“Well, twice you have save me. I am gratitude. My father will be gratitude.”
“Tell me, Manuela,” returned Lawrence, earnestly, “is your father a chief?”
“Yes,—a great chief.”
There was a peculiar smile on the girl’s lips as she said this that disconcerted him. We have said that he was naturally shy. He had intended to follow up his first question by asking if her father was descended from the Incas, but the peculiar smile checked him. He bade her good-night, and turned abruptly away.
While he was sitting by the fire meditating on this matter, he heard a step in the bushes. Tiger, who had already retired to his hammock, also heard it, and bounded to his feet. Next instant Pedro glided into the circle of light and saluted them.
He appeared to be worn out with exhaustion, for, flinging himself on the ground beside the fire, he rested his head in silence for a few minutes on a poncho. Then, observing a piece of manioca cake that had been dropped by some one at supper, he took it up and ate it almost ravenously.
“Why, you seem to be starving, Pedro,” said Lawrence, earnestly
“Not so bad as that,” returned Pedro with a faint smile. “A man can scarcely be said to starve with so many of the fruits of the earth around him. But I’ve been hard pressed since early morning, and—”
“Stay,” interrupted Lawrence, “before you say another word, I will go and fetch you some food.”
“No need, senhor. My old friend Spotted Tiger has forestalled you.”