Thus encouraged to speak out, Harold sat on the edge of the rail, and for some ten minutes described all that had happened. Nor did he neglect to commence from the very beginning, for as yet his story had come to the ears of his two listeners in scraps only, interrupted by the shouts of the enemy. Manfully, therefore, with no attempt to gloss over the painful incident which had been the commencement of all his troubles, and of Dudley's, he told how he had stood aside and seen Dudley suffer, how remorse had promptly attacked him, and how he had made a clean breast of his fault at home, and then, with the consent and encouragement of his father and mother, had come out to Montevideo to find Dudley. His listeners knew in what manner the strange meeting had been brought about, but they were not aware of the fact that Harold had arrived in Montevideo to hear that Mr. Bradshaw, to whom Dudley had been sent out, was dead, and that there was no trace of the lad he sought; he had disappeared.
Those were days when mails travelled from South America often enough by sailing vessels, for there were very few steamers, and it happened that the letter which Dudley had written on his arrival in the country, to his guardian, had reached home after Harold had set out. Thus it was that the lad found himself seriously embarrassed at the first stage of his journey.
"I could hear nothing of Dudley," he said, "and so, after idling for a few days, I came, on the advice of a rancher, up into this district. It was a piece of pure bad luck taking passage with such a gang."
"Your pardon! It was a piece of amazing good fortune," contradicted Mr. Blunt. "For us, I mean, of course; for, lad, had you not come up with those fellows, had that rascally English sailor not been one of them, and, above all, had you not had the courage and resolution to do as you did, your old comrade and I would not be here now. No, no more, Harold! Dudley and I will listen to no more from you. We know the whole story, and it is clear to us what has happened. Lad, there are many people who get out of line, who do mean and contemptible tricks. I am not attempting to excuse your faults, let me tell you, but, as I say, many people sin, and go on sinning. You have learned a lesson from this fault. You have turned over a new leaf, and as a man who prides himself on his knowledge of human nature, I say definitely, without fear of contradiction, that the lad who can make up for his fault as you have done, who can face the angry friends of the late captain of the school, wrongfully accused, who can declare his own guilt to his parents, and then, not content, can follow out here, covering so many miles, with the one purpose of meeting that old friend and asking his forgiveness, is one who has good in him. You have behaved nobly, Harold. From this moment Dudley and I are your fast friends. We will prove it if you wish. Come with us to the estancia and see the life of the gauchos. You shall have a post under my manager, and pay in proportion. There, lad, it's a real pleasure to meet you."
The tall, kindly owner of the estancia stretched out one hand and gripped Harold's. Mr. Blunt was a sympathetic man who seemed to be able to dip under the surface, to read the thoughts and feelings of those with whom he came in contact. There was some magnetic attraction about him which drew young fellows to him, which made him their friend almost from the first moment, and led them to confide in him, just as Dudley had done so soon after their chance meeting. Was it extraordinary, therefore, if Harold Joyce fell under the same spell? These were some of the first really kind words he had heard for many a day. The lad was deliriously happy. His troubles had been sliding rapidly from his shoulders, and in an hour, it seemed, he had regained his old friend, and had won another. He gripped the extended hand, shook it eagerly, and then burst into tears, tears which he stifled in an instant.
"I came out here to be a man, to act like one if possible, and to show that I was not altogether bad," he said, steadying his voice. "If you and Dud will have me, why——"
"You'll come, old chap," chimed in Dudley.
"I will. It will be ripping."
"Then that is settled," said Mr. Blunt. "Now I think it is high time we discussed some other matter. We seem to have forgotten that we are sailing down the Paraná in a strange vessel. The question is, shall we drop anchor and wait till morning, or shall we carry on down to Buenos Ayres?"
"The question is settled already," burst in Dudley, "for we cannot anchor if we wish to do so. You forget that the gang who attacked us cut their cable when we were escaping, and that you yourself tossed the spare anchor into the boat which came alongside. So far as I can see there is nothing to be done but to carry on till morning."