"Davey! David Rand!"
"Perhaps so, Capitao. I do not know. But he spoke English."
"By thunder! David Rand! Merry, where's that picture?"
Knowlton was already unbuttoning his pocket flap. Quickly he produced the photograph.
"That the fellow?"
Lourenço studied the face. The eagerly anticipated affirmative did not come.
"I cannot say surely. This is a full-faced, clean-shaven man with hair close trimmed. That one's face was gaunt, covered partly with beard and partly by long hair, and we were not close to him, as I have said. I would not say the two were the same until I could have a better look at the wild man."
"You didn't follow him?"
"No. Why should we? He had done nothing to us and we let him go his way. We did look at his hollow tree, though. But it was only an empty tree, not his home; a place where he had stepped in out of the storm. We had other things to do, so we got into our canoe again and paddled off."
"You can find the place again?"