“Right, senhor, and I have taken the only means open to me. Since I cannot give direction to my search, I search everywhere. Fortunately my business permits of this, and also of doing a little service to my fellow-men as I go on my way. Periodically I return here to rest,”—(he pointed to the little mound,)—“and when my powers begin to wane, either through disease or age, it is my purpose, if God permit, to return and die beside Mariquita’s grave.”
Chapter Eight.
A New Acquaintance and a Change of Scene.
On their way back to the cottage they heard dogs barking, and a man talking to them. Next moment these came in sight.
“The old hunter!” exclaimed Pedro, hastening forward with evident pleasure to meet his friend.
It was equally evident that the old man was as much pleased to meet Pedro, for they grasped each other’s hands with hearty good-will.
“What news?” asked the old man, eagerly, as he held up a hand to check the dogs, which were leaping round him.
Pedro shook his head sadly, and the expression of the old man became grave. The question referred to Pedro’s search for his lost child. It had long been the first inquiry when these two met after a separation. The old man seemed never to lose hope, but he had become so accustomed to the reply that his despondency was now of short duration. He had known and loved the child in days gone by—had helped the mother in cultivating her garden-plot, and had gone out hunting with the father many a time. He was a fine-looking man, above seventy years of age, with iron-grey hair, turning in some places to pure white. The hunter’s spare though still upright figure showed that he must have been a powerful man in his youth, and the deeply-marked wrinkles about his mouth and eyes told eloquently that he was a kind one. Round his shoulders were twined the cords of the heavy “bolas,” or balls, with which he sometimes felled, at other times entangled, his prey. These balls were covered with clotted blood. He carried a short gun in his hand, and a large knife was stuck in his belt.