysed in theirpath to be instantly torn to pieces and devoured. 

A slight rustling sound in the foliage above me made me start andcast up my eyes. High up, where a pale gleam of tempered sunlight fellthrough the leaves, a grotesque human-like face, black as ebony andadorned with a great red beard, appeared staring down upon me. Inanother moment it was gone. It was only a large araguato, or howlingmonkey, but I was so unnerved that I could not get rid of the idea thatit was something more than a monkey. Once more I moved, and again, theinstant I moved my foot, clear, and keen, and imperative, sounded thevoice! It was no longer possible to doubt its meaning. It commanded meto stand still--to wait--to watch--to listen! Had it cried "Listen! Donot move!" I could not have understood it better. Trying as the suspensewas, I now felt powerless to escape. Something very terrible, I feltconvinced, was about to happen, either to destroy or to release me fromthe spell that held me. 

And while I stood thus rooted to the ground, the sweat standing in largedrops on my forehead, all at once close to me sounded a cry, fine andclear at first, and rising at the end to a shriek so loud, piercing, andunearthly in character that the blood seemed to freeze in my veins, and a despairing cry to heaven escaped my lips; then, before that longshriek expired, a mighty chorus of thunderous voices burst forth aroundme; and in this awful tempest of sound I trembled like a leaf; and theleaves on the trees were agitated as if by a high wind, and the earthitself seemed to shake beneath my feet. Indescribably horrible were mysensations at that moment; I was deafened, and would possibly have beenmaddened had I not, as by a miracle, chanced to see a large araguatoon a branch overhead, roaring with open mouth and inflated throat andchest. 

It was simply a concert of howling monkeys that had so terrified me! Butmy extreme fear was not strange in the circumstances; since everythingthat had led up to the display--the gloom and silence, the period ofsuspense, and my heated imagination--had raised my mind to the highestdegree of excitement and expectancy. I had rightly conjectured, nodoubt, that my unseen guide had led me to that spot for a purpose;and the purpose had been to set me in the midst of a congregation ofaraguatos to enable me for the first time fully to appreciate theirunparalleled vocal powers. I had always heard them at a distance; herethey were gathered in scores, possibly hundreds--the whole araguatopopulation of the forest, I should think--close to me; and it may givesome faint conception of the tremendous power and awful character ofthe sound thus produced by their combined voices when I say that thisanimal--miscalled "howler" in English--would outroar the mightiest lionthat ever woke the echoes of an African wilderness. 

This roaring concert, which lasted three or four minutes, having ended, I lingered a few minutes longer on the spot, and not hearing the voiceagain, went back to the edge of the wood, and then started on my wayback to the village. 

CHAPTER IV

Perhaps I was not capable of thinking quite coherently on what had justhappened until I was once more fairly outside of the forest shadows--outin that clear open daylight, where things seem what they are, andimagination, like a juggler detected and laughed at, hastily takesitself out of the way. As I walked homewards I paused midway on thebarren ridge to gaze back on the scene I had left, and then the recentadventure began to take a semi-ludicrous aspect in my mind. All thatcircumstance of preparation, that mysterious prelude to somethingunheard of, unimaginable, surpassing all fables ancient and modern, andall tragedies--to end at last in a concert of howling monkeys! Certainlythe concert was very grand--indeed, one of the most astounding innature---but still--I sat down on a stone and laughed freely. 

The sun was sinking behind the forest, its broad red disk still showingthrough the topmost leaves, and the higher part of the foliage was ofa luminous green, like green flame, throwing off flakes of quivering, fiery light, but lower down the trees were in profound shadow. 

I felt very light-hearted while I gazed on this scene, for how pleasantit was just now to think of the strange experience I had passedthrough--to think that I had come safely out of it, that no humaneye had witnessed my weakness, and that the mystery existed still tofascinate me! For, ludicrous as the denouement now looked, the cause ofall, the voice itself, was a thing to marvel at more than ever. That itproceeded from an intelligent being I was firmly convinced; and althoughtoo materialistic in my way of thinking to admit for a moment that itwas a supernatural being, I still felt that there was something morethan I had at first imagined in Kua-ko's speech about a daughter of theDidi. That the Indians knew a great deal about the mysterious voice, andhad held it in great fear, seemed evident. But they were savages, withways that were not mine; and however friendly they might be towards oneof a superior race, there was always in their relations with him alow cunning, prompted partly by suspicion, underlying their words andactions. For the white man to put himself mentally on their level isnot more impossible than for these aborigines to be perfectly open, aschildren are, towards the white. Whatever subject the stranger withintheir gates exhibits an interest in, that they will be reticent about;and their reticence, which conceals itself under easily invented liesor an affected stupidity, invariably increases with his desire forinformation. It was plain to them that some very unusual interest tookme to the wood; consequently I could not expect that they would tellme anything they might know to enlighten me about the matter; and Iconcluded that Kua-ko's words about the daughter of the Didi, and whatshe would do if he blew an arrow at a bird, had accidentally escapedhim in a moment of excitement. Nothing, therefore, was to be gainedby questioning them, or, at all events, by telling them how muchthe subject attracted me. And I had nothing to fear; my independentinvestigations had made this much clear to me; the voice might proceedfrom a very frolicsome and tricksy creature, full of wild fantastichumours, but nothing worse. It was friendly to me, I felt sure; at thesame time it might not be friendly towards the Indians; for, on thatday, it had made itself heard only after my companion had taken flight;and it had then seemed incensed against me, possibly because the savagehad been in my company. 

That was the result of my reflections on the day's events when Ireturned to my entertainer's roof and sat down among my friends torefresh myself with stewed fowl and fish from the household pot, intowhich a hospitable woman invited me with a gesture to dip my fingers. 

Kua-ko was lying in his hammock, smoking, I think--certainly notreading. When I entered he lifted his head and stared at me, probablysurprised to see me alive, unharmed, and in a placid temper. I laughedat the look, and, somewhat disconcerted, he dropped his head down again. After a minute or two I took the metal match-box and tossed it on tohis breast. He clutched it and, starting up, stared at me in the utmostastonishment. He could scarcely believe his good fortune; for he hadfailed to carry out his part of the compact and had resigned himself tothe loss of the coveted prize. Jumping down to the floor, he held up thebox triumphantly, his joy overcoming the habitual stolid look; while allthe others gathered about him, each trying to get the box into his ownhands to admire it again, notwithstanding that they had all seen it adozen times before. But it was Kua-ko's now and not the stranger's, andtherefore more nearly their own than formerly, and must look different, more beautiful, with a brighter polish on the metal. And that wonderfulenamelled cock on the lid--figured in Paris probably, but just like acock in Guayana, the pet bird which they no more think of killing andeating than we do our purring pussies and lemon-coloured canaries--mustnow look more strikingly valiant and cock-like than ever, with itscrimson comb and wattles, burnished red hackles, and dark green archingtail-plumes. But Kua-ko, while willing enough to have it admired andpraised, would not let it out of his hands, and told them pompously thatit was not theirs for them to handle, but his--Kua-ko's--for all time;that he had won it by accompanying me--valorous man that he was!--tothat evil wood into which they--timid, inferior creatures that theywere!--would never have ventured to set foot. I am not translating hiswords, but that was what he gave them to understand pretty plainly, tomy great amusement. 

After the excitement was over, Runi, who had maintained a dignifiedcalm, made some roundabout remarks, apparently with the object ofeliciting an account of what I had seen and heard in the forest ofevil fame. I replied carelessly that I had seen a great many birds andmonkeys--monkeys so tame that I might have procured one if I had hada blow-pipe, in spite of my never having practiced shooting with thatweapon. 

It interested them to hear about the abundance and tameness of themonkeys, although it was scarcely news; but how tame they must have beenwhen I, the stranger not to the manner born--not naked, brown-skinned, lynx-eyed, and noiseless as an owl in his movements--had yet been ableto look closely at them! Runi only remarked, apropos of what I had toldhim, that they could not go there to hunt; then he asked me if I fearednothing. 

"Nothing, " I replied carelessly. "The things you fear hurt not the whiteman and are no more than this to me, " saying which I took up a littlewhite wood-ash in my hand and blew it away with my breath. "And againstother enemies I have this, " I added, touching my revolver. A bravespeech, just after that araguato episode; but I did not make it withoutblushing--mentally. 

He shook his head, and said it was a poor weapon against some enemies;also--truly enough--that it would procure no birds and monkeys for thestew-pot. 

Next morning my friend Kua-ko, taking his zabatana, invited me to go outwith him, and I consented with some misgivings, thinking he had overcomehis superstitious fears and, inflamed by my account of the abundanceof game in the forest, intended going there with me. The previous day'sexperience had made me think that it would be better in the future togo there alone. But I was giving the poor youth more credit than hedeserved: it was far from his intention to face the terrible unknownagain. We went in a different direction, and tramped for hours throughwoods where birds were scarce and only of the smaller kinds. Then myguide surprised me a second time by offering to teach me to use thezabatana. This, then, was to be my reward for giving him the box! Ireadily consented, and with the long weapon, awkward to carry, in myhand, and imitating the noiseless movements and cautious, watchfulmanner of my companion, I tried to imagine myself a simple Guayanasavage, with no knowledge of that artificial social state to which I hadbeen born, dependent on my skill and little roll of poison-darts fora livelihood. By an effort of the will I emptied myself of my lifeexperience and knowledge--or as much of it as possible--and thoughtonly of the generations of my dead imaginary progenitors, who had rangedthese woods back to the dim forgotten years before Columbus; and if thepleasure I had in the fancy was childish, it made the day pass quicklyenough. Kua-ko was constantly at my elbow to assist and give advice; andmany an arrow I blew from the long tube, and hit no bird. Heaven knowswhat I hit, for the arrows flew away on their wide and wild career tobe seen no more, except a few which my keen-eyed comrade marked to theirdestination and managed to recover. The result of our day's hunting wasa couple of birds, which Kua-ko, not I, shot, and a small opossum hissharp eyes detected high up a tree lying coiled up on an old nest, overthe side of which the animal had incautiously allowed his snaky tailto dangle. The number of darts I wasted must have been a rather seriousloss to him, but he did not seem troubled at it, and made no remark. 

Next day, to my surprise, he volunteered to give me a second lesson, andwe went out again. On this occasion he had provided himself with alarge bundle of darts, but--wise man!--they were not poisoned, and ittherefore mattered little whether they were wasted or not. I believethat on this day I made some little progress; at all events, my teacherremarked that before long I would be able to hit a bird. This made mesmile and answer that if he could place me within twenty yards of a birdnot smaller than a small man I might manage to touch it with an arrow. 

This speech had a very unexpected and remarkable effect. He stoppedshort in his walk, stared at me wildly, then grinned, and finally burstinto a roar of laughter, which was no bad imitation of the howlingmonkey's performance, and smote his naked thighs with tremendous energy. At length recovering himself, he asked whether a small woman was notthe same as a small man, and being answered in the affirmative, went offinto a second extravagant roar of laughter. 

Thinking it was easy to tickle him while he continued in this mood, Ibegan making any number of feeble jokes--feeble, but quite as good asthe one which had provoked such outrageous merriment--for it amusedme to see him acting in this unusual way. But they all failed of theireffect--there was no hitting the bull's-eye a second time; he would onlystare vacantly at me, then grunt like a peccary--not appreciatively--andwalk on. Still, at intervals he would go back to what I had said abouthitting a very big bird, and roar again, as if this wonderful joke wasnot easily exhausted. 

Again on the third day we were out together practicing at thebirds--frightening if not killing them; but before noon, finding that itwas his intention to go to a distant spot where he expected to meetwith larger game, I left him and returned to the village. The blow-pipepractice had lost its novelty, and I did not care to go on all dayand every day with it; more than that, I was anxious after so long aninterval to pay a visit to my wood, as I began to call it, in the hopeof hearing that mysterious melody which I had grown to love and to misswhen even a single day passed without it. 

CHAPTER V

After making a hasty meal at the house, I started, full of pleasinganticipations, for the wood; for how pleasant a place it was to be in!What a wild beauty and fragrance and melodiousness it possessed aboveall forests, because of that mystery that drew me to it! And it wasmine, truly and absolutely--as much mine as any portion of earth'ssurface could belong to any man--mine with all its products: theprecious woods and fruits and fragrant gums that would never betrafficked away; its wild animals that man would never persecute; norwould any jealous savage dispute my ownership or pretend that it waspart of his hunting-ground. As I crossed the savannah I played with thisfancy; but when I reached the ridgy eminence, to look down once more onmy new domain, the fancy changed to a feeling so keen that it pierced tomy heart and was like pain in its intensity, causing tears to rush tomy eyes. And caring not in that solitude to disguise my feelings frommyself, and from the wide heaven that looked down and saw me--for thisis the sweetest thing that solitude has for us, that we are free in it, and no convention holds us--I dropped on my knees and kissed the stonyground, then casting up my eyes, thanked the Author of my being forthe gift of that wild forest, those green mansions where I had found sogreat a happiness!

Elated with this strain of feeling, I reached the wood not long afternoon; but no melodious voice gave me familiar and expected welcome; nordid my invisible companion make itself heard at all on that day, or, atall events, not in its usual bird-like warbling language. But on thisday I met with a curious little adventure and heard something veryextraordinary, very mysterious, which I could not avoid connecting in mymind with the unseen warbler that so often followed me in my rambles. 

It was an exceedingly bright day, without cloud, but windy, and findingmyself in a rather open part of the wood, near its border, where thebreeze could be felt, I sat down to rest on the lower part of a largebranch, which was half broken, but still remained attached to the trunkof the tree, while resting its terminal twigs on the ground. Just beforeme, where I sat, grew a low, wide-spreading plant, covered with broad, round, polished leaves; and the roundness, stiffness, and perfectlyhorizontal position of the upper leaves made them look like a collectionof small platforms or round table-tops placed nearly on a level. Throughthe leaves, to the height of a foot or more above them, a slender deadstem protruded, and from a twig at its summit depended a broken spider'sweb. A minute dead leaf had become attached to one of the loose threadsand threw its small but distinct shadow on the platform leaves below;and as it trembled and swayed in the current of air, the black spottrembled with it or flew swiftly over the bright green surfaces, and wasseldom at rest. Now, as I sat looking down on the leaves and the smalldancing shadow, scarcely thinking of what I was looking at, I noticed asmall spider, with a flat body and short legs, creep cautiously out onto the upper surface of a leaf. Its pale red colour barred with velvetblack first drew my attention to it, for it was beautiful to the eye;and presently I discovered that this was no web-spinning, sedentaryspider, but a wandering hunter, that captured its prey, like a cat, bystealing on it concealed and making a rush or spring at the last. Themoving shadow had attracted it and, as the sequel showed, was mistakenfor a fly running about over the leaves and flitting from leaf to leaf. Now began a series of wonderful manoeuvres on the spider's part, withthe object of circumventing the imaginary fly, which seemed speciallydesigned to meet this special case; for certainly no insect had everbefore behaved in quite so erratic a manner. Each time the shadow flewpast, the spider ran swiftly in the same direction, hiding itself underthe leaves, always trying to get near without alarming its prey; andthen the shadow would go round and round in a small circle, and some newstrategic move on the part of the hunter would be called forth. I becamedeeply interested in this curious scene; I began to wish that the shadowwould remain quiet for a moment or two, so as to give the hunter achance. And at last I had my wish: the shadow was almost motionless, andthe spider moving towards it, yet seeming not to move, and as itcrept closer I fancied that I could almost see the little striped bodyquivering with excitement. Then came the final scene: swift and straightas an arrow the hunter shot himself on to the fly-like shadow, thenwiggled round and round, evidently trying to take hold of his prey withfangs and claws; and finding nothing under him, he raised the forepart of his body vertically, as if to stare about him in search of thedelusive fly; but the action may have simply expressed astonishment. Atthis moment I was just on the point of giving free and loud vent to thelaughter which I had been holding in when, just behind me, as if fromsome person who had been watching the scene over my shoulder and was asmuch amused as myself at its termination, sounded a clear trill of merrylaughter. I started up and looked hastily around, but no living creaturewas there. The mass of loose foliage I stared into was agitated, as iffrom a body having just pushed through it. In a moment the leaves andfronds were motionless again; still, I could not be sure that a slightgust of wind had not shaken them. But I was so convinced that I hadheard close to me a real human laugh, or sound of some living creaturethat exactly simulated a laugh, that I carefully searched the groundabout me, expecting to find a being of some kind. But I found nothing, and going back to my seat on the hanging branch, I remained seated fora considerable time, at first only listening, then pondering on themystery of that sweet trill of laughter; and finally I began to wonderwhether I, like the spider that chased the shadow, had been deluded, andhad seemed to hear a sound that was not a sound. 

On the following day I was in the wood again, and after a two or threehours' ramble, during which I heard nothing, thinking it useless tohaunt the known spots any longer, I turned southwards and penetratedinto a denser part of the forest, where the undergrowth made progressdifficult. I was not afraid of losing myself; the sun above and my senseof direction, which was always good, would enable me to return to thestarting-point. 

In this direction I had been pushing resolutely on for over half anhour, finding it no easy matter to make my way without constantlydeviating to this side or that from the course I wished to keep, when Icame to a much more open spot. The trees were smaller and scantier here, owing to the rocky nature of the ground, which sloped rather rapidlydown; but it was moist and overgrown with mosses, ferns, creepers, andlow shrubs, all of the liveliest green. I could not see many yards aheadowing to the bushes and tall fern fronds; but presently I began to heara low, continuous sound, which, when I had advanced twenty or thirtyyards further, I made out to be the gurgling of running water; and atthe same moment I made the discovery that my throat was parched and mypalms tingling with heat. I hurried on, promising myself a cool draught, when all at once, above the soft dashing and gurgling of the water, Icaught yet another sound--a low, warbling note, or succession ofnotes, which might have been emitted by a bird. But it startled menevertheless--bird-like warbling sounds had come to mean so much tome--and pausing, I listened intently. It was not repeated, and finally, treading with the utmost caution so as not to alarm the mysteriousvocalist, I crept on until, coming to a greenheart with a quantity offeathery foliage of a shrub growing about its roots, I saw that justbeyond the tree the ground was more open still, letting in the sunlightfrom above, and that the channel of the stream I sought was in this openspace, about twenty yards from me, although the water was still hiddenfrom sight. Something else was there, which I did see; instantly mycautious advance was arrested. I stood gazing with concentrated vision, scarcely daring to breathe lest I should scare it away. 

It was a human being--a girl form, reclining on the moss among the fernsand herbage, near the roots of a small tree. One arm was doubledbehind her neck for her head to rest upon, while the other arm was heldextended before her, the hand raised towards a small brown bird perchedon a pendulous twig just beyond its reach. She appeared to be playingwith the bird, possibly amusing herself by trying to entice it on toher hand; and the hand appeared to tempt it greatly, for it persistentlyhopped up and down, turning rapidly about this way and that, flirtingits wings and tail, and always appearing just on the point of droppingon to her finger. From my position it was impossible to see herdistinctly, yet I dared not move. I could make out that she was small, not above four feet six or seven inches in height, in figure slim, withdelicately shaped little hands and feet. Her feet were bare, and heronly garment was a slight chemise-shaped dress reaching below her knees, of a whitish-gray colour, with a faint lustre as of a silky material. Her hair was very wonderful; it was loose and abundant, and seemedwavy or curly, falling in a cloud on her shoulders and arms. Dark itappeared, but the precise tint was indeterminable, as was that of herskin, which looked neither brown nor white. All together, near to me asshe actually was, there was a kind of mistiness in the figure which madeit appear somewhat vague and distant, and a greenish grey seemed theprevailing colour. This tint I presently attributed to the effect ofthe sunlight falling on her through the green foliage; for once, for amoment, she raised herself to reach her finger nearer to the bird, andthen a gleam of unsubdued sunlight fell on her hair and arm, and the armat that moment appeared of a pearly whiteness, and the hair, justwhere the light touched it, had a strange lustre and play of iridescentcolour. 

I had not been watching her more than three seconds before the bird, with a sharp, creaking little chirp, flew up and away in sudden alarm;at the same moment she turned and saw me through the light leafy screen. But although catching sight of me thus suddenly, she did not exhibitalarm like the bird; only her eyes, wide open, with a surprised lookin them, remained immovably fixed on my face. And then slowly, imperceptibly--for I did not notice the actual movement, so gradual andsmooth it was, like the motion of a cloud of mist which changes itsform and place, yet to the eye seems not to have moved--she rose to herknees, to her feet, retired, and with face still towards me, and eyesfixed on mine, finally disappeared, going as if she had melted away intothe verdure. The leafage was there occupying the precise spot where shehad been a moment before--the feathery foliage of an acacia shrub, andstems and broad, arrow-shaped leaves of an aquatic plant, and slim, drooping fern fronds, and they were motionless and seemed not to havebeen touched by something passing through them. She had gone, yet Icontinued still, bent almost double, gazing fixedly at the spot whereI had last seen her, my mind in a strange condition, possessed bysensations which were keenly felt and yet contradictory. So vivid wasthe image left on my brain that she still seemed to be actually beforemy eyes; and she was not there, nor had been, for it was a dream, anillusion, and no such being existed, or could exist, in this grossworld; and at the same time I knew that she had been there--thatimagination was powerless to conjure up a form so exquisite. 

With the mental image I had to be satisfied, for although I remained forsome hours at that spot, I saw her no more, nor did I hear any familiarmelodious sound. For I was now convinced that in this wild solitary girlI had at length discovered the mysterious warbler that so often followedme in the wood. At length, seeing that it was growing late, I took adrink from the stream and slowly and reluctantly made my way out of theforest and went home. 

Early next day I was back in the wood full of delightful anticipations, and had no sooner got well among the trees than a soft, warbling soundreached my ears; it was like that heard on the previous day just beforecatching sight of the girl among the ferns. So soon! thought I, elated, and with cautious steps I proceeded to explore the ground, hoping againto catch her unawares. But I saw nothing; and only after beginning todoubt that I had heard anything unusual, and had sat down to rest ona rock, the sound was repeated, soft and low as before, very near anddistinct. Nothing more was heard at this spot, but an hour later, inanother place, the same mysterious note sounded near me. During myremaining time in the forest I was served many times in the same way, and still nothing was seen, nor was there any change in the voice. 

Only when the day was near its end did I give up my quest, feeling verykeenly disappointed. It then struck me that the cause of the elusivecreature's behaviour was that she had been piqued at my discovery of herin one of her most secret hiding-places in the heart of the wood, andthat it had pleased her to pay me out in this manner. 

On the next day there was no change; she was there again, evidentlyfollowing me, but always invisible, and varied not from that one mockingnote of yesterday, which seemed to challenge me to find her a secondtime. In the end I was vexed, and resolved to be even with her by notvisiting the wood for some time. A display of indifference on my partwould, I hoped, result in making her less coy in the future. 

Next day, firm in my new resolution, I accompanied Kua-ko and two othersto a distant spot where they expected that the ripening fruit on acashew tree would attract a large number of birds. The fruit, however, proved still green, so that we gathered none and killed few birds. Returning together, Kua-ko kept at my side, and by and by, fallingbehind our companions, he complimented me on my good shooting, although, as usual, I had only wasted the arrows I had blown. 

"Soon you will be able to hit, " he said; "hit a bird as big as a smallwoman"; and he laughed once more immoderately at the old joke. At last, growing confidential, he said that I would soon possess a zabatana of myown, with arrows in plenty. He was going to make the arrows himself, and his uncle Otawinki, who had a straight eye, would make the tube. Itreated it all as a joke, but he solemnly assured me that he meant it. 

Next morning he asked me if I was going to the forest of evil fame, andwhen I replied in the negative, seemed surprised and, very much to mysurprise, evidently disappointed. He even tried to persuade me to go, where before I had been earnestly recommended not to go, until, findingthat I would not, he took me with him to hunt in the woods. By and by hereturned to the same subject: he could not understand why I would not goto that wood, and asked me if I had begun to grow afraid. 

"No, not afraid, " I replied; "but I know the place well, and am gettingtired of it. " I had seen everything in it--birds and beasts--and hadheard all its strange noises. 

"Yes, heard, " he said, nodding his head knowingly; "but you have seennothing strange; your eyes are not good enough yet. "

I laughed contemptuously and answered that I had seen everything strangethe wood contained, including a strange young girl; and I went on todescribe her appearance, and finished by asking if he thought a whiteman was frightened at the sight of a young girl. 

What I said astonished him; then he seemed greatly pleased, and, growingstill more confidential and generous than on the previous day, he saidthat I would soon be a most important personage among them, and greatlydistinguish myself. He did not like it when I laughed at all this, andwent on with great seriousness to speak of the unmade blowpipe thatwould be mine--speaking of it as if it had been something very great, equal to the gift of a large tract of land, or the governorship of aprovince, north of the Orinoco. And by and by he spoke of something elsemore wonderful even than the promise of a blow-pipe, with arrows galore, and this was that young sister of his, whose name was Oalava, a maid ofabout sixteen, shy and silent and mild-eyed, rather lean and dirty; notugly, nor yet prepossessing. And this copper-coloured little drab of thewilderness he proposed to bestow in marriage on me! Anxious to pump him, I managed to control my muscles and asked him what authority he--ayoung nobody, who had not yet risen to the dignity of buying a wifefor himself--could have to dispose of a sister in this offhand way?He replied that there would be no difficulty: that Runi would give hisconsent, as would also Otawinki, Piake, and other relations; and last, and LEAST, according to the matrimonial customs of these latitudes, Oalava herself would be ready to bestow her person--queyou, wornfigleaf-wise, necklace of accouri teeth, and all--on so worthy a suitoras myself. Finally, to make the prospect still more inviting, he addedthat it would not be necessary for me to subject myself to any voluntarytortures to prove myself a man and fitted to enter into the purgatorialstate of matrimony. He was a great deal too considerate, I said, and, with all the gravity I could command, asked him what kind of torture hewould recommend. For me--so valorous a person--"no torture, " he answeredmagnanimously. But he--Kua-ko--had made up his mind as to the form oftorture he meant to inflict some day on his own person. He would preparea large sack and into it put fire-ants--"As many as that!" he exclaimedtriumphantly, stooping and filling his two hands with loose sand. Hewould put them in the sack, and then get into it himself naked, andtie it tightly round his neck, so as to show to all spectators thatthe hellish pain of innumerable venomous stings in his flesh could beendured without a groan and with an unmoved countenance. The poor youthhad not an original mind, since this was one of the commonest formsof self-torture among the Guayana tribes. But the sudden wonderfulanimation with which he spoke of it, the fiendish joy that illumined hisusually stolid countenance, sent a sudden disgust and horror through me. But what a strange inverted kind of fiendishness is this, which delightsat the anticipation of torture inflicted on oneself and not on an enemy!And towards others these savages are mild and peaceable! No, I could notbelieve in their mildness; that was only on the surface, when nothingoccurred to rouse their savage, cruel instincts. I could have laughed atthe whole matter, but the exulting look on my companion's face had mademe sick of the subject, and I wished not to talk any more about it. 

But he would talk still--this fellow whose words, as a rule, I had totake out of his mouth with a fork, as we say; and still on the samesubject, he said that not one person in the village would expect tosee me torture myself; that after what I would do for them all--afterdelivering them from a great evil--nothing further would be expected ofme. 

I asked him to explain his meaning; for it now began to appear plainthat in everything he had said he had been leading up to some veryimportant matter. It would, of course, have been a great mistake tosuppose that my savage was offering me a blow-pipe and a marketablevirgin sister from purely disinterested motives. 

In reply he went back to that still unforgotten joke about my being ableeventually to hit a bird as big as a small woman with an arrow. Out ofit all came, when he went on to ask me if that mysterious girl I hadseen in the wood was not of a size to suit me as a target when I had gotmy hand in with a little more practice. That was the great work I wasasked to do for them--that shy, mysterious girl with the melodiouswild-bird voice was the evil being I was asked to slay with poisonedarrows! This was why he now wished me to go often to the wood, to becomemore and more familiar with her haunts and habits, to overcome allshyness and suspicion in her; and at the proper moment, when it would beimpossible to miss my mark, to plant the fatal arrow! The disgust he hadinspired in me before, when gloating over anticipated tortures, was aweak and transient feeling to what I now experienced. I turned on him ina sudden transport of rage, and in a moment would have shattered on hishead the blow-pipe I was carrying in my hand, but his astonished look ashe turned to face me made me pause and prevented me from committingso fatal an indiscretion. I could only grind my teeth and struggle toovercome an almost overpowering hatred and wrath. Finally I flung thetube down and bade him take it, telling him that I would not touch itagain if he offered me all the sisters of all the savages in Guayana forwives. 

He continued gazing at me mute with astonishment, and prudence suggestedthat it would be best to conceal as far as possible the violentanimosity I had conceived against him. I asked him somewhat scornfullyif he believed that I should ever be able to hit anything--bird or humanbeing--with an arrow. "No, " I almost shouted, so as to give vent to myfeelings in some way, and drawing my revolver, "this is the white man'sweapon; but he kills men with it--men who attempt to kill or injurehim--but neither with this nor any other weapon does he murder innocentyoung girls treacherously. " After that we went on in silence for sometime; at length he said that the being I had seen in the wood and wasnot afraid of was no innocent young girl, but a daughter of the Didi, anevil being; and that so long as she continued to inhabit the wood theycould not go there to hunt, and even in other woods they constantly wentin fear of meeting her. Too much disgusted to talk with him, I went onin silence; and when we reached the stream near the village, I threw offmy clothes and plunged into the water to cool my anger before going into the others. 

CHAPTER VI

Thinking about the forest girl while lying awake that night, I came tothe conclusion that I had made it sufficiently plain to her how littleher capricious behaviour had been relished, and had therefore no needto punish myself more by keeping any longer out of my beloved greenmansions. Accordingly, next day, after the heavy rain that fell duringthe morning hours had ceased, I set forth about noon to visit the wood. Overhead the sky was clear again; but there was no motion in the heavysultry atmosphere, while dark blue masses of banked-up clouds on thewestern horizon threatened a fresh downpour later in the day. My mindwas, however, now too greatly excited at the prospect of a possibleencounter with the forest nymph to allow me to pay any heed to theseominous signs. 

I had passed through the first strip of wood and was in the succeedingstony sterile space when a gleam of brilliant colour close by on theground caught my sight. It was a snake lying on the bare earth; had Ikept on without noticing it, I should most probably have trodden uponor dangerously near it. Viewing it closely, I found that it was a coralsnake, famed as much for its beauty and singularity as for its deadlycharacter. It was about three feet long, and very slim; its groundcolour a brilliant vermilion, with broad jet-black rings at equaldistances round its body, each black ring or band divided by a narrowyellow strip in the middle. The symmetrical pattern and vividlycontrasted colours would have given it the appearance of an artificialsnake made by some fanciful artist, but for the gleam of life in itsbright coils. Its fixed eyes, too, were living gems, and from the pointof its dangerous arrowy head the glistening tongue flickered ceaselesslyas I stood a few yards away regarding it. 

"I admire you greatly, Sir Serpent, " I said, or thought, "but it isdangerous, say the military authorities, to leave an enemy or possibleenemy in the rear; the person who does such a thing must be either a badstrategist or a genius, and I am neither. "

Retreating a few paces, I found and picked up a stone about as big asa man's hand and hurled it at the dangerous-looking head with theintention of crushing it; but the stone hit upon the rocky ground alittle on one side of the mark and, being soft, flew into a hundredsmall fragments. This roused the creature's anger, and in a moment withraised head he was gliding swiftly towards me. Again I retreated, notso slowly on this occasion; and finding another stone, I raised andwas about to launch it when a sharp, ringing cry issued from the bushesgrowing near, and, quickly following the sound, forth stepped the forestgirl; no longer elusive and shy, vaguely seen in the shadowy wood, butboldly challenging attention, exposed to the full power of the meridiansun, which made her appear luminous and rich in colour beyond example. Seeing her thus, all those emotions of fear and abhorrence invariablyexcited in us by the sight of an active venomous serpent in our pathvanished instantly from my mind: I could now only feel astonishmentand admiration at the brilliant being as she advanced with swift, easy, undulating motion towards me; or rather towards the serpent, which wasnow between us, moving more and more slowly as she came nearer. Thecause of this sudden wonderful boldness, so unlike her former habit, wasunmistakable. She had been watching my approach from some hiding-placeamong the bushes, ready no doubt to lead me a dance through the woodwith her mocking voice, as on previous occasions, when my attack on theserpent caused that outburst of wrath. The torrent of ringing and tome inarticulate sounds in that unknown tongue, her rapid gestures, and, above all, her wide-open sparkling eyes and face aflame with colour madeit impossible to mistake the nature of her feeling. 

In casting about for some term or figure of speech in which to describethe impression produced on me at that moment, I think of waspish, and, better still, avispada--literally the same word in Spanish, not havingprecisely the same meaning nor ever applied contemptuously--only toreject both after a moment's reflection. Yet I go back to the image ofan irritated wasp as perhaps offering the best illustration; of somelarge tropical wasp advancing angrily towards me, as I have witnessed ahundred times, not exactly flying, but moving rapidly, half running andhalf flying, over the ground, with loud and angry buzz, the glisteningwings open and agitated; beautiful beyond most animated creatures inits sharp but graceful lines, polished surface, and varied brilliantcolouring, and that wrathfulness that fits it so well and seems to giveit additional lustre. 

Wonder-struck at the sight of her strange beauty and passion, I forgotthe advancing snake until she came to a stop at about five yards fromme; then to my horror I saw that it was beside her naked feet. Althoughno longer advancing, the head was still raised high as if to strike;but presently the spirit of anger appeared to die out of it; the liftedhead, oscillating a little from side to side, sunk down lower and lowerto rest finally on the girl's bare instep; and lying there motionless, the deadly thing had the appearance of a gaily coloured silken garterjust dropped from her leg. It was plain to see that she had no fear ofit, that she was one of those exceptional persons, to be found, it issaid, in all countries, who possess some magnetic quality which has asoothing effect on even the most venomous and irritable reptiles. 

Following the direction of my eyes, she too glanced down, but did notmove her foot; then she made her voice heard again, still loud andsharp, but the anger was not now so pronounced. 

"Do not fear, I shall not harm it, " I said in the Indian tongue. 

She took no notice of my speech and continued speaking with increasingresentment. 

I shook my head, replying that her language was unknown to me. Then bymeans of signs I tried to make her understand that the creature was safefrom further molestation. She pointed indignantly at the stone in myhand, which I had forgotten all about. At once I threw it from me, andinstantly there was a change; the resentment had vanished, and a tenderradiance lit her face like a smile. 

I advanced a little nearer, addressing her once more in the Indiantongue; but my speech was evidently unintelligible to her, as she stoodnow glancing at the snake lying at her feet, now at me. Again I hadrecourse to signs and gestures; pointing to the snake, then to the stoneI had cast away, I endeavoured to convey to her that in the future Iwould for her sake be a friend to all venomous reptiles, and that Iwished her to have the same kindly feelings towards me as towards thesecreatures. Whether or not she understood me, she showed no dispositionto go into hiding again, and continued silently regarding me with a lookthat seemed to express pleasure at finding herself at last thus suddenlybrought face to face with me. Flattered at this, I gradually drew neareruntil at the last I was standing at her side, gazing down with theutmost delight into that face which so greatly surpassed in lovelinessall human faces I had ever seen or imagined. 

And yet to you, my friend, it probably will not seem that she wasso beautiful, since I have, alas! only the words we all use to paintcommoner, coarser things, and no means to represent all the exquisitedetails, all the delicate lights, and shades, and swift changes ofcolour and expression. Moreover, is it not a fact that the strange orunheard of can never appear beautiful in a mere description, becausethat which is most novel in it attracts too much attention and is givenundue prominence in the picture, and we miss that which would have takenaway the effect of strangeness--the perfect balance of the parts andharmony of the whole? For instance, the blue eyes of the northernerwould, when first described to the black-eyed inhabitants of warmregions, seem unbeautiful and a monstrosity, because they would vividlysee with the mental vision that unheard-of blueness, but not in thesame vivid way the accompanying flesh and hair tints with which itharmonizes. 

Think, then, less of the picture as I have to paint it in words than ofthe feeling its original inspired in me when, looking closely for thefirst time on that rare loveliness, trembling with delight, I mentallycried: "Oh, why has Nature, maker of so many types and of innumerableindividuals of each, given to the world but one being like this?"

Scarcely had the thought formed itself in my mind before I dismissed itas utterly incredible. No, this exquisite being was without doubt oneof a distinct race which had existed in this little-known corner of thecontinent for thousands of generations, albeit now perhaps reduced to asmall and dwindling remnant. 

Her figure and features were singularly delicate, but it was her colourthat struck me most, which indeed made her differ from all other humanbeings. The colour of the skin would be almost impossible to describe, so greatly did it vary with every change of mood--and the moods weremany and transient--and with the angle on which the sunlight touched it, and the degree of light. 

Beneath the trees, at a distance, it had seemed a somewhat dim whiteor pale grey; near in the strong sunshine it was not white, butalabastrian, semi-pellucid, showing an underlying rose colour; andat any point where the rays fell direct this colour was bright andluminous, as we see in our fingers when held before a strong firelight. But that part of her skin that remained in shadow appeared of a dimmerwhite, and the underlying colour varied from dim, rosy purple to dimblue. With the skin the colour of the eyes harmonized perfectly. Atfirst, when lit with anger, they had appeared flame-like; now the iriswas of a peculiar soft or dim and tender red, a shade sometimes seenin flowers. But only when looked closely at could this delicate hue bediscerned, the pupils being large, as in some grey eyes, and the long, dark, shading lashes at a short distance made the whole eye appear dark. Think not, then, of the red flower, exposed to the light and sun inconjunction with the vivid green of the foliage; think only of sucha hue in the half-hidden iris, brilliant and moist with the eye'smoisture, deep with the eye's depth, glorified by the outward look ofa bright, beautiful soul. Most variable of all in colour was the hair, this being due to its extreme fineness and glossiness, and to itselasticity, which made it lie fleecy and loose on head, shoulders, andback; a cloud with a brightness on its surface made by the freer outerhairs, a fit setting and crown for a countenance of such rare changefulloveliness. In the shade, viewed closely, the general colour appeared aslate, deepening in places to purple; but even in the shade the nimbusof free flossy hairs half veiled the darker tints with a downy pallor;and at a distance of a few yards it gave the whole hair a vague, mistyappearance. In the sunlight the colour varied more, looking now dark, sometimes intensely black, now of a light uncertain hue, with a play ofiridescent colour on the loose surface, as we see on the glossed plumageof some birds; and at a short distance, with the sun shining full on herhead, it sometimes looked white as a noonday cloud. So changeful was itand ethereal in appearance with its cloud colours that all other humanhair, even of the most beautiful golden shades, pale or red, seemedheavy and dull and dead-looking by comparison. 

But more than form and colour and that enchanting variability was thelook of intelligence, which at the same time seemed complementary to andone with the all-seeing, all-hearing alertness appearing in her face;the alertness one remarks in a wild creature, even when in repose andfearing nothing; but seldom in man, never perhaps in intellectual orstudious man. She was a wild, solitary girl of the woods, and did notunderstand the language of the country in which I had addressed her. What inner or mind life could such a one have more than that of any wildanimal existing in the same conditions? Yet looking at her face itwas not possible to doubt its intelligence. This union in her of twoopposite qualities, which, with us, cannot or do not exist together, although so novel, yet struck me as the girl's principal charm. Why hadNature not done this before--why in all others does the brightness ofthe mind dim that beautiful physical brightness which the wild animalshave? But enough for me that that which no man had ever looked for orhoped to find existed here; that through that unfamiliar lustre of thewild life shone the spiritualizing light of mind that made us kin. 

