In Far Bolivia: A Story of a Strange Wild Land

"No shootee. No shootee poor Indian man. Ifriendee you. Plenty friendee."

Probably there was a little romance about Roland, for, instead of saying: "Come this way then, old chap, squat down and give us the news," he said sternly:

"Advance, friend!"

But the Indian stood like a statue.

"No undahstandee foh true."

And Roland had to climb down and say simply:

"Come here, friend, and speak."

Brawn rushed forward now, but he looked a terror, for his hair was all on end like a hyena's, and hegrowled low but fiercely.

"Down, Brawn! It's a good man, Brawn."

Brawn smelt the Indian's hand, and, seemingsatisfied, went back to the spot where Peggy sat wonderingand frightened.

She gathered the great dog to her breast and huggedand kissed him.

"What foh you poh chillun sleepee all in de woodso? S'pose wild beas' come eatee you, w'at den you do?"

"But, friend," replied Roland, "we are far fromBurnley Hall, our home, and we have lost everything.We have lost our ponies, lost our way, and lost ourselves."

"Poh chillun!" said this strange being. "But nowgo sleepee foh true. De Indian he lie on blanket. Hewatchee till de big sun rise."

"Can we trust him, Peggy?"

"Oh yes, yes!" returned Peggy. "He is a dear, good man; I know by his voice."

In ten minutes more the boy and girl were fastasleep.

The Indian watched.

And Brawn watched the Indian.

—

When the sun went down on the previous evening, and there were no signs of the young folks returning, both Mr. St. Clair and his wife became very uneasyindeed.

Then two long hours of darkness ensued before themoon sailed up, first reddening, then silvering, thewavelets and ripples on the great river.

"Surely some evil must have befallen them," moanedMrs. St. Clair. "Oh, my Roland! my son! I may neversee you more. Is there nothing can be done? Tellme! Tell me!"

"We must trust in Providence, Mary; and it iswrong to mourn. I doubt not the children are safe, although perhaps they have lost their way in thewoods."

Hours of anxious waiting went by, and it wasnearly midnight. The house was very quiet and still, for the servants were asleep.

Burly Bill and Jake had mounted strong horses atmoonrise, and gone off to try to find a clue. But theyknew it was in vain, nay, 'twould have been sheermadness to enter the forest now. They coo-eed overand over again, but their only answer was the echoingshriek of the wild birds.

They were just about to return after giving theirlast shrill coo-ee-ee, when out from the moonlit forest, with a fond whinny, sprang Coz and Boz.

Jake sprang out of his saddle, throwing his bridleto Bill.

In the bright moonlight, Jake could see at oncethat there was something wrong. He placed his handon Boz's shoulder. He staggered back as he withdrew it.

"Oh, Bill," he cried, "here is blood, and the pony istorn and bleeding! Only a jaguar could have donethis. This is terrible."

"Let us return at once," said Bill, who had a rightsoft heart of his own behind his burly chest.

"But oh!" he added, "how can we break the newsto Roland's parents?"

"We'll give them hope. Mrs. St. Clair must knownothing yet, but at early dawn all the ranch must bearoused, and we shall search the forest for miles andmiles."

—

Jake, after seeing the ponies safe in their stable, left Bill to look to Boz's wounds, while withSt. Clair's leave he himself set off at a round gallop toget assistance from a neighbouring ranch.

Day had not yet broken ere forty good men andtrue were on the bridle-path and tearing along theriver's banks. St. Clair himself was at their head.

I must leave the reader to imagine the joy of all theparty when soon after sunrise there emerged fromthe forest, guided by the strange Indian, Roland,Peggy, and noble Brawn, all looking as fresh as thedew on the tender-eyed hibiscus bloom or the wildflowers that nodded by the river's brim.

"Wirr-rr-r-wouff, wouff, wouff!" barked Brawn,as he bounded forward with joy in every feature ofhis noble face, and I declare to you there seemed tobe a lump in his throat, and the sound of his barkingwas half-hysterical.

St. Clair could not utter a word as he fondlyembraced the children. He pretended to scold a little, but this was all bluff, and simply a ruse to keep backthe tears.

But soft-hearted Burly Bill was less successful.He just managed to drop a little to the rear, and itwas not once only that he was fain to draw the sleeveof his rough jacket across his eyes.

—

But now they are mounted, and the horses' headsare turned homewards. Peggy is seated in front ofBurly Bill, of whom she is very fond, and Roland issaddled with Jake. The Indian and Brawn ran.

Poor Mrs. St. Clair, at the big lawn gate, gazingwestward, sees the cavalcade far away on the horizon.

Presently, borne along on the morning breeze comevoices raised in a brave and joyous song:

"Down with them, down with the lords of the forest".

And she knows her boy and Peggy are safe.

"Thank God for all his mercies!" she saysfervently, then, woman-like, bursts into tears.

CHAPTER III-BURNLEY HALL, OLD AND NEW

I have noticed more than once that although thelife-story of some good old families in Englandmay run long stagnant, still, when one importantevent does take place, strange thing after strangething may happen, and the story rushes on withheedless speed, like rippling brooklets to the sea.

The St. Clairs may have been originally a Scottishfamily, or branch of some Highland clan, but theyhad been settled on a beautiful estate, far away in thewilds of Cornwall, for over one hundred and fifty years.