In Far Bolivia: A Story of a Strange Wild Land

When the big basket was opened it was found thatBeeboo had quite excelled herself. So glorious aluncheon made every eye sparkle to look at it. Andthe odour thereof caused Brawn's mouth to water andhis eyes to sparkle with expectancy.

The Indians had disappeared for a time. Theywere only just round the shoulder of a hill, however, where they, too, were enjoying a good feed.

But just as Burly Bill was having a taste from aclear bottle, which, as far as the look of it went, would have passed for cold tea, two Indian boysappeared, bringing with them the most delicious offruits as well as fresh ripe nuts.

The luncheon after that merged into a banquet.

Burly Bill took many sips of his cold tea. When Icome to think over it, however, I conclude there wasmore rum than cold tea in that brown mixture, orBill would hardly have smacked his lips and sighedwith such satisfaction after every taste.

The fruit done, and even Brawn satisfied, the wholecrew gave themselves up to rest and meditation. Theboys talked low, because Peggy's meditations had ledto gentle slumber. An Indian very thoughtfullybrought a huge plantain leaf which quite covered her, and protected her from the chequered rays of sunshinethat found their way through the tree. Brawn edgedin below the leaf also, and enjoyed a good sleep besidehis little mistress.

Not a gun had been fired all day long, yet a moreenjoyable picnic in a tropical forest it would be difficultto imagine.

Perhaps the number of the Indians scared thejaguars away, for none appeared.

Yet the day was not to end without an adventure.

Darkness in this country follows the short twilightso speedily, that Burly Bill did well to get clear of theforest's gloom while the sun was still well above thehorizon.

He trusted to the compass and his own good senseas a forester to come out close to the spot where hehad left the boat. But he was deceived. He struckthe river a good mile and a half above the placewhere the steamer lay at anchor and the raft agroundon the shoals.

Lower and lower sank the sun. The ground waswet and marshy, and the 'gators very much in evidenceindeed.

Now the tapirs-and droll pig-bodied creatures theylook, though in South America nearly as big as donkeys-areof a very retiring disposition, but not reallysolitary animals as cheap books on natural historywould have us believe. They frequent low woods, where their long snouts enable them to pull down thetender twigs and foliage on which, with roots, whichthey can speedily unearth, they manage to exist-yes, and to wax fat and happy.

But they are strict believers in the doctrine ofcleanliness, and are never found very far from water.They bathe every night.

Just when the returning picnic was within abouthalf a mile of the boat, Burly Bill carrying Peggy onhis shoulder because the ground was damp, a terriblescrimmage suddenly took place a few yards round abackwater.

There was grunting, squeaking, the splashing ofwater, and cries of pain.

"Hurry on, boys; hurry on; two of you are enough!It's your show, lads."

The boys needed no second bidding, and no soonerhad they opened out the curve than a strange sightmet their gaze.

CHAPTER VI-"NOT ONE SINGLE DROP OF BLOOD SHED"

A gigantic and horribly fierce alligator hadseized upon a strong young tapir, and wastrying to drag it into the water.

The poor creature had both its feet set well in front, and was resisting with all its might, while two otherlarger animals, probably the parents, were clawing thecayman desperately with their fore-feet.

But ill, indeed, would it have fared with all threehad not our heroes appeared just in the nick oftime.

For several more of these scaly and fearsomereptiles were hurrying to the scene of action.

Dick's first shot was a splendid one. It struck theoffending cayman in the eye, and went crashingthrough his brain.

The brute gasped, the blood flowed freely, and as hefell on his side, turning up his yellow belly, the youngtapir got free, and was hurried speedily away to thewoods.

Volley after volley was poured in on the enraged'gators, but the boys had to retreat as they fought.Had they not done so, my story would have stoppedshort just here.

It was not altogether the sun's parting rays that soencrimsoned the water, but the blood of thoseold-world caymans.

Three in all were killed in addition to the one firstshot. So that it is no wonder the boys felt elated.

Beeboo had supper waiting and there was nothingtalked about that evening except their strangeadventures in the beautiful forest.

—

Probably no one could sleep more soundly than didour heroes and heroine that night.

Next day, and next, they went on shore again, andon the third a huge jaguar, who fancied he would liketo dine off Brawn's shoulder, fell a victim to DickTemple's unerring aim.