These thoughts passed swiftly through my brain as I stood feasting mysight on her bright, piquant face; while she on her part gazed backinto my eyes, not only with fearless curiosity, but with a look ofrecognition and pleasure at the encounter so unmistakably friendly that, encouraged by it, I took her arm in my hand, moving at the same time alittle nearer to her. At that moment a swift, startled expression cameinto her eyes; she glanced down and up again into my face; her lipstrembled and slightly parted as she murmured some sorrowful sounds in atone so low as to be only just audible. 

Thinking she had become alarmed and was on the point of escaping out ofmy hands, and fearing, above all things, to lose sight of her again sosoon, I slipped my arm around her slender body to detain her, movingone foot at the same time to balance myself; and at that moment I felta slight blow and a sharp burning sensation shoot into my leg, so suddenand intense that I dropped my arm, at the same time uttering a cry ofpain, and recoiled one or two paces from her. But she stirred not whenI released her; her eyes followed my movements; then she glanced down ather feet. I followed her look, and figure to yourself my horror when Isaw there the serpent I had so completely forgotten, and which even thatsting of sharp pain had not brought back to remembrance! There it lay, a coil of its own thrown round one of her ankles, and its head, raisednearly a foot high, swaying slowly from side to side, while the swiftforked tongue flickered continuously. Then--only then--I knew what hadhappened, and at the same time I understood the reason of that suddenlook of alarm in her face, the murmuring sounds she had uttered, and thedownward startled glance. Her fears had been solely for my safety, andshe had warned me! Too late! too late! In moving I had trodden on ortouched the serpent with my foot, and it had bitten me just above theankle. In a few moments I began to realize the horror of my position. "Must I die! must I die! Oh, my God, is there nothing that can save me?"I cried in my heart. 

She was still standing motionless in the same place: her eyes wanderedback from me to the snake; gradually its swaying head was lowered again, and the coil unwound from her ankle; then it began to move away, slowlyat first, and with the head a little raised, then faster, and in the endit glided out of sight. Gone!--but it had left its venom in my blood--Ocursed reptile!

Back from watching its retreat, my eyes returned to her face, nowstrangely clouded with trouble; her eyes dropped before mine, while thepalms of her hands were pressed together, and the fingers clasped andunclasped alternately. How different she seemed now; the brilliant facegrown so pallid and vague-looking! But not only because this tragic endto our meeting had pierced her with pain: that cloud in the west hadgrown up and now covered half the sky with vast lurid masses of vapour, blotting out the sun, and a great gloom had fallen on the earth. 

That sudden twilight and a long roll of approaching thunder, reverberating from the hills, increased my anguish and desperation. Death at that moment looked unutterably terrible. The remembrance of allthat made life dear pierced me to the core--all that nature was to me, all the pleasures of sense and intellect, the hopes I had cherished--allwas revealed to me as by a flash of lightning. Bitterest of all was thethought that I must now bid everlasting farewell to this beautiful beingI had found in the solitude this lustrous daughter of the Didi--justwhen I had won her from her shyness--that I must go away into the cursedblackness of death and never know the mystery of her life! It wasthat which utterly unnerved me, and made my legs tremble under me, andbrought great drops of sweat to my forehead, until I thought that thevenom was already doing its swift, fatal work in my veins. 

With uncertain steps I moved to a stone a yard or two away and sat downupon it. As I did so the hope came to me that this girl, so intimatewith nature, might know of some antidote to save me. Touching my leg, and using other signs, I addressed her again in the Indian language. 

"The snake has bitten me, " I said. "What shall I do? Is there no leaf, no root you know that would save me from death? Help me! help me!" Icried in despair. 

My signs she probably understood if not my words, but she made no reply;and still she remained standing motionless, twisting and untwisting herfingers, and regarding me with a look of ineffable grief and compassion. 

Alas! It was vain to appeal to her: she knew what had happened, and whatthe result would most likely be, and pitied, but was powerless to helpme. Then it occurred to me that if I could reach the Indian villagebefore the venom overpowered me something might be done to save me. Oh, why had I tarried so long, losing so many precious minutes! Large dropsof rain were falling now, and the gloom was deeper, and the thunderalmost continuous. With a cry of anguish I started to my feet andwas about to rush away towards the village when a dazzling flash oflightning made me pause for a moment. When it vanished I turned a lastlook on the girl, and her face was deathly pale, and her hair lookedblacker than night; and as she looked she stretched out her arms towardsme and uttered a low, wailing cry. "Good-bye for ever!" I murmured, andturning once more from her, rushed away like one crazed into the wood. But in my confusion I had probably taken the wrong direction, forinstead of coming out in a few minutes into the open border of theforest, and on to the savannah, I found myself every moment gettingdeeper among the trees. I stood still, perplexed, but could not shakeoff the conviction that I had started in the right direction. EventuallyI resolved to keep on for a hundred yards or so and then, if no openingappeared, to turn back and retrace my steps. But this was no easymatter. I soon became entangled in a dense undergrowth, which soconfused me that at last I confessed despairingly to myself that forthe first time in this wood I was hopelessly lost. And in what terriblecircumstances! At intervals a flash of lightning would throw a vividblue glare down into the interior of the wood and only serve to showthat I had lost myself in a place where even at noon in cloudlessweather progress would be most difficult; and now the light would onlylast a moment, to be followed by thick gloom; and I could only tearblindly on, bruising and lacerating my flesh at every step, fallingagain and again, only to struggle up and on again, now high above thesurface, climbing over prostrate trees and branches, now plunged to mymiddle in a pool or torrent of water. 

Hopeless--utterly hopeless seemed all my mad efforts; and at each pause, when I would stand exhausted, gasping for breath, my throbbing heartalmost suffocating me, a dull, continuous, teasing pain in my bitten legserved to remind me that I had but a little time left to exist--that bydelaying at first I had allowed my only chance of salvation to slip by. 

How long a time I spent fighting my way through this dense black wood Iknow not; perhaps two or three hours, only to me the hours seemed likeyears of prolonged agony. At last, all at once, I found that I was freeof the close undergrowth and walking on level ground; but it was darkerhere darker than the darkest night; and at length, when the lightningcame and flared down through the dense roof of foliage overhead, Idiscovered that I was in a spot that had a strange look, where the treeswere very large and grew wide apart, and with no undergrowth to impedeprogress beneath them. Here, recovering breath, I began to run, andafter a while found that I had left the large trees behind me, and wasnow in a more open place, with small trees and bushes; and this made mehope for a while that I had at last reached the border of the forest. But the hope proved vain; once more I had to force my way through denseundergrowth, and finally emerged on to a slope where it was open, andI could once more see for some distance around me by such light ascame through the thick pall of clouds. Trudging on to the summit ofthe slope, I saw that there was open savannah country beyond, and for amoment rejoiced that I had got free from the forest. A few steps more, and I was standing on the very edge of a bank, a precipice not less thanfifty feet deep. I had never seen that bank before, and therefore knewthat I could not be on the right side of the forest. But now my onlyhope was to get completely away from the trees and then to look for thevillage, and I began following the bank in search of a descent. No breakoccurred, and presently I was stopped by a dense thicket of bushes. Iwas about to retrace my steps when I noticed that a tall slender treegrowing at the foot of the precipice, its green top not more thana couple of yards below my feet, seemed to offer a means of escape. Nerving myself with the thought that if I got crushed by the fall Ishould probably escape a lingering and far more painful death, I droppedinto the cloud of foliage beneath me and clutched desperately at thetwigs as I fell. For a moment I felt myself sustained; but branch afterbranch gave way beneath my weight, and then I only remember, very dimly, a swift flight through the air before losing consciousness. 

CHAPTER VII

With the return of consciousness, I at first had a vague impression thatI was lying somewhere, injured, and incapable of motion; that it wasnight, and necessary for me to keep my eyes fast shut to prevent themfrom being blinded by almost continuous vivid flashes of lightning. Injured, and sore all over, but warm and dry--surely dry; nor was itlightning that dazzled, but firelight. I began to notice things littleby little. The fire was burning on a clay floor a few feet from where Iwas lying. Before it, on a log of wood, sat or crouched a human figure. An old man, with chin on breast and hands clasped before his drawn-upknees; only a small portion of his forehead and nose visible to me. AnIndian I took him to be, from his coarse, lank, grey hair and dark brownskin. I was in a large hut, falling at the sides to within two feet ofthe floor; but there were no hammocks in it, nor bows and spears, andno skins, not even under me, for I was lying on straw mats. I could hearthe storm still raging outside; the rush and splash of rain, and, atintervals, the distant growl of thunder. There was wind, too; I listenedto it sobbing in the trees, and occasionally a puff found its way in, and blew up the white ashes at the old man's feet, and shook the yellowflames like a flag. I remembered now how the storm began, the wild girl, the snake-bite, my violent efforts to find a way out of the woods, and, finally, that leap from the bank where recollection ended. That I hadnot been killed by the venomous tooth, nor the subsequent fearful fall, seemed like a miracle to me. And in that wild, solitary place, lyinginsensible, in that awful storm and darkness, I had been found by afellow creature--a savage, doubtless, but a good Samaritan all thesame--who had rescued me from death! I was bruised all over and did notattempt to move, fearing the pain it would give me; and I had a rackingheadache; but these seemed trifling discomforts after such adventuresand such perils. I felt that I had recovered or was recovering fromthat venomous bite; that I would live and not die--live to return to mycountry; and the thought filled my heart to overflowing, and tears ofgratitude and happiness rose to my eyes. 

At such times a man experiences benevolent feelings, and would willinglybestow some of that overplus of happiness on his fellows to lightenother hearts; and this old man before me, who was probably theinstrument of my salvation, began greatly to excite my interest andcompassion. For he seemed so poor in his old age and rags, so solitaryand dejected as he sat there with knees drawn up, his great, brown, barefeet looking almost black by contrast with the white wood-ashes aboutthem! What could I do for him? What could I say to cheer his spiritsin that Indian language, which has few or no words to express kindlyfeelings? Unable to think of anything better to say, I at lengthsuddenly cried aloud: "Smoke, old man! Why do you not smoke? It is goodto smoke. "

He gave a mighty start and, turning, fixed his eyes on me. Then I sawthat he was not a pure Indian, for although as brown as old leather, he wore a beard and moustache. A curious face had this old man, whichlooked as if youth and age had made it a battling-ground. His foreheadwas smooth except for two parallel lines in the middle running itsentire length, dividing it in zones; his arched eyebrows were black asink, and his small black eyes were bright and cunning, like the eyes ofsome wild carnivorous animal. In this part of his face youth had heldits own, especially in the eyes, which looked young and lively. But lower down age had conquered, scribbling his skin all over withwrinkles, while moustache and beard were white as thistledown. "Aha, thedead man is alive again!" he exclaimed, with a chuckling laugh. Thisin the Indian tongue; then in Spanish he added: "But speak to me in thelanguage you know best, senor; for if you are not a Venezuelan call mean owl. "

"And you, old man?" said I. 

"Ah, I was right! Why sir what I am is plainly written on my face. Surely you do not take me for a pagan! I might be a black man fromAfrica, or an Englishman, but an Indian--that, no! But a minute ago youhad the goodness to invite me to smoke. How, sir, can a poor man smokewho is without tobacco?"

"Without tobacco--in Guayana!"

"Can you believe it? But, sir, do not blame me; if the beast thatcame one night and destroyed my plants when ripe for cutting had takenpumpkins and sweet potatoes instead, it would have been better for him, if curses have any effect. And the plant grows slowly, sir--it is not anevil weed to come to maturity in a single day. And as for other leavesin the forest, I smoke them, yes; but there is no comfort to the lungsin such smoke. "

"My tobacco-pouch was full, " I said. "You will find it in my coat, if Idid not lose it. "

"The saints forbid!" he exclaimed. "Grandchild--Rima, have you got atobacco-pouch with the other things? Give it to me. "

Then I first noticed that another person was in the hut, a slim younggirl, who had been seated against the wall on the other side of thefire, partially hid by the shadows. She had my leather belt, withthe revolver in its case, and my hunting-knife attached, and the fewarticles I had had in my pockets, on her lap. Taking up the pouch, shehanded it to him, and he clutched it with a strange eagerness. 

"I will give it back presently, Rima, " he said. "Let me first smoke acigarette--and then another. "

It seemed probable from this that the good old man had already beencasting covetous eyes on my property, and that his granddaughter hadtaken care of it for me. But how the silent, demure girl had kept itfrom him was a puzzle, so intensely did he seem now to enjoy it, drawingthe smoke vigorously into his lungs and, after keeping it ten or fifteenseconds there, letting it fly out again from mouth and nose in blue jetsand clouds. His face softened visibly, he became more and more genialand loquacious, and asked me how I came to be in that solitary place. Itold him that I was staying with the Indian Runi, his neighbour. 

"But, senor, " he said, "if it is not an impertinence, how is it that ayoung man of so distinguished an appearance as yourself, a Venezuelan, should be residing with these children of the devil?"

"You love not your neighbours, then?"

"I know them, sir--how should I love them?" He was rolling up his secondor third cigarette by this time, and I could not help noticing that hetook a great deal more tobacco than he required in his fingers, andthat the surplus on each occasion was conveyed to some secret receptacleamong his rags. "Love them, sir! They are infidels, and therefore thegood Christian must only hate them. They are thieves--they will stealfrom you before your very face, so devoid are they of all shame. Andalso murderers; gladly would they burn this poor thatch above my head, and kill me and my poor grandchild, who shares this solitary life withme, if they had the courage. But they are all arrant cowards, and fearto approach me--fear even to come into this wood. You would laugh tohear what they are afraid of--a child would laugh to hear it!"

"What do they fear?" I said, for his words had excited my interest in agreat degree. 

"Why, sir, would you believe it? They fear this child--my granddaughter, seated there before you. A poor innocent girl of seventeen summers, aChristian who knows her Catechism, and would not harm the smallest thingthat God has made--no, not a fly, which is not regarded on account ofits smallness. Why, sir, it is due to her tender heart that you aresafely sheltered here, instead of being left out of doors in thistempestuous night. "

"To her--to this girl?" I returned in astonishment. "Explain, old man, for I do not know how I was saved. "

"Today, senor, through your own heedlessness you were bitten by avenomous snake. "

"Yes, that is true, although I do not know how it came to yourknowledge. But why am I not a dead man, then--have you done something tosave me from the effects of the poison?"

"Nothing. What could I do so long after you were bitten? When a man isbitten by a snake in a solitary place he is in God's hands. He will liveor die as God wills. There is nothing to be done. But surely, sir, youremember that my poor grandchild was with you in the wood when the snakebit you?"

"A girl was there--a strange girl I have seen and heard before when Ihave walked in the forest. But not this girl--surely not this girl!"

"No other, " said he, carefully rolling up another cigarette. 

"It is not possible!" I returned. 

"Ill would you have fared, sir, had she not been there. For after beingbitten, you rushed away into the thickest part of the wood, and wentabout in a circle like a demented person for Heaven knows how long. Butshe never left you; she was always close to you--you might have touchedher with your hand. And at last some good angel who was watching you, in order to stop your career, made you mad altogether and caused you tojump over a precipice and lose your senses. And you were no sooner onthe ground than she was with you--ask me not how she got down! And whenshe had propped you up against the bank, she came for me. Fortunatelythe spot where you had fallen is near--not five hundred yards from thedoor. And I, on my part, was willing to assist her in saving you; for Iknew it was no Indian that had fallen, since she loves not that breed, and they come not here. It was not an easy task, for you weigh, senor;but between us we brought you in. "

While he spoke, the girl continued sitting in the same listless attitudeas when I first observed her, with eyes cast down and hands folded inher lap. Recalling that brilliant being in the wood that had protectedthe serpent from me and calmed its rage, I found it hard to believe hiswords, and still felt a little incredulous. 

"Rima--that is your name, is it not?" I said. "Will you come here andstand before me, and let me look closely at you?"

"Si, senor. " she meekly answered; and removing the things from her lap, she stood up; then, passing behind the old man, came and stood beforeme, her eyes still bent on the ground--a picture of humility. 

She had the figure of the forest girl, but wore now a scanty fadedcotton garment, while the loose cloud of hair was confined in two plaitsand hung down her back. The face also showed the same delicate lines, but of the brilliant animation and variable colour and expression thereappeared no trace. Gazing at her countenance as she stood there silent, shy, and spiritless before me, the image of her brighter self camevividly to my mind and I could not recover from the astonishment I feltat such a contrast. 

Have you ever observed a humming-bird moving about in an aerial danceamong the flowers--a living prismatic gem that changes its colour withevery change of position--how in turning it catches the sunshine on itsburnished neck and gorges plumes--green and gold and flame-coloured, thebeams changing to visible flakes as they fall, dissolving into nothing, to be succeeded by others and yet others? In its exquisite form, its changeful splendour, its swift motions and intervals of aerialsuspension, it is a creature of such fairy-like loveliness as tomock all description. And have you seen this same fairy-like creaturesuddenly perch itself on a twig, in the shade, its misty wings andfan-like tail folded, the iridescent glory vanished, looking like somecommon dull-plumaged little bird sitting listless in a cage? Just sogreat was the difference in the girl as I had seen her in the forest andas she now appeared under the smoky roof in the firelight. 

After watching her for some moments, I spoke: "Rima, there must be agood deal of strength in that frame of yours, which looks so delicate;will you raise me up a little?"

She went down on one knee and, placing her arms round me, assisted me toa sitting posture. 

"Thank you, Rima--oh, misery!" I groaned. "Is there a bone left unbrokenin my poor body?"

"Nothing broken, " cried the old man, clouds of smoke flying out with hiswords. "I have examined you well--legs, arms, ribs. For this is howit was, senor. A thorny bush into which you fell saved you from beingflattened on the stony ground. But you are bruised, sir, black withbruises; and there are more scratches of thorns on your skin thanletters on a written page. "

"A long thorn might have entered my brain, " I said, "from the way itpains. Feel my forehead, Rima; is it very hot and dry?"

She did as I asked, touching me lightly with her little cool hand. "No, senor, not hot, but warm and moist, " she said. 

"Thank Heaven for that!" I said. "Poor girl! And you followed me throughthe wood in all that terrible storm! Ah, if I could lift my bruised armI would take your hand to kiss it in gratitude for so great a service. Iowe you my life, sweet Rima--what shall I do to repay so great a debt?"

The old man chuckled as if amused, but the girl lifted not her eyes norspoke. 

"Tell me, sweet child, " I said, "for I cannot realize it yet; wasit really you that saved the serpent's life when I would have killedit--did you stand by me in the wood with the serpent lying at yourfeet?"

"Yes, senor, " came her gentle answer. 

"And it was you I saw in the wood one day, lying on the ground playingwith a small bird?"

"Yes, senor. "

"And it was you that followed me so often among the trees, calling tome, yet always hiding so that I could never see you?"

"Yes, senor. "

"Oh, this is wonderful!" I exclaimed; whereat the old man chuckledagain. 

"But tell me this, my sweet girl, " I continued. "You never addressed mein Spanish; what strange musical language was it you spoke to me in?"

She shot a timid glance at my face and looked troubled at the question, but made no reply. 

"Senor, " said the old man, "that is a question which you must excuse mychild from answering. Not, sir, from want of will, for she is docile andobedient, though I say it, but there is no answer beyond what I can tellyou. And this is, sir, that all creatures, whether man or bird, have thevoice that God has given them; and in some the voice is musical and inothers not so. "

"Very well, old man, " said I to myself; "there let the matter rest forthe present. But if I am destined to live and not die, I shall not longremain satisfied with your too simple explanation. "

"Rima, " I said, "you must be fatigued; it is thoughtless of me to keepyou standing here so long. "

Her face brightened a little, and bending down, she replied in a lowvoice: "I am not fatigued, sir. Let me get you something to eat now. "

She moved quickly away to the fire, and presently returned with anearthenware dish of roasted pumpkin and sweet potatoes and, kneeling atmy side, fed me deftly with a small wooden spoon. I did not feel grievedat the absence of meat and the stinging condiments the Indians love, nordid I even remark that there was no salt in the vegetables, so muchwas I taken up with watching her beautiful delicate face while sheministered to me. The exquisite fragrance of her breath was more to methan the most delicious viands could have been; and it was a delighteach time she raised the spoon to my mouth to catch a momentary glimpseof her eyes, which now looked dark as wine when we lift the glass to seethe ruby gleam of light within the purple. But she never for a momentlaid aside the silent, meek, constrained manner; and when I rememberedher bursting out in her brilliant wrath on me, pouring forth thattorrent of stinging invective in her mysterious language, I was lostin wonder and admiration at the change in her, and at her doublepersonality. Having satisfied my wants, she moved quietly awayand, raising a straw mat, disappeared behind it into her ownsleeping-apartment, which was divided off by a partition from the room Iwas in. 

The old man's sleeping-place was a wooden cot or stand on the oppositeside of the room, but he was in no hurry to sleep, and after Rima hadleft us, put a fresh log on the blaze and lit another cigarette. Heavenknows how many he had smoked by this time. He became very talkative andcalled to his side his two dogs, which I had not noticed in the roombefore, for me to see. It amused me to hear their names--Susio andGoloso: Dirty and Greedy. They were surly-looking brutes, with roughyellow hair, and did not win my heart, but according to his account theypossessed all the usual canine virtues; and he was still holding forthon the subject when I fell asleep. 

CHAPTER VIII

When morning came I was too stiff and sore to move, and not until thefollowing day was I able to creep out to sit in the shade of the trees. My old host, whose name was Nuflo, went off with his dogs, leavingthe girl to attend to my wants. Two or three times during the day sheappeared to serve me with food and drink, but she continued silent andconstrained in manner as on the first evening of seeing her in the hut. 

Late in the afternoon old Nuflo returned, but did not say where he hadbeen; and shortly afterwards Rima reappeared, demure as usual, in herfaded cotton dress, her cloud of hair confined in two long plaits. My curiosity was more excited than ever, and I resolved to get tothe bottom of the mystery of her life. The girl had not shown herselfresponsive, but now that Nuflo was back I was treated to as much talk asI cared to hear. He talked of many things, only omitting those whichI desired to hear about; but his pet subject appeared to be thedivine government of the world--"God's politics"--and its manifestimperfections, or, in other words, the manifold abuses which from timeto time had been allowed to creep into it. The old man was pious, butlike many of his class in my country, he permitted himself to indulge invery free criticisms of the powers above, from the King of Heaven downto the smallest saint whose name figures in the calendar. 

"These things, senor, " he said, "are not properly managed. Consider myposition. Here am I compelled for my sins to inhabit this wildernesswith my poor granddaughter--"

"She is not your granddaughter!" I suddenly interrupted, thinking tosurprise him into an admission. 

But he took his time to answer. "Senor, we are never sure of anything inthis world. Not absolutely sure. Thus, it may come to pass that you willone day marry, and that your wife will in due time present you witha son--one that will inherit your fortune and transmit your nameto posterity. And yet, sir, in this world, you will never know to acertainty that he is your son. "

"Proceed with what you were saying, " I returned, with some dignity. 

"Here we are, " he continued, "compelled to inhabit this land and do notmeet with proper protection from the infidel. Now, sir, this is a cryingevil, and it is only becoming in one who has the true faith, and is aloyal subject of the All-Powerful, to point out with due humility thatHe is growing very remiss in His affairs, and is losing a good deal ofHis prestige. And what, senor, is at the bottom of it? Favoritism. Weknow that the Supreme cannot Himself be everywhere, attending to eachlittle trick-track that arises in the world--matters altogether beneathHis notice; and that He must, like the President of Venezuela or theEmperor of Brazil, appoint men--angels if you like--to conduct Hisaffairs and watch over each district. And it is manifest that for thiscountry of Guayana the proper person has not been appointed. Everyevil is done and there is no remedy, and the Christian has no moreconsideration shown him than the infidel. Now, senor, in a town near theOrinoco I once saw on a church the archangel Michael, made of stone, andtwice as tall as a man, with one foot on a monster shaped like a cayman, but with bat's wings, and a head and neck like a serpent. Into thismonster he was thrusting his spear. That is the kind of person thatshould be sent to rule these latitudes--a person of firmness andresolution, with strength in his wrist. And yet it is probable that thisvery man--this St. Michael--is hanging about the palace, twirling histhumbs, waiting for an appointment, while other weaker men, and--Heavenforgive me for saying it--not above a bribe, perhaps, are sent out torule over this province. "

On this string he would harp by the hour; it was a lofty subject onwhich he had pondered much in his solitary life, and he was glad of anopportunity of ventilating his grievance and expounding his views. Atfirst it was a pure pleasure to hear Spanish again, and the old man, albeit ignorant of letters, spoke well; but this, I may say, is a commonthing in our country, where the peasant's quickness of intelligence andpoetic feeling often compensate for want of instruction. His views alsoamused me, although they were not novel. But after a while I grew tiredof listening, yet I listened still, agreeing with him, and leading himon to let him have his fill of talk, always hoping that he would come atlast to speak of personal matters and give me an account of his historyand of Rima's origin. But the hope proved vain; not a word to enlightenme would he drop, however cunningly I tempted him. 

"So be it, " thought I; "but if you are cunning, old man, I shall becunning too--and patient; for all things come to him who waits. "

He was in no hurry to get rid of me. On the contrary, he more thanhinted that I would be safer under his roof than with the Indians, atthe same time apologizing for not giving me meat to eat. 

"But why do you not have meat? Never have I seen animals so abundant andtame as in this wood. " Before he could reply Rima, with a jug of waterfrom the spring in her hand, came in; glancing at me, he lifted hisfinger to signify that such a subject must not be discussed in herpresence; but as soon as she quitted the room he returned to it. 

"Senor, " he said, "have you forgotten your adventure with the snake?Know, then, that my grandchild would not live with me for one day longerif I were to lift my hand against any living creature. For us, senor, every day is fast-day--only without the fish. We have maize, pumpkin, cassava, potatoes, and these suffice. And even of these cultivatedfruits of the earth she eats but little in the house, preferring certainwild berries and gums, which are more to her taste, and which she pickshere and there in her rambles in the wood. And I, sir, loving her as Ido, whatever my inclination may be, shed no blood and eat no flesh. "

I looked at him with an incredulous smile. 

"And your dogs, old man?"

"My dogs? Sir, they would not pause or turn aside if a coatimundicrossed their path--an animal with a strong odour. As a man is, so ishis dog. Have you not seen dogs eating grass, sir, even in Venezuela, where these sentiments do not prevail? And when there is no meat--whenmeat is forbidden--these sagacious animals accustom themselves to avegetable diet. "

I could not very well tell the old man that he was lying to me--thatwould have been bad policy--and so I passed it off. "I have no doubtthat you are right, " I said. "I have heard that there are dogs in Chinathat eat no meat, but are themselves eaten by their owners after beingfattened on rice. I should not care to dine on one of your animals, oldman. "

He looked at them critically and replied: "Certainly they are lean. "

"I was thinking less of their leanness than of their smell, " I returned. "Their odour when they approach me is not flowery, but resembles thatof other dogs which feed on flesh, and have offended my too sensitivenostrils even in the drawing-rooms of Caracas. It is not like thefragrance of cattle when they return from the pasture. "

"Every animal, " he replied, "gives out that odour which is peculiar toits kind"; an incontrovertible fact which left me nothing to say. 

When I had sufficiently recovered the suppleness of my limbs to walkwith ease, I went for a ramble in the wood, in the hope that Rima wouldaccompany me, and that out among the trees she would cast aside thatartificial constraint and shyness which was her manner in the house. 

It fell out just as I had expected; she accompanied me in the sense ofbeing always near me, or within earshot, and her manner was now free andunconstrained as I could wish; but little or nothing was gained by thechange. She was once more the tantalizing, elusive, mysterious creatureI had first known through her wandering, melodious voice. The onlydifference was that the musical, inarticulate sounds were now less oftenheard, and that she was no longer afraid to show herself to me. This fora short time was enough to make me happy, since no lovelier being wasever looked upon, nor one whose loveliness was less likely to lose itscharm through being often seen. 

But to keep her near me or always in sight was, I found, impossible: shewould be free as the wind, free as the butterfly, going and coming ather wayward will, and losing herself from sight a dozen times everyhour. To induce her to walk soberly at my side or sit down and enterinto conversation with me seemed about as impracticable as to tamethe fiery-hearted little humming-bird that flashes into sight, remainssuspended motionless for a few seconds before your face, then, quick aslightning, vanishes again. 

At length, feeling convinced that she was most happy when she had me outfollowing her in the wood, that in spite of her bird-like wildness shehad a tender, human heart, which was easily moved, I determined to tryto draw her closer by means of a little innocent stratagem. Going out inthe morning, after calling her several times to no purpose, I began toassume a downcast manner, as if suffering pain or depressed with grief;and at last, finding a convenient exposed root under a tree, on a spotwhere the ground was dry and strewn with loose yellow sand, I sat downand refused to go any further. For she always wanted to lead me on andon, and whenever I paused she would return to show herself, or to chideor encourage me in her mysterious language. All her pretty little artswere now practiced in vain: with cheek resting on my hand, I still sat. 

So my eyes fixed on that patch of yellow sand at my feet, watching howthe small particles glinted like diamond dust when the sunlight touchedthem. A full hour passed in this way, during which I encouraged myselfby saying mentally: "This is a contest between us, and the most patientand the strongest of will, which should be the man, must conquer. And ifI win on this occasion, it will be easier for me in the future--easierto discover those things which I am resolved to know, and the girl mustreveal to me, since the old man has proved impracticable. "

Meanwhile she came and went and came again; and at last, finding that Iwas not to be moved, she approached and stood near me. Her face, when Iglanced at it, had a somewhat troubled look--both troubled and curious. 

"Come here, Rima, " I said, "and stay with me for a little while--Icannot follow you now. "

She took one or two hesitating steps, then stood still again; and atlength, slowly and reluctantly, advanced to within a yard of me. ThenI rose from my seat on the root, so as to catch her face better, andplaced my hand against the rough bark of the tree. 

"Rima, " I said, speaking in a low, caressing tone, "will you stay withme here a little while and talk to me, not in your language, but inmine, so that I may understand? Will you listen when I speak to you, andanswer me?"

Her lips moved, but made no sound. She seemed strangely disquieted, andshook back her loose hair, and with her small toes moved the sparklingsand at her feet, and once or twice her eyes glanced shyly at my face. 

"Rima, you have not answered me, " I persisted. "Will you not say yes?"

"Yes. "

"Where does your grandfather spend his day when he goes out with hisdogs?"

She shook her head slightly, but would not speak. 

"Have you no mother, Rima? Do you remember your mother?"

"My mother! My mother!" she exclaimed in a low voice, but with a sudden, wonderful animation. Bending a little nearer, she continued: "Oh, she isdead! Her body is in the earth and turned to dust. Like that, " and shemoved the loose sand with her foot. "Her soul is up there, where thestars and the angels are, grandfather says. But what is that to me? Iam here--am I not? I talk to her just the same. Everything I see I pointout, and tell her everything. In the daytime--in the woods, when we aretogether. And at night when I lie down I cross my arms on my breast--so, and say: 'Mother, mother, now you are in my arms; let us go to sleeptogether. ' Sometimes I say: 'Oh, why will you never answer me when Ispeak and speak?' Mother--mother--mother!"

At the end her voice suddenly rose to a mournful cry, then sunk, and atthe last repetition of the word died to a low whisper. 

"Ah, poor Rima! she is dead and cannot speak to you--cannot hear you!Talk to me, Rima; I am living and can answer. "

But now the cloud, which had suddenly lifted from her heart, letting mesee for a moment into its mysterious depths--its fancies so childlikeand feelings so intense--had fallen again; and my words brought noresponse, except a return of that troubled look to her face. 

"Silent still?" I said. "Talk to me, then, of your mother, Rima. Do youknow that you will see her again some day?"

"Yes, when I die. That is what the priest said. "

"The priest?"

"Yes, at Voa--do you know? Mother died there when I was small--it is sofar away! And there are thirteen houses by the side of the river--justhere; and on this side--trees, trees. "

This was important, I thought, and would lead to the very knowledge Iwished for; so I pressed her to tell me more about the settlement shehad named, and of which I had never heard. 

"Everything have I told you, " she returned, surprised that I did notknow that she had exhausted the subject in those half-dozen words shehad spoken. 

Obliged to shift my ground, I said at a venture: "Tell me, what doyou ask of the Virgin Mother when you kneel before her picture? Yourgrandfather told me that you had a picture in your little room. "

"You know!" flashed out her answer, with something like resentment. 

"It is all there in there, " waving her hand towards the hut. "Out herein the wood it is all gone--like this, " and stooping quickly, she raiseda little yellow sand on her palm, then let it run away through herfingers. 

Thus she illustrated how all the matters she had been taught slippedfrom her mind when she was out of doors, out of sight of the picture. After an interval she added: "Only mother is here--always with me. "

"Ah, poor Rima!" I said; "alone without a mother, and only your oldgrandfather! He is old--what will you do when he dies and flies away tothe starry country where your mother is?"

She looked inquiringly at me, then made answer in a low voice: "You arehere. "

"But when I go away?"

She was silent; and not wishing to dwell on a subject that seemed topain her, I continued: "Yes, I am here now, but you will not stay withme and talk freely! Will it always be the same if I remain with you?Why are you always so silent in the house, so cold with your oldgrandfather? So different--so full of life, like a bird, when you arealone in the woods? Rima, speak to me! Am I no more to you than your oldgrandfather? Do you not like me to talk to you?"

She appeared strangely disturbed at my words. "Oh, you are not likehim, " she suddenly replied. "Sitting all day on a log by the fire--allday, all day; Goloso and Susio lying beside him--sleep, sleep. Oh, whenI saw you in the wood I followed you, and talked and talked; still noanswer. Why will you not come when I call? To me!" Then, mocking myvoice: "Rima, Rima! Come here! Do this! Say that! Rima! Rima! It isnothing, nothing--it is not you, " pointing to my mouth, and then, as iffearing that her meaning had not been made clear, suddenly touching mylips with her finger. "Why do you not answer me?--speak to me--speak tome, like this!" And turning a little more towards me, and glancing at mewith eyes that had all at once changed, losing their clouded expressionfor one of exquisite tenderness, from her lips came a succession ofthose mysterious sounds which had first attracted me to her, swiftand low and bird-like, yet with something so much higher and moresoul-penetrating than any bird-music. Ah, what feeling and fancies, whatquaint turns of expression, unfamiliar to my mind, were contained inthose sweet, wasted symbols! I could never know--never come to herwhen she called, or respond to her spirit. To me they would alwaysbe inarticulate sounds, affecting me like a tender spiritual music--alanguage without words, suggesting more than words to the soul. 

The mysterious speech died down to a lisping sound, like the faint noteof some small bird falling from a cloud of foliage on the topmost boughof a tree; and at the same time that new light passed from her eyes, andshe half averted her face in a disappointed way. 

"Rima, " I said at length, a new thought coming to my aid, "it is truethat I am not here, " touching my lips as she had done, "and thatmy words are nothing. But look into my eyes, and you will see methere--all, all that is in my heart. "

"Oh, I know what I should see there!" she returned quickly. 

"What would you see--tell me?"

"There is a little black ball in the middle of your eye; I should seemyself in it no bigger than that, " and she marked off about an eighth ofher little fingernail. "There is a pool in the wood, and I look down andsee myself there. That is better. Just as large as I am--not smalland black like a small, small fly. " And after saying this a littledisdainfully, she moved away from my side and out into the sunshine; andthen, half turning towards me, and glancing first at my face and thenupwards, she raised her hand to call my attention to something there. 

Far up, high as the tops of the tallest trees, a great blue-wingedbutterfly was passing across the open space with loitering flight. In afew moments it was gone over the trees; then she turned once more tome with a little rippling sound of laughter--the first I had heard fromher, and called: "Come, come!"

I was glad enough to go with her then; and for the next two hours werambled together in the wood; that is, together in her way, for thoughalways near she contrived to keep out of my sight most of the time. Shewas evidently now in a gay, frolicsome temper; again and again, when Ilooked closely into some wide-spreading bush, or peered behind a tree, when her calling voice had sounded, her rippling laughter would come tome from some other spot. At length, somewhere about the centre of thewood, she led me to an immense mora tree, growing almost isolated, covering with its shade a large space of ground entirely free fromundergrowth. At this spot she all at once vanished from my side; andafter listening and watching some time in vain, I sat down beside thegiant trunk to wait for her. Very soon I heard a low, warbling soundwhich seemed quite near. 

"Rima! Rima!" I called, and instantly my call was repeated like an echo. Again and again I called, and still the words flew back to me, and Icould not decide whether it was an echo or not. Then I gave up calling;and presently the low, warbling sound was repeated, and I knew that Rimawas somewhere near me. 

"Rima, where are you?" I called. 

"Rima, where are you?" came the answer. 

"You are behind the tree. "

"You are behind the tree. "

"I shall catch you, Rima. " And this time, instead of repeating my words, she answered: "Oh no. "

I jumped up and ran round the tree, feeling sure that I should find her. It was about thirty-five or forty feet in circumference; and after goinground two or three times, I turned and ran the other way, but failing tocatch a glimpse of her I at last sat down again. 

"Rima, Rima!" sounded the mocking voice as soon as I had sat down. "Where are you, Rima? I shall catch you, Rima! Have you caught Rima?"

"No, I have not caught her. There is no Rima now. She has faded awaylike a rainbow--like a drop of dew in the sun. I have lost her; I shallgo to sleep. " And stretching myself out at full length under the tree, I remained quiet for two or three minutes. Then a slight rustlingsound was heard, and I looked eagerly round for her. But the soundwas overhead and caused by a great avalanche of leaves which began todescend on me from that vast leafy canopy above. 

"Ah, little spider-monkey--little green tree-snake--you are there!"But there was no seeing her in that immense aerial palace hung with dimdrapery of green and copper-coloured leaves. But how had she got there?Up the stupendous trunk even a monkey could not have climbed, and therewere no lianas dropping to earth from the wide horizontal branches thatI could see; but by and by, looking further away, I perceived that onone side the longest lower branches reached and mingled with the shorterboughs of the neighbouring trees. While gazing up I heard her low, rippling laugh, and then caught sight of her as she ran along an exposedhorizontal branch, erect on her feet; and my heart stood still withterror, for she was fifty to sixty feet above the ground. In anothermoment she vanished from sight in a cloud of foliage, and I saw no moreof her for about ten minutes, when all at once she appeared at my sideonce more, having come round the trunk of the mora. Her face had abright, pleased expression, and showed no trace of fatigue or agitation. 

I caught her hand in mine. It was a delicate, shapely little hand, softas velvet, and warm--a real human hand; only now when I held it did sheseem altogether like a human being and not a mocking spirit of the wood, a daughter of the Didi. 

"Do you like me to hold your hand, Rima?"

"Yes, " she replied, with indifference. 

"Is it I?"

"Yes. " This time as if it was small satisfaction to make acquaintancewith this purely physical part of me. 

Having her so close gave me an opportunity of examining that lightsheeny garment she wore always in the woods. It felt soft and satiny tothe touch, and there was no seam nor hem in it that I could see, but itwas all in one piece, like the cocoon of the caterpillar. While I wasfeeling it on her shoulder and looking narrowly at it, she glanced at mewith a mocking laugh in her eyes. 

"Is it silk?" I asked. Then, as she remained silent, I continued: "Wheredid you get this dress, Rima? Did you make it yourself? Tell me. "

She answered not in words, but in response to my question a new lookcame into her face; no longer restless and full of change in herexpression, she was now as immovable as an alabaster statue; not asilken hair on her head trembled; her eyes were wide open, gazingfixedly before her; and when I looked into them they seemed to see andyet not to see me. They were like the clear, brilliant eyes of a bird, which reflect as in a miraculous mirror all the visible world but do notreturn our look and seem to see us merely as one of the thousand smalldetails that make up the whole picture. Suddenly she darted out herhand like a flash, making me start at the unexpected motion, and quicklywithdrawing it, held up a finger before me. From its tip a minutegossamer spider, about twice the bigness of a pin's head, appearedsuspended from a fine, scarcely visible line three or four inches long. 

