In Far Bolivia: A Story of a Strange Wild Land. Stables Gordon

the forest, and for more than five minutes the din of roaring, growling, and shrieking was fearful.

      Wild birds, no doubt, helped to swell the pandemonium.

      After a time, however, all was still once more, andthe journey was continued in silence.

      Even Peggy, usually the first to commence aconversation, felt in no mood for talking now.

      She was very tired. Her feet ached, her brow washot, and her eyes felt as if boiling in their sockets.

      Roland had filled his large flask at the littlewaterfall before leaving the glade, and he now made herdrink.

      The draught seemed to renew her strength, and shestruggled on as bravely as ever.

—

      Just two and a half hours after they had left theforest clearing, and when Roland was holding outhopes that they should soon reach the road by thebanks of the river, much to their astonishment theyfound themselves in a strange clearing which theyhad never seen before.

      The very pathway ended here, and though the boywent round and round the circle, he could find noexit.

      To retrace his steps and try to find out the rightpath was the first thought that occurred to Roland.

      This plan was tried, but tried in vain, and so-wearyand hopeless now beyond measure-theyreturned to the centre of the glade and threwthemselves down on the soft green moss.

      Lost! Lost!

      The words kept repeating themselves in poorRoland's brain, but Peggy's fatigue was so completethat she preferred rest even in the midst of dangerto going farther.

      Brawn, heaving a great sigh, laid himself downbeside them.

      The warm day wore rapidly to a close, and at lastthe sun shimmered red through the forest trees.

      Then it sank.

      The briefest of twilight, and the stars shone out.

      Two hours of starlight, then solemnly uprose theround moon and flooded all the glade, draping thewhispering trees in a blue glare, beautifullyetherealizing them.

      Sorrow bringeth sleep.

      "Good-night, Rolly! Say your prayers," murmured Peggy.

      There were stars in the sky. There were stars toothat flitted from bush to bush, while the winds mademurmuring music among the lofty branches.

      Peggy was repeating to herself lines that she hadread that very day:

      …"the firefly Wah-wah-tay-see,

      Flitting through the dusk of evening,

      With the twinkle of its candle,

      Lighting up the brakes and bushes.

* * * * *

      Wah-wah-tay-see, little firefly,

      Little, flitting, white-fire insect,

      Little dancing, white-fire creature,

      Light me with your little candle.

      Ere upon my bed I lay me,

      Ere in sleep I close my eyelids."

—

      The forest was unusually silent to-night, but everand anon might be heard some distant growl showingthat the woods sheltered the wildest beasts. Oran owl with mournful cry would flap its silent wingsas it flew across the clearing.

      But nothing waked those tired and weary sleepers.

      So the night wore on and on. The moon hadreached the zenith, and was shining now with alustre that almost rivalled daylight itself.

      It must have been well on towards two o'clock inthe morning when Brawn emitted a low and threatening growl.

      This aroused both Roland and Peggy, and the formerat once seized his rifle.

      Standing there in the pale moonlight, not twentyyards away, was a tall, dark-skinned, and powerful-lookingIndian. In his right hand he held a spear orsomething resembling one; in his left a huge catapultor sling. He was dressed for comfort-certainly notfor ornament. Leggings or galligaskins covered hislower extremities, while his body was wrapped in ablanket. He had no head-covering, save a mattedmass of hair, in which were stuck a few feathers.

      Roland took all this in at a glance as he seized hisrifle and prepared for eventualities. According to thetraditional painter of Indian life and customs theproper thing for this savage to have said is "Ugh!"He said nothing of the sort. Nor did he give ventto a whoop and yell that would have awakened thewild birds and beasts of the forest and every echo farand near.

      "Who goes there?" cried Roland, raising his gun.

      "No shootee. No shootee poor Indian man. Ifriendee you. Plenty friendee."

      Probably there was a little romance about Roland, for, instead of saying: "Come this way then, old chap, squat down and give us the news," he said sternly:

      "Advance, friend!"

      But the Indian stood like a statue.

      "No undahstandee foh true."

      And Roland had to climb down and say simply:

      "Come here, friend, and speak."

      Brawn rushed forward now, but he looked a terror, for his hair was all on end like a hyena's, and hegrowled low but fiercely.

      "Down, Brawn! It's a good man, Brawn."

      Brawn smelt the Indian's hand, and, seemingsatisfied, went back to the spot where Peggy sat wonderingand frightened.

      She gathered the great dog to her breast and huggedand kissed him.

      "What foh you poh chillun sleepee all in de woodso? S'pose wild beas' come eatee you, w'at den you do?"

      "But, friend," replied Roland, "we are far fromBurnley Hall, our home, and we have lost everything.We have lost our ponies, lost our way, and lost ourselves."

      "Poh chillun!" said this strange being. "But nowgo sleepee foh true. De Indian he lie on blanket. Hewatchee till de big sun rise."

      "Can we trust him, Peggy?"

      "Oh yes, yes!" returned Peggy. "He is a dear, good man; I know by his voice."

      In ten minutes more the boy and girl were fastasleep.

      The Indian watched.

      And Brawn watched the Indian.

—

      When the sun went down on the previous evening, and there were no signs of the young folks returning, both Mr. St. Clair and his wife became very uneasyindeed.

      Then two long hours of darkness ensued before themoon sailed up, first reddening, then silvering, thewavelets and ripples on the great river.

      "Surely some evil must have befallen them," moanedMrs. St. Clair. "Oh, my Roland! my son! I may neversee you more. Is there nothing can be done? Tellme! Tell me!"

      "We must trust in Providence, Mary; and it iswrong to mourn. I doubt not the children are safe, although perhaps they have lost their way in thewoods."

      Hours of anxious waiting went by, and it wasnearly midnight. The house was very quiet and still, for the servants were asleep.

      Burly Bill and Jake had mounted strong horses atmoonrise, and gone off to try to find a clue. But theyknew it was in vain, nay, 'twould have been sheermadness to enter the forest now. They coo-eed overand over again, but their only answer was the echoingshriek of the wild birds.

      They were just about to return after giving theirlast shrill coo-ee-ee, when out from the moonlit forest, with a fond whinny, sprang Coz and Boz.

      Jake sprang out of his saddle, throwing his bridleto Bill.

      In the bright moonlight, Jake could see at oncethat there was something wrong. He placed his handon Boz's shoulder. He staggered back as he withdrew it.

      "Oh, Bill," he cried, "here is blood, and the pony istorn and bleeding! Only a jaguar could have donethis. This is terrible."

      "Let us return at once," said Bill, who had a rightsoft heart of his own behind his burly chest.

      "But