But the raft never stirred nor moved for a whole week.

Said Bill to Jake one morning, as he took his meerschaumfrom his mouth:

"I think, Jake, and w'at I thinks be's this like.There ain't ne'er a morsel o' good smokin' and on'yjust lookin' at that fine and valuable pile o' timber.It strikes me conclusive like that something 'ad betterbe done."

"And what would you propose, Bill?" said Jake.

"Well, Jake, you're captain like, and my propositionis subject to your disposition as it were. But I'dlighten her, and lighten her till she floats; then towher off, and build up the odd timbers again."

"Good! You have a better head than I have, Bill; and it's you that should have been skipper, not me."

Nothing was done that day, however, except makinga few more attempts with the steamer at full speed totow her off. She did shift and slue round a little, butthat was all.

Next morning dawned as beautifully as any thathad gone before it.

There were fleecy clouds, however, hurrying acrossthe sky as if on business bent, and the blue betweenthem was bluer than ever our young folks had seen it.

Dick Temple, with Roland and Peggy, had made uptheir minds to go on shore for another day while thework of dismantling the raft went on.

But a fierce south wind began to blow, drivingheavy black clouds before it, and lashing the riverinto foam.

One of those terrible tropic storms was evidentlyon the cards, and come it did right soon.

The darkest blackness was away to the west, andhere, though no thunder could be heard, the lightningwas very vivid. It was evident that this was thevortex of the hurricane, for only a few drops of rainfell around the raft.

The picnic scheme was of course abandoned, and allwaited anxiously enough for something to come.

That something did come in less than an hour-thedescent of the mighty Amazon in flood. Its tributarieshad no doubt been swollen by the awful rainand water-spouts, and poured into the great queen ofrivers double their usual discharge.

A bore is a curling wave like a shore breaker thatrushes down the smaller rivers, and is terriblydestructive to boating or to shipping.

The Amazon, however, did not rise like this. Itcame rushing almost silently down in a broad tallwave that appeared to stretch right across it, from theforest-clad bank where the raft lay to the far-offgreen horizon in the north.

But Burly Bill was quite prepared for eventualities.

Steam had been got up, the vessel's bows wereheaded for up stream, and the hawser betwixt raftand boat tautened.

On and on rushed the huge wave. It toweredabove the raft, even when fifty yards away, in themost threatening manner, as if about to sweep allthings to destruction.

But on its nearer approach it glided in under theraft, and steamer as well-like some huge submarinemonster such as we read of in fairy books of thelong-long-ago-glided in under them, and seemed to liftthem sky-high.

"Go ahead at full speed!"

It was the sonorous voice of Burly Bill shouting tothe engineer.

"Ay, ay, sir!" came the cheery reply.

The screw went round with a rush.

It churned up a wake of foaming water as thePeggy began to forge ahead, and next minute, drivenalong on the breeze, the monster raft began to followand was soon out and away beyond danger from rockor shoal.

Then arose to heaven a prayer of thankfulness, anda cheer so loud and long that even the parrots andmonkeys in the forest depths heard it, and yelled andchattered till they frightened both 'gators and jaguars.

Just two weeks after these adventures, the littlePeggy was at anchor, and the great raft safely beached.

Burly Bill was left in charge with his white menand his Indians, with Dick Temple to act assupercargo, and Jake Solomons with Roland and Peggy, not to mention the dog, started off for Pará.

In due course, but after many discomforts, theyarrived there, and Jake, after taking rooms in ahotel, hurried off to secure his despatches from thepost-office.

"No letters!" cried Jake, as his big brown fist camedown with a bang on the counter. "Why, I see thevery documents I came for in the pigeon-hole behind you!"

The clerk, somewhat alarmed at the attitude ofthis tall Yankee backwoodsman, pulled them out andlooked at them.

"They cannot be delivered," he said.

"And why?" thundered Jake, "Inasmuch as towherefore, you greasy-faced little whipper-snapper!"

"Not sufficient postage."

Jake thrust one hand into a front pocket, and onebehind him. Then on the counter he dashed down abag of cash and a six-chambered revolver.

"I'm Jake Solomons," he said. "There before youlies peace or war. Hand over the letters, and you'llhave the rhino. Refuse, and I guess and calculate I'llblow the whole top of your head off."

