“He is a wonderful man—a genius, a philosopher, a professor of astrology, a magician,” answered the commandant, shrugging his shoulders. “More I cannot say; he is a wonder—a mystery; but he understands the art of brewing punch to perfection, and that is something in his favour.”
I had not long taken my seat when Dr Stutterheim appeared at the door.
“What! still at breakfast, gentlemen!” he exclaimed, with a look of surprise.
“You must have been up early, to have had the advantage of us,” observed the commandant.
“Except in the matter of obtaining an appetite, I cannot acknowledge that such is the case,” said the doctor, advancing farther into the room towards a vacant chair.
“Sit down, then,” said the commandant, “and satisfy your hunger, my friend.”
“Ten thousand thanks,” answered the doctor, gliding into the chair. “As in duty bound, I willingly obey your orders;” and he forthwith began shovelling scraped salt beef, fried eggs, and plantains, of which our breakfast was composed, at a rapid rate into his capacious mouth, adding half a basketful of tropical fruits, and washing the whole down with a bowl of thick chocolate. “I follow the advice of a great philosopher, who insists that no men can be considered wise who fail when they have an opportunity early in the day to lay in a store of provision, lest they should be unable to secure a further supply,” he observed.
Turning to my uncle, he inquired whether he purposed remaining any length of time at Cervanos; and on hearing that he did not intend to start till the following morning, invited me to accompany him on a shooting excursion along the shores of the lake.
“I go for two reasons,” he said: “to increase my knowledge of the natural history of the country, and likewise to fill my pot. Señor commandante, I shall have the honour of presenting you with the result of our sport.”
I was naturally eager to accept the invitation of my new friend, and my uncle making no objections, I agreed to accompany him.