"Look!" she exclaimed, with a bright glance at my face. 

The small spider she had captured, anxious to be free, was falling, falling earthward, but could not reach the surface. Leaning her shouldera little forward, she placed the finger-tip against it, but lightly, scarcely touching, and moving continuously, with a motion rapid as thatof a fluttering moth's wing; while the spider, still paying out hisline, remained suspended, rising and falling slightly at nearly the samedistance from the ground. After a few moments she cried: "Drop down, little spider. " Her finger's motion ceased, and the minute captive fell, to lose itself on the shaded ground. 

"Do you not see?" she said to me, pointing to her shoulder. Just wherethe finger-tip had touched the garment a round shining spot appeared, looking like a silver coin on the cloth; but on touching it with myfinger it seemed part of the original fabric, only whiter and more shinyon the grey ground, on account of the freshness of the web of which ithad just been made. 

And so all this curious and pretty performance, which seemed instinctivein its spontaneous quickness and dexterity, was merely intended to showme how she made her garments out of the fine floating lines of smallgossamer spiders!

Before I could express my surprise and admiration she cried again, withstartling suddenness: "Look!"

A minute shadowy form darted by, appearing like a dim line traced acrossthe deep glossy more foliage, then on the lighter green foliage furtheraway. She waved her hand in imitation of its swift, curving flight;then, dropping it, exclaimed: "Gone--oh, little thing!"

"What was it?" I asked, for it might have been a bird, a bird-like moth, or a bee. 

"Did you not see? And you asked me to look into your eyes!"

"Ah, little squirrel Sakawinki, you remind me of that!" I said, passingmy arm round her waist and drawing her a little closer. "Look into myeyes now and see if I am blind, and if there is nothing in them exceptan image of Rima like a small, small fly. "

She shook her head and laughed a little mockingly, but made no effort toescape from my arm. 

"Would you like me always to do what you wish, Rima--to follow you inthe woods when you say 'Come'--to chase you round the tree to catch you, and lie down for you to throw leaves on me, and to be glad when you areglad?"

"Oh, yes. "

"Then let us make a compact. I shall do everything to please you, andyou must promise to do everything to please me. "

"Tell me. "

"Little things, Rima--none so hard as chasing you round a tree. Only tohave you stand or sit by me and talk will make me happy. And to beginyou must call me by my name--Abel. "

"Is that your name? Oh, not your real name! Abel, Abel--what is that? Itsays nothing. I have called you by so many names--twenty, thirty--and noanswer. "

"Have you? But, dearest girl, every person has a name, one name he iscalled by. Your name, for instance, is Rima, is it not?"

"Rima! only Rima--to you? In the morning, in the evening. .. Now in thisplace and in a little while where know I? . .. In the night when you wakeand it is dark, dark, and you see me all the same. Only Rima--oh, howstrange!"

"What else, sweet girl? Your grandfather Nuflo calls you Rima. "

"Nuflo?" She spoke as if putting a question to herself. "Is that anold man with two dogs that lives somewhere in the wood?" And then, withsudden petulance: "And you ask me to talk to you!"

"Oh, Rima, what can I say to you? Listen--"

"No, no, " she exclaimed, quickly turning and putting her fingers on mymouth to stop my speech, while a sudden merry look shone in her eyes. "You shall listen when I speak, and do all I say. And tell me what todo to please you with your eyes--let me look in your eyes that are notblind. "

She turned her face more towards me and with head a little thrown backand inclined to one side, gazing now full into my eyes as I had wishedher to do. After a few moments she glanced away to the distant trees. But I could see into those divine orbs, and knew that she wasnot looking at any particular object. All the ever-varyingexpressions--inquisitive, petulant, troubled, shy, frolicsome had nowvanished from the still face, and the look was inward and full of astrange, exquisite light, as if some new happiness or hope had touchedher spirit. 

Sinking my voice to a whisper, I said: "Tell me what you have seen in myeyes, Rima?"

She murmured in reply something melodious and inarticulate, then glancedat my face in a questioning way; but only for a moment, then her sweeteyes were again veiled under those drooping lashes. 

"Listen, Rima, " I said. "Was that a humming-bird we saw a little whileago? You are like that, now dark, a shadow in the shadow, seen foran instant, and then--gone, oh, little thing! And now in the sunshinestanding still, how beautiful!--a thousand times more beautiful thanthe humming-bird. Listen, Rima, you are like all beautiful things in thewood--flower, and bird, and butterfly, and green leaf, and frond, andlittle silky-haired monkey high up in the trees. When I look at you Isee them all--all and more, a thousand times, for I see Rima herself. And when I listen to Rima's voice, talking in a language I cannotunderstand, I hear the wind whispering in the leaves, the gurglingrunning water, the bee among the flowers, the organ-bird singing far, far away in the shadows of the trees. I hear them all, and more, forI hear Rima. Do you understand me now? Is it I speaking to you--have Ianswered you--have I come to you?"

She glanced at me again, her lips trembling, her eyes now clouded withsome secret trouble. "Yes, " she replied in a whisper, and then: "No, itis not you, " and after a moment, doubtfully: "Is it you?"

But she did not wait to be answered: in a moment she was gone round themore; nor would she return again for all my calling. 

CHAPTER IX

That afternoon with Rima in the forest under the mora tree had proved sodelightful that I was eager for more rambles and talks with her, but thevariable little witch had a great surprise in store for me. All her wildnatural gaiety had unaccountably gone out of her: when I walked inthe shade she was there, but no longer as the blithe, fantastic being, bright as an angel, innocent and affectionate as a child, tricksy as amonkey, that had played at hide-and-seek with me. She was now my shy, silent attendant, only occasionally visible, and appearing then likethe mysterious maid I had found reclining among the ferns who had meltedaway mist-like from sight as I gazed. When I called she would not nowanswer as formerly, but in response would appear in sight as if toassure me that I had not been forsaken; and after a few moments her greyshadowy form would once more vanish among the trees. The hope that asher confidence increased and she grew accustomed to talk with me shewould be brought to reveal the story of her life had to be abandoned, atall events for the present. I must, after all, get my information fromNuflo, or rest in ignorance. The old man was out for the greater partof each day with his dogs, and from these expeditions he brought backnothing that I could see but a few nuts and fruits, some thin bark forhis cigarettes, and an occasional handful of haima gum to perfume thehut of an evening. After I had wasted three days in vainly trying toovercome the girl's now inexplicable shyness, I resolved to give fora while my undivided attention to her grandfather to discover, ifpossible, where he went and how he spent his time. 

My new game of hide-and-seek with Nuflo instead of with Rima beganon the following morning. He was cunning; so was I. Going out andconcealing myself among the bushes, I began to watch the hut. That Icould elude Rima's keener eyes I doubted; but that did not trouble me. She was not in harmony with the old man, and would do nothing to defeatmy plan. I had not been long in my hiding-place before he came out, followed by his two dogs, and going to some distance from the door, he sat down on a log. For some minutes he smoked, then rose, and afterlooking cautiously round slipped away among the trees. I saw that he wasgoing off in the direction of the low range of rocky hills south of theforest. I knew that the forest did not extend far in that direction, andthinking that I should be able to catch a sight of him on its borders, I left the bushes and ran through the trees as fast as I could to getahead of him. Coming to where the wood was very open, I found that abarren plain beyond it, a quarter of a mile wide, separated it from therange of hills; thinking that the old man might cross this open space, I climbed into a tree to watch. After some time he appeared, walkingrapidly among the trees, the dogs at his heels, but not going towardsthe open plain; he had, it seemed, after arriving at the edge of thewood, changed his direction and was going west, still keeping in theshelter of the trees. When he had been gone about five minutes, Idropped to the ground and started in pursuit; once more I caught sightof him through the trees, and I kept him in sight for about twentyminutes longer; then he came to a broad strip of dense wood whichextended into and through the range of hills, and here I quickly losthim. Hoping still to overtake him, I pushed on, but after strugglingthrough the underwood for some distance, and finding the forest growingmore difficult as I progressed, I at last gave him up. Turning eastward, I got out of the wood to find myself at the foot of a steep rough hill, one of the range which the wooded valley cut through at right angles. Itstruck me that it would be a good plan to climb the hill to get a viewof the forest belt in which I had lost the old man; and after walking ashort distance I found a spot which allowed of an ascent. The summit ofthe hill was about three hundred feet above the surrounding level anddid not take me long to reach; it commanded a fair view, and I now sawthat the belt of wood beneath me extended right through the range, andon the south side opened out into an extensive forest. "If that is yourdestination, " thought I, "old fox, your secrets are safe from me. "

It was still early in the day, and a slight breeze tempered the air andmade it cool and pleasant on the hilltop after my exertions. My scramblethrough the wood had fatigued me somewhat, and resolving to spend somehours on that spot, I looked round for a comfortable resting-place. Isoon found a shady spot on the west side of an upright block of stonewhere I could recline at ease on a bed of lichen. Here, with shouldersresting against the rock, I sat thinking of Rima, alone in her woodtoday, with just a tinge of bitterness in my thoughts which made me hopethat she would miss me as much as I missed her; and in the end I fellasleep. 

When I woke, it was past noon, and the sun was shining directly on me. Standing up to gaze once more on the prospect, I noticed a small wreathof white smoke issuing from a spot about the middle of the forest beltbeneath me, and I instantly divined that Nuflo had made a fire at thatplace, and I resolved to surprise him in his retreat. When I got downto the base of the hill the smoke could no longer be seen, but I hadstudied the spot well from above, and had singled out a large clump oftrees on the edge of the belt as a starting-point; and after a search ofhalf an hour I succeeded in finding the old man's hiding-place. First Isaw smoke again through an opening in the trees, then a small rude hutof sticks and palm leaves. Approaching cautiously, I peered through acrack and discovered old Nuflo engaged in smoking some meat over a fire, and at the same time grilling some bones on the coals. He had captureda coatimundi, an animal somewhat larger than a tame tom-cat, with a longsnout and long ringed tail; one of the dogs was gnawing at the animal'shead, and the tail and the feet were also lying on the floor, amongthe old bones and rubbish that littered it. Stealing round, I suddenlypresented myself at the opening to his den, when the dogs rose up with agrowl and Nuflo instantly leaped to his feet, knife in hand. 

"Aha, old man, " I cried, with a laugh, "I have found you at one of yourvegetarian repasts; and your grass-eating dogs as well!"

He was disconcerted and suspicious, but when I explained that I had seena smoke while on the hills, where I had gone to search for a curiousblue flower which grew in such places, and had made my way to it todiscover the cause, he recovered confidence and invited me to join himat his dinner of roast meat. 

I was hungry by this time and not sorry to get animal food once more;nevertheless, I ate this meat with some disgust, as it had a rank tasteand smell, and it was also unpleasant to have those evil-looking dogssavagely gnawing at the animal's head and feet at the same time. 

"You see, " said the old hypocrite, wiping the grease from his moustache, "this is what I am compelled to do in order to avoid giving offence. Mygranddaughter is a strange being, sir, as you have perhaps observed--"

"That reminds me, " I interrupted, "that I wish you to relate her historyto me. She is, as you say, strange, and has speech and faculties unlikeours, which shows that she comes of a different race. "

"No, no, her faculties are not different from ours. They are sharper, that is all. It pleases the All-Powerful to give more to some than toothers. Not all the fingers on the hand are alike. You will find a manwho will take up a guitar and make it speak, while I--"

"All that I understand, " I broke in again. "But her origin, herhistory--that is what I wish to hear. "

"And that, sir, is precisely what I am about to relate. Poor child, she was left on my hands by her sainted mother--my daughter, sir--whoperished young. Now, her birthplace, where she was taught letters andthe Catechism by the priest, was in an unhealthy situation. It washot and wet--always wet--a place suited to frogs rather than to humanbeings. At length, thinking that it would suit the child better--for shewas pale and weakly--to live in a drier atmosphere among mountains, Ibrought her to this district. For this, senor, and for all I have donefor her, I look for no reward here, but to that place where my daughterhas got her foot; not, sir, on the threshold, as you might think, butwell inside. For, after all, it is to the authorities above, in spite ofsome blots which we see in their administration, that we must look forjustice. Frankly, sir, this is the whole story of my granddaughter'sorigin. "

"Ah, yes, " I returned, "your story explains why she can call a wild birdto her hand, and touch a venomous serpent with her bare foot and receiveno harm. "

"Doubtless you are right, " said the old dissembler. "Living alone in thewood, she had only God's creatures to play and make friends with; andwild animals, I have heard it said, know those who are friendly towardsthem. "

"You treat her friends badly, " said I, kicking the long tail of thecoatimundi away with my foot, and regretting that I had joined in hisrepast. 

"Senor, you must consider that we are only what Heaven made us. When allthis was formed, " he continued, opening his arms wide to indicate theentire creation, "the Person who concerned Himself with this matter gaveseeds and fruitless and nectar of flowers for the sustentation of Hissmall birds. But we have not their delicate appetites. The more robuststomach which he gave to man cries out for meat. Do you understand? Butof all this, friend, not one word to Rima!"

I laughed scornfully. "Do you think me such a child, old man, as tobelieve that Rima, that little sprite, does not know that you are aneater of flesh? Rima, who is everywhere in the wood, seeing all things, even if I lift my hand against a serpent, she herself unseen. "

"But, sir, if you will pardon my presumption, you are saying too much. She does not come here, and therefore cannot see that I eat meat. In allthat wood where she flourishes and sings, where she is in her house andgarden, and mistress of the creatures, even of the small butterfly withpainted wings, there, sir, I hunt no animal. Nor will my dogs chase anyanimal there. That is what I meant when I said that if an animal shouldstumble against their legs, they would lift up their noses and pass onwithout seeing it. For in that wood there is one law, the law that Rimaimposes, and outside of it a different law. "

"I am glad that you have told me this, " I replied. "The thought thatRima might be near, and, unseen herself, look in upon us feeding withthe dogs and, like dogs, on flesh, was one which greatly troubled mymind. "

He glanced at me in his usual quick, cunning way. 

"Ah, senor, you have that feeling too--after so short a time with us!Consider, then, what it must be for me, unable to nourish myself on gumsand fruitlets, and that little sweetness made by wasps out of flowers, when I am compelled to go far away and eat secretly to avoid givingoffence. "

It was hard, no doubt, but I did not pity him; secretly I could onlyfeel anger against him for refusing to enlighten me, while making sucha presence of openness; and I also felt disgusted with myself for havingjoined him in his rank repast. But dissimulation was necessary, and so, after conversing a little more on indifferent topics, and thanking himfor his hospitality, I left him alone to go on with his smoky task. 

On my way back to the lodge, fearing that some taint of Nuflo'sevil-smelling den and dinner might still cling to me, I turned aside towhere a streamlet in the wood widened and formed a deep pool, to takea plunge in the water. After drying myself in the air, and thoroughlyventilating my garments by shaking and beating them, I found an open, shady spot in the wood and threw myself on the grass to wait for eveningbefore returning to the house. By that time the sweet, warm air wouldhave purified me. Besides, I did not consider that I had sufficientlypunished Rima for her treatment of me. She would be anxious for mysafety, perhaps even looking for me everywhere in the wood. It was notmuch to make her suffer one day after she had made me miserable forthree; and perhaps when she discovered that I could exist without hersociety she would begin to treat me less capriciously. 

So ran my thoughts as I rested on the warm ground, gazing up into thefoliage, green as young grass in the lower, shady parts, and aboveluminous with the bright sunlight, and full of the murmuring sounds ofinsect life. My every action, word, thought, had my feeling for Rimaas a motive. Why, I began to ask myself, was Rima so much to me? It waseasy to answer that question: Because nothing so exquisite had ever beencreated. All the separate and fragmentary beauty and melody andgraceful motion found scattered throughout nature were concentrated andharmoniously combined in her. How various, how luminous, how divine shewas! A being for the mind to marvel at, to admire continually, findingsome new grace and charm every hour, every moment, to add to the old. And there was, besides, the fascinating mystery surrounding her originto arouse and keep my interest in her continually active. 

That was the easy answer I returned to the question I had asked myself. But I knew that there was another answer--a reason more powerful thanthe first. And I could no longer thrust it back, or hide its shiningface with the dull, leaden mask of mere intellectual curiosity. BECAUSEI LOVED HER; loved her as I had never loved before, never could loveany other being, with a passion which had caught something of herown brilliance and intensity, making a former passion look dim andcommonplace in comparison--a feeling known to everyone, something oldand worn out, a weariness even to think of. 

From these reflections I was roused by the plaintive three-syllable callof an evening bird--a nightjar common in these woods; and was surprisedto find that the sun had set, and the woods already shadowed with thetwilight. I started up and began hurriedly walking homewards, thinkingof Rima, and was consumed with impatience to see her; and as I drew nearto the house, walking along a narrow path which I knew, I suddenly mether face to face. Doubtless she had heard my approach, and instead ofshrinking out of the path and allowing me to pass on without seeing her, as she would have done on the previous day, she had sprung forward tomeet me. I was struck with wonder at the change in her as she came witha swift, easy motion, like a flying bird, her hands outstretched as ifto clasp mine, her lips parted in a radiant, welcoming smile, her eyessparkling with joy. 

I started forward to meet her, but had no sooner touched her hands thanher countenance changed, and she shrunk back trembling, as if the touchhad chilled her warm blood; and moving some feet away, she stood withdowncast eyes, pale and sorrowful as she had seemed yesterday. In vain Iimplored her to tell me the cause of this change and of the trouble sheevidently felt; her lips trembled as if with speech, but she made noreply, and only shrunk further away when I attempted to approach her;and at length, moving aside from the path, she was lost to sight in thedusky leafage. 

I went on alone, and sat outside for some time, until old Nuflo returnedfrom his hunting; and only after he had gone in and had made the fireburn up did Rima make her appearance, silent and constrained as ever. 

CHAPTER X

On the following day Rima continued in the same inexplicable humour; andfeeling my defeat keenly, I determined once more to try the effect ofabsence on her, and to remain away on this occasion for a longer period. Like old Nuflo, I was secret in going forth next morning, waiting untilthe girl was out of the way, then slipping off among the bushes intothe deeper wood; and finally quitting its shelter, I set out across thesavannah towards my old quarters. Great was my surprise on arrivingat the village to find no person there. At first I imagined that mydisappearance in the forest of evil fame had caused them to abandontheir home in a panic; but on looking round I concluded that my friendshad only gone on one of their periodical visits to some neighbouringvillage. For when these Indians visit their neighbours they do it in avery thorough manner; they all go, taking with them their entire stockof provisions, their cooking utensils, weapons, hammocks, and eventheir pet animals. Fortunately in this case they had not taken quiteeverything; my hammock was there, also one small pot, some cassavabread, purple potatoes, and a few ears of maize. I concluded that thesehad been left for me in the event of my return; also that they had notbeen gone very many hours, since a log of wood buried under the ashesof the hearth was still alight. Now, as their absences from home usuallylast many days, it was plain that I would have the big naked barn-likehouse to myself for as long as I thought proper to remain, with littlefood to eat; but the prospect did not disturb me, and I resolved toamuse myself with music. In vain I hunted for my guitar; the Indianshad taken it to delight their friends by twanging its strings. At oddmoments during the last day or two I had been composing a simple melodyin my brain, fitting it to ancient words; and now, without an instrumentto assist me, I began softly singing to myself:

 Muy mas clara que la luna Sola una en el mundo vos nacistes. 

After music I made up the fire and parched an ear of maize for mydinner, and while laboriously crunching the dry hard grain I thankedHeaven for having bestowed on me such good molars. Finally I slung myhammock in its old corner, and placing myself in it in my favouriteoblique position, my hands clasped behind my head, one knee cocked up, the other leg dangling down, I resigned myself to idle thought. I feltvery happy. How strange, thought I, with a little self-flattery, thatI, accustomed to the agreeable society of intelligent men and charmingwomen, and of books, should find such perfect contentment here! But Icongratulated myself too soon. The profound silence began at length tooppress me. It was not like the forest, where one has wild birds forcompany, where their cries, albeit inarticulate, have a meaning and givea charm to solitude. Even the sight and whispered sounds of green leavesand rushes trembling in the wind have for us something of intelligenceand sympathy; but I could not commune with mud walls and an earthen pot. Feeling my loneliness too acutely, I began to regret that I had leftRima, then to feel remorse at the secrecy I had practiced. Even nowwhile I inclined idly in my hammock, she would be roaming the forest insearch of me, listening for my footsteps, fearing perhaps that I hadmet with some accident where there was no person to succour me. It waspainful to think of her in this way, of the pain I had doubtless givenher by stealing off without a word of warning. Springing to the floor, Iflung out of the house and went down to the stream. It was better there, for now the greatest heat of the day was over, and the weltering sunbegan to look large and red and rayless through the afternoon haze. 

I seated myself on a stone within a yard or two of the limpid water; andnow the sight of nature and the warm, vital air and sunshine infectedmy spirit and made it possible for me to face the position calmly, even hopefully. The position was this: for some days the idea had beenpresent in my mind, and was now fixed there, that this desert was tobe my permanent home. The thought of going back to Caracas, that littleParis in America, with its Old World vices, its idle political passions, its empty round of gaieties, was unendurable. I was changed, and thischange--so great, so complete--was proof that the old artificial lifehad not been and could not be the real one, in harmony with my deeperand truer nature. I deceived myself, you will say, as I have oftenmyself said. I had and I had not. It is too long a question todiscuss here; but just then I felt that I had quitted the hot, taintedatmosphere of the ballroom, that the morning air of heaven refreshed andelevated me and was sweet to breathe. Friends and relations I had whowere dear to me; but I could forget them, even as I could forget thesplendid dreams which had been mine. And the woman I had loved, andwho perhaps loved me in return--I could forget her too. A daughter ofcivilization and of that artificial life, she could never experiencesuch feelings as these and return to nature as I was doing. For women, though within narrow limits more plastic than men, are yet without thatlarger adaptiveness which can take us back to the sources of life, whichthey have left eternally behind. Better, far better for both of us thatshe should wait through the long, slow months, growing sick at heartwith hope deferred; that, seeing me no more, she should weep my loss, and be healed at last by time, and find love and happiness again in theold way, in the old place. 

And while I thus sat thinking, sadly enough, but not despondingly, ofpast and present and future, all at once on the warm, still air camethe resonant, far-reaching KLING-KLANG of the campanero from some leafysummit half a league away. KLING-KLANG fell the sound again, andoften again, at intervals, affecting me strangely at that moment, sobell-like, so like the great wide-travelling sounds associated in ourminds with Christian worship. And yet so unlike. A bell, yet not made ofgross metal dug out of earth, but of an ethereal, sublimer materialthat floats impalpable and invisible in space--a vital bell suspended onnothing, giving out sounds in harmony with the vastness of blue heaven, the unsullied purity of nature, the glory of the sun, and conveying amystic, a higher message to the soul than the sounds that surge fromtower and belfry. 

O mystic bell-bird of the heavenly race of the swallow and dove, thequetzal and the nightingale! When the brutish savage and the brutishwhite man that slay thee, one for food, the other for the benefit ofscience, shall have passed away, live still, live to tell thy message tothe blameless spiritualized race that shall come after us to possess theearth, not for a thousand years, but for ever; for how much shall thyvoice be our clarified successors when even to my dull, unpurged soulthou canst speak such high things and bring it a sense of an impersonal, all-compromising One who is in me and I in Him, flesh of His flesh andsoul of His soul. 

The sounds ceased, but I was still in that exalted mood and, like aperson in a trance, staring fixedly before me into the open wood ofscattered dwarf trees on the other side of the stream, when suddenly onthe field of vision appeared a grotesque human figure moving towards me. I started violently, astonished and a little alarmed, but in a veryfew moments I recognized the ancient Cla-cla, coming home with a largebundle of dry sticks on her shoulders, bent almost double under theburden, and still ignorant of my presence. Slowly she came down to thestream, then cautiously made her way over the line of stepping-stonesby which it was crossed; and only when within ten yards did the oldcreature catch sight of me sitting silent and motionless in her path. With a sharp cry of amazement and terror she straightened herself up, the bundle of sticks dropping to the ground, and turned to run fromme. That, at all events, seemed her intention, for her body was thrownforward, and her head and arms working like those of a person going atfull speed, but her legs seemed paralysed and her feet remained plantedon the same spot. I burst out laughing; whereat she twisted her neckuntil her wrinkled, brown old face appeared over her shoulder staring atme. This made me laugh again, whereupon she straightened herself up oncemore and turned round to have a good look at me. 

"Come, Cla-cla, " I cried; "can you not see that I am a living man and nospirit? I thought no one had remained behind to keep me company and giveme food. Why are you not with the others?"

"Ah, why!" she returned tragically. And then deliberately turningfrom me and assuming a most unladylike attitude, she slapped herselfvigorously on the small of the back, exclaiming: "Because of my painhere!"

As she continued in that position with her back towards me for sometime, I laughed once more and begged her to explain. 

Slowly she turned round and advanced cautiously towards me, staring atme all the time. Finally, still eyeing me suspiciously, she related thatthe others had all gone on a visit to a distant village, she startingwith them; that after going some distance a pain had attacked her in herhind quarters, so sudden and acute that it had instantly brought her toa full stop; and to illustrate how full the stop was she allowed herselfto go down, very unnecessarily, with a flop to the ground. But she nosooner touched the ground than up she started to her feet again, withan alarmed look on her owlish face, as if she had sat down on astinging-nettle. 

"We thought you were dead, " she remarked, still thinking that I might bea ghost after all. 

"No, still alive, " I said. "And so because you came to the ground withyour pain, they left you behind! Well, never mind, Cla-cla, we are twonow and must try to be happy together. "

By this time she had recovered from her fear and began to feel highlypleased at my return, only lamenting that she had no meat to giveme. She was anxious to hear my adventures, and the reason of my longabsence. I had no wish to gratify her curiosity, with the truth at allevents, knowing very well that with regard to the daughter of the Didiher feelings were as purely savage and malignant as those of Kua-ko. Butit was necessary to say something, and, fortifying myself with the goodold Spanish notion that lies told to the heathen are not recorded, Irelated that a venomous serpent had bitten me; after which a terriblethunderstorm had surprised me in the forest, and night coming onprevented my escape from it; then, next day, remembering that he who isbitten by a serpent dies, and not wishing to distress my friends withthe sight of my dissolution, I elected to remain, sitting there in thewood, amusing myself by singing songs and smoking cigarettes; and afterseveral days and nights had gone by, finding that I was not going to dieafter all, and beginning to feel hungry, I got up and came back. 

Old Cla-cla looked very serious, shaking and nodding her head a greatdeal, muttering to herself; finally she gave it as her opinion thatnothing ever would or could kill me; but whether my story had beenbelieved or not she only knew. 

I spent an amusing evening with my old savage hostess. She had thrownoff her ailments and, pleased at having a companion in her drearysolitude, she was good-tempered and talkative, and much more inclined tolaugh than when the others were present, when she was on her dignity. 

We sat by the fire, cooking such food as we had, and talked and smoked;then I sang her songs in Spanish with that melody of my own--

 Muy mas clara que la luna;

and she rewarded me by emitting a barbarous chant in a shrill, screechyvoice; and finally, starting up, I danced for her benefit polka, mazurka, and valse, whistling and singing to my motions. 

More than once during the evening she tried to introduce serioussubjects, telling me that I must always live with them, learn to shootthe birds and catch the fishes, and have a wife; and then she wouldspeak of her granddaughter Oalava, whose virtues it was proper tomention, but whose physical charms needed no description since they hadnever been concealed. Each time she got on this topic I cut her short, vowing that if I ever married she only should be my wife. She informedme that she was old and past her fruitful period; that not much longerwould she make cassava bread, and blow the fire to a flame with herwheezy old bellows, and talk the men to sleep at night. But I stuck toit that she was young and beautiful, that our descendants would be morenumerous than the birds in the forest. I went out to some bushes closeby, where I had noticed a passion plant in bloom, and gathering a fewsplendid scarlet blossoms with their stems and leaves, I brought them inand wove them into a garland for the old dame's head; then I pulled herup, in spite of screams and struggles, and waltzed her wildly to theother end of the room and back again to her seat beside the fire. Andas she sat there, panting and grinning with laughter, I knelt before herand, with suitable passionate gestures, declaimed again the old delicatelines sung by Mena before Columbus sailed the seas:

 Muy mas clara que la luna Sola una en el mundo vos nacistes tan gentil, que no vecistes ni tavistes competedora ninguna Desdi ninez en la cuna cobrastes fama, beldad, con tanta graciosidad, que vos doto la fortuna. 

Thinking of another all the time! O poor old Cla-cla, knowing not whatthe jingle meant nor the secret of my wild happiness, now when I recallyou sitting there, your old grey owlish head crowned with scarletpassion flowers, flushed with firelight, against the background ofsmoke-blackened walls and rafters, how the old undying sorrow comes backto me!

Thus our evening was spent, merrily enough; then we made up the firewith hard wood that would last all night, and went to our hammocks, butwakeful still. The old dame, glad and proud to be on duty once more, religiously went to work to talk me to sleep; but although I called outat intervals to encourage her to go on, I did not attempt to follow theancient tales she told, which she had imbibed in childhood from otherwhite-headed grandmothers long, long turned to dust. My own brain wasbusy thinking, thinking, thinking now of the woman I had once loved, faraway in Venezuela, waiting and weeping and sick with hope deferred;now of Rima, wakeful and listening to the mysterious nightsounds of theforest--listening, listening for my returning footsteps. 

Next morning I began to waver in my resolution to remain absent fromRima for some days; and before evening my passion, which I had nowceased to struggle against, coupled with the thought that I had actedunkindly in leaving her, that she would be a prey to anxiety, overcameme, and I was ready to return. The old woman, who had been suspiciouslywatching my movements, rushed out after me as I left the house, cryingout that a storm was brewing, that it was too late to go far, andnight would be full of danger. I waved my hand in good-bye, laughinglyreminding her that I was proof against all perils. Little she cared whatevil might befall me, I thought; but she loved not to be alone; even forher, low down as she was intellectually, the solitary earthen pot hadno "mind stuff" in it, and could not be sent to sleep at night with thelegends of long ago. 

By the time I reached the ridge, I had discovered that she hadprophesied truly, for now an ominous change had come over nature. A dullgrey vapour had overspread the entire western half of the heavens;down, beyond the forest, the sky looked black as ink, and behind thisblackness the sun had vanished. It was too late to go back now; I hadbeen too long absent from Rima, and could only hope to reach Nuflo'slodge, wet or dry, before night closed round me in the forest. 

For some moments I stood still on the ridge, struck by the somewhatweird aspect of the shadowed scene before me--the long strip of dulluniform green, with here and there a slender palm lifting its featherycrown above the other trees, standing motionless, in strange reliefagainst the advancing blackness. Then I set out once more at a run, taking advantage of the downward slope to get well on my way before thetempest should burst. As I approached the wood, there came a flash oflightning, pale, but covering the whole visible sky, followed after along interval by a distant roll of thunder, which lasted several secondsand ended with a succession of deep throbs. It was as if Nature herself, in supreme anguish and abandonment, had cast herself prone on the earth, and her great heart had throbbed audibly, shaking the world with itsbeats. No more thunder followed, but the rain was coming down heavilynow in huge drops that fell straight through the gloomy, windless air. In half a minute I was drenched to the skin; but for a short timethe rain seemed an advantage, as the brightness of the falling waterlessened the gloom, turning the air from dark to lighter grey. Thissubdued rain-light did not last long: I had not been twenty minutesin the wood before a second and greater darkness fell on the earth, accompanied by an even more copious downpour of water. The sun hadevidently gone down, and the whole sky was now covered with one thickcloud. Becoming more nervous as the gloom increased, I bent my stepsmore to the south, so as to keep near the border and more open part ofthe wood. Probably I had already grown confused before deviating andturned the wrong way, for instead of finding the forest easier, itgrew closer and more difficult as I advanced. Before many minutes thedarkness so increased that I could no longer distinguish objects morethan five feet from my eyes. Groping blindly along, I became entangledin a dense undergrowth, and after struggling and stumbling along forsome distance in vain endeavours to get through it, I came to a standat last in sheer despair. All sense of direction was now lost: I wasentombed in thick blackness--blackness of night and cloud and rain andof dripping foliage and network of branches bound with bush ropes andcreepers in a wild tangle. I had struggled into a hollow, or hole, asit were, in the midst of that mass of vegetation, where I could standupright and turn round and round without touching anything; but when Iput out my hands they came into contact with vines and bushes. To movefrom that spot seemed folly; yet how dreadful to remain there standingon the sodden earth, chilled with rain, in that awful blackness in whichthe only luminous thing one could look to see would be the eyes, shiningwith their own internal light, of some savage beast of prey! Yet thedanger, the intense physical discomfort, and the anguish of lookingforward to a whole night spent in that situation stung my heart lessthan the thought of Rima's anxiety and of the pain I had carelesslygiven by secretly leaving her. 

It was then, with that pang in my heart, that I was startled by hearing, close by, one of her own low, warbled expressions. There could be nomistake; if the forest had been full of the sounds of animal lifeand songs of melodious birds, her voice would have been instantlydistinguished from all others. How mysterious, how infinitely tender itsounded in that awful blackness!--so musical and exquisitely modulated, so sorrowful, yet piercing my heart with a sudden, unutterable joy. 

"Rima! Rima!" I cried. "Speak again. Is it you? Come to me here. "

Again that low, warbling sound, or series of sounds, seemingly froma distance of a few yards. I was not disturbed at her not replying inSpanish: she had always spoken it somewhat reluctantly, and only whenat my side; but when calling to me from some distance she would returninstinctively to her own mysterious language, and call to me as birdcalls to bird. I knew that she was inviting me to follow her, but Irefused to move. 

"Rima, " I cried again, "come to me here, for I know not where to step, and cannot move until you are at my side and I can feel your hand. "

There came no response, and after some moments, becoming alarmed, Icalled to her again. 

Then close by me, in a low, trembling voice, she returned: "I am here. "

I put out my hand and touched something soft and wet; it was her breast, and moving my hand higher up, I felt her hair, hanging now and streamingwith water. She was trembling, and I thought the rain had chilled her. 

"Rima--poor child! How wet you are! How strange to meet you in such aplace! Tell me, dear Rima, how did you find me?"

"I was waiting--watching--all day. I saw you coming across the savannah, and followed at a distance through the wood. "

"And I had treated you so unkindly! Ah, my guardian angel, my light inthe darkness, how I hate myself for giving you pain! Tell me, sweet, didyou wish me to come back and live with you again?" She made no reply. Then, running my fingers down her arm, I took her hand in mine. It washot, like the hand of one in a fever. I raised it to my lips and thenattempted to draw her to me, but she slipped down and out of my arms tomy feet. I felt her there, on her knees, with head bowed low. Stoopingand putting my arm round her body, I drew her up and held her against mybreast, and felt her heart throbbing wildly. With many endearing words Ibegged her to speak to me; but her only reply was: "Come--come, " as sheslipped again out of my arms and, holding my hand in hers, guided methrough the bushes. 

Before long we came to an open path or glade, where the darkness was notprofound; and releasing my hand, she began walking rapidly before me, always keeping at such a distance as just enabled me to distinguish hergrey, shadowy figure, and with frequent doublings to follow the naturalpaths and openings which she knew so well. In this way we kept on nearlyto the end, without exchanging a word, and hearing no sound except thecontinuous rush of rain, which to our accustomed ears had ceased tohave the effect of sound, and the various gurgling noises of innumerablerunners. All at once, as we came to a more open place, a strip of brightfirelight appeared before us, shining from the half-open door of Nuflo'slodge. She turned round as much as to say: "Now you know where you are, "then hurried on, leaving me to follow as best I could. 

CHAPTER XI

There was a welcome change in the weather when I rose early nextmorning; the sky was without cloud and had that purity in its colourand look of infinite distance seen only when the atmosphere is free fromvapour. The sun had not yet risen, but old Nuflo was already among theashes, on his hands and knees, blowing the embers he had uncovered to aflame. Then Rima appeared only to pass through the room with quick lighttread to go out of the door without a word or even a glance at my face. The old man, after watching at the door for a few minutes, turnedand began eagerly questioning me about my adventures on the previousevening. In reply I related to him how the girl had found me in theforest lost and unable to extricate myself from the tangled undergrowth. 

He rubbed his hands on his knees and chuckled. "Happy for you, senor, "he said, "that my granddaughter regards you with such friendly eyes, otherwise you might have perished before morning. Once she was at yourside, no light, whether of sun or moon or lantern, was needed, nor thatsmall instrument which is said to guide a man aright in the desert, evenin the darkest night--let him that can believe such a thing!"

"Yes, happy for me, " I returned. "I am filled with remorse that it wasall through my fault that the poor child was exposed to such weather. "

"O senor, " he cried airily, "let not that distress you! Rain and windand hot suns, from which we seek shelter, do not harm her. She takes nocold, and no fever, with or without ague. "

After some further conversation I left him to steal away unobserved onhis own account, and set out for a ramble in the hope of encounteringRima and winning her to talk to me. 

My quest did not succeed: not a glimpse of her delicate shadowy form didI catch among the trees; and not one note from her melodious lips cameto gladden me. At noon I returned to the house, where I found foodplaced ready for me, and knew that she had come there during my absenceand had not been forgetful of my wants. "Shall I thank you for this?" Isaid. "I ask you for heavenly nectar for the sustentation of the higherwinged nature in me, and you give me a boiled sweet potato, toastedstrips of sun-dried pumpkins, and a handful of parched maize! Rima!Rima! my woodland fairy, my sweet saviour, why do you yet fear me? Is itthat love struggles in you with repugnance? Can you discern with clearspiritual eyes the grosser elements in me, and hate them; or has somefalse imagination made me appear all dark and evil, but too late foryour peace, after the sweet sickness of love has infected you?"

But she was not there to answer me, and so after a time I went forthagain and seated myself listlessly on the root of an old tree notfar from the house. I had sat there a full hour when all at once Rimaappeared at my side. Bending forward, she touched my hand, but withoutglancing at my face; "Come with me, " she said, and turning, movedswiftly towards the northern extremity of the forest. She seemed totake it for granted that I would follow, never casting a look behind norpausing in her rapid walk; but I was only too glad to obey and, startingup, was quickly after her. She led me by easy ways, familiar to her, with many doublings to escape the undergrowth, never speaking or pausinguntil we came out from the thick forest, and I found myself for thefirst time at the foot of the great hill or mountain Ytaioa. Glancingback for a few moments, she waved a hand towards the summit, and thenat once began the ascent. Here too it seemed all familiar ground to her. From below, the sides had presented an exceedingly rugged appearance--awild confusion of huge jagged rocks, mixed with a tangled vegetationof trees, bushes, and vines; but following her in all her doublings, itbecame easy enough, although it fatigued me greatly owing to our rapidpace. The hill was conical, but I found that it had a flat top--anoblong or pear-shaped area, almost level, of a soft, crumbly sandstone, with a few blocks and boulders of a harder stone scattered about--and novegetation, except the grey mountain lichen and a few sere-looking dwarfshrubs. 

Here Rima, at a distance of a few yards from me, remained standing stillfor some minutes, as if to give me time to recover my breath; and I wasright glad to sit down on a stone to rest. Finally she walked slowlyto the centre of the level area, which was about two acres in extent;rising, I followed her and, climbing on to a huge block of stone, begangazing at the wide prospect spread out before me. The day was windlessand bright, with only a few white clouds floating at a great heightabove and casting travelling shadows over that wild, broken country, where forest, marsh, and savannah were only distinguishable by theirdifferent colours, like the greys and greens and yellows on a map. Ata great distance the circle of the horizon was broken here and there bymountains, but the hills in our neighbourhood were all beneath our feet. 