The clerk preferred peace, and Jake strode awaytriumphant.

When he returned to the hotel and told the boysthe story, they laughed heartily. In their eyes, Jakewas more a hero than ever.

"Ah!" said the giant quietly, "there's nothing bringsthese long-shore chaps sooner to their senses thanletting 'em have a squint down the barrel of a six-shooter."

The letters were all from Mr. St. Clair, and hadbeen lying at the post-office for over a week. Theyall related to business, to the sale of the timber andthe other commodities, the best markets, and so onand so forth, with hints as to the gold-mine.

But the last one was much more bulky than theothers, and so soon as he had glanced at the firstlines, Jake lit his meerschaum, then threw himselfback in his rocker to quietly discuss it.

It was a plain, outspoken letter, such as one man ofthe world writes to another. Here is one extract: -

Our business is increasing at a rapid rate, JakeSolomon. I have too much to do and so have you; therefore, although I did not think it necessary toinform you before, I have been in communicationwith my brother John, and he is sending me out ashrewd, splendid man of business. He will havearrived before your return.

I can trust John thoroughly, and this Don PedroSalvador, over and above his excellent businesscapabilities, can talk Spanish, French, and Portuguese.

I do not quite like the name, Jake, so he must becontent to be called plain Mr. Peter.

—

About the very time that Jake Solomons was readingthis letter, there sat close to the sky-light of anoutward-bound steamer at Liverpool, two men holdinglow but earnest conversation. Their faces were partlyobscured, for it was night, and the only light aglimmer from the ship's lamp.

Steam was up and roaring through the pipes.

A casual observer might have noted that one was aslim, swarthy, but wiry, smart-looking man of aboutthirty. His companion was a man considerably over forty.

"I shall go now," said the latter. "You have myinstructions, and I believe I can trust you."

"Have I not already given you reason to?" was therejoinder. "At the risk of penal servitude did I notsteal my employer's keys, break into his room atnight, and copy that will for you? It was but a copyof a copy, it is true, and I could not discover theoriginal, else the quickest and simplest plan wouldhave been-fire:"

"True, you did so, but" – the older man laughedlightly-"you were well paid for the duty you performed."

"Duty, eh?" sneered the other. "Well," he added,"thank God nothing has been discovered. Myemployer has bidden me an almost affectionate farewell, and given me excellent certificates."

The other started up as a loud voice hailed the deck:

"Any more for the shore!"

"I am going now," he said. "Good-bye, old man, and remember my last words: not one single drop ofblood shed!"

"I understand, and will obey to the letter. Obedience pays."

"True; and you shall find it so. Good-bye!"

"A Dios!" said the other.

The last bell was struck, and the gangway washauled on shore.

The great ship Benedict was that night rolling andtossing about on the waves of the Irish Channel.

—

Jake Solomons acquainted Roland and Peggy withthe contents of this last letter, and greatly did thelatter wonder what the new overseer would be like, and if she should love him or not.

For Peggy had a soft little heart of her own, andwas always prepared to be friendly with anyone who, according to her idea, was nice.

Jake took his charges all round the city nextday and showed them the sights of what is now oneof the most beautiful towns in South America.

The gardens, the fountains, the churches and palaces, the flowers and fruit, and feathery palm-trees, allthings indeed spoke of delightfulness, and calm, andpeace.

And far beyond and behind all this was theboundless forest primeval.

This was not their last drive through the city, andthis good fellow Jake, though his business took himfrom home most of the day, delighted to take thechildren to every place of amusement he could thinkof. But despite all this, these children of the forestwilds began to long for home, and very much rejoicedwere they when one evening, after dinner, Jake toldthem they should start on the morrow for Bona Vista, near to which town the little steamer lay, and so upthe great river and home.

Jake had done all his business, and done it satisfactorily, and could return to the old plantation andBurnley Hall with a light and cheerful heart.

He had even sold the mine, although it was not tobe worked for some time to come.

CHAPTER VII-"A COLD HAND SEEMED TO CLUTCH HER HEART"

Many months passed away pleasantly and happilyenough on the old plantation. The children-Roland,by the way, would hardly have liked to becalled a child now-were, of course, under the abletuition of Mr. Simons, but in addition Peggy had agoverness, imported directly from Pará.

