On reaching the point we sat down on a bank. A small object appeared in the distance on the water. Arthur was the first to espy it. I thought it was but a log of wood. We pointed it out to Oria. She at once declared that it was a canoe. It was certainly approaching, and at length we made out a small canoe gliding over the smooth water; and as it came near we saw a white man in the stern steering, and ten natives urging her on with rapid strokes. “What if those people should be able to give us news of our father!” exclaimed Ellen. “Do call them, lest they should pass by.” John hailed the canoe. Presently we saw the white man stand up and look towards us. Instantly the head of the canoe was turned in our direction. We hastened down to the point where they would land, and the white man stepped on shore. He gazed first at one, then at the other, with an inquiring glance.
“Can you tell me, my friend,” asked John, “if an English family are stopping anywhere on the banks down the river?”
“Indeed I can, señor,” answered the white man; “for I have been sent up by the master to look out for some part of his family who ought long since to have arrived. He has already sent two messengers to inquire for them; and his heart, and those of the señora and señorita, are well-nigh worn out with anxiety on their account. At last I begged that he would let me go; and I promised not to return without gaining tidings of them.”
“Why, then you must be Antonio, and we are those you are looking for!” said John.
“Heaven be praised!” exclaimed Antonio, our father’s old servant, who, rushing forward, seized John in his arms, and gave him a warm embrace. He then turned to me, and gave me the same affectionate yet respectful greeting. “And this is the señorita!” he exclaimed, turning to Ellen. “Oh, it does my old heart good to see you. How little did I think that before the sun set I should behold those I so longed to find. And Domingos and Maria; surely they have come with you!”
“Oh yes,” said John; “they are at the camp. Send your montaria round the point, and come with us. We shall soon be there.”
As may be supposed, we had numberless questions to ask about our father and family; how far off they were from us, and all that had happened.
“Oh, señor, I should like to have a dozen tongues in my head to reply to you,” answered Antonio. “They are well and safe now, though the times are perilous. And, Heaven be praised, they have passed numberless dangers unharmed. It has taken me two weary weeks to come thus far, but I hope that we may descend the river to them in far less time. How could I have expected to meet with you when others, we had cause to fear, had failed. First, a Brazilian trader, who was proceeding up in his montaria, undertook the task, promising without fail to find you, and speedily to send down notice; but after waiting and waiting some weary weeks, no news came, and my master, your father, was resolved to go himself, though unwilling to leave the señoras without his protection, when, just then, two young Englishmen arrived from Para, and made themselves known to your father as friends of yours; and hearing that you were missing, agreed to go up in search of you.”
“Why, those must be our two school-fellows, Houlston and Tony Nyass!” I exclaimed.
From the description which Antonio had given of them, we had no doubt that this was the case. But what had become of them? A few minutes before I had thought all our anxieties were over, but now they were again aroused on account of our friends. What if they had fallen into the hands of the Majeronas, or been exposed to some of the storms we had so narrowly escaped! “You forget how easily they may have passed us,” observed Arthur. “We might have been not a quarter of a mile apart, and yet have passed without seeing or hearing each other.”