After gazing all round for some minutes, I jumped down from my standand, leaning against the stone, stood watching the girl, waiting for herto speak. I felt convinced that she had something of the very highestimportance (to herself) to communicate, and that only the pressingneed of a confidant, not Nuflo, had overcome her shyness of me; and Idetermined to let her take her own time to say it in her own way. For awhile she continued silent, her face averted, but her little movementsand the way she clasped and unclasped her fingers showed that she wasanxious and her mind working. Suddenly, half turning to me, she beganspeaking eagerly and rapidly. 

"Do you see, " she said, waving her hand to indicate the whole circuit ofearth, "how large it is? Look!" pointing now to mountains in the west. "Those are the Vahanas--one, two, three--the highest--I can tell youtheir names--Vahana-Chara, Chumi, Aranoa. Do you see that water? It isa river, called Guaypero. From the hills it comes down, Inaruna is theirname, and you can see them there in the south--far, far. " And in thisway she went on pointing out and naming all the mountains and riverswithin sight. Then she suddenly dropped her hands to her sides andcontinued: "That is all. Because we can see no further. But the world islarger than that! Other mountains, other rivers. Have I not told you ofVoa, on the River Voa, where I was born, where mother died, where thepriest taught me, years, years ago? All that you cannot see, it is sofar away--so far. "

I did not laugh at her simplicity, nor did I smile or feel anyinclination to smile. On the contrary, I only experienced a sympathy sokeen that it was like pain while watching her clouded face, so changefulin its expression, yet in all changes so wistful. I could not yet formany idea as to what she wished to communicate or to discover, but seeingthat she paused for a reply, I answered: "The world is so large, Rima, that we can only see a very small portion of it from any one spot. Lookat this, " and with a stick I had used to aid me in my ascent I traceda circle six or seven inches in circumference on the soft stone, and inits centre placed a small pebble. "This represents the mountain weare standing on, " I continued, touching the pebble; "and thisline encircling it encloses all of the earth we can see from themountain-top. Do you understand?--the line I have traced is the blueline of the horizon beyond which we cannot see. And outside of thislittle circle is all the flat top of Ytaioa representing the world. Consider, then, how small a portion of the world we can see from thisspot!"

"And do you know it all?" she returned excitedly. "All the world?"waving her hand to indicate the little stone plain. "All the mountains, and rivers, and forests--all the people in the world?"

"That would be impossible, Rima; consider how large it is. "

"That does not matter. Come, let us go together--we two andgrandfather--and see all the world; all the mountains and forests, andknow all the people. "

"You do not know what you are saying, Rima. You might as well say:'Come, let us go to the sun and find out everything in it. '"

"It is you who do not know what you are saying, " she retorted, withbrightening eyes which for a moment glanced full into mine. "We have nowings like birds to fly to the sun. Am I not able to walk on the earth, and run? Can I not swim? Can I not climb every mountain?"

"No, you cannot. You imagine that all the earth is like this littleportion you see. But it is not all the same. There are great riverswhich you cannot cross by swimming; mountains you cannot climb; forestsyou cannot penetrate--dark, and inhabited by dangerous beasts, and sovast that all this space your eyes look on is a mere speck of earth incomparison. "

She listened excitedly. "Oh, do you know all that?" she cried, with astrangely brightening look; and then half turning from me, she added, with sudden petulance: "Yet only a minute ago you knew nothing of theworld--because it is so large! Is anything to be gained by speaking toone who says such contrary things?"

I explained that I had not contradicted myself, that she had not rightlyinterpreted my words. I knew, I said, something about the principalfeatures of the different countries of the world, as, for instance, thelargest mountain ranges, and rivers, and the cities. Also something, but very little, about the tribes of savage men. She heard me withimpatience, which made me speak rapidly, in very general terms; and tosimplify the matter I made the world stand for the continent we werein. It seemed idle to go beyond that, and her eagerness would not haveallowed it. 

"Tell me all you know, " she said the moment I ceased speaking. "What isthere--and there--and there?" pointing in various directions. "Riversand forests--they are nothing to me. The villages, the tribes, thepeople everywhere; tell me, for I must know it all. "

"It would take long to tell, Rima. "

"Because you are so slow. Look how high the sun is! Speak, speak! Whatis there?" pointing to the north. 

"All that country, " I said, waving my hands from east to west, "isGuayana; and so large is it that you could go in this direction, or inthis, travelling for months, without seeing the end of Guayana. Stillit would be Guayana; rivers, rivers, rivers, with forests between, and other forests and rivers beyond. And savage people, nationsand tribes--Guahibo, Aguaricoto, Ayano, Maco, Piaroa, Quiriquiripo, Tuparito--shall I name a hundred more? It would be useless, Rima; theyare all savages, and live widely scattered in the forests, hunting withbow and arrow and the zabatana. Consider, then, how large Guayana is!"

"Guayana--Guayana! Do I not know all this is Guayana? But beyond, andbeyond, and beyond? Is there no end to Guayana?"

"Yes; there northwards it ends at the Orinoco, a mighty river, comingfrom mighty mountains, compared with which Ytaioa is like a stone on theground on which we have sat down to rest. You must know that guayana isonly a portion, a half, of our country, Venezuela. Look, " I continued, putting my hand round my shoulder to touch the middle of my back, "thereis a groove running down my spine dividing my body into equal parts. Thus does the great Orinoco divide Venezuela, and on one side of it isall Guayana; and on the other side the countries or provinces of Cumana, Maturm, Barcelona, Bolivar, Guarico, Apure, and many others. " I thengave a rapid description of the northern half of the country, with itsvast llanos covered with herds in one part, its plantations of coffee, rice, and sugar-cane in another, and its chief towns; last of allCaracas, the gay and opulent little Paris in America. 

This seemed to weary her; but the moment I ceased speaking, and beforeI could well moisten my dry lips, she demanded to know what came afterCaracas--after all Venezuela. 

"The ocean--water, water, water, " I replied. 

"There are no people there--in the water; only fishes, " she remarked;then suddenly continued: "Why are you silent--is Venezuela, then, allthe world?"

The task I had set myself to perform seemed only at its commencementyet. Thinking how to proceed with it, my eyes roved over the level areawe were standing on, and it struck me that this little irregular plain, broad at one end and almost pointed at the other, roughly resembled theSouth American continent in its form. 

"Look, Rima, " I began, "here we are on this small pebble--Ytaioa; andthis line round it shuts us in--we cannot see beyond. Now let us imaginethat we can see beyond--that we can see the whole flat mountaintop; andthat, you know, is the whole world. Now listen while I tell you of allthe countries, and principal mountains, and rivers, and cities of theworld. "

The plan I had now fixed on involved a great deal of walking about andsome hard work in moving and setting up stones and tracing boundaryand other lines; but it gave me pleasure, for Rima was close by allthe time, following me from place to place, listening to all I said insilence but with keen interest. At the broad end of the level summit Imarked out Venezuela, showing by means of a long line how the Orinocodivided it, and also marking several of the greater streams flowinginto it. I also marked the sites of Caracas and other large townswith stones; and rejoiced that we are not like the Europeans, greatcity-builders, for the stones proved heavy to lift. Then followedColombia and Ecuador on the west; and, successively, Bolivia, Peru, Chile, ending at last in the south with Patagonia, a cold arid land, bleak and desolate. I marked the littoral cities as we progressedon that side, where earth ends and the Pacific Ocean begins, andinfinitude. 

Then, in a sudden burst of inspiration, I described the Cordilleras toher--that world-long, stupendous chain; its sea of Titicaca, and wintry, desolate Paramo, where lie the ruins of Tiahuanaco, older than Thebes. I mentioned its principal cities--those small inflamed or festeringpimples that attract much attention from appearing on such a body. Quito, called--not in irony, but by its own people--the Splendid andthe Magnificent; so high above the earth as to appear but a little wayremoved from heaven--"de Quito al cielo, " as the saying is. But of itssublime history, its kings and conquerors, Haymar Capac the Mighty, and Huascar, and Atahualpa the Unhappy, not one word. Many words--howinadequate!--of the summits, white with everlasting snows, aboveit--above this navel of the world, above the earth, the ocean, thedarkening tempest, the condor's flight. Flame-breathing Cotopaxi, whose wrathful mutterings are audible two hundred leagues away, andChimborazo, Antisana, Sarata, Illimani, Aconcagua--names of mountainsthat affect us like the names of gods, implacable Pachacamac andViracocha, whose everlasting granite thrones they are. At the last Ishowed her Cuzco, the city of the sun, and the highest dwelling-place ofmen on earth. 

I was carried away by so sublime a theme; and remembering that I had nocritical hearer, I gave free reins to fancy, forgetting for the momentthat some undiscovered thought or feeling had prompted her questions. And while I spoke of the mountains, she hung on my words, following meclosely in my walk, her countenance brilliant, her frame quivering withexcitement. 

There yet remained to be described all that unimaginable space east ofthe Andes; the rivers--what rivers!--the green plains that are likethe sea--the illimitable waste of water where there is no land--and theforest region. The very thought of the Amazonian forest made my spiritdroop. If I could have snatched her up and placed her on the dome ofChimborazo she would have looked on an area of ten thousand square milesof earth, so vast is the horizon at that elevation. And possibly herimagination would have been able to clothe it all with an unbrokenforest. Yet how small a portion this would be of the stupendouswhole--of a forest region equal in extent to the whole of Europe! Allloveliness, all grace, all majesty are there; but we cannot see, cannotconceive--come away! From this vast stage, to be occupied in the distantfuture by millions and myriads of beings, like us of upright form, thenations that will be born when all the existing dominant races on theglobe and the civilizations they represent have perished as utterly asthose who sculptured the stones of old Tiahuanaco--from this theatreof palms prepared for a drama unlike any which the Immortals have yetwitnessed--I hurried away; and then slowly conducted her along theAtlantic coast, listening to the thunder of its great waves, and pausingat intervals to survey some maritime city. 

Never probably since old Father Noah divided the earth among hissons had so grand a geographical discourse been delivered; and havingfinished, I sat down, exhausted with my efforts, and mopped my brow, butglad that my huge task was over, and satisfied that I had convinced herof the futility of her wish to see the world for herself. 

Her excitement had passed away by now. She was standing a little apartfrom me, her eyes cast down and thoughtful. At length she approached meand said, waving her hand all round: "What is beyond the mountains overthere, beyond the cities on that side--beyond the world?"

"Water, only water. Did I not tell you?" I returned stoutly; for I had, of course, sunk the Isthmus of Panama beneath the sea. 

"Water! All round?" she persisted. 

"Yes. "

"Water, and no beyond? Only water--always water?"

I could no longer adhere to so gross a lie. She was too intelligent, andI loved her too much. Standing up, I pointed to distant mountains andisolated peaks. 

"Look at those peaks, " I said. "It is like that with the world--thisworld we are standing on. Beyond that great water that flows all roundthe world, but far away, so far that it would take months in a big boatto reach them, there are islands, some small, others as large as thisworld. But, Rima, they are so far away, so impossible to reach, that itis useless to speak or to think of them. They are to us like the sun andmoon and stars, to which we cannot fly. And now sit down and rest by myside, for you know everything. "

She glanced at me with troubled eyes. 

"Nothing do I know--nothing have you told me. Did I not say thatmountains and rivers and forests are nothing? Tell me about all thepeople in the world. Look! there is Cuzco over there, a city like noother in the world--did you not tell me so? Of the people nothing. Arethey also different from all others in the world?"

"I will tell you that if you will first answer me one question, Rima. "

She drew a little nearer, curious to hear, but was silent. 

"Promise that you will answer me, " I persisted, and as she continuedsilent, I added: "Shall I not ask you, then?"

"Say, " she murmured. 

"Why do you wish to know about the people of Cuzco?"

She flashed a look at me, then averted her face. For some moments shestood hesitating; then, coming closer, touched me on the shoulder andsaid softly: "Turn away, do not look at me. "

I obeyed, and bending so close that I felt her warm breath on my neck, she whispered: "Are the people in Cuzco like me? Would they understandme--the things you cannot understand? Do you know?"

Her tremulous voice betrayed her agitation, and her words, I imagined, revealed the motive of her action in bringing me to the summit ofYtaioa, and of her desire to visit and know all the various peoplesinhabiting the world. She had begun to realize, after knowing me, herisolation and unlikeness to others, and at the same time to dream thatall human beings might not be unlike her and unable to understand hermysterious speech and to enter into her thoughts and feelings. 

"I can answer that question, Rima, " I said. "Ah, no, poor child, thereare none there like you--not one, not one. Of all there--priests, soldiers, merchants, workmen, white, black, red, and mixed; men andwomen, old and young, rich and poor, ugly and beautiful--not one wouldunderstand the sweet language you speak. "

She said nothing, and glancing round, I discovered that she was walkingaway, her fingers clasped before her, her eyes cast down, and lookingprofoundly dejected. Jumping up, I hurried after her. "Listen!" I said, coming to her side. "Do you know that there are others in the world likeyou who would understand your speech?"

"Oh, do I not! Yes--mother told me. I was young when you died, but, Omother, why did you not tell me more?"

"But where?"

"Oh, do you not think that I would go to them if I knew--that I wouldask?"

"Does Nuflo know?"

She shook her head, walking dejectedly along. 

"But have you asked him?" I persisted. 

"Have I not! Not once--not a hundred times. "

Suddenly she paused. "Look, " she said, "now we are standing in Guayanaagain. And over there in Brazil, and up there towards the Cordilleras, it is unknown. And there are people there. Come, let us go and seek formy mother's people in that place. With grandfather, but not the dogs;they would frighten the animals and betray us by barking to cruel menwho would slay us with poisoned arrows. "

"O Rima, can you not understand? It is too far. And your grandfather, poor old man, would die of weariness and hunger and old age in somestrange forest. "

"Would he die--old grandfather? Then we could cover him up with palmleaves in the forest and leave him. It would not be grandfather; onlyhis body that must turn to dust. He would be away--away where the starsare. We should not die, but go on, and on, and on. "

To continue the discussion seemed hopeless. I was silent, thinking ofwhat I had heard--that there were others like her somewhere in that vastgreen world, so much of it imperfectly known, so many districts neveryet explored by white men. True, it was strange that no report of such arace had reached the ears of any traveller; yet here was Rima herself atmy side, a living proof that such a race did exist. Nuflo probably knewmore than he would say; I had failed, as we have seen, to win the secretfrom him by fair means, and could not have recourse to foul--the rackand thumbscrew--to wring it from him. To the Indians she was onlyan object of superstitious fear--a daughter of the Didi--and to themnothing of her origin was known. And she, poor girl, had only a vagueremembrance of a few words heard in childhood from her mother, andprobably not rightly understood. 

While these thoughts had been passing through my mind, Rima had beenstanding silent by, waiting, perhaps, for an answer to her last words. Then stooping, she picked up a small pebble and tossed it three or fouryards away. 

"Do you see where it fell?" she cried, turning towards me. "That is onthe border of Guayana--is it not? Let us go there first. "

"Rima, how you distress me! We cannot go there. It is all a savagewilderness, almost unknown to men--a blank on the map--"

"The map?--speak no word that I do not understand. "

In a very few words I explained my meaning; even fewer would havesufficed, so quick was her apprehension. 

"If it is a blank, " she returned quickly, "then you know of nothingto stop us--no river we cannot swim, and no great mountains like thosewhere Quito is. "

"But I happen to know, Rima, for it has been related to me by oldIndians, that of all places that is the most difficult of access. Thereis a river there, and although it is not on the map, it would provemore impassable to us than the mighty Orinoco and Amazon. It has vastmalarious swamps on its borders, overgrown with dense forest, teemingwith savage and venomous animals, so that even the Indians dare notventure near it. And even before the river is reached, there is a rangeof precipitous mountains called by the same name--just there where yourpebble fell--the mountains of Riolama--"

Hardly had the name fallen from my lips before a change swift aslightning came over her countenance; all doubt, anxiety, petulance, hope, and despondence, and these in ever-varying degrees, chasing eachother like shadows, had vanished, and she was instinct and burning withsome new powerful emotion which had flashed into her soul. 

"Riolama! Riolama!" she repeated so rapidly and in a tone so sharp thatit tingled in the brain. "That is the place I am seeking! There wasmy mother found--there are her people and mine! Therefore was I calledRiolama--that is my name!"

"Rima!" I returned, astonished at her words. 

"No, no, no--Riolama. When I was a child, and the priest baptized me, henamed me Riolama--the place where my mother was found. But it was longto say, and they called me Rima. "

Suddenly she became still and then cried in a ringing voice:

"And he knew it all along--that old man--he knew that Riolama wasnear--only there where the pebble fell--that we could go there!"

While speaking she turned towards her home, pointing with raised hand. Her whole appearance now reminded me of that first meeting with herwhen the serpent bit me; the soft red of her irides shone like fire, herdelicate skin seemed to glow with an intense rose colour, and her frametrembled with her agitation, so that her loose cloud of hair was inmotion as if blown through by the wind. 

"Traitor! Traitor!" she cried, still looking homewards and using quick, passionate gestures. "It was all known to you, and you deceived me allthese years; even to me, Rima, you lied with your lips! Oh, horrible!Was there ever such a scandal known in Guayana? Come, follow me, let usgo at once to Riolama. " And without so much as casting a glance behindto see whether I followed or no, she hurried away, and in a couple ofminutes disappeared from sight over the edge of the flat summit. "Rima!Rima! Come back and listen to me! Oh, you are mad! Come back! Comeback!"

But she would not return or pause and listen; and looking after her, I saw her bounding down the rocky slope like some wild, agile creaturepossessed of padded hoofs and an infallible instinct; and before manyminutes she vanished from sight among crabs and trees lower down. 

"Nuflo, old man, " said I, looking out towards his lodge, "are there noshooting pains in those old bones of yours to warn you in time of thetempest about to burst on your head?"

Then I sat down to think. 

CHAPTER XII

To follow impetuous, bird-like Rima in her descent of the hill wouldhave been impossible, nor had I any desire to be a witness of oldNuflo's discomfiture at the finish. It was better to leave them tosettle their quarrel themselves, while I occupied myself in turningover these fresh facts in my mind to find out how they fitted into thespeculative structure I had been building during the last two or threeweeks. But it soon struck me that it was getting late, that the sunwould be gone in a couple of hours; and at once I began the descent. It was not accomplished without some bruises and a good many scratches. After a cold draught, obtained by putting my lips to a black rock fromwhich the water was trickling, I set out on my walk home, keepingnear the western border of the forest for fear of losing myself. I hadcovered about half the distance from the foot of the hill to Nuflo'slodge when the sun went down. Away on my left the evening uproar of thehowling monkeys burst out, and after three or four minutes ceased; theafter silence was pierced at intervals by screams of birds going toroost among the trees in the distance, and by many minor sounds closeat hand, of small bird, frog, and insect. The western sky was now likeamber-coloured flame, and against that immeasurably distant luminousbackground the near branches and clustered foliage looked black; but onmy left hand the vegetation still appeared of a uniform dusky green. Ina little while night would drown all colour, and there would be no lightbut that of the wandering lantern-fly, always unwelcome to the belatedwalker in a lonely place, since, like the ignis fatuus, it is confusingto the sight and sense of direction. 

With increasing anxiety I hastened on, when all at once a low growlissuing from the bushes some yards ahead of me brought me to a stop. Ina moment the dogs, Susio and Goloso, rushed out from some hiding placefuriously barking; but they quickly recognized me and slunk back again. Relieved from fear, I walked on for a short distance; then it struckme that the old man must be about somewhere, as the dogs scarcely everstirred from his side. Turning back, I went to the spot where theyhad appeared to me; and there, after a while, I caught sight of a dim, yellow form as one of the brutes rose up to look at me. He had beenlying on the ground by the side of a wide-spreading bush, dead anddry, but overgrown by a creeping plant which had completely coveredits broad, flat top like a piece of tapestry thrown over a table, itsslender terminal stems and leaves hanging over the edge like a deepfringe. But the fringe did not reach to the ground and under the bush, in its dark interior. I caught sight of the other dog; and after gazingin for some time, I also discovered a black, recumbent form, which Itook to be Nuflo. 

"What are you doing there, old man?" I cried. "Where is Rima--have younot seen her? Come out. "

Then he stirred himself, slowly creeping out on all fours; and finally, getting free of the dead twigs and leaves, he stood up and faced me. Hehad a strange, wild look, his white beard all disordered, moss and deadleaves clinging to it, his eyes staring like an owl's, while his mouthopened and shut, the teeth striking together audibly, like an angrypeccary's. After silently glaring at me in this mad way for somemoments, he burst out: "Cursed be the day when I first saw you, man ofCaracas! Cursed be the serpent that bit you and had not sufficient powerin its venom to kill! Ha! you come from Ytaioa, where you talkedwith Rima? And you have now returned to the tiger's den to mock thatdangerous animal with the loss of its whelp. Fool, if you did not wishthe dogs to feed on your flesh, it would have been better if you hadtaken your evening walk in some other direction. "

These raging words did not have the effect of alarming me in the least, nor even of astonishing me very much, albeit up till now the old man hadalways shown himself suave and respectful. His attack did not seem quitespontaneous. In spite of the wildness of his manner and the violenceof his speech, he appeared to be acting a part which he had rehearsedbeforehand. I was only angry, and stepping forward, I dealt him a verysharp rap with my knuckles on his chest. "Moderate your language, oldman, " I said; "remember that you are addressing a superior. "

"What do you say to me?" he screamed in a shrill, broken voice, accompanying his words with emphatic gestures. "Do you think you are onthe pavement of Caracas? Here are no police to protect you--here we arealone in the desert where names and titles are nothing, standing man toman. "

"An old man to a young one, " I returned. "And in virtue of my youth I amyour superior. Do you wish me to take you by the throat and shake yourinsolence out of you?"

"What, do you threaten me with violence?" he exclaimed, throwing himselfinto a hostile attitude. "You, the man I saved, and sheltered, and fed, and treated like a son! Destroyer of my peace, have you not injured meenough? You have stolen my grandchild's heart from me; with a thousandinventions you have driven her mad! My child, my angel, Rima, mysaviour! With your lying tongue you have changed her into a demon topersecute me! And you are not satisfied, but must finish your evil workby inflicting blows on my worn body! All, all is lost to me! Take mylife if you wish it, for now it is worth nothing and I desire not tokeep it!" And here he threw himself on his knees and, tearing open hisold, ragged mantle, presented his naked breast to me. "Shoot! Shoot!" hescreeched. "And if you have no weapon take my knife and plunge it intothis sad heart, and let me die!" And drawing his knife from its sheath, he flung it down at my feet. 

All this performance only served to increase my anger and contempt; butbefore I could make any reply I caught sight of a shadowy object at somedistance moving towards us--something grey and formless, gliding swiftand noiseless, like some great low-flying owl among the trees. It wasRima, and hardly had I seen her before she was with us, facing oldNuflo, her whole frame quivering with passion, her wide-open eyesappearing luminous in that dim light. 

"You are here!" she cried in that quick, ringing tone that was almostpainful to the sense. "You thought to escape me! To hide yourself frommy eyes in the wood! Miserable! Do you not know that I have need ofyou--that I have not finished with you yet? Do you, then, wish to bescourged to Riolama with thorny twigs--to be dragged thither by thebeard?"

He had been staring open-mouthed at her, still on his knees, and holdinghis mantle open with his skinny hands. "Rima! Rima! have mercy on me!"he cried out piteously. "I cannot go to Riolama, it is so far--so far. And I am old and should meet my death. Oh, Rima, child of the woman Isaved from death, have you no compassion? I shall die, I shall die!"

"Shall you die? Not until you have shown me the way to Riolama. And whenI have seen Riolama with my eyes, then you may die, and I shall be gladat your death; and the children and the grandchildren and cousins andfriends of all the animals you have slain and fed on shall know that youare dead and be glad at your death. For you have deceived me with liesall these years even me--and are not fit to live! Come now to Riolama;rise instantly, I command you!"

Instead of rising he suddenly put out his hand and snatched up the knifefrom the ground. "Do you then wish me to die?" he cried. "Shall you beglad at my death? Behold, then I shall slay myself before your eyes. Bymy own hand, Rima, I am now about to perish, striking the knife into myheart!"

While speaking he waved the knife in a tragic manner over his head, butI made no movement; I was convinced that he had no intention of takinghis own life--that he was still acting. Rima, incapable of understandingsuch a thing, took it differently. 

"Oh, you are going to kill yourself. " she cried. "Oh, wicked man, waituntil you know what will happen to you after death. All shall now betold to my mother. Hear my words, then kill yourself. "

She also now dropped on to her knees and, lifting her clasped handsand fixing her resentful sparkling eyes on the dim blue patch of heavenvisible beyond the treetops, began to speak rapidly in clear, vibratingtones. She was praying to her mother in heaven; and while Nuflo listenedabsorbed, his mouth open, his eyes fixed on her, the hand that clutchedthe knife dropped to his side. I also heard with the greatest wonder andadmiration. For she had been shy and reticent with me, and now, asif oblivious of my presence, she was telling aloud the secrets of herinmost heart. 

"O mother, mother, listen to me, to Rima, your beloved child!"she began. "All these years I have been wickedly deceived bygrandfather--Nuflo--the old man that found you. Often have I spoken tohim of Riolama, where you once were, and your people are, and he deniedall knowledge of such a place. Sometimes he said that it was at animmense distance, in a great wilderness full of serpents larger than thetrunks of great trees, and of evil spirits and savage men, slayers ofall strangers. At other times he affirmed that no such place existed;that it was a tale told by the Indians; such false things did he say tome--to Rima, your child. O mother, can you believe such wickedness?

"Then a stranger, a white man from Venezuela, came into our woods: thisis the man that was bitten by a serpent, and his name is Abel; only I donot call him by that name, but by other names which I have told you. Butperhaps you did not listen, or did not hear, for I spoke softly and notas now, on my knees, solemnly. For I must tell you, O mother, thatafter you died the priest at Voa told me repeatedly that when I prayed, whether to you or to any of the saints, or to the Mother of Heaven, Imust speak as he had taught me if I wished to be heard and understood. And that was most strange, since you had taught me differently; but youwere living then, at Voa, and now that you are in heaven, perhaps youknow better. Therefore listen to me now, O mother, and let nothing I sayescape you. 

"When this white man had been for some days with us, a strange thinghappened to me, which made me different, so that I was no longer Rima, although Rima still--so strange was this thing; and I often went to thepool to look at myself and see the change in me, but nothing differentcould I see. In the first place it came from his eyes passing into mine, and filling me just as the lightning fills a cloud at sunset: afterwardsit was no longer from his eyes only, but it came into me whenever I sawhim, even at a distance, when I heard his voice, and most of all when hetouched me with his hand. When he is out of my sight I cannot rest untilI see him again; and when I see him, then I am glad, yet in such fearand trouble that I hide myself from him. O mother, it could not be told;for once when he caught me in his arms and compelled me to speak of it, he did not understand; yet there was need to tell it; then it came to methat only to our people could it be told, for they would understand, andreply to me, and tell me what to do in such a case. 

"And now, O mother, this is what happened next. I went to grandfatherand first begged and then commanded him to take me to Riolama; but hewould not obey, nor give attention to what I said, but whenever I spoketo him of it he rose up and hurried from me; and when I followed heflung back a confused and angry reply, saying in the same breath that itwas so long since he had been to Riolama that he had forgotten where itwas, and that no such place existed. And which of his words were trueand which false I knew not; so that it would have been better if he hadreturned no answer at all; and there was no help to be got from him. Andhaving thus failed, and there being no other person to speak to exceptthis stranger, I determined to go to him, and in his company seekthrough the whole world for my people. This will surprise you, O mother, because of that fear which came on me in his presence, causing meto hide from his sight; but my wish was so great that for a time itovercame my fear; so that I went to him as he sat alone in the wood, sadbecause he could not see me, and spoke to him, and led him to the summitof Ytaioa to show me all the countries of the world from the summit. Andyou must also know that I tremble in his presence, not because I fearhim as I fear Indians and cruel men; for he has no evil in him, and isbeautiful to look at, and his words are gentle, and his desire is to bealways with me, so that he differs from all other men I have seen, justas I differ from all women, except from you only, O sweet mother. 

"On the mountain-top he marked out and named all the countries of theworld, the great mountains, the rivers, the plains, the forests, thecities; and told me also of the peoples, whites and savages, but of ourpeople nothing. And beyond where the world ends there is water, water, water. And when he spoke of that unknown part on the borders of Guayana, on the side of the Cordilleras, he named the mountains of Riolama, andin that way I first found out where my people are. I then left him onYtaioa, he refusing to follow me, and ran to grandfather and taxed himwith his falsehoods; and he, finding I knew all, escaped from me intothe woods, where I have now found him once more, talking with thestranger. And now, O mother, seeing himself caught and unable to escapea second time, he has taken up a knife to kill himself, so as not totake me to Riolama; and he is only waiting until I finish speakingto you, for I wish him to know what will happen to him after death. Therefore, O mother, listen well and do what I tell you. When he haskilled himself, and has come into that place where you are, see that hedoes not escape the punishment he merits. Watch well for his coming, forhe is full of cunning and deceit, and will endeavor to hide himself fromyour eyes. When you have recognized him--an old man, brown as an Indian, with a white beard--point him out to the angels, and say: 'This isNuflo, the bad man that lied to Rima. ' Let them take him and singe hiswings with fire, so that he may not escape by flying; and afterwardsthrust him into some dark cavern under a mountain, and place a greatstone that a hundred men could not remove over its mouth, and leave himthere alone and in the dark for ever!"

Having ended, she rose quickly from her knees, and at the same momentNuflo, dropping the knife, cast himself prostrate at her feet. 

"Rima--my child, my child, not that!" he cried out in a voice that wasbroken with terror. He tried to take hold of her feet with his hands, but she shrank from him with aversion; still he kept on crawling afterher like a disabled lizard, abjectly imploring her to forgive him, reminding her that he had saved from death the woman whose enmity hadnow been enlisted against him, and declaring that he would do anythingshe commanded him, and gladly perish in her service. 

It was a pitiable sight, and moving quickly to her side I touched her onthe shoulder and asked her to forgive him. 

The response came quickly enough. Turning to him once more, she said: "Iforgive you, grandfather. And now get up and take me to Riolama. "

He rose, but only to his knees. "But you have not told her!" he said, recovering his natural voice, although still anxious, and jerking athumb over his shoulder. "Consider, my child, that I am old and shalldoubtless perish on the way. What would become of my soul in sucha case? For now you have told her everything, and it will not beforgotten. "

She regarded him in silence for a few moments; then, moving a littleway apart, dropped on to her knees again, and with raised hands andeyes fixed on the blue space above, already sprinkled with stars, prayedagain. 

"O mother, listen to me, for I have something fresh to say to you. Grandfather has not killed himself, but has asked my forgiveness and haspromised to obey me. O mother, I have forgiven him, and he will now takeme to Riolama, to our people. Therefore, O mother, if he dies on theway to Riolama let nothing be done against him, but remember only thatI forgave him at the last; and when he comes into that place whereyou are, let him be well received, for that is the wish of Rima, yourchild. "

As soon as this second petition was ended she was up again and engagedin an animated discussion with him, urging him to take her withoutfurther delay to Riolama; while he, now recovered from his fear, urgedthat so important an undertaking required a great deal of thought andpreparation; that the journey would occupy about twenty days, and unlesshe set out well provided with food he would starve before accomplishinghalf the distance, and his death would leave her worse off than before. He concluded by affirming that he could not start in less time thanseven or eight days. 

For a while I listened with keen interest to this dispute, and atlength interposed once more on the old man's side. The poor girl in herpetition had unwittingly revealed to me the power I possessed, and itwas a pleasing experience to exercise it. Touching her shoulder again, Iassured her that seven or eight days was only a reasonable time in whichto prepare for so long a journey. She instantly yielded, and afterone glance at my face, she moved swiftly away into the darker shadows, leaving me alone with the old man. 

As we returned together through the now profoundly dark wood, Iexplained to him how the subject of Riolama had first come up during myconversation with Rima, and he then apologized for the violent languagehe had used to me. This personal question disposed of, he spoke of thepilgrimage before him, and informed me in confidence that he intendedpreparing a quantity of smoke-dried meat and packing it in a bag, witha layer of cassava bread, dried pumpkin slips, and such innocent triflesto conceal it from Rima's keen sight and delicate nostrils. Finally hemade a long rambling statement which, I vainly imagined, was intended tolead up to an account of Rima's origin, with something about her peopleat Riolama; but it led to nothing except an expression of opinion thatthe girl was afflicted with a maggot in the brain, but that as she hadinterest with the powers above, especially with her mother, who wasnow a very important person among the celestials, it was good policy tosubmit to her wishes. Turning to me, doubtless to wink (only I missedthe sign owing to the darkness), he added that it was a fine thing tohave a friend at court. With a little gratulatory chuckle he went on tosay that for others it was necessary to obey all the ordinances of theChurch, to contribute to its support, hear mass, confess from time totime, and receive absolution; consequently those who went out into thewilderness, where there were no churches and no priests to absolve them, did so at the risk of losing their souls. But with him it was different:he expected in the end to escape the fires of purgatory and go directlyin all his uncleanness to heaven--a thing, he remarked, which happenedto very few; and he, Nuflo, was no saint, and had first become a dwellerin the desert, as a very young man, in order to escape the penalty ofhis misdeeds. 

I could not resist the temptation of remarking here that to anunregenerate man the celestial country might turn out a somewhatuncongenial place for a residence. He replied airily that he hadconsidered the point and had no fear about the future; that he was old, and from all he had observed of the methods of government followed bythose who ruled over earthly affairs from the sky, he had formed aclear idea of that place, and believed that even among so many glorifiedbeings he would be able to meet with those who would prove companionableenough and would think no worse of him on account of his littleblemishes. 

How he had first got this idea into his brain about Rima's ability tomake things smooth for him after death I cannot say; probably it was theeffect of the girl's powerful personality and vivid faith acting on anignorant and extremely superstitious mind. While she was makingthat petition to her mother in heaven, it did not seem in the leastridiculous to me: I had felt no inclination to smile, even when hearingall that about the old man's wings being singed to prevent his escapeby flying. Her rapt look; the intense conviction that vibrated in herringing, passionate tones; the brilliant scorn with which she, a haterof bloodshed, one so tender towards all living things, even the meanest, bade him kill himself, and only hear first how her vengeance wouldpursue his deceitful soul into other worlds; the clearness with whichshe had related the facts of the case, disclosing the inmost secretsof her heart--all this had had a strange, convincing effect on me. Listening to her I was no longer the enlightened, the creedless man. Sheherself was so near to the supernatural that it seemed brought near me;indefinable feelings, which had been latent in me, stirred into life, and following the direction of her divine, lustrous eyes, fixed on theblue sky above, I seemed to see there another being like herself, a Rimaglorified, leaning her pale, spiritual face to catch the winged wordsuttered by her child on earth. And even now, while hearing the old man'stalk, showing as it did a mind darkened with such gross delusions, Iwas not yet altogether free from the strange effect of that prayer. Doubtless it was a delusion; her mother was not really there abovelistening to the girl's voice. Still, in some mysterious way, Rima hadbecome to me, even as to superstitious old Nuflo, a being apart andsacred, and this feeling seemed to mix with my passion, to purify andexalt it and make it infinitely sweet and precious. 

After we had been silent for some time, I said: "Old man, the result ofthe grand discussion you have had with Rima is that you have agreed totake her to Riolama, but about my accompanying you not one word has beenspoken by either of you. "

He stopped short to stare at me, and although it was too dark to seehis face, I felt his astonishment. "Senor!" he exclaimed, "we cannotgo without you. Have you not heard my granddaughter's words--that it isonly because of you that she is about to undertake this crazy journey?If you are not with us in this thing, then, senor, here we must remain. But what will Rima say to that?"

"Very well, I will go, but only on one condition. "

"What is it?" he asked, with a sudden change of tone, which warned methat he was becoming cautious again. 

"That you tell me the whole story of Rima's origin, and how you came tobe now living with her in this solitary place, and who these people areshe wishes to visit at Riolama. "

"Ah, senor, it is a long story, and sad. But you shall hear it all. You must hear it, senor, since you are now one of us; and when I am nolonger here to protect her, then she will be yours. And although youwill never be able to do more than old Nuflo for her, perhaps she willbe better pleased; and you, senor, better able to exist innocently byher side, without eating flesh, since you will always have that rareflower to delight you. But the story would take long to tell. You shallhear it all as we journey to Riolama. What else will there be to talkabout when we are walking that long distance, and when we sit at nightby the fire?"

"No, no, old man, I am not to be put off in that way. I must hear itbefore I start. "

But he was determined to reserve the narrative until the journey, andafter some further argument I yielded the point. 

CHAPTER XIII

That evening by the fire old Nuflo, lately so miserable, now happy inhis delusions, was more than usually gay and loquacious. He was likea child who by timely submission has escaped a threatened severepunishment. But his lightness of heart was exceeded by mine; and, withthe exception of one other yet to come, that evening now shines inmemory as the happiest my life has known. For Rima's sweet secret wasknown to me; and her very ignorance of the meaning of the feeling sheexperienced, which caused her to fly from me as from an enemy, onlyserved to make the thought of it more purely delightful. 

On this occasion she did not steal away like a timid mouse to her ownapartment, as her custom was, but remained to give that one eveninga special grace, seated well away from the fire in that same shadowycorner where I had first seen her indoors, when I had marvelled at heraltered appearance. From that corner she could see my face, with thefirelight full upon it, she herself in shadow, her eyes veiled by theirdrooping lashes. Sitting there, the vivid consciousness of my happinesswas like draughts of strong, delicious wine, and its effect was likewine, imparting such freedom to fancy, such fluency, that again andagain old Nuflo applauded, crying out that I was a poet, and beggingme to put it all into rhyme. I could not do that to please him, neverhaving acquired the art of improvisation--that idle trick of makingwords jingle which men of Nuflo's class in my country so greatly admire;yet it seemed to me on that evening that my feelings could be adequatelyexpressed only in that sublimated language used by the finest minds intheir inspired moments; and, accordingly, I fell to reciting. But notfrom any modern, nor from the poets of the last century, nor even fromthe greater seventeenth century. I kept to the more ancient romancesand ballads, the sweet old verse that, whether glad or sorrowful, seemsalways natural and spontaneous as the song of a bird, and so simple thateven a child can understand it. 

It was late that night before all the romances I remembered or caredto recite were exhausted, and not until then did Rima come out of hershaded corner and steal silently away to her sleeping-place. 

Although I had resolved to go with them, and had set Nuflo's mind atrest on the point, I was bent on getting the request from Rima's ownlips; and the next morning the opportunity of seeing her alone presenteditself, after old Nuflo had sneaked off with his dogs. From the momentof his departure I kept a close watch on the house, as one watches abush in which a bird one wishes to see has concealed itself, and out ofwhich it may dart at any moment and escape unseen. 

At length she came forth, and seeing me in the way, would have slippedback into hiding; for, in spite of her boldness on the previous day, shenow seemed shyer than ever when I spoke to her. 

"Rima, " I said, "do you remember where we first talked together under atree one morning, when you spoke of your mother, telling me that she wasdead?"

"Yes. "

"I am going now to that spot to wait for you. I must speak to you againin that place about this journey to Riolama. " As she kept silent, Iadded: "Will you promise to come to me there?"

She shook her head, turning half away. 

"Have you forgotten our compact, Rima?"