This was a dark-eyed Spanish girl, very piquantand pretty, who talked French well, and played onboth the guitar and piano.

Tom St. Clair had not only his boy's welfare, buthis niece's, or adopted daughter's, also at heart.

It would be some years yet before she arrived atthe age of sweet seventeen, but when she did, heruncle determined to sell off or realize on his plantation, his goods and chattels, and sail across the seas oncemore to dear old Cornwall and the real Burnley Hall.

He looked forward to that time as the wearyworker in stuffy towns or cities does to a summerholiday.

There is excitement enough in money-making, it islike an exhilarating game of billiards or whist, but itis apt to become tiresome.

And Tom St. Clair was often overtired and weary.He was always glad when he reached home at nightto his rocking-chair and a good dinner, after toilingall day in the recently-started india-rubber-forest works.

But Mr. Peter took a vast deal of labour off his hands.

Mr. Peter, or Don Pedro, ingratiated himself withnearly everyone from the first, and seemed to take tothe work as if to the manner born.

There were three individuals, however, who couldnot like him, strange to say; these were Peggy herself,Benee the Indian who had guided them through theforest when lost, and who had remained on the estateever since, while the third was Brawn, the Irish wolf-hound.

The dog showed his teeth if Peter tried even tocaress him.

Both Roland and Dick-the latter was a veryfrequent visitor-got on very well with Peter-trustedhim thoroughly.

"How is it, Benee," said Roland one day to theIndian, "that you do not love Don Pedro?"

Benee spat on the ground and stamped his foot.

"I watch he eye," the semi-savage replied. "Heone very bad man. Some day you know plentymoochee foh true."

"Well," said Tom one evening as he and his wifesat alone in the verandah together, "I do long to getback to England. I am tired, dear wife-my heart isweak why should we remain here over two yearsmore? We are wealthy enough, and I promise myselfand you, dear, many long years of health andhappiness yet in the old country."

He paused and smoked a little; then, after watchingfor a few moments the fireflies that flitted from bushto bush, he stretched his left arm out and rested hishand on his wife's lap.

Some impulse seized her. She took it and pressedit to her lips. But a tear trickled down her cheek asshe did so.

Lovers still this couple were, though nearly twentyyears had elapsed since he led her, a bonnie, buxom, blushing lassie, to the altar.

But now in a sweet, low, but somewhat sad voice hesang a verse of that dear old song-"We have livedand loved together": -

"We have lived and loved togetherThrough many changing years,We have shared each other's gladnessAnd dried each other's tears.I have never known a sorrowThat was long unsoothed by thee,For thy smile can make a summerWhere darkness else would be.

Mrs. St. Clair would never forget that evening onthe star-lit lawn, nor the flitting, little fire-insects, norher husband's voice.

—

Is it not just when we expect it least that sorrowsometimes falls suddenly upon us, hiding or eclipsingall our promised happiness and joy?

I have now to write a pitiful part of my too truestory, but it must be done.

Next evening St. Clair rode home an hour earlier.

He complained of feeling more tired than usual, and said he would lie down on the drawing-room sofauntil dinner was ready.

Peggy went singing along the hall to call him atthe appointed time.

She went singing into the room.

"Pa, dear," she cried merrily; "Uncle-pa, dinner isall beautifully ready!"

"Come, Unky-pa. How sound you sleep!"

Then a terror crept up from the earth, as it were, and a cold hand seemed to clutch her heart.

She ran out of the room.

"Oh, Auntie-ma!" she cried, "come, come quickly,pa won't wake, nor speak!"

Heigho! the summons had come, and dear "Uncle-pa"would never, never wake again.

This is a short chapter, but it is too sad to continue.

So falls the curtain on the first act of this life-drama.

CHAPTER VIII-FIERCELY AND WILDLY BOTH SIDES FOUGHT

The gloomy event related in last chapter must notbe allowed to cast a damper over our story.

Of course death is always and everywhere hoveringnear, but why should boys like you and me, reader, permit that truth to cloud our days or stand betweenus and happiness?

Two years, then, have elapsed since poor, brave TomSt. Clair's death.

He is buried near the edge of the forest in abeautiful enclosure where rare shrubs grow, and whereflowers trail and climb far more beautiful than anywe ever see in England.

