I have not said much about the captains of the great canoes. With one exception, these were half-castes, and spoke but little.
The exception was Don Rodrigo, who in his time had been a great traveller.
He was a man of about fifty, strongly built, but as wiry withal as an Arab of the desert.
Genial was he too, and while yarning or playing cards--the cigarette for ever in his mouth, sometimes even two--there was always a pleasant smile playing around his mouth and eyes.
He liked our young heroes, and they trusted him. Indeed, Brawn had taken to the man, and often as he squatted in the large tent of an evening, playing cards or dominoes with the boys, big Brawn would lay his honest head down on Rodrigo's knee with a sigh of satisfaction and go off to sleep.
Rodrigo could sing a good Spanish song, and had a sweet melodious voice that would have gone excellently well with a guitar accompaniment; but guitar there was none.
Versatile and clever, nevertheless, was Rodrigo, and he had manufactured a kind of musical instrument composed of pieces of glass and hard wood hung on tape bands across a board. While he sang, Rodrigo used to beat a charming accompaniment with little pith hammers.
Some of his songs were very merry indeed and very droll, and all hands used to join in the chorus, even the white men and Indians outside.
So the boys' days were for the time being somewhat of the nature of a long picnic or holiday.
The story-telling of an evening helped greatly to wile the time away.