"No, " she returned; and then, suddenly coming near, spoke in a low tone:"I will go there to please you, and you must also do as I tell you. "

"What do you wish, Rima?"

She came nearer still. "Listen! You must not look into my eyes, you mustnot touch me with your hands. "

"Sweet Rima, I must hold your hand when I speak with you. "

"No, no, no, " she murmured, shrinking from me; and finding that it mustbe as she wished, I reluctantly agreed. 

Before I had waited long, she appeared at the trysting-place, and stoodbefore me, as on a former occasion, on that same spot of clean yellowsand, clasping and unclasping her fingers, troubled in mind even then. Only now her trouble was different and greater, making her shyer andmore reticent. 

"Rima, your grandfather is going to take you to Riolama. Do you wish meto go with you?"

"Oh, do you not know that?" she returned, with a swift glance at myface. 

"How should I know?"

Her eyes wandered away restlessly. "On Ytaioa you told me a hundredthings which I did not know, " she replied in a vague way, wishing, perhaps, to imply that with so great a knowledge of geography it wasstrange I did not know everything, even her most secret thoughts. 

"Tell me, why must you go to Riolama?"

"You have heard. To speak to my people. "

"What will you say to them? Tell me. "

"What you do not understand. How tell you?"

"I understand you when you speak in Spanish. "

"Oh, that is not speaking. "

"Last night you spoke to your mother in Spanish. Did you not tell hereverything?"

"Oh no--not then. When I tell her everything I speak in another way, ina low voice--not on my knees and praying. At night, and in the woods, and when I am alone I tell her. But perhaps she does not hear me; she isnot here, but up there--so far! She never answers, but when I speak tomy people they will answer me. "

Then she turned away as if there was nothing more to be said. 

"Is this all I am to hear from you, Rima--these few words?" I exclaimed. "So much did you say to your grandfather, so much to your dead mother, but to me you say so little!"

She turned again, and with eyes cast down replied:

"He deceived me--I had to tell him that, and then to pray to mother. But to you that do not understand, what can I say? Only that you are notlike him and all those that I knew at Voa. It is so different--and thesame. You are you, and I am I; why is it--do you know?"

"No; yes--I know, but cannot tell you. And if you find your people, whatwill you do--leave me to go to them? Must I go all the way to Riolamaonly to lose you?"

"Where I am, there you must be. "

"Why?"

"Do I not see it there?" she returned, with a quick gesture to indicatethat it appeared in my face. 

"Your sight is keen, Rima--keen as a bird's. Mine is not so keen. Let melook once more into those beautiful wild eyes, then perhaps I shall seein them as much as you see in mine. "

"Oh no, no, not that!" she murmured in distress, drawing away from me;then with a sudden flash of brilliant colour cried:

"Have you forgotten the compact--the promise you made me?"

Her words made me ashamed, and I could not reply. But the shame wasas nothing in strength compared to the impulse I felt to clasp herbeautiful body in my arms and cover her face with kisses. Sick withdesire, I turned away and, sitting on a root of the tree, covered myface with my hands. 

She came nearer: I could see her shadow through my fingers; then herface and wistful, compassionate eyes. 

"Forgive me, dear Rima, " I said, dropping my hands again. "I have triedso hard to please you in everything! Touch my face with your hand--onlythat, and I will go to Riolama with you, and obey you in all things. "

For a while she hesitated, then stepped quickly aside so that I couldnot see her; but I knew that she had not left me, that she was standingjust behind me. And after waiting a moment longer I felt her fingerstouching my skin, softly, trembling over my cheek as if a soft-wingedmoth had fluttered against it; then the slight aerial touch was gone, and she, too, moth-like, had vanished from my side. 

Left alone in the wood, I was not happy. That fluttering, flatteringtouch of her finger-tips had been to me like spoken language, and moreeloquent than language, yet the sweet assurance it conveyed had notgiven perfect satisfaction; and when I asked myself why the gladness ofthe previous evening had forsaken me--why I was infected with thisnew sadness when everything promised well for me, I found that it wasbecause my passion had greatly increased during the last few hours; evenduring sleep it had been growing, and could no longer be fed by merelydwelling in thought on the charms, moral and physical, of its object, and by dreams of future fruition. 

I concluded that it would be best for Rima's sake as well as my own tospend a few of the days before setting out on our journey with my Indianfriends, who would be troubled at my long absence; and, accordingly, next morning I bade good-bye to the old man, promising to return inthree or four days, and then started without seeing Rima, who hadquitted the house before her usual time. After getting free of thewoods, on casting back my eyes I caught sight of the girl standing underan isolated tree watching me with that vague, misty, greenish appearanceshe so frequently had when seen in the light shade at a short distance. 

"Rima!" I cried, hurrying back to speak to her, but when I reached thespot she had vanished; and after waiting some time, seeing and hearingnothing to indicate that she was near me, I resumed my walk, halfthinking that my imagination had deceived me. 

I found my Indian friends home again, and was not surprised to observe adistinct change in their manner towards me. I had expected as much;and considering that they must have known very well where and in whosecompany I had been spending my time, it was not strange. Coming acrossthe savannah that morning I had first begun to think seriously of therisk I was running. But this thought only served to prepare me for a newcondition of things; for now to go back and appear before Rima, and thusprove myself to be a person not only capable of forgetting a promiseoccasionally, but also of a weak, vacillating mind, was not to bethought of for a moment. 

I was received--not welcomed--quietly enough; not a question, nota word, concerning my long absence fell from anyone; it was as if astranger had appeared among them, one about whom they knew nothingand consequently regarded with suspicion, if not actual hostility. Iaffected not to notice the change, and dipped my hand uninvited in thepot to satisfy my hunger, and smoked and dozed away the sultry hours inmy hammock. Then I got my guitar and spent the rest of the day over it, tuning it, touching the strings so softly with my finger-tips that to aperson four yards off the sound must have seemed like the murmur orbuzz of an insect's wings; and to this scarcely audible accompaniment Imurmured in an equally low tone a new song. 

In the evening, when all were gathered under the roof and I had eatenagain, I took up the instrument once more, furtively watched by allthose half-closed animal eyes, and swept the strings loudly, and sangaloud. I sang an old simple Spanish melody, to which I had put wordsin their own language--a language with no words not in everyday use, in which it is so difficult to express feelings out of and above thecommon. What I had been constructing and practicing all the afternoonsotto voce was a kind of ballad, an extremely simple tale of a poorIndian living alone with his young family in a season of dearth; howday after day he ranged the voiceless woods, to return each evening withnothing but a few withered sour berries in his hand, to find his lean, large-eyed wife still nursing the fire that cooked nothing, and hischildren crying for food, showing their bones more plainly throughtheir skins every day; and how, without anything miraculous, anythingwonderful, happening, that barrenness passed from earth, and the gardenonce more yielded them pumpkin and maize, and manioc, the wild fruitsripened, and the birds returned, filling the forest with their cries;and so their long hunger was satisfied, and the children grew sleek, and played and laughed in the sunshine; and the wife, no longer broodingover the empty pot, wove a hammock of silk grass, decorated withblue-and-scarlet feathers of the macaw; and in that new hammock theIndian rested long from his labours, smoking endless cigars. 

When I at last concluded with a loud note of joy, a long, involuntarysuspiration in the darkening room told me that I had been listened towith profound interest; and, although no word was spoken, though I wasstill a stranger and under a cloud, it was plain that the experiment hadsucceeded, and that for the present the danger was averted. 

I went to my hammock and slept, but without undressing. Next morningI missed my revolver and found that the holster containing it had beendetached from the belt. My knife had not been taken, possibly because itwas under me in the hammock while I slept. In answer to my inquiries Iwas informed that Runi had BORROWED my weapon to take it with him to theforest, where he had gone to hunt, and that he would return it to mein the evening. I affected to take it in good part, although feelingsecretly ill at ease. Later in the day I came to the conclusion thatRuni had had it in his mind to murder me, that I had softened him bysinging that Indian story, and that by taking possession of the revolverhe showed that he now only meant to keep me a prisoner. Subsequentevents confirmed me in this suspicion. On his return he explained thathe had gone out to seek for game in the woods; and, going withouta companion, he had taken my revolver to preserve him fromdangers--meaning those of a supernatural kind; and that he had had themisfortune to drop it among the bushes while in pursuit of some animal. I answered hotly that he had not treated me like a friend; that if hehad asked me for the weapon it would have been lent to him; that ashe had taken it without permission he must pay me for it. After somepondering he said that when he took it I was sleeping soundly; also, that it would not be lost; he would take me to the place where he haddropped it, when we could search together for it. 

He was in appearance more friendly towards me now, even asking me torepeat my last evening's song, and so we had that performance all overagain to everybody's satisfaction. But when morning came he was notinclined to go to the woods: there was food enough in the house, and thepistol would not be hurt by lying where it had fallen a day longer. Nextday the same excuse; still I disguised my impatience and suspicion ofhim and waited, singing the ballad for the third time that evening. ThenI was conducted to a wood about a league and a half away and we huntedfor the lost pistol among the bushes, I with little hope of finding it, while he attended to the bird voices and frequently asked me to stand orlie still when a chance of something offered. 

The result of that wasted day was a determination on my part to escapefrom Runi as soon as possible, although at the risk of making a deadlyenemy of him and of being compelled to go on that long journey toRiolama with no better weapon than a hunting-knife. I had noticed, whileappearing not to do so, that outside of the house I was followed orwatched by one or other of the Indians, so that great circumspectionwas needed. On the following day I attacked my host once more about therevolver, telling him with well-acted indignation that if not foundit must be paid for. I went so far as to give a list of the articles Ishould require, including a bow and arrows, zabatana, two spears, andother things which I need not specify, to set me up for life as a wildman in the woods of Guayana. I was going to add a wife, but as I hadalready been offered one it did not appear to be necessary. He seemed alittle taken aback at the value I set upon my weapon, and promised to goand look for it again. Then I begged that Kua-ko, in whose sharpness ofsight I had great faith, might accompany us. He consented, and namedthe next day but one for the expedition. Very well, thought I, tomorrowtheir suspicion will be less, and my opportunity will come; then takingup my rude instrument, I gave them an old Spanish song:

 Desde aquel doloroso momento;

but this kind of music had lost its charm for them, and I was asked togive them the ballad they understood so well, in which their interestseemed to increase with every repetition. In spite of anxiety it amusedme to see old Cla-cla regarding me fixedly with owlish eyes and lipsmoving. My tale had no wonderful things in it, like hers of the oldentime, which she told only to send her hearers to sleep. Perhaps she haddiscovered by now that it was the strange honey of melody which made thecoarse, common cassava bread of everyday life in my story so pleasant tothe palate. I was quite prepared to receive a proposal to give her musicand singing lessons, and to bequeath a guitar to her in my last will andtestament. For, in spite of her hoary hair and million wrinkles, she, more than any other savage I had met with, seemed to have taken adraught from Ponce de Leon's undiscovered fountain of eternal youth. Poor old witch!

The following day was the sixth of my absence from Rima, and one ofintense anxiety to me, a feeling which I endeavoured to hide by playingwith the children, fighting our old comic stick fights, and by strummingnoisily on the guitar. In the afternoon, when it was hottest, and allthe men who happened to be indoors were lying in their hammocks, I askedKua-ko to go with me to the stream to bathe. He refused--I had countedon that--and earnestly advised me not to bathe in the pool I wasaccustomed to, as some little caribe fishes had made their appearancethere and would be sure to attack me. I laughed at his idle tale and, taking up my cloak, swung out of the door, whistling a lively air. He knew that I always threw my cloak over my head and shoulders as aprotection from the sun and stinging flies when coming out of the water, and so his suspicion was not aroused, and I was not followed. Thepool was about ten minutes' walk from the house; I arrived at it withpalpitating heart, and going round to its end, where the stream wasshallow, sat down to rest for a few moments and take a few sips of coolwater dipped up in my palm. Presently I rose, crossed the stream, andbegan running, keeping among the low trees near the bank until adry gully, which extended for some distance across the savannah, wasreached. By following its course the distance to be covered would beconsiderably increased, but the shorter way would have exposed me tosight and made it more dangerous. I had put forth too much speed atfirst, and in a short time my exertions, and the hot sun, together withmy intense excitement, overcame me. I dared not hope that my flighthad not been observed; I imagined that the Indians, unencumbered by anyheavy weight, were already close behind me, and ready to launchtheir deadly spears at my back. With a sob of rage and despair I fellprostrate on my face in the dry bed of the stream, and for two or threeminutes remained thus exhausted and unmanned, my heart throbbing soviolently that my whole frame was shaken. If my enemies had come on methen disposed to kill me, I could not have lifted a hand in defence ofmy life. But minutes passed and they came not. I rose and went on, at afast walk now, and when the sheltering streamed ended, I stooped amongthe sere dwarfed shrubs scattered about here and there on its southernside; and now creeping and now running, with an occasional pause torest and look back, I at last reached the dividing ridge at its southernextremity. The rest of the way was over comparatively easy ground, inclining downwards; and with that glad green forest now full in sight, and hope growing stronger every minute in my breast, my knees ceased totremble, and I ran on again, scarcely pausing until I had touched andlost myself in the welcome shadows. 

CHAPTER XIV

Ah, that return to the forest where Rima dwelt, after so anxious day, when the declining sun shone hotly still, and the green woodland shadowswere so grateful! The coolness, the sense of security, allayed the feverand excitement I had suffered on the open savannah; I walked leisurely, pausing often to listen to some bird voice or to admire some rareinsect or parasitic flower shining star-like in the shade. There was astrangely delightful sensation in me. I likened myself to a child that, startled at something it had seen while out playing in the sun, fliesto its mother to feel her caressing hand on its cheek and forget itstremors. And describing what I felt in that way, I was a little ashamedand laughed at myself; nevertheless the feeling was very sweet. At thatmoment Mother and Nature seemed one and the same thing. As I kept to themore open part of the wood, on its southernmost border, the red flameof the sinking sun was seen at intervals through the deep humid greenof the higher foliage. How every object it touched took from it a newwonderful glory! At one spot, high up where the foliage was scanty, andslender bush ropes and moss depended like broken cordage from a deadlimb--just there, bathing itself in that glory-giving light, I noticeda fluttering bird, and stood still to watch its antics. Now it wouldcling, head downwards, to the slender twigs, wings and tail open; then, righting itself, it would flit from waving line to line, dropping lowerand lower; and anon soar upwards a distance of twenty feet and alight torecommence the flitting and swaying and dropping towards the earth. Itwas one of those birds that have a polished plumage, and as it movedthis way and that, flirting its feathers, they caught the beams andshone at moments like glass or burnished metal. Suddenly another bird ofthe same kind dropped down to it as if from the sky, straight and swiftas a falling stone; and the first bird sprang up to meet the comer, andafter rapidly wheeling round each other for a moment, they fled away incompany, screaming shrilly through the wood, and were instantly lost tosight, while their jubilant cries came back fainter and fainter at eachrepetition. 

I envied them not their wings: at that moment earth did not seem fixedand solid beneath me, nor I bound by gravity to it. The faint, floatingclouds, the blue infinite heaven itself, seemed not more ethereal andfree than I, or the ground I walked on. The low, stony hills on my righthand, of which I caught occasional glimpses through the trees, lookingnow blue and delicate in the level rays, were no more than the billowyprojections on the moving cloud of earth: the trees of unnumberedkinds--great more, cecropia, and greenheart, bush and fern and suspendedlianas, and tall palms balancing their feathery foliage on slenderstems--all was but a fantastic mist embroidery covering the surface ofthat floating cloud on which my feet were set, and which floated with menear the sun. 

The red evening flame had vanished from the summits of the trees, thesun was setting, the woods in shadow, when I got to the end of my walk. I did not approach the house on the side of the door, yet by some meansthose within became aware of my presence, for out they came in a greathurry, Rima leading the way, Nuflo behind her, waving his arms andshouting. But as I drew near, the girl dropped behind and stoodmotionless regarding me, her face pallid and showing strong excitement. I could scarcely remove my eyes from her eloquent countenance: I seemedto read in it relief and gladness mingled with surprise and somethinglike vexation. She was piqued perhaps that I had taken her by surprise, that after much watching for me in the wood I had come through itundetected when she was indoors. 

"Happy the eyes that see you!" shouted the old man, laughingboisterously. 

"Happy are mine that look on Rima again, " I answered. "I have been longabsent. "

"Long--you may say so, " returned Nuflo. "We had given you up. Wesaid that, alarmed at the thought of the journey to Riolama, you hadabandoned us. "

"WE said!" exclaimed Rima, her pallid face suddenly flushing. "I spokedifferently. "

"Yes, I know--I know!" he said airily, waving his hand. "You said thathe was in danger, that he was kept against his will from coming. He ispresent now--let him speak. "

"She was right, " I said. "Ah, Nuflo, old man, you have lived long, andgot much experience, but not insight--not that inner vision that seesfurther than the eyes. "

"No, not that--I know what you mean, " he answered. Then, tossing hishand towards the sky, he added: "The knowledge you speak of comes fromthere. "

The girl had been listening with keen interest, glancing from one to theother. "What!" she spoke suddenly, as if unable to keep silence, "do youthink, grandfather, that SHE tells me--when there is danger--when therain will cease--when the wind will blow--everything? Do I not ask andlisten, lying awake at night? She is always silent, like the stars. "

Then, pointing to me with her finger, she finished:

"HE knows so many things! Who tells them to HIM?"

"But distinguish, Rima. You do not distinguish the great from thelittle, " he answered loftily. "WE know a thousand things, but they arethings that any man with a forehead can learn. The knowledge that comesfrom the blue is not like that--it is more important and miraculous. Isit not so, senor?" he ended, appealing to me. 

"Is it, then, left for me to decide?" said I, addressing the girl. 

But though her face was towards me, she refused to meet my look and wassilent. Silent, but not satisfied: she doubted still, and had perhapscaught something in my tone that strengthened her doubt. 

Old Nuflo understood the expression. "Look at me, Rima, " he said, drawing himself up. "I am old, and he is young--do I not know best? Ihave spoken and have decided it. "

Still that unconvinced expression, and her face turned expectant to me. 

"Am I to decide?" I repeated. 

"Who, then?" she said at last, her voice scarcely more than a murmur;yet there was reproach in the tone, as if she had made a long speech andI had tyrannously driven her to it. 

"Thus, then, I decide, " said I. "To each of us, as to every kind ofanimal, even to small birds and insects, and to every kind of plant, there is given something peculiar--a fragrance, a melody, a specialinstinct, an art, a knowledge, which no other has. And to Rima has beengiven this quickness of mind and power to divine distant things; it ishers, just as swiftness and grace and changeful, brilliant colour arethe hummingbird's; therefore she need not that anyone dwelling in theblue should instruct her. "

The old man frowned and shook his head; while she, after one swift, shyglance at my face, and with something like a smile flitting over herdelicate lips, turned and re-entered the house. 

I felt convinced from that parting look that she had understood me, thatmy words had in some sort given her relief; for, strong as was her faithin the supernatural, she appeared as ready to escape from it, when a wayof escape offered, as from the limp cotton gown and constrained mannerworn in the house. The religion and cotton dress were evidently remainsof her early training at the settlement of Voa. 

Old Nuflo, strange to say, had proved better than his word. Instead ofinventing new causes for delay, as I had imagined would be the case, he now informed me that his preparations for the journey were all butcomplete, that he had only waited for my return to set out. 

Rima soon left us in her customary way, and then, talking by the fire, I gave an account of my detention by the Indians and of the loss of myrevolver, which I thought very serious. 

"You seem to think little of it, " I said, observing that he took it verycoolly. "Yet I know not how I shall defend myself in case of an attack. "

"I have no fear of an attack, " he answered. "It seems to me the samething whether you have a revolver or many revolvers and carbines andswords, or no revolver--no weapon at all. And for a very simple reason. While Rima is with us, so long as we are on her business, we areprotected from above. The angels, senor, will watch over us by day andnight. What need of weapons, then, except to procure food?"

"Why should not the angels provide us with food also?" said I. 

"No, no, that is a different thing, " he returned. "That is a small andlow thing, a necessity common to all creatures, which all know how tomeet. You would not expect an angel to drive away a cloud of mosquitoes, or to remove a bush-tick from your person. No, sir, you may talk ofnatural gifts, and try to make Rima believe that she is what she is, andknows what she knows, because, like a humming-bird or some plants witha peculiar fragrance, she has been made so. It is wrong, senor, and, pardon me for saying it, it ill becomes you to put such fables into herhead. "

I answered, with a smile: "She herself seems to doubt what you believe. "

"But, senor, what can you expect from an ignorant girl like Rima? Sheknows nothing, or very little, and will not listen to reason. If shewould only remain quietly indoors, with her hair braided, and pray andread her Catechism, instead of running about after flowers and birds andbutterflies and such unsubstantial things, it would be better for bothof us. "

"In what way, old man?"

"Why, it is plain that if she would cultivate the acquaintance of thepeople that surround her--I mean those that come to her from her saintedmother--and are ready to do her bidding in everything, she could makeit more safe for us in this place. For example, there is Runi and hispeople; why should they remain living so near us as to be a constantdanger when a pestilence of small-pox or some other fever might easilybe sent to kill them off?"

"And have you ever suggested such a thing to your grandchild?"

He looked surprised and grieved at the question. "Yes, many times, senor, " he said. "I should have been a poor Christian had I notmentioned it. But when I speak of it she gives me a look and is gone, and I see no more of her all day, and when I see her she refuses even toanswer me--so perverse, so foolish is she in her ignorance; for, as youcan see for yourself, she has no more sense or concern about what ismost important than some little painted fly that flits about all daylong without any object. "

CHAPTER XV

The next day we were early at work. Nuflo had already gathered, dried, and conveyed to a place of concealment the greater portion of his gardenproduce. He was determined to leave nothing to be taken by any wanderingparty of savages that might call at the house during our absence. He hadno fear of a visit from his neighbours; they would not know, he said, that he and Rima were out of the wood. A few large earthen pots, filledwith shelled maize, beans, and sun-dried strips of pumpkin, stillremained to be disposed of. Taking up one of these vessels and askingme to follow with another, he started off through the wood. We went adistance of five or six hundred yards, then made our way down a verysteep incline, close to the border of the forest on the western side. Arrived at the bottom, we followed the bank a little further, and I thenfound myself once more at the foot of the precipice over which I haddesperately thrown myself on the stormy evening after the snake hadbitten me. Nuflo, stealing silently and softly before me through thebushes, had observed a caution and secrecy in approaching this spotresembling that of a wise old hen when she visits her hidden nest to layan egg. And here was his nest, his most secret treasure-house, which hehad probably not revealed even to me without a sharp inward conflict, notwithstanding that our fates were now linked together. The lowerportion of the bank was of rock; and in it, about ten or twelve feetabove the ground, but easily reached from below, there was a naturalcavity large enough to contain all his portable property. Here, besidesthe food-stuff, he had already stored a quantity of dried tobacco leaf, his rude weapons, cooking utensils, ropes, mats, and other objects. Twoor three more journeys were made for the remaining pots, after whichwe adjusted a slab of sandstone to the opening, which was fortunatelynarrow, plastered up the crevices with clay, and covered them over withmoss to hide all traces of our work. 

Towards evening, after we had refreshed ourselves with a long siesta, Nuflo brought out from some other hiding-place two sacks; one weighingabout twenty pounds and containing smoke-dried meat, also grease and gumfor lighting-purposes, and a few other small objects. This was his load;the other sack, which was smaller and contained parched corn and rawbeans, was for me to carry. 

The old man, cautious in all his movements, always acting as ifsurrounded by invisible spies, delayed setting out until an hour afterdark. Then, skirting the forest on its west side, we left Ytaioa on ourright hand, and after travelling over rough, difficult ground, with onlythe stars to light us, we saw the waning moon rise not long before dawn. Our course had been a north-easterly one at first; now it was due east, with broad, dry savannahs and patches of open forest as far as we couldsee before us. It was weary walking on that first night, and wearywaiting on the first day when we sat in the shade during the long, hothours, persecuted by small stinging flies; but the days and nights thatsucceeded were far worse, when the weather became bad with intense heatand frequent heavy falls of rain. The one compensation I had looked for, which would have outweighed all the extreme discomforts we suffered, was denied me. Rima was no more to me or with me now than she had beenduring those wild days in her native woods, when every bush and bole andtangled creeper or fern frond had joined in a conspiracy to keep herout of my sight. It is true that at intervals in the daytime she wasvisible, sometimes within speaking distance, so that I could addressa few words to her, but there was no companionship, and we were fellowtravellers only like birds flying independently in the same direction, not so widely separated but that they can occasionally hear and see eachother. The pilgrim in the desert is sometimes attended by a bird, andthe bird, with its freer motions, will often leave him a league behindand seem lost to him, but only to return and show its form again; forit has never lost sight nor recollection of the traveller toiling slowlyover the surface. Rima kept us company in some such wild erratic way asthat. A word, a sign from Nuflo was enough for her to know the directionto take--the distant forest or still more distant mountain near which weshould have to pass. She would hasten on and be lost to our sight, andwhen there was a forest in the way she would explore it, resting in theshade and finding her own food; but invariably she was before us at eachresting- or camping-place. 

Indian villages were seen during the journey, but only to be avoided;and in like manner, if we caught sight of Indians travelling or campingat a distance, we would alter our course, or conceal ourselves to escapeobservation. Only on one occasion, two days after setting out, were wecompelled to speak with strangers. We were going round a hill, and allat once came face to face with three persons travelling in an oppositedirection--two men and a woman, and, by a strange fatality, Rima at thatmoment happened to be with us. We stood for some time talking to thesepeople, who were evidently surprised at our appearance, and wishedto learn who we were; but Nuflo, who spoke their language like one ofthemselves, was too cunning to give any true answer. They, on theirside, told us that they had been to visit a relative at Chani, the nameof a river three days ahead of us, and were now returning to their ownvillage at Baila-baila, two days beyond Parahuari. After parting fromthem Nuflo was much troubled in his mind for the rest of that day. Thesepeople, he said, would probably rest at some Parahuari village, where they would be sure to give a description of us, and so it mighteventually come to the knowledge of our unneighbourly neighbour Runithat we had left Ytaioa. 

Other incidents of our long and wearisome journey need not be related. Sitting under some shady tree during the sultry hours, with Rima onlytoo far out of earshot, or by the nightly fire, the old man told melittle by little and with much digression, chiefly on sacred subjects, the strange story of the girl's origin. 

About seventeen years back--Nuflo had no sure method to compute timeby--when he was already verging on old age, he was one of a companyof nine men, living a kind of roving life in the very part of Guayanathrough which we were now travelling; the others, much younger thanhimself, were all equally offenders against the laws of Venezuela, and fugitives from justice. Nuflo was the leader of this gang, for ithappened that he had passed a great portion of his life outside the paleof civilization, and could talk the Indian language, and knew this partof Guayana intimately. But according to his own account he was not inharmony with them. They were bold, desperate men, whose evil appetiteshad so far only been whetted by the crimes they had committed; while he, with passions worn out, recalling his many bad acts, and with a vividconviction of the truth of all he had been taught in early life--forNuflo was nothing if not religious--was now grown timid and desirousonly of making his peace with Heaven. This difference of dispositionmade him morose and quarrelsome with his companions; and they would, hesaid, have murdered him without remorse if he had not been so useful tothem. Their favourite plan was to hang about the neighbourhood of somesmall isolated settlement, keeping a watch on it, and, when most of themale inhabitants were absent, to swoop down on it and work their will. Now, shortly after one of these raids it happened that a woman they hadcarried off, becoming a burden to them, was flung into a river to thealligators; but when being dragged down to the waterside she cast upher eyes, and in a loud voice cried to God to execute vengeance onher murderers. Nuflo affirmed that he took no part in this black deed;nevertheless, the woman's dying appeal to Heaven preyed on his mind;he feared that it might have won a hearing, and the "person" eventuallycommissioned to execute vengeance--after the usual days, of course mightact on the principle of the old proverb: Tell me whom you are with, andI will tell you what you are--and punish the innocent (himself towit) along with the guilty. But while thus anxious about his spiritualinterests, he was not yet prepared to break with his companions. Hethought it best to temporize, and succeeded in persuading them that itwould be unsafe to attack another Christian settlement for some time tocome; that in the interval they might find some pleasure, if no greatcredit, by turning their attention to the Indians. The infidels, hesaid, were God's natural enemies and fair game to the Christian. Tomake a long story short, Nuflo's Christian band, after some successfuladventures, met with a reverse which reduced their number from nineto five. Flying from their enemies, they sought safety at Riolama, anuninhabited place, where they found it possible to exist for some weekson game, which was abundant, and wild fruits. 

One day at noon, while ascending a mountain at the southern extremityof the Riolama range in order to get a view of the country beyond thesummit, Nuflo and his companions discovered a cave; and finding itdry, without animal occupants, and with a level floor, they at oncedetermined to make it their dwelling-place for a season. Wood for firingand water were to be had close by; they were also well provided withsmoked flesh of a tapir they had slaughtered a day or two before, sothat they could afford to rest for a time in so comfortable a shelter. At a short distance from the cave they made a fire on the rock to toastsome slices of meat for their dinner; and while thus engaged all at onceone of the men uttered a cry of astonishment, and casting up his eyesNuflo beheld, standing near and regarding them with surprise and fearin-her wide-open eyes, a woman of a most wonderful appearance. The oneslight garment she had on was silky and white as the snow on the summitof some great mountain, but of the snow when the sinking sun touches andgives it some delicate changing colour which is like fire. Her darkhair was like a cloud from which her face looked out, and her head wassurrounded by an aureole like that of a saint in a picture, only morebeautiful. For, said Nuflo, a picture is a picture, and the other wasa reality, which is finer. Seeing her he fell on his knees and crossedhimself; and all the time her eyes, full of amazement and shining withsuch a strange splendour that he could not meet them, were fixed on himand not on the others; and he felt that she had come to save his soul, in danger of perdition owing to his companionship with men who were atwar with God and wholly bad. 

But at this moment his comrades, recovering from their astonishment, sprang to their feet, and the heavenly woman vanished. Just behind whereshe had stood, and not twelve yards from them, there was a huge chasm inthe mountain, its jagged precipitous sides clothed with thorny bushes;the men now cried out that she had made her escape that way, and downafter her they rushed, pell-mell. 

Nuflo cried out after them that they had seen a saint and that somehorrible thing would befall them if they allowed any evil thought toenter their hearts; but they scoffed at his words, and were soon fardown out of hearing, while he, trembling with fear, remained prayingto the woman that had appeared to them and had looked with such strangeeyes at him, not to punish him for the sins of the others. 

Before long the men returned, disappointed and sullen, for they hadfailed in their search for the woman; and perhaps Nuflo's warning wordshad made them give up the chase too soon. At all events, they seemed illat ease, and made up their minds to abandon the cave; in a short timethey left the place to camp that night at a considerable distance fromthe mountain. But they were not satisfied: they had now recovered fromtheir fear, but not from the excitement of an evil passion; and finally, after comparing notes, they came to the conclusion that they had misseda great prize through Nuflo's cowardice; and when he reproved them theyblasphemed all the saints in the calendar and even threatened him withviolence. Fearing to remain longer in the company of such godless men, he only waited until they slept, then rose up cautiously, helped himselfto most of the provisions, and made his escape, devoutly hoping thatafter losing their guide they would all speedily perish. 

Finding himself alone now and master of his own actions, Nuflo was interrible distress, for while his heart was in the utmost fear, it yeturged him imperiously to go back to the mountain, to seek again for thatsacred being who had appeared to him and had been driven away by hisbrutal companions. If he obeyed that inner voice, he would be saved;if he resisted it, then there would be no hope for him, and alongwith those who had cast the woman to the alligators he would be losteternally. Finally, on the following day, he went back, although notwithout fear and trembling, and sat down on a stone just where he hadsat toasting his tapir meat on the previous day. But he waited in vain, and at length that voice within him, which he had so far obeyed, beganurging him to descend into the valley-like chasm down which the womanhad escaped from his comrades, and to seek for her there. Accordinglyhe rose and began cautiously and slowly climbing down over the brokenjagged rocks and through a dense mass of thorny bushes and creepers. Atthe bottom of the chasm a clear, swift stream of water rushed with foamand noise along its rocky bed; but before reaching it, and when it wasstill twenty yards lower down, he was startled by hearing a lowmoan among the bushes, and looking about for the cause, he found thewonderful woman--his saviour, as he expressed it. She was not nowstanding nor able to stand, but half reclining among the rough stones, one foot, which she had sprained in that headlong flight down the raggedslope, wedged immovably between the rocks; and in this painful positionshe had remained a prisoner since noon on the previous day. She nowgazed on her visitor in silent consternation; while he, casting himselfprostrate on the ground, implored her forgiveness and begged to knowher will. But she made no reply; and at length, finding that she waspowerless to move, he concluded that, though a saint and one of thebeings that men worship, she was also flesh and liable to accidentswhile sojourning on earth; and perhaps, he thought, that accident whichhad befallen her had been specially designed by the powers above toprove him. With great labour, and not without causing her much pain, hesucceeded in extricating her from her position; and then finding thatthe injured foot was half crushed and blue and swollen, he took herup in his arms and carried her to the stream. There, making a cup of abroad green leaf, he offered her water, which she drank eagerly; andhe also laved her injured foot in the cold stream and bandaged it withfresh aquatic leaves; finally he made her a soft bed of moss and drygrass and placed her on it. That night he spent keeping watch overher, at intervals applying fresh wet leaves to her foot as the old onesbecame dry and wilted from the heat of the inflammation. 

The effect of all he did was that the terror with which she regarded himgradually wore off; and next day, when she seemed to be recovering herstrength, he proposed by signs to remove her to the cave higher up, where she would be sheltered in case of rain. She appeared to understandhim, and allowed herself to be taken up in his arms and carried withmuch labour to the top of the chasm. In the cave he made her a secondcouch, and tended her assiduously. He made a fire on the floor and keptit burning night and day, and supplied her with water to drink and freshleaves for her foot. There was little more that he could do. From thechoicest and fattest bits of toasted tapir flesh he offered her sheturned away with disgust. A little cassava bread soaked in water shewould take, but seemed not to like it. After a time, fearing that shewould starve, he took to hunting after wild fruits, edible bulbs andgums, and on these small things she subsisted during the whole time oftheir sojourn together in the desert. 

The woman, although lamed for life, was now so far recovered as to beable to limp about without assistance, and she spent a portion of eachday out among the rocks and trees on the mountains. Nuflo at firstfeared that she would now leave him, but before long he became convincedthat she had no such intentions. And yet she was profoundly unhappy. He was accustomed to see her seated on a rock, as if brooding over somesecret grief, her head bowed, and great tears falling from half-closedeyes. 

From the first he had conceived the idea that she was in the way ofbecoming a mother at no distant date--an idea which seemed to accordbadly with the suppositions as to the nature of this heavenly beinghe was privileged to minister to and so win salvation; but he was nowconvinced of its truth, and he imagined that in her condition he haddiscovered the cause of that sorrow and anxiety which preyed continuallyon her. By means of that dumb language of signs which enabled them toconverse together a little, he made it known to her that at a greatdistance from the mountains there existed a place where there werebeings like herself, women, and mothers of children, who would comfortand tenderly care for her. When she had understood, she seemed pleasedand willing to accompany him to that distant place; and so it came topass that they left their rocky shelter and the mountains of Riolama farbehind. But for several days, as they slowly journeyed over the plain, she would pause at intervals in her limping walk to gaze back on thoseblue summits, shedding abundant tears. 

Fortunately the village Voa, on the river of the same name, which wasthe nearest Christian settlement to Riolama, whither his course wasdirected, was well known to him; he had lived there in former years, and, what was of great advantage, the inhabitants were ignorant ofhis worst crimes, or, to put it in his own subtle way, of the crimescommitted by the men he had acted with. Great was the astonishment andcuriosity of the people of Voa when, after many weeks' travelling, Nufloarrived at last with his companion. But he was not going to tell thetruth, nor even the least particle of the truth, to a gaping crowd ofinferior persons. For these, ingenious lies; only to the priest he toldthe whole story, dwelling minutely on all he had done to rescue andprotect her; all of which was approved by the holy man, whose first actwas to baptize the woman for fear that she was not a Christian. Let itbe said to Nuflo's credit that he objected to this ceremony, arguingthat she could not be a saint, with an aureole in token of hersainthood, yet stand in need of being baptized by a priest. A priest--headded, with a little chuckle of malicious pleasure--who was often seendrunk, who cheated at cards, and was sometimes suspected of puttingpoison on his fighting-cock's spur to make sure of the victory!Doubtless the priest had his faults; but he was not without humanity, and for the whole seven years of that unhappy stranger's sojourn at Voahe did everything in his power to make her existence tolerable. Someweeks after arriving she gave birth to a female child, and then thepriest insisted on naming it Riolama, in order, he said, to keep inremembrance the strange story of the mother's discovery at that place. 

Rima's mother could not be taught to speak either Spanish or Indian; andwhen she found that the mysterious and melodious sounds that fell fromher own lips were understood by none, she ceased to utter them, andthereafter preserved an unbroken silence among the people she livedwith. But from the presence of others she shrank, as if in disgust orfear, excepting only Nuflo and the priest, whose kindly intentions sheappeared to understand and appreciate. So far her life in the villagewas silent and sorrowful. With her child it was different; and every daythat was not wet, taking the little thing by the hand, she would limppainfully out into the forest, and there, sitting on the ground, the twowould commune with each other by the hour in their wonderful language. 

At length she began to grow perceptibly paler and feebler week by week, day by day, until she could no longer go out into the wood, but sat orreclined, panting for breath in the dull hot room, waiting for deathto release her. At the same time little Rima, who had always appearedfrail, as if from sympathy, now began to fade and look more shadowy, so that it was expected she would not long survive her parent. To themother death came slowly, but at last it seemed so near that Nuflo andthe priest were together at her side waiting to see the end. It was thenthat little Rima, who had learnt from infancy to speak in Spanish, rosefrom the couch where her mother had been whispering to her, and beganwith some difficulty to express what was in the dying woman's mind. Herchild, she had said, could not continue to live in that hot wet place, but if taken away to a distance where there were mountains and a coolerair she would survive and grow strong again. 

Hearing this, old Nuflo declared that the child should not perish; thathe himself would take her away to Parahuari, a distant place where therewere mountains and dry plains and open woods; that he would watch overher and care for her there as he had cared for her mother at Riolama. 

When the substance of this speech had been made known by Rima to thedying woman, she suddenly rose up from her couch, which she had notrisen from for many days, and stood erect on the floor, her wasted faceshining with joy. Then Nuflo knew that God's angels had come for her, and put out his arms to save her from falling; and even while he heldher that sudden glory went out from her face, now of a dead white likeburnt-out ashes; and murmuring something soft and melodious, her spiritpassed away. 

Once more Nuflo became a wanderer, now with the fragile-looking littleRima for companion, the sacred child who had inherited the positionof his intercessor from a sacred mother. The priest, who had probablybecome infected with Nuflo's superstitions, did not allow them to leaveVoa empty-handed, but gave the old man as much calico as would serveto buy hospitality and whatsoever he might require from the Indians formany a day to come. 