At first Mrs. St. Clair had determined to sell all offand go back to the old country, but her overseer JakeSolomons and Mr. Peter persuaded her not to, or itseemed that it was their advice which kept her fromcarrying out her first intentions. But she had anotherreason, she found she could not leave that lonesomegrave yet awhile.

So the years passed on.

The estate continued to thrive.

Roland was now a handsome young fellow in hiseighteenth year, and Peggy, now beautiful beyondcompare, was nearly fifteen.

Dick Temple, the bold and reckless huntsman andhorseman, was quieter now in his attentions towardsher. She was no longer the child that he could lifton to his broad young shoulders and carry, neighingand galloping like a frightened colt, round and roundthe lawn.

And Roland felt himself a man. He was moresober and sedate, and had taken over all his father'swork and his father's responsibilities. But for all that, lightly enough lay the burden on his heart.

For he had youth on his side, and

"In the lexicon of youth which fate reserves

For a bright manhood there is no such word

As fail".

—

I do not, however, wish to be misunderstood. Itmust not be supposed that Roland had no difficultiesto contend with, that all his business life wasas fair and serene as a bright summer's day. Onthe contrary, he had many losses owing to thefluctuations of the markets and the failures of great firms, owing to fearful storms, and more than once owingto strikes or revolts among his Indians in the greatindia-rubber forest.

But Roland was light-hearted and young, and difficultiesin life, I have often said, are just like nine-pins, they are put up to be bowled over.

Besides, be it remembered that if it were all plainsailing with us in this world we should not be able toappreciate how really happy our lives are. The skyis always bluest 'twixt the darkest clouds.

On the whole, Roland, who took stock, and, withhonest Bill and Jake Solomons, went over the booksevery quarter, had but little reason to complain.This stock-taking consumed most of their sparetime for the greater part of a week, and when it wasfinished Roland invariably gave a dinner-party, atwhich I need hardly say his dear friend Dick Templewas present. And this was always the happiest ofhappy nights to Dick, because the girl he loved morethan all things on earth put together was here, andlooked so innocent and beautiful in her simple dressesof white and blue.

There was no such thing as flirtation here, but Dickwas fully and completely in earnest when he toldhimself that if he lived till he was three- orfour-and-twenty he would ask Peggy to be his wife.

Ah! there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip.

Dick, I might, could, would, or should have toldyou before, lived with a bachelor uncle, who, beingrather old and infirm, seldom came out. He had goodearnest men under him, however, as overseers, and hisplantations were thriving, especially that in whichtobacco was cultivated.

The old man was exceedingly fond of Dick, andDick would be his heir.

Probably it was for his uncle's sake that Dickstayed in the country-and of course for Peggy'sand Roland's-for, despite its grand field for sportand adventure, the lad had a strange longing to go toEngland and play cricket or football.

He had been born in Britain just as Roland was, and had visited his childhood's home more than onceduring his short life.

Now just about this time Don Pedro, or Mr. Peteras all called him, had asked for and obtained aholiday. He was going to Pará for a change, he said, andto meet a friend from England.

That he did meet a friend from England there waslittle doubt, but their interview was a very short one.Where he spent the rest of his time was best knownto himself.

In three months or a little less he turned up smilingagain, and most effusive.

About a fortnight after his arrival he came to Jakeone morning pretty early.

Jake was preparing to start on horseback for thegreat forest.

"I'm on the horns of a dilemma, Mr. Solomons," hesaid, laughing his best laugh. "During the nightabout twenty Bolivian Indians have encamped nearto the forest. They ask for work on the india-rubbertrees. They are well armed, and all sturdy warriors.They look as if fighting was more in their line thanhonest labour."

"Well, Mr. Peter, what is their excuse for beinghere anyhow?"

"They are bound for the sea-shore at the mouths ofthe river, and want to earn a few dollars to help them on."

"Well, where is the other horn of the dilemma?"

"Oh! if I give them work they may corrupt our fellows."

"Then, Mr. Peter, I'd give the whole blessed lot theboot and the sack."

"Ah! now, Mr. Solomons, you've got to the otherhorn. These savages, for they are little else, arerevengeful."

"We're not afraid."

"No, we needn't be were they to make war openly, but they are sly, and as dangerous as sly. They wouldin all probability burn us down some dark night."

Jake mused for a minute. Then he said abruptly: