“I may as well turn in that direction,” he reasoned. “Where there is a fire there must be human beings. And as the war is now at an end it isn’t likely that they will harm me.”
For some distance the new route was an easy one, but then it became rougher and rougher, until riding was all but impossible. At some points he had to dismount and lead the pony. Once both went into a rocky hollow, Jack barking a shin and the pony skinning a knee.
“I hope this doesn’t last very far,” thought the youth. The roughness continued a quarter of a mile, when he came out on a beautiful grassy plain, at the rear of which he saw a thatched house and a small garden enclosure containing a score or more of chickens.
As he approached the house an old man came forth to meet him. He viewed Jack with astonishment, for visitors in that lonely spot were rare. “Where does the most noble señor come from?” he asked, bowing low.
“I came from the town far below here,” answered Jack. “I have lost my way,” and then as well as he was able he described the road he wished to find.
“The Americano señor is a long distance from that road,” said the native.
“Can you guide me to it?” questioned the youth, eagerly. “I will pay you well for your services.”
At the mention of pay the native showed an increased interest. He was naturally a lazy fellow, but the promise of a Peruvian half dollar made him hustle to take Jack on his way. He too had a pony, and soon the pair set off, across the plateau and then through a sparingly grown forest, where some of the trees were of enormous height.
“What had made the air so smoky?” questioned Jack, as they rode along. “Have there been heavy forest fires?”
“No forest fires, señor,” the native answered. “The smoke comes from the bowels of the earth. The rocks have opened once more--we shall soon have an earthquake.”