At Parahuari, where they arrived safely at last, they lived for somelittle time at one of the villages. But the child had an instinctiveaversion to all savages, or possibly the feeling was derived from hermother, for it had shown itself early at Voa, where she had refused tolearn their language; and this eventually led Nuflo to go away and liveapart from them, in the forest by Ytaioa, where he made himself ahouse and garden. The Indians, however, continued friendly with him andvisited him with frequency. But when Rima grew up, developing into thatmysterious woodland girl I found her, they became suspicious, and inthe end regarded her with dangerously hostile feeling. She, poor child, detested them because they were incessantly at war with the wild animalsshe loved, her companions; and having no fear of them, for she did notknow that they had it in their minds to turn their little poisonousarrows against herself, she was constantly in the woods frustratingthem; and the animals, in league with her, seemed to understand hernote of warning and hid themselves or took to flight at the approach ofdanger. At length their hatred and fear grew to such a degree that theydetermined to make away with her, and one day, having matured a plan, they went to the wood and spread themselves two and two about it. Thecouples did not keep together, but moved about or remained concealed ata distance of forty or fifty yards apart, lest she should be missed. Two of the savages, armed with blow-pipes, were near the border of theforest on the side nearest to the village, and one of them, observing amotion in the foliage of a tree, ran swiftly and cautiously towards itto try and catch a glimpse of the enemy. And he did see her no doubt, asshe was there watching both him and his companions, and blew an arrow ather, but even while in the act of blowing it he was himself struck bya dart that buried itself deep in his flesh just over the heart. Heran some distance with the fatal barbed point in his flesh and met hiscomrade, who had mistaken him for the girl and shot him. The wounded manthrew himself down to die, and dying related that he had fired at thegirl sitting up in a tree and that she had caught the arrow in her handonly to hurl it instantly back with such force and precision that itpierced his flesh just over the heart. He had seen it all with his owneyes, and his friend who had accidentally slain him believed his storyand repeated it to the others. Rima had seen one Indian shoot the other, and when she told her grandfather he explained to her that it was anaccident, but he guessed why the arrow had been fired. 

From that day the Indians hunted no more in the wood; and at length oneday Nuflo, meeting an Indian who did not know him and with whom he hadsome talk, heard the strange story of the arrow, and that the mysteriousgirl who could not be shot was the offspring of an old man and a Didiwho had become enamoured of him; that, growing tired of her consort, theDidi had returned to her river, leaving her half-human child to play hermalicious pranks in the wood. 

This, then, was Nuflo's story, told not in Nuflo's manner, which wasinfinitely prolix; and think not that it failed to move me--that Ifailed to bless him for what he had done, in spite of his selfishmotives. 

CHAPTER XVI

We were eighteen days travelling to Riolama, on the last two makinglittle progress, on account of continuous rain, which made us miserablebeyond description. Fortunately the dogs had found, and Nuflo hadsucceeded in killing, a great ant-eater, so that we were well suppliedwith excellent, strength-giving flesh. We were among the Riolamamountains at last, and Rima kept with us, apparently expecting greatthings. I expected nothing, for reasons to be stated by and by. Mybelief was that the only important thing that could happen to us wouldbe starvation. 

The afternoon of the last day was spent in skirting the foot of a verylong mountain, crowned at its southern extremity with a huge, rocky massresembling the head of a stone sphinx above its long, couchant body, andat its highest part about a thousand feet above the surrounding level. It was late in the day, raining fast again, yet the old man still toiledon, contrary to his usual practice, which was to spend the last daylighthours in gathering firewood and in constructing a shelter. At length, when we were nearly under the peak, he began to ascend. The rise in thisplace was gentle, and the vegetation, chiefly composed of dwarf thorntrees rooted in the clefts of the rock, scarcely impeded our progress;yet Nuflo moved obliquely, as if he found the ascent difficult, pausingfrequently to take breath and look round him. Then we came to a deep, ravine-like cleft in the side of the mountain, which became deeper andnarrower above us, but below it broadened out to a valley; its steepsides as we looked down were clothed with dense, thorny vegetation, andfrom the bottom rose to our ears the dull sound of a hidden torrent. Along the border of this ravine Nuflo began toiling upwards, and finallybrought us out upon a stony plateau on the mountain-side. Here he pausedand, turning and regarding us with a look as of satisfied malice in hiseyes, remarked that we were at our journey's end, and he trusted thesight of that barren mountain-side would compensate us for all thediscomforts we had suffered during the last eighteen days. 

I heard him with indifference. I had already recognized the place fromhis own exact description of it, and I now saw all that I had looked tosee--a big, barren hill. But Rima, what had she expected that her facewore that blank look of surprise and pain? "Is this the place wheremother appeared to you?" she suddenly cried. "The very place--this!This!" Then she added: "The cave where you tended her--where is it?"

"Over there, " he said, pointing across the plateau, which was partiallyovergrown with dwarf trees and bushes, and ended at a wall of rock, almost vertical and about forty feet high. 

Going to this precipice, we saw no cave until Nuflo had cut away two orthree tangled bushes, revealing an opening behind, about half as highand twice as wide as the door of an ordinary dwelling-house. 

The next thing was to make a torch, and aided by its light we groped ourway in and explored the interior. The cave, we found, was about fiftyfeet long, narrowing to a mere hole at the extremity; but the anteriorportion formed an oblong chamber, very lofty, with a dry floor. Leavingour torch burning, we set to work cutting bushes to supply ourselveswith wood enough to last us all night. Nuflo, poor old man, loved a bigfire dearly; a big fire and fat meat to eat (the ranker its flavour, thebetter he liked it) were to him the greatest blessings that man couldwish for. In me also the prospect of a cheerful blaze put a new heart, and I worked with a will in the rain, which increased in the end to ablinding downpour. 

By the time I dragged my last load in, Nuflo had got his fire wellalight, and was heaping on wood in a most lavish way. "No fear ofburning our house down tonight, " he remarked, with a chuckle--the firstsound of that description he had emitted for a long time. 

After we had satisfied our hunger, and had smoked one or two cigarettes, the unaccustomed warmth, and dryness, and the firelight affected us withdrowsiness, and I had probably been nodding for some time; but startingat last and opening my eyes, I missed Rima. The old man appeared to beasleep, although still in a sitting posture close to the fire. I roseand hurried out, drawing my cloak close around me to protect me from therain; but what was my surprise on emerging from the cave to feel a dry, bracing wind in my face and to see the desert spread out for leaguesbefore me in the brilliant white light of a full moon! The rain hadapparently long ceased, and only a few thin white clouds appeared movingswiftly over the wide blue expanse of heaven. It was a welcome change, but the shock of surprise and pleasure was instantly succeeded bythe maddening fear that Rima was lost to me. She was nowhere in sightbeneath, and running to the end of the little plateau to get free ofthe thorn trees, I turned my eyes towards the summit, and there, at somedistance above me, caught sight of her standing motionless and gazingupwards. I quickly made my way to her side, calling to her as Iapproached; but she only half turned to cast a look at me and did notreply. 

"Rima, " I said, "why have you come here? Are you actually thinking ofclimbing the mountain at this hour of the night?" "Yes--why not?" shereturned, moving one or two steps from me. 

"Rima--sweet Rima, will you listen to me?"

"Now? Oh, no--why do you ask that? Did I not listen to you in the woodbefore we started, and you also promised to do what I wished? See, therain is over and the moon shines brightly. Why should I wait? Perhapsfrom the summit I shall see my people's country. Are we not near itnow?"

"Oh, Rima, what do you expect to see? Listen--you must listen, for Iknow best. From that summit you would see nothing but a vast dim desert, mountain and forest, mountain and forest, where you might wander foryears, or until you perished of hunger or fever, or were slain by somebeast of prey or by savage men; but oh, Rima, never, never, never wouldyou find your people, for they exist not. You have seen the false waterof the mirage on the savannah, when the sun shines bright and hot; andif one were to follow it one would at last fall down and perish, with never a cool drop to moisten one's parched lips. And your hope, Rima--this hope to find your people which has brought you all the way toRiolama--is a mirage, a delusion, which will lead to destruction if youwill not abandon it. "

She turned to face me with flashing eyes. "You know best!" sheexclaimed. "You know best and tell me that! Never until this moment haveyou spoken falsely. Oh, why have you said such things to me--named afterthis place, Riolama? Am I also like that false water you speak of--nodivine Rima, no sweet Rima? My mother, had she no mother, no mother'smother? I remember her, at Voa, before she died, and this hand seemsreal--like yours; you have asked to hold it. But it is not he thatspeaks to me--not one that showed me the whole world on Ytaioa. Ah, youhave wrapped yourself in a stolen cloak, only you have left your oldgrey beard behind! Go back to the cave and look for it, and leave me toseek my people alone!"

Once more, as on that day in the forest when she prevented me fromkilling the serpent, and as on the occasion of her meeting with Nufloafter we had been together on Ytaioa, she appeared transformed andinstinct with intense resentment--a beautiful human wasp, and every worda sting. 

"Rima, " I cried, "you are cruelly unjust to say such words to me. If youknow that I have never deceived you before, give me a little credit now. You are no delusion--no mirage, but Rima, like no other being on earth. So perfectly truthful and pure I cannot be, but rather than mislead youwith falsehoods I would drop down and die on this rock, and lose you andthe sweet light that shines on us for ever. "

As she listened to my words, spoken with passion, she grew pale andclasped her hands. "What have I said? What have I said?" She spoke in alow voice charged with pain, and all at once she came nearer, and witha low, sobbing cry sank down at my feet, uttering, as on the occasion offinding me lost at night in the forest near her home, tender, sorrowfulexpressions in her own mysterious language. But before I could take herin my arms she rose again quickly to her feet and moved away a littlespace from me. 

"Oh no, no, it cannot be that you know best!" she began again. "ButI know that you have never sought to deceive me. And now, because Ifalsely accused you, I cannot go there without you"--pointing to thesummit--"but must stand still and listen to all you have to say. "

"You know, Rima, that your grandfather has now told me your history--howhe found your mother at this place, and took her to Voa, where you wereborn; but of your mother's people he knows nothing, and therefore he cannow take you no further. "

"Ah, you think that! He says that now; but he deceived me all theseyears, and if he lied to me in the past, can he not still lie, affirmingthat he knows nothing of my people, even as he affirmed that he knew notRiolama?"

"He tells lies and he tells truth, Rima, and one can be distinguishedfrom the other. He spoke truthfully at last, and brought us to thisplace, beyond which he cannot lead you. "

"You are right; I must go alone. "

"Not so, Rima, for where you go, there we must go; only you will leadand we follow, believing only that our quest will end in disappointment, if not in death. "

"Believe that and yet follow! Oh no! Why did he consent to lead me sofar for nothing?"

"Do you forget that you compelled him? You know what he believes; and heis old and looks with fear at death, remembering his evil deeds, and isconvinced that only through your intercession and your mother's he canescape from perdition. Consider, Rima, he could not refuse, to make youmore angry and so deprive himself of his only hope. "

My words seemed to trouble her, but very soon she spoke again withrenewed animation. "If my people exist, why must it be disappointmentand perhaps death? He does not know; but she came to him here--did shenot? The others are not here, but perhaps not far off. Come, let us goto the summit together to see from it the desert beneath us--mountainand forest, mountain and forest. Somewhere there! You said that I hadknowledge of distant things. And shall I not know which mountain--whichforest?"

"Alas! no, Rima; there is a limit to your far-seeing; and even if thatfaculty were as great as you imagine, it would avail you nothing, forthere is no mountain, no forest, in whose shadow your people dwell. "

For a while she was silent, but her eyes and clasping fingers wererestless and showed her agitation. She seemed to be searching in thedepths of her mind for some argument to oppose to my assertions. Thenin a low, almost despondent voice, with something of reproach in it, shesaid: "Have we come so far to go back again? You were not Nuflo to needmy intercession, yet you came too. "

"Where you are, there I must be--you have said it yourself. Besides, when we started I had some hope of finding your people. Now I knowbetter, having heard Nuflo's story. Now I know that your hope is a vainone. "

"Why? Why? Was she not found here--mother? Where, then, are the others?"

"Yes, she was found here, alone. You must remember all the thingsshe spoke to you before she died. Did she ever speak to you of herpeople--speak of them as if they existed, and would be glad to receiveyou among them some day?"

"No. Why did she not speak of that? Do you know--can you tell me?"

"I can guess the reason, Rima. It is very sad--so sad that it is hard totell it. When Nuflo tended her in the cave and was ready to worshipher and do everything she wished, and conversed with her by signs, sheshowed no wish to return to her people. And when he offered her, in away she understood, to take her to a distant place, where she would beamong strange beings, among others like Nuflo, she readily consented, and painfully performed that long journey to Voa. Would you, Rima, haveacted thus--would you have gone so far away from your beloved people, never to return, never to hear of them or speak to them again? Oh no, you could not; nor would she if her people had been in existence. Butshe knew that she had survived them, that some great calamity hadfallen upon and destroyed them. They were few in number, perhaps, andsurrounded on every side by hostile tribes, and had no weapons, and madeno war. They had been preserved because they inhabited a place apart, some deep valley perhaps, guarded on all sides by lofty mountains andimpenetrable forests and marshes; but at last the cruel savages brokeinto this retreat and hunted them down, destroying all except a fewfugitives, who escaped singly like your mother, and fled away to hide insome distant solitude. "

The anxious expression on her face deepened as she listened to one ofanguish and despair; and then, almost before I concluded, she suddenlylifted her hands to her head, uttering a low, sobbing cry, and wouldhave fallen on the rock had I not caught her quickly in my arms. Oncemore in my arms--against my breast, her proper place! But now all thatbright life seemed gone out of her; her head fell on my shoulder, andthere was no motion in her except at intervals a slight shudder in herframe accompanied by a low, gasping sob. In a little while the sobsceased, the eyes were closed, the face still and deathly white, and witha terrible anxiety in my heart I carried her down to the cave. 

CHAPTER XVII

As I re-entered the cave with my burden Nuflo sat up and stared at mewith a frightened look in his eyes. Throwing my cloak down, I placed thegirl on it and briefly related what had happened. 

He drew near to examine her; then placed his hand on her heart. "Dead!--she is dead!" he exclaimed. 

My own anxiety changed to an irrational anger at his words. "Old fool!She has only fainted, " I returned. "Get me some water, quick. "

But the water failed to restore her, and my anxiety deepened as I gazedon that white, still face. Oh, why had I told her that sad tragedy I hadimagined with so little preparation? Alas! I had succeeded too well inmy purpose, killing her vain hope and her at the same moment. 

The old man, still bending over her, spoke again. "No, I will notbelieve that she is dead yet; but, sir, if not dead, then she is dying. "

I could have struck him down for his words. "She will die in my arms, then, " I exclaimed, thrusting him roughly aside, and lifting her up withthe cloak beneath her. 

And while I held her thus, her head resting on my arm, and gazed withunutterable anguish into her strangely white face, insanely praying toHeaven to restore her to me, Nuflo fell on his knees before her, andwith bowed head, and hands clasped in supplication, began to speak. 

"Rima! Grandchild!" he prayed, his quivering voice betraying hisagitation. "Do not die just yet: you must not die--not wholly die--untilyou have heard what I have to say to you. I do not ask you to answerin words--you are past that, and I am not unreasonable. Only, when Ifinish, make some sign--a sigh, a movement of the eyelid, a twitch ofthe lips, even in the small corners of the mouth; nothing more thanthat, just to show that you have heard, and I shall be satisfied. Remember all the years that I have been your protector, and this longjourney that I have taken on your account; also all that I did foryour sainted mother before she died at Voa, to become one of the mostimportant of those who surround the Queen of Heaven, and who, when theywish for any favour, have only to say half a word to get it. And do notcast in oblivion that at the last I obeyed your wish and brought yousafely to Riolama. It is true that in some small things I deceived you;but that must not weigh with you, because it is a small matter and notworthy of mention when you consider the claims I have on you. In yourhands, Rima, I leave everything, relying on the promise you made me, andon my services. Only one word of caution remains to be added. Do not letthe magnificence of the place you are now about to enter, the new sightsand colours, and the noise of shouting, and musical instruments andblowing of trumpets, put these things out of your head. Nor must youbegin to think meanly of yourself and be abashed when you find yourselfsurrounded by saints and angels; for you are not less than they, although it may not seem so at first when you see them in their brightclothes, which, they say, shine like the sun. I cannot ask you to tiea string round your finger; I can only trust to your memory, which wasalways good, even about the smallest things; and when you are asked, asno doubt you will be, to express a wish, remember before everything tospeak of your grandfather, and his claims on you, also on your angelicmother, to whom you will present my humble remembrances. "

During this petition, which in other circumstances would have moved meto laughter but now only irritated me, a subtle change seemed to cometo the apparently lifeless girl to make me hope. The small hand in minefelt not so icy cold, and though no faintest colour had come to theface, its pallor had lost something of its deathly waxen appearance; andnow the compressed lips had relaxed a little and seemed ready to part. I laid my finger-tips on her heart and felt, or imagined that I felt, a faint fluttering; and at last I became convinced that her heart wasreally beating. 

I turned my eyes on the old man, still bending forward, intentlywatching for the sign he had asked her to make. My anger and disgustat his gross earthy egoism had vanished. "Let us thank God, old man, "I said, the tears of joy half choking my utterance. "She lives--she isrecovering from her fit. "

He drew back, and on his knees, with bowed head, murmured a prayer ofthanks to Heaven. 

Together we continued watching her face for half an hour longer, Istill holding her in my arms, which could never grow weary of that sweetburden, waiting for other, surer signs of returning life; and she seemednow like one that had fallen into a profound, death-like sleep whichmust end in death. Yet when I remembered her face as it had looked anhour ago, I was confirmed in the belief that the progress to recovery, so strangely slow, was yet sure. So slow, so gradual was this passingfrom death to life that we had hardly ceased to fear when we noticedthat the lips were parted, or almost parted, that they were no longerwhite, and that under her pale, transparent skin a faint, bluish-rosycolour was now visible. And at length, seeing that all danger was pastand recovery so slow, old Nuflo withdrew once more to the fireside and, stretching himself out on the sandy floor, soon fell into a deep sleep. 

If he had not been lying there before me in the strong light of theglowing embers and dancing flames, I could not have felt more alone withRima--alone amid those remote mountains, in that secret cavern, withlights and shadows dancing on its grey vault. In that profound silenceand solitude the mysterious loveliness of the still face I continuedto gaze on, its appearance of life without consciousness, produced astrange feeling in me, hard, perhaps impossible, to describe. 

Once, when clambering among the rough rocks, overgrown with forest, among the Queneveta mountains, I came on a single white flower which wasnew to me, which I have never seen since. After I had looked long at it, and passed on, the image of that perfect flower remained so persistentlyin my mind that on the following day I went again, in the hope of seeingit still untouched by decay. There was no change; and on this occasionI spent a much longer time looking at it, admiring the marvellousbeauty of its form, which seemed so greatly to exceed that of allother flowers. It had thick petals, and at first gave me the idea of anartificial flower, cut by a divinely inspired artist from some unknownprecious stone, of the size of a large orange and whiter than milk, andyet, in spite of its opacity, with a crystalline lustre on the surface. Next day I went again, scarcely hoping to find it still unwithered; itwas fresh as if only just opened; and after that I went often, sometimesat intervals of several days, and still no faintest sign of any change, the clear, exquisite lines still undimmed, the purity and lustre asI had first seen it. Why, I often asked, does not this mystic forestflower fade and perish like others? That first impression of itsartificial appearance had soon left me; it was, indeed, a flower, and, like other flowers, had life and growth, only with that transcendentbeauty it had a different kind of life. Unconscious, but higher; perhapsimmortal. Thus it would continue to bloom when I had looked my laston it; wind and rain and sunlight would never stain, never tinge, itssacred purity; the savage Indian, though he sees little to admire in aflower, yet seeing this one would veil his face and turn back; eventhe browsing beast crashing his way through the forest, struck withits strange glory, would swerve aside and pass on without harming it. Afterwards I heard from some Indians to whom I described it thatthe flower I had discovered was called Hata; also that they had asuperstition concerning it--a strange belief. They said that only oneHata flower existed in the world; that it bloomed in one spot for thespace of a moon; that on the disappearance of the moon in the sky theHata disappeared from its place, only to reappear blooming in someother spot, sometimes in some distant forest. And they also said thatwhosoever discovered the Hata flower in the forest would overcome allhis enemies and obtain all his desires, and finally outlive other menby many years. But, as I have said, all this I heard afterwards, and myhalf-superstitious feeling for the flower had grown up independentlyin my own mind. A feeling like that was in me while I gazed on the facethat had no motion, no consciousness in it, and yet had life, a life ofso high a kind as to match with its pure, surpassing loveliness. I couldalmost believe that, like the forest flower, in this state and aspect itwould endure for ever; endure and perhaps give of its own immortality toeverything around it--to me, holding her in my arms and gazing fixedlyon the pale face framed in its cloud of dark, silken hair; to theleaping flames that threw changing lights on the dim stony wall ofrock; to old Nuflo and his two yellow dogs stretched out on the floor ineternal, unawakening sleep. 

This feeling took such firm possession of my mind that it kept me fora time as motionless as the form I held in my arms. I was only releasedfrom its power by noting still further changes in the face I watched, a more distinct advance towards conscious life. The faint colour, which had scarcely been more than a suspicion of colour, had deepenedperceptibly; the lids were lifted so as to show a gleam of the crystalorbs beneath; the lips, too, were slightly parted. 

And, at last, bending lower down to feel her breath, the beauty andsweetness of those lips could no longer be resisted, and I touched themwith mine. Having once tasted their sweetness and fragrance, it wasimpossible to keep from touching them again and again. She was notconscious--how could she be and not shrink from my caress? Yet therewas a suspicion in my mind, and drawing back I gazed into her face oncemore. A strange new radiance had overspread it. Or was this only anillusive colour thrown on her skin by the red firelight? I shaded herface with my open hand, and saw that her pallor had really gone, thatthe rosy flame on her cheeks was part of her life. Her lustrous eyes, half open, were gazing into mine. Oh, surely consciousness had returnedto her! Had she been sensible of those stolen kisses? Would she nowshrink from another caress? Trembling, I bent down and touched her lipsagain, lightly, but lingeringly, and then again, and when I drew backand looked at her face the rosy flame was brighter, and the eyes, more open still, were looking into mine. And gazing with those open, conscious eyes, it seemed to me that at last, at last, the shadow thathad rested between us had vanished, that we were united in perfect loveand confidence, and that speech was superfluous. And when I spoke, itwas not without doubt and hesitation: our bliss in those silent momentshad been so complete, what could speaking do but make it less!

"My love, my life, my sweet Rima, I know that you will understand menow as you did not before, on that dark night--do you remember it, Rima?--when I held you clasped to my breast in the wood. How it piercedmy heart with pain to speak plainly to you as I did on the mountaintonight--to kill the hope that had sustained and brought you so far fromhome! But now that anguish is over; the shadow has gone out of thosebeautiful eyes that are looking at me. It is because loving me, knowingnow what love is, knowing, too, how much I love you, that you no longerneed to speak to any other living being of such things? To tell it, toshow it, to me is now enough--is it not so, Rima? How strange it seemed, at first, when you shrank in fear from me! But, afterwards, when youprayed aloud to your mother, opening all the secrets of your heart, Iunderstood it. In that lonely, isolated life in the wood you had heardnothing of love, of its power over the heart, its infinite sweetness;when it came to you at last it was a new, inexplicable thing, and filledyou with misgivings and tumultuous thoughts, so that you feared it andhid yourself from its cause. Such tremors would be felt if it had alwaysbeen night, with no light except that of the stars and the pale moon, aswe saw it a little while ago on the mountain; and, at last, day dawned, and a strange, unheard-of rose and purple flame kindled in the easternsky, foretelling the coming sun. It would seem beautiful beyond anythingthat night had shown to you, yet you would tremble and your heart beatfast at that strange sight; you would wish to fly to those who might beable to tell you its meaning, and whether the sweet things it prophesiedwould ever really come. That is why you wished to find your people, andcame to Riolama to seek them; and when you knew--when I cruelly toldyou--that they would never be found, then you imagined that that strangefeeling in your heart must remain a secret for ever, and you couldnot endure the thought of your loneliness. If you had not fainted soquickly, then I should have told you what I must tell you now. They arelost, Rima--your people--but I am with you, and know what you feel, evenif you have no words to tell it. But what need of words? It shines inyour eyes, it burns like a flame in your face; I can feel it in yourhands. Do you not also see it in my face--all that I feel for you, thelove that makes me happy? For this is love, Rima, the flower and themelody of life, the sweetest thing, the sweet miracle that makes our twosouls one. "

Still resting in my arms, as if glad to rest there, still gazing intomy face, it was clear to me that she understood my every word. And then, with no trace of doubt or fear left, I stooped again, until my lips wereon hers; and when I drew back once more, hardly knowing which bliss wasgreatest--kissing her delicate mouth or gazing into her face--she all atonce put her arms about my neck and drew herself up until she sat on myknee. 

"Abel--shall I call you Abel now--and always?" she spoke, still withher arms round my neck. "Ah, why did you let me come to Riolama? I wouldcome! I made him come--old grandfather, sleeping there: he does notcount, but you--you! After you had heard my story, and knew that it wasall for nothing! And all I wished to know was there--in you. Oh, howsweet it is! But a little while ago, what pain! When I stood on themountain when you talked to me, and I knew that you knew best, and triedand tried not to know. At last I could try no more; they were all deadlike mother; I had chased the false water on the savannah. 'Oh, let medie too, ' I said, for I could not bear the pain. And afterwards, here inthe cave, I was like one asleep, and when I woke I did not really wake. It was like morning with the light teasing me to open my eyes and lookat it. Not yet, dear light; a little while longer, it is so sweet to liestill. But it would not leave me, and stayed teasing me still, like asmall shining green fly; until, because it teased me so, I opened mylids just a little. It was not morning, but the firelight, and I was inyour arms, not in my little bed. Your eyes looking, looking into mine. But I could see yours better. I remembered everything then, how you onceasked me to look into your eyes. I remembered so many things--oh, somany!"

"How many things did you remember, Rima?"

"Listen, Abel, do you ever lie on the dry moss and look straight up intoa tree and count a thousand leaves?"

"No, sweetest, that could not be done, it is so many to count. Do youknow how many a thousand are?"

"Oh, do I not! When a humming-bird flies close to my face and stopsstill in the air, humming like a bee, and then is gone, in that shorttime I can count a hundred small round bright feathers on its throat. That is only a hundred; a thousand are more, ten times. Looking up Icount a thousand leaves; then stop counting, because there are thousandsmore behind the first, and thousands more, crowded together so that Icannot count them. Lying in your arms, looking up into your face, it waslike that; I could not count the things I remembered. In the wood, whenyou were there, and before; and long, long ago at Voa, when I was achild with mother. "

"Tell me some of the things you remembered, Rima. "

"Yes, one--only one now. When I was a child at Voa mother was verylame--you know that. Whenever we went out, away from the houses, intothe forest, walking slowly, slowly, she would sit under a tree while Iran about playing. And every time I came back to her I would find her sopale, so sad, crying--crying. That was when I would hide and come softlyback so that she would not hear me coming. 'Oh, mother, why are youcrying? Does your lame foot hurt you?' And one day she took me in herarms and told me truly why she cried. "

She ceased speaking, but looked at me with a strange new light cominginto her eyes. 

"Why did she cry, my love?"

"Oh, Abel, can you understand--now--at last!" And putting her lipsclose to my ear, she began to murmur soft, melodious sounds that toldme nothing. Then drawing back her head, she looked again at me, her eyesglistening with tears, her lips half parted with a smile, tender andwistful. 

Ah, poor child! in spite of all that had been said, all that hadhappened, she had returned to the old delusion that I must understandher speech. I could only return her look, sorrowfully and in silence. 

Her face became clouded with disappointment, then she spoke again withsomething of pleading in her tone. "Look, we are not now apart, I hidingin the wood, you seeking, but together, saying the same things. Inyour language--yours and now mine. But before you came I knew nothing, nothing, for there was only grandfather to talk to. A few words eachday, the same words. If yours is mine, mine must be yours. Oh, do younot know that mine is better?"

"Yes, better; but alas! Rima, I can never hope to understand your sweetspeech, much less to speak it. The bird that only chirps and twitterscan never sing like the organ-bird. "

Crying, she hid her face against my neck, murmuring sadly between hersobs: "Never--never!"

How strange it seemed, in that moment of joy, such a passion of tears, such despondent words!

For some minutes I preserved a sorrowful silence, realizing for thefirst time, so far as it was possible to realize such a thing, what myinability to understand her secret language meant to her--that finerlanguage in which alone her swift thoughts and vivid emotions could beexpressed. Easily and well as she seemed able to declare herself in mytongue, I could well imagine that to her it would seem like the mereststammering. As she had said to me once when I asked her to speak inSpanish, "That is not speaking. " And so long as she could not communewith me in that better language, which reflected her mind, there wouldnot be that perfect union of soul she so passionately desired. 

By and by, as she grew calmer, I sought to say something that would beconsoling to both of us. "Sweetest Rima, " I spoke, "it is so sad thatI can never hope to talk with you in your way; but a greater love thanthis that is ours we could never feel, and love will make us happy, unutterably happy, in spite of that one sadness. And perhaps, after awhile, you will be able to say all you wish in my language, which isalso yours, as you said some time ago. When we are back again in thebeloved wood, and talk once more under that tree where we first talked, and under the old mora, where you hid yourself and threw down leaveson me, and where you caught the little spider to show me how you madeyourself a dress, you shall speak to me in your own sweet tongue, andthen try to say the same things in mine. .. . And in the end, perhaps, youwill find that it is not so impossible as you think. "

She looked at me, smiling again through her tears, and shook her head alittle. 

"Remember what I have heard, that before your mother died you were ableto tell Nuflo and the priest what her wish was. Can you not, in the sameway, tell me why she cried?"

"I can tell you, but it will not be telling you. "

"I understand. You can tell the bare facts. I can imagine somethingmore, and the rest I must lose. Tell me, Rima. "

Her face became troubled; she glanced away and let her eyes wander roundthe dim, firelit cavern; then they returned to mine once more. 

"Look, " she said, "grandfather lying asleep by the fire. So far awayfrom us--oh, so far! But if we were to go out from the cave, and on andon to the great mountains where the city of the sun is, and stood thereat last in the midst of great crowds of people, all looking at us, talking to us, it would be just the same. They would be like the treesand rocks and animals--so far! Not with us nor we with them. But we areeverywhere alone together, apart--we two. It is love; I know it now, butI did not know it before because I had forgotten what she told me. Doyou think I can tell you what she said when I asked her why she cried?Oh no! Only this, she and another were like one, always, apart fromthe others. Then something came--something came! O Abel, was that thesomething you told me about on the mountain? And the other was lost forever, and she was alone in the forests and mountains of the world. Oh, why do we cry for what is lost? Why do we not quickly forget it and feelglad again? Now only do I know what you felt, O sweet mother, when yousat still and cried, while I ran about and played and laughed! O poormother! Oh, what pain!" And hiding her face against my neck, she sobbedonce more. 

To my eyes also love and sympathy brought the tears; but in a littlewhile the fond, comforting words I spoke and my caresses recalled herfrom that sad past to the present; then, lying back as at first, her head resting on my folded cloak, her body partly supported by myencircling arm and partly by the rock we were leaning against, her half-closed eyes turned to mine expressed a tender assuredhappiness--the chastened gladness of sunshine after rain; a softdelicious languor that was partly passionate with the passionetherealized. 

"Tell me, Rima, " I said, bending down to her, "in all those troubleddays with me in the woods had you no happy moments? Did not something inyour heart tell you that it was sweet to love, even before you knew whatlove meant?"

"Yes; and once--O Abel, do you remember that night, after returning fromYtaioa, when you sat so late talking by the fire--I in the shadow, neverstirring, listening, listening; you by the fire with the light on yourface, saying so many strange things? I was happy then--oh, how happy! Itwas black night and raining, and I a plant growing in the dark, feelingthe sweet raindrops falling, falling on my leaves. Oh, it will bemorning by and by and the sun will shine on my wet leaves; and thatmade me glad till I trembled with happiness. Then suddenly the lightningwould come, so bright, and I would tremble with fear, and wish thatit would be dark again. That was when you looked at me sitting in theshadow, and I could not take my eyes away quickly and could not meetyours, so that I trembled with fear. "

"And now there is no fear--no shadow; now you are perfectly happy?"

"Oh, so happy! If the way back to the wood was longer, ten times, andif the great mountains, white with snow on their tops, were between, andthe great dark forest, and rivers wider than Orinoco, still I would goalone without fear, because you would come after me, to join me in thewood, to be with me at last and always. "

"But I should not let you go alone, Rima--your lonely days are overnow. "

She opened her eyes wider and looked earnestly into my face. "I must goback alone, Abel, " she said. "Before day comes I must leave you. Resthere, with grandfather, for a few days and nights, then follow me. "

I heard her with astonishment. "It must not be, Rima, " I cried. "What, let you leave me--now you are mine--to go all that distance, through allthat wild country where you might lose yourself and perish alone? Oh, donot think of it!"

She listened, regarding me with some slight trouble in her eyes, butsmiling a little at the same time. Her small hand moved up my arm andcaressed my cheek; then she drew my face down to hers until our lipsmet. But when I looked at her eyes again, I saw that she had notconsented to my wish. "Do I not know all the way now, " she spoke, "allthe mountains, rivers, forests--how should I lose myself? And I mustreturn quickly, not step by step, walking--resting, resting--walking, stopping to cook and eat, stopping to gather firewood, to make ashelter--so many things! Oh, I shall be back in half the time; and Ihave so much to do. "

"What can you have to do, love?--everything can be done when we are inthe wood together. "

A bright smile with a touch of mockery in it flitted over her face asshe replied: "Oh, must I tell you that there are things you cannot do?Look, Abel, " and she touched the slight garment she wore, thinner nowthan at first, and dulled by long exposure to sun and wind and rain. 

I could not command her, and seemed powerless to persuade her; but I hadnot done yet, and proceeded to use every argument I could find to bringher round to my view; and when I finished she put her arms around myneck and drew herself up once more. "O Abel, how happy I shall be!" shesaid, taking no notice of all I had said. "Think of me alone, days anddays, in the wood, waiting for you, working all the time; saying: 'Comequickly, Abel; come slow, Abel. O Abel, how long you are! Oh, do notcome until my work is finished!' And when it is finished and you arriveyou shall find me, but not at once. First you will seek for me in thehouse, then in the wood, calling: 'Rima! Rima!' And she will be there, listening, hid in the trees, wishing to be in your arms, wishing foryour lips--oh, so glad, yet fearing to show herself. Do you know why?He told you--did he not?--that when he first saw her she was standingbefore him all in white--a dress that was like snow on the mountain-topswhen the sun is setting and gives it rose and purple colour. I shallbe like that, hidden among the trees, saying: 'Am I different--not likeRima? Will he know me--will he love me just the same?' Oh, do I notknow that you will be glad, and love me, and call me beautiful? Listen!Listen!" she suddenly exclaimed, lifting her face. 

Among the bushes not far from the cave's mouth a small bird had brokenout in song, a clear, tender melody soon taken up by other birds furtheraway. 

"It will soon be morning, " she said, and then clasped her arms about meonce more and held me in a long, passionate embrace; then slipping awayfrom my arms and with one swift glance at the sleeping old man, passedout of the cave. 

For a few moments I remained sitting, not yet realizing that she hadleft me, so suddenly and swiftly had she passed from my arms and mysight; then, recovering my faculties, I started up and rushed out inhopes of overtaking her. 

It was not yet dawn, but there was still some light from the fullmoon, now somewhere behind the mountains. Running to the verge of thebushgrown plateau, I explored the rocky slope beneath without seeing herform, and then called: "Rima! Rima!"

A soft, warbling sound, uttered by no bird, came up from the shadowybushes far below; and in that direction I ran on; then pausing, calledagain. The sweet sound was repeated once more, but much lower down now, and so faintly that I scarcely heard it. And when I went on furtherand called again and again, there was no reply, and I knew that she hadindeed gone on that long journey alone. 

CHAPTER XVIII

When Nuflo at length opened his eyes he found me sitting alone anddespondent by the fire, just returned from my vain chase. I had beencaught in a heavy mist on the mountain-side, and was wet through as wellas weighed down by fatigue and drowsiness, consequent upon the previousday's laborious march and my night-long vigil; yet I dared not think ofrest. She had gone from me, and I could not have prevented it; yet thethought that I had allowed her to slip out of my arms, to go away aloneon that long, perilous journey, was as intolerable as if I had consentedto it. 

Nuflo was at first startled to hear of her sudden departure; but helaughed at my fears, affirming that after having once been over theground she could not lose herself; that she would be in no danger fromthe Indians, as she would invariably see them at a distance and avoidthem, and that wild beasts, serpents, and other evil creatures would doher no harm. The small amount of food she required to sustain life couldbe found anywhere; furthermore, her journey would not be interruptedby bad weather, since rain and heat had no effect on her. In the end heseemed pleased that she had left us, saying that with Rima in the woodthe house and cultivated patch and hidden provisions and implementswould be safe, for no Indian would venture to come where she was. Hisconfidence reassured me, and casting myself down on the sandy floor ofthe cave, I fell into a deep slumber, which lasted until evening; thenI only woke to share a meal with the old man, and sleep again until thefollowing day. 

Nuflo was not ready to start yet; he was enamoured of the unaccustomedcomforts of a dry sleeping-place and a fire blown about by no wind andinto which fell no hissing raindrops. Not for two days more would heconsent to set out on the return journey, and if he could have persuadedme our stay at Riolama would have lasted a week. 

We had fine weather at starting; but before long it clouded, and thenfor upwards of a fortnight we had it wet and stormy, which so hinderedus that it took us twenty-three days to accomplish the return journey, whereas the journey out had only taken eighteen. The adventures wemet with and the pains we suffered during this long march need not berelated. The rain made us miserable, but we suffered more from hungerthan from any other cause, and on more than one occasion were reduced tothe verge of starvation. Twice we were driven to beg for food at Indianvillages, and as we had nothing to give in exchange for it, we gotvery little. It is possible to buy hospitality from the savage withoutfish-hooks, nails, and calico; but on this occasion I found myselfwithout that impalpable medium of exchange which had been so greata help to me on my first journey to Parahuari. Now I was weak andmiserable and without cunning. It is true that we could have exchangedthe two dogs for cassava bread and corn, but we should then have beenworse off than ever. And in the end the dogs saved us by an occasionalcapture--an armadillo surprised in the open and seized before it couldbury itself in the soil, or an iguana, opossum, or labba, traced bymeans of their keen sense of smell to its hiding-place. Then Nuflo wouldrejoice and feast, rewarding them with the skin, bones, and entrails. But at length one of the dogs fell lame, and Nuflo, who was very hungry, made its lameness an excuse for dispatching it, which he did apparentlywithout compunction, notwithstanding that the poor brute had servedhim well in its way. He cut up and smoke-dried the flesh, and theintolerable pangs of hunger compelled me to share the loathsome foodwith him. We were not only indecent, it seemed to me, but cannibals tofeed on the faithful servant that had been our butcher. "But what doesit matter?" I argued with myself. "All flesh, clean and unclean, shouldbe, and is, equally abhorrent to me, and killing animals a kind ofmurder. But now I find myself constrained to do this evil thing thatgood may come. Only to live I take it now--this hateful strength-giverthat will enable me to reach Rima, and the purer, better life that is tobe. "

During all that time, when we toiled onwards league after league insilence, or sat silent by the nightly fire, I thought of many things;but the past, with which I had definitely broken, was little in my mind. Rima was still the source and centre of all my thoughts; from her theyrose, and to her returned. Thinking, hoping, dreaming, sustained me inthose dark days and nights of pain and privation. Imagination was thebread that gave me strength, the wine that exhilarated. What sustainedold Nuflo's mind I know not. Probably it was like a chrysalis, dormant, independent of sustenance; the bright-winged image to be called at somefuture time to life by a great shouting of angelic hosts and noises ofmusical instruments slept secure, coffined in that dull, gross nature. 

