“We may perhaps discover one near the place at which we landed the other day, and we may get our Indian friends to help us to build a canoe,” I observed. “Or it is possible that they may have recovered some of theirs, and be ready to sell one of them to us.”
“Then the sooner we find them out the better,” observed John.
“I wonder Duppo and his sister, or some of the other Indians, have not come here to look for us,” said Arthur. “I thought Duppo, at all events, would have shown more regard for us.”
“Perhaps the recluse has taught them not to visit his hut without his leave,” I remarked. “They seem to hold him in great respect.”
While I was speaking Domingos appeared at the door, with his baskets loaded with fruit, vegetables, and birds—chiefly parrots and toucans of gay plumage. He gave a note to John, which he had received, he said, from the strange señor early in the morning.
“I will not conceal from you that I have departed greatly from my accustomed habits in affording you an asylum,” it ran. “If you wish it you can remain, but I desire to be once more alone, and can find a home elsewhere till you take your departure. I have communicated with your Indian friends, and they will assist you in building a lodge more suitable for you than this, in the situation you first selected. A party of them will appear shortly to convey your goods; and they will also construct a montaria of a size sufficient for you to continue your voyage. I will, in the meantime, institute inquiries about your missing friends, and, should I hear tidings of them, will send you word. I beg that you will return me no thanks, nor expect to see me. The life of solitude upon which your appearance has broken I desire to resume, and it will therefore cause me annoyance should you attempt to seek me. Accept such good wishes as a wretched outcast can venture to end.”
This strange note caused us much regret. “He is so kind and gentle, in spite of the strange way he sometimes expresses himself, that I should grieve not to see him again, and thank him,” said Arthur. “Do you not think we could leave a note, asking him to let us come and visit him before we go away altogether? Surely he would not refuse that.”
“I am afraid, from the tenor of his note, it would be of no use,” said John; “but if you wish it you can do so; and it will show him, at all events, that we are not ungrateful for his kindness.”
We waited all day in expectation of the arrival of the Indians, but no one appeared. John went out, and shot some birds and a couple of monkeys. In our rambles, which were further than we had yet been, we came upon a cleared space containing a plantation of bananas, maize, and several edible roots; and, from the neat and scientific way in which the ground was cultivated, we had little doubt it belonged to the stranger; indeed, from the supplies he had brought us, notwithstanding his first remark, we had suspected that he was not without the means of supporting himself with vegetable food. Although he had allowed us to cook the animals we killed, we had remarked that he did not touch any of the meat himself.
Early next morning, as I was standing on the verandah, True poked his nose forward and began to bark. I thought he had seen some animal in the woods, and got my gun ready to fire at it, when I caught sight of a figure emerging from the narrow path of which I have spoken, and, greatly to my satisfaction, I recognised Duppo. As soon as he saw us he ran forward. I went down to meet him. He took my hand, and, by his action, and the gleam of satisfaction which passed over his impassive countenance, showed the satisfaction he felt at again being with us. He then made signs that others were coming, and soon afterwards a party of eight Indians, with his father at their head, made their appearance. Maono gravely saluted John and I, and signified that his men had come to convey our property to another place. Duppo asked whether any of us would like to return in the canoe. We agreed that it would be a good plan for Arthur and Ellen to do so.