In Far Bolivia: A Story of a Strange Wild Land

Every head is bared in the morning sunshine, everyeye is wet with tears.

It is Bill himself who leads the melody.

Then clods are gently thrown upon the dead, andsoon the grave is filled.

—

There was not the slightest apprehension now thatthe battle would be renewed, and so all the day wasspent in getting ready for the long march back to thespot where, under the charge of one of the captainsand his faithful peons, the great canoes had been left.

Among the stores brought here to camp-thesuggestion had emanated from Roland's mother andBeeboo-was a chest containing many changes ofraiment and dresses belonging to Peggy. In the cave, then, both she and Weenah conducted their toilet, andwhen, some time after, and just as breakfast wasabout to be served, they both came out, it wouldhave been difficult, indeed, to keep from exclamationsof surprise.

Even Benee gave way to his excitement, and, seizingWeenah, held her for a moment high in air.

"I rejoice foh true!" he cried. "All ober my heartgo flapperty-flap. Oh, Weenah! you am now all sameone red pale-face lady."

Dick thought Peggy, with her bonnie sun-tannedface, more lovely now than ever he had seen her.

—

But while they are breakfasting, and while themen are quietly but busily engaged getting the storesdown-hill, let us take a peep into the cave where theprisoners are.

When Kaloomah was thrust into the cave, Peterwas fast asleep. Of late he had become utterlytired and careless of life. Was his not a wreckedexistence from beginning to end? This was a questionthat he oftentimes asked himself sadly enough.

During the fight that had raged so long and fiercelyhe had remained perfectly passive. What was it tohim who won or who lost? If the Indians won, hewould speedily be put out of pain. If the white menwere the victors-well, he would probably die justthe same. At all events, life was not worth having now.

Then, when the lull of battle came, when the wildshrieks and shouting were over, and when the rattlingof musketry was no longer heard, he felt utterly tired.He would sleep, he told himself, and what cared heif it should be

"The sleep that knows not breaking,Morn of toil or night of waking"?

The cords that bound him hurt a little, but he wouldnot feel their pressure when-he slept.

His was not a dreamless sleep by any means, thougha long one.

His old, old life seemed to rise up before him. Hewas back again in England-dear old England! Hewas a clerk, a confidential clerk.

He had no care, no complications, and he was happy.Happy in the love of a sweet girl who adored him; the girl that he would have made his wife. Poor?Yes, both were; but oh! when one has innocence andsweet contentment, love can bloom in a garret.

Yet envy of the rich began to fill his soul. Theworld was badly divided. Why had he to tread thestreets day after day with muddy boots to his office, and back to his dingy home after long hours of toiland drudgery at the desk?

Oh for comfort! Oh for riches!

The girl that was to be his was more beautiful thanmany who lolled in cushioned carriages, with liveriedservants to attend their beck and call.

So his dream went on, and dreams are but half-wakingthoughts.

But it changes now!

He sees Mary his sweetheart, wan and pale, withtears in her eyes for him whose voice she may neverhear again.

For the tempter has come with gold and withgolden promises.

And he has fallen!

Other men have fallen before. Why not he whenso much was to be gained? So much of-nay, not ofglory, but of gold. What is it that gold cannot do?

A conscience? Yes, he had possessed one once.But this tempter had laughed heartily when he talkedof so old-fashioned a possession. It was all a matterof business.

Behold those wealthy men who glide past in theirbeautiful landaus. Did they have consciences? Ifthey did, then, instead of a town and country house, their home would soon be the garret vile in someback slum in London.

Again the dream changes. To the fearful andawful now. For, stretched out before him is Mary, wan and worn-Mary, DEAD!

He awakes with a shriek, and sits up with his backagainst the black rock.

His hand touches something cold. It is a skull, and he shudders as he thrusts it away.

But is he awake? He lifts his fettered hands andrubs his eyes.

He gazes in terror at someone that is sitting, justas he is, with his back against the wall-and asleep.

The rough dress is all disarranged, and the brownhands are covered with blood. It is an awful vision.

He shuts his eyes a moment, but when he opensthem again the man is still there! The terror!

The morning sun is glimmering in and fallingdirectly on the awful sleeping face.

He sits bolt upright now and leans forward.

"Kaloomah!" he cries. "Kaloomah!"

And his own voice seems to belong to some spiritbehind those prison walls.