The old beloved wood once more! Never did his native village in somemountain valley seem more beautiful to the Switzer, returning, war-worn, from long voluntary exile, than did that blue cloud on the horizon--theforest where Rima dwelt, my bride, my beautiful--and towering overit the dark cone of Ytaioa, now seem to my hungry eyes! How near atlast--how near! And yet the two or three intervening leagues to betraversed so slowly, step by step--how vast the distance seemed! Even atfar Riolama, when I set out on my return, I scarcely seemed so far frommy love. This maddening impatience told on my strength, which was small, and hindered me. I could not run nor even walk fast; old Nuflo, slow, and sober, with no flame consuming his heart, was more than my equal inthe end, and to keep up with him was all I could do. At the finish hebecame silent and cautious, first entering the belt of trees leadingaway through the low range of hills at the southern extremity of thewood. For a mile or upwards we trudged on in the shade; then I beganto recognize familiar ground, the old trees under which I had walkedor sat, and knew that a hundred yards further on there would be a firstglimpse of the palm-leaf thatch. Then all weakness forsook me; with alow cry of passionate longing and joy I rushed on ahead; but I strainedmy eyes in vain for a sight of that sweet shelter; no patch of paleyellow colour appeared amidst the universal verdure of bushes, creepers, and trees--trees beyond trees, trees towering above trees. 

For some moments I could not realize it. No, I had surely made amistake, the house had not stood on that spot; it would appear in sighta little further on. I took a few uncertain steps onwards, and thenagain stood still, my brain reeling, my heart swelling nigh to burstingwith anguish. I was still standing motionless, with hand pressed to mybreast, when Nuflo overtook me. "Where is it--the house?" I stammered, pointing with my hand. All his stolidity seemed gone now; he wastrembling too, his lips silently moving. At length he spoke: "Theyhave come--the children of hell have been here, and have destroyedeverything!"

"Rima! What has become of Rima?" I cried; but without replying he walkedon, and I followed. 

The house, we soon found, had been burnt down. Not a stick remained. Where it had stood a heap of black ashes covered the ground--nothingmore. But on looking round we could discover no sign of human beingshaving recently visited the spot. A rank growth of grass and herbage nowcovered the once clear space surrounding the site of the dwelling, andthe ash-heap looked as if it had been lying there for a month at least. As to what had become of Rima the old man could say no word. He sat downon the ground overwhelmed at the calamity: Runi's people had been there, he could not doubt it, and they would come again, and he could only lookfor death at their hands. The thought that Rima had perished, that shewas lost, was unendurable. It could not be! No doubt the Indians tractcome and destroyed the house during our absence; but she had returned, and they had gone away again to come no more. She would be somewhere inthe forest, perhaps not far off, impatiently waiting our return. The oldman stared at me while I spoke; he appeared to be in a kind of stupor, and made no reply: and at last, leaving him still sitting on the ground, I went into the wood to look for Rima. 

As I walked there, occasionally stopping to peer into some shadowy gladeor opening, and to listen, I was tempted again and again to call thename of her I sought aloud; and still the fear that by so doing I mightbring some hidden danger on myself, perhaps on her, made me silent. Astrange melancholy rested on the forest, a quietude seldom broken by adistant bird's cry. How, I asked myself, should I ever find her in thatwide forest while I moved about in that silent, cautious way? My onlyhope was that she would find me. It occurred to me that the most likelyplace to seek her would be some of the old haunts known to us both, where we had talked together. I thought first of the mora tree, whereshe had hidden herself from me, and thither I directed my steps. Aboutthis tree, and within its shade, I lingered for upwards of an hour; and, finally, casting my eyes up into the great dim cloud of green and purpleleaves, I softly called: "Rima, Rima, if you have seen me, and haveconcealed yourself from me in your hiding-place, in mercy answer me--inmercy come down to me now!" But Rima answered not, nor threw downany red glowing leaves to mock me: only the wind, high up, whisperedsomething low and sorrowful in the foliage; and turning, I wandered awayat random into the deeper shadows. 

By and by I was startled by the long, piercing cry of a wildfowl, sounding strangely loud in the silence; and no sooner was the air stillagain than it struck me that no bird had uttered that cry. The Indianis a good mimic of animal voices, but practice had made me able todistinguish the true from the false bird-note. For a minute or so Istood still, at a loss what to do, then moved on again with greatercaution, scarcely breathing, straining my sight to pierce the shadowydepths. All at once I gave a great start, for directly before me, on theprojecting root in the deeper shade of a tree, sat a dark, motionlesshuman form. I stood still, watching it for some time, not yet knowingthat it had seen me, when all doubts were put to flight by the formrising and deliberately advancing--a naked Indian with a zabatana inhis hand. As he came up out of the deeper shade I recognized Piake, thesurly elder brother of my friend Kua-ko. 

It was a great shock to meet him in the wood, but I had no time toreflect just then. I only remembered that I had deeply offended him andhis people, that they probably looked on me as an enemy, and wouldthink little of taking my life. It was too late to attempt to escape byflight; I was spent with my long journey and the many privations I hadsuffered, while he stood there in his full strength with a deadly weaponin his hand. 

Nothing was left but to put a bold face on, greet him in a friendly way, and invent some plausible story to account for my action in secretlyleaving the village. 

He was now standing still, silently regarding me, and glancing roundI saw that he was not alone: at a distance of about forty yards on myright hand two other dusky forms appeared watching me from the deepshade. 

"Piake!" I cried, advancing three or four steps. 

"You have returned, " he answered, but without moving. "Where from?"

"Riolama. "

He shook his head, then asked where it was. 

"Twenty days towards the setting sun, " I said. As he remained silent Iadded: "I heard that I could find gold in the mountains there. An oldman told me, and we went to look for gold. "

"What did you find?"

"Nothing. "

"Ah!"

And so our conversation appeared to be at an end. But after a fewmoments my intense desire to discover whether the savages knew aught ofRima or not made me hazard a question. 

"Do you live here in the forest now?" I asked. 

He shook his head, and after a while said: "We come to kill animals. "

"You are like me now, " I returned quickly; "you fear nothing. "

He looked distrustfully at me, then came a little nearer and said: "Youare very brave. I should not have gone twenty days' journey with noweapons and only an old man for companion. What weapons did you have?"

I saw that he feared me and wished to make sure that I had it not inmy power to do him some injury. "No weapon except my knife, " I replied, with assumed carelessness. With that I raised my cloak so as to let himsee for himself, turning my body round before him. "Have you found mypistol?" I added. 

He shook his head; but he appeared less suspicious now and came close upto me. "How do you get food? Where are you going?" he asked. 

I answered boldly: "Food! I am nearly starving. I am going to thevillage to see if the women have got any meat in the pot, and to tellRuni all I have done since I left him. "

He looked at me keenly, a little surprised at my confidence perhaps, then said that he was also going back and would accompany me One of theother men now advanced, blow-pipe in hand, to join us, and, leaving thewood, we started to walk across the savannah. 

It was hateful to have to recross that savannah again, to leave thewoodland shadows where I had hoped to find Rima; but I was powerless:I was a prisoner once more, the lost captive recovered and not yetpardoned, probably never to be pardoned. Only by means of my own cunningcould I be saved, and Nuflo, poor old man, must take his chance. 

Again and again as we tramped over the barren ground, and when weclimbed the ridge, I was compelled to stand still to recover breath, explaining to Piake that I had been travelling day and night, with nomeat during the last three days, so that I was exhausted. This wasan exaggeration, but it was necessary to account in some way for thefaintness I experienced during our walk, caused less by fatigue and wantof food than by anguish of mind. 

At intervals I talked to him, asking after all the other members of thecommunity by name. At last, thinking only of Rima, I asked him if anyother person or persons besides his people came to the wood now or livedthere. 

He said no. "Once, " I said, "there was a daughter of the Didi, a girlyou all feared: is she there now?"

He looked at me with suspicion and then shook his head. I dared notpress him with more questions; but after an interval he said plainly:"She is not there now. "

And I was forced to believe him; for had Rima been in the woodthey would not have been there. She was not there, this much I haddiscovered. Had she, then, lost her way, or perished on that longjourney from Riolama? Or had she returned only to fall into the handsof her cruel enemies? My heart was heavy in me; but if these devils inhuman shape knew more than they had told me, I must, I said, hide myanxiety and wait patiently to find it out, should they spare mylife. And if they spared me and had not spared that other sacred lifeinterwoven with mine, the time would come when they would find, toolate, that they had taken to their bosom a worse devil than themselves. 

CHAPTER XIX

My arrival at the village created some excitement; but I was plainly nolonger regarded as a friend or one of the family. Runi was absent, andI looked forward to his return with no little apprehension; he woulddoubtless decide my fate. Kua-ko was also away. The others sat or stoodabout the great room, staring at me in silence. I took no notice, butmerely asked for food, then for my hammock, which I hung up in the oldplace, and lying down I fell into a doze. Runi made his appearance atdusk. I rose and greeted him, but he spoke no word and, until he went tohis hammock, sat in sullen silence, ignoring my presence. 

On the following day the crisis came. We were once more gathered in theroom--all but Kua-ko and another of the men, who had not yet returnedfrom some expedition--and for the space of half an hour not a wordwas spoken by anyone. Something was expected; even the children werestrangely still, and whenever one of the pet birds strayed in at theopen door, uttering a little plaintive note, it was chased out again, but without a sound. At length Runi straightened himself on his seat andfixed his eyes on me; then cleared his throat and began a long harangue, delivered in the loud, monotonous singsong which I knew so well andwhich meant that the occasion was an important one. And as is usualin such efforts, the same thought and expressions were used again andagain, and yet again, with dull, angry insistence. The orator of Guayanato be impressive must be long, however little he may have to say. Strange as it may seem, I listened critically to him, not without afeeling of scorn at his lower intelligence. But I was easier in my mindnow. From the very fact of his addressing such a speech to me I wasconvinced that he wished not to take my life, and would not do so if Icould clear myself of the suspicion of treachery. 

I was a white man, he said, they were Indians; nevertheless they hadtreated me well. They had fed me and sheltered me. They had done agreat deal for me: they had taught me the use of the zabatana, and hadpromised to make one for me, asking for nothing in return. They had alsopromised me a wife. How had I treated them? I had deserted them, goingaway secretly to a distance, leaving them in doubt as to my intentions. How could they tell why I had gone, and where? They had an enemy. Managawas his name; he and his people hated them; I knew that he wished themevil; I knew where to find him, for they had told me. That was what theythought when I suddenly left them. Now I returned to them, saying thatI had been to Riolama. He knew where Riolama was, although he had neverbeen there: it was so far. Why did I go to Riolama? It was a bad place. There were Indians there, a few; but they were not good Indians likethose of Parahuari, and would kill a white man. HAD I gone there? Whyhad I gone there?

He finished at last, and it was my turn to speak, but he had given meplenty of time, and my reply was ready. "I have heard you, " I said. "Your words are good words. They are the words of a friend. 'I am thewhite man's friend, ' you say; 'is he my friend? He went away secretly, saying no word; why did he go without speaking to his friend who hadtreated him well? Has he been to my enemy Managa? Perhaps he is a friendof my enemy? Where has he been?' I must now answer these things, sayingtrue words to my friend. You are an Indian, I am a white man. You do notknow all the white man's thoughts. These are the things I wish to tellyou. In the white man's country are two kinds of men. There are the richmen, who have all that a man can desire--houses made of stone, full offine things, fine clothes, fine weapons, fine ornaments; and they havehorses, cattle, sheep, dogs--everything they desire. Because they havegold, for with gold the white man buys everything. The other kindof white men are the poor, who have no gold and cannot buy or haveanything: they must work hard for the rich man for the little food hegives them, and a rag to cover their nakedness; and if he gives themshelter they have it; if not they must lie down in the rain out ofdoors. In my own country, a hundred days from here, I was the son of agreat chief, who had much gold, and when he died it was all mine, and Iwas rich. But I had an enemy, one worse than Managa, for he was rich andhad many people. And in a war his people overcame mine, and he took mygold, and all I possessed, making me poor. The Indian kills his enemy, but the white man takes his gold, and that is worse than death. Then Isaid: 'I have been a rich man and now I am poor, and must work like adog for some rich man, for the sake of the little food he will throw meat the end of each day. No, I cannot do it! I will go away and live withthe Indians, so that those who have seen me a rich man shall never seeme working like a dog for a master, and cry out and mock at me. For theIndians are not like white men: they have no gold; they are not richand poor; all are alike. One roof covers them from the rain and sun. All have weapons which they make; all kill birds in the forest and catchfish in the rivers; and the women cook the meat and all eat from onepot. And with the Indians I will be an Indian, and hunt in the forestand eat with them and drink with them. ' Then I left my country and camehere, and lived with you, Runi, and was well treated. And now, why didI go away? This I have now to tell you. After I had been here a certaintime I went over there to the forest. You wished me not to go, becauseof an evil thing, a daughter of the Didi, that lived there; but I fearednothing and went. There I met an old man, who talked to me in the whiteman's language. He had travelled and seen much, and told me one strangething. On a mountain at Riolama he told me that he had seen a great lumpof gold, as much as a man could carry. And when I heard this I said:'With the gold I could return to my country, and buy weapons for myselfand all my people and go to war with my enemy and deprive him of all hispossessions and serve him as he served me. ' I asked the old man to takeme to Riolama; and when he had consented I went away from here withoutsaying a word, so as not to be prevented. It is far to Riolama, and Ihad no weapons; but I feared nothing. I said: 'If I must fight I mustfight, and if I must be killed I must be killed. ' But when I got toRiolama I found no gold. There was only a yellow stone which the oldman had mistaken for gold. It was yellow, like gold, but it would buynothing. Therefore I came back to Parahuari again, to my friend; and ifhe is angry with me still because I went away without informing him, lethim say: 'Go and seek elsewhere for a new friend, for I am your friendno longer. '"

I concluded thus boldly because I did not wish him to know that I hadsuspected him of harbouring any sinister designs, or that I lookedon our quarrel as a very serious one. When I had finished speaking heemitted a sound which expressed neither approval nor disapproval, butonly the fact that he had heard me. But I was satisfied. His expressionhad undergone a favourable change; it was less grim. After a whilehe remarked, with a peculiar twitching of the mouth which might havedeveloped into a smile: "The white man will do much to get gold. Youwalked twenty days to see a yellow stone that would buy nothing. " It wasfortunate that he took this view of the case, which was flattering tohis Indian nature, and perhaps touched his sense of the ludicrous. Atall events, he said nothing to discredit my story, to which they had alllistened with profound interest. 

From that time it seemed to be tacitly agreed to let bygones be bygones;and I could see that as the dangerous feeling that had threatened mylife diminished, the old pleasure they had once found in my companyreturned. But my feelings towards them did not change, nor could theywhile that black and terrible suspicion concerning Rima was in my heart. I talked again freely with them, as if there had been no break in theold friendly relations. If they watched me furtively whenever I wentout of doors, I affected not to see it. I set to work to repair my rudeguitar, which had been broken in my absence, and studied to show thema cheerful countenance. But when alone, or in my hammock, hidden fromtheir eyes, free to look into my own heart, then I was conscious thatsomething new and strange had come into my life; that a new nature, black and implacable, had taken the place of the old. And sometimesit was hard to conceal this fury that burnt in me; sometimes I felt animpulse to spring like a tiger on one of the Indians, to hold him fastby the throat until the secret I wished to learn was forced from hislips, then to dash his brains out against the stone. But they were many, and there was no choice but to be cautious and patient if I wished tooutwit them with a cunning superior to their own. 

Three days after my arrival at the village, Kua-ko returned with hiscompanion. I greeted him with affected warmth, but was really pleasedthat he was back, believing that if the Indians knew anything of Rima heamong them all would be most likely to tell it. 

Kua-ko appeared to have brought some important news, which he discussedwith Runi and the others; and on the following day I noticed thatpreparations for an expedition were in progress. Spears and bows andarrows were got ready, but not blow-pipes, and I knew by this that theexpedition would not be a hunting one. Having discovered so much, alsothat only four men were going out, I called Kua-ko aside and begged himto let me go with them. He seemed pleased at the proposal, and at oncerepeated it to Runi, who considered for a little and then consented. 

By and by he said, touching his bow: "You cannot fight with our weapons;what will you do if we meet an enemy?"

I smiled and returned that I would not run away. All I wished to showhim was that his enemies were my enemies, that I was ready to fight formy friend. 

He was pleased at my words, and said no more and gave me no weapons. Next morning, however, when we set out before daylight, I made thediscovery that he was carrying my revolver fastened to his waist. Hehad concealed it carefully under the one simple garment he wore, but itbulged slightly, and so the secret was betrayed. I had never believedthat he had lost it, and I was convinced that he took it now with theobject of putting it into my hands at the last moment in case of meetingwith an enemy. 

From the village we travelled in a north-westerly direction, and beforenoon camped in a grove of dwarf trees, where we remained until the sunwas low, then continued our walk through a rather barren country. Atnight we camped again beside a small stream, only a few inches deep, and after a meal of smoked meat and parched maize prepared to sleep tilldawn on the next day. 

Sitting by the fire I resolved to make a first attempt to discover fromKua-ko anything concerning Rima which might be known to him. Insteadof lying down when the others did, I remained seated, my guardian alsositting--no doubt waiting for me to lie down first. Presently I movednearer to him and began a conversation in a low voice, anxious not torouse the attention of the other men. 

"Once you said that Oalava would be given to me for a wife, " I began. "Some day I shall want a wife. "

He nodded approval, and remarked sententiously that the desire topossess a wife was common to all men. 

"What has been left to me?" I said despondingly and spreading out myhands. "My pistol gone, and did I not give Runi the tinder-box, and thelittle box with a cock painted on it to you? I had no return--not eventhe blow-pipe. How, then, can I get me a wife?"

He, like the others--dull-witted savage that he was--had come to thebelief that I was incapable of the cunning and duplicity they practiced. I could not see a green parrot sitting silent and motionless amidst thegreen foliage as they could; I had not their preternatural keenness ofsight; and, in like manner, to deceive with lies and false seeming wastheir faculty and not mine. He fell readily into the trap. My return topractical subjects pleased him. He bade me hope that Oalava might yet bemine in spite of my poverty. It was not always necessary to have thingsto get a wife: to be able to maintain her was enough; some day I wouldbe like one of themselves, able to kill animals and catch fish. Besides, did not Runi wish to keep me with them for other reasons? But he couldnot keep me wifeless. I could do much: I could sing and make music; Iwas brave and feared nothing; I could teach the children to fight. 

He did not say, however, that I could teach anything to one of his yearsand attainments. 

I protested that he gave me too much praise, that they were just asbrave. Did they not show a courage equal to mine by going every day tohunt in that wood which was inhabited by the daughter of the Didi?

I came to this subject with fear and trembling, but he took it quietly. He shook his head, and then all at once began to tell me how they firstcame to go there to hunt. He said that a few days after I had secretlydisappeared, two men and a woman, returning home from a distant placewhere they had been on a visit to a relation, stopped at the village. These travellers related that two days' journey from Ytaioa they hadmet three persons travelling in an opposite direction: an old man witha white beard, followed by two yellow dogs, a young man in a big cloak, and a strange-looking girl. Thus it came to be known that I had left thewood with the old man and the daughter of the Didi. It was great news tothem, for they did not believe that we had any intention of returning, and at once they began to hunt in the wood, and went there every day, killing birds, monkeys, and other animals in numbers. 

His words had begun to excite me greatly, but I studied to appear calmand only slightly interested, so as to draw him on to say more. 

"Then we returned, " I said at last. "But only two of us, and nottogether. I left the old man on the road, and SHE left us in Riolama. She went away from us into the mountains--who knows whither!"

"But she came back!" he returned, with a gleam of devilish satisfactionin his eyes that made the blood run cold in my veins. 

It was hard to dissemble still, to tempt him to say something thatwould madden me! "No, no, " I answered, after considering his words. "Shefeared to return; she went away to hide herself in the great mountainsbeyond Riolama. She could not come back. "

"But she came back!" he persisted, with that triumphant gleam in hiseyes once more. Under my cloak my hand had clutched my knife-handle, butI strove hard against the fierce, almost maddening impulse to pluck itout and bury it, quick as lightning, in his accursed throat. 

He continued: "Seven days before you returned we saw her in the wood. Wewere always expecting, watching, always afraid; and when hunting we werethree and four together. On that day I and three others saw her. It wasin an open place, where the trees are big and wide apart. We startedup and chased her when she ran from us, but feared to shoot. And in onemoment she climbed up into a small tree, then, like a monkey, passedfrom its highest branches into a big tree. We could not see her there, but she was there in the big tree, for there was no other tree near--noway of escape. Three of us sat down to watch, and the other went backto the village. He was long gone; we were just going to leave the tree, fearing that she would do us some injury, when he came back, and withhim all the others, men, women, and children. They brought axes andknives. Then Runi said: 'Let no one shoot an arrow into the treethinking to hit her, for the arrow would be caught in her hand andthrown back at him. We must burn her in the tree; there is no way tokill her except by fire. ' Then we went round and round looking up, butcould see nothing; and someone said: 'She has escaped, flying like abird from the tree'; but Runi answered that fire would show. So we cutdown the small tree and lopped the branches off and heaped them roundthe big trunk. Then, at a distance, we cut down ten more small trees, and afterwards, further away, ten more, and then others, and piled themall round, tree after tree, until the pile reached as far from the trunkas that, " and here he pointed to a bush forty to fifty yards from wherewe sat. 

The feeling with which I had listened to this recital had becomeintolerable. The sweat ran from me in streams; I shivered like a personin a fit of ague, and clenched my teeth together to prevent them fromrattling. "I must drink, " I said, cutting him short and rising to myfeet. He also rose, but did not follow me, when, with uncertain steps, Imade my way to the waterside, which was ten or twelve yards away. Lyingprostrate on my chest, I took a long draught of clear cold water, andheld my face for a few moments in the current. It sent a chill throughme, drying my wet skin, and bracing me for the concluding part of thehideous narrative. Slowly I stepped back to the fireside and sat downagain, while he resumed his old place at my side. 

"You burnt the tree down, " I said. "Finish telling me now and let mesleep--my eyes are heavy. "

"Yes. While the men cut and brought trees, the women and childrengathered dry stuff in the forest and brought it in their arms and piledit round. Then they set fire to it on all sides, laughing and shouting:'Burn, burn, daughter of the Didi!' At length all the lower branches ofthe big tree were on fire, and the trunk was on fire, but above it wasstill green, and we could see nothing. But the flames went up higher andhigher with a great noise; and at last from the top of the tree, outof the green leaves, came a great cry, like the cry of a bird: 'Abel!Abel!' and then looking we saw something fall; through leaves and smokeand flame it fell like a great white bird killed with an arrow andfalling to the earth, and fell into the flames beneath. And it was thedaughter of the Didi, and she was burnt to ashes like a moth in theflames of a fire, and no one has ever heard or seen her since. "

It was well for me that he spoke rapidly, and finished quickly. Even before he had quite concluded I drew my cloak round my face andstretched myself out. And I suppose that he at once followed my example, but I had grown blind and deaf to outward things just then. My heart nolonger throbbed violently; it fluttered and seemed to grow feebler andfeebler in its action: I remember that there was a dull, rushing soundin my ears, that I gasped for breath, that my life seemed ebbing away. After these horrible sensations had passed, I remained quiet for abouthalf an hour; and during this time the picture of that last act in thehateful tragedy grew more and more distinct and vivid in my mind, untilI seemed to be actually gazing on it, until my ears were filled with thehissing and crackling of the fire, the exultant shouts of the savages, and above all the last piercing cry of "Abel! Abel!" from the cloud ofburning foliage. I could not endure it longer, and rose at last to myfeet. I glanced at Kua-ko lying two or three yards away, and he, likethe others, was, or appeared to be, in a deep sleep; he was lying onhis back, and his dark firelit face looked as still and unconscious asa face of stone. Now was my chance to escape--if to escape was my wish. Yes; for I now possessed the coveted knowledge, and nothing more was tobe gained by keeping with my deadly enemies. And now, most fortunatelyfor me, they had brought me far on the road to that place of the fivehills where Managa lived--Managa, whose name had been often in mymind since my return to Parahuari. Glancing away from Kua-ko's stillstone-like face. I caught sight of that pale solitary star which Runihad pointed out to me low down in the north-western sky when I had askedhim where his enemy lived. In that direction we had been travellingsince leaving the village; surely if I walked all night, by tomorrow Icould reach Managa's hunting-ground, and be safe and think over what Ihad heard and on what I had to do. 

I moved softly away a few steps, then thinking that it would be well totake a spear in my hand, I turned back, and was surprised and startledto notice that Kua-ko had moved in the interval. He had turned over onhis side, and his face was now towards me. His eyes appeared closed, buthe might be only feigning sleep, and I dared not go back to pick up thespear. After a moment's hesitation I moved on again, and after a secondglance back and seeing that he did not stir, I waded cautiously acrossthe stream, walked softly twenty or thirty yards, and then began to run. At intervals I paused to listen for a moment; and presently I heard apattering sound as of footsteps coming swiftly after me. I instantlyconcluded that Kua-ko had been awake all the time watching my movements, and that he was now following me. I now put forth my whole speed, andwhile thus running could distinguish no sound. That he would miss me, for it was very dark, although with a starry sky above, was my onlyhope; for with no weapon except my knife my chances would be smallindeed should he overtake me. Besides, he had no doubt roused the othersbefore starting, and they would be close behind. There were no bushesin that place to hide myself in and let them pass me; and presently, tomake matters worse, the character of the soil changed, and I was runningover level clayey ground, so white with a salt efflorescence that adark object moving on it would show conspicuously at a distance. HereI paused to look back and listen, when distinctly came the sound offootsteps, and the next moment I made out the vague form of an Indianadvancing at a rapid rate of speed and with his uplifted spear in hishand. In the brief pause I had made he had advanced almost to withinhurling distance of me, and turning, I sped on again, throwing off mycloak to ease my flight. The next time I looked back he was still insight, but not so near; he had stopped to pick up my cloak, which wouldbe his now, and this had given me a slight advantage. I fled on, and hadcontinued running for a distance perhaps of fifty yards when an objectrushed past me, tearing through the flesh of my left arm close to theshoulder on its way; and not knowing that I was not badly wounded norhow near my pursuer might be, I turned in desperation to meet him, and saw him not above twenty-five yards away, running towards me withsomething bright in his hand. It was Kua-ko, and after wounding me withhis spear he was about to finish me with his knife. O fortunate youngsavage, after such a victory, and with that noble blue cloth cloak fortrophy and covering, what fame and happiness will be yours! A changeswift as lightning had come over me, a sudden exultation. I was wounded, but my right hand was sound and clutched a knife as good as his, andwe were on an equality. I waited for him calmly. All weakness, grief, despair had vanished, all feelings except a terrible raging desire tospill his accursed blood; and my brain was clear and my nerves likesteel, and I remembered with something like laughter our old amusingencounters with rapiers of wood. Ah, that was only making believe andchildish play; this was reality. Could any white man, deprived of histreacherous, far-killing weapon, meet the resolute savage, face to faceand foot to foot, and equal him with the old primitive weapons? Pooryouth, this delusion will cost you dear! It was scarcely an equalcontest when he hurled himself against me, with only his savage strengthand courage to match my skill; in a few moments he was lying at myfeet, pouring out his life blood on that white thirsty plain. From hisprostrate form I turned, the wet, red knife in my hand, to meet theothers, still thinking that they were on the track and close at hand. Why had he stooped to pick up the cloak if they were not following--ifhe had not been afraid of losing it? I turned only to receive theirspears, to die with my face to them; nor was the thought of deathterrible to me; I could die calmly now after killing my first assailant. But had I indeed killed him? I asked, hearing a sound like a groanescape from his lips. Quickly stooping, I once more drove my weapon tothe hilt in his prostrate form, and when he exhaled a deep sigh, and hisframe quivered, and the blood spurted afresh, I experienced a feelingof savage joy. And still no sound of hurrying footsteps came to mylistening ears and no vague forms appeared in the darkness. I concludedthat he had either left them sleeping or that they had not followed inthe right direction. Taking up the cloak, I was about to walk on, whenI noticed the spear he had thrown at me lying where it had fallen someyards away, and picking that up also, I went on once more, still keepingthe guiding star before me. 

CHAPTER XX

That good fight had been to me like a draught of wine, and made me fora while oblivious of my loss and of the pain from my wound. But the glowand feeling of exultation did not last: the lacerated flesh smarted; Iwas weak from loss of blood, and oppressed with sensations of fatigue. If my foes had appeared on the scene they would have made an easyconquest of me; but they came not, and I continued to walk on, slowlyand painfully, pausing often to rest. 

At last, recovering somewhat from my faint condition, and losing allfear of being overtaken, my sorrow revived in full force, and thoughtreturned to madden me. 

Alas! this bright being, like no other in its divine brightness, so longin the making, now no more than a dead leaf, a little dust, lost andforgotten for ever--oh, pitiless! Oh, cruel!

But I knew it all before--this law of nature and of necessity, againstwhich all revolt is idle: often had the remembrance of it filled me withineffable melancholy; only now it seemed cruel beyond all cruelty. 

Not nature the instrument, not the keen sword that cuts into thebleeding tissues, but the hand that wields it--the unseen unknownsomething, or person, that manifests itself in the horrible workings ofnature. 

"Did you know, beloved, at the last, in that intolerable heat, in thatmoment of supreme anguish, that he is unlistening, unhelpful as thestars, that you cried not to him? To me was your cry; but your poor, frail fellow creature was not there to save, or, failing that, to casthimself into the flames and perish with you, hating God. "

Thus, in my insufferable pain, I spoke aloud; alone in that solitaryplace, a bleeding fugitive in the dark night, looking up at the starsI cursed the Author of my being and called on Him to take back theabhorred gift of life. 

Yet, according to my philosophy, how vain it was! All my bitterness andhatred and defiance were as empty, as ineffectual, as utterly futile, as are the supplications of the meek worshipper, and no more than thewhisper of a leaf, the light whirr of an insect's wing. Whether I lovedHim who was over all, as when I thanked Him on my knees for guidingme to where I had heard so sweet and mysterious a melody, or hated anddefied Him as now, it all came from Him--love and hate, good and evil. 

But I know--I knew then--that in one thing my philosophy was false, thatit was not the whole truth; that though my cries did not touch nor comenear Him they would yet hurt me; and, just as a prisoner maddened athis unjust fate beats against the stone walls of his cell until he fallsback bruised and bleeding to the floor, so did I wilfully bruise my ownsoul, and knew that those wounds I gave myself would not heal. 

Of that night, the beginning of the blackest period of my life, I shallsay no more; and over subsequent events I shall pass quickly. 

Morning found me at a distance of many miles from the scene of my duelwith the Indian, in a broken, hilly country, varied with savannah andopen forest. I was well-nigh spent with my long march, and felt thatunless food was obtained before many hours my situation would be indeeddesperate. With labour I managed to climb to the summit of a hill aboutthree hundred feet high in order to survey the surrounding country, andfound that it was one of a group of five, and conjectured that thesewere the five hills of Uritay and that I was in the neighbourhood ofManaga's village. Coming down I proceeded to the next hill, which washigher; and before reaching it came to a stream in a narrow valleydividing the hills, and proceeding along its banks in search of acrossing-place, I came full in sight of the settlement sought for. As Iapproached, people were seen moving hurriedly about; and by the time Iarrived, walking slowly and painfully, seven or eight men were standingbefore the village' some with spears in their hands, the women andchildren behind them, all staring curiously at me. Drawing near I criedout in a somewhat feeble voice that I was seeking for Managa; whereupona gray-haired man stepped forth, spear in hand, and replied that he wasManaga, and demanded to know why I sought him. I told him a part of mystory--enough to show that I had a deadly feud with Runi, that I hadescaped from him after killing one of his people. 

I was taken in and supplied with food; my wound was examined anddressed; and then I was permitted to lie down and sleep, while Managa, with half a dozen of his people, hurriedly started to visit the scene ofmy fight with Kua-ko, not only to verify my story, but partly with thehope of meeting Runi. I did not see him again until the next morning, when he informed me that he had found the spot where I had beenovertaken, that the dead man had been discovered by the others andcarried back towards Parahuari. He had followed the trace for somedistance, and he was satisfied that Runi had come thus far in the firstplace only with the intention of spying on him. 

My arrival, and the strange tidings I had brought, had thrown thevillage into a great commotion; it was evident that from that timeManaga lived in constant apprehension of a sudden attack from his oldenemy. This gave me great satisfaction; it was my study to keep thefeeling alive, and, more than that, to drop continual hints of hisenemy's secret murderous purpose, until he was wrought up to a kind offrenzy of mingled fear and rage. And being of a suspicious and somewhattruculent temper, he one day all at once turned on me as the immediatecause of his miserable state, suspecting perhaps that I only wishedto make an instrument of him. But I was strangely bold and careless ofdanger then, and only mocked at his rage, telling him proudly that Ifeared him not; that Runi, his mortal enemy and mine, feared not him butme; that Runi knew perfectly well where I had taken refuge and would notventure to make his meditated attack while I remained in his village, but would wait for my departure. "Kill me, Managa, " I cried, smiting mychest as I stood facing him. "Kill me, and the result will be that hewill come upon you unawares and murder you all, as he has resolved to dosooner or later. "

After that speech he glared at me in silence, then flung down the spearhe had snatched up in his sudden rage and stalked out of the house andinto the wood; but before long he was back again, seated in his oldplace, brooding on my words with a face black as night. 

It is painful to recall that secret dark chapter of my life--thatperiod of moral insanity. But I wish not to be a hypocrite, conscious orunconscious, to delude myself or another with this plea of insanity. Mymind was very clear just then; past and present were clear to me; thefuture clearest of all: I could measure the extent of my action andspeculate on its future effect, and my sense of right or wrong--ofindividual responsibility--was more vivid than at any other period of mylife. Can I even say that I was blinded by passion? Driven, perhaps, butcertainly not blinded. For no reaction, or submission, had followed onthat furious revolt against the unknown being, personal or not, that isbehind nature, in whose existence I believed. I was still in revolt: Iwould hate Him, and show my hatred by being like Him, as He appears tous reflected in that mirror of Nature. Had He given me good gifts--thesense of right and wrong and sweet humanity? The beautiful sacred flowerHe had caused to grow in me I would crush ruthlessly; its beauty andfragrance and grace would be dead for ever; there was nothing evil, nothing cruel and contrary to my nature, that I would not be guilty of, glorying in my guilt. This was not the temper of a few days: I remainedfor close upon two months at Managa's village, never repenting nordesisting in my efforts to induce the Indians to join me in that mostbarbarous adventure on which my heart was set. 

I succeeded in the end; it would have been strange if I had not. Thehorrible details need not be given. Managa did not wait for his enemy, but fell on him unexpectedly, an hour after nightfall in his ownvillage. If I had really been insane during those two months, if somecloud had been on me, some demoniacal force dragging me on, the cloudand insanity vanished and the constraint was over in one moment, whenthat hellish enterprise was completed. It was the sight of an old woman, lying where she had been struck down, the fire of the blazing houselighting her wide-open glassy eyes and white hair dabbled in blood, which suddenly, as by a miracle, wrought this change in my brain. Forthey were all dead at last, old and young, all who had lighted the fireround that great green tree in which Rima had taken refuge, who haddanced round the blaze, shouting: "Burn! burn!"

At the moment my glance fell on that prostrate form I paused and stoodstill, trembling like a person struck with a sudden pang in the heart, who thinks that his last moment has come to him unawares. After awhile I slunk away out of the great circle of firelight into the thickdarkness beyond. Instinctively I turned towards the forests across thesavannah--my forest again; and fled away from the noise and the sightof flames, never pausing until I found myself within the black shadowof the trees. Into the deeper blackness of the interior I dared notventure; on the border I paused to ask myself what I did there alone inthe night-time. Sitting down, I covered my face with my hands as if tohide it more effectually than it could be hidden by night and the forestshadows. What horrible thing, what calamity that frightened my soul tothink of, had fallen on me? The revulsion of feeling, the unspeakablehorror, the remorse, was more than I could bear. I started up with a cryof anguish, and would have slain myself to escape at that moment; butNature is not always and utterly cruel, and on this occasion she came tomy aid. Consciousness forsook me, and I lived not again until the lightof early morning was in the east; then found myself lying on the wetherbage--wet with rain that had lately fallen. My physical misery wasnow so great that it prevented me from dwelling on the scenes witnessedon the previous evening. Nature was again merciful in this. I onlyremembered that it was necessary to hide myself, in case the Indiansshould be still in the neighbourhood and pay the wood a visit. Slowlyand painfully I crept away into the forest, and there sat for severalhours, scarcely thinking at all, in a half-stupefied condition. At noonthe sun shone out and dried the wood. I felt no hunger, only avague sense of bodily misery, and with it the fear that if I left myhiding-place I might meet some human creature face to face. This fearprevented me from stirring until the twilight came, when I crept forthand made my way to the border of the forest, to spend the night there. Whether sleep visited me during the dark hours or not I cannot say:day and night my condition seemed the same; I experienced only a dullsensation of utter misery which seemed in spirit and flesh alike, an inability to think clearly, or for more than a few momentsconsecutively, about anything. Scenes in which I had been principalactor came and went, as in a dream when the will slumbers: now withdevilish ingenuity and persistence I was working on Managa's mind; nowstanding motionless in the forest listening for that sweet, mysteriousmelody; now staring aghast at old Cla-cla's wide-open glassy eyes andwhite hair dabbled in blood; then suddenly, in the cave at Riolama, Iwas fondly watching the slow return of life and colour to Rima's stillface. 

When morning came again, I felt so weak that a vague fear of sinkingdown and dying of hunger at last roused me and sent me forth in questof food. I moved slowly and my eyes were dim to see, but I knew so wellwhere to seek for small morsels--small edible roots and leaf-stalks, berries, and drops of congealed gum--that it would have been strange inthat rich forest if I had not been able to discover something to stay myfamine. It was little, but it sufficed for the day. Once more Nature wasmerciful to me; for that diligent seeking among the concealing leavesleft no interval for thought; every chance morsel gave a momentarypleasure, and as I prolonged my search my steps grew firmer, the dimnesspassed from my eyes. I was more forgetful of self, more eager, and likea wild animal with no thought or feeling beyond its immediate wants. Fatigued at the end, I fell asleep as soon as darkness brought my busyrambles to a close, and did not wake until another morning dawned. 

My hunger was extreme now. The wailing notes of a pair of small birds, persistently flitting round me, or perched with gaping bills andwings trembling with agitation, served to remind me that it was nowbreeding-time; also that Rima had taught me to find a small bird's nest. She found them only to delight her eyes with the sight; but they wouldbe food for me; the crystal and yellow fluid in the gem-like, whiteor blue or red-speckled shells would help to keep me alive. All day Ihunted, listening to every note and cry, watching the motions of everywinged thing, and found, besides gums and fruits, over a score of nestscontaining eggs, mostly of small birds, and although the labour wasgreat and the scratches many, I was well satisfied with the result. 

A few days later I found a supply of Haima gum, and eagerly beganpicking it from the tree; not that it could be used, but the thought ofthe brilliant light it gave was so strong in my mind that mechanically Igathered it all. The possession of this gum, when night closed roundme again, produced in me an intense longing for artificial light andwarmth. The darkness was harder than ever to endure. I envied thefireflies their natural lights, and ran about in the dusk to capture afew and hold them in the hollow of my two hands, for the sake of theircold, fitful flashes. On the following day I wasted two or three hourstrying to get fire in the primitive method with dry wood, but failed, and lost much time, and suffered more than ever from hunger inconsequence. Yet there was fire in everything; even when I struck athard wood with my knife, sparks were emitted. If I could only arrestthose wonderful heat- and light-giving sparks! And all at once, as if Ihad just lighted upon some new, wonderful truth, it occurred to me thatwith my steel hunting-knife and a piece of flint fire could be obtained. Immediately I set about preparing tinder with dry moss, rotten wood, andwild cotton; and in a short time I had the wished fire, and heaped wooddry and green on it to make it large. I nursed it well, and spent thenight beside it; and it also served to roast some huge white grubs whichI had found in the rotten wood of a prostrate trunk. The sight of thesegreat grubs had formerly disgusted me; but they tasted good to me now, and stayed my hunger, and that was all I looked for in my wild forestfood. 

