The Rover of the Andes | Page 2

the mere presence of wayfarers in such a solitary place, our traveller could not tell, but he certainly felt unusual interest, and not only watched the pair as they approached, but sat still until they came up. As they drew near he perceived that the smaller of the two, whom at a distance he had taken for a boy, was an Indian girl, who, according to custom, bestrode her mule like a man. Her companion was a handsome Spanish-looking man--a Peruvian or it might be a Chilian--with fine masculine features and magnificent black eyes. He was well-armed, and, to judge from his looks, seemed a little suspicious of the tall Englishman.
The hearty salutation of the latter, however, in bad Spanish, at once dissipated his suspicions. Replying in the same tongue, he then added, in good English:--
"You are a stranger in this land, I perceive."
"In truth I am," replied the other, while the Peruvian dismounted, "nevertheless, I ought scarcely to admit the fact, for I was born in Peru. This perhaps may seem contradictory, but it is not more so than your being apparently a native of the soil yet speaking English like an Englishman."
"From which it follows," returned the Peruvian, "that men ought not to judge altogether by appearances. But you are wrong in supposing me a native of the soil, and yet--I am not an Englishman. I have got a gift of language, however--at least I feel myself equally at home in English, Indian, Spanish, and Portuguese, which is not to be wondered at, seeing that I have been forced to talk in all four languages for nigh a quarter of a century."
"Then you must have been but a boy when you came here," returned the Englishman, "for you seem to be not yet middle-aged."
"Right, I was indeed a mere boy when I came to this land."
"And I was a boy of seven when I left it to be educated in Europe," returned the Englishman. "It is sixteen years since then, and I had feared that my memory might have failed to recognise the old landmarks, but I am rejoiced to find that I remember every turn of the road as if I had left home but yesterday."
We have said that the tall youth's face was not handsome, but the glow of animation which rested on it when he spoke of home, seemed for a moment to transform it.
"Your home, then, cannot be far distant?" remarked the Peruvian, with a peculiar look that might have attracted the attention of the younger man if his gaze had not at the moment been directed to the Indian girl, who, during the foregoing conversation, had remained motionless on her mule with her eyes looking pensively at the ground, like a beautiful statue in bronze.
"My home is close at hand," said the Englishman, when the question had been repeated; "unless memory plays me false, two more turns in the road will reveal it."
The earnest look of the Peruvian deepened as he asked if the Estate of Passamanka was his home.
"Yes, you know it, then?" exclaimed the youth eagerly; "and perhaps you knew my father too?"
"Yes, indeed; there are few people within a hundred miles of the place who did not know the famous sugar-mill and its hospitable owner, Senhor Armstrong. But excuse me," added the Peruvian, with some hesitation, "you are aware, I suppose, that your father is dead?"
"Ay, well do I know that," returned the other in a deeper tone. "It is to take my father's place at the mills that I have been hastily summoned from England. Alas! I know nothing of the work, and it will be sorely against the grain to attempt the carrying on of the old business in the desolate old home."
"Of course you also know," continued the Peruvian, "that the country is disturbed just now--that the old smouldering enmity between Chili and Peru has broken forth again in open war."
"I could not have passed through the low country without finding that out. Indeed," said the youth, glancing at his belt with a half-apologetic smile, "these weapons, which are so unfamiliar to my hand, and so distasteful to my spirit, are proof that I, at least, do not look for a time of peace. I accoutred myself thus on landing, at the urgent advice of a friend, though my good cudgel--which has sufficed for all my needs hitherto--is more to my mind, besides being useful as a mountain staff. But why do you ask? Is there much probability of the belligerents coming so far among the hills?"
"Wherever carrion is to be found, there you may be sure the vultures will congregate. There is booty to be got here among the hills; and whether the soldiers belong to the well-trained battalions of Chili, or the wretched levies of