But the terror awakes.

And the eyes of the two men meet.

"Don Pedro! You here?"

"Kaloomah. I am."

CHAPTER XXIX-EASTWARD HO! FOR MERRIE ENGLAND

Captain Roland St. Clair, as he was calledby his men, was busy along with Dick and Billin superintending the sending-off of all heavybaggage down-stream, when a man came up and saluted him.

"Well, Harris?"

"The prisoner Peter desires to speak with you, sir,in the presence of two witnesses. He wished me torequest you to bring paper, pen, and ink. It is hisdesire that you should take his deposition."

"Deposition, Harris? But the man is not dying."

"Well, perhaps not, sir. I only tell you what he says."

"I will be in his cell in less than twenty minutes,Harris."

"Dick," said Roland, at the appointed time, "thereis some mystery here. Come with me, and you also,Bill."

"What I have to say must be said briefly andquickly," said Peter, sitting up. "I will not givemyself the pain," he added, "to think very muchabout the past. It is all too dark and horrible. ButI make this confession, unasked for and being still inpossession of all my faculties and reasoning power."

He spoke very slowly, and Dick wrote down theconfession as he made it.

"I am guilty, gentlemen. Dare I say 'withextenuating circumstances'? That, however, will be foryou to consider. As the matter stands I do not begfor my life, but rather that you should deal with meas I deserve to be treated.

"Death, believe me, gentlemen, is in my case preferableto life. But listen and judge for yourselves, andif parts of my story need confirmation, behold yonderis Kaloomah, and he it was whom I hired to carryyour adopted sister away, where in all humanprobability she could never more be heard of again.Have you got all that down?"

"I have," said Dick.

"But," said Roland, "what reason had you to takeso terrible a revenge on those who never harmed you,if revenge indeed it was?"

"It was not revenge. What I did, I did for greedof gold. Listen.

"I was happy in England, and had I only beencontent, I might now have been married and incomfort, but I fell, and am now the heart-broken villainyou see before you.

"You know the will your uncle made, Mr. St. Clair?"

"I have only heard of it."

"It was I who copied it for my master, the wretchedsolicitor.

"I stole that copy and re-copied it, and sold it tothe only man whom it could benefit, and that wasyour Uncle John."

"My Uncle John? He who sent you out to mypoor, dear father?"

"The same. But let me hurry on. The real willis still in possession of the solicitor, and it givesall the estates of Burnley Hall, in Cornwall, toJohn, in the event of Peggy's death."

"I begin to see," said Dick.

"My reward was to have been great, if I managedthe affair properly. I have never had it, and, alas!I need it not now.

"But," he continued, "your villainous uncle was toogreat a coward to have Peggy murdered. His lastwords to me on board the steamer before I sailedwere: 'Remember-not one single drop of bloodshed.'

"I might have done worse than even I did, but thesewere the words that instigated my vile plot, of whichI now most heartily repent. All I had to do was toget apparent proof of Peggy's death."

"And my Uncle John now holds the estates ofBurnley Hall? Is that so?"

"He does. The solicitor could not help but producethe will, on hearing of Peggy's capture and death.

"That, then, is my story, gentlemen. Before HeavenI swear it is all true. It is, moreover, my deposition, for I already feel the cold shadow of death creepingover me. Yes, I will sign it."

He did so.

"I makee sign too," said Kaloomah.

"That is the man whom I hired to do the deed,"said Peter again.

And Kaloomah made his mark.

"I feel easier now, gentlemen" continued Peter."But leave me a while. I would sleep."

—

Kaloomah had all a savage's love for the horrible, and he was merely an interested spectator of thetragedy that followed.

Between him and Peter lie two poison-tipped arrows.

At first Peter looks at them like one dazed. Thenhe glances upwards at the glorious sunshine streamingin through the opening.

Nearer and nearer he now creeps to those arrows!

Nearer and nearer!

Now he positions them with his manacled hands.

Then strikes.

In half an hour's time, when Burly Bill entered thecave to inform the prisoners that it was time for themto be on the road, he started back in horror.

Peter, fearfully contorted, lay on the floor of thecave, dead.

—

Some weeks after this the party found themselvesonce more near to the banks of the rapid Madeira.

Everything had gone well with those captains andpeons whom they had left behind, and now everypreparation was made to descend the stream with allpossible speed, consonant with safety.