For a long time an undefined feeling prevented me from going near thesite of Nuflo's burnt lodge. I went there at last; and the first thing Idid was to go all round the fatal spot, cautiously peering into therank herbage, as if I feared a lurking serpent; and at length, at somedistance from the blackened heap, I discovered a human skeleton, andknew it to be Nuflo's. In his day he had been a great armadillo-hunter, and these quaint carrion-eaters had no doubt revenged themselves bydevouring his flesh when they found him dead--killed by the savages. 

Having once returned to this spot of many memories, I could not quit itagain; while my wild woodland life lasted, here must I have my lair, andbeing here I could not leave that mournful skeleton above ground. Withlabour I excavated a pit to bury it, careful not to cut or injure abroad-leafed creeper that had begun to spread itself over the spot; andafter refilling the hole I drew the long, trailing stems over the mound. 

"Sleep well, old man, " said I, when my work was done; and these fewwords, implying neither censure nor praise, was all the burial servicethat old Nuflo had from me. 

I then visited the spot where the old man, assisted by me, had concealedhis provisions before starting for Riolama, and was pleased to find thatit had not been discovered by the Indians. Besides the store of tobaccoleaf, maize, pumpkin, potatoes, and cassava bread, and the cookingutensils, I found among other things a chopper--a great acquisition, since with it I would be able to cut down small palms and bamboos tomake myself a hut. 

The possession of a supply of food left me time for many things: timein the first place to make my own conditions; doubtless after themthere would be further progression on the old lines--luxuries added tonecessaries; a healthful, fruitful life of thought and action combined;and at last a peaceful, contemplative old age. 

I cleared away ashes and rubbish, and marked out the very spot whereRima's separate bower had been for my habitation, which I intended tomake small. In five days it was finished; then, after lighting a fire, I stretched myself out in my dry bed of moss and leaves with a feelingthat was almost triumphant. Let the rain now fall in torrents, puttingout the firefly's lamp; let the wind and thunder roar their loudest, andthe lightnings smite the earth with intolerable light, frightening thepoor monkeys in their wet, leafy habitations, little would I heed itall on my dry bed, under my dry, palm-leaf thatch, with glorious fire tokeep me company and protect me from my ancient enemy, Darkness. 

From that first sleep under shelter I woke refreshed, and was not drivenby the cruel spur of hunger into the wet forest. The wished time hadcome of rest from labour, of leisure for thought. Resting here, justwhere she had rested, night by night clasping a visionary mother in herarms, whispering tenderest words in a visionary ear, I too now claspedher in my arms--a visionary Rima. How different the nights had seemedwhen I was without shelter, before I had rediscovered fire! How had Iendured it? That strange ghostly gloom of the woods at night-time fullof innumerable strange shapes; still and dark, yet with something seenat times moving amidst them, dark and vague and strange also--an owl, perhaps, or bat, or great winged moth, or nightjar. Nor had I any choicethen but to listen to the night-sounds of the forest; and they werevarious as the day-sounds, and for every day-sound, from the faintestlisping and softest trill to the deep boomings and piercing cries, therewas an analogue; always with something mysterious, unreal in its tone, something proper to the night. They were ghostly sounds, uttered by theghosts of dead animals; they were a hundred different things byturns, but always with a meaning in them, which I vainly strove tocatch--something to be interpreted only by a sleeping faculty in us, lightly sleeping, and now, now on the very point of awaking!

Now the gloom and the mystery were shut out; now I had that which stoodin the place of pleasure to me, and was more than pleasure. It was amournful rapture to lie awake now, wishing not for sleep and oblivion, hating the thought of daylight that would come at last to drownand scare away my vision. To be with Rima again--my lost Rimarecovered--mine, mine at last! No longer the old vexing doubt now--"Youare you, and I am I--why is it?"--the question asked when our souls werenear together, like two raindrops side by side, drawing irresistiblynearer, ever nearer: for now they had touched and were not two, but oneinseparable drop, crystallized beyond change, not to be disintegrated bytime, nor shattered by death's blow, nor resolved by any alchemy. 

I had other company besides this unfailing vision and the bright dancingfire that talked to me in its fantastic fire language. It was my customto secure the door well on retiring; grief had perhaps chilled my blood, for I suffered less from heat than from cold at this period, and thefire seemed grateful all night long; I was also anxious to exclude allsmall winged and creeping night-wanderers. But to exclude them entirelyproved impossible: through a dozen invisible chinks they would findtheir way to me; also some entered by day to lie concealed until afternightfall. A monstrous hairy hermit spider found an asylum in a duskycorner of the hut, under the thatch, and day after day he was there, all day long, sitting close and motionless; but at dark he invariablydisappeared--who knows on what murderous errand! His hue was a deepdead-leaf yellow, with a black and grey pattern, borrowed from some wildcat; and so large was he that his great outspread hairy legs, radiatingfrom the flat disk of his body, would have covered a man's open hand. It was easy to see him in my small interior; often in the night-time myeyes would stray to his corner, never to encounter that strange hairyfigure; but daylight failed not to bring him. He troubled me; but now, for Rima's sake, I could slay no living thing except from motives ofhunger. I had it in my mind to injure him--to strike off one of hislegs, which would not be missed much, as they were many--so as to makehim go away and return no more to so inhospitable a place. But couragefailed me. He might come stealthily back at night to plunge his long, crooked farces into my throat, poisoning my blood with fever anddelirium and black death. So I left him alone, and glanced furtively andfearfully at him, hoping that he had not divined any thoughts; thuswe lived on unsocially together. More companionable, but still in anuncomfortable way, were the large crawling, running insects--crickets, beetles, and others. They were shapely and black and polished, andran about here and there on the floor, just like intelligent littlehorseless carriages; then they would pause with their immovable eyesfixed on me, seeing or in some mysterious way divining my presence;their pliant horns waving up and down, like delicate instruments used totest the air. Centipedes and millipedes in dozens came too, and were notwelcome. I feared not their venom, but it was a weariness to see them;for they seemed no living things, but the vertebrae of snakes and eelsand long slim fishes, dead and desiccated, made to move mechanicallyover walls and floor by means of some jugglery of nature. I grew skilfulat picking them up with a pair of pliant green twigs, to thrust theminto the outer darkness. 

One night a moth fluttered in and alighted on my hand as I sat by thefire, causing me to hold my breath as I gazed on it. Its fore-wingswere pale grey, with shadings dark and light written all over infinest characters with some twilight mystery or legend; but the roundunder-wings were clear amber-yellow, veined like a leaf with red andpurple veins; a thing of such exquisite chaste beauty that the sight ofit gave me a sudden shock of pleasure. Very soon it flew up, circlingabout, and finally lighted on the palm-leaf thatch directly over thefire. The heat, I thought, would soon drive it from the spot; and, rising, I opened the door, so that it might find its way out againinto its own cool, dark, flowery world. And standing by the open door Iturned and addressed it: "O night-wanderer of the pale, beautiful wings, go forth, and should you by chance meet her somewhere in the shadowydepths, revisiting her old haunts, be my messenger--" Thus much had Ispoken when the frail thing loosened its hold to fall without a flutter, straight and swift, into the white blaze beneath. I sprang forward witha shriek and stood staring into the fire, my whole frame trembling witha sudden terrible emotion. Even thus had Rima fallen--fallen from thegreat height--into the flames that instantly consumed her beautifulflesh and bright spirit! O cruel Nature!

A moth that perished in the flame; an indistinct faint sound; a dreamin the night; the semblance of a shadowy form moving mist-like in thetwilight gloom of the forest, would suddenly bring back a vivid memory, the old anguish, to break for a while the calm of that period. It wascalm then after the storm. Nevertheless, my health deteriorated. I atelittle and slept little and grew thin and weak. When I looked downon the dark, glassy forest pool, where Rima would look no more to seeherself so much better than in the small mirror of her lover's pupil, itshowed me a gaunt, ragged man with a tangled mass of black hairfalling over his shoulders, the bones of his face showing through thedead-looking, sun-parched skin, the sunken eyes with a gleam in themthat was like insanity. 

To see this reflection had a strangely disturbing effect on me. Atorturing voice would whisper in my ear: "Yes, you are evidently goingmad. By and by you will rush howling through the forest, only to dropdown at last and die; and no person will ever find and bury your bones. Old Nuflo was more fortunate in that he perished first. "

"A lying voice!" I retorted in sudden anger. "My faculties were neverkeener than now. Not a fruit can ripen but I find it. If a small birddarts by with a feather or straw in its bill I mark its flight, andit will be a lucky bird if I do not find its nest in the end. Could asavage born in the forest do more? He would starve where I find food!"

"Ay, yes, there is nothing wonderful in that, " answered the voice. "Thestranger from a cold country suffers less from the heat, when daysare hottest, than the Indian who knows no other climate. But mark theresult! The stranger dies, while the Indian, sweating and gasping forbreath, survives. In like manner the low-minded savage, cut off from allhuman fellowship, keeps his faculties to the end, while your finer brainproves your ruin. "

I cut from a tree a score of long, blunt thorns, tough and black aswhalebone, and drove them through a strip of wood in which I had burnt arow of holes to receive them, and made myself a comb, and combed out mylong, tangled hair to improve my appearance. 

"It is not the tangled condition of your hair, " persisted the voice, "but your eyes, so wild and strange in their expression, that show theapproach of madness. Make your locks as smooth as you like, and add agarland of those scarlet, star-shaped blossoms hanging from the bushbehind you--crown yourself as you crowned old Cla-cla--but the crazedlook will remain just the same. "

And being no longer able to reply, rage and desperation drove me to anact which only seemed to prove that the hateful voice had prophesiedtruly. Taking up a stone, I hurled it down on the water to shatter theimage I saw there, as if it had been no faithful reflection of myself, but a travesty, cunningly made of enamelled clay or some other material, and put there by some malicious enemy to mock me. 

CHAPTER XXI

Many days had passed since the hut was made--how many may not be known, since I notched no stick and knotted no cord--yet never in my rambles inthe wood had I seen that desolate ash-heap where the fire had done itswork. Nor had I looked for it. On the contrary, my wish was never to seeit, and the fear of coming accidentally upon it made me keep to the oldfamiliar paths. But at length, one night, without thinking of Rima'sfearful end, it all at once occurred to me that the hated savage whoseblood I had shed on the white savannah might have only been practicinghis natural deceit when he told me that most pitiful story. If that wereso--if he had been prepared with a fictitious account of her death tomeet my questions--then Rima might still exist: lost, perhaps, wanderingin some distant place, exposed to perils day and night, and unable tofind her way back, but living still! Living! her heart on fire withthe hope of reunion with me, cautiously threading her way through theundergrowth of immeasurable forests; spying out the distant villagesand hiding herself from the sight of all men, as she knew so well howto hide; studying the outlines of distant mountains, to recognize somefamiliar landmark at last, and so find her way back to the old wood oncemore! Even now, while I sat there idly musing, she might be somewherein the wood--somewhere near me; but after so long an absence full ofapprehension, waiting in concealment for what tomorrow's light mightshow. 

I started up and replenished the fire with trembling hands, then set thedoor open to let the welcoming stream out into the wood. But Rima haddone more; going out into the black forest in the pitiless storm, shehad found and led me home. Could I do less! I was quickly out in theshadows of the wood. Surely it was more than a mere hope that made myheart beat so wildly! How could a sensation so strangely sudden, soirresistible in its power, possess me unless she were living and near?Can it be, can it be that we shall meet again? To look again into yourdivine eyes--to hold you again in my arms at last! I so changed--sodifferent! But the old love remains; and of all that has happenedin your absence I shall tell you nothing--not one word; all shall beforgotten now--sufferings, madness, crime, remorse! Nothing shallever vex you again--not Nuflo, who vexed you every day; for he is deadnow--murdered, only I shall not say that--and I have decently buried hispoor old sinful bones. We alone together in the wood--OUR wood now! Thesweet old days again; for I know that you would not have it different, nor would I. 

Thus I talked to myself, mad with the thoughts of the joy that wouldsoon be mine; and at intervals I stood still and made the forest echowith my calls. "Rima! Rima!" I called again and again, and waited forsome response; and heard only the familiar night-sounds--voices ofinsect and bird and tinkling tree-frog, and a low murmur in the topmostfoliage, moved by some light breath of wind unfelt below. I was drenchedwith dew, bruised and bleeding from falls in the dark, and from rocksand thorns and rough branches, but had felt nothing; gradually theexcitement burnt itself out; I was hoarse with shouting and ready todrop down with fatigue, and hope was dead: and at length I crept back tomy hut, to cast myself on my grass bed and sink into a dull, miserable, desponding stupor. 

But on the following morning I was out once more, determined to searchthe forest well; since, if no evidence of the great fire Kua-ko haddescribed to me existed, it would still be possible to believe thathe had lied to me, and that Rima lived. I searched all day and foundnothing; but the area was large, and to search it thoroughly wouldrequire several days. 

On the third day I discovered the fatal spot, and knew that never againwould I behold Rima in the flesh, that my last hope had indeed beena vain one. There could be no mistake: just such an open place as theIndian had pictured to me was here, with giant trees standing apart;while one tree stood killed and blackened by fire, surrounded by a hugeheap, sixty or seventy yards across, of prostrate charred tree-trunksand ashes. Here and there slender plants had sprung up through theashes, and the omnipresent small-leaved creepers were beginning to throwtheir pale green embroidery over the blackened trunks. I looked long atthe vast funeral tree that had a buttressed girth of not less than fiftyfeet, and rose straight as a ship's mast, with its top about a hundredand fifty feet from the earth. What a distance to fall, through burningleaves and smoke, like a white bird shot dead with a poisoned arrow, swift and straight into that sea of flame below! How cruel imaginationwas to turn that desolate ash-heap, in spite of feathery foliage andembroidery of creepers, into roaring leaping flames again--to bringthose dead savages back, men, women, and children--even the little onesI had played with--to set them yelling around me: "Burn! burn!" Oh, no, this damnable spot must not be her last resting-place! If the firehad not utterly consumed her, bones as well as sweet tender flesh, shrivelling her like a frail white-winged moth into the finest whiteashes, mixed inseparably with the ashes of stems and leaves innumerable, then whatever remained of her must be conveyed elsewhere to be with me, to mingle with my ashes at last. 

Having resolved to sift and examine the entire heap, I at once set aboutmy task. If she had climbed into the central highest branch, and hadfallen straight, then she would have dropped into the flames not farfrom the roots; and so to begin I made a path to the trunk, and whendarkness overtook me I had worked all round the tree, in a width ofthree to four yards, without discovering any remains. At noon on thefollowing day I found the skeleton, or, at all events, the larger bones, rendered so fragile by the fierce heat they had been subjected to, thatthey fell to pieces when handled. But I was careful--how careful!--tosave these last sacred relics, all that was now left of Rima!--kissingeach white fragment as I lifted it, and gathering them all in my oldfrayed cloak, spread out to receive them. And when I had recovered themall, even to the smallest, I took my treasure home. 

Another storm had shaken my soul, and had been succeeded by a secondcalm, which was more complete and promised to be more enduring than thefirst. But it was no lethargic calm; my brain was more active than ever;and by and by it found a work for my hands to do, of such a characteras to distinguish me from all other forest hermits, fugitives from theirfellows, in that savage land. The calcined bones I had rescued were keptin one of the big, rudely shaped, half-burnt earthen jars which Nuflohad used for storing grain and other food-stuff. It was of a wood-ashcolour; and after I had given up my search for the peculiar fine clay hehad used in its manufacture--for it had been in my mind to make a moreshapely funeral urn myself--I set to work to ornament its surface. Aportion of each day was given to this artistic labour; and when thesurface was covered with a pattern of thorny stems, and a trailingcreeper with curving leaf and twining tendril, and pendent bud andblossom, I gave it colour. Purples and black only were used, obtainedfrom the juices of some deeply coloured berries; and when a tint, orshade, or line failed to satisfy me I erased it, to do it again; andthis so often that I never completed my work. I might, in the proudlymodest spirit of the old sculptors, have inscribed on the vase thewords: Abel was doing this. For was not my ideal beautiful like theirs, and the best that my art could do only an imperfect copy--a rude sketch?A serpent was represented wound round the lower portion of the jar, dull-hued, with a chain of irregular black spots or blotches extendingalong its body; and if any person had curiously examined these spots hewould have discovered that every other one was a rudely shaped letter, and that the letters, by being properly divided, made the followingwords:

Sin vos y siu dios y mi. 

Words that to some might seem wild, even insane in their extravagance, sung by some ancient forgotten poet; or possibly the motto of somelove-sick knight-errant, whose passion was consumed to ashes longcenturies ago. But not wild nor insane to me, dwelling alone on a vaststony plain in everlasting twilight, where there was no motion, nor anysound; but all things, even trees, ferns, and grasses, were stone. And in that place I had sat for many a thousand years, drawn up andmotionless, with stony fingers clasped round my legs, and foreheadresting on my knees; and there would I sit, unmoving, immovable, formany a thousand years to come--I, no longer I, in a universe where shewas not, and God was not. 

The days went by, and to others grouped themselves into weeks andmonths; to me they were only days--not Saturday, Sunday, Monday, butnameless. They were so many and their sum so great that all my previouslife, all the years I had existed before this solitary time, now lookedlike a small island immeasurably far away, scarcely discernible, in themidst of that endless desolate waste of nameless days. 

My stock of provisions had been so long consumed that I had forgottenthe flavour of pulse and maize and pumpkins and purple and sweetpotatoes. For Nuflo's cultivated patch had been destroyed by thesavages--not a stem, not a root had they left: and I, like the sorrowfulman that broods on his sorrow and the artist who thinks only of his art, had been improvident and had consumed the seed without putting a portioninto the ground. Only wild food, and too little of that, found withmuch seeking and got with many hurts. Birds screamed at and scolded me;branches bruised and thorns scratched me; and still worse were the angryclouds of waspish things no bigger than flies. Buzz--buzz! Sting--sting!A serpent's tooth has failed to kill me; little do I care for your smalldrops of fiery venom so that I get at the spoil--grubs and honey. Mywhite bread and purple wine! Once my soul hungered after knowledge; Itook delight in fine thoughts finely expressed; I sought them carefullyin printed books: now only this vile bodily hunger, this eager seekingfor grubs and honey, and ignoble war with little things!

A bad hunter I proved after larger game. Bird and beast despised mysnares, which took me so many waking hours at night to invent, so manydaylight hours to make. Once, seeing a troop of monkeys high up in thetall trees, I followed and watched them for a long time, thinking howroyally I should feast if by some strange unheard-of accident onewere to fall disabled to the ground and be at my mercy. But nothingimpossible happened, and I had no meat. What meat did I ever have exceptan occasional fledgling, killed in its cradle, or a lizard, or smalltree-frog detected, in spite of its green colour, among the foliage? Iwould roast the little green minstrel on the coals. Why not? Why shouldhe live to tinkle on his mandolin and clash his airy cymbals with noappreciative ear to listen? Once I had a different and strange kind ofmeat; but the starved stomach is not squeamish. I found a serpent coiledup in my way in a small glade, and arming myself with a long stick, I roused him from his siesta and slew him without mercy. Rima was notthere to pluck the rage from my heart and save his evil life. No coralsnake this, with slim, tapering body, ringed like a wasp with brilliantcolour; but thick and blunt, with lurid scales, blotched with black;also a broad, flat, murderous head, with stony, ice-like, whity-blueeyes, cold enough to freeze a victim's blood in its veins and make itsit still, like some wide-eyed creature carved in stone, waiting forthe sharp, inevitable stroke--so swift at last, so long in coming. "Oabominable flat head, with icy-cold, humanlike, fiend-like eyes, I shallcut you off and throw you away!" And away I flung it, far enough inall conscience: yet I walked home troubled with a fancy that somewhere, somewhere down on the black, wet soil where it had fallen, through allthat dense, thorny tangle and millions of screening leaves, the white, lidless, living eyes were following me still, and would always befollowing me in all my goings and comings and windings about in theforest. And what wonder? For were we not alone together in this dreadfulsolitude, I and the serpent, eaters of the dust, singled out andcursed above all cattle? HE would not have bitten me, and I--faithlesscannibal!--had murdered him. That cursed fancy would live on, wormingitself into every crevice of my mind; the severed head would grow andgrow in the night-time to something monstrous at last, the hellishwhite lidless eyes increasing to the size of two full moons. "Murderer!murderer!" they would say; "first a murderer of your own fellowcreatures--that was a small crime; but God, our enemy, had made themin His image, and He cursed you; and we two were together, alone andapart--you and I, murderer! you and I, murderer!"

I tried to escape the tyrannous fancy by thinking of other things and bymaking light of it. "The starved, bloodless brain, " I said, "has strangethoughts. " I fell to studying the dark, thick, blunt body in my hands;I noticed that the livid, rudely blotched, scaly surface showed in somelights a lovely play of prismatic colours. And growing poetical, I said:"When the wild west wind broke up the rainbow on the flying grey cloudand scattered it over the earth, a fragment doubtless fell on thisreptile to give it that tender celestial tint. For thus it is Natureloves all her children, and gives to each some beauty, little or much;only to me, her hated stepchild, she gives no beauty, no grace. Butstay, am I not wronging her? Did not Rima, beautiful above all things, love me well? said she not that I was beautiful?"

"Ah, yes, that was long ago, " spoke the voice that mocked me by the poolwhen I combed out my tangled hair. "Long ago, when the soul that lookedfrom your eyes was not the accursed thing it is now. Now Rima wouldstart at the sight of them; now she would fly in terror from theirinsane expression. "

"O spiteful voice, must you spoil even such appetite as I have for thisfork-tongued spotty food? You by day and Rima by night--what shall Ido--what shall I do?"

For it had now come to this, that the end of each day brought not sleepand dreams, but waking visions. Night by night, from my dry grass bed Ibeheld Nuflo sitting in his old doubled-up posture, his big brown feetclose to the white ashes--sitting silent and miserable. I pitied him; Iowed him hospitality; but it seemed intolerable that he should be there. It was better to shut my eyes; for then Rima's arms would be round myneck; the silky mist of her hair against my face, her flowery breathmixing with my breath. What a luminous face was hers! Even withcloseshut eyes I could see it vividly, the translucent skin showing theradiant rose beneath, the lustrous eyes, spiritual and passionate, darkas purple wine under their dark lashes. Then my eyes would open wide. NoRima in my arms! But over there, a little way back from the fire, justbeyond where old Nuflo had sat brooding a few minutes ago, Rima wouldbe standing, still and pale and unspeakably sad. Why does she come to mefrom the outside darkness to stand there talking to me, yet never oncelifting her mournful eyes to mine? "Do not believe it, Abel; no, thatwas only a phantom of your brain, the What-I-was that you remember sowell. For do you not see that when I come she fades away and is nothing?Not that--do not ask it. I know that I once refused to look into youreyes, and afterwards, in the cave at Riolama, I looked long and washappy--unspeakably happy! But now--oh, you do not know what you ask; youdo not know the sorrow that has come into mine; that if you once beheldit, for very sorrow you would die. And you must live. But I will waitpatiently, and we shall be together in the end, and see each otherwithout disguise. Nothing shall divide us. Only wish not for it soon;think not that death will ease your pain, and seek it not. Austerities?Good works? Prayers? They are not seen; they are not heard, they areless-than nothing, and there is no intercession. I did not know it then, but you knew it. Your life was your own; you are not saved nor judged!acquit yourself--undo that which you have done, which Heaven cannotundo--and Heaven will say no word nor will I. You cannot, Abel, youcannot. That which you have done is done, and yours must be the penaltyand the sorrow--yours and mine--yours and mine--yours and mine. "

This, too, was a phantom, a Rima of the mind, one of the shapes theever-changing black vapours of remorse and insanity would take; andall her mournful sentences were woven out of my own brain. I was notso crazed as not to know it; only a phantom, an illusion, yet more realthan reality--real as my crime and vain remorse and death to come. Itwas, indeed, Rima returned to tell me that I that loved her had beenmore cruel to her than her cruellest enemies; for they had but torturedand destroyed her body with fire, while I had cast this shadow onher soul--this sorrow transcending all sorrows, darker than death, immitigable, eternal. 

If I could only have faded gradually, painlessly, growing feebler inbody and dimmer in my senses each day, to sink at last into sleep! Butit could not be. Still the fever in my brain, the mocking voice by day, the phantoms by night; and at last I became convinced that unless Iquitted the forest before long, death would come to me in some terribleshape. But in the feeble condition I was now in, and without anyprovisions, to escape from the neighbourhood of Parahuari wasimpossible, seeing that it was necessary at starting to avoid thevillages where the Indians were of the same tribe as Runi, who wouldrecognize me as the white man who was once his guest and afterwards hisimplacable enemy. I must wait, and in spite of a weakened body and amind diseased, struggle still to wrest a scanty subsistence from wildnature. 

One day I discovered an old prostrate tree, buried under a thick growthof creeper and fern, the wood of which was nearly or quite rotten, asI proved by thrusting my knife to the heft in it. No doubt it wouldcontain grubs--those huge, white wood-borers which now formed animportant item in my diet. On the following day I returned to the spotwith a chopper and a bundle of wedges to split the trunk up, but hadscarcely commenced operations when an animal, startled at my blows, rushed or rather wriggled from its hiding-place under the dead wood ata distance of a few yards from me. It was a robust, round-headed, short-legged creature, about as big as a good-sized cat, and clothedin a thick, greenish-brown fur. The ground all about was covered withcreepers, binding the ferns, bushes, and old dead branches together; andin this confused tangle the animal scrambled and tore with a great showof energy, but really made very little progress; and all at once itflashed into my mind that it was a sloth--a common animal, but rarelyseen on the ground--with no tree near to take refuge in. The shock ofjoy this discovery produced was great enough to unnerve me, and for somemoments I stood trembling, hardly able to breathe; then recovering Ihastened after it, and stunned it with a blow from my chopper on itsround head. 

"Poor sloth!" I said as I stood over it. "Poor old lazy-bones! Did Rimaever find you fast asleep in a tree, hugging a branch as if you lovedit, and with her little hand pat your round, human-like head; and laughmockingly at the astonishment in your drowsy, waking eyes; and scoldyou tenderly for wearing your nails so long, and for being so ugly?Lazybones, your death is revenged! Oh, to be out of this wood--away fromthis sacred place--to be anywhere where killing is not murder!"

Then it came into my mind that I was now in possession of the supply offood which would enable me to quit the wood. A noble capture! As much tome as if a stray, migratory mule had rambled into the wood and found me, and I him. Now I would be my own mule, patient, and long-suffering, andfar-going, with naked feet hardened to hoofs, and a pack of provender onmy back to make me independent of the dry, bitter grass on the sunburntsavannahs. 

Part of that night and the next morning was spent in curing the fleshover a smoky fire of green wood and in manufacturing a rough sack tostore it in, for I had resolved to set out on my journey. How safely toconvey Rima's treasured ashes was a subject of much thought and anxiety. The clay vessel on which I had expended so much loving, sorrowful labourhad to be left, being too large and heavy to carry; eventually I put thefragments into a light sack; and in order to avert suspicion from thepeople I would meet on the way, above the ashes I packed a layer ofroots and bulbs. These I would say contained medicinal properties, known to the white doctors, to whom I would sell them on my arrival ata Christian settlement, and with the money buy myself clothes to startlife afresh. 

On the morrow I would bid a last farewell to that forest of manymemories. And my journey would be eastwards, over a wild savage land ofmountains, rivers, and forests, where every dozen miles would be like ahundred of Europe; but a land inhabited by tribes not unfriendly to thestranger. And perhaps it would be my good fortune to meet with Indianstravelling east who would know the easiest routes; and from time to timesome compassionate voyager would let me share his wood-skin, and manyleagues would be got over without weariness, until some great river, flowing through British or Dutch Guiana, would be reached; and so on, and on, by slow or swift stages, with little to eat perhaps, with muchlabour and pain, in hot sun and in storm, to the Atlantic at last, andtowns inhabited by Christian men. 

In the evening of that day, after completing my preparations, I suppedon the remaining portions of the sloth, not suitable for preservation, roasting bits of fat on the coals and boiling the head and bones into abroth; and after swallowing the liquid I crunched the bones and suckedthe marrow, feeding like some hungry carnivorous animal. 

Glancing at the fragments scattered on the floor, I remembered oldNuflo, and how I had surprised him at his feast of rank coatimundi inhis secret retreat. "Nuflo, old neighbour, " said I, "how quiet you areunder your green coverlet, spangled just now with yellow flowers! Itis no sham sleep, old man, I know. If any suspicion of these curiousdoings, this feast of flesh on a spot once sacred, could flit like asmall moth into your mouldy hollow skull you would soon thrust out yourold nose to sniff the savour of roasting fat once more. "

There was in me at that moment an inclination to laughter; it cameto nothing, but affected me strangely, like an impulse I had notexperienced since boyhood--familiar, yet novel. After the good-night tomy neighbour, I tumbled into my straw and slept soundly, animal-like. Nofancies and phantoms that night: the lidless, white, implacable eyesof the serpent's severed head were turned to dust at last; no suddendream-glare lighted up old Cla-cla's wrinkled dead face and white, blood-dabbled locks; old Nuflo stayed beneath his green coverlet; nordid my mournful spirit-bride come to me to make my heart faint at thethought of immortality. 

But when morning dawned again, it was bitter to rise up and go away forever from that spot where I had often talked with Rima--the true andthe visionary. The sky was cloudless and the forest wet as if rain hadfallen; it was only a heavy dew, and it made the foliage look pale andhoary in the early light. And the light grew, and a whispering windsprung as I walked through the wood; and the fast-evaporating moisturewas like a bloom on the feathery fronds and grass and rank herbage; buton the higher foliage it was like a faint iridescent mist--a glory abovethe trees. The everlasting beauty and freshness of nature was over allagain, as I had so often seen it with joy and adoration before grief anddreadful passions had dimmed my vision. And now as I walked, murmuringmy last farewell, my eyes grew dim again with the tears that gathered tothem. 

CHAPTER XXII

Before that well-nigh hopeless journey to the coast was half over Ibecame ill--so ill that anyone who had looked on me might well haveimagined that I had come to the end of my pilgrimage. That was what Ifeared. For days I remained sunk in the deepest despondence; then, in ahappy moment, I remembered how, after being bitten by the serpent, whendeath had seemed near and inevitable, I had madly rushed away throughthe forest in search of help, and wandered lost for hours in the stormand darkness, and in the end escaped death, probably by means of thesefrantic exertions. The recollection served to inspire me with a newdesperate courage. Bidding good-bye to the Indian village where thefever had smitten me, I set out once more on that apparently hopelessadventure. Hopeless, indeed, it seemed to one in my weak condition. Mylegs trembled under me when I walked, while hot sun and pelting rainwere like flame and stinging ice to my morbidly sensitive skin. 

For many days my sufferings were excessive, so that I often wishedmyself back in that milder purgatory of the forest, from which I hadbeen so anxious to escape. When I try to retrace my route on the map, there occurs a break here--a space on the chart where names of riversand mountains call up no image to my mind, although, in a fewcases, they were names I seem to have heard in a troubled dream. Theimpressions of nature received during that sick period are blurred, orelse so coloured and exaggerated by perpetual torturing anxiety, mixedwith half-delirious night-fancies, that I can only think of that countryas an earthly inferno, where I fought against every imaginable obstacle, alternately sweating and freezing, toiling as no man ever toiled before. Hot and cold, cold and hot, and no medium. Crystal waters; green shadowsunder coverture of broad, moist leaves; and night with dewy fanningwinds--these chilled but did not refresh me; a region in which there wasno sweet and pleasant thing; where even the ita palm and mountain gloryand airy epiphyte starring the woodland twilight with pendent blossomshad lost all grace and beauty; where all brilliant colours in earth andheaven were like the unmitigated sun that blinded my sight and burnt mybrain. Doubtless I met with help from the natives, otherwise I do notsee how I could have continued my journey; yet in my dim mental pictureof that period I see myself incessantly dogged by hostile savages. Theyflit like ghosts through the dark forest; they surround me and cut offall retreat, until I burst through them, escaping out of their veryhands, to fly over some wide, naked savannah, hearing their shrill, pursuing yells behind me, and feeling the sting of their poisoned arrowsin my flesh. 

This I set down to the workings of remorse in a disordered mind and toclouds of venomous insects perpetually shrilling in my ears and stabbingme with their small, fiery needles. 

Not only was I pursued by phantom savages and pierced by phantom arrows, but the creations of the Indian imagination had now become as real tome as anything in nature. I was persecuted by that superhuman man-eatingmonster supposed to be the guardian of the forest. In dark, silentplaces he is lying in wait for me: hearing my slow, uncertain footstepshe starts up suddenly in my path, outyelling the bearded aguaratos inthe trees; and I stand paralysed, my blood curdled in my veins. Hishuge, hairy arms are round me; his foul, hot breath is on my skin; hewill tear my liver out with his great green teeth to satisfy his raginghunger. Ah, no, he cannot harm me! For every ravening beast, everycold-blooded, venomous thing, and even the frightful Curupita, halfbrute and half devil, that shared the forest with her, loved andworshipped Rima, and that mournful burden I carried, her ashes, was atalisman to save me. He has left me, the semi-human monster, utteringsuch wild, lamentable cries as he hurries away into the deeper, darkerwoods that horror changes to grief, and I, too, lament Rima forthe first time: a memory of all the mystic, unimaginable grace andloveliness and joy that had vanished smites on my heart with suchsudden, intense pain that I cast myself prone on the earth and weeptears that are like drops of blood. 

Where in the rude savage heart of Guiana was this region where thenatural obstacles and pain and hunger and thirst and everlastingweariness were terrible enough without the imaginary monsters andlegions of phantoms that peopled it, I cannot say. Nor can I conjecturehow far I strayed north or south from my course. I only know thatmarshes that were like Sloughs of Despond, and barren and wet savannahs, were crossed; and forests that seemed infinite in extent and never tobe got through; and scores of rivers that boiled round the sharp rocks, threatening to submerge or dash in pieces the frail bark canoe--blackand frightful to look on as rivers in hell; and nameless mountain aftermountain to be toiled round or toiled over. I may have seen Roraimaduring that mentally clouded period. I vaguely remember a far-extendinggigantic wall of stone that seemed to bar all further progress--a rockyprecipice rising to a stupendous height, seen by moonlight, with a hugesinuous rope of white mist suspended from its summit; as if the guardiancamoodi of the mountain had been a league-long spectral serpent whichwas now dropping its coils from the mighty stone table to frighten awaythe rash intruder. 

That spectral moonlight camoodi was one of many serpent fancies thattroubled me. There was another, surpassing them all, which attendedme many days. When the sun grew hot overhead and the way was over opensavannah country, I would see something moving on the ground at my sideand always keeping abreast of me. A small snake, one or two feet long. No, not a small snake, but a sinuous mark in the pattern on a hugeserpent's head, five or six yards long, always moving deliberately atmy side. If a cloud came over the sun, or a fresh breeze sprang up, gradually the outline of that awful head would fade and the well-definedpattern would resolve itself into the motlings on the earth. But if thesun grew more and more hot and dazzling as the day progressed, then thetremendous ophidian head would become increasingly real to my sight, with glistening scales and symmetrical markings; and I would walkcarefully not to stumble against or touch it; and when I cast my eyesbehind me I could see no end to its great coils extending across thesavannah. Even looking back from the summit of a high hill I couldsee it stretching leagues and leagues away through forests and rivers, across wide plains, valleys and mountains, to lose itself at last in theinfinite blue distance. 

How or when this monster left me--washed away by cold rains perhaps--Ido not know. Probably it only transformed itself into some new shape, its long coils perhaps changing into those endless processions andmultitudes of pale-faced people I seem to remember having encountered. In my devious wanderings I must have reached the shores of theundiscovered great White Lake, and passed through the long shiningstreets of Manoa, the mysterious city in the wilderness. I see myselfthere, the wide thoroughfare filled from end to end with people gailydressed as if for some high festival, all drawing aside to let thewretched pilgrim pass, staring at his fever- and famine-wasted figure, in its strange rags, with its strange burden. 

A new Ahasuerus, cursed by inexpiable crime, yet sustained by a greatpurpose. 

But Ahasuerus prayed ever for death to come to him and ran to meetit, while I fought against it with all my little strength. Only atintervals, when the shadows seemed to lift and give me relief, wouldI pray to Death to spare me yet a little longer; but when the shadowsdarkened again and hope seemed almost quenched in utter gloom, then Iwould curse it and defy its power. Through it all I clung to the beliefthat my will would conquer, that it would enable me to keep off thegreat enemy from my worn and suffering body until the wished goal wasreached; then only would I cease to fight and let death have its way. There would have been comfort in this belief had it not been for thatfevered imagination which corrupted everything that touched me and gaveit some new hateful character. For soon enough this conviction that thewill would triumph grew to something monstrous, a parent of monstrousfancies. Worst of all, when I felt no actual pain, but only unutterableweariness of body and soul, when feet and legs were numb so that I knewnot whether I trod on dry hot rock or in slime, was the fancy that I wasalready dead, so far as the body was concerned--had perhaps been deadfor days--that only the unconquerable will survived to compel the deadflesh to do its work. 

Whether it really was will--more potent than the bark of barks and wiserthan the physicians--or merely the vis medicatrix with which naturehelps our weakness even when the will is suspended, that saved meI cannot say; but it is certain that I gradually recovered health, physical and mental, and finally reached the coast comparatively well, although my mind was still in a gloomy, desponding state when I firstwalked the streets of Georgetown, in rags, half-starved and penniless. 

But even when well, long after the discovery that my flesh was not onlyalive, but that it was of an exceedingly tough quality, the idea bornduring the darkest period of my pilgrimage, that die I must, persistedin my mind. I had lived through that which would have killed mostmen--lived only to accomplish the one remaining purpose of my life. Nowit was accomplished; the sacred ashes brought so far, with such infinitelabour, through so many and such great perils, were safe and would mixwith mine at last. There was nothing more in life to make me love it orkeep me prisoner in its weary chains. This prospect of near deathfaded in time; love of life returned, and the earth had recovered itseverlasting freshness and beauty; only that feeling about Rima's ashesdid not fade or change, and is as strong now as it was then. Say that itis morbid--call it superstition if you like; but there it is, the mostpowerful motive I have known, always in all things to be taken intoaccount--a philosophy of life to be made to fit it. Or take it as asymbol, since that may come to be one with the thing symbolized. Inthose darkest days in the forest I had her as a visitor--a Rima of themind, whose words when she spoke reflected my despair. Yet even then Iwas not entirely without hope. Heaven itself, she said, could not undothat which I had done; and she also said that if I forgave myself, Heaven would say no word, nor would she. That is my philosophy still:prayers, austerities, good works--they avail nothing, and there is nointercession, and outside of the soul there is no forgiveness in heavenor earth for sin. Nevertheless there is a way, which every soul can findout for itself--even the most rebellious, the most darkened with crimeand tormented by remorse. In that way I have walked; and, self-forgivenand self-absolved, I know that if she were to return once more andappear to me--even here where her ashes are--I know that her divine eyeswould no longer refuse to look into mine, since the sorrow which seemedeternal and would have slain me to see would not now be in them.