They had taken Kaloomah thus far, lest he shouldreturn and bring another army to attack them.

And now a kind of drum-head court-martial washeld on this wild chief, at which even Charlie andBenee were present.

"I really don't see," said Roland, "what good hascome of saddling ourselves with a savage."

"No, I agree with you, Roll," said Dick. "Peter hasgone to his account, and really this Kaloomah hasbeen more sinned against than he has sinned."

"What would you advise, Bill?"

"Why, I'd give him a rousing kick and let him go."

"And you Benee?"

"I go for hangee he."

"Charlie, what would you do?"

Charlie was smiling and rubbing his hands; it wasevident he had formulated some plan that satisfiedhimself.

"I tie dat savage to one biggee stake all by deribber, den watch de 'gator come, chumpee, chumpeehe."

But a more merciful plan was adopted. Kaloomahevidently expected death, but when Roland himselfcut his bonds and pointed to the west, the savage gavejust one wild whoop and yell, and next moment hehad disappeared in the forest.

—

Were I beginning a story instead of ending one, Ishould not be able to resist the temptation to describethat voyage down the beautiful Madeira.

It must suffice to say that it was all one long andhappy picnic.

Just one grief, however, had been Peggy's at thestart. Poor Dixie, the pony, must be left behind.

She kissed his forehead as she bade him good-bye, and her face was wet with tears as she turned herback to her favourite.

Roland did what he could to comfort her.

"Dixie will soon be as happy as any horse canbe," he said. "He will find companions, and will livea long, long time in the wilds of this beautiful land.So you must not grieve."

—

There are times when people in this world are soinexpressibly happy that they cannot wish evil tohappen even to their greatest enemies. They feelthat they would like every creature, every being onearth, to be happy also.

Surely it is with some such spirit that angels andsaints in heaven are imbued.

Had you been on board the steamship Panamaas she was swiftly ploughing her way through thewide blue sea that separates Old England from SouthAmerica, from Pará and the mouths of the mightyAmazon, you could not have been otherwise thanstruck with the evident contentment and happiness ofa group of saloon passengers there. Whether walkingthe quarter-deck, or seated on chairs under the awning,or early in the morning surrounding their own speciallittle breakfast-table, pleasure beamed in every eye, joy in every face.

Who were they? Listen and I shall tell you.

There was Roland, Dick, Roland's sweet-facedmother, Peggy; and last, but certainly not leastin size at all events, there was dark-skinnedjolly-looking Burly Bill himself.

But Burly Bill did not obtrude his company toomuch on the younger folks. He was fond of walkingon the bridge and talking to the officer on duty.Fond, too, of blowing a cloud from his lips as theydallied with his great meerschaum. Fond of tellinga good story, but fonder still of listening to one, and often chuckling over it till he appeared quiteapoplectic.

There was someone else on board who must bementioned. And this was Dixie, the pony!

Did he remain on the banks of the Madeira? Nothe. For by some means or other he found his way-somarvellous is the homing instinct in animals-backto the old plantation long before Roland and hislittle army, and was the first to run out to meet Peggyand get a kiss on his soft warm snout.

Need I add that Brawn was one of the passengers?And a happy dog he was, and always ready for a larkwhen the sailors chose to throw a belaying-pin for him.

Dick had had a grief to face when he returned.

His uncle was dead. So he determined-as didRoland with his plantation-to sell off and return toEngland, for a time at all events.

The two estates are now worked by a "CompanyLtd.", but Jake Solomons is head overseer.

Benee, who has married his "moon-dream", littleWeenah, is second in command, and right merry ofa morning is the boom and the song of the old buzz-saw.

—

So happy, then, were Roland and Dick and Peggythat they concluded they would not be too hard onwicked Uncle John.

This wicked Uncle John went into retirement afterthe arrival of our heroes and heroine. He might havebeen sent into retirement of quite a different sort ifRoland had cared to press matters.

Peggy got all her own again. She is nowMrs. Temple, and Dick and she are beloved by all thetenantry-yes, and by all the county gentry andfarmer folks round and round.

I had almost forgotten to say a last word aboutBeeboo. She is Mrs. Temple's chief servant, and aright happy body is Beeboo, and Burly Billy is estatemanager.

Now, if any of my readers want a special treat, lethim or her try to get an invitation to spend Christmasat Burnley Old Hall.